#my god this really is such a long post I'm sorry but I had to lay everything out

[screamlet]

08x06 fix-it fic: break and be mended

not connected to that excerpt i posted before, just something completely different. 4.5k, read on the ao3

---

Another hospital room. Buck takes a deep breath and closes his eyes again, letting it out and hoping he gets back to sleep. It doesn't happen, though, because his brain catches up to his eyes:

Maddie, wearing a yellow paper hospital mask, a hand anxiously on her belly, sitting in the chair next to him with that too-familiar oh-thank-god-you're-finally-awake face… and Tommy leaning in the doorway.

He takes another deep breath and opens his eyes again.

"You're okay," Maddie says patiently, slowly, as Buck tries to slam the door shut or set the doorway on fire with his brain. "It's just the turkey flu, it hit you hard."

That breaks Buck's concentration. "Wait, is this a dream? Another coma dream? Turkey flu has to be something I made up."

Maddie raises her eyebrows and looks over her shoulder at Tommy before turning back to Buck. "Another one?"

"No, no, don't look at him," Buck interrupts. "He's not supposed to be here, not when I have turkey flu, not ever. He broke up with me, remember?"

In the doorway, Tommy shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He's wearing the dark blue LAFD t-shirt and pleated pants, a special Air Ops patch on his shirt sleeve. They always lurked under his flight suit, under his turnouts when they were on the same scene, but Buck didn't get to see them often. It was for the best, he thinks now, because the shirt fits perfectly across Tommy's chest and shoulders, the pants belted low. His shirt is tucked in better than Buck's ever is. He almost never got to see him like this so it feels like some new Tommy he's seeing, a Tommy that hangs around Harbor long enough to take off his flight suit but doesn't peel the rest of his work self off. He doesn't get off his shift, put the pilot away, shower and go home.

Buck looks away. He's looked too long.

"I'm actually here, you know." Tommy raps his knuckles on the door like that's proof of anything except a very strong poltergeist. "I can hear you."

Buck watches something that he hasn't seen in years sweep across Maddie's face (mostly her eyebrows, because of the mask).

She turns around and snaps, "I let you come within ten feet of my brother and you think bitchy fun Tommy was invited, too? He was not." Tommy looks shocked and abashed; Buck loves her so much.

"Why was he invited at all, Maddie?" Buck asks. "And you're both real, right? Like I'm not hallucinating both of you. Is that a turkey flu symptom? Can I have my phone? I need to look up turkey flu."

"It's a strain of avian flu, you just happened to get it from a turkey farm. Hen said you had a call to one of those last week," Maddie explains. "And you kept giggling when I said the words turkey flu so, you know, why not?"

"It's pretty funny," Buck admits. "Hey, why's he here?"

Maddie turns around and looks at Tommy expectantly. Buck still knows his face, still knows him, and can see the quip that wants to escape past his lips. He can see the work it takes to hold it back and look sincere, really sincere, for them.

"You collapsed at a scene and I flew you over," Tommy says. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Buck stares at him as he presses his lips into a fine line. "I'm okay. Thanks."

Tommy nods, then asks, "Can we talk? Alone?"

It's taken four months, almost as long as they were together, but Buck's finally hearing the words he's wanted to hear since Tommy walked out his door. I'm sorry, I was scared, I love you, yes let's take the next step together, from now on let's take every step together—that was Buck's first choice. Can we talk as a jumping off point for all those other things—that was Buck's second choice. Was.

Buck glances at Maddie and knows his face does something dumb. "I'll be outside," Maddie says. "And I'm not far, if you want me to throw him out." She looks over her shoulder at Tommy. "I'll do it."

Tommy nods. "Wouldn't doubt you for a second."

She squeezes Buck's hand and lingers for a beat, one long look at him like she's waiting for him to say actually, wait, don't, stay, but he doesn't. He hates that he doesn't. He hates that he wants to hear what Tommy has to say.

She and Tommy swap places; he takes the chair next to Buck's bed and she leaves, shutting the door behind her. Tommy doesn't see the way she passes by the window like a shark, watching, but Buck laughs. When Tommy looks back, she's gone.

"Your sister's changed a little," Tommy says casually. "Her sense of humor, I mean."

Buck licks his lips. "Yeah, well, when you were my boyfriend, you were her friend. Now you're neither."

"Yep, got it," Tommy says. He sits back in the chair, but looks so uncomfortable that someone would think he'd never sat in one before.

"Are you okay?" Buck asks. "Why are you here?"

"This chair is so weird."

"Tommy, what do you want to talk about?"

It startles Tommy, and it should. He only got soft and smitten, totally-in-love (even if he couldn't admit it out loud) Evan Buckley, cute and bratty Evan Buckley. He doesn't get that Evan anymore. No one has.

Tommy sits with his feet flat on the floor and his hands folded in his lap. He takes a minute, a long minute, of staring at the floor before he looks up and stares at Buck. "You asked me to move in with you."

Buck blinks. "I did."

"You asked me to move in with you."

"You said that. I mean, I said that, but you—"

"Evan," Tommy interrupts.

"I thought I was Buck now," Buck interrupts.

Bitchiness lurks on Tommy's tongue, but he holds it back. "You asked me to move in with you. Into the loft."

Buck tilts his head. "Yeah?"

Tommy shuts his eyes hard and shakes his head before he looks at Buck again. "Evan, I own a house."

"... okay?"

"Did you ask me to move in with you and expect me to give up my house?"

"What, no—" Buck says, then stops himself. "I don't—I didn't think—"

"Did you even think about that?" Tommy asks. "Like when you talked about moving in together, getting married, the future, all of that—did you even remember that I own a house?"

"You know," Buck interrupts. "Four months ago, you could have said, haha, wow, that's moving pretty fast, also I own a house, maybe when we're ready, we could move into MY HOUSE and make it OUR HOUSE, but you needed to run out the door so why would you say any of that?"

"Yeah! I was freaked out! Because here was this guy I—this guy I really liked, and he asked me, a 40-year-old man, to move into his loft?"

"What's wrong with it? Why do you keep saying it like that?"

"It's downtown! Downtown is loud and filthy and did I mention it's noisy? It was hell sleeping there in the summer because even with your central air, heat rises and it rises right into the bedroom. I saw your electric bill, Evan, it was unforgivable."

Buck wants to throw something at him. "And we could have been at your house, quiet and with better temperature control, but we weren't because…?"

"I'm just saying," Tommy continues. "Yeah, all that's true, but I realized you wanted me, wanted a future with me, and you didn't even remember that when I wasn't working or with you, I was at my house."

"I get that," Buck says. "Now how many times did we hang out at your house?"

Tommy sighs. "It's out of the way, your place was always closer to the 118 and to Harbor, and I kept—I was going to, okay? Like maybe after our anniversary, we'd take a week off together and we'd actually be at my house, or take a trip somewhere—"

"You got me basketball tickets," Buck snipes at him.

Tommy stops completely.

"For our six month anniversary, remember?"

"How the hell am I going to forget that?"

"You got me tickets to see the Lakers. Really good tickets."

Tommy rolls his eyes. "Alright, well, that's the last time I call that guy I know in the press office for anything."

Buck thinks he's getting closer to setting something on fire with his mind. "I hate basketball."

Tommy stares at him. "What the hell are you talking about? We met because of basketball."

Buck sits up so quickly and angrily he starts wheezing and that turns into a coughing fit. Tommy's immediately there, sitting on the edge of his bed with water, getting him to take a small sip as he rubs his back. When Buck realizes what's happening, he covers his mouth with his blanket and shoves Tommy away, coughing even more.

"Sorry, I was just—"

"I have turkey flu!" Buck yells through the blanket covering his mouth.

"The doctor said you're not contagious anymore."

Buck points at a small paper box across the room. Tommy, so put-upon, grabs a pale yellow mask and slips it on before he sits in the chair again. "Sorry."

"It's—" Buck halts because Tommy had grabbed two masks and was holding one out to him expectantly. Tommy motions to it again and Buck can see how he wants to make a bitchy comment about not having this conversation through a hospital blanket, but he doesn't. That's what makes Buck reach out and put the mask on. The icy fist around his heart thinks about melting.

