#it's just the complexity of hating your parents but understanding why they are the way they are and how could you fault them when this is

[kaisollisto]

“Are you here?" Ava barely breathes it, there's a tension in the air that she can't recognize, an energy that squashes her. Her throat feels scratchy and she can feel the Halo slotted between her shoulders. Ava's flat on her back head turned to look over at Beatrice. She feels wimpy like a stomped flower, her left arm dangles dangerously close to Beatrice-territory. She wants to reach out, to touch Beatrice to confirm that she's here but something stops her. She feels so silly, she could easily shift over to touch Beatrice, shake her gently and - 

Beatrice slides over, a firm sleepy sister warrior knife wielding badass with frumpy hair poofing from what remains of her low bun. She moves towards Ava, inches away from her but moves to answer her. It’s rare for Ava to see her like this. Beatrice is clearly fighting sleep, rubbing her eyes and doing her best to move in hopes that it’ll shake the sleepy spell. 

She’s dressed in one of Ava’s ugly loose white shirts, a huge bass clashing with faded big blocky lettering that just reads “FISH”. Beatrice had looked at her weirdly when Ava had dug it out of the bins at a thrift store disheveled and ecstatic. 

Ava had spent hours coaxing her into it doing her damn best to hide Beatrice’s laundry when she wasn’t looking. It fills a warm feeling in her chest and Ava wants to burrow further into it. It was a fool proof plan. 

Ava found her shortness made it exhausting to reach up towards the Beatrice-level-cabinets. The halo pulls at her pinching and knotting up the muscles in her back after a long day of training. She feels it alive within her, an uncomfortable reminder sealed inside her back. 

At the end of the day Ava settled on hinging at the waist. She had slowly started integrating Beatrice’s sleep shirts in cabinets that Beatrice had to bend down to reach. Ava always tried to situate herself at the scene of the crime doing her best to seem inconspicuous while she leaned over hungry for Beatrice’s reaction. Ava thumbed her findings down in the recess of her mind, her finger tracing over it in a hurried desperation. The time would pass and she did not want to forget. 

(It helped, the imagery of Bea’s furrow when she would find her sleepwear underneath the sink when Ava would have to tuck her spine into the halo as she placed the shirt somewhere clean.) 

Thanks to her genius planning Beatrice had finally caved and worn Ava’s huge “FISH” t-shirt after weeks of her persistence. She looked adorable, she was drowning in it and constantly tugging at it. She had found Beatrice loved to tuck it into the band of her sleep shorts creating puffy funny creases distorting the text even further to say “FSH”. It looked so ugly and old and endearing. 

She looked out of her depth and it made Ava’s heart thump funny. Beatrice with her weird posh mannerisms combined with the peaceful unguarded look when she slumbered made her feel hot all over. 

It was the prospect of the future, a glimpse into her life with Beatrice, of when they would grow old together. It shakes her, the idea that Beatrice will get wrinkles with her. She takes it seriously, a study that she isn’t well versed in but preparing for. It is a long hard internal debate flipping between what wrinkles will show first. Ava selfishly hopes it’s smile lines, that Beatrice will smile at her as much as she does in secret. She’s happy to be wrong, Beatrice’s forehead crinkles have always been cute. She hopes that Beatrice never stops looking at her, thinking of her. She wants to spend a long time being the source of her wrinkles. And just for right now she can handle the role of being just her friend. 

Beatrice blinks one eye open, the other pressed against the pillow as she stifles a yawn. Her hand blocks her mouth in a delicate way and Ava can see her nails are short and uneven in places. Ava wishes she could touch them, study them in a way no one has done before. She wants to press against Beatrice hard enough to watch her skin fold around hers. Some sort of truth that she was here, that she is here. 

Beatrice scoots over slowly, her elbow tucked under the pillow. She stops inches away from Ava, a frown set in her jaw. Ava mirrors her position albeit more awkwardly and more wiggling than Beatrice’s but she finds a place where the Halo won’t bite her back. 

“I’m here,” Beatrice murmurs it, a quiet thing between them. 

Ava closes her eyes hoping Beatrice won’t notice her shakiness. She blinks a few times before she presses closer, the arm she’s laying on moving to support her head underneath the pillow. 

There’s so much to tell her, anything and nothing at all and Ava doesn’t know where to start. It constricts her throat, the constant stream of consciousness from inside of her heart. It’s horrible and she can’t stop it as the feeling balloons inside of her lungs. Ava wants help, she so desperately wants to feel okay again, to feel anything other than the stupid fucking halo. It grates on her nerves and muscles, a burning hot metal ring poking and prodding at the entirety of her upper torso. It leaves her reeling, a sort of anger that beckons for her to hurt (hurt something, hurt someone, hurt), disregarding the aftermath of tears and shame. 

Ava is sure she’s shaking, a layer of sweat gathers between the space of her shoulder blades as the Halo lights up with her inner turmoil. It’s a faint pitiful thing that Ava would be ashamed of if not for the bone aching tiredness. 

She wants to say she’s sorry the words clawing their way up her throat and it feels wrong to feel anything but that. There’s a sort of unspoken shame that haunts her with the Halo. It’s a thing she’s known long before any of this. 

Beatrice drags her out of her turmoil with her hand hovering near Ava’s pinky. She has a gracefulness to it, like she has practiced it a hundred times over. It’s weird, to be in a bed, a soft and lumpy bed looking at Beatrice. Beatrice with such plain features and subtle cheekbones that Ava can’t stop looking. It pays off, watching Beatrice, Ava knows it when Bea smiles a grin too wide for polite acknowledgement and Ava can see her dimples pronounced. 

“Can I?” Beatrice’s finger lingers near her hand, a hovering itch that Ava needs scratched. It’s so wholeheartedly Beatrice that Ava can do nothing but nod. Something inside of Ava aches harder than the rest of the organs inside of her. It’s the unwavering crushing thumping feeling that squeezes around her heart. The sincerity of Beatrice. 

She places her hand over Ava’s and squeezes her gently. Beatrice’s hands are firm and soft. She can feel the callouses on her palms prodding at the back of her hand and wonders if Beatrice has ever had them fade away. If she’s had the pleasure of unscathed palms. Her hands are warm but not sweaty, not like Ava’s.

Ava can’t feel Beatrice’s pulse but she tries her best to match it. She imagines it would be a slow melody playing a duet with a classical track. Some sort of tune that spurs comfort or a feeling of nostalgia. She briefly wonders if Beatrice listens to music, if she seeks out music that has spoken to her. If there was a song that shook her to her core so deeply she had to sit down and digest it. There’s so much she still needs to know and so little time. 

“I admit I’m not sure what you need from me.” Beatrice whispers it quietly, she’s hunched awkwardly, hovering close in Ava’s space but too far away for her own comfort. 

Ava clamps her mouth shut, sure that “come closer” will betray her. That she will reach too far into Beatrice and take far too much. 

Beatrice pays no mind to Ava’s silence and slowly caresses her hand, it’s a small little gesture that seems to have no set course. Ava briefly wonders if it’s the start of a massage or if Beatrice is looking for her joints underneath her skin and touching her tendons in apology. 

It should be awkward, Beatrice and Ava orbiting each other in a lopsided manner. A rotational tilt that is unfamiliar to both of them and yet feels intimate. An unknown dance with their eyes closed and their breaths mingling. (It’s easy to follow Beatrice’s lead, Ava knows love.) 

There’s nothing Ava can say to her, she chokes up at the prospect and they both blink at each other. She’s not sure what she needs, only that it’s nice having someone here. 

Beatrice drowsily blinks rapidly and slowly at the same time as Ava watches swallowing the bits of her smile. Her hand has slowed its pathing, opting to curl on the inside of Ava���s fingers. It’s endearing watching one of her favorite bad ass sister warriors lose against sleep. It softens the edges of Beatrice who is always carrying some unseen obligation. (Here it is only the two of them free of their past and future burdens, just two girls sprawled thinly on hopes and dreams). 

She can feel Beatrice’s grip loosen, she’s going to fall back asleep any minute now but Ava doesn’t have the heart to keep her up. Beatrice is no doubt tired, powered by her own sleeping and eating habits unlike Ava who has the artifact to juice her up. 

She isn’t quite unwound but she feels manageable now. It’s weird to be within reach of Beatrice, someone who cares about her. To be in proximity of someone who will look for her, be in step with her, maybe it’s duty but Ava holds it close to her heart regardless. (It’s all the same to her, devotion, loyalty, love). 

She clings to Beatrice afraid to let the moment go, she had called and someone had answered, Bea had answered. Ava can feel her eyes watering, it almost feels like a distant dream. She tucks her chin closer to chest and thinks, how awful to be loved. 

She can feel her throat closing up and she squeezes Bea’s hand just a tiny bit harder. (She answers in the twitch of her hand, clearly on the cusp of sleep). The Halo still thunders in her back throbbing some fatal fate but here in the hush of night grounded by the touch of Beatrice she has some reprieve.  (Part 1)

[ghostgirl-22]

Not necessarily sexual, but what if Art takes care of Patrick for once?

Patrick is upset over something cruel his father told him and wakes Art up with his sniffling. Patrick never cries so Art is immediately alarmed and tries to get him to open up. Patrick tries to mask his feelings at first, but eventually breaks down and cries into Art’s chest. They fall asleep with Patrick being the little spoon for once, wrapped in Art’s arms.

I chopped this up a lot but I think I got to the core of your ask nonnie <3 Idk why in my head I could see Patrick just being the whacky charming youngest and favorite of his parents. Forgive my typos… happy Valentine’s Day maybe I’m gonna write a valentines fic tomorrow when Valentine’s Day is over. Anyway love y’all.

TW: period typical homophobia, use of a slur, internalized homophobia, otherwise SFW.

——

Patrick does this thing where he acts like nothing gets to him. Like nothing can hurt him. For a while Art was envious because he believed the act. Now he knows better. He sees it now… the way Patrick will smile even more when his eyes are sad. The way he’ll shrug and then fidget, fingertips tapping a fragile rhythm like the physical act of it can divert the pain away. The way he goes quiet. 

Still he never saw Patrick cry before this summer. It’s their last summer break before senior year. They’ve been spending at least a few weeks together every summer since they were 12, going back and forth between each other's houses. Patrick’s summer house in Connecticut, Art’s family home in Massachusetts. It was easy. Patrick had the bigger house of course, the bigger bedroom, all the latest game systems, a tennis court. So many places on his family's estate to hang out and explore. 

Patrick’s family is a little more complex than Arts though. 

It’s no secret Patrick doesn’t get along with his older brother, Levi. Art actually doesn’t like him either. He’s ten years older then them and he’s everything that Patrick isn’t, more smarmy than charming, flashy and pretentious, lording his daddy’s money around and reminding Patrick that it’s his birth right. He’s a lawyer now and already works for their dad’s company. But all it takes is five minutes talking to their tennis loving dad to understand why Levi hates Patrick. 

“Tennis is such a beautiful game. I played for years but never came close to what you and Patrick can do on that court.” Patrick’s dad says wistfully. He would often stand courtside to watch them play in the summers.

Levi is no athlete. He doesn’t even like sports and there’s Patrick, the apple of their fathers eye because he can hit a ball with a racket. 

If Levi were less of an asshole, Art might actually relate to him. But he’s a total dick. He loves to make it known that Patrick was a ’mistake’. “Mom and dad were perfectly happy with the three of us,” he says of himself and Patrick’s older sisters one Friday night in July. 

That clearly bothered Patrick at one point but he’s used to it now. “Yeah and imagine how boring that would’ve been. One lame ass son.” Patrick mutters and Art grins. They’re eating ice cream in the oversized kitchen while Levi lingers at the wine cooler, pouring himself a glass. He watches as Patrick takes some of Art’s ice cream, his gaze cool. 

“I’d be careful if I were you Art, you know he’s a fag right?”

Art raises his eyebrows. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Patrick snaps. 

“Oh, he doesn’t know?” Levi’s eyes light up, gleefully. “Sarah caught him last weekend kissing the pool boy, the help of all people, moaning like a freak.” 

“I said shut up,” Patrick says, his voice cold. Art has never seen his cheeks turn so red before.    

Levi lets out a cruel little giggle. “Wait till dad finds out you're the fruity one. I’d sleep with one eye open if I were you, Art. You never know, you seem like his type. He might try something.” 

“I’ll fucking kill you if you say another word, fucking asshole,” Patrick shouts. 

“Don’t worry little brother, I’m sure they love butt boys in pro tennis,” Levi smirks, self satisfied in Art’s direction and takes his glass of wine back to the office where he’s been working. 

