#regardless of how cringe or badly written

[psychopomping]

.

[lakesbian]

Hi, I just want to clarify that I don't mean this as an accusation but as an honest question; but when you and others on your posts are talking about narrative bigotry in Worm you talk about the racism and homophobia (which I agree with) but you also talk about fatphobia/fat characters being universally handled poorly, and I would love a breakdown as to why this is. With regards to Piggot when she was initially introduced I was thinking from how the heroes thought about her in their POV chapters that she was going to be the fatphobic stereotype of "soft and uncool but mean/unpleasant, disgusting fat civilian who doesn't know real courage and heroism like the thin, attractive heroes", and was pleasantly surprised when she got a lot more nuance than that, and also turned out to be very courageous and militaristic in contrast to the stereotype of "fat = cowardly and doesn't know real survival", with her flaws more lying in how she goes too far in that direction. In general the problem I typically see with how I see fat characters represented isn't just that they have flaws, but that they are never allowed to be "cool". They might be laughably dumb or they might be smart, but in a "loser nerd" way, never in a "clever scheming competent leader" kind of way. If they are negative/mean/evil characters, the emphasis is always on their venal, base qualities like gluttony, greed, and just being a jerk, they are never an "evil is cool" character with flaws like pride or a philosophy that is thoughtful and intended well but goes too far. So in that respect I thought Piggot was well-written, well besides. being literally named Piggot which is cringe but I could excuse as setting up the expectation of a stereotype to later support. And the only other character I remember being described as fat, Gregor the Snail, I have no memory of being any kind of problematic stereotype, though I don't remember him and his chapter that well either. So could you explain why Worm writes fat people badly/fatphobically?

this took way too long to answer because it's like. Well it's a simple answer but also this is a very long ask. so there's more to unpack. the short answer is just that literally, like, virtually 99.99% of the times a fat character or someone being fat is mentioned in literally any wildbow novel it's with palpable disgust. regardless of who the narrator is. it's obvious even with taylor but pact really hammers this home because blake is characterized in a way that indicates he should never be randomly judging someone's weight or appearance and he's still constantly written as observing whether or not someone is "fat." and it's in italics, like it's a slur or some grievous insult. like we're not even at the point of being able to analyze how wildbow writes specific fat characters here due to there are almost none of them and anytime fatness is mentioned it's in the context of it being stated in the same tone as if the narrator was observing someone picking their nose and eating it. like the loathing is Palpable. pay attention to how the phrases "fat" or "obese" or "morbidly obese" are used the next time you're reading a wildbow novel. you'll see what i mean.

as for the specific characters it's like. i think this post has everything icould think to say about gregor already in it, which as you will see is not very strongly opinionated. i mention piggot in it also. i don't remember enough abt either to just wax abt them at length but fundamentally it's that there's nothing particularly Strongly Good about either of them--not doing the "soft lazy uncool glutton" schtick is, like, bare minimum, and neither of them are very far above the bare minimum, and they're in a story that consistently does infinitely less than the bare minimum. there's gonna need to be more than a fat character Having Characterization before we can say that worm isn't wildly fatphobic

[dreamwreaver]

god I feel bad for that charlastor artist on Twitter. To have your work that you put a lot of love and effort on, only to be horribly stolen, traced and tagged with the very ship your antis keep harassing you with. Why are a lot of radioapple shippers like this?? They literally have hundreds of amazing artworks and fics across the internet but they go out of their way to be an utter asshole to people minding their own business.

This lead me to hating the ship. If I ever see a glimpse of Lucifer x Alastor, I'm scrolling and ignoring IMMEDIATELY. No hate to the other decent shippers of them, I just can't stand to see a crackship that has caused so much pain for so many of us Charlastor fans.

I mean, that's basically it nonnie. I don't have visceral negative reactions to ships I don't care for. I'm apathetic by and large. I block the tags and move on with my life. But, there's just the behavior of some shippers... it's been terrible. To the point where I cannot honestly see anything having to do with them without wanting to go on a rant. The main difference? I do that shit in a discord and DONT TAG THE SHIP IM HATING ON. But the behavior of most ra's makes me brace for impact just about everywhere. That ugly ass hoodie being released led to like a two hour vent session with friends. Their propensity to make everything about their ship? Makes me want to scream. The way they play the victim when they're the source of most of the bullying? I want to tear my hair out. And here's the thing; they eat their own the moment they fall out of line. Thankfully Bluesky has people who aren't garbage humans so any ship bullying gets shut down real fucking quick regardless of shipping preferences (the nice ra shippers are on there I will say that) but I saw it happen in real time. An artist known for drawing ra (and has since come out as a multishipper) was commissioned to draw charlastor, did a fabulous piece, and was harassed with two comments so vile they took the piece down. You know who was in the replies calling out the assholes? Ra's AND charlastors, and not a single one of them was fighting with the other.

So, I'll give credit where it's due. There ARE some nice people who have that ship and I respect them. It just depends on where you're finding them. But that toxic and vocal minority? Yeah, may they always step on legos in bare feet. And I will say this; hazbin antis are perhaps some of the most boring antis I've ever experienced in my life. They have normie who discovered fandom because of the pandemic and are appropriating weirdo culture written all over them.

Do you have any idea how many tiktoks I saw where people were cringing because the hazbin soundtrack was in their wrapped as one of their top albums? That's normie behavior. I do not feel cringe, I do not feel shame. I like what I like even if it disappoints me in the end (looking at you miraculous, please Jeremy zag release another movie and piss off the creator when the fandom likes it better). I don't regret liking anything I've ever liked. These people? Nah. And even their insults are like the basic white girl of fandom toxicity. Telling me to kys in one of five ways? I'm a pedo? A homophobe? I shouldn't exist? Boring. I had a Beetlejuice anti once threaten to turn my kneecaps into dice. You know what? I don't like you as a person but I at least respect the creativity. I definitely never heard that before.

And when you don't have any creativity, you tend to steal from the ones who do. Now the ra's are stealing lucillith art and doing it badly to boot. Normally I'm not one to critique art technique. Art is hard and people are always learning, but for the love of god if you're gonna steal someone's art don't add insult to injury by making the drawing ugly as fuck and somehow anatomically fucked. Yes I'm thinking of a specific example, no I won't share it mainly because tumblr says no sex based fun allowed. But I suppose that's what happens when you treat your ship and fandom experience as "content" rather than something you enjoy for fun. And hey, maybe it's my imposter syndrome talking but I still feel a little weird when people say they're fans of my work and seem to think of me as like... a big name fan or whatever. I'm just me, I create because I love my blorbos and if that attracts fans then it's a bonus, but not necessary.

Speaking of which; let me take a moment and say how grateful I am, not just to you Nonnie, but anyone who follows my nonsense on any of my socials. I'm not great with replies but just know I treasure the interactions we have no matter how small.

[doverstar]

Why don't you consider 13 cannon :o Is it chibnall's writing? I've heard a lot of people disagree with it

Thank you for asking so politely, firstly! I actually expected to receive fire from anyone who cared about my previous answer. (Hi, if you're the same Anon!) I will probably receive fire after this one from someone, and I'm strapping on the turnout gear now, would you please hand me my boots-

Yes, it's definitely a huge factor, Chibnall's writing. I'm one of those people! I hate his writing. I always have. Every episode he ever wrote for the show, I disliked, and wrinkled my nose at, and thought it was low quality and bad writing even before I was sure who wrote them, or realized it was the same person each time. My reaction to his work does not mean he's objectively a bad writer, it just means I think he's a bad writer. He does not, in my opinion, know how to show and not tell (I actually struggle so hard with that myself but no one is entrusting a 60-year-old legendary television show unto me, thank the Lord) and his characterization is - nonexistent. Yaz and co. do not have personalities and are just a bunch of mouths...moving. Sad! And Thirteen is not the Doctor. She doesn't feel like the Doctor to me; she's morally shallow, poorly characterized, and badly written. She's inconsistent and sloppy! (Not the actress's fault.) I don't look at her and see the Doctor, I look at her and cringe. She makes me unhappy whenever I see her. Her tenure and Chibnall's piloting almost caused the unsalvageable crash of the entire show. But those are only two of three factors in my dislike! If you care to hear the third, and please pass me my helmet- I also don't believe males can or should attempt to change into females, and I believe that the decision to cast the first female Doctor Who was based solely on the agenda of communicating that males can and should attempt to change into females. I know the Doctor is an alien; I'm not talking about specifically the decision to change the Doctor, I'm talking about the decision to change the gender of the main character, regardless of their species. I don't think they were trying to say aliens can be whatever they want. I think they were trying to say people can and should change their gender at will and it should be celebrated. Does that make sense? I personally believe the casting was based on the aforementioned agenda(s) and not on who might be best for the part, with really bad results. I do not think the character of the Doctor should have been changed from male to female, and I do not think that when the character was changed from male to female, it was for a good reason or executed properly. They did not convince me of anything other than that it was a really bad idea and they shouldn't have done it. That's not a critique of anyone's acting abilities, or on the work ethic of the cast and crew. It's a critique of the storytelling process and the way the story was told, and why.

Ooh and Anon, don't get me started on the Timeless Child thing-

[courtanie]

how were you able to get into writing and did you ever struggle? i'm currently 20 years old and attempting to develop my skills, but it feels so infuriating knowing that i'm somewhat behind in comparison to other people my age. the comparison thing is a major roadblock - i read tons of media and whenever it's my turn to write, i look back on whatever i've written, read, then boil in envy. i don't know how to write well without making myself feel bad.

Well first off, take a deep breath and know that every writer has gone through exactly that and continues to do so. It's a game of never-ending improvement and backsliding and reusing any prose you come up with that you actually liked a teeny bit and honestly it's all just a mess.

But it can be a fun mess.

I started writing when I was 15 and it was literally just an outlet for my teenage rage at that point. Then trauma happened and it became a trauma outlet instead. But also I was just bubbling with ideas and no one wrote things that I wanted to read in particular so clearly I just had to do it myself. Which is literally what I still do. No one else is writing Kyle having a bad time in the exact way I like it so I gotta take the reins.

I know the rule of thumb is "never compare yourself!!!!" but literally no one heeds that. No one can. I compare myself to others, too (which is half the reason I stopped reading don't do that like I did srsly it's a bad idea). But like here's the thing: Do you want to get your stories out? That's literally all that matters. It doesn't matter how bad/good/mediocre it may be, you're writing for you. And you just have to accept that sometimes you're gonna write badly. I still do alllll the time. Sometimes my chapters are really poor because I'm slogging through them trying to get to the exciting parts that prompted the story idea in the first place. Sometimes I have to go back six years later and edit a large portion of a story because I want it going in a different direction or I just thought that what I had didn't hold up. I've deleted so many of my old stories, I've cringed and apologized to my audience and myself so many fucking times.

I shouldn't've.

Bad writing is still something that wasn't there before you brought it into the world. It's still creative and enthralling and a piece of you. Babe you're gonna cringe and you're gonna get angry with yourself and you're gonna get hung up on a sentence and not be able to look at that chapter again to work on it for a couple months because you're so frustrated and lost. But that's okay! It's the process. That whole "we're our own worst critic" adage holds a lot of water, but you have to embrace it and just keep pushing forward regardless. Write it and if you still don't like it, go back and rewrite the entire thing again with the first one open as comparison. You'll make wild changes and settle into it better, trust me.

And believe me, I've struggled and continue to do so. I am literally being roasted by my readers because "oh wow the annual update!" which. Is hilarious and true. I'm really struggling right now due to real life stuff and I've gone on several hiatuses in my 15 years writing. I am notorious about shittalking my style and my lack of creativity. I am wildly out of practice and it's showed lately so I'm back crawling my way up the hill trying to find my footing again and improve after my backslide. But that's what happens with any skill, if you don't use it, if you don't do your damn scales and arpeggios, you're gonna lose what you've gained. And it's disheartening, but it's a reason for you to just keep pushing forward and write the damn thing regardless of self-criticism.

There is always going to be someone better than you, that's how it works for all of us, especially in this subjective of a hobby. But that also means you're better than some people. And the wild thing is, no matter how 'bad' you think you are? You're gonna be someone's favorite author, I absolutely guarantee it. Some of what I considered to be my "worst" stories have had people coming and telling me they were their favorites, that they reread them every night and have their own special binder on their bookshelf. Just keep fucking going, dude. You're never gonna stop improving unless you stop altogether.

[laserpinksteam]

On second (or maybe fourth) viewing: Weeds, season 1 (created by Jenji Kohan, 2005)

Having technically known it by heart after several intense re-watchings back in the mid-2000s, I have recently had showed it to my boyfriend, who knew it only tangentially (generation gap!). I remember criticism that Weeds' later seasons (with the exception of 4 and 6) got lost in the re-invention need, with the location shifts camouflaging the storytelling staleness. It's a valid point, I re-watched chunks of seasons 7-8 last year, and cringed heavily at the stinky quality of everything that does not revolve around Mary Louise Parker's nuanced performance. The tenure of the series proved that Nealon and Gould are limited actors and that Parrish, when given a chance of emotionally complex characterization, can pull an interesting performance (season four's ending is his highlight). But it is Parker who remains amazing throughout. In those later seasons, she got a fantastic screen partner in Jennifer Jason Leigh, with whom she shared awesome, brittle, sexy, and extremely lively sisterly chemistry. In this opening season, her great partner is Perkins, whose role would become more of a nasty caricature in her last two seasons (the ones outside Agrestic). What surprised me this time though is how clumsily shot and badly written this season is, part of which points to its temporal situatedness: the characters of color are only drug dealers and maids. White guys (and Celia) throw homophobic and ableist slurs as joke punchlines. Suddenly, starting with episode four, there are weird fade-outs truncating the wobbly rhythm of the episodes. Regardless of that, I am looking forward to re-watching season two, which was my favorite back then: I never was a fan of Donovan, but his on-screen relationship with Nancy Botwin was a highlight.

[perfectsoyeggz]

Stardew Valley fanfic im planning! Heres what I have planned out/written so far:

Main character: Jonathan (Johnny) Pike

- 29

- He/Him

-Bisexual/Demiromantic

- 5'9"

Birthday: Fall 27(? Cant remember)

Likes: Dogs, scavanging, woodwork, simple clothing, sleep, heat/summer, music

Dislikes: Birds, small talk, cold/winter

Facts: occasionally smokes, used to have curly hair at a young age, when he lived in Zuzu city he occasionally played in a local neighborhood band, takes depression meds

Appearance: Lean but has a little bit of belly chub, dark brown hair (you can really only see its brown in the sunlight), dark brown eyes, long hair that goes down to his shoulder blades (its a bit messy, but when done properly its wavy and has a bit of volume), spotted with permanent sun spots all over but especially his arms and back, has decently sized hands and can easily grab his tools.

