#my soul is being healed little by little and my heart is growing 10 sizes with each scene

[smallest-moon]

He tried so hard 🥺🥺🥺

[stressisakiller]

Hello Sunflower

Bucky Barnes x Reader Soulmate AU

Hello Sunflower Part 1

Summary: Your soul mark appears on your 18th birthday. What do you do when your father is a part of Hydra and your soul mark binds you to the Winter Soldier.

Warnings: Mentions and slight descriptions of torture, violence and brainwashing

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: 4/23 New edit: fixing some timeline issues and integrating a little of the steve x reader I’m working on. Ok guys I reread this and decided to edit it and make it longer and add more dialog. I hope that you like the changes. I plan on going back and editing the other chapters as well, but that will be between writing and posting new chapters. Let me know what you think and if you have any requests for future parts. Also I originally got the idea for this after reading Wolf, Partner Gloves... by @revengingbarnes so check it out!

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You have always hated your dad. For as long as you can remember you have hated him. Every time he dragged you with him to "work" at Hydra that hatred grew. It came to a point when he decided that you would be the perfect subject for their new round of super-soldier serum testing.

So, here you are at 10, 10 years old, on this freezing metal table with a syringe in your arm screaming your head off as the serum burns through your veins. Pain. All you can think about is the pain. It feels like every single one of your nerves is on fire, and at the same time, they feel like ice. The pain blazes through you as your DNA is rewritten turning you from the child you are to the soldier that they want you to be. 

Faces come in and out of focus as the scientists look you over, studying you to see how the serum is affecting you. Your head is fuzzy, only catching every couple of words that are being spoken around you. Everything is coming into view as your eyes adjust to the lights and the new information that your DNA is sending. Flexing your hand on the table you feel pins and needles from the tip of your fingers up to your shoulder, causing you to wince. A couple of tears slip from the corner of your eyes from the overwhelming ache the is present throughout your body.

A voice drifts in through the door. A voice that you know all too well, your father. 

"She survived?" You have never noticed how sinister his voice sounds before.

"Yes sir, and it seems like the serum took, we aren't sure how exactly it has altered her yet." The other voice is weaker, trembling, scared of the man in front of it.

"Begin testing on her then, we need to know before we begin training her." 

"Yes sir." 

One set of footsteps retreats down the hallway while the other comes closer. You look towards the door, waiting to face the man that is about to walk in. You make sure your face is blank when the door opens, you don't want him to know you heard the whole conversation.

A slight sniveling man steps through the door and you immediately decide that you hate him. He walks over to you and undoes the straps on your arms and legs.

"Come little soldier, it's time to find out what you can do." He orders, his voice is a little stronger now that he isn't facing your father. He leads you down a maze of hallways, your bare feet make no noise as you follow after him. 

Entering a different room you are met with the site of another metal table as well as a two-way glass mirror, a treadmill, and a large set of weights. The man points you to the treadmill and the tests begin. They force you to run, full sprint until your body shuts down and you fall to the floor, flying off the belt as soon as you hit. When you come back to consciousness they force you to lift more and more weight until you feel your arm muscles give out. The weights come crashing down on you breaking multiple ribs. You are given a day to heal before they begin shocking and beating you to figure out what your pain tolerance is, before cutting you in different places at different depths to discover how quickly you heal.

You aren't sure how many days have passed before you are thrown into your new "bedroom" to rest and heal. A meal of bread, milk, and some sort of meat substitute is all they give you to eat. With every test and beating your hatred for Hydra and the man who called himself your father grows. You haven't seen your father at all during the testing but you know that he has been standing behind that stupid mirror and watching as you are put through every test that the scientists could think of. As soon as he had taken you to be injected, you had decided that this man was no father of yours. No real father would willingly subjugate their child to this torture and watch as it happens. 

You are given no rest before they begin to train you, throwing you into a ring with the other assets, teaching you how to shoot every type of firearm imaginable. You are taught how to throw knives and how to use poison, how to kill a man without leaving a trace and how to evade arrest. They make you into their perfect little child soldier, and you despise them for it. 

Your memories from that point on are disjointed, you know that there is a machine that they would force you into, you can remember the pain, but not much else. Then there are these words, six of them. The scientists say them and you lose all control of your own body. But then they take you back to that other machine and you fall into blessed whiteness. After an unknown amount of time, they decide that they no longer need to take you to that machine or to use those words. All you have ever known is Hydra, after all, there is no way you would turn against them. That's their first mistake. You bid your time, and slowly they give you more freedom. The idiots.

  As your 18th birthday had approached you set a tattoo appointment. You would rather die than let Hydra find out what your soulmate mark would be. You had decided beforehand that you would go in and get multiple tattoos on your birthday to mask the one that would betray the person that fate had deemed you destined for.

 Waking up the morning of your 18th birthday you run to the mirror. Seeing the markings on your skin you die a little inside. It can’t be, he can’t be your soulmate, how are you going to be able to save yourself and him? There on your hip, the size of a nickel, in bright red ink is a star, not just any star but the blood-red star that is a prominent feature on the arm of the Winter Soldier. But that isn’t the only thing that catches your eye. You have another tattoo, on your left bicep a bouquet of marigolds, white daisies, baby’s breath, and yellow gladiolus, with the howling face of a wolf emerging from the center. You hurry around your apartment, hiding your marks with a heavy layer of makeup. You can’t run the risk of anyone seeing them now, not before you have the chance to cover them.

You rush to the tattoo parlor in a panic and tell them the two tattoos you want. You insist that they do both of them while you are there. You cut through the protests assuring them that you have a high pain tolerance and that you heal very quickly. In the weeks preceding this day you had contemplated what exactly you needed. You had reasoned beforehand that just one tattoo would be too suspicious, but now that you have two marks you decide that you only need to get one other tattoo. You know that you will be punished for this but it is worth it, he is worth it.

To cover the soulmate mark on your hip you get a galaxy with stars of all different colors that make up multiple constellations. It takes them most of the day to finish it, walking over to the mirror you study the new art on your hip. It stretches from the middle of your thigh up to your bottom rib. It's large enough that the stars fade into the background, making it practically impossible to tell that one of them is your soulmark. 

The second tattoo is a bird in a cage that spans across the ribs on the opposite side as the galaxy. You have them make the bird abstract, using all types of different objects to create the shape of the bird and the cage. You leave the other soulmark alone, it is impossible to tell that it is a soulmark or at least who it pertains to, not with the other two tattoos vying for attention.

  You leave the parlor late that afternoon and head home. As you open the door to your apartment you are met by the overly happy face of your father. You had expected him to be there but the look on his face causes you to pause.

"My daughter, where have you been? I have been waiting for you almost all day?” the fake concern in his voice makes your teeth clench. In response, you shrug noncommittally,

“I had to run some errands and they ended up taking longer than I expected.” He is suspicious of your lie, but it won't take long for him to discover exactly where you were all day.

“No matter my child, you are here now. As you know you turned 18 today, which means your soul mark has appeared. Show it to me so that we may begin to look for the man who will hold your heart." He oozes smugness, believing that he will soon have the key to keeping you in check. You stare him down, you will die before he finds out who your soulmate is.

"Sorry to disappoint dad,” you spit, “ but I had it tattooed over. I didn’t even look at it. So I will never know who my soulmate is but neither will you." as soon as the words pass your lips your father's face contorts. His rage at your defiance shifting him from your father to the lead scientist of Hydra.

His grip is bruising as he drags you from the apartment and to the lab. The table is freezing as he straps your half-naked body to it. He snarls at you as you glare up at him.

“You think that you can defy me and not face the consequences? You think that I would not punish you because you are my daughter? I don’t give a shit about you except for what you can do for the cause. You are nothing but a puppet for us to use.” he walks away ordering for you to be tortured until you reveal what your mark is. The only condition he gives is that you are not to be killed, after all, they still have use for you.

  You spent days on that table, days of being tortured with every instrument they could think of. You were waterboarded, choked, burned and they paid extra attention to cutting every inch of skin that was covered by tattoos. At the end of every day your father would come in and ask if you had something to tell him, and every day you spit in his face. 

After three days they decide to brainwash you, they can’t wipe you since they need you coherent enough to remember what they want to know. The words wash over you, and yet to your surprise, you still have complete control. You quickly use it to your advantage. You allow them to think it worked, answering their questions as if the soldier is in control. You tell them what you told your father. You didn't look at your mark, you immediately had it tattooed over. They believe you.

After all that must be the truth, you are their soldier and their soldier cannot lie. You are just relieved that they have finally given up, you aren't sure that you could have made it another day without blacking out or losing it.

  When they drag you off the table and throw you into one of the cells you can barely move or even think. Curling into yourself on the hard cot, you allow sleep to take you. Your father doesn't allow you to rest for long, as soon as your body is in mostly working order you are thrown back into training.

“Fight or die.” He states, looking down at you as though you are the scum of the earth. “It matters not to me which you choose.” You act as their soldier and obey their commands as well as you can without losing yourself. Walking into the training ring you are dismayed to see that you are fighting none other than the winter soldier, your soulmate. You fight with everything you have, your hatred for Hydra growing with every bruise and cut you are forced to bestow. You use the moments you have alone in your cell to plan. 

When you were younger you were forced to watch as Hydra wiped and programmed the soldier before they made you into one as well, at this point, you know his words by heart. You start to wonder, if they can make a series of trigger words to turn him into the Soldat, maybe you can come up with a phrase that will help bring him back. You spend the rest of the night creating the sentence that you will use, deciding on a nickname for him that has meaning to you.

Sunflower, that is the name you decide on. They are, after all, your favorite flower and if fate is to be trusted then he is to be your favorite person. The next day you begin implementing your plan, taking the opportunity to speak with him in the moments that you have him pinned down or he has you pinned down. 

  Every time it's the same phrase, spoken to him in Russian, “Hello Sunflower, the sun is up and your dreaming is done." This continues for months until one day Hydra decides that you are fit to go on missions with the Soldier, they believe you to be thoroughly under their control.

Every mission you find a chance to say the phrase to him. In the time you spend with him you learn to read him. He isn’t expressive, Hydra made sure of that, but when you pay enough attention you start to see the minute changes in his eyes or stance. You begin to notice a difference in him whenever you speak the phrase, no matter when his last brainwashing was. He begins to recognize you, even when in full Winter Soldier mode. When you speak to him while training his hits get a little softer and less aggressive, and when you are on missions he speaks just a little bit more.

You are 23 when the unthinkable happens, while on a mission, without the winter soldier, you fall into a river in some backwater town in Europe. You are saved from drowning by a man that you just shot. A man you have only read about in the soldier’s files. Steve Rogers. After retrieving you from freezing water, he takes your unconscious body back with him to the medical wing in the Avengers tower.

As you wake up your first thought is where am I, your second thought is this bed is way too fucking comfortable for Hydra. Your eyes shoot open. The blinding light of the room causes you a headache to make itself known. You start to move, feeling a tug at your wrists, you slowly open your eyes and look down. You are cuffed to the railing of a hospital bed, great. You flop back onto the bed, cursing your luck and hoping that whoever has you is willing to listen. Your gaze shifts to the door when you notice a figure behind the glass. The glass doors slide open, and Steve walks in. This revelation causes you to tense up, even more, you did shoot him after all.

“Oh good you're awake,” he says, noticing your open eyes and tense figure. “Now I get to ask you all of the questions I’ve been wanting to ask for the past three days.” He takes a seat next to you, his whole body screams intimidation. "Who are you? Why did you shoot me? What were you doing in that town and where did you get these?" He questions not bothering to hide the anger in his voice. 

He is holding up Bucky’s dog tags in front of your face and waiting impatiently for you to answer. You want to snatch them out of his hand and place them back around your neck, after taking them from his file about a month ago you haven’t taken them off. You were going to give them to him after you got him out, which you were planning on doing within the next couple of weeks. But now you are stuck here and there is nothing you can do to get back to him. You look at Steve, desperation coloring your voice as you explain, praying that he will listen.

"My name is Y/N, my father is Hydra and forced me to become an experiment, a soldier for them. I was planning on escaping but I never could, I couldn’t escape and leave him there. Not when I could do something to save him. I couldn’t leave him there all alone." It came out in a rush. Your heart shatters as you realize that you have done exactly what you have tried so hard not to, you have left your soulmate in the hands of Hydra. You have to convince Steve to help you get him back.

"Wait a minute, you're Hydra?" He spits at you. Fuck, you forgot that he knew what hydra is and that he hates them with a passion. Well, at least we have something in common.

"Not by choice." You answer quickly, not liking the vehemence in his voice, yet unable to hide the hatred in your own. You notice the way his jaw relaxes the tiniest bit when you say that, if you hadn't had years of practice watching Bucky for the tiniest hints of himself you would have missed it.

"Alright then, who is this ‘he’ you keep mentioning?" Steve leans back, crossing his arms as he waits for your answer.

"My soulmate, the Soldier, the man on the dog tags, James Buchanan Barnes." Steve's eyes immediately narrow, his body goes stiff,

"You’re lying. I watched him fall from that train” His teeth are clenched as he speaks. “I watched him die! There is no way he's your soulmate!" you can practically feel the anger rolling off of him.

"I'm not lying! I swear!” you are terrified of what he will do if you can’t convince him. “Hydra got to him. They made him into a weapon, they brainwashed him and put him on ice when they didn’t need him so that they could control him better. I swear I'm not lying!" You can’t stop yourself from becoming slightly hysterical. Usually, you would remain calm in this type of situation, but this time you can’t. This time it’s Hydra and this time it’s James.

A girl, that you had noticed in the corner earlier, steps forward, resting a hand on his shoulder. You hear her murmur something to him, but you aren’t able to make out what exactly she says. His countenance softens when he looks at the girl and you are reminded of how you sometimes look at James. Turning back to you he stares for a moment before he making a decision,

“Fine, I can’t fully trust you and I can’t let you go, so you will have to live here in the tower, under surveillance. If you want us to trust you, you will have to prove yourself trustworthy." He stands, unlocks your cuffs, and strides out of the room, you understand, what you just told him is a lot to take in.

The girl that was with him turns to you, “I’ll make sure that they have a room ready for you as soon as you are well enough to leave the hospital.” She gives you a soft smile and turns to leave, pausing for a moment at the door.

“I have just one more question.” You nod at her when she pauses, you will try your best to answer it. “I know you shot Steve.” she starts. “But you missed anything important on purpose, didn’t you?" You just smile at her, she's right, but you know nothing you say will change anything. She studies you for a moment before walking out of the door.

  Your arrangement works for a year. In that year you have become close to the avengers that live there. During the first six months you and Steve’s girl, Sarah, spend every morning together. She wants to learn how to fight and you are willing to teach her. You become close, she is the first person in the tower to trust you. In return for teaching her to fight she teaches you sign language. Apparently, one of her siblings was born deaf so her whole family knows how to sign. You become closer to Steve during this time as well, he still doesn’t fully trust you but he is willing to tell you more about his best friend. He always calls him Bucky and you find yourself calling him that too. But they end up moving to DC, leaving you in the compound with mostly Tony for company. Natasha and Clint are in and out of the tower and you come to a mutual understanding. You and Natasha have similar upbringings and it forms a bond, not friendship, but definitely trust.  

Then after about a year of freedom from Hydra shit hits the fan. Fury is shot and Steve discovers that Hydra has been a part of Shield since the beginning. You have to escape the tower before Hydra gets to you, so you do. You keep an eye on Steve and Sarah, at a distance, of course, you know they will send Bucky after him and that will be your chance to get to him.

Then the bridge happens and you see your soulmate for the first time in a year. Your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest as you run towards him. You watch as he attacks Steve, you see Steve's shock as the mask falls off and you hear his heartbroken voice when he calls out for his friend. You hear Bucky’s crushing answer. You run, tackling him to the ground, just like you had done so many times in training. He fights back, you knew he would. You struggle with him, dodging punches and his knife. You are finally able to flip him onto the concrete and pin him down. Your heart in your throat as you stare into the eyes of your soulmate, praying as you speak that he will remember. Knowing that he has an unconscious reminder of you etched on his skin in ink. Here goes nothing. 

“Hello sunflower, the sun is up and your dreaming is done."

Tagged users: @calwitch @writerwrites

[hains-mae]

Flowers - Pt. 5 (The End)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 (The End)

(Damian x Reader) Soulmate AU

The Flowers: @call-me-prodigy @annoylinglyaries @zphilophobiaz @comic-brew @biglilwing @awkwardspontaneity @lozzybowe @mariiecapo @distressedearie @diyosku @dracoaereum @thesuitelifeofafangirl @chims-kookies @blade-xingston @danicalifxrnia

Rating: T

Ages: Damian and you are 16, everyone’s ages follow after.

Summary: Soulmate AU where the wounds on your soulmate turns into a flower tattoo on your skin, if it heals with no scars the tattoo goes away, if it heals with a scar then the tattoo stays.

Notes: Wow that was a fun ride. But every story comes to an end, I hope you guys enjoy the final chapter! And thank you everyone who has taken their time to like, comment, and reblog. I appreciate it a lot <3

Disclaimer: I do not own DC. If I did, I wouldn’t make it as confusing as it is now.

