#someone genuinely help me my quality is so fucking bad how do i fix it is it just me? this is so embarrassing…

[sappy-detective]

“im not a crook adict.”

[aggravatetheaxe]

Hey! Saw your post and saw you said you were upsettie spaghetti so I wanted to cheer you up!

Slashers who stop everything they’re doing because their “My S/O needs me” senses are tingling and go to their rescue to comfort their angry s/o?

I was hoping to come up with A way for you to get your emotions out through your writing- 😅

Hope you feel better! 🖤

I've never done a post in this style before so hopefully I do okay! I think I covered pretty much all the slashers I write for so far (I didn't do Billy Lenz because I still need to read the novelization). I may have gone way overboard, so if I do these in the future, I'll probably just pick a few instead of doing the whole roster 😅 (or you can pick for me). But doing this much work did distract me!

Above the cut:

Bo Sinclair

Vincent Sinclair

Lester Sinclair

Included below the cut:

Michael Myers (OG)

Jason Voorhees

Leslie Vernon

Thomas Hewitt

Bubba Sawyer

Brahms Heelshire

Erik ("The Phantom")

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Courtney Dwayne Delmont (OC slasher)

Kathleen Montgomery (OC slasher)

Masterlist

***

Bo Sinclair

Despite being autistic, Bo is very in tune with peoples auras and body language. He has to be to manipulate and deceive people with any modicum of success. He's trained himself when it comes to these things; even besides masking or manipulation, he needed to be keenly aware of when his parents were in Bad Moods so he could either avoid them or prepare himself.

The mood he's probably best at when it comes to this, for those reasons, is anger. He can smell anger a mile away. So if you're fuming, you better believe he notices.

At first he's annoyed and will demand to know what your problem is. He's not a very tolerant person, and he can be a bit of a hypocrite. He's allowed to have big, messy feelings, but when it comes to others having big, messy feelings ... he's not so comfortable with that. He gets overwhelmed.

Once he realizes that this is more than an attitude problem, he'll take it much more seriously. And assuming you're not mad at him, he'll want the rundown on the whole situation from beginning to end. He wants all the dirt.

He'll let you rant, and honestly, he'd think you being this angry (when it's not directed at him, but even still sometimes) is kind of sexy. And don't expect him to shut his mouth, either; he'll be ranting right along with you, affirming you and insulting whomever/whatever you're angry about.

He doesn't wanna cuddle. He genuinely thinks you can't cuddle anger away. He'll put on some loud-ass music and let you vent your frustration however you prefer. Maybe suggest a long drive down to the lake or into town or just ... picking a direction and going. He has fantasies of running away from his anger sometimes. He knows how it is.

Depending on what you're angry about, it could definitely get to the point where he's angrier about the situation than you are. And if it really hurt you, he will not let it go as long as he lives. The best he will ever do is maintain a grudging neutrality or distance from the person/situation that made you angry.

He's very protective. If you're angry at someone you need to maintain a relationship with, you're going to have to keep an eye on Bo to make sure he doesn't deliver revenge for you behind your back. If it's something he can solve, he'll do it, so if you don't want him running his mouth, watch him.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent is in the same boat as Bo when it comes to sensing auras, though his handle on body language and facial expressions is not as keenly honed. While Vincent was not physically abused as brutally or as often as Bo, this wasn't because of some sterling quality he had that Bo lacked. He was always The Good One because he saw what his parents did to The Bad One and knew he needed to protect himself. He tried not to do anything that might provoke his parents.

You can feel anger before a fight like you smell ozone before a storm. Vincent is attuned to the feeling not just because of his parents but because of Bo's temper, too. Because of this, like Bo, he can very accurately sense anger in particular.

His initial reaction is to observe you, gauging if you need time to cool off. If you need space, Vincent is the Sinclair for you. He's used to being quiet and deflecting and riding out anger.

However, once he realizes that your anger is not directed at him or isn't explosive enough to become a problem for him, he's concerned. Rather than asking what happened, he will ask if you're okay, and leave it up to you whether you'll tell him about it or not.

If you vent, he'll sit and listen patiently, maybe even thoughtfully working on a sculpture while you rant. He's not judgemental and he can be very emotional himself, so you could say the most ridiculous, dramatic things and he wouldn't even bat an eye. Let out all your messy, destructive thoughts and feelings. Just try not to throw or punch anything; that's when he shuts down.

If you decide you just want comfort, or decide you need comfort after ranting, art is his first suggestion. It may seem cold to you at first, that his instinct isn't to hold you or kiss you but rather to redirect you to a project - once you got to know him, however, you'd know that's his most genuine way to show he cares. Redirecting to something creative calms him down more than platitudes ever could, and he wants that for you. He's nonjudgmental about the art you create as well, even if it's objectively terrible. It's not about the quality.

He won't turn you down if you need physical affection, however. His twin is extremely tactile, so it wouldn't be the first time he held someone after a breakdown. He prefers to do this if he's certain you won't lash out physically, but if you were in a really bad way and needed to be touched, he'd do it regardless.

Lester Sinclair

Lester witnessed his parents' anger, but it was usually indirectly; if Bo was the Bad One and Vincent was the Good One, he was the Overlooked One. He's not a perfect person, probably not even a good person, but of the three brothers, he's the most normally socialized. He isn't trained to be tuned into everyone's every shifting mood in order to survive.

It takes Lester a little longer to pick up on your anger than his brothers, but not too much longer. It takes him a couple tries at trying to talk to you or get your attention before he realizes something is really wrong.

His first reaction is to get upset. He soaks up emotions like a little sponge, so he's suddenly cranky, too. He also jumps to conclusions and assumes that you're angry with him, and he does not take rejection well. He might be bitter and passive aggressive. You being angry just makes him want to go in another room and not be around you, and yet at the same time, he wants your reassurances. It's messy and sad.

Once he realizes - either through observing you or through you communicating with him - that you're mad at another person or situation, then he'll feel comfortable enough to approach you and ask you about it. You'll definitely need to reassure him that you're not mad at him though.

If you wanna rant, he'll take you on a long drive and let you vent your heart out to him. He won't be quite as aggressive as Bo, but he'll be on your side, frowning with disapproval, telling you "Ya can't fix stupid." If you want only comfort or need comfort after venting, he feels much more equipped for that. He'll put something relaxing in the VHS or let you play his old Super Nintendo, get you a beer, just let you chill out. And he'll let you win at Doctor Mario.

If the situation is something really serious, you best believe he'll be talking to his brothers about it the second he gets a chance. He may be a sweet guy, but he can be real nasty, and he doesn't fuck around when it comes to you. You might have to keep an eye out to make sure he doesn't tell someone off or punch out someone's lights.

Michael Myers (OG)

In 1978, Michael is not very in tune with any emotions besides fear, and even then he only really understands it in an abstract way, as his condition and upbringing haven't really been conducive to him learning about emotions. Unless you're screaming in terror, have tears running down your face, or are shouting angrily, he really can't read your moods. Without any obvious change to how you normally act or look, there's a huge chance he might just not notice if you're angry. He spends a lot of time in his own little world.

In 2018, even though he's spent over 50 years institutionalized, Michael has had time to take in the world, and he's seen a lot more. He understands fear much more than he did when he was 21, but what he understands most of all is anger. His anger fuels him. He would pick up on yours right away and be curious, though he wouldn't verbalize it.

If you tell him how you feel, he'll take note of it. If he witnesses you doing something destructive because of your anger, he'll simply observe. He would be fascinated with this thing you're doing, because it's not something you normally do, and though he might not notice emotions, he certainly notices routine and pattern. Either way, you'll have to tell him how you feel, because he'll simply watch you otherwise.

One thing that can be said for Michael is that he's a good listener. He may not internalize everything you say, but he will remember what he thinks is important. You may be surprised; he may remember tiny little details that seem inconsequential to you but loom large in his mind.

Unless you were caused serious physical or mental harm, he would not be angry on your behalf. He would, however, do nothing to assuage your anger. He thinks it would be kinda neat and interesting to see you snap. He's not 100% sure why you don't just do it.

In 1978, he won't be much help beyond listening to you, but he would be curious to see what you do to vent your anger. You may find him by your side more often, observing you. He may also want to find and observe the object of your anger, especially if it's a person. In 2018, he would, in his own way, suggest you solve the problem by murdering someone/something. He's insatiable, but killing is the closest he's ever come to satisfaction. You should try it.

Jason Voorhees

Out of all of the slashers, Jason is the most likely to actually literally sense your anger, especially if you're psychically sensitive/powerful like Tina Shepard. I'm talkin'—assuming you have a pre-established relationship—he'll be doing something else and just get this itch that tells him you're out there somewhere, pissed off.

Obviously this is untenable. As long as he's not super busy or Pamela has other plans, Jason will stomp his way through the woods to get back to you, regardless of the urgency of your anger. If Pamela doesn't approve, well, he'll let a little anger go and assume you're okay. If he suspects you may be in danger, though, he's sprinting regardless of what Mom says. There's time for both things, Ma!

The first thing he'll do when he returns to you is scan your dwelling, then you, making sure nothing is broken. At that point, you'd probably be able to sense his confusion even without him signing. Jason doesn't experience emotions quite like a human anymore, and he's quite tactile besides, so a lack of tangible or visible clues as to why you're upset would trip him up for a second.

He doesn't want to comfort you at first, he wants to know what's wrong. He'll listen to you vent only long enough to understand the situation and identify his target. His immediate next move would be to eliminate the problem. You'll definitely have to hold him back, and it may take a bit of convincing. Earthly consequences don't really apply to him.

Before comfort comes blowing off steam, for you and for him. His first choices would be mangling some trees (you can pretend it's for firewood) or skipping/throwing stones into the lake. You're welcome to join him if those things calm you down; watching him get his stone to skip like 11 times on Crystal Lake may make you feel better, at least.

You might hang out there for hours before he suddenly decides it's time to go home. He'll do what he can to make your comfortable or stay out of your way while you make yourself comfortable, then comfort you as you please. His go-to choice is always foot or hand massages.

Leslie Vernon

Leslie is extremely observant and surprisingly analytical given how silly he is in the day to day. His intuition makes it pretty easy for him to read people, but especially you, since you two are so close. Especially-especially if you're his Survivor Girl (gender neutral term of course). You two are in sync, so he knows if something's up. Maybe even before you fully figure it out.