Everyday outfit: wears a clean white T shirt with dark blue jeans and brown boots, wears his hair either in a low pony tail, or in a messy bun

Story plot:

Jonathan woke from another nightmare, one where he kept running and running with no end, a constant dread, but no threat to be seen. Ever since his Papaw passed he felt a constant restless feeling. Finding the letter he gave to him when he was just 18, as a graduation gift, he opens it and discovers the deed to Pike Farm, residing in Stardew Valley.

Jonathan used to visit with his parents when he was younger, running around the farm and attending local events were a staple of his childhood.

Although Johnny wanted to go, there was something, or someone holding him back, but he had to go, his life in the city was miserable and his depression wasnt letting up, even with meds.

1st day

Johnny was a quiet man, but tried his best to be friendly with the red haired woman blabbering on about home renovations. Her name was Robin, another man named Lewis was suppose to have come along, but had business to attend to, so only said a quick hello before running off.

The two eventually come to a stop before an old withering home, it showed its age, but looked recently retouched.

Robin turned and smiled at the man, "So... what do you think Jonathan? I know its not much of what it used to be, but it should be livable for the time being"

Johnny knew he had to be careful with his words, "Well.. it is something alright, I think itll suit me fine for right now" he gave a polite smile, "Thanks.. Robin was it?" He inwardly cringed for already forgetting the carpenters name, but felt relief when she gave him a hearty smile,

"You'll get the hang of it, luckily this is a small town, you'll know everyone's names by the end of Summer"

He chuckled a little at the claim, considering he knew how badly he forgot things, but took the woman's words regardless.

After a few minutes of chatter, Robin checked her watch, "Shoot, I was suppose to help Demetrius with some gardening. Im so sorry Jonathan I gotta go" panic rising in her voice.

Jonathan gave the panicked woman an assured smile, "its alright Robin, I have things to do anyway, thank you for you help"

She sighed in relief, and quickly bid her goodbyes before running off.

Johnny didn't have much to pack, the heaviest thing he owned was probably the blow up mattress, but soon realized Robin and Lewis had already set up sleeping arrangements for him.

"So well for the mattress.." he scoffed as he set his stuff on the nearby table.

Deciding to take a stroll through town, he decides to leave the introductions for later, he needed some quiet time.

(Event)

Runs in Leah and Haley, who were hanging out near the river, taking photos with Haley gossiping about drama in the nearby town, Leah quietly listening as she whittles a small figurine.

Significant dialogue

"Yknow if it werent for the clothes you might actually be cute" before Leah could say anything to the rude girl Johnny pipes in

(Insert something funny Johnny says)

(After the event)

After the walk Johnny takes the path up near a ranch, where he sees a small child playing by herself, figuring her parents must be somewhere nearby, he moves along up to his farm.

The pathway up was covered in decaying logs and bushes, making it extremely difficult for the inexperienced man to get through, he eventually makes it though, and heads up to his home only with a few splinters and scratches.

Earlier he had planted the parnips Mayor Lewis gave to him, and so far everything looked okay with them. He never farmed before except for helping out his grandpa when he was younger, but he still wasnt sure what exactly he should be doing.

"Maybe I should check if theres a library.. there should be something there" he mumbled to himself as he dragged himself in the house. That would be a job for tomorrow however, the busride from Zuzu, the introduction to Lewis, Robin, Haley and Leah, planting and watering his first crop, plus the walk home; tired him out more than anything.

