#just the middle children for now since I have school work to do cries

[alaskan-wallflower]

Ponyboy Head cannons?

Oh boy!

He’s definitely gotten high with Curly before and Curly brought his ass home because he wouldn’t stop whining for McDonalds

Pony gets really bad munchies when he’s high and will eat the entire fridge

Modern Pony would not vape‼️ He thinks vapes are for sissies who can’t handle the real things and he makes fun of Steve for doing it

He’ll always be a professional hater <3

Interfaith Curtis bros will always be one of my favorite headcanons, especially since Darry has to be the one to finish teaching them about said religions

He joins choir in middle school because his mom said he needed to get involved in something and it ended up that he actually really enjoyed it and stuck with it all throughout high school

It’s his secret hobby though like he’d rather have a loaded gun in his mouth than tell Dallas he’s in choir

Dally finds out and he’s like “dude I don’t give a shit”

He knows how to play guitar because his dad taught him

He writes the most heart wrenching poems and songs known to man as a way to vent

He sings in the shower (Soda caught him once and started trying to harmonize with him and pony SCREAMED)

I know it’s a stretch but I wanna say he graduates salutatorian of his grade and he includes Darry and Soda in his speech (he includes the rest of the gang too and just barely makes it through talking about Johnny and Dallas)

He cries a lot more than he thinks he does but never ever in public

He gets so clingy post book because he’s scared everyone he loves will just slip through his fingers

He’s an incredible painter and Darry likes watching him with his watercolors

He’s canonically a good fighter but post book he definitely has some sort of mental breakdown where he gets arrested for causing a public disturbance

Ge gets a bit more testy post book too

For a graduation present Soda and Darey surprised him with a cross country fifth to go sightseeing. They ended at the bioluminescent water in California

He drives responsibly when he gets his license. Darry has to teach him (Soda’s not allowed with the number of speeding tickets he’s accumulated)

He becomes an author when he grows up and goes from school to school

He writes and illustrates children’s books where he uses animals to symbolize his friends and tell their stories to the next generations

He has a ginormous growth spurt in his sophomore year and ends up taller than Darry by ONE INCH and is such a little shit about it

“Awww who’s the big brother now?”

He waits tables with Johnny because Johnny got jumped after work and Pony wanted to start working once he turned fifteen (Johnny lives) but he actually somewhat enjoys it

His boss is this sweet old lady that gives him and Johnny free food because she knows greasers don’t get to eat a lot

His hair is the fluffiest thing in the whole wide world I swear-he just greases it too much. He doesn’t do it as much post book when he realizes that greaser is just a social thing but before a fight or something he’ll grease the hell out of it

Maybe boy of the year material?

Sorry this is short :( Hope these are good!!

[liquid-bonhomme]

You know, while we're on this topic, to the people who dismiss the idea that media is important in a very tangible way that deeply effects people's lives, let me tell you about the song Saint Veronika by Billy Talent.

Tw again: Discussion of suicide and suicidal ideation.

I'm fully aware Billy Talent is considered one of those 3edgy5me bands to people today. Tbh, I think a lot of people who dismiss entire musicians' bodies of work/genres are often fucking wrong and just irony poisoned when you dig a little deeper but that's besides the point-- for the sake of this point I'll just say, I don't give a fuck.

If this isn't your taste in music, if you don't connect with this because of how aggressively 2010s it is, I got no bones to pick with you. This was the shit I grew up listening to though, and I still love it even if my music tastes have expanded.

Now, to the point:

Picture this, it's 2010. You are a 13 year old deeply closeted AFAB trans kid attracted to women. You're three years any of privately coming out as a lesbian, five years away from openly identifying as one, and a full 12ish years away from transitioning. You live in a conservative hick town and you have good reason to believe if your parents found out, you would be disowned so you do everything to suppress those feelings. You have had a very traumatizing childhood, you live in a very unstable home. You're beginning to develop a chronic illness that will go untreated for 10 years, which causes you a LOT of pain. You have been an insomniac since you can remember, and have had concerningly few good night sleeps your whole life. You have had limited medical and no mental health treatment, to the point where you know asking for any is already off the table. However, have been told all your life by your formerly poor parents because of your upper-middle-class upbringing, any negative feelings you have are invalid and a sign of your laziness, and how spoiled you are. You have been told so often you must be faking your chronic pain, your fatigue, vomiting and migraines you've begun to wonder if you're just a big baby. They haven't even clued in yet that the reason why you're struggling with the switch to English from French schooling is because you're dyslexic and need glasses. In about a year's time you're going to begin developing an eating disorder. You've been bullied at school by students AND teachers since you were in grade 1. It's a good week if you've only cried once. You are ALREADY a year and a half roughly into stealing your parent's booze as quite literally the only resource you have access to to cope-- no fear that you'll be caught since they have such an absurd amount of it.

Now like, I'm not trying to throw myself a pity party here. Honestly, people expressing sympathy when I talk about what my life is like makes me uncomfortable. I understand people mostly genuinely feel bad and don't know what else to say, but like, I'm not telling people about this so they feel bad, lol. No offense, but like, it happened to me not you, and I'm spent plenty of my own time feeling bad for me-- I'm kinda over it, mostly.

No, I'm saying all this to make a point: I feel wanting to die is a pretty reasonable response for a 13 year old to have in those circumstances. Like, what else am I going to do? I had be told all my life the issues I was having were me problems, I couldn't figure out how to overcome them. If I'm the problem, like. You know, that's the obvious solution, right? Obviously as an adult I recognize that's not the case, but. I was barely a teenager.

To give context to the time period, I went to Catholic school. They had JUST stopped teachers from casually saying that people who commit suicide go to hell-- to fucking children. Stay classy, Alberta Catholic School Board. Oh, while we're here by the way, not too long ago they forced all the teachers to take any pride or LGBTQ+ related iconography down and started implementing policies like teachers being forced to out kids to their parents or risk being fired. Policies that would have put MY well-being in danger if they were implemented when I was a kid.

Here's their publically available email and phone number. No reason, just, if you're looking for a place to express your feelings on adults using their positions of authority to endanger children, or for a place to spam your dankest memes. I'm sure they'd love that:

E: http://acsta.ab.ca

T: (780) 484-6209

But, anyway, the new """progressive""" approach was to basically say just, "killing yourself is never the answer. Think of everything you have to live for." Literally, "Aha, don't kill yourself, your so sexy," before it was cool. 10/10 counciling. We had two suicides when I was in high-school, and countless other attempts.

What we have now isn't even that much better. What the fuck IS a teenager supposed to do with, "mental health is important, let's talk about it" but find out a lot of people are just as miserable as them? Which, finally, brings us back to this song . . .

"She was sick and tired of being invisible, Hard to see in color when you’re miserable,"

What is this I see!? Actual validation of negative emotions, articulated shockingly efficiently in a fucking song lyric?

"Veronika, Saint Veronika, You can't leave this world behind, So be strong enough to hold onto us, We're still right here by your side,

I know people kind of reflexively cringe when people say this or that piece of media saved their life. And, if it must be said, it's kind of fucked up that ANYONE has to get therapy from something like an emo-agacent rock band-- that's not supposed to be their fucking job. However, I can't articulate how much this meant to me when this song came out. "This IS as shit as it feels, but find the strength to hold on," managed to be just enough for me to survive until adulthood and get real mental health help. For me to tell my parents and be taken to the hospital after my first attempt at 16. Reframing it from "your life is precious" even though all perceived evidence was to the contrary for me and many other kids especially, to "find the resolve to keep going, you aren't as alone as you think."

"Always said her life was never meant to be, Stuck here living someone else's dream, Well beyond your window there is so much more, Even every prison has a open door,"

Though I'm a little jaded to some extent to the "it gets better" narrative, that was a more fresh idea at the time, and it is good to try and inspire hope in people going through suicidal ideation. It just can't be the be all, end all of the discussion.

Regardless, this verse articulates the emotional displacement of suicidal ideation really well. Especially for a kid stuck in a bad environment like I was.

"And while the angels sleep, All of the devils are awake, Waiting to steal your love, Right outside of Heaven's gate, And all the sacred hearts, Can't numb the feeling from the pain, Cause when the drugs don't work, You're gonna curse his holy name,"

To this day, nothing has captured my personal experience with suffering with suicidal ideation more than this bridge. Especially as someone raised Catholic. The metaphor of devils stealing your fundamental ability to love and be loved, to have meaningful bonds, just agapnizingly out of reach of safety and comfort. Because the systems supposedly there to protect your very "soul" aren't paying attention.

The Sacred Heart is the concept of God's divine love for humanity in the Catholic faith. The thing that is supposed to make you feel whole, complete and fulfilled. But, it's nothing. It's a sugar pill. It's symbolic of all the non-solutions presented to you to hand-wave away the problem without dealing with it. So you curse life itself, you reject the divinity of your own existence.

The music video is notably, pretty impressively tasteful too. Especially for the time. Yes it's visuals are also a little 2010s, but compared to trash fires like 13 Reasons Why that came out five or six years later. It threads the needle of using visual metaphor to communicate the pain, validate it, without glorifying suicide-- in my opinion.

Simple but effective: Doll girl unravels the more isolated she becomes, until it takes her life. It accurately depicts the act of suicide as a desperate attempt at ESCAPING from agony, not the solution. It manages to get the idea across while not showing any real life method itself. Genuinely, an extremely thoughtful exploration of the topic.

I don't know for sure if I'd be here today to write this post without this song but . . . There's 100% a chance. Real, accessible mental health care is what we really need, but in the mean time this is all some of us have. Especially minors.

Media matters.

[dykepuffs]

I've been trying to think this about widowhood and queerness and my place, our place, our places, in the world.

Because of our history, as queer people we know a lot about young widows, we don't have the same taboos on second-love as straight people do, because it is so common to be 30, 40, 25 and to have nursed the love of your life through their final illness, and loved them beyond death. We have scripts for when they died of the illnesses of poverty - Alcoholism, organ failure, workplace injuries left untreated - and when they died of suicide (which is itself a disease of poverty and marginalisation). Ones for when they died of something that will likely soon take you too, and scripts for where you have survivors' guilt. Scripts for when they were beaten to death by homophobes on the street and when they were killed by a john. Scripts for mourning, for protecting survivors, and for vengeance.

I feel like in straight culture, the Widow is a figure of sadness, maybe of nebulous "strength" if they behave with enough "dignity", but mostly just a figure of pity and a figure who is ignored - maybe even who is unspeakable, unwelcome, inappropriate to invoke at happy events, seen as a portent or as just hard to be around. As soon as someone is known as The Widow, that becomes their defining characteristic- Even if they were widowed 20, 40, 60 years ago.

But, in queer culture, because we're more common, we're more well-integrated. And our collective knowledge is more respected: we know how to prepare for the logistics of death, obviously, but also we know how it feels when your partner's breathing slips into the distinctive rhythm of someone in their last hours, and how to talk to them in those last lucid minutes without choking up and distressing a dying man. We know how to ask someone who is dying how they want you to carry on their work, and how to make them feel like their legacy is safe as well as how to practically safeguard it. We know how to gently return to the society of the living with your head held high, and how to broach to your new partners that your love for them is built on a foundation that includes having lost. We know how to not let "You, The Widow" precede you everywhere, but also how to keep honouring the memory of someone that is slipping into the past. We can reassure the next young widows that life really will go on and that you can carry a locket of your beloved forever, without lessening either it, or the love for your living partners.

I sometimes talk about how my relationship with R has changed, since her death - Especially now that she has been dead for longer than she lived, where although I remember her as older, wiser, more mature than me and as beautiful as a woman can be, when I see people now who are the age she was when she died, they look like children, unfinished, gowky, idiots. It's hard to balance talking about her as she was to me then... And what as a grey-haired old man I know she (we!) Must have been. I remember talking about my grief for her as a child itself- We gave birth to a beautiful baby death, and for the first few years that death suckled from my body, cried when I wanted to sleep, occupied my every waking minute and was all other people wanted to talk to me about. Then that death went to school, and I got a few hours a day where I was alone, until it came home and filled my thoughts all night. And now, that death is 21 years old, it hasn't just moved out, it has been moved out for a good few years, it has taken its stuff out of my spare room and only comes home for every second new year. And I can spend a little more time with R again, without it getting in the middle.