God, you're so hot when you're angry, you really are. He almost wants to let you scream and holler and go nuts. But he prefers you only get angry like that at him, especially if you're his Survivor Girl, so his first move is to comfort you or talk you down to a place where you can be comforted. He'll speak to you calmly and rationally, reassuring you and touching you if you wanna be touched—on your upper arms or shoulders or face, or with one arm around your back.

He doesn't just want to comfort you, though, he wants to calm you down enough that you can tell him what happened. Even if you claim you don't want to talk about it, he will coax it out of you eventually. He's gotta know what got you so upset. It's his business to know everything about you!

Assuming you're angry at someone/something that isn't him, he'll talk it through with you. If you're upset about an argument with someone, he has the capacity to see it from the other side, but ultimately, he's there for you. He'll let you bitch as much as you want, still touching you, and he'll be disgusted and/or disappointed with the situation.

Above all, though, what he wants is to see you smile again. The only worries on your mind should be the ones he comes up with, and man, he's not even halfway done grooming the next batch of unlucky teenagers. He'd pat your face or touch your hair and tell you to cheer up, and probably defuse the situation with a stupid quip or joke. Take you out somewhere fun, maybe.

Once you were cheered up, he'd humbly suggest you solve your problem with a little murder. "I mean, I know killing's not really your thing—you're really good at it, though, a talent! You know that..." Pause, considering you. "You want me to do it? 'Cause I can clear my schedule for the rest of the night." If you decline, he'd be like "Suit yourself" but may or may not still murder whoever upset you. If you agree, he'd be super excited to make a romantic night of it. His mind would be going a million miles an hour planning everything out.

Thomas Hewitt

Tommy knows anger when he sees it. Not only does he have loads of internalized anger, he's been on the receiving end of it plenty. He's far too large to be scared of anyone in a physical sense anymore, but he's been shouted at countless times. To know when to shut up and do as he's told versus arguing back, he's learned to gauge intensity and direction of anger, and he well knows that anger can be redirected to him.

So, he instantly recognizes your mood, but it might be a while before he approaches you. When he does approach, he'll let you decide what to do, whether that's throwing your arms around him or banging your fists on his chest to vent your anger. You won't hurt him.

Eventually, once you're all hugged or cried or screamed out, he'll wrap his arms around you and give you a reassuring squeeze. There's no need to tell Tommy what's wrong—he won't ask unless you're obviously in serious distress or injured—but if you decide to speak, he'll listen, brows drawn tightly the whole time. He's thoughtful about the situation.

If you're mad at someone in his family, there isn't much he can do for you besides comfort you and assure you that whoever upset you—Hoyt, probably—didn't mean what they said. If you were hurt physically, it would be another story, but his family gets in shouting matches all the time.

Rather than offering help, he'd wait for you to request it of him. Whatever you ask, shy of hurting his family, he will do. Murder someone? No problem. Make you some food? You got it. Bring you a blanket? Sure. Give you some quiet alone time? That's fine, too.

If you need to vent, he's got plenty of ways to get out your frustration. Plenty of farm work to do, or you could work on something around the house with him. He might suggest knitting or sewing or some other handicraft you enjoy. It always makes him feel better to buckle down and use his hands for something.

If you're still preoccupied/upset by the time you two bed down, or heaven forbid the next morning, then he starts taking it more seriously. Something that disturbs you for that long is bad news. He'll watch you carefully the next couple days to see how you're doing, waiting for you to need him for something.

Bubba Sawyer

Like Tommy, Bubba has been on the receiving end of anger many, many times, so he's familiar with what it looks and feels like. Despite his size, he's still susceptible to physical violence at the hands of his loved ones, so he's very wary of anger.

However, he doesn't have a female presence in his life like Luda Mae, who expresses her anger through passive aggression—so, he's more used to shouting and screaming. If you aren't prone to screaming and shouting, it might take a little bit for him to realize you're not just sad or upset, you're angry.

Bubba will be over you. He'd give anyone else their space because he'd be afraid of retaliation, but you're his special person, and he's pretty sure you're not going to hurt him. He'll touch your hair, your arms, your wrists; he'll babble as he tries to figure out what's wrong. He just wants to comfort you and let you know everything is all right.

If it's too much or you're overwhelmed and you snap at him, he'll ease back. He'll blubber like a kicked puppy, but he won't give up. He'll still try to comfort you, just in other ways, such as getting you a comfort item or article of clothing, or maybe some food. And boy will he helicopter.

There's no need to tell Bubba what's wrong. In fact, it might be better if you didn't; if it's something he can't fix, it would do nothing but majorly stress him out. If it was one of his family members who upset you, as with Tommy, he wouldn't be able to do much. Even if you were hurt, he's just not in a position to stand up for you. That fact would absolutely kill him, though. He'd end up getting even more upset than you.

He doesn't know what help to offer you beyond comfort, but like Tommy, if you requested something specific, he'd try to carry out your wishes. He'll also try to cheer you up with some music and dancing, or just being silly like you like.

Need to blow off steam? He's got plenty of coping mechanisms! Bubba's idea of a perfect de-stress session is turning up the radio and getting lost in crafts. He's got lots of supplies, mostly to create clothing and accessories, and you're special, so you can have your pick. A drive and the radio might be nice, too. If neither of those appeal to you, he'll try cooking or baking with you. He loves sharing the kitchen with someone.

If none of that works and you're still upset, be prepared, because he's gonna be an anxious mess until you're better.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms is somewhat familiar with other people's anger. He certainly has a whole fountain of internalized anger brewing just beneath the surface, but that's different. He knows that when Mummy is angry, she yells and cries, and when Daddy is angry, he seethes and stews. The former would be obvious to him, but the latter would take him a few minutes to be quite sure about. You're not acting how you usually do. Are you being stern or are you angry? Are you cross with him?

He does not have a lot of empathy for other people, so if your anger gets in the way of his routine or the attention he wants, he'll be irked, cranky, sad. Not necessarily at you—though that is possible—but the situation in which you find yourselves.

Much like Bo, he's allowed to have big, messy feelings, but it makes him uncomfortable and scared when other people have those feelings. He might even hide from you for a while, especially if you screamed and cried.

Once he realizes something is really wrong and you're not mad at him, however, he'll start thinking of ways to cheer you up so things can go back to normal. He hates having his routine interrupted; he's very particular. And he cares for you, so seeing you in distress is very scary and uncomfortable for him.

He'll start by fetching you something you like—something manageable for him like your favorite juice or a sandwich, or if you have a special item or article of clothing, that. He's quite shy, though, and like I said, he'll probably be hiding, so he'll leave it somewhere he knows you'll find it (on the bed, outside your door, on your desk, etc.)

If that doesn't calm you down and your anger is really getting in the way of his routine, or otherwise making him uncomfortable, he'll finally make an appearance. Very bashful and timid at first, using his little boy voice. "What's wrong, Y/N? Did something bad happen?"

If it's something that can't be helped, he'll suggest you do something together to take your mind off it (most likely something he likes to do). He may even be coaxed into taking a walk around the grounds, though he doesn't like to leave the manor at all, so you'd have to convince him. He prefers quiet playtime, maybe some coloring books or loud music to vent your emotions. It would intrigue him to see someone else use his toys to calm down. As long as you recognized he was being very nice, sharing them.

If it was an argument you had with someone, he would want more information. Are they likely to leave you alone, or will they come to the manor? Will he have to deal with them? Because it's scary, but he'll do it for you.

If, for some reason, none of those things work, he may cry or throw a fit. Either way, he'll be frustrated. Adult Brahms may make an appearance and try to help you in more Adult ways.

Erik

Though he lives five cellars beneath an opera house now, Erik hasn't always been entirely reclusive. Even these days, when he can stomach it, he sometimes goes out to see the world. As a younger man, he observed people's lives and moods with a hungry fascination (that has now mostly been replaced by melancholy and longing and bitter anger). Like several of the other slashers here, he's had to train himself to sense fury to protect himself. He's also incredibly wrathful, so you could call him an expert!

He has a very keenly honed sense when it comes to you specifically, since he's watched you so much. He notices the change in your demeanor immediately.

If you know him as the "Angel of Music," his voice will appear to you once you're alone, asking you what's wrong and assuring you you can confide in him—he will insist you tell him, though. "There are to be no secrets between us, Y/N." He will listen without interjection as you vent your heart out, and when you're done, soothe you. Don't let his calming voice deceive you, though; behind that mirror, he's seething, planning to take matters into his own hands.

If you know him as Erik, he will go to you the second he recognizes the shift in your mood and take you from what you're doing, regardless of your wishes. He'll sit you down, kneeling before you with your hands in his, and gaze into your eyes, imploring you to tell him what's wrong. He'll absolutely allow you physical comfort, but he will also absolutely insist you tell. He'll need reassurance that you're not angry at him, because that thought would break his heart.

He will let you vent however you wish. You could have the most dramatic breakdown ever—throwing things, beating your fists on his chest, wailing—and he wouldn't judge you. He would be awfully concerned, though.

Will be 110% on your side. You are his poor little meow meow. "My poor love, my poor Y/N!" He is beside himself with sympathy for you and you only, and is very offended on your behalf.

He will always suggest music as an outlet for your anger, but he will have taken note of your other hobbies and interests as well. He'll fetch your things for you without being asked, as long as it won't separate him from you for very long. If you'd rather just have comfort, that's fine, too. He could hold your hand and caress your face for hours on end under normal circumstances, so no problem there. He may also suggest a little time on the surface, if you normally live in his home. Fresh air will do you both good, he reasons, and he enjoys spending time with you where others can witness it. It fills him with pride and love.

Otherwise, he's at your service for any other soothing activities you need. A calming bath, some sweets, shopping, anything. Perhaps avoid asking for any sexual contact, however. First of all, being asked directly makes him very skittish and nervous; second of all, his method of love-making (when you can coax him) is very intimate and tender, which may be tedious if you're in an angry mood.

Unless the situation is extremely serious or dire, his first priority is making sure you're soothed. Once that duty is fulfilled, however, he is absolutely angrier about it than you are. If it's not that serious, he won't skip straight to killing, if only because he knows it upsets you. He will definitely be writing an extremely strongly worded letter, however. If someone slighted you seriously, they're getting threatened. If someone hurt you physically, they're meeting the Punjab lasso.