Art is tongue tied, barely able to make his brain connect to his mouth. He’s feeling all kinds of things, not even sure what half of the things he’s feeling even mean but he knows he’s furious on Patrick’s behalf. He glances at Patrick and that’s all it takes for Art to know what Levi said was true. He’s still red faced, fists clenched, staring angrily at the bowl of ice cream like it was the one who said those horrible things to him. And then he gets up and leaves the kitchen abruptly.  

“Wait Patrick,” Art says but he doesn’t stop. Art sighs and gets up following him to the bedroom. He’s several paces behind and when he gets inside Patrick has fallen to the bedroom floor, actually sobbing. Head in his hands. Art can’t believe his eyes. In all the years he’s known him, he’s never seen more than the slight sparkle when his eyes well up tears. If he didn’t before, he really fucking hates Levi now.

He gets down on his knees next to Patrick. 

“Art can you go, I need to be alone,” he mutters, chest heaving. 

“No,” Art says, he’s not sure how to do this but he wants to be there for Patrick. “He’s a fucking loser. Do you want me to beat his dweeby ass?”

Patrick sniffles a laugh and shakes his head. 

“He’s just pissed because…” Art rubs Patrick’s shoulder, a gentle pattern. “Fuck him okay I mean…” He doesn’t know what to say… or why he keeps thinking about the pool boy, Armando, tall, athletic, brown eyes, and long dark blonde hair. He looks and sounds like a surfer, but not from California but whatever beach they have in Spain. Art can’t get him out of his head for some reason. 

“It’s true,” Patrick mutters after a while looking up at him. “I think I… I do like boys.” 

Art presses his lips together, nodding. “That’s um— that’s okay, man. Uh… remember um… Calvin from the team… Calvin said he uh he kissed a guy before.” He takes a breath. He has to do better than this, but he’s starting to fixate on the color of Patrick’s eyes. He never realized how colorful they were. Now that they’re wet it’s like they sparkle. 

”I dont… I would never do anything to you… like… like what my brother was saying okay?” Patrick sniffles. 

Art swallows. God now he’s fixating on Patrick’s lips. God damn it. He needs to be fucking normal. Patrick is his best friend for crying out loud. Art wraps his arms around Patrick and closes his eyes. “Fuck him, man. He’s a homophobic asshole. If you’re gay then—”

”I’m not gay…” Patrick says softly. Art can practically feel his voice vibrating in his ear. There’s a strange familiar feeling at the base of his stomach, his instinct is to pull away but he holds on. 

“You’re not?” He doesn’t mean to sound relieved, fuck. 

“I’m bisexual,” Patrick murmurs. He pulls out of the hug and gets to his feet, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. “I’m just…” he laughs. “I’m a fucking mess. He’s hot and the way he was looking at me in the pool. I brought him to my room and well we just started exploring… I should’ve known we wouldn’t get any privacy here. Sarah just barged into my room and she can’t keep her fucking mouth shut. My dad is… well… I don’t fucking care.” He flops down onto his bed and takes a deep breath. 

Art crawls over on his knees. “Does he know?” 

“Not yet,” Patrick says, “but he’ll know as soon as he gets back from his business trip. Levi will make sure of that.” 

“Well,” Art crawls onto the bed and lies down next to him. “Not if we kill him first.” 

Patrick looks at him and then laughs. Art grins, happy to make him smile. He feels warm all of a sudden.  

Patrick sighs. “You want to play Mario kart?” 

“Yeah.”  

They lay down for an hour, only really chatting about the game. Patrick starts to get sleepy, it’s clear he’s still upset. He puts his controller down. Art turns off the game and settles next to him in the dark. His mind has been racing the whole time. Patrick’s never cried in front of him before so it feels like something has shifted.

“My dad isn’t gonna look at me the same,” he laughs but there’s a bitterness in it.

“You don’t… you don’t know that.” Art says gently.

“You think it’s weird, don’t you?” he rolls over to face Art.

“No,” Art says quickly. His parents had always taught him to be accepting of people’s differences. They always supported gay rights. But there was this part of Art that knew that their tolerance was only meant for other people. Unlike Patrick he was the only boy, he was expected to be traditional. 

“You’re a bad liar,” Patrick sighs. 

“I mean I think I’m just trying to process it. I had no idea and now it’s just…” Art takes a deep breath. 

“You really had no idea?”

“Well it’s not like you told me, and you…we always talk about girls.”

Patrick gazes at him. “Fair enough.”

“What’s it like?” The question just spills out of him, he can’t stop himself. 

”Hm?” 

Now it’s his turn to feel his skin heat up. Why is he so fixated on the stupid kiss? “Sorry it’s not important…never mind. I guess I just figured it’d be different then… uh never mind.”

”It’s a little different but the same in all the ways that matter,” Patrick says. He’s sniffling again. Art licks his lips and scoots closer to him. Patrick looks down, following the movement. 

“I could uh… I could show you.” 

Art thinks he’s joking and smiles, Patrick holds his gaze a little longer and Art swallows, something all too familiar suddenly thrumming through his body. But it makes no fucking sense. He can’t really be turned on by this. “You’re um… you’re serious?” 

Patrick laughs, “God,” he says, shaking his head. 

“What?” Art says. 

“Nothing, I’m a fucking mess. Can you…hold me until I fall asleep?” It’s Patrick using Art’s own words. Spoken a number of times when they were kids and he’d asked Patrick to do it in his grandmother's place when he was having trouble adjusting to boarding school.  

Patrick never told anyone about it, never even made fun of him which was surprising, considering he ribs Art about almost everything. Art isn’t sure what he’s feeling but he nods, “of course,” and lets Patrick settle into his arms. They lie in bed, Art keeping Patrick safe from the world for just a little bit. Inseparable, like two colors bleeding into each other, until they both fall asleep.  

[fangsandfeels]

I gained the next level of appreciation for how well Dragon Age 2 understood trauma, the ugly side of it.

I don't blame Fenris. I understand why after enduring years and years of abuse, humiliation, having your autonomy, your memories, everything that constituted you including your own name stripped away from you, you have no empathy for anyone reminiscent of your abusers - especially if nobody came to save you in the end and you are the only one fighting for your life and freedom. I understand why upon hearing how someone (who reminds you of your abusers) suffers unfairly, the only thing you can say is "Good" - and lash out at anyone trying to tell you off for it. Where all these fucking preachers were when you were suffering? Why even in the land that is supposed to be different from your own hellhole, your word and your experience still don't matter?

I don't blame Anders. I understand why after being betrayed by your own parent, after the decades of listening how you must suffer for the sin of being born, being confined to isolation, being treated like a monster while being a child, being denied the simplest of comforts, you fiercely defend people who share your abilities - because nobody else would ever look out for you and them. Of course you would clash even with someone who has legitimate reasons to be negative towards people like you because your own wounds sting more than their pain. You have dealt with the Chantry's vile propaganda for so long, you no longer take things at face value. Of course, Chantry would say that the foreign land where mages rule is foul, and corrupt, and full of blood magic and demons! So many times rumors, lies, and twisted religious depictions have been used to abuse, lobotomize, and enslave you, you're no longer letting it happen - and you only believe what you see and hear. And all you see around is injustice and indifference. And you're only the one screaming into the void, raging against the horrors everybody else is willingly blind to.

I don't blame them both for losing their mind in their own ways while the rest of the group silently wondered why they couldn't just be normal.

Personally, I don't think there was any chance for them to become friends or make peace during the events of the game. The "I suffered so I don't want anyone to suffer like I did" or "I'm a bigger person" are pretty lies and half-truths at worst. At best, they are mindsets only possible after someone who suffered finally feels safe and can be out of their survival mode. Which is not really true for Fenris and Anders, even during the final act of the story.

Even on high friendship or romance, Anders is still self-destructive, ready to die at Hawke's hands after launching his plan in motion. Even with a friend/lover at his side, he is alone in his head, in his vision of the world, in his pain.

Even with proper support and help, it takes Fenris three years to accept a relationship, but it doesn't change his perspective and if you don't have enough of his trust, you lose him to his trauma-based response.

I may be overthinking it, but I am truly thankful to the game for not toning down the complex, hard and uncomfortable aspects of trauma. People have always been in love with the concept of the perfect victim (who hates only "the right" bad guys and suddenly knows when to be tolerant, nice and accepting and doesn't say any rancid and hateful shit ever), but it became particularly aggravating lately.

[olderthannetfic]

I mean, I do feel like if someone was traumatized by their religious upbringing, helping them to recognize that as a bad thing and helping them to be free of it is arguably the right move? Yeah just telling them “god isn’t real, get over it” is most likely insensitive but arguably freeing them of their self hating beliefs is the ideal outcome?

--

Man... I was raised to despise religion, but a steady diet of nerdy youtube and really weirdly anti-intellectual takes on tumblr has forced me into repeatedly defending religion. I did not ask for this, but here we are.

Personally, I find most religion kind of dumb, but it is a key part of a great portion of humanity's search for meaning. It's the backbone of so many cultures in so many places and times. Knowing about it is useful for everything from being more politically informed to making up better fantasy world building in fiction.

When a person has religious trauma because they were told that their religion, in this context probably Christianity, hates them, telling them to ditch religion is like telling them they're not allowed to ever have a birthday party again because their abusive parents did something awful at their past ones. Ah yes, cut yourself off from major celebrations and cultural experiences, not to mention community. That's sure to fix things!

It would be far more effective at 1. making them feel better and 2. making them stop adhering to a shitty religion if we introduced them to better religion.

The history of Christianity is one of the most studied subjects on the fucking planet. There are a multitude of progressive scholars who have explored things like how the early church very possibly had major female figures that later asswipes tried to downplay and cover up. I think Religion for Breakfast has some interesting videos that at least touch on this.

There's a whole complex conversation to be had both about how the early church actually handled same-sex relationships and about why a given prescription is even in there from an anthropological perspective. Take the pork thing: it's probably about taxes. Some of the others are about differentiation from nearby groups at the time. Understanding the historical cultural context helps dismantle the idea that this or that specific prescription is a vital core part of the religion that must remain unchanging thousands of years later.

"A true Christian wouldn't have abused their gay kid" is a far better message than "Give up everything you know", and it has plenty of support from scholars who are deeply religious but not dumbass textual literalists who can't grasp that even if a holy text were the word of god, English language edition such-and-such is subject to human interference in the form of All Your Base-level translators.

If Christianity or whatever religion is the issue is a no go due to the traumatized person's past experiences, plenty of people would still be happier finding a different religion than going without.

I really, really cannot emphasize this enough: Religion is a key part of many people's lives the same way, say, sex is.

A lot of people around here seem to fundamentally not get this in the same way that you see people who haven't realized how ace they are going "But whyyyyy?" over the central role that horny plays in somebody else's life. You don't gotta get it, my dudes. Doesn't mean it's going away.

Even just understanding the parameters of what counts as religion and all the different flavors that exist out there will help put the trauma into context for many people. Your asshole parents are in a cult not because all religion is lies but because this Christianity has been perverted into a vehicle for abuse. Other religious people like the scientific method, research, logic, and evidence. It's just your church that's atrocious.

Shitty religion leads to self hate.

You can pick another religion.

