#mostly posting for my own sake so I feel more comfortable posting progress stuff when my materials come

[shikai-the-storyteller]

I'm making a custom Richarlyson Figma

[many-gay-magpies]

short (or not so short) little kpop fandom rant below; putting a readmore because i feel kind of weird saying all this stuff on a blog that is pretty much kpop dedicated, who's follower-base is made up of mostly kpop fans, but i also just feel the need to get it out there, so. here we are

(disclaimer: im not using 'you' to direct this post at anybody in particular, if anything it's directed at myself, you just feels more direct)

kind of going off of that post about parasocial relationships i just reblogged but like. ever since watching that one video by a dude im subscribed to on youtube about stan culture and fanfiction and stuff (i think i might have linked it on tumblr at some point? maybe?) my experience in the kpop fandom had gotten... interesting, from a personal standpoint

like im starting to wonder about all this stuff and think about the fact that ALL fanfiction, even the nonsexual stuff, is still crossing a bunch of boundaries in a way? because like youre writing all this stuff about REAL PEOPLE and literally making headcanos for how they would be as boyfriends, how they'd react to certain situations, how they would be in fights for god's sake, and its just-- these are real people. you dont know them. you will probably NEVER know them on a level higher than maybe meeting them through a fanmeet, or if you're lucky running into them on the street or something. and you can't... know how these people you've never met will REACT in situations like the ones you're thinking about, you can't know what they're like off-camera and outside of idol life. and i kind of had a point with this particular section of the rant, but i forgot what it was, so i'm just gonna move on

the thing with me is that like... i think all of this stuff, and yet i still read the occasional y/n fanfic or (god forbid) full group fanfic, often with ships involved. and i justify it to myself by saying i know these aren't the REAL people, they're just characters someone else created in their image; all of this stuff is written based on the images, the characters presented to us, and not the real people underneath (but the problem is a lot of fanfic writers probably dont feel the same way; they think like it's the real people they're writing about and treat it as such). I tell myself I read and enjoy ship fics because I would enjoy the samd dynamic with ANY two people, because the relationship is something i'd admire and long for in real life, it doesn't matter who with. I don't ACTUALLY think these two idols are dating or think they would act like this—its just characters. But it's still just like... where does the boundary lie? I'm thinking all of this stuff, but if i dont act on it, do the thoughts even really matter? Because its what a person's actions say about them that matters, just thinking about something... right?

So as you can see, I'm conflicted.

Now, something else worth noting is that I... don't necessarily think fantasizing about idols, in whatever way that might be, is bad. They're attractive, the images and characters they present often compliment that by being nice, sweet, funny, etc. It feels normal, to me, that you might fantasize about dating them or hugging them or kissing or being friends with them every so often—especially during the pandemic, when people rarely got the chance to actually see other people and (im speaking for myself here but i think its something that can apply to others as well) sometimes ended up filling the void with parasocial relationships instead. the fantasizing isn't the bad part—to me that just feels like a part of being human. its that we're taking these fantasies and putting them out into the world in the form of writing, reactions and fanfictions and the like—we're writing down our fantasies and letting other people read them and fantasize about them in turn.

and to me that feels... weird. personal. kpop idols don't need to know the fantasies you have about them, and no matter how impossible you think it might be, if you post something online, anywhere, there is a chance that they'll see it. and above that even, our fantasies, in our own heads, feel like something that doesn't need to be—or even shouldn't be—shared out loud (artzyy if you're reading this, you can probably figure out why i got so awkward and felt like i'd overshared during our conversation yesterday). i mean, if you're comfortable sharing your mental fantasies with the world, by all means, you do you; im just... not.

a lot of this is why i... actually don't feel uncomfortable writing enhaverse fanfiction (exhibited clearly by the two vampire jungwon fics that are now floating around my blog, the sunoo lily fic in progress in scrivener, and the various other ideas for fics still floating in my brain). because it isnt "real people" we're writing about, or idols' on-camera faces that we ACT like are real people, it's characters these boys and their company have created specifically for their music videos and lore; entirely different, fictional people, just with the same names and faces, which we've basically taken and spun into whatever the fuck the tumblr enhaverse is now (delightfully full of angst, gay longing, softness and a whole lot of fucking projection... you get the idea.)

but its just-- weird, having all these feelings, making all these justifications and having all these morals in place, and yet being part of a fandom that for the most part goes against every one of them. but i haven't left, or really changed my behavior at all, so its... yeah. weird.

[towerofgodscreamblogwink]

reading last chap of s2 after covering several chapters yesterday, also since it's end of the season, for once I put some bigger serious thoughts at the end

who the FUCK ARE YOU PEOPLE???

OH MY GOD KARAKA IS TSUNDERE

there are OTHER slayers?? (except fucking ex white)  if they mentioned it earlier i must’ve forgot

that’s not how to talk to your daddy greatest

 -(no i don’t like jahad i’m here to bully karaka because i tend to bully my faves)

*punches table* rabbit boy. get out. i have not sighed so loud in my entire life

oh i see why people were calling them furries.

listen, you either give us catboys or leave.

please don’t say “creatures” if it’s like your furry way of talking

that guy: not to worry he has a permit

gustang: *pulls out paper* “i can get whatever i want”

i’ve read “gremlin” im dONE

you know what maybe i should just go to bed rn

also cat is destroying my door dear lord

ok so it’s the next day now

“ahahaha”

“I can’t read...”

SHIT I HAVEN’T NOTICED RACHEL GOT TELEPORTED

erh i’m dumb on this one, why have they made this parallels?

I don’t want to tell you this but he just reminded me of chara undertale...

wangan: onii-chan!?

wait what

ouch

soooo karaka believes wangan’s story even w/o ring then?

*spits tea* ow goddammit not the feels

anyhoo that’s the end of s2, siu put a note about break but yeah that was years ago, so pretty sure i’ll be starting s3 even now but i won’t be posting it rn

anyhoo well that was suprisingly long season? my usual knowledge of “Seasons” is usually from anime, and these tend to have seasons with usual 2 or 3 arcs but they usually don’t go in so many different directions 

personally it feels like half of season 2 is a season on it’s own tbh, and maybe that’s how anime could adapt it, perhaps? although 12 episodes would work best with just setting on saving bam from fug.. either anime would make the seasons in parts like aot did with s3 or have lots and lots of seasons, since probability of anime getting 24 episodes has gotten awfully small those years

As for the opinions on season 2... I see first half and season on it’s own, so let’s start from this - Bam getting rescued, and first time they enter hell train. First of all, Bam as Viole is absolutely nailing this, and I wouldn’t mind having Viole as protagonist to be honest, although it would be indeed sad as Viole is not the happiest person, but damn is he a cutie. Is he a baby. 

Wangan - oh dear I dunno if others saw the plot twist coming, but I did not - I have absolutely been viewing him as Bam’s counterpart to his Viole side, just a complete shounen protagonist who’s completely ordinary. Boy was I w ro n g. I only remember vaguely being sus about him when Viole has mentioned his ring, but that was about it, as it was never mentioned again, I forgot about it. And then it appeared Karaka has this ring. Boy was I shooketh.

I don’t think I exactly liked the further progression though until Wangan’s story was revealed - until then he kinda fell into background, and then soon again as said story was revealed. However I do know Siu has big plans with him, and at this point I know Siu’s writing enough, so I don’t have much worries about his further progression

Also sadly there was no Karaka-Wangan brother bonding

Next in mind I have Khun, naturally, as he’s my icy hot favourite. I don’t really know why even, when I saw him in anime I was quite indifferent about him. So if you want me to explain why do I like khun, I can’t really explain. Other than when he was becoming my favourite, I remember being dissappointed in myself and making a post to myself “Goddammit don’t fall for him just because he’s your type” and he’s not even really my type in terms of personality, but at that point I was jsut shrugging it off, maybe it was his childish over-dramatic posture contrasting his cold personality because I just hit that protect button

Also yes I may be basic just slap me already

And before I’ll start talking: girl’s scout outfit, really? I support my son and I can understand his edgy and k-pop fashion... But I’d be lying if I said I understood him for shit at that moment

So now that we’re past back... I was actually recently re-reading first chapters, and damn, the difference of Khun before Bam was rescued - was rather intriguing. He was laughing his ass off at silly things (his team being dressed silly) but oh sweetie did it feel weird.

Next, I keep thinking about him on the train obliberating Rachel - despite popular opinion, his cockiness was actually getting on my nerves, and only thing saving it, was his reasons were Bam - so in other words, at least he wasn’t an asshat for his own sake.

I much liked his personality during second half of the season 2 - as much as there wasn’t much khunbam content - seems like Khun has grown as a person,as his cocky aura much disappeared as he became more understanding towards his own weaknesses. Now his “cockiness” became rather entertaining if you catch my drift, because despite his jerk nature, he *is* well aware of his flaws, and I just like that. Not that he *wasn’t* considerate of that already, but the hidden floor really did wonders on him.

And dear my, his relationship with Bam. I’ll be honest, at some point during reading first half of season 2, I felt like I was reading romance story between him and Bam. It was all the little things, like playing with Rachel just to know Bam’s past, Khun noticing Bam was uncomfortable with Viole wig, Khun being near Bam as he spoke he has no reasons to live, Khun standing up for Bam when strangers tried to use him and Isu asked for his help but skipped the asking part, Khun looking back to Bam telling him he’ll be back when going to catch the fish on train, Khun trying to talk to him when Bam locked himself up in his room on train, constantly checking and finally waiting in his room when he notices Bam is gone, Khun noticing lack of Bam’s presence before going to floor of death right *after* he just said he feels like world is ending if Bam isn’t here, and then beeming when Bam does in fact appears. And that’s just all the stuff I can remember right now, and I mean the *little* things. The big things are the ones we know well - “So that I can always chase” and the famous world one I don’t have to quote.

Second half didn’t have much scenes, but there were few that did stuck to me - Bam’s line to Kiseia how he understands why she hates him, but he’ll do everything he can to stop her if she plans to harm Khun *again*. Because it seemed like Bam kind of moved on from Khun getting stabbed by his sis, but that panel did show that not only it *did* stay with him, it also stayed with him that it was *Kiseia* who hurt him.

Another scene was the one I don’t think I need to talk about much, as we all pretty understand - moment of Khun and Eduan awkward father-son bonding. Khun tries to close himself off, but Bam reaches out, and forces him out of comfort zone

But what mostly stuck out to me, was his behaviour after Khun became kinda dead. It was the way he spoke to endorsi and rest, how *he’s* going to take khun and follow the *harder* path, and anyone who *don’t want to come*, can take the easier one. Basically, he was prepared to go the harder route completely alone because it meant taking Khun with him, and he was just, prepared to go without any help, he only optionally added that others can join if they *want* to.

Another interesting scene, was Hwaryun calling him out, when few of his teammates has been captured, due to them taking the different path from Bam - but if they are meant to escape with Khun, they have to leave them, and when Bam gets steamy about it, Hwaryun goes - “I didn’t choose the teams. You’ve chosen them based on who matters more.” It’s so subtle, so cruel, yet intriguing - one of the most worst way to tell someone he cares for someone else more - she’s only saying Khun mattered to him more, but in this context, it sounds accusing, making Bam’s decision selfish. And that’s something that’s absolutely in my mind - his care for Khun, called out in “accusing” matter - as something that stopped him from commiting other decision - as something he’s willing to priotize others over.

So I can’t stop thinking about that, and truthfully? That last “take care of Khun after me.” line.

But the other line from bam’s monolouge that gets me is “Wait a bit more Khun... I’ll wake you up again.” That “again” gets to me, but I can’t really explain it. Maybe it’s the way he looks at Khun longily. 

So this covers their relationship, and I think I’m only gonna mention Bam now real quick and perhaps Eudan and Jahad, because the post’s getting long and I don’t want to make *this* post specifically long.

I don’t have much to say about Bam, as Bam himself doesn’t have much to say about him. He didn’t have much definying features or characteristics besides the time he was Viole, but you have to hand it to him for growing after meeting after she pushed him for the first time - it was still hard to say anything about him though. For several chapters later - as well, except he did manage to develop the traits of self-sacriface, and actual resolve to save everyone - because he talks about *always* and sure fights for his friends, but who doesn’t? Where his personality shines in this regard, is in the moment of Bam saving his enemies with no questions asked, and White by the way definetely helped Bam to develop his personality for sure.

But either way I’m here roasting Bam, while my goal was to say, that it was in the hidden floor where I’ve actually started recognizing him as his own character - it was in the moment of him having final confrontation with Viole, I finally saw what kind of person he was. And I liked it, he became a solid character in that moment, accompanied by proper flashbacks and exploration. And Bam continues to be then written quite consinstely as in one of later flashbacks, he indeed says, what he said to Viole a while ago - he’s afraid of being alone. Not only that, the internal conflict was added - is he a monster? is he not? It’s simple conflict but can do wonders, and it’s not something that Bam even thinks about, it’s more of a really subtle conflict within a character design itself, rather than Bam.

So basically now Bam indeed feels more of an actual character

And before I’ll end it for now, I want to mention the meeting of young Eudan, andyoung Jahad - truth to be told, I don’t have most unique feelings towards them as anyone sees the point - the adventures with pure intentions turned evil, aka how everyone can turn evil. What makes me more interested, is how Siu has used it for storytelling... Main characters having a big meeting with the younger versions of villians? Haven’t seen that one yet, so I’m interested what direction Siu will take with it, since this is my first time seeing it, so I’m really curious how exactly you can utilize such scenes in terms of long planned story, and not only how they affect story as a whole, but how they also affect just aspects of it as well.

So, that’d be it on my commentary and small “opinion” on season 2. It wasn’t like I exactly wanted  to put it here, but I wanted the end of season 2 to have more meaning to myself. But not only to have a meaning to myself *just* for my own reasons, but because I didn’t want to leave the whole season with nothing but small comments there and there. I wanted my experience altogether to be something bigger - but not only experience, but my “legacy” as well. So, that’d be about it x2, if you’re still reading, congratulations, I appreciate that, and you get an apple

[imaginingsoftly]

Wedding Date Pt. 5 - Tyler Seguin

Type: strangers-enemies-lovers, series

Requested: no

Warnings: swearing, mentions of emotional manipulation and shitty exes

A/N: Sorry about forgetting to post last week! Here’s part 5, and there should be two more parts after this one.

Tyler was already at the Benn house when Melissa arrived the next afternoon. Jordie had promised he would be, and it appeared the middle Benn kept his promises. Tyler was actually the one who met Melissa at the door, and his jaw clenching gave away that he was still mad. For just a second, she wondered if he would shut the front door in his face. The baby on his hip seemed like the only reason that he didn’t. Billie reached out for Melissa as soon as Tyler opened the door, and just like that she was in. Melissa made a note to get Billie a book or something as a thank you, even if the kid wouldn’t understand what it was for. 

He stepped back as soon as Melissa crossed the threshold and began walking away. Melissa followed him down the hallway towards the kitchen much like she’d followed Jordie the day before. “So am I never going to be able to visit Jordie without you being here now?” Melissa glared at Tyler as he walked in front of her, though it was mostly as she tried not to look at his ass. It was hard, especially considering how tight his board shorts were. 

Jordie frowned at Tyler as the two of them and Billie appeared in the kitchen. He’d more than likely heard what Tyler said to her. “Hey, Lissa,” Jordie said, “how’s it going?” His face changed when he looked at her, and the brotherly smile he flashed at her was incredibly reassuring. 

The baby sitting on Melissa’s hip started babbling and clutching at her hair before she could respond. Clearly, she hadn’t been paying Billie enough attention. “Yeah, babe, I see you. You wanna tell me all about your day?” Billie continued to babble at her animatedly, and Melissa tried to ignore Tyler’s quiet huff as he stalked out of the kitchen and into the backyard. She stared after him as he began to help Jessie set up some lights around the deck. He hip-checked her out of the way, and Melissa’s heart tugged at the laughter that filtered in through the open door. 

“You’re really good with her.” Melissa turned her attention to Jordie. He leaned back against the counter and jerked his chin at Billie. “You look like you’ve done this before.”

Melissa smiled and squeezed Billie gently. “My younger sister has two. She married her high school sweetheart right out of college, and they had their first kid right after she turned 23.” She bounced Billie until she started to belly laugh. “I’m the cool aunt.” Jordie laughed, and Melissa chuckled along with him. Sarah’s boys were the toughest part of moving out of the DC area. She had been the go-to babysitter from the time the oldest was born, and now she’d be lucky to see them a few times a year. 

She looked out at the deck again, and Jordie gestured for her to make her way outside. Jessie gave Melissa a hug when she saw her, and Billie started reaching for her mom. Tyler looked like he was doing his best impression of a statue until Jordie punched him on the shoulder and ordered him into the yard to haul chairs in front of the firepit. 

It seemed like Jordie and Jessie were doing their best to keep Melissa and Tyler separate during the entirety of setup, though they were making Melissa do things that involved her being in front of Tyler. If she had to wager a guess, Melissa would say they were trying to get him used to having her in his presence before they talked. 

The party was well underway by the time Melissa finally caught Tyler alone. He was inside making himself a mixed drink when she went for another beer. Much like he had done all night when she tried to get him alone, Tyler immediately made a beeline for the back door. 

“Tyler.” He kept walking, and Melissa hurried after him. “Tyler please just listen for a second.” He stopped, mercifully, and she hurried to catch up to him. “I’m sorry for almost all of the things you mentioned yesterday.” His body was stiff, shoulders tight and angry as she stepped around to look in his face. “I’m not sorry that I hooked up with you though. It’s the stuff afterwards that was the issue. I didn’t plan on sleeping with you, just sex, and when I woke up and felt comfortable I panicked.” It had taken Melissa until she saw Tyler again to realize it, too. She could easily imagine waking up next to him all the time, and it felt wrong to be that comfortable with someone she’d just met. Especially someone she imagined didn’t do relationships. 

It felt like progress when she grabbed his hand and he didn’t pull it away. “I really really like you, Tyler, and it scared the shit out of me. I’ve never been the type of person to make friends easily, and I’ve sure as hell never been the type of person to fall for someone I’d just met, and both of those things happened with you.” Melissa squeezed Tyler’s fingers in an attempt to really make him understand. Brown eyes met hers, and they weren’t as angry anymore. He still looked hurt, but he wasn’t really angry. 

Someone shouted for Tyler, and he jerked his hands back. “I’ll talk to you later.” His shoulders lowered slightly as he walked away, though his steps were still short. Melissa bit her lip. She had no right to expect him to forgive her easily. Ghosting him had been pretty shitty, and appearing in his friend’s backyard had been even shittier. 

In an effort to save her heart from another rejection from Tyler, Melissa found Jessie and did her best to pretend he didn’t exist. Jessie seemed more than happy to be a distraction, shoving cookie dough and a scoop into her hands and instructing her to fill the cookie sheets. Jessie stood on the other side of the kitchen island scooping out of her own giant batch of cookie dough, and Billie stared at them from her seat in her high chair. Melissa made faces at the baby every few minutes, and at one point threw some cookie dough in Jessie’s direction. Billie screeched in excitement, and the pair of women laughed as they continued to do everything they could to make Billie laugh. 

Later, Melissa was sitting by herself near the fire when a large body dropped into the chair beside her. “Why did you ghost me?” Tyler stared out into the fire when he spoke, and he wouldn’t meet Melissa’s eyes when she turned her head in his direction. “I thought we at least had enough of a connection to be friends.” 

Rather than anger, Tyler looked hurt. She hadn’t even considered that he would be upset about losing a potential friend. Honestly, she’d assumed it was embarrassment over being rejected that was bugging him more than anything else. “I panicked.” Tyler scoffed, and she placed a hand on his thigh so he didn’t try to get up. “Kirsten convinced me that a hookup would be good for me, and I agreed. I thought we could hookup, maybe more than once, and be friends.” Melissa squeezed Tyler’s leg to get his attention, waiting until he looked into her eyes before he continued. “I woke up the morning after the wedding and realized that I liked you way too much for this to be a casual hookup. My last relationship ended really badly, kinda messed me up, and I told you about that, which is crazy. Nobody except Kirsten knew that whole story.”

Tyler was melting, she could see it in his eyes. Somehow, Melissa was lucky enough that he understood. He leaned into Melissa’s space as he spoke again. “We didn’t have to be a hookup. Maybe I would have been interested in a relationship, especially if I knew you were here in Dallas.” 

He met Melissa’s eyes with a fiery intensity. She found herself getting lost in them again, just like she had the morning after the wedding. “I don’t know if I can handle another relationship right now. Liam messed with my head pretty badly, stuff I didn’t realize he was doing until we were over.” She looked down at her lap because meeting Tyler’s eyes was out of the question. It was hard for her to admit, but it was the truth. Liam was a master emotional manipulator, good enough that she didn’t realize he was doing it. Looking at language in emotional manipulation was one of her damn areas of research, for fucks sake, and she still hadn’t figured it out until after.

The fire crackled a few feet away. A large hand snaked into Melissa’s lap to cover her hands, and another hand pushed her hair out of her face and gently tilted her head up. Tyler’s eyes, so incredibly expressive, had changed yet again. There was none of the sympathy she’d expected. Just sheer determination that took her breath away. “Let me try.” Melissa opened her mouth to speak, but Tyler shook his head. “Let me chase you. I’ll gain your trust. Be my date to events. Let me show you how incredible you are, and when you feel comfortable moving us forward you tell me. Okay?” Tyler gently rubbed his thumb along her cheekbone, and Melissa sank into the touch. This was what she missed about being in a relationship. She craved physical intimacy.

“Okay.” Melissa whispered the words, and could hardly believe they were coming out of her mouth.

“Okay?” She nodded at Tyler’s repetition, and he grinned cheekily at her. “We’ll start Saturday. There’s a donor event before the draft, and I need a date. We had a bit of fun the last time we went to an event together, yeah?” Tyler winked, and Melissa couldn’t help but laugh. 

Tyler’s face turned serious again as he searched her face. “Are you sure about this? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, baby, and I damn sure don’t want you to run away again.” Melissa’s heart tugged. She would never stop feeling bad for that, no matter the reason why she’d done it. 

She nodded. Tyler kissed her forehead gently, and she leaned into his touch. “I’m gonna make this worth your while, I promise.” Despite herself and lingering reservations, Melissa believed him.

[altumvidetur]

Pacific Rim: Newmann Fic Recs

So, I was thinking about the coronavirus pandemic and what I could do to help people out. I’m isolated because I’m at higher risk, so I can’t really offer to go out for my elderly neighbors or my family… but I thought I could try to help keep people entertained.

Because I don’t have an AO3 account right now, I’ve been compiling fic recs for my own amusement for a year or so. And I thought – maybe that’s the time to share these with everyone? So everyone will have plenty of things to read while they have to stay at home, or even to escape anxiety a little bit if you’re forced to go out.

Of course, these cater to my own tastes, so you may find stuff you don’t like around here. I never include works in progress. The Mature and Explicit works will be in italic. I ask you to READ THE WORK’S TAGS before continuing, so you won’t find anything that makes you uncomfortable.

I haven’t managed to read the whole Newmann tag yet (started on page 183, am now on page 77). From what I’ve gathered, most of these recs are from before Pacific Rim Uprising. I watched that movie (although I wish I hadn’t), so feel free to discuss it. I hope you like them!

“The Things That Stay” ‘verse, by singagainsoon

a collection of non-linear moments, snapshots, tiny dots on an endless timeline

i would kill to make you feel, by singagainsoon

Hermann gets really red when he’s mad - his ears, his cheeks, his stupid fucking cute nose. Even his neck gets these big red spots on it. It’s funny. It’s really, seriously funny.

i’ll be a rockin’, rollin’ bitch for you, by singagainsoon

“Don’t be foolish, Newton. I can think of a hundred better things for you to do with that mouth-“

Entomologist AU, by singagainsoon

Two weeks ago, he’d been in the midst of furiously tapping out an absolutely incensed email to the man who somehow managed to consistently infuriate him from another department, even, and what Hermann would have given then to strangle him, truly - and then Dr. Geiszler himself had appeared in Hermann’s doorway, toeing the carpet with his scuffed up Doc Martens and asking if they might try to talk things out over dinner.

Hermann hadn’t known it was a date.

they did the mash!, by singagainsoon

obligatory newt-wears-a-sexy-halloween-costume-and-hermann-has-to-rail-him-because-he-can’t-help-himself ficlet!! tis the season!!

(video) call me at any time, by singagainsoon

When Newt finds himself away from Hermann for a business trip of sorts, they figure out fairly quickly that they won’t last until Newton comes home.

Good Vibrations, by singagainsoon

“Newton, are you quite certain about this?”

Newt smiles, gives the odd-shaped dildo in his hand a teasing wave and sets it aside in favor of the vibrator. His face seems to hint at something along the lines of Funny Thing To Say When You’ve Just Had A Dildo In Your Ass, but he doesn’t say it.

-

my lovely, talented friend and fellow writer gaby commissioned me to write this piece and let me tell you i had the time of my life (as did hermann, i’m sure)

A Certain Step Towards Falling In Love, by singagainsoon

“You’re terribly lucky, darling, that my father is away,” he says, voice low, smoothing his palm over Newton’s wind-tousled hair.

Eating In, by singagainsoon

It really was supposed to be just a massage.

you make me feel so young, by zach_stone

In the wake of saving the world, Hermann decided to appreciate the little things.

Or, Hermann and Newt go grocery shopping. And, because it’s Newt, shenanigans ensue.

seven minutes in heaven, by zach_stone

Hermann was enjoying a quiet, peaceful morning when Newton burst into the lab and shoved both of them into a closet.

in other words, i love you, by zach_stone

Newt is having a difficult day. Hermann has an idea to make it better.

hold me in this wild, wild world, by zach_stone

Hermann didn’t often allow himself to cry. Humanity was barreling towards the end of days, and he simply didn’t have time to fall to pieces, not when people needed him — needed his work. But four rangers had died. He decided he could allow himself one small moment of grief.

–

Or, some Hermann-centric hurt/comfort because I just want to give him a hug. Set pre-canon.

it might be over soon, by zach_stone

To celebrate a victory, Newt steals a bottle of booze and he and Hermann drink, argue, and maybe finally act on their feelings.

hey i just met you (and this is crazy), by zach_stone

Newt Geiszler accidentally texts the wrong number when trying to message his roommate Raleigh, and instead winds up texting Hermann Gottlieb, who he’s never met.

(AKA a college texting AU that I promise was absolutely necessary)

worthy of celebration, by zach_stone

It’s a well-known fact around the Shatterdome that Hermann does not like his birthday. This year, Newt’s determined to change that.

lab-appropriate decor, by zach_stone

“For god’s sake, Newton, that is wildly inappropriate,” Hermann snapped. “Those things are not cute, they are abominations. I don’t know why I’m surprised, once again you prove that you have no tact —” “Oh, give it a rest, Hermann,” Newton retorted, rolling his eyes. “It’s not an abomination, it’s two feet tall and made of plastic.”