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Deacon definitely knows when people are angry. His step-mom was a passive-aggressive laundry-folder and his dad was a storming out of the house kinda guy; when the two of them were together, they were all hushed but heated arguments at night when they thought he couldn't hear them, or else extremely embarrassing passive-aggressive arguments in public. Growing up, he found himself around a lot of angry people. And there's no shortage of anger in him, either.

So yeah, Deacon knows when people are pissed, and he knows when people are pissed at him. The thing is, he just thinks it's fucking hilarious. He was that kid that would goad peers and teachers just to be an asshole and had virtually no friends as a result. He's a menace on the internet, too: a horrible troll for no reason, stirring the pot even when he doesn't have a stake in the argument. He's trained himself to find people's weak spots so he can strike at them. He does it to make himself feel more in control of his life and his own anger.

So when you're ticked off, he's gonna notice the change immediately. If you made a vent post on social media, he probably knows you're angry before you even see him. He follows all your social media (even if you don't realize it) and checks it constantly. He'd call you out of curiosity to ask what happened. He's open about his stalking tendencies: "I saw your post, babe, who do I need to stab?"

If you otherwise come home angry, he'll be up on his feet, following you around the house and pestering you, trying to get you to tell him what's wrong. If you try to hug him, he won't push you away, but he'll be distracted, trying to needle answers out of you the whole time.

There's no question in his mind as to whether or not you're angry at him. He just assumes you're not; he has a pretty good handle on how you act when you're angry at him specifically.

He'll let you rant all day if you want. You could talk about the shit that's pissed you off for hours and he'd still listen. Outwardly, he might poke you a bit and play devil's advocate for the other side of the argument, if there is one. This is purely for the purposes of being a little shit.

Internally, he's already going down his pre-murder checklist. If it was someone at work, they're dead. Someone in the neighborhood, dead. Online? It'll take a couple days, but they're dead. Even if you're not angry at anyone in particular, just a situation, he'll find someone to menace. He'd walk through fire for your approval.

He's not good with soft, emotional comfort, so instead he'll try to think of something to help you let off steam. His go-to is something competitive, especially if it involves you chasing each other. A Nerf or water gun war, a PVP game with you on opposite sides. He'll put up a good fight, but you always kick his ass.

Once the immediate situation is addressed and you've ranted your heart out to him, he can't keep his hands off you. "Seeing you all pissed off drives me crazyyyyyy." He's grinning, brown eyes sparkling. "Come onnnnn ... I'll get it off your mind!"

Courtney Dwayne Delmont (OC)

Courtney is a hunter of all manner of game, so he's used to interpreting non-verbal cues and body language—when an animal is in distress, when an animal is about to attack, etc. His grandfather was a very angry man, as well, in a simmering sort of way. He would seethe about something before suddenly delivering one decisive strike. Courtney himself is not a particularly angry man, unless some prey is really giving him a hard time, but he can read your body.

If you come home angry, he'll stop in the middle of what he's doing and watch you, still and quiet, just confirming his suspicions. If you leave the room he's in to go collapse on the sofa or something, he'll follow you, looming over you and waiting for you to tell him what's wrong. He's patient.

If you want to vent, he'll sit and listen thoughtfully, doing something with his hands while you speak—probably cleaning his gun or some other weapon. He doesn't look at you. He wouldn't demand greater context to the situation but he would ask "Why?" and "Who?" until he understood Enough.

If you want comfort, he'll sprawl on the couch and let you lay on top of him. He'll probably pull a blanket on top of you to try and encourage a nap. If the nap doesn't make you feel better, he's feeding you protein. Do you like homemade jerky?

Sex is also on the table (not literally ... unless). He's found it's a great way to blow off steam, and he's more than happy to make all worries, troubles, and other thoughts go away for a little bit. Expect that to be the rest of your night, though, because he doesn't do quickies.

Generally, he trusts you to handle your own shit, so he would be more focused on you than whatever made you feel the way you do. However, if days passed and you were still angry/upset/sad, or if it plunged you into a breakdown or was an otherwise extremely serious situation ... just give him a target. It's up to you, but if you tell him to take the shot, it'll be quick and clean. If you're unable to make the decision, he'll decide for you without hesitation.

Kathleen Montgomery (OC)

I'm still developing her so this one won't be as in-depth and is subject to change.

Kath makes it her business to know everything about you. Chances are she's seen you explode screaming while stalking you ... chances are, if you've been in a relationship for a while, she's made you explode screaming. She knows what you look like when you're angry. Besides, she's strong for her size, but she often has to take down people who are much bigger and stronger than her; she uses manipulation and trickery to help ease that divide, so she's good at reading people.

Like Deacon, she also monitors all your social media, so if you made a vent post, she already knows you're in a shitty mood before you come home. Unlike Deacon, she doesn't tell you how she knows, so you're left to assume she's just all knowing. Considering her god complex, that works for her.

She'd probably text you to come home, and she expects you to answer. If you're unable to come home, she'll call you to ask what's wrong.

Once you're together, she wants to know everything about the situation. Even as you're speaking, she's already on her phone or laptop, looking up the people involved. Instead of getting mad on your behalf, she laughs. She's a fan of emphasizing how pathetic or weak the opposition is.

She takes your feelings on the subject seriously, but everyone else in the situation? Insects. Not even worthy of your time or concern, let alone hers. You're obviously in the right here (even if you're not). She'll tell you as much, and say some pretty intense, over-the-line things about whomever/whatever you're angry at.

Overall, however, she's calm and collected about the situation. Your bout of anger is a chance to get you to be reckless with her. She'll do your hair and makeup and dress you up nice, then take you out. Fast driving, drinking, baiting people at bars, menacing neighborhoods ... maybe a little killing, if you'd like.

***

Masterlist

[anika-ann]

Walk Me Home Tonight (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, songfic

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 4700

Summary: Sometimes it’s hard to be in a celebratory mood when all you can think of is that life sucks and that being left on your own to drown your sorrows is for the best.

Sometimes people who care about you know better than yourself and come crashing your party of one.

Sometimes, despite the popular belief, you do realize how lucky you are having been introduced to Steve Rogers.

Warnings: mention of blood and violence and death, mention of alcohol, angst, fluff and language

A/N: P!nk’s Walk Me Home just does something to me, alright? Music video included - it’s soooo beautiful.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

You stared at the amber liquid, lazily making it roll in the glass with idle motions of your wrist. It reflected the rather soft lights of the bar, an exquisite game of colour you found fascinating enough to dull your mind and muffle the noise of the party.

It wasn’t that you were a party pooper, not usually anyway; just… the timing wasn’t ideal.

Of course, Sharon could hardly move her birthday to make it more convenient for you, less so a party her colleagues had decided to throw for her. You knew Agent Carter for quite some time now; she had joined SHIELD about the same time as you, going through the same tough training. Except unlike you – and initially without your knowledge – she had an image to live up to.

You might even call her a friend, your chest bursting in pride for her when her hard work had finally borne some fruit and she had been promoted to an assistant director of the intelligence agency. Among other things, it earned her a lot of new potential friends.

You were hardly acting like one tonight, much to your own annoyance. But for some reason, you found it difficult to leave your momentary emotional baggage at the doorstep, slipping it off as easily as your coat. You had wished her all the best, conversed for a tiny bit and then happily made space for others, for the forming line of guests waiting to celebrate with her as well.

Then you retreated to your spot at the bar, possibly annoying the bartender, who would have been more delighted seeing some heavier drinker occupying your seat, tipping generously, instead of having you nursing each glass of alcohol for about two hours.

You weren’t even sure why you were still here; you had given up on the attempt on small talk with anyone, apparently unwittingly chasing away any potential company. And here you thought misery did love company – perhaps you were wrong, at least when it came to birthday parties of gorgeous women loved by everyone. You might as well pack up your bottom and sulk at home.

You were stubbornly shushing the voice in the back of your skull, whispering about knowing precisely why you remained in your seat; about feeling less alone here, despite being a literal loner in a crowd.

You downed the rest of the bitter scotch, basking in the burn which it left on its way down your throat, your eyelids slipping shut in content, the noise in your brain falling silent completely for few blissful moments.

“Party of one?” a male voice gently asked, the tinniest note of teasing in it and while your heart skipped a startled beat at being addressed, you felt the burn in your throat slip lower, warming your chest and causing the corners of your mouth turn up just a fraction.

 There's something in the way you roll your eyes Takes me back to a better time When I saw everything is good But now you're the only thing that's good

 “Felt like crashing it?” you hummed in response, side-eyeing the intruder and found a pair of cerulean eyes staring back. He blindly waved off the eager bartender who was about to offer him a drink.

Ah, poor guy. No tips for him tonight.

“Well, I didn’t get an invitation. Looks like crashing was my only option.”

You sighed tiredly despite Steve’s kind teasing. Tonight was just… so exhausting. Tonight. Today. This week. Gah, this whole month. This fucking year--- okay, maybe you were exaggerating, because you were simply crossing the line, moving from relaxed buzzed drunk to a miserable one.

Battling with yourself, arguing whether you should send him to hell – nicely, because Steve was nothing but kind, he was always so kind, goddammit, gentle humour spiced with the ability to become an utter troll, still benign though, that was why you usually enjoyed his company so much after all-… – or call it a night.

Or should you order another drink? Was there a point? You might cross the line to a clingy drunk eventually and you weren’t certain that was a good idea.

It was probably about as good of an idea as coming to a party despite feeling like shit on an emotional roller-coaster, dangerously inclining towards a very bad mood to put it mildly.

You tilted your head to side as you looked at Steve properly, tight blue shirt flattering his supersoldier frame, black pants with desperately needed leather belt considering his thin waist, his blonde hair a mess, gaze fixed on you, observing. Always observing to read people, to anticipate behaviour, evaluate the threat; sometimes simply to be considerate, to… to be compassionate.

Dammit, Steve.

“Must have got lost in the mail then,” you said eventually, offering a weak smile. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” he shrugged it off, the curve of his lips more distinct than yours. As if he was offering to cheer you up. Sweet, but possibly vain effort tonight. Sometimes, things simply piled up and there was no escape. Such was the fate of a government agent. And human, for that matter. “Doesn’t look like much fun and I think it’s about to end anyway.”