"We didn't meet because of basketball, we met because of Bobby and Athena and the cruise ship," Buck corrects. "I wanted to see you again after that tour at Harbor but I couldn't think of another reason—"

"I gave you the widest of openings," Tommy interrupts. "Hello? Flight lessons? When you finally offered to buy me a beer, I almost dropped to my knees right then and there."

"But you never called me! You're the one who left to hang out with Eddie!"

Tommy throws up his hands. "Ball was in your court! Speaking of basketball."

Buck sighs, exasperated. "We weren't, like, running into each other, I didn't have a reason to call you—don't say the beer—so finally I saw Eddie was going to that pick-up game with you and I dragged Chimney along."

"Right," Tommy says. "And you played basketball with us. We kicked your ass in a way that made me think you were pretending to be bad at it to make me feel good or something? And then there was the whole thing with Eddie's ankle."

"I hate basketball!"

"You brought your own ball!"

"I same-day ordered a basketball so that when I showed up you'd be like, wow, that guy's ready for basketball, what a cool guy!"

"So you're mad that your basketball ruse worked on my dumb ass, and worked so well for six months that I got you Lakers tickets for our anniversary."

Buck's so annoyed that he put it like that. Maybe that's true, but he didn't have to say it. "I don't like basketball! It was a ruse but I didn't hide it after. You watched games with Eddie and I never came along because I don't like basketball."

"You said you wanted us to have our Eddie-Tommy friend time!"

"Why do you make me sound and feel like a five-year-old? Eddie-Tommy friend time? Seriously?"

Tommy folds his hands together like he's in prayer and shuts his eyes. "Okay, listen, I just. I wanted to get the house thing off my chest, alright? Because it's—it's bothered me so much."

Buck could argue about the basketball thing for about another 500 years, except that Tommy has said what he said. "Has it?"

Tommy puts his hands in his lap again, folded politely as he looks at Buck. "I meant what I said. You were so swept away in how new and exciting everything felt, that I felt like you forgot who you were talking to. Like… I'm not a guy who's going to move in with you. I'm a guy who has a house with a home gym and a car lift, and—and the winter was so mild that I put in this little patio space in the backyard. I bought furniture for it. I took this corner of my front lawn, too, and started to plan a pollinator's garden because they sounded really interesting after those three days of bee hell. Evan, I have a house."

"You keep saying that," Buck says. His ears are burning, but he's listening too intently to feel embarrassed about it (much).

"I freaked out, alright? Because I heard: give up your house to live in this downtown loft with a couch that has a faded but GIANT blood and placenta stain on the other side of the cushion, and then the words engaged and married got thrown in there, too? All in the same breath?"

Buck stares flatly, then nods. "Yeah. I get it. Sorry." He clears his throat and grabs his water before Tommy can offer it to him. He takes a sip, looking at Tommy before he nods at the closed door. "Are we done here?"

"And I'm not a gay rights hero," Tommy adds. "You said that, too." Tommy looks away, and looks so miserable. "I'm just a guy, Evan. I've been burned before by younger guys who thought I was everything that their first gay boyfriend should be, and then—and they didn't see who I was. It's always—" Tommy holds out his hands like he's balancing scales. "Not straight enough to fake a life with a woman, not gay enough to have a real life with a man."

Buck hasn't done this in so long that his throat almost aches with it. He sighs, pained and breathless, the word crinkling against the mask: "Tommy." He swallows again and asks, "Did you really think that was me?"

Another long pause. It ends with Tommy saying, "I thought you were too good to be true."

"I'm not, though, I'm—I'm just me," Buck says. "And I did have a lot to figure out, but not about you."

Tommy laughs suddenly. "Really? Because you forgot I was a homeowner and I didn't know you hated basketball. Did you even go to that game?"

Buck coughs. "I gave the tickets to Karen and she took one of her brothers. They're nuts about the Lakers."

"Huh," Tommy says. "Well. I'm not mad about that."

The two of them are quiet until Buck says, "Seems there's a lot of things we don't know about each other."

Tommy glances at him; Buck can see the shape of his smirk beneath the mask, and the very specific way it makes his eyes crinkle. "And just when we thought we knew everything about each other."

"Yeah, I thought that, too, and then you dropped that you were engaged to my first serious girlfriend at our six month anniversary dinner." Buck raises his eyebrows. "Do you land helicopters that smoothly, too?"

"I got you here, didn't I?" Tommy bites back, then catches himself with a laugh. "Okay. Fair point."

It's so easy, it's so easy, it's so easy, it's so easy and Buck hasn't had it easy for months. He hasn't had these quips, this back-and-forth, this person who got him until he didn't, who—Buck rubs at his eyes. Tommy made it easy. He made everything easy. Not perfect, not effortless, but easy. Easier.

"So, uh." Buck fusses with the blanket in his lap. "What have you been doing for the past four months? You, uh…"

"Am I seeing anyone?" Buck nods. "I was, yeah. Didn't last that long."

Buck can't help himself: "Neither did we."

"Ouch." Tommy looks back. "And you?"

"Yeah," Buck says. "I liked them but I broke up with them because it just—it wasn't going anywhere."

"And what's wrong with that? Staying in one place? Isn't that what you wanted for us?"

It's not, but Buck can't articulate it, so he says, "Do you think that's the same?"

A beat, and then Tommy says: "No. No, I don't."

"Tommy," Buck says quietly. "How many people do I have to be with before you decide I've figured it out?"

Tommy's eyes widen. "What? I never said that."

"Tell me what you said, then." Buck swallows painfully, that turkey flu kicking his ass harder than he thought. "Tell me what you meant when you said I didn't know what I wanted. Because I told you what I wanted. I told you I was ready for something and all the things we did together, I thought that you believed me. I guess you didn't, so tell me how many bodies it'll take before you believe me."

Tommy doesn't say anything.

"God, and you know what really sucks?" Buck asks. "That we were together long enough to talk about who we'd been with so we could get tested and be safe. We talked about all that, but I never told you how many times I'd had my heart broken and you never told me yours."

"Three," Tommy eventually says. "Shawn, who was like… all of 25. He was all-in, knowing for sure that the first time was the charm, and I was old enough and steady enough to be That Guy. I believed the hype even though I was barely out of the closet. I shouldn't throw stones at Abby's House of Himbos when I set up my own on the other side of town. And then there was Raúl, my Army buddy who came out to his family and immediately moved to LA to get away from them. Everything felt like a fresh start for him, but… not quite for me."

Buck thinks to ask, but Tommy beats him to it. "Do I need to say the third?" Buck shakes his head. "What about you?"

"Abby, and you." Buck looks at Tommy as he says, "It's not just ending things with someone because it doesn't work. It's heart break. Something's gotta break and be mended."

"I don't think I did that part. You've one-upped me there."

Buck wouldn't have believed that 20 minutes ago, but he believes it now.

"So Bobby's been there, watched me since I was Abby's himbo and helped me to grow into the person who wanted that stuff with you. Once he, kinda, told me that if I care about how people see me, then I haven't learned a damn thing," Buck says. "And that is and isn't true, here. I can't live hoping I meet people's expectations of what they think I should be. I want people—I wanted you—to see me as I am. I thought you did but you didn't, and I didn't either because I didn't see how scared you were. I've made my peace with that. We had something really special and made each other feel really good but, in the end, I guess we were saying all the right things to people we didn't know."

Tommy listens, considers, and nods. "Whole lot of past tense, there."

Buck glances at him and doesn't want to look away, but he does. He doesn't meet Tommy's eyes. He's scared, too. He's done enough today: said a lot of things he's been thinking about for four months and said them very calmly and thoughtfully, but this is gonna hurt. It hurt Buck to realize it and it's gonna hurt Tommy to hear it.

"You got what you wanted, right?" Buck asks. "You got to keep your heart, and I don't feel new and excited anymore." Buck inhales deep; it hurts. "I feel like I did before, like I'm short one piece of being whole. Now the ocean I have to search is so much wider and deeper. So thanks for that, I guess."