[mimikyuno]

things about ave mujica that are making me lose my mind

making a post to gather my thoughts after ep6 bc uhm. 😃

first off, WHERE IS UIKA!!! not only did she not appear ONCE in episode 6, but her angsty narration (which we usually hear throughout each episode) was also missing from episode 6!!! what!!! and the last time we saw her she was hugging saki’s pillow breathing in it and letting 2 mugs of coffee go cold in saki’s room. yearning and pining unstable style. im gonna lose my mind. UIKA COME BACK I NEED TO SEE YOU CRASH OUT SO BAD I NEED TO PICK YOUR BRAIN

I NEED SAKIKO TO BE OKAY ASAP. her situation is giving me palpitations i literally feel sick thinking about the position she is in rn. she lost EVERYTHING - her mom, her dad, her old life, crychic, her freedom, ave mujica, and mutsumi. she is living with a manipulative, controlling grandpa who robbed her of her freedom and treated her creative project she tried to use and get out of poverty and support herself and her dad as just a silly kid’s game that ended up as a mess he fixed for her. she found out her best friend has DID and her alter told her “YOU broke her and made her go dormant. i hate you. she might never be back”. and rn she’s deeply avoidant and dissociated and she feels she cannot/doesnt want to share what happened with her dad or her family so where to fucking start opening up??? and she’s alone and has to go through it alone anyway, so what’s the point? why would she ask for help? so she dissociates and avoids and rejects tomori’s kindness. and now soyo is pissed at her and no one understands what she’s going through and she’s all alone and putting up walls is the only way she’s not falling apart but everyone sees her as a villain with her walls up. im feeling sick im feeling sick im crying on the bus

CAN WE PLEASE ADDRESS HOW NYAMU GOT AN INFERIORITY COMPLEX ABOUT ACTING BC OF MUTSUMI’S “PERFORMANCE”?? WHEN MUTSUMI JUST HAD A MENTAL BREAKDOWN ON STAGE? like this is insane. GIRL SHE WASNT ACTING 😭 pls take up the acting job you wanted!! i feel bad for her she’s so deeply insecure she also needs help. someone help her

fr is umiri on T? her voice keeps getting lower every episode 😭 she’s trying to achieve butch levels never seen before in girls band anime, next episode she’s coming in with short hair and a carabiner ⛓️. jokes aside i need her to stop with the “im too cool to care” act and admit she cares about the members of avemuji and pls help them bc ngl i feel like she’s the most mentally stable of the bunch. tho looking at the opening i might be wrong tbh lmao

makes me insane how mortis is the protector but also she’s clearly a little - an alter who is still a child. i love her so much. but also like mortis and mutsumi need another fucking alter to mediate between them bc they’re giving me anxiety!! ALSO HELLO?? THEY FELL DOWN A FLIGHT OF STAIRS? had a public breakdown that got filmed by people as soyo shielded them??? they were locked in their room for like what, 2 months?? soyo spent 3 days and nights with mortis and mutusmi’s parents did not appear once bro. we saw one maid lead soyo to the room which was a WRECK and soyo was the one who helped tidy up. mutsumi’s family has completely given up on her and mortis, hid them like a dirty secret in their bedroom. it makes me sick i hate them i hate them

raana. that’s it. she makes me insane. aura farming like it’s a full time job

i need these girls to get help rn. please someone get them a group therapist im so fr

[armins-main-hoe]

would you make katsuki x twinsister!reader? one where they're both equally talented and competitive 👉🏽👈🏽

Sorry for replying so late!!

I don’t think I can make a whole fic for this since I have 2 on going fics and already struggling to keep up with those but I’ll write it down in headcannon form, sorry :/

The Bakugo Twins

(not proofread)

Honestly as kids, you both were complete menaces. All the other kids in class would follow you both around, no kid would dare step up to you both. Though I can see that at some point it was half the class following katsuki and the other half following you. Talk about sibling rivalry...

You both got your quirk when you both were arguing, both equally hot headed, both shouting and screaming, suddenly bright sparks started coming out from your fists. You both were startled by this and forgot what you were arguing about in the first place.

You both bullied deku. Sorry, but I can only see you also have a superiority complex just like your brother. I mean you grew up in the same environment as your brother and you are expected by others to be just like him. No one has ever taught you otherwise so its was only natural for you to do whatever he does and think whatever he does and visa versa.

You both gave the poor quirkless boy a tough time...

Honestly, unlike how in the anime, Deku wasn't actually thinking about taking a swan dive off of the roof, with you also bullying him, it probably did cross his mind once or twice.

However, by middle school you both had developed your own personalities, though there was not much difference between you both to be honest.

He was a bully, ego as high as the sky, a hero nerd, a complete jerk to everyone and you were one of those popular girls who acted like a bitch with her friends laughing at the back. You were the prettiest girl in the school and you knew it.

Katsuki hated the fact that you were going to apply to UA too. You both had the same quirk, meaning that if you got in, he would constantly be compared to you and there would be nothing special about him since he would not be one of a kind. He didn't understand why you wanted to join UA either. Sure, you liked heroes too but you didn't have collectables like he did. You never showed much interest in becoming a hero while growing up, at least not as much as him anyway. So why would you even think about joining UA?

What he didn't know was that you were applying for UA because of more than just one reason. You both were twins, everyone knew Katsuki was going to to apply for UA since he wasn't exactly shy about it. So naturally everyone thought you were going to apply for UA too. Call yourself some odd variation of a people pleaser and you said "well duh, are you thick or something? Obviously I am."

Another reason was, your looks. Since you were labeled as the prettiest girl in middle school and it got to your head, your looks became an obsession for you. You had to look flawless all the time and you needed someone to compliment you about your looks at least 10 times a day.

What better way to get complimented on your looks than becoming a famous hero? Heros are more popular than any celebrity so obviously becoming a hero would give you more attention.

Another reason was your sibling rivalry, you hated it so much when he would come home first place in a competition that you also participated in. You hated it when he was clearly better than you at something. Since both of your quirks were so 'flashy' and 'dangerous', you both were always competing against each other on who can use their quirk better.

When it was the day of the UA results, you both were equally nervous. Though neither of you tried to show it, acting as if you just know you are 100% going to get in.

Both of you were hoping for the other to get rejected. However, to both of your dismany, you both got in.

You're parents were over the moon of course, both their kids getting into a school like UA was what they called their biggest achievement.

You felt happy too, but in your stomach you felt this uneasy feeling knowing your brother was coming to UA with you. Katsuki felt the same.

You both knew how much more you would have to fight each other for the spotlight. Middle school would be nothing compared to UA.

Upon coming to UA, you both struggled a lot in your own ways. In the first few weeks, everyone thought you both were the strongest (and scariest) in the whole class. Which is good. You wanted it to be that way

Imagine sibling rivalry plus class rivalry. Him in 1A and you in 1B. Both of you the strongest in your classes, both you the scariest in your classes. Everytime you cross one another, the hardest glares were thrown at each other.

The sports festival ended up a mess. Why? Simple, the Bakugo twins.

You both managed to get through most of the festival without killing anyone but once it got to the one to one matches...

The final match was one that everyone was dying to see, the twins facing each other. Two people with the same quirk. Everyone wanted to know who would win, everyone wanted to know who was better. Who was the better twin.

Class 1a were cheering for Katsuki and class 1b were cheering for you because while this match was mostly to see who was the better twin, it would also determine who was the better class since they had the winner in their class.

The only person who thought this was bad as Deku. The kid you both bullied was the only one who could see past the competitiveness and realise that this would end in a disaster. That this was doing more harm than good. That if either one of you were to win the match then it would break the thin sibling bond you both had.

You both began attacking each other left and right, at one point no one could see anything with the amount of debris and smoke filling up the stadium. All they could hear were loud explosions echoing throughout the entire stadium.

Some time later, the staff had to send a teacher down there to try and see what was going on in the match. Immediately the teacher called the match off and another teacher came to break you both off.

Were you both siblings or enemies sent on an mission to kill the other? Trust me when I say the fight got so bad they had to call if off and just say it was a draw.

Both of you were covered in cuts, bruises and burn marks. By the time the adrenaline wore off, you both collapsed, unconscious on the floor.

They had to tie you both up and All might somehow managed to out the single 1st place gold medal around your necks.

Much to everyone's dismay, no one got to find out who was the 'better twin' or 'better class'.

So for the next few weeks, it was the same as always, trying to prove to everyone that you are better while sending death glares to your brother.

UA destroyed your relationship with your brother.

When you were younger, you both would at least play with each other, you both would hold hands and run around, chasing other kids, you both would still comfort each other when the other was sad, you both used to be each other's biggest supporters and now its all gone.

It all probably began to fade during middle school and now is completely gone in UA.

You saw each other as enemies and nothing more.

Well that's what you thought until your brother got kidnapped by the league of villains.

You could never forget how you felt your heart drop when you heard the news. You even forgot to breath for a few seconds. You scared yourself with how much you got scared of losing him.

So when Kirishma, who you recognised as Katsuki's best friend, came up to you, asking if you would help him and a few other students from 1a, get Katsuki back, you agreed.

When you met up with the group, you were the last one to come along since it took you a little longer to sneak out of the house, you saw the wide eyes they looked at you with, since they were so used to seeing you and Katsuki hate on each other every day.

"I do have a heart you know." you rolled your eyes at them. "Come on, lets hurry before that dimwit starts crying like a baby." you turned around and started walking away.

"Um.. Y/n.. We have to go that way-" A black haired girl spoke up.

You were all were successful with getting Katsuki back, you really wanted to hug him or something but you felt like you couldn't. You felt like it was wrong of you to even think about hugging him after everything you did to him. So on the way back, you didn't say anything. Even while watching All Might fight All For One on a screen, you kept your distance from him, walking next to the black haired girl instead.

The walk back home was silent. He walked ahead while you followed a few feet behind, usually you wouldn't let that slide, you would try to out walk him in some way but right now your mind was filled with so many thoughts.

You were so out of it that you ended up bumping into Katsuki's back when he stopped walking. He turned around and looked at you, a softer look on his face but still glaring at you.

"Why did you come with them?" He asked.

How do you even answer that? 'even though I wished for your death like you wished for mine, i still cared. I still didn't actually want to lose you.' or maybe 'why wouldn't I? I mean sure I hated your guts and hoped everything bad happened to you but I didn't actually mean it.'

You didn't even realise when tears began falling down your cheeks while thinking. Katsuki was shocked to say the least.

"I thought I would lose you..." You spoke out in the weakest voice Katsuki had ever heard you use.

Katsuki's hand lifted up to wipe your tears away but he hesitated. Can he do that? Really? After everything he did to you? He couldn't. So he turned back around.

"Idiot. As if some little villain would ever manage to kill me." You didn't miss how his voice cracked in the middle of the sentence, nor did you miss how he subtly tried to wipe away his own tears.

Maybe you didn't get to hug him like you used to when you were younger, but at least you now know there is a chance that maybe, just maybe, you could fix your relationship with your brother.

[serfergs]

I have to give a shout out to The Only One episode 8 for (well a lot of things), but what specifically stood out to me. I’ve seen some posts about how BL has recently really botched child/parent relationship and characterization. I feel like these kinds of relationship dynamics are so nuanced and very difficult to portray realistically. I really liked that we got to see the conversations each of the boys had with their respective parent. They were both mature, respectful, fairly honest but still kept their parents at an arms length. Both their approaches were also consistent with Tian and Weng’s characters. Weng initiated the conversation with his dad and was focused and direct, but still sympathetic to his dad’s decisions around marrying Tian’s mom. Tian followed suit but was much more hesitant to speak to his mother and said just enough to reassure her.

Then I realize that both conversations revolved around reassuring and comforting their parents. As someone who has recently been forced to confront my parents for the emotional neglect and trauma of my childhood I related to this so much. Tian and Weng don’t hate their parents, but they still have to reckon with the consequences of their parents’ actions. Tian always keeping his bag packed and choosing to self isolate out of self preservation. Weng desperately seeking out intimacy. These are things they are forced to deal with and it sucks that instead of feeling safe enough to have a vulnerable conversation about the ways their parents decisions fucked them up they had to defend their decision to move to the school dorms while reassuring their parents that it had nothing to do with them as parents. This show understands the nuanced and complex feelings that exist between strained child/parent relationships. This show understands that for the child sometimes you have to placate your parent because it’s not worth the breath to explain no I don’t hate you, but I wish you’d acknowledge your role in my trauma and my need to set boundaries because of it. You love your parents but you’ve been taught that you can’t completely trust them and therefore they can never truly be home.

Which highlights why the ending of the episode was so beautiful. This slow burn show has paced itself in such a way to build an incredibly solid and realistic portrayal of the foundation of intimacy that I don’t think I’ve seen in other BL. Yes I swooned and giggled at the initial enemies to lovers trope but it’s truly become so much more than that. I believe in not just their attraction, not just their hidden or not yet fully realized crush, but their deep, hopefully, life long companionship.

[ladyinthebluebox]

One of my favorite things about Taash is specifically how emotionally immature and raw they are, how their general approach to life is the direct clobbering of issues, and how anything more complex than that is internalized and projected in a very overt, almost teenage way. Even the way they immediately zero in on Solas "not making things right" with Mythal and that being something that twists you up. Same with Emmrich's practice, same with Neve's femininity,

And then, crucially, despite that rigidity in processing trauma and emotions, the game goes out of its way to say that they STILL get to receive grace in their struggle of arriving at the complicated truths about themselves, that they still deserve and are worth of a full, happy, self-actualized existence. That interrogating and finding identity isn't some vapid, high-brow crusade of intellectualism, but something that is essential and critical to every single living soul.

This, in a nutshell, is why I love Taash and what they did with them.

thank you for sending me this message. it means a lot to hear a postive take and actual words of affirmation on Taash.

it's been a horribly frustraiting, disheartening time trying to filter out and avoid all the outright hate & misconceptions the vast majority of this fandom seems to be harbouring for them. & for the stupidest of reasons too.

to me they are an incredibly touching character. they clearly have a lot of heart, though they aren't always able to express it properly. and i feel like majority of the people don't even try to understand them. which is just. sad. they are missing out on trully experiencing such a wonderful story of growing into "your" true self, reconciling with a troubled relationship with a parent (which touched me personally so, so deeply) and what a supportive, open-minded circle of people can do for a person...

trully Taash deserves all the love. & dragons to fight. & shiny things ofc.