[thewordswewrite]

In the Spirit of Helping

Pairing | Anthony Lockwood x Lucy Carlyle

Summary | Lucy has been alone most of her life, having found solace in a single friend long lost she grapples with being taken care of again. She must learn how to hold on and be held.

Or five times Lockwood looks out for Lucy and one time she looks out for him.

Warnings | mentions of suicide, canon typical violence

W/C | 9.6k

A/N | I’ve loved Lockwood and Co. since middle school (I’m in college now) and I even have my first book signed by the author so this is a long time coming. The show really captured the books and I hate Netflix for canceling it so I decided to give us a little more than we have. -smoe<33

AO3 | Link

Donations | Link 

One.

It’d been a tough case. Child Type-Twos were always difficult for them but Lucy tended to take it the hardest. Her listening was sensitive and her heart just a tad too big for the job.

While the team had been fighting off ghosts, Lucy’s senses had been overwhelmed by the cries of children. She almost couldn’t hear the boys calling her name over the cacophony of noise. Her own voice had soon joined the begging, hot tears streaming down her face to accompany the desperation. The memory of hands grabbing at her, holding her down; she just wanted it to stop , stop–

“Stop!” She yelled, thrashing around at imaginary hands. “Please leave us alone!”

Muffled cries of, “Lucy!” rang out from her left but she’d already dropped to the ground, holding her head in her hands.

Hands tugged at her shoulders, real ones this time, and she panicked. “Get off me!” She lashed out and the smooth metal of her ring caught Lockwood’s cheekbone, splitting it.

Lockwood took a second to compose himself before he approached her again, hands out and placating as if she were a wounded animal. 

“Lucy, it’s alright,” She noticed suddenly that she could hear the comforting lilt of his voice with no interference “George got the source. They’re gone.”

The ghosts had all been tied to the same source: a stuffed bear stored under the floorboards. Lucy threw up while Lockwood held her hair and George called DEPRAC to come to retrieve the source as well as arrest their employer. Lucy couldn’t help but stare at Lockwood as they rode home, the gash on his face tidied up by a medic but there all the same.

Her eyes bore into his–guilt and anger rotting her insides but incapable of feeling it. She couldn’t feel much of anything on the ride home, just a vague sense of what she did and what had happened. She was numb and it was only when Lockwood had finally broken their eye contact that she registered they were back at Portland Row. Languidly, she exited the vehicle, her rapier loose in her hand and a blank expression on her tear-stained face.

Lucy found herself sandwiched between two boys, George in front, keying open the door, and Lockwood behind her, his hand hovering over the small of her back. Her things fell unceremoniously to the ground the moment she stepped in the door and George jumped.

“Christ, Lucy, you could at least–”

“I’m going to sleep,” she announced and sidestepped an indignant-looking George.

“Lucy, how about we all have a cuppa and–” Lockwood didn’t bother to finish his sentence as Lucy was already up the first flight of stairs and working on the next by the time he managed the first half.

Lucy’s legs felt like iron, her body forcing its way to her room through the difficulty. She’d lost control again. She saw the way the boys looked at her: George and his sideways glances, Lockwood with a pity that gripped her heart and tugged every time she so much as frowned. How could she not though? Every day they experienced more than any person should in a lifetime and they were only children, no matter what Lockwood insisted.

More than anything Lucy was angry . Angry at her mother for pushing her into this line of work, angry at DEPRAC for letting kids do this job, and angry at Fitts and Rotwell for profiting off the backs of dead agents. Her hands clenched as she made her way to the bathroom overwhelmed with how dirty she felt. The eyes that stared back at her in the mirror were as dull as her mousy brown hair and the freckles that scattered her cheeks and nose were muddled by smears of mud from her fall. Tear streaks were running down her face as she scrubbed at them furiously, the too-cold water making her feel raw. Grey water swirled down the drain, taking the dirt and magnesium dust with it. 

Lucy noticed the hair on her arms had been singed as she removed her dirtied clothes similarly littered with burns and tears. The sensible blacks and blues of her wardrobe left much to be desired, George being the only one to stray into yellows and oranges but paying for it whenever he came out on jobs and ruined his clothes. The steam of the shower began filling up the small room, giving Lucy a reprieve from her reflection as the mirror fogged up and she stepped inside the scalding water.

As she scrubbed her body and massaged her scalp, Lucy felt the anger and sadness slip away from her, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion. Tears mixed with the spray of shower as Lucy silently let out the day. She was just wrapping a towel around herself when a knock echoed from outside the door.

“Luce?” It was Lockwood. “Lucy?”

Heaving a breath, Lucy wrapped her towel tighter and exited the bathroom just as Lockwood climbed the rest of the way up the stairs. Lockwood was now staring up at her, surprise coloring his face and a blush starting to burn his cheeks. Lucy didn’t have it in her to be embarrassed around Lockwood like she always seemed to be, instead staring down at his red-tinged face.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, taking a step back down the stairs.

It took a second for her to respond, deciding whether to lie or voice a truth she hadn't dared to think on. “No.”

“Wha-” Lockwood blubbered, not expecting her answer and bounded up the last three steps to her room and walked over to where she stood. “Luce, what’s going on with you?”

“Honestly, Lockwood,” Lucy began, tucking a wet strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m tired.”

Lockwood grinned, a look of relief flooding his face as he spoke, “Well, a good night’s sleep-”

“No, Lockwood!” She turned around exasperated. “I’m tired of being an agent, I’m tired of risking my life, I’m tired of being tired!”

When Lucy turned back to see the stunned boy behind, her she immediately wished she’d kept her mouth closed. His entire demeanor shifted, eyes not quite meeting hers and Lucy wanted to take everything back.

“Lockwood…” Her mind flashed to him telling her, “everything ends and everyone leaves.”

Lockwood gave her a rueful smile, his arms flailing helplessly at his sides, “I wish you didn't have to do this either. And you don’t but I’ll be here for you…George too–the both of us–if you decide to stay.” 

Lucy was suddenly all too aware that she was still only in a towel when she felt herself fluster at his attempted cover-up. “It was just a long night, I didn’t mean it. I’m not going anywhere”

They stood in silence for a few minutes, not looking at each other but she didn’t think Lockwood was convinced by her words. Lucy looked to the skull, its swirling green face taunting her as she wracked her mind for a way to tell Lockwood how much he meant to her when a yawn tore its way up her throat, breaking the moment. “You’re tired, I’ll let you go to bed.”

“Anthony…” She pleaded, not knowing what she would say if he stopped and he nearly did before he must have thought better of it.

“I want you to know, you mean a lot to us and we’re always going to be here for you,” He seemed put off by his own admission but added on assuredly, “I would be sorry to see you go.” 

Lucy wasn’t sure what she was feeling as she watched Lockwood walk down the stairs. She knew the boys meant something to her, they were all she had left; her mother never meant much to her, and Norrie ghost-locked back north was likely never to wake up. They were all she had and by some strange feat, that was enough.

Two.

Lucy’s eyes snapped open, her body stiff and cold as she lay staring up at the dark ceiling of her attic room. There was a quick moment where she felt the echo of being trapped in ghost-lock but when she realized she was aware of her surroundings, Lucy’s stomach dropped. For many, nightmares were the worst of it, but for her , as the dreams ended the terror of real life began. At least in her dreams, she could do more than just watch.

Her breathing began to quicken uncontrollably. Realistically, she knew none of what was happening was real but the panic clawing its way through her chest and into her lungs didn’t give much leeway toward logic. Lucy felt herself break into a cold sweat as a shadow moved at the edge of her vision. Ghosts glowed, she saw them every day; they didn’t exist as the void she was experiencing, hell even shades were different than this. Lucy felt a scream bubbling in her throat, waiting to be let out but she was locked still. Her body was not her own, a mind inside an unwilling vessel that was intent on destroying her.

Her muscles ached as she strained against them, trying to force any part of herself to move or latch onto reality, her anchor being Lockwood's necklace but to no avail. Quicker and quicker she was losing oxygen to her heaving, her hands begging to grasp at the invisible noose around her neck that was tightening by the second. She lay there, choking on the air that she was able to inhale into her burning lungs when suddenly, her finger twitched. Another and then another came to until her body shot up out of the bed and a scream found its way out of the lump in her throat.

Once again her vision was clear and the shadow was gone but the fear that had only just consumed her still lingered in the air, electric, leaving her paranoid. Tears pricked at Lucy’s eyes, not out of fright but frustration; she hadn’t slept well in weeks and she was growing weary of the constant fatigue she lived with. Between the nighttime cases and overall lack of sleep, she was at her wit's end.

Lucy pushed the heels of her palms into her eyes, willing the tears to stop until she could swing her legs from under her blanket and take the first tentative step out of bed. The dusty hardwood was cold on her bare feet and creaked quietly under her. She didn’t like to walk around at night, knowing that the noise could be heard throughout the house but given that she’d already been screaming, if anyone was disturbed they’d already be awake. She glanced at the dull green glow of the skull on her window ledge and grimaced.

Grabbing her sweater from where it sat in her laundry basket, Lucy pulled it over her head, not bothering to worry about the two-day-old tea stain that marred the front. It was her favorite sweater, often smelling familiarly like lavender and anyway, she had no one to impress at three in the morning. Her hand found the reassuring iron of her doorknob and cursed the house for being so cold; the older construction did not lend much insulation for the chilly weather that plagued London almost year round. For good measure, she hurriedly grabbed the knitted throw blanket George’s mom made off of her bed and wrapped that around herself as well.

She began to descend the stairs, being as quiet as possible, her hand gripped the railing and supported her as she skipped the loose stair that always creaked when anyone stepped on it. The landing was home to three doors, two inhabited and, she could only hope, undisturbed . Her eyes slid past George’s but she lingered on his despite her resolve not to. Shaking her head, Lucy continued down the second flight until she reached the ground floor.

Just as she was going to enter the kitchen, the sound of the stove lighting stopped her. Had she woken one of them? Her heart rate picked up and she couldn't decide who she’d rather have awoken. 

With a deep breath, Lucy pushed open the door and saw the clear outline of Lockwood reaching to grab a mug from the cabinet. She tip-toed in but accidentally knocked into a chair, startling the boy. 

“Oh, Lucy , it's you,” Lockwood smiled, a defensive hand still clutched to his chest.

 “What are you doing awake?” She asked but her voice was unprepared and it came out strained. She knew he needed the sleep just as much as her.

“You know, had to use the bathroom then decided on some tea.” He shrugged, gesturing to the kettle on the stove, mug in hand.

Lucy squinted her eyes in suspicion, “That’s my mug.”

Lockwood’s gaze flitted to the object he was holding and scoffed. “Well, it's hardly yours. Everyone shares these!”

Despite the feeling in her gut, he wasn’t lying; Everyone did share the mugs but that one in particular was different. That mug was the one she had bought specifically for herself after she discovered she was two gulps deep into George’s toothbrush cup. After that, she was deadly clear to never touch it, and to her knowledge they never did. Lucy felt a flare of annoyance, they knew that was her mug and here Lockwood was using it as if it was his, as if–

Her stomach dropped when she finally remembered why she was down here in the first place. That was her mug.

“I woke you up, didn’t I?” Lucy sighed.

Lockwood’s head dropped, “Looks like you caught me.” He set down the mug. “What was it this time?” 

“Nothing specific, just shadows.” Lucy rubbed her arm trying to comfort herself and took a seat at the table. “Doesn't help when your brain won't listen to you. I know it’s not real but I can’t stop it.”

“I’m sorry.” He smiled in remorse.