"Evan—"

"I let you into my family," Buck interrupts sharply. "Because I cared about you and because you fit. I fit because they're mine and that's my family I made, and you fit there right next to me. With us."

"You're absolutely right."

Buck watches him, tries to see behind the sunshine yellow and white mask on his face, but all he sees are his eyes that, like always, make Buck feel too much, like laser beams disintegrating him.

"Were you really that scared?" Buck can't help the way his voice cracks. "You were that scared of me?"

Tommy looks up again, lasers in place. "I was that in love with you." He shakes his head like he did that last night in the kitchen, and looks up like he'll tip the tears back into his eyes. "And those heartbreaks—you'd leave them light-years behind if I let you. You'd leave me light-years behind."

Buck nods, then says, "Could you leave, please." His wet breathing crinkles grossly in the mask. "Thanks for telling me all this, thanks for the closure, but I don't need to see what someone looks like after they've walked away from me."

"You collapsed at a scene three days ago and I was the closest pilot to medevac you here," Tommy says slowly. "You were delirious and told Shreya, Don't tell Tommy I'm sick, he doesn't care anymore."

Tommy clears his throat. "I do care. I never stopped."

Buck sits back in his hospital bed and pulls the blanket up to his neck, the only comfort he's got right now. "If this is a turkey flu dream, I'm gonna be so pissed at you, real you," Buck says.

Tommy laughs quietly, sadly, then hesitates for a moment. "Can I ask you something? Can I ask you the scariest thing I've ever asked anyone in my entire life?"

Buck doesn't move, doesn't breathe. "What is it?" he finally asks.

"Will you give me a second chance?"

Buck, hearing what he's quietly dreamed of hearing for four months, doesn't feel the euphoria he thought he would. He feels something else, though: a strange kind of wonder that someone wants him again. Again. He swallows hard, feeling the pain right in his turkey-flu-ridden throat. Someone knew him. Someone left him. Someone came back—came back for him.

Tommy left. Tommy came back. Tommy wanted him then. Tommy wants him now. Tommy's wanted him all along.           

Buck asks, "Will you invite me to your place more than once every six months?"

Tommy's half-smile is still wide enough for Buck to see behind the mask. It falls, though, back into something serious. "Will you forgive me when I'm not a paragon of queer virtue?"

"Will you believe me when I tell you I've fucked around and found out enough for a lifetime?"

Tommy raises his eyebrows ever so slightly. "Will you believe me when I tell you I've fucked around and found out enough for a lifetime?"

Buck thinks he smiles a little behind his mask, but it doesn't stay. "Are we gonna break up again?"

"I don't know," Tommy admits. "But maybe next time we can stop each other and hit the brakes. I love romcoms, but maybe we don't do that again: you don't propose fixing a problem with marriage and a baby, and I won't run out the door."

Buck raises his eyebrows, too. "Who said anything about a baby?"

Tommy sputters. "I mean, you were the one raising the stakes before."

Buck laughs. "Right, right."

The quiet stretches out between them. They look at each other and don't look away. The stubborn, proud, cocky side of Buck feels annoyed that this feels like—like he can't get out of this. Like all roads lead back to Tommy, like he doesn't have a choice. Like if he wants to be happy, it's with this person.

A part of him wants to run and throw himself into the hunt again. He wants to thrive in the search for someone who makes him feel that euphoria and fondness and love that he felt with Tommy. He tries to imagine someone else, some vague smoky figure that isn't Tommy's height, Tommy's build, Tommy's arms crossed over his chest and that tilt of his head. The problem is that Buck feels more looking at that furrow and arch of his eyebrows than he's felt for anyone he's met in the past four months, maybe even longer.

Not all roads lead to Tommy—only the ones he wants to take.

"Say it again?" Buck asks.

Tommy nods ever so slightly. "I'm in love with you." He pauses and a smile reaches his eyes. "I love you."

Buck can't help the way his eyes water; neither can Tommy.

"Ask me again," Buck says.

"Will you give me a second chance?"

"Yeah." Buck wonders if his own smile reaches his eyes. He hopes it does. "Yeah. Will you?"

Tommy chokes out a laugh behind his mask. "Yeah, god, of course. Of course. You sure?"

"About you?" Buck asks. "Yeah. I mean, I want to be. Don't make me regret it."

"Don't make me give up my real estate."

"Don't make me go to any sports events."

"Seriously? Not even baseball?"

"God," Buck moans. "The sleepiest one of all."

"Hockey's good."

"You hate the Kings."

Tommy scoffs. "Of course I do. You always hate your local teams—you just hate visiting teams more. Can't let management get comfortable."

Buck attempts to take a deep, exasperated breath, but he forgets that he has the fucking turkey flu. He chokes and starts to cough and wheeze, but Tommy's there again. He freely, lovingly pushes Buck further to the other side of the hospital bed so he can sit and take care of him: water, tissues, hand on his chest to steady him, eyes worried and on him.

"It's not official until you kiss me," Buck says. "I'm not contagious."

"I mean, not with turkey flu," Tommy says. "Your Buckness? That I'm not so sure."

"Don't call me that anymore," Buck says.

Tommy puts his cup of water on the table next to Buck's bed, then shifts so he and Buck are closer, face-to-face, head on looking at each other. "How'd you get even brattier in only four months?"

"How'd you forget I was this bratty?"

"At my age, well, everything's starting to go."

Buck laughs, then coughs and wheezes. "Stop making me laugh."

"How'd you forget I was this funny?"

Buck tilts his head. "I didn't. I didn't forget a thing."

Tommy searches his face, then cups his jaw with one hand. Buck doesn't lean into it, just lets Tommy hold him as he tips Buck's chin up ever so slightly.

Then Tommy kisses his forehead and his birthmark, and wraps his arms around Buck. It's the warmest Buck has felt all winter. It finally feels like spring.

---

read on the ao3

[reidology13]

we could make it better (breaking every habit)

Spencer Reid x fem ex-famous!reader

Summary: After Spencer overcomes his addiction, he seeks out the company and forgiveness of an old flame. cw: talk of addiction, a little sad? mostly fluffy though a/n: technically a part 2 of my fic based off making the bed by olivia rodrigo, but it can definitely be read as a oneshot. maybe they are a bit unhealthy, but they're cute and that's all that matters. also this was so incredibly delayed cause my phone drowned so I'm posting this from my dad's computer

Part 1

They say time heals all wounds, and standing at the door of his past mistake, Spencer hoped it had healed hers the way it had his. It had taken him too long to find her, for his pride to break down enough to ask Garcia to search for her. A few years ago it would have been all too easy, a few years ago she was on the cover of every magazine. Now she was the public's favourite conspiracy theory, the biggest where did she go? post made on some website full of self important nobodies. 

Where did she go? A small house in a small town, a few hours from D.C, just close enough that Spencer had gotten in his car without a second thought the moment he had her address. Maybe it was a slight invasion of privacy, but Spencer had seen much more of her than the house she lived in.

As he lifted his fist to knock, doubt crept in for the first time since the beginning of his endeavour. Was he right to apologise, to show up at the doorstep of the person he hurt worse than anyone else in his life, and say sorry? Sorry. ���Sorry’ was a puny word that could never hope to mean anything compared to what he had done, how he had used her. But it would have to do, because he had not come all that way to turn back at the flashing neon sign that said ‘CLOSURE’.

Knock, knock, knock. Was three knocks not enough? Knock. God four was too many and the last one had been so separate from the others it was clearly an afterthought that she would think was weird before she even knew it was him on the other side of-

“Spencer?” The door opened, just enough for her face to be visible through the small opening. She was so much more beautiful than he remembered, although he really didn’t remember much from back then. 

“I’m sorry.” Well that was one way to get to the point. He smacked himself internally, scolding himself for being so stupid and inconsiderate, not even saying hello or asking her how she was doing.

“Do you wanna come in? You look like you need to sit down.” She pulled the door open, stepping back to let him in, and Spencer froze. She was allowing him into her home, her space, he who had squeezed her dry, used her up and tossed her aside when he didn’t need her anymore.