Robin visited every other night after that. It was surreal to have a hero that you’ve so long admired become your frequent visitor. Then again, nothing seemed normal anymore.

“It’s past the convention week. How do you keep coming here?” I asked curiously one night.

Robin gave me a lopsided grin and tapped the side of his nose. “I have my ways.”

After Mom’s week long leave was up she begrudgingly had to go back to work. The hospital assured her that I was healing fairly well, and that I would be transferred to Gotham Hospital the following weekend.

I was never really lonely though. Besides the friendly staff, my midnight visitor always came right on time. I wondered why he would take the time. Maybe it was to get to know me better? Perhaps my speech that night managed to get through to him. I had hoped it was both.

If I was being honest though, I was a little more than glad he did. I had meant it when I told the boy that I found him intriguing. He was a tough nut to crack though. I couldn’t blame him.

During the day when I would shower, I’d trace the flowers across my frame and wonder just how much he had gone through.

Soul marks start to appear at 10 years of age. You could imagine the shock (and worry) my parents had gone through when they found me one day absolutely covered in flowers.

From a young age I would hide them. Always wearing my sleeves till my palms, my neck constantly covered with either my jacket, scarf or high placed collars. It wasn’t that I was ashamed, but Gotham liked to talk – and when you’re the subject of attention, then you’re an easy target for criminals.

As I got older, the marks around my neck forearms slowly faded. I had worried about my soul mate and their well-being. Now that I understood everything, it was a different type of worry all together. The kind that would sit at the pit of your stomach and tie knots, heavy enough to keep you on edge.

My T.V in the hospital room was always on the same channel, Gotham News. Every battle would have my heart clenching as the camera’s desperately tried to follow the fight. Most of the time’s they wouldn’t be able to capture the end, and I’d be left holding my breath.

That’s one other reason I looked forward to our nightly visits. I could relax knowing he was alright.

I still wasn’t sure what I felt for this enigma of a person. But I knew that I wanted to get closer.

“I have an idea.” Robin said one evening. There was a glint his eye, the mask was off since my mom wasn’t around anymore. “And it’s got something to do with your invention.”

I arched a brow. “The bullets are complete but I still have yet to finalize the counter measures.”

He nodded understandingly. “Counter affect can wait. We don’t want to encase anyone in rock at the moment, but I’m putting it out there since you wanted to help.”

Intrigued, I urged him to continue.

Damian was quite brilliant in his own way. After much thought and planning, we had about 3 more types of chemically enhanced concoctions laid out. All of which were to go through Batman before beginning the experimentation process. He has assured me that I would be leading the research team for that under Wayne Ent.

I couldn’t wait to get out of the hospital.

“Do you like sweets?” He asked randomly.

Arching a brow I studied him. He was slouched on the couch with his leg dangling on one side and a book in his hands.

Charles Dickens.

“Yes.” I said, noting his obvious attempt to look natural. “Do you?”

“On occasion.” The boy shifted a shoulder to mimic a shrug.

The very next visit he had a black bag slung across his shoulder. His face gave nothing away but from the times I’ve spent with him, I realised it was his eyes that did most of the talking.

“Whatcha got over there?” I asked curiously, scooting closer to him at the edge of the bed.

“Patience.” He said and pulled up the make shift table that was attached to the side of my bed. Placing a medium sized box on top, he carefully undid the lid and opened it. “I present to you, baklavas.”

In the dim light I saw that they were flaky, almost like a croissant. There were some with a mix of nuts, from pistachios to almonds. Others were plain but still looked heavenly. They gleamed with a moistness, as if coated with a syrupy substance. I picked one up and popped it into my mouth.

It burst with flavour and dissolved much too fast. I squeaked at the exotic taste.

“Oh my gosh these are so good.” I said, licking my thumb.

Robin looked pleased.

“You should have one.” I pushed the box towards him but he shook his head.

“They’re yours.” He said.

“Nonsense. Food always taste better when shared.” I picked another one up intending to eat it.

“If you insist.”

I had barely managed to register the wicked glint in his eye before he took hold of my wrist and brought my hand that was holding the sweet close to his mouth. He took it carefully from me in one easy motion and lightly licked my finger.

“You’re right. It does taste better when shared.”

I felt the burn on my cheeks and ears before I heard the warning blare of the heart monitor. Immediately, Robin slipped behind the couch just as the nurses for the nightshift burst into my room in a panic. They fussed over me as I repeatedly tried to tell them I was alright. My heart finally calmed and once they left, Robin got up covering his mouth. He was trying to keep himself from laughing.

-x-x-x-

The weekend came much faster than I had anticipated. When the doctors checked on my progress, they gave the thumbs up for me to be transferred to Gotham’s hospital.  Mom was relieved, and wouldn’t stop fussing over me when we got there. I let it be though, thinking it was more for her own peace of mind than mine.

After that it was a short two weeks before I was fully discharged.

Robins visits never wavered though. If anything, he had stayed for longer periods of time. I got to know the boy under the mask more than I had hoped for and opened up in return more than I had intended.

I found out his brothers were vigilantes too. He pointed them all out one evening with a family picture he’d secretly stashed in his wallet. They were a “thorn” to his side — as he had so eloquently described, but I could see just how much he loved them. That was another thing I learnt about him, his speech patterns were very posh. He liked to use formal names and slang was not completely in his vocabulary. I asked him about that one time, to which he only replied “another time”. It was probably a touchy subject, where he exactly grew up.

His favourite colour was green, and his adoration for animals was as deep as black hole. It was crazy how perfect my mind painted him to be, and the more I knew, the harder it was to ignore the feelings growing inside me.

He enjoys reading, but would gladly spend the day locked in his room with his tablet and pen drawing the day away. He is good both in traditional and digital art, and sometimes dabbles in graphic design when he feels like it. He prefers his tea without any additives, but would not hesitate to pour bucket loads of milk and sugar in his coffee during the rare moments he drinks it.

I could list everything down but it would just solidify my attraction to him, and honestly I doubt this was he needed right now. Juggling a double life sounded a lot more stressful than he showed it to be. He hardly ever talked about it but from the amount of flowers blooming on me, it was difficult to see it any other way but exhausting. He’d kick butt at night, get hurt, then go to school the very next day like nothing happened.

He arrived one evening like he normally did and I had rushed up to pull off his glove. I felt a sting earlier and found a Sakura branch littered with pink flowers. I was right, his arm was soaked in red, and the gash looked bad.

“It’s just a scratch.” He promised me.

I didn’t reply. Taking him straight to the bathroom, I rinsed out the remaining blood and addressed the wound. After bandaging him up I finally looked into his eyes and showed him just how worried I was.

That evening we sat next to each other, with our fingers intertwined and his thumb randomly brushing against my knuckles.

-x-x-x-

Finally I was able to return home. Being able to lie down on my own bed, inside my own house, I could let loose and properly relax. I threw myself onto the soft comforters that smelled like fabric softener and smiled to myself.

Home sweet home.

But not for long, I reminded myself that this evening I would be dining with the Wayne’s. Swallowing hard, I hurried my face onto the pillows. I can’t mess this up, not after everything they’ve done for me.

Damian’s smirking face suddenly came to mind, and all his welcomed visits. It made my stomach grow warm. Remembering us sharing the sweets he gifted – soft lips against my fingers.

I groaned into the pillow, the room was getting a little hot. Getting up gingerly, as to not aggravate the newly healed stitches, I manoeuvred my way to the window and pushed it open. The cold evening air felt good against my heated skin. I sighed in content.

If I were being honest, I didn’t know what exactly was happening between us. I didn’t know if I wanted anything to happen between us. Wouldn’t it be weird, considering that I’d be interning for his dad in just a couple of months. Possibly work there if my luck doesn’t run out first. Not to mention WHO he was.

You’re just a normal girl, I chided myself. Not someone important enough to stand beside such a prestigious boy and his ridiculously wealthy family.

But even then – I found myself wondering. Seeking. Imagining… What if we were to become something more? What if it works? What if we fall in –

“Y/n!” Mom’s voice broke through my reverie, waking me up from the needless train of thought.

Closing my window, I poked my head out the door and found her putting on a bracelet.

“Are you ready? The cab is nearly here.” She asked.

I nodded and took a step closer to her. Looking quickly at the vanity mirror in the hallway, I gave myself a once over to make sure everything was in place. I had on a slightly fitting turtle neck sweater, paired with a high waisted pleated skirt and dark stockings. On my feet I sported on my boots. It was safe to assume no one would be able to see my soul marks.

My mom grabbed her purse and headed downstairs. I followed close behind her, handing her her coat before locking up the front door.

The cab driver arrived a few minutes in, and we drove off straight to Wayne Manor.

“This is exciting isn’t it?” She said to me with a lift in her voice, as she exited the cab to get the gates opened.

Once we could enter, we were greeted with a very large land that was pristinely kept. The grass was cut evenly, and the trees lining the estate were trimmed to perfection. Bushes were perfectly shaped into different animals, and flowers systematically grown to create swirls and shapes beside the road. A big fountain was situated just in front of the mansion while a man in a black suit waited beside the opened doors.

We exited the cab after paying and did our best to take it all in without looking like fishes out of water.

“Ah, Mrs. & Ms. Y/l/n.” It was the man who I saw pick up Damian that one night in Metropolis appeared. I also remembered him in the family photograph. His accent was thickly laced with British poise. “My name is Alfred Pennyworth, I shall be you’re attendant for the evening.”

“Thank you.” Mom was quick to compose herself.

As soon as I entered the house I felt my breath stolen away. It was huge. Everything looked so new and polished.

I barely registered my mom and Alfred chatting away as he led her to the dining hall.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

I nearly jumped at the voice that startled me. Whipping my head around, I found Jason standing with his hands in his pockets.

“I remember my first time coming in here. Completely floored.” He chucked.

I waved a small greeting. “Everything looks so –“

“Expensive? Exorbitant? Grand?” He tried to guess.

“Beautiful.” I breathed out.

He laughed. “Not what I expected. But you’re full of surprises aren’t you.”

I blushed. “Ah, I’m not sure about that. I’m just me.”

“Hey, no stealing our guest before dinner.” Dick walked down the stair case with Tim beside him.

“Feeling better Y/n?” Tim asked as we grouped just below the stairs.

“Yeah, thank you.” I answered, suddenly feeling flustered as they surrounded me.

Stay calm.

“Don’t be nervous.” Dick said with an air of comfort.

I wanted to ask what made him think so, but he answered before I even began to articulate the words.

“You’re fidgeting like a college student during a thesis debate.” He said simply.

“You’re… very good at reading people.” I arched a brow at him.

“One of my many amazing abilities” He winked.

Jason let out an air of playful frustration and pulled Dick aside. “And now you’re stealing her. Can’t hold a normal conversation can you Dickie, always a flirt.”

“First of all – do I need to remind you who mostly does all the talking during dad’s parties. And second of all – I am not a flirt. I can’t help it if I’m charming.” Dick mocked a suave look and shot it as his brother.

Jason looked like he was about to gag and Tim was less than pleased. I laughed at their antics.

“What’s funny?” Damian appeared beside me. I jumped and held a hand to my racing heart.

“Jeez, do all of you have a talent for sneaking up on people?” I wheezed out, trying to gather my bearings.

They all grinned at me without answering.

Robins, my inner muse whispered. I brushed off the thought as quick as it had come.

We had made it to the dining area just in time for Alfred to begin serving the meals. My mother was already chatting up a storm with Mr. Wayne. A wine glass in hand and a slight tint to her cheeks. She looked happy.

I began walking towards the seat beside my mother when Damian pulled out the chair like a gentleman. I bit the inside of my cheek and mumbled a thank you.

He took the space beside me and the rest of his brothers seated themselves opposite us.

As we opened our plates for dinner, I was amazed to see how well it was presented. Mr. Pennyworth continued to serves other dishes, and once he was done he left the room.

The food tasted just as good as it looked.

Easy conversation wafted around us, the usual topics of school, and future plans. Mr. Wayne brought up the internship which I nearly gushed over due to my excitement. Damian held back a laugh with a cough when he noticed my little slip up before I composed myself again. I bumped his knee under the table and playfully glared at him. He smirked and bumped me back.

“My compliments to the chef Mr. Wayne.” Mom said.

“I’ll be sure to tell him.” He smiled through a glass of wine. How many glasses in were they at this point? Damian and I were the only ones who weren’t allowed so both our glasses were filled with water and juice.

“And, please,” Mr. Wayne continued. “Call me Bruce.”

“Hey, we should give the women a tour.” Dick suggested. “I’m sure you’ll both love it.”

Jason and Tim had excused themselves, and I had an inkling as to what they were up to. Patrols were a common thing, as Damian told me.

And so with Dick and Bruce leading, my mother and I followed as they showed off the grandness of the manor.

I couldn’t help but be awestruck all over again. The library was huge. Their shelves towered from ceiling to floor, and filled with all kinds of books. From novels to more informative documents. I recognised a couple of titles from the times Damian spent the night reading.

The sunroom was next. The glass was near invisible. I took in the sight of the gorgeous garden just beyond the panels, being able to outline a gazebo at the far end with flowers twisting around its pillars. I unconsciously touched my stomach where the stitches were, randomly pondering what kind of flower had bloomed from such a brutal wound.

“Are you okay?” Damian was beside me immediately and his hand supported my elbow. His voice was laced with concern.

“Oh.” I realised what he was talking about and pulled my hand down. “I’m okay, just a little tired.”

“Honey?” My mom’s face pinched in concern. “Is it hurting again?”

“I just need to rest Mom, I’m fine.” I assured her. “You should continue, I’ll just sit here for a bit.”

Mom was hesitant but there wasn’t much she could do, and she knew it. So they moved on, but not without Mr. Wayne asking for some painkillers to be brought to me.

After taking the medicine, I thanked ‘Alfred’ (as he had asked me to call him) before he left.

Damian was sitting on the arm rest of the couch. My hand was in his and he rubbed random circles around my knuckles. His brows were furrowed, and his features were set in a deep scowl. I could practically feel the guilt and worry radiating off of him.

“I have to be honest, I thought I’d see more animals around.” I said, trying to lighten up the mood.

“Father asked me to keep Titus in my room for the time-being, he didn’t know how you two would react to a Great Dane, or vice-versa.” The boy said simply.

“Great Dane?” I asked flabbergasted.

The corner of Damian’s lips turned upwards. “When you feel better I’ll introduce you.”

“It’s a date.” I answered before thinking. All at once I realised what I said and felt my cheeks burn. “Ah – I mean, not date. If you aren’t comfortable with that, people just use the word date as a meeting time or –“

“It’s a date.” He brought my fingers up and ghosted his lips over them. I had to hold my breath fearing that my heart would stop.

I was momentarily stunned by his forwardness and calm. Looking away I managed to slow down my heart rate to a regular beat.

“I still need to guess the rest right?” I asked coyly.

He gestured for me to continue.

“Let’s see.” I rested my head on the couch and closed my eyes to recall our conversation back in the ball room. “We’ve got a dog, a cat.”

“Mhm.” Damian nodded, moving from the arm rest to the empty space next to me.

My brain brought up an old song from the Princess and the Frog, when they had to ‘Dig a Little Deeper’.

A dog, a pig, a cow, a goat – the lyrics were sung in my subconscious before I could stop it.

“A cow.” I guessed.

Damian’s eyes grew a little wide, before a grin made its way to his lips. “Yes.”

“What seriously?” I giggled. “You actually have a cow?”

“Bat-Cow.” He chuckled. “I was a child, and that was the first name to come up.”

I was full on laughing now. “I cannot wait to meet them. But that was seriously a random guess, now I feel like my confidence is dwindling.”

“Then how about you wait till you see them?” He suggested.

I bit my lip and shifted in my seat, our knees brushed and I felt that warmth spread across my chest. We’re close. A little too close.

When I looked at him I found he was staring at the garden outside. I didn’t mean to be rude, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. There was something about this boy that just drew me closer, making me want more. I traced the little moles across his cheek and wondered when I had let this magnetic pull take over me.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” Damian commented. His intense green eyes bore into mine as he threw a deviously charming smirk my way.

I blushed and looked away, suddenly finding my shoes a lot more interesting than it was. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

He turned towards me. And I made the mistake of facing him again, because now our faces were just mere inches apart.

I found myself gazing at his beautiful green eyes that contrasted so well with his tanned olive skin. There were so many different shades of green looping and mixing with one another, it felt like a maze – one that I would willingly get lost in.

My fingers rested in the spaces between his, and I marvelled at how everything in that moment felt right.

I tilted towards him, and he did the same towards me.

“What are we doing?” I whispered, stealing a glance at his lips.

Heart pounding.

Blood racing.

It left me dizzy.

“I’m… not sure.” Damian replied, his tone low. “But if you asked me to kiss you, I would.”

His thumb grazed the inside of my wrist with a feather-light touch and I burst into flames.

“Kiss me.”

And he did.