“I guess…”

 Tryna stand up on my own two feet This conversation ain't comin' easily And darling, I know it's getting late So what do you say we leave this place?

 This time, Steve actually made an eye contact with the bartender, who eagerly rushed to him at instant. His excited expression fell when he noticed you were pulling out your wallet to close your tab. You didn’t have the strength to shoot him an apologetic smile.

Steve’s eyes were on you the whole time, you could feel them, and you wondered why. Until he spoke again, as soon as the other man left.

“Come on. I’ll walk you home,” he offered gentlemanly, coaxing you into saying yes, possibly unaware of the effect which such tone had on people.

Or perhaps he knew, using exactly that when he was trying to talk someone down, to calm them, gain their trust. The joke was on him, because it was a vain effort; you trusted him fully already. Surely, he knew that.

Right?

Trust was the solid base the team of Avengers needed and since you somehow found yourself with them, it involved you too. The team stood and fell on trust and mutual respect. But it meant so much more – they were friends. They cared about each other, about their well-being.

Right now, Steve was being a good friend and a good teammate.

And you were being exactly that too when you turned his kind proposition down.

“No, it’s fine. There are still some people who are actually able to speak coherently with you. Go enjoy yourself. I’ll be okay.”

“It’s three in the morning,” he pointed out, as if admonishing you for not noticing. Your eyebrow rose deliberately.

“…and?”

“And I’d feel better if you weren’t walking the streets alone,” he replied easily, ignoring the hint of snark in your comeback as you made your way to the coat-stand.

Still walking on the line of miserable and pleasantly buzzed, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mean to him for such patronizing approach. He had been raised this way and despite his open mind and admirable respect to women, he slipped sometimes.

“Steve, I’m a SHIELD agent basically turned Avenger. I can take care of my-“

“But you don’t have to. And-” He gestured subtly back towards the bar and a metaphorical lightbulb flickered above your head.

Not patronizing then, god forbid chauvinist; Peggy Carter would rise from the death to beat him with his own shield, with Natasha’s enthusiastic help, if he was showing any sign of aforementioned qualities and he was well-aware of that.

Just mother-henning then, the way Steve excelled at.

It brought the first honest smile of the night to your lips. You made sure to face him so he could see how wholesome his company was for you.

“I’m not too drunk, Steve. I had like two glasses of scotch,” you assured him, gently brushing his forearm before reaching for your coat and scarf. “And two beers.”

“I know,” he stated, stealing your coat only to hold it out for you to slip into it.

God, the woman who would once win his heart was about to be one lucky bitch.

Jim has never done this for me, flashed through your mind and you instantly shushed the whining voice in your head. Instead, you went over what he just said, blinking in surprise.

Huh? He… knew?

“I… might have kept an eye on you,” he admitted tentatively, the tips of his fingers brushing your shoulder before retreating and letting you to cocoon in the fabric.

“Why?”

Why would he keep an eye on you? Sure, teammates and friends and all that, but for some reason, you doubted he kept an eye on Tony, the only other Avenger (beside Steve, not Steve and you, you don’t count, a voice hissed in your mind and you winced) who attended the party, not being on any mission at the moment.

Why did Steve feel like you needed a chaperone?

No, that was too harsh of a word for him, you were certain his intentions were everything but malicious, but… why?

 Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

 The genuine wonder must have been audible in your voice, much like your shock must have been clear in your expression, because Steve seemed sheepish all of sudden, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well, I mean, I know that you probably wouldn’t-“ he started, only to grimace. “It’s not that I think you’re an alcoholic! It’s just that... you--- and it’s only been-…“

-four days since you got dumped, you finished the unspoken sentence and tried your best to ignore the cold seeping into your bones at the reminder.

One of the reasons why you had been in a sour mood and deciding to drink alone. Your amazing asshole of a boyfriend had dumped you, metaphorically kicking you while you had already been down. Lovely.

“-I was worried. But you didn’t look like you were interested in having company, I didn’t want to be a bother and-“

You pulled Steve out of his misery by placing a hand over his forearm, which stopped the words spilling uncontrollably from his mouth.

He was actually being very sweet and thoughtful. It kinda made you feel bad, because… you weren’t looking for dragging someone down with you. As it was, he had his own reasons to not be happy about partying tonight, but feeling like he had to keep an eye on you probably didn’t help to lift his spirits.

“-and you had to spend some time with the woman of the hour,” you finished instead of him slowly, hoping you sounded at least half as thoughtful as he did and that you didn’t appear to be the greatest bitch, stealing attention from Sharon. “That’s understandable, Steve. It is her birthday party and I’m the one being antisocial.”

You bit down your lip, lowering your gaze, because the infamous worried wrinkle appeared on Steve’s forehead and you just knew he was about to protest and you… honestly felt bad about your behaviour and the welcoming colour of his eyes was not helping to make you feel any better, because of course he probably thought it was perfectly normal to look out for you instead of allowing himself to enjoy the night and- ugh.

“You… you shouldn’t have to look out for me. Your attention could have been fully on the birthday girl.”

Naturally, Steve Rogers basically shrugged it off. Covering your hand on him with his large palm, he slouched to look into your eyes once more. Insistent bastard, no doubt aware of your inability to say no to his amiable face.

“That’s what friends are for. Now, can I walk you home?”

You shook your head with a sad smile, rising your gaze towards the ceiling, hoping it came out as an exasperation at his stubbornness and not as it truly was – you in fact attempting to keep your tears at bay, because, miserable drunk, dumped four days ago apart from other things and there he was, asshole perfect, Steve fucking Rogers, gentleman and friend extraordinaire, caring for your well-being more than Jim ever had.

A twinkle appeared in his eye when he recognized he won and you chuckled, sealing his victory out loud.

“Yes, Steve. You can walk me home. It’s conveniently located on the way to yours.”

He smirked when he shrugged on his own coat. “Happy coincidences…”

 There's something in the way I wanna cry That makes me think we'll make it out alive So come on and show me how we're good I think that we could do some good, mhm

 Once you left the bar, silence fell on you, feeling heavy as did the cold November air.

Heavy and awkward. While you could tell with certainty you were barely affected by the alcohol you had drunk, your steps were wobbly, knees shaky as if you were a baby horse trying to stand up for the first time.

Steve walked by your side, majestic in his thigh-length coat, hands snugged in its pockets only halfway as if he was waiting for you needing his support. It irritated you as much as it warmed your heart.

On top of everything, you would swear every lone person you met stared at you, staring you up and down until they seemed to register Steve’s imposing frame and quickly went back to their business. It annoyed you to no end; it was just proving Steve’s point that you shouldn’t walk the streets alone at such hour, government agent or not.

“I would have been fine, you know,” you hummed, cautiously breaking the relative quiet.

It was never truly quiet in New York City, only rush hours alternating with calmer ones. You didn’t mind it; you enjoyed the city. Sometimes quiet meant that thoughts won the opportunity to become too loud; tonight, for some reason, despite the silence, Steve prevented that ever since he joined you.

It dawned to you then, how ungrateful you sounded and you quickly added “But thanks.” –  a whisper full of honesty.

“Uh-huh.”

Perhaps the silence weighted so much because your mood wasn’t the only cause of it.

Steve was showing you that he worried; surely, you could as well? Because you did, worry about him that was.

“…are you? Okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked distractedly, but you could hear the frown on his face, the image of his nose scrunched in confusion painted in front of your eyes even without looking at him.

“Just… today-” you nudged him once more and vaguely eyed your watch only to be reminded that ‘today’ was a confusing term. “Or, more like, yesterday…”

A sharp inhale was drawn at your side and you could sense as he started closing off, putting up his walls so no one would catch a scent of his weakness. You hated when he tried to do that. You would have thought you were past that. You liked to consider you two friends at least.

Tonight was simply not your night. Of either of you, apparently.

“What about it-?“

You sighed, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Were you truly such a crappy company, an insensitive friend or was there something sorrowful and cranky in the air, preventing your communication channels from tuning to the same frequency?

You were aware what the day meant for him – another painful reminder of what he had lost with crashing the plane in the forties only to wake up in a new millennium.

Though this particular loss – of his mother – haunted him even back in what some people called his days. It was an utter non-sense. Steve belonged there as much as he belonged here. He was brave enough to try and stubborn enough to succeed in fitting in.

“Nothing, I guess,” you sighed once more, this time rolling your eyes. “…Mr. Nothing Can Touch Me.”

The wry nickname hung in the air for a while, the faint noise of the night city washing over your pair. When Steve broke it again, there was a barely audible crack in his voice.

“I… I’m okay. I think. I… should be. It’s been so long. Decades,” he mused, turning his gaze to the sky. His eyes glistened and if you didn’t know him, hadn’t witnessed his walls lowering before, you would have thought it was just the streetlights reflecting.

You knew better. Tentatively, your fingers brushed his, not remembering when his hands had left his pockets. You were grateful for it now, especially when he didn’t retrieve from your touch instantly.

“Not for you,” you pointed out quietly, rewarded by the softest squeeze of his warm hand.

The heaviness and tension you had felt before resolved with the gesture. Something finally fell into place and you were almost you again and he was almost him.

Two figures, carrying their griefcases, but functioning and… harmonizing once more.

“How did you know?”

“That’s what friends are for, Steve,” you echoed his earlier words, sending a tiny smile his way, meeting his glassy gaze. “They remember important dates, good or bad.”

“No one else did. Not that I can actually hold it against Buck, of course... but no one… you…” his voice trailed off as he lost his train of thought – or perhaps he had never truly directed it to the station in the first place.

Your shoulders moved a fraction, a hint of a shrug-off. His hand wrapped around yours tighter in silent appreciation, not showing any sign of intending to let go.

And you were alright with that. More than alright.

Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

His presence was always immense, overwhelming even; yet so comfortable you didn’t have the slightest problem with opening your heart to him, offering it to him even when it was bleeding. And now, finally tuned together, it was no different.

You bared your heart to him, even if it hurt.

“She didn’t make it,” you whispered, voice pained in the dead of the night and he didn’t react, letting you to gather strength to elaborate. You cleared your throat as the lump grew in it.  “Kayla, one of the kids… from last week’s mission. I found out yesterday… she-she didn’t make it, she had too many injuries. Word is that perhaps it was even a blessing. A relief.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve repented, his grip growing stronger just a fraction, enough to make your chest and eyes burn.