Lucy shook her head and stood, letting the blanket fall from her shoulders. “Nothing to be done.” She moved around the boy, blindingly aware of their height difference when she had to strain to reach another mug. One for him this time. “What are you having?” She opened the tea drawer and pulled out an Earl Gray for herself.

“Just black is fine,” He said from where they kept the biscuits.

They met in the middle, Lucy with two cups of steaming tea and Lockwood with the chocolate-coated biscuits they saved for special occasions. Lucy raised her eyebrow in question and Lockwood shrugged.

“Don’t tell George and there won't be a problem,” Lockwood smiled and sat down across from her.

Lucy put the cups uneasily down, sloshing a bit of hers over the edge and burning herself slightly in the process. She hissed through her teeth and stuck the afflicted finger in her mouth. “You know he’ll notice,” She warned, noticing Lockwood’s eyes caught on her mouth.

“Yeah, but that’s a problem for later.” Lockwood chuckled, eyes flitting back up to hers and shooting her a grin before snatching a biscuit from the open sleeve and grabbing his tea.

They sat there for around half an hour just talking. Lucy nearly had forgotten what led them into this position at all and a warm smile donned her lips when Lockwood walked up the extra flight to her room with her to, ‘make sure you get there safely’. Her room felt warmer and she wasn't as afraid to fall back asleep with the lingering promise that he’d be there if she needed him.

Three.

Lucy felt extravagant. Because of their recent press and subsequent jobs, she could afford a new dress that hadn’t seen the bottom of the Thames. It was red and satin and showed more skin than any outfit she’d ever owned. When she had decided on it, the woman at the boutique exclaimed, ‘ If you're going to go red you must go red’ which scared her at first but when she pulled out the matching red heels and a brand new tube of red lipstick she listened to the voice in her head that was telling her to trust this woman. Lucy thanked the other side every day that she did. 

After an appointment at the salon, she snuck up to her room past a cooking George and oblivious Lockwood to finish getting ready for the party. Normally she wouldn’t get so worked up over some company fluff but this one felt different. Before, no one bothered a second glance at her, except maybe Quill, but tonight, after a freshly printed front page issue interview about her abilities, she intended to make a good impression.

Lockwood had pushed her to do the interview despite her protests, ‘ Think about the publicity, Lucy! What it could do for the company, Lucy!’ and so she agreed because Lockwood looked so hopeful, so proud . How could she say no? So now here she was, slipping on a black trench and tying a blue scarf around her freshly curled hair like a woman grown instead of one just barely leaving her childhood all the while trying to ignore the snide comments of a disembodied skull that lived in her room.

With one last look to make sure nothing would be ruined between her room and the party, she ventured downstairs. The boys were standing by the door looking impatient and she rolled her eyes.

“Let’s be off then,” She tried to sound nonchalant but she knew they would open their big stupid mouths and ruin this for her.

“Is that you, Luce?” George sputtered, sounding on the edge of hysterics. She couldn’t look at Lockwood so she walked right past them and out the door to the taxi. As she passed, she could see George shrug and take a deep breath.

Of course, the boys were both dressed in basic black suits and to them, this was nothing new but tonight was undiscovered territory for her. She still refused to look at Lockwood throughout the ride and she didn’t know if the silence was a good thing or if the ice slowly forming over her heart was a bad sign.

It wasn’t long before they reached Fitts and were exiting the taxi. Her heart thundered in her chest as they got closer to the door because that meant she couldn’t hide behind the shapelessness of her coat. Lucy had always been conscious of her body, having grown up with six sisters, it was hard not to compare. The woman at the boutique had said she looked beautiful and she trusted her before but now she was starting to think the clerk just wanted to make a sale. Her heart was in her throat when she finally took off her scarf and unbuttoned her jacket to reveal the full effect of her outfit. 

“Christ, Lucy, you look like a proper girl!” George exclaimed and Lock still hadn’t said anything .

She felt like she was on display for the world and all she wanted to do was catch the eye of the tall boy standing at her side. Lucy took a chance and looked at Lockwood. To her surprise, his gaze wasn’t on her but instead on the familiar necklace that lived around her neck. As if caught, Lockwood's ears went pink and he finally met her eyes.

“You look amazing, Lucy,” And he said it with so much sincerity both in his voice and in his eyes that she could do nothing more than believe him.

Her voice was small when she found it. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He said as if it was mad she expected any other answer.

She saw George look between them and shake his head. “I’m going to find the food.”

“I think I’m going to go to the loo,” Lucy’s smile was tight and Lockwood just nodded.

She looked around as she walked through the sea of people, noting many sets of eyes on her, and began to shrink in on herself. Quill’s eyes alone were easy enough to avoid but it seemed as if everyone was looking at her. Lucy quickened her pace, remembering the path she used last time they’d been at Fitts but an artful step right into it stopped her in her tracks.

“I believe we haven’t met. I’m Jonathan Davies, and you are Lucy Carlyle of Lockwood and Co.” The man held out his hand and in good taste, Lucy could not refuse.

“Charmed, but I apologize. I don’t believe I’ve heard of you, Mr. Davies?” Lucy asked as more of a question than anything else. It was Lockwood after all that kept up with this kind of thing.

“Please, call me John. But I don’t suppose you would have. I’m a part of the Fitts research team,” He looked it too, old and pale; probably from being cooped up in the library. Lucy made a mental note to apologize to George later for the thought. His smile was too gummy and his breath smelled of champagne. She wanted to leave . “And might I say you look gorgeous tonight, nearly a woman you are!” The comment made her smile waver.

“Not too near, though. Still a good few years away,” Lucy tried to joke but the comedy was lost in her discomfort.

“Oh, don't be like that!” The man bellowed. “I’m just trying to give you a compliment. You’re maturing and it looks good on you. What’s so wrong with pointing it out?” Mr. Davies bellowed and he was getting closer.

Lucy shivered and began looking for outs; her adrenaline strung her out like she was on a case and her mind was switching to fight-or-flight. Lucy did not tend to lean towards flight. She nearly had the thought to hit the man when an arm looped itself through hers and she jumped.

“I believe I owe Ms. Carlyle here a dance. Isn't that right, Luce?” The arm and the voice belonged to Lockwood who held the older man’s attention while she paused to collect herself.

“Yes! He promised me my first one of the night. You understand, of course?” Lucy tried to come off as apologetic but surmised she failed by the look on Mr. Davies’ face. Lockwood nodded to the man and as they walked away, arm in arm, she inclined her head to speak lowly. “Thank you.”

“Always,” Lockwood smiled and pulled her so she was in front of him. He took her hands and at her confused glance chuckled. “I believe I owe you a dance.”

“Oh, you don't have to,” She said, nervous as he wrapped her arms around his neck and fit his hands at the curve of her waist.

Now he smirked, smart-looking just like she hated. “But I promised you your first one.”

“You are being a right arse right now, Anthony Lockwood,” She warned, feeling teased. Lucy was vulnerable around him, stripped bare and out in the open. Now more than ever in that bloody red dress.

His eyes crinkled around the edges and the smirk turned into his mega-watt grin. “And you are looking absolutely breathtaking tonight, Lucy Carlyle.”

“Oh, sod off!” Lucy exclaimed, but her cheeks warmed and suddenly she was red enough to match her outfit.

They danced for a minute or two and she took the time to look past the boy’s head and calm down. She figured he could feel her pulse from where her wrists were touching his neck, by how hard her body was trying to pump the blood back to her brain so she could maybe form a coherent thought. She was suddenly pulled from her stupor when Lockwood spoke.

“I do mean it though. You look better than every other person in this room. I didn’t even know what to say when I first saw you,” His voice was low and only for her.

And here she was, Lucy Carlyle standing in a room full of people whose eyes were all on her and she didn’t notice in the slightest. The only ones that mattered to her at that moment were Lockwood’s. His eyes, and his hands, and his necklace all on her .

Four.

“And who might you be?”

The old woman before them was quite kind looking in Lucy’s opinion, though her pale skin and white hair made her look almost like a phantasm which unsettled her–not to mention the biting tone of her words. Lucy was not fond of the older generation that remembered a time before the dead came back, their holier-than-thou attitudes at the problem they thought they should be exempt from. Lockwood on the other hand was all smiles and unwavering confidence, making him ready to take the lead as always.

“I’m Anthony Lockwood and this is my associate, Lucy Carlyle. We’re Lockwood and Co.”

The woman seemed unamused with the both of them, eyes instead searching for something behind them. “And where’s your supervisor?”

Lucy let out a small huff at the question. More than a few of their cases had been booked by clients ignorant of their status as lone agents ignoring that small detail in favor of the lower-than-average rates they needed to provide to stay in business. Lucy didn’t see why supervisors were needed at all, the bumbling adults just got in the way of their work. It’s what drove her out of her hometown and into the gangly arms of Lockwood and George in the first place.

The rain beating down on their shared umbrella was slowly beginning to drip onto Lucy’s right shoulder and she scowled, silently cursing Lockwood for not bringing his own. He was always trying to be the perfect gentleman, Lockwood, yet he always managed to fall short in some way despite his efforts. Lucy took a moment to compose herself, shutting her eyes and standing closer to Lockwood to try and get out of the rain.

Lockwood’s face fell a millimeter before he went to correct her but Lucy butted in, annoyance evident in her tone, “No supervisors ma’am, just us . You said you’ve just moved in and were feeling uneasy?”

The woman gave her another once-over and looked to be getting ready to slam the door in their faces before a man appeared behind her with a coat in his hand. “Edda, would you just let the kids in so they can get to work?” The man was soft in a way his wife wasn’t but a permanent crease had made a home between his eyebrows though it had been the only plane of his face that hadn’t seemed to possess a wrinkle before.

“These are unsupervised children you’re letting into our home.” The woman’s face twisted as her husband helped her into her coat and handed her her own umbrella before she swatted him away. “Get off me!” The coat was an ugly shade of puce that had Lucy wrinkling her nose unconsciously and wishing she’d never accepted the job.

“These agents are here to do the job we’re paying them to do. You head to the cab, I'll let them know everything they need to.” The woman pushed past Lockwood and herself, forcing them apart and out into the rain despite Lockwood thrusting his arm towards Lucy to try and keep her dry. 

The man, whose name they learned to be Morton, told them how his wife had become agitated since moving to the house, the loud bangs they heard at night, and the ice-cold temperatures that seemed to move from room to room. Morton was distraught, insisting his wife had never been like this before they moved and that she was ‘a lovely woman. Truly.’ To Lucy, it sounded like a shade or lurker giving off residual emotions from their death which was–what she supposed–Lockwood had insisted: a quick case involving nothing more than a few harmless specters lurking around the property, no need to bring George.

Lucy and Lockwood were given a quick tour by Morton who walked with a slight limp in his left knee. Lucy tried to focus on the man’s limp rather than the incessant squeak of Lockwood’s shoes every time he took a step. Lockwood insisted on having his dress shoes resoled rather than just getting a new pair even with the extra cost and Lucy had laughed at the quirk merely days prior but now she was grinding her teeth. Finally, leaving them in the living room, Morton bid goodbye and headed out to his awaiting wife while the two agents got to work.

After setting up a home base in the living room, they’d searched all around the house but produced nothing. Lockwood was unable to see the faintest glow and Lucy couldn’t even hear a whisper. It wasn’t often both of their gifts failed them, the remnants of death often wanting to be heard rather than stay quiet as they had for generations before them. It wasn’t until Lucy got to the kitchen and lingered near the door that let out to the back gardens that she heard the distant cries of a woman. She ran a tired hand through her hair, fingers pulling at the roots at the notion of searching out in the downpour.

“Lockwood?” Lucy called out, “I think the source might be outside.”

She only had a moment of hope that Lockwood would call it a night before he rounded the corner, his eyes filled with elation. “Let’s hop on then! You first.”