-THE END-

[rachelsheart]

10 Signs You’re a Shaman & Don’t Know It

As I feel indebted to the shamans who saw themselves in me and helped me understand why I have always felt like I don’t belong in mainstream medicine, the intention of this article is to respectfully honor the shamanic tradition, and not to violate it in any way.

Because modern culture doesn’t have a role for the shamanic archetype, many people who grow up outside indigenous villages are shamans and don’t know it. Many naturally wind up in overtly healing professions, such as medicine, psychology, or life coaching. But some wind up in professions where they may feel like they don’t fit in at all. Even those who enter the healing professions may feel out of place, because the systems of Western medicine and psychology leave little room for a shaman to practice his or her natural healing art. But many will wind up in various forms of sacred activism, healing the planet, for example, rather than healing people.

Are you a shaman and you don’t know it? Here are some telltale signs that you might fit the archetype.

1. You sense that you’re meant to participate in the global shift in consciousness that is currently underway.

We can all feel it, this impending shift that New Agers have talked about for decades. But those with the shamanic archetype don’t just feel it, they feel it pulling them, like a magnet, towards leadership positions that help facilitate this transformation of human consciousness and evolution of the species.

2. You’ve been through a difficult initiation, which has prepared you for this leadership role.

In indigenous cultures, the village knew who the shaman was because he or she was struck by lightning and survived. In modern culture, you may not literally be struck by lightning, but you may have survived some other life or heart-threatening ordeal. You may have experienced childhood abuse, sexual violence, a near-death experience, or some other trauma that put you through the crucible and forged you into the healing earth shaman you are becoming.

3. You are an introvert.

Shamans are multi-dimensional beings who dance between the realms of the seen and unseen worlds, so if you’re of the shamanic archetype, you may have a hard time navigating the 3D realms of this dimension, which may cause you to withdraw into yourself so you can visit the realms of consciousness where you feel most at home.

4. You feel most at home in nature.

The shamans of a culture are the bridges between nature and humans, serving as translators between the mountains, oceans, rivers, animals, and people. You may sense that nature is talking to you or that you get your most tuned in downloads when you are surrounded by the natural world.

5. You’re very sensitive.

You may feels things others don’t feel, see things others don’t see, hear things others don’t hear, smell things others don’t smell, and sense things others don’t sense. This may make it hard for you to be out in public, where you may feel accosted by over-stimulation of your senses. If you embody the shamanic archetype, it’s likely that you’re the kind of person others may feel is “too sensitive.” But this sensitivity is a blessing. It’s part of your gift.

6. You feel a sort of spiritual calling to ease the suffering of people, animals, and nature.

Many health care providers are called to medicine the way priests are called to the priesthood. But you don’t have to be a health care provider to have the shamanic archetype. It may transmute itself into healing service to animals, sacred activist causes, or conservation of Mother Earth.

7. Physical ailments that fall under the category of “shaman sickness.”

In the indigenous cultures, shamans who have been called to service but haven’t yet said “yes” to the call often wind up struck with physical ailments. In modern culture, these shamanic sicknesses may fall into difficult to treat categories like chronic fatigue syndrome, fibromyalgia, chronic Lyme disease, chronic pain disorders, and autoimmune disorders. Acceptance of the call to shamanic service often resolves the symptoms of shaman sickness. If you’re suffering from one of these illnesses, ask yourself, “Am I a shaman who hasn’t said yes to my calling yet?”

8. You tend to have vivid dreams.

The unseen realm may be communicating with you through your dreams, so try analyzing your dreams. Pay particular attention to any animal totems that may appear in your dreams. Google search the animal and “spirit totem” and see if you can find any messages from the animals in your dreams. Or try a Jungian analysis, like the one described here.

9. You may discover unusual spiritual superpowers, or what the yogis call “siddhis.”

You might be psychic. You might get healing visions like the one in my previous post about the meeting of Western medicine and Shamanism. You might realize that you can heal people with your hands or that you can telepathically communicate with animals, people, or even inanimate objects.

10. You’ve always felt like you don’t quite belong anywhere, because you are a bridge.

Shamans tend to live on the outskirts of the village for a reason. They are not like the others – and this is a blessing! In village life, this is understood and recognized. But in the modern world, it may leave those with the shamanic archetype feeling like they don’t ever fit in. But don’t despair. You DO fit in. Your role is essential. You may find that you fit in best with others who share this shamanic archetype. Among your fellow shamans, you will feel like you are with family.

Embrace Your Bridge Work

Because shamans are always operating between worlds, you may find that you’re connecting mainstream culture and the culture that wants to be born in the new consciousness, and this may feel uncomfortable, as if you don’t quite fit in. When I realized that I am a bridge between mainstream medicine and the new world of medicine that is being co-created by others who share the shamanic archetype, it brought me such a profound sense of relief! This relief is shared by the health care providers who participate in the Whole Health Medicine Institute, which I founded for doctors and other stealth shamans. If you’re one of those bridge workers, please know that you belong with all the other stealth shamans in this program, designed to merge medicine and spirituality, and we’re enrolling for the 2016 class now.

About The Author

Helen Noronha

Hi there! I am someone who if given the option can read books all day, without even sleeping. I love binging on TV shows, with Game of Thrones being my favorite (duh!). Apart from that, I am passionate about writing and can write anytime and anywhere.

20 thoughts on “10 Signs You’re a Shaman & Don’t Know It”

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Five Ways Carl Jung Led Us to the “Inner Life”

Five Ways Carl Jung Led Us to the “Inner Life”

Lying behind much of the way we talk about the inner life today is the work of the Swiss psychologist C. G. Jung. He revolutionized how we discuss dreams and archetypes and gave us our words “introvert,” “extravert” and “synchronicity.” However, what made him a true psychological pioneer was that he looked inside himself in a way that is still unique today.

#1) Dreams

From earliest beginnings of human civilization, we have considered dreams a doorway to the soul. Jung saw that they showed us parts of ourselves that were being rejected by our waking consciousness: strengths unexpressed and shadow figures run amok; qualities that we were missing about ourselves; and desires that we’d rather not acknowledge. The mission of dreams was to balance us, to compensate for our often one-sided attitude toward life and lead us to integrate what we need for health and growth. We know today that dreams can have messages for us that are not only psychologically relevant, but even biologically urgent, relaying information about illness. Jung introduced the term “wholeness” to describe the aim of the unconscious: the further filling out of ourselves; an increasing completeness in the unique being that we are.

#2) Personality Types

Jung saw the differing pathways in our personalities. He observed that some people got energy from interacting with people, while others were drained by it. Introvert or extravert, intuitive or sensate, thinking or feeling; he described these differing forms as Psychological Types and they led to today’s MBTI categories. In normalizing different kinds of personality, Jung helped us to get over our natural biases against other types.

While he recognized variety in human personality, Jung believed that there was no one-size-fits-all approach to therapy. He saw each individual as having a unique blueprint for growth, an untold inner story, and he knew – from his own experience – that one man’s medicine is another’s poison.

“The shoe that fits one person pinches another; there is no recipe for living that suits all cases.” – C. G. Jung

#3) Archetypes

Jung also saw that the unconscious sometimes conveys information beyond the personal. He saw that the dreams of his patients sometimes echoed mythological motifs from far-flung foreign cultures. He saw the action of peoples’ lives following forms depicted in Greek tragedy. He discovered ancient, even timeless, pathways that energy flowed into: toward some things and away from others, attracted to some things, repulsed by others. This level of the psyche is beyond the personal and Jung called it the collective unconscious.

“I thought of Jung as a noetic archeologist, [he] provided maps of the unconscious.” – Terence McKenna

The collective unconscious shows us eternal, dynamic qualities in our nature: they are alive and timeless. One of these archetypes is our inner opposite sex figure and soul guide–what Jung called the Anima or Animus. We encounter it both in our dreams and when just the right person walks up to us and we fall in love at first sight. Even though we experience this figure through others, but it is ultimately up to us to integrate it for ourselves.

Once we’ve learned to recognize these archetypes, we see them throughout classic literature and film and even in modern sitcoms. However, we may not really discover them for ourselves until we’ve been battered and bruised and are wondering how we got into this mess (again). Usually we need a little help to gain sight of these figures in our own lives.

“You don’t see something until you have the right metaphor to let you perceive it.” – Robert Stetson Shaw

#4) Synchronicity

Jung’s psychology is only really understood when it is a lived experience, and nothing exemplifies this more than the mystery of synchronicity. Jung coined the term synchronicity to refer to extraordinary moments when outer happenings reflect inner states. What we see in such a coincidence of events is a meaningful interplay alive in our reality. The notion that there’s a deeper principle actually operating in the world can be frightening to people from a culture that believes that it’s the only conscious force in the universe. Yet at the same time, discovering that there’s more going on can be experienced as a profound relief. In order to get through our resistance to such experiences, it helps to hear others’ stories and share our own (and you can do so here). Incorporating the meaning of these experiences for ourselves requires something authentic from us – a real inner change, the genuine achievement of a new attitude.

Helen

Hi there! I am someone who if given the option can read books all day, without even sleeping. I love binging on TV shows, with Game of Thrones being my favorite (duh!). Apart from that, I am passionate about writing and can write anytime and anywhere.

RachelsHeart

[sweetlittlegingy]

The Rink | Mat Barzal x Reader

Blurb

warnings: none

word count: 1.1k

Summary: You’ve been through alot, now starting a new job. You wanna revisit the sport you used to love. What happens when someone shows up while your skating.

a/n: I am in no way a figure skater so please don’t be to harsh I tried to look things up and be as clear as possible, but I know that I would please everyone. Anyway let me know what you think oxox

Checking the clock again I see that it's just past 5:10 am. Yawning I finish pulling on my leggings and hoodie, heading to the kitchen to make coffee. Swaying softly back and forth as I start the coffee machine, so ready for my caffeine goodness. Hearing the beep of the machine I grab my travel mug and add a little cream and sugar before I put the lid on. Heading to the front door I grab my skates and my bag, with my car keys and keys to the rink. Checking the time again I see that it's only 5:20 now leaving me more than enough time to get to the rink by 5:30. I could have an hour or so to skate give or take and be done around 7:00. Then I have enough time to get ready, grab breakfast and a coffee and then be to work for 8:00. Double checking my lock really quick I quickly turned around and jogged down the stairs of my loft apartment getting to the car park. Noticing how chilly it is, I wrap my arms around myself shivering. I notice my breath in the cool air of fall. Unlock my car, I hurry to get in. Starting it, rubbing my hands hoping to warm up slightly. Pulling out onto the New York streets it's still so dark, though the city is awake. The city that never sleeps, I could never grow tired of how beautiful it is. Looking on the sidewalk I see friends slowly making their way home after a long night out. The single lost soul stumbling, making their wrenched walk of shame. Pulling up to the rink I smile seeing it's just me "5:30 perfect time darling." Sighing with ease I turn off my car and grab my stuff. Walking into the front door I grabbed my keys to unlock the door not bothering to turn on any of the lights. My footsteps echo as I walk down the hallways so loud so peaceful reminding me of how alone I am. I walk down to get to the rink entrance through the locker room so I can turn on the lights and put my bag down ringside. Setting my things down I grab my phone to go plug my music into the speaker system, I set my skate playlist on shuffle. I smile turning it all the way up as 'Hurts Like Hell' by Madison Beer comes on. Singing out loud as I walk back down to get my skates on. Tying up my skates I stand up, slowly step on the ice. Letting out a deep breath after it's been a couple months of not being able to skate. It feels like a weight has finally been released, I've finally come back home. I start off slow just skating around getting my footing Glad just be back on ice. Feeling my surroundings, closing my eyes just breathing it all in. Trying to become and remember who I was, gain my soul purpose back. After a little bit I can feel the energy building inside me, building with the beat of the song. I wait for the perfect beat and I go for it, a double Lutz. I can't stop the giggle that drops for my lips "fucking hell." I keep going, feeling like I finally broke through that barrier. Spin after spin, jump after jump I get lost in the music. Suddenly the song changes and I slow down feeling my heart stop for just a minute. Knowing that I fell in love with this song because of how it healed my heart when you broke me. " I hope she makes you feel the same way about her that I feel about you right." I hit a double axel. Reaching behind me I grab my leg and bend back spinning. Going around the rink I lose myself doing one of my old routines. Right as I hit my last spin I hear my music cut off. Stunned, I flipped around looking up, seeing a couple of the team's players. Looking at my watch I see that it's 7:15 smiling. I skate over hoping that it's not going to be too awkward. "Umm hi guys. Sorry I lost track of time." I say with a smile try not to let the questioning stares bother me too much. "Right, well how did you get in? This isn't a public rink. Also why are you here so early?" The one with black hair comments as he stares me down trying to size me up. Brunette quickly elbows him speaking up "He does mean to sound like such a jerk. We were just wondering what you're doing here. Right Mat." He says with a glare to who I'm assuming is Mat. "Yeah what Tito said." Mat mutters. Both of their eyes shift to me now "I used my keys to get in. I wanted an early skate before anyone got in. I just lost track of time." I tell them. "And before you ask, I have keys because I am the teams new physical therapist."  Tito seems to smile at the information and is happy with my reply. Matt not so much he looks at me slowly judging me "So you skate though?" He questions. Looking back at the ice I turned back to him with a small smile not really sure how to answer. "Umm yeah I skate, I used to at least. I'm getting back into it. I took time off." I say my voice growing small I notice it and hope only I do. Tito smiles at me nodding in acknowledgment "You looked really great. We caught a couple of your jumps there at the end." Mat says, pulling my eyes back to him. "Thanks." I say blushing not knowing how to take compliments anymore. "Well I've gotta get going guys. I've gotta change and be ready by 8 which I'm probably already gonna be late anyway. I'll probably see you later at practice." Walking out of the rink to change out of my skates and get my bag. They come with me over to keep talking. "Yeah, sounds good." Tito says. Smiling, I grab my stuff and wave bye "Later guys." Walking down the hall to the front doors. All the sudden I hear someone running up behind me. Turning around I see Mat “Hey, everything ok?" I question with a smile. He lets out a laugh with a smile thats swoon worthy "You didn't tell me your name."  I let out a little laugh "And you came this whole way for that? You couldn't wait till practice? " I questioned. "Nope, this way I have something over all the other guys." He says with a wink. Laughing I reach up and pat his chest "I'll see you at practice Mat." Spinning around I go to walk away. He quickly lets out a "hey!" To which I giggle "It's Y/N, Mathew!" I look back with a smile and a wink of my own. 

[grrlinthefireplace]

Hey so I’ve been seeing you post a lot about La Casa de Papel recently. What exactly is it? It looks kinda interesting.

Thank you so much for asking!

I am delighted beyond reason to have the opportunity to tell you - and by extension the entire world - why this show has cleared my skin, watered my crops, and legitimately healed my soul after this particularly soul-crushing season of Grimdark White Man Television almost broke me as a human being.

I will attempt to keep this as spoiler-free as I possibly can, because this is a show that should be experienced in the moment, but in a nutshell, La Casa de Papel is a heist show set in present-day Madrid which follows both a found family of thieves who rob the Royal Mint of Spain, and the law enforcement officials on the outside who are chasing them.

If that is enough for you, go right to your TV or computer, fire up the ol’ Netflix, and don’t waste any more time.

If, however, you need a little more, here are the top five things I flail about to every single person in my life to convince them they need to start watching this show like immediately and then come back and tell me all about it.

For visual flair, we’ll intersperse them with some gifs of ladies, because I know my audience.

5. character driving plot > plot driving character.

You know that infuriating thing lazy TV writers do where, in order to to hurry up and get to the big explosion or battle scene or dragon attack or whatever, which is the only bit they really care about, they handwave away the whole concept of motivation and make some character do something that any halfway-attentive viewer will immediately clock that they would never actually do?

There is none of that bullshit here.

In its simplest form, the plot of La Casa de Papel is as follows: a brilliant criminal mastermind devises a heist which cannot possibly go wrong, and then we proceed to watch all the ways in which it goes wrong.

This is a fantastic setup for an action story, made even more breathlessly exciting by strategic use of my favorite heist movie plot device (as perfected by Ocean’s Eleven): namely, “scene where it looks like our crime heroes have been outsmarted and are now threatened by a completely unforeseen disaster” immediately followed by “flashback to the team prepping for the heist where we learn that of course they prepared for this exact scenario.”

But from time to time, things do actually go wrong (as they must, or else there would be no story); and, when they do, it is never because you can tell a writer just wanted to write a scene where bullets go flying, and didn’t care how he got there. These characters are so clear, their behavior so consistent, that when gasp-worthy plot twists happen, they happen because of course that character, in this exact scenario, would do that exact thing.

I’m telling you, I came to this show for a ship (more on that in a minute) and I stayed for a swooning, heart-eyes writer crush on the impeccably-designed plot structure and characterization.

4. High stakes, low gore.

Tone-wise, on a sliding scale of Heist Film Intensity where a really fluffy episode of Leverage is a 1, Reservoir Dogs is a 10, and the Ocean’s franchise is somewhere in the 3-4 range, I would place La Casa at a 5 or a 6, which is perfect for me. I love action, suspense, drama and adventure, but I hate gratuitous violence (especially when it’s pointless and masturbatory and doesn’t contribute anything to the plot) and have a very low tolerance for blood and gore. So I kept waiting for the story to eventually take a hard left turn into Tarantino Land, until eventually it was all just one huge pile of dead bodies, and was genuinely surprised when it didn’t.

