#saw it twice already my friends i am mentally ill

[wheelie-sick]

-> TW for in depth discussion of suicide <-

a lot of people look at anti psychiatry and say "well these aspects of psychiatry helped/saved my life!" and that's not the point. the point isn't that no one can ever find psychiatry helpful the point is that the system abuses its patients

I have been uncontrollably suicidal at many points in my life but 3 stick out to me and those 3 were my full suicide attempts (rather than my suicide near attempts i.e standing at the ledge of a cliff with the intent to jump, something I have done so many times I cannot possibly count them) I have been so desperate to die that despite having every possible lethal mean removed from the house I lived in I tried to drown myself in a bathtub. I tried this twice. there is nothing more desperate than frantically shoving your head under the water face down hoping you have the willpower to stay there until you black out and inevitably die. I remember these things viscerally and painfully. suicide is not unfamiliar to me.

but no one could have forced my recovery. recovery is a decision I had to consciously make. trying to force my hand would only have traumatized me further. I am all too familiar with forced recovery, I have been in ABA therapy against my will and had an awful experience. I would sob and beg to leave the system. I was in ABA partially because my mental illness was classified as severe, not just because I had moderate autism. my family admits a large driver of it was the fact that the support I was receiving from my incompetent therapist was not helping and they hoped ABA would. in the end it only made me worse by providing me more trauma on top of the existing trauma I already had.

with that said full recovery is something I will never experience but that does not mean I cannot be supported in ways that do not remove my personhood. I am bipolar, bipolar disorder is lifelong. it has been one of the main contributors to my suicide attempts as it started creeping into my life at 10 years old. I have, since my last suicide attempt, strongly considered trying again. there were points where I considered willingly going to a psychiatric hospital. something pushed me away- both from the ledge and from a psychiatric hospital.

there's a theme with when all my suicide attempts happened. my first was at the age of 12 and my last was at the age of 14. I was isolated. I was living with an incredibly abusive father and a mom who just couldn't keep up. I had very few to no friends. around 14 I started to gain community and mend the relationship with my mom. I had support. my latest near miss was only a couple of months ago, it was during a manic episode and the impulse arose and I barely had the self control to stop it. manic episodes are when bipolar people are at greatest risk of suicide. again, what saved me was having support. people saw what was going on and intervened- not through hospitalization against my will but through peer to peer support.

a psychiatric hospital would not have helped me. psychiatric hospitals are traumatizing experiences. trauma is a large influence on my life as is. the trauma of going to a psychiatric hospital outweighed the danger of me at my lowest staring at a bottle of opioids with intent to take them.

the thing about anti psychiatry is that it's not anti treatment it's anti abuse. if there was an alternative to psychiatric hospitals that did not revoke my autonomy, that would not have traumatized me, I would have gone. I don't believe that live-in alternatives are the answer for everyone, it looks different for different people, but I do believe everyone has a right to autonomy in their treatment.

I am happy I am alive and I am happy I survived my attempts but what I needed was not a traumatic experience at a psychiatric hospital what I needed was support that respected my autonomy and personhood.

a lot of people assume that anti psychiatry people just don't understand the experience of mental illness but I'd argue the contrary- most of us are classified as "seriously mentally ill" and most of us have become anti psychiatry through negative experiences with the psychiatric industry. we want autonomy for mentally ill people, not abandonment.

[eddie-rifff]

ive pretty much had all of my wildest dreams come true as an autistic music fan and im still miserable. how ungrateful and stupid can one person be. (very)

really really feeling like im just never gonna be happy for more than a few months at a time. my brain fucking hates me. my parents should have never ever had kids with the history of mental illness on both sides and yet they had four, 3 of which suffer pretty significantly with mental illness. severe ocd in one, moderate ocd in the other two, crippling anxiety in all three, mild in the one that somehow made it out ok.

im not suicidal, im just very upset that this is how it is. i want things to be better. i want things to be different. but im afraid they just never will be.

and i want chris squire back. he was so endlessly kind to me. he made me feel like i was appreciated in the way i felt mattered, as a fan. i loved him so deeply and i still do and he saw that and basically said "i see you, thank you" in every interaction we had. the hugs. the kisses on the cheek and the back of the hand. looking out for me and making sure i was safe when he thought i was by myself. he was the only person that really, truly, mattered to me when all was said and done (he still is) and i couldnt have had a better relationship with him (when i say relationship i want to make it clear that i mean it in the way you have a relationship with every single person you meet, not that we were like. best buddies.)

and yet, somehow, i am still unhappy. its kind of impressive.

ive met rick wakeman, jon anderson, tony kaye, alan white, steve howe, bill bruford. i get into yes concerts for free. ive met carl palmer and steve hackett. i saw UK, twice, with john wetton, eddie jobson, and terry bozzio. i know what chris squire's beard feels like against my cheek. i have been so unbelievably blessed as a fan, again, the thing i feel most passionate about in my life, my Thing. what more could i possibly want? if none of that makes me happy, then what possibly will?

ok, take all that away. even without ANY of that, i have enough that would make 90% of other people happy as clams. my family loves me (i think). i live in a great house rent free. i have no bills. i have the most patient, gracious best friend in the world.

i oscillate between it being my fault for not being happy (ungrateful dumbass) and the fault of my genetics, and neither of those things are good enough excuses for me. and, most importantly, neither of those things will ever change. i mean, maybe i can learn to be less of an ungrateful dumbass, but i dont see how thats possible when, like ive said, i already have everything i want, and im still this way.

this feeling of hopelessness is soul crushing. i feel like whatever spirit i had has been stamped out, and every single time it lights up again it gets snuffed again and again and again and again and it will until i die. ill never be free. ill never be happy with what i have. i feel like i was just a mistake, i should have never happened. someone with this kind of brain chemistry, contributing this little, with this few redeeming qualities just shouldnt have happened.

but i am here. and i guess im going to feel endlessly sorry for myself because i dont know how to feel any other way.

i just wish it wasnt this way.

[purgatorihorror]

TRIGGER WARNING...... mention of SELF-HARM .

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I don’t really know where to begin writing this. I wanted to make a video, but it would be far too long, so if you’re here reading this blog post thank you.

I will start out by saying thank you SO much to everyone for the well wishes, and for having my back that night. After a few days I felt very ashamed of myself for wanting to end my own life over something so stupid. After going to the hospital and getting help, I don’t feel ashamed, but I feel sad. I feel sad that with everything I went through last year with thinking I was going to die from pancreatitis that I forgot how lucky I was to be here. I feel sad that I hurt a lot of people in the community who care about me for even attempting or even having it cross my mind. It turns out this goes beyond just being upset at myself for thinking that I hurt someone when they accused me of copying their YouTube content, but working with my doctor I’ve come to realize that there was much more going on with me internally. We’ve come to the awful realization that I haven’t fully healed from the trauma of my past, and the wounds of my past were pretty much just masked with medication and not really diving into fixing the problem at hand. Not only that, but the shitty truth of the matter is my mom is not getting any better. She is at the end stage of emphysema and COPD. She’s getting more tired easily. She has been hospitalized in ICU twice in the last year which is more than she was when she was first diagnosed with the disease. The only thing even keeping her out of the hospital is a breathing mask that she now has to wear when she sleeps, and if she doesn’t wear this mask she’ll either die or be hospitalized again, I don’t even want to think about it, but I am being completely honest here about everything that has been going on with me, and as much as the truth hurts, it’s just that, the truth and sometimes the truth fucking sucks. We honestly don’t know how many years she has, or if she even has a full year. I hope she will be around to watch Brandon and I get married, but it’s not looking good to any of us. Brandon and I lived with my family since 2016, and were supposed to move out in 2018 until Christmas day of that year when she almost died. We chose to stay and help her, and help my family. We wanted to help pay for her medication. I wanted to help care for her, bathe her when my father and brother worked, feed her, and just tend to her basic needs. I did all this despite the emotional abuse I had to deal with from my father. My depression and anxiety kept getting worse and worse, but we stayed for her. My mom and I weren’t that close when I was young. I had some behavioral problems due to early mental illness and I was NOT an easy daughter to live with. However, we became the best of friends after reconnecting. I’d wish and wish with every bit of my heart that I would’ve been better when I was a child/teen, but she forgave me and that meant so much to me, and we became the best of friends. Growing closer to her I saw her health deteriorate more and more. Unfortunately she was already diagnosed with COPD already, but she wasn’t seeing a doctor and continued smoking cigarettes for a few years until she realized she had to stop. After she was hospitalized in 2018 and I thought I was going to lose my best friend, we became even closer than that and I was constantly worried about her and scared that I’d lose my mom. Over those years she just got worse and worse. 2018 was when she had to be placed on full time oxygen at home, but the more she became hospitalized I knew it was just getting worse. The Christmas season before last she was hospitalized once again, but this time they weren’t sure if she was even going to come out of it. Luckily she was able to come home for Christmas. My mental health was getting worse though due to the emotional abuse from my dad. Always calling me a whore, piece of shit, telling me I was going to hell for having Pagan beliefs instead of being a Christian, calling me a no-good liberal communist bitch, things much worse than that that I can’t even mention here. It hurt a lot. Then he would try to buy me things like candy and whatnot and then say that I’ll always be his little girl. I was so confused because if he thought that way, if he loved me, why did he treat me so poorly? It really messed with me and confused me, I didn’t know what to think and when I tried to think it just felt like my brain was short circuiting all the time if that makes sense. The year before that I had gotten back on medication for my mental health, but last year is when I started doing therapy sessions again. Among doing therapy sessions with my doctor who I grew to love and admire, she helped me dive deep into things and I realized that I was broken, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get better. I started to remember things from my childhood, like how my dad threatened me with hell if I didn’t follow Jesus, which apparently sparked something called thanatophobia, which is a severe irrational fear of death and/or the dying process. Not only did we dive into the things my dad said to me over the years and how he treated me, but we found out that I truly have not healed from the wounds of my past. I was physically and mentally bullied throughout my entire time from elementary school into high school... it just got way WAY worse when I was in high school. I wore all black clothing, band shirts, hoodies, skinny jeans, dyed my hair black, etc. and that’s when the bullying got worse. I live in the bible belt so people would walk up to me and shout “Jesus loves you, Antichrist” any chance they got. I even got bullied by kids who dressed similarly to me, some of the “emo kids” joined in at times. It got so bad to where one guy in particular would go up to random kids and pay them a dollar to come up to me just to say “Jesus loves you, Antichrist”. Not only that, but I was always called ugly by both girls and guys. I couldn’t really get a boyfriend because people just found me so unappealing, which I guess led me to really believe that was the case. It got even worse to where the bullying got physical and it was never a case where girls would beat me up, but some of the guys were getting physical with me. I won’t go into all of the instances where this happened just because this is already going to be long as it is, just 2 that stuck out to me and really damaged me beyond belief. One instance I was listening to my MP3 player on the bus and I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head, like a tugging stinging feeling, I remember I put my hand back there and there was a little bit of blood, so I looked behind me and the guy who instigated a lot of my bullying (and this was the same guy that paid people to come up to me and say “Jesus loves you, Antichrist”), had apparently ripped a chunk of my hair out, he was laughing at me and so were the people near him. Luckily my stop was next since I was the 2nd stop, so I tried to get off of the bus quickly because I was embarassed and just wanted to be out of there, and I tripped over something, I forget exactly if someone tripped me or if it was someone’s backpack in the aisle I tripped over, but I fell and the whole bus began laughing at me and it made me feel SO much fucking worse than I already did. At that point I was crying a lot and I was just excited to go home. Well when I got home (at this point my sister and her then boyfriend lived with my family) my sister’s boyfriend was an asshole and as soon as I walked in he apparently said he found some video diaries I made of just me venting about the things that I was going through in school and began kind of making fun of me for it, so I was crying worse and went to hide in my closet. I don’t know how long I was in there for, but I just wanted to be in darkness away from the world. Not really sure what happened after that. The other time that stuck out to me was the time I was staying over at a friend’s house and she wanted to walk over to her friend’s house who everyone called “Turtle” as a nickname (I forget why exactly) and when we got to his house he had some of the guys over that happened to bully me in school for my appearance and who always accused me of being a “devil worshiper”. I had a bad feeling in my stomach and told her I didn’t want to be there, but she wanted to smoke some weed with them so I didn’t really have anywhere to go. I did stay silent the whole time. None of them really spoke to me, and I don’t know how much longer after we arrived that this happened, but one of the guys left the room for a while, and when he came back everyone in the room including “Turtle” began chanting “Jesus loves you” and “the power of Christ compels you” from The Exorcist, and it turned out the guy had left to get a cross so they can hold it up to me like I was a vampire or demon or something. I tried to run out of the room, but Turtle’s 20 something year old brother (yes, a 20 something year old joined in on bullying a child) blocked the door and he was kinda big so I couldn’t get out. I was held down and the cross was pressed to my forehead so hard that it cut into me a little bit. I think they were trying to “baptize” me in a very crude way or drive some kind of evil out of me. My friend got them off of me and started screaming at them, which at that point I just wanted out and had run down the stairs and out of their house. She ran after me and tried to comfort me. I told her this is why I didn’t want to be there, but she just continued trying to comfort me. When we got back to her place I told her I just wanted to go home. I lied to her stepdad and told him that I was feeling sick and he took me home. I told my brother what happened, but not the rest of my family. I couldn’t really take the bullying anymore, so I started doing harder drugs with my sister’s boyfriend, like pills and stuff. I already smoked weed, but I just didn’t care anymore at that point and wanted to feel numb. I drank a lot, and he taught me how to crush up Klonopins and snort them through rolled up bills. I would even go as far as to take 3-4 of those things on top of hard liquor, not really caring what happened to me, I just felt numb. I began drinking a LOT more and would go to school intoxicated in hopes that it’d make me care less. It didn’t work at all and the bullying got much, much worse. I started faking sick a lot so I wouldn’t have to go to school and my school had a certain amount of days you missed before you and your family had to go to court and I ended up missing more than 10 unexcused days and we did have to go to court. The judge we met up with threatened that if I didn’t start going to school I’d be taken away from home and forced to go to juvenile hall. He showed my parents and I a video of what it was like in one of those places and I got scared. I told him and my parents that I couldn’t take the bullying and that’s why I wasn’t going to school, but the judge said that I had to. There were even times when my mom had gone up to the school to speak to the principal, but nothing was done. I felt so alone and like I had nowhere to go. It was the weekend after that and I knew I had to go to school Monday morning. No amount of drugs or self-harm I did took the pain away, so that’s when I tried to kill myself, and I almost succeeded until my sister found me and my family took me to the hospital. I obviously survived, but told them I couldn’t go back to that school and that I’d rather not be alive. That’s when I was pulled out of school and home-schooling was decided. I was put on medication and diagnosed with severe depression, generalized anxiety, social anxiety, and PTSD. The PTSD was diagnosed because of the blackouts. I’d blackout and it was like I’d relive everything that happened to me, and would be scared as hell when I snapped out of it. I was home-schooled, had a teacher come to my house and help me with virtual schooling, and I had therapy at a place called Waccamaw Mental Health. Until I was 18 and my family didn’t want to pay for it anymore, that is. Without going to therapy and seeing a doctor I also could no longer get medication, so I had to stop taking it once it was out which made me sick. I got used to not having it for a while, though. Not only did I need severe help with the mental damage the bullying caused, but the PTSD was also me reliving my sexual assault that I went through when I was 15 caused by my sister’s then boyfriend’s best friend Billy. I had to keep that a secret for a long time. I was drugged and I was r*ped. It isn’t until recently that I realized that I have NOT fully healed from ANY of this and I really, really fucking want to. I learned this because I started having night terrors again recently where I’d wake up in a cold sweat, scared that something bad was going to happen, almost like I was reliving the bullying and the assault. I thought it had all gone away, but since November I have been having horrible nightmares, and in these nightmares I can feel EVERYTHING. Those old wounds started to re-open so I started working with my now therapist trying to come to terms with what to do about it. That’s when I started hardcore meditating and listening to a guy named Dr. Joe Dispenza on how to change my brain patterns and re-arrange my life if that makes sense. It’s been helping, but it will take a while for those old wounds from trauma to heal.  Among dealing with the night terrors and nightmares, dealing with the anxiety and phobias, I’ve been upset and scared to lose my mom because the horrible truth of the matter is we really don’t know how much time she has left. We don’t. She has her good days and she has her bad days, but I am constantly worried about her and stressed about the day I finally get that call that no kid wants to get. Going through my mom dying, the nightmares, my phobias, depression, anxieties, and our recent financial struggle with us scraping by I have been SO stressed and depressed, just wanting everything to work out and be okay. Despite that I have been trying my hardest not to let my feelings show online, where I want to spread love and positivity, hiding behind a smile because I want to make people feel good and be there for others and make others happy even though on the inside I am aching, I still wanted to spread kindness and love because I want to make sure my friends and followers know that they are loved.  I have started doing YouTube a year ago because that’s something I’ve wanted to do since my teens, but never could afford a camera until my fiance gifted me one for Christmas last year. I was excited because I could finally make videos and become a content creator like Sam and Colby (if you don’t know who they are they explored abandoned/haunted places). I decided to make a horror themed channel because my fiance and I had a horror podcast we were doing before that, so I was happy I could finally make videos for YouTube. It started out rocky because I am SO nervous and have really bad social anxiety on camera. I am very awkward and you can even hear it in my voice that I am a bag of nerves. I did this for a few months until I got really sick with a colon infection that spread to my pancreas causing my lipase levels (pancreas enzymes) to elevate, and when that happens it’s called acute pancreatitis. I was sick for an entire month (I think? or at least it felt like a month) and when I finally started seeing a GI doctor he gave me a chart to help me change my diet to a more low-fat diet so my enzymes would go down. They finally went back to normal and after a CT scan everything looked good including my gallbladder, so I could have a more balanced diet... but I went through that entire time thinking I was going to die because my cousin died from chronic pancreatitis and liver disease, so I was scared. I finally started making videos again, but I hated how sickly I still looked from all the weight I lost from being so ill. I still haven’t even fully gained all of that weight back. Hell I haven’t even had a period in 3 years and still haven’t had one. But when I started making videos again I was very self-conscious about how my body looked basically very bony and skeletal, so I started dealing with body dysmorphia. I began talking to my therapist about it and that’s when I learned what that was, I was unhappy with my appearance. I thought about maybe wearing a costume or something to help with my social anxiety and in November I talked to my therapist about that, and she said it would be a great tool to help me get more in my comfort zone and loosen up a bit on camera. So I decided my Halloween costume would be perfect. I could create a character, Purgatori the Pumpkin Queen after the Pumpkin King in Nightmare Before Christmas. I love Halloween and all things Halloween so both my therapist and I thought it was a great idea. After Christmas we were still worrying about money and how we were going to get by, so I thought I’d finally launch my Patreon to help support my family. I could add different things to different tiers, get back into writing and upload some of my short stories that I have written and my paintings, I could make my family some money while also making extra content. I started doing the videos with the costume. I made 2 so far, my Halloween Ends review and my breakdown of the extended cut of Halloween (1978).  I was scrolling through Twitter and Instagram one day and noticed one of my followers talking about someone copying them on YouTube and I felt bad for this person because I know how hard it is to work and edit, especially with someone like me who suffers with severe migraines and editing can make that worse, I decided to send them a DM showing my support and thought maybe this person needed someone in their corner. I didn’t want anyone to be in pain so for my new year’s resolution I wanted to be there for more people, so I messaged this person. They never got back to me so I figured they were just busy. I even subscribed to this person’s YouTube channel to show my support. Us content creators have to stick together, right? And I didn’t want ANYONE feeling sad. A couple days went by and I noticed this person still didn’t get back to me and noticed they left me on read, and I still thought maybe this person was busy or a lot of people may have been trying to message them so I didn’t think anything of it. This person then put out a video and I watched it, and they said it was an update on the copycat so I continued watching it wondering if maybe they’d give clues to who may have been doing this to them, and I wanted to know who to steer clear from, but then they mentioned the person they were talking about tried messaging them shortly after their post trying to do “damage control”. With my anxiety I kept thinking “I really hope they’re not thinking of me”, so I talked to a few of my close friends and they agreed that our content was not the same and that there weren’t any similarities so I felt a little better, but I was still worried that this person thought I was copying them because I didn’t want to be the cause of someone else’s pain if I could help it, and if they did think it was me maybe I could clear the air. I finally messaged them and asked them if they thought it was me, and holy crap it was - they thought it was me. They thought that I had watched their videos for the year they’d been following me and got inspired from them, which is NOT the truth at all, because apparently this person cosplays and does some reviews. I felt HORRIBLE that they thought it was me because it was completely unintentional. They said they had a hard time believing me that I’ve never watched their YouTube videos, but I assured them that I haven’t and that I was so sorry. All I was doing was trying to help my social anxiety and I thought my Halloween costume would be perfect, and I can create a character for my channel - the pumpkin queen. I thought it suited me because I could make my channel Halloween themed too and kinda reconstruct it, because I love Halloween and everyone who follows me knows how much I love Halloween. They also said I was copying them because I was writing horror stories for my Patreon, and they told ghost stories on their channel - which is something I never intended to do on my channel, I just wanted to do reviews, rankings, tier lists, etc. just horror content in general. Maybe some true crime here and there. My mom wanted me to start writing again anyway, and I’ve been writing since I was 13 years old so I thought it’d be perfect for my Patreon, because I wanted people to feel like they were getting their money’s worth if that makes sense. I felt so horrible. So horrible that I unintentionally caused someone pain. I felt so guilty that I tried to kill myself again. Not just because of this, but I was already going through SO fucking much at the time. So stressed. My mental health was HORRIBLE which I was getting help with anyway, but it felt like this was the final straw that broke the camel’s back. I just wanted everything to stop. I didn’t want to die, I just wanted all of the stress to go away.  I am getting extra help now. I am lucky that I didn’t succeed because if I did I wouldn’t be here right now. I am just happy to be get the EXTRA help that I need which means more therapy and my dosage being raised on my medication. Working with doctors I realized that I really didn’t copy anyone. I didn’t, and now I feel that with every shred of confidence in my body that I didn’t steal anyone’s work. I’m not sure why this person singled me out, because I found out there were other masked YouTubers out there and other costumed YouTubers. Now that I know that there are more costumed YouTubers out there I want to give them recognition because I didn’t realize that was a thing. My doctors don’t want me to stop doing YouTube. They don’t want me to stop writing or creating or painting. They think I should continue with the costume, but I will say this - to anyone who is a masked YouTuber or costumed YouTuber, you are amazing and I thank you for your hard work.  Honestly if this person really thought for certain I was taking from their work I wish they would’ve just simply messaged me and asked me if it was my intention, or just talk it out with me. But the fact that they made a video falsely accusing me of something that I didn’t do, and even going on to say that they “know how this person is” really hurt me because I don’t sit there and go out of my way to hurt or manipulate people, and it leads me to believe that this person didn’t really know me at all or what I was going through. 

The reason why I write all of this is not to gain sympathy. I do NOT want sympathy. I do not want people to feel sorry for me. I wanted to explain everything, and when I mean everything, I mean EVERYTHING. All of my traumas, everything I’ve been going through recently, because I’ll be honest guys, life has NOT given me a break. And the reason why I explained everything that I went through regarding the bullying and sexual assault is not because I am blaming this person, it is not because I thought this person was bullying me, but just because I have come to terms with the reason why I have been so stressed, and why my depression and anxiety has gotten worse - because I have old traumas that haven’t healed. I am 28 now and thought by now everything would be better, but my doctor said trauma is different for everyone and everyone heals differently.  If you do know who this person is, I beg you PLEASE do not send them hate. Do not call them out. Do not harass this person. There is enough pain in the world, and I truly don’t know if this person meant any harm or not, but I am done with the drama and the fighting. My mental health is more important. I am not fully coming back to social media yet as I am still healing, but I will be posting on my Patreon because I want to contribute to my family in anyway that I can in these really tough times. My fiance has been the best and there for me, he’s taken care of me and he hasn’t left me, and I am so fucking grateful for him. I am so grateful for all of you too. Thank you so much. I have read all of your well wishes and I want to apologize for causing you all worry and pain. I will take a while to heal, but I am determined to get better mentally, not just for me, but for the people around me. I just really want people to be more mindful, because you never know what a human being is going through on the other end. 

I am so sorry for this being so long, I just had a lot to come to terms with. Maybe this will help someone who is going through something similar not to feel so alone. It was important for me to talk about some of this stuff too, because I can’t spend my life running away from my trauma. I have to face it and deal with it.

I love you guys. I love the Mutant Fam. I love the Horror Community. Thank you for listening.

- Tori 

[acelucky]

NYE Post

I love a good NYE post where I summarise the ups and downs of the year and put into thoughts what I’m looking forward to next year. I try to keep it brief, I rarely succeed. I feel this is essentially like those old fashioned round robin letters people still occasionally do in Christmas cards!

Bad bits - All the World Events/cost of living and energy crisis/War and weather aside... I finally caught covid, an old friend passed away in horrible circumstances, my dear bunny Cloud died in June, a relative has fallen very ill and may not have long left to live and at the start of the year my mental health was in shocking shape. I also broke my wrist playing 5-aside football with work in September.