“Yeah, so am I.”

Whatever he heard in your voice, it caused his fingers twitch in your hand, his footsteps slowing down. “You know that wasn’t your fault, right?”

“Wasn’t it? If I was faster, if I-“

Steve stopped in his tracks completely, pulling at your hand to make you do the same and face him.

You closed your eyes when his blue ones met them, unable to stand the urgency in them. His free hand curled around your shoulder, caressing in attempt at comfort.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that to yourself.” Hypocrite, you threw back at him in your mind, stubbornly keeping your eyelids shut, simply knowing that if you saw the sincerity in his gaze in addition to the fervour he spoke with, you might actually believe him. “You did your best. I know that, Nat and Buck know, everyone does. A monster you helped to put behind bars hurt the kids. Not you. You saved so many lives.”

You shook your head with a sigh, staring straight ahead as you turned on your heels and continued your path. Steve, never letting go of your hand, followed reluctantly.

“Sometimes I think he might have been right, you know?”

Peripherally, you saw him frown again and you cursed yourself for drinking – it untangled your tongue and his stupid face made your spill your guts to him, vomit emotion. You weren’t too secretive about your feelings most of the time, but damn, you hated how alcohol pushed your boundaries of sharing them.

“… Jim. He said that maybe I should give it up. That I’m just running alongside you, heroes, pretending to be one of you, but in the end, I’m not even close to being as good-“

Steve’s feet took roots in the ground, his steely grip forcing you to stop – as long as you wanted to keep your hand attached, which yeah, you kinda did.

“I feel like taking a detour now,” he muttered darkly and for a short moment, confusion was everything you felt, blissfully overtaking the anger, the sorrow, the helplessness and the feeling of utter uselessness.

“Huh?”

“Where does Jim live?” Steve spitted out the name venomously and you couldn’t help the wave of affection washing over you. Affection towards this treasure of a man who apparently wanted to punch another human being because it offended his friend. “He has no business saying something like that. Especially if his bullshit actually affects you-”

“Steve, he wasn’t wrong, I’m just-“ you sputtered, caught off guard when you registered the fire in his glare.

“We all make mistakes. But that’s beside the point, because you didn’t even make any that day. I read the report, and I know you, you put everything you got and more into the rescue mission. How can he-“ he hissed, literally taking a calming breath as both of his hands balled into fist.

Well, one of them only nearly, since it was still holding yours. It actually stung a bit, the bones in your hand close to grinding against each other.

“-I haven’t met him many times, but if he said that instead of comforting you after an incredibly draining mission, then I’m glad that that asshole is gone from your life. … though I would still appreciate his address.”

Blinking away the few stray tears that welled up, you forced a smile as Steve’s strict glare found yours. It felt good, seeing his indignation; having someone else exasperated on how Jim had reacted. He should have given you a hug and hold you tight; that was what you would wish for. Instead, he told you to stop complaining and when you accused him of not supporting you, he called you a whiny bitch who should make up her damn mind and broke things off.

You deeply appreciated Steve’s display of chivalry, hell, you half-considered giving away the address just so Jim would hear someone else agreeing with you, but you were honestly just tired. And you had a feeling Steve wouldn’t stay only at words and seeing any more blood, any more aggression would have been too much for you tonight.

Tonight, you… you needed serenity and comfort.

“…thank you. That… that means a lot. But… maybe just walk me home? Please? Could you walk me home, Steve?” you pleaded softly, barely audible, not caring it sounded like weeping of a needy child.

Unbeknownst to you, that was the last thing you resembled in Steve’s eyes. Your imploring gaze, vulnerable and open, it moved something inside him, his anger silenced for the moment, leaving him defenceless, unable to say no. Not that he had an intention to do so. He always had trouble saying no to you.

So he forced his fists to relax, running his thumb over the back of your hand and whispered the only word that made sense.

“Always.”

You settled back to the comfortable silence after that.

 Walk me home in the dead of night 'Cause I can't be alone with all that's on my mind Say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on

 You reached the Tower hand in hand.

Neither of you released the other. Not during the elevator ride, not when you walked the halls lined with doors leading to each’s private quarters.

You were still holding onto each other when you came to a stop in front of your door; rest assured, Steve Rogers would lead you right to your door even if his was only at the end of the very same corridor.

Standing nearly chest to chest, his eyes bored into yours with seriousness that surprised you.

“For the record, you do a great deal of good,” he reassured you, saying it as if he truly meant it. It tugged at your heart, sweet and bitter. “You’re amazing and you’re the most authentic of all of us. I admire you.”

That claim caused you to chuckle. Now he was laying it on a bit thick, downright exaggerating.

“You admire me? Steve, that’s really nice of you to say, but don’t be ridi-“

Your words died in your throat when his large palm splayed over your cheek, cradling it gently. When the paddle of his thumb swiped over your other cheek, soft smile playing on his lips, his irises bright with a promise, time seemingly stopped along with your heart.

“And you’re a great friend to the whole team, a wonderful person. Do me a favour and finally learn to accept a compliment,” he asked of you in hushed voice, the electric blue and green of his eyes locking you in. “If he didn’t praise you enough for you to get used to it, he was doing something wrong.”

You gulped, a silly association with the word ‘praise’ allowing you to break from the cage of his gaze that had previously had your mind gone blank.

“I’m not a dog to be praised, Steve…”

One corner of his lips – and when did they got so close anyway? – twitched. And then a tender kiss landed on your forehead, just the softest brush of lips against your skin. The gesture, utterly incomprehensible for you, had your eyelids flutter shut.

“I’m very much aware. Believe me, doll, I know. Thank you for letting me walk you home.”

You only nodded at the ridiculous statement – why was he thanking you? – too perplexed at the fact his lips had made contact with your skin. When did you cross the line towards the delusional drunk?

His fingertips caressed your face as he let go, wishing you to have a good night. Too baffled, you were unable to respond until he had already made his way to his door and you suddenly missed the warmth of his presence.

Breaking free from your haze, you acted on impulse, apparently startling him when you called his name out of blue so urgently.

“Steve!”

Whipping his head around to look at you, you felt your heart jump into your throat.

“Uh… are you ready to go to bed or… or maybe… would you like to watch a movie or something?” With me?

I don’t think I’m ready to be alone. Ready to be without you.

Even from the distance, you would swear you saw his lips spread in a slow honey-sweet smile.

“I think I’d like that,” he called out lowly. “Ten minutes? I’ll get the blankets. You pick the movie.”

“See you in ten then.”

You pretended that your heart didn’t flutter, sending a wave of familiar tingle through your chest and to your fingers, as you slipped inside your room with your mouth curled up in a content smile.

 Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong There is so much wrong There is so much wrong going on outside

*✧･ Bonus *✧･

If Tony found them two and half hour later, closing credits rolling, the pair curled up and cuddling on the couch, you fast asleep in Steve’s arms, and he noticed that the supersoldier was in fact only faking to avoid an interrogation from the Ironman himself, he didn’t mention it. He just whispered to FRIDAY to turn off the TV and turn off the dimmed lights completely.

He hoped Rogers would treat you the way you deserved, unlike the man who now had farts announcing a received e-mail or texts, unable to change it, and a laptop turning on randomly, dead-pale children staring at him from the screen with hollow eyes and in clothes dripping water. Tony would hate to have to hack more tech again just to avenge your broken heart without your knowledge any time soon.

He’d rather suffer watching the two of his friends being disgustingly sweet on each other.

Probably.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

S.R. masterlist

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

Silent thanks to the person who came up with the word ‘griefcase’ as an alternative to emotional baggage.

Also, I’m pretty sure songfics aren’t supposed to be so long... oops?

Thank you for reading!

[punkpandapatrixk]

Being Insincere Is So Hip

When I was a kid, my Pisces Moon heart made me strive to become the most sincerest person to exist in the world. Because I cared, and was genuine, helpful, and ironically brave (Aries influences), I got my heart broken over and over again until the shape of my originally very compassionate heart became despicable. Had I been not so lazy, I would've become a Neo Hitler or something. Not to kill Jews—bleh, who cares about that?—but to kill everybody. Alas, I couldn't turn into a cold-blooded mass murderer, so I turned to wanting to kill myself instead.

One sombre evening, as I was leaning on my apartment's balcony on the 38th floor, I thought to myself that if I made this jump, this time, it would be over for real. No error, no miss, zero chance of stupid survival that could lead to a life with disability. From this height, in less than 4 seconds and with virtually no pain at all, I would finally be free from all of these dragging disappointments and sadness. All there would be left was just my carcass scattering on the ground, which wouldn't have been my problem to deal with. I kept thinking what I'd done so wrongly in Life for things to end like that. Why, for such a long time, it only felt like my entire existence was one dastardly failure. Fat tears started slipping out my eyelids, freediving straight into the dark ground below.

I don't deserve to be the one whose brains, eyes, and stomach scatter ugly on the pavement like that.

I kept thinking how all of the pains in my heart were caused by everyone else whose lives, words, opinions, and behaviours were ugly as fuck. If anything, it's those fucktards who deserve an ugly death like that. Not that I was particularly concerned with whether or not they'd actually die like that, the point I was making to myself was just, that. My heart continued to ache for some minutes until the polluted air was choking me, so I decided to come back inside and sleep.

Recently, I've come to really fancy the idea of being insincere. I got it from NCT Jisung! When Chenle and Jaemin said he lacks sincerity and is a bit impolite. Like having an epiphany, I came to view Jisung as a truly hip Aquarius Sun dude!🏺I mean, it's not like he's a bad person or anything. Everybody loves him anyway. I love him!🐹

It's... so liberating to have managed to rely on a lot of my Air qualities that have driven me towards the same variety of insincerity💋That is to say, my trusty Aquarius Stellium🧊Yo, as long as things remain polite, diplomatic, and charming, who cares if I'm fumajimé? It’s all just tatémaé. That's, so Libra of my 4th House🥂

Honestly, I no longer have a lot of feelings for many things. When dealing with others I do not wish to get personally involved in any way. Even if that means watching someone drive themselves into passive suicide. I ain’t nobody’s Neo Jesus. This newfound sense of cold-heartedness… some will think badly of it. But the most important thing of all, is that I never get my heart broken anymore🍨🍧🍨

‘I fixed a heart I didn’t break, then got mine broken.’ — someone who must've been a Pisces Moon🤷🏻‍♀️

[buckyownsmylife]

daddy issues - chapter xv

The one where Ransom doesn’t feel ready to become a father, but he should have thought about it before sleeping with a complete stranger.