[gilberttheboy]

There's a lotta reasons why lestat and claudia resented and hated each other but I was thinking about how lestat and gabrielle's relationship likely played into that as well. He turned Gabrielle and then fell madly (and weirdly) in love with her, and developed a fucked up framework to understand vampire family dynamics, so when Claudia came along, he could probably see himself in her. Just took his own Oedipus complex and said 'actually, YOU have an Electra complex, and it's nothing to do with me! No siree, i have a NORMAL understanding of parent-child relationships. '

He said 'I hate you because you're trying to steal my husband (your father), the way I once stole my mother from her husband (MY father)' and he did not pause to consider that maybe he shouldn't have been making out with his mum in the first place

Gabrielle de lioncourt, I hope you're somewhere in the rainforest doing the work to better yourself. Lestat...should maybe just spend some time in the rainforest.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Please write some hsc for tmnt bayverse (all of them) when during an argument a child tells them that he hates/doesn't love them

Thanks you

They Have An Argument With Your Child

Bayverse!Turtles x reader

A/N: Time to bring Romeo, Joan, Gali and Sunny back! And with that, say hello to some of their siblings; Marcello, Dorothy and Luis💙❤️💜🧡

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Warnings: Family fights.

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Leonardo:

Leonardo would be shaken to say the least. One thing was arguing with his own brothers, finding it hard to understand how or why they wouldn’t follow his orders, but fighting with his own children was different, and absolutely horrible.

Marcello, you and Leo’s second oldest, a teenager with a fiery spirit that mirrored his father's, had clashed with Leo over what seemed like an age-old disagreement – the issue of independence and the perceived favoritism toward his older brother, Romeo. Romeo, who was just shy of reaching his adulthood, had finally been allowed to go to the surface, without any kind of supervision. Marcello had not taken too kindly to that, believing that his father had started to favor his older brother.

An argument followed soon after, where Marcello's frustration boiled over. Harsh words were exchanged, and in a moment of anger. But all of that came to a climax, when Marcello shouted at his father, as loud as he possibly could.

"I hate you!", he yelled before storming off, leaving Leo alone in the middle of the lair.

Leo stood there, the weight of Marcello's words sinking deep into his heart. Parenting had never been easy, and juggling the safety of his family with the desire for independence his children inevitably felt was a delicate balance. The sharp sting of his son's declaration left him feeling vulnerable, questioning his decisions and even his capabilities as a father.

Unable to shake the hurt from Marcello's outburst, Leonardo retreated, seeking solace in the comforting presence of the person he felt the safest with - you.

Without a word, you sensed the turmoil in Leo's eyes and opened your arms, welcoming him into an embrace. The silence spoke volumes, and Leo, allowing himself a rare vulnerability, leaned into the warmth of your embrace, his worries momentarily eased by the love and understanding that emanated from you.

As Leonardo rested his head against your shoulder, he began to recount the events leading up to the argument with Marcello. You listened with unwavering patience, offering a sympathetic ear to his concerns. The complexities of parenting in a world filled with danger and uncertainties were not lost on you, and you knew that misunderstandings were an inevitable part of the process. Your gentle words of reassurance became a lifeline for Leo, reminding him that parenting was an ongoing journey filled with challenges. Together, you explored ways to bridge the gap between father and son, recognizing that communication and compromise were the foundations of any healthy relationship.

The next day, as Romeo headed out once more, Leo took intentional steps to mend the strained relationship with Marcello. It was time for Leo to communicate and spend time with his son, in ways that went beyond training in the dojo.

Raphael:

Raphael would get mad. He would feel anger towards his child, but in reality, it was all about him. He would get angry at himself, blaming the whole argument on how he handled it, and how he failed to calm his child down.

Your daughter Joan, now 18, had recently taken a significant step into adulthood by entering into a relationship with a human guy. But the news didn’t settle well with Raph. He found it hard to reconcile with the fact that his little girl was growing up and venturing into the complexities of human relationships. So the evening when Joan told you and your husband about her new boyfriend, the two of them quickly found themselves locked in a heated argument.

Raph, with a furrowed brow and a heart weighed down by the realization that he was losing his grip on his little girl, confronted Joan about her newfound connection with a human. His protective instincts flared, clouding his ability to see Joan as an independent and capable adult. Joan, however, had grown tired of being treated like a child, and in the heat of the argument, she raised her voice, declaring that Raph was stifling her growth and that her boyfriend, who saw her as an equal, understood her better than her own father. The words hung heavily in the air, leaving a bitter taste of regret and sorrow.

Raph's anger was palpable, his eyes narrowing as he struggled to comprehend the fact that his own daughter felt unloved by him. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, and the weight of his own shortcomings as a father bore down on his broad shoulders.

Fuming and hurt, Raph stormed away from the confrontation, retreating to a secluded part of the lair. It was there that you found him, grappling with the storm of emotions that threatened to consume him. Your presence served as a balm to his wounded heart, and in the quiet sanctuary you shared, he laid bare his fears and frustrations. Your gentle words, woven with understanding and love, reminded Raph that parenthood was a constant journey of letting go. You encouraged him to see Joan not as a child who needed protection, but as a young woman capable of making her own choices and learning from her own mistakes.

In the days that followed, you played the role of mediator, facilitating a conversation between Raph and Joan. As emotions cooled, they began to see each other's perspectives more clearly. Raph, in a rare display of vulnerability, admitted his fears of losing his little girl, while Joan, in turn, acknowledged her father's love and concern.

The healing process was gradual, marked by moments of shared laughter and understanding. Raph began to see the strength and resilience that defined his daughter, while Joan appreciated the depth of her father's love, even if it was expressed in a way that clashed with her newfound independence.

Not long after that, Joan brought her boyfriend down to the lair, in order for him and Raph to meet each other. And much to both you and Joan’s relief, the two men got along great. Talking and a few times joking with each other, as they slowly got used to each other’s presence. But as Joan and her boyfriend left for his home, Raph started tearing up. His little girl was an adult now.

Donatello:

The lair was unusually tense as the echoes of a recent argument lingered in the air. Donatello found himself feeling stressed and frustrated, caught in a storm of emotions after an altercation with his pre-teen son, Gali.

The source of the tension was a disciplinary moment involving Gali and his younger sister, Dorothy. Gali, in a fit of teasing, had pushed Dorothy to the point of tears. Donnie, in his role as both father and protector, had grounded Gali as a consequence for his actions, while you took care of Dorothy, comforting her in the other room. But little did Donnie anticipate the storm that would follow.

As the lair's tunnels settled into an uneasy quiet, Gali, his face contorted with a mixture of anger and frustration, confronted his father. The exchange escalated quickly, with harsh words exchanged and Gali, in a moment of youthful defiance, started shouting.

"I hate you, Dad!", he yelled, before storming off to the room Donnie had told him to go to - his room.

Donatello stood there, the weight of his son's words sinking deep into his heart. The shock of hearing such words from his own child resonated, leaving him momentarily paralyzed. However, his love and commitment to being a good father quickly kicked in, prompting him to follow his son into his room.

Upon entering Gali's space, Donnie saw his son, red-eyed and visibly upset, sitting on the bed and staring at the floor. Taking a deep breath, Donnie approached Gali with a mix of determination and concern.

"Gali", he began, his voice steady. "We need to talk".

Gali, still seething with frustration, avoided eye contact but nodded begrudgingly, letting Donnie take a seat next to him. As they sat in the dimly lit room, Donnie began talking once more.

"I know you're upset, and so am I. I care about you and Dorothy deeply, and it hurts me to see you two at odds".

Gali, feeling a mix of guilt and stubbornness, finally spoke. "I just don't get it, Dad. Why do I get grounded when she's the one crying all the time? It's not fair!"

Donnie sighed, acknowledging the complexity of parenting. "Life isn't always fair, Gali. But my job is to teach you right from wrong and help you grow into a good person. Teasing your sister to the point of tears isn't okay. It's about learning to treat each other with respect".

Gali's frustration softened, replaced by a glimmer of understanding as he reached for his knees, hugging them against his chest. "But it feels like you don't trust me", he mumbled.

Donnie, realizing the importance of addressing Gali's feelings, and how this was about much more than just the episode with Dortothy, wrapped an arm around his son, holding him close before he spoke. "It's not about trust, Gali. It's about helping you make better choices. I believe in you, and I know you can learn from this. We're a team, and I want us to work together."

A thoughtful silence filled the room as Gali absorbed his father's words, his eyes still not looking at his father..

Donnie continued. "I'm here for you, even when it seems like I'm being strict. Let's find a way to bridge the gap between us, okay?"

Gali finally looked up at his father with a small smile. “Okay”, he said before he wrapped his arms around Donnie in a hug. “Thank you, dad”.

Michelangelo:

Given the nature of Michelangelo, he would get sad. But with his strong empathy, he would quickly realize what was going on, working to fix the problem in the best way possible.

The lair was filled with an unusual stillness, interrupted only by the soft coos of the newest addition to the family, Luis. The arrival of the baby boy had brought joy and excitement to the lair, but it also introduced a wave of change that affected every member, especially the energetic and ever-cheerful Michelangelo.

You and Mikey's sunny disposition had dimmed slightly as he navigated the challenges of balancing your time between caring for the newborn and ensuring that your oldest, 5 year old Sunny, felt just as cherished. Sunny, despite her name, found herself grappling with the stormy emotions of feeling overshadowed by her baby brother. She missed the days where she was all you and Mikey looked for, craving the attention she once held so easily.

One afternoon, while you were out on a rare girls night out, Mikey sat on the floor, playing peek-a-boo with baby Luis, he sensed a pair of angry little bright blue eyes fixed on him. Sunny stood at the entrance of the nursery, her small hands clenched into tiny fists. Her cherubic face contorted with a mix of frustration and sadness, she declared out loud; "You always play with Luis, and you don't play with me anymore, daddy!"

Mikey's expressive eyes widened, a pang of guilt hitting him square in the heart. He gently set Luis down in his crib, making his way over to Sunny, his voice laced with concern.

"Aw, Sunny, baby, I didn't mean to make you feel left out”, he said. “You're my sunshine, you know that, right?"

But Sunny, in her 5 year old wisdom, shook her head defiantly. "No, daddy, you don't love me anymore!", she exclaimed, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air.

Mikey, feeling a mix of hurt and determination, crouched down to her level. "Hey, little star, that's not true. I love you and Luis with all my heart”, he said, reaching out for her small hands. “How about we play together? You, me, and Luis - the ultimate superhero team!"

Sunny, her anger slowly giving way to curiosity, looked at her father with wide eyes. "Really?"

Mikey beamed, his signature grin returning. "Absolutely! You're my first little hero, and Luis is the newest member of our awesome team. What do you say we play together and show Luis the ropes?"

Sunny's face lit up with a bright smile, her grievances momentarily forgotten. "Okay, daddy!", she exclaimed, rushing forward to join the trio on the floor, while Mikey went to get little Luis from the crib.

And so, the nursery became a battleground for imaginary adventures and laughter. Mikey juggled the role of a playful father and referee between his two little ones, ensuring that both Sunny and Luis received equal attention and affection. Sunny, in turn, discovered the joy of being a big sister and basked in the warmth of her father's love.

[jamandjazz]

I've been thinking a lot about Steve lately. I really like thinking about how situations and family dynamics shape people. These quotes specifically, "and Steve— his hatred for his father coming out in his soft, bitter voice and the violence of his temper" and "We never could tell who we'd find stretched out on the sofa in the morning. It was usually Steve, whose father told him about once a week to get out and never come back."

And I know how strange it feels to have parents that are shitty but give you a lot of things materially. He has a car and gets a lot of pity money but his dad never does anything but try to push him to the side and forget about him. There's nothing canon that shows his Dad physically abuses him in any way so there's a good chance he told himself to just be grateful he got so much and his dad wasn't 'that bad.' He's resentful and angry and impulsive and so damn complex and we should talk about that more.

"I thought of Soda and Steve. What if one of them saw the other killed? Would that make them stop fighting? No, I thought, maybe it would make Soda stop, but not Steve. He'd go on hating and fighting," Steve is described as hateful and angry but what else is there for him to do? He can't just leave, he's too attached to where he is but staying isn't good either.

