#listen someone had to write it
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bc i watched The Trailer and know who i am as a person, vague speculation spoilers!
The first thing Callum realizes is that everything hurts, his lungs taking in a laboured breath. The second is that Rayla is sitting close to him, very close to him, her hands on said injured chest.
âOwââ he grunts when he goes to move.Â
âCareful,â she says, too concerned to be chiding, but it still hurts to blink at her as Rayla helps him sit up in a way that doesnât pull at whatever the hell heâs hurt ujust as much, which is probably everything.
The third thing is that theyâre alone, fresh panic rising in his throat.Â
âWhere areââ
âEz and Soren are speaking with Domina.â She gives a little shrug, fidgeting, and Callum takes in the strange glowing barnacles above their heads, the whole flat, turquoise plateau seemingly encased in a giant air bubble, water flowing naturally outside. Theyâre somewhere new, deep below the sea. He thinks heâd be more fascinated by it if he had time to be. âDragons and diplomacy, yâknow? More their speed than mine. Theyâll be glad youâre awake though. You scared all of us.âÂ
Did he always ramble like this when he was worried or nervous, Callum wonders. Or at least, did he used to?
Rayla seems to catch herself, though, and clears her throat. âAnywayâhow are you feeling?â
âIâve been better,â he admits, and they share a grim but genuine smile.Â
âI have some ointment that can help,â she offers, Stella skittering off her shoulder as she reaches back between her blades. âIf youâd like. Itâll sting a bit, though.â
âThatâs fine.â
His eyes adjust to the new lighting as she gets the small blue phial out and pours some onto a spare square of glass she likely uses to clean her blades. She dabs at the blood on the side of his face first, the skin scraped underneath, and Callum winces.
âSorry.â
âItâs okay,â he assures her. Her face has been this close to his more often more recently, but it still throws him a bitâher attention, her proximity, her gentleness. Sheâs always been one of the kindest people he knows, next to his brother. This is no different, her features a bit pinched in concentration as she tends to him, andâ
He blushes when she looks up suddenly, and heâs caught staring. A pretty pink dusts her cheeks, too, as she swallows and looks away, getting up to sit by his other side by his sore, swollen eye.
âThisâll hurt more, unfortunately,â she warns, but he braces himself, letting his gaze rest on her this time without overthinking it.
Maybe healing always does, but maybe thatâs how you get better.
âThank you,â he says once sheâs done, for a lot of thingsâfor patching him up, for saving his life, for being his friend, for holding his heart the best way sheâs known how, even if it hurt, too.Â
âCallum, Iââ she starts, reaching up, and her fingers skim over his black eye, a gentle enough graze that it doesnât sting. Her eyes flicker toward his lips. He leans in, andâ
âCallum!â They break apart as Ezran enters the cave, but Callum canât be too bothered, as his little brother hugs him eagerly, and Soren claps him gingerly on the back. Itâs good to see them and even better to know theyâre safe as they take seats on the floor across from him.
Rayla takes his hand, and Callum squeezes it. Thereâll be more time to talk later. Heâll make sure of it.
#rayllum#listen someone had to write it#tdp#tdp spoilers#s5 spoilers#s5#s5 speculation#s5 wishlist#my fic#ficlet#fic#got this out of my system so i can finish 'twice as many stars' before it gets even more blatantly canon divergent good god
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Philophobia
Word Count: 5,271 Warnings: Shipping, inappropriate/crude humor, paranormal activity, suspense/mild horror, descriptive kissing, mild language Summary: For architecture major and paranormal skeptic Grian, his friendsâ after-hours ghost hunting group was just an excuse to spend time with his crush, Scar, without having to actually ask him out. But one fateful night, he finds there just might be things in this world that are scarier than emotional vulnerability⊠even if only by a very slim margin.
A/N: Did someone ask for a Phasmophobia-inspired Scarian au? Oh yeah, my friend @lunarcrown did! Inspired by the art she made here.
So this is kind of a modern-day college au (not set within the fictional universe of Minecraft), howEVER there are some fantasy aspects in that non-human species (like mob hybrids/monsters) still exist cuz theyâre fun and Iâm not giving anyone a normal modern name cuz thatâs too weird. This is only Phasmophobia-inspired in that GIGS have a ghost-hunting group that functions the same way, but rarely find any conclusive evidence, and donât have unlimited lives cuz they arenât playing a game. With that out of the way, hope yâall enjoy, please reblog/comment if u do! - Aqua
~*~
Philophobia
~*~
âI think this is gonna be the one, guys,â Impulse says, turning their van into the driveway.
The suspension creaks as they roll over gravel, rattling the frame in a way that hums through Grianâs hollow bones. His arm is cold where it presses against the window; itâs almost sunset and Impulse has yet to get the vanâs heater fixed despite his promises. Stupid demon blood keeping him warm while Grian shivers in the stupid custom pleather jumpsuit that Scar insisted they had made, for their stupid âbrandâ as a stupid ghost-hunting group. Great, his stupid zipperâs come down again- he stubbornly zips it back up because unlike Scar, he doesnât like constantly having his bare chest out on display.
Of course, he hasnât got as much to show off as Scar, who must be getting up at 3 am every morning to work out in order to maintain all that muscle. No wonder Scar prefers to keep his zipper down to his belly button, and doesnât seem to have ever met a shirt that fits him properly.
⊠Not that Grianâs ever paid much attention to that sort of thing.Â
Grian gives an exasperated sigh. âYouâve been saying that about every case weâve had for three years!â
âNo, no, I really mean it!â Impulse insists. âI feel it in my bones.â
âYeah,â Scar agrees, leaning forward so his shoulder brushes against Grianâs, âyou know Impulse bones good!â
The earnest nature of his statement- and the unexpected physical contact- makes Grian flush. âScar!â he shrieks, swatting Scarâs shoulder.
âWhat?â Scar defends. âWhat, he- heâs got big and strong bones, wonderful bonesâŠâ
He acts as if heâs got no idea he said something that could be taken the wrong way. And if it werenât for the upturned corners of his mouth and the barely-restrained laugh in his voice, Grian might actually believe him.
âDude,â Skizz chuckles from the front seat, âshut up, thatâs awesome.â
Impulse sighs. âAnyway,â he says pointedly, âthe place recently had a change in ownership. Previous owner passed away-â
âFrom murder?â Scar gasps.
Another sigh. âNo, from liver failure.â
Grian snorts. âFrom all the drinking he did to forget about the ghostly hauntings?â he presses, exchanging a cheeky grin with Scar.
âNo,â Impulse says, with the patience of a saint, âjust normal old-age organ failure. The guy was ancient, and some kinda recluse. House had been in his family since it was built, but uh, he had no living relatives, no will when he died. So the bank took ownership and itâs been sitting off-market for like, fifteen years, til some hot-shot investor thought he could flip it-â
âUghh,â Grian groans, tipping his head back against the seat. âInvestors are the worst-â
âI know, I know,â Impulse soothes, âbut um, heâd barely begun when things started happening. Contractors reported it day one, then the owner experienced an event himself and called us. So itâs basically still untouched.â
They havenât even reached the end of the driveway yet, passing by seemingly endless rows of tall, gnarled pines. Admittedly, Grianâs curiosity is piqued. When he agreed to join this stupid ghost hunting group three years ago, he didnât do so in the hopes of actually discovering any real paranormal activity. The whole idea is laughable. Ghost hunting is a pseudoscience, at best. Just a bunch of idiots scaring themselves silly in an empty house- and now theyâre the idiots! Even their name is stupid: Ghost Investigation Group Services, or GIGS, embroidered on their ill-fitting pleather jumpsuits.
But despite his outright skepticism and dislike for pulling late nights in his already extremely limited free time, Grianâs got one very good reason for agreeing to join.
And his name is Scar.
Grian spent half a semester pining away at the fellow architecture major from across the lecture halls of their many shared classes. Charismatic and easy on the eyes, it was inevitable that Grian would develop a bit of a crush. But as they spent more time together during class projects and conversations in the hallway, he found out just how kind-hearted and passionate Scar was, and how easy he was to talk to, and how strong his arms looked in long-sleeved shirtsâŠ
⊠Yeah, âcrushâ perhaps isnât the right word.
So when Impulse- the engineering major who Grian was partnered with for physics lab- got the brilliant idea to start a ghost-hunting group with his best friend and roommate Skizz, and Scar expressed interest in joining, Grian made a split-second decision in a moment of weakness. He maintained his skepticism, claiming that he wanted to tag along just to prove how silly the whole idea was. Impulse was fine with it, while Scar said Grian had to wear the same uniform as them, and the rest was history.
(To be fair, that was before Grian knew itâd be a pleather jumpsuit.)
So here they are now nearly three years later, rumbling down a long gravel road in the dark and cold, up late on a Saturday night even though he still isnât finished with his condominium model thatâs due at 8 am on Monday and heâs fresh out of popsicle sticks. Moments like these almost make Grian wish he could just ask a guy out like a normal person, so they could spend time together without chasing pretend ghosts around dusty houses all night.
But thatâd require him to talk about his feelings. Ugh, heâd rather let the ghosts get him.
âAlright.â Impulse slows the van to a halt. The doors unlock with a heavy clunk. âWhat do you guys think?â
Grian isnât expecting much when he glances out the window. But the sight that greets him immediately prompts a hasty exit from the vehicle, scarcely noticing the sudden chill, his jaw dropping open in awe.
Itâs a Victorian. Not a house that someone has mistakenly called âVictorianâ just because it looks old. A genuine, honest-to-goodness, Queen Anneâs style two-story Victorian manor with an asymmetrical facade and a rounded corner tower and a generous wrap-around porch, silhouetted against the fading light of the evening sky.