Unsure what else to do, Spencer found himself sitting on her couch, the awkward tension between them palpable as he sat silently in regret of every decision he had made in the last week.

“So,” She prompted, gesturing vaguely in his direction, “How are you?”

“Good, yeah, better. You?” He looked around the room, trying to find something that would tell him anything about her life, about her. She was a stranger, really, a stranger that used to be someone he knew. He wanted to know who she was then, on that day, in her house sitting across from him.

“I’m good too. You look better.” He knew what she meant – he didn’t look high out of his mind. The far wall of the room was covered in framed pictures of her and what he assumed were her family and friends. Some were from her childhood, some were taken in front of the very house he was sitting in. 

What surprised Spencer were the photos, though few and far between, where he made an appearance. The Fourth of July party, a bright, sunny photo full of smiling faces. The poor quality of the picture did nothing to disguise the bags under his eyes, nor the dead look in hers. Her birthday, a photo of her blowing out the candles on her cake, blurred from his shaky grip on the camera.

“I don’t remember that one.” He pointed to a picture of the two of them, a dark photo that he nearly hadn’t recognised as himself. The ability to not remember had been his favourite thing back then, now the haze left him with a pit in his stomach.

“Makes sense, you were… you were bad. It was taken right near the end.” 

“I am sorry, really.” Neither of them spoke after that, the silence a warm blanket rather than a thick smog. The apology wrapped around them in a warm embrace, they did not choke on it.

She moved first, after what felt like the most peaceful eternity, slipping her hand around his, holding it in the space between them. He looked down at their joined hands, his gaze slowly drifting up until it landed on the soft smile spread across her face.

“I missed you.” She squeezed his hand gently, although it felt like she squeezed his heart instead, “I missed you from the moment I met you. It’s nice to get you back.”

“I missed you too.” He didn’t know how to explain the way it had taken him a month to get sober enough that reality hit and he realised what he’d lost. At least, he didn’t know how to explain it without having to actually say something about his addiction. He’d always been good at avoiding the topic, skirting around it with suggestions and subtle confirmations. The word ‘addiction’ made him feel weak, like he’d been defeated. He’d talked about his problem once, in a room full of people who had been through the same thing, and even then he hadn’t been able to say it. 

“You’re so strong, Spencer. You’ve come so far.” It was like she could read his mind, see every fear that haunted him and soothe it accordingly.

“So are you, I mean, you got out of everything.” His eyes dropped to his lap in shame of everything that he hadn’t noticed, all of the obvious signs of just how not okay she had been. All that she must have been going through, that he had been too far from reality to know existed, even when it was staring him in the face.

“You say that like you didn’t.” It was a simple sentiment, but maybe that was what hit him like a freight train. It wasn’t some mantra he’d heard hundreds of times, or a complicated conversation with his friends where they tried to talk to him without saying anything that actually mattered.

He got out of it.

“You’re perfect, you know that right?” The way he looked at her in that moment could only be described as reverential, she was the brightest star in a sky that he had never truly seen before.

“No I’m not.” The way she said it like a definite fact made Spencer’s heart start to crack, “Do you know why I have those pictures up?”

Spencer shook his head, “Tell me,” he said the words under his breath, as if they were surrounded by people in the empty room, “I’m not going to find you any less perfect.”

“Hope. I could never get the thought out of my head that you would come back.” She shook her head, gaze locked on the ground like she couldn’t bear to look at him as she spoke. “It was stupid, and then you actually did, and that’s stupid all over again.”

“You’re even more perfect than I thought.” Spencer laughed, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes, happy and sad and something he couldn’t put a name to. She was still holding his hand, he realised, and he used that information to interlace their fingers, placing their joined hands in his spare palm.

“I’m stupid and lucky, that’s what I am.” She snorted, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“No, not stupid.” Spencer drew circles with his thumb on her palm as he spoke, “Lucky, maybe.” 

“We’re gonna have to talk about this, us, you know that.”

“Eventually, yes. Not right now.”

“Not right now.” She confirmed, nodding slowly. They were both there, and that would have to be enough, at least for the moment.

[its-your-girl-geekerella]

EPIC: The Vengeance Saga

I've procrastinated on this post for as long as I possibly could, but I'm here now! Let's get into it:

Not Sorry For Loving You. I love this song and I love Calypso, and you can't change my mind. I will not apologize. I'm not entirely sure why everyone hates her, but she is my smol child. The animatic cracked me up though, because while Calypso is sobbing and singing, Odysseus is hopping on his boat and sailing away like, "I'm just gonna go... yeah. Bye." It made him seem like a jerk, but it was also kinda funny.

Dangerous. It was a genuinely great song. The "Full Speed Ahead" callback showcasing Odysseus's loneliness was great, Hermes was great, the Winions were great. Everything was just great. There is literally nothing I could say about this song you haven't heard.

Charybdis. Honestly? This is the one song from EPIC that I would call truly "mid". Don't get me wrong, all of Jorge's work is epic (haha I'm so funny), but this one was slightly... less epic. Also, I'm more of a dialogue and emotions person, not really an action-enjoying one, so that may have contributed. I will say, however, that Odysseus's "NOOOO" was incredible and deeply relatable.

Get in the Water. Yes. Yes. And yes again. I had waited for this one for so long, and it did not disappoint. The dialogue between Poseidon and Ody? Chef's kiss. Immaculate writing, Jay. Poseidon's "I can't" really made it seem like he wasn't really that angry anymore, like this was something he put on his "to-do" list a few years back, and had to check off. But when Odysseus told him that he should "learn to forgive", implying that a mere MORTAL knew something more than a GOD, he got peeved. The character depth we see in this song is great, especially in comparison to the next song. Part of me does hope that aside from the finale, this is the last "dead people sing to Odysseus" we see for the rest of the show.

600 Strike. I know I said that I'm not super into action scenes, but this song SLAPS. HARD. The singing is so good, and the music really encapsulates the title of the show. When Ody says, "you're going to call of that storm", I got freaking SCARED. That last 1:40 of the song is my favorite part. The vocals are legit my favorite. And "next to my wife"????? WHO APPROVED THIS???? Jorge??? Are you OK???? Am I OK??? After listening to this last song, I literally went into an early-life crisis. I didn't talk to anyone, I ate some ice cream, and silently pondered to myself, "what just happened?" over and over again. I was fine two hours later, though😀

This Saga was everything I hoped it would be, and it was written really well. (Why am I surprised?) My two favorite songs were "Not Sorry For Loving You" and "600 Strike!"

My biggest "thing" with EPIC is that I want it to become a staged musical. I know that Jay at some point said that it may not work out like that, but then a few moths later he said that it could work, so I'm holding on to hope. After all, if EPIC never becomes a staged production, how are countless people supposed to play these characters we know and love? Don't be stingy, Mr. Jalapeno. /j

My largest concern with this Saga is that it would be the hardest to stage, especially with songs like "Charybdis" and "600 Strike". For example, the part where Poseidon drowns Odysseus. How to show Odysseus being drowned and the wind bag floating just above him and the dead people helping him WHILE still showing Poseidon above the water? I have some concepts, but it would still be really hard. Any ideas are welcome!