He lazily kicked off his boots, and climbed into the suprisingly comfy bed, he quietly hummed as he pulled the comforter over him, absorbing the comfort it gave him, despite the fact still wearing his t shirt and jeans, but thatd be a problem for tomorrow.

~~~~~

Very heavy wip I know, but once I get more written I'll make another update; in the meantime, my A03 account is Neon_toast !

[strawberrymilk-sunshine]

I read about these but most of them they were written very badly so I would appreciate if you wrote about this in your style 😭 Tweels jealous because you yawned in front of someone (eels open their mouth wide to express love), octotrio and savanaclaw in heat or talasaphobic yn with the octotrio. it's ok if you don't want to 💗

Poor Y/N's just fuckin sleepy and those eels go w i l d

I don't think this is exactly what you wanted, but regardless I hope it's not disappointing lol. I decided to go with the direction of them being mad at the reader for 'flirting' with someone other than them, so uh... sorry if you wanted them to be 'loving' yanderes haha

Also, thalassophobic Y/N with the octatrio is something I 100% want to do in the future :)

Warning(s): blood, yandere shenanigans, some serious injury is done to the reader, memory gaps, denial, lots of violence

You had gotten almost no sleep last night. Maaaaaaybe watching horror movies with Ace and Grim wasn't a great idea knowing you had school the next day.

The day went by painfully slowly.

When it eventually became lunchtime, you were so thankful... maybe getting some food in you would help kick this exhaustion...

"(Y/N), you ok?" Deuce asked. "You look tired..."

"Yeah... Ace, Grim, and I were watching horror movies last night." You explained.

"Yeah! (Y/N) was up all night, shakin' and cryin'!" Grim said.

"That's projection and you know it, Grim." You glared at the cat monster. "I'm only so tired because the three of us were up until three in the morning. Grim was the one who was, as he said, shaking and crying."

You yawned. You didn't think too much of it, yawning is a pretty natural thing to do when tired...

Oh, poor you. You had no idea what that would lead to.

"So yeah, we watched that B-movie Idia talked about during Halloween, Creepy Hallow or whatever. It was pretty good, actually. Not that scary, though. So we watched some more scary movies and scared ourselves half to death, and went to sleep... jeez, I'm so tired..."

"You should, um, go to bed early tonight! I think that'd do you some good!" Deuce said.

Then, two people appeared behind Deuce. They were so quiet it was almost like they'd materialized out of nothing.

"Heeeeeeey, Mackerel, Shrimpy! How's it going~?"

"Greetings, (Y/N). Hello, Deuce. How are you two doing this afternoon? Enjoying your food?"

Oh great, it's those two.

"We saw you two were chattin', thought we'd drop in to see what you were talking about!" Floyd gave a disingenuous smile.

"Yes, yes, and then we saw you..." Jade paused for a moment. "Well, I'm sure you know what we saw you do."

"We saw you showing off your mouth to Macky here..." Floyd looked slightly angry. "Care to explain what you two were doin'?"

"...talking...?" You said, confused as to what the pair were insinuating.

"If you were just talking, then may I ask why you showed off your mouth to him?" Jade asked you.

"I was just yawning, I got barely any sleep last night." You responded, still confused.

Jade and Floyd looked at each other, as if doubting what you said.

Then, Floyd placed his hands on Deuce's shoulders, again with a disingenuous smile on his face.

"Say, Macky, why don't you and I take a nice walk together?" He asked. "You're welcome to come along too, if you want, Shrimpy."

"I think it'd be beneficial for you to come along, (Y/N)." Jade told you.

"A walk, you say?" Deuce asked. "I get what you're sayin'... I'll take a 'walk' with you, I bet it'll be lovely." He smirked. Like, he did that smirk. The one he does when he wants to/is about to fight someone.

"A-and I'll come to, I guess..." You said.

When the four of you entered the hallway, you felt like you already knew what was about to happen.

Deuce looked like he was ready to fight, but one painful-looking kick to the chest from Floyd and he was down. You cringed. It made you feel that weird, sympathetic feeling in your gut and tailbone...

"Shoulda been ready to fight, BASTARD." Floyd angrily said.

"Oh, but do go easy on him, Floyd... after all, (Y/N) was the one who attempted to initiate a courtship ritual, weren't they?" Jade seemed to be very upset with you.

"...ehehe... you're right, Jade! Shrimpy was the one trying to get it on with Macky! Not the other way around! They opened their mouth all wide tellin Macky they wanted to mate with him..."

"I'll hold them steady for you." Jade said, placing his hands on either side of your face.

Floyd punched you as hard as he could in the face.

You had no idea what was going on. You didn't know why Floyd punched you, or why he kicked Deuce in the chest, or what Jade meant by 'courtship ritual', or why Floyd thought you wanted to 'mate' with Deuce, or why they were so mad at you...

What did you do wrong...?

They were punishing you for something you didn't know you did wrong.

When Jade kissed you, you thought things were going to turn around for you, but oh how wrong you were. He bit your tongue hard as he could without straight-up biting it off...

After you were thoroughly beaten, the throbbing pain in the back of your head was almost too much to bare... your vision was fading in and out, your nose stung so badly, it felt like you were stuffed up, but not with snot, with blood. And aside from the throbbing pain in the back of your head, you also felt it behind your eyes. Your arm might be broken... right about now it's hard to tell what's what. All you knew was that you were in pain.

The short instances in which your vision was clear, you saw the twins doing... things. You couldn't exactly tell what they were doing. You saw them with their mouths agape in front of you. You could hear in short instances, too. The worst thing you heard was "Not while Shrimpy's unconscious, Jade."

You woke up in the nurse's office with Deuce sitting in a chair beside you. The worst he had was a bloody nose.

When he noticed you were awake, all he said to you was

"Sorry I didn't help you."

And then he left.

You wanted to call out to him. You wanted to yell out for help. But... you just couldn't force yourself to say anything.

A voice plays in your head. Something you remember hearing sometime earlier, you're not sure when it happened- though it was probably when you were being brutalized.

"Hush now, don't scream. We don't want anyone to know, do we?"

What happened to you...?

...

Oh, that's right.

You... fell asleep during lunch.

You fell asleep in the cafeteria.

You know, because of how tired you were.

That... that has to be what happened.

Because they would never do that to you.

And even if they did, Deuce wouldn't have just let you suffer. If what happened happened, Deuce would've at least tried to help you.

But if nothing happened, then why are you so injured...?

There has to be a reasonable explaination as to why you're so hurt.

Because there's no way that happened.

There's no way that happened. There's no way any of that happened.

You were just tired.

You just fell asleep.

You just had a crazy dream.

Jade and Floyd didn't hurt you.

They didn't hurt you...

[beels-burger-babe]

Learning to Comfort

***After getting sick yesterday, inspiration struck and I needed to get this on paper. I also realized that I haven't yet written a fic that's focused primarily on a relationship between Belphie and MC, so this is that. Enjoy. -B***

Summary: Belphie finds an extremely sick MC during one of his late-night escapades, and despite his immense lack of experience, decides to take it upon himself to make them feel better.

CW: Vomiting

Belphegor, despite being the Avatar of Sloth, always had a hard time sleeping at night. Maybe it was his habit of napping so much during the day, but regardless of the cause, the youngest Avatar of Sin was the House of Lamentation's resident insomniac.

He long accepted this title. It gave him the freedom to bask in the silence of the Hall without Mammon or Asmodeus there to pester him and gave him plenty of time to fuck with Lucifer's shit.

It was the very title that meant he was awake to hear a set of hurried footsteps run down the hall above him.

He frowned silently to himself, quickly tucking away one of Lucifer's favourite books amongst a variety of similar-looking tomes in the back shelves of the library before taking off upstairs to investigate. He reached the top of the staircase just in time to see the bathroom door slam shut at the end of the hall

Belphie's curiosity and concern only grew when noted that your bedroom door was wide open.

Slowly, he approached the bathroom, his stomach dropping at the gagging sounds from within. "MC ... Is everything okay?" He cringed as the noises grew louder for a moment before a pain-filled sob and whimper came through. "I'm, uh, I'm coming in."

Upon opening the door, Belphegor was greeted to a truly a truly pitiful sight.

You were hunched over the toilet, sick dribbling off your chin as one arm wrapped tightly around your stomach and the other provided cushion for your haggard forehead. Your shoulders heaved and shivered between ragged sounding cries as sweat mixed with tears on your cheeks.

"Oh shit," he breathed as he took in your state.

You weakly lifted your head to glare at him, only for your eyes to widen and for you to dive back to the toilet bowl once more.

Belphegor cursed as he rushed forward to support your clearly unstable body, hissing as his skin came into contact with yours. "What the hell? You're burning up." He mumbled as he pressed the back of his hand against your damp cheek.

You only replied with a groan as your body slumped against your arm once more. You blindly reached upward to flush the toilet and grabbed some toilet paper before wiping off your face. "I'm sick," you whined hoarsely.

The demon couldn't help but snort. "I can see that."

He chuckled as you flipped him off, but that smile quickly fell when he noticed just how badly the lovely hand gesturing to him was trembling. A hot knot of guilt wound its way into his stomach. "Seriously though, what's wrong? How can I help?"

You sat there for a moment, jaw tight and lip quivering as you recollected yourself. "I don't know," you whimpered. "I was fine. I felt fine. And then my stomach started to hurt like crazy, and I was super lightheaded, and now I can't seem to keep anything down, and I'm cold and hot at the same time and-" he rubbed your back as harsh sobs escaped from you. "It sucks! And it's scary! And I feel like shit!"

He crouched down to your level, pulling you closer to him as he softly hushed you. "Woah, woah. Easy. It's alright. I'm going to help you through this, alright?"

You sniffled and nodded your head. "Okay."

Belphegor nodded, glancing around the room for any hint on how the hell he was supposed to handle this. It was only now that he had promised you his services that he realized that he had no idea what he was doing. He was never the one to take on the role of caretaker — that usually fell onto Lucifer, Mammon or Beelzebub. He didn't know the first thing about taking care of a human.

But, he thought with a start, he knew where he could learn.

He quickly grabbed a bucket from under the sink and handed it to you before helping you to your feet. "Alright then. Let's get you back to bed for starters. If you're going to barf, for the love of Diavolo, please do it in the bucket."

Your poor knees wobbled as you delicately stood, leaning heavily on the demon. He supposed you weren't kidding when you said you were light headed. He wrapped an arm around your waist for extra support and then, step by step, Belphegor carefully helped get you to your room and tucked you into your bed; bucket nestled close by in case of emergencies. You groaned as you were laid down.

Looking down at how weak and helpless you looked, Belphie had never felt so out of his league.

"Okay. Okay. Okay. Um, you stay here. I'm going to see what I can find to help." He explained, trying his best, and failing, at keeping the panic that was pulsing through him from spilling into his tone.

You whimpered, blinking up at him with big, oh-so-dangerous, confused eyes as you lifted your head. "You're leaving?"

Fuck. He really couldn't win in this situation, could he?

He slowly made his way back to your door, keeping a small smile on his face the whole time. "I promise, I'll be right back. Look! I'll even leave my pillow as collateral." Without thinking, he threw his sacred, cow-print pillow over to you and winced at the muffled "oof" that came from you upon impact. "I'm going to get some stuff to fix you up, then I'll be back. You can count on me, okay?"

His heart stuttered as you wrapped your arms around his pillow and nuzzled your face into it. "I know I can," you muttered tiredly.

Belphie swallowed thickly, nodding to the air as he quickly headed out of your room and went straight over to Satan's with nothing but desperate determination and adrenaline keeping him awake.

As quietly as he could, he creaked open the door, poking his head into the miniature library.

There, in a disoriented position that would undoubtedly cause him back pain in the morning, was Satan, sleeping with a book spread open on his face and a cat plushie tucked closely under his arm.

Belphie bit back a laugh as he whipped out his D.D.D. and silently snapped a photo before getting to work.

Using all of his experience as an Anti-Lucifer Club member, he carefully sneaked into the room and began to peruse the shelves. "Come on," he whispered to himself. "He's always reading about human shit, there has be something..." He paused as he spotted a thick red book with white cursive running down its spine and smirked. "Gotcha."

Just as his fingers caressed the book's binding, a loud snap rang through the air and suddenly the world turned upside down. Belphie grunted at the impact and glanced up to see himself being held up by his foot by some invisible force. He cursed and looked forward, not at all surprised by the freshly awoken and extremely agitated Satan that was looming over him.

"What," Satan spat as his eyes flickered in the darkness. "Do you think you're doing?"

Belphegor glared back at him and crossed his arms over his chest. "Quit treating me like I'm Mammon. I'm just here to burrow a book."

Satan cocked an eyebrow as his gaze flickered over to the overfilled shelves. "At 2:30 in the morning? I never knew you were such an avid reader. What book?"

Belphie groaned, far too tired and stressed to deal with any of this. "That one. Humans and Their Common Illnesses and Diseases," he pointed lazily at the red book sitting not even 5 ft away from him.

The air instantly grew tense as an aura of suspicion and mistrust began to exude from Satan. The demon's eyes hardened into emeralds as he stepped closer to his little brother. "What could you possibly want with that, and do not even think about lying to me."

A sharp pang of betrayal pierced through Belphie's chest as he realized what this was about. "What? You think I'm trying to get them sick with some terminal illness for some other bullshit?!" He snarled, baring his teeth even as he felt the cold bite of grief wash over him.

Satan's eyes only narrowed further. "Just answer the question."

Belphegor sneered at his older brother as he struggled against the spell holding him up. "Fuck you! I'm not that demon anymore, you prick! MC's puking their guts out, and I'm the only one awake enough to help them but I have no idea what the hell I'm doing, so I wanted to make sure I didn't make things fucking worse like always!" He tried to ignore the burning sensation behind his eyes as he scratched at the invisible chord around his ankle. "They're trusting me and waiting for me to come back, so fuck you! And fuck your stupid assumptions!"

Satan's eyes widened as he quickly dropped the spell and let Belphie fall to the ground. "MC is sick?"

Belphie huffed as he got back to his feet and ripped the book that he needed off the shelf. "That's what I said, isn't it?"

Satan rolled his eyes as he walked over to his shelf and pulled a few more books off it. "Stop it. I'm trying to help you-"

"Oh, so now you want to help. Are you sure I'm not still going to murder-"

"Belphie!" Satan snapped as turned back to him. The younger demon raised his chin in defiance as he held his brother's poisonous stare — each daring the other to make the first move in correcting this. Satan sighed, dropping into his chair as he flipped open some of the books. "That was wrong of me. I shouldn't have assumed, especially after all you've been doing to get better."

Belphegor pressed his lips into a thin line as he thumbed through the book his hands. He didn't give a response. In his opinion, he didn't deserve a response. But this, sneaking into his room, stealing this stupid fucking book, this was all about you and making sure that you're okay.

"They're puking all over the place. They're running hotter than Beel's super spicy newt chips. They can barely stand on their own two feet. And they kept talking about how much their stomach hurt," he explained instead. He ran a hand through his hair as he snapped the book shut and reluctantly looked to Satan. "What do your books say about that?"

He watched as Satan's complexion blanched and he nearly dropped the book in his hands. "Can ... Can you be more specific? Was there any blood when they vomited? Did they go unconscious at any time? Where exactly was the pain?"

In Satan's state of panic, Belphie felt his own heart began to race. "I don't know! They just said their stomach hurt then they felt dizzy!"

Satan rose to his feet and rushed deeper into his room, coming back with his arms filled with vials and herbs of all kinds. "Take me to them."

Belphie scrunched up his nose as he moved to block the blond's path out of the door. "What? No. You can go back to bed. I've got this. Just tell me what to do."

For a second, the two danced back forth, attempting to either get past or prevent the other from getting by. Eventually, Satan let out a growl as he glowered at him. "I thought you said you wanted my help?!"

"I. Never. Said. That." Belphie said pointedly as continued his tactics. "I said I wanted to figure out how to help MC," he snatched some of the vials out of Satan's arms, making the blond yelp as he nearly dropped a couple of them. "Is this it? This the cure or something?"

"I don't know! From what you told me, they could be dying! I won't know for sure until I see them, so for the love of all things unholy get out of my way," Satan seethed, now seconds away from bursting into his demon form.

He was given the perfect opportunity to finally slip by, as Belphie froze in shock. "Wh-What?!"

The two ran as though Cerberus was hunting after them and booked it to your door as fast as two sleep-deprived demons were capable.