When Ransom’s latest one night stand lets him know that he’s going to become a father, he finds himself looking for the qualities he never believed to have so he can become the parent he never got to witness as a child.

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

A/N for this chapter: this is 3.2k of unedited drama and I am so fucking proud of it. I wrote this entire thing today, and it’s easily one of the pieces I’m most proud of. So I haven’t been able to fit a proper conversation between the reader and Harlan - I couldn’t make the scene justified if his presence was there, since he does seem to be the one thing that keeps the family on the line - but that means I had some ideas of how I can make up for it in the future! Extra chapter? Perhaps. We are approaching the end though. I only have two more chapter planned for this fic and an epilogue. We’ll see how that goes!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Hey!” I got into the car excited to see him again, but I tried to reason with myself that it was all because of his visit to his grandfather’s publishing company, of course. I wanted to know how that went and I was curious as to what Harlan’s plans were, that was mostly it.

The fact that I had genuinely missed the man by my side after spending just four hours away from him had very little to do with it, or so I tried to tell myself. I didn’t know how to deal with depending so much on someone yet.

But I was trying to.

Ransom’s silence alerted me that something was different. I stopped trying to fix myself to look to the side and find him staring out the window, face expressionless and eyes void of any sentiment.

“Ransom, what’s wrong?” Reaching over, I squeezed his thigh to get his attention, and he jerked as if he was genuinely surprise by my presence in the small vehicle. “You look stressed,” I clarified, eyebrows furrowed in worry as I reached over to push away a strand of hair that had fallen out of place.

He just stared at me for a while and still I couldn’t read what he was thinking. Was he mad at me? Had I done something wrong? After what felt like eternity, he sighed, gripping the steering wheel as he looked on his lap and admitted, “I’m gonna have to go to this family dinner on Friday.”

Immediately, I breathed deeply in relief, suddenly realizing just how worried I actually was that his mood had something to do with me. But then I was reminded of the little that Ransom had told me about this family - even that little felt like too much.

I could only imagine the anxiety he was feeling, and my heart ached to soothe him as best as I could. “Do you want me to go with you?” I asked, running my digits over his nape calmly, keeping my voice as soft as possible to help him relax.

Still, his head snapped up so he could meet my eyes, his wide as two saucers as he struggled to process what I’d said. “… You’d do that?” He sounded so surprised, so genuinely shocked by my offer, that I couldn’t stop myself from giggling, taking both of his hands on mine and squeezing them gently.

“Of course I would, honey.” Ransom’s eyes were so soft as they stared into mine, even as my heart doubled its size in its effort to reach out for his, I found myself justifying, “You went with me to see my parents!”

The way his smile dropped at my explanation had me feeling cold and empty, desperate to see him look at me the same way he was doing only seconds ago.

“Besides,” I forced myself to admit it, trying not to sound as breathless as I felt while I opened my heart to him. “I-I don’t want you to go through that alone. I wanna be there for you, like you were for me.”

Immediately, I felt rewarded on my effort to open up by the smile he gave me. “Thank you, baby.” He squeezed my hand this time, and when he leaned over and connected our lips on a quick peck, my heart skipped a beat.

I was in love with this man.

Ransom’s P.O.V.

I sighed as we stood in front of my grandfather’s front door, trying to adjust my sweater that suddenly felt uncomfortable. Beside me, she seemed to be doing the exact same thing, fingers pulling on the end of the dress she was wearing, making me smile.

The dress highlighted her bump - it was now undeniable that she was pregnant and even if I’d never been particularly attracted to women in this stage of life, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her now.

It was like she shined from within. Her beauty amazed me, and so when she noticed me staring and stopped fiddling with her clothes, straightening herself up to ask, “Do I look okay?” I had to stop myself from laughing.

“Yes.” More than okay. “But are you sure you won’t be cold?” We’d gone through this argument before leaving the house, so I was prepared to see her rolling her eyes as she reached out to take my hand in hers.

“Unless your family has the habit of dining outdoors regardless of the weather, I think we’ll be alright.” I chuckled, rubbing my thumb on the back of her hand, but it sounded nervous even to my own ears. It didn’t surprise me that she noticed it. “Are you ready?” She questioned, voice in that soothing tone she used whenever she noticed my stress.

“Not at all,” I admitted, but in all honesty, the prospect of joining my family for dinner didn’t seem as bad as it usually did. Not with her by my side.

“I’m here for you.” Hearing her say those words meant more to me than I was able to properly express at that moment so I just stared at her, taking in the fact that this incredible person actually cared about me.

“Just… don’t leave me alone, okay?” Her immediate nod had me smiling. It prompted me to once again lean over and connect our lips, only this time, when I tried to pull away, she kept me close with her hand on the back of my neck.

Who knows where this kiss might have led us if the door hadn’t open right at that moment, revealing my lousy uncle who stared from me to her with wide eyes?

“… She’s pregnant? With your baby?” A groan was all I could muster as a response, tugging her into the house with me. “When were you going to tell your family?”

“For fuck’s sake,” I cursed, looking around the living room for the bar. “Where’s the goddamn alcohol?” There was no way I’d be able to survive this night without it, as much as I wanted to be supportive of Y/N.

“I think that’s a bottle of scotch,” I heard her whispering next to me, pointing towards a corner of the room, and I sighed in relief at her understanding.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

An hour into the evening and I had already understood why Ransom was the way that he was - and why he liked his grandfather so much, despite how he felt about the rest of the family.

Harlan was gentle where all of his children were… prickly. In fact, he was the only one who addressed me at all, but I found myself feeling grateful for it, since when the dinner actually started, I wanted the rest of the family to forget about me completely.

“I am so sorry,” Harlan apologized, rubbing his hands nervously as he stared at the rest of the family who was walking towards the dining room. “I sleep early, everyone knows that, but this is the only time they could all gather and since they didn’t know you were coming…”

I waved away his apologies, offering him a hug as I wished him good night. “Just as long as you’ve had your dinner, Harlan. Thanks for welcoming me into your home.”

He accepted my embrace easily, taking advantage of the proximity to whisper in my ear, “Just hang on to him, dear. I promise it’ll be worth it.” I smiled when we parted, nodding in confirmation to his words.

“It already is,” I assured him, but he only sighed.

“Make sure to remember that during dinner…” Now I understood why. It started with a simple question, one of the maids offered me some meat, and when I hesitated to answer…

“God, are you daft, girl? Have you never eaten lamb?” My eyes widened in surprise, but before Ransom could have the chance to throw himself at his mother, I just squeezed his thigh.

“I was going to ask her if there was any oregano in the sauce. It’s been making me feel sick.” I didn’t need to add why - the reminder of my situation, of what led me to be there with them in this dining room was very clear in me.

And still, that didn’t stop them.

“That’s a pretty necklace…” Ransom’s father commented before we could even grab a bite. I chuckled to myself, immediately catching onto what he wasn’t saying.

“Thanks, I got it at a little boutique back home. It was a gift for myself after I got my first paycheck.” I could feel Ransom’s gaze on me, the waves of pride rolling from him in waves. It made me smile, but it was just the calm before the storm.

“Ransom, have you contacted a lawyer?”  This question came from his uncle’s wife, Donna - I think that’s what she was called. Not that she tried to introduce herself to me or anything, but Harlan made sure I knew everyone’s name as soon as I stepped inside the house.

“Why?” Ransom’s tone was vicious and his squinted eyes alerted everyone that he was prepared for a strike, but the fact that he still hadn’t anticipated what was coming almost made me laugh.

Even Donna herself hesitated, unbelieving that he was going to make her say it. “There’s no way you’re that stupid.” And just like that, the doors to hell were opened up.

Ransom’s P.O.V.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but then again, was I really surprised?

“You should make sure to draw a prenup,” Donna insisted, while the rest of the family pretended not to hear, undoubtedly coming up with their own ways to insult Y/N. “Something that will assure only your kid has access to your money.”

I could hear Y/N quietly laughing to herself next to me, but while she was able to find the irony in the situation amusing, all I felt was blinding rage.

“God, do you even hear the shit you say? I never asked for your input, this, right here, is precisely why I didn’t tell any of you all about my baby.” I saw Y/N flinch from the corner of my eyes before I heard my mother’s fork drop against the precious porcelain dish she was pretending to eat from. I knew this was the sorest topic of discussion for her. I knew this was why she had been pretending Y/N wasn’t even there, hadn’t even been invited to dinner with me.

“Fair enough,” she spoke, lying back against her chair as she finally raised her eyes to meet mine. “I don’t know if we even should learn anything about this child, considering it most likely isn’t even yours.”

It was like someone had thrown a bucket of ice over me. Y/N was oddly quiet now, seemingly as frozen as me - and when I realized that, my anger returned with twice its power.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” I warned, just as my mother retorted, “Don’t you talk like that to me.” I didn’t even have the chance to talk back when she stroke again. “You fuck so many ransom desperate chicks, I’m surprised this is the first you knocked up.”

This was as insulting to her as it was to me, and it also struck a chord in me because of how I feared this was just reinforcing Y/N’s views of me. “Don’t say shit like that,” I threatened, to no avail. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Ransom…” Her sweet voice tried to intervene, but I was too far gone to hold myself back now. I couldn’t stand the thought that I was hurting her because I was the reason she was here in the first place.

“You know nothing about her, and yet you feel comfortable judging her,” I continued, ignoring her completely. “She’s a lawyer, actually. You would know it if you had even bothered to talk to her. If there was ever the need for a prenup, I’d have her draw it.”

Maybe they thought I’d stop at that - I thought so myself, until I realized there was still so much I wanted to get out, and I was going to do that now.

“And you know what? I trust her more than I trust you, and I came out of you. So maybe you should consider that before you attack the one person I try to introduce to my family.” I hated everything about this. I hated how they still managed to get to me, how the fact that my own mother, who I didn’t even respect, still managed to make me feel inadequate about the one thing in my life that made me excited.

I knew I’d always lose with them. They just had this way of inciting the beast in me - they brought out the worst in me, and I felt helpless to fight it.