[bootyful-seventeen]

Oh gosh okay so I went back to marinating more on long haired Jihoon, but specifically long haired Jihoon getting pegged has me chewing on the bars of my enclosure to get out

Like just think of how pretty he'd look when he's on all fours and your fucking into him!! His chest blushed and heaving from how needy he is for you and the way your touch just feels so good and electric running along your skin! Your fingers then threading through his hair to pull his head up to see his thoroughly fucked out and flushed face in the mirror you placed in front of the bed. His eyes rolling back into his skull as cute little whimpers and cries slip from his lips when you brush your lips along his shoulder and licking up his neck before nibbling on his earlobe. Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh and even the louder moans he'd make if you gripped his cheeks in your hands and pounded him into the mattress, his back arching so nicely that you can't help but run a hand up his spine and wrap his long hair around your fist while he trembled underneath you whimpering about how he's gonna cum. Your eyes dropping down to watch his slick hole swallowing your strap on with ease from being played with for so long before getting bent over. Jihoon's whines getting louder from hand slipping between his thighs to jerk off his leaky cock until he's releasing spurts onto the sheets under him. Tears springing from his eyes as you fuck him at a harder and faster pace until he was left gasping for air, his thighs shaking from keeping his ass up when your strap slips out of his trembling hole and a relieved smile on his face as you cooed about how good he was for you, and how he looks so pretty all fucked out like this between kisses along his spine

[softdreamlesssleep]

God, "I missed you" sex is the best

[vampyroteuthid]

cannot fucking wait to get this new covid vaccine shoot me tf up ‼️‼️

[wr0ngwarp]

um. uh. hi every body. something evil and malevolent happened in my brain this month.

this is. um. a Jet Set Radio/Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Death joke AU, spawned out of a in-joke that started in a pokepasta discord. my apologies to both the pokepasta and jsr fandoms

the entire basis is the idea that Corn in Future retconned og JSR Beat as leader/founder of the GGs (is beat being leader in the og even CANON?) so Corn and Beat are the Myras. no it's not a joke funny enough to justify how many hours i sunk into drawing these. no attempt was made to change the setting, assign most of the other cast, or otherwise make this au hold up to ANY amount of scrutiny. if i tried to make this actually work somehow then i'd REALLY end up too far gone. also i keep calling myrtle!beat "Meat".

MEANWHILE, IN A BETTER UNIVERSE:,

[mirmidones]

3.40 i woke up bc i was cold and needed to pee and now i can't fall back asleep i keep thinking of the people i accidentally ghosted. is it ghosted if there was no intent to ghost? i feel so bad and it's not even like i don't think about them i often do think "i should really reply to them... once this is over ill properly sit down and write them... " and then i don't bc something else happens and im dealing with that and the longer i leave it unanswered the more difficult it becomes because i feel so guilty and therefore want to do things properly not half assed but bc i feel so guilty a part of me also tends to avoid it even more. if i do this to you just know i'm really sorry and ill get back to you i swear

[discoreptile]

Beasties of Greenhollow soundtrack! Some tracks on this are from older projects like elphame but all of them have been reworked in some way. Most of them are entirely new. Enjoy!

[silverskyy]

I need to talk about what happened last night in my cyberpunk red game because it was Crazy (long rambling post incoming)

Context: the party is a team of bounty hunters, finally closing in on our target, a mysterious murderer who has been leaving a trail of bodies across this district. We've discovered a connection to an underground fighting ring and reasoned that we can lure him into revealing himself if we present an enticing enough fighter as a challenge

Enter BR-549: a heavily augmented man filled with just as much trauma, decked out with weapons and an outfit designed to make him look imposing. His role in game is the Solo, which means he has many abilities geared towards fighting, a big pool of hit points, and is all around the obvious best choice to send into the ring

Enter my character: Glimmer ✨, a former fashion influencer recently turned true crime investigative reporter. Her intended contribution this session was mostly picking out everyone's outfits because, as a Media role, she primarily has socially focused skills. But. A girl has to protect herself right? So she also has a very high martial arts skill and an evasion as good as BR's (this will be important later). On top of that she recently picked up some karma, a homebrew miraculous material that can, among many other things, be mentally controlled to power up attacks (+1 to damage)

This all means nothing I'm sure

So the party gets to the scrapyard in which this fighting ring takes place and, not too surprisingly, discover we will need to prove ourselves competent fighters to be allowed entry. Things shake out so that BR and Glimmer go down into the pit to duke it out and hype up BR for the crowd. We pick out weapons beforehand, all sportsmanlike, and BR goes in with his baton and Glimmer goes in with a layer of glittering karma around her fists

The way fights in this arena work is there are five stones scattered around the pit. Cover a stone with your opponent's blood (mechanically, do enough damage close enough to a stone in one round) and a point is yours. Get three points and you win the match

Round 1: the other player and I decide to roll initiative each round to keep things spicy, but BR's is ofc better than Glimmer's so he goes first. Fairly standard turn choice, swings twice and gets a decent amount of damage in. Glimmer strafes around to be as far from the stones as she can and still attack, swings twice...and hits for more damage. Which means more blood on the stone

The ref calls 1 Point for Glimmer

Round 2: everyone is taken aback at how the last round went and I'm just happy I had a good showing. BR goes first again and backs up to another stone to hold his attacks. His player knows Glimmer's ranged attacks (throwing karma pellets) aren't as good as her melee and she wants to draw her to an unbloody stone. I decide I will not be baited and try to blast him anyway. I fail, but BR's turn is wasted, so the round is a draw

Round 3: wanting him to seem cool, BR's player has him try to rip away control of Glimmer's karma instead of outright attacking. While very close he does fail the opposed roll, so she has him move further away out of Glimmer's movement range. I could try again with the ranged attacks (proven to be risky and lowers my karma amount) or switch the karma into a shield (potentially useful but a waste if he just steals it next turn). Instead Glimmer moves to the center of the ring, shouts to the crowd that he's a coward for running, and holds her attacks. The round ends with no blood drawn

Round 4: this round starts slow with BR moving in, prompting some small hits from Glimmer and dealing a bit of damage in return. Then Glimmer's actual turn begins

Here is where I need to explain how crits work in the Cyberpunk Red system. Damage is rolled with d6s and the more powerful you are or the stronger your weapon the more dice you roll. To get a crit you need to roll two 6s, regardless of how many damage dice you get. This is a benefit of using stronger weapons; you reduce your rate of fire in return for a bigger damage pool and a higher chance for the crippling impact of crits

Based on her body score, Glimmer's martial arts attacks do 2d6 damage, which means it's extremely unlikely that she would crit...except on her second attack she does and when we roll on the crit table we find out that she broke BR's leg

Needless to say, the ref calls 2 Points for Glimmer

Round 5: We Are All Shook, and then BR rolls so bad on initiative Glimmer goes first! At this point I know I should back off, but the plan of making BR look powerful is pretty well fucked already and I can't pass up the badass opportunity I've been handed. Glimmer continues to attack and misses once, so I have her kick him and then walk away—BR's movement is reduced by 4 due to the leg, meaning he can't catch up to her. He shuffles after, on the brink of a full cyberpsychosis/PTSD meltdown, tries to steal the karma, and fails again. The kick didn't do much damage so the round is another draw

Round 6: BR is back to going first and his player and I have a quick ooc conversation over whether he wants to throw her into a stone or toss aside his baton and punch her to death. A throw would do a hefty amount of damage, but he would first have to grapple her and Glimmer's martial arts school lets her possibly break the arm of a grappler (we have delighted in this happening to enemies already). She decides to just have him punch and moves in to deal some hurt

The first attack misses by a mile. The second attack succeedes by just 2 points. In this system, you have a luck pool each session you can use to beef up rolls, and mine is a lot bigger than BR's. I spend it to make him miss again. It hasn't shown up yet, but Glimmer's martial arts school also lets her, if all melee attacks that turn miss, throw an attacker without grappling them first

To recap, Glimmer breaks BR's leg, walks away with a dismissive kick, then when he surges after to murder her grabs his arm and hurls him into the nearest stone

So uh, the ref calls 3 Points for Glimmer

And then BR continued to try to attack and Glimmer realized She Had Fucked Up and so had to run out of the pit to have our other party member talk him down and our entire plan of having the guy actually built for fighting draw out the killer was completely trashed but it was really really fucking cool and I will treasure the win forever 😊

[queenlucythevaliant]

Why did God harden the Pharaoh’s? I’m in a Bible as Lit class and someone brought up “wouldn’t that be against free will,” and why did God let the Israelites stay it in slavery for so long. Why is God different in the Old Testament to the New Testament? I hope this doesn’t bother you, with all these questions

Okay, so there are several different questions here and I'm going to try to address them all. I'm sure I'll miss something somewhere, so other more knowledgeable friends feel free to add on. Follow-ups are also very much welcome.