They skidded around the corner, several bottles going flying and shattering against the walls as they did, and rushed to open the door. "MC! MC! I'm back! Satan brought the cure, we're going to save-"

Belphie froze in his tracks as he saw you, still in bed just as he left you, but only this time, Lucifer was sitting beside you, a towel drapped over his shoulder as he pressed a hand to your forehead.

He stumbled as Satan smacked into his back.

The elder demon blinked over at his two brothers and raised an eyebrow. "Is there a reason you're both disturbing MC when they're quite clearly sick?"

Satan's eyes flickered between the two as he lifted on of the vials. "We brought medicine. I think MC might have Salmonella, or a heart attack, or Appendicitis or-"

"Food poisoning." Lucifer cut off as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "They got food poisoning. It's common among humans, and was probably triggered by Mammon daring them to try some new Devildom foods earlier today," he wiped off his hands on the towel as he stood. "They'll be fine."

Belphie heard Satan let out a sigh of relief despite himself — but Belphie wasn't buying it. The younger demon crossed his arms as he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "How do you know that? How did you even know they were sick?"

Lucifer sighed, causing Belphie's internal frustration to grow. "I was awake doing paperwork when I heard some sort of ruckus come from Satan's room. I went to go investigate when I heard even more concerning noises coming from MC's room. I talked with them, realized what had happened, and got them some broth, some anti-nauseants, and a damp cloth to help them settle. Is that satisfactory for you?"

The glare he got from his brother was worth it as you giggled in your half-awoken state. "He's not too bad. Just a big old Mama Bear if you think about it."

Belphie opened his mouth to bite back a retort when a loud groan came from under the blankets. All three heads whipped directly to you as you looked over at the two demons standing in the doorway. "Belphie? You're back."

Any anger that had been building within him, instantly melted away at the sound of his name falling so sweetly from your lips. He made his way over to the bed, carelessly tossing the vials he took from Satan onto the table as he joined you by your side. "Yeah, I'm back, Angel. Sorry it took me so long and that you had to deal with smelly old Lucifer."

Satan was cackling in the background as Lucifer's face went bright red. Belphie smirked and ruffled your hair. "I'll take your word on it."

Lucifer cleared his throat, promptly ignoring the flush on his cheeks, as he looked sternly at the others. "We should leave MC to get some rest. I'll come check on them in the morning. You two, head back to your rooms."

You pouted as you clung tighter onto Belphie's billow with one arm and gripped onto the back of his sweater with the other. "But I want Belphie to stay here with me. He just got back."

Belphegor wasn't sure what he did to get your trust or favor back, but he thanked whatever higher being was listening every single day that you didn't hate him for his crimes. He was positive that he would never need anything ever again. He could live off your hugs and your smile alone and be perfectly content.

He pouted along side you as he climbed into your bed and pulled you close to him. "Yeah. I just got back. You can't ask me to leave."

Lucifer scowled down at the pair of you as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You're going to get sick."

It was with great pleasure that Belphegor flashed his brother his infamous shit-eating grin as he got himself nuzzled comfortably under your blankets. "But, Lucifer, you just said yourself that they only had food poisoning. Ergo. There's nothing for me to catch."

The growl that left Lucifer was one that parents across the world would recognize instantly as one of complete resignation. "It's too late for this." He made his way out the door, grabbing Satan by the arm and hauling him out of the room. "I'll be back in the morning. Make sure they stay hydrated. Do not let them choke in their sleep."

"Yes Mom!" Belphie called out over Satan's complaints just as the door closed shut behind them.

Now alone, the demon felt himself instinctively relax as you curled up against him and rested your still-warm head against his arm. He smiled gently and pressed a kiss against your forehead.

Maybe he was new at this whole taking care of human things, but he supposed that with you around, learning wouldn't be too bad.

***I really really enjoyed this one and I hope you all do too. Thank you so much for the love and support and I hope you all have a great day! -B***

Taglist:

@thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @poly-bi-mf @burrixino @rul-of-demise @pumpkins-mainside-blog @acousticpen @sucker-for-angst-and-fluff @itskrispy @10paradox10 @vallison-rea @ivoryclive @newfangled-artistry @pumpkinpatchkid @chirikoheina @sailboat21

[peachy-panic]

Truth & Lies

(This picks up directly following this piece)

Tag list: @whumpervescence @shiningstarofwinter @distinctlywhumpthing

CONTENT WARNINGS: General BBU warnings, human trafficking, referenced/implied non-con, mentioned past minors of minors, blood, restraints, medical setting. 

Panic washes over him the moment the door closes behind them, putting him alone in the exam room. In the silence, he can hear only the sound of his labored breathing, obstructed by the plastic intrusion that has been secured between his teeth, straps cutting into his temples. His hands are bolted to the front edge of the table on either side of his thighs. The position pulls his posture forward just enough to be uncomfortable, his shoulders curling forward to accommodate the short buckle on the cuffs. He tries, to little avail, to calm the rising panic at the feeling of restraint. 

And all he can think is that he has done this to himself. 

He messed up. He had messed up so, so badly and the reality hadn’t fully settled over him until the door clicked shut, and the blur of the past several minutes came crashing into him with a sudden, sickening clarity. And now there is nothing he can do to take back his actions, his words, and he knows that no apology will be enough to smooth it over regardless. Still, he feels one bubbling in the back of his throat uselessly, trapped behind the gag and the slow, constant trickle of blood.

Suddenly, the sensation steals all his focus, until all he can feel is the warm liquid in his nose and throat, and the suffocating realization that he is helpless to stop himself from choking to death alone in this room, chained to a fucking table. 

His arms tug instinctively against the cuffs, but the steely hold on his wrists only serves to bolster his panic. Oh, god. What has he done? All at once, he is sorry. Jaime is so, so sorry and he wishes he could take it back but ‘sorry doesn’t do shit for me, baby,’ he can hear Mr. Torley’s rumbling voice clear as day in his ear. 

He jerks forward away from the phantom presence, a whimper caught in his throat that has nowhere to go. These flashes of imagination feel so real sometimes and Jaime can’t always tell them apart from what’s in front of him, just like when the Handler had pulled his sweatshirt over his head at intake, and when the gray fabric cleared his eyes it had been Mr. Torley’s face staring back at him, grinning in the glow of the bedside lamp that had been harsh, white Facility fluorescents only seconds before. 

He hadn’t meant to lash out. Jaime can’t recall ever stepping out of line like that, not since… not since his first week in the training facility. He has enough sense to know that fighting back won’t get him anywhere good. But something had snapped in his mind when they began undressing him of his street clothes, and it was as if he was no longer at the helm of his own body. His arm had lurched forward on instinct, striking out at the figment in front of him because this wasn’t right, he was supposed to be done with Mr. Torley, he had served his six month contract and it was supposed to be over.

It was supposed to be over. 

He had barely recognized the crunch that gave under his fist in the moment, nor the white blare of pain as the blow was reciprocated with double the strength. There was blood and a struggle and a distant screaming that made his head vibrate like the sharp, resounding clang of metal on concrete.

And then he blinked, and now he was here, and his head hurts and he can’t breathe right with all the blood and he is so, so sorry no matter how much it won’t matter in the end. It never matters.

He hates that he is sorry. He hates that he is back here. He hates that he can still feel Mr. Torley like static on his skin even though he isn’t legally his anymore. He hates the feeling of the bit between his teeth, reminding him of a hazier time in his memory, carved out with white tiled walls and bright lights and constant, unyielding pain. 

Jaime lets his head fall forward, cringing at the sticky dampness of his t-shirt against his chin, and focuses all his energy on trying not to cry. More than anything now, he needs to retain his already limited ability to breathe.

Even so, he can’t stop his breath from catching when he hears the telltale swipe of a clearance key at the door.

*******

Sebastian’s feet stutter beneath him as he pushes through the door. His eyes are drawn immediately to the anchor points along the front of the exam table, which currently serve to immobilize the terrified young man between them. He can see that the skin around the restraints is already pink with irritation. The boy’s head is ducked in what looks to be a quiet surrender, and he can’t see his face but he watches as a drop of blood hits the lap of his pants. Sebastian’s muscles freeze up. It’s only a fleeting moment, but he’s sure his recovery is not nearly as graceful as he hopes it is as he clears his throat and steps into the room. 

He lets the heavy door fall shut behind him, effectively sealing himself into the reality that he is now in charge of this person bolted to a table. It has become a daily occurrence long ago to question every life choice that had brought him to this place, but especially now he can’t help but think he’s made a horrible mistake. And then the light clinking of metal on metal draws his focus to where the boy has twisted his hand inside his restraints just enough to grip the side of the table, knuckles white and trembling, and it occurs to him how selfish he is for thinking that he is the one in the room who has earned the right to fear. 

He should say something. He knows he has to be the one to say something, because the Companions - the patients - aren’t allowed to initiate conversation without direct invitation. He knows this, but the knowledge doesn’t un-stick his tongue from the roof of his mouth or dissolve the lump that’s blocking his airway. For a moment, all he can do is stare. 

“Hi,” he says finally by means of a feeble introduction. He clears his throat, trying for something that doesn’t sound so much like a question. “I’m Dr. Tate. Sebastian. You can… just Sebastian is fine. If you want.”

Incredible, Seb. Off to a confident start. 

He might see the slight incline of the patient’s head in acknowledgement, or he could be imagining it. Either way, he moves on. 

“What is your…” He pauses, clearing his throat. Name? Is that what he wanted to say? He knows as well as anyone that he isn't allowed to use his. If he does and anyone hears him, it will only land him in deeper trouble. Which is maybe the last thing on Earth Sebastian wants. Instead, he asks, “What can I call you?”

For the first time since he entered the room, Sebastian sees unmistakable movement in the muscles of the boy’s neck. There seems to be a moment of hesitation, and then he lifts his head to level with Sebastian’s gaze, and he nearly takes a step back.

By some miracle, Sebastian has made it this far into the program without witnessing - or god forbid implementing - the use of heavy restraints on a patient. Today, it seems, his luck has run out. The boy stares up at him with dark, empty eyes over a round bit of black plastic secured over his mouth with the WRU logo emblazoned in silver. A fucking gag.

A slow-dripping acidity makes its way into Sebastian’s stomach. The picture in front of him is so starkly, uniquely horrifying that it stops him in his tracks. It’s exactly the kind of raw imagery that WRU conveniently left out of their pamphlets and commercials and brightly-colored career packets. This, he thinks to himself, is the truth behind every lie they sell. 

“Oh,” he says, stunned, the word slipping out of him in a breathy gasp. He forces himself to take a step toward his patient, choosing to ignore the quickly concealed flinch. “I don’t… I don’t think we really need that, right?” He says a pitch too high. The patient’s eyes track him warily as Sebastian moves closer, an outstretched hand hovering in his direction. “Uh. Can I?”

Instead of the permissive nod he expects, the young man’s eyes flit over to something to the left of Sebastian’s shoulder then back again, holding his gaze. Sebastian turns and finds a tin box affixed to the wall just behind the door. He blinks, and when he looks at the patient again with confusion written all over him, the boy hesitates — which he seems to do before each new move — and then angles his head just enough so that Sebastian catches a flash of silver at the back of his neck.

A small padlock. Holding the straps of his gag in place. 

The room wavers around him. 

“Key,” he chokes out dumbly in a whisper. “Right, I— right.”

He turns on his heel and crosses stiffly to the box on the wall. His hands are shaky when he opens the hinge, fingers brushing over the small selection of keys dangling inside. For a horrified moment, he catches himself wondering what other inhumane devices these could possibly go to. He doesn’t allow himself to linger on the thought. It won’t be helpful here.

The smallest key catches his eye, looking to be the most likely to fit the lock. 

“Is it alright if I—?” He turns back with the intention of seeking his consent, but he finds that the boy has already lowered his head to allow him easier access to the lock. “Okay,” he says quietly, mostly to himself. 

Sebastian works as quickly as his nervous fingers will allow and feels a tangible weight lift from his chest as the lock releases. 

“There,” he says, stepping back immediately once the intrusion has been removed. He tosses it into the sink basin in the corner, not wanting to look at it for a moment longer, as he is sure his patient would agree. “Better?”

The patient waits a moment before raising his head again. “Th...thank you.” He murmurs without meeting his eyes. His voice is low and brittle and nearly knocks something loose inside Sebastian’s chest. 

A slow trickle of blood swells out from his bottom lip, the bit from the gag almost definitely having irritated whatever injury had already been put there. For half a second, Sebastian wonders why he doesn’t reach up and wipe it away, and then he realizes—

“Shit! Your hands.” He’s back at the box before he can spare another thought, sifting through the row of seemingly identical keys. He doesn’t really allow himself time to consider the possible reasons why he shouldn’t be removing the restraints, including but not limited to breaking protocol on his first day off probation and having no actual idea if this person was a physical threat to him or not. All he knows for sure is the visceral feeling he gets in his gut every time he sees him bleeding and bound to a fucking table when he should be here to receive care.

“Sir?”

He whips around to find the boy watching him with naked apprehension, as if he isn’t sure he has clearance to have spoken. 

“Really, Sebastian is okay,” he reiterates. “Or Dr. Tate, if you want to be formal.” Of course he’s going to be formal. His entire existence is a series of formalities, meeting new strangers and having to pay them undue respect, and none of it has anything to do with what he wants.

Sebastian watches something flicker in his eyes, a momentary break in the solid wall before it closes up again. “Yes, Dr. Tate,” he says with an automatic obedience that flips Sebastian’s stomach. His lips part just slightly as if he is going to say something else, but instead he glances pointedly down toward one of his wrists. The way he holds it allows Sebastian to see the silver hook attaching him to the table with what looks to be a similar mechanism to a heavy-duty carabiner. 

Oh. There is no key for these. Just a simplified method that doesn’t allow the restrained person any access to release the clip. 

He wastes no time crossing back to him. “You’re not going to start swinging on me, are you?” Sebastian says, mostly as a joke to cut the tension, but it’s the wrong thing to say, and he knows it as soon as the boy’s eyes darken and fall away to his lap.

“No, S— Doctor Tate. S-sorry,” the boy stumbles through a rushed assurance, still not meeting his eyes. “I didn’t mean to— I… it wasn’t…” He seems to slow himself with considerable effort, forcing in a deep breath, then out again. “I’m sorry. I will not step out of line again,” he finishes in a quiet, frustrated tone of defeat. 

Sebastian is glad for the distraction of unbuckling his cuffs, which he goes straight to work on, because he’s not sure what to say to any of that. “Sorry,” he murmurs as he frees his left hand from the restraint. “I was only kidding.” 

Another thought pops into his head, and only just stops himself from saying, “Whatever happened, I’m sure those Handlers had it coming.”

Once he is freed, Sebastian tosses the cuffs onto the counter, eager to get them out of his hands. The patient wraps his arms around his middle as soon as he’s able to, keeping his shoulders drawn in even now that he has full mobility to sit up. Sebastian forces himself into clinical mode. He may feel out of his element here and his sense of morality may be steadily decaying in this place with each passing day, but he’s a good doctor. He knows he is. And he needs to remember that he is the one with any amount of power in this room, and he isn’t doing either of them any favors by floundering helplessly. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up before we do anything else,” he says decisively, turning with a bit more confidence in his step to wet some paper towels in the sink. 

“Thank you.” His patient accepts them with something like genuine gratitude, bringing the damp towel to his nose. It seems the bulk of the active bleeding has stopped, so they at least have that going for them. 

It takes a conscious effort to stop himself from staring as the boy cleans himself off with soft, calculated movements. Instead, Sebastian tears himself away to claim the stool in front of the monitor beside the bed. One quick scan of his key card gains him access to the patient intake home screen.

“So, um.” Sebastian clears his throat. “Let’s try that again, shall we? What can I call you?”

“110750, Domestic Services,” the answer comes automatically, as if he didn’t need to be in his own head to recite the words from memory. 