This is how I learned just how badly my brain has been fucked up by lazy showrunners who think shock deaths are the only way to raise stakes. During the first season of this show, before I had figured out that it was a Flawless Gem of Television Which So Far Has Not Once Disappointed Me, there were probably a dozen moments where I was absolutely convinced that some character was about to be gruesomely killed for shock value … and I was wrong every single time.

Reader, it was fucking wild.

Every single time I was convinced that person A was going to shoot person B in the head because blah blah maximum angst over here in this part of the story and then it will motivate person C to do this other thing, the show did the hard work of finding a smarter, more unexpected direction to take that character’s story. That means that when deaths do come along - and there are a couple - they feel genuinely earned, and they matter deeply to the story and to us.

3. I would die for these women.

This show loves women. Like it truly, authentically, uncompromisingly loves women in all our fucked-up messy glorious complexity. There are no “types” or cliches here; no one is forced to be only one thing. Fuck your one-dimensional Strong Female Characters, lazy writers.

For one thing, on many shows you might be lucky if you get maybe one mom who is given a personality and a story outside of motherhood. Often, on shows written by men, the fact of her motherhood diminishes her strength or her agency. On this show, nearly every one of the central female characters is both a mom and an action hero simultaneously. Seriously. By season 3 there are four different battle moms. They’re all different, they’re not all on the same side, they have different perspectives, and their role as mother impacts the story differently, but that’s the joy of having a whole lot of different kinds of women - no one has to be everything to everyone.

These women are complicated. They laugh, they cry, they crack dirty jokes, they get laid, they have babies, they fight, they make mistakes, they fall in love, they grow. Men pull sexist shit and they shut it the fuck down. Some of them have love stories, some of them don’t, but they are never defined by or triangulated around relationships with men. They get to have relationships with each other. All of them are excellent at their jobs.

Tokyo is the kind of hot mess antihero protagonist we’ve been watching middle-aged white men play for decades.

Allison is such a realistic teenage girl it’s genuinely painful to watch.

Monica has one of the best arcs I’ve ever seen on television, this is not a drill.

Alicia is terrifying. (A pregnant black ops interrogator! ON WHAT OTHER FUCKING SHOW!?!??)

Nairobi is unlike any other character you’ve seen on TV before; she’s got a little bit of Parker from Leverage, a little bit of Raven Reyes from The 100, but she’s entirely her own creature and you will fall in love with her instantly.

And Raquel. Oh, my love, my angel, my hero, Inspector Raquel Murillo. Love of my goddamn life. A fierce, kickass hostage negotiator swimming upstream against a tide of workplace misogyny who sometimes has to make the frustrating little male-appeasing compromises we all have to make to get through the workday. A beautiful, sexy, powerful heroine over 40 whose femininity isn’t diminished based on some bullshit notion that, for example, pairing your tough-bitch suit and gun holster with red toenails and a lacy blouse detracts from your strength. A loving mom and daughter who has to juggle raising a small child and caring for an aging parent with the stress of, you know, trying to stop the biggest robbery in the history of Spain. A domestic violence survivor (TW for those who need it; nothing is ever shown onscreen, but it’s discussed several times) who is given the space to discuss the things that have happened to her and how she has worked through them with such dignity, accuracy and respect that you can tell the writers did their homework.

This is a show where you can tell there are women in the writers’ room.

2. The Professor and Raquel. I don’t want to spoil a single thing for you here except to say that I myself was lured into this show by the promise of electric sexual chemistry between a criminal mastermind and the police inspector hunting him down, and my God I was not disappointed.

1. Love.

This show came into my life at a period where I was so weary of cynicism on television - so fucking furious at showrunners who dangle hope in front of us and then crush it, who only care about building anything if they can tear it down later, who treat love and fun and joy and hope and family and happiness like they’re intellectually lesser than grimdark nihilism with no soul - that I was honestly kind of broken by it. I was just so. fucking. tired. Tired of “the way we show this heroine is strong is to kill off her love interest.” Tired of “sorry but all this rape and murder is NECESSARY because of REALISM” (particularly rich when coming from shows featuring evil A.I.’s or dragons and ice zombies). Tired of getting invested in relationships - whether ships or friends or found families - only to realize that the show I was watching was always going to sacrifice character to force plot mechanics into place, and those relationships were never going to get the kind of care and focus I wanted them to get.

But that is not this show.

The single most revolutionary thing, to me, about La Casa de Papel - the thing that sets it apart from every other rollercoaster action thrill ride on television - is that every single thread of the plot is tied to love.

Every.

Single.

One.

Love of all different shapes and sizes - parents and children, friendships, doomed crushes (straight and queer), toxic exes, blossoming romances, siblings - and over it all, a deep, deep love for humanity.

The thing I said before, about how when things go wrong they go wrong in character-driven ways? It’s this. Love is why everything on this show happens. Love is what makes children want to live up to their parents and what makes parents fight to leave a better world for their children. Love is why deaths have stakes. Love is why we spend so much screentime lingering on small moments another show might ignore, like all the thieves at heist camp sitting down every night to have dinner together and argue about paella techniques. Love is what causes chaos in the middle of the heist; when there’s one person in the room you care about more than the others, you can get distracted and take your eye off the ball. Love is how your enemies can get to you, by leveraging or blackmailing the people who matter most, knowing that you’ll crack if they’re in danger. Love, gone wrong, causes toxic men to develop possessive and controlling behavior towards women. Love is how the Professor gets the idea for the heist in the first place. The plan is flawless on paper, but it doesn’t account for the human variable, and over and over again we see that relationships and connection and sex and family and love cause people to behave in unpredictable ways and throw the whole plan into chaos, which is what makes for a dynamic and compelling story.

How refreshing to see a show simply refuse to grant the oft-repeated premise that a show cannot have both high-octane thrills, and a big soft squishy heart, at the same time.

ANYWAY, I’VE TAKEN UP ENOUGH OF YOUR VALUABLE TV-WATCHING TIME, GO JUMP ON BOARD THIS TRAIN AND COME SCREAM ABOUT IDEALISTIC SPANISH ROBIN HOODS WITH ME, AND LET THE GOOD SHIP SERQUEL INTO YOUR LIFE, YOU WON’T BE SORRY

THANKS FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK

[synvamp]

HAPPY PLACE 8

“Love and other irritating crap that I don’t understand” - Qrow finally comes to the horrific realisation that he might be *in love* with Clover. Slow burn, flirting, banter... lovebirds at their angsty, sexy best. 

(Part One HERE)

Title: Healing

Fair Game – Part 8 / 10?

Rating: M

---xxx---

  The pillow hit Qrow in the side of the head. “Mffffff,” he said.

 “Come on, you have to get up or you’ll be late,” Clover’s voice. Clover’s scent. Ah, that’s right. Clover’s bed.

 “Urgh,” Qrow groaned from deep within his black soul, “I ha..”

 “Hate mornings, I know. Here,” Clover laughed lightly.

 Qrow blinked blearily and tried to focus. Finally he made out an incredibly muscled arm holding a mug of coffee. He sat up, pushed his hair back and took the offering.

 After a few sips, his brain fog started to lift. It was good coffee. “Wait you’re dressed? You got coffee? How long have you been up?”

 “I don’t know; hour and a half?” Clover shrugged, looking perfectly groomed and ready to take on the world.

 “Why didn’t you wake me?”

 “You were snoring.” “That is not a reason. Also, I do not snore,” Qrow pitched the pillow back at Clover’s head.

 He dodged effortlessly (stupid agile morning people) and stood up waving his scroll, “Well you won’t mind that I made you my ringtone then, will you?”

 Qrow scowled, “If I wasn’t naked…”

 “Ah, but you are! And I am not going to be late again, so drink up and I’ll see you later,” Clover leaned over and Qrow kind of froze. He didn’t even know why, they’d had sex quite a few times and Clover’s hands were often on his shoulder, around his waist… but this little gesture just caught him utterly unawares. Clover leaned down and just kissed his lips. Not a passionate kiss, just a little ‘I’m going to work, see you later love’, kind of kiss.

 Then he straightened up, flashed that seven thousand watt smile and flexed his ass out of the room.

 Qrow stared at the door for a long time, mind blank and heart doing something he couldn’t even recognise.

  ---xxx---

  “Hey, Uncle Qrow! We thought you weren’t going to make it!” Ruby enthused, running up to greet him as he slunk into the briefing room.

 “I overslept,” he reached out and tousled her hair.

 “You sleep?” Ren asked.

 “Har har, so what are we up to today?” Qrow asked, noting Clover was nowhere to be seen.

 “Team work!” Nora shouted.

 “O… kay?”

 “Clover’s given us all a day in the training room,” said Yang, “said we could polish up our hand to hand,” she grinned dangerously.

 “That so?” Qrow mused. It was true that they could learn to be more adaptable in combat. A brutal weapon was wonderful when you had it but he knew better than anyone that life didn’t always work out that way.

 Qrow teamed up with Yang (he didn’t want her to beat the crap out of anyone) and then put the others on rotation. Fifteen minutes with one sparring partner then change it up. Flexibility was an important part of being a combat specialist and as he watched Blake and Jaune out of the corner of his eye, Qrow decided Clover had a good head for teaching. It was just the right time to do this kind of thing, they were confident enough to be challenged, mature enough to learn from their mistakes.

 A metal hand ploughed into Qrow’s face, sending him cartwheeling across the floor. “Yes!” Yang pumped a fist into the air, “Take that!”

 Qrow sat rubbing his jaw, that prosthetic really packed a punch. Yang wandered over and offered him a hand which he swatted away, “I’m not dead yet,” he grumbled, standing.

 Yang leaned a little closer so that no one else could hear, “You need to stop daydreaming about a certain Ace Operative and pay attention.”

 Qrow didn’t even deny it, “I guess so. That was a good hit though, the way you moved inside my range… very smart kiddo,” he raised a hand to tousle her hair then thought better of it. He’d done that once when she was eight. Once.

 “So… how are things going?” Yang whispered conspiratorially, “Are you dating?”

 “I… things are good,” he smiled. “How about you?”

 “What about me!?” Yang said loudly.

 Qrow kept his voice level, “You ever going to tell the others about you and Blake?”

 Yang took a step back, “How did you…?”

 “I guess it takes one to know one,” Qrow laughed.

 “I… we’re waiting for the right time,” Yang looked away.

 Qrow nodded, it wasn’t like he was in a position to lecture on this one. “You do what works for you. It’s just nice to see you happy.”

 Yang smiled sheepishly, “You too.”

 “I am not happy! I’ve got a reputation to maintain here.”

 Yang laughed, “Well it’s good to see you enjoying the misery for once.”

 “Yeah, feels good too,” Qrow admitted, thinking of the way Clover’s arm wrapped around him when they slept.

 “Is that fifteen minutes?” Marrow called out, “My arm is going to drop off.”

 Qrow turned at the sound of Weiss’s lilting laughter. Seems like someone is finding Ice Queen Jnr. a bit of a challenge.

 “Alright, time’s up!” he called, “Hit the showers then lunch. I’ll meet you back here at two. Got it?”

 “Got it,” the students chorused.

 Qrow took his time wandering up to the mess hall. He let his fingers trail on the wall and thought about Clover’s touch, light but sure. So much of his time seemed to be dedicated to thinking about how Clover smelled these days. How his hands felt when they tripped down his body, lingering where he’d learned Qrow wanted them most.

 “Here you are,” Clover rounded the corner, “I’ve got a meeting at two so I thought maybe we could have lunch?”

 “I…” Qrow started. He was thinking about Yang and her ‘right time’. Was it the right time to be seen in a relationship? He didn’t want the kids to think that he wasn’t there for them. That he would ever leave them to go it alone after all they’d been through together… maybe he was over thinking. Yang just seemed happy to see him happy. Maybe it would be a relief for them to not have to worry about him being a moping sad sack any more. He felt bad for relying on them emotionally like he had. It wasn’t right to make kids carry adult sized burdens and despite everything they’d done… all they had achieved, they were still kids.

 Clover’s beautiful green eyes narrowed, “Or we could not.”

 “Uh…” What do I say? I want to be with him so much but… so much has happened and I just don’t know if I’m ready for this.

 “It’s fine,” Clover smiled easily, waving his concerns away, “I should sit with the Ops for once anyway, what did Weiss do to Marrow? He can barely hold a fork.”

 “He just needs to focus on his leg work.���

 “Ok, noted. Well… Just let me know when you’re ready.” And with that, Clover turned on his heel and sauntered that muscled ass away.

  ---xxx---

  When I’m ready.

 Qrow lay face down on the couch and groaned.

 When I’m ready.

 He means when I’m quite finished dicking him around and I know what I want. I’m sure that’s what he means…

 Qrow looked at the clock. Five past eight. He groaned a little louder.

 This is the longest night in the history of human kind. There’s some sort of time dilation happening. I refuse to believe that I’ve only been here twenty five minutes.

 He lifted up a couch cushion with one hand and pulled it firmly over his head.

 I could be there right now. I could be lying on his perfectly made bed completely naked with his hot tongue trailing up my thigh.

 Yay, he thought pressing his now very hard cock into the cushions, now I’ve made it worse.

 HOW FOR THE LOVE OF ASS CAN I STILL BE SEXUALLY FRUSTRATED?!

 Qrow let himself roll off the couch and onto the floor.

 He’s probably waiting for me right now…

But what is he really waiting for… he said…

 Qrow swallowed. He had to confront this eventually. Seemed like today was the day.

 He said that he was in love with me.

 He might have meant it, he might not, but he said it. And it’s time I figured out how I feel about this because if he loves me and I just hurt him… the thought of Clover upset did a funny thing to his chest. Tight. Tingly?

 Like something was crushing his heart.

 Come on. Admit it to yourself. You could be in love with him. How would you even know? It’s not like you have a string of positive relationship role models and a sparkling personal life to draw on. To him love had always been retrospective. The revelation of what you had lost in the very second that it was snatched from you.

 Do you want it to happen that way again? Do you want to wake up knowing that you’ve squandered yet another chance at happiness?

 He’d always pushed people away to protect them but… Clover didn’t need protecting. He was the first person in… near forever who made Qrow feel safe. Safe with others. Safe with himself. Like he wasn’t a curse or a burden or a jinx…

 But how do you even say these things? Oh Gods I know just how it would play out.

Qrow: *knocks on door*

 Clover: *opens the door, is shirtless for some stupid sexual frustration reason*

 Qrow: *stands gaping for an inordinate amount of time*

 Clover: Are you having a stroke?

 Qrow: *squeaks*

 Clover: So I’m just going to leave the door open, in case at some point you feel you can move your legs.

 Qrow: ILOVEYOU!IHAVETOGO! *runs*

 Clover: Ok. What an excellent choice I have made picking Qrow out of all the gorgeous fuck boys who clamour after my sleeveless GodBod. Really turning out great for me.

 Qrow turned over on the floor and pushed his face into the cushion again. This is so fucking stupid.

 Clover would know what to do. He was great at all this touchy feely stuff…

 But I’ve pushed him away.

NO. Qrow sat up suddenly and hit the back of his head on the coffee table.

 “AH, FUCK,” he exclaimed rubbing the significant bump that was growing beneath his fingers.

 That’s it. I’m not going to waste my life lying on the floor with a boner.

I am going to go and see Clover and I’m going to tell him how I feel.

If I can figure out how I feel on the way.

 He put on his shoes and glanced at the clock as he walked out the door. Thirteen minutes past eight.

 REALLY!?

  ---xxx---

Part Nine

[blouisparadise]

There were so many amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of July. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Bound (To Falling in Love) | Mature | 958 words

Note: The sequel to this fic is #2 on this list. 

Harry and Louis innocently cuddle on the couch until things get heated.

2) Nuh Uh, Honey | Mature | 1170 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic, which is #1 on this list.

So this is the ending of Bound (to falling in love) but with more detail. Long story short, Louis and Harry fuck.

3) 100ft Away | Explicit | 2479 words

Harry opens Grindr for a hookup and ends up with more than he bargained for. It all works out in the end.

4) I'm Looking for Closure | Not Rated | 2503 words

Note: This fic is the third part of a series. You can read the previous parts here.

“Say you can read my mind.” Harry said to Louis as he pushed Louis down onto the mattress. Louis squirmed as the covers rubbed against his skin.

“I can’t read your mind.” He said simply to Harry as he reached up to put his hands against Harry’s chest, trailing them down to Harry’s narrow hips.

“My mind is saying that I should just… just fucking go back in time. Go back so I could be your first.” Harry said, leaning down to lick into Louis’ hot mouth.

Or They finally fuck, sorry, I mean, make love.