As she turned, Lucy couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the look on Lockwood’s face. Of course, he would have fun trudging around in the rain. As soon as Lucy stepped outside, a gust of wind whipped the hood off her head and plastered her hair to her face. Lucy’s shoe– not her rain boot– squelched in the mud under her feet. Lockwood and her rooted around the garden of the old couple’s estate, pulling back thorny rose bushes that dug into her hands and trying to listen over the hammering of rain. Lucy felt her irritation boil over from where it had been growing in her chest when she managed to slip on a slick rock and end up hands first in the mud.

“I can’t believe you put us in this situation!” Lucy yelled over the pounding rain, “Really, Lockwood, it's like you don’t care about me at all!” She felt something solid in the mud and squeezed it tight in her fist, desperate for an outlet.

She didn’t bother looking over her shoulder, trying to work on grounding herself through the object in her hand, the grooves of the metal, the familiarity. Honestly, where did he get off on making her miserable during every case? He made her feel trapped. With a deep breath, Lucy closed her eyes and tried to clear her thoughts, focusing instead on trying to find the source and getting out of there.

“G-get….”

Lockwood’s unintelligible voice interrupted her from behind and she huffed.

“..out”

“Out where?” She tried asking.

“Hus…band”

“Your husband? What happened with–” Lockwood’s voice interrupted again and she snapped. “ Oh , would you bloody shut up, Lockwood? All you ever do is talk!” She screamed whirling around to look at him only to see that the scene had changed.

It wasn’t raining anymore, or even night at that. Instead, the garden was blooming with life. The trellis were bountiful with pink roses and light shone through a giant willow in the corner of the property. Across from her stood a handsome-looking man much older than herself. And she was afraid.

“All I ever do is talk?” The man asked deathly slow.

Lucy was sure she had no clue who the man was but her mouth was already moving. “Yes! You keep me trapped in this house, I have no friends, and you don’t even listen to me!” She was crying now and the man, her husband , stalked towards her.

“You listen to me woman, you belong to me now. You are my property !” Dolly’s breaths were heaving out at an exceptional rate. “Do you hear me? Mine!” Her husband was gripping her arms, his face mere inches from her own.

“Let go of me!” She pleaded, “ Please !”

“Listen to me, Dolly! Dolly!”

She felt herself slipping away, air caught in her throat. Dolly was frantically scratching at her husband's arm, trying to get him to release her through any means.

“I’ll love you, I promise –”

“Lucy!”

Lucy’s eyes snapped open to see Lockwood wrenching her hand open and snatching something from her clenched fist. Her lungs flooded with life, making her cough as her knees hit the ground; she was unsure when she even stood up at all but Lockwood was immediately at her side.

“Lucy, are you alright?” His shaky voice floated through the rain.

Any previous grievances she had against Lockwood had vanished the moment she looked into his eyes. “What happened?”

“You found the source,” Lockwood opened his hand and revealed a rusted locket covered in mud. Lucy went to touch it but Lockwood jerked his hand away. “Better not.”

Her mind went back to how she’d treated him since they stepped foot on the property and she winced. “Lockwood, I’m so sorry I–”

“No! Luce, it wasn’t your fault.” Lucy was poised to retort but there was a pure and unabashed look of concern on his face and she realized it had been a while since she’d seen his megawatt smile.

“She hated him,” Lucy started, “He told her he loved her and trapped her here…she killed herself.”

Lockwood looked concerned. “I think we should head back to Portland Row.”

They finished up at the house, contacting the elderly couple to tell them that the source had been found and disposed of at DEPRAC. The cab ride home was so quiet; whether from Lucy’s embarrassment because of her treatment of Lockwood or because he was hurt by her words she was unsure. It wasn’t until they were putting their gear away that Lockwood spoke again.

“I hope you don't feel… trapped here.” Lockwood was facing away from her when he broke the silence. “Especially not by me .”

“Lockwood, no .” She rushed to his side trying to meet his eyes with her own. “No, no, no.”

He finally looked at her and his eyes were sunken in, his face as sullen as she felt. “I know it was the ghost…but you were begging me to let you go. You were pleading that I let you leave, telling me you–you loved me and that you’d do anything if I would just let you go and I–”

“I don’t feel trapped here, I promise. You mean more than anything to me,” Lucy’s heart stuttered at her slip-up. “You and George both.”

Lockwood’s eyes flicked to the necklace sitting prettily around her neck and Lucy’s hand flew to it instinctively: a loan she was still indebted to him and went to take it off, her still-cold fingers fumbling with the clasp but he stopped her, gently grabbing her wrists.

“I want you to know the necklace wasn’t–wasn’t whatever that locket was to them,” Lockwood’s hands released her, his fingers tucking a loose strand of hair behind Lucy’s ear then trailing a path to the sapphire that sat in the middle of her chest. “My father… it was important , and I just wanted you to know you’re important to me.”

Lucy smiled, “I know.”

Five.

A shiver rippled through Lucy’s body in the London rain as the week loomed over her like the storm she walked through. Long nights with back-to-back cases–all too small to send more than one of them–had Lucy disheartened. She pulled her blue coat tighter to her body and stuffed her hands under her armpits in order to get some semblance of feeling back in them. Her tights were ripped, her hair soaked, and above all, Lucy was hungry. It took one smell of buttered croissants swept across the street by a gust of chilling wind for Lucy to cross the street and make her way into the warm cafe.

“No weapons!” The clerk shouted as soon as the bell jingled on the door, not even bothering to look at her.

Lucy’s eyes immediately welled up with tears knowing what was coming. “I-I’m sorry, can I leave it at the door?”

“Let me be more clear: no agents .” The man’s sneer was accompanied by multiple sets of cold eyes looking at her from around the room.

It was something she was unaccustomed to but common in London. Though agents were often looked at with a strange sense of gratitude and more often pity in the country, Lucy noticed it wasn’t the same in the city. People thought them unsightly: the children with sunken, pale faces who were typically only out at night mimicked the sight of the dead they were employed to rid the world of. Though somewhere in her head she could understand the adults' aversion to her, in the moment she could feel little more than resentment for the life she was sacrificing to give them the security they themselves could not provide.

Lucy chuffed on her way out, slamming the door and knocking the bell off of its hook in the process. Not bothering to wipe her face, she blinked away her tears and let them drown in the rain as she walked on towards 35 Portland Row.

It was night, and raining, and she was alone. But she was an agent, and Lucy knew how to defend herself. Therefore, in the face of her reservations, she turned down an alley she knew was faster than the main road despite the absence of street lights . She could handle a few shades and lurkers on her own.

The rain was coming down harder then; her mind had wandered to the doughnuts on the counter that sat untouched when she’d left. Lucy was so caught up in imagining the argument between her and George when she inevitably saw her jelly-filled missing from the box that she didn’t notice the man that slank from the shadows until she bumped into him. 

Lucy ducked her head in apology and attempted to skirt around the man, “Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t–”  Then suddenly his hands were on her with a grip that told her this was no mistake.  Before she could utter another word, the sharp edge of a knife sucked the breath from her lungs.

“Give me everything you’ve got,” He ordered, voice low and eyes darting behind her at the lit street.

Lucy tried to seem unwavering, after all, it wasn’t the first time she was at the wrong end of a blade and likely not the last. “I haven’t got anything,” Her voice shook and she silently cursed herself.

“How bout’ I take a look for myself?” He hummed, his hands skimming over her body, drifting across her waist, going lower, lower…

“ Please! Help– ” Lucy yelled but his hand was quick to cover her mouth and let the knife start to dig into her side. She thrashed around, trying to free herself from his grasp while screaming into his gloved hand in any attempt to get help. 

It wasn’t until she managed to land a well-placed elbow that Lucy was able to escape his grip. “You bitch .” The man sagged over but as Lucy moved to run, his hand wrapped around her jacket and a knife planted itself in her stomach.

She almost didn’t register the pain at first until the man wretched out the blade. The feel of her blood oozing from the wound was stark in contrast to the chilling rain and she shivered. Lucy’s hand moved to the wound and logically she knew she was going into shock; George warned them about it enough should they ever get injured on a case but now she couldn’t think back to even a second ago. 

The man looked from her wound to her eyes and sneered. Step by step he retreated deeper into the alley while Lucy stumbled out into the road, clutching her side. Her breathing was ragged as she frantically searched for anyone to help her though she knew the streets were clear because of the rain. Lucy knew she shouldn’t have looked but when she caught a glimpse of blood she couldn't help it. She felt close to hysterics; the blood wouldn’t stop and her teeth were chattering, from the rain or something else she didn’t know. She needed to get to a shop, somewhere that had people . Lucy’s vision was darkening around the edges as she stumbled towards the yellow lights of a restaurant two buildings over. She just needed to get there.

She needed to…she needed…she

- - -

It was the beeping that woke her, but the weight in her hand that made her open her eyes. The lights were blinding as Lucy struggled to open her eyes and the ringing in her ears made it hard to focus on the muffled arguing around her. She heard one final shout and the sound of a door closing before she attempted to move. A gasp tore itself from her lips when she tried to sit up. Her body ached and her mouth was dry but all she could do to ground herself was focus on the worried voice needling her brain.

“Luce? Can you hear me? Luc–” 

Lucy cut off the voice with her own raspy words, “Would you shut up?”

Her eyes finally adjusted to the lights and she saw the lanky outline of Lockwood standing at her side. Any other time she was woken up to the sight of him, Lucy was more than often annoyed but somehow, with the beeping of machines accompanied by the smell of alcohol in the air, he was a welcome comfort.

“Lockwood,” She breathed out a relieved sigh, studying his face. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, his eyes sullen, almost bruised looking, and his skin somehow more pale than normal. “What happened?”

“Let me find a doctor.” His hand found hers again, only giving it a light squeeze before leaving the room in his search. 

Lucy took the time to look around the room and spotted a vase full of orange and yellow flowers adorning the bedside table as well as a lone strawberry frosted doughnut left in a box meant to hold a half dozen. Based on that alone, she knew both George and his mother had visited at some point but as she looked towards where Lockwood had been it was as if he’d never left at all. His jacket was crumpled on a chair in the corner, with his tie folded neatly atop it and, given his appearance earlier, she could only assume he’d slept there.

Finally, she decided to give attention to the dull ache in her stomach and lift the blanket covering her lower half. Between the wires and tubes hooked up to her from all directions and having to wrestle with the gown they stuck her in, the endeavor was all the more difficult than necessary. When Lucy finally got a look at her bandage-covered abdomen she felt ill.

Her stewing was interrupted when a man entered the room, Lockwood hot on his heels. “Hello, Ms. Carlyle. I’m Dr. Stroud, I’ve been your physician since Monday night and–”

“Wait, what day is it?” Lucy coughed and Lockwood was quick to offer her a water which she gladly took.

“It’s Wednesday morning, Luce,” Lockwood supplied in a small voice. His eyes wouldn’t quite meet hers and she grew nervous. The angry blinking of the clock on the bedside table read 4:23 a.m. and she suddenly understood Lockwood’s state of disarray.

The beeping which she’d previously grown accustomed to had begun to quicken and she felt a sweat break out. “How bad was it?”

“Based on our limited knowledge Ms. Carlyle, we suspect it was a robbery.” Lucy nodded along, trying to grasp at the last thing she remembered. Shadows of a dark alleyway and the flash of a knife swirled in her mind but when she tried to imagine his eyes her head began to hurt.

“I remember a man and a knife…it was raining?” Lockwood’s hand found its way into hers once again and his thumb stroked the back of her hand soothingly. She motioned for the doctor to go on and kept her grip on Lockwood’s hand firm.

“You suffered a deep puncture that grazed the top of your liver and you lost a lot of blood. Luckily you weren’t out there too long before someone found you and called an ambulance.” The thought of herself bleeding out in the street forced Lucy to shut her eyes. “We’d like to keep you the rest of the week to monitor but considering you’re up and talking, I’ll leave you to sleep.”

Dr. Stroud left the room with a tight smile and Lucy looked at Lockwood. She’d been there for days unconscious, and Lockwood had been there at her side.