“Okay, so she’s not some random skank,” my uncle oh-so-helplessly interrupted, immediately making me want to punch him in his stupid face. “But this just means she’s the one playing you.”

“Oh, shut up!” I threw my hands up, pushing my chair away from the table, fully intended to storm out of the room until Meg was the one who stopped me dead in my tracks.

“Did you even get a paternity test, Ransom?” She seemed almost uncomfortable to voice it, eyes darting from me to Y/N, but I could read her apologetic smile perfectly.

She just didn’t want someone else to get Harlan’s attention and interest because that would potentially mean less money to each and everyone of the people in this room, as he’d add one more person to his aid list.

My father took advantage of what Meg said, waving in her direction. “Don’t you know how important this family is? How quickly she could rise in any job because of a connection to us?”

My mother scoffed, finally ready to interfere again. “Knowing she’s actually smart leaves me even more surprised that you’ve relented and decided to become someone’s little plaything until this baby pops out. I’m assuming a few months with a screaming kid and you’re just gonna abandon her anyway. Which is fine by me, I won’t have to pretend to be a grandmother for long.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

All I could think was how grateful I was that I had accompanied him to this dinner tonight. As I watched his chest heaving with fury, I could not imagine how he would have felt having to deal with all of this on his own.

“Ransom,” I tried to catch his attention, pulling him back to his seat. “Ransom, it’s okay,” I tried to appease him, but he was too fucking gone to care.

“No, it’s not okay, he pushed my hand away, getting up from his chair to lean over the table, both hands on top of it as he stared at his mother.  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He yelled, making me flinch, although Linda hardly seemed bothered by it.

Then, much to my surprise, Ransom straightened up, running a hand through his hair as an emotionless chuckle escaped him. “No, you know what? You’re right. You’re not gonna be a grandmother. I’m gonna be a father, Harlan’s gonna be a great-grandfather, but that’s it. I’m not gonna keep taking your shit anymore, Linda, you know why? Even if this child wasn’t mine, I’d still want her and this kid.”

My heartbeat pumped out of control as he continued, “She’s not just someone who’s carrying my child. I care about her. And if you can’t respect her, than I guess I was right in keeping this pregnancy from you.”

I held my breath as Ransom apparently caught his, my head swirling with the different emotions running through me - my infatuation for this man, who had so fiercely defended me from his entire family, the adrenaline from witnessing such a vicious argument.

I truly believed this would be the end of it. I didn’t know where they could go from here - that was, of course, until Linda decided to attack him.

“Oh, and you think you’re going to be so great with it?” My blood boiled when her words turned against her own son so easily. Attack me and my dignity? That was okay, these people didn’t know me.

But seeing her attack Ransom was just too much for me.

“Do you think she’ll want to keep you around once she realizes she’ll be raising two children with you to weigh her down?” Ransom visibly faltered, like she had slapped him, and that’s when I had enough. “You’ll never be able to give her the emotional support that she needs and you know that.”

I rose to my feet at that, holding onto my lower back as I softly slapped Ransom’s back in an attempt to calm him down. “I got this, babe.” He was so surprised - and still so hurt by his mother’s statements - that he didn’t even try to stop me. In fact, I think he didn’t even realize what was going on until I turned to Linda and started talking.

“Do you really think that poorly of your son that you can’t believe he has anything to offer in a relationship?” Now she was the one who looked up at me with an expression that looked like I had physically hurt her.

“Is it that unbelievable to you, that someone would be able to like him for him?” She didn’t seem to be able to find anything to answer to me, and when I turned to Richard, I was also met with silence.

Ransom’s P.O.V.

“Well, I do,” she announced, like it was the single most obvious thing, the simplest fact to deduce in the world, while I stood back watching her with my mouth hanging open. “I like him enough to be willing to open up to him even if one day he might leave me because to me, he is worth any possibility of future pain.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I’d never had anyone defend me like this, not even Harlan - not even my parents, when I was a kid and the bigger children decided to bully me.

No, back then all I got was a talk about how “real men don’t cry” and if my father ever caught me cowering from someone else again he’d give me a real reason to be afraid.

“And I do say possibility,” she continued, not having raised her voice for even a second and still to effortlessly able to catch the attention of everyone in the room, assure herself the ground to speak her mind without the fear of interruptions. “Because Ransom’s actions have never given me any reason to think that outcome is even remotely probable.”

“So maybe you think about your own opinions of your son’s character and see if they don’t reflect your own more than they reflect his actions.” She turned around after that, tiny hand encircling my wrist as she began to yank me in the direction of the front door.

“Let’s go.”

[wienerbarnes]

A Certain Romance (4/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,111

Warnings: mentions to past abusive relationship, nothing too explicit, though

A/N: some emotional bonding✨ enjoy babes

MAIN MASTERLIST | A CERTAIN ROMANCE MASTERLIST

Bucky presses the little button on the side of his phone knowing the dead battery won’t allow it to turn on. He makes his way up the stairs to your apartment - the elevator is always broken - and hopes you’re home to offer him a charger.

He was getting a few groceries in your area when his phone died, the only place where his list was kept, and had no other choice but to leave and go back later. A curse with technology; a paper list would never run out of battery, he thinks.

He knocks on your door three times and he can hear the low sizzling of something, signaling your presence inside. It takes you a minute to come to the door, though. Longer than the amount of time for you to change your clothes or turn something off, no, it seemed to him like you were waiting to see if he’d leave.

Do you have someone over? Another guy? Are you expecting someone else you don’t want to see? Is it him you don’t want to see? He thinks he’d rather you tell him to his face if that’s the case.

It’s been about a month and a half since you’ve started “dating.” The two of you have started hanging out more frequently, relying less on when Sam asks about what the two of you are doing and going more based on when you genuinely want to see each other. In a friendly manner, of course.

After he knocks a second time is when he hears a quiet shuffling on the other side approach closer and closer to the door. A lock turns and you finally open up, Bucky meeting your slightly puffy and red-tinted eyes.

“Hey.” You sighed before turning around and walking back to the kitchen.

“Hi.” He starts.

You were clearly crying. While Bucky would call the two of you good friends at this point - as well as fake lovers - he’s not sure if he’s in a position to pry about what’s wrong with you. Should he ignore it? Not bring too much attention to your obvious emotions? Bring all the attention to it and try to fix whatever the problem is?

“I, uhh, my phone died and I was in the area, so I wanted to ask if I could borrow a charger?” He starts. Maybe introducing a topic that has nothing to do with whatever is causing you to feel this way will help.

“Coffee table.” Is your curt response.

He takes the minute it takes him to plug his phone into the wall and set it on the coffee table to think of how he can go about this.

“You okay? Actually, don’t answer that - bad question. Clearly you’re not okay…” He tries, quickly shutting himself up when you sigh and slump a bit in front of the stove.

“What are you making?” He slowly walks over to where you are, a pan in front of you on one of the burners.

“Apple and brie mini sandwiches.” You say. More words, same sad tone. Still progress.

“Want me to take over and you can chill out on the couch?” He offers quietly.

“No. I - I want to keep myself busy.”

Progress.

“Okay. Anything I can do to help?”

You let out a shaky breath. His eyes focus on your face as tears gather around the rims of your eyes and you bite down on your bottom lip. A tear drops from your left eye and your hand quickly reaches to brush it away, as though Bucky didn’t already see it.

“Um, can you set up a couple of plates on the table?” You ask, voice strained.

He nods and moves towards your cupboard, setting the table up wordlessly.

The two of you remain silent as he fiddles with the napkins on the table and you finish up browning the bread of the sandwiches. He finally hears the click of the stove turning off and you bring the pan to the table, setting it on top of a piece of cork.

You serve him two sandwiches and yourself one and finally sit down next to him, letting out another sigh.

“I thought I saw my ex today at the market. And it took the entire time I was running back to my apartment in fear to remember that he’s in jail. Four states away.”

He looks over at you and realizes that the look in your eyes he thought was sadness isn't sadness at all. It’s exhaustion. A look he wore himself very often in his days of hiding, days of constantly looking over his shoulder until his worst nightmare came true and he was caught.

Paranoia is something he knows too well and it hurts him to see you suffering from it too. He remembers the brief mention of your ex from your first date together; how he beat the shit out of you. And he imagines he did a lot more than that if it means he’s in prison.

A humorless laugh falls from your lips, “And now I need groceries but I’m too tired and embarrassed to go back. The cashier probably thought I was crazy.” You pick at the crust on the bread with your fingers and Bucky gives you a small, sympathetic smile.

“Eat before it gets cold.” You tell him, picking up your own sandwich and taking a bite, Bucky doing the same after another moment of looking at you.

Gooey brie and crisp sliced apples go great with buttery, toasted french bread, Bucky learns.

“Do you want to help me clean the apartment?” You ask him as you follow him to the sink where he washes off the plates and the pan you used.

“... Your apartment is spotless.” He tells you.

“I know. I cleaned it two days ago. But I like to clean when I have bad days, and you’re already here.”

He grabs the sponge and wipes down the stove, glancing over at you.

“I’d be happy to help you clean. Where do you want me to start?”

He planned on getting his own groceries today, but found himself on his knees slipping his arm as far as it can go under your dresser. I’m going to buy her one of those adjustable Swiffers for her birthday this year, he thinks. After collecting all the dust onto the rag, he tosses it into the pile with the few other dirty rags and glances over his shoulder to look at you.

Down the hallway, you wipe down all the frames on the wall one by one. He hears sniffles every once in a while, but keeps cleaning.

“Alright, I got all the low places and all the high places for you.” He walks over to you down the hallway. “What do you have next for me?”

“Nothing, we can stop for a bit.”

He’s gotten better at reading people. Through getting closer with Sam, through therapy, through becoming a more participating citizen in society. And through getting to know you. He can read you, and he can tell you’re holding something back.

“Anything else you wanna do? Anything I can do?”

“What’s your zodiac again? You’re very caring, you know that?”

“I’m a Pisces and you're deflecting.” He steps closer to you now, eyes less puffy from when he first saw you this afternoon, but tiredness radiating through them. “Talk to me, sweetheart.” He encourages quieter.

“Can we… cuddle? For a little bit?” You ask.

This is the first time Bucky’s ever seen you look so fragile. Not on that first date where you thought he was going to stand you up or when you told him about your ex. Not when you both discussed your deepest secrets on your couch. Not even earlier when you explained why you’ve been crying today. A timorous woman stands before him, now.