5) The IT Fic | Mature | 3112 words

A fic where Harry is Pennywise & Louis is Georgie... Louis goes down to the sewers & Harry fucks him with a balloon as a condom.

aka a pwp that i wrote for shits and giggles. & yes, louis is of age

6) Souls | Mature | 3890 words

The first time Harry showed Louis two ghosts.

7) The Unfinished Fic (With an Ending) | Not Rated | 4013 words

Note: There is no smut in this fic, but it contains omega Louis, so we’ve included it in this monthly roundup.

Louis greatly regretted all of his life decisions up to this point. Okay fine, maybe not all of them, but definitely a vast majority. After all, if he’d not told one little white lie about loving cricket just to impress a fit guy at the pub, maybe he wouldn’t be stuck at what was, one hundred percent, the most boring “sporting” event of his entire life.

8) Save You Tonight | Mature | 4841 words

Note: There is no smut in this fic, but it contains omega Louis, so we’ve included it in this monthly roundup.

Louis is a headstrong Omega in charge of his own life. But he's more than grateful when an Alpha comes along when he needs it the most.

9) Whisk Me Off My Feet | Explicit | 5054 words

When Louis locks himself out of his apartment in just a pair of novelty underwear, he hopes his new neighbor can come to his rescue.

10) Can You Feel the Fever | Explicit | 5113 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic.

Tour has Harry exhausted. Luckily exactly what he needs is waiting for him in his Sacramento dressing room.

11) Gotta Catch 'em All | Not Rated | 5186 words

Louis loves Pokémon GO, he gets a little crazy and ends up ramming into a guy. Harry gets mad, calls him a brat and treats him like one. Oh, and they're in central park.

12) I Just Can't Get Enough Of You | Not Rated | 5466 words

Or the one were Harry got inspired from watching Louis on The Late Late Show.

13) Why Don't We Go There? | Explicit | 5654 words

Louis is a perfect model for Abercrombie & Fitch. Harry is a grungy, tattooed model for Hot Topic. When Louis walks in on Harry changing for his photo shoot, things only grow from there... including their dicks.

14) Act Out | Explicit | 6721 words

Harry and Louis try to spice it up a little for their 10th year marriage anniversary. Cliché role play ensues.

15) Life Imitating Art | Explicit | 6881 words

Note: This fic is the fourth part of a series. You can read the previous parts here.

Louis is taken on a very real journey through his fic back catalogue - life has never imitated art so salaciously.

16) You Can Show Me Your Heart | Explicit | 6935 words

Everyone knows about the unsinkable Titanic, which tragically did just that in April of 1912. However, not many people know the story of the Carpathia - the ship that raced to rescue and aid the survivors of the Titanic when the distress call came through. This is the story of the events leading up to the luxury liner crashing into an iceberg on that fateful spring night. More than that, this is the story of how two of Carpathia’s passengers - Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson - met, fell in love and helped over 700 people in the cold Atlantic water.

17) Kisses and Coffee Breaks | Explicit | 9350 words

Midterm season was finally here and all Harry wanted to do was study, however his boyfriend, Louis, seems to have a better idea.

or the one where Harry just wants to study and Louis needs Harry's cock.

18) Swallow The Knife (Outtake) | Explicit | 11186 words

Note: This is an alternative scene to fic #25 on this fic rec.

Alternate sex scene from Swallow The Knife.

19) We've Been Here Before | Mature | 11536 words

Harry goes to Louis in the wake of his sister Felicite's death, and Louis asks Harry to help him clean up a family cabin he is ready to get rid of. Along the way, they attempt to heal many things, even those that they thought were long past.

20) With Words Unspoken | Explicit | 18341 words

The one where Louis is lost, Harry is an excellent tour guide, and age is no barrier to finding the love of your life.

21) The Aurora Zone | Explicit | 19633 words

The one where Harry is busy crossing off his bucket list while Louis is busy falling for the guy he's supposed to hate.

22) Be Mine, Dear | Not Rated | 20104 words

The one where Louis just wants to meet his mate, and all it takes is for him to get a new neighbor.

23) Deflower Me | Explicit | 20154 words

Everyone is 19 and horny, and Louis just really wants to get fucked by Harry.

24) You Are Half Of Me (And I Am All For You) | Explicit | 24731 words

Note: This fic has a mention of BH.

One Direction, an obscure indie rock band, is about to embark on their first cross-country tour, living out of Louis' beloved van named Patricia.

Harry is in love, and Louis is oblivious. Or is he?

Featuring skinny-dipping in Texas waterfalls, getting lost in the desert, stargazing under the New Mexico sky, performing in front of crowds that grow in size each night, and falling in love on the road during the greatest summer of their lives.

25) You Are In My Bed, But Your Heart Isn't | Not Rated | 25595 words

Rock Band AU. Louis is an omega who fucks around, doesn't know the meaning of "feelings" until he starts crawling into Harry's bed at night. Harry gets jealous easily and they all write a lot of songs about each other.

26) Play Me A Memory | Explicit | 26932 words

Louis lives with his nine-year-old son Jake in a peaceful beachside community on the east coast of Australia, working as an entertainment coordinator at the local five-star resort. Harry is a recluse who lives on millionaires row and writes musical scores for blockbuster movies. When the roots of a wayward willow tree create havoc at his home, Harry is forced to stay at the resort while repairs are carried out.

27) Book Worm | Explicit | 37018 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH.

“Dad said this is his very favourite place to go,” Leon divulged, much to Louis' embarrassment. 

“Did he?” Harry's olive eyes flicked to Louis, lips quirking in a way that didn’t match his beige cardigan.

“Yeah and he said you have the best books. May I look?” He asked, smiling winningly.

Leon had inherited Louis' blue eyes and his mother's dark hair, his smile quickly becoming a replica of his father's.

“You may,” Harry permitted and Louis set Leon down.

“Don’t destroy anything,” he instructed. “And if you so much as crease a page then bring it to the till because I’m going to have to pay for it...”

Leon raced straight to the back of the shop and threw himself onto the beanbag seat front first.

“I put the Kama Sutra back on the top shelf, by the way,” Harry told him with a dimpled smile. “You left it by the Hungry Caterpillar.”

28) Waiting for the Tides to Meet | Explicit | 59637 words

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

29) Swallow The Knife | Explicit | 76168 words

“You came,” Louis says, still breathless, clinging to Harry, uncaring that his sweat is getting all over Harry’s presumably clean dad shirt, or that he’s making Harry hold up all of his weight.

“Of course I came,” Harry says. He shifts, one arm curled underneath Louis’ arse, the other spreading wide in the middle of Louis’ back. “If I ignored you every time you pissed me off we would have stopped being friends a long time ago.”

Louis already knows that, of course. It doesn’t do anything to stop the pleased squirm in his belly every time Harry proves it, though. They fight like nobody’s business, both of them too stubborn to pull their punches when they’re arguing, and it used to get them in trouble, but they always make up.

Adrenaline makes Louis loose-lipped, and they both know it. He tightens his arms around Harry’s neck, buries his face in his hair. “I missed you,” he confesses, quiet. “Doesn’t feel the same up there by myself.”

30) There You Are | Explicit | 82237 words

Note: This fic has a mention of BH.

Harry’s entire life has fallen apart - in one night, his carefully planned future is suddenly uncertain.

Then he meets Louis.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[flipsideds]

“ oh, haha... ”  a default response to a very non-default situation –– a little post-show, barside rendez-vous with an older man who insists nour has been singing to directly to him the entire night. “ flirting ?  i... ”  

gentle eyes gloss over the banquet hall’s dimmed lights, bright smiles, flickering electric candles... “ . . . what’s that ? ”  and then he’s off, gin and tonic in hand. three strides and it’s already half-drained. yikes.

or, alternatively :  greetings loved ones!! my name is linc ( 21 / est / she/her ) and here is the ever so graceful, ever so unintentionally magnetic nour al-busiri! below the cut you’ll find a messy run-down. i am so excited to plot & write with all of you !!

( i’m scheduled for a tonsillectomy tomorrow so i’m gonna be so grateful for the distraction, y’all have no idea. ) 

if you want some great mood-setters for this beb’s backstory / insight into his soul, slap on some jacob collier, kevin garrett, or charlie burg ‘n let’s get cookin’ !

so this is all copy-pasted from a discord chat with devon bc i improvised nour’s entire life story over a span of... 10 minutes ?? bahaha pls enjoy i apologize in advance. ( i also put this in normal text size bc it is v long and i don’t want anyone hurting their eyes !! protect dem beautiful retinas <3 )

h i s t o r y .

his parents met in grade school in egypt, but then didn't reconnect until their masters studies crossed paths in london... immediately fell head over heels again ( had they been searching for one another in crowds since being 6-7 years old?? maybe... ). graduated top of their class, accepted job offers in london in the biopharmaceutical realm. but then. when nour was 3...

they were involved in a freak monorail accident on their way back from a science conference in amsterdam. the babysitter paid 80 quid to watch the kids for two nights became their sole protector in this world. british authorities had trouble contacting other kin, but managed to reach mr. al-busiri's mother, rashida, who was still living in dahab with her second husband, zaim.

the al-busiri's came from old money. so off nour goes ( and potentially his older bro if i decide he exists... potential wc with a rami malek fc tbh ) to live in the city which, unbeknownst to him, sparked his parents' storybook love.

so nour grows up in this like... picturesque seaside childhood. collects shells. bonds with his grandmother and her husband. they encourage him with school, etc. but he quickly shows that he excels at maths and... music? wow. that's unexpected. gets his first piano at 5. first guitar at 6. by 8 1/2, he's managed to hodge-podge together a little recording studio for himself in his bedroom, and he's constantly serenading his friends at school.

( death tw / illness tw ) then comes zaim's stroke. he lives for four months after, but he loses his ability to speak. his motor skills deteriorate. nour and his grandmother do their best to tend to him –– she's already about 40% down the macular degeneration path, but hasn't told him yet that her vision's going. so 10 y/o nour does what he does best: unconditional love and support, delivered through the gift of song. zaim dies after requesting his favorite song: 'blackbird' by the beatles, sung in verses alternating from english to arabic.

after,  it's just nour and rashida against the world ( maybe his brother too bergorghre if i decide he's a thing ) . rashida's forced to come clean about her vision the day she can't for the life of her find the bloody pen she just put down so she can finish signing off on nour's choir trip permission slip. ( it's right next to her, to her left, just out of her closing field of vision. ) things progress more rapidly after that. by the time nour's 16, his grandmother is legally blind. it's not an uncommon sight to see him at the markets or strolling along the beach with her on his arm. she refuses canes as long as nour's around. ( “ don't rob me of my youth, nuri-nuri [ my light ] ”  )

despite her growing dependency on him, she encourages him to apply to unis all over the globe. by the time college apps roll around, nour is somewhat of a local household name: he plays summer concerts, coffee shops, and is even asked to play at his teacher's wedding ceremony –– and his neighbor's cat funeral.

acceptances roll in. julliard. berkeley. chicago school of music. he chooses chicago, because there's someone there. someone he connected with online a few years back, a friend, but... could turn into something more. this hopeless romantic heedlessly ventures off to find out if this boy in chicago might... be someone. something more.

spoiler alert: he gets to chicago, starts music school. and each meet-up they set? gets pushed. sometimes it's traffic. a cold. transit trouble. can't get work off, sorry. things with ma are really tough. the excuses kept coming but... nour's naive. he believes every word. but in his second year of uni, things....... start getting suspicious. by chance, he spots this man in the window of a coffee shop downtown. overjoyed, he texts as much. but ... messages go read and unanswered. phone calls dwindle.

his music suffers. so does his muse. so much so that he's tempted to drop out, to throw in the towel, to just...... go back home. he speaks with his grandmother each day on the phone. she's doing well, stop worrying, nuri-nuri, your uncle is taking good care of me. nour goes on dates. thinks about chicago boy. thinks about him a lot.

he's 20 when it happens. sat on a stage in a little dive bar, tuning his acoustic guitar for an opening number, and there. those eyes. he knows them.

they talk after the show, in the alley. share a cigarette. and it's almost like... maybe things are finally clicking. maybe this is finally their shot.

except chicago boy ( neil ) says they have to stop talking. that he had to just... see nour for himself. see that he's real. hear him sing, and... move on. nour doesn't buy it. pushes back. asks why the hell neil'd come out now only to slink back to the shadows. things get heated. neil yells. and the men... the men who hear and come running ?  they think nour is the cause of it all.

( hate crime tw, violence tw )  how many kicks does it take to break to the center of a broken heart ? twelve. how many broken ribs does it take to immobilize a probably terrorist, dude ? four. shattered wrist. snapped ankle. broken arm. cracked skull. and neil scuttles off like nour's bad meat. bad blood. like he asked for this. 

chicago school of music receives a call from weiss memorial three days later.

nour never gets his degree. he breaks his apartment lease. flies home after he heals, spends a year with his grandmother and uncle. just... creating. writing, playing, trying to fill that void with something. but then things with his uncle get heated. he wants to put his own mother in a home, sell the estate, pocket the cash. nour fights it, but he's got no legal bearing.

the nursing home concept never takes hold, though, because his grandmother's still sharp as shit and refuses to sign anything nour doesn't read first. eventually the uncle grows tired of fighting and stops trying, just... slinks back to his husband and keeps his mouth shut. nour's grandmother pressures him to go back to chicago, make that city wish he never left. take back his own story. together they work to find a live-in aide they trust. freshly 22, nour ventures back to the city that broke him.

he finds cheap housing, a gig. the malnati, seems legit. good money. good exposure. and then he meets @ryderxmms​ –– they form one night stand. when not scheduled for malnati banquets, you can find nour providing vocals ( and occasional keys ) in the dive bars / parties the band lands gigs at.

g e n e r a l .

nour creates like food and drink don’t exist, sunlight is an illusion, and all the human body needs for sustenance is sound. he can find his way around just about any instrument under the sun, but his main poisons are piano, acoustic guitar, and digital recording tools –– think jacob collier and you’re right on the money.

actually, i’m stealing a lot of jacob collier discography and pegging it as his creations. this kid’s got an experimental sound and loves it.

he grew up speaking english and arabic equally, but because he learned english in london and then continued in egypt, he does have a mild brit-arab accent. it’s v cute, i promise.

looks like he’d be a total lothario, yeah ?? but. he’s so shy ?  so sweet ?  get him on a stage and he’s shameless but plop him in a bar and eye him up and he’ll honestly just smile nervously and pretend you’re looking at someone else.

love languages : singing to his succulents and plants before his 5am morning runs. facetime calls at times least convenient for him, but most convenient for you. little notes written on napkins, smiley face doodles included. candy bars. lingering a little longer in doorways after saying hello, just to see you smile.

he’s got major water sign vibes. birthday comin’ up in march, woot woot !!

he often wears very simple statement pieces. he likes rings, crystal pendants, leather bracelets. soft tees layered with embroidered jackets, metallic blazers. somehow he pulls off mixed media and crazy prints that should never go together ?  he just... is so easy breezy.

he often wears his hair wild ‘n curly, unless the gig he’s got mandates a more streamlined look. 

falls in love.... 14 times a day ??  really.

has a scar across his left temple from the incident with neil. will probably write it off as a bike riding accident. ( he doesn’t know how to ride a bike. )

don’t let him cook ever, okay ??  unless you want him to literally do this.

pls come at me for all the plots ?  i’m so open for all the things !!!  y’all got me on discord, so feel free to slide on into my dms. i promise i will be so thrilled <3

[nellie-elizabeth]

Supernatural: Golden Time (15x06)

This episode has made my soul ascend to heaven!

Cons:

Could have used more sign language. This is totally a nitpick, totally a personal preference thing. I love ASL and I love the idea of Sam learning it for Eileen, and I wanted more, more, more. Also a personal preference thing, but I totally wanted them to kiss? Can Eileen just like... be in the rest of the show and go on hunts with the Winchesters and start dating Sam and... yeah. More Eileen please and thank you.

Pros:

See, I couldn't even properly complain about anything before jumping straight in to the Eileen of it all. We all know Supernatural has a crappy track record with its female characters. So many of them have been fridged, or even at best killed off in a less fridge-y way, but the end result is that there is a dearth of ladies in the Supernatural universe. Eileen was a particularly difficult and senseless death, as there was no reason why she had to die to prove the point that things were getting rough. And then here we have a mission - find a way to help Eileen, who is a ghost that doesn't want to go back to Hell. Sam finds a compromise solution, but it's not ideal, and then he discovers that Rowena was working on a way to make a spirit corporeal. They can bring Eileen back! Cue some witches who come in as obstacles, some reminiscing about Rowena, and then bam! Sam gets a win. Eileen is alive once again.

There are so many reasons why this story felt so important. We are setting up a dichotomy here between Sam, who is still hopeful and still wants to fight for good, and Dean, who is helpless and depressed in the face of the enormity of their problem. (Also he's going through a breakup, so that's making things rough). In this episode, Sam wants to help someone he cares about. And not only does he manage to succeed, he actually finds a much better solution to the problem, and gets to undo just one in the long list of losses he has suffered. This feels narratively sound. The show can't just be a long line of suffering over and over and over again with a band-aid slapped over it at the very end. There has to be some hope, some goodness in the world. And Eileen is that for Sam.