Or, some backstory to the one of the kaiju figures in Hermann’s lab in Uprising.

The Geiszler & Gottlieb Post-Saving-the-World Lecture Tour, by zach_stone

Following Newt and Hermann as they tour universities, argue across podiums, and fall in love.

feel your heartlines, by zach_stone

Newt and Hermann cuddling on the couch at the end of a lazy summer day.

We Don’t Skip A Beat, by decadent_mousse

Summary by me: Newt, Hermann, and their heartbeat over the years. 

the lure of adventure, by zach_stone

Newt is a reckless treasure hunter. Hermann is an intrepid journalist. On their search for some long-lost treasure, they run into a little more trouble than they bargained for.

AU based loosely on the Uncharted video game series - no knowledge of the games needed to understand the fic!

wouldn’t it be nice, by zach_stone

Newt and Hermann spend a day at the beach.

take your time, make it slow, by zach_stone

Hermann was far from shy in bed, but was quick to brush off Newt’s insistent (and one hundred percent correct, Newt might add) claims that he was the sexiest person to walk the earth. Well, if Hermann wouldn’t believe his words, then maybe he’d believe his actions. And Newt was nothing if not a man of action.

–

Prompt fill for Newmann Porn Fest 2018: “Body Worship” !!

when you are close to me, i shiver, by zach_stone

When the heating goes out in the lab, Newt comes up with a great idea on how to stay warm.

–

Another fic for the Newmann Porn Fest 2018! Prompt was “huddling together for warmth” ;)

it suits you, by zach_stone

“Newton, for goodness’ sake, can we just — no.” Hermann frowned at the selections Newt held up in front of him. A pair of overalls and a red-and-black flannel shirt, both Newt’s. “I am not wearing dungarees.” “Okay, first of all, cute that you call them dungarees,” Newt said, grinning. “Second of all, you would look very cute in these, they’re seasonal, and I am not kidding when I say you’ll ruin your slacks if you wear them to a farm.” He wiggled the overalls in Hermann’s direction, the buckles on the braces jingling as he did so. Hermann let out a long-suffering sigh, mostly for show. He really did need to invest in a pair of jeans.

–

Fic for the Newmann SFW Fest! Prompts were “sharing clothes/personal items” and “pumpkin/apple picking”

ease my slumber, by zach_stone

Newt can’t sleep; luckily, Hermann’s got a really soothing voice.

–

Or, a conversation about how Hermann would have a good voice for ASMR turned into this.

pick up and start again, by zach_stone

“This,” Hermann says imperiously, glaring at Newt from the other side of the elevator, “is your fault.”

Newt whips around to face him so fast he almost loses his balance. “My fault?! How the hell is this my fault?!” He gestures wildly at the elevator door. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I forgot it was my personal responsibility to make sure this piece of shit elevator is maintained so I don’t get trapped in it with the most annoying person in the Shatterdome —”

“You’re always trapped with yourself though, aren’t you?” Hermann sneers, and Newt lets out a hysterical bark of laughter. This cannot be happening. Of all the times for the elevator to break down between floors, it has to happen now, when he and Hermann are in the midst of a fight that’s quickly blown itself out of proportion.

–

Newt and Hermann get stuck in an elevator, and are forced to work out some of their shit.

just your touch could cure my lonesome blood, by zach_stone

Four times all Newt needed was a hug from Hermann, and one time it was the other way around.

(Or, sentimental cuddling: the fic.)

Heart and Soul, by zach_stone

A quiet day in the lab is interrupted when Newt coerces Hermann into playing piano with him.

My contribution to The Last Line of Defense Zine (spring 2019)!

Lullaby & Rain, by j_gabrielle

It still blows his mind, still makes him stop in his frenetic need to move, speak and think whenever he remembers that Hermann…

Whatever Hermann is to him these days.

Carry Me To You, by j_gabrielle

For the prompt on the kink meme that asked for; Hermann/Newton. Lab sex

the world ablaze, that’s the best for me, by postcardmystery

Summary by me: Newt and Hermann are two unstoppable forces of nature.

Please, Sir, May I Have Another, by eigengrau

It isn’t until Newt is bent over the desk, papers and glass specimen jars strewn about like the debris of a hurricane, white-knuckling the hard stainless steel with his pants around his ankles, that he realizes the gravity of the situation.

Hide and Seek, by DoubleStashed

Summary by me: Hermann Gottlieb - life and love for Newt Geiszler.

pull the trigger without thinking, by liginamite

It’s manageable for the first few days. Shared emotions, shared thoughts, words spoken in unison. But it’s only when they share a nightmare born of memories that it finally occurs to them that maybe this isn’t going to go away.

Rechtsbrecher, by Ezlebe

“If you’ve lost your key again, you’re not getting another,” Hermann says, sidestepping past Newton’s hunched form on the steps.

Darling, by BeeLove

In which Newton rides Hermann for all he’s worth. Or at least tries to.

unravelling, by kiyala

It’s been a while since Newton’s taken his meds. Hermann begins to notice.

All of Your Flaws and All of My Flaws, by CinnamonCake

Hermann is still there tomorrow and the day after and Newton tries to not break his face with the door again.

and i fell fine, by ohgod

The other night I dreamt of knives, continental drift divide –

what history has given me, by kiyala

In which Newton is a girl and she really doesn’t have the time for your shit.

Solving For X, by griesly

No matter what opinion Doctor Gottlieb had proclaimed concerning his tattoos on numerous occasions, Newt knew the score. He’d glimpsed a heady rush of somewhat mortified appreciation, just an old memory surfacing in the Drift from the first time Newt rolled up his sleeves in the lab. He could still feel it like a taut string in Hermann’s mind, in the same way he knew his lab partner was too surly to ever admit it. It was all tangled up with his impression of the way Newt approached the world, a precisely calibrated instrument in one hand and a nail-bat in the other. Newt had to smile at the way Hermann saw him, a churlish adolescent and a half-mad genius all wrapped up in a hurricane.

…or, sometimes even the sharpest minds in the PPDC can be excused for a being a bit dense.

Towards, by orphan_account

Based vaguely off the Lemony Snicket quote: “When someone is crying, of course, the noble thing to do is to comfort them. But if someone is trying to hide their tears, it may also be noble to pretend you do not notice them.”

Hermann finds Newt in the lab after the clock stops, and realizes that sometimes all you can do is wait.

Dear Diary,, by ohgod

That is way, way, WAY too close to my whole InuYasha phase. Do-over!

the night will go on, by ohgod

Mako is sheltered, Herc is old, Raleigh doesn’t want to know about any of this, and Tendo is a perpetual asshole.

I Get My Kicks Above the Waistline, Sunshine, by ambitiousbutrubbish

Summary by me: Newton’s exploration of his asexuality.

corpus callosum, by hieronyma

1 + 1 = 1.

when it’s broken, it’s perfect, by liginamite

Love is not divided up into neat little graphs and numbers and theorems, able to be charted if one only took the time and effort to do so. No, love is… it is unpredictable and volatile. Hermann doesn’t really do unpredictable and volatile, but with Newt he doesn’t have much of a say in the matter.

After the Rockets Calm, by callmejude

written for the kink meme prompt: “The morning after Newt and Hermann sleep together for the first time, Hermann comes over all ridiculously British and can’t cope with the intimacy and loss of inhibition. Newt is having none of that nonsense and tells him to quit fussing and come back to bed for snuggles.”

behind us, by kiyala

After the Breach is closed, Newt asks Hermann to go to Boston with him. Hermann doesn’t leave.

They Say It’s Your Birthday, by callmejude

for the kink meme prompt: These two have worked together for many years, and obviously have had to continue working through special occasions, including their birthdays. I know they strongly disliked each other, but deep down they are good friends and I’d love to see anything (slashy or friendshippy) showing how they acknowledge or celebrate birthdays. I’m betting Newt is secretly into baking and Hermann comes in one day on his birthday not expecting anyone to even know, only to find a Kaiju shaped cake on his desk with a sparkler or a candle stuck messily in the centre. Or or or Newt comes in on his 30th birthday and he’s like depressed and absurdly quiet for the day cause he’s not ready to be that old and Hermann realizes why he’s being all docile so he takes off at lunch only to return with pizza and stuff to cheer Newt up and celebrate his birthday. OR YOU KNOW ANYTHING YOU WANT.

within reason, by kiyala

Newt goes to the Skull Temple after the Breach is closed. Hermann goes with him.

pull you through the mirror (before you come undone), by griesly

The War is over. The war is over, and everyone else has something important to do and somewhere else to be except Newt.

shaken, by kiyala

Newton has nightmares. Sometimes, Hermann has them too. 

Imagine Sisyphus Happy, by Jenni_Snake

They’re colonists… we’ve practically terraformed it for them. -Dr. Newton Geiszler

“The thing we saw with the Europeans was that they wanted their new world enough: they didn’t care who stood in their way.” -Dr. Melanie Mountain Horse

“Do not rely not on the likelihood of the enemy’s not coming, but on our own readiness to receive them.” -Sun Tsu

“The gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly rolling a rock to the top of a mountain, whence the stone would fall back of its own weight. They had thought with some reason that there is no more dreadful punishment than futile and hopeless labor. … I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain. One always finds one’s burden again. … One must imagine Sisyphus happy.” -Albert Camus

How The Light Gets In, by griesly

He’d told Hermann time and time again that he didn’t love the kaiju, he studied them with a curiosity born from a life-long fascination with the giants of the earth. Newt had always been the dinosaur kid – still was, if he was being honest with himself, and the kaiju were the biggest, most awe inspiring terrors he’d ever seen.

the body is not an apology, by BeeLove

In which Hermann triggers some of Newton’s insecurities and strives to make up for it.

When Two Substances Collide, by Emileesaurus and ripkord

Doctors Geiszler and Gottlieb — the first ones in and the last ones out. Thirteen scenes from the countdown to the end of the world.

Scar, by mlle

A tiny thing written for Jaegercon Bingo.

Not every tattoo makes a scar.

I’ve got nothing to say but it’s ok, by madness_and_smiles

Newt’s burned into Hermann’s brain now, like an itch he can’t scratch. Whenever they’re in the same room together – which Newt likes to make sure is almost always – there’s the low hum at the back of his mind telling him Newt is there and Newt is feeling and breathing and sometimes they feel and breathe in unison and it makes Hermann drop his chalk.

in which kaiju guts were not part of the wedding vows, by orphan_account

“You’ve got your glower face on,” Newt remarked above him, and Hermann opened his eyes just to scowl at Newt’s concerned face.

“I am a thread away from murdering my own science team, so, yes, I suppose a glower here and there would not go amiss.”

Seeing in Color, by what_alchemy

The Dr. Geiszler Hermann had found in the publications — printed pages worn with constant handling and tucked into his briefcase for easy access — was an eloquent scientist whose work functioned at a level far above almost anyone else Hermann had ever encountered in the field, and yet he neither patronized his readers nor expressed himself in the inexplicable jargon which so infected much academic work. He was singular in his intelligence. Hermann thought this was a man he could understand — and who could understand him in turn.

More fool he.

Kämpfen, by Huntsmonsters

“The point is that Hermann loves numbers like they were his children, except that Hermann hates children. He loves them and the way they go together the way Newt loves every sample that enters his collection, the way he loves tattoo needles and his books of scribbled anatomical drawings and the harried, barely legible, 4 in the morning notes scrawled around them when the first pieces of a freshly dead Kaiju come in. These are the tools with which they carve themselves, the knives and chisels and guides, the planes on which their shapes are made. Hermann is held up by his cane, but it isn’t the reason he’s standing. They’ve both gone through the rabbit hole and come out again with something clenched in their fists. ”

In which arguments are had over equations and entrails, vivisections are banned, and Newt uses ink to prepare for the possibility of death.

I Was the Match And You Were The Rock, by griesly

Written for the Jaegercon Bingo Square: ‘The Drift’

'Hermann is strong and solid and stable even if no one else at the PPDC would ever think so, Newt knows so, and come to think of it, he always has. He just never knew the man’s mind would be so goddamn beautiful, so bright and full of purpose and satisfaction at a job well done that somehow, impossibly, included him.’

Lucky Number Seven, by griesly

'Newton?’ Hermann called out, only to hear an answering 'Shhh!’ issue from behind a moving curtain. He appeared to have cordoned off an area in the back corner of the lab with heavy screens, labeled 'Light-Sensitive Specimens – DO NOT TOUCH.’ Newton poked his head around the corner with a slightly manic grin.

'Lock the door,’ he advised before motioning Hermann enthusiastically over to a break in a thick curtain. Hermann frowned and paced across the room, wondering what could possibly be so important and so secretive that Newton would have to obfuscate its very existence.

Whatever it was, Hermann was certain he wasn’t going to like it.

autoclave, by cynicalRaconteur

Or: How the fuck is she so attractive, she dresses like my grandfather, I want to punch myself in the face: the Newt Geiszler story.

nyctophobia (into the light of the dark black night), by orphan_account

“See, the thing about birthdays is they’re totally an annual thing,” Newt explained, handing Hermann his latte. “And I’ve known you for, what, twelve years? Thirteen?”

“Fifteen,” Hermann interjected tersely. “And a half.”

Do you have Prince Albert in a can?, by mwestbelle

Newt has a Prince Albert piercing. That’s about it.

This Most Beautiful System, by rosepetalfall

Like Watson and Crick, Newton Geiszler and Hedda Gottlieb are two scientific names almost invariably thought of together.

-

Hedda Gottlieb and Newton Geiszler grow up, save the world, conquer academia, defy the odds, do some ill-advised things, do some brilliant things, and learn about love. Not necessarily in that order.

In the Midst of the Blackest Storm, by TrufflesTheMushroom

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, at the precipice of our hope, at the new beginning of our time, we can choose not only to believe in ourselves, but in each other. Tomorrow, there will not be a single person on our shores who shall stand alone. Not tomorrow. Tomorrow we will face the monsters that are at our door and take the fight to them. Tomorrow, we are facing the apocalypse. As one.

Or: Tendo Choi used to coerce every Jaeger Strike Team in the Hong Kong Shatterdome into boosting its dwindling funds with shady black market deals, and this is how he gets everyone to slowly become a family once more as the world faces the re-opening of the Breach and humanity’s darkest hour.

Or: How To Trust When All Seems Hopeless

i forget the difference between seduction and arson, by gyzym

Ignition and cognition.

animals trapped (the cage is full), by liginamite

Because that’s the problem, isn’t it? The world doesn’t have time for affection, for intimacy, for anything more than quickly coming and cleaning off and heading back to work like nothing ever happened.

The Mathematician’s Answer, by ConstanceComment

“Prosper our handiwork; O prosper the work of our hands.” — Psalm 90

People Might Laugh at Your Tattoos, by callmejude

It’s armor.

Conversations You Don’t Know We’re Having, by adventuring

The spleen was doing something very uncooperative now, turning colors no alien spleen was meant to turn, and oh god, was something bubbling? That could not be good. “No, baby, no, I can fix this, I can do better, just give me one more chance,” he begged it, ignoring Hermann’s baffled, “Pardon?” in his ear. He grabbed frantically at the tongs, fumbling them, realized he probably couldn’t fix this situation one-handed, and said to Hermann, “Gotta go, important work to be done.”

“Newton, I swear to you, do not hang up this phone, follow my instructions—”

“No time, man, science is happening,” he said, and then without thought tacked on, “Bye, love you,” and threw the phone in what was likely the direction of his desk, not bothering to end the call. Hermann probably kept talking, but hello, science.

California King, by notastranger

Hermann is not a sleep cuddler. Bummer.

that every man might have need of other, by lymricks

In the few hours it took to reconcile Newton’s gone with Newton left, Hermann had created an elaborate fantasy: Newton kidnapped, Newton taken, Newton needing to be saved. He had not considered that leaving had been Newton’s idea. He had not thought it would be voluntary.

You Lost, Doctor?, by hailtherandom

“The next morning, Hermine goes to work with a clear head. It sticks for all of about thirteen minutes, until Newt walks into the offices in a pair of jeans and an old, threadbare undershirt instead of her usual button-down, and numbers flicker out of Hermine’s mind like lights in a Jaeger. Newt glances up and shoots her a filthy grin, then drops her coat on her desk and pulls out a pair of gloves. Hermine loses whole equations to the kaiju rippling over the muscles in Newt’s forearms.”

Private in Public, by spirogyra

Dr. Newton Geiszler and Dr. Hermann Gottlieb get introduced to life in a shatterdome, and somehow survive showering together for ten years even when they’re on separate continents.

Nightmares, by beckettemory

“Hermann frowned, remembering the bags under Newton’s eyes and the constant bubbling of the coffee maker in the corner brewing pot after pot of strong coffee all day.” ——————- Hermann, sore after a long day, passes the laboratory and realises that, though well into the night, Newton is still working, and has been acting strangely for a few days.

Lights On, by berlynn_wohl

Hermann’s solitude and shame was an immovable object inside him. He had yet to find out that it would soon encounter an unstoppable force.

Not While I’m Around, by callmejude

written for the kinkmeme prompt: In all the years they’ve worked with each other, Hermann can’t remember ever seeing Newt angry - upset and frustrated, maybe, but never angry. Sure, they argue and raise their voices at each other all the time, but that’s just lively intellectual discourse - they’re never really mad at each other. Hermann has always just kind of assumed that Newton is so easy going that nothing can set him off.

And then someone messes with Hermann, and Newton absolutely explodes with rage.

Come Away To The Water, by funnylookingfella

The Kaiju War is over, there are no Jaegers left, the mourning period has passed… but the hive mind lingers.

A Little Friendly Challenge, by moonblossom

Newt knows how to get Hermann to cooperate.

I wear your granddad’s clothes, I look incredible., by notastranger

Newton comes up with what he thinks is a hilarious Halloween costume. Things do not go as planned.

venus in fleurs, by indications

6.7k of boring-ass white boys touchin dicks

so it goes, by liginamite

The world needs Newton Geiszler, and with that thought in mind, it’s Hermann that drifts with the Kaiju instead.

sugar, spice, and graduate programs, by classyfanperson

Newt works at a coffee shop. Hermann is studying abroad at MIT. Pumpkin lattes are good for the soul.

Good Day for Ghosts, by cryogenia

Hermann wakes into the new world, and carries the remains of the old with him.

Equality, by pickleplum

“‘Immediate family only’ is our policy and no amount of yelling at me will change it, Doctor Geiszler. Unless you are Doctor Gottlieb are long-lost brothers, you need to calm down and wait in the reception area or we’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Newt makes a very loud exasperated noise and throws his hands in the air, but turns and marches into the waiting room. He drops himself onto a couch and pulls at his hair in frustration. I’m going to behave, he tells himself firmly. I’m not going to freak out over this total bullshit and get myself tossed out of here. No way. I can do this.

no man is an island, by narcomanic

Running away from the hive mind is easier said than done, especially when you’ve been so clever all your life that you never had to learn how to ask for help.

Time Will Crawl and Our Mouths Run Dry, by hailtherandom

It was Hermann’s idea, oddly enough. Sometimes Newt never quite believes that, thinks he made it up in a dream or a drunken haze, because Hermann, Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, does not suggest things like that. But he did, and Newt laughed in his face, and then blinked a few times and said, “what, really?” “Yes, really,” Hermann said. “It’s logical, Newton, if you take a moment to think about it.” — Hermann and Newt. Mutual handjobs at twenty-one hundred hours every Wednesday and Friday. Slight complications develop.

After Zero, by what_alchemy

The war is over. Hermann and Newt get on with their [sex] lives.

More Than I Can Return, by callmejude

written for the kinkmeme prompt: “Newt likes to flirt with Hermann, the fact that he never flirts back does not discourage him at all. An outsider might think that Newt is foolishly in love with someone who doesn’t care about him back at all. But one day in the lab out of nowhere, Hermann says, "Alright, what if I just bring you off with my hand? Will that make you more bearable?”

Newt’s thrilled and doesn’t miss a beat. “God, Hermann, a handy would be awesome right now! Thanks, man!”, all while he’s unzipping his fly and grabbing the surgical lube for improper use.

From then on they start hooking up whenever it pleases both of them. Sometimes handjobs, sometimes frottage, occasionally one will penetrate the other. But most importantly, Newt never stops calling Hermann “man” or “dude” during the act, and keeps talking as if Hermann was just doing him a mundane favour, or he was doing a favour for Hermann.

It isn’t until they sit on the sofa in Hermann’s room one night, cuddling up and making out after a taxing workday, with no signs of anyone unclothing or unzipping, that Newt thinks maybe affection has something to do with it.“

Jackpot, by notastranger

People say some strange things when coming out of anesthesia.

Cleaning Days, by jotc

All Hermann Gottlieb wanted was a clean lab space of his own.

Feels Like Reckless Driving, by lakehymn

“Did you just say I’m right about something?” Newton asks, feigning shock. Then he lightheartedly elbows Hermann in the ribs and adds, “I always knew you loved me.”

everyone needs a place (it shouldn’t be inside someone else), by orphan_account

His brain goes a gazillion miles an hour in loopy misdirectional circles, and when he dreams he dreams of kaiju biology, of being back in their lab, of sharp elbows in a small bed.

Chatter, by berlynn_wohl

“What do you think? Is today going to be a good day?”

Unhappy Campers (or Why You Can’t Perform CPR on Someone Who’s Still Breathing), by Jenni_Snake

A summer science camp field trip to the mountains. What could be more fun? Probably anything, especially for a group of nerdy science kids.

Hermann Gottlieb’s Stacker Pentecost Obsession Trapper Keeper, by what_alchemy

Hermann has a giant man crush on Stacker.

Newt finds it delightful. Herc, not so much.

what’s your rush, by Byacolate

Summary by me: An elaboration of Hermann and Newt’s relationship before and after the closing of the Breach.

Baby, You’re Hotter than my Bunsen Burner, by SkysongMA

They argue like they breathe—but that’s not all there is to it. Newt flirts, and it’s disgusting.

It’s not that Hermann minds flirting. The Kaidonovskies have propositioned everyone in the PPDC, or so it seems, and Tendo has intimated more than once that he wouldn’t mind spending some time in the lab, “talking numbers.” The Shatterdome is a small place. One has to practice somewhere.

It’s just that Newt is so bad at it.

Becoming History, by Scientia_Fantasia

Sure, the phrase “crotchety old man who obviously pays no attention to the current scientific community” may have snuck its way into one of the letters, but hey, that’s what you get for calling Up-And-Coming Scientific Rockstar Newton Geiszler “some kid.” Like, the guy had it coming. Really.

It Is not Heaven, It Is Home, by bravinto

Finding the love of your life is awfully anticlimactic.

Fleece, by berlynn_wohl

Newt and Hermann enjoy a day of terminally fluffy domesticity, with maybe a few minutes set aside for shenanigans on the sofa. Also, monsters (duh).

For What It’s Worth, I’d Do It Again, by callmejude

Between finding Newton seizing on the floor and running to get Pentecost, Hermann needs to make sure Newton is okay.

The Stretch and Pull of Disused Hearts, by billiethepoet

Newt notices that the move to the Anchorage Shatterdome is affecting Hermann’s leg. So Newt builds him a hot yoga studio out of spare parts and an abandoned storage closet. Obviously.

Best Cock On The Block, by hobbitdragon

They’ve been so close and yet so far for fourteen years now, but the drift is the pebble that starts the avalanche of change. (By which we mean sex)

This started out as a short ficlet and quickly grew beyond ficlet status into a full-blown fic. I guess I really wanted to write more trans smut.

The Seconds In Between, by orphan_account

Sort of a day in the life of Hermann (and Newt, always with Newt). Mostly, I had a lot of tiny little headcanons and then tried to spin them all together in a fic.

hallo mutti, hallo vati, by classyfanperson

Newt and Hermann visit the Gottlieb family after the Breach is closed. Some are happier to see them than others.

The Cost of Craving Dark Instead of Light, by sonnie

Summary by me: Monica Schwartz and her son, Newton. 

The Two Weirdos Who Work In The Lab, by berlynn_wohl

Two vignettes about the worst kept secret in the Shatterdome.

he’s thunderstorms, by mundaneanarchy

Wherein Newt maybe possibly has a teeny tiny itsy bitsy almost microscopic crush on a certain grumpy old mathematician and Hermann falls and can’t get up. Angsty pining ensues. (explicit for chapter 2)

Never Done with Killing Time, by orphan_account

In between one day and the next, there’s always some time for some loving.

Quantum Degeneracy, by trell

Newt makes a sound from where he’s hidden behind his kaiju, behind his arms, and then he croaks, "I can’t play anymore.”

Hermann’s eyes flick to the electric keyboard sitting near Newt’s desk—a paper-covered, disorganized disaster of a thing—and he says, quietly, “Ah.”

the best laid plans, by liginamite

The plan, you see, was to totally sex Hermann up immediately after the world was saved. But you know that old saying about well-laid plans.

Generated Affects, by trell

Twelve is you washing your hands ten times up to the elbow in the space of the half an hour you spend prepping kaiju entrails for long-term cryo. It’s him that stops you, him that struggles over to the sink on his cane and grabs you by the wrists, hands fitting perfectly over the open maws of Hundun and Yamarashi, and he says “Stop,” and “Newton, think, this isn’t like you, it is like—” and the me hangs unspoken but you get it, let him guide you over to a bench in the lab and force you to sit still long enough to tone down the compulsion.

five times newt proposed to hermann and the one time he said yes, by mundaneanarchy

title is self explanatory.

alternate title: the fear of falling apart

warning: cheesy and kinda dumb

macho dudes in lace undies, by mundaneanarchy

Summary by me: Newt, Hermann and a lingerie kink.

one last kiss while we’re far too young to die, by mundaneanarchy

Newt and Hermann meet, fall in love, hate each other, lose each other, find each other, kiss drunkenly, save/destroy the world, and get married. All in that order.

it is one way to live, by fuckener

Newt would stay stuck in the wartime if nobody tried pulling him out of it.

Black Velvet Rabbits rockstar AU, by spirogyra

Summary by me: In which Hermann is the number one fan of Newt’s rock band, The Black Velvet Rabbits.

Sea Swept, by cypress_tree

A high seas fantasy AU in which Hermann is a ship’s navigator and Newton is found washed up among flotsam.

there are no atheists in foxholes, by liginamite

Newt and Hermann have been feeling off since they helped to cancel the apocalypse. They’re losing time, long black-outs, periods of aggression. The feeling that there’s something else, something they can’t pin down.

The thing is, the Kaiju drift left something behind in the both of them, and it’s determined to get out.

Can’t Wait for You to Shut Me Up, by callmejude

written for the kink meme prompt: “Hermann tells Newt to shut up, Newt tells Hermann to make him. They make out. That’s the prompt.”

(That may have been the prompt but I admit to it going much further than that.)