The Good - I completed an amazing course of therapy which has left me feeling so much more confident and happy in myself - it really has changed my outlook on life. I saw the Francis Bacon exhibit at the Royal Academy of Arts in March, I’ve also visited several fascinating museums and exhibitions. There’s been lots of concerts, the most amazing being seeing Placebo again at Portsmouth Guildhall, seeing Joe Jackson with my dad and after years of trying to see them live, getting to see Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds at all points east festival with @cassandrafey  My husband and I had a long road trip up to the lake district to visit his family as well as see where he grew up and visit some of my favourite places too, it was lovely. I did a 27 and a half mile walk with work for charity (The Surrey Three Peaks challenge but we got a bit lost), it was the most physically difficult thing I’ve done in my life and I was so proud of myself. For my birthday we went to Longleat Safari and stayed overnight nearby - we fed the lorikeets and the seals, it was absolutely perfect.  In October my husband and I went abroad for the first time since June 2019, we went to Rhodes, Greece and it was beautiful, relaxing and romantic. We had a lovely wedding anniversary and went to the Theatre to see Swan Lake. And finally we had a 3 night family holiday to Bruges where we experienced all the magic of late Autumn/cold crisp winter and saw all the Christmas lights.

New Year’s Resolutions - I pretty much have one this year and that is simply. To be more mindful. More mindful about what I spend my money on, what I eat, how I take care of myself, how I react to situations, what I reveal about myself at work, how much I drink at comedy gigs, what and who I spend time and energy on. 

Looking to 2023 - On the one hand next year already has some very big plans and will be busy, but due to this my plan is to keep other times quieter than usual and focus more on me and the relationships I hold dear/my home. I’ll still be performing comedy but not doing as much or chasing it, I’ll continue to run the comedy night’s I run and will still perform once or twice a month at new gigs/the best gigs/gigs worth doing and am doing a Split show at Brighton and Ventnor fringe festivals, but that’s it. I want to focus more on the funeral industry and potential career change and my writing.

Plans for 2023 - There’s a few loose ones like my husband and I hopefully going to Ireland for a week. But set in stone the biggest adventure I have is going to New Zealand with my dad in May (and a night in Singapore) to explore, show him my favourite places and see family. We have Beltane Festival at the end of April at Butser Ancient Farm and in September I’m off to Budapest with the wonderful @cassandrafey to see IAMX. Oh and we may have bought tickets to see Def Leppard and Motley Crue in London....

So that’s my re-cap for the year, whether anyone reads it or not, it strangely makes me feel better knowing I’ve written it all down and can reflect in time to come.

In the meantime, I wish you all a very Happy New Year! 

(Photos are of: Cloud the bunny, Sunset in Rhodes, me on my birthday, The Lake District with my husband, Bruges)

[our-inspire-verse]

I am! Not great again! Why I'd did that. Stuff /VeryNegative under the cut

Just. Jesus fucking christ when will these flashbacks stop. I SAW myself die again. And then i also, MORESO have to watch Alder find me again and again. He fucking. Kept yelling my name. He kept calling for me, desperate. He was so hurt. I was already cold. He couldn't do anything, it wasnt his fault. But he tried so hard. And then he sat there for so long.

How could i have not known. Twice. There was an attempt in my timeline but thank fucking GOD i failed. Can you fucking imagine I'd succeeded? Was it better he was alone? What would it have been like if Dan and Cadance were there and i succeeded? Because they helped him when i failed. But something broke in the other timeline within him. I can see it in the way he put his hand on my shoulder. That was something he did in our lifetime, he'd just gently stroke my shoulder. It grounded me, it was affectionate, it felt really nice. I can sense the thoughts in his head. "He can't feel this now"

I've been gone for hours. I probably was before he ever could have made it home. I was alone in my room like that for sO long and i died afraid. Thats all i can think about was how afraid i was. I didn't think anyone cared about me, i know i was more isolated from Dan in this universe. I know i was more cruel to myself. And knowing these are facts of how these things work is one thing. Actually seeing where that switch over was, thats another. The way that allowing love into your life saves you in impossible to know ways. You have to allow people to love you.

You will die without it.

And knowing i didn't have a chance to be saved in this one. Knowing there was a real possibility of it going bad, it wasn't just a silly cry for attention written by a sad artist. It was the possibility of my mental health taking over and ruining my father's(chosen) life. It was the fact that i do have an impact on my future and i have to decide to have one. Theres nothing i can do to help either damned soul now, there's something so uniquely heart shattering about having to live with grief like this. It is not mine, it is of mine. It is of me. It is a holy sensation that i regard with vile distaste. The feeling is important, more important than a lot of things.

Growing up this life i never thought i would live past 10. Then a lot of other numbers. How original. How horrible. It actually is horrible. Desensitization makes. These numbers these thoughts, its hard to recognize im sad about it since its so normalized. But being 7 and suicidal isn't. And i cant believe i carried that and my past life all this time like this. And now that im so aware, ill carry it differently. I can't believe i lived so long. I cant believe im gonna KEEP living so long. I havent felt genuinely suicidal in ages. I can be real, and say the idealization is there, but it's more about the fantasy of getting help for it. But recieving memories like this reminds me of how bad that hurt. For decades. And how bad it hurt alternate or past selves, and those loved ones there. I'm so sorry Alder, i desperately wish there was anything i could do. To take it back, to help heal, to love you better than i did. Your cabin stayed empty, my room stayed where it was, and you stayed alone. Dan stayed over, but not much. You never got to know Cadance. You met briefly and never became friends.

I did all of that. Everything was actually because of me. I can't take that right now. I was resting and these memories wont stop. It's incredible though. How bright the sun is from up here. How even though pain burns more intensely than it usually does from this height, so does the love. How much the love permeated in every crack and crevice last life. How i let the light in and hope filled us all up. Even during loss and pain and torture, even losing each other. It was okay. Because at least it happened.

[cattytheartcat]

Proof they're withholding context and truth for their own narratives. They want to always be right.

Here's your context lil shits:

Pyro is a 14-16 year old mentally (and I think physically? Sorry if I don't know!) Disabled kid who made a Helluva Boss AU in wishes to make it better than the OG. They made an honest mistake of making Stella the victim when in the OG show she was just as an abuser. I see this as an honest mistake because Stolas in the ACTUAL WICCAN RELIGION is a herbalist who will cry if you poke him. It'd make sense to de-abuser-ify Stolas in an AU! However it did make it look bad with Stella being a victim. That I understand and thankfully Pyro took it down and apologized TWICE.

If you guys actually took the time and LOOK at it's blog before it got deactivated, you'd see TWO Apologies. One was in their pinned, in bright, bold, red text. The second was in void's reblogs.

They never drew art for it, their mutuals probably did so. I scrolled through it's blog and I saw NOTHING art-related posted by them specifically. You are pulling shit out of anons who SUICIDE THREATENED your "friend".

"We never joked about killing you"

You fuckers ignored context too!! Pyro sent ALL THE CONTEXT NEEDED and you ignored void. You got mad that I gave context to PoniesOnline staff THAT HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU and claimed I "was scared of being outted" when I was being the mature one and keeping outside shit out of the inside.

Pyro is a fucking child and you so called "I'm an 18 years old adult" ass harassed them.

If you actually fucking read my screenshots in your shitty GC you'd see that Pyro deactivated because THEY THOUGHT THEY CAUSED SNOW TO WANT TO COMMIT. I told void about everything and they thought the anon hate was because of them.

Oh btw y'all piss and cry about being misgendered yet misgender whoever you don't like. Pyro's pronouns are it/its, they/them, and void/voids. "I didn't know" yes you did if you actually looked at their bio.

This is why I don't trust mentally ill people who refuse to get help. This is exactly why. I dont HATE them, they don't deserve it, but I sure as hell dont TRUST them.

If I can distrust men for the amount of men that traumatized me, I can distrust severely ill people for the amount of ill people that traumatized me. If you can distrust people, I can distrust people.

You are no gods. You are not the Always Better Than You, you are fucking immature. You are literal children, minus the 18 year old who's barely a mature adult.

Snow was sent suicide threats because ANONS. Said anons WERE ALREADY ATTACKING HER. They just needed that one person to use as a scapegoat to "justify their hate". And since Pyro interacted with her prior, and Pyro was already in deep shit, it was the perfect tool.

Pyro is NOT at fault. ANONS ARE. You are NOT the good guys, and neither am I.

Yes, I should've worded my comment properly instead of making it sound out of context, that part I'll take. However, you lil fuckwads took it personally and did what you do with other ppl you don't like; slander. Instead of coming in with an open mind and asked for MY SIDE, you took whichever context benefits your savior complexes.

That anti-harassment account was right. You ARE dangerous. You claim to be anti-harassment yet "jokingly" want people to die and suffer because you don't like them.

Oh btw, I stopped pedo hunting because of how mentally draining it is to fight against brick walls (them being extremely ignorant) and how they somehow are able to charm people into joining their side despite them being literal pedophiles. You guys hunt proshippers, you'd understand how mentally draining it is!

Oh, that's right, you don't understand. You think its a game. Pathetic.

I saved your asses when Munch was coming after you. I don't like Munch either but at least I left bun alone and RESPECTED HER PRONOUNS unlike you. I kept you updated SO YOU FELT SAFE. I agreed with you despite being against you SO YOU FELT CORRECT. You guys were against the "bad guys", you should know better.

You are just as bad. I spit on you.

Just like on Twitter where I was against MAPs but was not an anti-MAP just a sane person against pedophilia, I'm against proshippers and radqueers but not an anti, just a sane person who hates harmful people. Antis act with a victim complex and send death threats to people they don't like. I do my research and report and block when needed.

Never get involved with those who speak a little too loudly 👍

wow, they told more lies about me and blocked me so i cant respond

LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[morb-psycho]

AND WITH THE LAST WOB WEDNESDAY MY MOB PSYCHO 100 HYPERFIXATION IS BACK FULL FORCE

UHHM please expect some mp100 art from me like real soon.. probably for the best so that I can make fanart for the latest episode while everyone else watches it.

GAHH it was so good I'm crying give me a minute

[babylooneytoonz]

mr. shelby's secretary [CEO AU]

[GIF by @maskingfragility]

— pairing: Modern! Tommy Shelby x Reader

— summary : Prompt request 1) “Can you shut up for once in your life?” 2) “Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.” 3)“You’re insane,” “You love me,” “Not right now I don’t.” 4) "I think you might be my soulmate," as requested by @sighonahurricane and @screechingexpertpruneneck [ Hope you like it. I decided to club both the requests into one as the prompts were almost the same ones.🤍]

— warnings: none

[Masterlist]

You had been an exceptional student, all through school, then all through college and then had begun working for one of the most famous firms in London. Due to unforeseen circumstances, when your father passed away due to a terminal illness, you had to quit your job in London and move to Birmingham to take care of your mother.

Birmingham was an altogether different world, atleast as compared to London, but it was a good change for you. Even luckier for you was the fact that just weeks into moving to Birmingham City, you interviewed for a secretary position for CEO of Shelby Brothers LTD, Thomas Shelby and you had gotten the job.

You had been now working for him for over three months now, but the journey had definitely not been easy. You still remembered how your first day at work had been an absolute disaster. You had arrived on time, at 9 am. You still had an hour to go before Tommy entered his office at 10 am, and there were a few stacks of papers that you had to clear.

Before starting your work, you had decided to get yourself a mug of coffee to boost up your day but while you were at the pantry, sitting and sipping your coffee, your phone beeped. When you looked at the message, colour drained from your face.

Thomas Shelby had a meeting at 10, and thus, he had decided he would come in early, and he hadn't found you in your adjoining cabin, and neither were the papers from his room that he wanted gone were actually gone. The colour drained from your face when you saw his text— in three words did he write— get in here, ASAP.

The hearing that you received from Tommy that day, you doubted if you had retained your job after the first day, but strangely, Tommy didn't fire you. That was the only time you actually made him angry though and things slowly changed after that. Thomas Shelby began relying on you more and more as the days passed. He even took your opinions, or let you select the suits he was going to wear on events, without even expressing any doubt on you.

For Tommy, you were like a breath of fresh air in times he needed it the most. You were exceptionally good at your work, but what he liked secretly about you was the fact that you were good at handling him— be it his anger, that you took almost gracefully, without even bothering to spite him back. You listened to him scream and yell at you, but you never lost your own temper. Or be it the recognition of his tiny needs, like when he was in a dire need of coffee.

Tommy would be lying now if he said that he didn't need you; he was now completely dependant on you. Everyday, when he came to work, the first thing he looked at was your smiling face through the glass panels of your adjoining cabin, before he disappeared into his office, and there lay his mug of piping hot black coffee without sugar, and a sandwich, or pancakes, you knowing well aware that the man came to office on an empty stomach. He would call you into his cabin atleast fifty times in a day.

Few months into you working for Mr. Shelby, you were finally growing to despise the man less and less, and learn to get accustomed to his cold outer exterior, and get warmed up to the minutest reflections of the gentleness he hid inside of him.

Tommy was getting impatient, as he leaned against his mahogany desk, his shirt rolled up by the sleeves up to his elbows as he rested the elbows against the surface of the desk. A lit cigarette rested in his left hand, as he stared at the rain clogged glass window in his office. It was raining heavily, and he wondered if it was the weather that had you actually running almost two hours late when you never were late.

He swiped his palm over his face, worry gnawed at the pit of his stomach. He knew you weren't like that. In fact, you were one of the most punctual person he had actually met. He stood up, dabbing the lit end of the cigarette into his ashtray, before he grabbed his coat and walked out of his office. Mary, one of the employees who were friends with you, was outside, talking to one of the interns.

"Mary? Have you heard from [Y/N]? She isn't in yet," Tommy asked, and the woman turned, her eyes almost widening for Tommy seldom spoke to anyone in the office, unless required.

"Mr. Shelby, uh, sir, I don't know. I haven't seen her in today, I was also wondering—" she began, but before she could complete her sentence, impatient Tommy had cut her off.

"Mary, can you go through the company records and give me her address?"

"Definitely, Mr. Shelby," the woman drawled, as she hunched over her system, her fingers tapping against the keypad as she pulled out your address from the company records. She noted the address down on a slip of paper, and looked up at him, "Mr. Shelby, I can ask someone to check on her if you'd like? Maybe due to the weather, her car broke down."

"It's okay, Mary, I'm already headed out, just hand me the address," he impatiently threw out his palm, and the woman placed the parchment in his hands, knowing well as to not say anything else. Tommy turned around and slowly began walking out of the building towards the elevator and pressed the button.

The rains were not going to die down anytime soon, that was something that Tommy noted as he brought the car to a halt outside the address that Mary had handed him. He squinted his eyes, eyeing the plain looking building that stood in front of him, eyeing the first floor that you occupied. He wondered if you had already left for he couldn't see your car anywhere in sight.

Finally, he pulled out his umbrella from the back seat of the car, and stepped out into the lashing rains, dashing through the puddles towards your apartment where an elderly woman was at the door, shielded from the rains underneath the front porch.

"Can I help you?" The woman said in a kind voice, as she moved out of the way, and let Tommy fix himself underneath the porch to find a shelter from the rains.

"I'm looking for,uh, Miss [Y/N]. She works for me," Tommy muttered, under his breath.

"Oh, dear. You're Thomas Shelby? The CEO of Shelby Brothers LTD?" The woman's eyes began glistening with excitement and Tommy nodded, his eyebrows creasing into a hint of a frown. He wasn't here for a fangirl moment.

"Is she here?" Tommy's impatience was a good enough answer for the woman, who nodded and immediately informed him that you had already left for work over an hour ago.

This did nothing to cease the worry pooling inside of him. If you had already left for work, then why weren't you in office? He pulled out his phone, placing his palm on the screen as though shielding it from the woman's unwanted, prying eyes, hoping you had left him a message but you hadn't.

"Thank you," he finally muttered, as he ran out into the rain again, and this time, he didn't even bother using the umbrella, letting himself get drenched from the porch to the car.

Turning the ignition on, he slowly pulled the car on the road, and he started driving in a slow pace, his eyes on the road in front of him.

As if someone had been listening in on his thoughts secretly and had decided to act on it, Tommy brought the car to an abrupt half, applying the brakes. There you were, right in front of his eyes, and Tommy couldn't help but let himself smile warmly, after ages.

From what he could see, it was clear what had taken you so long. You had your heels in your hands, your body was drenched in the rain, your hair sticking to your face. Your knees had mud on it, but that didn't deter you from running about the muddy road, helping the elderlies out of the bus that had broken down.

He saw, as you took the shopping bags from one of the older men, and gave your arm to him that he took and you helped him step out of the abandoned vehicle, and you helped him cross the muddy road, where the tyres of the bus had gotten stuck.

He watched you for a few minutes, leaning back against the car seat, his hand flying to his wet hair. After a few seconds, he decided to quietly head back to the office, without even letting you know that he had seen you.

About an hour later, you rushed into your office. You had managed to head back home and change into a fresh set of clothing, and put your dead phone on charge. Now you were back, and your heart was strumming inside your chest with fear, you knew Tommy would be mad— very mad.

Slowly, you brought your fisted palm to his door and knocked twice.

"Come in," Tommy called out from the inside; he sounded much calmer than what you had expected him to be, and this made you frown. You had expected him to be snarling. Timidly, you made your way up to his desk, your fingers nervously toying with each other as you looked at him. He had his laptop in front of him, and his fingers skimmed over the keypad. He gave you one glance, and looked back at the screen once again. His ignorance made your heart churn.

"Mr. Shelby?" You asked.

"Yes, [Y/N]?" Tommy looked at you, through his round frames.

"Aren't you angry I'm late?" You blurted, mentally cursing yourself, silently.

He looked at you, amused. Your innocence made his heart flutter but he wasnt going to admit it anytime soon. He noticed your body posture, you were standing like a meek little lamb, afraid of him. He stood up from the leather chair he was sitting on and placed his glasses on his desk, before he moved around his desk to where you were. He then fixed himself directly in front of you and gave you a smile, "Why would I be angry? Go take an off today, [Y/N]. You deserve it."

You were confused by his sudden behaviour but you dared not complain, or question him lest he changed his mind. You gave him a haphazard smile as you dashed out of his office, weirded out by the change in his behaviour.

It was Saturday night, and it meant staying up late with a good Netflix series on, and some good bingewatching and munching on snacks for you. Your mother had already gone to bed, for she was an early sleeper. You had managed to sneak into the kitchen, and heat up the leftovers from lunch; the pasta your mum had prepared for you.

You turned your laptop on, letting it rest against your belly as you began browsing through the newest Netflix collection, trying to settle on a movie, when there was a buzz in your phone. You squinted your eyes when your phone started glowing. Your hand reached out as you grabbed it and began reading the SMS from your boss.

Thomas: be at Richard's at 7 in the eve. Got some really imp clients coming over. will be needing you to take the notes.

You frowned, there went your Sunday weekend plans down the drain; not that you had any solid plans, other than Netflix.

Sunday came by faster than you had imagined it to be, and you were standing in front of your wardrobe, weighing the different outfits that you had to fix a suitable one for the dinner at Richard's. Richard's was one of the posher restaurants, and you wanted to look your best, even if it was just business.

Finally, even though your bedroom looked like a typhoon had occurred inside your room, you were able to pick out a dress. It was just the right amount of professional, and casual. It was navy blue, the neck cut deep enough but yet, it wasn't trashy one bit. Once you had changed into it, you admired your form in the mirror, secretly content by the way it hung across your curves, ecen accentuating your curves. You couldn't help but secretly think of Thomas Shelby's reaction when he saw you in this dress.

You were startled when your phone started ringing, pulling you out of your not so in innocent thoughts about your own boss. When you saw his name flash on your lockscreen, you couldn't help but frown. Reluctantly, you tapped on the talk icon, flinging the phone to your ears, "Yes, Mr. Shelby?"

"Grey or black? Red tie or navy blue? I can't fucking decide what to wear. Why is it the fucking weekend [Y/N]. I don't fucking know what to wear," he sounded exasperated and worked up on the other side of the phone and you couldn't help but chuckle silently, silently enjoying this. You knew this would happen.

"The grey with the blue tie, Mr. Shelby, you can make any girl crazy in the grey tux of yours," you smiled, aimlessly drawing your fingers through your hair. You didn't know how you got that courage to openly flirt with him, but you didn't stop yourself from doing it. What suprised you was the fact that Tommy only let you do it. After a minute of silence, he hummed and you could hear him practically pull his tux off the hanger and he murmured, "the grey one it is then."

You kept the phone to your ear, not wanting to disconnect even though he wasn't speaking to you. Oddly enough, even in the silence that lingered on that call, you felt a sense on intimacy, something that you didn't want to let go off, as you grabbed your lipstick and using your free hand, began applying it delicately to your lips.

"What are you wearing?" Tommy's voice reached your ears, and you couldn't help but bite into the insides of your cheeks, feeling giddy in your chest.

"Navy blue dress I wore at the office party, Mr. Shelby. I can change if you want, it's a little too much, don't you think?" You nervously babbled.

"No, keep it on. It compliments my tie."

You smiled upon listening to his words, and just like that, without a parting, Tommy disconnected, sliding his phone into his pocket, his fingers toying with the fabric of his navy blue tie. Even if he was bent of wearing the red one silently, he was now going to switch to the blue one, just because you were wearing blue.

"Miss, do you have a reservation?" The manager asked you, and you smiled courteously.

"Yes, it should be under a Mr. Thomas Shelby?" You replied, and the man immediately nodded and his eyes began scanning through the contents of the register in front of him.

"Ah, you must be Miss [Y/N]. Please follow me, we are delighted to have you," he slowly turned away from you, and you began following him through the open air restaurant, where archaic white gazebos stood tall, adorned with fairy lights, and inside the gazebos were comfortable tables and dine in facilities.

Tommy was finally in sight. He was at the farthest gazebo that stood directly beside the narrow stream, that shone due to the moonlight falling on it.

It wasn't Tommy that captured your attention though, it was the woman dressed in a beautiful red evening dress, her perfectly toned legs covered in sheer black stockings. Her long black hair fell lusciously over her shoulders as she threw back her head and laughed at something Thomas probably said. What made you a tiny bit of jealous was the fact that the two of them looked like they were long time friends; Tommy rarely smiled, and especially never in the open.

You cleared your throat a little too loudly and Tommy turned towards you, and so did the woman in the red dress. You couldn't help but think how beautiful the woman was.

"Tatiana, this is my secretary [Y/N]. She will be going through the final papers and the other formalities," Tommy blinked, his palm ghosting the low of your back as he guided you into an empty chair and you sat down, smiling at Tatiana.

"[Y/N], this is my friend, and soon to be business partner, Tatiana Petrovna," You watched from the corner of your eye as Tommy leaned towards her and he placed his hand on her thigh. You grabbed the fabric of your dress, awkwardly balling the fabric along your fists, although shielded by the table.

The business meeting lasted for an hour, and by the time the three of you were done, half of the restaurant had gotten empty.

"It was a pleasure meeting you once again, Thomas, and even a greater pleasure doing business with you," she gave Tommy her hand and they shook it. You noted how the handshake lingered for a little longer than it was supposed to. Thomas stood up, but you kept seated, as you watched the woman turn away and began strutting down the garden path, towards a massive black SUV parked by the other side.

After a minute of silence, Tommy sighed and he sat down, his earlier jolly expression having dissipated into thin air. He pulled out a cigarette box from the pocket of his tux and brought it up to his lips, flicking you a quick glance.

"You alright?"

"Me? Oh I am more than alright, Mr. Shelby. It's a lovely night, and I'm sitting at one of the loveliest places in Birmingham, with such a lovely company," you deadpanned, giving him a stare down.

"You don't look happy to be here, love," he brought the lit cigarette to his lips, inhaling smoke from it as he eyed you carefully. One of the waiters stepped forward, clearing his throat and you saw that he had a bottle of wine in his hands. Tommy blinked and motioned to the waiter to fill up the glasses and once he had left, his fingers curled against his glass and he lifted it, taking a sip of it.

"Oh, Mr. Shelby, I am delighted to be here, don't you see that? Can we leave?" You arched forward, letting your elbows rest against the table, your glass of wine laying untouched.

Tommy parted his lips, as though he wanted to say something but before words came out, he pressed his lips shut and stood up, grabbing his coat that hung from the back of his chair, "Alright, I'll drop you home yeah? Come on."

Tommy and you quietly walked back to his car and you got into the passenger's seat as Tommy got into the drivers. He slowly pulled the car off the driveway and began driving towards your apartment.

You were still fuming; raging from the inside as you kept glancing at the silhouettes of the buildings passing you by.

"What is the matter with you, ey?" Tommy suddenly turned towards you, lowering the speed of the car and moving it to the side so he could slowly bring the vehicle to a halt.

"Nothing is. Can we please keep moving, Mr. Shelby? I don't have all night," you hissed venomously at him and he just ran his hand through his hair, exasperated. He didn't know what had gotten into you suddenly.