“How is–”

“You were… gone, Luce. You were white and cold and– you put me as your emergency contact ?!” He was incredulous, his grip tightening almost uncomfortably as tears welled in his eyes.

“Who else if not you?” She felt a lump rising in her throat. “My mother didn’t show last time and I’m not close to my sisters. You and George are all I have, you’re…” Lucy trailed off not sure what she wanted to say but knew it was too soon.

“Lucy, when I got that call…George and I rushed to meet you at the hospital. For days I’ve sat here and all I could think about was what if you hadn’t ended up in the road? What if you were in the alley and no one found you? What if–” Tears fell from his eyes and his voice failed him.

“What if I never came to London? What if I had gotten accepted to Fittes or Rotwell? But that’s not what happened. I’m here.” Lockwood brought her hand to his lips and all Lucy could do was watch. She, all at once, realized that it wasn't just her, wasn’t just Lucy who felt like the boy in front of her was her whole world, her whole future.

“You’re the one in the hospital bed, I should be comforting you ,” Lockwood laughed shakily and took a deep breath. “Luce, I need you to know that, no matter how far in the future, no matter the distance, I’ll always be there for you. You’re my family now…if, if you want.” Lockwood’s smile was unsure, hope gleaming in eyes.

Lucy sniffled, her emotions finally having caught up to her and smiled back, “ We’re family .”

Plus One.

The case had been cursed from the start. The day started out boiling hot, and Lucy’s usually protective extra layers were stuck to her skin by sweat but now, four hours into the case, a cold front blew in and a massive wind storm had been shaking the house all night. They were constantly unsure if the noises were ghosts or the storm and trying to use her listening had been all but useless.

They had been hired by the city to clear out a long-time vacant house, previously belonging to the lone heir before he mysteriously disappeared. It was uncertain if there were any ghosts on the property and the city wanted to sell so, there they were. She heaved the backpack up higher on her shoulder and a voice piped up.

“Watch it there, you drop me and I’ll kill all three of you.” The glow of the skull brightened on the walls around her. She opted to ignore it and kept on walking through the house.

“Alright guys, let's do one more sweep of this floor and I suppose we can call it a night.” Lockwood scratched the back of his head and George stifled a yawn.

“Lockwood, there’s been nothing the whole case and besides the disappearance, George couldn’t scrounge up anything about anything that would lead to a haunting,” Lucy was aching for a shower and she was tired of carrying around the skull all night because George insisted they bring it but declined to carry it because, ‘ only you can hear it, Luce. It would be a waste for me to carry it. ’ “Let’s just go home.”

“We will…just after we check the ground floor one more time, I–I have a feeling something is wrong.” He seemed more sullen than usual but Lucy attributed that to a boring case and long night.

“Whatever you say. I’m going to check the kitchen.” George walked off without a second thought and she let out a sharp laugh under her breath at the irony.

Lucy headed out, leaving a distant Lockwood in the living room and opted to traverse the dining room once again. The room sported a crystal chandelier, dust-ridden with time and fine silver and china still at their places around the table. Her eyes scanned over the room and she imagined herself in another life entertaining a slew of guests with not even a thought of The Problem on her mind. But then she crashed down to reality and realized that this was as close she's been in her life or ever will be.

“Lockwood, you seeing anything?” Lucy asked, despondent. With every look, the house was more ornate and lavishly furnished than she could stomach, obvious signs of wealth making Lucy grind her teeth.

“ You see something, northern girl?” Once again Lucy ignored the comments and continued on, simply huffing to herself rather than dignifying the skull with a response.

Of course, Lockwood failed to answer as he typically did when he was in the field and she sighed. With hesitance, Lucy trailed her fingers along the objects in the room, trying to detect any fleeting emotion or noise that could be connected but it was to no avail. There was absolutely nothing in this house that any of them could detect and Lucy was almost glad for it. A quiet night in a nice house was a relief that she needed, plus, they were getting paid, ghost or not.

Rolling her eyes, she trailed off to where she knew George was lounging in the kitchen and found him sitting at the dusty table gorging himself on the biscuits and tea they brought.

“Save some of those for the rest of us, huh?” Lucy chastised, snatching the package out of his hands. She took a seat across from him and took two for herself.

“Tell him he’s getting too fat not to share,” The skull laughed and she dropped him to the floor unceremoniously. “Watch it!” 

“C’mon Lucy, there's nothing in this house and you know it! Might as well sit and eat while Lockwood fumbles about.” He emphasized his point by grabbing back the biscuits.

“Where is he anyway?” Lucy stole the thermos as well and shot George a challenging look when it seemed he was going to protest.

George waved off absently, more focused on the food before him. “He was going on about checking the perimeter. I just talked to him.”

“I wish he’d take a break every once in a while. Between the three of us, I’m the only one with a normal work-life balance.” She chuckled leaning back in her chair and using the skull to prop her feet on.

“Yeah…normal.” George’s eyebrows furrowed and she threw her half eaten biscuit at him in retaliation.

The skull chose that moment to pipe up again, “There isn’t anything normal about the lot of you.” This time she kicked over the jar and George screeched on about being careful with the Type-Three.

Bored with the situation and ready to leave, she decided to round up Lockwood and get them on their way. “Lockwood’s been gone a while, I’m going to go check on him.”

Lucy stood to leave and she made it just out of the kitchen when a chill shot through the room and her breath became visible before her. She turned back towards the kitchen and locked eyes with George.

“George, I think–” She was unable to finish her sentence when the double doors slammed shut separating them from each other. Without thinking, Lucy grabbed the brass handle with her bare hand and yelped. The metal was so cold it burned her, the skin ripping where it froze to the door. Lucy bit her lip, almost drawing blood at the action and took her handkerchief to press over her hand.

“Lucy, what’s happening?” George yelled from the other side of the door. 

“I don’t know! See what you can find. The source has to be in the house somewhere for this to happen!” Lucy yelled back, still pounding on the door.

George sounded hysterical, his laugh high pitched and disbelieving. “Lockwood’s never gonna shut up about this after we get out of here!”

The wind began to pick up even more, blowing through the open front door and through the house. Lucy’s hair whipped in front of her face as she tried to focus on her listening. There was little more than the faint whisper of a man she hardly was able to make out.

Cliff…the cliff.

Lucy glanced outside, the doors still banging in the wind and made her decision. “Stay in the chain circle! I have to find Lockwood, you stay safe!” She yelled to George and turned for the front of the house.

Lucy drew her rapier with her good hand and made for the front door which was left wide open and banging in the wind. Using her forearm to guard her view, she creeped outside looking every which way for an incoming attack while yelling for her friend.

“Lockwood? Lockwood, where are you?” She tried to scream over the storm but her words were literally lost to the wind.

As she made her way further outside, she nearly tripped over something on the ground, the metallic clang catching her attention. When she picked it up, she held Lockwood’s rapier in her hand and felt her heart rate spike at the discovery. Lockwood was somewhere out there with no weapon and a ghost preying on them in a windstorm.

In the distance, she saw a figure moving farther and farther away in the direction of the ocean, a figure she could only assume was Lockwood. Her steps were quick yet strained against the storm and she was forced to sheath her rapier as it was getting too difficult to hold. She was closing in quick, just across the field and getting closer to the cliff's edge by the second, but he continued on.

“Lockwood!” She tried once more but still he seemed to be unable to hear her. “Lockwood, stop !” Her feet were moving faster now, breaking out into a sprint beneath her. She understood his unresponsiveness then, and the sudden activity once Lockwood walked off. He was ghost-locked . She was flying then, racing up the hill to meet him, the grass slipping under her feet and the wind doing all it could to knock her over. He was steps away but his cadence never faltered–the same one, two , of each foot–and she silently thanked the universe that, if nothing else, ghosts were consistent.

Her hands did one final reach as one of Lockwood’s feet went over and she grabbed the collar of his jacket, heaving him off the edge and back into her. Lucy wrapped her arms around his middle so as to not let him escape and began to yell, an action she was regretting as her voice began to go hoarse.

“Lockwood, please , you have to snap out of it! It’s me Lucy!” She felt him strain against her arms and held tighter, thinking he was still trying to throw himself off the edge.

“You think I could forget you, Luce?” Lockwood’s words tumbled out, unsure and attempting to be comedic.

“Lockwood?” She gasped out, wiggling out from under him to get a look at his eyes. When she was met with the familiar warm brown she’d grown to lo– she finally breathed a sigh of relief. “What happened?”

Lockwood’s eyes searched her own before looking away, a habit he seemed unable to break, and spoke. “He was all alone. No family, no friends, no one left.”

Lucy’s chest constricted in understanding. “Anthony…”

“He killed himself. Right here on this cliff.” His words seemed to choke him and she couldn’t help but bring her hands to cup his face.

“I need you to know that you are not alone,” Lucy brought his forehead to hers and he breathed in sharply, his pulse under her fingertips quickening. “I’m right here.”

His own hand found their way to hers, holding on as if a lifeline and he nodded. “You’re right here.”

When Lucy pulled back, she locked eyes with the boy before her again. They were softer this time but darted down to her lips in a flash. Her cheeks reddened when she noticed as did his in turn. Before she could think to do otherwise she surged forward, Lucy’s lips capturing his in a chaste kiss. It was a bit off and they were both chapped from the wind but it still had her heart pounding in her chest.

The boy before her had gone from stranger to family in the short time she’d known him. Him and George had become more to her than her family had ever been and for that she was eternally grateful. He had taken her in, given her a job, and protected her from everything a gangly teenager could manage. She loved him.

Lockwood’s eyes widened and he gasped. “Lucy–” His hands tightened atop hers and he leaned back in, kissing her slowly, reassuringly.

“You’re it for me.”

[imnotshua]

get to know your mutuals ★ tag game

@100vern tysm for tagging me, i completely forgot about it until i logged on, and now i've forgotten what i actually logged in to do

what's the origin of your blog title? i'm not joshua hong and i'm not sure about anything :)

favorite fandoms: i'm not hugely into fandom spaces beyond watching/listening to the content and reading the fics, whenever i've delved deeper than surface level there always seems to be some level of animosity for something or someone or some other fandom and i'm not into all that. i enjoy fandoms for the joy they bring me. i just wanna have my fun and i don't wanna have my bubble burst. that's not to say i'm actively delusional or wilfully ignorant, i just tune out the noise.