Wordlessly, Sebastian types the numbers into the system. A moment later, a digital chart appears in front of him, and he has to bite down on his cheek to keep from cursing. The photo in the top right corner is dated just over nine months ago, but the person in it looks… so fucking young.

He can’t help but toss a glance at the man on the bed he had just unshackled, gingerly wiping his injuries, and then back at the screen. Less than a year separated the two faces, and yet there was a world of difference etched into the space beneath his eyes, the posture of his spine and shoulders, the hollowness of his gaze. In the photo, he looks afraid. Here, in front of him though, he looks… dismantled.

Which is a horrible thing to think about someone, Sebastian scolds himself immediately. Had things gone differently in his own life and Sebastian himself had somehow landed in this boy’s position, he is quite sure he wouldn’t be handling it with an ounce of the composure most of these people seem to have. He doesn’t like to think about that. 

“Here you are,” he says mostly to fill the silence, nodding toward the screen. “Let’s see…” His eyes scan down the monitor until he sees the highlighted red portion at the bottom, which generally lists the reason for admittance. In his, he finds two lines he immediately wishes he could unread.

Domestic Return Intake Physical.

Comprehensive STI Panel.

As if the words themselves are not enough, it’s the small text inserted next to the second line — only the second line — that really delivers the blow. In barely-there letters next to a bold asterisk, it reads: 

RFR.

Sebastian has seen just enough during his probationary period, in the fleeting glances over Dr. Geer’s shoulder, to understand its meaning. 

Redact From Record.

Sebastian’s mouth feels dry around the swallow he attempts. Despite his best efforts, he’s sure his expression is not as impassive as he hopes. The screen is angled away from his patient, but if what they say about some Companions still losing their literacy during training is true, maybe that doesn’t matter. WRU claims that’s no longer a part of the training process since their rebranding, but as Sebastian is well aware, it wouldn’t be the first or most heinous lie they’ve told. Not by a long shot. 

With the words buzzing around like angry hornets in his skull, Sebastian forces himself to turn toward patient 110750. The blood has been mostly wiped from his face, leaving only trace amounts of pink-tinged skin in its wake, and he has pressed the paper towel into a soiled wad in his fist. 

He is watching Sebastian carefully, like he’s preparing himself for something. Or… like he’s preparing himself for anything, because of course he can’t know what to expect, only that he is helpless to prevent whatever comes. The haunting revelation tucked away inside his patient file is kerosene on the wildfire of Sebastian’s imagination, supplying him with a litany of past horrors that must be swimming behind those eyes to fill them with a dread so pure. 

He suddenly remembers the Handler’s words when they had dragged him in, and it makes more sense now. “Freaked the fuck out at strip and started throwing punches.”

Sebastian can imagine why. 

Overturning the Romantic division of WRU had been the largest, most public part of their new regime. It had come on the heels of several small pockets of the company being blown wide open to expose the outlawed buying, selling, and subsequent abuse of minors within the system. At that point, they’d been left with little choice but to make a big move to save face in whatever way they could. 

There had been liberators that moved in some of Sebastian’s (very small) circles in undergrad. He had heard their vocal disdain for the company’s half-hearted attempts. Sebastian had never once stood in defense of the system, but perhaps some small part of him had always hoped for a grain of truth in their promise to turn over a new leaf, if only for the poor people who are stuck inside of it. 

Now, there’s no shielding himself away from the truth that had always existed, and he felt like an idiot for ever believing their intentions could ever be anything but malicious. Divisions and legalities aside, the people here are given numbers instead of names and sworn to a secrecy disguised as confidentiality regarding the people who have unlimited access to them. They have no legal standing. They have no power. 

The word “Domestic” is etched into this boy’s designation line, but Sebastian knows that doesn’t mean shit. 

Now, Sebastian looks into his wide, guarded eyes and thinks about how his first task as a solo practitioner is going to be forcing this person to undergo a full panel of invasive testing. And he feels the first spark of what he’s sure will stoke a flame of the desire to see this place burn.

[www-artforoddballs]

Alright, so notice. Most of you probably know this, since you're following me for the Autistic Levi stuff (thank you, we're closing in on 100 followers!!!!), but people with autism can have "tantrums". I've kinda touched on this in a previous post (it's a full meltdown, but you can see that post here https://www-artforoddballs.tumblr.com/post/644803780958879744/autistic-levi-angstkinda-i-guess-this-is-him). For those of you who DON'T know, an autistic tantrum is not the same thing as what you'd think of in regards to a toddler or kid, it's just the word used for it. This is a mistake my mother and I made when getting the paperwork done while I was going through testing that later got cleared up lol

I had a tantrum yesterday, and so I figured that I could post about Leviathan having a tantrum, since it's still ready on my mind. I don't care if anyone else is proud of me for coping with it as well as I did, since it's a major improvement from last time I had one, but I am proud of myself!...with that in mind, here we go!!

There will be some angst in this post, like the last post in relation to this one, but like the last post, it turns out fine.

However.

Trigger warning for things such as self harm, both physical and verbal. If you or a loved one is self harming, either reach out to someone for help or reach out to that person to help, yeah?

OK on with the post.

-------------

First of all, Levi's autism is part of why his brothers always agree to help when there's a raffle for tickets or something like that on the DDD messages, because he can get overwhelmed if they don't at least help, even if he doesn't win in the end.

They figured out that his autism was the culprit for this shortly after his diagnosis.

Now when I'm writing for Levi, I like to think that his diagnosis was around the early 1990s since, while autism was a separate diagnosis in 1980, it didn't really start becoming fairly accepted and expanded upon until 1987. Hence why everyone is mostly used to it by now, but are still sometimes off put by his odd behavior; for them, as beings that have been around since...the beginning of the universe, pretty much as far as we know, but for at LEAST since humans were around (so at VERY least 2.5 million years now, but potentially up to around 7 million years (if they haven't been around since the beginning of creation)), this would be like...I dunno, give me a second.

Waiting

Waiting...

Okay, so from 1990(earliest year I have in mind) to 2019 (the year it was released) is 29 years. That's a minimum of 1/86,206.89th of their lifespan, and a maximum of 1/475,862,068.96th of their total lifetime.

So this is a VERY recent development for them on the grand scheme of things, but I digress.

So they're still figuring everything out, especially as the human race continues to learn about the condition itself.

So the first time Levi threw a tantrum and they recognized it for what it was...it was certainly interesting.

What had happened was exactly the situation described; Levi had wanted to go to a concert in the human world and they were raffling off free tickets. Except, unlike now, his brothers hadn't offered their support. They hadn't in the past, why would this time be any different?

Except now they viewed it through a different light. Leviathan had an image in his head that he desired so badly and had asked his brothers to support him, hopeful, only to be rejected at every turn. That he was used to, but it was still upsetting.

He put that to the side, though. He really wanted to see this band, and these were VIP tickets where you got to hang out with the band for a few hours after the concert! They'd cost a LOT of human money, and while they COULD afford it, he knew Lucifer would be bringing hell down upon him if he used that amount of family funds on a concert. And his anxiety was already somewhat raised, so he decided to enter the raffle on his own.

He sat there for hours, waiting for the results to come in. He'd hyped this up in his brain the entire time; He'd win, go to an amazing concert, have dinner with the band, maybe even make some friends....!...and then the results came back. He hadn't won.

As per usual, our snek boi went into one of his rants about how unfair it was, but instead of going on a rampage or something like that, locked himself up in his room and cried, hating himself for getting so excited over nothing.

As I mentioned before, I've made another post about a tantrum/getting too overwhelmed slipping into something even more dire, as that's almost always what happens to me. This would be in the 90s, so this would be their first real incident with one of these moments where they had the proper diagnosis, so bear with me, there will be some angst here, but like the other post, it'll be fine.

So Mammon ends up feeling bad for rejecting his little brother, and, not knowing it was too late, decided to go to his room and offer his support. It was almost Leviathan's birthday anyways, and Mammon knew how rejection felt and how much it sucked. So, he knocked on Leviathan's door.

No response. He knocked again...still no response, but a quiet sob.

Right away, Mammon switched from semi-carefree to worried. "Levi...?"

Again, no response. He decided to just go in and check on his brother...

The door was locked. And he smelled blood.

"Leviathan, I need you to open the door," Mammon said with a half hearted chuckle, his voice now becoming slightly strained. "Because if ya don't, I'm gonna have t' break the door down."

"Just go away!" Leviathan cried from inside his room. "Just leave me alone, you jerk!"

"I ain't goin' anywhere. Either open the door or I'm gonna break it down. Those are your two choices."

A moment of silence, before Mammon sighs, stretching, as he transforms into his demon form.

"Alright, option two it is."

He rammed into the door repeatedly, before the wood finally splintered and fell to the ground with a loud thud. Mammon quickly looked around, eyes widening as he saw Leviathan digging his own sharpened nails into his arms, multiple raked wounds, made by the same culprit, carved into his skin.

"Levi...look at ya..." Mammon said, voice faltering, tears welling up in his eyes. "I...how long has..."

"Just shut up! Don't act like you care about me, I'm the freak of our family, remember?! I'm the one whose brain isn't right, I'm just a shut-in, good for nothing, re-!"

He was quickly cut off by Mammon going to him and hugging him.

"I don't care who you are. You talk about my brother like that again and I'll kill you. Alright? You're a little off, but you ain't a freak, and your brain works just fine as is. You're perfect just the way you are, and if anybody else says any different, I'm gonna beat them the fuck up. Including you. Got that? So what if you've got that fancy lable on ya now...? Labels like that matter, but it didn't change ya. You're still my cringe, annoying as hell little weirdo of a brother...and I wouldn't have ya any other way."

Leviathan fully listened to Mammon talk, before clinging to him, breaking down sobbing again, and trying to explain what happened through his tears, the older demon gently rubbing his back and allowing him to cry it out, making sure no more harm was done.

A while later, once Levi had calmed down, Mammon ruffled his hair.

"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah? Lucifer is already gonna kill me for breaking your door, but he'd be even more pissed if I just left you here with those wounds."

So they did. And Mammon, after telling a VERY angry Lucifer what had happened hours later, had surprisingly NOT gotten chewed out by the eldest brother. Instead, that day, the entire family had a long discussion, and they all agreed that if it was something as small as entering a raffle, or even if it was bigger but not an inconvenience to anyone in the slightest, they'd all help out from then on. It's not like it was hard, and it would save Levi from hours of stress and negativity toward himself and others around him.

They also made a plan for if a tantrum were to happen while someone was around, or if he became too overwhelmed and started to spiral...because, as annoying as he could be, Leviathan was still family. And they loved him, oddities and all.

---------------

Alright, so...that was the post! I hope it was okay. I know I've written about this type of thing before a little, but different situations can end up with the same negative outcome, like being in an overwhelming situation, or not being able to change your thinking and not easily being able to get over your expectations. I've personally suffered with both, and it's a regular thing for me, so I like writing about it, because maybe, just maybe, it'll help someone out, or help someone that isn't autistic understand a friend or relative or classmate or employee better. And I love these characters, I really do. The only ironic thing is that I see so much of myself in Leviathan, but I adore him and despise myself. Go figure 😂

Regardless, I hope you enjoyed, and if there's anything you guys have questions about (in regards to me and my experience), or any specific writing requests, asks are fully open!

Thanks so much for being here to support me, you have no idea how much it means to a little oddball such as myself.

[ardenttheories]

A genuine question I mean absolutely no harm with, please don't hate me: is it so wrong to have trans characters be bad people? I get wanting to have good rep (speaking as an enby) but not all trans men are UwU soft bois. Or is this more of a case of "they're the only rep we've got so them being bad people brings real trans people into a negative light as well"? Again, there's no malice or ill will behind my asking, I'm just still a baby when it comes to these things.

It’s okay! I’m more than happy to answer a question like this - I’m by no degree upset, mad, etc... at all. 

Having trans characters that are bad people isn’t inherently bad, no; wanting good rep is great, and it’s always nice to have a hero be trans, but it doesn’t necessarily mean having them be perfect. You still want them to be human - to fuck up, to make mistakes, to have feelings and emotions and motivations, even those that are questionable - and you still want them to be 3 dimensional enough to be interesting. So having them be bad people? That’s engaging! 

For instance, Vriska could be decent trans rep. Yeah, she does a lot of absolutely awful shit, and she is genuinely a terrible person; but her reasons behind it, the moments when she is genuinely nice, how she feels about people and about herself - they even her out and make her more believable as a person and more interesting as a character. Like, you can’t deny that Vriska is a victim on her society to some degree - but you also can’t deny that she thrives in that society as well. 

That’s not the inherent problem with her. She still has experience that transwomen associate with, and a lot of her past - especially in Pesterquest - can absolutely hit home with transwomen. Even her actions and maneurisms can make her amazing rep for transwomen, regardless of how good or bad she is as a person. 

The actual issue is how the writers treat her, and how they use her being trans to erase all her wrongs. To them - especially to Kate - Vriska being trans excludes her from taking any and all blame for the horrible things she’s done. She’s trans, so she can get away with paralysing one kid, blinding another, and outright killing a third. In this light, she represents every anti-transfem sentiment and stereotype I’ve ever seen. That is NOT the sort of representation we want. This isn’t what we want to be associated with; this supposition that abusive trans people don’t exist, simply because they’re trans and apparently free of blame.

It’s also a tiny bit suspect to me that, out of every character they could have canonised on the main cast first, they went with the one that people are abuse apologists the most for. 

On the other spectrum of things, it’s very much the latter point you gave; that we don’t want all of our trans rep to be negative, and so far, that’s... all we really have. It’s either that, or trans people so badly written that they just don’t come across as trans or could be read as absolute stereotypes (such as Roxy, who is just badly written transmasc, and Lanque, which I’ve gone over before having my own issues with). 

If they made Dirk trans on top of that, we’d have an actual, outright villain who’s gone back to toxic abusive behaviour as our transmasc rep. As much as I’d love Dirk to be transmasc, I don’t want him to be transmasc now. If the other trans rep we had was better then I’d likely be happier with it, but at the moment we’ve got no genuine, actual, acceptable representation that doesn’t make me internally cringe or infuriate me to some degree. 

Trans characters can be bad people, but if you only ever portray them as bad people - and rely on stereotypes or struggle to write them well when they’re not bad - then that’s when we get an issue. 

If you only ever canonise the bad people as trans, that’s also a huge issue. You’re indirectly saying that you could only ever see trans people as bad, abusive, and toxic. 

Characters in representation don’t specifically need to be good people, but you desperately want to avoid falling into stereotypes that could harm the groups you’re trying to represent . You desperately want to avoid putting characters into boxes of “interesting but horrid” and “boring but good”. 

[gwenbrightly]

Redwall Falls Chapter 2

“He’s looking at me...” Brome heard his sister whisper to herself. She was not so inconspicuously watching Martin, one of the Mystery Shack’s teenaged employees, while she cleaned bobbleheads made in the image of their Great Aunt (or Graunt) Polly. The siblings had been put to work helping out around the tourist trap as soon as they’d had some time to settle in.

“Why don’t you just, I don’t know, talk to him?” he suggested with an eye roll. Rose stared at him.

“After what happened last time?” she cringed. Yesterday, when they’d met him (and the handy-squirrel known as Feldoh), the mouse had introduced himself before saying something about a “rosty nose”, which had taken several minutes to decipher. Brome still wasn’t sure what that was about, but it had definitely been awkward.

“Well, he’s proven that he can speak coherently,” Brome observed, nodding his head at the customer Martin was currently ringing up, “so maybe this time you guys can make it through an entire conversation without crashing.”