He suddenly reached for your arm and pulled you forcefully towards him, his eyes gazing into yours, "Will you answer me? What the fuck is the matter with you?"

"Oh, nothing's the matter with me, Mr. Shelby. I don't get why you had me over that wretched little romantic dinner as a third wheel when there weren't even enough notes to make," you blurted out the entire sentence in one go, firing the words at him so fast that it took him a minute to digest them.

"Wait, romantic?" He tilted his head slightly, and his index came to rest on his chin for a second before he sat back against the car seat again, "you think me and Tatiana..?"

"Don't spill your romantic or your sexual endeavours in front of me, Mr. Shelby, Im just a lowly secretary," you fumed, and Tommy couldn't help but feel his lips twitch in amusement at how adorably cute you looked when you were angry and jealous.

"Well, now to think of it, eh, we did have some good fucks a few years back," Tommy muttered, in a low voice. Although he knew this would most probably not end very well, but a devil inside of him was already rising, and your jealousy had given birth to a sudden desire in him to have you spill everything you felt for him to him.

You gasped, your jaw dropping as you turned to him, studying his face. Your hand flew to the car lock, and you unlocked it, immediately stepping out of the vehicle, and Tommy cursed under his breath when he realized that he had probably taken it too far. By the time, he stepped out after you, you had already drawn your phone out, and you were trying to book an Uber when he snatched your phone.

"Get into the fucking car, [Y/N]."

"Give me my phone back, Mr. Shelby, I am not in the mood to do this," you threw out your hand, nudging him to hand you your phone.

He was ready to give you back your phone but before he could, his thumb mistakenly pressed on to the power button, and your phone lit up, your cheeks turning a scarlet red when he saw your lockscreen that had his photo on it.

"Wait, am I your lockscreen?” he looked at you smugly, and you couldn't help but feel embarrassed at the sight of it. Great job done [Y/N].

"You weren't supposed to see that," you whispered, tonguing the insides on your cheeks, flustered.

This time he gave you a smile that was gentler than what he had ever given you. He handed you your phone back, and decided not to tease you about the lockscreen.

"Get into the car, [Y/N], please?" He looked into your eyes, his eyes beckoning yours to listen, and you groaned, nodding. He opened the car door for you once again, and quietly you sat down inside, crossing your arms over your chest.

It was as if he knew that you were in no mood to talk, because he didn't force you to. Quietly, he manoeuvred the vehicle through the cuts and turns and you let your head rest against the windowpane. Within seconds, you were drifting into a light sleep.

About ten minutes later, Tommy pled up on your driveway, but even the car coming to a halt wasn't enough to break your slumber. He slowly turned to look at you, and the sight of you was enough to melt his heart. Reluctantly he brought his shaky palm up to the side of your face as he pushed your hair off the side of it, his fingers gentle against you. You stirred slightly, your eyes fluttering awake as Tommy smiled to himself, whispering, "I think you might be my soulmate, eh, if there is a concept of one. I'd like to believe you're my fucking soulmate." It was so low, you couldn't hear any of it.

"We're here," he announced, louder and clearer this time and you took this as a hint to get the fuck out of his car.

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby, I'll see you at work tomorrow," hurriedly you got out of the car and before Tommy could utter another word, you ran down the side of the apartment towards the side staircase that led to your first floor apartment.

Tommy kept watching as you saw you cash up the flight of stairs, struggling to fish out your bunch of house keys from your purse. He watched as you unlocked the front door and stepped in, hurriedly slamming the door shut.

He kept sitting in the car, and finally turned the ignition on.

"Fuck," he cursed as he turned the ignition off, pulled the car keys out and got out of the car. With big steps, he strode towards the side staircase, from where you had just ran up a few seconds back and reached your doorstep, bringing himself to ring the bell. He waited nervously, tapping the wall awkwardly with his fingers until you opened the door.

He pushed himself inside the minute you opened the door, kicking the door shut behind him.

"Why are you here?" You bit back on your words, trembling slightly. He could see that your eyes were red and puffy, and that you had been crying.

"Were you crying love?" He asked, trying to reach for you. He grabbed your wrists, pulling you towards him.

"You're insane," you whispered, your eyes planted to his lips, but you dared not look up and look into his eyes.

Gently, he let go of your wrist, and instead, placed his palm on the low of your back to hold you steady in his arms, "You love me." He rasped, in a low voice that caused your lips to part.

"Not right now I don't, Mr. Shelby," you spat at him, feeling your eyes start getting cloudy again. To be fair, you were feeling stupid, and embarassed at yourself, for reacting this way, showing him how weak and vulnerable you were, but you couldn't help it. You couldn't stop thinking of Tatiana and Tommy, and the more you did, the more angrier you got. You looked away.

"Look at me, love," Tommy chastised you, placing his hand on the base of your chin as he tried lifting your face up, but you dodged his hand and glared at him,"You're not my boss in here, Mr. Shelby. This is my house."

He gave you a tight lipped smile, and his palm reached out to cup your face, his fingers tracing the outline of your lips. He parted his lips, and fluttered his eyes close, letting an exhale out, before fluttering his blues open again, "this fire within you will be the fucking death of me someday, woman." You curled your lips slightly, licking the insides of your mouth and your nostrils flared, "Shouldn't you be with your business partner? Shagging the fuck out of her? You seem to be at the wrong apartment."

Tommy growled, pushing you to the wall; his knee coming to press against the wall, between the space of your legs. His hands fixed on either side of your head, barring you from escaping.

"Can you shut up for once in your life? I did not fuck Tatiana, ever, yeah?" He looked down into your eyes, and you glared into his, wondering if he was lying.

"You.. didn't?"

"I didn't. And I don't intend to, in the future," he said, in his low husky voice. You fluttered your eyes shut and slowly, like a doe, lifted your face so your lips were now in line with his. You parted your lips, waiting for him to kiss you. He took the hint, a ghost of a smirk forming against his lips as he brought the distance to a close, his plump lips pressing against yours as he kissed you by the wall, "now let's not talk of her now yeah? I would rather spend my night in your bed than stand out here, talking about a woman that doesn't interest me."

"then what interests you?" You smirked.

"You do. You interest me, love."

Your cheeks hurt and your eyes leaked water; tears of happiness flew openly from your eyes. You were dressed in a beautiful black evening gown and your son, Charlie, held your palm, his eyes everywhere but on his father as he walked up to the podium to where the microphone was.

You knelt down gracefully, tickling your son lightly on his Adam's apple, and murmured, "Look, Charlie, your daddy is up there, would you look?"

"Dada!" Charlie babbled, and you hoisted him up and fixed him on your hip as your eyes met Tommy's and he gave you a nod, his eyes twinkling.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you all for coming. You see tonight, eh, is a very special night for me. And I am pleased to announce my endeavours first with you—" He found your eyes again, and you smiled at him, wondering what he was referring to. Ever since you found out you were pregnant with Charlie, two years back, you had decided to quit your job.

"I am pleased to announce [Y/N] and Charles Shelby Center for senior citizens," Tommy turned slightly so he could move out of the way and a huge projector began showing the architectural designs of a massive modern looking building on the screen.

Your heart swelled with pride as you watched your husband gracefully walk down the stairs. People came and greeted him, shaking hands with him, and he stopped momentarily to greet them back. You tickled Charlie's belly as you began striding towards where he was.

Tommy threw out his hand towards you and you gladly accepted, as he pulled you to his side, planting a quick kiss on Charlie's forehead. You lifted your neck up high and you and Tommy posed for a few pictures, and soon the cameras left you alone with him. He leaned closer to you and smiled, "Did you like it, love? I've been planning it since I saw you that day, four years back, helping out in the rain. You were beautiful. "

"You saw that, Tommy? Is that why you didn't even scold me for being late?" You gasped, and he smirked, nodding.

"No wonder I kept thinking that something was wrong with you, Mr. Shelby."

He suddenly turned around and his right arm came to rest on the low of your back as he pulled you to him. On one hip, you adjusted your son, who was now struggling to get into his daddy's arms; you placed your free hand on Tommy's chest and patted it before grabbing his tie, "If there was something bloody wrong with me, why would you still choose me as your husband and then gift me with a lovely boy?"

"Well, because, Mr. Shelby, I love you, and wouldn't trade our family for anything."

[longitudinalwaveme]

Arkham Files: The Flash (Wally West)

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Wallace “Wally” West, also known as the Flash. Session One. So, Mr. West, how are you? 

Wally: Let’s go over the situation I’m in, shall we? My wife and I visit your creepy, Gothic asylum-perfectly legally, by the way- to make sure that Bruce Wayne is okay, and you get us arrested on bogus charges of trespassing. Then you pull strings to get me stuck in Arkham Asylum while I’m awaiting trial, and now you’re trying to have me declared legally insane so that you can lock me up in here for good. How the heck do you THINK I’m feeling? 

Hugo Strange: Your hostility is unnecessary, Mr. West. I am trying to help you. 

Wally: If this is your definition of ‘helping’ me, I’d hate to see what you do to people you want to hurt. Seriously, did you go to the Zoom Academy of Making Things “Beeetttteerrrr”? 

Hugo Strange: I am nothing like Mr. Zolomon, Mr. West. 

Wally: I’ll say you’re not. Hunter...he’s sick. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. But you? What’s your excuse? 

Hugo Strange: I do not need an excuse, Mr. West. You may not realize it yet, but you-and all the other costumed vigilantes-are doing more harm than good. 

Wally: What do you mean, more harm than good? I’ve had my powers since I was ten years old, and since then I’ve done my best to hold to the promise that I made to Uncle Barry: to use my speed only to help those in need, to combat evil-and never for my own personal gain. I haven’t been perfect at it-I’m not as selfless as Uncle Barry, and I’ve got quite a temper-but I’ve tried. I’ve really, really tried. 

Hugo Strange: Let’s talk about your Uncle Barry, shall we, Mr. West? 

Wally: Why? So you can twist my words and use them to make him out to be some sort of misguided lunatic? Not gonna happen. 

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, I assure you I bear no ill will towards Mr. Allen. Obviously, you bear a great deal of affection for him. I simply wish to know why that is. 

Wally: Because he’s a hero! He’s brave and loyal and honest and kind and good. He cares about everybody. He uses his powers to protect the weak and help the poor and defend the helpless. He became friends with Albert Desmond when nobody else would’ve given him a chance and got him his job at S.T.A.R. Labs, and he’s tried to help Mick Rory get the treatment he needs for his pyromania, too. He’s raised billions of dollars for charities, and he’s helped to save the world more times than I can count. (Pause) And he does all that while also working for justice as a police scientist! 

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, the exploits of Mr. Allen are well-known. I was asking you why you, in particular, are so fond of him. 

Wally: Well, he did marry my favorite aunt. (Pause) More importantly, though...as a kid, I really needed a hero, and he….he was my hero. My parents barely knew I was alive, except when I did something that inconvenienced them. When that happened, my dad would call me names or hit me, and my mom would wail and cry and guilt-trip….and then they’d go right back to obsessing over their own problems or arguing with each other. I...I felt like I was all alone, except for Aunt Iris. She was the one person in my family who really seemed interested in me, and she also had this awesome job as a reporter in a big city. She was really cool, but because I lived two hours away from her, I didn’t get to see her very much. (Pause) When Uncle Barry first became the Flash, I didn’t know who he was...but I idolized him. I was his biggest fan! I was even the President of the Blue Valley Flash Fan Club. (Pause, laughs) President and only member. The other kids thought he was cool, but they weren’t as invested in him as I was. To me, he represented freedom. 

Hugo Strange: It sounds as though you were a rather lonely little boy, Mr. West. 

Wally: Yeah, I guess I was. (Pause) That’s why I was so excited when my folks sent me to live with Aunt Iris in Central City during the summer when I was ten. And that’s when I first met Uncle Barry. Like I said, I didn’t know he was the Flash yet, so at first I thought he was...well, honestly? Kind of a dweeb. But then he told me that he knew the Flash and could introduce me to him. I was so excited, I probably could’ve inhaled an entire shoe. Anyway, Uncle Barry used his super speed to change into the Flash and act like he’d been waiting for me to arrive, and that’s when I met the Flash. He was everything I’d dreamed he would be. Even though I had been a little bit of a brat to him as Barry Allen, he treated me with respect; like he was happy to meet me and have me around, and it put me over the moon. Eventually, he started to explain how he’d gotten his powers, and that’s when it happened: lightning struck twice. I was doused in the same chemicals he’d gotten his super speed from, and I gained access to the speed force. It was the best day of my entire life. Besides the day I married Linda, of course. I became his sidekick, and from that point on, he was like a second father to me. He laughed at my stupid jokes, got me ice cream, took me on field trips, played games with me….all the things I dreamed of having my dad do with me. Eventually, he told me his secret identity. It was shortly before he and Aunt Iris got married, and I was ecstatic to learn that my favorite aunt was going to marry my hero. I was the ring bearer at their wedding, and from that point on, Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris basically raised me. They helped me through my parents’ divorce. Uncle Barry taught me how to balance a checkbook and apply for college scholarships; Aunt Iris helped me get my driver’s license and taught me how to really notice when other people were in need. (Pause) If it hadn’t been for them, I...I don’t know what would’ve happened to me. Maybe I’d be one of Captain Cold’s strays right now. 

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, let me posit a question to you. If your uncle loved you so much, why did he put you in a costume and allow you to fight dangerous criminals? You became the so-called Kid Flash at ten years old, and by the time you were eleven, you had already faced the Weather Wizard, Captain Cold, and the first Mirror Master-to say nothing of your garden-variety gangsters and thugs. Surely, a responsible adult would have ensured that you stayed far away from such violence...and yet Mr. Allen seemed to almost thrust you towards it. 

Wally: (Annoyed) Thrust me toward it? Are you kidding? If Uncle Barry hadn’t allowed me to be his sidekick, I’d have struck out and done superhero work on my own. I wanted to be just like him, remember? If anything, I thrust him into letting me fight criminals. (Pause) Besides, it wasn’t like he was just letting some random kid fight crime. I had super speed, remember? The chances of my getting shot were virtually nil. And the Rogues have a thing about not hurting kids. I wasn’t in any particular danger, especially not with Uncle Barry watching out for me. 

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, you obviously are unaware of this, but your uncle is a very sick man. 

Wally: Have you been listening to anything I said? Uncle Barry is the best man in the world. If that makes him crazy...well, I don’t want to be sane! 

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, I understand that this is difficult for you, but you must face reality. Your uncle was a very eccentric, very lonely man. He had few friends; most of his life was absorbed in his work. He always wanted to be someone special, but he knew that slow, lazy Barry Allen was no one important. Like you, he idolized a superhero-in his case, the Mystery Man known as Jay Garrick, and, like you, he wished that he, like his hero, was special. When his metahuman powers were activated by the lightning strike, his mind, already fragile from years of being mocked and looked down upon by his peers, shattered. He decided to use his powers to emulate the hero he had read about and idolized as a child, so that he could finally be special. Eventually, his antics drew the attention of other, even more damaged individuals, thereby indirectly inspiring the debut of all the costumed oddities that both you and your uncle spend so much time playing cops and robbers with. And then he met you. Another lonely little boy who wanted to be special. When you got your powers, he saw a chance to expand his fantasy world; recklessly endangering you. He may have been deluded enough to call you a sidekick, but what you really were was a child soldier. No wonder your life was sent into such a tailspin when he was temporarily lost in the speed force five years ago. Without him around to help maintain the fantasy that he had indoctrinated you into, you were lost, and the only solution you could think of was to take up the role that he had once filled. You are not a hero, Mr. West. You are a sad, deluded child; just as your uncle is a sad, deluded man. But I will see that you get the help you need. 

Wally: (Furious) That’s a load of bunk, and you know it! I don’t know what your game is, Dr. Strange, but you’re not going to get away with dragging my uncle’s name through the mud! 

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, your loyalty to your uncle is misguided. He is a dangerous vigilante, one who took advantage of your innocence and loneliness to turn you into yet another costumed freak. What he did to you was wrong, and it is my duty to make sure that you, and the rest of the world, realizes that fact. 

Wally: (Very loudly) Don’t you talk about Uncle Barry that way, you filthy liar! (Stands up rapidly; knocks over the chair he was sitting in) 

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, I would advise you to refrain from such open displays of hostility. Otherwise, I will have to recommend that your children not be allowed to visit you, for the sake of their own mental health. 

Wally: And how do you think it affected their mental health to have their parents locked up on phony charges, huh? 

Hugo Strange: Neither of you were fit guardians for them, Mr. West. I understand that having them separated from you was upsetting, but it is for their own good. You and your wife obviously love them, but you are too ill to properly care for them, and your wife was only enabling your behavior. It was simply not a safe environment for the children, so they have been removed from your home until such time as you have been cured and can properly care for them. Two generations of costumed vigilantes is quite….(Hugo Strange is frozen solid) 

Capt. Cold: And he’s got the nerve to call us crazy. Really, accusin’ you an’ your missus of being bad parents? I seen how you dote on those kids, West. Only a nutjob could think you were unsafe for ‘em. 

Wally: Captain Cold? 

Capt. Cold: The one and only. You ready to bust outta this joint, kid? 

Wally: Are you seriously asking me to help you escape prison? 

Capt. Cold: Sam got Lisa and all the guys out already, and I’ve pretty much already escaped, kid. Just figured I’d be nice and get you outta here, too-before the Doc decides to give you a lobotomy. (Freezes and breaks Wally’s metahuman power dampener) Besides, Central City is furious over what happened to you and your missus. They ain’t exactly gonna expedite you back here. 

Wally: All right...but as soon as Iron Heights gets rebuilt, I’m taking all of you Rogues straight back there. 

Capt. Cold: I wouldn’t have it any other way. (Pause) C’mon, kid. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.

[dramaticviolincrescendo]

Okay, what are your thoughts on Ian's relationships? With his family, his boyfriends, and Mandy (since I think that's the only friend he's had)

Oh, no. Ohhhhhhhh, no. Now you’ve done it. You’ve asked about my dear, darling favorite character on the show. My love for one Ian Gallagher runs deep, which means this answer is going to run super long. The good, the bad, and everything in between—Ian Gallagher lives rent free in my brain and always will. I derive so much satisfaction from seeing Ian interact with other people, in whatever capacity that might be. I admire and aspire to the compassion he has shown for others over the years, even and perhaps most especially those who arguably haven’t earned it. He tries so hard to be good to people, and seeing their love for him manifest when he’s reached such lows where he can’t even fathom why the love of his life would want to be with him forever? That’s powerful.

So, yeah. I said I could write essays on these characters, and that’s exactly what you’re about to get: five hours and 6k words’ worth of my thoughts. (I am so sorry. There will be text walls.)

Let’s dive into Ian’s many and multifaceted relationships—his family, his friends, and his romantic pursuits.

Ian and Family

Ian told us where he stood on this in the very first season, and it set the standard for his character for eleven years to come. Faced with a prospect that others in his position could only dream of—not being Frank’s son and having a wealthy father with a functional, prosperous lifestyle mere miles away—Ian refused to buy into it. He refused to do what might have been objectively better for his future by seeking a relationship with Clayton. In that household, he would have had access to a better public school, more financial resources, a tutor to help him where he was struggling, and less urgency for him to work so that he could enjoy being a kid. When he got sick, he would have had access to better healthcare, too. Perhaps he would have had a better shot at West Point from that background than he did at home. But that’s just it: home was with his family, and he was very clear that they didn’t live in that nice house. All he wanted—all he wanted—was to be with his brothers and sisters. He has never referred to them as only half-siblings or half-cousins; he has never even used the words, “you’re not my dad,” on Frank. That’s his family, the people he loves most in the world, and he’s always been at his best when he’s with them and at his worst when he’s not. Let’s look at each of them:

1.      Frank: It is so striking to me that Ian doesn’t appear to hold the outright contempt for Frank that Fiona, Lip, and Debbie have exhibited at different points over the years. Aside from the handful of instances where they’ve gotten into physical altercations (which Frank always initiated) and kicking him out of the house on occasion, Ian is simply indifferent to him. But there are these moments, these brief glimmers of mutual attachment and loyalty, if those are the right words. In the scene where Ian famously doesn’t count to three before using the pepper spray on him, Frank starts saying how his New Gallaghers weren’t his real kids—that Ian is his real son, and Frank is his real father. It’s a passing thought uttered while trying to manipulate his way into the house that neither of them think much of, nor does the audience…until you remember that biologically, Frank isn’t his father, and he certainly hasn’t behaved like one either. Ian has more right than anyone to comment on that, but he doesn’t because Frank is his father. He’s the father that Ian idly hoped wouldn’t come to his wedding yet sat joking about with Debbie rather than getting pissed off that he was making out with some lady in front of everyone. He’s the father who sat at the table with them eating breakfast in 11x03 and claimed Mickey was the man in their relationship without Ian saying a word to him about it, and who Ian saw no issue with taking Franny to school when no one else could. In s4, as far removed from his family as he’d been for a while, Ian still went straight to the hospital when he heard that Frank was at death’s door. We focus so much on his attitude towards Monica because of how obvious it was that we frequently miss these tiny moments and their implications. It would take an awful lot of patience, compassion, and love not to write Frank off completely after all he’s done. Not necessarily our standard definition of love between a son and his father, perhaps, but a loving soul.

2.      Monica: I have actually written a pretty lengthy post about his relationship with her because while their shared mental illness definitely plays a role in his feelings toward her, that grew complicated far earlier than his diagnosis. The first time we meet her, we see that he has a visceral reaction to news of her presence. He runs. When Ian can’t process strong emotions, that’s what he’s done in the past. I happened upon an interview Cameron did just after the end of s1 where he mentioned something I had already been thinking: Ian’s age when Monica left is extremely important. He was a kid in s1, but one who could roll with the punches, sometimes literally. She left them two years before that. Ian would have been in middle school, roughly as old as Debbie was when she still called Frank “daddy” and forgave him for everything he did. It’s an awkward age that once again set Ian in something of a danger zone—too old to accept an excuse or no explanation at all, but not old enough to process the situation in a healthy way. And then she’s back all of a sudden with no warning. Ian doesn’t cry like Debbie, and he doesn’t typically get explosively angry like Fiona. He can’t deal, so he runs. He hangs back. He only speaks when he has to and compartmentalizes: Monica wants to take Liam, and they need to stop her. It doesn’t have to be about her leaving. They have a goal—he can focus on that. And then she’s back a year later, saying she’s here to stay while Fiona seems to take her at her word and Lip isn’t there to ground everyone. Ian tries so hard to behave like Lip would with his biting sarcasm and attempts to stay emotionally distant in a way that seemed pretty exaggerated for Ian, but he’s also dealing with a fresh wave of guilt over Mickey going to juvie—and Monica gets it. She’s the only person to acknowledge that he’s in pain and actively try to make it better. She’s the only one who really knows at the time, but that hardly matters. This poor kid, whose mother left him when he still needed her, has her standing in front of him and saying she’s sorry and listening when he speaks and taking him dancing—just the two of them. Embarrassing as it was and harmful as it could have been, she tried to facilitate his dreams when no one else wanted him to go into the military. She was there for him when he went AWOL. She came for him when he was arrested and even wanted to make a place for him in her new life, unrealistic as it was. This goes so much deeper than them both being bipolar. Ian’s comment about her parachuting into their lives in s7 wasn’t about Mickey or her role in them breaking up. He trusted her. He wanted her. He needed her. And she’d convinced him that she would be there—until she left. Over and over again. She was there for him and unintentionally took advantage of how desperately he still needed his mother. She made him keep loving her, and that’s both a blessing that has him crying into a voluminous man’s arms when she passes and a curse that wrecked him more than once.

3.      Fiona: The trust these two have for each other cannot be understated. Fiona has discussed things with Ian that she never brought up around any of the other kids throughout the entire series. In the pilot episode, she tells him about feeling needed and takes his opinion on the matter to heart. At the end of the season, he’s the one she talks to about the car because she can trust him to give her an answer even without speaking. In s2, she tells Lip that the two of them are her rocks, and we see that time and time again. That’s part of what makes their falling out over the church hit that much harder: it’s Ian and Fiona. The only time they’d been on the outs in any serious manner up to that point was when Ian was adjusting to his new reality and they were trying to find a balance between sister and caretaker. Otherwise, that bond of trust had never been severed—not until Ian literally sold himself only for it to amount to nothing in the end because she had no idea the lengths to which he’d gone to get that building. That damage gets mended, thankfully, but what a powerful period of time when those two were the only ones who’d never really been at each other’s throats. There is a downside to that trust, though. As I mentioned before, Ian was so responsible and put together when he was younger that Fiona didn’t think twice about his situation with Ned or that he ran away. Not even seventeen yet, and she was telling Debbie that she didn’t like his decision to leave but trusted him. That is one of the things I love about this show—even something like trust that we always prop up as an important factor in our relationships can betray us in the most unexpected ways.