Grian reaches for his flashlight. Sweeping over the exterior, his breath catches. Knots of ivy creep up the walls, and there are a few places where the intricate wood trim has been lost to previous repairs and weather damage. A couple of the windows are bricked up. Most of the paint is faded and peeling. But overall? Itâs beautiful.
âOh man,â Grian murmurs, pushing his glasses back up, âlook at the shape of it... look at the dormers!â
A second beam of light joins in; Scarâs emerged from the van. âLots of character,â he says, sounding similarly entranced. âAnd still in great condition! Oh, itâs beautiful. Itâs enough to make a man cry.â
Impulse hops out of the driverâs seat, chuckling. âI knew you two would like it. Itâs an â85.â
Grian gives an appreciative whistle. âLook, I still donât think weâre gonna find anythinâ,â he says with a sideways look at Scar, âbut I gotta tell ya⊠if- if I were a ghost⊠I think Iâd haunt a proper house like this. Not those builder-grade boxes in the suburbs.â
âRight?â Impulse says, his forked tail flicking through the air. âThatâs what Iâm sayinâ... I uh, I think this place has real potential.â
Skizz, whoâs come around the van to stand with them, nods thoughtfully. âDefinitely somethinâ special âbout it, thatâs for true,â he says, exchanging a look with Impulse. Then he claps his hands together. âAlright gentlemen, letâs get movinâ!â
Impulse and Skizz turn towards the van, heading to open the back.
Grian stares after them, squinting suspiciously. That wasnât just any look. That was a Look. A Look that he knows all too well. They had that same Look on their faces at last yearâs frat mixer, when they rigged the speakers at the Heta Kappa house to play âMargaritavilleâ every time someone flushed a toilet.
It means that theyâre Up To Something.
⊠Grianâs sure heâll find out sooner or later.
âWell, Grian,â Scar says, hands on his hips as he surveys the property, âif itâs any connotation, at least weâll get to study some real architecture tonight.â
Grian gives him a bemused look. âConsolation?â
Scar blinks. âCono- what, whatâd I say? Con- coronation?â
âDonât worry âbout it, ey,â Grian chuckles, patting him on the shoulder. âLetâs go.â
~*~
âCheck it out, dude,â Skizz calls excitedly, âtempâs dropping in here! Five degrees colder than the rest of the house!â
Grian makes a noncommittal noise. âItâs an east-facing room and the sunâs only just set, of course itâs colder than the rest of the house,â he says, idly passing his UV glow stick over an armchair. No prints, of course. âI doubt theyâve updated the insulation anytime within the last two decades.â
âAnd hey, look,â Impulse chimes in from the corner, âIâve got EMF 1.3!â
Grian doesnât even look up. âThereâs an exposed outlet in here and Iâll bet the wiringâs older than I am. And in any case, itâs still below the recommended threshold.â Ew, okay, now thatâs a suspicious UV stain on the floor, but not of the supernatural kindâŠ
âOh, itâs definitely not up to code,â Impulse agrees. He waves his EMF reader around a bit, making the pitch warble. âBut I dunno, I think this must be the ghostâs favorite room. Might not be here right now, but Iâm getting some real vibesâŠâ
Grian rolls his eyes. âSureâŠâÂ
Twenty minutes in, and despite the houseâs hauntingly elegant construction, itâs been the same old story. The house is empty and quiet, as abandoned houses tend to be. Quite sparse, as most of the furnishings probably went to auction. The furniture thatâs left is covered with tarps and every surface is coated with a fine layer of dust. He can smell mold somewhere in the floorboards and thereâs apparent water damage in the ceiling.
The only renovation attempted thus far was the removal of some cheap linoleum tiles that were laid in the kitchen at some point- a renovation Grian can heartily agree with, thereâs some absolutely gorgeous hardwood underneath- but they didnât get far. The removed tiles are still sitting about in a haphazard pile, hammer and chisel abandoned on the floor beside them. Frantic footsteps smeared in the dust and powder paint the scene of a terrified contractor fleeing for their life from the reported âghostly hauntingsâ.Â
In any case, they havenât heard any activity from the spirit box, nothing unusual has stood out on UV, and the salt Impulse laid out is still undisturbed. Surprise, surprise. Grianâs spent most of his time admiring the elaborate wooden trims lining every wall, scuffed as they are. What he wouldnât give to properly restore this placeâŠ
âHey, Dipple Dop?â Skizz calls suddenly. âYour radio working okay?â
Impulse gives him a curious look. âHuh? What, is there-â He pauses, glancing down at his radio. âOh. Oh, yeah. Yeah, actually, mineâs on the fritz, must be overdue a battery change.â
âOh?â Grian tilts his head innocently. âYou donât think itâs a ghoooost?â
Impulse purses his lips. âI donât think everything is a ghost,â he says mildly. He clips the radio onto his belt, turning to the door. âIâve got extras in the van, hang onâŠâ
âIâll go, too,â Skizz says quickly, slinging an arm and his wing around Impulseâs shoulders. âBuddy system! You know what, I- Iâm tellinâ you, you never split up when hunting ghosts. Thatâs how they get you, dude.â
Oh. Oh, no.
Grian gives them a warning Look.
They give him a cheeky Look back.
âYup, yeah, thatâs true,â Impulse says with obvious feigned sincerity, steering Skizz out of the room. âSo uh, you two keep at it, okay, and weâll be right backâŠâ
âOh, okay!â Scar says cheerfully, busy setting up the tripod over in the corner and completely oblivious to their scheme. âHave a great time not getting murdered!â
Grian opens his mouth to protest, but Impulse and Skizz are already gone out the front door. Leaving him and Scar completely alone. Totally by coincidence, surely. Oh, he knew his drunken confession to Impulse at the schoolâs annual bar crawl fundraiser night would come back to bite him eventually.
Itâs almost insulting, in a way. Like they think the only reason Grian hasnât made a move is because he hasnât had ample alone time with Scar. Like he needed them to give him an opportunity. But if heâd wanted to confess to Scar, he already would have. Heâd have had it well done by now. They could give him a little credit.
See, the thing is, heâs thought about it. Plenty of times, in fact. But the issue he keeps coming back to is that if he tells Scar about his crush on him, then Scar will know about it. Thereâll be no going back at that point. And if Scar doesnât feel the same way- well, Grian can kiss their friendship goodbye. So yeah, no, he doesnât think heâll be making any dramatic love confessions tonight, strangely enough.
The risk of an awkward silence developing is astronomical, so Grian clears his throat. âMan⊠isnât this place somethinâ,â he says, then immediately fights the urge to cringe.
Scar, luckily, gives an emphatic nod. âIt is, it truly is amazing.â He straightens up, dusting his hands off as he turns to Grian. âYou know whoâd really love this place, is Gem?â
âOh, yeah, for sure,â Grian agrees. He busies himself with the UV, so heâs not just standing around. âWe should take some pictures for her.â
âOh, good idea!â Giving the tripod a final once-over, Scar wanders over to Grian. âSo, any fingering goinâ on, yet?â
Grian nearly drops his glow stick. âSorry- any what?!â he screeches, whirling around on Scar.
âYou know, ghost fingers!â Scar says, perfectly innocent. He holds his hands up, wiggling his fingers in demonstration. âOn the- on the glowy light?â
Grian takes a deep breath, face burning. âOh Scar, buddy, you gotta think through your words better before you say them, alright?â
âWhaaat?â Scar pretends like he doesnât know. âWhat, Iâm just- youâve got the stick, you know, little glow stick for when the ghost touches, uh-â
âNevermind,â Grian groans. âAnyways, no, I havenât found any ghostly handprints and I never will, because ghosts arenât real.â
Scar folds his arms. âWell, hey, maybe the ghost is just polite! You know, he- maybe heâs just minding his business, not touching anything or- or anyone. Just because we donât get anything on UV doesnât mean ghosts arenât real, Iâll have you know.â
Grian sees the challenge for what it is. âAlrightâŠâ He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his spirit box. Holding the transponder to his lips, he belts out, âWhere ahhre yewww?â in his best imitation of an over-exaggerated pop-punk accent. If Impulse and Skizz are eavesdropping through their radios, he hopes he gave them a start.
Scar laughs. âOh man, been a while since I heard that one! You-â
Iâm close.
Grian jumps so badly he nearly drops the box, his wings puffing out involuntarily. âWhat?! Wha- who said that?â he demands, spinning around.
Scar blinks at him. âWhat? Did you hear something through the box?â
âI- I dunno?â Grian says uncertainly. The box seems to be working as normal; when he holds the receiver down, thereâs a faint hiss of static, and the bulb remains white. No further noises come from the speaker.
After a couple seconds of tense listening, Grian feels silly. Way to play it cool. He switches the box off with an exasperated sigh. âNo, of course I didnât hear anything through the box. Like I said, ghosts arenât real.â
Scar hums noncommittally. âOh, Grian... you know, there are some things in the world that canât be explained.âÂ
Grian snorts. âOh, yeah? Well, I- I got a few explanations for ya.â He counts on his fingers. âIt couldâve been this old house creaking in the wind, or an electrical surge causing feedback through the transponder, or- or, not to mention, Impulse and Skizz pranking us through the radio?â
Scar snickers. âThat does sound like something theyâd do, Iâll give you that.â
âYeah.â Grian slips the box back into his pocket. âAnd yâknow, being in a creepy abandoned house, after dark, out in the middleâa nowhere... itâs easy to think youâre hearinâ things.â
Scar rolls his eyes, but his expression is fond. âI know, I know, so youâve told me. But one of these days, mister, youâre gonna eat your words.â
âRight,â Grian drawls. âIâm so scaredâŠâ
The front door slams shut.