“I... Don’t be so pushy, Brome. These things take time. And besides-” Rose’s protests were cut off by Graunt Polly’s appearance from the back room.

“All right, all right, look alive, everybeast. I need someone to go hang up these signs in the spooky part of the forest,” the mole announced, displaying several signs that had advertisements with question marks and directions to the Mystery Shack on them. Rose, Brome, Feldoh, and Martin all glanced at each other.

“Not it,” Rose said quickly.

“Not it,” Brome followed suit.

“Also not it. You needed me to switch out the lightbulbs upstairs, remember?” It was Feldoh, this time. Graunt Polly looked annoyed.

“Martin, go hang these signs.” She ordered. “Oh, I would, but it’s so far. And I just realized I never had my lunch break so...”

“I’d fire all of you if I could,” Polly complained, frowning at Martin’s lame excuse. Her statement didn’t seem to have the desired effect, for she looked rather disappointed when no one took the hint and volunteered as tribute.

“Fine, then. Guess we’re gonna have to do this the old-fashioned way,” she said, “let’s make it.. Eanie, meanie, minie… you,” she pointed a paw at Brome. He groaned in dismay.

“What? No. Graunt Polly, there’s something off about these woods… they’re creepy and I always feel like I’m being watched.”

“Noonvale doesn’t have much in the way of real forests, Brome. It’s gonna take some time for you to adjust to, well, the great outdoors,” Polly told him, giving his headfur a ruffle. He looked to Rose for backup, but she didn’t offer anything.

“I’m telling you – there’s something weird going on in this town. Homesickness can’t explain why the mosquito bites on my arm spell out ‘beware’.” Brome pointed out, rolling up his sleeve to show the others. Feldoh made a gagging noise. Rose raised an eyebrow and said,

“It looks more like ‘bewarb’ to me, and that’s really only if you squint.”

“Look, kid, that whole ‘monsters in the woods’ thing is just a local legend drummed up to attract more tourists,” Polly tried to assure him, but Brome wasn’t convinced. He had only been in Gravity falls for a day and he’d already seen bizarre glowing lights, heard strange noises, and been accosted by possibly radioactive mosquitos.

“But...” he protested as Graunt Polly plopped the signs into his reluctantly waiting arms.

“Stop being so paranoid and try to have some fun with this, eh, Brome?”

_______________

“No one believes anything I say,” Brome muttered to himself as he nailed a sign to a tree. It felt like he had been out in the forest for hours. All by himself. With no one to talk (complain) to. Was it even legal to send children out into the forest to perform manual labor without supervision? He’d have to check the local child labor laws once he got access to wifi – yet another thing the Mystery Shack seemed to be lacking in.

“Ugh!” he cried. “Stupid Mystery Shack! Stupid signs!”

Kathunk! Brome kicked the next tree he came to and immediately recoiled. He yelped in pain, then cocked his head. Trees didn’t make weird echoey noises… did they?

“Weird…” he commented, dropping the remaining sign on the ground so he could investigate further. Rapping gently on the tree – he didn’t want to hurt himself – Brome listened to the oddly metallic sound the tree made on impact. Something was definitely off about it. He took the sleeve of his sweatshirt and rubbed away at the trunk. Textured brown paint and a healthy coating of dirt and grime gave way to old metal. Ahah! The entire tree was fake. In full detective mode, now, Brome examined the tree until he spotted a small handle.

With slight apprehension, for there was always a chance his actions would activate an army of laser equipped robots, he grasped the lever with both paws and yanked it down. Nothing happened. No grand reveal. No explosion. Just the sound of birds chirping in the distance.

The young mouse huffed in disappointment and turned to leave, wishing he hadn’t gotten his hopes up. All his Sci-Fi TV shows and books had lied to him. Cool things never happened in real life. The world just didn’t work that way. But then, the creaking of a rusty hatch forcing its way open somewhere nearby caused him to stop in his tracks.

Brome circled the area, searching for the source of the sound. The switch must have done something, after all. He checked every nook and cranny, below each bush and on top of every rock and stump. His query remained elusive. Whatever the lever had opened was clearly well hidden.  Brome took a step backwards, hoping the action would give him a different view of this patch of forest.

In a way, he got exactly what he wanted; the fallen tree he tripped over certainly forced him to see the area from a different angle. But the unexpected fall wasn’t very pleasant and Brome couldn’t help but wonder how badly he’d have to hurt himself before his parents would let him come home. He lay on the ground for a moment, half tempted to sink into the dirt and become one with nature. Thankfully, such drastic actions did not end up being necessary.

It was no wonder Brome hadn’t noticed the bizarre hole the switch had uncovered. Half buried by the log and built from camouflaged materials, he would have missed it completely if not for the fact that he’d practically fallen right on top of it. He sat up, thoughtfully. Whoever had installed this hidden treasure trove obviously hadn’t wanted anyone to find it. How long had it been since someone sat where he now sat? Since somebeast had peered into the hole to examine its secrets? Brome gently removed an object wrapped in old newspapers, bursting into a fit of sneezes at the resulting cloud of dust that had floated into the air.

It was old. Old-old, as in more than just a few years old. The newspapers were from several decades ago. Their edges had curled with age, and some of the lettering was too faded to be legible. Fortunately, Brome had little interest in the newspaper; the item it protected was far more intriguing. A journal. And journals always had juicy secrets written in them – he’d learned that from snooping in Rose’s bedroom (though this journal would inevitably be much more interesting than his sister’s diary).

The journal’s design was simple enough. It was made of thick brown leather with the insignia of a paw print on the front cover. Brome wasn’t sure what kind of creature would have an entire extra toe. He also wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. What if the journal contained something bad? Something he wasn’t supposed to see?

It must have been hidden for a reason, after all. The young mouse sat for a moment, pondering his options. He could, of course, bury the journal and get back to work hanging Graunt Polly’s signs. He could also take his chances and open the book regardless of ancient curses or government Intel. It was a difficult choice.

“Alright, mystery beast. Let’s see what you’ve been hiding,” Brome muttered when his curiosity finally got the better of him. He hummed thoughtfully and flipped through the first few pages. They were covered with sketches of creatures he had never seen before. Detailed notes and memos accompanied many of the sketches.

“It's hard to believe it's been six years since I began studying the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls,” he read aloud from the page that had the most writing. Six years was a long time to be stuck in this place. The author must have had an awful lot of spare time on their paws to create such an elaborate journal. Flipping through the journal some more, Brome found himself growing more intrigued with each page he read.

Eventually, the writing and sketches grew increasingly erratic and less caretakingly organized. Notes that made no sense lined the margins in some places. One page in particular had the words Trust No One scrawled across its top in large lettering. Brome read the rest of the entry with bated breath, “Unfortunately, my suspicions have been confirmed. I'm being watched. I must hide this book before he finds it. Remember: in Gravity Falls there is no one you can trust." He paused, confused. That seemed… harsh. But if Gravity Falls really did have a dark side-

“Watcha doin?” someone said, sending Brome into a frenzied attempt to hide the journal behind his back. He groaned when he realized who it was. His sister gave him an awkward wave.

“Rose! Thanks for that. I really needed a heart attack today,” he stated flatly.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Rose told him, sitting down on the fallen tree, “Graunt Polly sent me to check on you.”

“Oh,” he said. He felt a little foolish for being so easily shaken. The journal’s tone was clearly getting to him.

“So… what were you reading that you didn’t notice me coming your way?” she asked.

“It’s nothing,” Brome said quickly. Rose hummed in response, clearly skeptical.

“Seems like pretty interesting nothingness. You were really invested in it.”

“Well… it’s not nothing nothing,” he admitted, “Just not something I should show you out here where anyone could happen to walk by. Let’s go somewhere more… private.”

“Alright. But now I’m curious. This better not be evidence of aliens, or I’m going to be very insulted that you didn’t show me right away,” Rose teased, ruffling his head fur. Brome winked at her and stood up. He waved the journal at her before taking off in the direction of the Mystery Shack as he said,

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

After all, surely the book journal hadn’t meant sisters when it said trust no one… right?

[maxbegone]

IT’S FINALLY HERE!

In an effort to spread some love to the fanfic authors in the Schitt’s Creek community, this post is a compiling of some of our favorite fics! Thank you to every single person who decided to participate in this dedication of love! And to the fanfic authors out there - thank you for being so wonderful and sharing your stories with us! Here’s to many more countless hours of reading - day or night! 

There are repeats! I understand that may seem a little redundant, but I wanted everyone who participated to share their favorite fics regardless of repetition, author, pairing, AU, size, etcetera. 

A very special thanks to everyone who participated! 

@bestwisheswarmestregards // @brighter-than-sunshine  // @danieljradcliffe @darnitdraco  // @imargaery  // @justwaiting23  // @leopxld-fitz // @lickrustdavid // @loveburnsbrighter // @oceanavinfinity @poorguysheadcanon​ // @ratchet // @roguebabyinyourstore @stuck-on-your-heart // @thisbuildinghasfeelings​ // @vulcantastic​ @wlwbaudelaire​

I’m going to go ahead and put everything under the cut, because this should be quite a long post! 

**If there are authors on tumblr whose handles were not properly added, please send me a message!

@bestwisheswarmestregards​

Fic 1: Ace Of Hearts by loveisallyouneed21

Why I like it: It is just really sweet and made me really happy. Plus I like seeing Patrick as an asexual being one myself. I don’t see a lot of ace characters in the media so seeing someone portray Patrick, a character I love, as one makes me really happy. 

Fic 2: An Unexpected Arrival by @justwaiting23​ 

Why I like it: It was one of the first fics I read in this fandom and I fell in love with it. Plus the Brewers are in it and I love anything with the Brewers. 

Fic 3: Hammock by @maxbegone​ 

Why I like it: This fic makes me so fluffy inside. Early morning and snuggles are one of the best combinations. 

@brighter-than-sunshine​

Fic 1: Your Wings Prepare To Fly by @icmezzo 

Why I like it: I’m not the biggest fans of AUs/ Fantasy takes on fics, but the characterization of David and Patrick is so good here. It’s such a beautifully written fic, and I just couldn’t get enough of it when I first read it! A definite reread.

Fic 2: Today and All the Days that Follow by @unfolded73​

Why I like it: This one is one of my all-time favorites, because it explores so many of the relationships between all the characters… I especially love the bits including Stevie and Alexis. 

Fic 3: Little Reminders of our Love by @justwaiting23​

Why I like it: The whole idea of David and Patrick leaving each other notes was too adorable not to recommend this fic!

@danieljradcliffe​

Fic 1: Watching Through Windows by @helvetica-upstart​

Why I like it: Some fandoms have those fics that just inevitably change the game and define what fanfiction can be and for me, this is that fic for Schitt's Creek. It is a staple that everyone's read and continues to talk about and recommend a year after it was published; I'm sure we will continue to talk about it for years to come and to recommend it as new folks come into the fandom.

Fic 2: Until Now Gives Way to Then by swat117 

Why I like it: I just read this one-shot recently thanks to your (feel free to edit this how you need for your post) recommendation of their other fic, 'Exposed Brick.' This is a fic that (for me) completely captures why David and Patrick fit and work so well together and how their pasts have made it possible for them to be who they are as a couple in SC. I haven't read another fic that resonated with my own interpretation and appreciation of their relationship as much as this one. This author truly and completely sees them for all that they are.

Fic 3:  Red White and Blue Jays by @grapehyasynth​  

Why I like it: I saw this fic published earlier this year and wanted to read it so badly but figured I should read the source material (Red, White, & Royal Blue) first so I did and absolutely fell in love with that book (who wouldn't?). I attribute this fic for inspiring me to read Casey McQuiston's book and so when I went to finally read it, I had extremely high expectations and even still, this fic exceeded them. The author does an amazing job of incorporating aspects of the original book (RWRB) while keeping the story true to the characters and relationships we know and love in Schitt's Creek. I read the entire fic in one sitting and then instantly, read it again. It is laugh out loud funny while being romantic as hell and keeps David and Patrick incredibly in-character throughout.

@darnitdraco​

Fic 1: Red White And Blue Jays by @grapehyasynth​

Why I like it: this fic is the reason I bought Red White and Royal Blue. Going into the fic, I didn’t know what the book was about so it was all new to me but it was great nevertheless. Now that im almost finished with the book, I love this fic even more. I know its an AU but I think the characters are written well and I pretty much love any fic when Rachel isn’t made out to be the bad guy. Its 13 chapters and I will 100% be rereading it after I finish the book. 

Fic 2: Nothing Burns Like The Cold by @wildxwired​

Why I like it: This is a one shot and definitely Patrick Centric. I thrive on Angst and Hurt/Comfort. I personally feel like it is Patrick coming to terms with a things he didn’t have control over and him getting closure on things of the past. I don’t want to give away too much of the plot but please read this guys!! 

Fic 3: sometimes good things fall apart by @blueink3 

Why I like it: I have reread this multiple times and it gets better each time. Its only 4 chapters but it isn’t rushed. As I said above, I THRIVE on angst and hurt/comfort. This has both, AND protective Patrick. It is a spin on what could’ve happened after the barbecue and it has a happy ending so don’t worry.

@imargaery​

Fic 1: Dodgeball is f*cking stupid by alldaydream

Why I like it: This is a one-chapter piece that comes in just under 6k and yet the author manages to build a super rich AU experience and tell a complete story that is at once heart-wrenching, sweet, sexy, and thematic. If you want angst that doesn’t last too long, that leaves you feeling warm and fuzzy, this is the one-shot for you. I go back to it as much as I go back to some of my favorite D&P scenes from the show.

Fic 2: if not for you by goingmywaydoll

Why I like it: When it comes to fanfiction about our boys, there’s almost nothing I love more than a high school AU. This is that. But it’s also a ROAD TRIP. What better scenario is there for a slow burn, mutual pining, dialogue heavy love story with plenty of bed sharing and nobody bothering them?

Fic 3: Beneath the Winter Snow by Distractivate

Why I like it: Can you tell I love a good AU? This one’s about the Olympics and it imagines a world in which Patrick and David have already fallen in love, had a relationship, and have broken up. This is a story about them finding their way back to each other--which isn’t hard because they have to be around each other all the time and work through their issues. It’s written with grace and thoughtfulness, and walking with Patrick and David as they learn to communicate with one another and work on healing makes the reunion that much more satisfying.

@justwaiting23​

Fic 1: hit me with your best shot by @ignisgayentia​

Why I like it: This is a bit of a random one but it has stuck with me ever since I read it. It’s a short little AU about David and Patrick meeting at a baseball game where Patrick is one of the players. It’s really sweet and does such a great job of keeping the voices in character, especially with the flirty teasing and awkwardness and is one of those fics I go back to over and over again.

Fic 2: Spills & Thrills by storieswelove

Why I like it: This is one in a series of ‘Meet-Uglies’ that the author has written which I adore but it’s my favourite one out of them. It has the perfect mix of awkward interactions which make you cringe and also really sweet and fond moments between the two of them.

Fic 3: You Can Plan on Me by odofidi

Why I like it: This is a sweet little piece of marital fluff about the first Christmas after the wedding. It fits exactly with my idea about what married life would be like for them and is really sweet, plus I always love it when the Brewers are able to see Patrick so genuinely in love with someone like that so it’s definitely one of my very favourites.

@leopxld-fitz​

Fic 1: best wishes, warmest regards (sent with confetti effect) by reymonova (costiellie)

Why I like it: This fic is just pure fun. The character voices are always perfect, and it’s such a nice addition to the series. This story is full of incredible one-liners and I think about “th*nk y*u” at least once a week. A must-read for anyone who loves a good Stevie-David friendship moment. 

Fic 2: Going Down by @concannonfodder​

Why I like it: This is a perfect AU. Rich David? Check. New York? Check. Patrick’s gay awakening? Check, check, check. This fic feels as real and in-character as any canon events of the show, and the author does an incredible job at lining up a love story for the ages all over again under completely different pretenses. Plus, who doesn’t love a “stuck in an elevator” trope? I would watch 10 movies based off of this.

Fic 3: I’ve Never Liked A Smile As Much As I Like Yours by hagface

Why you like it: I live for college AU’s, and this one doesn’t disappoint. I love how the author repositioned characters and events for a new setting, and David as a picky art major is all I ever could have hoped for. Character interactions are pitch perfect and there’s a true “paint me like one of your french girls” pining moment that was truly glorious. A great read!!