4.      Lip: I won’t go into it here, but the relationship they share is something that means a lot to me on a personal level. It’s part of how I knew that Ian would become my favorite character pretty early on. The way he simultaneously admires and envies Lip, loves and is annoyed by him, relies on him and is desperate to pave his own path in the world—what a beautiful and accurate depiction of what it means to be a younger sibling. Lip is the first person to discover that he’s gay and openly accept him for it. (I think what he tried with Karen came from a well-meaning place even if it was horribly, horribly misguided.) Lip is the one who tries to get him into West Point, hate it as he does. He helps Ian when Terry is after him, takes care of him in the aftermath of the wedding when he realizes just how deeply Ian feels for Mickey, searches the whole damn city for him when he finds out that Ian is in trouble, gets him a job, leans on him in his own time of need… He’s not perfect. He slips up, just like Ian does. Some things break my heart, like Lip insisting that he’s earned his own space when his little brother is asking him for safe harbor or Ian thanking him for being his brother outside the prison. But they love each other so much, and I just… I can’t possibly put into words how much I love their dynamic.

5.      Debbie, Carl, and Liam: I’m grouping these three together because they’re further separated from Ian in age, so we see a lot of the same trends with them as a whole. Ian loves taking care of people. We know this. We also know that Fiona and Lip don’t typically want him taking care of them—they’re the ones who take care of him when he needs it, specifically Lip. With the younger three, however, Ian can be the Big Brother. He can shake his head in utter bafflement at Debbie’s obsession with holding her breath for two minutes, walk Carl through what he needs to go camping, and promise his baby brother postcards when he leaves. The difference here is that his relationship with them is so much less fraught with conflict. We don’t see him fight with Debbie, Carl, or Liam the way he has with Fiona or Lip. While Ian tends to be the voice of reason during conflicts overall, I think it’s also because he relies on his older siblings in a way that he doesn’t with his younger siblings, and the latter don’t tend to rely on him as much as Fiona or Lip as well. There’s a lack of tension in most of their interactions growing up because that pressure isn’t there. Perhaps this is where Ian’s age and standing in the family is a bit more beneficial: young enough to have people he can rely on while too young for anyone to really rely on him for more than his share of the squirrel fund.

Ian and Friends

I’ve seen it mentioned that Ian (and Mickey) not having more friends is bad or lazy writing. I tend to believe that that fails to take something into account that, admittedly, most of us don’t really have to think about: having friends is a luxury. It requires time and effort to cultivate friendships, especially lasting ones. As a kid, Ian spent a lot of his free time working or helping to manage one family crisis after another. Going AWOL, losing his health, struggling to acclimate to his illness, trying to find a new career path, spiraling into the Gay Jesus movement, going to prison, adjusting once again to normal life, getting married, a pandemic… I’m sure he’s had plenty of acquaintances over the years, but having a family to support and constant upheavals would have made it extremely difficult to really forge strong relationships with them. I think that’s part of what makes his relationship with Mandy so special and valuable to him: she’s sort of the same way.

When we met Mandy in s1, she had other friends. We saw her meet up with them and go shopping; she told Ian a story about how one was mad at her for not sharing her make-up. As the trauma in the Milkovich household reached its zenith for her in s2 and she started thinking seriously about getting out of there, we saw those friends fall by the wayside—all except Ian. He saw her and let her see him early on. That’s a level of trust and respect that nobody else in their neighborhood would have displayed, certainly not to her. But then there’s this guy who defended her against their creepy, perverted teacher and treated her like a human being, not an object. It’s no wonder she developed an obvious, unrequited crush and sought physical comfort from him occasionally. It’s no wonder she tried to repay the favor by giving Mickey a hard time in s3 and s4, misguided and rather uninformed as we know it was at the time. (It’s also no wonder that she went for the closest Gallagher to Ian, either, but that’s for another meta.)

And Ian… Ian is loyal to a fault. We have watched Ian cut out his own heart and let the blood drip down his arm to pool on the floor at his feet if it would make a damn bit of difference for the people he loves. Like Fiona and Lip, Mandy immediately accepted him for who he is and suggested an arrangement that would protect him as well as benefit her. That is enormous where they came from. To him, that had to feel like the ultimate sign of friendship: he could trust her with a part of him that he hadn’t even entrusted to most of his family yet. From that point on, she was on the List of People Ian Gallagher Would Do Anything For. Finding out about Terry and what had happened? He held a bake sale, of all things, to fundraise for her. Seeing that his brother—his best friend—was treating her like garbage? He put him in his place. Her boyfriend was beating her? He brought her home and made it his goal to find a safe place for her to stay, even if it ultimately didn’t work. She was going to move away from all of her meager support with that boyfriend? He didn’t just rally his own arguments—he brought in outside help with Lip, who he thought might tip the scales. It’s usually just a saying that true friends will help each other hide a body, but Ian literally tried to do that. Lucky for him, he has a good head on his shoulders and used it.

No, Ian doesn’t seem to have a lot of friends. We’ve seen that he has spheres of influence, if you will, and acquaintances that he can call upon when he needs them. (For example, the guys that helped with the preacher.) However, Ian has always struck me as a “quality over quantity” type of person. Being a soldier or an EMT isn’t lucrative, but they’re meaningful for someone who sees them as vehicles for helping people. Seeing more parts of the world than just Chicago has appealed to him in the past, but he seems perfectly content to carve out a spot for himself right here at home. Having only three best friends—Lip, Mandy, and Mickey—doesn’t seem like much of a hardship for him.

Ian and Romantic Pursuits

I hate to say that there were five, but from Ian’s perspective, there were. So, let’s talk about all five. Even though…there weren’t five. There was only one. We’ll save the best for last.

1.      Kash: The first of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. I hope it goes without saying that I hate this man with the passion of a thousand burning suns. I hate him so much. However, their interactions taught me a whole lot about how kind and compassionate Ian really is—and how naïve. Of course, he would believe that Kash loved him. The man was buying him all sorts of expensive gifts, and that’s what we see on all the commercials and in so many movies, isn’t it? Grand gestures of affection through expensive gifts. Poor as they were, Ian still scraped together the money to buy him baseball tickets and CDs, convinced as he was that that was all part of what you did in a relationship. That desire to do things like a “normal” married couple in s11? Yeah, that starts here. Ian has always been a planner, and he’s always bought into certain stereotypes. We can see that here. What we can also see is Ian’s compassionate, kind, loving soul. He cares so deeply for other people, even ones that he doesn’t know very well, especially if they are living in circumstances that mean something to him. (For example, the mentally ill woman they tried to help at work and the shelter kids whose situations were so similar to Mickey’s.) Kash being a closeted gay man living in misery with a wife he didn’t love and two children he never meant to have clearly tugged at Ian’s heartstrings. Even after everything that happens, even though Ian behaves as though they’re awkward exes who just happen to work together, he still covers for Kash. He gives him that head start and takes it upon himself to break the news to Linda that he’s gone. He defends Kash to Lip when the latter finally says exactly what we all know: he was a pedophile who deserved to rot in prison for what he did. As with Fiona’s trust, Ian’s loving soul, compassionate heart, and desire for love outside his siblings are virtues that have done him harm in the past. This is one such instance.

2.      Ned: The second of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. To be honest, I don’t believe that Ian would even characterize it that way. He seemed very aware that Ned was a distraction from his problems—from Mickey being in juvie, Monica falling into a depressive episode, the money in the squirrel fund being gone, Lip moving out, losing his shot at West Point, and getting denied for service due to his age. Again, though, Ian has always wanted to feel valued, and this rich dude was letting him stay in a fancy hotel room with anything he wanted readily available. This (disgusting predator) guy was giving him attention and a distraction with no strings attached. Then the complications roll in, and he’s once again faced with being the mistress to a closeted, married man. The difference here is that he’s not comfortable with it. He tries to tell Fiona twice, which is enormous for Ian when he has never been very good at communicating if it means burdening others with or even merely facing his own problems. But he tries to tell her. He rejects the GPS unit and tells Ned that he has a boyfriend, boxing him into a strictly sexual arrangement. (This, unfortunately, makes sense. It aligns with how Fiona viewed things: where Jimmy was concerned about it, she told him that it was “just sex.”) He is also visibly embarrassed to admit to Lip and Fiona what has been going on with Ned. By that point, Ian is a year and a half older and, while still scarred and warped in his views because of Kash, perhaps a bit wiser. Emotionally, he kept Ned at arm’s length most of the time. He used Ned not just as a distraction, but as a way to galvanize Mickey into taking their relationship a step forward. But Ian is still Ian, and Ian is compassionate to a fault. Ned played that card by asking if he could have a little understanding for a man whose life was falling apart. Sure, he can. He’s Ian, the Gallagher too empathetic for his own good at times. We know how that spirals out of control. It just goes to show that even when Ian was trying to maintain some emotional distance, his heart is simply too big and his perceptions too heavily impacted by the grooming he’d experienced with two different people by then, and so he [SPOILER ALERT] still feels enough of a connection to Ned after all these years to be mildly bothered that he passed away.

3.      Caleb: The third of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. Ian’s relationship with Caleb strikes me as being similar to what he had with Ned. While more age-appropriate, Ian was very much using Caleb, just as Caleb was using him. That’s why it was so easy for both of them to walk away. Ian was in a difficult spot when they met. He was grateful to the firefighters who saved his life, but he had also just saved someone else at a moment when he was perhaps at his absolute lowest. That’s what he’s always wanted, isn’t it—to be a bit of a hero and help people? So, he’s understandably drawn there, first out of gratitude and then to be surrounded by very attractive gay firemen who helped people, saved his life, and invited him to be part of a function they were holding. But he made himself pretty clear from the start: he was interested in sex with Caleb. That was the draw. He still hasn’t come to terms with being bipolar and losing Mickey, but Ian has never not been with anyone for any extended length of time. That’s just who he is: he’s always sought some level of outward validation—from the army, Kash, Monica, Mickey, and so many others. We’re seeing him struggle with that now as he deals with the opportunities available to him as a mentally ill ex-con felon. So, he pursues Caleb as a distraction just like he did with Ned, only Caleb is a predator in his own right and can smell that his interest is coming from a place of weakness. He immediately (and initially unintentionally) preys on Ian’s desperate need for structure and order by insisting on a traditional date where Ian is very much out of his element and even goes so far as to instruct Ian on how to be intimate. It’s no wonder he mentions Mickey in these moments, as Mickey never wanted him to change, and Ian leans heavily (even slightly hyperbolically) into the fact that Mickey wasn’t a paragon of order and stability like Caleb outwardly appears. 

And I think why Ian puts up with it so long—being taught like a child, being used to upset Caleb’s parents, being paraded in front of his friends to make them jealous—is because he was getting something out of it too, just like with Ned. A stable place to live when their home ownership was in flux, a place away from his family when they weren’t providing the support he needed as he adjusted to his disorder, someone who validated his desires to help people regardless of their ulterior motives, and a physical distraction from his own problems. All of these parallel his relationship with Ned very closely. It was never going to last, of course. Ian is a strong person who temporarily forgot how strong he was because he forgot who he was, and Caleb didn’t want to be cared for—he wanted a project, like all of his sculptures. Being a project, being something that others see as needing to be fixed? That’s a hard no for Ian. It always has been. There’s a moment I love later in their relationship where Caleb tells him to turn off the lights when he goes out and lightly reprimands him for leaving one on the day prior. Ian is in a better place at that point, having regained a lot of his sense of self, and stares after him with indignation at being treated like a kid. He’s then lied to and cheated on, but I think that to mention those things to Caleb when they break up is to admit weakness on his own part—that he stuck with Caleb knowing that he was being mistreated, and Ian is not one to be called a victim. So, while we know from his discussions with Lip and Sue that the cheating and distrust bothered him most, he merely focused on Caleb lying about his sexuality, which removed a lot of the emotion from the situation—just like he did with Ned. It ultimately turned out to be a bad move since Caleb, being a skilled predator, made him question even his own sexuality in return, but we’re starting to see that Ian isn’t here to be someone’s toy anymore. Not an older, married man like Ned, but definitely not anyone his age either. I’m glad this pseudo-relationship happened because it showed Ian how strong he really was and that he could be in control of his own life. Sure, it destabilized him a little in the aftermath, but he worked through it. He leaned on his family, specifically Lip, who has always been his rock without the blurred lines that Fiona represented between sister/mother-figure/caretaker. Caleb is a garbage person, but Ian was the one who pulled the treasure from the trash, not him.

4.      Trevor: The fourth of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. Trevor is perhaps the first relationship where we don’t see Ian dive in. Whether that’s because of his confusion over Trevor’s gender identity or the fact that he was really beginning to fully mature as an adult by that point (ostensibly finishing his education, getting a career, being fully self-sufficient, etc.), he tried to take his time and not jump right in. They hung out, talked around the neighborhood, and yes, engaged in some casual intimacy at the club. Again, Ian might not be in a full relationship, but he’s never without someone for long. At that point in the series, all he was missing was a relationship when it comes to traditional, “normal” goals for people to have. But Trevor posed a situation he’s never been in before since, while gay himself, Ian has never been very interested in activism or engaging in the LGBT community. It’s just not in his culture or environment, so to be faced with someone he’s interested in that challenges a lot of his views of gender and sexuality is something he takes his time with. Unfortunately, Trevor is younger than him and not quite as mature, not quite as experienced. He tells Ian he has plenty of friends and doesn’t need another, which is an ultimatum that has never really sat very well with me personally because I’m generally of the mind that if a person needs time and you really care for them, you’ll let them have that time. I’m not unsympathetic to Trevor: he’s been burned before and has his own trauma stemming from responses to his identity, so it makes complete sense for him not to be patient in this regard. He shouldn’t have to be—but then, Ian shouldn’t have to rush into anything he’s not 100% certain he wants either. That’s exactly what he does, though, because Ian does for others without thinking of the implications for himself a lot of the time. They make great friends, but they don’t make great partners. Trevor treats Ian similarly to Caleb in that he’s a bit of a project. Trevor educates him on the LGBT community and incorporates him into his ventures for the shelter without ever really showing much interest in Ian’s life or family, which suits Ian just fine because for as interested as he is in helping with the shelter and as attracted to Trevor as he is, he seems to know they’re not compatible. Ian, who has been having sex since he was far too young, takes a step back from it when they run into compatibility issues. (And pushes back on the pressure to bottom with some of his own—neither of them were in the right on that.) He doesn’t ask much about Trevor’s family or try to be part of his personal life. They sort of embody the “friends with benefits” stereotype: they hang out, they have sex, and that’s really all there is to their relationship. 

The reason Ian doubles down on trying to make it work isn’t because there was a future for them before Mickey broke out. It’s because he thinks he’s lost Mickey forever, he knows he’s lost Monica forever, and he’s not going to get the support he needs from his family when they couldn’t stand Monica and Fiona told him what he already knew to be true, namely that Mickey being an escaped convict would destroy everything Ian worked so hard for if he got involved. So, he does what Ian does. He needs that distraction—he needs to run from these strong emotions he can’t process, so he bottles them up and unfairly hopes that Trevor will provide some of that comfort after cheating on him with Mickey. (Had Mickey been released, I think they would have broken up. Instead, that was the first match Ian lit, but certainly not the last.) Now, the thing is, Trevor said at the start that he didn’t want to be Ian’s friend. He’s also younger and less mature in a relationship, which means he threw the concept of love out there prematurely, just like Ian thought what he had with Kash was love. The death throes of their relationship were a back and forth where Ian was spiraling and seeking comfort, and Trevor was providing some while keeping their relationship pretty amorphous. (Were they exes? Were they friends? Were they people who shared interests and danced around each other? Were they going to get back together? They never officially broke up—it fizzled and resurged, then fizzled for good.) Ultimately, whatever it was that they had couldn’t survive Mickey, Monica, or Gay Jesus. Trevor wasn’t prepared to deal with a full-blown manic episode, and based on his hands-off approach with involving himself in Ian’s life even before the Mickey-shaped bomb got dropped on them, it doesn’t seem like he really wanted to anyway. He did what he’s always done: prioritized his shelter, which I’m not deriding in the slightest. By that point, Ian was too far gone to care that he disappeared anyway. Had the situation been different and he was getting the support from his family that he needed, it doesn’t seem like he would have cared much there either.

5.      Mickey: Finally. Only took over five thousand words to get here. I’ll preface this with something that anyone who knows me from other fandoms is already well aware of, namely that I don’t do romance. Ever. Never been interested. The relationships I’ve always been most passionately interested in are platonic ones, especially “found families” and siblings, which is probably obvious from the other five thousand words here. Ian and Mickey are the first relationship I’ve actively shipped or written for in a fandom. They’re the first I’ve been invested in to this extent. As such, one of the biggest pet peeves I had when I first joined this fandom was the saying, “Ian fell first, Mickey fell harder.” These two wonderful dumbasses face planted on the concrete in front of the Kash and Grab in s1 and never recovered. I could go on forever about these two, but that particular wall of text would probably be too daunting for even the most avid Gallavich stan to traverse, so I’ll keep it fairly brief. As we can see above, Ian has a very strict sense of what he “should” want in a partner. Someone who is moderately successful in their chosen field, makes enough money to at least live comfortably, and typically does something that helps other people (a doctor, a fireman, a youth counselor). These aren’t passionate people. They’re not men who operate on instinct the way most of the people in his life have always had to by virtue of their social standing. They have life goals and opportunities that he envies, and Ian has a great deal of compassion for them when they hit a roadblock or things don’t work out. The amazing dichotomy of Ian Gallagher is that he straddles a line most people can’t between the rough neighborhood that has instilled in him all of his values/behaviors and the middle-class mentality of pulling yourself up by your bootstraps and aspiring to more. Ian has always aimed for what Lip said wasn’t possible for poor people: being successful without having to scam or steal. But as I said way back at the beginning of this manifesto, the South Side is his home. His family is his family. And none of the people he’s been with personify the South Side quite like Mickey—they don’t personify home like Mickey. 

And I think that’s where the initial draw for Ian is. (I’m going to focus on Ian’s side since he’s who your question focused on.) The other guys look great on paper, and Ian’s brain says that that’s what he should aim for. We know better, though. We know that Ian has an enormous heart that belongs first and foremost to his family and their home. His heart says that this person—this dirty, rude, mean, violent person—is home. His heart says this person is everything about himself that he denies having, just like Ian was everything about Mickey that the latter declined to openly acknowledge for so long. I don’t like relationships built on “making each other better.” I really don’t. The wonderful thing about this is that it’s never been that way. Ian didn’t change Mickey. He’s exactly who he’s always been, but he’s grown past the fear of his own emotions and Terry’s response to them. He’s still a thief, a con artist, violent, and rude. Mickey didn’t change Ian either. He’s still rigidly conforming to certain stereotypes of what he thinks he should want, seeking structure (to his own detriment at times), and not a great communicator. The point for them is that they complement each other, not that they make the other a better person—not even that they bring something out of each other that wasn’t already there. That’s what Ian’s other relationships did. They made him shave off his edges so that he could fit a square peg into a round hole, and that’s not happiness. It’s simply what he thought he was supposed to do—what “normal” people did. 

With Mickey, he doesn’t have to worry so much about what is normal or acceptable. He doesn’t have to worry about whether or not his life is objectively “on track,” not until fairly recently. Mickey is the only person he’s ever been with who has accepted him for who he is, faults and strengths alike, without the underlying insinuation that he should be aiming for something else or pretending to be whatever the other person needs him to be in order to care for them. Kash needed an escape—Ian provided it. Ned needed a very specific brand of toy—Ian played that role. Caleb needed a project to feel fulfilled—Ian went along with it for a bit. Trevor needed someone who accepted him as he was but did things his way—Ian did that. To care for Mickey has only ever meant being himself because all Mickey ever really needed was him. Mickey didn’t need an escape from his home—his relationship with his family is more complicated than that. Mickey didn’t need to be saved from his upbringing—it’s what made him the person Ian fell in love with and who he is happy to be. Mickey didn’t need someone to change who he is on a fundamental level because unless it is going to get him into trouble and separate them, Ian never wanted him to. (Even then, it’s about what he does, not who he is.) And yes, I’m sure that there’s a level of excitement that Ian finds exhilarating where Mickey is concerned, but I tend to believe it goes a lot deeper than that. What he finds exciting about Mickey is what Mickey embodies about the South Side—about home. About his own upbringing, but also Ian’s. About Frank and Monica, his siblings, school, work, ROTC—existing and surviving in an environment where it’s not guaranteed that you’ll have money to keep the heat on this winter or feed your family. They spent the early seasons living in a constant state of fight or flight. They couldn’t afford not to. And there’s excitement in that. Look at how many people say that the first seasons are their favorite! There hasn’t been a huge shift in the quality or direction of the writing, just the trajectory of the characters. They’ve gotten older, and their problems have been different. It’s not about survival so much of the time anymore, but those are the storylines that excite us. For Ian, that exhilaration in the constant battle of survival in their neighborhood is sewn into the fiber of his being just like it is Mickey’s. He saw his home in Mickey before they truly fell in love, and when that followed, Mickey became home.

In Conclusion

Ian has spent his entire life looking for the “right” path only to realize that it was laid before him: his family, his small circle of friends, and Mickey. I love that that is coming full circle this season, where [SPOILER ALERT] marriage has almost made him regress a bit to that place where there must be a right way of doing things going forward, and slowly but surely, we’re seeing him loosen up.

Good morning. It’s Ian Gallagher loving hours.

[julemmaes]

Hey, I really enjoy "Love her like she should be loved" and I was wondering if you'll update it soon? Like.. I've been looking at A03 page everyday waiting, no rush tho. Have a good day!

You’re Not Alone (3)

Cassian and Nesta Archeron modern au

A/N: I know yall always tell me not to be sorry, but I AM AND I CAN’T HELP IT. I’m sorry I made you wait sooo fucking long for this, but I’m kinda struggling with things rn and I really hate it so yeah, hope you can understand that.

Also, this didn’t went as good as I thought, but I took inspiration from what I think would go down with people I know in real life in a situation like this and I really hope it makes sense for you too. Enjoy!:)

part one, part two

Word count: 6,665

Nesta had responded to Feyre's message the next morning with a simple 'Okay, we can meet for dinner tonight.' and then invited the entire group to her house.

When she warned Cassian that he would have to go grocery shopping for everyone, he was shocked for a moment, looking at her carefully and trying to figure out if she was joking.

"Are you serious?" he asked her, taking a seat at the table and holding the cup of warm milk in his hands.

Nesta arched an eyebrow, throwing a glance over her shoulder, "What?"

Cassian had to tell himself to calm down, because the anger he had managed to repel all night was surfacing again. Not at Nesta, but at Rhysand, Morrigan. "I understand that you want to settle things with your sisters and..." he stammered, "and the others, but invite them here for dinner. Are you sure it won't end badly and that it won't contaminate this safe space?"

Nesta had stopped washing the dishes and although she had her back turned, he knew that her eyes were closed. Cassian stiffened, ready to stand up in case she needed physical comfort. The girl closed the faucet and turned towards him, taking a deep breath, "Tonight will not be easy," she announced.

Cassian nodded as he finished his breakfast and stood up, "I know it won't be easy, that's why I worry," he moved her from her position in front of the sink and put his cup in it, "If tonight goes poorly and you feel overwhelmed, you won't be able to go back to your house in a quiet and peaceful place and calm down." he took to washing the dishes for her, looking down at her face.

"I know, Cass." she passed her hand through her hair sighing, untangling it. She looked at him in turn, looking for confirmation, "But if I let them in here, maybe they will think that I'm really trying to apologize and that I want things to work out." she took one hand to her lips, biting the edge of her nail.

Cassian put the last cutlery in the dishwasher and took her wrist, taking her hand away from her mouth and bringing it to his, before leaving a kiss on her palm. Nesta smiled at him, but that happiness lasted only a few seconds because she grew grim, closing her eyes, "I'm afraid of messing everything up".

"I know, sweetheart." he whispered to her, "I'm afraid too."

She opened her eyes, frowning.

"I'm afraid that Rhys will be so blinded by hatred that he won't hear anything we say." he began, "I'm afraid that Mor will say things that - even if they are not true - will find a way to get under your skin."

Nesta leaned towards him, taking both hands to his chest, "I'm afraid that Elain will understand and that Feyre won't." she murmured, "I'm afraid that they will fight because of me. I'm terrified that this will affect Rhysand and Feyre's relationship more than I can imagine."

Cassian took a deep breath. He hadn't thought about that.

"Listen to me," he took her face in his hands, Nesta looked him straight in the eye, "both your sisters and my family are adults. We're not talking to children. We're talking to people who can think logically and who know what it means to be mentally ill."

She hesitated for a long moment and then nodded with conviction before shaking her head vehemently. She took a trembling breath and Cassian saw the moment Nesta's insecurities appeared on the surface when her eyes became lucid.

She slipped away from his touch, giving him her shoulders and leaning against the island. She was taking deep and quick breaths.

Cassian knew he didn't have to touch her when she was having an anxiety attack, but that didn't stop him from going near her and trying to calm her down. He spoke to her softly, but firmly, "I know it's scary Nesta. I know it's not easy, but you're not alone." he clenched his hands when her breath broke and the instinct to take her in his arms became overwhelming.