That makes Grian pause. They always leave the front door open while out on a job. It saves time when they have to go back and forth from the van, and saves battery life on their radios when they can just shout to each other through the open doorway. Obviously this job is a little different, because Impulse and Skizz have clearly got it in their heads to try and get him and Scar together, but he wouldnât think theyâd go so far as to-
The lights suddenly flicker and go out. But in the split-second before they do, Grian sees a shadowy figure silhouetted against the door.
Pure instinct takes over. Grian spins on his heel, grabs Scar by the arm, and absolutely flies down the stairs to the basement. He knows theyâve disturbed one or two piles of salt but right now, he canât bring himself to care. His wings are bumping against the walls and heâs certainly never tried carrying someone as big as Scar before but he doesnât stop, doesnât even process the ache of it rattling through his body. He bursts into the basement, feathers flying, and careens towards the back of the room, around a tall shelving unit, and into the corner.
Thereâs a heap of boxes stacked up in this corner; Grian unceremoniously shoves Scar over top of them, dropping him in the narrow space between the boxes and the wall. Heâs wedged in as far as he can himself, laying across the boxes, his double pair of wings preventing him from squeezing in beside Scar. Heâs still got the UV light clenched in his fist, he realizes belatedly- he braces his forearms against the wall to try and cover it, fanning his wings out behind him to block it out from the rest of the room. Glancing back over his shoulder, he tries to gauge how much light is getting through when a noise makes him freeze.
Footsteps.
Theyâre soft and light- certainly not the heavy boots of Impulse or Skizz. No, they sound almost barefoot. And as they gently tap down the stairs, the sound of giggling fills the air. Itâs a feminine voice. Young, like a child. Like a little ghostie girl is prancing down the stairs to murder them.
Grian thinks he might pass out. Can ghosts actually kill people? How would they do it if theyâre incorporeal? Heâs never considered the question before, he never thought heâd have to because itâs ridiculous, ghosts arenât real, of course they canât kill people-
The footsteps stop.Â
Grian isnât sure if heâs still breathing. He doesnât dare move. A chill runs up his spine, making every single feather stand on end. He can almost hear the high-pitched violins that would be playing right now if this were a horror movie; the cheesy, overdrawn kind of horror movies that are always playing at the drive-in that the four of them watch while piled into the back of the van in a tangle of limbs and spilled popcorn and oh god heâs spiraling now because heâs about to be killed by a ghost-
Bye-bye!
The chill recedes. Somewhere in his peripheral vision, he sees the faint glow of light from upstairs return.
Itâs over.
Grianâs mind is spinning. What was that? What was that? It seems impossible, it doesnât even feel real to be in this situation right now but he is, there was a ghost, there was a ghost. It feels insane to even think it. But the residual adrenaline coursing through his body reminds him it was very real, he just encountered a ghost.
A ghost! Oh, after three years of very loudly decrying the entire concept as rubbish. He canât believe it. He really canât believe it, this is the absolute last thing he expected to happen tonight. Ghosts are real. Ghosts are really, really, real. He doesnât know what to do, who would ever believe him? Is this how the others have been feeling this whole time? God, he canât believe this-
âG...?â Scarâs voice pipes up hesitantly. âWhat... what are we doing?â
Oh, right. Grian glances down at Scar- and his heart jolts. Heâd been so focused on getting away from the ghost, heâd acted without thinking, so only now does he realize the... predicament heâs put them in.
Scarâs slumped against the floor beneath him, head tucked just below Grianâs arms. His long legs are still draped over the box that Grianâs laying across, resting on either side of his waist. And due to the odd posture Grianâs in, his chest has been thrust rather close to Scarâs face, lit by the soft purple glow of the UV.
This is probably the closest Grian has ever been to sitting in Scarâs lap.
Grianâs not proud of the yelp that escapes him. âSorry, sorry!â His wings flail as he struggles to push himself off of the wall, stumbling back onto his feet. Itâs clumsy and uncoordinated and he nearly falls backwards, his heart pounding.
Scar manages a laugh, easing himself up off the floor. âNo, no, itâs okay, I- I just... what- whyâd you bring us down here?â he asks, dusting off his jumpsuit.
Grian catches his breath. âWait, you... didnât hear the creepy ghost on its way to kill us?â he asks, frowning.
Scarâs eyes widen. âWhat? There was a ghost?â
No way.
âAre you-!â Grian throws his arms up. âHonestly, I- I know avians have better hearing than most but thatâs insane. She was laughing! Laughing and skipping down the bluminâ steps! And you didnât hear any of it?â
âNoâŠ?â Scar shrugs helplessly. âIâm sorry, okay! I- I donât know, I was- a lot was happening, you- youâre grabbinâ me, pulling me down the stairs and into this little corner, I didnât know what was going on! I didnât know, I- I was all disconbodulated- disco- bobo, bobumated? I was a little distracted, okay. Jeeze, give a man a breakâŠâ
âDistracted?â Grian repeats incredulously. âYouâre the one who actually believes in ghosts, here, how could you get distracted? What do youâŠâ
He trails off. Scar is very clearly fighting to avoid looking at Grian, but for the briefest moment, his eyes dart down to Grianâs chest. Suddenly confused, Grian follows his gaze, and-
Oh, for goodness sakes. At some point during his frantic flight, the stupid zipper on his stupid jumpsuit came down again, exposing a frankly scandalous amount of skin. Not Scar-level of scandalous, but pretty close.
Grian immediately feels himself turn red. âOh. Uh- right,â he hastily pulls the zipper back up, âsorry âbout thatâŠâ
Wait. Wait just a second.Â
Scar was distracted from a literal ghost hunt going on... because Grianâs bare chest was showing? Does that... does that mean he liked it?Â
Scarâs avoiding his gaze again. His cheeks are tinted pink.
âScar...?â Grian ventures carefully. âWere you... lookinâ at my chest?â
Scarâs cheeks darken. âAh, I- I- donât- I mean, why would you- I didnât mean to, itâs just...â He fumbles for the words. âWhat- what am I- hey, your pecs were basically in my face! I wasnât trying to look, I- I just-â
âScar,â Grian says, keeping his voice light and teasing, âdid ya⊠did you like what you saw?â
Scar splutters for a moment. âWell, sure, Grian,â he tries to laugh it off, âI mean, anyone- anyone with eyes can see youâre uh, you know, youâre- youâre pretty attractive. I- Iâm secure enough to say it, I donât care, itâs- sure, of course, youâre very muscular! Youâre a- youâre a muscular man, itâs just not always obvious with the sweaters you wear. Or- sorry, you call them jumpers in Britain land, right, theyâre jumpers-â
âYou been checkinâ me out, Scar?â Grian asks, caught somewhere between playfulness and utter disbelief.
âUh...â Scar rubs the back of his neck. He exhales slowly, clearly debating with himself. âI... maybe? What... what would you say... if that were the case?â
Grian swallows. His heart is absolutely racing now, and heâs broken into a cold sweat thatâs definitely not supernatural in origin. The air between them feels fragile; heâs acutely aware that a single word from him could swiftly plunge them back into the realm of safe familiarity, of casual light-hearted teasing between friends. Scarâs always said things that bordered on the flirtatious, and Grian can hide behind the plausible deniability of teasing. This entire interaction doesnât have to mean anything. It can be easily moved past and forgotten.
And yet, strangely enough⊠Grian doesnât want it to. Maybe itâs the post-haunting adrenaline or the fact that he couldâve died tonight, but all of a sudden, he feels like taking a chance. Like he could finally say what heâs wanted to say for the last three years. He managed to hold his own against a bluminâ ghost, for goodness sakes- he should be able to face his own feelings head on.
He takes a breath. âIâd say thatâs a relief⊠âcause Iâve been checkinâ you out since day one of first year.â
Scar stares at him for a long moment. His expression is utterly unreadable. The silence draws on long enough that Grian feels a spike of panic, worried that maybe heâs mishandled the situation-
 â... oh my god,â Scar says finally. âReally?â
It sounds like the good kind of surprise. Grian offers a shy smile. âYeah, yeah,â he admits. âI- Scar, I know Iâm real good at playinâ these things close to the vest, but uh, I- Iâve had a massive crush on you since... basically since the day we met.â
âHuh.â Scar blinks. âYouâre serious. You- youâre not pranking me right now?â
That startles a laugh out of Grian. âNo! Scar, I donât- we just survived being hunted by a ghost, Iâm not pranking you!â
âWell, thatâs- thatâs amazing!â A grin spreads across Scarâs face- and man, oh man, does he have just the most wonderful smile. âOh my gosh, G, I donât- you donât even know how long Iâve been waiting for this.â
The relief is almost overwhelming. âYeah, me too!â Grian laughs, half-dazed and half-giddy, running a hand through his hair. âI- I even- look, the whole reason I even joined this group was as an excuse to hang out with you!â
Scarâs mouth falls open. âNo way! Thatâs- thatâs the whole reason I joined in the first place, too!â
Now itâs Grianâs turn to gawk. âAre you joking?â
âIâm not!â Scar insists, âI swear, Iâm not- Impulse said he wanted to start the group and maybe weâd all join and get to hang out and I thought âhey, ghosts are cool and Grian is coolâ so I just-â
âOh, I canât believe thisâŠâ Grian groans, hiding his burning face in his hands. âWe really are idiots, weâve wasted nearly three yearsâŠâ
Scarâs hands close around Grianâs wrists, lightly pulling them down from his face. âWell, I guess weâll just have to make up for lost time,â he says smoothly, leaning in.