Dead Letter Chorus, by QuokkaFoxtrot

It’s if you’ve never heard anything true. But we will try 'til the next time or the last time. Dead Letter Chorus - You Am I

Newt owns a coffee shop. Hermann is a tenured professor at the local university. Their relationship has its ups and downs.

Also: Chuck is a champion barista, Mako is a world travelling Direct Trade negotiator, Stacker and Herc play a lot of chess, and Tendo owns Shatterdome Records.

Much coffee is consumed. (Except by Hermann who is a priss about how his tea should be prepared.)

bones, sinking like stones, by mundaneanarchy

You don’t love him. You don’t love him even though you do, you know you do, you know you do so much it hurts, but you don’t.

have yourself a merry little christmas, by classyfanperson

Hermann isn’t going home for Hanukkah, so Newt insists they both visit his family back home. They continue to not talk about their feelings.

Or: A Very Geiszler Christmas.

Newton Geiszler’s 11 Ways to Save the World, by kaijukonjou

Keep to yourself, keep your chin up, and maybe you’ll make it out in one piece.

Five Times Newt And Hermann Kiss While They Are Drunk, by luceluceluceluce

A brief timeline of the apocalypse from the perspective of a pair of nerds: a story of science, alcohol, and love.

Become What We’ve Always Been, by irisbleufic

Hermann doesn’t have enough time to experience a crisis over Newton’s response to his unvoiced request; he’s drifting into that self-same lethargy, eyelids heavy, his arm across the cane gone slack.

it wouldn’t be make believe, by infinituity

“By the way, dude,” he says, and he reaches down both to grab his notepad as well as to avoid looking at Hermann, “my parents think we’re dating.”

Instead of the expected angry yelling, he gets only silence in response, so he looks up to see Hermann opening his mouth to speak, reconsidering, closing it, and repeating. After several more repeats than strictly necessary, he sighs and slumps down in his seat.

“Of course they do,” he says.

sweet as anything, by classyfanperson

Newt is embarrassed about certain aspects of her body. Hermine is considerably more enthusiastic.

The Statistics of Touch, by WheresPeebs

Alternate Title: If You Would Just Stop Interrupting Each Other, Everything Would Be Worked Out in the First Friggin’ Paragraph.

Hermann is uncomfortable with public displays of… well, anything. It causes problems.

First, by cypress_tree

Newt and Hermann’s first time is Newt’s first first time.

Roses are red, and if that’s kaiju blue so help me Newton, by unnecessary

Summary by me: Newton and Hermann have some communication problems. 

point me in the direction of the last setting sun, by orphan_account

They were two women standing against the end of the world.

Urine Trouble, by kinkitsecretkinkitsafe

Hermann has a thing for watersports. Newt finds out.

breathing free and even, by classyfanperson

He’s working on it. They’re working on it.

High-Five for Hatesex, by kinkitsecretkinkitsafe

Summary by me: Newton has a thing for Hermann and justifies it as hate!sex. He might be wrong.

Counterpoint, by kinkitsecretkinkitsafe

Summary by me: Sequel to High-Five for Hatesex.

a thousand spiders down the drain, by Byacolate

Children can be so cruel to boys who pick flowers.

Secret Agent Scientist, by Malteaser

Written for the prompt: Hermann, secret badass; He has something cool like a fencing saber installed in his cane and when someone fucks with them he kicks their ass and keeps talking like nothing happened.

A Little Kindness Goes a Long Way, by patster223

Newt liked to purposefully annoy Hermann in order to get rough sex. Which worked out great, until Hermann found out about it and decided to punish Newt by giving him excruciatingly nice sex.

cross my heart and take me with you, by drashian

The first time Hermann meets Newton Geiszler, they are pleasant with each other for about 10 minutes until suddenly they’re duking it out about Hermann’s theories of transdimensional transport.

The second time Hermann meets Newton Geiszler, they just start yelling.

The third time Hermann meets Newton Geiszler, it is in the toxic blue haze of the Drift.

Anthology ‘Verse (& Related Errata), by irisbleufic

Summary by me: a study of the relationship between Hermann and Newt, from the beginning to the future.

Parallax / Perihelion, by irisbleufic 

Parallax—the apparent displacement of an observed object due to a change in the position of the observer; from the Greek, παράλλαξις (“alteration”). / Perihelion—the point in the orbit of an asteroid, comet, planet, or other celestial body where it is nearest to the sun (again from the Greek, περιήλιο).

One-Week Rule, by irisbleufic

Somebody’s got a stick up his theoretical vortex. Starting this off with a bang?

We’re Revolutionaries Now, by AxolotlQueen

One really shouldn’t attempt to cut one’s own hair.

(Or, Hermione Gottlieb gives herself a bad haircut and Newton Geiszler helps out.)

Newton Geiszler and His Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Interns, by cambion and casdere

“I know, it’s all a bit silly,” he admits.

“You always get a bit silly about your crushes, yeah?” She teases easily, and Hermann nearly spits out his mouthful of soup. Jasmine gives him another concerned look, but he waves her away.

“Vanessa, can you please not,” he hisses under his breath, and she laughs with the phone pulled away from her face, sounding like distant bells, and he feels taken back to high school, and remembers the fumbling idiocy of his crush on her, and knows immediately she is right, and he ought to give up the fight. He has a crush, an honest to God crush, and at his age! He knows, surely, it started with his fascination of the man’s intellect, but he also knows how quickly and easily he was drawn into his off-kilter charisma, as well.

or: hermann and newt are college professors, newt is working on his sixth doctorate, hermann is nursing a nasty crush, and i fit way too much into one chapter

scene after scene, by drashian

Everything had been banking on the world ending.

It doesn’t end, though, and that leaves everyone with this big hole where the future they didn’t plan for suddenly stretches ahead of them.

Newt struggles and reaches to fill that hole, and comes up with two things: Hermann Gottlieb and a cross-country road trip.

Chalk It Up To Love, by patster223

Newt replaced all of Hermann’s white pieces of chalk with pink ones. Or: the one in which chalk is a form of courtship, Hermann is head-over-heels, and somehow the entire Shatterdome gets involved.

The Apple In Our Hands, by irisbleufic

Summary: 1950!AU in which Newt is a cryptozoologist trying to find the Loch Ness monster, Hermann is more or less the same, and they have to share a cabin in Scotland.

Ice to Meet You, by patster223

Hermann is eating a rather phallic-looking popsicle and Newt is pretty sure he might actually die from sexual frustration.

In Sweden, and Elsewhere, by rillrill

Newt had just thrown down his end of the half-assembled bookshelf and shouted, “Whatever! It still makes no sense that two acclaimed and accomplished scientists with the combined brainpower of four average adults can’t put together a goddamn shelf!” Because, seriously, he can build an improvised neural bridge out of old lab machinery and an ancient Mr. Coffee, but he’s undone by three missing pegs? Fuck this.

Newt and Hermann rebuild, relocate, accept the Nobel Prize for Physics, fight over furniture, and strive to carve out a space for themselves in a world where they’re inextricably linked - in the the press, in their personal lives, and in their own heads.

Magic and Progress, by patster223

The Hogwarts AU in which Newt is a wizard, Hermann is a Muggle, and somehow they manage to save the world and love each other anyway.

Self-Destruct, by pinkmoon

“He learns how to never be wrong. He learns how to be indispensable. He realizes it makes him unstoppable.

Newton Geiszler is one tick away from self-destructing for the rest of his life.”

A character study of Newt’s lifetime of risky behavior and predilection for taking risks of the “rock star” sort. (Spanning many years, continents, arguments, and accidents, but landing, unexpectedly, in a happy ending.)

Today Your Barista Is: Hella Fucking Gay, by unnecessary

Hermann is a professor. The barista at the coffee shop across the street is cute and very, very single.

It is inevitable, really.

Predictable, by cypress_tree

It’s a movie date, but they’re not really watching the movie.

Adventures In Knitting, by decadent_mousse

Newt decides to knit Hermann a sweater, with… mixed results.

You’ve Taken A Pizza My Heart, by decadent_mousse

Hermann and Newt are so busy with work, they don’t get much time to go out to dinner, so Newt decides to improvise.

Fear of a Name, by uhnonniemiss

Newt and Hermann never could decide on how to define what they are to each other. It takes several years, thousands of kisses, a vat of acid, a big fight, and a sunny Boston evening to help them choose.

every day I fight a war against the mirror, by thekaidonovskys

“It came at a price,” he says. “To understand them, I had to learn how to fear them.”

Cut to the Chase, by patster223

Hermann needs a haircut. He does not need the cute hairdresser to flirt with him, he does not need a scalp massage, and he does not need anything trendy or stylish done to his hair.

Thankfully, these are things that happen anyway. Barbershop AU, featuring hairdresser!Newt and smitten!Hermann.

The Sublime, by Lucretius

The waves are coming closer to them now, and yes, the tide is coming to them with crescendo crashes.

The white fringe of sea is mere fathoms away.

“Can we?” Hermann asks.

And it is the question that one asks because, the choice having been made in what feels like another lifetime, now, for the first time, there is someone here, here, right here—who can see a way of being and seeing long dormant under so many layers of performing and seeming.

Recover, by irisbleufic

You’re my new favorite blanket. Come inside?

Untoward, by LemonScience33

Newton licks his bottom lip. “Maybe, um…” he says.

Newton doesn’t continue. Hermann wills his breathing to remain steady. “Yes?”

Newton shrugs casually. “Maybe we could give each other a hand,” he says. “Just two friends… you know, helping each other out.”

Knocking Socks, by decadent_mousse

Hermann and Newt go sock-shopping.

Listening, by cypress_tree

Newt has a dirty talk kink, and Hermann has a really nice voice.

Act Together, by irisbleufic

“You know I’m only a liar when it matters, right?”

You + Me = Happiness ², by steviekat

The thing is, Newt had never really put much thought into the future. The future of K-Science? Sure! Her own? To be fair, this probably better than anything she could have imagined.

Got Your Back, by Doooooooom

The workload is taking its toll on Hermann’s shoulders. Luckily, Newt is a dab hand at shoulder massages.

That’s one way to shut you up, by offensiveagentpie

Based on this fanart by pixiepunch.

Hermann tries a new tactic to get Newt to be quiet for once.

wash us away, by thekaidonovskys

Thank god Hermann undresses after he’s entered the bathroom, or else walking in to find Newt sitting on the bench top would have been much much worse.

visions are seldom what they seem, by mundaneanarchy

Hermann likes Tchaikovsky. Newt likes Hermann.

The Sun On Your Face (I’m Freezing That Frame), by irisbleufic

“Hate to break it to you,” Newton whispers, kissing Hermann’s neck with a happy sigh before letting his head drop to rest against Hermann’s shoulder, “but we’re busted in five, four, three—”

“Your ass is mine, Geiszler!” shouts Officer Hak, barging into the lab. “You too, Doctor Gottlieb. If you think you can get off so easy—”

The Good Old Days, by decadent_mousse

Hermann and Newt go scavenging for supplies during a blackout and get more than they bargained for.

A Proper Family Christmas, by uhnonniemiss

When Hermann ends up in the medical wing, he looks all set to spend Christmas by himself. Not if Newt gets a say in it, though.

Or, in which adopted and blood family save the Holidays

The Friendmas Ficlet Collection, by cypress_tree

A collection of five unrelated ficlets written as Christmas gifts for friends:

geniusbee: Hermann hurt/comfort patster223: Hermann wearing nail polish thehorrorinsymmetry: Hermann in lingerie bravinto: belly rubs decadentmousse: Harvest Moon AU

Aftershocks, by tastewithouttalent

“Hermann has to stumble away because the Drift is still too fresh and he can’t tell the heat of Newton’s body apart from his own anymore.” The impact of the Drift hits Hermann, and he and Newt don’t make it back to the laboratory.

Au Naturel, by decadent_mousse

Newt gives Hermann a wake up call during a very boring meeting.

Fortune’s Favor, by tamerofdarkstars

In which there is kissing, the end of the world, the subsequent salvation of the world, and more kissing.

Fills Trope_Bingo: Round 4 - Celebratory Kiss

Bump in the Night, by unicornsandbutane

Newt’s made a mistake, and it’s really a subjective matter whether it was a poor decision altogether or just a mere miscalculation. Regardless, he is forced to phone Hermann in the middle of the night, to deal with the consequences.

But the Gesture is Ruined, by cypress_tree

Five times Hermann tried to be romantic, one time he succeeded without even meaning to. A K-Sci romcom, basically.

Strange Bedfellows, by decadent_mousse

When Hermann and Newt first arrive at the Hong Kong Shatterdome, a paperwork mix-up forces them to share a room for awhile.

followed your ashes into outer space, by parpar

The numbers of the War Clock ticked down to zero, and the resulting euphoria was thick as smoke in the air. The assortment of PPDC members and civilian contractors were in an uproar, and Hermann and Newton made their way down the LOCCENT steps to stand in the midst of it.

When Tendo had finally managed to get Mako and Raleigh to stop hugging and cooperate with the rescue team, Newton had leaned his forehead into the curve of Hermann’s shoulder.

“We actually pulled it off,” he had whispered. “We did it, holy shit, it’s over.” Hermann had gracefully ignored the tears soaking into his collar and patted his colleague on the back while he pulled himself together.

Occupational Hazard, by decadent_mousse

Hermann overworks himself and gets a migraine.

In Space No One Can Hear You Mop, by decadent_mousse

Hermann and Newt are janitors sent to a derelict ship to clean things up after a group of aliens massacred the entire crew… but are they the only ones on board?

Liminality, by what_alchemy

What we know, after.

Fortuna Favet, by Mipeltaja

Newton seemed to think one could invoke good fortune simply by being bold enough or loud enough, a notion Hermann found utterly ridiculous.

It wasn’t that Hermann didn’t believe chance could on occasion work in his favour, it was just that life had taught him not to rely on it.

Brainspace and Kinkspace, by Emmalyn

Summary by me: Newt and Hermann exploring some of the delights of kinky sex.

Desperate Times, by decadent_mousse

Newt finds Hermann in a terrible state.

Matchsnaking, by patster223

There is a snake in Hermann’s apartment. This is not how he wanted to start his day.

Apartment neighbors AU where Newt’s snake keeps sneaking into Hermann’s apartment.

Put a Pin in That, by unicornsandbutane

Newt tries to convince Hermann to participate in a charity event. What ensues might be classed as ‘hijinks’, ‘shenanigans’, or ‘hilarity’, depending upon your perspective.

Remains, by berlynn_wohl

Newt and Hermann wrap Christmas presents and talk about death.

You Love Me Not, by mundaneanarchy

A story of love and coping with love told from the second-person perspective of Newt.

Newt loves Hermann and Hermann loves Newt but sometimes it’s not that easy.

Statiscally Significant Other, by unicornsandbutane

Flattery will get you everywhere.

Or, the fic computerbaby on tumblr requested, in which Newt compliments Hermann and Hermann is really really into it.

Pasta Aisle, by cypress_tree

Hermann and Newt meet for the first time in a grocery store. Hermann helps Newt grab something off a high shelf. Newt takes offense.

Disconnect, Connect Again, by cypress_tree

Raising Newt Geiszler has never been easy. Seeing him fall in love can be harder.

The development of Newt and Hermann’s relationship, from Jacob Geiszler’s point-of-view.

Spaces Between, by adropofred

Newt had not realised, somehow, that the world not ending would mean it would stubbornly keep on turning without waiting for him to catch up.

So what? He’s a scientist. He’ll do some catching up of his own and lose himself in the labyrinth of his and Hermann’s brains and their bodies.

This is absolutely not to be considered hiding, not that they can hide much anymore.

The Six Million Pillows Man, by adropofred

As it turns out, Hermann’s room is nothing special. His bed, on the other end, is very, very special.

Of course, Newt wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t find a way to turn this revelation into a situation where he could put his foot in his mouth.

Time For You and Time For Me, by patster223

A collection of Newmann prompts that I’ve filled on my tumblr. Contains: AUs, pining, flirting, bickering, several chapters of Hermann’s filthy exhibitionist kink, and two nerds learning to love each other in as many ways as possible.

The Beholder, by ItsClydeBitches

Written for the Newmann-uendo Hurt/Comfort challenge.

Hermann is feeling pretty insecure about his body. He’s unattractive. That’s a fact. Luckily Newton Geiszler’s number one law is still in place:

Hermann Gottlieb is ALWAYS wrong.

we’ll leave our tracks untraceable, by confused_android

When she steps off the plane in Logan International, something tight in her shoulders cracks, loosens, and she shakes free the last barb the PPDC had through her spine, through her brain, keeping her tense and wary for most of a decade. She yanks her heavy suitcase off of the carousel, identifiable by the years of layered duct tape repairing a seam that could once have been stitched, and flags the first taxi that will stop for her.

Permanent Ink, by mundaneanarchy

Inspired by this piece of fanart (http://rockstar-ologist.tumblr.com/post/126950663313) by rockstar-ologist

Newt gets Hermann’s initials tattooed on his hand. A month into their relationship. Hermann isn’t too happy about it.

Castaways’ Window, by Chancy_Lurking

“There are no words for the thoughts he has in that moment, because they are not his thoughts.”

Rings, by perniciousLizard

Three scenes, post movie. They’re happy.

Right Hand: Heart, by QuokkaFoxtrot

Two beers. That was all it took these days.

Dance In The Graveyards, by LemonScience33

As they round the next corner and lights come on, Newt’s first thought is, This had better be worth it, because we’re definitely gonna get caught.

His second thought is, That is the skull of Otachi’s baby, with lights strung over it.

His third thought is, This is definitely worth it.

Sweater Wars, by paenteom

Hermann takes his fashion illiteracy to new, festive levels. Newt is forced to retaliate.

Die Musik Kommt, by romangold

Maybe everyone’s drowning in the day, the night, memories and regrets and guilts, in relief, in pure, unadulterated happiness. Maybe they’re all dying.

Hermann finds Newt after the apocalypse is cancelled, and the two realize that perhaps they aren’t so toxic together after all.

Nigel, by uhnonniemiss

A particularly harsh snowstorm has brought the boiler- and Hermann- to a standstill.

(My piece for the 2015 Pacrim Holiday Swap!)

Etude, Op. 25 No. 12, by romangold

The climax always resolves to major, no matter how many times you play the piece. And the heroes always win, despite the amount of times you rewind to the beginning or fast-forward to the end.

sharing half our genes, and nothing in between, by getmean

“Christ, Hermann, is this a letterman jacket?” Newt cried, spinning and holding it up with a level of glee he hadn’t reached since he got that salivary gland from Mutavore. “How cliché can you get?”

Plausible Possibility, by cissues

Newt and Hermann experience some odd post-drift effects.

mountains sunk below the sea, by getmean

Newton has been, and always will be, what his father calls a ‘tough nut to crack’, but has an element of horrifying vulnerability that makes Hermann’s skin crawl. He selfishly likes Newton best when all his walls are intact.

netflix and chill, by w0rm

Hermann does the Netflix, Newt does the chill.

How to Deal with Accidental Neural Oversharing and Other Scientific Conundrums, by yourguardianangel

The world has not ended. Operation Pitfall is successful. Celebrations are had. But how are two snarky scientists meant to cope with having way too much of each others internal monologues retroactively overlaid with their own memories?

(with smut, that’s how.)

It’s All Good, by spirogyra

Thoughtless words, hurt feelings, cryptic statements, the drift makes things easier and more difficult, but in the end… it’s all good.

追伸, by lamphouse

“If I recall correctly, this is the man who confessed to wanting a pet Godzilla for his twentieth birthday, is it not? Glass houses, Dr. Geiszler.”

It takes two months for Newton Geiszler to fall in love. It takes thirty months, around two hundred letters, several time zones, and two missed-ish connections for him to actually admit it.

it’s alright, don’t you let it inside, by areunasty

They’re taking Gipsy Danger out for a trial run, and Newt watches with mild interest as the mech slices cleanly through the ocean. He thinks that if he was that big anything would be easy. Loving someone difficult, being loved, the quiet and painful twist of Hermann’s mouth whenever he looks at Newt recently.

The Price of Ghost Drifting, by confettiinmyhair

Newt is home early. Hermann has a surprise.

concentric circles, by lamphouse

It’s times like these that Hermann finds himself checking and double-checking his list of reasons why he works at the library. It’s also times like these that prove why nowhere on said list does it mention the people he works with.

The Boyfriend Experience, by berylnn_wohl

In the Shatterdome, Hermann confesses his disappointment that his and Newt’s relationship lacks romance. After the war is over, Newt vows to spend one year righting this wrong as they travel the world together on a lecture tour.

Everything We Never Said, by JennaCupcakes

Newt has a few regrets about his drift with Hermann. Namely, that he’s had a crush on the guy for a while and really doesn’t want him to find out.

Echoes in the Well of Silence, by unicornsandbutane

Hermann can hear Newton through the ducts.

Wishbone, by cypress_tree

Hermann doesn’t have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving, so Newt invites him over for food, family, and a little bit of flirting. Just a warm, fuzzy college AU to get you through the holidays.

Do Scientists Dream of Cloned Sheep?, by paenteom

Newt fumbles with the key card before he finally manages to swipe it, throws the door open and freezes.

There’s only one bed.

It’s massive, and covered in the fluffiest blanket he has ever seen, but it’s undeniably singular.

“Uh,” he says. “Awkward.”

Laughter, Confession, by cypress_tree

He’s nervous and awkward and he’s afraid he’ll mess up, but god, he wants this so bad.

Proving a Point, by steampunkepsilon

Newt thinks Hermann is a shy, reserved, vanilla kind of guy. Newt is wrong, and Hermann has sources.

Slumber Sequence, by strigine

Summary by me: Newton and Hermann’s sleeping habits.

Clean Clock, by cissues

'“So, you’re that guy, huh?” The man says, finally. He has his back to the newly emptied and even more newly dirtied sink and Hermann’s gaze is fixated on the encrusted plates and wine-stained glassware.’

Or, where Hermann is a hermit and also a clean freak with messy roommates.

Linguistics, by cypress_tree

Literally just a thousand words of Newt masturbating while listening to Hermann give an interview on a podcast.

i ain’t holy, i ain’t close, by queenofthestarrrs

The end of the world feels like home.

tell me you’ll love me for a million years, by buckgaybarnes

Hermann is working late, so Newt decides to be a great husband and tackle their chores. He mostly succeeds.

lost connection, by orphan_account

When the Shatterdome stays open for continuing research, the K-Science team realizes they’ll actually have to deal with the after-effects of their Drift.

Trial and Error, by cypress_tree

A romantic comedy of errors in which Newt and Hermann try to spice things up….and fail spectacularly.

Mixed Signals, by SkysongMA

After the Drift, Hermann starts having sex dreams.

Newt’s sex dreams.

That are all about Hermann.

Oh Mein Me, by junkiechurch

You wonder how a heart like his could ever love a man like you.

clothes (or a lack thereof), by orphan_account

Once the war is over, Hermann and Newt move in together. Newt realizes how little clothing they actually own.

[unless-we-choose-to-reverse-it]

Re: Contrapoints.

So Natalie Wynn, AKA Contrapoints, recently deleted her Twitter. And I’m going to state, up front, that if you are celebrating this fact, you are the problem. Inb4 y’all cancel my ass about this.

And to give the TL;DR up front: this is a post about what “cancel culture” actually looks like. Actual violent abusers being named and shamed is not cancel culture. Sex pests and people who are genuinely fucking hateful being accurately described as such? Not cancel culture. That’s a thing called “I don’t want to associate with these bastards, and I want other people to know that they are bastards.”

But let’s talk about what actual cancel culture looks like. I’m going to put the rest of this under a “read more” so that I don’t put an entire goddamn essay on everyone’s feed.

For those who do not know, Natalie Wynn operates the YouTube channel Contrapoints, focused on discussing leftist politics with a particular focus on gender and sex. Natalie, being a trans woman, has a level of insider knowledge that a lot of performatively woke people online lack, and her work, true to her nom de plume, often deals with the fact that these are complicated issues.

She has a considerable following, and a good deal of her following consists of men who she has essentially saved from becoming alt-right shitlords. Her production values, knack for performance, and willingness to recognize complex issues when she sees them has a certain power with people who are not already involved in leftist circles, and while many of her takes are fairly pedestrian by the standards of people DEEP into left-leaning circles, she is one of the avenues for bringing people into leftist politics from outside. Go onto any one of her most popular videos, and you’ll see the comments filled with people talking about how Natalie made them change their minds. It’s a beautiful kind of thing.

Now, am I loading the conversation a bit because I am a fan of Contrapoints? Yes. Yes I am. Because I believe that her work is valuable to modern leftism. She is a propagandist, and what’s more, she’s a brilliant propagandist. Where so many people attempt to bring people into leftism through shame, she entertains and entices, and presents a force that reactionary shitbags seem incapable of attacking.

But where reactionaries find themselves wanting, the Puritans have plenty of ammo to destroy progressive spaces from within.

Fast forward to a few days ago. Natalie Wynn posts a tweet talking about asking for pronouns. Now, because she deleted her Twitter and I don’t have the tweet in front of me, I cannot quote it verbatim, but to paraphrase, she said that asking for people’s pronouns isn’t always the best idea, since it can make binary trans people feel like they’re being isolated and viewed as “less than” their gender.

Okay, have we read that? Good. Let’s consider that for a second.

This is a genuinely good point to make, and it mostly arose from her own feelings of discomfort re: being a trans woman and finding trans-inclusive spaces uncomfortable on that account. Perhaps the point was not elegantly made, but still.

Non-binary trans folk, binary trans folk who can “pass,” and binary trans folk who cannot; they all have different needs. For some people, asking about pronouns is an affirming thing, something which allows them to articulate themselves fully and prevents them from dealing with people misgendering them. For others, especially those who are interested in a more classically gendered expression, asking about pronouns can feel like misgendering, can feel like people regard you as less than your actual self.

This is a discussion that needs to be had. How can the community balance different needs from very closely linked groups of people? How can we reconcile the needs of people who are openly defiant of gender norms and who want their opposition to that recognized, with the needs of people who are more comfortable with traditionally gendered expression and who want to be recognized as such?

It’s a conversation that needs to be had. Unfortunately, subtlety is dead on Twitter dot com. And on social media in general.

When I talk about “Puritans,” I refer to a specific subset of Extremely Online progressives. Just as the IRL Puritans seemed to disdain any kind of Christian teachings of love, community, and acceptance in favour of control, guilt, and hating thy neighbour, the “Puritans” seem to derive their politics solely from a sense of guilt and control, and relish in attacking those who are not Woker Than Thou.

The average Online Puritan is far more concerned with cancelling other progressives than they are with opposing evil in this world. Opposing reactionaries? Nah, that might actually do something. Let’s just attack other progressives, and then wonder why people don’t seem eager to support our causes. Opposing people who are actually making the lives of LGBT people worse in tangible ways? Pfft, that would take work. Hey, let’s nitpick every form of art that displays anything remotely shitty, because clearly, depicting shitty things in art or consuming art with dark themes means that you actually want to do those things in the real world. Hey, let’s all dogpile this queer creator who is trying to convert alt-right shitlords to the good side of history! Surely, that’ll advance our cause!