"You are not alone and whatever happens tonight we can stop. Whether it's when they arrive and they're still outside the door or it's halfway through dinner, you can get up and leave the room." she still had her eyes closed and a few tears were streaming down her cheeks. "You just have to look at me and I will understand Nes. I will send them away. You don't have to worry about that."

Nesta put a hand on her chest. "Breathe sweetheart. Focus on my voice."

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

"What if they all start to turn against me?" she asked in a voice so weak that it broke his heart.

Cassian tightened his jaw, knowing full well that this could be one of many options, "If they even dare to gang up on you, I'll take care of it. I'm not lying when I say that you are not alone."

Nesta held her breath, pressing the back of her hand over her cheeks. Then she nodded once and turned towards him. "I am not alone." she repeated like a prayer.

"You are not alone."

He held her in his arms when she threw herself at him and swung into her kitchen for another twenty minutes before they both had to leave to go to class.

During the morning Cassian had tried to concentrate as much as possible on what the teachers had explained, but as he could well imagine, there had been no way to follow a single lesson. Every single thought he had was focused on the dinner that would take place that evening.

Around lunchtime, Nesta had warned him that there would be six of them. Azriel and Amren would not be there.

He hadn't commented on this choice. After all, he knew that it would already be very complicated to talk to her sisters, with the fact that Morrigan and Rhysand would also be there. Cassian felt slightly relieved that they would not have to endure the enigmatic silence of his older brother and the mocking looks of his friend. He would have thought about it another day to set the record straight with the two of them.

He left campus at five o'clock and very slowly walked to his car. He arrived downtown half an hour later and sat in the supermarket parking lot for a long time, his hands tight around the steering wheel and his eyes fixed onto the void, too deep in his thoughts.

He would not have been able to hold back that night, if Rhysand had even tried to say anything negative or if he had tried to minimize Nesta's problems. He did not know if he would be able to stop if he crossed the line.

He ran his hand over his face, taking a deep breath and breaking that trance he had been in for what seemed like centuries.

Luckily he only had to buy a few things. He had almost finished - he was looking for olives for the Greek salad and couldn't find them in any of the aisles - when his phone rang. The ringtone was not the personalized one he used for Nesta and he didn't bother to answer it quickly.

He frowned when he saw that it was Mor, but brought the phone to his ear nonetheless, accepting the call, "Hello?".

"Where are you?"

Cassian looked around confused, "At the mall, why?"

"And are you with Nesta?"

"No, she's home."

He heard Mor mumbling something and then huffing, "Understood, well, couldn't you tell your sweetheart to open the door to the house for us?" she asked exasperated.

The blood froze in Cassian's veins, "Why are you already there?" he asked as he walked towards the cashiers, hurrying up shortly afterwards. He removed the phone from his ear, looking at the time, "Mor, it's half past six, why the hell are you already there?".

He heard his friend's indignation even through the phone, "Don't use that tone with me, I didn't show up here earlier out of spite-" she was interrupted by someone, presumably Rhysand, who warned her by saying her name. She huffed, "Nesta told us to come at this time."

Cassian cursed under his breath and hurried to put all the things on the tape, remaining silent while thinking which way would be the fastest to get to Nesta's house.

"Cassian?”

He passed the money to the cashier, waiting for the change before answering, "Yes, Mor, I'm still here".

"So?"

"Did you ring?" he asked, running towards the parking lot.

"Do you think we are brainless? Of course we rang the doorbell!" Cassian thought at that very moment that if Mor hadn't dropped the attitude by the time dinner arrived, he would have pulled her hair out one by one.

"I'll call you back in ten minutes," he told her, throwing the bags in the back seats and letting the food fall out.

"Ten minutes?" asked the blonde in a distraught tone, "I'm not going to wait that long just because that bitc-" movement was heard through the speaker and Cassian had to refrain from yelling at Morrigan. A few seconds later, he heard Feyre's voice, "No problem Cass, we're going for a drive around here and we'll be back in ten minutes, please text me when you're there."

Cassian thanked her, praying to every god on earth that others would be as forgiving as she was during dinner. He quickly typed in Nesta's number and drove out of the parking lot, focusing more on what he would want to say to Mor than on the street.

She didn't answer immediately and Cassian had to call her back twice, starting to worry that Nesta had changed her mind at last and that something serious had happened. When she answered on the fourth call, he released a relieved laugh.

"What is it Cass? I was taking a shower," she said irritated, "You interrupted the music eighty times," she mumbled annoyed.

Cassian put his hand over his mouth, "Hey baby, listen," he started, going straight to the point, "what time did you say everybody was coming?"

"At 7:30, why?" she asked and he could imagine her naked in the middle of the bathroom with a frown on her face.

"I think you wrote the message with the wrong time then. Mor called me and they are all there already. They buzzed a couple of times, you must not have heard them because of the music."

Silence.

"Nesta?"

"Fuck, no." she breathed through the microphone. "I can't let them up, tell them I'm not at home." she said in a hurry, "I can't be alone with them. I need you here while I do it. I need you here while I'm doing it."

"Calm down Nes, I already asked them to go for a ride. I'm in the car and I'm on my way."

"Are you driving?" she asked in the tone of one who seemed to have forgotten everything that had just happened. He didn't answer, knowing full well that he was going to kick his ass. "God, how many times have I told you not to talk on the phone while driving?"

"We're not having this conversation again." he snorted, turning right to take the highway, "Would you send a message to Feyre saying you made a mistake and the appointment was supposed to be in an hour?"

Nesta hesitated and then asked quietly, "Can't you do it?"

"You just yelled at me because I'm on the phone with you while behind the wheel and you want me to write a message?"

"You could pull over," she asked.

Cassian knew where all that anxiety was coming from and asking her to do something that would stress her even more on a day like this would be bad. He swelled her cheeks and released all the air and then nodded, "Alright, see you in ten."

"Pull over, though, don't text while you're driving."

"Yeah yeah, don't worry."

"I swear Cassian that if they call me from the hospital-"

"They won't," he reassured her, chuckling, "See you in a bit."

He put down the call with Nesta and called Feyre back, warning her that there had been a misunderstanding and that they would not be ready for at least another hour. The girl had reassured him that there were no problems, but despite Feyre's various attempts to mask Mor's offenses, Cassian had heard them anyway.

He arrived at Nesta's apartment in a very short time and as soon as he entered the house, she was all over him. The bags full of food fell from his hands when he had to hold Nesta to his chest to avoid falling backwards.

He breathed in her hair, rubbing his hands on her back in relaxing circles, "Hello beautiful".

"You haven't even looked me in the face yet," she murmured against his chest in a muffled voice. He snickered, "I don't need to see you to know that you are beautiful."

When they broke off to kiss Cassian felt that she was hesitant.

He put his hand on her cheek, "Are you sure you want to do this tonight?"

She closed her eyes, relishing in the moment, "Cassian, as much as I love you, tonight I need you to tell me that I'm ready and not give me a way out every time we talk."

He nodded, frowned and put on a fake tough-guy-expression, imitating the voice of his high school coach, "What are you hugging me for, woman? Tonight you have to be strong and stop feeling sorry for yourself. I should have let your sisters in and let the wolves eat you alive."

Nesta pushed him slightly, with a grimace on her face, "Stupid." she whispered.

He gave her a sincere smile, moving a lock of hair from her face, "What do you say you start cooking something so I can take a shower without the terror of you running away and as soon as I get out of here I help you finish?" he suggested, taking off his jacket and taking the groceries to the kitchen, Nesta just tailed him. She answered affirmatively and after leaving a kiss on her lips, he ran to the bathroom.

When he came out, washed and combed, it was quarter past seven and Nesta had set the table in the small living room. The Greek salad without olives was in the center, next to the keftedes she had prepared during the day. Cassian really did not know with what desire and spirit she had cooked all that good food for people who had always hated her.

He entered the kitchen when Nesta took the moussaka out of the oven, also result of her afternoon spent cooking and Cassian started to cut the bread and put it together with the various cheeses and cold cuts he had bought.

Nesta wasn't talking, but he saw it in the way she was jerking and looking around frantically that her nerves were about to explode. When the oven timer rang, Nesta almost screamed and Cassian had to stop what he was doing and went towards her, grabbing her by the shoulders, "Look at me."

Nesta looked at him immediately.

"Talk to me." he whispered to her.

She remained silent, so he gave her a hand in starting the conversation, "When are you going to tell them?"

"Tonight."

Cassian chuckled, "Obviously," she sighed, "I meant at what point. Before dinner, during, after?" he asked confidently so as to pass on some of that comfort. He also knew that, for her, having a plan of action, whether it was for dinner or a vacation, was very important and took away a lot of the anxiety that these things brought on her.

She straightened her shoulders, "I don't have the slightest idea, I thought doing it before, maybe with a glass of wine, would be better, but then I thought that if it goes wrong they will leave before we can eat and then we would have to eat Greek for days and not that I mind, but I don't think it's the best for our diet, you know. " she looked him dead in the eye while she was blathering on, clasping her hands around his forearms, "Then I thought about doing it during dinner, but if we start yelling at each other-" "They won't go that far, I promise you." "You don't know that. If we start yelling at each other and then someone chokes on the food, we risk one of us suffocating and dying. And I would like to avoid that." Cassian laughed at that point. Nesta looked at him very badly, "And afterwards, we might as well do it, but afterwards they are more likely to leave earlier, because maybe they think they'd done their part and had dinner with me, they apologize, I apologize and then they leave and I don't have time to explain myself."

Cassian raised an eyebrow, "So you want to do it first?"

"I don't want to eat Greek for a week, I've made so much that we could feed an army."

"During dinner seems the best moment honestly." he confessed to her, tearing her hands from his arms, taking the souvlaki and putting them in the oven. Nesta thanked him quietly. "I mean, we could approach the topic at any time, doing it between one piece of spanakotiropita and the other shouldn't be too complicated."

Nesta was about to answer when the doorbell rang and she froze on the spot.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit."

Cassian wanted to open the door and send everyone away, because Nesta had started moving in circles and was waving her hands mid-air. He had seen her anxious about a lot of things, but he knew that this would be a decisive point in her life and the idea of the change it would bring - whether positive or negative it would be - was overwhelming.

"Remember sweetheart, the second you want them to leave, you look at me, you wink at me and I'll let you escape." he reminded her, approaching the front door and pushing a button to open the gate of the building. They would be in the house in less than a minute.

Nesta was torturing her hands, but now she had a hard look on her face, "I'm scared shitless of Morrigan," she whispered. Cassian didn't have time to answer because someone knocked and he was forced to open the door.

Feyre gave him a wide smile that didn't reach her eyes and his gaze went from the two Archeron sisters to Rhysand.

He hadn't heard from him that day and hadn't seen him since the night before, when he had screamed at him.

He smiled at him in a strange way, but the younger one seemed to appreciate the gesture anyway because he gave him a lopsided smile in return.

"Hey Cass." Mor said in a tone that promised trouble, "Are you going to let us in, or are you having serious issues with welcoming people into your house too?"

His jaw hardened and Nesta appeared at his side, placing a hand on his arm. The blonde's eyes snapped to the spot where her hand was clutching the fabric of his shirt, "Sorry Morrigan, I didn't hear the doorbell before and I made a typo, I didn't think your life depended on the hour I made you lose. And I didn't think you'd be interested in coming here and watching me cook, I'll take that into account next time."

Mor nodded once, clutching her hands on the bag. The two women stared into each other's eyes for eternal moments, until Elain cleared her voice, "Hello Nes."

Things seemed to lighten up and when Cassian stepped aside, letting Rhysand and Mor in as the three sisters hugged, the group split up and the tension in the air seemed to get heavier.

Cassian had no idea how he should behave.

"This way." he pointed in the direction of the living room and when he turned to see if they were following him, Rhys handed him a bottle of wine, his lips reduced to a thin line and his shoulders tense.

"Here," he muttered, and Cassian was pleasantly surprised that he wasn't the only one struggling, "Nesta told us not to bring anything, but it looked bad."

"Oh, yes please, open it," said Mor on the other side of the living room, while analyzing the photos on the shelves. Photos of him and Nesta. Photos that his girlfriend had moved every time her sisters had visited in the last few months.

Cassian looked towards the entrance and saw that Nesta and the others were no longer there, they must have gone to the kitchen. He turned to his friend and she was looking over her shoulder at him, "We're going to need it so badly if she's going to keep that attitude all night long".

Rhys sighed, carrying a hand over his face, "Mor, drop it…"

Cassian raised his hand to stop him, without moving his eyes from the blonde, "No, please continue, that's why we are here."

Mor turned completely towards him, grinding her teeth, "I really don't understand how you can be in a relationship with her." Rhysand stiffened beside him, "Did you see how she replied to me before?" she asked, waving one hand towards the door.

"Oh for fuck's sake," whispered Cassian angrily, "you hadn't even entered the house and had already insulted both me and her. You are not the victim here so stop acting like a child and try to understand where all the resentment comes from."

Mor was about to answer, but Elain had just entered the living room and Rhysand had cleared his throat before he took his seat. Mor did the same thing, followed by Elain and Feyre. Cassian shook his head and headed into the kitchen.

Nesta was looking at the pans with the various foods inside, clenching and opening her fists, which made Cassian's chest tighten. He had gone into the room with the intention of telling her that he would not be able to hold back if Mor continued like that, to warn her that if he exploded, it would not be her fault, but now that he saw her so agitated all his attention had turned to her.

"How are you?" he asked her, putting his hand on the small of her back. He kissed her temple.

Nesta turned towards him, taking a deep breath and releasing all the air. She did it one more time. The third time, Cassian breathed with her.

She nodded and took one of the pans, he opened the bottle of wine, took a second pan and returned to the living room.

Elain and Mor sat at the head of the table and Rhysand and Feyre on one of the sides, leaving the seats in front of them free for Cassian and Nesta.

The woman of the house laid the food on the table, asking those present to pass her the plates and what and how much food they wanted. Cassian sat down and poured the wine to Mor, who sat next to him. She gave him a hard smile and thanked him. Then he turned to Feyre and she shook her head, "No, thank you, I would rather not drink tonight."

Elain chuckled, "Wise choice, you were a little out of it this morning."

Rhysand gave her a big smile, "One of the worst hangovers ever, actually."

Nesta stiffened to those words, looking at her younger sister, "Sorry, if I'd known you were sick, I'd have arranged for another night."

Feyre seemed appalled for a moment, but she blinked briefly and was quick to reassure her, "Oh no, don't worry. I've taken something for my headache, and I feel better."

They began to eat in silence and Cassian was too tense and worried not to glance at Mor to really taste the food or start a conversation, but Rhysand seemed to be particularly appreciative, because he was making satisfied noises, "Nesta, this is so good. What is it?" he looked at her face for a moment and Cassian was sure that he was blushing because he bent his head down and kept eating.

"It's moussaka." answered Elain, smiling.

Nesta seemed surprised, "It's a Greek dish, our father loved Greek cuisine and this is one of the recipes he did most often."

"Well, kudos." Rhysand told her, then he turned his glaring gaze to Feyre, "I'm pretty sure you could never cook something like that."

Feyre seemed more uncomfortable than the others, not because of what her boyfriend had said, more because of the situation in general, but she didn't miss an opportunity to brazenly reply, "As if you can do better than me. We both suck and without Elain or Azriel we would have been dead long ago. Probably both buried under boxes and boxes of take-away food."

Elain laughed and Nesta dared what seemed to be a smile.

They joked for a few more minutes and at one point Cassian had relaxed so much that he even managed to laugh at one of Rhysand's jokes. Morrigan seemed to be dead next to him, but he couldn't even look at her and felt her look burn on the skin of his neck.

When the appetizers were finished and the firsts were brushed off the table, the silence spread between the chairs and the tension in the air came back, without announcing its arrival, heavier than before.

"Excuse me," said Mor suddenly, when the silence became too much, she looked at Nesta, "The bathroom?"

Nesta looked at her in turn and Cassian really thought she would not answer her, but then she murmured, "Second door on the right." pointing to the corridor and he relaxed. Mor thanked her, nothing grateful in that tone.

Cassian shifted his gaze to his brother, but Rhysand had his eyes on Nesta. The man cleared his voice, drawing everyone's attention to himself, and narrowed his eyes, "I wanted to apologize, Nesta."

She stopped, placing the fork on the napkin and nodding once.

"I'm..." he coughed, embarrassed, shifting his gaze to Feyre and bringing it back to her immediately afterwards, "I'm sure Cassian told you what happened last night."

Nesta put her hands on her legs and Cassian took the opportunity to hold her hand. The movement did not go unnoticed by the two sisters, who exchanged a glance. "Yes, he told me what happened. Not in detail though."

Rhysand swallowed noisily, "I had no idea you were sick."

So he would have gone straight to the point.

Cassian settled down in the chair, squeezing his fingers around Nesta's.

"You never cared enough about me to ask, it's understandable that you didn't know," she replied, "You never really tried to get to know me."

His tone became harsher, "Considering how you behaved the first times we all went out together and how you always treated everyone in our group, you should not be surprised."

"Rhys." Feyre warned him. He looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

"It's true," he said, turning to Nesta, "You've never given me a chance to really get to know you over the years."

Cassian could see how Nesta's walls were coming up faster than ever. The threat now so concrete that even a gust of wind could have knocked them down and made them weak.

"That's because you never tried to understand my motives, but you stopped at the description that my sister probably gave you." Nesta replied, in an equally harsh tone.

Elain seemed to whimper at the head of the table and cast a worried look at Cassian. He told her silently without speaking that they would not intervene.

Feyre leaned forward, her hands intertwined in front of her on the table, "But Nesta, you must understand that you have never really behaved well with me. You've always treated me as if I were worth nothing."

"I never thought that, and I certainly never said that. I think you are one of the most wonderful people in the world and an equally good artist." then she turned to Elain, "The same goes for you."

"And why did you treat me like that all those years after dad died?" insisted Feyre.

A door at the end of the corridor closed, and a few seconds later Mor appeared, sitting with her back upright, sensing the air.

"Because you weren't the only one to lose your parents, Feyre," said Nesta. By now her eyes had become ice. Elain gasped at those words and reached out to her older sister, but she remained hanging mid-air. "You may not remember our mother, but I do. I lost her and I lost dad on the same day," she said, gritting her teeth. "Just because we reacted differently to the mourning doesn't mean I was okay and capable of taking care of you."

Feyre caught her breath and Nesta resumed, "When dad died, there was nothing of the man I had known for half my life, but the loss was double."

"I never knew..." whispered Elain.

Nesta turned to her, "I never wanted to put this burden on you. I could have handled it on my own. Just as I was sure that you too could have done just fine without me," she whispered, "And so it turned out."

Cassian stroked the palm of her hand.

"I'm sorry for giving you the impression that I didn't care about you, for making you believe that you are not a vital part of my life, but I was young and full of anger and rather than dump everything on you I preferred to keep it all inside and maybe I did more damage than good, but my intention was never to hurt you, Feyre, or Elain," said Nesta, with gleaming eyes.

Mor snorted, "You know, people normally go to therapy for these things."

Cassian took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

Nesta tilted her head to the side, looking at the blonde, "I've been in therapy for months now."

Elain brought a hand to her mouth, looking at Cassian, "You didn't tell us."

He had to clear his voice before he spoke, "It wasn't my place."

Feyre looked at him with her mouth slightly wide open. Rhysand had a thoughtful expression, but he too was staring at his brother.

"And I'd really like to know what your real problem is with me. Because I really can't understand what I've done to you," Nesta asked, looking sincerely confused.

Mor looked at Cassian, looked at his plate, "I don't think you are enough for him."

Cassian couldn't stand it any longer and pulling his hand away from Nesta's grip he turned his whole body to the blonde, "And why should that be any of your business?

Mor gave him a fiery look, "Because I'm your friend and I want what's best for you," she clarified, pointing to Rhysand and Feyre with a painted finger, "When the two of them got together, Feyre was friendly, sociable and never offended anyone in the group-"

"When has Nesta ever directly offended one of you?" Cassian asked exasperatedly, raising his arms to the sky. The girl remained silent, shifting her gaze between the two lovers. Cassian scoffed, "You can't even find an example. God, you're ridiculous." he ran a hand through his hair.

"Ridiculous?" cried Mor, "I'm not the one who has been hiding her relationship for months from her whole family out of fear."

Cassian stood up, raising his voice, "And don't you think that fear is because of the way you are reacting now that I would have preferred to keep it hidden for a longer period of time?!"

Mor was also standing now, "If you had told me before-"

"No!" he shouted, "No! Nothing would have changed. And it's not because you believe that Nesta is a bitch, no! It's because you're always so busy involving everyone in your going-outs and your parties and your bullshit that you don't realize that some people don't like these kinds of pastimes!" he was talking so loud that a vein popped in his neck, "Sometimes I just want to stay home and sleep, but with you it's impossible! Because you always have to force everyone. And now you've finally found someone to stand up to you and say no and you can't stand it."

Mor seemed to be shaking with anger, "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I don't?" Cassian asked laughing, no trace of amusement in the sound, "Have you ever let Azriel decide whether to stay home or not? Have any of us ever said no to you?"

Mor shook her head, not to answer, but shocked by the turn the conversation had taken, "And why do you think so?"

"Cassian, maybe you should sit and drink some water and calm down," Rhysand suggested, looking him in the eye. He didn't even bother to let him know that he had heard it.

"Nesta doesn't bitch to you and avoid you because she's a bad person, but because talking to you means accepting that you have a busy schedule that you don't want to have for the next two months and instead of saying no every time she prefers not to have connections at all" he concluded sighing and throwing himself in the chair.

Nesta rubbed a hand on his back and he closed his eyes.

Fuck.

He had spoken for her.

He shouldn't have.

They remained silent for a few seconds.

"Mor, I," Cassian resumed, in a much calmer and lower tone than before, "I didn't mean all those things, I'm just angry right now and I exaggerated."

"No, don't worry, I understand what you mean." whispered Mor, passing one hand over her shiny eyes, "I'll try not to invite you anymore when I want to cheer someone up."

Fuck.

Cassian knew very well that Morrigan's festive and witty attitude was the reason why they were all so close. All the adventures, all the laughter and the memories... they owed it to her.

"That's not-" he cursed, looking into her eyes, "I'm just trying to say that you don't have compatible personalities, but just because you like to have fun in a different way doesn't mean that Nesta isn't worthy of me or that she's a bad person just because she never went dancing with you."

Morrigan didn't answer, he stood in front of everyone and, surprising everyone, it was Nesta who resumed the conversation, "I've been really bad in the last few months, Mor."

The blonde sat back down, hands in her lap.

"I've been sick and the only person I had next to me was Cassian. I got to know him in these months, I found out what a great person he is and how much he is willing to give for those he loves," she looked at her sisters and Rhysand, back to Mor, "So I understand you perfectly right now. I understand that you're scared and you think that sooner or later I'm going to do something wrong and hurt him, but even if I do, I can assure you that the person I'm going to hurt the most is going to be me."

Cassian looked at her and the tip of his nose started to pinch. He bit his lip. He would not cry.

"I'm working hard to be a version of myself that doesn't scare me and that my sisters can recognize and I can't blame you if you don't know me, because I don't know myself either." she also turned to Rhysand, to whom she had just told practically the opposite.

"Cassian is my lifeline right now and I am willing to let my guard down for you if you are willing to respect my boundaries." she murmured, "I know this doesn't fix things and that your idea of me is still very confused, but I am really willing to give you some of my time to patch things up."

Feyre sniffed, reaching over the table towards Nesta, "Please forgive me."

Nesta smiled genuinely, "I'm sorry too, Feyre."

The younger sister got up from her chair and went around the table, surprising Cassian when she bent over Nesta to hug her. Elain smiled at her from where she sat and stood up a moment later, joining in the embrace.

"To-" Nesta resumed when Feyre and Elain broke away, "To explain a little bit why I act the way I do. I have problems, serious problems interacting with people," she murmured, picking at her nails, "Sometimes I do things I don't want to do just to regret it right away and I know it's no excuse for all the times I've been grumpy, but that's why it happens."

Rhysand cleared his throat for the ninth time, "I've been in therapy too. For several years," he confessed.

Cassian gave him a grateful smile.

"So, I know you have Cassian, and I'm sure your therapist is more than qualified for this kind of thing, but if you ever need another set of ears, you could..." he backed off, thinking maybe he was crossing one of those boundaries Nesta had just talked about, "I mean, if you need something, you can always ask."

"Same thing." Elain added, approaching her, "I may not understand half of it, but I want to be there if you let me."

Nesta nodded, more serious than ever. "Thank you."

Cassian came forward, "Thank you for talking to us sweetheart."

Mor got up in a flash, "Thank you Nesta. Cassian." she turned to the others. The look lost in the air as she gathered her things, "It was a pleasure, and the food was great."

"Mor..." Cassian stood up, "Wait."

His friend turned to him, clenching her fists, "I think I need some time. These are not things that are quickly assimilated," she told him with all the sincerity of the world.