First off, Bible as literature class! Yikes. I took a Bible as lit class for my English minor years ago and my experience was pretty much wall-to-wall frustration. It was mostly an exercise in coming up with the most transgressive reads on Scripture possible and that really upset me.

I hope that your experience is better than mine. However, assuming that the class is at a secular university, I'd still encourage you to be intentional about talking the things you cover in class over with knowledgeable Christians in your life. I certainly benefitted a lot from doing so, both in the sense that I got to vent a whole bunch and in that I got help contextualizing the secular perspectives within Christian scholarship.

That out of the way: The God of the Bible is the same in both the Old and New Testaments.

I do understand where you’re coming from. It’s not uncommon for people to find God kind of inscrutable in the OT when they're more used to reading the NT. I actually think that's a failure on the part of the contemporary church in the West; large swaths of the OT tend to be understudied among lay-Christians.

Systematic theology can help a lot here. I'm just going to hit a few really broad highlights, but I really can't recommend Wayne Grudem highly enough if you're interested in more in-depth reading. Lots of people start with Bible Doctrine, but my family happened to have a copy of his enormous Systematic Theology tome in the basement when I was in high school and I got a lot out of just poking through that a little at a time too. A few quick bullets though:

Across all the Biblical texts, God is love. He glories in kindness to his people, whether it's in the covenant with Abraham, the Exodus, the faithful ministry of the prophets, Christ's ministry/death/resurrection, or the promised coming of his kingdom.

God is holy; he gives the Law to the Israelites so that they can approach his holiness without fearing for their lives and he sent Jesus so that we can do the same. Both Isaiah and Peter react with fear and awe in the face of God's holiness.

God is just. By virtue of his holiness, he cannot allow sin to go unpunished. As modern westerners, we often chafe against this but has any of us experienced justice that was actually pure? Justice is a form of faithfulness, and the same God who sent his people into exile poured out his wrath on his own son in our place. He has promised that one day, every evil will face his perfect justice.

God is faithful. He keeps his Covenant with Abraham even unto the cross. In the OT he is faithful husband to an adulterous people. In the NT he tells us that when we are faithless, he remains faithful, for he cannot deny himself.

Lots of other characteristics but this answer is going to be long enough as it is. The only way to get a real sense for the continuity within the Bible is to read the whole Bible with an eye towards the continuity.

The reason that God is more approachable in the NT than the Old is that he became human. In the Incarnation, all of that holiness and justice and faithfulness and love that was God came to earth in our perfect likeness so that he could live beside us and die for us. God is certainly easier to approach in light of Christ's work, but he is utterly the same as he ever was. Read the Transfiguration and tell me that isn’t the God of Mount Sinai. Read John 1 and tell me it doesn’t remind you of the end of Job. Read the Gospels, Hebrews, and Revelation and play spot-the-OT-parallel. It's beautiful.

Why did God leave his people in slavery for so long? You could ask the same question about the Babylonian captivity and even about why Jesus waits to return and finally defeat Death. Why does he wait? Why let his people suffer?

Well. God is sovereign and he only permits evil to the extent that it ultimately accomplishes the very opposite of what it intends. Because the Israelites were slaves in Egypt, the Exodus was able to occur. The Exodus glorified God in extraordinary fashion, both among his own people and to the peoples of the ancient world. It was also a necessary type and precursor to Jesus's work on the cross. I don't think it's an overstatement to say that redemptive history rests on God's work in the Exodus, which is itself contingent on a period of slavery in Egypt.

“How long, O Lord” and “Come Lord Jesus” are the same sentiment in different words. We are still in exile, even now. We are chronologically exiled from the place where we belong, the New Jerusalem, and we mourn because we live in a fallen world in which sin and death can still hurt us. We can ask, just as the Prophets once asked, why God waits to vanquish the Enemy, extract suffering from the world, and restore our years that the locusts have eaten. And in each case (the slaves in Egypt, the Babylonian captivity, and the period of waiting for Jesus to return), the answer is that God does not fix it yet because He is doing something bigger!

Regarding Pharaoh's heart: this is basically a question of human nature. The easiest way that I can articulate it off the top of my head is using Augustine's fourfold state of man:

Prior to the fall, man was able either to sin or not to sin (posse peccare, posse non peccare)

The natural state of man after the fall is one in which he is unable not to sin (non posse non peccare). This was Pharaoh's state.

Following the work of Christ, regenerate man is able not to sin (posse non peccare)

In eternity, glorified man will be unable to sin (non posse peccare)

When we talk about man's will, we must acknowledge that our wills are subject to our nature. In other words, Pharaoh was a natural, fallen man. His nature was inherently sinful and his heart inherently hard.

What we've got here is sort of a "Jacob I have loved but Esau I have hated" situation. Pharaoh, in his natural state, had a hard heart and a natural enmity with God. God did not intervene to give him a heart of flesh. My people I have loved, but Pharaoh I have hated.

Not a perfect parallel, but I think it serves its purpose. The point is that God's sovereignty isn't in conflict with man's will, since our wills are a function of our natures. Man behaves however his nature inclines him to behave at any given time. We call this free will; however, God is entirely sovereign over all of it.

This is definitely a long, messy answer, but like I said, feel free to continue the conversation. I've got some biochem to work on, but I'm always happy to talk theology :)

[italictext]

I desperately need to befriend a Death Note fan irl who likes Death Note the way I do.. The only DN fans I've met irl are anime only Near haters :'(

[britneyshakespeare]

i have been working with kids for four years and i had to write my first ever note just now about a seventh grade boy being inappropriate towards me. i don't know what the hell this could possibly lead to or what. he was trying to feel my legs repeatedly to the point where i had to stop sitting next to him (and i was subbing for his one-to-one para!!!). he's got high support needs. in that kind of job, you're supposed to sit next to them all day and look over their work.

the teacher whose classroom this was happening in could also tell something was wrong. the whole class was acting kinda crazy because it was the day before school vacation week and there was another class coming in to share projects. so like, he was swamped with keeping order already. but we were sitting two feet away from his podium at the front of the room. the kid was giving him and me a hard time when he wouldn't take out his chromebook as he was instructed. and then when he did take out his chromebook, he immediately, for some reason, places it on my lap. he had been ogling my legs the whole time. he puts his computer ON MY LAP. and i'm just like, stunned, because what the hell? can you not keep it on your own lap, for some reason? i don't even know what to say, i just hold it a little above my lap while i'm thinking why on earth would this be happening? he would NOT do this to his regular para if she were here, would he? this can't be normal.

and the teacher sees this and within a minute places a stool in front of the kid for him to put his laptop on. and i'm like. oh ok. yeah. he notices exactly what's happening and that that's not appropriate. and then when the other class comes in to share projects he tells me "miss b——, you don't actually have to sit next to c—— this whole period if you don't want to." and he grabs me a chair for me to go sit with the other paras in the back opposite corner of the room. like he KNEW. and thank you mr. d—— for recognizing that because i was just kind of shocked and didn't know if i was overreacting in my head to all of this.

when there's a point in the class where the kids are discussing stuff, i privately mention what's happened to the para who's sitting closest to me. and she says that the thing about him calling me pretty is something he's been known to do, but the fact that he kept trying to touch my legs is new behavior. and that's a completely different class of behavior. i was telling him NO, don't do that, and he kept doing it. and the fact that he was calling me pretty repeatedly, even when i was giving him instructions that he wasn't taking. and this is the second to last class before the end of the day, so she says she'll take a walk with him before learning center and talk to him about it, and i'm grateful for that. she does. the kid apologizes to me as soon as i come into learning center. but like. WHAT the hell.

i'm STILL like what the hell. this is unfathomable to me. the other adults who i told about this or who witnessed it were supportive of me. but. what to do??? i wrote a long note to his regular para about this, because i knew she was going to hear about it at least from the first para i told. the second para i told about it after school had a kind of... i'm not gonna say enabling reaction, but i suppose since it had already been "taken care of" (or at least, he had been spoken to and apologized) she didn't really have much to add in the way of discipline. i told her what happened after school and she was just like... a little bit, laughing? like oh, yup, that dog. she at the very least confirmed he KNEW what he was doing, that that was not an accident. she said to me "i had a feeling he was going to develop a crush on you" (me and these other paras were together for most of the beginning of the day too). but it's like. it's not about that.