Hell, I think there’s something to that comparison, because at the heart of both groups is the idea of the Elect and the Reprobates. An unfortunate aspect of modern western culture is that we tend to believe that people are good or evil at heart. This is a really dumb idea. Good and evil are not things that we are; they’re things that we do. We perform good acts and evil acts upon this world, and when I say “we,” I mean all of us. Sometimes, I see people who otherwise do really good things for the world do something really stupid. Sometimes, otherwise monstrous people do good stuff.

But if we believe that some are Elect and others are Reprobates, then that paradigm is impossible. The Elect cannot sin, and since it is a sin to not believe yourself one of the Elect, then you must enforce this law upon all others. If they sin, they are a Reprobate. Alternatively, you must work hard to explain why what they just did wasn’t actually a sin, so they’re still good, actually!

This, right here, is cancel culture. It isn’t accurately calling out people who have done legitimately evil things. It isn’t attempting to get predatory people out of the community. It’s this dichotomy between the Elect and the Reprobates, and the need to constantly enforce that We Are The Elect and that All Who Do Not Match Up Are Reprobates. No willingness to admit the recovering shitheads who might not fully grasp the issue without some help. No consideration that people who do minor stupid things might just need gentle correction to set them on the righteous path. Nope, none of that. Any sin makes you a Reprobate, and Reprobates Must Be Purged.

I should stop beating around the bush. The Online Puritans descended, because apparently, “we should consider how this makes people feel” means, “asking for a person’s pronouns is personally attacking me.” In other words, Natalie was now a Reprobate.

What followed was Natalie clarifying her point and even attempting to throw her critics a bone, suggesting that she wasn’t as considerate as she needed to be about the ways that non-binary people would interpret her words. The response was unchanging. Other leftists came to her defense, but they were, of course, Cancelled as well, as I am sure to be the second that people discover this post. Eventually, Natalie deleted her Twitter, and the Online Puritans rejoiced at another Reprobate driven off of Twitter like it was any real victory. 

Now, this is not the death of Contrapoints. She still has her channel, and a shitload of people who will continue to watch her content, like me. But a woman who, in my personal opinion, is a force for good in this shithole we call the internet, was essentially driven off of a social media platform because the Puritans decided that she was a Reprobate.

And to anyone who wants to declare me a Reprobate for making this post: go the fuck ahead. I am not perfect, and I am certainly not one of the Elect; hell, I’m no Calvinist, so I don’t even regard those as valid categories. And furthermore: you, the Elect, are as great a danger to progressive spaces as the reactionaries, because you force us to fight on two fronts. You force us to oppose each other, as opposed to standing together for the betterment of the world. And for fucks sake, is it too much to ask that the people who are getting fucked over the most by the current order should stand together in opposition to it?

So fuck it. I stand with Contrapoints. Puritans are cancelled.

[dustylovelyrun]

Novel Prep Tag: Viva La Revenge of the Deceased

(The title is still a work in progress)

Tagged by @keen2meecha. Thank you so much, human!

First Look

1. Describe your novel in 1-2 sentences (elevator pitch).

Conchobhar Raelyn expected many things from life, most of them unusual, but one of the few things that she hadn’t, one that she considered out of the realm of possibility, impossible, and therefore never happening, was stumbling upon the ghost of her estranged, childhood friend, Thomas Dionisio, in the middle of her living room at five a.m. She also hadn’t expected that, in the face of his untimely death, she would be the number one person on his list of earth-bound mortals to help him enact his revenge, either, but here she was.

2. How long do you plan for your novel to be? (Novella, single book, book series, etc.)

It’s going to be more than a single book. I’m not sure if it’ll be a duology or trilogy, but there’s probably not going to be more than three.

3. What’s your novel’s aesthetic?

Large forests filled with towering trees, and encampments hidden deep within. The scent of smoke in the air, and inexplicably cold winds. A city street filled with unmemorable people, a stream of faces that fade away and dissipate in the wind. Warmth, and exasperation, but also the feeling of feet dangling high above roiling seas, and the growing steel of determination.

4. What other stories inspired your novel?

I’m not sure, but. There’s one person on here. They have a burning man in one of their wips? I’ve forgotten who, but my brain might’ve run away with that, a bit. Someone burned up, charred and mangled, and trapped in a ghostly form. And there’s a few touches of BNHA characters in there, too. And a tumblr post about aromantics marrying for tax benefits and convenience. 

5. Share 3+ images that give a feel for the novel

Main Characters

6. Who is your protagonist?

Conchobhar Raelyn is the main protagonist. Thomas Dionisio is the secondary one. He’s as important as she is, no doubt, but most of it’s told through her view.

7. Who is their closest ally?

Declan and Jezebel. Both of them are Conchobhar’s sort-of partners. It’s a little bit more complicated, and it’s honestly more platonic than anything, but. That’s where the post comes in, and what they call each other. There’s an agreement between all of them that it’d literally take Hell tearing apart the Earth before any of them refused to stand by the others. For better or worse.

Thomas doesn’t... really have anybody but Conchobhar, so. He’ll have to make do with them, too.

8. Who is their enemy?

Probably the people that killed Thomas! And then a bunch of others, as both of them delve deeper into the circumstances of his death, and his life before that, and learn a little bit more about why everything happened. And the people that want to stop them from knowing that.

9. What do they want more than anything?

Thomas wants revenge, at first. And then he simply wants it to all end. And then he wants to pull Conchobhar out of it, because that’s when stuff gets bad. Really bad.

Conchobhar wants to help him move on. Or at least feel a little bit of satisfaction that he couldn’t have when he was alive. And then she wants to raze a bunch of stuff to the ground, while simultaneously finding out if you can trap a ghost in a bottle.

10. Why can’t they have it?

Because the truth is always a lot more complicated than it initially seems, and they’ve barely scratched the surface. And for them to have their revenge, they need the truth. To know. Without it, it’s only wild guessing, and inevitably hurting someone that they didn’t intend to.

11. What do they wrongly believe about themselves?

Thomas believes that he’ll never be able to move on without any of it happening, (maybe, but turning into a poltergeist is always a thing, and it’s not like he won’t have superiority over them in hell, anyway) and Conchobhar believes that there isn’t much choice, because she owes him this much, at least, after inadvertently abandoning him to this fate.

12. Draw your protagonist! (Or share a description)

So, fun fact. Two of them, actually. I can’t draw people, and I don’t use face claims. And I have prosopagnosia, so I don’t usually pay much attention to that, anyway? Not unless the characters become aliens, or a made up creature, or something. You’ll have to fly in as blind as I am, when it comes to how they look.

Plot Points

13. What is the internal conflict?

Conchobhar has absolutely no idea how to do any of this, and she’s floundering, out of her comfort zone, and lost. But she refuses to call for help from anyone that she knows, in fear that something might happen to them, too.

Thomas really doesn’t want to involve her in this, despite what it looks like, but she was literally the only living person he could latch onto. You need some sort of emotional attachment, and like hell will he do that with his tormentors. But he isn’t sure if he could spend the rest of eternity understanding what’s happened, and knowing that he could’ve retaliated, and then didn’t.

14. What is the external conflict?

To find the person that killed Thomas, they need to follow a trail. One that twists and bends, and curves in all the wrong places. That’s never in a straight forward line, and leaves behind more questions than answers. And the more they look at it, the more confused, the more wary, both of them feel, because it’s all quickly turning into something more than either of them can handle. Together or alone.

15. What is the worst thing that could happen to your protagonist?

Thomas already kind of experienced it. He was torn apart, and then died in the flames that were meant to destroy his body. But another thing that could hit him hard is if something happened to his brother, wherever the heck he is, or if he causes Conchobhar to become seriously hurt. Or even dead.

Conchobhar would just. Loose it if something happened to the people that she loves. That’s the worst thing. But it could be made even worse if it was directly because of her, and what’s she’s doing now.

16. What secret will be revealed that changes the course of the story?

“I’m sorry, they’re doing what?” For the overall series, but for this specific book, it would be “What the fuck did he do? What did you do?”

17. Do you know how it ends?

Sort of? I have some impressions that are guiding me towards it. One direction. And a possible ending. But I’m not actually sure what that ending is. Just - what it might become, if that makes sense.

18. What is the theme?

There’s some pretty significant themes of loyalty and retribution. Retribution of someone that had literally been discarded, forgotten, and buried in the past. A person that shouldn’t be a problem, but then is, and the people in their life that are determined to make sure there is retribution for what happened, even if it means bringing heaven and hell down onto their knees to do so.

19. What is a recurring symbol?

Probably what’s mentioned above, but if that doesn’t count, then I’m not sure. It’s only nineteen days old, and there’s a lot of stuff to be worked on.

20. Where is the story set? (Share a description)

There’s not one specific setting, the story’s kind of set all over the place. For the sake of their own safety, and to accomplish what they need to, Conchobhar and Thomas need to move around a lot. I’m also not really sure where they are, at this point. 

21. Do you have any images or scenes in your mind already?

Oh, definitely! It’s mostly some impressions and pictures, right now. A few hints of emotion to shape it, and a vague understanding about the direction that some scenes need to go in.

22. What excited you about this story?

Thomas’ death! The circumstances leading to it, to be specific, and how those circumstances and the people involved will shape the story.

23. Tell us about your usual writing method!

It’s pretty messy. Inspiration can come from anywhere, and it’s usually from the character interactions in bigger franchises, or because my brother’s said a thing, and it had me scrambling for the keyboard. I also need music. But not just any music. It has to be the right music. And none of it’s chronological.

~

Legitimately did not expect to be able to say as much as I did. Honestly, this wip is still a baby. I shouldn’t know what I’m doing with this. But, hey. Can’t deny that this was helpful. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to do this, human!

Tagging: @feralsong, @rhiannonleewriting, @rehnwriter, @aelenko, @elemntum, @hellnar, @birdquils, @mariahwritesstuff, @sarahmariaria, @erinisawriter, @quillswithink, @ivonoris, @hazeywrites​, @coralblast​, @mayvinwrites​, @sxnrising​, @delphwrites​, @whorizcn​, @nmcwriting​, @typewrxter​, @rebelwritingwild​, @greenwood-writes​, @paracomas​

It’s a pretty big thing to ask, so don’t worry if you don’t want to / can’t do it. That’s fine, okay? I’d recommend keeping the list around for reference, though. It’s very helpful.

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Frat, Part 3

(Sort of a One-Shot Part 3/3, Based on this post)

Months went by and the ΠΡΓ pledges only got bigger. Alex was still upset by the whole circumstance but found it very hard to keep up that mentality as he had very little to complain about. If he mentioned his back hurt, Thomas would rub his back. If he said he was uncomfortable sitting in class, the teachers would let him sit in their chair. If he was craving cheesecake with ketchup, the junior ΠΡΓs would run to a store. He was being pampered like a prince and so was Lewis. Spring break, instead of hitting a beach like a lot of the other fraternities, ΠΡΓ went to see their kids. Steven and Thomas's kids were almost three years old now and would technically be the older half siblings of Alex and Lewis's. The thing was that frat tradition was single parenting so once Thomas graduated, he would leave with his son Samuel and that'd be it, just as his senior did before him. Samuel wouldn’t end up at ΠΡΓ in the future because he was born of a rec, not a legacy, but he'd still be set for life. It made Alex wonder where his own half siblings were out there.

The end of the Winter semester rolled around and Alex and Lewis looked ready to pop. They couldn't see their toes, their backs were permanently strained and they waddled from classroom to classroom like a pair of ducks. Other students gave them weird looks, but they didn’t care. They were ΠΡΓ royalty, their grades were amazing, and they were living a dream. Graduation time came around for the seniors and the pledges started hearing whispers of a grad ritual at Pi Rho. They got excited about what they might be doing to Steven and Thomas to send them off, so they asked the juniors if they could help. They were dismissed because no one wanted them overexerting themselves, but they were informed there would be a party in their honour. Alex and Lewis were an important part as they were their pledges and being there for them as they graduate was key. Alex thought it all sounded very sweet. When time arrived for the party, the basement was set up again for games and drinking. Lewis who'd taken the whole pregnancy thing pretty smoothly was now complaining about how he couldn't drink at a frat party and was getting bummed out watching everyone else having fun. Alex didn’t mind though, especially since he was technically not old enough to drink anyway and they had their own punch made up for them so they could at least do toasts with the others. He did his duty and stayed by Thomas as the senior did his best to win all the games against Steven and claim the crown as frat king. As he watched them play however, Alex had become more and more aware of a sharp pain in his back that came in and out. It was ignorable at first but then got stronger and more frequent as the night grew darker. He looked over to Lewis and found that he too looked like he was considerably uncomfortable. Daniel and his pledge partner Cameron had been in charge of watching the pledges that night so when they were satisfied with what they were seeing, they went up and told the seniors they were ready. At that, the boys finished up the last game and Thomas, having won over his friend, kissed Alex passionately before scooping him up bridal style and carrying him up to his room. On the way up the stairs however, Alex felt something inside him pop and suddenly he was soaking his cargo shorts and the front of Thomas's shirt. Fear set in immediately and he looked up at his senior. “T-Tom... My water...” “Don't worry. I got you,” Thomas cooed, getting him into the room and setting him down on the senior's bed. “Breathe.” Alex moaned in pain as a particularly severe contraction hit him and he doubled over. The sophomore and junior recommendations joined them in the room, helping prepare the area for the birth. They'd all been practicing for this. Every child had been born in the frat. Every legacy had been born in this room. Alex himself had been born in this room. But the last thing Alex wanted to do right then was give birth in that room. “Lewis...” He moaned, trying to know where his friend was. They'd talked about being their for each other when the babies came, he wanted Lewis to cut the cord. And yet Lewis wasn't there. “He's giving birth in your room,” Thomas told him. The senior had positioned himself behind Alex and was massaging his side and his belly. “Don't worry. The legacies are going to take care of him.” Alex bit his lip and sobbed. Not having Lewis there made him lose almost all of his confidence. He burst into tears, feeling his sanity slip. This was ridiculous. He was eighteen, turning nineteen in a few days, he wasn't even old enough to drink, and he didn’t even have a real partner. Why was he having a baby? Why now? Why did he go along with this? Junior rec Chris, a quiet type, made Alex spread his legs and started removing his pants. “I need to check your progress.” Alex didn’t want Chris to touch him at all but he didn’t really have a choice and just winced as his upperclassmen checked how far along his labour was. “You can push now,” Chris stated. Alex shook his head. “I-I can't...” “You can, Alex,” Thomas said into his ear. “You can do this.” Alex whimpered and pushed on the next contraction. When the contraction eased, he cried out, exasperated. “Nothing... Nothing’s happening...” “It's okay. Push with your abs and breathe out as you do it,” Thomas coached. What abs, was Alex's first thought but he was a biology student and knew what Thomas was talking about. He just had a really hard time concentrating when every nerve screamed in agony. He steadied his breathing, took in a deep breath as another contraction came in, then breathed out hard as he clenched his abdomen tight, forcing the baby down. He released the pressure and sobbed, resting for a bit panting. “How's he doing?” Thomas asked Chris, and the latter gave him a thumbs up. “Nice... Alex, you're doing it. Keep up the good work.” Alex just whined but he tensed up as another contraction hit. He pushed as hard as possible and the baby descended even further into his birth canal. Daniel, who was setting up blankets and space for the baby, looked over and smiled to Alex. “You're doing really well. I was hysterical last year.” Alex didn’t have time to appreciate all the support. The baby was coming and fast. After another push, he was crowning, and it stung like he was dipping his nether regions in lava. Thomas got up to look as well and his eyes lit up. “Wow. I bet you can get this done in three more pushes. You can do it!” Alex was so pissed off at Thomas right now and he used that anger to push extra hard on the next go. The baby's head came all the way out, fluid gushing out around it. Chris moved in to unwrap the umbilical cord from around it's head and signalled Alex when he could push again. One last push and the shoulders came free. From there, Chris was able to guide the baby out the rest of the way. Alex's stomach deflated a bit before him and he fell back against the bed, panting in exhaustion. He continued to cry but he was mostly just relieved it was over. Thomas cut the umbilical cord and Chris passed the baby to Daniel to be cleaned off. When he was ready, Daniel brought the newborn over to Alex and let him hold him. Alex held his baby close and looked into his face. He had Thomas's eyes but mostly just Alex's features. His crying subdued as he nuzzled close to his father. Thomas tousled Alex's hair and kissed his cheek. “Such a cute kid. You did a good job.” Alex nodded slowly but was focused on his son. He rubbed his cheek and kissed his forehead gently. “Did you pick out a name?” Daniel asked. “Riley,” Alex said. “Riley. That's a great name,” Thomas commented. “Can I hold him?” Alex nodded and handed him over. “You have to deliver the after birth,” Chris said bluntly. Alex bit his lip but nodded and let Chris guide him through it. Afterwards, they helped him clean up and get comfortable. He kept asking about Lewis, but they insisted that he wait until Lewis was done before seeing him. When he was finally given permission to see him, he took Riley with him and went over to the other room as fast as he could. “Lewis!” Alex said as he went to his friend's side. Lewis was really worn out and sweaty. He looked over to his best friend and smiled. “Alex... Hey, dude.” “I did it... We did it,” Alex said, sitting down beside him. “Yeah... Still can't believe it...” Lewis said. “This is Riley,” Alex said, showing him his son. “Nice. Looks just like you.” Lewis lifted his son up. “James.” “So handsome...” Alex said smiling. “Can I lie down with you?” “Of course.” “Do you want us to stay?” Steven asked, referring to himself and Thomas. “No.” Steven gave them a thumbs up and ushered everyone out of the room. Once they were alone, Alex laid down beside Lewis and pulled him into a kiss.

Three years later, Alex and Lewis were entering their senior year. Each year they watched and participated as every new pair of pledges joined and were hazed as they were, but this year it was their turn as seniors to ‘escort' the pledges through the process. They'd been dating since their sons were born so they had a talk about what the hazing meant for their relationship and made sure they both understood it was just tradition and what they were about to go through was purely for the sake of the fraternity. It was a bit cold, yes, but their seniors had been the same way and it was only fair. They'd both started working out to lose the baby weight, but they'd kept with it and went from nerdy twinks to super nerdy hunks. Lewis dressed them both on move in day and they were looking sharp and smart, eager to meet the new pledges. When the doorbell rang that afternoon, Alex giddily answered it, but remembered to be calm and cool. “Divide?” “Oh! Um... Multiply.” “Welcome to ΠΡΓ.”

Part 1

Part 2

Thank you for reading. I get into moods a lot nowadays and I guess self-indulgent stuff like this pops out. I hope you liked it. I am ashamed.

[skyfallensoldier]

Mobile Navigation || Rules & Mun ↓

DISCLAIMER: I just want to note here at the beginning that while I am considering this RP blog to be historically based, i.e. remaining true to the time period and overall details of John Laurens' biographical information and whatnot, I do not consider myself a historically accurate blog, not entirely. Historical fiction is a well known genre of literature and many, MANY creative liberties are taken within that genre. Think of this blog like you would if you saw an Anastasia Romanov blog. She's dead, we know she didn't survive, and she's been dead a long-ass time; so has Laurens. People still have included her in many works of fiction, even after her body was identified and it was proven she did not survive her family's massacre. I saw a romance book a couple of months ago where she survived that was recently published. Historical fiction, while a controversial thing at times, is a legitimate form of literature.

You don't have to tell me if you think John isn't acting exactly like the real man himself would have, I know that. I'm not going to call John my 'perfect sunshine boy cinnamon roll' or dismiss the privilege he was raised on due to his father, I'm aware he was a real person who had his own personality, virtues and prejudices. I won't deny that while he was certainly a progressive thinking man for the time he grew up in he definitely still had racist thoughts and actions that were indicative of his upbringing. But I'm not on here to debate modern, real life politics, or get into arguments about whether he was a good abolitionist or not. At the end of the day, this is still a hobby for me, and I'm writing for fun.

Basically, don't take it too seriously. I'm a 21st century bisexual woman writing from the POV of an 18th century (likely gay) male soldier, the way I write him is obviously not going to be a perfect representation of who he was. I know he wasn't an amazing, perfect person, but I've still chosen to write a fictionalized version of him for my own entertainment. Please try to respect that; thank you.

Mun Stuff

Name: Luna Gender: Female (She/Her or They/Them) D.o.B: July 23rd, 1996 Age: 24 Nationality: Canadian Sexuality: Bisexual Timezone: Eastern Time (US & Canada) Activity: Daily BIOGRAPHY (SORT OF)

Hello, there! You can call me Luna! I've been interested in writing ever since I first got the internet when I was 14 and discovered FanFiction.Net and now I'm an aspiring author and Roleplay enthusiast. If you include acting/talking out DnD like games with friends then I've been 'roleplaying' since the fifth grade, but I like to think there's always room for improvement. If you ever want to chat I'd love to make a new friend or plot out a roleplay, so don't be afraid to shoot me an ask or send me a private message. Just because my muse can be a jackass doesn't mean I am! I’m a huge advocate for mental health, and if you ever need someone to talk to, please don’t ever hesitate to reach out! Some of my hobbies including literature and writing (of course), digging into mythology from various cultures, practicing solitary eclectic paganism/new age spirituality, drinking tea, and collecting crystals/minerals.

Please note that for the sake of disclosure, I am considered ‘Neurodivergent’, in that I suffer from ADHD, diagnosed at about age six, and have Anxiety and Depression which are directly tied to it. This doesn’t often effect my life on here, but I sometimes have an unpredictable sleep schedule (stay up all night, sleep in late into the morning, etc). I’m usually quick to reply to threads for the most part! I work every Tuesday and Thursday from 5pm to 7pm in addition to odd jobs here and there, during which time I won’t have access to the Internet. The rest of the week I’m on and off all day basically, so you can feel free to contact me any time.

RP Style

⭐️ Please use basic spelling/grammar/punctuation when you RP with me. I'm not a drill sergeant about these kinds of things, I know that typos happen, and if you have a vision problem or such we can absolutely find a way to work around that, I also have no problem roleplaying with people whose first language is not English, so that's totally fine and I’m happy to accomodate in whatever way I can, but it does make it a little difficult to play with you if I don't know what you're trying to say. For this reason I prefer if you not use any text shorthand (lol, idk, brb, jk, etc) unless our muses are messaging each other. Using it in the tags is fine.

⭐️ I roleplay Laurens in a past-tense 3rd Person Point of View (think story-telling format), and generally I don't use icons or text formatting unless I notice my partner does, then I will try to match their style (for example if you use icons and small-text, I will try to do the same, though because formatting isn't possible on mobile, any mobile replies might take longer to be posted than if I were on my laptop). If you have any issues with how I'm writing or need me to adjust my style for any reason don't be afraid to ask.

Contact

⭐️ If you spam me with messages over and over again about something I haven't replied to, chances are I'll drop the thread. I don't mind being reminded because I know Tumblr's notifications are notoriously unreliable sometimes, and humans can forget/lose things, but if you keep poking at me after I've acknowledged you the first and second time, I won't be pleased. Things can get busy on here, or in real life, or sometimes you're just lacking muse for that particular thread, y'know? It doesn't mean I hate you and don't want to RP, I'm almost always up for plotting, but muse tends to fluctuate.

⭐️ My ‘Discord’ is available to mutuals upon request. I don't mind roleplaying on there if Tumblr is being glitchy or you're just not feeling up to formatted/heavily plotted threads, sometimes Discord is fun in that you can do immediate replies without needing the effort of putting icons and formatting into it. I also have a Kik but I never use it. I don't RP in Tumblr's IMs, that's purely for OOC interaction.

⭐️ I also occasionally stream movies/TV shows in group chats or play “in character” Cards Against Humanity game nights, Among Us, etc. If you’re interested, lemme know, I’m always looking for more people to hang out with!

Important

I have no actual triggers that I'm aware of, although snakes do creep me out (mostly shots of them coiled up or images of their pupils), but there are some things I will not roleplay personally for comfort reasons:

⭐️ Cannibalism. You can mention it, for example I won't freak out if someone tells my muse that somebody else ate a person (he might, assuming its not a Supernatural type verse), but I won't RP him engaging in cannibalism, not even in AUs (blood-drinking vampires are fine). I'm just not sure I could stomach writing about eating people. I managed to watch Hannibal, barely, but writing about it? Nah. I can handle lots of horror, gore and disturbing content but not this. Sorry.

⭐ Incest/Pedophilia. I do not SEXUALLY ship with characters under the age of 18. John is not attracted to children, and would never consider sleeping with someone much younger than him.

⭐ I will not write anything sexual with muns who are under 18 years old, even if your muse is an adult. I'll still ROLEPLAY with you if you are under 18 but probably no younger than 16 just because things tend to get explicit on my blogs and I don't want to be accused of corrupting the youth with my foul language and weird opinions, lol. Seriously though, this blog covers a lot of dark subjects and while I’m all for minors exploring that safely through writing rather than in real life, some people aren’t comfortable with interacting with under age people for legal or personal reasons, please respect that.

⭐ Necrophilia. Just... no. Vampire threads don't count, as they're undead and not 'dead dead'.

⭐ Rape. I won't write it with you. I'm okay with mentions of rape, with rape/sexual assault survivor/recovery plots, and even with one character intervening to rescue another from an attempted sexual assault (if an attempted assault does occur, it will be thoroughly tagged and under a cut). I'm fully open to discussing rape recovery/trauma plots as those are things that happen in real life, and it can be interesting to explore how a character reacts to trauma. But anything else is a no-go, sorry!

⭐ Please be aware that I write Laurens as a gay man. However! Because of the time period, violent homophobia and social stigma, he has slept with women before and may be seen flirting with or referencing relationships with women in the past. He is still gay, and still uninterested in being with women long term, he's simply closeted to all but a few individuals. So, unless your muse is Martha Manning (who Laurens DOES love in a manner, and he always will), shipping with female characters on here most likely isn't going to happen unless it's heavily plotted/developed and part of an overall plot, and you understand that it will not be a conventional sexual relationship. I'm sorry if that disappoints you but I've read Laurens as a gay male for so long I have trouble seeing him any other way.

⭐ I will not roleplay slavery plots. This is not up for debate. Roleplaying a highly fictionalized version of a long dead real person who existed during a troubling time is one thing, but I draw the line at that. For this reason, while I'll happily play with non-white muses, muses using non white faceclaims, and crossovers with characters of all sorts, I'll have to decline playing with any muse claiming to actually be writing slavery. There’s a difference between, say, roleplaying a character like Daenerys, a fictional character who was technically a slave-bride sold by her brother, and writing actual slavery from a very real, horrible time period. Slave ownership will of course be mentioned on this blog, that's unavoidable, but just like the mention of rape may happen on this blog from time to time, it will be in reference to a past event or speaking about the subject in general, not roleplaying a scene of it. Please respect this rule, I was hesitant to make this blog at first, because I know it makes some people uncomfortable, but I won't glorify such a horrible real thing that happened to so many people.