"I understand that and I don't take it personally Morrigan. I can't assure you I'll be pleasant, but if you have any questions I'll try to answer them." Nesta intercepted, before Cassian could make the situation he had already created with the blonde worse.

Rhysand had got up and stood next to his cousin, "Do you want me to drive you home?"

She shook her head and her eyes became shiny. For Cassian it was like receiving a punch in the chest.

Feyre took a deep breath, "Actually I think we should all go." she murmured, "It's been a heavy conversation and I've learned a lot tonight and I think I need a seven-day nap before I can even have a conversation about art again."

That joke got a light laugh out of the whole group.

"You don't need to come with me, I can go by myself." worried Mor, shaking her head when Elain got up and started to get dressed.

Feyre shook her head in turn, "I repeat, I think I'm going to faint and I really need a few moments alone to think about everything too."

Rhysand put his arm around her waist and squeezed her.

Cassian bid his brother goodnight, hugging him and thanking him from the bottom of his heart for coming and listening without creating too many problems.

As soon as everyone was out of the apartment, Nesta burst into tears and Cassian said nothing as he held her to his chest, stroking her hair.

They hadn't gone into details and maybe they weren't on the same page yet, but they would have worked to get there.

It was a start.

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[ladyfogg]

May I? - 26/?

May I? - 26/?

Fic Summary: Ensign Faith Diaz struggles to hide her mental illness from her fellow shipmates aboard the Enterprise until an intrigued Data goes out of his way to try to understand her behavior. At his insistence, Faith tries to figure out what she’s truly passionate about and eventually seeks the professional help she needs. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Data/Female OC

Warnings: tw: depression, tw: anxiety, fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut

Screenshot courtesy of @geekygwen​

Faith hadn’t realized how much her duties had weighed on her until Data asked her to take shore leave. She knew that he wouldn’t have broached the subject if he wasn’t concerned. She had tried to throw herself more into her work. Geordi and Captain Picard believed she was capable enough to handle the responsibilities that came with her promotion to lieutenant, and she didn’t want to disappoint them.

Without realizing it, she had thrown herself completely into her work without thinking of anything else. Foolishly, she thought if she could just push through the exhaustion and anxiety, it would all get better. She had been wrong.

It didn’t help that the idea of taking a break and leaving the ship behind sent her into a nervous spiral.

After weeks of this behavior, Data had walked her to sickbay himself, where she was given a full physical by Dr. Crusher. The results were unsurprising: exhaustion. True, literal, physical exhaustion.

She was immediately put on leave and ordered to rest.

It was only then that she agreed to take a vacation. Data put in their official shore leave requests that same day. Commander Riker approved it within the hour, stating, “What took you so damn long?”

Now that the time had come, Faith found herself just as nervous as she was before. But she was determined to work through it, to take the advice from her doctor, counselor, and boyfriend. So, she had to let her anxieties go and prepare for the first vacation she'd had in years.

Data had offered to plan their time away and she let him, not only because she had no clue where to start, but because she knew he enjoyed making plans for them.

“Are you at least feeling some excitement?” Deanna asked during Faith’s therapy.

Given Faith’s current mental state, they had upped their number of sessions to twice a week. She currently sat in Deanna’s office, foot nervously bouncing. Per her request, Deanna had agreed to see her the day of their departure for one final pep talk.

“I’ve been trying really hard. It’s been difficult,” Faith said. “I know Data is looking forward to it and I don’t want to ruin his fun like I ruined his romantic date a few weeks ago.”

“Faith, I don’t believe you ruined anything. Considering that evening led to some very powerful confessions from the both of you.”

Faith smiled softly, remembering the way Data had told her he loved her. They had repeated the words to each other several times since it happened, and each time made her just as warm and elated as the first.

“I still have a hard time believing it myself,” she said.

Deanna smiled back. “I don’t. It was obvious that the feelings between you two were progressing. I always felt as though Data had some emotional capabilities long before his first angry outburst. As an outsider, it’s been wonderful to watch your relationship develop and to see the love growing between you two shared out in the open.”

“Thank you, Counselor.”

“Are you still uneasy discussing the intimate nature of your relationship?” Deanna asked. “Not that I want to pry. I just want you to know that should you wish to discuss those particular feelings, I am a professional and ready to listen.”

Faith smirked. “Sure that’s the counselor part of you talking or the friend part of you?”

Deanna giggled. “A little of both.”

Faith could feel her cheeks flush at the thought of her sexual relationship with Data. “All I will say is, his flawless precision and attention to detail translate very well into the bedroom.”

Deanna’s grin widened even though Faith could tell she was trying to keep her composure and demeanor professional. “Well, I am happy to hear that you feel comfortable enough with me to share such information.”

“After our vacation, let’s have a girls' night with Beverly and I’ll share more. Sound good?”

“I’ll hold you to that! So if there’s nothing else you wish to talk about, it is my duty as your counselor and superior officer to order you to enjoy your shore leave. Leave your problems behind. And enjoy much-needed alone time with your love.”

“I’ll try.”

Deanna gave her a big hug before she left. “You’ll do great. Just focus on a certain android’s attention to detail.”

That made Faith laugh and she hugged Deanna back. “Will do.”

On her way back to her quarters, Faith couldn’t help but stop by Engineering. She hadn’t been there in a few days and it was instinct to make sure everything was set before she let. Deep down, what she truly wanted to do was see if Geordi was somehow annoyed with her for not being on duty. The fear of disappointing authority figures in her life was as strong as ever. But she was working on it.

When she arrived, Geordi was as busy as always but paused when he saw her. “Diaz, what are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to stop by and see if you needed anything.”

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready to take your shore leave?”

Faith felt embarrassed for feeling like she needed reassurance from someone who was pretty much the same age as she was. “Well, yeah but, I still have some time. If there’s something you need me to take care of before I go…”

Geordi chuckled. “Everything is under control, Faith,” he assured her before she could continue babbling.

“Oh, okay. Great. Good. Sorry. I know I haven’t been my best lately. I just figured I’d offer my help just in case.”

Geordi studied her for a moment before putting his PADD down and giving her his full attention. “Faith,” he said, his voice in a soft yet serious tone. “You don’t have anything to worry about. I’m not doing to demote you because you need a break.”

A weight she hadn’t realized she carried lifted slightly and she realized how foolish she was being. “No, I know that. I didn’t think you would. At least, I hoped you wouldn’t.”

“Everyone needs a break from time to time,” Geordi said. “I’m taking my leave when you come back. No one can be ‘on’ all the time. I don’t expect it for myself nor the people I command. You’ve done exceptional work and have earned your title. Please don’t work yourself to death on my or anyone else’s account. You’ve more than earned your time off. Go. Enjoy it.”

Faith hesitated. “Are you sure?” she couldn’t help but ask.

Geordi laughed and placed his hands on her shoulders so he could look at her directly. “Diaz, go on vacation. That’s an order.”

With that, her turned her around and gave her a light shove towards the turbo-lift. Getting the message loud and clear, Faith allowed the movement and followed through. When she returned to her and Data’s quarters, the android was waiting patiently.

“Ah, Faith, there you are. We should be arriving at Tridas 6S in one hour. Are you prepared for our departure?”

“As prepared as I’ll ever be.”

She had already packed and repacked their belongings. Thankfully with replicators available at their destination they didn’t need to pack much. Spot had been fed and Barclay would be looking after her for the length of their vacation. With nothing left to do, she took a seat on the sofa and began her breathing exercises.

Data sat with her. “I believe once we are at the hotel, you will feel much better. I have chosen a location that offers isolation for those who desire, yet still has amenities for us to partake.”

The idea of peace and quiet with Data did make her feel better. “That sounds nice,” she said.

“I hope you will enjoy yourself.”

“I’ll try. I really will.”

“I will be with you the entire time.”

Wrapping her arms around him, she crawled into his lap and rested her head against his shoulder. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“I could list suggestions but I do not believe that is what you desire.”

Faith laughed. “No, no it’s not. I just wanted to let you know how much you’re appreciated.”

“Thank you. Would you like to rest here until it is time to go?”

“I would like that very much.”

They stayed snuggled together on the sofa until they were alerted to the ship’s arrival. Data and Faith weren’t the only ones disembarking. Others were taking shore leave on the planet, though Data and Faith were vacationing on a less busy side.

Before she knew it, she and Data were called to the transporter for their departure. Data took their bag in one hand and held Faith’s hand with the other. She clutched it tightly, giving herself an internal pep talk before they left their quarters.

Along the route, they ran into Captain Picard and Commander Riker.

“Ah, Data, Ms. Diaz,” Picard said. “On your way to Tridas?”

“That is correct,” Data said. “We will be vacationing at the Triple Seashore Cabins, off the coast of Sunterre Isles.”

“A nice quiet romantic spot,” Riker said with a knowing smirk. “Perfect place to be alone.”

Picard raised his eyebrow in amusement but let the comment slide. “I hope you both enjoy your well-deserved shore leave,” he said.

“Thank you, Captain,” Data said. “Is there anything you require before we leave?”

“No, not at all. Have a good time.”

Faith offered a smile and a nod. She didn’t say anything, not trusting herself to speak after her babbling incident in Engineering. Truth be told, she was plagued with nausea from her anxiety, her stomach rolling with each step towards the transporter room.  

Chief O’Brien stood at the controls and smiled at them as they entered. “Coordinates have been entered and the transporter pad is ready when you are, Commander.”

“Thank you, Chief.”

O’Brien looked over at Faith. “You alright, Diaz?”

She took a deep breath. “Yeah, yeah I’ll be fine.”

“I remember my first time taking shore leave after a promotion. Trust me, a lot of us have felt the way you’re feeling now.”

In the past, she would have felt like he was just trying to be nice. But her work with Counselor Troi had made her come to understand that many people did in fact feel the way she did and she appreciated his attempt to calm her nerves. “Thanks, Chief. It really is hard to tear yourself away from work, isn’t it?”

“Enjoy it,” O’Brien said with a reassuring nod. “Should be a smooth transport. Nothing to worry about. I’ll drop you right in the lobby of the hotel.”

Faith nodded and followed Data onto the transporter. With his strong hand in hers and smile, some of her anxiety wane.

“Energize,” she said.

She felt the tug of the transporter and the next thing she knew, there were standing in the small lobby of a comfortable-looking building. While the architecture was alien, the warm colors reminded her of many of the places she had been to on Earth. The knot of emotion in her stomach was still there but she was able to let out a slow exhale.

“You are doing quite well,” Data assured her, leading her to one of the many kiosks that stood off to the side. “Let us check-in and settle into our cabin. We are here for seven days. We can take our time.”

“Thank you for your patience,” Faith said. “And for planning all this.”

“You are welcome.”

Data checked them in and the two of them followed the floor markers through the hotel and out one of the back doors. When Faith saw the view, it took her breath away.

While she had done her research on the planet and where they would be staying, it hadn’t prepared her for the stunning ocean view. The building they had left sat atop a hill, which overlooked three distinct shores and stretches of white sandy beaches. His program on the holodeck was nothing compared to the real thing. The smell of saltwater invaded her nostrils and a warm breeze ruffled her hair. Her whole body relaxed as the sun, real sun, hit her face. Actually, there were two suns when she managed to glance up with her eyes shielded.

Data noticed the change immediately. “I was hoping a tropical setting would act as a reminder of where your family came from. I know you expressed the desire to return there at some point. As we are far from Earth, I thought this would be a close alternative.”

“Data, it’s perfect.”

She slipped her arm around his waist as he slipped his around her shoulders. Together they walked for some time until they found the cabin that would be their home for the next two weeks.

After spending so much time on the ship, listening to the hum of Engineering and conversations of her fellow crewmates, Faith appreciated the crashing waves.

Their cabin was a small wooden building, surrounded by numerous kinds of vegetation and a deck that jutted out towards the shore. The ocean was only a few feet away and Faith imagined when the tide came in, the water could easily reach the steps.

“Do you like it?” Data asked as they walked up onto the deck.

“I love it.” She leaned on the railing, unable to stop staring at the gorgeous view.

Data placed their suitcase inside before coming to stand with her. He took her hand and they admired the stretch of beach before them.

“What do you wish to do first?” he asked. “Are you hungry? You did not eat much at breakfast.”

“I just want to stand here and watch the waves with you.”

Data smiled softly and remained where he was, holding Faith’s hand as they admired the view. That only lasted a few minutes because then Faith’s stomach rumbled, making her chuckle.

“I guess you were right. I am hungry. Where’s a place to get a meal around here?”

“We do not have to leave the cabin. There is a replicator inside. What would you like?”

“How about a picnic? We can spread a blanket out on the sand.”

“If you wish.”

As he went to gather what they would need, Faith kicked out of her shoes and stepped onto the white sand. It was warm and pliable underneath her feet as she walked towards the water’s edge. She closed her eyes and surrendered to the sensations.

She hadn’t realized how much she missed being near the ocean until that moment. It had been far too many years since she found herself on a real beach.

Behind her, Data’s footsteps approached. She turned to find him carrying a picnic basket with a blanket tucked under his arm. Together they laid out the blanket and Faith made herself comfortable while Data unpacked their food.

She recognized many of her favorites, snacks that she tended to eat when she didn’t want to have a full meal. Berries, cheese, crackers, assorted nuts, and a thermos filled with a smoothie that seemed to be made from the exotic fruits native to the planet. “This is wonderful,” she said with a smile. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this until I was here.”

“I must admit, I too did not realize I needed a change of scenery. Though I do not require rest, a respite from one’s work is important.”

Faith found herself glancing around on more than one occasion. For some reason, she felt like they were never truly alone. Maybe it was just her anxiety, or maybe it was because she was so used to their fellow crewmates. Either way, try as she might, she could never fully relax.

Data noticed. “Faith, I have scanned the area and our nearest neighbors are some distance. We have this stretch of beach to ourselves.”

She exhaled slowly. “Good to know.” As she reached for a piece of fruit, she snuggled up against Data.

He wound his arm around her and held her close while she ate. She didn’t have much, only enough to settle her rumbling stomach. Once she grew accustomed to her surroundings and felt Data’s familiar embrace, more of the tension left her until she was finally comfortable.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes and rested her head against Data’s shoulder.

“Faith, what would you like to do once you leave Starfleet?” he asked after they had enjoyed the silence for some time.

“You mean when I retire?”

“Retire or leave for something else.”

Faith considered his question for a moment, opening her eyes so she could watch the waves. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “At least, nothing specific. I think I’d like this. I’d like to be somewhere quiet, watching and listening to the waves.”

“I have always thought I might return to the academy later in my life, possibly to teach. But now…” It was so rare for Data not to finish his thought, at least with her.

When he didn’t continue, she gave him a questioning look. “Is that not something you want anymore?”

“I do not. The academy is not located on the beach.”

Faith smiled and leaned towards him. They shared a kiss before she drew back with a mischievous grin.

“Can you swim?” she asked.

“At first, I was unequipped to tread water but once this flaw was detected, Geordi and I made modifications to protect my circuits. I can also act as a floating device.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“Yes.”

“Great.” Faith rose to her feet.

After a moment of contemplation, she decided to push the rest of her anxiety aside and started to strip.

At first, Data did not notice as he stood. “I believe the replicator can construct swimwear…” He paused when he realized Faith was getting naked. “Or we can swim nude.”

“You said our neighbors are far, right? And you will know if anyone comes close?”

“That is correct.”

Faith threw her shirt at him and gave him a playful smile. “So, let’s swim, android-boy.”

Data watched with wide eyes as Faith walked towards the water, fully naked. Which each step, any pesky lingering anxieties were gone, and when she finally felt the ocean wash over her feet, it was like her entire being breathed a sigh of relief.

She glanced back over her shoulder to see Data removing his clothes and carefully folding them. With an affectionate smile, Faith waited until he gently placed them on the blanket before he joined her.

Grinning, Faith pulled him with her as she ran into the next wave, allowing herself to get swept up in the water. It was so warm, it was almost like a bath and felt absolutely heavenly. Data remained perfectly still as the waves washed over him, dousing him completely.

Faith laughed at his lack of reaction. He gave her a puzzled look.

“Did I do something humorous?” he asked.

Faith pulled them deeper into the water until it was chest-high. “Only you can be washed up in waves and look completely unperturbed.”

“I was not aware I should be.”

“You don’t have to. Sometimes I forget how strong you are and that things like waves can’t push you over.” She swam in circles around him. “Have you tried splashing around?”

“No.”

Faith smirked and when the next wave came, she splashed it at Data, hitting him in the face. He blinked.

“I see.”

The next thing she knew, a huge wave came at her, sending her crashing backward under the water. When she came up spitting and coughing. Data was there immediately.

“Was that too much?” he asked.

When she could breathe properly, Faith began to laugh. “Just a little bit,” she said, still lightly coughing seawater in between her laugher. “Maybe we should stick to just enjoying each other’s company.”

She wrapped her arms and legs around him in a hug.

“While I do still have much to learn about human behavior, I can report that when it comes to our romantic interactions, I have developed some skill,” Data said, his arms automatically slipping around her waist.

“Data, you’re wonderful. You always say that you’re not human but through our relationship, you’ve helped me realize that I was barely human myself. At least, I didn’t see myself as such. You’ve always seen the best in me and helped me see it too.”

“I only spoke the truth.”

Faith hugged him close, their foreheads touching. “And it means the world to me.”

She kissed him deeply. Surrounded by the warmth of the ocean and the heat of Data’s embrace, she felt as secure as she had on the ship.

They swam for some time until the suns started to set and the air grew colder. Only then did they return to shore, gather the remnants of their picnic, and head inside.

While Faith showered, she found herself smiling, her body already feeling less tense by the minute. Why had she waited so long? Now that she had distance between herself and her duties, she could see why her friends were concerned. Up until the point Beverly examined her, she had been sure her feelings were all in her head. It turned out that was only partially true. The anxiety was in her head, the physical toll it had taken was very real. She had worked herself to the point of literal exhaustion and would have kept going if Data hadn’t intervened.

Speaking of her beautiful android boy, he was dressed in civilian clothing when she emerged, something she rarely witnessed. She was so used to him being in uniform or naked. To see him sitting there in gray pants and a blue shirt felt strange. She realized this was another side of Data she hadn’t seen before, one he himself probably hadn’t partaken in. The relaxed, leisure side was also an important staple of being human.

“We’ve talked about how I’m feeling but how are you doing?” she asked, sinking into the squishy sofa next to him. “Is this your first shore leave?”

“I have taken shore leave before,” Data said. “To attend conferences and symposiums. This is my first recreational shore leave.”

“And? What do you think so far?”

Data cocked his head, contemplating her question. “It certainly is different. When we left the Enterprise, I made it a point to halt all background processes having to do with Starfleet-related functions. I also wrote a vacation subroutine based on research I have done on what one does to ‘relax’.”

Faith picked up one of the glasses of wine that sat on the small round table in front of them. “I wish I could write a subroutine in my brain. It’d make things a heck of a lot easier.”

“I once spoke with Counselor Troi on the subject and she explained that when humans repeat certain behaviors, it is the equivalent of how I construct my programming.”

“Meaning if I want to relax I should try to do it more.”

“Correct.”

Faith chuckled and took a sip of wine, only to realize it was not synthehol. She sputtered and coughed, unprepared for the robust flavors of real alcohol.

“Are you alright?” Data asked. “I was assured this vintage was special.”

“Y-yes. I’m fine, I just wasn’t prepared for real wine. Where did you get it?”

“It was a gift from Captain Picard. He said it was from his family’s vineyard on Earth.”

Faith had no idea Captain Picard’s family owned a vineyard, which wasn’t surprising considering she didn’t spend much time with him. There was very little she knew of the Captain’s personal life.

Now that she was prepared, the next sip was delicious. “That’s so nice of him to share this with you.”

Data smiled. “Shared this with us,” he corrected. “He gave it to me when I informed him of our shore leave.”

She smiled softly. “That makes it even more special.” She held up her glass for a toast. Data followed through, tapping his glass to hers before they took a sip together.

Once they did, Data put his glass down and stood. On the wall panel, he pressed a series of buttons, and then the cabin was filled with soft music. Data offered his hand to Faith.

She graciously accepted.

As they slowly danced, Faith rested her cheek to Data’s, closing her eyes and enjoying the moment. They hadn’t had one such as this since the art show. It made her realize how little time she had set aside for romance. Not that she could blame herself. It had been years since she had been in any kind of long-term relationship and they had never been like what she had with Data.

“Data,” she said in a soft voice. “Will you make me a promise?”

“Certainly.”

“Promise me we’ll always make time for this. For us.”

“I promise. If you promise to do the same.”

She drew back to look him in the eye. “I haven’t been doing so well at that, have I?”

“You have been consumed with work.”

He was right. In her attempt to keep herself going, she had let a lot fall by the wayside, not just in regards to her health.

“That’s no excuse,” she said. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my own crap I’ve been neglecting you. And I’m sorry.”

“I do not feel neglected. My words were not meant to guilt you.”

“I know. And they didn’t. They just pointed out how distracted I’ve been.”

Data held her close, his temple resting against hers. “Allow me to provide an alternate distraction.”

Warmth flooded her system and she relaxed in his arms. “You’re doing a marvelous job.”

They danced for hours. At least it felt like hours. There was no one to interrupt them. No duties to get to. No one to tell them there were other more important things to do. Because at that moment, there wasn’t anything more important than the two of them finally having time alone. Time to just be together.

It was like a dream.

The quiet music. The wine. The dim lights. It was like Data had reached into her subconscious and drew out her deepest desire.

When the music finally faded away and the room was silent, Faith let out a content sigh. “I love you. So much. I never thought I could love someone this much.”

“I never believed I could love at all.”

“Oh, Data.” She slipped her arms around his neck and drew back to meet his gaze. “You’ve been loving people this whole time. In your own way.”

He smiled softly, the beautiful smile that she loved so much. She stopped their dance, stroking his cheek as she admired the face she had committed to memory. Data initiated the kiss, leaning in so quickly it was as if he couldn’t help himself.

His increasing impulsiveness when it came to affection always sent a shudder down her spine.

When they withdrew so she could catch her breath, she brushed her nose against his. “Let’s make use of that big bed in the other room.”

“A wise decision, mi alma.”

[hellomynameisbisexual]

“Faggot.” “Cocksucker.” “Femboy.” “Abomination.” Gay. The list of names I’ve been called since coming out as bisexual in June 2020 doesn’t stop there — nor did it stop when I went public with my sexual identity either.

From a young age, I knew I was different from my peers.

Maybe it was the way I walked. Or the way I talked. Or the way I dressed. I just knew I stood out to them like a sore thumb — or perhaps a rainbow of color in a sea of dull gray.

My differences became evident to me when other children at the preschool I attended in suburban San Diego, California, would forsake my company in favor of each other, already forming cliques and inciting drama at such an innocent age.

When my family and I moved to dreary Erie, Pennsylvania, I knew my struggles would only get worse.

Many of the children in my kindergarten class had already known each other for several years before I entered the picture.

They quickly noticed differences in my mannerisms, speech patterns, thoughts and ideas. I wasn’t like the other boys, but I wasn’t like the girls either. I was an outlier, a foreigner and a stranger considered dangerous and unwelcome.

Though I made friends the following few years — including some who would become lifelong companions — most of those primary friendships mirrored the kernels of a neglected ear of corn: delicious when ripe but quick to harden, rot and flake off.

By my fourth grade year, I was teased and bullied nearly daily for being too feminine, too weird, too annoying to fit into my school’s social circles.

When I told my teachers about my struggles, their solution was to attempt to masculinize me by placing me in groups of athletic boys in my class, boys I had nothing in common with and who certainly had nothing in common with me.

Even my grandparents — then and now my caretakers — noticed my un-boyish behavior and enrolled me in the local little league baseball team — whether to also attempt to instill in me a sense of masculinity and male toughness or to help me make new friends I knew not.

I would grudgingly participate in the sport for six, nigh on seven grueling years, never making a single lasting friend and crying almost weekly from the torment it caused me.

Needless to say, I felt like a floundering fish without fins in a sea of angry, hungry sharks during those years.

It wasn’t until the final year of my elementary education that I was introduced to the concepts of puberty, adolescence and sex.

I was told that very soon, I would start noticing the girls in my class and would begin to want to form meaningful relationships with them. Eventually, I would become sexually attracted to them and want to have children with them.

But in those coming years, though many girls would pique my interest, it wasn’t them who ignited the fire in my soul and made me feel the burning passion of desire — it was men.

I quickly realized it was this that set me apart from my male peers and resulted in me being shunned by the girls. I was a boy — soon to be a man — in every physical way, but I wasn’t attracted to or passionate about girls like the other boys in my class were. I was obsessed with men.

But I couldn’t possibly be gay, could I?

Growing up in a household of religious relatives, I was always taught that sex before marriage was a wicked abomination and that being anything but straight was a sin comparable to none.

I distinctly remember watching a news broadcast with my family around the time I was transitioning to my middle school years. The ABC World News clip showcased LGBT marriages being performed out west and contained affirming remarks from then-President Barack Obama on the matter.