OTP(s)/shipname: boongi (me & yoongi), beosang (me and yeosang), joshee (me and joshua)

favorite color: soft muted greens, lavender, blush pinks

favorite game: i've been playing a lot of stardew valley lately

song stuck in your head: water by seventeen. vernons IcE cream i'll be sweet deo chagabge simply won't leave my brain

weirdest habit/trait? when i shower at night i won't turn the light on. i don't know why

hobbies: pottery (i've just booked classes to go back after a three month break I'M SO EXCITED), writing, reading. i'm getting back into walking the lakes, and when the weather warms up i'm gonna get back out on my kayak.

if you work, what's your profession? enamel pin designer

if you could have any job you wish, what would it be? painter who sits in her garden on a warm day with a cup of tea (i don't even like tea) and a cat at her feet, and paints in the sunshine

something you're good at: stealing jewels answer for this - writing (i hope), moving house (i've done it 19 times so i'm a fucking pro), being an internet detective, i can find out anything about your ex. committing your natal chart to memory. at least looking like i'm calm when in reality i want to walk into the ocean lmao. raising children (mine are pretty cool)

something you're bad at: remembering anything useful. remembering that some people are shitty and do not deserve my grace. dancing

something you love: my family & friends, the cat who comes to visit me every day, music, the view from my bedroom window, when it's really cold but sunny outside, the three little porcelain cats i made at a pottery workshop, the chocolate box village i moved to, the way i painted my living room, the sunrise from my garden

something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: astrology

something you hate: putting the bins out (god being the only adult in my house is exhausting) and washing the dishes (it's relentless)

something you collect: photocards, thanking god i'm not a completionist because yeosang has too many to keep up with

something you forget: my own opinions (feed me new information and i'll change like the wind)

what's your love language? quality time, words of affirmation

favorite movie/show: really enjoying severance rn, i'm not good at the theories but i enjoy hearing them, watched the ozarks recently too and i'd die for ruth, i watched band of brothers a while back and cried so hard but could never watch it again. was into eastenders between 2002-2011 but haven't seen an episode since ronnie did the babyswap. i love kiki's delivery service, howl's moving castle, pride & prejudice (2005), atonement, eternal sunshine of a spotless mind, shrek 2

favorite food: buldak cabonara ramen, a fried runny egg on sourdough bread, cottage pie, thai red curry, hot rhubarb crumble and cold custard, pistachio tiramisu

favorite animal: cats

are you musical? no lol i enjoy it but i can't play anything anymore. i used to be okay at the piano but honestly if i'm not good at something immediately then i'll give up.

what were you like as a child? god idk. defiant lmao. my parents struggled with me as soon as i developed a sense of justice. i used to write books in the middle of the night, beg off school the next day because i was exhausted, and use the time off to illustrate them. my mum caught on after 3 books. one that sticks out was called The Enchanted Fireplace and it was about some kids that found out they could use their granny's fireplace to time travel lol. mum probably has that one in her attic

favorite subject at school? art, english language, & history. art and eng lang because it fed my creativity, history because mr h was the funniest teacher i've ever known. shoutout to mr h wherever u are, i really enjoyed that term we learned about the romans

least favorite subject? geography because it bored me. computer tech because the teacher was a creep and i knew how to use the internet better than he did. RE because our teacher should've been in therapy for her anger issues

what's your best character trait? stealing jewel's answer bc i am also great in a crisis. no one will ever know that i'm not as calm as i look on the inside. thank u autism <3

what's your worst character trait? i lack motivation

if you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be? i would have taken advantage of the rare sunny weather and did some gardening

if you could travel in time who would you like to meet? me in 2010. don't be fucking stupid girl don't date him

recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love): tuesday moon by @effortandmore and come sail away by @starlightkyeom <3 my loves

tagging: anyone who wants to! i don't know anyone v well but i'd like to and i'm nervers to make friends outside of the small group i have :') if you see this & want to join in with your own, please tag me so we can chat

#tag game

[qftim-dreamcatcherau]

Backstory time!

I spent quite a while putting together her backstory, which could be changed, due to what ideas I can put into it, but this is pretty much what I wrote so far, so you can get the idea of who she is lol anyway, enjoy!

Blairlana’s backstory

She is the eldest in the Connor Family, Allison and Tom Connor. She is quite a pure and innocent child who loves to help with Allison’s side quests and Tom’s cooking. One day, she was completely bored out of mind and told her parents about wanting a sibling. Firstly, they were shocked but insisted since they didn’t want her to keep begging. 

While Allison goes through the pregnancy process, at primary school, Blair witnesses a victim being bullied and so she steps in to save their life. Eventually, they scattered off while she checked up on the victim. The victim in question is Coco. They both started hanging out with each other and instantly became best friends. Being best friends they are, she tells Coco about her baby sister that is coming soon and so Coco would bring small gifts for Allison since she is from a wealthy family. 

When her baby sister was born, Blair was quite happy to finally see and be able to hold in her arms. Allison asks what they would name her, after some thinking, she tells her “Breeda”. 

“Any reason why you chose that, dear?”

“I don’t know … maybe she reminds me of flowers ..”

A few months pass by as her baby sister grows, she helps out care and play with her while her parents are busy with work. She did bring Coco to visit and play as well, only it turned into chaos when Breeda started to rough house (like a puppy she is, in that stage), chasing after her once she stole something and cleaning up the mess in the kitchen when flour was spilled everywhere. 

Everything was going fine until one day, Alice Angel came by to visit. It wasn’t a pleasant visit. She wanted Blair to herself because she is beautiful. Allison refuses to give her away, holding onto her daughters for dear life. Rejection doesn’t taste too nice for Alice that she separates the two sisters with force. Blair is with Alice and while Breeda is with Henry. As her parents desperately searched for their daughters, Alice was holding her hostage, telling her to help her with the messy work and was manipulated to think she’s just an ugly monster that doesn’t deserve to be beautiful, just like her and her mother. She disobeyed her once by backing out from a task that Alice ordered her to do, causing her to get aggressive towards her and claw her left eye out. 

After that traumatizing event, she was found by her parents when Alice is out of the way to go after Henry. She cried uncontrollably to her parents about what happened as Tom patches her up and Allison comforts and reassures. She made her way with them to find her little sister, only to find her with Henry and an unconscious Alice on the floor. They reunited and continued their adventure to escape through the hell hole they were in. 

Ever since the incident, Blair has been quiet and cautious. She would get defensive if anyone dared to put a hand on her, and almost got in trouble for doing so. Children at her school asked questions about what happened to her, some even came up to her to ask but she didn’t answer them, she walked away and went somewhere to be alone with Coco. She finds comfort from her best friend and family, they kept her safe and secured so nobody will harm her again. One day, Coco disappeared from school and she never saw her again until years later.

Everything in middle school went fine for Blair, at least she misses her best friend and continued to care for her little sister and parents. Particularly normal … for now. 

High School flew by for Freshman year, she saw her best friend again, hugging her like it's the end of the world and asking her many questions of where she has been over the years. Only to have little answers and reassurance that she is okay. They both hung out like old times again, now gossiping and starting little rumors like teens they are. A boy in her history class decided to have a crush on her, placing small notes and gifts on her desk. It started with a secret admirer until it was revealed that it was a boy named Jun Kurotama. 

He confessed his love to her, one day, and so they officially dated. They were seen talking to each other and holding hands in the hallways and classes. Blair kinda grew some popularity from it, making her a popular girl in school. They never kissed but instead he kissed another girl, she witnessed it and it broke her heart terribly. Jun tried talking to her about it, saying it was a dare but it was a lie. Blair took it harshly and walked off, never talking to him again. 

To take her mind off of her heartbreak, she joined the cheerleading team with Coco. She successfully passed through the audition part, after practicing and such. 

Over the past 1-2 years, she and Coco became the captains of the team, which made a few girls jealous of them both. She was bullied for being selected as captain by those girls but she doesn’t take it by heart, she has grown to ignore those who dared call her names or any other sorts but also to defend her loved ones. Example, Coco was fighting with a girl in the team because of being called names that are related to her father. She pulled her back from the fight and told the girl off to stay back or else she snitched on her to the coach.  

In her math class, she was paired up with a boy for a project. He was a bit of a nerd, short, red eyes, and pointy horns. His name is Bendy. They both talked throughout the project, asking questions and helping each other with problems. He even went up to her to ask about anything project related after classes, which started a rumor about him having a crush on her. She is aware but doesn’t acknowledge it since she wasn’t really interested in him during the time. 

After a few months of cheerleading, gossiping, and going through high school lessons, prom week is lurking up onto the list. Many boys in the school were asking to be her prom date but she denied most of them except for one … Bendy. He asked her shyly since the rumors are true, a few students were watching over what happened. She developed a crush on him from it ever since because she hasn't felt love in years. 

Once prom day came, her mother helped her get ready for the special day, selecting the dress and borrowing the pearl necklaces from Allison. The rest is the makeup that she applied to herself. Once she was ready to go: 

“Blair, honey!”

“Yes mom..?”

“...Have fun out there. Make sure that boy takes you home safely..if he drives or not.” 

“I’ll see about that but thank you, mom”

She had fun. Sticking with her best friend, drinking punch and meeting the prom date. He was wearing his suit and seeing her in a beautiful dress made him fall for her hard. They eventually talked, getting to know each other a little bit before a slow song started to play. They both danced like there’s no tomorrow, despite the height difference they made it work. The Student Council announced the prom king and queen but Blair and Bendy didn’t win so they shrug it off since it doesn’t matter to them, what matters is having fun with each other. 

Once the night passed, everyone at the school started to gossip about her and bendy, saying that they should’ve won, asking if they kissed after prom, or the big question “are you two dating?”. Bendy didn’t want to answer while for Blair, she only gave simple answers, “that’s none of your business, hun.” 

Once graduation rolled around, she started to develop symptoms for the ink illness. She felt like she was going to die from there, going through each episode of it, her little sister witnessing it and crying, her best friend crying after witnessing the episode for the first time, all of it made her isolate herself because she didn’t want anyone else she loves to see her in that state. 

Allison and Tom went to her to take care of her for a little while, giving her a talk about staying strong and “maybe there’s a way to cure this..”. It gave her an idea to find the cure. She was going to do it on her own but her parents suggested bringing Breeda along. 

She was going to refuse the offer but she didn’t want to leave her behind so she brought her along. They both hug their parents goodbye and leave their home to go on their quest. 

The rest of the backstory shall be revealed in the AU. 

[aceouttatime]

15 questions for 15 friends

tagged by @korblez! thanks dearie <3

ARE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?: My deadname was my mother's favorite name. My chosen name, Alex, is very similar--I kind of just flip-flopped the gender of it. I also chose my middle name when I was getting it legally changed, and I decided on my father's name.

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?: Probably about ten months ago. I can't remember, but it's been way more difficult since starting testosterone ~2 years ago.

DO YOU HAVE KIDS?: No. Observe: A. I'm as gay as a room of monkeys on nitrous oxide, B. I'm a trans man who does NOT intend on using the uterus he was given, and C. I'm 20. We ain't ready.

WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED?: Was a cheerleader against my will for 12 years and a gymnast for 10. Those are. Uh. Very uncomfortable activities for a closeted trans man. Also messed up my body (abdominal issues, back issues, joints that crack like bubble wrap), but hey, I have a few cool party tricks to pull out now! I also played basketball for a few years and peewee soccer when I was real little.

DO YOU USE SARCASM?: No. (I am a liar.)

WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?: How they hold themselves, i.e., body language like tense shoulders, a puffed-out chest, downcast eyes.

WHAT'S YOUR EYE COLOUR?: Green! Olive green with a few dots of brown.

SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?: Depends on my mood. Do I want a think piece? Psychological horror, all the way. Am I sad and need Comfort Content? Happy endings please or I will cry inside.

ANY TALENTS?: I can fall asleep anywhere, anytime, given five minutes. I can do a great worm and also flips. I can draw pretty pictures sometimes that usually have gay people or aliens (or both) in them.

WHERE WERE YOU BORN?: the USA BAYBEE RAHHHH 🦅🦅🦅 Ohio, specifically. It's mostly corn, highways, and the occasional building here (if you spot any signs of civilization, please let authorities know, as it is a rarity and must be documented for research purposes).

WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES?: Drawing, reading, writing, skiing, rollerblading, hiking, biking, embroidery, bracelet-making, video gaming, window shopping (poor college student with Spending Anxiety), taking care of my plant children, stopping my roommate's cat from eating plants (she has no survival instinct but is Very Cute), and many more that I can't think of at the moment.

DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS?: One dorm cat (my roommate's, she's a ragdoll mix) named Eda, and two dachshunds (my parents') named Dunkin and Bailey. Dunkin is barely out of his puppy years, and Bailey is Strange and Brick-Shaped.

HOW TALL ARE YOU?: 5'7. 5'8 if my spine is not Fucked-Up that day.

FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL?: Science, history, and English. Psychology, if that counts (it's what I study in college)!

DREAM JOB?: Clinical psychologist for NASA (basically I'd help research, implement programs for, and monitor the mental wellbeing of personnel). Pipe dream? Yes. More reasonable career path? Clinical psychologist working private practice somewhere nice (and warm and maybe not in the States). -----TLDR; Astronaut therapist.