Exclusives/Mains

Just a head's up, unless I develop a bunch of chemistry with a particular portrayal of a muse I'm not likely to agree to being exclusives with anyone, unless perhaps it's a very niche or divergent character that has formed a good relationship of some sort with John and I'd have trouble interacting with other versions of that muse. For major characters I just feel it would be unfair to say no to someone who I click with in every other way, solely because I have already befriended someone else writing that character.

I will, however, discuss becoming mains with someone whom I've either developed or plotted out detailed storylines/interactions with regarding our specific portrayals of our characters. This means that I tend to reply to them quickly when I'm online, or may make little gifts (moodboards, aesthetic things, mini ficlets, whatever) for them unprompted, have a verse dedicated just to them, etc. Even if it seems like we haven't done much on Tumblr, there may be a lot of off-site development on Discord or whatnot that led to us plotting out intricate stories for our muses.

Current Mains:

Alexander Hamilton - @quillborn​

DO

⭐️ Send private messages.

⭐️ Send my character asks/starters/memes.

⭐️ Tag me in things.

⭐️ Ask to plot or ship.

⭐️ Ask for angst, fluff, etc.

⭐️ Submit things to me & my muse.

⭐️ Do crack and other ridiculous things with me!

⭐️ Like my RP threads.

⭐️ Like my personal posts.

⭐️ Comment on my personal/OOC posts (if you want to).

⭐️ Comment on my crack threads.

⭐️ Instant Message (IM) me if you'd like to talk, whether we're friends already or not!

DON'T

⭐️ Send hateful messages to me about other people and especially my mutuals; doesn't count if it's about the muse and not the person playing them, however. Also, if I’ve got beef with someone for whatever reason, don’t harass them/send hate to them on my behalf, please. I don’t condone anonymous abuse, attacking others, or harassment. I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself, I promise.

⭐️ Introduce yourself with ‘wanna ship?’ For one, I prefer if we’ve at least started a roleplay together, or have spoken OOC. Auto shipping doesn’t always work out and I hate promising people something only to realize there’s zero chemistry, because then I feel like I’m letting them down.

⭐️ Come into my inbox with just ‘wanna rp?’ and that’s it. Please at least have some idea of what you want to roleplay, it’s not very fun when someone approaches you to RP but then doesn’t offer up any suggestions at all. Remember, you are always free to send me memes, whether we’re mutuals or not, and hit me up for whatever plot you think might interest me! I want to hear about it!

⭐️ Spam me with "reminder" messages if I've already acknowledged you the first few times.

⭐️ Reblog my RP threads if you're not a participant in them.

⭐️ Send me anonymous OOC hate. Hate for Laurens is fine, it's just another form of roleplay.

⭐️ Kill off my character or severely injure/maim my character without permission or having plotted something involving that with me first.

⭐️ Follow me if you're a porn blog. I don't mind blogs that post NSFW content, or smut a lot, etc. I mean blogs that aren't for RP and are literally just a normal looking blog until you click on it and the header and first twenty posts are hardcore nudity and porn. I hate those things.

⭐️ Shame my ships.

⭐️ Complain about my tagging. I put my smut under a 'read more' without exception and tag them as "NSFW //" with two dashes. Things that are not necessarily graphic but still have sexual undertones go under "Suggestive //". I use these tags to avoid attracting attention from porn blogs and porn bots that track certain key words, as such I do not tag my content with "Smut" or trigger words such as "dick, oral, anal, nudity, etc", please block my NSFW and Suggestive tags if you're uncomfortable. Triggery subjects (mentions of rape, animal abuse, torture, mental illness) will be tagged under the name of said trigger with a space and two dashes, example: "Self Harm //", “Suicidal Ideation //” or "PTSD //".

⭐️ Godmod my character. If you’re not sure what is/isn’t okay, come talk to me! I don’t bite! If you’re looking for an example of god mod behavior, here: “X lunged at Laurens, taking him by surprise, and hit him square in the nose, causing blood to spurt.” It might not seem like a big deal but it means that you decided how your character’s actions affected my muse, and not only that, didn’t give him a chance to dodge or anything. Not cool.

⭐️ Ship with me without permission (sending in shippy asks is A-Ok if you're interested in exploring a ship between our muses, I'm talking about things like claiming that our muses are in a relationship without discussing it with me, referencing dates or sexual acts that never happened, etc. I ship mainly with chemistry otherwise things get boring fast.

⭐️ Assume/act like our characters know each other/are closely connected (friends/family/lovers) if we've never discussed it unless it is established in canon/history. This especially goes for original characters. I'm open to Laurens forming deep relationships with OCs obviously, but those have to be developed in character, not just assumed from the first interaction.

⭐️ Attempt to roleplay with me if you are not a roleplay blog/or if you're just trying to RP as "yourself." I don't do Character X Reader imagines stuff. I don't RP with 'fan' accounts, only RP blogs. You can still send asks so long as you're not trying to initiate an RP scenario. For example, asking Laurens what his hobbies are, asking for a blessing etc? That's fine. Spamming me with different actions "you" are talking to Laurens is weird. Stop that. I will also not RP with blogs that claim to roleplay as real life people, such as Markiplier, that's super creepy. This does NOT apply to "historical fiction" roleplay (obviously since that's what this blog is), which is considered its own genre of literature. I'm talking about the above where people will 'roleplay' as real life, currently alive people like YouTube celebrities and ship them with their friends, even if they've made it clear that they're uncomfortable with it. 

⭐️ Get angry at me for doing something you don't like if you don't even have a rules page for me to go by. It's not fair; you can't expect your partners to just read your mind and magically know how you feel. If something bothers you let me know, I’ll make a note about it so I avoid it during our interactions!

⭐️ Use me as a meme resource blog without ever interacting with me. I don't require "reblog karma" for you to follow me, partners are more than welcome to reblog from me, but if we never interact and I just occasionally see you reblog fifteen posts from my meme tag and then disappear again I'm not gonna be happy. Go to the source or to an archived blog no longer getting notifications, please!

⭐️ Reblog my Meta/Headcanons. If they're from a different blog it's fine but the ones I've personally written are for MY portrayal of Laurens. I work hard on most of my stuff and I'd prefer if you didn't reblog it, not because you aren't allowed to have the same headcanon ideas as me, but because then it ends up getting liked or reblogged by lots of other people, spamming my notifications, etc.

OCs & Multimuses

I love OCs and multi-muse blogs (I have my own multimuse sideblog over at @historyremembers, which has other 18th century characters including the Hamilton children and some OCs), so feel free to interact! That being said, please have an about page of some sort on your blog. I can't follow back blogs that have absolutely no information available regarding their character(s). I don't RP with OC children of Laurens. This is nothing personal, but I'm fairly certain he was gay in real life and prefer to play him that way, and he only had one child - who he never even got to meet - in real life, so it just wouldn't make sense to me for him to have other kids running around unless he'd adopted some. If you're a multimuse, I may not follow you back if I'm only familiar with two of your muses if you have a blog of fifteen characters, simply because I'd prefer to keep my dash clean and only have characters/fandoms I'm familiar with on it. I'll still RP with you if you have a character I'm interested in! I just might not follow back if the majority of your characters I do not know, I apologize for this.

If you’ve made it to the end of this, congrats! I know it couldn’t be easy (my ADHD brain was frustrated trying to just write all this up) but it’s necessary so there’s not misunderstandings on what I am/am not willing to RP. I won’t ask for a password since I trust most people to have the courtesy to at least skim the rules of those they want to RP with. 

Have a nice day!

[takemedancingmaine]

Stress

“I hope you like mostly sugar and cream and a dash of coffee,” she said as she sat down across from me with a flourish while holding two mugs. “If not, I’ll take it and you can have the citrus mint tea.”

I smiled. “I’ll take the tea.” 

“Oh thank goodness,” Tala sighed, relieved. “That’s what I was hoping you would say.” Before even passing the mug of tea over to me, she took a massive sip of the coffee, making a satisfied sound when she took in the caffeine. It was only then that she offered me the mug of tea. It was warm on my hands, a welcome feeling after being out in the cold weather to get here. 

Tala had invited me to the same cafe her brother would take me to whenever we met up outside of class. She looked like Brian, too. The shapes of their faces were almost identical, their mannerisms so eerily similar that it almost felt as if they were both here. The differences though were that Tala had thick wavy hair that went halfway down her back and where her brother was tall, she was short, shorter than me even.

“Is it the same nightmare every time?” 

“Wow. You just get right into it, don’t you?” I asked, flushed red.

“Subtlety doesn’t benefit anyone.” Tala shrugged. “I learned with what we’ve gone through that the more you avoid it the more it’ll start to take over your life. Just getting everything out in the open is enough of a benefit.” 

I took a deep breath. “You and your brother are scarily similar.”

“He’s much smarter though,” she said. “I mean, don't get me wrong, I got the looks, but when your brother is in law school…” she trailed off.

“Didn't Brian tell me that you're a med student doing clinicals?”

“He's still smarter,” she said with a smirk. “But back to you.”

“Yes, it's the same every time,” I told her. “And it's not every night. It's every few nights. Just enough time in between to think that maybe I won't have it anymore, and then I do.”

“That's the worst part, isn't it?” She asked, and I assumed rhetorically because she kept going before I could say anything. “You think that maybe, finally, you're going to be okay, that you're putting it behind you and all of a sudden it's back.”

“And you feel like all the progress you've made is erased and that you're starting back over at square one,” I finished for her.

“Exactly.” Tala nodded. “So, what did you want to talk about? I can tell you what I did and see if anything sticks in your brain, or what I think could help you, or I can even just listen to you talk; although, to be fair, I’m not a therapist and I highly recommend getting one. Not that I'm not willing to listen and try my best.”

“Truthfully, I don’t even know where to start,” I said honestly. “It happened in September and I just told my family a week ago. My sister still probably has some trust issues about it, and I get constant news articles from my mother about crimes in the city, along with her telling me how dangerous it is here for a single woman. All of my friends have been great, Brian’s been amazing, and I’m starting to feel like I’m getting a hold of it in some way, except I’m still having the nightmare every few days.”

“From my experience and from people I’ve talked to, the mom bit will never really stop. You’ll just have to grin and bear it,” she sighed and took a large sip of coffee. “And your sister, tell me more about her,” Tala insisted.

“Mehar and I are very close,” I started only to have Tala interrupt me. 

“Okay, I’m sorry, I have to point this out because I’ve been thinking about it my whole life and you may have just proved my point, but are you older than your sister?” 

I nodded and sipped my tea.

“Right. So, Brian and Ruby: considerably normal, American names, nothing too crazy going on there. Tala and Mehar, on the other hand: cultural names that disrupt classrooms and dating apps alike. Why is it that the younger sibling must suffer the burden of the cultural name while the older sibling gets off scot-free?”

I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. I burst out laughing, my head falling back and the laughter echoing around us in the café.

“I’m serious!” Tala defended herself, but her smile broke through as I continued to giggle. 

“I mean, looking at all of us though, you can’t even pretend that we’re not all distinctly Asian,” I pointed out. “Just because Brian’s name is what it is doesn’t change the fact that he looks Filipino, or that I look Indian.” 

“I suppose,” Tala said, thinking it through. “Anyway, sorry I interrupted you. Please continue.” 

“Mehar and I tell each other everything. Sometimes she tells me a little too much, but in all seriousness, I’d never judge her for it, and I love that she feels like she can tell me everything. It’s just that this felt like it would change the way that she saw me and as her older sister I’m supposed to protect her. How could I do that if I was damaged?”

Tala sighed, but didn’t say anything for a minute. She looked me over as if she was studying me.

“I’m going to tell you this and I don’t mean for it to sound harsh or sociopathic in any way,” her voice was even, soothing almost, “but Ruby, you can’t concern yourself with others right now. You have only to concern yourself with you. For the sake of your own happiness, don’t set yourself on fire to protect someone else. You have to live with yourself for the rest of your life. Don’t suffer in silence because you think it’ll help someone else’s life be a little bit easier or straightforward. That pertains to this situation and all future situations you encounter, no matter how big or small.”

I sat there in silence. I felt like my world had been shifted back on kilter. After I’d been attacked it felt as if my whole body was existing on the wrong plane of existence, but hearing those words made it feel like a jolt coursed through my body and suddenly I was back on the correct plane, where I was supposed to be all along. 

“Groundbreaking stuff, right?” she asked, a lightness to her features. 

I nodded, unable to form words. 

“I’m not saying to be a total butthead to all of those we love or those who care for us, but it’s a reminder that you’re the most important person in your life.”

I could do nothing more than sit there and stare at her while she took a sip of her drink and flip her hair over her shoulder. 

“Brian was telling me about your boyfriend, or, ex-boyfriend, I suppose. He told me he thought it was a bad idea that you’d ended things because he was so supportive, but I’m going to tell you, Ruby–as much as I think we need the people close to us to get through these moments–, I think you deciding to focus on yourself and not having the added worry of someone else’s emotions was the right move.”

I bit my lip.

“It’s okay to miss him.” Tala, like her brother, was suspiciously good at reading my thoughts. “Obviously that’s normal. But think about how much better you’re going to be as a person for this.” 

“It was the hardest part of all of this,” I said eventually. “Letting him go.” 

“Letting people go is always the hardest part.” Tala took a deep breath and shifted her weight in her chair. “So what else ya got for me?” She smiled with so much warmth that it almost made me forget the frigid temperatures outside. 

“I feel like you hit everything that’s been haunting me for six months in a ten-minute conversation.” I was a little shaken by how well Tala was able to read me, dissect everything that was in my mind. It was unnerving and comforting at the same time. 

“I’m sure there’s more under the surface that you don’t even realize, but how about we just make fun of my brother for the time being?” She asked, mischief in her eyes. 

“Oh, I’d love to.” I smiled and listened to her delve into a story about how when Brian first started training for self-defense and he would complain about how sore he was all the time, forcing Tala to buy bags of ice from convenience stores for him to take ice baths and baby him all the time.

It was a few hours later by the time Tala and I noticed how long it had been. The two of us had moved on from what happened to me, to making fun of her brother, and then we swapped stories of growing up as first-generation Americans, we focused on the most humorous ones that we could remember. It turned out we had a lot in common. 

“I loved chatting with you, Ruby,” Tala said as she slipped her coat back on and slung her scarf around her neck.

“You too,” I said, meaning it wholeheartedly. “Thank you for everything, from agreeing to talk to me to actually helping.” 

“It was nothing.” She waved me off as we headed outside into the cold. “I really enjoy helping people. Brian and I both kind of slipped into the role of helpers after what happened to me. If you ever need anything, or if you need a coffee date, you’ve got my number now. Just hit me up and we can make something happen.” 

“Sounds great,” I said. “I’ll see you around, Tala.” 

“Bye, Ruby!” She called as she started turning away, into the wind and in the opposite direction of where I was headed. 

I liked her office. Quite a bit. I wasn’t sure how I’d gotten so lucky, either. Tala told me that oftentimes finding someone you click with can take many, many failed trials. I found her my first attempt–although she was recommended to me, so I wasn’t entirely surprised. 

“Ruby,” she spoke gently, but I knew from experience, three weeks now, that her tone was meant to let me know she was serious about what she was about to say. “I don't think this will come as a shock to you, especially given the discussions we've had over the past month, and I usually don't tell my patients my diagnosis until after I'm certain, so…”

“So you're certain.” I nodded, understanding her.

“You have post-traumatic stress disorder,” she said, straight up. No bull. 

“I have PTSD,” I repeated, testing out the words in my mouth.

They fell flat on the floor in front of me. In a lump on the carpet, an awkward pile of grey mush that maybe could make sense if sorted through, but just seemed to me, at that moment, like a puzzle that was trying hard not to be solved.

“But it wasn't that bad,” I said after a minute. “What happened to me, it wasn’t that bad. I wasn't seriously injured, I didn't lose money, I wasn’t… he didn't rape me. Why do I have PTSD if nothing happened?”

“The first step is to stop lying to yourself that nothing happened, Ruby.” She gave me a look. It felt like I'd been kicked in the gut when the words hit me.

“If it was nothing, you would've told your friends right away, wouldn't have been afraid of what would happen if you did tell. You wouldn't have gone to self-defense and kickboxing classes to try and regain some sense of strength and clarity.” The punches kept coming, the hits kept landing. “These are all things that you've told me, Ruby. Which means they're important. And saying it’s nothing means there is something there that you're trying to call nothing, so it is something. You don't have to rationalize and say things like ‘compared to others’ or ‘but it could've been worse.’ It happened. It doesn't matter the severity or degree; it happened. It was an event and you're dealing with it. That's why you're here. That's why we’re talking about it. That's why I told you what it is. So that you can come to terms with it, learn how to manage it, and move forward, in whatever way that looks like to you.”

Much like I had my first session with Dr. Carol Winters, or Carol as she insisted I called her, I sat there in silence and absorbed the words she spoke, feeling them as they settled into me and altered my state of being. What she had just given me, the words she’d just spoken took a while to absorb. I could hear the clock ticking on the wall behind me. It must’ve been minutes before I opened my mouth to speak and even then, nothing came out. I was disoriented. 

I said as much out loud a few moments later.

“That can happen,” Carol nodded. 

I liked Carol with her short, black hair. She was petite, but I knew that despite her looks she was far from fragile. Her warm features made me calm, and the fact that her office was small with two chairs and then her desk beside them made me feel like I was in such a safe space–if it was a big room I would have felt too exposed. There were no kitschy sayings like ‘keep hanging in there’ or ‘it gets better’ plastered on the walls anywhere. The window looked out over a park and occasionally I’d glance out at the trees and remind myself that Earth was still spinning and that meant that I was still going. 

I liked Carol’s calm demeanor. She also, with the very recent exception of her diagnosis, prodded me to speak the entire session so that I could work through what was happening in my own mind, with her there as a listener, not as someone who would dissect every minute detail. Dr. Carol genuinely believed that I was able to sort through my own thoughts, and insisted she was there only for guidance. After believing that I had been perfectly fine for over half of a year and finally accepting that I needed help, I realized that being able to talk about things, out loud, was the biggest part of my recovery so far. 

I was able to talk about how my injuries had made me feel weak and how the mugging itself had me checking my doors compulsively to make sure that they were locked, and I was even able to talk about how I had thought that I wasn’t broken if I didn’t acknowledge that I was.

It was revelation after revelation for me. The first of many came from Tala three weeks ago when I discovered that I wasn’t selfish for putting myself first, and since then, my whole life feels like it’s been a chasm that’s slowly filling in to become whole once again. The odd part was, I hadn’t realized just how bad it had been, how deep I’d let myself be infected, how seemingly everything inside me was affected.

The feeling of coming together again was a bit like when you finish a really long run you thought you were going to give up on halfway through, or when you study for a test and actually do well, or when you push yourself to try a new activity that it turns out you really enjoy. The feeling of completeness and pride were the most prevalent.

This whole process has been exhausting to the point of me wishing I could take midday naps and has had me at my emotional tipping point more than a few times per day, but deep beneath the turmoil and mess I could see something coming together.

“The basic symptomology of PTSD is best described in the acronym TRAP,” Carol said now, pulling me from my reverie. “T is for the trauma experienced, R is re-experiencing the trauma, A stands for the avoidance of stimuli, and P for physiological responses and paranoia. Between the nightmares and you constantly checking your locks, I’d say you’ve got T, R, and P down really well. As far as avoidance goes, you’ve put yourself in self-defense and kickboxing classes in order to prevent the trauma from happening again. PTSD is not a weakness, Ruby. Your endocrine system is trying to rebalance itself. You should help it.”

“How?” I asked.

“Have you done any journaling? Last week you said you bought one of those bullet journals.” 

“Oh right.” I nodded and looked down at my hands crossed in my lap. “I tried to do it every day,” I began. “I don’t though. It tends to be every other day. Some days are harder to write than others.”

I knew she wouldn’t say anything, even after only three weeks and five sessions I knew that she wouldn’t say anything, staying quiet in hopes that I would keep going on my own.

“It feels good to get things down, but kind of like coming here, I’m relieved and exhausted afterward. I can’t journal over breakfast or on my lunch break because then my whole day is shot. I’ll have no more emotions for the rest of the day. I’d need a nap and a reset.”

Again when I stopped, Carol just nodded in understanding and remained silent. 

“I guess it’s been good for me overall though.” I shrugged. “If I have any thoughts that I recognize as either harmful or helpful I can write them down so as to better keep track of them. Plus, if I find myself wanting to say something, something I’d normally say during a session, I can write it down. I don’t know if I’ll keep it up, or if I’ll be consistent with it, but so far I can see it’s merit.” 

“And have you been running recently?” 

“I have,” I said. “I cut back to doing kick-boxing twice a week and running four times so I can better balance it. I forgot how much I missed it, missed the solitary moments. Being in a class is fun, but I don’t think I realized just how much I needed running as a way to have the time to go through my own head. I think it’s weird that in my quest to feel stronger after what happened I sacrificed something that helped me to think through things and focus on myself.”

“I wouldn’t say weird,” Carol said, cutting her gaze to the barren trees out the window before looking back at me. “I think you may have been trying to put so much effort into one aspect of feeling safe that you were willing to overlook the rest of your emotions and thoughts. Rationality, in the wake of events like these, is often lacking.”

I laughed a bitter laugh and nodded. “I can see that. I didn’t do much differently, but what I did change had some pretty big effects.” 

“The butterfly effect,” Carol said. 

“Exactly.”

“Do you feel any more comfortable at home? Are you still checking your locks?” 

“I still have the urges to,” I started, “but I’m not letting myself. I’m trying to trust that I did it properly the first time. Every morning when I leave I have to unlock them, which means I did it and spent time worrying over nothing.” 

“What do you do when you get the urge to check your locks?” 

“I write in the journal,” I told her. “Or I end up on the phone with my sister. I’m still trying to build back the trust, and I’m trying to bring her into my healing process because she felt so left out before, so bitter that I didn’t open up to let her help me.” 

“So you’re letting her,” Carol said. “Help you, that is.”

“Yes,” I said. “Or, I’m trying to. I know that any of my friends would be more than willing to talk me through it, but I wanted to reach out to my sister to try and make up for what I did.” 

“You don’t have to make up for anything,” Carol’s voice was firm.

“Right.” I took a deep breath. “I reach out to my sister because I want to rebuild the trust that’s fragile between us. It’s not an apology for breaking the trust, but simply a way to rebuild it.” 

Carol nodded, satisfied with my rectified answer. “What about the nightmare?” 

I flinched. “I still have that.” 

“And?” 

“And I hate it. I go to bed afraid that I’ll wake up screaming from it. I don’t know what to do to stop it. I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Well, being afraid of it is probably the first thing that has to change.”

“I have to stop being afraid of a nightmare?” I asked, my tone more than a little skeptical.

“Yep.” Carol just shrugged and smiled. 

“How?” 

“How do we stop being afraid of anything?”

“I really have no idea.”

“We take control of the fear,” she said as if this was the most simple concept in the world. “You have to learn to control the fear. Tell yourself what you know: the nightmare isn’t real, you know how to defend yourself, you’re not helpless, and you’re not alone. I think, and this is just me, that the more you realize that last one, the more you’ll be able to manage the fear. PTSD is not permanent, Ruby. With treatment and understanding, you’ll be able to settle yourself down back into a normal state. It takes some work but clearly, you’re willing to try if you’re here talking to me right now.”

I nodded, unable to form words for the second time this session. 

“I want you to do some thinking about how you can regain control over yourself and stop being afraid of your nightmare,” Carol said. “I’ll see you in a few days and we can go over what you’ve come up with before the weekend?” 

“Okay.”

“I did want to say one more thing before we end today, Ruby,” she saw me fidgeting, getting ready to stand up. “I’m impressed with your strength. I’m impressed with your resolve and your lack of loss of your humor or of your compassion. You’re strong, yet you feel so much. It’s admirable, and I’m glad to have you, to get to know you, to be able to help you. You’re a remarkable young woman who I believe will take back control over her life.” 

Quickly, I wiped my eyes before the tears fell, and nodded. 

“Take a moment,” Carol insisted, and then waited while I composed myself. “I’ll see you Friday, alright?” 

“Okay.”

“This game is horsesh-”

“Just because you're bad at it doesn't mean it's a bad game,” Ana cut Louis off before he could say anything else.

“Besides, you're good at almost every other game,” I called over from my spot on the couch with Liam as we worked on downing a massive bowl of popcorn and watched basketball.

“She's not wrong,” Ana agreed. “Let me have this.”

Ana, Louis, Harry, and Cleo were at the table playing Sorry! while Liam and I opted for sports over the board game. It was a pretty normal weekend evening for us.

Yesterday after therapy I'd gone home and taken a nap, and then I called my sister. She was constantly gushing about Andy, and even though she kept telling me it wasn't anything serious, I got the distinct feeling that it was–whether she admitted it or not. Whatever was going on though, I was happy for her. She was absolutely smitten. It was cute to watch it all play out.

“Okay, alright. I’ll let you guys have this one,” Louis gumbled. “But next we’re playing Uno and then I’ll destroy all of you.”

“As if,” Liam called out, eyes not leaving the television. “We all know Ruby is going to destroy us if we play Uno.” 

“Well, then you all better get ready for that,” I, like Liam, called out without looking away from the television.

“This is well and good,” Harry said, “but you’re not the only one losing right now.”

“Get used to it, Styles,” Ana taunted.

“You're adorable when you’re pretending to be competitive,” Harry said in a faux degrading tone. The television went to commercial, so I looked over at them.

I felt a pang watching them interact, but quickly shifted my focus to Cleo who gave me a wink as she refilled her glass of wine, and then over to Louis who was watching me. I blushed, but held his gaze as he mouthed, ‘Are you okay?’ I nodded and smiled at him.

He waved the plate of mini raspberry tarts at me and I caved and went over to him to grab one. 

“Thank you,” I said before taking a bite. 

“How is it?” He asked. 

“Am I just a taste tester to you?”

“Of course not,” Louis shook his head. “You’re also kept around for comic relief. I mean have you seen your face?” 

I scoffed and messed up his hair before taking another pastry and making my way back over to Liam and the couch. Liam put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. 

“You seem to be doing better,” he observed, his focus still on the game on the television. This was how Liam did feelings. I expected nothing else from him.

“I’m working on it.” I nodded. “I’m getting there.” 

“I can tell,” he nudged me. “I’m here if you need me.”

“I know you are, Liam.” I leaned my head against his shoulder and let him keep me close before I nudged him back. “If you think your being kind in any way means that I won’t kick your butt at Uno later, then you’re sorely mistaken.”

“Worth a shot,” he laughed before we both fell silent again, focusing on the basketball game.