@lickrustdavid​

Fic 1: Tonight I’ll Drift in A Dream With You by torakowalski 

Why I like it: It’s rare to find such a well-written fic with a great family dynamic that makes you feel like you’re almost just reading a script for the actual show instead of an idea. There’s something soft and comforting about reading cohabitation with Alexis and David and Patrick doing there own things on separate sides of the motel room. 

Fic 2: A Week with the Brewers by @justwaiting23​ 

Why I like it: The dynamic with David and the Brewer’s is genuinely authentic and it’s made me flash back to some of my own experiences with partners parents. The fact that Patrick’s totally willing to have sex while his parents are there while David is mortified at the idea is also great and realistic. I feel like this fic also shows how partners grow and learn to communicate with one another and trust them. 

Fic 3: Welcome to Cabaret by @vivianblakesunrisebay​

Why you like it: The concept of David being more included in the whole Cabaret experience was something I definitely appreciated, since during the show I was kind of bummed with the lack of him. Stevie is wonderfully written in my opinion, and I really liked Patrick going on dates with the choreographer and watching David figure out how to cope. 

@loveburnsbrighter​

Fic 1: Small Projects by GCLane

Why I like it: My ultimate comfort fic.  Soft relationship feels and loving, passionate discussion of fiber arts, plus nuanced discussion of coming out and fitting in and what it means to be queer.  Also David trying new things and doing his best, which is also fun (he learns to knit!)

Fic 2: You and Me and This Temptation by @leupagus​

Why I like it: Another comfort fic!  Musician Patrick/manager David.  It's funny asf and super sweet at the same time.  Plus it does justice by Rachel, and made me totally love her.  Also, I was never sold on AUs of any kind and this is the fic that converted me.  I re-read it when I need cheering up and it never fails.

Fic 3: The Moment I Touched Down by rockinhamburger

Why you like it: Patrick learning about David's past and being the sweetest most sympathetic bean :(. This one is full of tragic backstory and good emotional hurt/comfort.  Super cathartic to read, and it makes me want to wrap David and Patrick both in big hugs and protect them from the world.

@maxbegone​

Fic 1: my heart was broke, my head was sore by @blueink3

Why I like it: This was the first fic I read since coming into the fandom. It’s canon-divergent, which, as it turns out, I kind of love. It’s so beautifully-written; a story about David meeting the Brewers much sooner than he anticipated, under unforeseen circumstances that take Patrick back to his hometown - and David is right along with him. And just like in every universe, Marcy Brewer is an angel.

Fic 2: Cleanser by @cypress-tree​

Why I like it: Hello and welcome to my comfort fic! This is just the most soothing story. It’s my wind-down fic, and every single time I read it, it makes me want to do my own in-depth skincare routine (that I already do morning and night). But it’s not just about that - it’s about Patrick taking a look at his identity as well. It’s all so tender and sweet, and so intimate in its own lovely way. David pampers Patrick a little bit and shows him that “femininity” and “masculinity” do not have rigid divides. And the first time I read this, I was wearing a mask from LUSH.

Fic 3: keep my spirit strong, you do by fishypots

Why you like it: Content warning; eating disorders, food issues. This hit me square in the chest. It resonated with me in a way I knew it would but struck so much more within me. By the end of it, I was smiling because of how represented I felt. I know this is a difficult topic for some, but I needed to share this fic. As someone with dysmorphia and struggles with disordered eating, it was such a comfort to read about David, who is a character so vulnerable and his partner who doesn’t pester him with questions. Instead he listens, he does a little research (it’s Patrick, of course he does), and remains by him. It’s all written so realistically and tenderly, and without any jabs or awkward nods toward body image. This will forever be at the top of my list.

@oceanavinfinity​

Fic 1: I Carry These Heart-Shapes Only to You by ladyflowdi, ships_to_sail

Why I like it: It is a work-in-progress au set in Paris during WWII. Patrick is a soldier on leave, and David is a gallerist who sailed to France to help Alexis (as usual). The characters are so, so true to canon, and the world building of Paris in that era will whisk you away from your current place. I love it.

@poorguysheadcanon​

Fic 1: bright lights by falconeggs (series)

Why I like it: my favorite schitts creek fic is definitely the series “bright lights” on ao3!

@ratchet​

Fic 1: In the Temple of Artemis by MoreHuman 

Why I like it: This story has Stevie exploring (with some help) the identifier of Aromantic after navigating what she thought were her romantic feelings for David. Really sensitively written, with a scene that almost perfectly puts into words my feelings about David & Stevie’s soulmate-esque relationship.

Fic 2: David Rose, Your Husband Is At Guest Services by @patricksdavid​ 

Why I like it: Husbands! At Costco! Giant muffins and comically large bags of doritos! 2071 words of pure domestic fluff! What more could you ask for?!

Fic 3: Fifteen Hundred Miles by MoreHuman 

Why I like it: Okay so. This is very new as part of the Reel Fic Fest, but I needed to include it. I love Wild, both the book & movie, and I am very much a “deal with my problems by hiking/biking in the forest” so this spoke to me immediately. Patrick and David meet as strangers hiking 1500 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail. There’s nature, pining in nature, tent shenanigans, tent emergencies! Stevie being an excellent friend from afar, a cribbage board, journaling, secret trail register entries, David in flannel, and an ever-present toque. It’s just a really satisfying and calming 30k words with literally 2 characters. I read it twice in 12 hours.

@roguebabyinyourstore​

Fic 1: Fifteen Hundred Miles by MoreHuman 

Why I like it:​ I like a good AU as much as the next person, but this one is just STUNNING. The descriptions of the pain and struggle endured by both men, both physical and emotional, was vibrantly visceral. David and Patrick’s relationship bloomed organically and you are hooked on their journey through the wilderness as they grow closer and eventually fall in love. Plus it’s Patrick’s POV. What’s not to love?

Fic 2: Getting Over Getting Older All The Time by Distractivate  

Why I like it:​ You’ve heard of slow burn? Well meet glacial burn. This masterpiece takes us through 10 years of friendship, of missed opportunities, of pining and heartbreak. But most importantly it shows what we all knew - David and Patrick will find their way to each other regardless of time and distance. Also Patrick’s POV, I sort of love Patrick Brewer.

Fic 3: You Could Be The One by bigficenergy 

Why I like it: ​I have a soft spot for early relationship David and Patrick. But almost no fic does it quite like this. This fic highlights points from our boys’ developing relationship scored by the incomparable Carly Rae Jepsen. This fic is so true to the characters, their voices and their story, that it’s all one giant headcanon for me. This fic is part 1 of a larger series and I highly recommend all of them.

@stuck-on-your-heart​

Fic 1: a kiss from a rose by mihaly ( @davidroseshusband​ )

Why I like it: This was the first multi-chapter fic I read when I joined the sc fandom, and I hadn’t read fic of any kind in over a year. It’s a brilliant story where Alexis stars in a reality-dating show. All the characters are portrayed so perfectly in this fic, and you can hear their voices in every piece of dialogue. It’s sweet, it’s hot, it’s everything you could want in an AU. This story helped me fall in love with fic again so it has a very special place in my heart. 

Fic 2: Rose’s Eleven by leupagus

Why I love it: This story honestly feels like a movie. I know the concept is based on a film franchise, but the writing in this fic is truly exquisite. It’s so complex and gripping, and there’s a heist which is always a good time. Despite the very different world these characters are in, they are still true to themselves, so it’s very exciting to see how they interact with one another in this universe. This is such a fun read from start to finish and just thinking about it makes me want to go back and read it again.

Fic 3: Simply the Vest by orphan_account

Why I love it: If you couldn’t tell, I’m obsessed with AUs. This fic is such a satisfying AU because it incorporates several tropes that we all know and love. In this story, Patrick is an FBI agent, and he has to go undercover as David’s boyfriend. So right off the bat there’s fake dating! And then it has pining because our boys are dumb! AND THEN it has a little smut if that’s your cup of tea. And while all this is happening, Patrick is being capable and looks very dashing in his FBI vest.

@thisbuildinghasfeelings​

Fic 1: Happy to help by @vivianblakesunrisebay​

Why I like it: This was the first Schitt’s Creek fic I fell in love with when I started exploring what was out there after bingeing the show for the first time. It’s basically a deep dive into Patrick’s POV from Motel Review through Grad Night. It really helped me appreciate Patrick as a character when I was fairly new to the show. I think I formed a lot of head canon regarding Patrick’s life and backstory based on the things I enjoyed in this fic. And it’s just incredibly well written.

Fic 2: turn down the lights, turn down the bed by @hudders-and-hiddles​ ( @wild-aloof-rebel​ )

Why I like it: I love this take on David and Patrick remaining just business partners until Rock On. I can be a bit of a canon purist, so I’m really picky when it comes to AU fic. However, there are actually quite a few I enjoy in this fandom. My favorite thing about this one is that it has the exact right amount of angst, to the point where it’s almost physically painful, but in the best possible way. Especially because you know how it’s going to end. This is angst with a happy ending executed perfectly. And it’s so good that it holds up to multiple rereads.

Fic 3: my heart was broke, my head was sore by blueink3

Why I like it: Another canon divergent AU that I love. This one diverges from canon after Grad Night, at which point Patrick has to go home for a family emergency and David goes with him. What I really love about it is how it puts Patrick in a position to be truly vulnerable and gives David the opportunity to kind of be the strong one and really take care of Patrick. This is something we don’t get to see to this extent in canon until maybe Meet the Parents, so it’s nice seeing it here so early in their relationship. Also, it’s just so beautifully written.

@vulcantastic​

Fic 1: no other version of me i would rather be tonight by wardo_wedidit

Why I like it: I’ve always enjoyed the concept of love languages, and it was so sweet watching David do so much for Patrick to show he loves him. Of course, it stems from fear and anxiety that David isn’t doing enough for Patrick (especially with Alexis egging him on), which reads very realistically to me. I think we as the audience tend to forget that David  has never had anything like this before, has never experienced the love of someone like Patrick. He’s still learning how to accept that love and return it, in his own unique ways. This fic does a great job of examining that.

Fic 2: Exposed Brick by swat117

Why I like it: To me this is the perfect “Patrick and David visit New York” fic. Patrick is characterized so beautifully here; we not only see how he aims to please throughout his relationship with David but in his interactions with Rachel and his family as well. I imagine there was a lot left unsaid on the show regarding Patrick’s uneasiness about moving to New York and David’s ultimate decision to stay with him in Schitt’s Creek--this is explored wonderfully here. Plus, as a new New Yorker, it was really nice to read about all the iconic places in and around Manhattan.

Fic 3: we’ll take the world together by sonlali

Why I like it: I am a sucker for stories that examine David and Alexis’ relationship before the start of the show. This fic in particular is heart-wrenching, touching on the trauma both siblings likely experienced before we as viewers knew them. I love the idea of David as protector of his younger sister, and to see that sentiment returned by Alexis now that they have grown (physically and emotionally) while living in Schitt’s Creek is beautiful to read.

@wlwbaudelaire​

Fic 1: you’re my peace and my quiet by chocobos

Why I like it: This fic is just so soft and sweet and always puts me in a good mood whenever I reread it. It’s wonderfully written and I can truly see this as an actual scene in the show. 

Fic 2: Terrified But The Truth is This by ryry_peaches ( @loveburnsbrighter​ )

Why I like it: As someone who’s had a headcanon that David is autistic since I started watching the show, this was the first fic I saw pertaining to it. I was happy to see how well it was portrayed, especially giving how poorly I’ve seen fics portray autism in other fandoms, and it even made me see the episode “Girls' Night” in a completely different light. 

Fic 3: Putting Down Roots by @this-is-not-nothing​

Why I like it: Absolute domestic fluff is my jam and this fic delivers it and then some. It gives me everything I could want in a post-canon fic where David and Patrick are happily married and living in their cottage.

Again, thank you to everyone who made this post possible! I am so happy we were able to spread some love and cheer to the fic writers of this community! Sending so much love to each and every one of you, and I’m hoping this provides some new material for the community to discover as well! 

[sundaywonder]

the lost song : yoonmin

Getting ready to start fresh in life, physical education professor Park Jimin is just waiting to migrate to Australia with his daughter and girlfriend. Everything gets topsy-turvy when world-class music producer Min Yoongi—and also his secret ex-boyfriend—comes back home to South Korea to marry his it-girl fiancé. If that wasn’t bad enough for Jimin, Yoongi invites him to the wedding. It gets worse; it leaves him no choice but accept it to avoid spilling the beans.

Although the worst happened back then, it’s not enough for their forsaken what-ifs and unsaid feelings from making itself clear. The situation makes Jimin realize how jaded he was without Yoongi all the years they were apart—and vice versa. As they slowly pick up the broken pieces of the past, reality hits hard back at them again. There are two choices: to give up on love and live in the present or to run away and never look back.

Genre: Romance, Adult Fiction, Melodrama, Erotica

Fandom: BTS, BLACKPINK, Red Velvet, IU

Pairing: Suga & Jimin, Jimin & Rosé, Suga & Jennie, IU & Jungkook, Wendy & j-hope

Rating: M or R-18 — contains sensitive themes, strong language and graphic depiction of sexual activity

Status: Ongoing — 6/12

Link: Wattpad, ao3

Excerpt: The Flower Bloomed — 10 Years Ago

Yoongi, 20

I hurriedly go down the stairs while vigorously drying my head with a towel. I knew I would oversleep. Aside from being a deep sleeper, I’m also not used to waking up as early as 7 a.m. Nine is still pretty early if you’d ask me. The cool air last night made everything even worse. I shouldn’t have opened the windows.

Good thing my grandma heard Aunt Hyeja yelling outside our house. If she didn’t, I wouldn’t have even noticed that her and our other neighbors’ missed calls and text messages.

“Make sure none of the kids get injured, okay? We don’t have money for their hospital bills if ever,” reminds grandma as she followed me down. I don’t hear and comprehend what she said until five seconds later.

“Got it. Bye.” When I get out of our gate, I immediately see Aunt Hyeja who was waiting for me outside.

“We’ll get going, Auntie Dooshim!” exclaims Aunt Hyeja.

“Alright, have a safe trip!”

“I’m so sorry, Auntie. I really am.” She walks so briskly that I have a hard time catching up with her. Regardless, I feel like that’s how should it be; I must walk maybe two or three steps behind her after what I’ve done.

“Don’t think about it anymore. The kids are already in there. You know our numbers so contact us immediately if anything goes wrong. There’s a ton of food on the table so feed yourselves when you get hungry. Don’t leave at least one of them unattended. Never attend to the gate if it’s a stranger and refrain from telling them that an adult is not present—oh, how old are you again?”

“Twenty.”

“My bad. It slipped my mind that you’re already an adult. Anyway, did you understand everything clearly?” I just nod. Aunt Hyeja doesn’t seem to be mad but it’s fairly obvious that she’s already dying to leave. I discreetly peek at her watch which says 7:15 a.m. I can’t help but shake my head. I reminded myself endless times to do well in this babysitting gig but I still ended up ruining the first thing about it. There must be something really wrong with me.

After arriving in front of the home of my best friends, brothers Seokjin and Taehyung, she tells me, “Also, your Aunt Misun told me that Jimin won’t be able to attend the excursion because he’s sick. He’s going to be home alone today so I told him that he can contact you if he needs anything.”

I gulped as soon as I heard Jimin’s name and forced myself to act nonchalant. “W-what happened to him?” It was definitely hard to do so.

“He has fever,” she replied. “Don’t you guys get more written projects in lieu of not attending out-of-the-classroom activities?”

“Yes.”

“So, does it mean you like completing paperworks instead of attending trips and such?” I just let out a fake chuckle and nodded. I’m sure it wouldn’t sit with her when I say that I don’t like socializing and going to places with a lot of people. Aunt Hyeja is a social butterfly and—I don’t want to sound like I’m judging her (but maybe I am)—she’s not exactly the type of person to bother understand things deeper if it doesn’t concern her. Besides, it’s lengthy and we’re not that close for me to open up to her. An awkward giggle is probably better than an explanation.

The Kims already left when I entered and all the four kids were sleeping on the sofa in the living room, not even noticing my entrance. I decide to just sit on the floor and watch TV in low volume. My body is asking for me to sleep so badly that pinching myself isn’t working anymore. A faint regret is starting to form in my chest but I cut it out immediately.

After getting bored of the morning makjang drama that I forced myself to watch, I turn around to check on them. Jingoo—a cousin of Seokjin and Taehyung, as well as Namjoon who is also a cousin of the two—is already up but still lying on his stomach while silently watching the drama with me. Our eyes meet but he doesn’t say a word and just shifts his eyes back at the screen.