We also have the Rowena situation. Sam goes to her place, and the evil witches explain that her rooms were heavily warded. One witch dies just from going inside. But Sam? Sam is unhurt because Rowena left all of her things to him. And lo, my heart did grow three sizes this day. Holy moly. The Rowena/Sam of it all has left me genuinely staggered. I did not expect this to do such a number on me. I love Rowena. I miss her so much.

I love Eileen, too. I love that she's a hunter, and that she's hyper-competent, and that even though in this case she came to Sam and Dean for help, she never feels like a damsel. In fact, she's taken to being a ghost pretty well, and seems to be able to control where she is with remarkable accuracy and consistency. This is for plot reasons, of course, but I also love the idea that Eileen kicks ass at being a ghost just as much as she kicked ass at being a human.

Sam as a witch is SENDING me. Dean calls him "Rowena's protege," and Sam later says he "learned from the best" when he uses a spell to stop the witch who is trying to kill him. This is one of those things that feels so obvious in retrospect. Sam has always been a great hunter, but he's also always been great with books and memorization and lore and magic. I like the idea of stating this more explicitly. For years, I've looked at the Men of Letters as Sam's natural endgame, a way to combine his love of academia and knowledge with his vocation as a hunter. And I still believe this to be the most logical conclusion. But I also think Sam Winchester is a witch now, and I am in love with it.

And then there's Dean, who takes a backseat this week to hang around in the bunker and eat full boxes of cereal alone in his room. Big mood, Dean. The obvious, textual reason for his distress is that he feels like everything is pointless. If God is making all the rules, what the hell is the point of even trying? There's a moment right at the end where Sam is trying to convince him that what they do still matters. He tells Dean he needs his brother, and Dean seems to respond to that. But he also says that he can't tell what's God, and what's not, and that it's driving him crazy. Which, like, let's drill down into that for a second, because yes. This is so compelling.

Dean has already had that conversation with Cas a few episodes back, when he talked about how he didn't know what was real. And Cas said, "we are." And it was super very much gay, y'all. And now Dean and Cas are on the outs. Everything about the distance between them is being framed as a breakup. Dean is moping around in the bunker, while Cas sequesters himself away in a small town, and talks about a "friend he once had" with random strangers, clearly pining. I know there's more to it than just the Destiel angle, but when Dean says he can't tell what's real and what's God, I am irresistibly drawn to what this means for him and Cas specifically. Castiel was assigned to Dean. He was told to pull him out of Hell because of the Apocalypse. And yes, the Winchesters and Cas became "Team Free Will" and Cas defied his orders and the Apocalypse was averted. But now, everything has been thrown into question. That whole story was just part of Chuck's larger narrative. So is anything about Castiel, about his relationship to Dean, real?

And that phone call. That was a phone call between ex-boyfriends who are forced to communicate for logistical reasons. Cas is so grumpy. Dean is so gruff. "Sam's been trying to call you." Oh, lord, Dean. Just admit you miss him. This whole conversation was so great. It gave me so much hope for the story they're telling about their relationship.

Cas' subplot was pretty standard, but I mean that as a compliment. Basically, his "time off" is interrupted when he learns about people going missing in the area. He helps a woman find her missing son, and defeats the djin who has been praying on the town. He also goes full bad-ass Castiel, healing himself from multiple gunshot wounds and taking down the bad guy with brutal efficiency. He even heals the kid's injuries, although it seems to take a lot out of him. What I found really interesting about Castiel's defeat of the bad guy is that at first he's relying on his powers as an angel, standing and taking the gunshot wounds with barely a flinch. But then he reverts to human methods. He doesn't smite the djin. He stabs him. Over and over. It's actually quite intense. He does things the human hunter way, and it speaks to the ways in which Cas will never be fully human, but he's certainly leaned more and more into that part of his identity over the years. What with his powers being on the fritz, it might be time to hang up his wings once and for all, by the time this show wraps up.

So that's that! We got some prime Eileen content, we got some great Rowena reminiscences, Cas got his own subplot and got to be grumpy to Dean, and we even got a nice little brotherly moment there at the end, where Sam encourages Dean to get back on the horse, and tells him he needs him. This was such a fantastic episode and I can't wait for more!

9.5/10

[fiti-vation]

Unpopular opinion: TLC’s My 600-lb Life Story TV show needs improvement

I can never finish watching most episodes of My 600-Lb Life Story on TLC because there is always something that breaks my heart and makes my soul slightly cripple.  Today, I was watching Renee Biran's Story and literally only 15 min in, my eyes were bawling.  Studying in social sciences really made me understand the importance of knowing a person's story before judging them. Not only did Renee's social network (i.e., her family, especially her mother) failed her, but so did the school system and the medical world.

A program such as TLC's 600-pound Life Story has a golden opportunity to shed light on the ever-growing societal problem of obesity, but it fails all too often because it still ignores the fact that health is a multidimensional concept. If you have followed me for years, you know that not only do I promote physical health, but all types of health. As I have emphasized multiple times over the years, being healthy isn’t just about the physical aspects like eating better and getting exercise – it’s about all aspects of your health: physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. In other words, health/wellness goes beyond exercising and eating health. Health encompasses 7 dimensions; each dimension contributes to our own sense of wellness or quality of life, and each affects and overlaps the others. At times one may be more prominent than others but neglect of any one dimension for any length of time has adverse effects on overall health.

The Seven Dimensions of Wellness • Physical • Emotional • Intellectual • Social • Spiritual • Environmental • Occupational

The link between mental health and physical health is often misunderstood. They’re often thought of as separate entities, but the two go hand in hand. In fact, the World Health Organization defines health as a state of complete physical, mental and social well-being.

The problem

What bothers me most about TLC's 600-pound life story program, is that they focus solely on the physical aspect of health. With respect to Renee's story, I do not understand why they did not start with psychological help first. This is a recurrent problem that I have noticed while watching many episodes of My 600-pound life story; many cases revolve around mental and emotional issues.

As stated in one of my previous posts, “the first step to any fitness goals is mental wellbeing.  I am a huge advocate of mental discipline. Most of us think that it is our body that will get the job done when in fact it is our mind. If you’re not right mentally you will never perform well physically. Mental toughness is really what will get you to the finish line. The body achieves what the mind believes! Mental limits will hinder you far behind physical limits will”.  Mental health and physical health are fundamentally linked.

The My 600-pound life story program does the mistake that too many people do when getting into fitness. Too many people get into physical health without cultivating mental health… Mental toughness is really what gets you to finish a workout when you don’t feel like it! Again here, the body achieves what the mind believes! When it comes to training, I feel 90% is mental and 10% is physical.

Although the program has tremendously helped Renee, I feel that they have also done her a disservice. You cannot ask someone who is mentally weak and unstable to be physically strong! It is not realistic and you’re doing that person a disservice.

Poor mental health can affect one’s ability to make healthy decisions and fight off chronic diseases.

The problem - Are they really promoting wellness?

Promoting physical well-being without emphasizing other aspects of health not only minimizes the importance of the seven dimensions of health, but also promotes and perpetuates the misconception that losing weight / being fit equates happiness.

The perceived disconnect between “mind” and “body” creates the misconception that mental illness is not a physical disease. In reality, mental health has a direct impact on your physical health.

Wellness is the pursuit of continued growth and balance in the seven dimensions of wellness. Too many people think about "wellness" in terms of physical health only. The word invokes thoughts of nutrition, exercise, weight management, blood pressure, etc. Wellness, however, is much more than physical health, it involves much more than your pant size. Wellness is a mindset and a holistic way of life. Wellness is a full integration of physical, emotional, mental and spiritual well-being. It is a complex interaction that leads to quality of life.

Shows like My 600 lb Story need to start emphasizing all aspects of health not just the physical part.

Heal Your Soul and The Body Will Heal Itself (Healing first)

Only once one has a clear mind can they have a clear vision of their goals. A clear mind is a healthy, productive mind.

The only way to become mentally, emotionally and spiritually strong is by healing ourselves first. Prior to an aesthetically fit body one’s mind must be aesthetically fit. Train the mind and the mind will train the body. Willpower is like a muscle. The more you use it, the stronger it gets. The starting point of all achievements is desire. Keep this constantly in mind. Weak desires bring weak results.

Whatever part of you is broken internally won’t be affected simply by getting a new body. Simply put, a new body won’t repair a broken soul. A dream body won’t make all of your problems disappear. So many people have “dream” bodies but are internally miserable.

It’s absolutely crazy how much value we put on weight in our lives. It’s as if losing weight is the secret to finding love, having more confidence, more success, more friends and a golden ticket to begin the rest of our lives.

I've seen many individuals lose weight, only to find they still have the same problems and stresses in their lives that they had before the weight loss – they still struggle with the heavy thoughts and beliefs that contributed to the weight gain in the first place. The fundamental thing that has to shift in order to create permanent change is how someone sees themselves, aka your self-image.

Happiness is complex and multileveled. And weight loss is not the antidote to the things that truly make us unhappy.

Research consistently shows that when people start workout programs with "weight loss" as their main motivator, they are automatically less likely to stick with their healthy lifestyles. And, according to findings from the University of California–Los Angeles, after losing weight, most people gain it all back – and then some – within a handful of years.

In regard to Renee, chances are at some point in her life she became disconnected from the authentic, beautiful, brilliant self that she truly is and as a result, became unhappy. It just so happens that unhappiness is one of the biggest triggers to weight gain. In essence, her unhappiness has nothing to do with the weight.  The weight is a by-product of you not being happy. If she wants to permanently change this, it’s necessary to go back to the core where it all started.

We know there are many things that contribute to poor health: smoking, bad diet, sleep deprivation, a lack of exercise. But did you know that exposure to traumatic events as a child also contributes to poor health later in life?

Childhood trauma has been linked to things like cancer, obesity, heart disease, diabetes, and depression. Studies are increasingly showing us that things like physical, verbal, and sexual abuse, physical and emotional neglect, and family instability (substance abuse, death or divorce, domestic violence, incarceration, mental illness) are intrinsically tied to your general health and well-being.

The most critical part of the problem with Renee isn’t her poor eating habits and lack of exercise, but her trauma. The roots of Renee’s emotional eating come from her childhood trauma. That being said, even if Renee manages to get to healthy weight, there is a strong likelihood she may fall back into the same pitfall if she does not deal with her emotional trauma. Instead of taking on weight-loss as a cure-all, the energy here should have been poured into addressing the real sources of Renee’s unhappiness.

When we’re living with blame or shame, we use food to soothe, stay in unhealthy relationships, and let go of all of our boundaries.  

The untold truth of My 600-lb Life

An article written by Lisa Swan for The List touches on everything discussed above. In her article Swan acknowledges that many of the participants on the show have experiences some sort of childhood trauma.

If you've ever watched the TV show Intervention, you know about the clear link between childhood trauma and addiction to drugs and alcohol. My 600-lb Life shows that it's the same deal with food addiction, which is what the participants all appear to be afflicted with. In many cases this is due to the terrible things they endured during their childhoods, such as sexual, physical, and/or emotional abuse. Some participants were raped when they were young, and put on the weight as a protective mechanism. Others ate to make themselves feel better. For example, Ashley Reyes said she used food to cope after her uncle raped her when she was 12. "I didn't know what to do," she said on the show (via The Wrap). "I didn't know how to feel safe. So I would eat to gain back whatever little happiness I could."

That's why when participants start losing weight, emotions often bubble to the surface. Weight loss surgery has removed their coping mechanism (overeating), and that can present additional challenges. For example, it was only when Ashley went through therapy after surgery to deal with the abuse that she started to really lose weight.

Food for thoughts

Society's definition of healthy isn't very good. It's almost strictly physical, which means so many people qualify as healthy when they're struggling with other unhealthy aspects of their lives. We all need a better definition of what being healthier is. And, even if yours doesn't end up being as rigorous as mine, at least find out what your own definition of healthier is.

When more and more people will start to realize that being healthy is not just about exercising and eating healthy, society will no longer consider fitness as just an end goal. Fitness is not an end goal. It is not a number on a weighing scale. It is not a dress size. Fitness is a lifestyle. It is a journey. And along that journey, you must work on ALL aspects of your health, not just your physical health.

Heal your inside and the rest will follow 🍃🔁

[trustonlylokiposts-blog]

Diagnosis

“THAT’S IT. I’M DONE. NOT ONCE HAVE I EVER BEEN TREATED WITH SUCH DISRESPECT! I AM A DOCTOR, GODDAMIT, IF YOU TRULY BELIEVE THAT BECAUSE I AM A WOMEN I CAN’T POSSIBLY DO MY JOB CORRECTLY THE I’M OUT. I QUIT. FIND SOMEONE ELSE TO DEAL WITH YOUR SHIT!” I cursed and stormed out slamming the office door behind me. Fuming I walked to my locker, then to my tiny office. Shoved what little things I had into my backpack and stomped out of the clinic, not making eye contact with anybody.

If Doctor Wallis truly believed that I should continue cleaning up after patients like a housekeeper, and that my medical opinion truly meant nothing because of my gender than I am better off literally anywhere else. New York, land of opportunity my ass. I honestly don’t know how I managed to graduate top of my class, blow away residency, be labeled as a prodigy doctor and somehow manage in a clinic run by a senile asshole who should have his medical license removed and burned. I marched through the streets of the busy city and stopped to glare at my reflection on a shiny building. My brown hair fell past my hair in messy waves, blue eyes had never been colder, and my cheeks were still red from anger and humiliation. I smoothed my green scrubs and tore off my ID card, no use for it anymore. I sighed as the anger slowly left my body, I took my phone out of my pocket and rolled my eyes at the absolute disaster of panicked texts I had.

Please tell me you didn’t quit, look I know he’s an asshole, but we need you Jules.

I scoffed and typed back,

Thanks Tiff, unfortunately I didn’t spend all that time in medical school to be treated like I’m worthless.  I’m glad you enjoy your job, he respects women as nurses, but not as fellow physicians.

I made my way into a nearby coffee shop and ordered the tastiest, most sugar infused drink I could find on the menu, I deserved it anyway. I took a sip and took a deep breath as I sat down near a window. Looks like I’d need to find a new job, I’m sure it shouldn’t be too hard right? New York needs a lot of  fresh young doctors.. Right? I pulled my laptop out of my pack and began the hunt; after about an hour of mindless reading I stumbled upon something that caught my eye.

Stark Industries, in need of capable physician, willing to work in critical situations, must be able to keep up and learn alien or godly  physiology, will be working with The Avengers as their personal doctor and will be in charge of a small medical team for Stark Industries.

Huh. I clicked on the link and began reading more on the job description: Will be kept up to date on information regarding Tony Starks Arc Reactor and how to handle possible emergency situations regarding said reactor. Information on alien or godly medicine will be provided by Thor, of Asgard, but it is necessary to be willing to be learning and growing and developing better emergency care and medicine, for humans or otherwise. Offering up to 500k yearly salary with paid time off, provided living, transportation, and medical equipment and tools all at your personal disposal. Your team of nurses and Physician’s Assistant are at the top of their game and are an excellent team. Please call the number listed bellow for a pre-interview with Pepper Potts.

Okay, this sounds way too good to be true, and the competition for a job like this has to be outrageous. But the hell with it, what do I have to loose? I downed the rest of my diabetes in a cup and packed my laptop and made my way out. I hailed a taxi, gave directions to my apartment and immediately dialed the number listed on the add.

After a surprisingly thorough phone call I hung up and checked the call time, 45 minutes. I was asked all kinds of questions, regarding my schooling, residency, experience, I gave 10 different refences, and even answered questions from a “if everything were to go wrong” scenario. ( Question one: In the event that you are asked to accompany the Avengers on a mission across seas, are you capable of working in extremely critical circumstances that could be dancing on the line of life or death for countless people, should the Avengers be too injured to neutralize a threat?)  I’ve definitely been through some stressful shit, when that Loki guy sent his army through New York? I was providing emergency medicine until I could no longer feel my brain, I’m pretty sure after hour 10 of almost non-stop work my soul left my body to be replaced by Jesus, I sure as hell let him take the wheel. Unfortunately I was never one to believe in Jesus, especially after all this super-human chaos has been happening. Clearly Jesus isn’t the only magical white guy dancing around in the clouds. My train of thought was interrupted as I was greeted by Koda, and tall and lean Belgian Malinois. Her fawn coat and black mask only made her golden eyes see through your soul even easier. I got Koda as a puppy from a guy off Craigslist, apparently even though he boasted about being an unstoppable adult his mother thought otherwise and forced him to rehome his impulse buy puppy. I wasn’t mad about it, Koda has done wonders for keeping me grounded. Sometimes I think she’s smarter than most humans. I know every pet owner says that, but I really believe it. Especially after all the shit-brain assholes I’ve seen stumble into the clinic because they “accidentally” fell onto a broom stick and somehow managed to lodge itself up their anus. I gave Koda appreciative ear scratches as I opened my calendar, I marked down the time for my interview, two days from now at 10 AM. Stark Tower, feeling oddly optimistic towards the future I changed into a black tank top and running shorts, leashed Koda up, and made my way outside for a run.