[et-in-cinerem-reverteris]

Class of 1953 - Chapters 4/4.5 - Louder Than Bombs/Rubber Ring

“Phil, I think you are the strangest person that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

“Hey, you’re equally weird,” he teases. 

“I know. That’s why I think you’re so wonderful.”

I’m back with my 1950s historical Oxford university AU fic-cum-novella-thing. Sorry I haven’t been posting the chapters to Tumblr! Here are chapters 4 and 4.5 - soon I will be posting chapter 5 (possibly the last chapter!)

Click me to read on Ao3! 

Or keep reading under the cut...

Chapter 4 - Louder Than Bombs

The passing of time, and all of its sickening crimes, is making Phil nervous again.

Sitting sideways at the top of his bed with his feet swinging off the edge like a bored schoolboy, he idly fumbles with the pages of an open book as he stares into space, waiting. 

Last Sunday he had promised Dan that he could use his room as a space to get homework done. Tonight, the gravity of the situation has only just begun to dawn on him. He imagines the scene with a quickened heartbeat; Dan sitting only a foot away, using his chair, working at his desk and writing with his pens, Dan pacing around his room, scrutinising his photographs, flicking through his records and reading the titles of his books. Phil doesn’t know how to prepare himself. Meeting up in public is one thing, but a private visit to his room feels like quite another.

He laughs out loud at himself. Private visit? Dan’s only coming to study for Christ’s sake. 

Speaking of studying, he has his own work to attend to. Lying on his lap is a copy of Beowulf, deliberately planted there to create the impression of a student deeply engaged in a spot of serious reading. Unfortunately for Phil Beowulf has been unable to capture his imagination, and so instead he has spent the last ten minutes or so staring at the contents of his hastily tidied room. His desk is decluttered, his bed has been made, and all the odd pairs of socks have been picked off the floor and put away in preparation for Dan’s visit. 

All is silent bar the low hum of his desk lamp. It’s a quiet Friday evening, and the normally raucous quad now only echoes sporadic bursts of hushed chatter. Tonight’s sky is peppered with clouds that pass the moon at random intervals, periodically obscuring a strange halo that encircles the bright rock in a mysterious reddish glow. The curtains lie wide open, and a streak of moonlight falls on the pinboard opposite his bed. Littered with cinema tickets, clippings from environmental magazines, ripped out pages and uncashed cheques, the most recent addition to the board is a cluster of pictures he took of the photography club on an impromptu walk by the River Cherwell. The top photograph shows Bill squinting at the sun while Mary gives Beth a precarious looking piggyback ride, both of them smiling as John holds his palms up to the toppling ensemble and posing as tourists do next to the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Phil remembers how the group of them skimmed stones across the muddy water, competing to see who could get the furthest, until Beth had beat Bill’s expert hand with a fluke stone that skipped so far into the distance that none of them could tell where it had landed. He thinks of that day with a smile. Good times.

*rat-tat-tat*

At last! Springing off his mattress he dashes towards the mirror, spruces up his quiff, takes in a deep breath and opens the door.

“Hallo! Ho-”

Phil is interrupted as Dan comes crashing into the room, stumbling past him and lurching towards the desk as a large pile of books, folders and papers fall from his arms and scatter across the surface in a heap. He releases a long sigh, and then turns around to face his host with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry for bursting in here like that. My arms were starting to get cramped under the weight of all these books, and I had to put them down. Anyway, how are you?” 

“I’m fine but err, quick question,” Phil starts. “Why didn’t you just use a bag?” 

Dan’s smile fades and his eyes glaze over, mouth opening and closing as his brows furrow in confusion. “Now that you mention it, I um, don’t know why on earth I didn’t think of that.” He throws his hands into the air. “God knows what’s up with me.” Embarrassed, he turns around and begins to organise the jumbled papers.

“What’s all this you’ve got here then?” Phil asks, flopping down onto the bed and leaning his back against the wall as he watches Dan.

“It’s mostly some notes about Schubert. We have to study the last few decades of his life, so I bought a few books from home with me that I thought I’d be able to flick through. And um,” he picks up a piece of paper, “I’ve also got to work towards a portfolio of compositions, so really I’ve got a mountain of stuff to do.”

“Sounds daunting.”

“Mmmm.” He sits down in the chair next to Phil’s desk, adjusting the angle of the lamp as he kicks off his shoes. “So,” he continues, turning around, “what are you up to then?”

Phil nonchalantly waves his book in the air. “Just Beowulf.” 

Dan scoffs. “Just Beowulf? Come on, Phil! It’s only one of the most important pieces of English literature of all time!” Shaking his head in disbelief, he turns back around. “‘Just Beowulf’... Jesus.”

After a couple of minutes of silence Phil suddenly realises that Dan has started working. As in actually working. In the past they had both joked about being chronic procrastinators, and so Phil had predicted that the night would end up with them talking about books, politics or musicals instead of doing homework. He’s a bit surprised that Dan was serious about wanting to use his room just to study in, and to be truthful, he’s also a little disappointed. 

To make matters worse, as the other boy works away Phil finds himself unable to concentrate on the book in front of him; no matter how hard he tries to focus, all thoughts invariably trace back to his companion. He examines the back of his neck, the collar of his shirt, the knit of his jumper and how it falls on his lanky build. Dan will occasionally sing or hum a tune to himself, scribble something down and then repeat that same harmony with a few added notes, moving the fingers on his right hand as if he were in front of a piano. It’s a peaceful sight, captivatingly peaceful, and his concentration trickles down the drain. To hell with reading anyway. 

His thoughts meander back to a familiar daydream; Dan’s life in Wokingham. Phil’s imagination frequently returns to a scene of Dan sitting in a lavish study, playing the piano as golden sun leaks through an open window, balmy air wafting inside on a sweet summer evening. In tonight’s incarnation Phil envisions himself there sitting on the wooden floor, pondering over verses of romantic poetry, reading aloud a particularly pleasant stanza to Dan who would glance up from the piano and give him one of those warm, glowing smiles where his dimples make him look utterly angeli-

It’s a silly dream really, very silly indeed, and Phil feels ashamed for ever having dreamt it. With a glum sense of self-restraint, he turns back to his homework and tries extra-hard to concentrate on it. 

An hour or so passes in the little room on staircase nine, and after a while Phil finds himself lulled into the lethargic contentment that only rewards avid readers, and to his amazement he realises that Anglo-Saxon poetry about Danish kings and mythical beasts isn’t as tedious as he had previously dreaded. 

Satisfied with his progress, he bookmarks his page and closes the book with a thump. Dan’s neck twitches at the sound, and, as if abruptly reminded of the existence of the outside world, he drops his pen, massages his hands, and stretches his long, slender arms out into the air behind him. 

“Right, I’m throwing in the towel or else I shall die of a Schu-verload,” he exhales, leaning backwards and cracking his spine on the back of the chair.

“Schu...verload?” 

Dan swivels around to give him a dry scowl. “Schubert-overload, you fool.”

“Oh!” Phil exclaims, and the pair of them erupt into laughter. “Sorry, my brain has just been fried by one-thousand year old poetry. I’m feeling a bit,” he yawns, “a bit sleepy.”

Getting up from his chair and stretching some more, Dan paces over to the window and peers out of it before unhinging the lock and propping it open. Cold air sails through the room, ruffling his curls as he stares out into the dark night.

“Nice view you’ve got from up here.”

“Thanks,” Phil quips, fully aware of the fact that his room faces into a fairly dull courtyard.

“I’m serious. I think it’s grand that you’ve got a view of the chapel. It’s terribly romantic.” He steps away from the window, attention turning to a nearby shelf which houses a small record collection that appears to spark his enthusiasm. “You’ve got some superb albums here. Handel, Tchaikovsky, Chopin…” He looks over to where Phil has propped himself up against his headboard. “I respect those choices.” 

“Thanks, although I mainly put them on for background noise. I’m not a major classical geek or anything.”

The other boy guffaws. “Like me?”

“No, not like you,” Phil tuts, and his pretend frown turns into another yawn.

“Busy day?” Dan grins.

“Busy day, busy week, busy month. Hectic month, in fact.”

Nodding in solidarity Dan sits down at the bottom of Phil’s bed and reclines with his back against the wall, closing his eyes with a faint smile still on his face. As the pair of them sit in silence Phil's own eyelids get heavier, and budding in his chest is a drowsy desire to snuggle up into a cosy cocoon and burrow into the bedcovers, falling deeper and deeper into the comfort of his soft, warm sheets...

When he awakes, Dan is staring straight at him.

“Hmmm, what? Did I fall asleep?”

“Quite possibly. God, I know I’m about to.” Dan’s eyelids flicker downwards as his smile fades. He looks exhausted, really exhausted, and Phil feels like there’s something he should do about it.

“Hey.” 

Dan’s shoots up. Phil shuffles across his narrow bed and moves closer to the wall, patting the small space next to him in invitation. The other boy’s eyes widen for a moment before he melts into a soft, sleepy smile, then gets up slowly and gingerly sits on the bed, lies down next to Phil, then shuffles around so that he’s facing...facing him...and then closes his eyes as if it’s nothing.

Phil blinks in confusion. His more logical side knows that sleeping on the same bed as a friend is something that people do without batting an eyelid, but next to Dan it feels different - symbolic, even. Regardless, or perhaps because of that feeling, he shuffles round to face the other man and observes his sleeping face, his pale skin, his dark freckles, his thick brown eyebrows and long brown eyelashes. 

Suddenly, the eyelashes open.

“Phil?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me use your room to study in, you doofus,” he teases, words coming out slightly sluggish.

“Mmmm, that’s alright. It’s the least I can do considering how you spoiled me last Saturday. I think I should be the one thanking you.”

Dan shifts slightly, and Phil feels their shins are now pressed up against each other. His soul sings. If he were more awake his heart might be racing in an exhilarated panic, but in his tired state all he can do is feel strangely happy. Happy...and cold.

“Why on earth is it so freezing in here?” he asks, confused and a little dazed, and as he props himself up on his elbow he sees that the window has been left open. “Da-an!”

“What?” he whines through the pillow.

“You didn’t close the window!”

“Close it then.”

Phil groans, flopping back down onto the bed. “I can’t be bothered!”

“Well in that case we’ll just have to huddle together like penguins then,” and with his eyes still closed Dan moves across the bed until their faces are centimetres apart. Now Phil’s heart starts to quicken.

“I can’t, it’s too much.”

Dan’s eyes fly open as Phil gets up from the bed and walks over to the window. Worried that he’s made a deadly mistake he buries his head into the pillow and waits for Phil to order him out of his room, out into the cold, out into the darkness for a long, lonely walk back to his own miserable dormitory.

The window clunks shut, and then the bed becomes a lot heavier. Dan removes his face from the pillow to see Phil gazing down at him.

“I thought…I thought you were about to abandon me.”

“What? Abandon you? Where would I go?” He chuckles. “I was cold, that’s all. I wouldn’t leave you here like that.” 

Dan beams up at him with flushed cheeks. “You still cold?”

A smirk lets itself out. “Maybe.”

Dan unfurls his right arm across the width of the bed and lifts his left arm into the air. Phil slowly begins to panic. A hug? Is he pulling him in for a hug? A hug with Dan and his arms wrapped around him holding him lying there together on his bed a-

Okay. 

Enough.

Phil looks back at Dan. His stare is dark and strong, profound and meaningful, and it makes him feel safe. He takes the plunge and lowers himself down. Dan pulls him into a hug, arms wrapping around his back and drawing him close to his chest. Phil can hear the low thump of Dan’s heartbeat and smell the warm, musky scent that lingers on his jumper. He places his arms on Dan’s ribcage, fingers fiddling with the cable knit patterns. The pair adjust themselves slightly, moving shoulders, moving heads, moving their legs and intertwining them together, drifting off to the wide, sleepy sea in a boat built for two.

Chapter 4.5 - Rubber Ring

Phil had been asleep.

Phil had been asleep, until somebody had knocked on his door. 

Phil had been planning on going back to sleep, until through the still of night he had heard a familiar voice whispering his name.

Shaking the sleep from his bones, Phil opens his curtains, stumbles towards the door, turns the key in the lock and prepares himself for whatever lies waiting for him in the hallway.

“Dan?”

“G’d evening”

“W...what are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Fancy a stroll?”

“A stroll? Are you insane?” Phil repeats mockingly, shivering from the cool air in the hallway. “Dan, it’s...” He checks his wrist, and frowns when he sees that it’s naked.

“1 a.m. on a Wednesday night? I know. So, what d’you say?”

Really, he should say no. He really should. It’s one in the morning, it’s a weeknight, he’s got lectures tomorrow and the weather outside is probably cold enough to freeze him to his core within five minutes. He should say no, he really should, but there’s something about roaming the shadowy streets at midnight with Dan that’s far too exciting to turn down.

“Give me thirty seconds and I’ll be right with you.”

Diving back into his room to grab the first items of clothing that he sees, Phil can’t help but feel slightly frenzied. When Dan was in his room last it had ended with the pair of them falling asleep entangled in each other’s arms. Phil hadn’t forgotten that. He had far from forgotten that. Memories of that night had floated through the air ever since, landing on him with the delicate wings of a wistful daydream that left him blushing as it flew away. Now, to both his surprise and his delight, this same boy is knocking on his door and asking for his accompaniment on a ridiculous small-hour escapade.

As he wraps his scarf around his collar, he looks across the room to the moonlit part of his pinboard. One particular piece of paper stands out, and he moves in closer to read it - it’s a quote scribbled onto a scrap of blue paper.

“I looked up at the mass of signs and stars in the night sky and laid myself open for the first time to the benign indifference of the world." 

How strange. He’s had that Albert Camus line scribbled onto a piece of paper for years now, and yet never in his life has it seemed so appropriate as it does right this moment. With a peculiar feeling of rebirth he thrusts his feet into the nearest pair of shoes he can find, and opens the door into the corridor. 

Dan is leaning against the wall of the hallway. The pose strikes him as familiar, and with a shock of nostalgia Phil is transported back to the night when the two of them first met. He remembers how Dan stood in the doorway to the photography club - arms folded, ankles crossed, sly smirk plastered to his mischievous face. How things have changed between them since then. 

Phil locks the door, pockets the key, and when he turns around Dan is staring absentmindedly at the floor with his eyes boring holes into nothingness. Suddenly he blinks, looks up, and his eyes instantly meet Phil’s with a vivid, bittersweet gaze that makes everything else in the world feel like it’s falling away.

It feels like the passing touch of a stranger’s hand on the small of his back at a lavish party. It feels like the shock of a cherry liqueur that stuns the taste buds and leaves behind a decadent, sumptuous and moreish aftertaste. It feels like the sight of a full moon from the balcony of his Grecian holiday home, wind rustling through the leaves as the waves whisper beneath him. Phil’s heart melts... and then he realises. 

He just might be in love.

“What are you thinking about?” Dan asks, breaking the silence as his eyelids hang low. Phil looks at those dark, pretty eyelashes on those dark, pretty eyes, rolls his shoulders back, and sighs.

“Mmmm, nothing.” 

He turns to walk down the narrow hallway with Dan following close behind. They push through the heavy wooden door at the end of the hallway and descend onto the staircase, making their way down the steps that lead out of the building.

“So tell me then, how did you manage to get up to my room?” Phil inquires. “Did Rapunzel let her hair down over the Fellow’s Garden wall for you to use as a rope to climb up?”

Dan laughs. “No, not quite.”

“Well go on then, how did you do it? Surely the main college door would have been locked?”

“Not tonight apparently, I pushed it, and lo and behold it was open. There wasn’t a porter there either. Poor sod’s probably raiding the college’s wine cellar,” he adds with a chuckle.

“Dan! The porters aren’t drunkards.”

“I know I know, but it must be bloody boring just sitting there all night. I know I’d raid the stash if I were them.”

“What, and allow unruly boys who can’t settle down to come and break in to the college grounds? You’d make a great porter.”

“That is why I am not a porter, but a devilish, wicked boy who breaks into colleges so he can sneak into other boys’ bedrooms,” he smiles.

Phil’s mind almost shuts down at that latter part. Out of sheer bewilderment his brain decides to respond by bellowing out “you are a saucy boy” in his best Lord Capulet impression, which has the effect of making Dan double over into a fit of laughter, tears streaming down his face as he wheezes the word “saucy” through silent giggles.  

As they exit the building they’re struck by the biting December cold. Careful to tread lightly across the echoing stone slabs, they stealth across the smaller quad that Phil’s bedroom faces into, creep past the chapel, and step through to the larger quad wherein lies a perfectly-maintained square lawn.

“Hey!” Dan whispers.

“What?”

“Shall we walk across the grass?”

“What? Dan! We can’t do that!” Phil hisses. “We’ll get caught and fined and-”

“Oh stop it! We’re already breaking the rules by sneaking out past 10 p.m. Tarnishing an overly-pampered lawn isn’t any worse.”

Before Phil has time to protest, Dan has already set foot on the forbidden pasture.

“Dan stop! For fuc-”

“Catch me if you can!” 

The boy runs around in circles as Phil loiters on the edge, deliberating on whether or not he should join in, until he looks around the quad and, upon seeing nobody, finally decides to indulge in Dan’s game. They race around the turf, skidding and slipping and ripping up the grass. Phil tries to reach Dan, but no matter how hard he struggles he never seems to be able to catch up.

“What’s that Lester? Too slow are we?” Dan taunts, placing a hand on his hip.

That’s it, Phil thinks. 

Time to put Dan in his place. 

With a final burst of energy Phil lunges forward, hurtling himself towards the other man in a push that sends them crashing to the floor, foreheads colliding with a knock that’ll have both of them bruised by the time the sun shines.

“Ow, shit! My head!”

“You alright?”

Phil rolls off onto the cold lawn, swiftly disentangling himself from the mess of limbs as Dan pushes himself off the ground with a grunt of effort.

“Jesus Christ Phil! What are you, some sort of juggernaut?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Sometimes I don’t know my own strength.”

Dan breathes in deeply, eyes flitting over Phil’s body before travelling back up to meet him.

“Evidently not.”

There’s a moment of silence as they recover, and Phil notices that a few blades of grass are stuck to Dan’s face. Without thinking he reaches out a hand to brush them off, fingers briefly skimming across the surface of the boy’s cheek. Dan’s eyes are wide, and his breath is hot against Phil’s hand, lips parted as his eyes lock with Phil’s. There’s a presence in those eyes that Phil has seen before. Inspecting. Asking. Phil wants to trace his thumb across the surface of Dan’s panting mouth with those big, blinking, innocent eyes staring up at him, maybe slip in a finger and feel that soft, wet tongue...but the flare of uncertainty in his chest tells him to remove his hand, stand up from the ground, and say “shall we get going then?” in the steadiest voice he can muster.

After hoisting Dan up from the ground they creep across the quad towards the lodge where the porter sits. Or rather, where the porter normally sits.

“Hmmm. Still nobody here,” Dan confirms, crooking his head around the front desk.

Phil opens the latch of the small door and steps out. “Quickly then. We don’t want to get caught.” Dan hurries across the cobbled entrance, following him through the exit as it shuts behind them with a soft click.

As soon as they’re out the college gates Dan reaches into his coat and pulls out a small bottle of alcohol. Ah. That would explain a lot. He offers it to Phil, who nods in gratitude and takes a sip.

“Eurgh!” 

Dan laughs. “You don’t like whiskey?” Phil screws his eyes shut, shaking his head as if trying to rid himself of the taste. “Ah well - more for me!” 

On second thoughts, if Dan’s already drunk Phil doesn’t want to be the only one who’s sober, and so he reaches for the bottle with grabbing hands as Dan takes a healthy swig. Although he raises his eyebrows at Phil’s unexplained change of opinion, he hands it over regardless. As they amble through the streets Dan takes the drink back, downing it at an alarming rate, and by the time they’ve made their way to the highroad the vessel is as good as gone. 

“Ah, here we are,” Dan cries, “the theatre!” Phil winces - he’s a little on the loud side.

“I saw a fan-tastic production here the other week. The Phantom of the Opera it was. Bloody blil..bloody brilliant,” he slurs, waving the empty bottle around in his hand. “Very fine chap playing Erik, very fine...” He sighs. “I wanted to be an opera singer, y’know. Dunno know what ‘appened to that.”

Phil frowns. “What d’you mean ‘dunno what happened to that’? You can still have a shot at it.”

“You know, that’s very true,” he mutters, “very true...” 

As they walk down the deserted road the only sound to be heard is the clacking of their heeled shoes, until they turn down an ill-lit side-street and Dan begins to hum a tune that sounds familiar. 

“Is that-”

“The Phantom of the Opera? You didn’t say you’d seen it!” 

Before Phil can gush about his love of musicals, Dan unexpectedly bursts into song.

“Beneath the opera house,

I know he’s there,

He’s with me on the stage,

He’s everywhere.”

For a moment, Phil forgets how to think. He hadn’t expected Dan’s voice to be so high pitched, so silky and delicate and feminine.

“And when my song begins,

I always find,

The phantom of the opera is there,

Inside my mind.”

Dan nods his head as if expecting a reaction. Ah. The next part of the song is sung by The Phantom. Hesitant to embarrass himself but too tipsy to care, Phil takes in a deep breath and attempts to remember the lyrics.

“Since once again with me,

A strange duet.

I power over you,

Grow stronger yet.

You give your love to me,

For love is blind.

The phantom of the opera is now,

Your mastermind.”

He looks back at Dan, whose gawk transforms into a grin.

“Those who have seen your face,

Draw back in fear.

I am the mask you wear.”

Another expectant look from Dan. Oh!

“It’s me they hear!”

If he’s correct, they sing the next part together.

“My spirit and my voice,

In one command.

The Phantom of The Opera is there,

Inside your mind.”

Phil could have died on the spot - their voices sound amazing together. He turns around to beam at Dan, but Dan’s too busy acting to notice.

“The Phantom of the Opera,

He’s there.

The Phantom of the Opera.” 

He waltzes out into the road, obviously getting into it. Phil follows, and their voices combine more. 

“Sing once again with me,

A strange duet.”

“My power over you

Grows stronger yet.”

“You give your love to me ,

For love is blind.

The Phantom of The Opera is now,

My mastermind.”

“Sing my angel of music!” Phil cries.

“He’s there,

The Phan-tom of the O-per-aaaaa”

“Sing once again with me,

For a strange duet.”

Dan finishes off the song with the highest note Phil has ever heard come from a man. Bursting into laughter, he bows to a one-man audience as Phil claps and shouts “bravo!”, throwing invisible roses onto an invisible stage before turning to walk down the street.

“Thank you, thank you,” Dan giggles, buzzing with adrenaline as he looks at Phil, who responds with equal spirit. He isn’t quite sure what just happened, but something about their voices combining together like that felt spectacular. It felt special. As their smiles fade, Dan looks as though he wants to speak.

“Phil,” he begins, “can I...can I compliment you?”

“Of course.”

“You have the most incredible voice. Seriously.”

Phil is stupefied. Really? His voice, “incredible”? 

Something wells up inside his chest, something wild and fleeting and frantic that makes him want to sprint and shout and bowl Dan over with a tackle or a hug or just give in to his long-restrained yearning and just grab his charming, boyish face and just kiss it-

Instead, he reaches out a hand, and lightly taps Dan on the nose with his finger.

“Phil, I think you are the strangest person that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

“Hey, you’re equally weird,” he teases. 

“I know. That’s why I think you’re so wonderful.”

It’s his shy smile that tips Phil over the edge. He reaches out and pulls Dan into a hug that’s forceful and rough, throwing his arms around his shoulders and squeezing him tight as Dan instantly wraps his arms around him, gripping with equal vigour until they can’t get any closer.

“Thank you for agreeing to go on this mad walk with me. It’s just that I...I couldn’t sleep. This stupid performance is in two days and I’ve got so much work to do and I-” His voice cracks. Phil says nothing but rubs Dan’s back in consolation. After a while, the other boy pulls away. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, avoiding Phil’s eye.

“Don’t be sorry. You’re stressed, it’s understandable. I don’t mind anyway, it was my pleasure.” They begin walking. “Don’t worry about all this school work, you’ve got enough time to sort it out before the performance. If you don’t finish it, who cares - you can do it over the holidays.”

With a big sniff, Dan nods. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

“As for Friday, I’m sure it’ll go smoothly. If you fluff a line just get your sword out and start duelling the audience with your fencing skills. They won’t know what hit them. Literally.”

“Let's hope I don’t fluff anything then, because I don’t want to have to kill you in a sword fight.”

“Aha! How bold you are to assume that I would lose! In fact, I, Philip Michael Lester, otherwise known as... Lance Lester, am a master of sword fighting, known throughout the land for my trusty steel and quick foot.” He snatches at the bottle in Dan’s hand, holding it by its neck. “This was my father's poniard, do you see? I'd be loth to see 't look rusty, 'cause 'twas his.”

Dan cackles, high pitched and loud. “Oh Phil, you’re such a geek, you know that right?”

“Oi - that’s Lance Lester to you!”

“Oh yeah? More like Feeble Phil,” he teases, jabbing at the other boy’s stomach. It doesn’t take long before they start to pretend-fight, scuffling in the street and tussling with each other all the way back home, gradually getting louder and more competitive until they circle back to Turl Street.

“Hey, hey, shhh!” Phil hisses. “We’re back at my college.”

Dan unclences Phil from a headlock and looks up. “We are indeed. Let’s hope the door’s still unlocked.” 

Phil gives it a gentle push, and it opens with a creak. Wriggling free from Dan’s grasp he slips into the entrance, standing with one foot it and one foot out, propping the door open with his chest.

“Well, good luck for rehearsals then. I’ll be at the chapel for…”

“For eight o’clock.”

“Eight o’clock. Right.”

Dan’s face falls. 

“My God.”

“What? What’s the matter?”

“I nearly forgot. Oh, what a disaster that would have been.” 

Phil raises an eyebrow. 

“On the night of the performance the chap I share a room with is going out, so I’m inviting a handful of people back to my room for a little party afterwards. I kept meaning to invite you but I never got round to it. Please say you can make it!”

“It’d be my pleasure.” 

Dan beams. “Perfect, I’ll see you there.” 

He turns away and walks up the street, hands thrust into his trouser pockets as he hurries back to his room. Phil stands at the door, watching. When Dan reaches the corner of the road he turns his head to face backwards, and, although he’s too far away to be sure, Phil is certain that he can feel the warmth of a smile shooting through the air and landing on his breast like the golden tip of Cupid’s pointed arrow, spreading through his body with a tender warmth.

[puawarriors-production]

Week 17 – Alex – I Told You I’d See You Later

My previous post was a little anti-climactic if you ask me, and I didn’t get to recap what I did so here we gooo.

----------------------FIRST, MAJOR DISCLAIMER---------------

     As you can see, this post is pretty dang long, so I’m just gonna put evaluation stuff for the class here first, and if you feel like reading on afterward that’s cool, but it’s just personal reflections and final send-off stuff. 