Corny, but Grian will allow it. He closes the gap, tilting his head up to meet Scarâs lips.
In that moment, everything else fades away. All the nervousness, all the second-guessing, even the bombshell discovery of the existence of ghosts- there could be one standing in front of them right now and Grian wouldnât care. The way Scar gathers Grian in his arms, hands gently roving through his feathers- itâs bliss. Itâs perfect.
Scar kisses him strong and purposefully, with no trace of carelessness or haste. He doesnât rush. Thereâs intent written into every single movement, jaw working to deepen the kiss. Grian curls against him, hands splayed across Scarâs chest. He can feel Scarâs heart pounding through his flushed skin, and itâs wildly exciting- to think Scar is just as breathless as he is.Â
Growing bold, Grian dares to slip his tongue into Scarâs mouth, and the noise he makes- part surprise, part delight- sends pure electricity fizzling up his spine. His mind is starting to drift away from him, lost in the sensation of weightlessness, of floating, that almost makes him feel like heâs gone completely incorporeal- like his own spirit has become untethered from the mortal coil.
Then Skizzâs voice comes down the stairs.
âG-Sharp! Scarface! You down here? We just saw a freaking ghost on the cams, and- oh my god!â
Grian breaks away from Scar, but not quick enough. He turns to see Skizz and Impulse standing at the bottom of the stairs, expressions shocked. And then, as if theyâd rehearsed it, they both break into massive shit-eating grins and spin around to high-five each other.
âWoo!â Impulse cheers. âWe got âem! Ladies and gentlemen, we finally got them.â
âYeah, baby!â Skizz pumps his fist in the air. âOh, I love it!â
âOh, would you two stop it?â Grian huffs, but heâs not really cross. Hard to be cross when heâs on cloud nine. âThe ghost did most of the work, alright?â
âThatâs right,â Scar sniffs, winding an arm around Grianâs waist. âYou know, I- Iâm startinâ to think you all were in cahoots! Cahoots, I say!â
âDude, if only,â Skizz laughs, walking over to clap them on the shoulders. âCould not have planned it better, thatâs amazing. Well done, gentlemen!â
âYeah, itâs about time!â Impulse adds, crossing his arms. âI was starting to think weâd graduate before either of you fessed up, I- I had to take drastic measuresâŠâ
âImpulse,â Grian says warningly, âif youâre about to tell me you started this whole paranormal investigation group just as a way to push me and Scar into confronting our feelings, I swear-â
âNo, no,â Impulse assures him, chuckling. âI really do like the ghost-hunting deal, donât worry. But uh, we did deliberately ditch you guys in the hopes that something would happen.â
Scar waggles his eyebrows. âOh, things happened, alright.â
âScar!â Grian swats at him, but heâs laughing and it feels good. It feels right. After all this time spent worrying about worst-case scenarios, about denying his feelings for the sake of maintaining the comfortable mundanity of his comfortable life, it turns out the scariest part was the fear itself.
The irony doesnât escape his notice. A bit on the nose, if heâs honest.
âBut in even bigger news,â Impulse graciously continues, âyou saw the ghost? And you believed it? You, Mr. Non-Believer in all things ghostly?â
Grian sighs. âYeah, yeah, I knowâŠâ
âThis is incredible!â Skizz claps his hands together. âOkay, okay, we gotta go cleanse the area and I wanna hear everything, got it? Donât leave a single detail out!â
Grian slips his hand into Scarâs as they follow Impulse and Skizz back up the stairs. âYeah, alright,â he relents. He supposes heâs due for a lot of âI told you soâsâ. But really, itâs a small price to pay for the life-altering knowledge that ghosts are real⊠and for finally finding the courage to believe in something extraordinary.
Scar hums. âWait, details about the ghost or about the kissing?â
âScar!â
~*~
#hermitcraft#hermitshipping#scarian#my writing#listen i am only a casual phasmo enjoyer and idk anything about architecture school pls don't come for me abt any inaccuracies#just here for a good gay spooky time#wanted to see if i'd be any good at writing commissions (ie. solely based off someone else's idea) and i had FUN#but it's always easy to be inspired by mel <3
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You know that story about a motorcycle gang that, essentially, adopts child abuse victims? Like, they go to court with them, stand guard outside their houses, and even make them little jackets?
Imagine Jason, who didn't have the best childhood, who always looks out for the kids of crime Alley (enough so one of his huge rules is "don't deal to kids or I deal with you") and his people catch onto this, yknow
Yeah. That's Red Hood gang fs.
Some of them are only there because Red Hood is the new top dog, sure, but some are also there because they like working under Red Hood. He's really not a terrible guy once you get past the 8 heads in a duffle bag!
And so I think, it wasn't Red Hood himself that started going to child abuse court cases and standing guard around their house at night first, but rather his men. It wasn't something he ordered them to do, and it wasn't ever explicitly brought up, but I Red Hood seamlessly integrated this new little division into his Crime Lord activities.
There was a schedule for who was on Crime stuff, and who got to beat the shit out of little Maxwell's abusive shitbag dad.
Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.
#i had the thought#so everyone else had to heard the thought#red hood is bad guy but that does not mean he is bad guy#someone should fr write this#dc#batfam#batman#jason todd#ao3 writer#red hood#featuring red hood's interestingly morally aligned motorcycle gang#theyre all at minimum a decade older than him too#the gang of burly musclely middle aged men listening to a angry 19 year old with daddy AND mommy issues
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You're still standing off to the side. Somehow, center stage has shifted from under your feet without you realizing, and you're standing in the wings, performing to no one.
Starring Role (Patreon)
#My art#ISaT#ISaT Spoilers#Siffrin#Loop#Technically - you know how it goes#Me when I relate to Siffrin: Oh no haha that's probably not great whoops haha#Me when I relate to Loop: Oh. Oh No.#Lenti has such a deathgrip on my ISaT opinions wtf how is she so powerful I thought my fave was Sif?? But I mean well-#Lol#Does this count as vent idk lol#It was fun to write tho :) Very easy! Done all at once!#As was drawing this! Also done all at once! And black and white is still really fun to work with hehe#I got to use some pretty cool outline/lineart tricks for this one yay :D#The original draft of the fic had a different title but ''Starring Role'' is kinda?? too perfect???#To the point where I looked around and I was like#Kinda shocked that there doesn't Seem? to be another fic with the same title?#Which is.........oddly relevantly thematic to this fic actually hahaha#Not to get too exacting about it but the whole thing of Loop feeling replaceable well#It would imply that other someones could do what they do better than them#What an odd refutation. Huh. Weird#Anyway - behind the scenes fun fact!#I actually really love the song Starring Role but I didn't think of it until after writing this#And now that I sing it to myself it's actually kinda perfect what the heck#So that's something to think about as well#Anyway if you're going to listen to it pls listen to the Axiom remix it is The version in my heart <3#The glitches and stutters are perfect.....#And the clock ticking?? Why is this song so ISaT I'm gonna think about this for a while now heck#Animatic in my head shower thought -core lol
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I was born and bred in flowers - Sun-kissed in my darkest hour I realized I've been Lavender forever.
#nico robin#one piece#robin one piece#I have been listening to this song and thinking about that filler episode with chopper where she gets a flower#and how she wishes she had someone to write letters to#and how really she just wanted to be loved#and now she is#and i'm emotional about it#anyways i feel normally about her and i think about her a normal amount#wtt art
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Maedhros built up a high pain resistance from Angband; particularly to the burning sensation. Considering how low he thinks of himself, itâs likely he expected the Silmaril to burn him. He didnât think he was redemptive, he thought I can take it.
Part of why Maedhros acts so viciously is because thatâs how life treated him. I can take it if my brothers die. I can take it if Iâm damned for eternity. I can take it if everybody thinks Iâm a monster.
Heâs proud, and heâs suffering. He wonât back down, he will succeed or be martyred.
#Alexis rants#Swear I could hear my English teacher snapping at me to avoid passive voice while writing this#I have been thinking thoughts#Something so miserable and ghastly about someone who says âI know this is wrong#and I donât careâ#And the anarchic part of me is saying itâs justice#because this pain has been wrought against him too#What does it matter theyâre innocent? So was he#Heâs miserable and he wants the valarâs attention#And in many ways he was the one who finally got them to listen. Earendil only had the Silmaril because Dior was slain. Maedhrosâ plan worke#He spilled blood and ruined his soul#That part that just wants to burn everything is doing it as a cry for help: âsee what you did to usâ#Itâs piteous but beautiful#Shall I go on#Maedhros#silm#the silmarillion#silmarillion#silm fandom#the silm fandom#the silm#tolkien#maitimo#maitimo nelyafinwe#russandol#war of wrath
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because iâm still in love with you / i wanna see you dance again
something something post-canon exes who can't love anyone else because they're still in love with each other but one is rooted to the earth in terror and the other one only finds peace in the stars
fic im writing transparent ver (looks really cool against a dark bg!) + sketch âź final process below
#brightness UP!!!!! pleease lord#do you guys see the vision? the possibilities for yearning?#i mean they should just kiss but that would be too easy#klance#vld#vld keith#vld lance#klance fanart#kl#mine art#please tell me someone noticed the comet's trajectory too like do you see this? im imbuing SYMBOLISM who AM i#had so much fun with this one. geuinely#i might post a little oneshot later alongside this because i already started writing one. yeah we're there#i love painting bgs and i really got the hang of rendering hair/skin and picking colours based on hashtag vibes#one thing about me i will never know how to draw a good ass. looked better in the sketch iâm so sorry lance#listen keith's arm? looks amazing. you literally cant see though because of how dark this looks on my phone and monitor. pain and suffering#i NAILED his jacket texture#lances not so much
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Fluent Freshman - Part 19
PREVIOUS
Thereâs a couple things about FF that might be good to know at this point.