“The Bible says marriage is between a man and a woman,” I remember my aunt saying in utter disgust at the television, murmurs of agreement echoing her around the room.

I resolved then to hide my feelings and my pubescent curiosity from my family at all costs, lest I be scolded, shunned or worse: abandoned.

During middle school, I relentlessly dug deep within myself and attempted to alter what I thought was but a simple mental barrier to social normality. All thoughts of being with men were forcibly suppressed in my mind before they could even become tangible, and each of my increasingly urgent bodily needs went ignored and unsatiated.

I even resorted to religion, the only weapon I thought strong enough to aid me in the war raging inside myself.

Day and night, I attempted to “pray the gay away,” but to little avail. Much to my chagrin, I realized that even divine intervention could not “help” me: My homosexuality seemed to be an immortal, malignant tumor infecting each and every one of my thoughts.

Thus, the preliminary years of my second decade of life became miserable and unfulfilling — I was engaged in a fierce battle with an integral aspect of my identity and was inadvertently shattering the chains that bound a beast capable of obliterating every fiber of my cognitive being — anxiety.

By my high school years, men — mean, nasty and indifferent but awe-inspiring, mystifying and oh-so-gorgeous men — had begun to control my deepest, darkest desires and fantasies. My lust had grown large enough to thwart even my most furious attempts at diminishing it.

As I slowly came to terms with the realization that nothing in the universe could “fix” me, my mental situation severely worsened. I fell into a dangerous downward spiral of self-doubt and woefulness.

My relationship with my grandparents quickly began to deteriorate, as did my relationships with my friends. Every day brought with it a new reason to hate my existence — the constant verbal altercations, the continued teasing and even bullying at school, the countless lonely nights spent sobbing quietly into my pillow.

And, to make matters worse, the true nature of my sexuality seemed to express itself in each of my social mannerisms. It wasn’t long before despicable rumors about me spread through the student body of my high school like wildfire.

My teachers noticed my strife, and some took the time to speak with me about a few of the different mental illnesses they suspected I had. But not even they could halt the hordes of horrifying thoughts racing through my head or the string of ruthless comments that would assault me in the hallways.

Soon, however, the light at the end of the long, grueling tunnel that was public education began to shine: I was graduating from high school and about to start fresh. Nothing could have contained my excitement at the prospect of escaping the largest source of my daily torment.

As I digested the freedom going to college offered, idealistic daydreams began to flood my mind — I could live how I wanted with whomever I wanted, and no one could judge me or tell me differently.

How wrong I was.

My first year as an undergraduate student at Penn State Behrend was a living hell.

Though the petty and immature teasing of high school was no longer an issue, standing up for my newfound political identity was, as well as dealing with my growing anxiety.

I was constantly engaged in polite yet heated political debates with those in my dorm. I felt like they were blatantly attempting to oppress me with their own beliefs and had grown to hate me for mine.

The same situation occurred with my grandparents, and we grew increasingly distant over the course of that year.

It didn’t help that I was still “in the closet,” so to speak, and contemplating methods of publicly revealing my true sexual identity. I hadn’t yet officially told anyone I was bisexual, and it remained my most closely guarded secret.

Needless to say, my social circumstances and the added stress of my adjustment to college academics and lifestyle allowed my mental state to reach an unprecedented low. I needed help.

That same year, I saw my family physician and then a psychiatrist, who prescribed me antidepressants in an attempt to lessen my now untameable anxiety. I took them with gusto and also began attending therapy sessions to teach me how to manage my thoughts and emotions.

For a small while, I felt better — I was actually happy in my skin and even happy with my bisexuality.

But then, even my long-awaited mental comfort abandoned me, and I slipped into the deepest, darkest pit of my life.

I became suicidal but never acted on that petrifying potentiality.

I didn’t trust myself to be alone, so I constantly sought the company of others, which only made me feel like a nuisance and waste of time, energy and space.

About a month later — in October 2018 — I got into an accident.

I was barrelling down the highway, escaping a particularly heated verbal altercation with my grandfather. It was raining that day, and the roads were slippery.

Going around a curve, I lost control of my vehicle and flew into a small ravine, flipping not once, not twice but three times in midair before landing upright — dazed, but alive.

Escaping relatively physically unscathed from the incident, with only a broken right clavicle, I was not mentally the same for weeks afterward.

I decided at that time I would come out and reveal my true sexuality at the soonest possible opportunity — I blamed my silence on every terrible situation that had occurred in my life up to that point. If I didn’t come out, I quite literally thought I would die.

Telling even my closest friends was difficult, but I managed, and the relief I felt was paramount to that of the titan Atlas in Greek mythology: I felt like the weight of the entire world — sky and all — had been lifted from my shoulders.

Fast forward to the present: I’m alive, well, out and proud. I’m no longer ashamed of my innate traits or of my thoughts.

Being a bisexual man has taught me many lessons, but foremost among them is that the people who can’t accept me for who and what I am don’t deserve to be in my life.

My anxiety made it difficult to let go of toxic relationships over the years — I learned that the primary source of my mental strife is a fear of abandonment by those I care about — but doing so opened the door to newer, healthier relationships that build me up and boost my confidence instead of chipping away at it.

I’ve since improved tremendously, and not even the onset of the coronavirus pandemic was able to pause my progress. Every day is a learning experience, and I’ve grown so much from the helpless boy I was mere months ago that if you showed me a map of my mentality from 2018, 2019 or even 2020, I wouldn’t recognize myself at all.

Revealing my bisexuality to the world didn’t solve all my issues — there were and still are other factors that contribute to my anxiety and mental health — but coming out was perhaps the most profound, life-altering moment in my 21 years. Nothing compares to the freedom I now enjoy, nor will any other experience compare to the relief I felt following my announcement.

[simplybakugou]

Off the Deep End

↝ In a world of supernatural and all powerful quirks, Bakugou is baffled when he has to help a mermaid save her kingdom against his arch nemesis.

PROMPT: “You’re a what now?!”

⋆ PAIRING: prohero!bakugou x mermaid!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing ⋆ WORD COUNT: 6011

A/N: Here’s my submission for the @bnhabookclub​ mermay event! I may or may not have made Monoma the villain because it was funny to me I swear that I don’t hate him lmao. Also I’m sorry if this is probably the worst thing you’ve ever read lol

Tagging: @sipsteainanxiety​ shay thank you for your sweet words during our sprints. I hope you enjoy this :)

✐posted 5.31.2020✐

“I can’t believe I’m listening to your bullshit right now,” Bakugou grumbled into his phone over the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks, looking around the dock. 

“Dude, Sero and I are telling you that there’s something really weird happening around there!” Kaminari urged on the other line, the panic evident in his voice. “I read that so many people patrolled in that area and they said that something fishy’s going on. Just check it out for me?”

Bakugou laughed. “Are you too fucking scared to check it out yourself?”

“No!” Kaminari blurted in annoyance. “It’s just… electricity and water aren’t a good combination.”

“Sounds like a fucking excuse to me but whatever. I’ll see what you’re whining about.” Bakugou hung up shortly after, shoving the device into his back pocket as he walked along the wooden panels. He scanned the area, not seeing anything out of the ordinary or anything to be frightful for. That idiot’s complaining for nothin’...

The only peculiar thing about this sector was that usually docks and ports would have various boats attached to it but this had nothing, just a wooden walkway staring right into the mouth of the ocean. Bakugou shrugged, assuming that his friends were blindly believing blatantly idiotic rumors. He wouldn’t be surprised if this was a prank they were trying to pull either as the pair would often mess around with him and attempt to send him off on wild goose chases.

With that thought in mind, Bakugou walked off into the opposite direction, making his way towards his car so he could get back to his agency until the sound of laughter stopped him in his tracks, one that sounded like bells ringing and echoing in the air. He spun around, eyes averting in all directions to try and locate the source of the melodic laughter. The area was abandoned and the sun beaming in the sky would reveal anyone roaming around easily. That was why Bakugou was even more baffled when the sound repeated, loud enough to be heard over the collision of the splashing waves. 

Not thinking twice, Bakugou approached the source of the sound, believing that this was what Kaminari and Sero were so afraid of. He got to the end of the dock, his feet on the edge as he attempted to search for the mysterious voice once more.

“What the fuck am I even doing here?” Bakugou grumbled to himself, deciding to head back after failing to find the voice and once again annoyed with himself for even coming here in the first place.

“Whoa, I didn’t think people actually came on this side of the portside anymore,” a voice quipped just as Bakugou was walking away.

He turned around, taking a few steps back as he gasped to see a person in the water, smiling up at him. “The fuck you think you’re doing?! It’s too dangerous to be in the water!”

You were taken aback by his sudden concern, your lips curling upwards in amusement. “Now this is odd. It’s not everyday a human is worried about me.”

“What are you--” Bakugou stopped as he saw you dove underwater, causing Bakugou to toss his shoes and phone to the side. Even if he was off duty for his job, he was still a hero and he wouldn’t let anyone drown themselves, no matter how stupid they were for doing so.

Just as he was about to begrudgingly jump into the water, your head popped back up, even more amused than you were before. A human was willing to risk his life to save you. Bakugou sighed, irritated that he was even entertaining you or that you were pleased by this in the first place. “You think this is funny? Just get out of the fucking water, you’re wasting my time.”

You laughed, the sound ringing in Bakugou’s ears. “I’m sorry, maybe this will make more sense if I do this.”

Before Bakugou could question what you were doing this time, you swam over to the edge of the dock, hoisting yourself up over one of the many ginormous boulders lodged into the side. Bakugou nearly choked at the sight before him, feeling like his eyes were deceiving him.

But it was not a deception. There you were, sitting atop the boulder, with two shells covering your chest and the rest of your upper body adorned with miniature seashells. Your lower half was inhuman as a large tail, iridescent hues of blue and purple sheen covering it. 

“As you can see I’m not human, so you don’t have to worry about me,” you said, grinning from ear-to-ear, completely beguiled by his flabbergasted expression. It was always funny whenever humans reacted this way to seeing you, although it had been years since you’d last seen a human. “I’m a mermaid.”

“Y-You’re a what now?!” Bakugou asked, absolutely bewildered. When Kaminari had informed him about odd occurrences happening in this dock in the past, Bakugou suspected anything but a mermaid to appear.

You maneuvered down the boulder using your arms, settling back in the water and swimming closer to the dock to get a better look at Bakugou. He took a step back, flustered by how intense your staring was. “W-What? Why’re you giving me that weird ass look?”

You chuckled, resting your head in your hands. “The last times humans showed up in this part, they came because they wanted to see the ‘legend’ of the mermaids that live here. And everytime I had to deal with those humans, I had to scare them off so that my people could live in peace. This is the first time someone has come here without any ill intentions.”

Bakugou took a small step forward, looking down to verify once more that your tail was real and not a figment of his imagination. You giggled, lifting your tail up slightly above the water. “It’s real. You weren’t imagining anything.”

Bakugou felt disconcerted by this whole situation, unable to comprehend what to do or how to go about this. He knew he had to return to work soon but he didn’t know how to just walk away from this knowing that you were a full fledged mermaid. You rose a brow at him. “You’re not going to go to your friends and have them come down here, are you? Because I’m really not looking to have a fight with anyone.”

Bakugou shook his head slowly. “It’s none of their business to come down here. I just came ‘cause my friend’s a fucking pussy and was nagging me to check out this area.”

You smiled, grateful and also a little surprised that a human had no desire to exploit you and your species’ existence. “I appreciate it. You know… you’re not that bad. I’ve always despised you humans for everything that you’ve done, but I think you’re pretty okay.”

Bakugou scoffed, looking off to the side. “Whatever.”

You laughed at his reaction, looking up at him and taking in his features. He looked nothing like any human you’d ever seen. His hair was spiky, not budging against the rhythm of the wind beating against it. His eyes were the brightest, most intense shade of scarlet red, making you feel intimidated just by one look. And yet he was handsome, too. 

“You’re really pretty, you know that?” You said bluntly. 

Bakugou’s eyes widened, his cheeks inflamed. “Shut up! Just mind your business and do whatever fish shit you do. I’m leaving.”

You watched as he stomped off, ten times more amused than you were before. He was interesting to say the least, and you were hoping that he would keep his word and not bring any unwanted attention to your existence. But somehow, you felt like you could trust this beautiful stranger.

***

Since that day, Bakugou felt himself physically and mentally drawn to the dock. He started out by stopping by occasionally, curious to see you once more. Your mere existence intrigued him, although he would never admit it. Slowly with time, his visits became more frequent and you began catching him in his act. So you joined him, talking to the only human you’d ever met that was curious about you solely because he wanted to get to know you.

And you wanted to know more about him, often finding yourself waiting by the boulders for his visits. And the more you two met, the more you learned about one another. It was your first time meeting a pro hero, understanding why Bakugou felt obligated to help you when first meeting you.

And Bakugou learned about you and your kingdom. You were a princess of an underwater kingdom called Coara, guarding your kingdom from prying and nosy humans, many of whom were scientists who would go as far as wanting to dissect you and your people if they had gotten their grubby hands on you. Bakugou frowned whenever he heard the anger in your voice when voicing your opinion on how aggravated and fed up you had been with such pestering people. 

You were interesting to say the least. Most people’s first impressions of Bakugou were mostly negative, people often complaining about his abrasiveness or that he was too rude for their liking. But not to you. Even the way he spoke to you was intriguing for you, you finding yourself into him even more than you already were.

But the more you thought about him and were around him, the more you felt unsettled by your new friendship. All your life you had worked to gain this peace that had finally remained. You warned yourself that humans were bad news, vowing to reprimand anyone who so much as approached this area. And yet you wanted to be around Bakugou more and more, feeling disappointed if he didn’t show up on certain days due to his demanding occupation.

And just like any other day, you waited by the boulders, growing impatient as the sun had begun to set, casting an orange hue over the sea. “He’s late…” you muttered to yourself, returning back underwater for the remainder of the night.

Although Bakugou had informed you previously that his job had irregular working times, meaning it was never certain that he was free on certain days, you felt annoyed with him. In fact, for the past few days he hadn’t shown up at your usual spot. Since he never had any way of contacting you, as you were a mermaid and had no reason to be acquainted with human-made technological devices like cell phones, Bakugou was never able to tell you when he wouldn’t be able to see you. If he were being completely honest, he still couldn’t believe that he was regularly meeting with a mermaid in the first place. 

So for his lack of visits, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

“I really don’t think this is a good idea, Y/N,” one of your closest friends urged, looking around the dock as it had been quite some time since she had even bothered to go above the surface from the safety of her underwater home.

You waved her off. “It’s fine, Alicia. As long as no one else finds out about this, which is why I trust that you won’t say a word about this to the others.”

Alicia scoffed. “Of course not, Your Highness.”

You gave her a look as she laughed at you teasingly. “You know you’re the only one allowed to not call me that because it weirds me out when you say it.”

She grinned, throwing her arm over your shoulder. “That’s because we’ve been stuck to the hip since day one! I’d do anything for you.”

You smiled softly, looking around the area once more to confirm that no one was watching or listening in. Then you reached over to the dock, pulling yourself up with the help of Alicia pushing the rear of your tail. Twisting your body around you sat back, flexing your tail above water.

“No turning back now!” You exclaimed, placing your hands on your tail and activating your quirk. As you were a mermaid, you still were born with quirks like humans. Similar to how some animals have intellectual type quirk that allow them to communicate with humans, you still had a quirk. Your quirk was Legs, giving you the ability to provide yourself and others with human legs at your command. You could also take them away at will and this quirk only benefited those who didn’t already have legs. It was an odd quirk but it was yours. It was often used in the past, back when the people of Coara were interested in human life, and you and your mother had the same quirk. It was tradition that the first daughter of the royal family inherited this quirk as a means to make amends with the humans. But since you had taken the throne, the selfish science oriented humans had no intention of keeping an alliance as they only wanted to probe and dissect you and your people for their own benefits. It had been years since the last scientist had caused trouble, leaving you and your kingdom with a short period of peace.

And you had every intention of keeping the peace.

Using your quirk, your fingertips created an amber glow, adorning your lustrous tail into two legs. You groaned, stretching your new limbs out in the air. “It’s been a while since I’ve had these. I need to stretch them out.”

Alicia chuckled, retrieving the mound of seaweed she had collected per your request. Her quirk gave her the ability to make cloth and clothing out of any form of vegetation and plants. She needed to utilize her quirk as you couldn’t just waltz around the city with only a shell bra covering your chest and nothing covering your lower body.

“It’s pretty hot out now so I made something more freeing for you to wear,” Alicia said, handing your clothes. You quickly changed into them, slipping on your underwear, top, and shorts. She even made a pair of simple sandals out of coral and branches. In no time, you were ready to head out into the city.

“You really like him, huh?” Alicia asked, staring up at you as you rose to your feet. 

You rolled your eyes at her. “We’re friends. He’s the first person I’ve met since I was a child, roaming around the human world by my mother’s side, that has shown genuine compassion and interest in our people.”

Alicia sighed. She knew that this was more than a newfound friendship, however, you were too blinded to understand how you truly felt about Bakugou yourself. Even he didn’t know how he felt about you. “Just be careful. Please.”

You smiled, crouching down in front of her. “It’ll be alright. Trust me. I just want to see him for just a second and I’ll return as soon as possible!”

“Alright. Tell your boyfriend I said ‘hi’!” Alicia called out teasingly, earning a glare from you as you strode off towards the city.

***

It took about twenty minutes for you to find your way into the city as it had been quite some time since your last visit. Nevertheless you made your way through, stopping and asking bystanders for directions to Bakugou’s agency.

On the other hand, Bakugou obviously didn’t suspect a thing. He was patrolling around the sector as he usually did, keeping an eye out for peculiar events. Kirishima joined him that day, walking beside him as the two men strode through the city. 

“It’s not everyday that we’re asked to patrol together,” Kirishima commented, waving to a fan who was quite excited for his favorite hero to be out and about in public.

“Makes my life easier so I can leave early,” Bakugou responded as the two turned the corner.

Kirishima glanced over at him. “Why, you got someone you’ve been dying to see?”

Bakugou was startled, regaining his composure to not give any hints. How did he know? “The fuck are you talking about? I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Come on, ever since Kaminari and Sero made you go to that weird place you always seem too busy to hang out with us.” Kirishima looked over at Bakugou as he seemed irritated. He didn’t want anyone to find out about your existence, understanding that you and your people’s lives would be put in danger. And he didn’t know what he would do with himself if he were responsible for anything that could happen to you.

Before Kirishima could prod any further into the matter, the two heroes stopped in their tracks, Bakugou personally getting ever more agitated than he already was at the sight of Monoma standing in their path.

“Monoma, I didn’t know you were in town,” Kirishima said.

Monoma smirked. “I’ve been around. More importantly, looks like Mr. Number One here is going to fall down in the rankings soon enough.”

Bakugou didn’t bother responding, ignoring him and walking right past him, causing Monoma to be taken aback. He turned around, staring Bakugou down. “You’re not even concerned with what I just said?”

Bakugou turned his head around, glaring at Monoma. “I don’t give a single flying fuck about whatever it is you’re running your trap for. I’ve got better things to do than hear you spew out some weird ass bullshit.”

Kirishima stifled his laughter, catching up to Bakugou with a few strides. Monoma’s agency had tried for years now to help Monoma reach his way up to the rankings, only able to reach the number two spot and falling short from Bakugou himself. Bakugou was simply the indisputable best, no matter how hard Monoma tried to dethrone him from the rankings.

And this absolutely infuriated him.

Monoma huffed, annoyed with the blonde who had gotten on his nerves since their days back in U.A. “I guess the rumors are true. You’ve changed these last few months. I wonder why that is…”

Bakugou stopped walking, now a few feet away from Monoma. He didn’t like the way he spoke, his words indicating that he was keeping something from him. For the final time he turned his head, staring daggers in Monoma's direction. “Keep worrying about falling from the rankings instead of being up my ass all the fucking time, dipshit.”

Bakugou kept moving, Kirishima keeping up with his pace as the pair made their way back to Bakugou’s agency. Kirishima chuckled. “Man, I’ve never really liked Monoma but he’s been pretty obsessed with you ever since you were named number one. It’s a little weird if you ask me.”

“I can barely remember that fucker’s name. I really don’t give a shit about what he does, so long as he’s not bothering me,” Bakugou mumbled as the two of them waited by the stoplight at the intersection in front of the agency. The light finally changed to green and Bakugou and Kirishima crossed the street, opening the giant glass doors to the building. Kirishima went over to the receptionists, filing any reports they had to complete.

“Ground Zero, there’s someone here who wanted to see you,” one of the receptionists said. “She’s waiting in the office.”

“Alright,” Bakugou said, mentally agitated as he didn’t want to deal with anyone right now. Nevertheless, he made his way down the hall and into his office, prepared to meet an annoying official working for the government or a crazed reporter that somehow was able to break into his agency. But he was pleasantly surprised to see a woman’s back facing him as he entered his office.

“What is this about?” Bakugou asked the woman curtly.

You turned around, causing Bakugou to nearly stop breathing. He didn’t know how, but you looked even more stunning standing in front of him than you did in your mermaid form. Your hair was slightly damp, the locks curling upwards. But your skin was practically gleaming against the light in the room, your smile sealing the deal that could cause Bakugou’s heart to palpitate irregularly in no time.

Just as he thought you couldn’t amaze him more, you did tenfold. “H-How the…”

You laughed, amused like you always were with the way he tended to be speechless by your mere presence. “Surprised to see me? I thought I’d pay a visit.”

Bakugou was absolutely bewildered, eyes widened and mouth agape with incredulity. “But you’re a fucking mermaid? Where’s your tail? How are you standing? What--”

“I have a quirk that lets me turn my tail into legs,” you stated blankly. “It’s nothing too special, my family has had a long line of inheritance with this quirk and I decided to use it since it’s been a while.”

“And why did you come? I was gonna stop by today,” Bakugou asked, waiting and wanting to hear you say what he wanted to hear.

You paused momentarily, your (E/C) eyes boring into his vermillion ones. You visually travelled down his figure, taking in his hero costume that you hadn’t seen previously. His biceps bulged out, his stature taller than what you had expected. He was even more handsome standing before than he was sitting beside you.

Bakugou felt himself blush under your obvious staring as you didn’t want to mask what you were doing or how you were feeling. You looked back into his eyes. “I missed you, Bakugou. I can’t explain why, but I missed you. And I couldn’t stand waiting idly by for you to come to me. So here I am.”

Before Bakugou could be even more flustered than he already was, the door to his office opened wide, a certain dark-haired man swinging his arm around Bakugou. “It’s been a while, man! Where have you been?” Sero exclaimed excitedly. Kirishima stood behind him at the door and the two men finally acknowledged you, shocked to see such a stunning woman in Bakugou’s office. Sero had stopped by as Kirishima had texted him, letting him know that he and Bakugou were back in the agency. But they were both pleasantly surprised by your presence.

Sero looked over at Bakugou, recognizing the light pink tinted on his cheeks as he smirked, putting two and two together. “Man, so this is what you’ve been doing recently!”

Bakugou glared at him, shaking Sero off him. As he knew two of his closest friends well enough to understand that they would pester you and bombard you with thousands of questions, he took matters into his own hands by grabbing your forearm and leading you out of the office.

Ignoring Kirishima and Sero’s shouts behind him as well as the stares he received from his receptionists, Bakugou led you out of the building and back to the streets. You looked down at where Bakugou was holding you, his hand still warm under his gloves. It was the first time a human had touched you.

Once he could confirm that his friends weren’t behind him following him, Bakugou let go of you, keeping his distance but still walking beside you. He looked off to the side, not wanting you to see his inflamed face. “I’ll walk you back to the dock. It’s not safe for you here.”

You smiled at him. “I appreciate your concern but you don’t have to worry about me. I’ve been amongst humans like this before.”

“Just… let me do this for you, alright?” Bakugou urged gently.

Regardless you nodded, smiling to yourself. Humans were more interesting than they had seemed before, or at least Bakugou was in a league of his own. You wanted to know everything about him, you wanted to constantly be around him, and he was all that was on your mind lately. You were slowly understanding that what you were feeling for him was crossing the line from friendship to something more and it frightened you. All your life you had known humans to be vile, selfish creatures who would do anything for their own gain. But here you were walking beside the most considerate man you’d ever met, exceeding the mermen of your kingdom in both looks and personality. 

But as much as you liked him, you didn’t want to pry any further. He was still a human and you were a ruler of a kingdom. You had decided to end things here, savoring and basking in the moment as much as you could until you had to finally cut all ties with Bakugou. And you knew when that moment would arrive, you wouldn’t be able to recover for a while. You had spent almost every evening with him on that dock, your special place with him, talking for hours upon hours. You liked how flustered he would get whenever you complimented his looks or how proud he seemed when he spoke about his occupation and passion. You could hear him talk, even if he was just cursing someone out, all day long. But soon enough, you would never hear from him again.

You shook your head, wanting to rid your mind of such saddening thoughts, deciding to change the subject instead. “Is it okay to leave your friends like that?”