“Have you eaten breakfast yet?” I ask. Jingoo just nods. “What did you eat?”

“Seaweed rice balls and jeon.”

“Tell me when you’re hungry.” He just nods once again.

Our conversation awakens Taejoon, Chanbin and Yeongyu. Unlike Jingoo, they wanted to eat so I prepared the food that was left for us. Being alone with these kids who I barely know suddenly makes me feel weird for some reason. It’s probably because I don’t have any experience in babysitting. So far, it’s an alright deal. The money is good and you practically get paid to stay at home.

I leave them and go back to the living room, sitting beside Jingoo’s feet who hasn’t moved an inch ever since he woke up. “Where did they go?” He asks, not moving his eyes from the screen.

“A trip.”

“Event aunt and uncle? I thought it was a school trip.”

I let out a sigh and close my eyes. Some sort of hot energy constantly forms in my head the longer I talk to this kid.  “I don’t know why. Ask them when they come back later.”

It got rowdy when they started to play. This is way worse than I imagined. Toy cars and guns are all over the place and I need to remind them every two to three minutes that they shouldn’t be shooting bullets on the TV screen, as well as the vases and figurines. None of my words seem to get to their tiny heads.

I take back what I said. I don’t want to this ever again. I wasn’t like this when I was a kid. Even my friends. We weren’t anything like this. Not even close. We were well-liked by the neighborhood in general because of that.

Out of the blue, my phone suddenly vibrated. My heart almost dropped on the floor when I read Jimin’s name on the screen.

[JIMIN :)

1 NEW MESSAGE]

All of a sudden, my heart started to pound like it wanted to get out of my chest. I took a deep breath before flipping my phone and pressing View.

[JIMIN :)

Hey, can I go there? It’s getting a little boring here.]

[ME (draft)

Of course! Bring what you need!]

I delete it before I could even think twice. I cringed at what I just typed.

[ME (draft)

Okay, but it’s a little loud here]

Maybe not. He might end up not going if I say that.

[ME

Sure]

[JIMIN :)

I’ll bring ramen]

[ME (draft)

Okay]

I press the end call button and just fold my phone instead. I immediately go to the bathroom and wash my face with soap and water. I run my wet hands through my hair as well. Just as I got out, someone knocked on the door.

“Don’t shoot on anything!” I yell before walking out the door.

“Hey,” greets Jimin as soon as I open the gate. Unlike his usual self, the gloomy aura surrounding him can be clearly felt. His face and shoulders seem wretched as well.

“Are you alright? You look so pale.”

“Trying to be.”

“Stay in Seokjin’s or Taehyung’s room if you want to get some rest. It’s a little rowdy in the living room.”

“Thanks. I’ll go text him.”

As soon as I hear Seokjin’s bedroom door close, I make an announcement to the kids. “Jimin’s sick. Don’t make any loud noises from now on.” It did subside but only for a short while. “You kids, anyone who makes loud noises will not get to eat lunch.” They stop playing tok look at me with a weird expression on their faces, as if they’ve never heard someone say such a thing to them before. A hint of fear can also be seen. I fucked up again, didn’t I?

Unlike what I said, I started to prepare lunch when the clock hit noon. The kids gathered at the table and chowed down as soon as the food was ready. Meanwhile, I got my own food and ate in the living room.

[ME (draft)

Hey, lunch is ready. Can you go down here?]

[ME

Lunch is ready, feel free to eat here.]

[JIMIN :)

What’s for lunch?]

[ME

Pork belly, barbecue, dumplings, rice and kimchi]

[JIMIN :)

Damn, will go there ASAP]

I wipe the droplets of sweat on my forehead. My breath keeps on running as if they are trying to get away from something… or someone. I don’t know. I don’t even want to think about this. It only makes me go crazier and crazier. Even my well-trained emotional suppression skills are barely working. Helpless, hopeless—that’s what I am.

“Hey!”

“Shit!” I hold to my chest in shock and turn around. “I-it’s you.”

“Yes, it’s me. You okay? You’re deep in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice me pass in front of you,” asks Jimin.

I shake my head. “I just zoned out.”

“Shit!” Taejoon mimicks while the other three laugh.

“Shit!” Chanbin and Yeongyu repeat in unison which makes them laugh even harder.

“Are you kids an adult to say that?” I ask.

“Shit!” The three exclaim, not even bothering to answer me.

Suddenly, I hear Jimin giggle softly—making me look back at him. “So, you can already laugh. Feeling better now?”

He just nods with a faint smile and takes a spoonful of kimchi stew. “Mmm, delicious. Did you cook?”

“Nope, one their parents probably.”

Neither of us talked after that; I just pretended the focus on my food while his eyes wandered around the place. Even though it feels like I need to say something, not a single word’s coming to my mind. My mouth is left agape from the urge to speak but not knowing what to say. For some reason, it seems to me that he’s feeling the same way. But how can I know for sure?

The kids come back to the living room not long after they have finished eating. I couldn’t thank the heavens enough; this is the only time today that I’ve actually become happy about their presence. Before they can even settle on their seats, I stand up to play the first Disney DVD my hand landed on: The Incredibles.

Jimin passes behind me so I look at him. He’s bringing my dirty plate with him to the kitchen. “Hey, s-sorry. You didn’t have to.”

He looks back and says, “Huh?”

“The plate.”

“Psh. It’s nothing.”

I follow him to the sink where he’s silently washing the dishes. He almost looks like he’s zoned out and submerged in his deep thoughts.

“Hey!” I jokingly yell from his back.

“Sh—!” He accidentally loses his grip on the plate he’s holding. It falls back to the sink, causing a small chip on the edge. “Oh, no…”

“I’m so sorry,” I say as I try to catch my breath. The plate looks expensive with all those blue Chinese prints. It most definitely came from an expensive dinnerware collection and Mrs. Kim would kill me if she sees this. I might have to babysit for nine or ten more times just to pay for the damage.

“Don’t worry about it. It was an accident.”

“But it looks expensive!”

“I was the one who lost grip on it, what are you being so worried about?” Jimin says with a faint giggle. I’m not buying it; he doesn’t sound amused at all. “Also, wanna watch?” He nonchalantly asks.

“This?” I ask back, pointing at the TV.

He just shakes his head. “Seokjin has a big collection up there.” I just looked blankly at him, deliberately making it obvious that I need more details to get what he’s saying. “Sola Aoi, Asami Yuma, Haruna Hana and so much more. We have everything we need up there!” I feel my whole body suddenly heat up upon hearing what he just said and my legs seem like they want to give up on me. “Hey, you okay?”

“Th-the kids…”

He takes a peek at them. “They’re already asleep.”

I look back at the kids and close my eyes in panic. Images of him being half-naked while beating off instantly flash in my mind. I vigorously shake my head along those thoughts. I can’t count how many times I saw him naked in the past. We even used to take a bath together along with the other guys when were younger. But this time everything’s different, especially to me, and it sucks big time. “Okay, then…”

He opens the dish dryer and puts all the now-squeaky clean plates, glasses, spoons and forks. “Don’t be so nervous. They’ll probably stay asleep until twilight or something.”

“Maybe,” I replied to him even if his words just seemed to bounce against my head. Naked. Naked. Naked. My mind just doesn’t seem to get tired about this goddamn word and keeps asking for more. Now, even the way he looks and smiles at me is starting to mean something else.

Jimin grabs my arm and pulls me until we reach Seokjin’s room. Before I could even react, the door was already locked and his pants and underwear were on the floor. My manhood starts to throb and harden as soon as my eyes lands on his half-naked body. He’s grown much bigger and thicker ever since I last saw him. That was a few years ago—same situation as now but with Hoseok and Taehyung, minus the feelings. To stop myself from completely breaking down out of panic and ruining everything for good, including our friendship, I just turn my head at a random teddy bear on Seokjin’s bed.

I sit beside him on the carpet and before also taking off my short pants and underwear. A strange kind of electricity seemed to charge on my body when I saw him look at my manhood. His mouth slightly gaped but he immediately closed it and focused on operating the DVD player. Since the tapes weren’t labeled, we don’t know what those contained. Jimin chooses just whatever. The video begins, and we see Sola Aoi who was wearing a provocative nurse uniform enter the hospital room where the middle-aged male patient was in.

I lean on the bed to relax and force myself to focus on the film. Jimin’s already starting to touch himself. He looks back at me with an unexplainable expression in his eyes. It’s been a while since I did this with them but I’m sure we didn’t look at each other while beating off, or maybe I’m just forcing weird meanings. At this point, I can’t even trust myself anymore.

I couldn’t help but start to actually beat off as soon as Sola started to moan. All of us in our group likes her the most for how irresistible she sounds when she’s getting fucked. It makes the film feel like 5D.

The film already ended but neither of us reached climax yet. When I was almost there, I stopped. I don’t know why but I felt like I needed to do so. As I try to catch my breath, I watch him while he did his business.

To my surprise, Jimin also stops and joins me in leaning on the bed, panting hard. He looked at me straight in the eyes, then his gaze dropped on my lips. “They look dry…”

Before I even knew it, our lips were all over each other and his tongue has successfully penetrated my mouth. Jimin’s hands start to explore inside my shirt before pulling it off of me. He removes his own next. My hands are frozen on his groin in disbelief. Everything seems like a dream but all of these are a hundred percent real.

“Jimin…” I mindlessly say.

“Do whatever you want to do to me.” He grabs my hand and places it on top of his manhood. “Don’t hold back.”

I pull his head and kiss him hard before pushing him down. Only God and I know how much he looks good with nothing on but his golden rolo chain necklace. “As long as you let me, I won’t.”

—

If you’re reading until here, thank you so much! The Wattpad and ao3 links where you can read the whole story are available above.

[drunklander]

Submission:

Why Roger MacKenzie is the Worst an Analysis:

It all begins way back when in episode three of season four. I am going to give Roger the benefit of the doubt and ignore the fact he flew across the ocean to see a girl that maintained about 0.3 seconds of conversation with him in which she rolled her eyes like five consecutive times. Let us not forget he popped up for Christmas without actually being invited which is creepy in of itself. At this point, Roger was saved by the grace of his Scottish charm and lost puppy façade. An illusion which will dissipate the moment he is allowed to open his mouth for more than two consecutive seconds because everything that comes out of it is complete garbage. Oh, Roger. I had faith in you, I really did.

Do not get me wrong, I wanted to like him. I wanted to like him so badly I almost ended up making excuses for him because… Are you not supposed to like a male romantic lead? Disliking him as much as I do feels so counterintuitive, but he makes it so damn easy.

Back to episode three of season four. I will never forget the image of Brianna sitting on the floor half naked, hugging herself, and telling Roger that the situation “is perfect.” Oof, I try to put myself in her shoes and how embarrassing and awkward it might have felt. How off putting it is and how it almost borders a rejection. Regardless, let us say that Roger’s intentions were not to hurt her; he still took absolutely no regard of her feelings. This is something he systematically does, putting himself at the center of every situation with no afterthought of how the person by his side might interpret things. Roger’s character demands empathy but extends none. In fact, he is so narcissistically woven in his own delusions, that I do not think he is capable of seeing Brianna as a living, breathing human with thought and emotions of her own. Roger’s character does everything in its power to erase Brianna’s narrative. Sounds familiar? Aye, to me too. History repeats itself.

What is supposed to be a romantic moment, in my eyes, turns into a cringe-fest. Really, Roger, you could not have thought of better timing to present your stupid bracelet? I will not even begin to wonder how long Roger has fantasized about Brianna during their separation. It seems to me that he simply projects an idea of Brianna onto her, expecting her to uphold this impossible standard, and when she indeed fails, he gaslights her into feeling bad about it. This, my friends, is the epitome of a toxic relationship. So, Roger created this fantasy (or delusion) of a proposal to a twenty-year-old girl that would pass well. Once Brianna shattered this fantasy, as is expected given that she is A TWENTY-YEAR-OLD INEXPERIENCED GIRL, Roger, as a defense mechanism, begins to shame her. Brianna did not even state that she was not interested in marrying him ever, just not now. But for Roger, it is all about: “I want you to say yes.” The ‘I want…’ narrative is the driving force behind his character. As I said, everything is always about him. I am sure all of you have watched the episode and there is no need to repeat the atrocious UNWARRANTED slut shaming that occurs there. Honestly, it reminded me of those guys on Tinder that are like “wow you are so beautiful” and once they feel rejected it turns into “fuck you bitch I never wanted you anyways.” All Roger had to do was tip his fedora and be done with it. BUT IT DOESN’T END HERE. Wow, you know? I thought he would learn a thing or two from this. But no, apparently growth is an impossibility for Roger MacKenzie. So, we proceed to episode eight of season four AKA the episode that had no silver lining except for Claire’s badass surgical abilities. Roger zooms in out of nowhere (a-la Steve Rogers style in Endgame, another atrocious storyline that involves men appearing where they are not welcome and robbing women of their voice) to scorn Brianna once again. “What do you mean you didn’t know where we stood?” Uh… Because there was nothing abnormal or worthy apologizing for after your last conversation? Wow, Roger, you really are that fucking stupid, huh? Blah, blah, blah, stupid conversation, then Roger decides to manhandle her unnecessarily because… Why the fuck not? That really gets Brianna hot and heavy, and let me pause here to say something I think is absolutely important. I love Brianna Fraser. I think that everything dislikeable in her character stems from the way she behaves when it pertains to Roger. I think she turns a blind eye, constantly lets things slide, and that her grand romance with Roger is written poorly. It is so unpersuasive that it makes Brianna feel so out of character when she accepts him back time and time again. I sincerely do not see how, why, or when she fell in love with his sorry ass. Brianna Fraser is one of those character that have the potential of being outstanding but are done very dirty for the sake of providing a narrative to a half-assed male character that nobody likes anyways. Anywhoo, let us return to Brianna and Roger getting down to business (EW). So, Brianna needs to remind Roger of his own convoluted, archaic ideals. The same ideals which made them fight THE FIRST TIME AROUND. I mean, those ideals were SO important that he felt the need to shame her the way he did. Are they not important now or is Roger just doing the convenient thing of thinking with his genitals? But of course, now that he had a lightbulb moment he has to backtrack; God forbid they sleep together unmarried as if he were not ready to do it ten seconds ago. Oof, the hypocrisy runs deep in this one huh folks? Brianna ends up finding out that Roger kept the truth from her about her parents’ death in order to keep her happy for the sake of marrying her. So once again, Brianna is reduced to a trophy that he needs to win – actually, I never thought he saw her as anything else. I wholeheartedly believe that Roger does not love Brianna, he loves the idea of himself with Brianna. They fight, he leaves her like a pussy bitch because she told him so and Brianna gets raped by Stephen Bonnet. So far so good? Now, I wish Brianna was at the epicenter of her own damned rape arc. I wish that the voice of female survivors was not erased once more for the sake of elevating the pathetic self-scorn of an unworthy male character. Do you want to know the moment I hate the most about season four? It is Roger’s stupid “I am an idiot” sermon. He had such a good shot at redeeming himself there, at admitting that he messed up, at accepting that he is at fault for everything that has happened to him thus far. That was too much to expect, now, wasn’t it? Instead he goes on raving and moping about love, and how he is an idiot that always returns though nobody ever asked him to, yada, yada. Again, all Roger can possible conceive are his own feelings. See, Roger is not wrong, he is an idiot, but for completely different reasons. Needless to say, he gets rescued and discovers the truth. And what is the truth? That his handfast wife was viciously attacked and is hurting? No, God forbid we focus on Brianna’s feelings for a moment. No, it is all about the fact that the rapist was Bonnet and that he might be the father of the child. That is what matters, right? The fact that another man put his dick in my woman, and not the fact that a woman has been forced to engage in coitus against her will. It is all about ownership. So, of course, Roger hesitates to come back. Of course, he is the one having the hardest time to deal with it, because he always has the hardest time to deal with everything. Oh, poor Roger. This is not about Brianna’s decision to keep the child because of the possibility that he might be Roger’s. This is not about Brianna’s ambivalence towards her attack because it took something from her, but also gave her something so beautiful. This is not about Brianna’s trauma, its aftereffects, and how it re-shaped her world. This is all about Roger. It has always ever been about Roger. Brianna is not a character in her own right, she is simply a plot device (you guessed it right) for Roger. The best thing this show can do is have him fall off a cliff and never come back. The only reason I will watch season 5 is to see Marsali and Fergus because they are the real MVP’s of this show. 

OOF.

_________________________

Fucking. Preach.

(#FuckYeahTeamFersali)