1. There are few things in the world he hates doing more than asking for clarification or admitting he doesnât understand / know something. The thought of going up to someone and admitting that he hasnât perfectly comprehended the situation upon the first explanation is something makes his stomach twist like heâd just eaten Mango-Habanero ice cream.
He has figured out his own math theorems in the pursuit of not having to ask the math teacher to explain he doesnât understand. He got lost in an Ikea once for over 6 grueling hours where he considered making a home there and living among the display rooms until his grandma grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to safety (the food court) and let him regain his strength (eat Swedish meatballs). He, to this day, is not sure about one of his foreign language friendâs names (how embarrassing he just keeps waiting for someone else to say it but they go by some insane nickname).
So he has become a master of piecing shit together on his own. He sometimes gets it wrong (Andrew, god how embarrassing) but for the most part 8 times out of 10 he can get to the right answer if he just has a couple pieces to work with. No one had ever actually explained to him how Exy works and he was too embarrassed to ask after the third week of practice in middle school so he just pieced together what he was and was not allowed to do through the art of trial and error. Heâs even mostly pieced out the rules for the other positions.
So with the information he has gotten through people being bound and determined to talk in foreign languages in front of him he has an idea about the tenuous situation some of the older Foxes find themselves in.
Heâs heard Kevin Day and Jean Moreau talk in French.
Heâs heard that the anxiety in both of their voices as they talked about their futures and owing 80% of their salaries to the âMoriyamasâ and how nervous they were about getting on professional teams or else theyâd be killed.
Captain Neil and Andrew are not always using Russian to talk dirty.
Heâs heard Andrew soothe Captain Neilâs worries about playing for a professional team. Heâs heard Captain Neil mention that at least âIchirouâ would likely just kill him and not make a game out of it like his father did.
Organized Crime might have more to do with Exy than FF had originally thought.
(He had thought it. Plenty of times he had thought it but his Gran had warned him that he was overthinking things. That he wasnât playing a sport invented by the Mafia. That he had caffeinated coffee instead of decaf. âItâs going to be okay sweetie. Just take a deep breath.â)
This leads into the second thing you should know at this point.
2. Â Before he had signed with Wymack he had known the broad strokes of Captain Neilâs life. There had been a lot of news articles about it and Gran (bless her) loved trashy gossip magazines.
After he had signed with the Foxes he had done a bit of a deep dive on as many of their controversies as he could find. Thereâd been things from brawls on the court (worrying), player overdoses (concerning), a straight up MURDER (Oh god), and the very public breaking of the King of Exyâs arm resulting in his suicide (Warranted, that wacko was going to take off Captain Neilâs HEAD.)
But the thing that had made him actually a little bit, dare he admit, excited to go to Palmetto was the fact that Captain Neil was there.
For someone who froze for almost a decade, who just took it and didnât have the balls to even react? Neil Josten is an inspiration.
This is someone who got away, who lived a life completely unlike FFâs, someone who knew how to run and more impressively someone who learned how to FIGHT. Captain Neil was being hunted but he still ripped people to shreds in interviews. Captain Neil was probably more scared of the Butcher than FF had been of anything in his entire life but Captain Neil was way braver than FF could ever hope to be.
Captain Neil was taken and tortured but he still fought. FF had seen the scars and Captain Neil is right to wear them proudly (though based on some conversations he has unfortunately overheard he is sure Andrew may have a role in Neilâs positive feelings about them).
FF had thought that he was being lead to his death down in a basement of a club (Donât cringe. Donât cringe. Donât cringe. Donât-) and he just trailed right behind the two of them without even an illusion of a fight.
Neil Abram Josten was a bit of a personal hero.
Heâs proud to call him Captain Neil. He wishes Andrew hadnât been there when Greg had mentioned wanting autographs because FF wants an autograph from Captain Neil but now Andrew has probably mentioned it to Neil.
Long story short, FF had looked into a lot of details on Captain Neilâs case.
Including two of the Butcherâs top men who were still on the loose.
Romero Malcolm and Jackson Plank.
He keeps his presence low but no matter how many times he blinks the man grumbling in Italian next to him continues to be Romero Malcolm.
Moreover Romero Malcolm continues to grumble about the fact that he is having a hard time finding âNathanielâ and that heâll have to grab one of âThe Wesninski bratâs friendsâ to draw him out.
FF is a recently confirmed friend of Captain Neil.
FF who is standing next to this man, with his dick out, and trying to remain as invisible as possible.
After two shakes (Yes he was watching but only because he had to! He wonders briefly if he goes to the FBI if they would accept a description of Romero Malcolmâs penis for the wanted poster? Probably not but it is BURNED into his retinas.)
He watches as Romero tucks, zips, and then bypasses the sink entirely.
FF shivers at how unhygienic that is. Who RAISED him?
The door shuts and FF needs to get out of here ASAP but his hands are shaking with the sudden adrenaline of âOne of the FBIâs Most Wanted just took a piss next to me and is looking for me friendâ. He pulls his phone from his pocket and ducks into one of the stalls. Even if thereâs no door itâll at least FEEL a little safer, a little more private. He needs to warn Neil, Warn Andrew, and warn-
The door to the bathroom SLAMS open and music blares in (palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy-) and his phone slips out of his hands and into the toilet. There are footsteps coming towards him and FF digs deep.
Heâs in ultra stealth mode. He is the wall behind the wallpaper. Mantis shrimp can only dream of the color he becomes, the United States military have the CIA on the look out for him because heâs fallen off all conventional forms of radar and tracking.
He is a bargain fruit platter on a dessert table at a kidâs birthday party.
He is ULTRA stealth.
Romeroâs gaze glides over him.
Then the man leaves (STILL DID NOT WASH HIS HANDS).
His heart is hammering in his chest but he manages to reach down and grab his phone. Well, Coach Wymack had gotten the extended warranty at least. (âDo you know what these fuckers do to phones? Josten crushed his last year in a fight with the Baseball team captain.â)
His phoneâs extended dip into the toilet water had not done it any favors in working properly.
Well fuck.
He wipes his phone down the best he can. He wipes his phone down with some toilet paper before cramming it into his pocket (Sorry Nicky, heâll wash the toilet water pants if they survive).
He sees a flyer on the wall of the bathroom and starts to think of a plan.
He rushes out of the bathroom (he still washes his hands because he will not have something in common with a man on the FBIâs most wanted list and he just dipped his hand into a CLUB TOILET) and clocks Nickyâs wild arm movements and WORSE clocks Romero just 10 clubbers away.
He sees Romeroâs eyes lock onto Nicky and a smile that terrifies him.
Heâs out of Ultra Stealth Mode even if every atom in his body wants to run.
He is so stressed and panicked that he has gone beyond his bodyâs ability to process that so all that is left is determination. Heâs got a head full of a half-baked plan, a hand going to his pocket, a second hand on the only âweaponâ he has on him, and a stomach full of acid.
Heâs pulling his phone out of his pocket before he can really let himself think about it and walking up next to where Romero is standing. He holds his toilet water phone up to his ear and does the one weird social anxiety thing that he had never done before.
He pretends to be on a phone call.
âHey Captain Neil,â he says and in the corner of his eye he can see Romeroâs gaze shift from Nicky (surrounded by an adoring public, covered in sweat and therefore difficult to grab - a difficult target) to himself (alone, shorter, and probably looking like heâs about to pass out). âYeah I think Iâm going to take a break outside after I grab quick drink and then a water at the bar.â He says because he has to be the easier target and he has to go to the bar. âYeah, yeah, okay Iâll mention it to that bartender guy.â He says and pretends to hang up.
He turns and he walks towards the bar and feels his pulse in his throat go to the beat of the music (success is my only motherfucking option, failureâs not).
He only knows about the alley because in the car ride to Sweetieâs Nicky had mentioned that he wouldnât let FFâs first time be out there. He had been embarrassed but it was the only way he knew to get Romero out of the club and away from where he could hurt Captain Neil or anyone else in the pursuit of that.
He spots the bartender who had gotten the drinks for their table and his mind completely blanks on the name but the bartender sees him and smiles. âOh youâre Neil and Andrewâs new friend! What can I help you with? I thought you were-â
âHi, yes I am Captain Neil and Andrewâs friend.â He says a little loudly because he can feel Romero behind him and he does NOT want the man to know anything about where Captain Neil was.
âCaptain Neil? Oh wow thatâs adorable.â The man gushes. âWhat can I help you with? I wonât ask for ID for one of their friends.â He winks.
âIâd like to order the uhâŠâ he tries to remember the exact drink name from the flyer, ââŠthe deluxe chocolate martini?â He asks and knows he got it right when the bartenderâs expression shifts ever so slightly.
âOh yeah, how do Andrew and Neil feel about that?â He asks and oh great a coded conversation. Itâs nice to actually be having a real one of these for once instead of just perceiving normal conversations to have hidden meanings.
âThey donât know. They probably prefer that I order it instead of Nicky or Aaron.â He lets his eyes dart to the wide where he believes Romero is watching him.
âI donât know if thatâs true.â The bartender says, âNicky knows how to handle a drink and Aaronâs not a lightweight either.â He adds.