     So, shockingly, I was one of the main contributors to the rough animation which you can see in the animatic, and can track the progress of throughout this blog’s history. I finished 15 roughed shots in total. I also have 8 shots concurrently blocked (in other words, partial progress,) and 2 shots unstarted.       I also made the 3D environment models used for reference in making the backgrounds, as well as handling the editing side (video composition, timing, and sound edits) for the animatic up to this point. 

     Next, I worked closely with Sophia and our sound mixer Tim to get the voice actresses recorded, their clips edited, and finally integrated into the film. And also, while this hasn’t made it into the animatic yet, I have been creating some original sound design elements as well. Here’s a sample of some:

I’m focusing mostly on the characters’ Pua powers and transformations right now, and some sludge sounds. And in hand with that, I also did the voice clips/sound effects for the Sludge Monster. Aaand that’s pretty much it from me this semester! Super excited to keep up the work in the weeks to come! If you’re not sticking till the end of the post, then thanks for an awesome class, and awesome semester! 

------------------ The Feels Side of the Post -----------------

                                       The Pua Warriors Experience

     When I first heard about Pua Warriors, I thought the idea sounded awesome: Magical girls set in Hawai'i using flower powers and sparkles to save the day? Yeah I’m down for that. It felt… familiar to me, I suppose. But at the time I still knew relatively little about the characters, the story, and only had a vague idea of their designs.

     As time went on and the Capstone application deadline was approaching, I felt like I was a bit stuck, with the exhaustion of working on Midnight Showing holding me on one side, and having only a vague outline of a plot for my own film idea on the other. And with no crew to speak of, the decision not to make a Capstone of my own was … difficult… one of the most difficult in my time at ACM. Cause in my mind (at the time at least,) not making “your own” Capstone project felt like a failure somehow. But this whole Pua Warriors thing was sounding pretty nice, and I already knew everyone working on it. So I decided life’s better together, and far be it from me to not work on a project of some kind. So I hopped on-board for a little trip into the unknown. And well, here we are, still in the unknown. But that doesn’t mean we’re lost. Not yet.

     I have to say, Pua Warriors has grown on me. At a certain point it stopped feeling like a student film, and started feeling more like a potential series: a world with its own storyline, and indeed one that’s worth telling – yes, I would make a distinction between the two. Working on the project has just been the sweetest, most wonderful, enlightening, mild existential crisis inducing, and bizarrely friendly thing I’ve had the privilege of working on, all at once. It didn’t just change how I approach character design, animation, or working on a team – I feel it changed me for the better as a person, and at times I feel almost unworthy to be on this project.

     One thing I’ll never forget is the time we spent hanging out in the Keller lab, going to group meetings, and recording at MELE. What silly fun times those were. I admit, not being able to hang out with my friends after the virus shut the world down has truly been one of the most difficult parts of my whole “college era” of my life experience. To feel like something great was forming, only to be ripped away by something so crazy and completely over-the-top as this virus – words just can’t capture the feeling of melancholy. But even when we’re spread hundreds or thousands of miles apart, at times I can still feel near, even if it is only through a screen. And personally, I don’t want that to change just because the semester’s ending. That’s why, in a way, I’m sort of glad we have time to work on into the summer.

                                             Reflections on Life

     Some lessons this semester taught me: First is on fitting in. It’s never blending in for the sake of blending in, nor standing out for the sake of standing out. It’s being comfortably unique in your own talents and skills, strengths and weaknesses, styles and tastes - while being happy to share those things with others. Indeed, it’s not about being “good enough” to belong, but rather belonging, in order that may do good for others. Second is on wanting to help. For a long time I remained kind of a loner in ACM, sitting in “my” corner with “my” ideas. It wasn’t until last semester and especially during this semester I realized just how powerful, or perhaps rather how much more powerful the drive to help and serve others can be. That’s true not just for creative endeavors, but all areas of life. The Third lesson: doing things for the right reasons. We do things for a lot of different reasons, and often times we aren’t cognizant of why we act or feel the way we do. Having an understanding of who you truly are and what you really want is critical in exercising self-control, and you may come to realize your desires aren’t always what you think they are. And the Fourth lesson is on being assertive. We all want and feel things, and one of the greatest feelings is being in control. You may doubt yourself when you don’t know where your feelings and desires come from. You may think your mind is playing tricks on you. But the truth is, we’ll never go places in life if we don’t speak up and acknowledge our ideas. We may not always come to the right conclusions, but that doesn’t mean we’re wrong for trying. So try, try, and try again. It’s okay to fail, as long as you pick up something with you as you get up. Take risks, and understand that doubt is often our greatest enemy, so fight it!

     So now, at the end, I don’t really know what I feel: I don’t know if this is sadness or happiness? Courage or fear? Maybe it’s none of those things, but something I haven’t quite felt before. Until recently, I didn’t realize there’s an emotion that can make you feel so weak, yet feel strong at the same time. One thing’s for sure, I’m going to miss the project, the crew, and all of Hawai'i. To us, the future is a blank slate: nothing is written on it, yet it holds an infinite number of possibilities. 

                                          Honoring my Maker

     Now before I wrap up, I have a specific topic I’d like to address.

     While I  usually avoid discussing my religious life openly in a scholastic context, I will say here and now that God has been my greatest help throughout these past couple years. For the longest time, even before coming to Hawai'i, I struggled with feelings of not fitting in, of low self-esteem, and of self-doubt. There were a lot of recurring battles at my home growing up, and many of the wounds followed me into adulthood. And if nothing else, this semester has brought many of those to the forefront.

     As a child back in Washington, I would often just go with the flow of my friends at the time, because it was easier, and allowed me to avoid conflict. Yet I would be lead into instances where I would not speak up or act, even though I felt what we were doing, thinking, or saying was wrong. My family wasn’t particularly religious, or at least they certainly didn’t act like it. And for a while I think I didn’t believe in God. Maybe there was some higher power... maybe, perhaps, but not God. Yet still I felt a crushing weight on my conscience, for both the things I had done, and the things I had failed to do. So I watched TV shows and movies to help me feel safe, to distract myself, and indeed to feel as if I had more power than I actually did. 

     There came a time in middle school when a big storm came through my life, and when I was living in fear, I turned to God, and He helped me through it. And again in high school, God helped me. And in college, many times more. Through it all, God answered my prayers, and showed me there is a better way. And I came to understand that He gave me a way to life through His Son, long before I was even born. And because of that, I could find comfort and rest by trusting in Him through the afflictions I faced.      So the way I see it, God has lead my life in a way neither I, nor any human being could. I have found that He has a purpose for all things, and truly that nothing comes by accident. I may not say it aloud, but I observe it every day in the places He sets me in, and the people with whom He places me. Yes, even in the midst of this virus. So while family and friends may not always be there to support me, and while institutions may crumble and fall, and while I may move away and feel isolated from all I’ve known, my God was, is, and always will be with me. There is nothing more empowering or reassuring than that. And without coming off too preachy, my hope is that people might perhaps look at that reflected in my life - to see the work God has done, and to consider their own relationship with Him.

                                                       Roll Call

     Next, I have a few shout-outs I’d like to mention.

     First, to my wonderful film Director Sophia: What can I say? This project has been simply amazing to work on with you. I think back to the moment I first overheard you talking about Pua Warriors. You were so thrilled to do it, and that’s when I realized I might want to jump onboard as well. Since then, the only adjective that comes to mind describing this experience is “vibrant.” I know there have been a lot of ups and downs, but that’s part of what makes the experience worth remembering. And there may very well be more hills and valleys to go through, but I actually look forward to them every day with you, as we continue to make this film happen. You shine like a star with a brilliant, positive energy I’ve never seen before. And I think you have a much greater potential than perhaps even you yourself realize. Of course, everyone has room to grow, but that doesn’t reflect poorly on you at all. It’s the fact that you’ve been so supportive of your team, and that you didn’t give up on your vision, and indeed, you’ve made massive efforts to grow this semester – that’s what makes you a good director in my eyes. And to be honest, I wouldn’t have anybody else direct the film – certainly at least not this “episode” anyway. It’s been a lasting experience, and I hope you’ll take what you’ve learned from it with you. You have a bright future ahead of you Sophia – all you need to do is reach out to it!

     Next, to the Art Director and my good friend Gavin, wow what a ride this has been. Your artistic vision, your stamina, and your work ethic are so very remarkable. It’s been awesome these last few years getting to know you and work with you through all the late nights and long class periods. And especially through Midnight Showing and Pua Warriors. You basically set the standard that I and most other animation students aspire to, and you have such a unique way of looking at things too. Even when you’re feeling drained from all the work, your passion clearly shows, and you know how to communicate both very clearly, AND very, uh, sassily, which makes hanging around you hilarious. You’re also one of the only people on Earth that could get me to watch Clone Wars, and I don’t regret it. You give exceptional feedback in each critique, and though it can be tough to incorporate sometimes, you make listening to you a worthwhile endeavor. ACM simply would not be what it is without you, and I know you have many great things you’ll do with your skills moving forward.

     To our excellent Animation Supervisor Chandelle, this semester’s been a tough one, but even in the darkest times, the sun still rises! You’ve always been an awesome animator, an incredibly hard worker, and an exceptionally friendly and helpful member of the group. And what’s more, you never sought to put the spotlight on yourself for it. You do things simply because you care, and you do them with such a level of discipline and professionalism that few in the ACM department could match it. I’m sure I speak for the whole group when I say, we care about you so much, and we’re just thankful you’ve been with us on the project. Never sell yourself short Chandelle! You’ve conquered some major obstacles in the past, and I know you have it in you to overcome this one as well.The light will shine again someday, so hang in there, and thanks for all the help you’ve given!

     To my fellow animation friend Jared, man, have I got a lot of respect for you. You really know what it’s like to get down and dirty for the team, or feel stuck in a rut in the middle of a project. This last year has probably tested you the most, and yet you never fell apart. Sure, cracks may have formed at times, but you held together and pulled on through to the end. That proves you’ve got guts, and a great capacity for patience and accommodation especially in times of crisis. And that’s exactly what we need - that kind of boldness and passion, to be able to outlast our worries, especially when there are so many unknowns. I remember back to Midnight Showing; boy, that felt like a big time of unknowns too. We had no idea what was coming. And yet you outmatched it, and sure enough, things worked out in the end. And because you’ve been so humble and willing to improve yourself, I’ve seen you get so much better over these last few years, and frankly, it’s astonishing! You’re a great friend, and a hard worker Jared. Keep it up! You’ve got this!

     I’d also like mention my fellow animation friend Kalilinoe! Even though we’re not in the same team this semester, you’re still an awesome and inspiring animator to have in class! Working together on Midnight Showing last semester was a lot of work, but also so much fun! And I love your style of animation using rotoscoping. And I gotta say, the animation in Pua Ka Uahi looks sooo smooth and beautiful. Watching your progress on the film this semester has been super inspiring, and definitely keeps the other teams on their toes! I can’t wait to see the finished film!

     I’ll also make a brief mention of Jayme and Bobby from our 320/420 classes! You guys rock, and made the year all the better! I hope we’ll get to hang out again sometime! 

     PLUS, A big thanks to the whole Capstone class! Stay creative, and best wishes to you all!

     And finally, one last big shout-out to Lisette for making all of this possible! You’ve been an awesome teacher not just for this course, but for the last few years in general! You always bring such wisdom and expert film knowledge to us younglings. And you’re so willing to make yourself available to your students; always helpful and encouraging to everyone, and even more so now during this time. That’s just the kind of support we need! I’ll be missing your classes greatly! Thanks so much for all your care and help!

                                              A New Chapter Begins

Well, that pretty much wraps up my blog (for the school-production time anyway) of Pua Warriors. I’d like to once again thank each and every one of you for making the ACM experience so incredible. I think I like posting, so I’ll probably try to keep up with the blogs for the future, or at least make an update every once in a while. Thanks for reading through this epic conclusion of a post. 

Until next time my friends! This is Alex(is) Nelson, Ganitine, the Undercover Animator, uncovered! See you next time!

[peekychu]

The history of my fursonas! 🐱

I’m in an especially infodump-y mood at the moment and I watched a video about fursonas that inspired me (Shoutout to Pocari Roo’s channel!) so here we go ^o^ 

Click under the cut to read the whole enchilada! (It’s a long post, make sure you have the appetite for it first xD)

I first learned about the furry fandom in about 2013-14 from some friends at school! Granted, the two teenage boys I talked to a lot were more obsessed with the... sexual side of that xD I won’t go into that though because that would involve me talking about more uncomfortable stuff >.> I also had another friend that was such a huge influence to me and they’re a big reason that I still draw fuzzy animals to this day! Their fursona at the time was named Icy and I thought that character was the freakin’ coolest. I remember going home after talking to them, filled with inspiration and making my very first fursona!

Her original name was Rogue Feather, but the name Scarlett came later and ultimately stuck way better! Her design was simple, a red fox with a purple bandana! Not much thought was put into her, I just put together what I thought a typical fursona would look like :P I didn’t draw her much since I was way more focused on MLP and my ponysona Starfruit, but I still enjoyed doodling her!

Shortly after Scarlett, I created Citrus the cat! To be honest, she didn’t really represent me other than being a cat xD Her design was actually based off of a girl that I had a crush on at that time, but that’s a whole other story >.>

Also, it was coincidental that Twinkie has elements from both of these beginning characters, I just noticed that making this post! I learned that I loved cats from creating citrus, and I loved drawing Scarlett’s wings and bandanas so I suppose it was natural that my current fursona would have all of these traits :P

Well, months pass after posting the first drawings of Citrus and Scarlett on my Instagram, and at this point I decided to try taking up digital art! I downloaded FireAlpaca for free (still my program of choice x3) and worked really hard at drawing with only my mouse!

My friend that inspired me to draw more furry characters had changed their fursona over from a bright sparkledog-ish color scheme to another character with muted browns and oranges. Inspired once again, I designed another cat character to represent myself!

Meet Macchiato (or Mac for short)! They were made when I switched my focus from My Little Pony to furry characters, and I moved from Instagram to DeviantArt as my main art site. 

When I made Mac, I was close to beginning high school and I questioned a lot about my identity, mainly my gender and sexuality :P For a period of time, I pushed aside my adoration for ponies, Pokemon and colorful things in favor of things I thought were “cooler” and more boyish. A large part of this was my complicated relationship with my gender identity, but also because I thought I had to act more mature... so I expressed this by drawing myself as a cat? It was complicated xD

Anyways, while I have a soft spot for Mac, they’re sort of my own Rex Dangervest if that makes sense :P I mean, they were my first expression of feeling neutral to gender which was a big deal for me, but when I look at their drab colors it sort of makes me sad that I didn’t have much fun designing them. (I did have a blast drawing that pixel reference though, I remember that xD)

I also created a few more furry characters just for the fun of it! I won’t post pictures of all of them for the sake of length, but they were Chamomile the fennec fox, Minx the cat, Caira the alien dog, Pfeffer the bunny, Flicker the bat (who I should draw again sometime >.>) Mitzi the dog and... Whatever animal Skyler was supposed to be xD I made all these characters before I attempted to make a fursona that I felt more connected with...

Along came Clash the cat, an even more depressing character than Mac for me to look at xD I was considerably depressed at this point from the pressure of high school and my identity issues, the droopy eyelids and chaotic color scheme of him sort of reflect this. 

It’s a good thing you can’t read his description in that screenshot, Believe me, but I think I should quote a part of it because it greatly represents how I felt about myself during the time period when I made him.

“If you were to dissect his brain, you’d see something much like somebody’s tangled collection of thread and yarn. Colorful, unkept, and full of pushed aside potential.”

Ouch!!

Well, after a period of depressing fursonas I played that one cat icon creator game that circulated on Tumblr for a while, and I made my favorite old fursona! I think that he had a lot in common with Twinkie and I used them more than everyone else beforepaw.

Here’s Cetrada, my little Nickelodeon slime cat xD I named them after the Italian citron-flavored soda that my friend Francesca (Love ya buddy!) sent to me in the mail! That soda is actually spelled Cedrata, the misspelling of the name was not a creative choice but an actual dumb mistake xP 

I genuinely still love this character, I nicknamed them Limey since it’s simple and cutesy like them, but I’m not sure if I’ll ever use them again. Think of them as teenage Twinkie I guess xD I love ya Cetrada, you were a good kitty <3

Eventually Cetrada grew stale for me and I went through a couple of other fursonas. I don’t have much to say about them since they were pretty short lived, but I’ll post a single picture of each of them! I’m getting a bit tired of making mini collages of them anyways :P

While Reese’s design and colors are a bit awkward, I genuinely adore their mini companion Mallow the bat :P They look like pistachio pudding, what a cutie!

Ugh, this fursona stresses me out to look at too xD I mean arguably they’re the closest in design to Twinkie (yellow cat with angel wings and star knee markings) but they remind me of a rough time I suppose? I drew a couple pictures of them looking more sexualized and with a more slim body type when in reality I was overweight and scared of intimacy... they just remind me of an unhealthy period of my life @_@ I must have felt that too though, I dropped this fursona pretty quickly.

I do actually like Kit even though I used him very briefly, I was starting to have WAY more fun with bright colors in my drawings! Sure he’s a bit too pastel 2015 Tumblr, but I do still like that pink and yellow combo ^w^

Eventually I grew sick of my DeviantArt and mostly just posted art on my main Tumblr where I got super into the kidcore scene! I had rediscovered my love of fun colors and sparkly eyes, kidcore sparked a new me! I wasn’t doing fantastic in life, but I developed more optimism and a genuine love for simple things which grounded me a lot. This was such a wild part of my life, through reblogging pictures of rainbows and Pokemon and slime I gained over 2,000 followers O.O Two of my closest friends told me that they found me by my influence in the kidcore Tumblr community back around 2016 and were intimidated to talk which is just nuts to me x’D

Anyways I’ll try not to go on a tangent about that anymore, but 2016-17 was wild! I should give a shoutout to my very first sparklesona Cosi, but he was made only barely before my true fursona...

That’s right babey, the one... The only!!!

HE’S FINALLY HERE! Twinkie, the fursona I truly felt a personal connection with. I mean, he’s everything I love bundled into one! Pikachu has been my hugest comfort ever since I was four years old so naturally I would have to incorporate it into my fursona somehow! I also gave him a bandana, my favorite accessory to draw on furry characters, and wings! Of course I love rainbows too so I gave him rainbow wings..... But I tweaked his design since the colored wings made him more bird-like. Nothing against birds of course, but I thought plain white angel wings were simpler and more iconic for him! I did give him a touch of rainbow later with his tag design! I also scrapped his red dot eyebrows and his tail bandana, but overall I loved the character I made! I was thrilled to have a fun cartoon kitty that I could use to express myself :3

Before him my only true-feeling ‘sona was Starfruit the pegasus, it was fulfilling because I feel like when I made Twinkie, I started to find myself! 

Twinkie did go through a couple redesigns including a semi-drastic color change sometime in early 2018, but I really do feel content with the way he looks right now! In Twinkie I see friendliness, optimism, and a caring heart which is what I strive for! He represents the journeys I took to be more comfortable with myself and he radiates the confidence that I hope to achieve one day as well >:3 I mean it is possible I could change him for a new fursona or even flat out drop him in the future, but after 3 strong years I think Twinkie will stay a part of me for a while ^w^

Anyways, if you’ve read all of this, THANK YOU!! This was a really personal post and I think it’s fascinating to look at my own self progression this way, I hope somebody gained something from this but if it was just for me that’s okay too xD

If anyone read all of this looong post and wants to make a similar post, PLEASE tag me! I’ve been so interested in fursonas and how people see/represent themselves through cartoon animals, isn’t it a wild phenomenon?? 

If you don’t feel like making a big post like I did though, you should reply with some cool facts about your fursona or count how many you’ve made in the past xD That would be rad <3

[porkchop-ao3]

Moonlight: Werewolf Rick

Prepare yourselves, people, this one's a little... Different. I know that Kitty Rick has been getting a lot of love in this fandom lately, and I thought we needed to see some Werewolf Rick too! I've drawn him, and now I'm posting a fic! I decided to take the opportunity to write something quite different to what I usually do. Heed my warning; this probably won't be for everyone. Check the content tags below before you read it, please.

I wanna thank @hoodoo12 for helping me out with werewolf knowledge :) and @kitten-wrath and @ravenousscorpian for reading this first and giving me the balls to post this one :P

NSFW. Contains: sex with half animal/half human, knotting, oral sex, biting, doggy style (quite literally).

-

“I really d-d-don't know, baby.” Rick said with a long suffering sigh, his shoulders slumped and his face a picture of indecision. Well, it wasn't a no. We were making progress. “I-i-it's difficult to- you don't understand what it's like.”

“I do. I've seen you like it a bunch of times.” I said, swinging my legs back and forth under the desk in his garage. He dropped the screwdriver he was using and looked up to meet my eyes.

“If you've seen it then I don't know why you want it!” He exclaimed, looking nothing but confused. I licked my lips and looked him up and down, my brow cocking.

“Why do you think?” I purred. Rick's eyes trailed down my body and he gnawed on his lip. “What're you worried about, hurting me?”

“Of course!” He raised his voice, frowning in irritation and averting his eyes.

“I thought you said when you turned you could still think and feel like you do normally. You're just a little more…” I trailed off and shrugged.

“I let my instincts get the better of me. But you're right, I still have some wits about me. Th-that's not my point. I'm n- I'm not gonna rip your head off or tear out your windpipe. I'm not completely- totally fucked up when I'm like that.” He muttered, rolling his eyes at me.

“So what's the problem?” I asked. He growled in annoyance.

“You want me to be honest? Fine. I don't know what y-y-you're expecting, sweetheart, but when I turn things… things change.”

“Well yeah. That's pretty obvious.” I chuckled.

“I mean my dick! M-m-my dick ain't gonna look like this.” He all but yelled as he pushed away from the desk and gestured with both hands to his crotch. I stared at him for a while, not expecting that at all. “I turn into a fucking dog- a fuckin’ wolf-man for Christ's sake!”

“You're worried I'm not going to like the way your dick looks?” I asked for clarification and he sighed.

“You just gotta know some stuff, baby. It's not like a normal dick, okay? And when- once I've started I can't just stop. S-s-so if you want to stop then there's- it just can't stop. Google dog sex.” He grumbled, his face a picture of annoyance and mild embarrassment.

“I know enough to understand what you're saying. The knot, right? Once the knot’s in you can't pull out until you've finished.” I said and Rick covered his ears, growling in annoyance.

“Shut up! I'm not talking about this with you.” He hissed.

I sighed and slid off the edge of the desk, just as easily sliding into his lap, straddling him. His hands automatically moved to my waist, holding me steady. I slowly started to kiss his cheek, moving to his jaw and then his neck. I kissed upwards to his earlobe, nibbling gently and hearing his breath pick up just a little.

“I want it, Rick. Knot and all.” I whispered. “I wanna see you change in front of me, and just lose it. I want you to fuck me like that, Rick.”

“Fuck.” He groaned. I rocked my hips, grinding against him.

“I’ve thought about it since the day I found out about your little secret. Since I saw you change for the first time.” I admitted, recalling the night in question. The way his eyes suddenly darkened to something sinister when a beam of moonlight hit him through the open blinds, and he looked at me like I was a piece of meat. As soon as I opened my mouth to speak he'd pushed me away from him and started striding towards the front door to my house, his muscles twitching and tensing, guttural, breathy sounds bursting from him as he went.

At the time of course I'd been confused, concerned even. I hadn't a clue what was happening to him. I'd tried to follow him until the transformation really set in. The penny suddenly dropped and rather than try to close the gap between us, I widened it. He changed into his alternate form at a rapidly increasing pace, like it was bursting from inside of him, his clothing was torn and shredded as he flung open the door. With a howl that could belong to nothing other than a wolf, he was running from the house, leaving me to sit and stew in whatever the fuck I had just witnessed.

Rick had no choice but to be honest with me after that.

“It turned me on that night. Seeing you transform like that, changing into something so dangerous and wild. Knowing it was you behind those eyes…” I whispered, feeling his cock hardening in his slacks.

“I could-” he started, his voice shaking just a little. He licked his lips before starting again. “I know seeing me like that turns you on. I've smelled it on you.”

I moaned softly. “I bet you have. I've always wondered what it'd be like to see you turn when we're getting dirty. See if your cock stays hard, see if you can bring yourself to stop when your natural urges are stronger.”

“I couldn't… I'd fuck you, no doubt. Th-that's what I'm worried about.”

“I'm not.” I smirked. “I crave it. Please, Rick.”

He looked at me, his face softening just slightly.

“Pretty please with sugar on top.”

-

My hand was gripping his hair so tight I was surprised he hadn't wrenched me off of him yet. But he was going to town with that tongue of his, grinding it hard against my clit, his fingers buried deep in my pussy and applying delicious pressure against my g-spot with pinpoint accuracy. I was close to cumming for the third time that evening, and he hadn't had to work hard to have me that way.

We were out in an abandoned farmyard way out in the sticks. Nobody was around for miles, we were nicely secluded. We were in a barn; not the classiest of locations, but at least there were no animals here anymore. Rick told me this was where he'd come to sleep during full moons, he said he'd never been disturbed and he'd made the place a little more comfortable. This was perhaps the best place for us to be considering what we had planned. We were on his bed; well, it was a pile of blankets and pillows from God knows where and it smelled like dog. The reasoning behind that made my heart race.

My orgasm seemed to creep closer along with the patch of moonlight shining through the dilapidated roof of the barn. It approached Rick, and I knew when the moonlight reached him, he would change. What happened next would be a bit of a mystery. Rick had told me that on the third night of a full moon he had the most control over himself, his thoughts and feelings were more his own, and so we'd waited until then.

“Fuck, Rick.” I whined, my toes curling as my orgasm swelled, on the edge of peaking. The moonlight was right behind him, spreading across the scuffed floor of the barn, kissing the tips of his toes. “Oh God!” I cried, my body tensing up as I toppled over the edge, cumming hard as a rumbling sound began to rise from Rick's chest.

Rick pulled away from me – I was still breathless and cumming – and growled, his face crumbling into an expression of pain. He inadvertently backed into the moonlight fully, lit up so I could see every part of his transformation. He was naked, his hard cock jutting out from his body as he kneeled before me. His shoulders seemed to broaden, his back hunching and becoming bulky with thick muscle. His hands, where they clutched both sides of his head, grew larger, bonier but more menacing with sharp claws appearing at his fingertips. Fur grew on his body, thickening and spreading from wherever hair naturally grew on his human form, quickly covering his body in a coarse layer, all a dark, bluish grey.