He's mad at the world he was born into, who wouldn't be? Greasers get all the rough breaks but he can't fix that, he's just one kid. (Also he definitely feels like a character that thrives off of being able to fix things, cars, problems, anything that he deems needing 'fixing')

And despite his temper being a big part of his personality that's not all of it. He's friends with Soda, and likes to indulge him. He's got a dry sense of humor and cares so much about anyone that cares for him back. He's protective he's caring and sure sometimes that means he gets violent and angry but that's a lot of what he knows, he's so so so much more than just someone that's just mad all the time despite the fact that that's what he gets boiled down to a lot. In the fandom and in the book, honestly I think that's why he's so close to Soda.

Soda's good at seeing past that sort of thing, he's good and understanding and when your whole life everyone just dismissed you as the kid that was always mad for no reason that's so fucking refreshing. Being seen as more than just your flaws helps you feel human. Helps you remember you deserve just as much care and affection as anyone else, and seeing how the Curtis's treated their kids was honestly probably where a lot of the resentment for his dad started building up.

Anyways this is super long but basically Steve's super complex and I love him.

[georgiapeach30513]

You Won't Get Time, Part 2

Summary: your brain never shuts off.

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader, Johnny Storm X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit sexual content, explicit language, mild form of self harm (rubber band snapping), slapping, biting, unprotected sex, PIV sex, cream pie, nightmares, depictions of drowning, underage drinking, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 7K

Previous

Series Masterlist

Biting your lip, you pace around your bedroom. It seems of late that’s all you do, and you’re always doing it alone, while somewhere the people you hold closest to your heart are elsewhere. How is it that when you need someone no one is around? Or is it because you’re ashamed of what happened? You never actually ask for Steve, you just know eventually he’ll come asking for you.

But what actually happened tonight? Everything was fine. Perfect even. People got to see you with Steve. In a way it is like marking your territory, and he was marking his. And it was amazing. Until he told you that you couldn’t stay. You didn’t understand why he never allowed you to linger. It’s like there was a bit of shame.

But then Bucky. You take a quick look in the mirror, and almost hate the person you see. Hate the way your eyes look a bit more sunken in and worn. You pull off every bit of clothing you have, and toss it into the hamper before walking into the Jack and Jill bathroom. You had to get Bucky off you. If you were a braver person, you would have jumped into the river. But who would have saved you then? Or is that what you want? To wash everything away and give up on whatever was going on? You’re just tired.

Turning on the water as hot as you can stand, you step in. Scrubbing and scouring at every remnant Bucky left behind. You wish you could just be open and honest with Steve, you just want him. But you get a feeling that Steve wants you to — take care of Bucky. It wasn’t all the time, and that’s why you allow it, but Bucky isn’t Steve. And Bucky went further than Steve would have allowed. You couldn’t cause another fight between them because of you.

And then afterwards. You walked to the river, trying to find some clarity, or contemplate washing away the evening, or something. You aren’t even sure what you wanted to do. Just run away and forget all the noise that is constantly surrounding you, and within your own mind. There’s only two times that it ever stopped. Well, there are two people that make the buzzing noise in your brain stop. And here you thought it was only Steve.

But why did Johnny have to invade not only your moment, but your mind. He is asking questions that you just couldn’t answer because — because you just couldn’t, and you didn’t want to. He wanted you to think about things, not realizing that was exactly the opposite of what you try to do with Steve. Because with Steve things just cease to stop moving. And it’s beautiful that you don’t have to think you can just be. Didn’t other people get that luxury?

Steve is your sanctuary. More than a friend or brother, he is your soulmate. Your other half. He is your everything. And how dare Johnny try to make you question the way things are with Steve. Nobody ever understood, and you just get tired of explaining it. You shouldn’t have to. Yours and Steve’s relationship was for you and him. People couldn’t understand the extreme complexities that make up your single minds.

Nobody could understand how precious things are with Steve. Mostly because he didn’t show the real him to people. But in the privacy of just you and him, you are blessed with seeing the man outside of the tormented soul he presents to the world. That’s love. Steve trusts you to be his vulnerable self. The one he keeps locked away from everyone because from experience, you and Steve were always the one left behind.

Bucky and Becca couldn’t understand because they still had their parents, and each other. Had yours and Steve’s parents not died, you might not have ever had this bond with him, and you’re grateful they’re dead. It beats the alternative of mourning their death forever. Constantly longing for people who are never coming back. You didn’t need them. The universe brought you what you needed. Steve.

You pop your neck as you walk back to your bedroom. Feeling cleansed from Bucky and him. Johnny had a death wish if he thought that being in your presence was a smart idea. And if Steve knew that he was questioning your relationship, it would not end well for Johnny. And yet there’s a part of you that not only wants to keep that hidden from Steve but also, maybe, you wouldn’t mind seeing him again. You shudder at the thought.

You reach over to your bedside table, and put a rubber band around your wrist, and give it a few pops. Taking a deep, slow inhale each time you let the rubber slap your skin. Exhaling before you pull it back. You take a quick check at your window before allowing your eyes to flutter close. Another night alone.

The Barnes’ thought you guys were grown enough now to do whatever it is they wanted on the weekend. It’s nice most of the time. Except now you just feel cold. Dreadfully cold. Hugging your knees to your chest, you clench your eyes close. It’s not the first time this has happened, and eventually sleep comes. Along with visions of the past. Ones you try to bury.

You pop the rubber band a few times. Feeling like your skin is crawling. Cold. Dark. Alone. Leaving you to wait for someone to save you. Except in your nightmares they never do.

——

Steve pushes your bedroom window open. He came in too late to use the front door, and the Barnes’ are already awake with the TV on in the living room. So he has to sneak to find you. He had too much weed last night. You hate seeing him high, so he waited. With some company before he came to you. He’s crawled through your window so many times that he could do it any form of inebriation.

Taking his shoes off, along with all his clothes, he lifts the covers and slides in behind you. Snaking an arm over you. His hand slides up your arm until he feels your wrist. Not only is one of those ugly bands on you, but your skin is warm and swollen, “Goddamit, Rio,” his voice is gruff behind your neck, but you don’t respond.

Your head twitches violently, and he hates himself. Heat doesn’t course through your blood, it’s like you're as cold as the day he pulled you from the river. “Rio?” His voice is met with a garbled cry. “Rio?” Still it’s nonsensical words that sound heavy. He hates having to shake you awake from these dreams, but they increase in severity if he doesn’t.

“Rio, baby, come back to me,” he leans over your body, hearing a strangled breath. It’s like you can’t escape the hellish nightmare, and you are causing yourself to drown. Your breathing is shallow, sounding like you're choking on your own saliva. “Rio? Rio! Please, I can’t lose you. Rio!”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head before he panics, shaking your body, until you’re gasping for air. Coughing at the invisible water in your lungs before looking up at him with so much confusion, until he pulls your body into his lap. Cradling you like a small baby, “I’m not going to lose you. I can’t. Rio, you’re my salvation. Please, don’t do this to me. I told you if you’re in that space to call me.”

“You’re late,” two words that cut him so deeply. Certain things don’t have to be spoken to understand what you mean. He’s late, meaning he was out high. “Does she have a name?”

“Don’t go there,” you are the one that was rudely woken up. You were sleeping. Maybe not peacefully, but you were sleeping. And he crawled through your window, and held you. And now he has the gall to tell you not to go there. You could have used him earlier in the night. Your nightmares don’t come if he’s with you.

“Have you at least washed her off you.”

“Did you wash Bucky off you?” Leaning to the side, you bite his arm. It wasn’t meant to hurt. It’s just aggression at his words.

“You allowed that to happen.”

“And you seemed like you really hated it, too,” he gets another bite, and he growls in response. “I hate it when you do that.”

“And I hate it when you act like I’m not enough for you. And don’t give me a dumb excuse that you have to let people know I don’t mean that much to you. That’s sick, and I’m done with your games,” still being cradled in his lap, he pinches your mouth. Thumb and forefinger on both sides, causing your mouth to hang open.

Like fire, even with warmth, there’s a danger to it. The flames have their way of causing pain. Licking and striking each other. You and Steve are passionate and painful. Leaning forward he licks a stripe up your neck, ending with his tongue tickling the inside of your mouth. “Suck it.”

“No,” you respond around the muscle. You aren’t sure where his tongue has been tonight. You’d be damned if you taste another woman. “Get off.”

Keeping his hand on your mouth he leans back, staring at you intently and confused. You never met him with resistance. It is a weird, and yet liberating thing. You hate to think that the brief conversation with Johnny had any effect on you, but you didn’t respond to Steve with eager enthusiasm, but with defiance.

“What?”

“I don’t want something that’s been inside another cunt,” he looks hurt. Not angry, and you want to plead for forgiveness, but also see where this goes.

“I haven’t touched another woman tonight.”

“Oh? And last weekend?”

“That was different,” you blow a puff of air up at him, wishing he would remove his hand. “You went on vacation with your little friend, and I was lonely.”

“I get lonely, too,” how dare he blame you. You’re tired and wish to sleep, and here he is blaming you for something he did. You deserve vacations, but deep down you know Steve doesn’t like the idea of you wanting to leave here.

“Maybe I should find me another cock,” he slaps the side of your leg with his free hand, but you just smile. “Does that bother you? Thinking about another man hovering over me. Leaving bruises on my skin from how tightly he holds onto me. Have someone that isn’t you fucking into me, and not only does it feel good, but I love it? Is that why you allow Bucky to fuck me? Because I don’t love him like I love you? And I don’t want him fucking me?”

“You’ve never said that,” you shouldn’t have to. How many times have you said all you want was Steve. It’s subtle, but it’s said.

“You’ve never asked. You just know I’ll do what you ask. And I get lonely, too,” you repeat the sentiment again, hoping that Steve catches it and understands.

“You take another cock, and I’ll never forgive you,” you stare up at him with cold dark eyes. Hating him for even thinking that. “You belong to me.”

“Then quit allowing our brother to fuck me!”

“Then tell him, no. If you hate it so much, just tell him, no. You never have, so I assumed that you must like it enough,” you roll your eyes, and get another slap to your leg. “Quit being a little bitch. What is wrong with you this morning?”

“I get lonely, too!” He clearly hasn’t heard you. He doesn’t get that you hate being alone. It’s a visceral reaction, and when it happens you go back to all the bad thoughts.

“Yeah, and fucking doing — why is the rubber band on your wrist again, Ri? You said you would tell me if you felt like doing that again. Why do you need to hurt yourself?”

“Why? Because I came home after being used while everyone in your fucking friend group watched, but I’m not good enough to stay there with you, no. You just want everyone to know I’m your little cunt bitch that lets you fuck me whenever you need it. And after being used, I didn’t have anyone to hold me when I needed it. I came here alone, and was left to my own thoughts, and the bands bring me back to reality. When I flick my skin, I’m here in the present. When I don’t I’m in my mind in the fucking river fighting for my life, and you weren’t there to save me,” Steve’s grip on your cheeks softens before he lets his arm fall altogether.

Letting himself be defeated as he lays back on your bed. “You’re not even going to apologize, are you? Bucky fucked me in front of your friends, and I had to come home alone. I get tired of being used by you two.”

“You think I use you?” You’re not sure what he would call it.

“I think that’s all you allow yourself to do. Do you love me?”

“Yeah. You know I love you. You know you’re the only one that quiets my thoughts, too.”

“If you don’t want me to feel like I’m being used, be there for me when I need you. It works both ways, but you’re the only one taking, and I’m so tired of giving, and everyone gets to see me giving,” if it was Steve that everyone saw you with instead of Bucky, maybe you wouldn’t feel so raw. But it was like a sick game to see you pass around between the two of them.

He twists his head while looking at you, and you’re tired of talking. At a party Steve does use you. He stakes his claim in front of everyone and lets them know that you’re untouchable. You belong to him, and no one can ever have you. “You didn’t call me.”

“Shut up,” you whisper, turning your body to straddle Steve. You pull off his old shirt, and watch his eyes roam over your body as you start to grind on his naked self. “Don’t act so surprised, Steve. What’s the rule? No panties in the bed, that way if you need me, you can just have me. You got in my bed naked. But now I’m the one that needs you,” still grinding on top of him, you lean forward, kissing up his neck.

“Why so late?” It is already morning. You can see the warm sun rays start to peek through the window. “Don’t lie to me.”

“We were discussing you coming out next weekend,” you sit up, cocking an eyebrow. “There’s reasons I don’t want you there.”

“Why?”

“Initiation.”

“Such as?” He moans as his cock starts to get harder. His body comes alive with your juices. You didn’t care what the initiation was as long as you got to be accepted into his world. And be with him without shame.