FF struggles to find a coded way to say âItâs not that someoneâs hitting on me too hard like the flyer mentioned. Itâs that thereâs a mafia hitman in your club.â
Finally after a moment, âItâs not the usual kind of drink they get.â He tries and the bartender looks confused by the statement, dammit. He struggles to find a different way to say it before the bartender smiles.
âYâknow youâre really cute.â He reaches under the bar top and grabs a piece of paper and a pen. âHow about you write down your number for me cutie? We can meet up sometime.â He says. âIâll get started on that chocolate martini for you.â He says.
HE COULD KISS THIS MAN.
âIâd like that.â He says.
He writes out a quick message on the small note paper.
âArmed. After Neil. Looked at Nicky. Iâm going to the back alley. Phone is dead.â
The bartender comes back and looks at his note. âWeâre out of chocolate martini mix, can I get you something-â He hopes the club lighting obscures how pale the man got, âsomething else?â He asks and FF can SEE his pulse.
âCan I just get some water then?â He asks.
The bartender nods and pulls up his phone and hopefully is dialing the police and hands FF a water. His hand grabs hold of FFâs âYou donât need to go out into the alley. You could hang in the backroom with me?â He offers.
There really are some kind people in the world.
âI think itâs better if Iâm not in here for a bit.â He says back and honestly he needs this kindness and he has a spare bit of courage, âWhatâs your name by the way? Sorry I missed it.â He says.
The bartender swallows, âItâs Roland.â He says.
âThanks Roland.â He twists the cap off of the water bottle and takes a sip.
He turns and pretends not to notice how Romero is trying to be inconspicuous pretending to be on his phone.
He makes his way over to the alley door and notices that Romero is tracking his movements but is not following him like he did to the bar.
His heart is pounding and he canât BELIEVE heâs doing this. He wants to run, wants to hide somewhere, wants to become imperceptible butâŠbutâŠ
He opens the door to the alley as the bass of the remixed song finishes.
(You can do anything you set your mind to, man)
He lets the door slam behind him and he is alone in the alley.
He was not expecting a van to come to a screeching halt in front of the entrance and for a different face to appear climbing out of the car.
Jackson Plank.
FF looks at the ugly smile on the man as he walks towards him with a knife in hand.
Okay now what genius?
MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU
NEXT
5/26/23: EDITED. Canât believe I forgot to put the Captain in front of Neilâs name on the meme. Iâm blaming the accidental early awakening.
Per your requests:
@i-have-three-feelingsâ @blep-23â @dreamerking27â @andreilsmyreligionâ @belodensetdustâ @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-aceâ @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-worldâ @obscureshipsandchipsâ @booklover242â @whataboutmyfriesâ @sahturnosâ @pluto-pepsiâ @dreamerthinkerâ @passinhosdetartarugaâ @leftunknownheartâ @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredeadâ @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwmeâ @tayspots @nick-scarâ @crazy-fangirl2524â @blue-jos10â @stabbyfoxandrewâ @splishsplashyouropinionistrashâ @sammichlyâ @the-broken-penâ @bitchesdoweknowuâ @very-small-flowerâ @ghostlyboiiiâ @its-a-paxycabâ @bisexual-genderfluid-fanâ @cheesecookieâ @theoneandonlylostsockâ @foxsoulcourtâ @blueleys @adverbialstarlightâ @elia-nnaâ @can-i-just-stay-in-the-cornerâ @nikodiangelâ @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoatâ @hallucinatedjostenâ @satanic-foxhole-courtâ @vexingcosmosâ @chalilodimunâ @insectsgetcookedâ @angry-kid-with-no-moneyâ @queer-crowsâ @lillyndraâ @themugglemudpersonâ @readertodeathâ @apileofpillowsâ @mortalsbowbeforemeâ @hellomynameismooâ @next-level-mess @youreonlylowâ @interstellarfigâ @notprocrastinatingatalltodayâ @percyjacksonfan3â @queenofcrazy27â @bsmr261 @ghostlyscaresâ @spencellioâ @adinthedarkroomâ @harpymothâ @sufferingjustalilbitâ @anxietymossâ @oddgreyhoundâ @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbrokenâ @ken22789â @atiredvampireâ @isoldescornerâ @not--a--pipedreamâ @azure-wingâ @bushbeesâ Â @roonilwazlib-mainâ @crumplelushâ @foldedaces-paperbirdsâ @thesenseinnonsenseâ @let-tyrants-fearâ @ketchupfriesandallthingsniceâ @legowerewolfâ @deadlydodosâ @but-we-respect-his-craftâ @cariniqeâ @zanypersonapricotbiscuitâ
The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.
As stated before if youâre up here and I spelled it  right but you didnât  get a notification there might be something  switched around in  your settings that wonât let me tag you properly?
Lillyndra it worked this time!!!
#Fluent Freshman AU#Is it a songfic chapter if it's only 3 lines? Experts aren't sure#Did I listen to lose yourself a lot while writing this chapter? Perhaps#If Nora mentioned something about Jackson or Romero in her extras I did not read it#Also gonna be honest here and state that I forgot the likely year that AFTG happened in and this is happening in 2010#So I guess this AU also involves a slight time shift#Andrew and Neil may have gotten lost in one another's eyes a bit down in the speakeasy#Really they're just being polite to get all of their PDA out of the way while FF is taking what might be the piss of a lifetime.#(They have no idea how accurate that might be)#Andrew is all set to kiss one of his favorite of Neil's freckles (yes he has ordered them from favorite to lesser favorite)#Then his phone goes off#He looks and it's Roland#Andrew: WTF is Roland trying to call me?#Nicky is busy being the Dancing Queen. If someone plays ABBA he will absolutely scream rn#I had considered a whole sequence of FF trying to get Nicky and Aaron to the safety of the backroom in Eden's#And Nicky just keeps reappearing on the dancefloor while FF is looking for Aaron#I was gonna use that simpsons meme where Moe throws out Barney and then Barney is just right back in the bar#But it got a little too crazy#But just know in this AU Nicky is canonically an excellent escape artist#Maybe Erik went through a bit of a magician phase and Nicky was DELIGHTED to be asked to be his assistant#Maybe that's how they got together#The inherent ROMANCE of magician and assistant#I don't remember if they ever really said in the books or nora's content#If I'm rambling because I forgot to shut off my alarm (Memorial Day 4-day weekend baby)#The fate of FF's phone may have been caused by some slight anger towards my own#RIP FF's Wymack phone (July 2010 - November 2010)#AFTG#AFTG AU#Andreil#FF - Pt.19
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â ËïœĄâౚà§Ë August Slipped Away - [Part 1]
â„ next | masterlist
â„ pairing: charles leclerc x carlos sainz jr
â„ summer romance
â„ inspired by the folklore love triangle
â„ 501 words - short fic but a part of an ongoing series
â„ a/n: none of these pictures are mine, I found all of them on pinterest. cross posted on ao3
The salt air in Monaco was a nostalgic feeling for Charles. The sweet memories of his childhood rang in his ears but the more recent, tragic moments swirled with them. His home country never reciprocated the same amount of love he had for it. Nothing seemed to go his way here.
It was a summery morning down by the Mediterranean Sea. A group of seagulls flew by the coast where Charles was watching the sunrise and drinking his coffee. He spotted a few couples on an early walk and a group of men playing volleyball. It was a delicate moment until a not-so delicate object struck his face. The pressure knocked his head against the rocky wall he was sat at and he instinctively clutched the back of his hair. He looked up in surprise, a man rushing over to him.
"Mierda, are you okay?" he asked, eyes darting all over Charles.
"Yea..." Charles mumbled, staring down at the spilled coffee that had flung out of his hand and landed on the ground.
"Let me buy you a new drink." the man offered, holding his hand out to help Charles up. Charles took his hand, standing and brushing the wrinkles out of his clothes.
"You don't have to-"
"It's the least I could do," the man cut him off and smiled. "I'm Carlos. Sorry for hitting you in the face." he laughed softly.
"Charles," he held his hand out. "And don't worry, it's fine."
Their hands gripped each other's gently, thumbs lacing together in a shake. They lingered there for a moment, savoring the warm touch and taking note of the way Carlos' hand practically swallowed Charles'.
"Now how about that coffee? I could use some of my own." Carlos smiled, breaking his hand away.
~
There was some sort of unbreakable spark between the two. Smiles and laughs were shared throughout the summer months. They'd spent days together on what an outsider would describe as dates. Gelato, beach trips, and long walks around the small country.
On this particular evening Charles invited Carlos to his apartment. Carlos noticed the intimate details of the Monegasque's place: the rust on his door, a selection of sweet teas, and a light cream colored cardigan draped over a chair by his kitchen table.
They sat on the couch together talking about their lives until their gaze locked, shattering their oblivion to the tension in the room. The visit to Charles' apartment was clearly not just a friendly invite. They exchanged soft kisses and breathy whispers, stumbling off the couch into another room. Maybe they didn't expect to be waking up next to each other, but they both knew they wanted it.
The sun blazed through the curtains, a slight breeze trickling through a gap in the window. Charles woke up first, rolling over to admire the man lying in his bed. He soaked in the feeling of Carlos beside him, taking a few deep breaths. It felt like a weight had been lifted. Like a curse had been broken.Â
#đđđ'đ đđđđ đđđđ ౚà§#âlike a curse had been brokenâ was it đ#the Monaco curse is eating my baby alive stop it#the aesthetic of this screams 1989 tv tho#IS IT OVER NOW?#~you dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor~#I listened to folklore while writing this I hope someone noticed the references#salt air and the rust on your door#ok Ill stop yapping in the tags now (max will be introduced in part 2 btw)#charlos#charlos fic#charlos fanfic#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 fanfiction#f1 ship fic#charles x carlos#charles leclerc#cl16#carlos sainz#Carlos sainz Jr#carlos sainz 55#cs55#f1#formula 1#formula one#ferrari#scuderia ferrari#fanfic#fanfiction
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I started in DC by reading fanfics, but as I began to read actual comics, I started to be unable to read the actual fanfic that got me into it in the first place because it's so out of character.