I'll go ahead and tag (with care, no pressure!): @straypurplebread, @who-is-riley, @swaps55, @daisywalletchains, @sparatus, @thetrashbagswasteland, @whiskynorocks, @notjumpinglamps, @threewhiskeylunch, @westernlarch, @maxiepenguin,

[aajjks]

TPOL!dad!JK

“hey, c’mon guys! don’t you want to go on the cool treasure hunt today?” the teacher, whose name is choi minjun, is a sweet middle-aged woman who helped you when you were struggling to drop off jaemin for his first day of school. “hi ms. minjun” jaemin bows to show his respect but jia just hides behind her father’s legs.

“hello jaemin. you look so handsome. oh, and who might this little angel be?” she tilts her head to get a better look at jia.

“her name is jia. this is my little sister and-and this is my dad” says a much happier jaemin who’s excited to introduce his family. “hehe, i know about your father. it’s good to see you here, mr. jeon. i can take miss jia off your hands if you’re comfortable with that”

jungkook is hesitant at first but he trusts her. he knows his daughter will be fine in her hands, plus, you should be home soon. he gives her permission to take jia and the sight is heartbreaking. although she’s gentle, it feels as though she’s ripping his daughter away from him and jia’s screams and cries breaks his heart even more.

“d-daddy!!!!! i want daddy!!!” she cries over and over until she’s taken inside the school building with jaemin following close behind. “it’s okay, mr. jeon” says another teacher. “if she doesn’t feel better, we will call you”

~🫧

After getting out of the school jungkook begins to drive to his company, it was really heartbreaking to see her crying and screaming for him like that.

He sniffles as he drives, crying softly as he remembers his children’s faces, they’re his everything, all he wants to do right now is to be in your arms while you tell him that that everything will be all right and they’re just at school

It’s really hard to be a parent, it’s really hard to be without your children.. his children are his world now, Jungkook cries the whole drive, missing Jia and Jaemin.

It’s OK they’ll be home in a few hours. He now understands how you felt when you dropped Jaemin to school on his first day. You were an emotional mess and it was really hard for him to calm you down.

Jungkooks day goes by smoothly, he attends the meetings and works on some paperwork but his mind is constantly distracted by the telephone in his office because if she’s not all right, what if she’s still crying for him? What if Jaemin is having a hard time reconnecting with his friends?

Oh, he’s so stressed out.

What if someone bullies his kids? Oh, he will kill them. “Ugh I gotta go home…” he slams his head down his table, he really needs your hug.

You must be home by now, right? He really wants to go home. but then he’s actually debating if he should just take a day off early, and surprise you directly. 

Jungkook decides to do that, and after a few hours he’s driving back home, so he can spend some time with you, his mother is going to have the kids over for the day since he wants to take you out on a date.

He is terribly missing his kids.

Jungkook drives back home, he just hopes that both of them did not having a hard time. Because if they did, he will just homeschool them.

Jungkook parks his car into your large driveway and soon gets out of it to rush inside your home.

“YNNNN IM BACK HOME!” He calls out, going up the staircase because you’re not here, so maybe you’re in the bedroom.

He’s had such a hard day and now he’s going to tell you about how Jia was crying which made him cry..

[aceofshitposts]

5 QUESTIONS, 15 (or whatever).

Got tagged by @generatorcat and @glaciya ❤️

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYBODY?

My birth middle name was also my paternal grandmother's name, so I was kinda named after her. But then I went and changed my legal name to something I liked better lmao so...

Ah shit. I did name myself after something. My middle name is now Draco 😂😂 BEFORE YOU JUMP TO CONCLUSIONS. IT WAS ACTUALLY ONE OF MY FAVOURITE NAMES DUE TO THE MOVIE DRAGONHEART and its my favourite constellation.... But I am also a Draco Malfoy apologist 😔

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?

Uuuuh someone last week? I was in the throes of another bpd episode and having a Time

3. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?

Absolutely not. I'm not a child rearing kind of person. I've never really wanted children and I still don't. It's funny cuz of course the idea will come up when you're with friends like I'm school and I just sort of picked names to fit in but I truly was never able to actually picture myself as married or having kids or what I would want it to be like.

4. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT?

Oh yes haha I've been told my delivery is so dry that people have trouble telling if I'm actually joking or not 😅

5. WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED?

Used to play volleyball in school. Briefly did some track stuff.

Now I do dog sports like agility :) or well I will once Al is old enough. I used to do ability with my old boss's dogs and help teach the classes though.

6. WHAT'S THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT SOMEONE?

Oh that's tough. Uh usually whether or not I like them on fist instinct and whether I think they like me lol

7. EYE COLOUR?

Brown

8. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?

I love both?? Scary movies though often compel me because there's like things going on and puzzles to work out

9. ANY SPECIAL TALENTS?

I can catch things without looking? Uuh, I wouldn't call this a talent but people are mystified by it anyway: my ability to get dogs to listen to me lol

It's all about persistence

10. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?

hospital, almost exactly one month early

11. WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES?

Video games, writing, art of various types, photography

12. DO YOU HAVE PETS?

Yes! I currently have a great pyrenees/gsd/golden retriever mix and I love him very much. He's 4.5 months now and such a sweetheart. He's doing really well with his service work training too but he's still got puppy brain lol

13. HOW TALL ARE YOU?

5'6"

14. FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL?

Honestly it's hard to say since I really struggled with school my whole life. I always loved evolutionary science, though, and still do.

15. DREAM JOB?

Running a wolf-dog sanctuary. These animals don't deserve what the get just because of people's ignorance and would love to run a place where they're safe and loved by someone who knows how to handle them.

Honestly I'd probably expand it to other unreleasable wildlife too but my main passion is canids.

Right now I'm settling for opening my own doggy daycare 😂

Another one would just to be independently wealthy and run my own little farm ala harvest moon/story of seasons and have like 15 dogs.

Gonna tag @yasmindifference @krizariel @nanapop @penumbra-twist

[garfield-mug]

Get to know me!

Thanks for the tag, liz! (@sailor-aviator)

1. were you named after anyone?

my paternal great grandmother

2. when was the last time you cried?

january 8th

3. do you have kids?

no. i don't want biological children. i would like to become a foster parent to kids aged 12+ when i'm in the right place to do so.

4. what sports do you play/have you played?

i played volleyball in middle school, but nothing else since. i'm not into sports tbh.

5. do you use sarcasm?

absolutely not. /s

6. what’s the first thing you notice about people?

eyes, usually

7. what’s your eye color?

brown

8. scary movies or happy endings?

i think this question is kind of stupid because horror films can have happy endings... they're not mutually exclusive. but, to answer it, i watch both.

9. any talents?

they're like. all too niche to post on this blog lmao. i also feel like talents are just skills you develop over time.

10. where were you born?

New York

11. what are your hobbies?

video games, my blogs, reading, board games

i would like to pick up more but i have no time

12. do you have any pets?

right now it's a dog, a crested gecko, and a rabbit. i will be adding more in the future (probably a snake next).

13. how tall are you?

5'1"

14. favorite subject in school?

bio. it was always bio. it's still my favorite, despite how much i complain about my classes.

15. dream job?

i'm kind of doing it right now? at least part of it. i would like to tap more into the public/client education side of things and do more work with wildlife.

No pressure tags: @celestianstars @peachyteabuck

[dragonofeternal]

2 tag memes

I got tagged in two different memes this week! Yaaay~

Current things tag meme!

Tagged by @ghoul-misadventures

3 ships: Millionsummers, Vashwood, LeoJoker

Last song: "radio protector" by 65daysofstatic

Currently reading: The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle

Currently watching: I don't really watch a lot of TV, but I have been on and off binging through the "how it's actually made" parody dub-overs by huggbees on youtube. I also want to check out Flanagan's "Fall of the House of Usher" but starting shows is hard for me XDD

Last movie: uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh assuming that hours long youtube documentaries don't count, then I think the last thing I watched might have been the fucking FF7 Advent Children Director's Cut that we rewatched over the summer. (I feel like I've watched something since then but I can't. Remember. What it would have been. So. Yeah.)

Currently consuming: After binging through it in like 2 days, I am now more slowly replaying through Paranormasight

Currently craving: hot chocolate bc it's really cold and rainy here =A=

15 people 15 questions tag meme

tagged by @rosemirmir!

1. are you named after anyone? My first name is the name of my cut-throat great- (or was it great-great?) grandmother who earned the family fortune, and my middle name came from my mom's college roommate.

2. when was the last time you cried? Uhhhh... Like... a couple therapy sessions ago? I have a really good therapist, so we're working on a lot of shit, but unfortunately that means I cry somewhat frequently ><

3. do you have kids? Nope! Not really my scene, but more power to those who do.

4. what sports do you play/have you played? I did basketball on and off in elementary school, and my high school tried to get me to join the basketball team there too, but uhhh I wanted to do theatre more and I only had time to do one or the other. Not a "sport" but I'm gonna be taking an aerial silks class soon!

5. do you use sarcasm? Never. (yes)

6. what’s the first thing you notice about people? I don't. (I dunno? Height? I'll be honest and say I'm not the most observant about other people lol)

7. what’s your eye color? Blue~

8. scary movies or happy endings? That's a weird dichotomy to present XDDD I guess happy endings if we're talking movies, because I prefer horror in games, writing, comics, and audio mediums slightly more than movies.

9. any talents? Writing and acting spring to mind as two that are both "I've always been fairly talented in this" and "I have worked a lot to hone this skill."

10. where were you born? DC~

11. what are your hobbies Numerous. Uhhh, I write, I draw, I play video and tabletop games, I take walks, I enjoy watching anime and getting way too serious about it.....

12. do you have any pets? We have four cats at home! Two are technically "mine" and Killians, and two are technically Pat's, but yeah. They're good kitties

13. how tall are you? 5'9"

14. favorite subject in school? History! (Though I also honestly very much enjoyed Math bc it was one of the easiest to keep on top of homework and shit in lol)

15. dream job Honestly I'm really, really happy with my current job. It's not anything I necessarily would have expected being like HOMGORZ DREAM JOBBBBB but it's like? Really fulfilling and enjoyable? So uh. Admin for an LGBTQ Health Equity Center XDDD.

tagging @rosemirmir @ghoul-misadventures @arahith @onlines @clockworkspider @setsuntamew @ehyde @jacenbren @orcelito @xx-bluesummers-xx and whoever else feels inspired to do either of these in the most "seriously no pressure guys just do it if you feel like it" way XDD

[an-attempt-at-writing-again]

Year 2

For people who don't live in England. Our School system moves in year groups. Nursery, Reception Year 1 all the way to year 13. Year 12 to 13 are also college year groups. I grew up in a First, Middle and High School system. Nursery to Year 4 for first school, 5-8 Middle School and 9-11 for high school then 6th form and off to Uni, or whatever. Other people do Primary (1-6) and Seconary (7-11) But I think thats odd... Middle school is needed for those awkward years.

At some point, Near the end of year one I think. I moved schools again. A smaller school, nearer the countryside. I never moved house, just schooling. Again, I don't know why. Maybe my parents like to shop around. maybe something happened. I don't know. It's not like I can ask.

As far as I'm aware, I settled in okay. There was one girl, who was very pretty. She's still very pretty. She lives in Australia now, I had a crush on her in my teens, I hope she's doing well. Her mums hair colour could change. I didn't know you could do that. I went to her house once for her birthday, it was a big house, it was beautiful.

In this school, year groups were combined, Year one and two in one class, year three and four in another. In Year two, all the other children were given these special books to practice cursive, I never received one. I was told my handwriting wasn't good enough. Then the Year ones received some too... I might buy one of those books to make up for it. My hand writing never really hit the standard I'd like.

By this point I liked Doctor Who, reading, Pokemon and dolls.

I think Doctor Who was my first major interest. I would have been about 6 years old. I'd creaped downstairs one night to see my dad wathing TV after my bedtime. I never slept well at that age. My mind was too busy.

There I saw some Doctor who, it was the 9th Doctor still. I was enthralled, but I was quickly shooed back upstairs to bed.