“I don’t want to put you through that.”

“You don’t want to give me the chance to accept? Or is this about you?”

“If you’re a ride or die — there’s things you have to do to prove you're loyal to the group. Even the women. You’re still in school. And I’m biding my time for us to…us to…fuck just stick it in,” he is rock hard, and you’re weeping for him. Your body craves the way he feels so much. It’s like the only way you stay alive, and present, and with him that doesn't involve a painful reminder of what your current life is.

“Ri, I’m dying. You’re soaked, and I can’t think right now,” he’s stalling. Distracting you with his dick, so you forget all about what it takes to be part of his group. “Ri. Please, baby.”

Adjusting your weight, you reach between your legs, guiding his steel length to your core. Not even teasing your entrance, you push through. Not stopping your descent until he’s fully sheathed, and you sigh. Looking up at the ceiling while his hands explore your curves.

At the party it’s so hard and fast and just about getting off, but in the privacy of your bedroom it’s like you’re discovering each other for the first time. His calloused fingertips move over every inch of your body. Ghosting over your supple skin before settling on your tits.

They gently graze over your pebbled peaks, tweaking and teasing them until they’re as hard as his cock. Giving them a hard pinch before you start bouncing over top of him. Riding him like it is your job. Like it’s your purpose. Steve stares up at you like you’re a goddess, and this time, you take his pleasure. Steal it right from his lungs with every whining moan that echoes from his sinful mouth.

He may like things rushed, but you love when he worships you. Staring up at you like you’re the only person in the world while your body swallows him. Fusing the two of you as one, just like you are meant to be. Nothing feels as good as Steve. Nothing is more beautiful and pure as when the two of you connect.

It doesn’t matter the pace that you move over him, it just matters that he is in you. A part of you. Something so beautiful, and you can receive the best pleasure known to man. This isn’t taking, it’s equally being in awe and so in love with each other. The universe dealt you and Steve some of the worst cards, but you have each other. Of all the bad in your life he is the only good. The solace outside of the chaos that you seek refuge within.

“Shh, Ri, you’re getting too loud, baby. Look at me,” opening your eyes, you lock eyes with him, holding his gaze makes this experience so much more intense. Like the two of you are floating in the clouds by yourself. Don’t even notice anything around you. “There, right there, baby. Fuck, you’re amazing. Heavenly.”

That’s how he feels to you, heavenly. If you could take him and you and live in the middle of nowhere and survive off each other’s touch, you would in a split second. “My god. Ri, this is…uhhh,” his eyes roll into the back of his head, and now is the time you need him.

“I don’t want you to leave me,” he stares up at you confused, and lost in his pleasure. “Don’t make me get off. Fill me. Come inside me.”

“Don’t ask me, we can’t.”

“I’m on the pill,” it takes him no time to push his hips up, and flip the two of you over. Slamming his hands on your bed frame, and he rails into you. Fucking you so deep you swear you see stars. Nothing in your room is visible anymore. Just Steve.

You run your nails down his back, and settle on his ass, pushing him even deeper into your soul. You want to feel him for the rest of the day. Walk funny. Keep a part of him inside of you. “Yeah. Steve, I’m going to…I’m going to…oh fuck, fuck — fuck me!”

Biting on your lip, you let the words grunt out of you as your walls clench around his cock. Putting him into a vice grip as it milks every bit of his delicious thick cum. Spurting his seed into your core just where it belongs. The first time you have ever felt him like that, and you sigh as you smile up at him, but his face falls.

“He’s came in you, hasn’t he?”

“What? No. No, Steve, don’t ruin this. It’s just been you. Don’t. I-I-I can’t. Just don’t right now. Love me. Love me!” This has taken a drastic turn and you try to bring him back to you, and into this moment. It’s a struggle to register just what it is he’s asking.

“Ri?”

“You were the first. I-I-It has only been you. Don’t fight this. I need your touch right now. Don’t leave me this time. Please, don’t,” what is it with him and always finding a dramatic way to leave when you just want his touch, and to hold you? It’s like he’s forgetting an important part about being inside of you.

“You’re lying to me,” his voice is so flat and without emotion as he starts pulling out of you. Giving you no time to relish in the feeling of him still inside of you. “Why are you lying?”

“Steve, please, just look. Look at the mess we made. Look at…look at me. Don’t. Just don’t run away,” you feel your heart start to crack into tiny little shards as he stands up from the bed. Leaning down to pick up his clothes. “Steve. Just lay in bed with me a little bit. I’ll keep you inside of me the rest of the day.”

“I don’t want him touching you anymore. And don’t ask me to go to those parties.”

“Steve?” You can’t even hide the tears that well in your eyes. “We were going to hang out tonight. You can fuck me on the couch in front of everybody. Really claim me. They’ll never touch me.”

“Rio, I’ve got…I’ve got some things to do today.”

“You bastard, Steve Rogers,” you don’t raise your voice as he opens up your bedroom door.

“Clean yourself up,” he closes the door gently, but you launch a pillow towards the opening. Holding in a scream as you make a muffled sound in your throat. Going to your closet, and throwing on whatever you can before going into yours and Becca’s shared bathroom. Angrily brushing your teeth. Two can play that game.

Becca opens up her door. Looking up and down at you, while she leans against the frame. It only pisses you off further. You assume your gums are bleeding by how harshly you brush them. Finishing up by spitting into the basin, and turning to glare at her, “What? What could you possibly want?”

She walks into the bathroom, grabbing up her own toothbrush before looking at you through the mirror. Turning back to you, and she leans into your ear, “You’re leaking,” your hand goes in between your legs, and you gulp. Steve’s cum.

“You know, if you want to be Steve’s sloppy little slut, maybe you should have the decency to fuck him outside of my parents’ house. And maybe you should clean yourself up just like he asked. I wouldn’t be awake if you weren’t so damn loud.”

“Why don’t you ask your brother how loud I can be, you bitch,” you spin around, and close the door on her. She hated you, and you know she hates the idea of you being with her brother even more. Fucking Bucky. He had to ruin the first good thing you and Steve could have had. And the worst part is, you didn’t even get to enjoy your first creampie. Or the second.

You just have to get out of here. You didn’t want to stay inside all Saturday. If you’re going to be alone, you’re going to be alone outdoors. Riding your bike. Going anywhere. But clearly going alone. Steve is going to have to stop being such a scared little shit. He’d see how much the two of you are meant to roam the world together, and without these people surrounding you. That’s what he needs. To get away. Maybe you should see what you can do about finishing high school early. It wouldn’t take too long. Maybe a few weeks. You could do it, and it would be worth it to have him how you want him.

——

Sniffling you start to stumble again. Giggling when you fall onto the train tracks. Today was hell. Any day where you have to think too much always is, but today was particularly bad. Your body itched, and you cried, and laughed. All day until you were able to swipe a few bottles of Boone’s Farm, and stuff them in your backpack.

Even though you struggle, you manage to stand back up, and attempt to balance on the tracks. Wobbling, but righting yourself until you fall onto your back, and you groan at how uncomfortable the backpack feels underneath you. Lumpy and pushing into your spine in an aggravating way.

“Ugh,” maneuvering it off your back, you pull out another bottle. “Ooh, blue this time,” removing the top you take a long swig of the drink. It now tastes like a delicacy, and you’re thankful for that. Placing the cap back on, you lay back on the tracks, and gaze up at the night sky.

“I hate you,” you wonder who it is you’re talking about. Definitely Steve, but a small part of you is yourself. You’re only refuge is Steve and somehow you always fucked it up. You should have relished in that moment today, but instead you pissed him off. What else was he supposed to do? You betrayed him and you had to think.

No one had even come looking for you. Becca wouldn’t. She hates you as much as you hate her. She couldn’t understand the pull you and Steve had to each other, and she was probably jealous that he chose you over her anyways. But with you it wasn’t even a choice. Your parents had all died to make sure you ended up together, and you are constantly fucking it up.

You feel your eyes start to get heavy. With the stars as your blanket it’s a comforting feeling. It isn’t too cold tonight, and you have a break from your brother that crawls into your bedroom, or the other one that you allowed to come inside of you. You let the stars spin around you, lulling you into a sleep.

Fighting to keep your nightmares at bay while your dreams are losing the battle. Happy domestic times where you have a home constantly flooding, or you’re drowning in the tub. Spirals of weird shapes and faces. Grotesque and still beautiful in its way. You feared the river, but thanked it for bringing you closer to Steve. The water tried to win, but like a knight in shining armor Steve defeated it. And now you were forged together.

“Oh my god!” You can still feel his lips on yours for the first time as he breathed life back into you, and you clung to him. It was the second time your life course changed forever. “Rio!”

“Go away,” you moan, turning to your side. “Holy fuck,” sitting up, you scoot away from him. “You’re not Steve.”

“Why the hell would I be Steve? What…?” He picks up the bottle of wine, and you try to take it from him, but he’s too fast, “How much have you drunk?” Johnny takes a long pull of the bottle before he spits it out. What a waste, you could have drank that. “This shit is disgusting. Blue Hawaiian? They didn’t have the strawberry one?”

“Already drunk,” hiccuping, you let your eyes start to close again. Blocking him from the evening. If you blocked him, maybe he would go away.

“Ri, drinking by yourself is usually a sign that there’s a problem,” rolling your eyes open, you stick your tongue out at him, blowing a raspberry, and he chuckles at you. “Falling asleep on the tracks sounds like a horrible idea, too.”

“The train hasn’t worked for years,” he smiles, taking another drink from the bottle. He keeps his eyes on you, actually swallowing the neon liquid. “I thought it tasted like shit?”

“Yeah, still does. But I can’t have you drinking alone, or I’ll have to call you an alcoholic,” he’s insufferable. You had another bottle, so you grab your backpack, and pull out the final one. “Cherry? What did you do, rob the grocery store, and you didn’t know what to get, so you got a little bit of everything?”

“You know me so well, Johnny. Tell me more,” his eyes make a slow descent down your body before taking a drink. “That’s what I thought.”

“I know you think you and Steve belong together, but you have the most twisted version love I’ve ever seen.”

“Yep, that’s my cue to leave,” it’s a bit of a struggle to stand up with the bottle, but you do it. Bending over to retrieve your backpack, some of the cherry wine pours onto the ground, but you don’t care. You just start walking.

“I know that anytime someone brings him up in a negative way, you run away,” asshole. It’s best not to react, so you take another drink. Hobbling down the tracks. Tripping over your own feet. “I know that he’s allowed to be with other women because he doesn’t want his weird ass gang to have a part of you, but you behave and stay at home waiting on him.”

Things are complicated between you and Steve. No one would understand. That’s a promise you and him had made years ago. They couldn’t understand because they didn’t want to. “I know that every time he fucks you at a party, you leave looking sadder and sadder. Nobody ever cares how you feel when Steve is always the problematic one. Always getting arrested, and needing bailed out of jail. And then he whines and goes to you for the comfort that only you can provide.”

“And I know you’re,” you spin around too fast, and everything goes in slow motion as your body shakes and wobbles before you feel gravity start to pull you down, but Johnny moves quickly, grabbing at your waist, and pulling you into him. And you gulp as you stare up at him. His jaw is oddly pretty.

“I’m what?”

“An asshole who they won’t allow in with them.”

“You wanna know the real secret, Rio? I don’t want to be part of them. I didn’t want to go through the initiation because it’s demeaning and fucking sick. The worst way to prove your loyalty, and it’s just so they all get a taste of each others’ property. Because that’s all you are,” what the hell is he even talking about. You were property. You were to be used. And that’s how it shows they’re loyal. You head starts spinning in the process of trying to put it all together.

An odd noise builds up in your throat, and Johnny has you spun around in his arms, leaning you over the tracks, and you hurl your guts out. Eyes watering as your body expels everything from the night, and still he holds you. Never stops no matter how disgusting this is.

When everything is released from your body, he pulls you back into him, “Get on my back.”

“No. Let me lay here in peace,” weirdo. He just wants you on top of him. And you can’t have that. You have to be alone until Steve finds you. Because that’s how it always happens.

“The temperature is dropping.”

“And I can’t go home drunk,” he doesn’t wait for you to get on his back, just places you on there, and you don’t want to fight. You’re tired of fighting for the night. You’re just tired. You let your head rest on his shoulder as he continues to follow the tracks. “Where are we going?”

“To my house,” it’s a simple enough answer, and you can think of the consequences later. He feels quite comfortable, and you let him carry you into whatever next fight that this will cause. It will cause an uproar with Steve, and Johnny may not be here the next day, but it was his decision. He wanted to talk about steve’s problems with the law, but has no problem with being the reason Steve gets in trouble again. If he’s caught.