But there are still some stories that I love to read because I love the found family trope so much, even if it isn't really accurate to the source material.
As a comics purist (sometimes), are there tropes that you like enough that you'll still enjoy a fic even if it's not accurate to canon?
oh my god this is SUCH a fun question. bc while i started with the comics, there were certain characters and/or character dynamics where i was exposed to the fanon before the canon (just bc it's hard to read everything when you start out just to read some fanfic) and so i've definitely experienced the fanon to canon transition. (*especially* with Jason Todd. i had only read 80s/90s stuff where he was already dead or the New-52 bc that was on-going when i got into comics and man. the fanon misunderstandings i had about him before i got frustrated and sat down to read all his pre-Flashpoint stuff were absolutely bonkers.) and aside from that, whilst i tend to prefer canon over fanon, i'm not past giving fanon its flowers for occasionally having really interesting insights. occasionally. so some of my fanon "guilty pleasure" tropes would probably be
Morally Grey Tim Drake - this is one where if you try to back it up with canon, i *will* get salty about it. of everyone in the Batfam aside from maybe Bruce and Cass, Tim has the *most* black and white morals. often his internal conflicts are routed in such an inability to compromise his moral views and it can cause him to clash with other characters. he's *very* stiff and rigid in his beliefs and is *rare* to compromise in even the smallest ways. i mean, DC has repeatedly used Tim Drake of Tomorrow/Savior/Gun Batman!Tim for a reason. it's to demonstrate that of everyone, Tim *cannot* have his morals compromised. there's no grey area for him. he's zero or a hundred, so if he tips over the edge of "too far" he tips *all the way*, and doing so is one of his worst fears, how he could go "too far" if he let himself. a couple panels out of context from Red Robin (2009) (which was a grief spiral for Tim to begin with) don't change that. now that said. if it's done *right*, i sort of love Tim being morally grey in fanfic. it takes a specific flavor for me, and it's incredibly important to include that mental spiral along with it, of him struggling to justify it. i don't have any interest in "Tim Drake is loosy goosy with Bruce's morals and has the highest kill count and no one knows teehee" bc it doesn't play with the interesting parts of making Tim morally grey, which are fracturing his psyche. but all in all, i think it's fun to put Tim in a morally grey area and i will read it in fanfic and i enjoy writing it a lot
Joker Junior!Tim Drake - i've not written it on this account (yet) but on my main ao3 account one of my biggest fics surrounds this concept. this is one of those "well *technically* it's canon but only in a specific very divorced from the comics universe and would not work at all in the main timeline" so, i categorize it as fanon in that 95% of fics exploring the concept are not doing so within the Batman Beyond universe, but the main timeline. i just love it. I'll take any excuse to whump Tim, but this concept is so fun. psychologically breaking Tim will always be my favorite pastime. there are so many ways to explore the long-term effects this could have on him, how it could affect the Batfam. i'm not a fan of it being used as a "gotcha" to Jason or Babs' trauma with the Joker to paint Tim as the Ultimate Victim, but it is fun to see how their relationships would be affected by being mutual victims of him. (i have a vague JayTim idea where TIm fully retires from being Robin after being Joker Junior and killing the Joker, making Steph Robin for most of his typical Robin era and Jason still tracks him down out of curiosity bc he wants to know what happened and all. very underbaked but i've got thoughts.)
Renegade/Apprentice of Slade!Dick Grayson - this is another one where yes, this happened *sort of* in canon, but i highly doubt most people writing Renegate!Dick have read or are actually pulling from Nightwing: Renegade. it's just an exploration fo the concept fo Dick being Slade's apprentice and i will always eat it up in any capacity. whether Dick grows up with Slade from a young age, or chooses Slade for whatever reason later in life. it's not anything that works in canon bc it compromises Dick morally (similar to the above with Tim) and therefore will always come across incredibly fanon in most fics. but i can't say i don't enjoy it. it's fun to make Dick a little morally fucked up and see what you can make him under Slade's tutelage.
Jason & Damian Meeting in the League -there's no world where i believe this could work in the canon comics. (maybe in the Young Justice cartoon i suppose, but even then i think it's iffy) i would go as far to say it's wildly unrealistic. i don't see a world where Ra's would let Jason anywhere *near* Damian, bc Jason was Talia's pet project that he didn't approve of. that all said, there's something very interesting about how they *could've* met and them potentially bonding during that timeframe. them being somewhat brotherly during this time because Jason sees Bruce in Damian and sort of latches onto the kid and Damian is full of wonder hearing real stories about Batman and Robin, then that getting violently ripped away by Jason leaving the League is fun to me. it's fun how that could affect them within the Batfam and all. it's super fanon to me, but i do not care. i will eat it up
Bad Dad Clark Kent/Good Dad Lex Luthor - i will admit as a late, i've been less and less kind to this particular fanon bc of everything i've argued with people about, *this* one seems the most pervasive as misunderstood fanon. i don't mind when fanon exists, my gripe is when ppl try to claim it's canon. and the *arguments* i've had over this with people who can never seem to cite an actual comic are... frustrating. but that said, i think there is something fun to this strictly in fanon. the duality of who you expect to accept Kon and who you expect to hurt him being flipped is just sort of fun for the occasional guilty pleasure fic. it can make Kon's internal conflict a bit more interesting. the same goes for the Jon favoritism from Clark, it's not a canon thing (and i rlly wish ppl understood how complicated the timeline of Kon and Jon is and any distance from Clark toward Kon isn't malice, it's that Kon is from a timeline that Clark does not remember in the current canon so Clark just straight up doesn't know the poor kid.) but it's sort of fun to give Kon that complex of being overlooked and forgotten sometimes. making Kon just a *bit* more Luthor than Kent will *always* appeal to me in fanfic, especially if he *knows* it's wrong but craves approval from anyone who will give it.
Good Dad Bruce Wayne - i'll die on the hill Bruce is canonically a shitty father. maybe not to the extreme some people write him as, but he's not great at it. that said, i enjoy it in fanfiction. sometimes, i just want silly fluff or hurt/comfort where Bruce finally gets it right and manages to comfort whatever Batkid is in the fic. one of my favorite fics of all time is hinged on Bruce being a good dad, so i think it's just fun to explore how good the relationships *could* be, if Bruce was slightly less of an asshole. i usually prefer him as an asshole, but there are times i want low stakes nonsense.
Gotham Rogues Having Soft Spots for Robin(s) - just about every Rogue in Gotham has done something absolutely irredeemable, and most of them don't like or care about anyone in the Batfamily. but if there's a fic where one of the Robins inexplicably is sort of close with a Rogue and they have a cute silly relationship out of it? I'll eat it up i fear. Steph and the Riddler are besties? I'll believe it. Tim and Scarecrow get along pretty well? give me ten of these. Rogues protecting Robins just hits a spot. the unexpected nature of the relationship, as well as the fact they see each other regularly, can make a lot of good fodder.
#necrotic answerings#canon vs fanon#batfanon#batfamily#I was *going* to include âJanet and Jack Drake are bad parentsâ#then realized I don't really like that fanon anymore.#but I used to go *hard* for it even knowing it wasn't canon. it was all projection but still#nowadays I think the tragedy of Tim losing his parents the way he did is *far* worse if they loved him and were good to him.#I'm so serious about the Kon thing i've had *nasty* arguments where ppl got so rude to me telling me to âGoogle itâ#like listen I get it. kon's canon backstory is currently difficult to understand#the timeline of the superboy mantle is a little confusing and most people have not read young justice (2019)#so for fanon it's far easier to simplify it as âclark just kinda sucks to konâ and i enjoy that#but the canon is also fun. it's fun when you consider how fucked up it is most people don't remember kon#and the timeline he remembers doesn't exist anymore.#also technically since they never killed off new-52!superboy on page there could be two superboys/kon-els running around rn. who knows.#i like to believe there is bc it's funny.#i have wanted to write a new-52!konkon/tim/kon sandwich#with the âis it selfcest or notâ question#bc new-52!kon wasn't a clone of clark and lex.#so like. he's arguably a different character just sharing the name kon-el for some reason#also on the nightwing: renegade thing i know *damn* well most fanon-only fans haven't read it (no shade in that)#bc the fanon crowd despises devin grayson and she wrote it.#one day i'll write a meta about fandom treatment of devin grayson trust me.#this question was SO fun#i feel like i should have more answers?#if you'd asked me like six months ago this list would be three times as long#but the more i exist in this fandom somehow the saltier i get idk what's happening#so now i'm more and more attached to canon#but i will never begrudge someone for liking fanon#like i said my issue with it is the confusion of what is canon
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Inspired by the soul crushingly sad au by @yujateaandpi , Dipper visiting Stan during the thirty years Mabel and Ford were missing.
I would recommend it if you want to have a cry.