i have worked with children for FOUR years. children have had crushes on me before; i'm quite unfazed by it. boys from the ages of 5-to-15 have told me i'm so pretty before and asked me to marry them. i've never had them feeling up my legs before. i've never had them making me physically uncomfortable. it's NOT about this seventh grader having a crush on the pretty substitute. he is NOT unusual for that, at all. but i've never had a boy of any age or education level repeatedly touching my knees and thighs. THAT is problem behavior!!!

because what if i wasn't assertive enough with him to tell him to stop? what if i was a girl his age? worse, what if i was an adult who encouraged this behavior? i don't come to the middle school to be a seductress. i had no intention in putting on a pair of tights and a skirt this morning of being viewed as an attractive object, especially not by a pubescent boy. what if i did though? what if his interpretation of me wasn't so incorrect and offensive? what if i let him keep touching me inappropriately and saying flirtatious things to me? me, an adult in my mid-twenties, towards a middle school boy?

in no world would that be ok. if i had been feeling up and overly-complimenting a CHILD at my place of work, holy shit would there be reports about me. so a child acting that way could never be ok either. if it'd be firable for me to be reciprocating that action, then that action should not be happening to me. ever. and that child should never repeat that action again to any other adult again.

like i am simply not there to be treated as an attractive young woman. i put on a skirt that shows too much knee and get paired with a boy, though, and that's apparently just a natural consequence. hooo-ly shit. like i don't know what to do. first of all, the more time passes since this has happened, the more i am just unable to stop thinking about it. i wasn't "hurt" or too emotional in the moment but i'm just still processing it and it gets worse. i'm just more and more disgusted.

i don't know what i expect to come out of this, or the email i sent to his regular para. like, am i gonna have to attend a fucking meeting? what is the precedent that this sets for him? WHY do i feel BAD for him about this? well, because he's a child, of course. a child who has done wrong he may not be able to understand. but he knows WHAT he did. he just doesn't know WHY it was wrong.

and i couldn't even say something to him that was like, "well, how would you like it if i was touching you like this?" because young boys do not understand how inappropriate it'd be. i'm sure this kid thought he was gonna get away with what he was doing at the very least. but probably not unlikely he (being a child with no concept of how wrong it'd be) thought he could get some sort of "positive" attention for treating me like this. either way he was simply doing what he wanted to do, with no perspective of how it would make me feel or that it could be classified as harassment. teenage boys think it'd be awesome if the older attractive woman would reciprocate their affections. they're wrong. i, as the older attractive woman of his affection, cannot be the one to convince him of that, though.

i don't know. i don't know. like it's just so not ok. but if i didn't tell another adult about this, he would've gotten away with it. he would probably do it again. and him being in trouble for it is not the same as him understanding that it was wrong. unless someone has a REAL talk with him about inappropriate attention and consent, it's not unlikely that he'll just repeat the behavior in a setting where he thinks he won't be caught or told on. THAT'S the problem. me, i could just never have to be this boy's para again. in my email, i didn't say that i would never be ok working with or around him ever again. he already knows i didn't like it and i'm not afraid to tell on him; as far as that lesson applies to me, individually, i think he's become too ashamed to repeat that.

i don't know. i don't know. i very much expressed that i, i guess, "forgave" him in the email that i wrote. i clarified that i was writing it for the sake of having it on the record. i think that could potentially be very important for the purposes of preventing further similar or escalating behavior from him in the future. i don't want him to be in trouble. i don't think i will be blamed for this, especially not with how promptly i acted, although i don't know to what extent this will be framed as me thinking i'm a "victim." i'm not... i don't feel victimized. i feel disgusted. i feel afraid for the sake of what could happen to or with him in the future, if he thinks behavior like his towards me today is ok.

i feel like if i end up having to further respond to this, this will be made about me. in a way it kind of was. is? in the moment it was happening, it was certainly about me. because i was the one this boy was giving all this unwanted attention to. but to make the consequences of this about me and to involve me any further, i also don't want. because i said what i said already, i don't care if a student has a crush on me. this isn't about me being the pretty substitute. i'm the pretty substitute all the time, to tons of people. that's not really something i've been concerned about up until now.

but do i have to reexplain my personal embarrassment? that i was wearing a skirt? that he was ogling my legs? really? what more do i have to gain from sharing that, other than having the adults at my place of work confirm or deny me in their heads as the pretty substitute? i don't know. perhaps that's REALLY overthinking it. but i don't want to be the substitute that caused a problem for this special ed kid. i don't wanna be the reason that he can't be around me anymore, the person people think of when they're monitoring how he's acting around girls and young women. i DON'T want to be the one people think of when they think of his past misbehavior. i'm NOT here for that.

that's just fucking humiliating. and in this being a thing that could follow him, i have to be ogled and touched over and over again in people's minds for this to be taken seriously. but for this to be swept under the rug would be even worse, no? i don't know. i hate this. the principal is a nice guy; i wouldn't be surprised if he and/or people from the special ed department reached out to me sympathetically about this. but i don't wanna be reached out to. i don't wanna have ppl i work with tell me "sorry that kid was just so attracted to you he couldn't help himself" like come on. if the kid himself doesn't change then i don't really care to remember this incident. and no one reaching out to me and saying they've talked to this kid will actually prove to me he understands. this is the kind of inappropriate behavior it takes years for people to understand why it was wrong, especially a child who has no idea. i mean come on.

[flockrest]

Hi, another lurking anon. I kept re-reading "Cooking is Communal" post- sorry if that's not the title. I was very curious on your views of Revali's lonely nature (his personality). He feels somewhat abstract to the rito culture...? Or I might be reading into it too much.. And based on the AU- where he is brought back to life, would Tulin try to look for a way to break that lonely aspect of his? I would ask more? But I do not want to overlwhelm. But thank you so much for the posts you do about the Ritos though, its always an enjoyable experience and makes me think a bit more.

hi, welcome! no need to apologise for anything, very glad the post ( which can be called anything you see fit ) resonated with you to a point where you'd follow up on it! and oh boy. you are not reading too much into it, i have A Lot to say about revali and whatever the heck he's got going on with him and his Issues — of which his loneliness is a huge part of — and how that interplays with his people's culture and his love for them as a whole.

just to preface before we get into it: thank you lots for sending this in and for your kind words!! genuinely, it makes me beyond happy to know that my rambling is appreciated ♡ don't be afraid to ask me more if you'd like, i promise you won't overwhelm me because i'm a verified sucker for discussing meta in-depth!

i touched on this in the tags of the mentioned post but to me, pre-calamity revali does come across as someone who denies a lot of things ( very evident ingame ) and also denies himself of a lot of things — especially when it comes to anything that could be significant interpersonally! there's very clear implications that he's been lonely, if not completely alone, for a great bulk of his life; there are even clearer walls he's built up to cope with this and ensure that nobody can ever see or acknowledge this.

to paraphrase some old disco ramblings: he feels like someone who clings so damn hard onto this image he's carefully crafted for himself to present to others — presented for so long that it's not just a second skin so much as it is something deeply embedded — so that nobody can possibly suspect he is in any way lacking. not in skills, or grit, or the ability to be anything but most especially a champion.

or, you know, in any meaningful company at all.

and he just doesn't have the resources, emotionally or otherwise, to really let any of that peek through? he is so vehemently against this idea that he is not enough for anyone, including himself — admitting that he's lacking in any sense aligns with that. there's this line from when i was still testing him out that still stands out to me because i think it really just captures him in this context nicely:

Revali was born chosen by no one. He learnt, very quickly, to choose himself. And now, here he is.

we will never know for sure what his early life was like! but given the hints, there like. had to be a point where he accepted all the hurts of being alone, where he stopped earnestly trying to seek company and approval and being wanted from/by others because the only constant he had was himself. all he needs, an idea that forms at an early age and follows him into older youth, is himself — he can't be unreliable, he can't be conditional.