You feel him walking up steps when you finally open your eyes, and look around confused. He carries you to a couch before he walks back down the narrow hall, and starts moving around a small kitchen. You look over everything, smiling despite the sick taste in your mouth. “I’ve got extra toothbrushes if you want to um, well brush your teeth,” he peeks over to you on the couch, nodding towards the back of the hall.

You follow where he’s looking, smiling even bigger, “This is a train car.”

“Yeah,” how can someone just respond so simply to that? There is no explanation as to why he’s living in a train car. And what exactly is in the other ones. “The next car over is the bathroom, and the one after that is my bedroom.”

“How? And why?”

“Storm Railroad Company, really?” You’re a fucking idiot. Of course. “I don’t know, I like living in the middle of the woods, alone, so nobody can bother me. Asked my granddad if I could, and he said, sure. So here we are,” he walks over towards you with a plate, and you stare at it. “It’s buttered toast. Here.”

He sits down on the other end of the couch, as far away as he can get, and you keep staring at the toast. “Why are you being so nice to me?” No one has every showed you kindness like this. It’s like he’s wanting to take care of you just when you need it.

“Because no one else takes care of you,” for someone who has had such a short life, you have felt more pain than most. Your life changed drastically in a short amount of time. You nearly drowned, and continue to have nightmares, but you have Steve. “Eat, Rio. There was no food in your vomit. When was the last time you ate?”

“This morning I had some powdered donuts,” taking a slow and timid bite, you look out in front of you, so you don’t have to see his face. It pisses you off because he’s being not only nice, but sweet.

“It’s nearly midnight,” you shrug your shoulders. Your bites start to quicken as you let the simple meal take you away from this morning with Steve. Johnny is too observant, and too smart. You feel his eyes on you, and you wish you could just go into a small hole, so he couldn’t see you. And then there is a tiny, minuscule part that wishes he’d look harder.

“What’s on your wrist?” You shrug, picking up the other piece of toast, and he reaches over to pull your wrist to him. His soft fingers rub over the area before he sighs. “You want to talk about why you do that?” you shrug again, stuffing the remaining bread in your mouth, and he stands up to gather your plate.

“This could be easier if you just talk,” this could be easier if he just knew.

“Why do you care?”

“You fascinate me,” he slumps back on the couch, and still keeps the same amount of distance from you. “You want that toothbrush now?” You shake your head no, and look back towards the kitchen. “You thirsty for something that’s not cheap ‘wine’?” You give him a nod, and he smiles as he gets up. Pouring you a glass of Sunny D before the same routine happens. Still just as far away.

“Sunny D? Seriously?”

“I don’t want to hear any lip from the girl who was drinking Blue Hawaiian Boone’s Farm, you understand?” You giggle as you take a sip from the cup. “That was a genuine smile and laugh,” the way he looks at you should make you uncomfortable. He studies you. But instead of feeling an unease, you like being noticed.

“I do that sometimes.”

“You should do it often,” conflicting worm up your chest with that admission. He likes your laugh, but what do you have to laugh about?

“Not all of us grew up rich and with our parents,” he gives you a single nod, and you have to look straight ahead again. He’s intense in a different way from Steve. With Steve you know him better than you know yourself, and know what his intentions are. Johnny is a mystery, and it puzzled you why he even cares. You are a nobody, while he’s from the richest family in town. He’s privileged in a way you could never understand.

“You want to tell me about the band on your wrist?”

“Why do you care?”

He sighs, realizing cracking you isn’t going to be easy. All you want to do is go around in circles with the same responses. “Maybe I just want to talk to you.”

“Snapping it on my wrist is like remembering what real life is. You know the saying pinch me because I’m dreaming? I have nightmares about drowning. Not always, but a lot of the time. And it just helps me remember when I’m awake and when it’s just a dream that can’t hurt me,” he reaches for your hand again but pauses before touching you. “What?”

“Can I take it off for you? Just for tonight?”

“Why?” It’s an odd question.

“I’ll wake you up if I see you’re having a nightmare,” you stare at him. Actually analyze him because you have no idea how you’re supposed to respond to that. It shocked you to have someone that wanted that responsibility.

“How will you know if I’m on the couch?”

“Oh, you thought you were sleeping on the couch? No. I have a gigantic bed back there. It’s not like we have to sleep right next to each other, but you look like you need some luxury. Are you still hungry?” You shake your head no, and he stands, holding a hand out towards you. “I won’t bite.”

You should run away, and go home. Pretend all of this didn’t happen, but you don’t want to. It feels like the first time anyone has ever truly cared about your well being. You aren’t sure what Steve thought the rubber bands were for, but he never truly asked, just asked why you are wearing them again. Making yourself that vulnerable to Johnny feels freeing. Like a brick that you’ve carried on your back for a while was removed.

You let him lead you to the bathroom car, and you stop. “I need to pee.”

“You need to brush your teeth, too. Here,” he reaches into a cabinet pulling out a never been opened toothbrush, and hands it to you. “You want to take a shower?” Yes. You can’t tell him that. “Let me get you one of my shirts, and some boxers. I know it’s not the most ideal, and had I known you would be staying the night, I could have been prepared. But I also didn’t know I would find you on my walk home.”

Without responding, he just wanders back into what you’re assuming is the last train car, and you just stand there. It’s overwhelming to think someone is as kind to you as Johnny. There had to be some form of a catch, nobody does all this for nothing in return. But you couldn’t quite figure it out, unless it is just physical with him.

He jogs back into the middle car, and you have to tell him. Be up front with him, “I’m not going to have sex with you,” he lays the shirt and boxers on the vanity for you, and stares at you oddly. Scratching the back of his head as he contemplates how he’s going to kick you out. There it is. That was always what he was after. You should have known.

“I wasn’t planning on having sex with you either. Number one, you’re drunk. You’re sobering up, but you’re still drunk. Sorry, you can’t consent to me when you’re partially intoxicated. Number two, pretty sure you’ve got whatever with Steve, and I’m good. Number three, I’m not interested. You look like you need a friend more than you need another man shoving themself into you.”

You nod. Stepping into the room that he had fashioned as the shower, and close the door. You couldn’t look at him after that confession. It’s a lot to process while your brain is addled with the usual bullshit, but nasty wine on top of it. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you call out to him. You can’t ever recall someone saying sorry, and it sounds genuine. Why is your life so fucked up? And why did you keep digging yourself a deeper hole? Whatever this was, Steve would never think it’s innocent. “Johnny?”

“I won’t say anything if you don’t,” that helps. A little bit.

Stepping into the shower you turn it as hot as you can stand. You didn’t realize how cold you have gotten. How being outside in the night, and this — situation, has made you freeze. You hate being cold. Cold brings out the bad thoughts and feelings. You let his shower wash them all away. Didn’t even care to see the feelings swirl down the drain. You were going to do this. Go on a journey to gods know where. All because you selfishly don’t want to be cold, or alone. And Johnny is a friend. You desperately need a friend.

Nobody had even called or texted you tonight. The lost and forgotten girl. The Barnes’ couldn’t wait to get rid of you, but you thought Steve would have sent something. Guess it means he found another woman for the evening. But you got to have him inside of you all day. You wonder if that meant as much to him as it did you. And wonder what it is that let him know what Bucky did. Another moment stolen from you.

But there’s comfort in knowing that nobody could steal these moments from you. Because they wouldn’t even know. If your friends want to abandon you, and your family, and your soulmate why couldn’t you abandon them? A deep pang in your stomach reminds you that you could never abandon Steve. Just the thought of being without him feels like torture. One of these days all this pain would be worth it.

Maybe.

Next

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @rogersbarber @theinheriteddutchess @musingsfromthemitten

[tirfpikachu]

sometimes i feel like, in certain cases, "detrans woman" and "nonbinary woman" ain't too different. and could even be used simultaneously by the same person without much issue. after all, isn't processing internalized misogyny and escaping the gender roles box for womanhood also a way someone can at the same time not feel like a binary man, not feel like a binary woman, but not feel like a not-woman either? after unlearning all the bullshit male society taught us, it can be destabilizing and create distance between us and other women. we might no longer feel like a normie woman. we've been awakened. we're no longer a gender roled woman, rolled up in everything she was taught she needed to be or she would fail at womanhood. we're an unfailible woman, we can't get a bad grade in womanhood bc we don't care about gender grades. we know it's all bullshit. we took back the power patriarchal society had over us. in that sense, we're not willingly binary anymore. and i think, over time, it's only going to get harder and harder to find women who are happily into the gender roles, the gender box assigned to them.

people fucking hate that, ofc. especially male people, and doubly so cis/bio men. they hate that we're awakened women. they hate that we found feminism and sisterhood and go detrans or use nonbinary in addition to woman, bc we reconnect with our body type and our upbringing. and by they, i mean both sides btw. the patriarchy hates that we found our power, of course. non-feminists scoff at us.

and... mainstream trans activists hate that our journey got us here, and hate how we make dysphoria seem curable in unmedical ways and transness more complex than they like to think. we complicate things. they hate that they found power in changing themselves (whatever makes them feel at peace ofc), while we tried to as well, but in the process we found our power was within us all along. we found that just being neutrally sexed animals, just female humans, female animals, girls the way that one calls a cat a sweet girl, cat first girl second, human first girl second... our bodies, our gender category, don't define us. anymore, anyways. anyone who defines us by our womanhood is a bigot, and we scrubbed our brains free of all the shit patriarchal brainwashing left in us. and for us, personally, it was enough to free us. that's not the case for anymore. some folks need more than that. some folks need to modify themselves beyond recognition to feel at peace with themselves. but i do hope they know that deep down, they were always good beings all along. i hope they know that gender is bullshit and sex says nothing about anyone's worth, personality, goals, interests, etc. it says fuckall about any of that. i don't care if i get a male or female rabbit. a rabbit is a rabbit. if i feel affection for a new pet, our connection is what matters [*]. i would never assign someone gender roles based on their sex. but it's sadly done way too often by parents and male society. if you're trans, temporarily or forever, you gotta clean up all your internalized misogyny and sexism/gncphobia. find kinship with other female people, or male gnc people if you're male. just check off some boxes. clean everything up. deep-clean your mind and your heart first.

[*] insert tras here being like, "why can't you be like that about dating? you dirty close-minded terfy homo dyke? why can't you love beyond genitals? beyond just bodies?" and these days i laugh and laugh and laugh at that shit because wow they have zero clue!! they don't know the sense of peace at having my female/afab body against another female/afab body, at knowing we were born the same, at knowing we went thru the same growing up, at knowing we understand eachother so, so deeply without saying a word bc she is what i am, she is where i have been, and i have suffered as she has suffered, and we are a love born of the connection all female beings share, the connection of bio dick havers treating us as prey. not knowing we're more powerful than they could ever dream of. do bodies like ours not hold the godly powers of creation itself? are we not gods in the literal sense, born creators, who get to choose if a new life should be made? do we not hold the future in the palm of our hand? to the dismay of penised beings? and do me and my beloved not love eachother only the way two gods could love one another, knowing the struggle, knowing the power? is the patriarchy not fighting tooth and nail to control us, wrestle us into submission before their phallic altar? do they not know it's impossible, for everything in us would dry up at the sight? do they not know that we can rely on sisterhood to get us through fucking anything? do they not know we masculinized ourselves and found ourselves happily female anyway? do they not know that i'd love her with a beard and five eyes, but if she was reborn male we would not be the same people to begin with (tho ofc i like to think the bodyswapped versions of us would have a love story too, we would not be us anymore, not this timeline's love story, she would be a different version of her and i would miss our og love)? because what is anyone without memories, and aren't childhood memories, puberty memories, some of the experiences most affected by one's body type (under the patriarchy), some of the most developmentally significant memories of all? is female just genitalia and estrogen puberty to tras, to "hearts not parts" type folks?