I lived in a tiny apartment, it looked more like a concrete box than anything else, but the upside and pretty much it’s only saving grace was that it was near central park. I never considered myself much of a city person, and central park was the closest thing I could get to anything nature. Koda and I lapped around the park, I considered what it meant to be “Kept up to date on Asgardian physiology” when I spoke with Miss Potts over the phone she said it wont be too difficult as Asgardians shared a lot in common with us Earth dwellers. She mentioned them having skin that is roughly “three times thicker and stronger” than ours. Okay, so apparently I’m going to need stronger surgical tools and needles if the time comes for any of that. Pepper also reassured me that Stark had it covered, they had been recently using a willing Asgardian to build and put together tools just for them when the time is needed. I wonder who they had volunteer? It couldn’t have been Thor, I guessed I’d find out soon enough anyway. I stopped jogging for a moment to appreciate the setting sun and take a drink of water before bending over to give Koda a drink. I started my run again,  Stark’s reactor sounded very interesting and I did look forward to learning more about that. I haven’t seen anything even a little similar to that anywhere in medicine. Tony seemed to know what he was doing and had it under control anyway. I just wanted to understand what kind of shrapnel is constantly moving at an impossible speed towards his heart. And exactly how the reactor worked? Did it only prevent the shrapnel from moving further? Or did it also control how his heart functions? “Hey babe! Whatchu runnin from? I wont bite, or, maybe I will?” Great, who doesn’t love cat callers? Especially snot balls like this? I snuck a glance out of the corner of my eye as I kept my pace, pretending not to hear him. He started to follow after me, trying to act casual, I guess he didn’t notice Koda’s watchful gaze, oh yeah, another great thing about her would have to be the fact that I do have her trained in personal protection. Look, when you are a 5’5 petite women it doesn’t matter how much you exercise or how much knowledge of the human body and all the ways to heal it, or break it you have. Gross men with ill-intended ideas and thoughts look at you like you’re a piece of meat with perky tits and a pretty face.  No amount of “Hey beautiful, Hey babe! Watchu up to?” Would ever work, especially when said cat caller looked like a walking STD. Hey, I don’t need to be nice to someone like him. Koda swiveled around to stand behind me and keep pace with me while she herself trotted backwards, amber eyes never once leaving the slimy man behind us. “Beautiful, what a pretty dog you have. Smart too, is that a German Shepherd?  I had one growin’ up, loyal things aint they?” I said nothing and continued my jog, I now had to take a huge detour to my apartment. Couldn’t have him knowing where I lived, hell no. Slime ball caught up to me, Koda came to a grinding halt and placed herself between me and the stranger. I finally looked at him directly and with as level of a voice I could muster said “I’m not interested. Please leave me alone.” The man gave me a yellow toothy grin and replied “Is your dog friendly? I’m just wantin’ to know about your dog there?” I sighed through my nose and calmly said, “no, she isn’t. Please leave.” I sized the man up, he wasn’t too tall, maybe 5’11, 200 pounds tops, and almost none of it was muscle. I muttered the sniff command to Koda, she titled her nose in the air, she was taught to smell for any kind of weapon, especially a gun. If she caught onto the scent she let out a lone whine, if not, she would keep quiet. I let out a sigh of relief that I hadn’t realized I had been holding in when Koda didn’t whine. Thank god, if need be Koda and I can take this guy down, or well, Koda could. Firmly I said “leave now, or I will have my dog defend me, she is a trained protection dog. She will bite at my command.” At my word Koda stiffened and pulled back her lips revealing 42 sizer-like teeth.  The man scoffed but took a step back when Koda let a low growl rumble from her chest, “Okay, bitch. Message received. Must be a fuckin’ lesbian or somethin’.” He turned and walked away and I made my way back home, both Koda and I on high-alert. Fucking cities, man.

[rezaabdoh]

THE CAPTAIN : Anyone want a shave and a haircut? A close shave? Anyone want a haircut? You—do you believe God will touch you? I want to avoid a face lift. Does it make sense for me to do facial exercises, like, um, clenching my teeth, and so on? One of the things about male Oriental boys: when you buy them, their body is yours, to do with whatever you want. Roger, Roger, she died three months ago, you showed me a copy of the death certificate, don’t you remember? This one, I know, was old enough to know the score [laughs.] and had been to the bar before, so, so, we go in. We go in and have another beer. “Where’s my blue lady? Where’s my blue lady? Where’s my—” My blue lady has vanished, she’s gone. Well! love’s going to get her. And love’s going to get you. And love is going to get you! Always be as well dressed as your circumstances will permit. These are the answers—remember these answers: #1, Masda; #2, Citizen Kane; #3, Quantum mechanics; #4, forty-eight pounds. Remember! So…I slipped this guy another five, and he’s all smiles. Well, I wasn’t going to stand around looking like a freak, so I started undressing. And I ordered the kid—his name was, mmmmm, uh, Safi, to do the same. [To unseen person upstage, when the piano music stops:] Why are you stopping, why are you stopping, don’t stop, don’t stop, go, Go, GO! [Pointing to different members of the audience:] Tonight: you will be robbed of your Rolex, you will crash the car, your house will burn down, your baby suffocates in its crib, the babysitter gets stoned, there will be an earthquake, Iraq has the atom bomb, the ceiling above you will collapse, the man next to you is going crazy, your wife wishes to murder you ORPHEUS: [unseen, these words overlapping the Captain’s:] Liar, liar, liar, liar, liar! THE CAPTAIN: [Still to the audience:] You will lose your dog. #5, Islam! Remember! #6, the fatal flaw, #7, wise man. #8, après moi le deluge, REMEMBER! [sudden stop, and silence] I have a card, a card here in my pocket with something printed on it, and I would like someone to read it in a loud clear voice. Would you like to read it, for all of us to hear? You can read it right into my chest, here. AUDIENCE MEMBER: I am a self-starter. I enjoy and am excited by producing. THE CAPTAIN: WE’RE MAKING A MOVIE, AND YOU’RE THE STAR!! You believe that? [Laughs.] Busy young creatures, you don’t stand a chance! So we all get up. And I order beers for me and my whore. Well I got my drink, and I took Safi over to a small table by the wall and had him start sucking. JUDAS IS POSING WITH THE BEE-GEES IN A WHITE LEISURE SUIT. NO-ONE, no one, could replace Andy Gibb. Ashes, whiskey, and tears. EURYDICE: Do you know “Mrs. Miller’s Greatest Hits”? I miss you. Come and get me. THE CAPTAIN: I don’t want him to go. My memory is failing, my bladder is weak, my arches are falling, my tonsils and adenoids are gone, my jawbone is rotting, and now my little boy wants to leave me and cast me away. I’ll end up in a geriatric ward, I’ll have to take enemas, I WILL BE INCONTINENT. There’s a heart miracle taking place! You! Stand up, put your hand over your heart, and call that a miracle. You lift up your head and call that a miracle. Tonight’s my night for a miracle. Tonight’s my night for a miracle. Tonight’s my night for a miracle. Tonight’s my night for a— EURYDICE: Do your flower beds have barren or weed-choked areas? Do they lack color? THE CAPTAIN: Oh, shut up. Chico, you’re sooo groovy. Well, about the same time this marine started busting his nuts in this guy’s ass. And one of the sailors got up on a table and told the kid to suck. his. cock. You with glasses: Am I neurotic for wanting a face lift? #9, the Tower of London, #10, you could have had a V8—REMEMBER! #11, Dietrich Bonhoeffer. [Sudden quiet.] What…if Noah had failed? [A wolf howls. Then, quietly:] A lady may remove her gloves or not when partaking of supper. Guests do not bid their hostess goodbye. They quietly, very quietly, withdraw. EURYDICE: As you examine your personal landscape do you see anything else you don’t like or would like improved? THE CAPTAIN: Oh, shut up. Boy, I couldn’t take it anymore. I started busting my nuts, and Safi started sucking cum from my cock—till I was weak! [Sings:] Oh, love, your magic spell is everywhere, love, I saw you and I knew you cared. [Suddenly, breathlessly, returns to speaking:] They had this bottle of rice wine, I started drinking it, I got drunker than a coot. We are as driven to kill as we are to live and let live, isn’t that so? I heard that. I picked up this bottle and smashed it in his face. He dropped to the ground. Everyone turned; no one said a word. Round and firm and fully packed, I crowned the Shenandoah Apple Queen! Listen, men don’t get smarter as they grow old. They just lose their hair, isn’t that so? I know that. [He adjusts his wig. The piano playing halts.] Why are you stopping? Why are you stopping? Don’t stop, don’t stop, go, Go, GO! You see, healing is like ringing the dinner bell to lure sinners to salvation. Isn’t that so? I heard that. Before you kill somebody, make sure he’s well connected. “Here lies old Fred; it’s a pity he’s dead.” I am obsessed with the little toe on my left foot. It’s turning into a claw. A SPECIES THAT IS GOING NOWHERE! And I’m having to do this alone! Not like Cousteau, with his assiduous team aboard the sun-flooded schooner, but here, alone. Alone. Alone. These are the questions, let’s hear the answers: #1, what name is shared by the Zoroastrian god of light and a popular car? #2, what film was consistently booed at the 1941 Academy Awards? #3, What does the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle apply to? #4, What did Oprah Winfrey lose? #5, What is Arabic for “submission to God’s will?” #6, What did Louis XV never really say? #7, where were the little princes kept? #8, Who said that religion should take place in the market place of life? #9, What is the phrase which illustrates the economic principle of opportunity cost? [Pause.] You could’ve had a V8! YOU FUCKED UP! [We hear Orpheus’ scream, artificially sustained into a note that plays along with a ballroom dance.] I should like to cut off a dead man’s member, and have it sewn on to me. I should like to be a man. I should like to rob a dead man’s soul before it went to heaven, and turn myself into a man. I would then seduce all women. I want to taste everyone and every word. I believe I am too good for this calling. I should like to wallow in something, just to say that I wallowed in it. I know it. I should like to wallow in corpses. I want to be stronger and stronger. I’ve never had a facial injury; I should think I’d go mad if I did. Is my body now obsolete is my body now obsolete is my body now obsolete [a deep voice echoes over: “obsolete, obsolete, obsolete” then stops] my body’s now obsolete my body’s now—[He stops suddenly as he opens a child-size coffin. The music drops out and all we hear is Orpheus’ scream/note. Lights dim, and we see only a video image of the coffin being thrown out a window. Segue into the next scene.]

The Trilogy | Daniel Mufson

[twitchesandstitches]

HS Humans in Crossthicc - Descriptions!

The humans themselves, along with my headcanons for how they look here. In general, the post-scratch humans are the older generation, from 5 to 10 years older than the pre-scratch humans:

Jane Egbert: She was originally called Jane Crocker, but she has no wish to be associated with Crockercorp, nor her position as the Condesces’ legal heir. Polynesian, a definite BBW and a very strongfat build, she stands more than ten feet tall and is a walking tank and her powers function as this, making her a living wall that ignores all damage and heals what does get through. Crockertier cybernetics are imbedded through her, glowing blue and making her a very obvious cyborg. Likes to use a combat gourmand fork that can turn into a spoon, and she fancies herself a gourmand when it comes to foes. She tends to use her healing powers to restore people to health as a combat medic.

She started the army of chefs that keeps the fleet fed, and wrote up the principles of agriculture and livestock they follow to this day. She’s since become one of the heads of a corporation-analogue called the Carnival Bazaar; the fleet’s source of wealth, where they sell their goods as they travel from world to world. She’s less a CEO and more of an HR department head who keeps people stabilized and counseled, but in practice she runs the whole thing. She’s very close with Steven Universe, the two of them dating from time to time, and they’ve had many children together.

She is clearly mutated with troll mods; her blood is tinted faintly fuchsia, and she has a few mutations indicating her troll-themed genetic mix. She and Feferi are quite close, and the latter is responsible for stabilizing some of Jane’s complications.

John Egbert: A cheerful and helpful guy, and very tiny, standing below five feet tall. Polynesian, chubby, and incredibly solid for it with muscle. He drifts from ship to ship, going wherever he pleases, and proves to be popular wherever he goes and does his best to keep everyone happy. He’s extremely fast and mobile, and surprisingly destructive in a straight fight, using massive hammers bigger than he is.

Dated Vriska at some point and they’re still very close. No one is sure how the size difference was coped with but he doesn’t seem to mind being totally dominated by extremely large women.

Dirk Strider: Mechanics expert, roboticist, and key engineer in both shipcraft and mech maintenance, though he declines to actually pilot them. Aboriginal, a bit shorter than average (5’6), and has that bishounen ‘thin but pretty and fit’ look. His powers allow him to effect magic directly, and the soul directly; damaging their essence, or turning heroic spirit into raw damage. It gives him a great insight into creating AI, which led to the creation of  his… son? Brother? Something? Anyway, that’s where Li’l Hal came from.

Prefers not to put himself out there and likes being a support guy. “I don’t want to be the guy to kill the bad guy. I want to make the weapon that kills the bad guy.”

Dave Strider: Studies monsters of all kinds, and is a forensic expert and coroner. He also does part time in one of the many bands the fleet does in their flirtation with being cosmic pop stars. He doesn’t like fighting, but he exhibits absolutely absurd speed related to his growing powers of time travel. Aboriginal, smaller than Dirk (5’4), and on the plump side. MILFs of all kinds gravitate straight towards him in a ‘oh, you POOR Dear…!” way. He is the father of many children now, having a huge weakness for gentle, protective mom-types.

Roxy Lalonde: one of the fleet’s head scientists, heavily influential in their alchemizer program, and loves messing with bio mods for fun. Her playful demeanor hides how frighteningly smart she is, and she loves messing with people on account of it. (NOT an alcoholic of any sort here, either.) When she is involved in fighting, she uses high-powered rifles and does sniper duty. Indian, a classic hyper curvy hourglass and about seven and a half feet tall. She can manifest objects out of raw magic, but this takes a lot of work and requires her to understand them in and out. Has a lot of cat-themed mods that sometimes give her pink fur, a tail, cat ears, and functional claws.

A true mom friend to everyone around her, Roxy is a sweet and good-natured person who loves helping people and being a Science Hero FOR GREAT JUSTICE; she’s very passionate about what the fleet does, and actively encourages everyone to be more proactively heroic. She fears that she has a tendency towards addiction, and is compelled to mass produce children whenever she has the chance, with the possibility that she has an integrated alchemizer to ‘produce’ items herself through her powers.

Rose Lalonde: Expert in magical power and theory, specializing in arcane magic, but she also has channeled power from mysterious eldritch entities that are nonetheless apparently benign. They have left their mark on her; while she looks human if she concentrates, in her true form she is a monstrous eldritch monster girl, with tentacles for legs, glowing multiple rows of white eyes, and immense spookiness. Probably at least Roxy’s height, but can be a lot bigger as she powers up. Hard to say how her powers will interface in the AU, but she is certainly an EXTREMELY powerful magic user, on par with a D&D Warlock, and takes a methodical, experimental approach to her powers. Indian, pear-shaped, with very large hips, massive butt, thick tentacles, and large breasts. She tends to favor more inhuman mods, for more multiple… well, everything if she wants it. Her weapons of choice are a pair of deadly wands that channel her magic, and can stab really well too.

Rose is deeply spooky to a lot of people, and she enjoys unsettling others. She gets annoyed that John, Dave and the others don’t fall for it so much anymore. She has a close romance with Kanaya, whom she has had many children with, and they enjoy a mutual spooky aesthetic of eldritch/vampire goodness. She is deeply fascinated by the mystery of what happened in the ancient cataclysm, and has resolved to solve it.

Jake Harley: An explorer and famous fleet scout, often flying off on his own to report on new worlds and see if there is first contact to be made. Able to channel optimism and happiness into raw destructive power over a period of time, he’s situationally very powerful, but tends to be a glass cannon, easily taken out once he Does The Thing. He’s First Nations, and a massive super-cute beefcake of a man; he flexes and people thank him. Likes to use a pair of customized pistol-lasers that channel his powers. About seven feet tall. He may have some genuine angelic essence in him, which can be very spooky.

Jade Harley: A monstrously big and obscenely powerful amazon, so heavily modded that she looks like a werewolf girl even when not monsterized. Her heart has been replaced with an infinite energy generator, she calls it the green sun,, and it is powered by her own resolve, and she uses it to channel a wide variety of technologies secretly fueled by her own powers. She can alter space in many ways; shrinking herself and others, growing herself and others, opening portals, or unleashing incredibly destructive blasts of green energy. She is obscenely powerful, and one of the fleet’s heaviest hitters, bar none. She can even channel it into herself, giving her immense strength or size. She is First Nations, standing… however big she wants, but often over twelve feet high. Muscular and amazonian, she has absolutely enormous curves but focuses on gigantic breasts. Her canine mods are advanced enough that she has furry skin, canine features, and can generally pass as a low-level beastwoman. One of her favorite alternate forms is a dogtaur form. Jade turns Grimbark whenever she uses enough power, but this is more of a super mode, not a bad thing, and she just becomes a lot more aggressive and domineering.