i think by that time, his seeking turns into something more like ensuring, if i'm making sense? like i don't doubt he's always strived for neverending self-improvement — half-out of a legitimate want to be better and half-out of a desire for attention — but now he's determined to make a name for himself, to make anything for himself, so that nobody can ever skip their gaze over him again. this isn't look at me, this is don't ever look away.

so he just. won't seriously admit to himself that he wants anything more from anyone pre-botw, which constrains any effort — from others or himself — to get closer, and like...be real with each other. to form an actual relationship. he still feels these desires, he just refuses to acknowledge them and it makes me want to shake him in a jar!! self-isolation at its finest! he puts up grandiose airs and all this pomp, because who else can he trust to do it for him! who else can he trust to see his "real worth", even as that's exactly what he's trying to get others to do! this guy is not okay!!

and! regarding rito village and their culture back then: i don't think it deviates from what i currently have in mind for them, but pre-calamity rito village feels like...it is not the same as post-calamity rito village. i think their flock was definitely bigger in that there were more people present and settled in those peaks in revali's era ( compared to both dineli's or tulin's ), so while core values and teachings remain unchanged, the sense of community does not.

it's always intense, but like. post-calamity rito village had to deal with the severe loss and trauma that calamity ganon wrought with him, which tinges their emphasis on togetherness with a touch of this is essential to our survival ( which may actually be a repeat of what happened with dineli's flock, mid- and post-the imprisoning war ). when revali was born, i feel like the community was much like a rural town with the ties the villagers had with each other; when he died, it was more like a covert — in that the world is suddenly way smaller and everybody is connected to everybody for their own preservation. and this is carried on to future generations, a lasting idea of flocking together is above all a priority, even for their travellers who leave the village behind for extended periods of time. i. honestly think this might count as intergenerational trauma?

( seriously, they are not a long-lived folk, yet the calamity has left such an indelible mark on them?? i'm so emo about how revali did not ask for a memorial, he asked for the flight range because it would be useful for him in the present and also for his people in the future, but they gave him this tragic permanency anyway. it's not a celebration of what he did, it's a commemoration to what he couldn't do; saki literally says, of revali's landing, "so named in the hope that none might forget the events of that horrible day". what a mournful way to frame it?! )

that is all to say: it's very plausible that the rito village revali grew up in would allow a solitary, neglected or orphaned fledgling to slip through the cracks. and maybe it's only initially, maybe it's just too late, maybe the fledgling then coats his own cracks over with a self-made balm and decides he won't let anybody make him feel lonely again and shuts himself entirely off, but. as i mentioned in the other study post, his lack of relationships wasn't always his fault, though it probably becomes so as he grows much older.

AND THE THING IS, revali doesn't stop caring about everyone ( and when i say everyone, i mean his people ). he can't! he can convince himself that he has no care for their affections ( and sometimes, he even fails this. he even fails this. i think about that diary entry where he talks about proving himself to the world when "the world" has done shit all for him, and i think about how a good percentage of his perception of "the world" was still narrowed down to his home then ), but he still loves them a great amount.

( to clarify: he cares for them the way you'd care for someone from a distance. you don't really know them, and you probably or would probably get along with them even less, yet you want to keep them around anyway. )

that's just something he's been raised with, steeped in because it's part of his culture, and also just. he's seen practically everything his village has to offer: perhaps all the worst parts in living through the bitterness of being lonely amongst a flock, but also all the best parts! sorry, i know i went absolutely off on how isolated he must've been and felt, but realistically his life couldn't have all been utterly miserable. fleeting joys are still joys! shallow connection is still connection! that came out harsher than i meant but the point is he genuinely loves his home and culture and people, even if his way of proving it is unhealthy and derives from a place that he definitely needs to go to therapy for ( i.e. his love for them is bound to his perceived self-worth. he has to "earn" his "right" to love them by excelling at what he does best, by being special enough, because he's unconditional with himself but they aren't! they aren't )!!

vaguely related, but this is, for me, why he never stops chasing achievements in combat. like ever. it's why rest/inaction forced by his severe injuries in the au where he survives is debilitating in more ways than one and emotionally frays him to a near-breakdown-turned-actual-breakdown. speaking of that, though!

yes!! yes, yes, tulin would absolutely be doing his best to bring revali back into their fold and make sure he stays there! you can see it in-play in my first thread with buck ( whose positively glorious revali can be found @/galestrings ♡ ); he's a kid who just so wholeheartedly believes in revali's goodness, refuses to not see the best of all his qualities, and so incessantly follows after him to Bond!!

i won't speak too much on this because i do want to continue seeing it play out with any revalis who would be willing to explore this with my tulin, but in connecting with him — even on a surface-level — i imagine that might provide a bridge to connecting with the rest of the village too! ( and it doesn't have to start with tulin, but i like my master-disciple bonds too much to let it not, in the case of my take on revali asflsd )

ANYWAY YEAH, that's what i have to say on this stupid bird vis-a-vis his loneliness!! god if you made it here without skipping over anything, i'm blowing you some friendly kithes. mwah mwah! hope i haven't chased you away with this, i'd love to hear your thoughts and receive more questions if you were so curious! thank you so much again for sending this in!! ♡

[lostrealities0]

I honestly have never understood why this line is so hated. I have seen people use it to villainize Ford. I would like to say that I agree with all of your points. It was completely wrong for him to project his relationship with his brother onto Dipper. He definitely has convinced himself that his and Stan's relationship has always been bad.

We don't know much about how it was in the past. However, it seems that they were always grouped together as a pair. It was always Stan and Ford. Additionally, Stan gives off codependency vibes during the incident, while at the same time, Ford seems very independent. He has zero issues with the prospect of going to a university across the country.

I believe that this dynamic probably caused some issues. While I doubt teenage Ford thought of their relationship as suffocating, I'm sure he got annoyed and/or frustrated at times. He was never seen as his own person; he was just part of a pair. Stan probably loved it, maybe even encouraged it. Remember, it is not wrong to want to be your own person!

Again, I'm not saying that it was right in any way for Ford to say this. At least not to Dipper. This is very much a conversation he needs to have with Stan. What I'm trying to say is that I believe that there is a valid basis and some truth behind that statement and shouldn't be judged point blank.

I think so much about Ford's line "And isn't it suffocating?" when Dipper says he's never been away from Mabel. Side barring how insane it is to project onto a twelve yr old boy, I think it really shows how Ford's perception of his and Stan's relationship has perverted over the forty years they were apart. We know they were close at Mabel and Dipper's age. But Ford's convinced himself that it was always bad, that his brother always had poor intent for him, always held him back, because if that's wrong, if his brother really did make a mistake, then it means he doubted the brother that loved him and he loved in turn.

[reinemichele]

Translation here, pages 2-5

(3, 2, 1...) When he looks up, he sees the round night sky, Lit by a wavering azure moon While cursing God’s name, he sings within the bowels of hell... Like giving water to flowers... It follows that... sins require punishment, ah An eventual [Guten Abend], the rushing [sieben Märchen] Turning back on providence [God]... (3, 2, 1...) “This deserted village is just like a graveyard, ehehe...” “Elise, fairytales always begin from the graveyard.” <Why isn’t there anyone in this village now?) (—That’s because everyone died in the past> <Then... why did all the villagers die in the past?) (—That’s because of the plague of black death> Ah... no matter how much you dig, dig, dig the graves, There never seems to be an end! “Such a tragic era...” Ah... a mille-feuille made from Corpse and dirt, corpse and dirt, corpse and dirt “The merciless state of affairs!” ↗ 《To survive》 The goal of life is ↘ 《To multiply》 \Kill!/ \Invade!/ The 【Id】 sings (3, 2, 1...) “That brilliant era in which you’re smiling now— Without hating anyone or regretting death, Let’s meet there for sure.” — The Fairytale of Light and Darkness "The seventh graveyard... Now begins the revenge tragedy." “Ahahaha!!”