My mouth hung open as I watched, my pussy throbbing with the aftershocks of my orgasm, my heart pounding for a different reason. His face began to change, his nose morphing with his mouth to become a wolf-like muzzle, but his eyes remained very Rick-like, I could recognise those eyes anywhere, though they were a hell of a lot more threatening now. I didn't notice the point that it happened, I was too focused on his eyes, but at some point he grew wolf ears. A tail flicked behind him too, peeking into view just a little now and then. He was also a couple feet taller than he had been before, and just larger in general. Beefy. Heavy. Scary.

He raised up onto his hind legs to be bathed in moonlight; he still stood like a human, and stared down at me for a while, his chest expanding and deflating quickly. His top lip was pulled back just a little, exposing the sharp white teeth that had appeared there. I allowed my eyes to drop down his fur covered torso, past his narrow waist and down to his hips. One of my questions had been answered; his cock was still hard. It looked mostly human, but there were some differences. The main one being size; it was much larger than before, thick and veiny and hanging down under its own weight. It was noticeably thicker at the base too, but I knew it'd get a hell of a lot thicker once he was inside me. A flutter of nerves made themselves known.

“Rick? Can you talk like this?” I asked him for some reason. Didn't know why. His ears twitched at my voice and his expression shifted a little; though his face was much harder to read now. A dog-like grunt came from the back of his throat and I took it as a no.

He dropped forwards onto his palms, stalking towards me. My eyes widened and my breaths came faster. I flinched when his wet nose touched my leg. He sniffed his way up my body, lingering on the space between my legs the most, before coming face to face with me, inches apart. He paused there for a moment, staring intensely into my eyes. He was so close I could see his pupils dilate and his top lip twitch, glistening with saliva. There was a second, a split second, where I regretted everything. He was going to kill me. Rick told me he was always ravenous when he changed, and now I was going to become his meal.

But then he licked me. A quick, playful swipe of his tongue over the tip of my nose. It was enough to break the tension and I laughed. Laughed! Much harder than I had in a long time. At this, I knew I was safe. It was all he needed to do. Then he shut me up by grabbing my arms roughly, the tips of his claws pressing into my flesh as he wrestled me onto my front. I gasped, my laughter stopping in an instant. I could feel his furry body against my back, his thick cock pressing up against my ass. He was so huge, completely blanketing me in himself. Between him and the bed his scent was suffocating, so animal and wild, not exactly pleasant but it wasn't the worst either. I couldn't complain though, since I had my face pressed into the blankets.

I heard him growl behind me; it wasn't the first time he'd growled in the bedroom but this time it was undeniably wolfish. He was an animal, he was wild, through and through. He moved against me, still gripping my arms to keep me still as he rubbed his cock against my ass. It felt massive, so thick and imposing and impossibly hot. He grunted and I could hear puffs of air coming from his nose, much closer to my ear than I'd anticipated. I whimpered, feeling his hot breath against the back of my neck in moist puffs. I whimpered again when his wet nose poked and prodded at the back of my neck, pushing my hair off to the side and out of his way. He sniffed and licked at me all the way to the side of my neck. I could see his face from the corner of my eye for a moment or two, then he opened his maw and I could feel the pointy tips of his teeth at my neck. I gasped and stiffened, my whole body vibrating with adrenaline as his jaw closed down on the side of my neck just so. He didn't break skin, and it didn't hurt, but it was a dangerous presence right over my pulse point and it put me on edge.

A breathy roar met my ears, cutting through the sudden silence, terrifying me but strangely enough making me break out into a moan, my thighs clamping together. I knew if he had the vocal cords to do it, Rick would've laughed. He opened his jaw, unlatching from me and straightening up just a little. The pressure on my back was let up enough that I could lift my head and shoulders, and I looked back at him as he grabbed hold of my hips, pulling back and lining his thick, hot cock up with my slit. With an animal-like grunt, he pushed in, stretching me open to the extent of causing a sharp pain deep in my core. I whined, my hips jerking around in an unconscious effort to get away. I settled myself, though, consciously relaxing as he slid deeper into me, the deeper he went the wider I stretched and I moaned out long and loud. There was a sweet mixture of pain, pleasure, and satisfaction.

I knew what was coming, Rick was panting quicker and quicker, his claws digging into my sides. He growled deep in his chest and then lunged forwards, letting go of my hips and holding himself up with his arms either side of me. And then he started rutting, fucking into me with sharp snaps of his hips that had him curling his back over me, crouching over with his legs bent at the knees, mounting me like… well, like a dog. It took my breath away, the speed at which he fucked me, not pulling back very far at all just pushing forwards roughly, like he was always seeking to go deeper, impossibly deep. The more he thrust the shallower they became, until he was barely pulling out of me. I realised why that was when I felt the odd sensation of something being stuck down there, like his cock had grown inside me and was too big to come back out. Of course, that's exactly what had happened, I knew that he was tied to me and there was no going back until he came inside me. There was a thrill that came with that knowledge, and my pussy clenched around him, a tender ache bloomed and I whined again.

Rick still continued to rut as much as he could while being knotted inside me, he could only pull back minutely but on the inward thrust he gave it his all. His cock nudged my cervix each time, making me gasp. It hurt, but the pain was a signal of how well he filled me, and it was nothing but arousing and I groaned in time with his movements.

His teeth grazed my shoulder, sinking down into my flesh just a little. Every time I felt that maw of his close around me I tensed, a thrill running through me and making my pussy clench. I knew that he could take a chunk out of me. Hell, he could remove a limb, tear my throat out, swallow me up like a damn hotdog. I knew that. I was acutely aware of it the entire time, hanging on the edge of danger constantly, pushing me to the edge of something entirely more pleasurable.

Rick could. But wouldn't.

His body pressed up against me, incredibly hot, his hips rhythmically pushing me down into the blankets below me. I felt something furry between my thighs, Rick's tail was curling down between his own legs, flicking back and forth between mine. I wondered how much control he had over that tail of his, whether he was doing it on purpose or not.

The thicker the knot became inside me, the less Rick could move and eventually the motion of his hips changed into grinding rather than thrusting, which I wasn’t upset about at all. With this kind of movement his cock ground more firmly against my g-spot in a way I actually prefered over more traditional thrusting. I moaned, pressing my forehead into the musky blankets and feeling my orgasm draw close. I had a feeling Rick was close too, his cock felt so hot and thick inside me, throbbing and twitching like it was ready to blow. I wondered how much cum he’d produce like this. Would it look and feel like normal cum? I had no idea. But I wouldn't be waiting long to find out.

Rick was grunting behind me louder now, one of his hands – paws? No, he still had fingers – moved to my hip again, pulling me firmly against him and holding me there. His hips became more vigorous, rubbing up and down against my ass, bringing hot friction between us. I gasped aloud, my pussy clenching as it felt as if his cock swelled even more; I wasn't sure if that was in my imagination or not. But with a loud, terrifying roar, Rick came. His cock pumped me full to the brim of thick, hot cum. There was so much of it I could feel the pressure building inside me, barely being relieved when some managed to escape from behind his knot, dripping down my thighs. I felt so full, so satisfied, everything was so hot and tight down there and I burst; sobbing out loud as my orgasm hit. Every muscle in my pussy rippled and pulsed, squeezing Rick’s cock and making him growl in my ear. My shoulder was getting wet from his drool but I couldn't find it in me to care and just laid there and took it, my climax taking every last drop of energy from me. It was so much more intense than usual, being so full of his cock and his cum. It was incredible and I laid there panting for what felt like an age afterwards.

Rick didn't remove himself from me, of course. He couldn't. We were still tied together, not going anywhere soon. I momentarily wondered how long we would be stuck like this for, but I pushed that thought aside when I felt his tongue lapping at my shoulder and neck. Gentle swipes of his tongue moved up from my shoulder blade to my neck, over and over again. I wasn't sure what he was doing; grooming me or something? Perhaps it was a sign of affection. Either way, after the initial grossness at the sensation of being covered in his saliva, I was quickly finding the experience very soothing. My heart rate slowed, my breathing calmed, I allowed my body to relax into the pillows; my butt still in the air of course, Rick's hand wasn't letting that go anywhere.

I wasn't sure how long had passed but eventually Rick could pull out, and I whimpered softly at the sensation. It was like pulling the plug, and there was a sudden gush of wetness flooding out of me right after his cock had, and the loss startled me. I felt empty and loose, my body felt boneless and when he let go of my hips I fell onto my side. Rick sniffed around me for a moment, my hair, my neck, then down between my legs.

Suddenly, he rose back up onto his back legs, standing above me like a regular man; if you consider being covered in fur, being in possession of a tail, ears, and huge sharp teeth, but standing on two feet to be anything close to a regular man. I didn't know what he was going to do. Of course, he wasn't going to climb into the blanket fort with me and snuggle; he was part wolf! So I was unsurprised when for a final time those blue eyes of his - of Rick’s, not an animal - scanned over my body, and he eventually turned and made for the open door of the barn, going down onto all fours as he picked up speed.

I watched him run off until he was no longer visible, wondering about what he might be doing. He’d hunt, no doubt, feed himself and do whatever else he usually did when he turned. Then he’d come back here to sleep… and I wasn't entirely sure if he expected me to be here when he did.

I decided to leave, in the end. Rick might be accustomed to curling up in an oversized dog bed, but I certainly wasn't. I also wasn't sure if I wanted to see him after he’d hunted. I’d seen enough nature documentaries to know that matted up, bloody fur around a muzzle wasn’t cute.

So, once my legs would do what I asked them to, I rose to my feet, cleaned myself up and got dressed, then followed Rick’s pawprints out of the barn, preparing myself to see him once again in his human form when the sun came up.

[rheatheweirdestworm]

A Painful Realization of a Relationship

Warning: Very long, personal post ahead. Read if you have a lot of time to spare or have experienced anything similar

Before I get started, please note that this is going to be a vent/story of the one relationship that I have ever been in, and it will include some things that may trigger people or make them uncomfortable. However I have held onto this story for long enough and after months of thinking back on it day in and day out, I need to share it somewhere, even if no one will ever see it or read it.

For those of you who don’t want to read this essay of a story, the long story short I was verbally, mentally, and emotionally abused in this relationship. I was forced into doing things I was never and still am not comfortable with, but never learned to say no until recently, and it hurt me and everyone I cared for more than I could have ever imagined. If that type of story interests you, please read forward.

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In 2015 I was in 10th grade or so (I don’t have the best memory when it comes to times or dates so please bear with me if my timeline sounds weird. I can remember most events, but times elude me). I remember it very well, because this all started in a class I considered hell: 1st period gym at 8:15 AM. Seriously who makes kids run around and do that THAT early?! Anyway, I was a very shy kid not yet out of their bubble and even though I had some friends in the class I preferred to walk alone at my own pace and be left to my imagination so I could ponder over events or think about the most recent book I’ve read. The first couple days were fine, I walked alone and would occasionally be invited to join my group of friends because they likely felt bad seeing me walk alone and didn’t realize I enjoyed it, and I very much appreciated them noticing and trying to care for me and make sure I felt remembered. However one day I was walking by myself after falling behind the group of friends since I didn’t wish to join in the conversation, and was minding my business when the person this story is about walked up. Let’s just call him Guy for privacy’s sake, I doubt he will ever see this but it’s better safe than sorry. Guy came up and at first didn’t say anything to me, but after a minute or two of awkward silence where I realized he was not trying to pass me (I walk very fast so I thought maybe he wanted to pass but simply couldn’t), so I turned to him and said “oh, hi” to pretend like I hadn’t noticed him. He replied with hi and started a small conversation to introduce himself and all that stuff like that. A couple weeks go by and we’re now walking together all the time and talking, which I was ok with because Guy seemed like a very nice person who wanted to just be friends with the shy girl and maybe help her feel more like a part of the class. I’ll say now, I was VERY oblivious to a lot of things, and that will matter soon. As the weeks went by and we talked as often as we could during class, we would occasionally have nothing to do during class and would sit on the bleachers. Guy would sometimes go over and talk with his friends and I would take that spare time to read whichever book I had with me that day. Every once in a while he would stop talking with his friends and come over to sit with me, and would sometimes ask me about my book, which was fine. What wasn’t fine was when he started to randomly put his head in my lap and ask me “can you rub my hair/head?” to which I almost always replied no, and he would persistently ask and give up after a solid minute or so. He was incredibly persistent so I finally said yes, and it made me feel incredibly awkward, but because I was too shy and nice to say anything and risk hurting his feelings I kept quiet about it and did what he wanted me to. When the semester ended, Guy somehow won over my heart.

We dated for a couple of weeks, I thought we were going to be the high school sweethearts of the class, but over the summer while he was in summer school, he messaged me one day and said he was falling for someone else. After a minute or so of talking I told him to go and be with the other person, and he said ok. When my birthday came a month or so later, on my birthday I received his “hey” message. He then explained that the person he fell for was “not nearly as good as you, and wasn’t nearly as nice as you have been” and asked to get back together. Stupidly, I said yes.

As the time went on we did become the high school sweethearts, but also as time went on everyone around me, and I mean everyone-- from teachers to friends to even the school faculty and counselors (one counselor brought me to her office and sat me down to make sure I was making clear decisions and try to break me free of him, but as you’ve probably guessed, I didn’t listen). As that time went on, he started to ask for.. things. If you do not like to hear about sexual stuff then please do not read any further. I didn’t have a phone, so we talked through FB on my computer, and he would start sending me those cheesy “what are you doing?” “sitting on my computer playing MC/watching youtube” “what would you do if I were there?”. Guy kept asking things like this, and I always changed the subject because a part of me was aware of what he was doing, and I was incredibly uncomfortable with it, but I was too nice to say no, and I think he knew that. One day he sent me a message “I’m horny..” Off the start, I was only 16. That is not old enough to be doing sexual things and even though stuff still happens at a young age, Guy knew I was pretty uncomfortable with things like this. I responded with something like “I’m sorry you feel that way, but I can’t help out with that”. His response? He begged me to do roleplay with him to “help him get off” because he wanted me to help.. This happened multiple times and so finally, being the too nice person I am, I agreed to. I was incredibly uncomfortable, and I distinctly remember one day going through this with him and having to pretend that I was getting off too, and I verbally whimpered. I was that uncomfortable, but I never told him. It got to the point where he started asking for nudes, and when I said I couldn’t do that, he asked me to do a live video of me “getting off” in front of him. Keep in mind my laptop sat with me at the dining room table in view of the living room and kitchen, where someone always was in my house. I declined MULTIPLE times, but yet he persisted. One day, as you can probably tell, I gave in, and of course I faked it. I have to admit that on more than one occasion I would try to make it real but fail because I was too uncomfortable. I was eventually caught by my family and although it was one of the most embarrassing things I have ever gone through, I was happy it happened. Until he found another more private way to roleplay. This went on for a year, if not two.

That same year he proposed to me. Yes we were still young, but he was going off to the army and wasn’t to be back for a couple years so it was more of a promise ring than anything.

Fastforward a bit to senior year, we had one class together, and this is where things started going too far. He would start to touch me physically more than he had before (before now he had started touching me in school just as play touches to which I asked him not to do, he never listened because “it’s adorable”). He would make sure no one was looking, cover me up with a large jacket, and touch me and pretend we were cuddling since everyone knew we were dating. At first I wanted to believe I liked it, and I wanted to believe so hard I forced myself to, because “normal relationships do this all the time, it’s ok”. All the while I had him believe it was all consensual because in my mind I wanted it to be so badly that I let him do all that stuff to me. I will spare you the details of how far he touched me, but I will just imply that yes it was below the clothes and it was mostly where no one should be touched at that age. Once he made sure I was “ok” with that, he had me do things to him. I was of course still very uncomfortable with this but still trying so hard to “be the best girlfriend” that I obliged. I did things with him I shouldn’t have, and although we never had sex during that time, it was still close enough but too much for me to mention fully. Just know it was too far. 

During that same year, he started asking me to sneak off to the bathroom so he could “finally try to fuck, I’ve waited so long and want to know what you feel like so badly”. I was still only 17, he was 18, it would have been illegal. That didn’t stop him from trying because “if no one finds out it’s fine”. He knew I wouldn’t say anything, i was too far under his spell and so convinced with myself it was all fine. Thankfully, we never were able to do anything while I was still underage.

Another couple months go by, and he’s off in the military for the summer. He comes back though, and it is because “I missed you so much and was so worried about you I couldn’t handle it mentally”. That was one of the only things he ever did “for me”.

That same time, the verbal, emotional, and mental abuse began.

Life got progressively worse for him, and I felt horrible for him and he knew it. He was living with some friends who supported him and helped him get a job that he couldn’t really handle because of health issues with his knee. So I came over to visit during the weekends since I too was living with a friend for the first semester of college. And there, in that place he was staying, was the first time we had ever had sex, and I had verbally told him I was not ready. He told me later he knew I didn’t want to but in the heat of the moment he tried and I didn’t stop him. I hated myself for it, however that incident only made it worse. For the entire relationship after that day he asked for it every single time I saw him in person, and I always said ok because “it’s normal”. 

In our entire relationship, I asked for sex less than 10 times, but we did it too many times to count or remember because he wanted it. Guy would tell me that he couldn’t get off without me being there to help in one way or another (whether that’s digitally or physically), and so I was doing something with him every day. If I ever wanted to just sit and watch a movie or tv or just play a game, it wouldn’t happen without something happening before or during the activity. Every time he wanted something sexually and I said I was not in the mood for it or just simply did not have the time he would respond with “when will you be free” or “I can’t get off now without you.. and I REALLY don’t want to have to sit here like this for who knows how long” “My mood only worsens when I can’t get off.. I don’t want that to happen but if I can’t get off then I’ll likely start snapping at you or getting mad over the little things”. Simply guilt tripping me into leaving class or staying up very long nights so he did not have to get off himself.

Throughout time, his life progressively got worse and worse than it was before, and he became homeless at some point in time. I personally gave him literally all the money I had, I gave him food I owned and even stole food from my family and gave it to them whenever they didn’t decide to give food to them themselves even though they did not want to because we literally could not afford another mouth to feed. I can literally say I gave him the clothes off of my back. Although he never really had anything to give back in return, he returned the kindness I gave him with sexual favors and verbal abuse. I understand that he was going through a hard time and was not quite right mentally, but the things he said should have had no excuse. We would get into arguments about the way he would waste money: he bought things that did not help him a lot, he just thought they were cool. He bought a $40 or something LIGHTER because it looked cool, but it barely worked. He bought an $80 vape because he smoked and needed something if he didn’t have cigarettes. He wasted a lot of money that he desperately needed, money provided mostly by anyone but himself. 

Last year, things got very bad, and I can’t say I wasn’t warned. I went to a professional tarot reader one day and had her tell my future, and it was spot on, but somehow I did not realize that the bad things that were mentioned were in connection with the one person I focused myself on. During my school semester last fall, I stopped caring about my classes, I stopped caring if I passed or failed. I remember multiple times skipping class because Guy texted me he was super stressed and was having a rough time. What did I run 30 minutes across town because I didn’t have a car to see? Him sitting on the couch playing a game wanting sexual stuff because he was stressed. Although yes he was stressed because of his situation, he never did much of anything to solve it except vent to me about it and expect me to help fix everything because “I’m too stressed to think properly”. He certainly wasn’t too stressed to think properly while he sat on the couch for full days and did nothing but play games. 

In late September, he made a friend. This friend seemed fine at first, and I even met them with Guy and thought they were a cool person, they were incredibly nice to me and I thought that was great that Guy had made another supportive friend. How I wish it were just that. Through the next month, Guy had started texting this new friend and doing the same roleplay and live videos as he was doing with me before for sexual stuff, and since that friend had a car, he would go over to her house and spend the night and get all kinds of sexual things from her and return the favor. I instantly knew what was up, but I was too ignorant and oblivious to really believe it despite all the proof. Whenever I was convinced enough to confront Guy about it, I was met with verbal abuse. Keep in mind, we were still engaged. Next thing I know, Guy was asking if I wanted to do “things” with the new friend. Excuse me? Of course off the bat I said no, but I think you guys know where this story is going if you’ve learned how hard it is for me to keep saying no. After literal weeks of him begging over and over I finally started to break but under the condition I never had to see him do anything with her. In the end thankfully I never did anything with her, but that’s because I finally was able to prove that Guy and she were doing things behind my back. What’s worse is the friend had a girlfriend, and the girlfriend was told that I was ok with it, but when she found out I wasn’t she didn’t care and even wanted to do things with Guy too. If only I had left while I still could and while everyone who knew what Guy had done was screaming at me to do.

I asked Guy if he saw his future with me, who had literally given up everything to him when he gave so little in return, or if he saw his future with the new friend and her girlfriend. At first he said the friend, but later when I asked again he denied he did, because he started to realize I was finally thinking about leaving. Emotional abuse ensued, and he cussed me out more than ever before, saying things like “That’s not what a fucking fiance would do” and whenever I confronted him about him doing things with the friend I asked him strictly not to, he would respond with “it’s my decision as an adult to do things with whomever I like”.... Yes the person who is engaged can do whatever he likes with whomever he likes and can say things like that to the fiance. Totally acceptable.. (can you feel my sarcasm from here?). 

January, I finally put my foot down and told him I needed to break up with him so that I could focus on me and fix everything I had broken in our time together and fix the completely broken me. When he realized I was serious, he emotionally abused me-- whether on purpose or not-- and tried to convince me to stay with him, because at that point he didn’t have that friend around anymore because they too had to focus on school and didn’t have anyone to be there physically. I felt absolutely horrible for leaving him, but in the end I did it and told him firmly not to contact me and that if I ever could get my life back together then I would CONSIDER coming back ONLY if he could fix himself and become the actual responsible adult he claimed to be while he cheated on me in front of me. 

I still am haunted by these memories and more that I did not mention. I am still fighting so hard to fix what I had so stupidly let break. I am trying so hard to feel like myself and figure out who I really am beneath all the lies I forced myself to believe so hard that I left logic behind. And sadly, a part of me

My only advice to you or anyone who hasn’t gotten this far without falling asleep or getting bored of reading is don’t let a single person tell you what to do or guilt trip you or make you feel as worthless as I did. I learned my lesson the most painful way that no matter how hard someone pushes, you have to say no or risk being walked over so hard that it breaks you.

Please don’t let anything like this happen to you, or anyone else you know.

[anathemanonymous]

For those living in an abusive relationship:

DON'T BOTHER WAITING FOR ANYONE TO SAVE YOU

Why are we not allowed to talk openly about taboo situations like abuse? You've done your research. There are many forms and definitions of abuse. You admit to it. You want to expose it.

You post about it and are shamed into deleting it for the sake of his reputation. People you know see it and do6nt know how to respond. You are coming out of a closet of secret abuse. Sometimes you want to go back inside and feel normal even though its uncomfortable for you.

At your weakest, attorneys add insult to injury.

Courts are neutral but documents are forever.

And it's too late after you file your own seperation paperwork without any help, and screw it up while bargaining to leave peacefully. And then, really feel stuck.

Your local women's shelter has some meetings, but the core issues preventing true healing and real change are likely buried deep.

You'll try Al-Anon. Read codependency books. You will invest hours looking at your own childhood trauma. Read some more books. Internet search endlessly. Meme it up. Go to counseling. Talk to a friend. Write it out. Join a thread.

You've been on guard with others your whole life. Feel differently from them. See how they are carefree, married happily, white picket fences.

You always think others are happy to look the other way when you come around.

You know it's on you to change your own stuff. They probably assume you know what your doing. Chuckle.

Your heart is the only willing guide for you. No choice but to listen to it. Yet, you will continually keep it buried, hidden. Like a dark secret from yourself.

Until you are invisible.

Until you are sure nobody else hears it beating.

You are always ashamed. You are accustomed to hiding. Smile. Everything is fine.

The outside world will have you doubt yourself. It will convince you that everything and everyone is against you, and you will be confused to hear how wisely your own heart speaks. Like a child. Very honestly. You ignore it. Feel frustrated.

You will learn that counseling and meds can't help as long as you are unaware of your own triggers and emotional issues...but even after you become aware, nothing is resolved. The triggers keep you from peace.

You will resort to isolation because its comfortable and get lost in work and in research and digging deeper into the past, wondering why and how you ended up here. You will blame the other person, and other people in your life.

And all you will end up with is feeling more pain and shame and guilt. Yet you won't complain. You go about your daily life as if that pain weren't eating you up. You will appear to be getting along.

New friends will help come. They might try to help you talk it out, to redirect you to your true self, and support you. And you will begin in small ways, to believe and try, you will maybe try it out in little episodes of putting yourself out there, in slightly trusting others. But being in the spotlight but is terribly uncomfortable.

These small defiant acts of being yourself begin to grow. But your growth is still mostly stagnant. Why?

It will be a long time until you blossom, even in middle age. Maybe never. It's not someone else you need or want. It's a resolution from the abuser. An end. A reconciliation. A forgiveness?

You wait. You create space. You wait. You try to be understanding. You work, you converse, but no progress. You pay his bills. Answer his calls, only to be shut down. Sometimes you talk, but it always ends in an argument when you begin to talk realistically about the pain, doubt, finances.

The answer to being treated poorly isn't simply leaving, after figuring out how and when to leave, after figuring out why to leave. After recognizing the signs. You're still intertwined.

Solutions can only come when you admit: you have faulty boundaries. You let bad shit happen. But why? How?

You don't really add up the damages or how long you've been trapped in this nightmare spiderweb.

Because I did not honor myself....I did not honor my own boundaries.

...because I chose to believe in redemption, or rather, in fixing someone and something outside of me.

... Because I was given shitty experiences long enough to think its normal not to speak up much less fight against shitty treatment from someone who I wanted love from.

Because it didnt feel like "loving me for who I am" kinda love but who am I to say?

Because I controlled and ignored my own heart.

Because of THEIR unresolved issues. Because he needs me.

Because what IS a healthy relationship? Because codependency is survival for some us.

Because I had faith in the deep humanity we all share being love at the core.

Because I woke up sick for so long I lost track of wellness. Because I walked in worn out shoes to work harder, those same shoes I took off at home, which were thrown at me as insults... until I could catch them.

Because I could throw them back at him.

Until we both equally hurt.

Because of poor parenting. Because I got meaning out of being what I could be to help him more than myself.

Because its not his fault. Because alcohol and drugs and temptations. Because ADHD. Because I love the idea of having a family, and he has a great fucking family.

Because I'm not about control. Or money. Or things.

Because I wanted my daughter to have a Father.

Because I was afraid to admit that it hurt to feel unsafe and unsupported. That I needed more.

Because I doubted what I thought I deserved.

....Until all the excuses fade away....

One day you get confirmation that he is causing this pain to you intentionally...he finally admits it. For better or worse.

And your heart knew it because it felt it all along. Contempt as bitter as ....this strange moment which you waited from the beginning:

Confirmation of your worst fears. No remorse. No justice. You have no choice but to keep up a boundary. And this has taken so many years to learn. You have the right to say no. To stop allowing others to harm you in the name of live or loyalty or whatever. You doubted yourself long enough. This is how it happens.

So that you can finally spread your wings and break free.