The design for Dipper is Yujanteaandpi's, but Stan hasn't made an appearance yet, so I did the best I could! (ps. I have just realised that drawing wrinkles is a lot of fun)
#creativesplat draws#old Stanley pines#old dipper pines#gravity falls#30 more years au#dipper pines#stanley pines#this au is so sad I had to listen to happy music afterwards to feel normal#like stan and ford are allowed to be broken adults but dipper? he's a kid! but now hes a broken adult? noooooo#but I love it#also elderly stan and older dipper is just such an emotional concept rn because some of my relatives are getting elderly and frail#its kind of cool seeing that depicted in other people's writing and stuff - the pre-grief that ageing involves but the joy of the moments#with them in their last years#anyway#also dipper being more like stan is just such a good vibe like yes someone who gets it! dipper and stan the sad/ pessimistic twins#dipper and stan bonding is my fave
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EVEN MORE CUTE DOTTORE MOMENTS TO MAKE YOU SMILE đ (because I am too tired to post anything of quality)
#smooches talks#ouhhhh... to experience the domestic life with him...#someone motivate me to start writing actual fics again...#the dottore honeymoon fic merely has the title âmedicus scriptor amoremâ and âHoneymoon ficâ in the actual document LMFAO#i made it on... january 27 oops#idek if im gonna stick to that name because google translate for latin is so bad omfg#(TO THAT KIND PERSON WHO SENT ME IDEAS ILY AND I PROMISE I WILL RESPOND. I PROMISE IM NOT IGNORING U)#i also have another wip i havent touched with loving the harbingers when they weren't in the fatui yet#no like seriously i think churning out 50k words did something to my writing state đđ#a snippet from dottores part: Il Dottoreâs strength was nearly unmatched in the Fatui being the Second Fatui Harbinger and all.#what most people do not know is that he was⊠certainly not the best fighter during his Akademiya days.#A claymore was also out of the question - he grumbled when he had to lug his numerous research materials and parts to the desertâŠ#In the end you settled on teaching Zandik the basics of a sword. do with this as you will...#however i am still so proud of myself for fabulam diu oblitus#i was rereading in class bc i was bored and i was like#damn i kinda ate with this#thanks for listening to smooches mini writing life crisis if u made it here#okay i go sleep now... i have midterms this week#OMFG THESE TAGS R SO LONG IM SO SORRY
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hm maybe iâm going to get flack for this, but i genuinely donât understand how some self-claimed fic lovers can be the same people who a) pressure and harass writers into producing more and more stories, regardless of their current health or personal lives, b) pressure writers when they arenât updating fast enough, again, regardless of their current health or personal lives, and c) now, apparently, feed their supposedly beloved writersâ stories into ai bots. itâs becoming incredibly disheartening and clear that some folks donât care so much about writers and really care exclusively about feeding whatever greedy need they have to just consume.
#caroline talks#don't mind me. maybe i'm just in a particularly horrendous mood because of the weather or whatever#but like. listen. as someone who has had a largely positive experience fic writing + fandom in general#i have still had several instances which still leave a sour taste in my mouth#you can't say 'oh my god i love your stories i would love to read more' in one second#and then go 'why aren't you writing anything how come you're taking so long this one isn't as good as your others' in the next#which like. thank god i haven't had too many of those messages but sometimes. when they DO come in they make me pause#listen to me: a reader's impatience will never be worth as nearly as much as a writer's well-being. okay?
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âWhen thereâs so much going on, it gets hard to breathe; when all my faith has gone, you bring it back to me. You make it real for me. When Iâve lost sight of where Iâm meant to be, like holy water, washing over me, you make it real for me, and iâm running to you baby. You are the only one who saves meâ
#whenever i hear songs on the radio#i end up thinking about those two firefighters#buddie#listen to the song and tell me you dont see buck and eddie in it#if i had strenght to edit them to this song i would#or write them#i dont#but if someone does tag me pls#eddie diaz#evan buckley#911#911 abc#buck x eddie#evan buck buckely#9 1 1
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My dads hobby is writing songs and playing guitar. Itâs his special interest. His music isnât for me, Iâm not sure if thatâs as a result of hearing incessant guitar noodling when I lived at home or his overall vibe.
He is negative percent good at taking feedback. When told he sounds better not singing falsetto his next several songs were all falsetto. When saying he mumbles his lyrics and sings too fast to actually understand he just disagrees.
Heâll play open mics and stuff and it makes him happy. Generally even though I have no idea what heâs on about Iâll just make vaguely supportive noises and I donât try to give feedback. If heâs happy, whatever.
Several months ago while grabbing lunch he started telling me about his new song. Itâs about a homeless man. I grew wary at once. My parents are vaguely misinformed liberals and I did not like to think what he, a very well off white man, had thrown together on the subject.
He read out the lyrics, verses romanticizing living on the street, with increasingly vulgar descriptions of how smelly and ugly this man was, and a tag line about how heâd give you the shirt off his back because he was so generous.
I started vibrating with emotion but I tried to ask what his message was. What did he actually want to convey about homeless people? He shrugged and said he didnât have one, that the song was just meant to think about homeless people.
I tried with increasing desperation to steer him in any other course and he just dug his heels in and told me it was good and he wouldnât change any lyrics. Heâd only shared them to get praises and wasnât interested in adjustment. In a temper I challenged him to go sing that to a homeless person and see what they thought of this bullshit view of their hardships.
It was rough. The lunch ended in brittle silence. He is incapable of dropping subjects and responds with sullen brooding if people refuse to keep arguing.
Since then every get together he insists he needs to play it for me. That hearing the melody will change my mind. I ask if heâs changed the lyrics and he goes into a huge huff.
We all went to see The Boy and the Heron tonight and he griped that I was judging him. I insisted we drop the subject and now Iâm wracking my brain to find some way to lay the issue to rest. Changing his mind is almost certainly impossible and Iâm not going to lie and say I think itâs good, but Iâm sick of this.
#ramblies#Iâm like- I have friends whoâve experienced homelessness#if he wonât listen to me maybe I could arrange for him to play it and get feedback from someone whoâs actually been there#I wish heâd stick to writing about magic birds and weird shit#he wrote a song about me when I was a teen called the ânoâ song about how stubborn and disagreeable I was#but that as a result he wasnât worried for when boys came around because he knew Iâd say no to them to#and after protesting it for years about how it made me feel like shit I finally had to cry and tell him Iâd been raped before he stopped
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apologies if you're not american, but i was watching a youtube video about the kennedy family and their various misfortunes and it just made me think about a twentieth century AU of jaehaerys and alysanne's family. if you didn't know, joseph p. kennedy was jfk's dad and ever since his first son was born, he was pushing for one of his kids to become the first catholic president of the united states. he had nine kids with his wife and pushed all of them to successful in one way or another.
most horrifyingly, joseph had his eldest daughter, rosemary, lobotomized because she was born with an intellectual disability and while she was at a convent, she had snuck out a couple of times and the nuns feared she engaged in pre-marital sexual activity. the lobotomy took away rosemary's ability to speak or walk and joseph had her carted away to an institution and never visited her. rosemary's siblings wouldn't know about the lobotomy until 20 years later. that entire story just made me think of gael, daella, and saera all at once.
Okay first off, i am an american, i wouldn't say i know a LOT about politics but there are a few eras I've read a few books on and gone on wiki spirals over because they're interesting to me personally, and second of all, I THINK ABOUT ROSEMARY KENNEDY AT LEAST TWELVE TIMES A DAY.
I have like, a whole rant that revolves around her that I will spare everyone but omg. Her story is like, breathtakingly horrific, and she isn't the only person to be subjected to this sort of behavior as a form of social control; a lot of women were lobotomized by their fathers and husbands for "unruly" behavior that usually amounted to them either having some sort of mental illness (like bipolar disorder or depression) or were just like, regular horny 20 year olds. The Kennedys in general are insane and I will admit to finding them a bit fascinating because the entire concept of Camelot was essentially just some rich american family attempting to remake the concept of Divine Nobility in the usa? Insane behavior especially when you look at contemporary royals who are often miserable as fuck on an emotional level (which monarchy is it where they're so strict about marrying they're practically gonna die out soon icr but it's like...these people are INSANE why would you want to emulate them, emulate some rich people who don't regularly get guillotined at least damn). But anon, if you're interested in this, one of the podcasts i listen to, behind the bastards, has a two parter on the guy who invented lobotomies and just did a two parter about the kennedys (with a focus on rfk jr, but he went into the kennedys in general). the lobotomy one is real good it made me want to throw up a bit lol.
ANYWAYS. I definitely agree that the Kennedys are a really good modern example of the Jaehaerys & Alysanne era Targaryens. Like, a patriarch attempting to make himself and his family into legendary heroic myths while they're still alive, willing to feed as many children as necessary into the meat grinder if it means getting a leg up, the public having this beautiful idyllic image of them but its all this fake, hand crafted image to hide this incredibly sinister reality. can't have your girls exhibiting sexual agency, but can't let them exist without Serving The Family as baby making machines either, so you punish them for having sex when you don't want to, and when their bodies fail because they're too damn young to have kids, you punish their mothers for grieving. you force your wife to have more kids that you won't take care of, you punish your wife for not wanting to be parted from them, you punish your wife for not wanting them married young, you ensure your sons will never lift a finger to help their sisters, and you play god with your own family and then rage at them when they don't act like puppets on a string for your benefit.
#my fascination with them started with jackie o bc my grandma was in love with her. grandma experienced a lot of loss in her life#and when jackie o refused to let the media use her kids in photo ops after jfk was killed my grandma fell in love instantly.#she had so much respect for the fact that she was like 'no my children deserve to have a childhood' as someone who didn't get one#it's crazy the way people talk about them bc when you peel back just one layer of glossy finish you find some DERANGED FREAKS#also if anyone is like 'you listen to robert evans huh' i have so many opinions about his politics i could write a thesis on it#asks#anons
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