is female just a meat suit and not also the life experiences linked to it, our upbringing, a rich female culture one is born into? trans women might be immigrants into this female culture if they pass post-transition, they might get the exact body, but they just don't know the culture the way born into it do. any transfem will admit being transfem is hard, it's hard to merge into female culture when they self-admittedly don't know much about it. anyone not having been born into this culture, not being fluent the way only a native resident of femaleness can be, will show signs of it even if it's been 50+ years. you can't just wipe someone's upbringing clean, your past always leaves traces, and a transfem wouldn't be able to bond with other female4female lesbians on basic female upbringing things... when those are the things that make being into other female ppl so attractive for many of us! we just get eachother. we understand without even saying anything. we understand female body issues. there's a warm sense of peace emanating from that knowledge in my heart, knowing me and my girlfriend were born the same. we went through so many of the same things, all the good and the bad sides of growing up female. and i find that attractive as hell, and it brings me immense joy in life. there's so many inside jokes a transfem just wouldn't get the way my gf can. and i unfortunately need to add, since people get defensive, that this isn't shaming the transfem for not having those experiences. i hope the transfem will come to terms with not being female too. she can be a woman in society, but she's not born this way, she's an immigrant into womanhood, and that's okay. she still needs to let lesbians who are only into people raised female enjoy our unique sexuality that she just can't understand. i can't understand the transfem4transfem experience either. so what? isn't lgbt or 2slgbtqia+ or whatever culture all about inclusion and diversity in sexuality and gender expression? what about those who are girls the way animals are girls? we hate gender roles but we're personally definining cis womanhood as being female animals, female humans? what's so twisted about that? what about female4female lesbians? transmasc4transmasc can exist, why not us? why make everything so stupidly complicated for no reason? why shame us for how we were born, for being into others like ourselves?

i pity them, honestly. watch them bring girldick and male upbringing experiences to female4female lesbians, watch as we'll all dry up like the dying succulents on our windowsills and sip drinks laughing at the naked male bodies before us because they're so unsexual to us homodykes. watch as we raise eyebrows at the male's lack of misogyny in her upbringing, her lack of expertise on female culture, and just... everything that's so fundamentally unappealing to us. we can be friends. we can be allies. thankfully though, sex and marriage isn't activism. you can't play woke in the sheets. if you do, that's honestly sad. love isn't political. heteros made it political, but love is just love. and the love between two female people is normal. boring at times, even. we're normies. and if mainstream tras can't see that, well, maybe they have issues to work through in therapy. idk.

if two dysphoric ppl working through really hard shit end up feeling at peace with being female animals, female humans, and loving one another, if that's threatening, if that's bigoted, if that's twisted, well...

we detrans chicks and homodykes will find our own place to hangout. and we'll be nice to your faces, of course, but behind doors we're having a blast with others like ourselves. people like us have done this for as long as humanity has been alive, anyways. we always go underground and make it work anyhow. radblr is proof of that. idc if i have to go door to door checking if any homodyke is there, or if i have to comb thru tra spaces to find cool detrans folks, i will find others like me. that's what the marginalized have always done.

we're like lizards. we'll just find a cooler rock to party under🦎✌️

[intermundia]

If you start with "I dont wish to be a hater or judge someone else's tastes but" I am sorry to inform you that you already are 🤷🏻‍♂️ Answering more seriously, ignoring all the canon examples that can be given for the appeal of this ship, let's address what could possibly motivate someone to consider it to begin with, regardless of the canon reasons. I assume you're implying some immoral issues that you personally take issue and cannot understand how we all just overlooked them, so— Historically, power dynamics between a Master and their Apprentice, would often include sexual tones and tensions that were explored or not. There's intrigue and interest in seeing how being raised in such an environment, when your main and closest bond, physical and mental, is also the one who raises and trains you, the one with whom you mature and develop (sometimes mutually, as one grows out of apprenticeship, and the other becomes a master). Some cultures saw this as being part of educating a young man to become a decent adult, showing them how to love and make love correctly, and modeling the correct behaviour. We can also address the fact that Anakin is a slave, phycologically, children with trauma tend to imprint on their saviors (hello Padme, hello Obi-Wan) and more than a few times, that leads to inappropriate and sometimes sexual fantasies, too. Not to mention that teens, even such without a trauma, but especially with one (those who lack one of the parents, double the chance) would develop a deep attachment, sexual fantasies and resentment and complex about their idol. And this is just the tip of the iceberg, only addressing Anakin's side. If we speak of Obi-Wan, a man raised in a cult-like organisation with strict codes, no modelling of healthy father-son relationships or any sort of real family structures and give him a boy who does not know how to not love with his whole ass heart--- anyways. It's interesting. It's intriguing. It's fun to explore and untangle. If you think that shipping Anakin with Padme is better by a lot, given their type of relationship and attachement style, as well as their communication and how anxious Anakin is-- well, you're just judging the ship based on the fact that it feels yucky for you to imagine irl. But well, isn't it lucky this is fictional? Anyways, if you don't want to be a hater-- just don't be. Plenty ships out there that are no everyone's cup of tea, what you do is block them and don't read them and forget about them, rather than come to ask someone a question under the guise of actually wanting to know the answer. If you have, you would have worded the question with a curiosity that would have prompted OP to give you a real answer. But you intent was not pure, therefore :)

thank you so much, i really did NOT have the spoons to put any of it into words today. usually i just block similar message but i really hated how that one was phrased in particular, like i really have always been happy to explain the million reasons why i think they love each other in every possible way... i've written so much meta and 750k words of stories about it. but they're just "asking" as a shame tool bc they think it's icky, and they don't want to actually consider the myriad complex reasons why people sometimes love each other in inappropriate situations and where those situations might arise inside the world of the gffa lmao

[enbycrip]

Scientifically, cats literally relate to humans in at least a partially parental way.

Making biscuits on you is a kitten behaviour. Cats learned to make cries that have elements of human infant sounds as part of their self-domestication. They literally seek a relationship with us with features of parenthood to it.

Yes, they can absolutely tell the difference between human children and adults and also co-parent with us on kittens AND human infants - that’s why many cats will put up with clumsiness and somewhat unwieldy love from their human’s babies and toddlers that they would never tolerate from an adult human, because that is *their* giant hairless kitten too, and they *get* that kittens are clumsy and playful and don’t mean harm.

Feral cats live in colonies and have complex social relationships. They can react to us as adults *and* as parents, because that’s a common situation in colonies.

I hate when people who, frankly tend to not understand animal social behaviour even slightly, denigrate our relationships with our animal companions. It’s too frequently just anthrocentric BS; this idea that humans aren’t another animal too and that one of our species behaviours isn’t seeking community, including with other species as well as our own.

None of this means it’s okay to treat a cat like a human baby, or worse yet like a toy. The point is that cats are autonomous social beings like us, even if the way they manifest that is different from the majority of humans or dogs, and having a form of a parental relationship with your cat is absolutely fine, same as having a sibling relationship, or a roommate relationship, and people who denigrate others for regarding their animal companions as autonomous beings with their own needs, personalities and emotions are being shitty.

[babybatss-blog]

ik youve nvr done a fic for sam from sdv but I saw you are happy to!

Could I get fluff where he teaches you how to use his skateboard?

ROUGH DAY

Of course love, that’s such a cute idea! I don’t know much about skating but I did date a girl who skated, so I hope it’s accurate ~

Sam (stardew) x f!reader, 1300 words

Cw: swearing, suggestive language and blood.

Life in the valley is relaxing as you’ve always dreamed it would be. After leaving Zuzu city, you craved a boring normality, without a standard nine to five job and screaming criminals outside of your window at three am when you’re trying to sleep. You do also kind of miss the fun you had in your teenage years though, causing trouble and giving grey hairs to your poor parents. Perhaps that’s why you love Abby, Sam and Sebastian. Being two years younger than you they tended to remind you of trouble-free times, often getting you into antics you wouldn’t dream of now you’re attempting a proper adult life in the scenic countryside.

After doing your simple tasks on the farm you check your phone to see a message from Abby. “Yo we are chilling outside of Sam’s if you want to join :)” You smile at the text, as you’ve only been here for a month and a bit and the three have already welcomed you in so graciously. So you grab you back pack and set off, to spend the day in the sunshine with your new friends.

When you arrive, Abby and Sebastian are sitting on the grass playing Arctic Monkeys on a small speaker, while Sam is skating on the path in front of them. “Hey!!” You call, causing an enthusiastic wave from Abby and a less enthusiastic one from Seb. You thought he hated you, but the others assured you he was ‘just like that’. Sam on the other hand, whips his head up and looses balance on his board almost immediately, causing him to fall flat on his ass on the harsh concrete.

“Shit Sam are you alright?” You say, scrambling to his side to help him up. Despite what you deemed to be a serious tumble, Abigail and Seb merely laugh at the poor boy, pointing and insulting his clumsiness. “mm I’m alright…” he grumbles, dusting himself off with a pink blush coating his cheeks. You can’t help but notice how cute he looks in his flustered state, but choose to not dwell so much on the thought as it somehow feels wrong inside your stomach. “So… What are you doing?” You ask, quickly changing the subject away from your awkward silence. “Just skating. I’ve been trying to kickflip but it’s honestly harder than I thought it would be.” You respond with a confused face, clearly not understanding his complex lingo as if it’s another language entirely.

“Show her what you mean dipshit!” Abby calls out, her and Seb somehow still chuckling to each other. Why are they doing that you wonder, Sam fell over ages ago! This also spikes Sam out of the same confusion, which causes him to explain exactly what a kickflip is. “Right. So, a kickflip is basically just flipping the board as you jump, and landing on it afterwards. Pretty simple but I just can’t get it!”

Simple? You think to yourself silently on how intricate the whole ordeal sounds, but decide not to argue with him on it. Afterall, what do you know about skateboarding? “Here, let me show you what I’ve got so far.” He says, wasting no moment to let you advise against it as he promptly rides off. His nimble legs kick the board into a twist, and he jumps as if a bird in flight. But on the landing, his feet completely miss the centre of the board which causes him to catapult forward!

You start to leap forward (as if it will help in anyway) but he artfully rolls out of it and bounces up to his feet, showing a dorky smile and thumbs up almost immediately to soothe any doubts you may have. “See what I mean?” He walks towards you with an unearned swagger, picking up his board on the way and smiling. How this man hasn’t died yet you have no idea. “God Sam, I don’t know how you even attempt something like that… I can’t even ride forward on a skateboard!” He begins to chuckle at you, before stopping in his tracks with a wide eyed expression. “Hey, I can teach you! I’ve tried to Teach Abby and Seb like a million times now but they never want to. You can be my skating buddy.

Immediately you know how much of a bad idea that is. Flinging yourself onto a wheeled board, on concrete and without any protection? No thanks. But seeing Sam’s wide smile, setting up the board and pondering the best approach to teaching just makes the whole thing so damn appealing. Who can blame a girl, wanting to spend time with a cute guy?

So you roll your eyes, but still walk over to the board on the other side of Sam. “Okay so when your ready grab my hands and step onto the board. We are just going to practice balance for now, I’ll lead you up and down the path until you don’t need to hold on to stand up straight.” Sam sets his hand out on top of the board, calloused and strong from years of falling over and playing guitar. Taking a deep breath, you grab them. They’re warm and safe. You step onto the board, shaking on the spot but somehow still standing up. “Good girl…” He says, making your stomach knot up. You know his simple affirmation shouldn’t make you feel that way, but you cannot help but feel the butterflies building up within your walls.

Abigal and Sebastian seem to have the same idea, as the pair who you had forgotten were still watching arc up, Seb with a wolf whistle and Abby with some loud clapping. “Ignore them.” He says, clearing not getting the inuendo the rest of you recognised in his words. With slow yet dangerous steps Sam leads you forward, both of your eyes trained on the board below you. A smile grows on your face at the success, feeling an odd sort of accomplishment despite the small task. His hands pull away from yours, which you know was the goal of this but still makes you somehow upset.

You hold you breath as if you are on a tightrope, trying desperately not to fall off. You almost had it too, until Sam gives the board a light push and it catapults out from underneath you! Your three friends all leap up, taking your fall much more seriously than Sam’s previous ones as both your right leg and two palms draw blood on the harsh contact below. A string of mumbled curse words leaves Sam’s mouth as he rushes to your side, while all you can do is just sit their in defeat. “Fuck I’m so sorry, I thought you were ready to have the board moving. Are you bleeding?” You only nod back, raising your hands to show the raw skin you have developed. Sam scatters off like a nervous school boy into his house to grab his mothers first aid kit, as Abby and Seb sit next to you. “Good job there.” Seb says sarcastically, causing you to blush even more. “Shut up.” You reply. “I wanted to seem cool.”

To this Abigail envelopes you in a hug. “Girl you are cool! You don’t need to prove yourself to us or anyone! Plus, Sam already thinks your cool.” She says with a smile. “Really?” You ask, hopefully in your question as if it will solve all your issues. Both her and Seb reaffirm this, as Sam now rushes back outside (almost falling over himself again in the process) to pick you up. “Come on, I’ve got some bandages and ointment in the kitchen for you.”

He slings your arm over his shoulder and hoists you up effortlessly, helping you stumble into the kitchen. Truthfully, your small scratches don’t need all this attention, but you’ll take the excuse to be close to Sam once again.