“They’ll live. Your secret is more important right now,” Bakugou said, not realizing how touched you had been by his words. He truly had every intention of keeping your identity a secret and the more you were around him, the more you were falling for him. This was slowly becoming a dangerous situation, but you didn’t care, not in the moment at least. 

You looked down at your feet as the two of you made your way back to the dock, the amount of people around you decreasing as you got closer. And the closer you got, the more despondent you became as you realized this was the last moment you would have with him.

“What’s wrong?” Bakugou asked, snapping you away from your thoughts.

You looked up at him abruptly, his scarlet eyes penetrating right through your soul and being. You smiled reassuringly. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Bakugou looked over at you, deciding to drop the subject once the two of you finally reached the dock.  

As you grew closer, a blonde man who you didn’t recognize stood on the dock, looking around the area. He was particularly looking down into the water, directly above your kingdom. You felt your heart stop as you began to become frantic that your home was found.

Bakugou extended his arm in front of you, ceasing your footsteps as you moved to confront the man. “Don’t go. You’ll get in danger. I’ll deal with him.” You looked at Bakugou, who had an expression you had never seen. He was calm and yet his nostrils were flared. You knew he was livid. 

Bakugou trudged towards the man, infuriated to see Monoma poking his nose where he didn’t belong. “The fuck do you think you’re doing here?”

Monoma smirked, looking beyond Bakugou’s shoulder to see you, staring you up and down and intently at your legs. You felt disgusted by his gaze, wanting to jump back into the water as soon as possible.

Monoma flicked his gaze back to Bakugou. “The rumors are that you’ve got a girlfriend which is why you’ve been slacking off recently. So I followed you over here a few days ago to see that you’ve got a mermaid by your side now. Even more interesting…” His voice trailed off and he smirked at you as you grimaced under his stare. “She looks exactly like a human.”

He let out a bellowing laugh, exasperating Bakugou even more than he already did with his presence alone. “It’d be a shame if more people found out about this…”

Bakugou didn’t hesitate or think twice to grab Monoma by the collar, his fingers curling against the fabric as uncontrollable sparks emerged from both hands. “If you even think about opening your trap up about this I’ll rip you apart limb from fucking limb.”

Although Monoma wouldn’t admit it, he was slightly intimidated by Bakugou’s threat, but even more so he found this whole situation to have been a stroke of luck. He knew exactly what he had to do. Monoma brought his hand up, grabbing Bakugou’s forearm that was clutching his collar. “Tell you what, I’ll let this whole thing go. If I’m being honest,” his eyes whipped over to you, causing a shiver to go down your spine, “I really don’t give a damn about you and your fish people. That’s the last thing I care about. I’ll let this all go… on one condition.”

“Spit it out, you bitch, you’re testing my patience,” Bakugou snarled through gritted teeth. 

Monoma chuckled humorlessly, smirking at you once more. You felt disgusted and defeated all at once. You had promised your people that this was a time for peace, that you wouldn’t let the humans that you hated so much ruin anything for you and your kingdom. And here was a human threatening the life of Coara like the lives of the mermaids and mermen meant nothing and were replaceable. 

You wanted to despise humans as much as you had before, but you couldn’t. Not when Bakugou was a human as well.

“I’ll let this go… if you give up your ranking.” Monoma laughed once more, feeling Bakugou’s grip loosen from the shock. 

Bakugou had worked day and night, protecting civilians left and right and defeating any villain that came his way to be number one. Even you understood this as Bakugou had explained hero rankings and how hard he worked. You could see he was a respectable man who would do anything to show others his worth. And here was a spineless bastard trying to rip it all away from Bakugou. 

Monoma shook Bakugou’s hand from him, smirking cruelly at him. “You see, I know you won’t give up your ranking for some rotten fish. Either way, I’m going to enjoy watching your little girlfriend’s life crumble before your very eyes--”

Before Monoma could yap and run his mouth more than he already had, Bakugou sent a right hook flying, contacting Monoma’s jaw and pummeling him to the floor of the wooden dock. You gasped, not suspecting him to do that, and took a few steps towards him. He turned his head at you, raising his hand to stop you from getting closer. He didn’t know what Monoma would do to you just to spite him. You felt hopeless, wanting to help Bakugou and your people were still in the back of your mind. What was the right thing to do in this situation? What could you do?

Monoma spit the blood out from his mouth, wiping his bloodied lip and rose to his feet. He cackled once more. “I knew you were too much of a coward to do--”

“I’ll do it,” Bakugou said in one breath, causing you and Monoma to be appalled.

“Bakugou! Don’t do it!” You called out in concern. You would do anything for your people but not at the expense of years of hard work Bakugou had put in. 

Bakugou ignored you momentarily. “I’ll give it up, my ranking. But if you take back your work I’ll fucking--”

Monoma rose a hand up in the air to cease his threats. “Don’t worry about that, I don’t give a damn about you or your girlfriend.” He extended his hand out at Bakugou, grinning in absolute delight. “We have a deal?”

Bakugou stared at his pale hand, his own fists clenching at his sides. Even so, he didn’t hesitate to shake hands with his nemesis, gripping his hand as tightly as he could. Monoma winced, wriggling his hand from Bakugou’s hold and rubbing it once he got free. Monoma laughed once more, walking past Bakugou and towards you. You stepped to the side, wanting to avoid him at all costs. He looked down at you, smirking. “For some rotten fish, you’re pretty hot.”

You wanted to puke from anger and disgust, staring daggers into his back as he walked away with delight and glee. Monoma waved his hand back. “I’ll send the paperwork to your office tonight, Ground Zero.”

Once he was a considerable distance from you, you ran towards Bakugou, joining him on the dock. “Why did you do that? Why would you give your ranking up?”

Bakugou sighed, looking down at the water and the boulders that you always sat upon during your frequent meetings. He slipped his gloves, boots, and socks off, sitting on the edge of the dock and dipping his feet into the water. You watched as he did so, not understanding his silence. Nonetheless, you joined him, slipping off the sandals Alicia made you and sitting right beside him. This was the closest the two of you had ever physically been.

“It didn’t feel right,” Bakugou said, avoiding your eye contact. “It’s my fucking fault that dipshit found out. I couldn’t just walk away knowing that I was putting you in danger.”

You smiled softly, shaking your head. “I’ve dealt with idiots like him before. I would’ve been fine. But you worked so hard to get where you are now.”

Bakugou turned to face you, his eyes just as intense as they always were. “You don’t get it. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you. A ranking is a fucking ranking. I know I’m the best, that fucknut weaseled his way into becoming the new number one now. But your life means more to me than that.”

You were astonished, blown away by his selflessness. But Bakugou didn’t recognize his actions as being selfless as he continued blaming himself for putting your life in danger. And you recognized this by his hurt expression as he was physically grimacing. You smiled, lifting your hand up and cupping his cheek. Your palms were cold against Bakugou’s cheek, sending tingles down his spine, but your fingertips held the softest touch. “You’re amazing, Bakugou. This isn’t your fault. I don’t blame you, not even a little bit. I chose to see you everyday, I could’ve just stayed in my palace if I didn’t want to see you. But I came here because I like being around you.”

Bakugou stared at you, basking in your beauty. He had never met anyone like you as you were truly a one of kind being. You were tenderhearted, a leader, ambitious, and driven for others. Bakugou knew by now that he had no control over his feelings for you, not giving a damn about the consequences. He wanted to hold you, protect you against anyone who would even think of harming you.

“Do you regret being with me? Do you regret meeting with a human that could harm your people?” Bakugou questioned.

You shook your head, not hesitating to answer immediately. “There isn’t a fiber in me that feels that way. Being with you has given me faith in humanity.” You took back your thoughts earlier, knowing full well you couldn’t abandon him now, not when he protected you.

Bakugou nodded. “Alright. Then don’t mind when I do this.”

Before you could let the words ‘do what?’ escape from your lips, Bakugou closed the gap between the two of you, gently locking your lips with his own. It was a pleasant surprise, making you realize that humans were softer than they seemed. He smelled of burnt sugar, locking in how sweet he truly was. He was gentle despite how caustic he seemed to others. But you knew him, you had spent months with him, and you had no intention of letting him go now.

You pulled away, your chest rising and falling slowly. He was beautiful, more beautiful than you could ever describe into words. You were willing to go off the deep end for him, the stunning human who risked his career for your life. And you had no intention of leaving him.

[lesetoilesfous]

i dunno if they're open, but can i request from the kiss prompts, 30) kiss in the full moon, with NB!Handers? basically a Hawke who uses they/them pronouns, only goes by Hawke, and no specific descriptors or mentions of their sex? =)

Hey anon! I had way too much fun with this, thank you so much for the request!!! I really hope you like it. I am also going to be adding NB!Handers to my preferred pairings list specifically because of you :D <3

(If you’d like me to write you a dragon age fic, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting Pairing: NB!Handers

Characters: NB!Hawke, Anders

Tags: modern AU, post All that Remains, reference to mental illness, reference to police violence, reference to abusive institutions (the Circle is really, really awful y'all), reference to gun violence, smoking, strong language, everyone's an adult here Anders is just broke (hence the bike)

Rating: Mature

“I knew I’d find you here.”

The Kirkwall marina is quiet and mostly empty - boatowners have retired below decks with the rise of the moon and stars, and the place is mostly closed to the public otherwise. Anders had seen Hawke’s jeep, first, when he’d padlocked his bike to the iron fence. Now, as the wind pulls ripples across the ink-black bay, he finds the person in question.

Hawke is wearing a heavy brown leather jacket covered in patches, their long brown hair wavy with the humidity and blown about in the wind. They’re sitting on a stone pillar near the pier, staring up at the wide full moon. It’s such a clear night that Anders can make out the craters on it, and it’s harder to see the stars in the immediate radius of the moon, which diffuses into silver rainbows in the dark. The ocean falls in soft sighs against the thin beach, and ahead of them the bay closes between two promontories, which are darker black against the deep blue night.

Hawke looks back at Anders at the same time as their mabari, Dog, lifts her great head, sandy ears pricking in his direction. Anders waves at them both, trying to rearrange his features into an expression that doesn’t show exactly how worried he is. Instead, he folds himself awkwardly to sit on a pillar beside Hawke. The stone is cold even through his jeans, and Anders can feel a hole working its way through his battered converse. He’ll worry about that tomorrow.

For a long moment, Hawke is quiet, and the two of them sit there in the dark, listening to the eerie rattle and creak of the boats in the Kirkwall marina. Then Hawke says, softly, “I didn’t think you’d come.”

Anders looks at them, but they’re still staring ahead at the bay, and the moonlight skidding silver over the water. Their nose is smooth and bumped a little with the scar of an old break. Their eyebrows are thick and dark, as are their eyelashes. Their brown eyes glitter in the starlight. They tuck a clump of wavy hair back behind their ear, which is braced by silver cuffs over the shell and a row of hoops along their earlobe. Anders breathes, and the air is so cold that it tastes sweet.

“You didn’t tell me you were going to be here.” He’s trying for a joke, but even Anders can hear the way it falls flat as he feels the smile plastered onto his lips slip a little.

Hawke looks at him, and their eyes are rich and dark and brown and beautiful. There are thumbnail bruises of purple sleeplessness beneath them, too. They speak again, hushed as if the pair of them were in a cathedral and not a car-park outside a half empty marina. “Still.”

Something in Anders’ chest lurches as the wind makes the trees and grass behind them hush a sighing chorus to the sea. He shrugs, and feels the awkwardness of it across his shoulders. He’d never eaten well, in the Circle, and his body as a result felt stretched out and distended: he wasn’t fat or muscular enough to pull off the broadness of his proportions, but ever since he’d hit puberty what food he could get just didn’t seem to stick. He pushes away the memories of old hunger and focuses on the present, instead. “Yeah, well, you’re an idiot.”

Hawke huffs a laugh then, one of their canines hooked a little in front of their other teeth. They look down at their hands, where their nails are chopped short and painted with haphazard, chipped black polish. “Maybe.” They bite the inside of their cheek, and swallow twice before they speak. “I just. Keep thinking that if I dream it hard enough I’ll be able to go back and save her. You know? Like I’ll figure it out, somehow. And this time I won’t be too late and -”

Hawke cuts themself off, blinking rapidly, their dark eyes brighter in the moonlight. Anders swallows the lump in his own throat, and the urge to lean across and squeeze their arm or something similarly saccharine. With a feeling like chewing on breaking glass, he forces himself to pull up his memories of the months following Karl. It’s difficult - most of that time is a blur spent flinching every time he saw a templar in kevlar. Too many nights spent waking up with the sound of a bullet in his head. Anders winds his fingers together, squeezing them tight enough to hurt to ground himself back in the present. He can feel Hawke’s dark eyes on him, their gaze questioning. Anders looks up instead at the moon, and calls himself a coward.

“After...After Karl I, couldn’t really think straight. For a while. I mean, not that I ever thought straight.” Anders tosses half a grin in Hawke’s direction, but they don’t smile back, just watch him, quietly. Listening. Anders always feels as if he doesn’t know what to do with all that attention. He isn’t really used to people respecting him when he speaks. He doesn’t want to waste it. He clenches his teeth, and the wind whispers over the back of his neck, pulling at the hair in his ponytail. “But, um. I didn’t really feel like I woke up until I... Let myself accept that this is just. What the world looks like now. Without him in it.” Anders’ eyes burn, and he blinks rapidly and hopes that Hawke doesn’t notice the way his breath hitches.

If they do, they don’t say anything, instead fishing a packet of cigarettes from their pocket, lighting one before offering him the pack. Anders takes it gratefully, slipping a cigarette between his lips and leaning forward for Hawke to light it. Their lighter has a bright, chipped progress flag on the casing, and Anders can’t help but find it reassuring, for all the cliche. The cigarette lights, and Anders breathes in deeply, savouring the warm ache of it and breathing out a long gust before he speaks again.

“It’s like. They were part of another chapter. And you’re already onto the next one. And you kind of, have to stop trying to go back to those pages, otherwise you’ll miss what’s happening in these ones.” Anders laughs, and scrubs at his cheeks, feeling the graze of his stubble and wishing he’d remembered to shave. “Sorry, that’s stupid.”

“No,” Hawke says, firmly, taking a drag of their own cigarette and breathing it out in a gust of smoke before they speak. “No, that makes sense.” They look at him sidelong, then, and when they blink a tear runs rapidly, silently down their tanned cheek. “I don’t know how to keep reading.”

Anders rests his hand against the stone he’s sitting on. It’s rough and cool. His eyes move from the great belly of the moon to the dusting of stars over the horizon, trying to trace the shapes of the constellations. “I think…” He says, slowly, sounding the words out as he says them, “It starts with this. With people you care about. Quiet places. Places where you feel like you can be everything you are and feel everything you’re feeling without holding it in. Places where you feel safe.”

Hawke shakes their head, and their hair falls over the shoulder of their jacket, catching on the ridges of their patches. “I don’t feel safe.”

Anders ignores the wrench in his chest at that, and takes another drag of his cigarette before he looks down to meet Hawke’s eyes. “You will.” Hawke holds his gaze for a long minute after he says it. Then they nod, once, and glance away, bringing the cigarette back up to their lips.

For a while they sit there in the quiet, smoking, peaceful. Dog has rested her head on her thick paws, and Hawke is careful to tap their ash far away from her. Eventually, the ever-present blur of memory and feeling at the back of Anders’ head threatens to overwhelm the silence, and he tugs his phone out of the pocket of his coat. It’s an old suede thing with feather detailing he’d got second hand. Isabela teases him about it, but it always makes him feel safer than anything else does. He figures that’s enough. Anders taps the cracked screen of his phone, blinking at the blue light. Hawke glances at him, their brown eyes almost black in the dark.

Anders tilts his phone screen at them. “Mind if I play some music?”

They blink, once, then nod, and take another drag on their cigarette. “Sure.”

Anders hits play with a sense of near physical relief, and the tinny, soft sound of some alt rock eases into the air between them. After three songs Anders has finished his cigarette. After four, Hawke has finished theirs. For a moment, they sit there, unmoving and terribly still. Anders sits forward, feeling the weight of his phone shift in his pocket as he does so. “How are you feeling now?”

They offer him a shadow of a smile, heavy coat and baggy jeans disguising long lines of wiry muscle that Anders couldn’t forget if he tried. “Better. Anders?”

“Yes?” Anders wishes he didn’t feel as much like a heroine in some silent film, but Hawke always seems to have that effect on him. They make him feel like some damsel in need of saving. They make him want to be a hero.

Hawke’s lips curl up into a crooked smile that creases the corners of their eyes. “Thanks. For coming out here.”

Anders shrugs and lies. “It’s nothing.” When Hawke snorts, he goes on, grinning, “No, really. What else was I going to be doing? Now my friend, on the other hand. This poor sap is opening his free clinic at 5am this morning which…” Anders gets out his phone, tapping the home button. “Is in about three hours. Now that idiot, him, yeah, I’d feel sorry for. But luckily neither of us know anyone so masochistic.”

Hawke huffs a laugh, their voice rough and climbing into a giggle as they squeeze their eyes shut, scrubbing at their cheeks. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” They say it with a smile.

Anders tilts his head, and tries to ignore the warmth that flushes through his chest whenever Hawke looks at him like that. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

Hawke shrugs, and pushes their hair back over their shoulders, moving so that they’re facing him, their legs spread wide and their jacket hanging loose over a white t-shirt. They look up at Anders boldly. “You’re my idiot.”

Anders’ flush pushes its way up into his cheeks and on into his ears, the cold of the early morning forgotten in the way that Hawke is staring at him. “Really? I must have missed the memo…”

“Anders,” Hawke’s voice is soft, and as they speak they rest their hand on Anders’ cheek. Their skin is soft and cold with the night air, and Anders leans into it as if he’s lost at sea and their touch is the only thing keeping him from drowning. It takes him too long to unstick his tongue from the roof of his dry mouth.

“Yes?”

Hawke smiles at him, warm and soft and indulgent, and their thumb strokes gently across his cheek as they lean forward. “Stop talking.” Their breath is warm as it blows across his lips, and smells faintly of cigarettes. And then they’re leaning even closer, and they’re kissing him. Their lips are soft and taste like cherry chapstick, and Anders doesn’t care as they tilt their head, the scar on their nose scratching softly against his skin, the warmth of their breath filling his lungs. Hawke licks into his mouth with a hunger that feels like burning, and Anders opens for them, lifting his hands to cradle their head and pull them closer, his fingers tangling in their thick, soft hair. Anders’ heart feels as if it’s going to beat its way out of his chest and that’s meaningless against the way the world is spinning, every inch of him lost except the point where his cheeks brush Hawke’s, where his chin bumps theirs, where their lips move to lock and loosen around his own as they move.

When they pull back, Anders isn’t sure he remembers how breathing works. But they grin at him, and their eyes are silver in the moonlight when they lean forward to bump their foreheads together, cradling the back of his head. Sighing, they shut their eyes. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Anders breathes, and swallows, lips wet and sore with the force of their kiss, wrists resting loosely on Hawke’s strong shoulders. Above them, the moon is bright and full and beautiful. Anders tries to speak past the lump in his throat. “Do it again?”

Hawke looks up at him, and their eyes are almost black in the dark. Then they kiss him.

[freebooter4ever]

i’ve seen the discussion going back and forth on boundaries and sexual objectification, and i don’t have much to add to the conversation other than to say everyone is allowed to determine their OWN ‘lines’ and just because we don’t vocalize them doesn’t make them any less valid. but here’s the limits i set for my blog if anyone feels it is important for them to know (<3):

personally I consider ‘characters’ fair game for anything goes, with ‘public personas’ a little more iffy. ‘RPF’ isn’t new - it just takes on a new more accessible/visible form nowadays. i remember reading my first fic about a ‘real person’ back in my LOTR fandom days - it was a story in first person perspective about the main character meeting orlando bloom on a plane before he was ‘famous’. like a lot of these types of stories, it wasnt so much about the person as it was about the meet cute. the actor was just a convenient placeholder with a handsome face and some personality quirks thrown in to make the romance/dialogue more specific. i personally dont read much xReader fic nowadays, but mostly only cause i’m an old fart who can’t relate to the ‘you’ format. i miss the good old days when people actually created OC’s and then inserted them into things LOL. but also LOL if you think i’ve gone an entire year of quarantine without some imagined personal fantasies of joe mazzello (or steve aoki in the years before)(ramilicious can attest to this. she can also attest to most of these fantasies ending in friendship rather than anything explicit cause that’s just how i roll these days lol). the line i draw is i would never post these types of fics in a place where the subject could accidentally find them - you have to go looking for this stuff on tumblr, most fics are given explicit ratings and under read-mores. with the blacklist tags it’s pretty easy to filter things out. its even easier to add filters to ao3 searches. i am NOT going to do something like message steve aoki and say ‘yeah i watched that movie Ibiza like five times, here is my 1k fic where you’re the dj and i’m the one night stand’. but obviously people still enjoy imagining scenarios like these otherwise movies like Ibiza wouldn’t exist?

for art, i consider anything already on display up for grabs, we all know a certain person’s ass is all over the place...all you have to do is google ‘need for speed’ and rami’s name. HOWEVER, in the case of actors i personally would not draw anything more explicit than what’s already there. i’m not gonna draw full frontal nudity for rami (unless he gifts us with it in a movie, i suppose) or anyone. this is 100% a personal choice for me. 

i was a sophomore or junior in college when i volunteered as a figure drawing monitor where i’d time the nude model’s poses and help them set up the stage and lighting and such. there was this one guy in his mid forties probably, a regular who came every week, and i always thought of him fondly till one day (the day after i ran into my Hot Programming TA during dinner and later sent him an email begging him to go on a date with me because i was desperate for kissing experience)(and Hot Programming TA emailed me back within minutes saying yes) this artist guy who i saw all the time and thought i knew fairly well, decided to draw me instead of the model. which would have been fine except he drew me naked. i was NOT naked at the time, i was wearing a shirt, and a bra, and a full prairie skirt with alternating calico and floral patterns. he drew what he imagined was underneath all that. he came up to me after the figure drawing session and showed me his drawings and told me i had been ‘glowing’ and my response was to laugh it off awkwardly and get the hell out of there as soon as i gave the model their pay check. but inwardly i was thinking a) i was NOT glowing for this creepy man twice my age and b) i did NOT give him consent to sexualize my body under my clothes and then SHOW me that objectification. i never said anything to him or anything else, i continued to be the monitor, and i continued to field off creepy advances from him including multiple job offers, but when i finally realized i could just...stop..and i passed the student volunteer monitor job on to my friend naeem, i also realized that what that older male artist did was NOT ok in my book. and it was probably not something he would do while naeem was monitoring.

nowadays im working in an industry that regularly objectifies female bodies. in the past year alone i have had to deal with requests to make breasts bigger, i have been given character rigs that in addition to the usual elbow, knee, and spine joints also have ‘nipple’ joints but ONLY for the women (to make them jiggle for animation), every time i send out a female pose i get it back with notes that push it further into the sexy type of body language reserved for women (twist the spine more! sway the back more! give it ‘energy!’), i have been told to erase wrinkles and fat and pores but ONLY for the women (men you ADD pores bc realism! and manliness!) and this is all me working for a company that is actually fairly progressive in terms of sexism compared to OTHER studios.

like it or not, sexual objectification is a huge part of specifically women’s lives and how we react to that is our business. for me, turning the tables and putting men on display feels like fair’s fair. i cant stop the men from doing it, so if i want to enjoy sexualizing male bodies, damn it im gonna! like dang it, boy do i want to send steve aoki a thank you note every time he posts a video of himself doing those ice baths during the sunset golden hour bc holy shit gorgeous or working out in his gym wearing VERY little clothes, but i dont because i know what its like when someone imposes their personal fantasies on the subject. or, god, there was that time i had to unfollow nicole’s insta for a while bc i had a very explicit dream about her and realized, shit, i need to take a break and get my emotions under control before i can refollow. and god some of the stuff i see dudes sending her during her live videos on mental illness/meditation is TOTALLY gross and not something they should be confronting her with. and she’s not even ‘famous’ famous. or how some fans send their idols explicit direct messages without consent. THAT feels inappropriate to me.

a part of me feels like i shouldn’t have to defend this. men don’t. they’re even encouraged in mass media to sexualize women. but i also recognize the importance of talking about consent. the importance of recognizing that a celebrity deserves to have their boundaries respected. these are my lines in fandom. other people have different lines they won’t cross, and that’s okay to me. i block or blacklist any blogs or tags i think go over the top.

heck, even in fandom-only spaces i still try to keep my own more sexual fantasies off this blog and only in private messages with my friends and mutuals, and i feel like that might come across as unintentionally prudish or judgmental sometimes. i’m not ‘horny on main’ very often. but like...every time i reblog that particular ‘washing machine’ gif of joe mazzello am i thinking about him naked and thinking about how he’s got very loooooong feet, and ‘gee i wonder if that means /other/ things are Too Big for my tastes’ but also ‘gosh wouldnt that make a pretty picture to draw’???? hell yeah.

i dont know who is gonna actually read this essay but yolo i guess :)