When the 10th Doctor was reviealed, my parents thought I was old enough to watch. I believe the episode was the one with the wolf and queen victoria, or maybe the one afterwads. I was hooked. I was enthralled. I had a crush on David Tennant. I still have a crush on David Tennant. What can I say. But I dreamed and imagined about the doctor ever since. I was obsessed.

Some of the boys in my class also like Doctor Who, and Pokemon, I received the game with a DS lite. I was also enthralled. I had a crush on one of the other boys in the class, he liked the same things and I liked him.

One time though, we would have a special Friday event where parents were encouraged to join and awards were handed out. I felt sick, I was put into a classroom with a bin. My parents picked me up, I threw up on the way home. We were in the village, in the estate, but the car's rear window's wouldn't role down low enough. Deliberatly to prevent children from sticking their head out the window. So the inside of the car got the majority of the pink cake I had eaten for luch. I cried due to the mess caused, and that my parents would have to clean it up. I was literally 1 minute from getting home too.

I once asked my dad at this age: "Why do you not work?" He explained that his job was to care for my mum. My mum couldn't work because she was disabled. It worked for me, however, I noticed my friend's who's parents worked all had very nice houses. Stand Alone houses with huge gardens. big kitchens and big windows. Rooms entirely designated to play in. My house felt small, and poor. There was once a task where I was asked to describe my house as a lesson. I was too embarrased to do the work. I think there was a whole thing about it. Its odd that I still live in the same house. I'm still ashamed. And those houses my friends grew up in... They'd now be worth millions.

[onlyforalwayswith]

15 people 15 questions

thank you @crosbyism for the tag <3 <3 <3

1. are you named after anyone?

A local meteorologist... my parents liked her name :D And my great grandmother for my middle name

2. when was the last time you cried?

I'm not gonna lie I am weak for sports videos and web weaves etc so hockey-related crying probably like two days ago having something to do with Sid; real life crying... Christmas! My sister got me a sentimental poster/map thing for my new house, it was very sweet

3. do you have kids?

No! I have two fantastic nieces and I'm about to move about six blocks away from them. I ADORE them and my relationship with them but being an auntie is the perfect amount of motherhood for me. I used to think... maybe... and then I got a puppy and that answered that!

4. what sports do you play/ have you played?

Field hockey was my jam (though I was NOT good at it), and I was on the swim team forever. I've skied since I was about five, but tore my ACL in college and now I only really do it because my family is OBSESSED. But I was also one of those kids who tried everything for like... three weeks. So tennis, ice skating, soccer, basketball, softball, etc, nothing really stuck. I am... NOT athletic

5. do you use sarcasm?

never

6. what’s the first thing you notice about people?

This is a little weird, but... how good people are at conversation. I tend to feel pressure to carry conversations so I kind of instinctively assess right away what a person's conversational style is.

7. what’s your eye colour?

Blue-green

8. scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings <3 I can't watch horror movies, I literally hide my head under blankets. At my first sleep over I had to call my mom to come pick me up because they were watching Children of the Corn and my little self couldn't handle it. I haven't gotten much better since

9. any talents?

kind of a silly answer, but reading? I think I'm pretty good at it.

10. where were you born?

The keystone state :D

11. what are your hobbies?

I love hiking--I actually did a walk-about for about two years where I visited a lot of the national parks for a month or so each, and it was just the most magical experience of my life. Hiking pretty much became my part-time job and it was fantastic

12. do you have any pets?

I do! I have a dog who is a couple months shy of his second birthday, he's a (high energy, playful, adorable) wirehaired pointing griffon which is a very pretentious name for essentially a very cute trash muppet. His name is Jinx and he drives me crazy and is also my bestie and I am very much that 'i would kill everyone in this room' brooklyn 99 meme about him

13. how tall are you?

a very average 5'5

14. favourite subject in school?

Religion! I hate everything it's done to the world but I loveee studying organized religion, I almost minored in it, actually, but went with English instead. I kind of realize now that it's because I like socio-psychology so much... why people do the things they do is pretty much the thing I'm fascinated with the most. And the answer to that for a lot of history was religion.

15. dream job?

I actually have my dream job! I'm a writer (novels) and I feel very privileged and lucky to have been able to make it work. There are times it very much feels like a job of course, but mostly I get to do what I love every day (very Sid coded) and I don't take that for granted.

I'm late to this, so I feel like everyone I know has been tagged lol! But if you see this and you haven't, consider yourself tagged! I love reading all the answers!!!

[angel-on-parole-archive]

OH BOY QUESTIONS (... I get way too enthusiastic answering questions and idk why I'm like this

1. Named after anyone?

I am not! Neither for my dead name or my chosen one... Unless we count my dead name sharing a middle name with my birth giver

Or, well, Astar is short for the name Astaroth. I'm not sure the context of the choosing makes it count tho.

2. Last time I cried?

... almost earlier today because babies and small children make me cry lately-

3. Kids?

I'm not in a situation to have any at the moment, but I would like to

4. Sports?

They're not for me tbh, but if someone I care about is into them I am absolutely gonna learn some basics abt it so I know what they're talking about c:

5. Sarcasm?

The autism makes it hard to have fun with sarcasm with people, mostly due to the fact that I often run into the situation of

>sarcastically humorous statement

>I give what I think is a humorous reply in a flat tone

>(confused, usually also annoyed and looking at me like im stupid) "I was being sarcastic"

>I know?? I was continuing the humor?? Damn

6. First thing I notice about something?

... that it exists?

7. Eye color?

A dark brown, like garden dirt (this is a pleasant shade of brown to me tbh, I do wish they were green but I can't say I'm displeased with them now c: )

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

I have the entirety of the saw series minus the most recent one on DVD (gifted to me, but incredibly well received), I feel this says some things about me and answers this question lmfao

9. Talents?

A few? Writing, drawing, divination (like, any person I've done tarot for that I'm only an acquaintance with (i.e. people who I worked with) were freaked out by how right I got them just looking at their cards)), uuuuuh... idk I'm good at cleaning? And weirdly sagely advice since I was 5 (my advice at 5 years old led to one of my relatives being married quite literally til death did them part) and getting people who have only known me for 30 minutes to tell me their deepest darkest secrets/traumas (I don't know why this happens. I really don't. It keeps happening.)

10. Place of birth?

On good ol US soil near DC!

11. Hobbies?

Dnd, writing, drawing, picking people's brains (if they let me), weaving yarn, video games, studying things that catch my attention (e.g. psychology, physical medicines), and weirdly recently in my life? Bar hopping (I like the atmosphere, which feels weird as someone who's been a shut in most of their life lmao)

12. Pets?

Currently the house has seven dogs, six cats, two birds, and we have chickens and ducks!* None are personally mine, but my aunt did say that the next time we bring a stray cat in the house that cat is mine lmao

*I can assure anyone who may be worried that they're all very well taken care of and very loved c:

13. Height?

5 ft 4.5, but my ID has it rounded up to 5'5" and I feel like a FRAUD

14. Favorite school subject?

Art! Or if we wanna go with the main four (math, history, science, english) it'd be history!

15. Dream job?

At this point in my life? The IDEAL is house spouse lmao

But most people don't consider that a real job, so being an entertainer is also one I'm looking into!

Oh, still not a real job? Mortician. Yes I'm serious.

... as usual, I have no idea who to tag, but whoever wishes to share their answers please do!! I like reading tags and reblogs owo

tagged by @wolfsangel

1. named after anyone? no but my grandma chose my current name 2. last time I cried? today 3. kids? my plushies 4. sports? sleeping (n skating in winter) 5. sarcasm? hard to understand 6. first thing I notice about something? shape 7. eye color? that weird grey color that either looks green or blue to people 8. scary movies or happy endings? scary movies 9. talents? communicating with anything that has a soul 10. place of birth? c++ compiler 11. hobbies? programming, drawing, music, reserching topics no one cares about 12. pets? da dog, da hamster, soon da stickbugs 13. height? 5'5 or somwthing 14. favorite school subject? i dunno 15. dream job? something programming or osint related

tagging: @fvckinnefor @disruptxrr @ttattp @necoboberarc @poorpastel-pain + any1 who wants to do this ^__^

[forrestcat]

@luckymoony some rough fanart of A-Yu and A-Rong chilling under a tree~

(A-Yu continues to meditate despite his San-jie’s increasing audience of undead animals.

Truly their fathers’ children.)

[stevesbipanic]

We're back with another soulmate AU cause I'm a sucker for them.

Steve had never known a time when the names of his soulmates weren't on his wrists. One platonic, one romantic. Some people were born with two romantic although rare, some born with two platonic, some with just one and some with none.

Steve couldn't wait to meet his soulmates, as a kid he told his mother that his soulmate was going to be the prettiest girl in the world and that his best friend would be the coolest guy ever.

He knew his parents weren't soulmates, his mother's soulmate had died when she was young and his father didn't have anything in his wrists. It didn't matter to Steve though, they weren't around much now that he was older.

He waited all through high school to meet his soulmates, Tommy and Carol had met each other in middle school and he wanted what they had. As the years went on, his parents grew distant, his world became more about popularity, he slowly forgot about his names. He went through girls with the hopes of filling the void inside of him.

It wasn't until one Nancy Wheeler didn't fall for his charms preferring to wait to meet her soulmate did it feel like a knock to the head. He found a friend in Nancy a friendship he didn't even regret once he was pulled in by proxy to a whole other world under their town. He held Nancy as she cried losing her platonic soulmate Barb and met her romantic soulmate Jonathan.

He felt more like himself now that he was hanging around friends that cared about each other rather than their images. He adopted a gaggle of children who also needed protecting from the monsters on their doorstep and started thinking about soulmates again.

Nancy helped him graduate, barely. He didn't want to leave Hawkins without the kids or Nancy and Jonathan and so he started working at Scoops Ahoy. Where he met his soulmate, finally. Robin Buckley was funny and loud and smart and beautiful. Steve didn't want to rush into anything in case he was wrong and by the time he had gotten up the courage to show her his tattoo there were Russians and blood, so much blood.

High on Russian drugs he confessed to her, told her about how she was everything he'd dreamt of in a soulmate when he was little. How she was funny and amazing and that he loved her. He hadn't expected Robin to start crying, words tumbling out how she's not what Steve wants, not what Steve deserves in a soulmate, that she can never love him the way he wants. That day Steve discovers who his platonic soulmate is. From that day they're inseperable.

Steve doesn't know how he went through life without Robin once she was in it. She got on great with all his friends, called him out on his bullshit, comforted him through nightmares and was always there for him. She taught him that it was ok to like boys and girls and that his romantic soulmate will love him despite his King Steve days because she loves him too.

After already having one soulmate in danger from the Upside Down he never dreamt that the first time he'd hear someone say his other soulmates name it would be attached with "murder". Slammed up against the walls of the boathouse, Steve didn't think he'd ever seen anyone as beautiful as Eddie.

"Soulmates huh?"

"Yeah, sorry."

"Well, I know Dustin's one is definitely platonic, since he's a kid. Wonder what ours is?"

Steve wanted to tell him that he wanted everything with Eddie, but he knew his past, and knew that Eddie knew too. So he let himself hope, let himself laugh with Eddie, let himself be close. Nothing had been harder than leaving Eddie and Dustin there as distractions but he had a job to do.

As he'd held bloody bandages desperately to Eddie's wounds and begged him to stay awake, he wished he'd told Eddie everything he'd been thinking, how he was everything Steve had wanted and more.

"Please, Eddie! Stay awake, just hold on a little longer!"

"I think I figured us out, sweetheart."

And those were the last words Steve heard from his soulmate before Eddie had gone limp in his arms.

Steve held on hope for weeks beside Eddie's hospital bed. He had traced Eddie's name on his wrist over and over, memorising it. The tattoo had stayed dark and clear, Eddie was still there, he was still alive next to Steve.

Steve could've kissed Eddie as soon as he saw his eyes blink open but didn't want to injure him further.

"I figured us out too, Eds."

Little Steve had been right, his best friend was the coolest person he knew, and his soulmate was the most beautiful person he'd ever known.