Working heavily in the science departments, Jade is a major leader in the fleet, and a powerful witch as well. She takes a more carefree approach to her magic, doing whatever seems like an intriguing idea for her spells; an artist, to Rose’s technician. She is one of the most prominent human characters here, and her raw power is simply awe inspiring. She’s very sweet, if prone to sassiness and a short temper. She’s rather dominant with boys, too.

Joey Harley: She has no conflict with Jake here, so did not take another name out of spite. A talented dancer and xenopsychologist, she prefers to do ‘real work’ and research, but enjoys dancing and regularly demonstrates her skills at the fleet’s clubs. She is First Nation, with a bulk similar to Jade’s but slimmer, with smaller breasts; instead most of her curve mass is in her cybernetically enhanced legs, which are absurdly powerful. Her kicks are very strong, she can leap great distances, and she augments them further with special weaponized shoes with built-in cannons. Nine feet tall.

Jude Harley: A self-proclaimed strategist and existential threat theorist, he is deeply worried about the threats that the Ringers have supposedly seen, and organizes a group of people who are trying to figure it out as well. He otherwise works in the Zoo, the facility where the pet monsters, summon creatures, and powerlink beasts are cared for, and he happily tends towards the avian ones. He’s made a lot of friends with Flying-type Pokemon and avian Digimon as well. Built on broadly the same lines as Jake but shorter (a little under seven foot) and very softly built.

Li’l Hal: Dirk’s robotic offspring, and while an AI, he can upload himself into robotic bodies as he pleases. He and Dirk have a very complicated relationship, and with being often subject to harassment, oppression and worse by humans, he has a very negative attitude towards organics in general from sheer spite. He’s warmed up a bit since joining the fleet… to just being instantly suspicious of anyone outside the fleet. He’s in sincere love with Jane and Roxy, but doesn’t seem to realize it. He’s quite close with the other robots of the fleet, idolizing the Dinobots as liberators of robotkind, and wishes to one day upload into a Cybertronian frame.

Unexpectedly, he has his own share of unusual abilities unrelated to whatever body he is using. This appears to be related to soul-themed abilities; he can weaponize the essence of genuinely living beings, or tear organics apart at the very soul. While Dirk can destroy in ways he can’t Hal’s actual combat powers are superior to Dirk’s.

Squarewave and Sawtooth: Hal’s robot brothers, and performers in the fleet’s various bands, pop groups, metalheads, and other musical interests. Both of them are loyal to Dirk and are generally considered legally Striders, and think Hal needs to calm down on the ‘meatbags are out to GET US’ front. Squarewave uses destructive sonic attacks… by yelling really, really loud, and comes off as an earnest kid brother. Sawtooth, on the other hand, is just plain cool, everyone wishes they were as cool as that. It must be a Strider thing. He employs integrated weaponry and sonic weapons, often narrating his actions in musical form and working it into his performance.

The Consorts: A wide variety of strange creatures Roxy and Jade created, producing happy little creatures modeled after the canon consorts, and they seem happy to act as servants to the fleet as a whole, bustling in and tidying up or serving people, washing people in the communal baths, and so forth. The fleet tried to get them to be more independent and less servile, but they refused to listen, so they’re just left to their own cheerful devices.

[jodiwalker]

TATBT Recommends: 'The Haunting of Hill House,' AKA, Spooky 'Parenthood'

"Ghosts can be a lot of things: a memory, a daydream... but most times they're just what we want to see."

**This article originally appeared in the TATBT newsletter. No spoilers beyond the first episode!**

Steven Crain uses these words to undermine the idea of "real" ghosts in the earliest moments of this ghost story, immediately establishing himself as The Haunting of Hill House’s skeptical audience surrogate (although I trust that we are all much less of a drag than Steve, while simultaneously being just as hot as him).

Series creator Mike Flanagan then spends the next 10 episodes proving to us and to Steven, in the most frightening ways possible, that just because the ghosts of Hill House can be explained doesn't make them any less real — and no amount of logical explanation can rid Steven or his family of the ghosts that bind them together. Trauma is not logic-bound, and neither are the scars it leaves behind.

The Haunting of Hill House dropped on Netflix a week ago, and while I knew it would be an extremely loose adaptation of Shirley Jackson's fearsome 1959 gothic horror novel of the same name, I surely could not have guessed that the malleable nature of that adaptation would turn this haunted house story into what I've been referring to as...Spooky Parenthood.

And that’s a compliment. Prepare yourself for a gushing recommendation,; although I do discourage you from watching Hill House with the lights off, a full bladder, or in the near vicinity of anything that casts a shadow. The list of things that made me do a double-take, followed by a full 20-second stare down to see if they moved again include: the shadow of a sink faucet, every open door in my house, and the reflection of my own face in the TV when I finally turned Hill House off.

The Haunting of Hill House follows the Crain family at two different points in their lives: the summer when they briefly lived in a gorgeous, super haunted Victorian manor that was "born bad," and then 26 years later when a great tragedy forces them to reckon with the ways in which that house never left them, no matter how long ago they left it. The nonlinear nature of this family story might lend itself more glaringly to a This Is Us comparison, but the thing is...I'm the one making said comparison, and I think Parenthood is a far superior family drama to This Is Us.

And The Haunting of Hill House is, indeed, an excellent family drama. Who knew?! I love a good scare, especially around Halloween, so I set into Hill House expecting to do a little doom, make a little ghost, get scared tonight. All those things happened, but I also found myself crying repeatedly — a reaction to entertainment I both cherish and live in fear of. The cleverness of this series is that Flanagan understands that horror can be doubly horrifying when its rooted in care.

After getting to know the Crain family, you don't just want these people not to be tormented by ghosts because ghosts are the worst; you don't want them not to be tormented by ghosts because you care for them, in that same complicated way they care for each other in the midst of their own grief and tragedy.

The scares of Hill House aren’t just frightening...they’re sad. And surely there is nothing more frightening than despair. So the question remains: can you enjoy watching a series that asks you to repeatedly bare your second-hand soul in a sea of self-reflective human tears? 

Parenthood and The Haunting of Hill House say yes you can, and you will probably love it all the more precisely because of that emotional connection.

With style and empathy, Hill House coaxes viewers into caring for a family who turn away from their shared trauma and mental health at every turn. It makes you care for them so hard, you won't even give up on them when those turns so often reveal floating men in bowler hats and long-haired ladies with disturbing 90-degree angles in their necks.

Because of that time spent cowering under beds and around corners with the terrorized younger Crains, you understand why older Luke would turn to drugs; why Shirley would build up walls so steep no one can get in; why Theo would give so much to her work and so little to herself; why Nell would find the allure of her mother's own mysterious demise irresistible in the wake of numbing personal tragedy; and why Steve...

Well, Steve is just kind of sanctimonious and rude, but he's an eldest child with a superiority complex, and when building a family drama, it's important to depict accurate family dynamics. We need look no further than Adam and Kristina Braverman to know that just because someone is annoying doesn't mean they're not bringing a necessary ingredient to the familial table.

Sorry oldest children. — signed, ME, an endlessly lovable youngest child; a more reliable Crosby, if you will.

Of course, the youngest child in this scenario is Nell, a touch on the unreliable side because at only 6-years-old when her parents moved her to Hill House, she and her twin Luke were most vulnerable the spectral happenings within. A child cannot use logic or happenstance to explain away what's right in front of them — they can only see what's there. It's no surprise that being told what’s right in front of you is actually all in your head could leave psychological scars so lasting they'd lead grown-up Nell to...

Well, you’ll see.

If you don't like horror or earnestness, there's a good chance you won't like The Haunting of Hill House. But if you like even one of those things, this weird hybrid of a series might just sway you into liking the other. To call it "fun" would not exactly be correct on account of all the oppressive grief and sorrow and whatnot. But it thrills in that way only a truly spooky story can, and the family at its center is so thoroughly engaging.

Undoubtedly, life is a far more difficult journey for the Crains than it was for the Bravermans, but I am here to tell you, the healing that awaits them at the end of this battle is worth the fights and frights, if you’re willing to take the trip with them.

Oh that's right — this show is scary as hell and it gets a (mostly) happy ending. A few other helpful things to know going in:

THE CASTING

I've said repeatedly that Flanagan takes his time establishing empathy for the Crain family through recognizable sibling dynamics, and familial grief and devotion, but there is one thing he employs that establishes connection immediately...

The Crains are all smokin’ gorgeous, starting with their parents played by Henry Thomas in a pair of spooky-but-whatever-I'm-into-it blue contacts and Carla Gugino who has been maybe the most beautiful woman in the world for like 20 years running. The woman does not age, she just spawns cute little versions of herself who grow up to be beautiful, haunted adult iterations of herself. And the only thing I like more than a group of unreasonably hot characters...

Is the perfect casting of miniature versions of those characters. Seriously, I know y'all like This Is Us, but eat your fucking heart out Mandy Moore's painted-on wrinkles. The kids in that show are cute and they bear a passing resemblance to their adult counterparts, sure, but look at this:

Elizabeth Reaser (grown-up Shirley) and Lulu Wilson (l'il Shirley and also Camille's ghost sister in Sharp Objects) look...exactly alike??? It is wild. And it just goes on from there...

I've hardly even mentioned Theo, the coolest Crain sibling by far, played by the impossibly gorgeous Kate Siegel in full-size, and by the most prolific child actor of her generation, McKenna Grace, in fun-size.

I have mentioned Steve, but it's worth noting that much of his insufferable adult characteristics are assuaged by the fact that his younger self (Paxton Singleton) is a highly endearing little preteen nugget, and his older self is played by hot ass Michiel Huisman pretending to be a nerd by always carrying around a pair of lucite-framed glasses, but never actually wearing them.

And, oh the twins; these poor, poor twins who have just the most adorable faces, you can almost understand how a ghost would want to get all up in there for a squeeze. Given all these Honey-I-Shrunk-the-Actor magic tricks, it could only be intentional that tiny bespectacled Luke (Julian Hilliard who must have Jacob Tremblay absolutely shaking) grows up to be Oliver Jackson-Cohen who could legitimately play Captain America post-experiment. 

The camera spends a lot of its 10-hour run time zoomed-in on the face of little Nelly (Violet McCraw), so it's a delight every time you're struck once more by how much grown-up Nell (Victoria Pedretti) looks exactly like an enlarged version of her child self...even if every zoom of grown-up Nell is not a delight in and of itself.

That’s from the first episode! It’s not a spoiler, really! You’ll just have to watch!

IT'S THE SUMMER OF 1992

The Mall of America is opening, Ross Perot thinks he should run for President, and the Crain family have just moved to Hill House with intentions of flipping it to make enough money for their "forever home." It's difficult to immediately tell what time period the Crains are in when they move into Hill House because Olivia, the warm but occasionally possessed Crain mother is prone to swanning around the drafty mansion in velvet robes and wedges.

So, sometimes you might feel like it's 1970, but knowing from the beginning that it's 1992 could be helpful to your viewing experience.

The present-day timeline is 26 years later, and this will make it all the more curious as to why they brought in Timothy Hutton to play a 26-years-later Henry Thomas when Timothy Hutton is only 10 years older than Henry Thomas, but...should I just show you the young-and-old Shirley comparison again, and what say we forget all about this misstep??

THIS IS EPISODIC TELEVISION

The first five episodes of Hill House are building blocks, each one told from a different Crain sibling's perspective. I don't normally like to say this because it can make a viewer hyper-aware of their own viewing experience, but you gotta stay vigilant when there are ghouls peeking out from every dark corner anyway, so here goes: Just give it a few episodes! You might not find yourself enthralled in the first one or two, but the build is so enjoyable along the way. Y'know, if you find secondhand suffering and personal terror enjoyable (I doooo).

And once you make it to episode 5 — Nell's episode — you might not shake it for days. I certainly would not recommend watching it right before bedtime or in any sort of rush. I can think of few other entertainment experiences so suspenseful and conclusive; so terrifying and moving all at once.

And that emotional climax makes the perfect entry point to the marathon that is episode 6, which plays out like a stage production in only five continuous shots, the longest one running 17 minutes straight.

And this is where I warn you that some people who have loved the series have not loved the final episode. I am not one of those people because I'm sappy as hell and I love a perfectly tied ribbon around an oozing, molding, rotten, terror-wrapped package.

No, the emotion-heavy resolution of Hill House is not subtle, but family resolutions rarely are. They take time, and work, and they cannot be passive. Deep wounds — cuts that have been kept open for a lifetime — must be healed with intention. The ghosts that have haunted the Crain family for decades haven't disappeared by the time the final credits roll, but acknowledging that they were ever there in the first place is comfort enough.

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[skold]

DEATHBEDS: what it says on the tin. another trent & manson playlist nobody asked for.

this time with extra angst.

PREVIOUSLY: sinematic

[LISTEN ON PLAYMOSS] [LISTEN ON SPOTIFY]

track listing under the cut

1. love me dead // ludo

you're a gluttonous queen, narcissistic and mean. kill me romantically. fill my soul with vomit, then ask me for a piece of gum. bitter and dumb, you're my sugarplum. you're awful; i love you.

2. the sharpest lives // my chemical romance

you're in time for the show. you're the one that i need; i'm the one that you loathe. you can watch me corrode like a beast in repose, ‘cause i love all the poison. away with the boys in the band. i've really been on a bender and it shows, so why don't you blow me a kiss before she goes?

3. ICH TU DIR WEH // rammstein

du bist mir ganz und gar ergeben (you are entirely devoted to me). du liebst mich denn ich lieb' dich nicht (you love me because i don’t love you). du blutest für mein seelenheil (you bleed for my salvation). ein kleiner schnitt und du wirst geil (a small cut and you’re horny).

4. bite my tongue // you me at six feat. oliver sykes

you always do as you please, so i'm gonna follow suit and take a seat and watch you fall apart, 'cause in the end, what are you without me? // i can't bear the sight of you anymore. you've become what i hate, sold yourself for a bit of fame. now that the wolves have closed the door, you wanna drag me down some more? fuck you.

5. today // KMFDM

desperation, sinking into somewhere dark and cold. deviation, a place i knew i did not want to go. to forget is all i know. minutes slowly turn to hours. another moment passes by. seconds of eternity. i wonder if it's time to say goodbye.

6. no, you don’t // nine inch nails

teeth in the necks of everyone you know. you can keep on sucking until the blood won't flow. when it starts to hurt, it only helps it grow. taking all you need (but not this time). no, you don't. and just for the record, just so you know, i did not believe that you could sink so low. you think that you can beat them. i know that you won't. you think you have everything, but no, you don't.

7. boy division // my chemical romance

i bought my enemies rope to hang me and the knives to gang me. you can watch them stab me on your television. stomp the halls, because the bathroom walls would have a lot to say about the lines you're putting down. well, it better be white, it better be cut, it better be just my size. until my capillaries burst from boredom, i'll be waiting. i'm not laughing. you're not joking. i'm not dead, i only dress that way.

8. blood honey // marilyn manson

so, i keep my life a lie. i keep my head loose. my nose is like a beehive; i'm dripping blood, honey. i'm dripping blood, honey. i've got you tied up; i love it. tied up; I love it. now, why would i set you free? now you're tied up; you love it. no lies, now: i love it. i'm not being mean. i'm just being me. you only say that you want me when i'm upside down.

9. hatefuck // motionless in white

i am an architect of difference, you are just a hole. oh how i love to hear you beckon and stripped to the bone. but when i come around i come inside and just leave, because if i had a heart i wouldn’t wear it on my fucking sleeve. // i want it dirty with the lights on, filthy, vile, and obscene. i wanna show you what a bitch i can be.

10. the lust killer // john 5

[instrumental]

11. arsonist’s lullabye // hozier

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach. don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep them on a leash. when i was a man, i thought it ended when i knew love's perfect ache. but my peace has always depended on all the ashes in my wake.

12. flightless bird, american mouth // iron & wine

i was a quick wet boy diving too deep for coins, all of your street light eyes wide on my plastic toys. then when the cops closed the fair, i cut my long baby hair, stole me a dog-eared map, and called for you everywhere. have i found you? (flightless bird, jealous, weeping) or lost you? american mouth, big pill looming.

13. deathbeds // bring me the horizon

eyes like a car crash, i know i shouldn't look, but i can't turn away. body like whiplash. salt my wounds, but i can't heal the way i feel about you. i watch you like a hawk. i watch you like i'm gonna tear you limb from limb. will the hunger ever stop? can we simply starve this sin? that little kiss you stole, it held my heart and soul, and like a deer in the headlights, i meet my fate. don't try to fight the storm; you'll tumble overboard. tides will bring me back to you.

14. where do we belong? anywhere but here // frnkiero andthe cellabration

why do we run away from ourselves? faking this calm has taken its toll. to look in those eyes. but i'm having fun pretending i belong, convincing myself that i never got scarred so no one thinks, so no one knows. someone i love threw me away. someone i love threw me away. someone i love ripped through me, but i don't mind. i'll be fine. i don't mind. we'll get by somehow.