“Absolutely, doll. Where, on the couch? Wherever you want.” He tells you softly, seeing a bit of tension leave your shoulders as you gently bring him to the couch to sit, as though you were expecting him to say no.

He’d always used to make fun of Steve when talking about Peggy. Always teasing him as a brother would when the lovey-dovey talk would come out. But this is the very first time he’s ever understood a single thing he was talking about.

You’ll find someone, and they’ll fit you like a puzzle piece. You’ll mold to each other perfectly, and it’ll scare the hell outta ‘ya.

He’s propped up against the arm rest, one leg straightened out on the couch and the other planted on the floor. His arms are around you as you’re sandwiched between his side and the back of your couch. Your hands rest gently along his stomach, head tucked under his chin. A knee hooks around the leg that’s straightened on the couch, the other stretched on the remaining area of the cushions.

Like a puzzle piece.

You’re warm and you’re making him feel warm, both on the inside and the outside. He feels the way he did when he first pecked Barbara Albram on the mouth in grade school. Or when he first sat on a girl’s bed in her room when he was a teenager.

He feels like he has a crush.

“Do you know what love languages are?” You ask after a few minutes of silence. You’re both warm against each other, no blanket needed in the small space. He can feel your body much more relaxed under his hands and the permanent strain in your throat has disappeared.

“No. Sounds nice.”

“It’s the way you express and experience love, either with a romantic partner, a friend, family, that sort of thing. There’s five.”

“What are they?”

“Words of affirmation, quality time, physical touch, acts of service, and gifts.”

He hums, an arm absentmindedly trailing up and down your back.

“I’m not sure what mine is.” He says, thinking back to every relationship he’s ever had, both romantic and not.

“You can be a mix of them. I think you like to express love through acts of service. You did just help me clean half the apartment. And when you told me about helping Sam and Sarah with the boat.” You mention.

“What’s yours?”

“Physical touch. But he kind of fucked that up for me, though.” You scoff.

“I used to love holding hands, hugging, kissing. Not just with him, with everyone. I felt like I had so much love to give and now I have nowhere to put it. I wish he didn’t make me like that.” You confess.

“Only you are in control of that. He’s gone. And what he did was terrible. But it’s up to you to reclaim that. If you have a lot of love you want to give, give it. There’s no one that deserves that love in return more than you. You are worthy of all the love in the world.”

He stays with you on the couch until he feels your breathing slow a bit and your body relaxes against his, small snores and heavy breaths leaving your mouth as you finally rest.

He hears a buzz on the table and is reminded of the reason he came over in the first place. He carefully reaches over to the table and is glad that he’s able to reach without moving you around too much. He presses the button on the side to see a now fully-illuminated screen and a charged battery, as well as a text from Sam.

Double date friday night. Bring ur girl. I’m picking the place

He doesn’t let himself be upset at the fact that Sam’s bound to choose a place that requires him to wear a clown suit because he’s too caught up on it being a double date.

He hasn’t been on a double date since when he shipped out for the war. And times were very different then; he was very different. He’d be nervous even if he wasn’t fake dating you and was going with a real girlfriend.

Maybe I can cancel, tell him I’m busy. You know that won’t work though! You’ll reschedule over and over and over again until Sam just shows up out of the blue with his girlfriend, even worse if it’s an occasion where you tell Sam you are with her when you’re not. Bit the bullet, Barnes, it won’t kill you.

He glances down at your sleeping face, calm expression soothing his own nerves now that he’s replied with a text confirming both of your presences.

It’s only a double date, what’s the worst that can happen?

[jypbae7]

Could you do a breakdown natal chart for Kun from Wayv?

QIAN KUN - NATAL CHART

Kun was one the most requested I got which was a pleasant surprise!!❤️❤️

(Not claiming to be an expert this is just for fun please don’t take anything too seriously!) Hope this is helpful and that you enjoy it 🥰❤️

Personality: Capricorn Sun, Leo Rising, Taurus Moon, Capricorn Mercury, Capricorn Mars

Clearly a LOT of Earth sign placements but nicely broken up by the fire sign rising

Capricorn Sun has serious and long term plans for the kind of future they want for themselves and once they set out for it they seldom give up. Stubborn to a fault, but also consistent enough to actually persevere. They want the perfect job, reputation, partner, house, family, etc.

Leo rising is a bright, warm and outgoing personality. Lots of energy, creativity and flair. They enjoy having a strong core of friends that they feel understand and enhance their experience and effect on the world. Leo’s are known for being hardworking and as a fixed sign it offers a lot of consistency and determination. They are extremely devoted and loyal once they develop a bond and trust with someone. Though the passion can fizzle out quickly if they aren’t feeling the kind of attention and passion they want.

Taurus Moon is a very grounded person with more social charisma and approachability than Capricorns are known for. They also have a tendency to like bold styles, they have big dreams and goals and you’ll be surprised at how well they can attain them if they’re focused enough (Kun is a Capricorn Stellium so yes this boy KNOWS how to get shit done when it needs to be done) Taurus is also a fixed sign which along with the stubbornness everyone knows about also comes with patience and consistency making them really good leaders when added with their natural friendliness and perseverance

Capricorn Mercury indicates a strong preference for structure, somebody who tends to follow rules and feels uncomfortable breaking them. They tend to have authoritative energy and demeanor. Big ambitions and determination to succeed and excel in their chosen career. Spend more time thinking than they show with a generally very logical mind which can sometimes lead to a black & white perspective

Capricorn Mars - responsible, organized, secretly a thrill seeker, can come off as aloof or guarded when they are around new people or people who they really want to make a good impression on.

Relationships:

Non-Romantic Relationships: Capricorn Sun, Taurus Moon, Leo Rising, Capricorn Mercury, Capricorn Mars

Trustworthy and dependable - the “dad” of the friend group who everyone calls when they have something serious to deal with

Platonic love languages: acts of service and quality time - he loves spending time with people with shared interests especially music. Also loves going out to different places such as different trendy cafes, movie theaters, museums - you name it.

Likes other thrill seekers who push and motivate him to get out of his comfort zone

Sense of humor is a lot more childlike and playful than one would expect from his serious and strict side

Capricorn energy is NOT to be crossed or messed with. These are the ones who are calm af and calculated when angry - this is when you know you are screwed. When Capricorn is calm and collected while enraged, ohhh boy, do they figure out ways to hurt you in the smoothest and most effective ways without so much as lifting their finger. Spare yourself the trauma and DO NOT LIE to him no matter what.

Romantic relationships and preferences : Aquarius Venus, Capricorn Mars, Capricorn Juno, Aries Eros

Aquarius Venus is outgoing, friendly and charismatic. They are attracted to interesting and unique people who stand out of the crowd. They like bold and spontaneous gestures and they will do them back for their partner as well.

Aquarians also dislike overly clingy/needy partners which Capricorn also isn’t a fan of either. These signs are all about independence, individuality, personal expression and achievement. Meaning that while they do yearn for a partner (especially Capricorn placements) they want a partner who is self sufficient and independent with their own hobbies, careers, dreams, goals, etc.

Capricorn Juno implies they’ll be a tough to nail down for very long because Capricorn wants only the best of everything and they’re always busy trying to excel at things and scoping out their options. So you’ll have to prove your worth to them before they are willing to commit because once they do it’s for the long haul

Capricorn likes natural ethereal beauty while Aquarius likes the bold - my guess is healthy mix of both. Natural looking and soft featured with some bold/unique traits like bright/bold hair or fashion style, a bit of spice/sass here and there is another secret pleasure

Be prepared for endless serenades and songs made and sent to you like love letters - whether he’s singing or composing a warm ethereal instrumental for you, his whole heart is in it

Love languages (most to least) - words of affirmation, gift giving, physical touch and quality time

Words of affirmation makes him feel really wanted and needed, he’s also really really good at giving it out to people he loves so if he’s doing it one sidedly it would hurt him and make him feel insecure.

Gives either unbelievably beautiful luxe gifts or unique/fun gifts and loves to surprise his partner with them often especially after time apart

Capricorns HATE wasting time they are hyper aware of how many hours in a day and how much can be done in a day. So, if he’s spending a lot of time with you, you’re very very special and important to him and he prioritizes this time very highly

Star gazing dates, beach dates, camping trips - this man will go out of his way to make sure every date is an experience. He is PREPARED, he has an itinerary in his mind, he’s looked up the travel routes and picked the best one. When you go camping he will FLEX with his efficiency and ability to handle the labor heavy tasks. This man will purposely wait till you’re looking to start chopping wood (not that ANYONE is complaining), put the tent up and have it filled with blankets and pillows galore in 2.00034 seconds because he practiced in the dorm living room with the others like a drill routine. (Lucas taught him how to chop the wood & still look hot while doing it)

Is the MOST polite and endearing person to your family and friends. Goes above and beyond to be the perfect partner around your family and they are unable not to LOVE him. Is especially soft and doting of any children or elderly relatives. And none of it is phony at all, he doesn’t know anyway else to even think. Respect, manners, and family are extremely important to Earth signs. They’ll probably end up liking him more than you but honestly you can’t even blame them

(None of y’all ungrateful people better ever slack on Zaddy Kun’s visuals ever again!! If I don’t get to see his happy trail during 2021 I’m burning the SM building down once and for all)

18+ Preferences:

Aries Eros ooof - passionate, possessive and steamy. Pick their partners off instinct and energy - once they really like you they become infatuated and want to STAY that way. If it’s not the “I need you so fucking bad I’m gonna lose my mind” type of love they DON’T want it.

Leo Rising is a possessive as fuck placement thankfully when they get riled up or jealous they have the confidence not to get angry with you or insecure about it. BUT.... you‘ll still be awakening a whole new type of beast and quite frankly he will let you know that it’s all your fault as he holds you down and uses you like the stupid toy you are till you remember who you belong to

If he sees you doing anything even remotely domestic his Taurus Moon and Capricorn Juno will have his mind go from soft and warm thoughts to bending you over the kitchen counter and taking you right there without a care or second thought spared

Positions where he feels in in control are his favorite - he likes being on top of you, behind you and if he can pick you up and carry you while ramming into you best believe he will.

His favorite is position is missionary - likes to feel big and dominant he also wants to be able to see as much of you as possible and kissing you as much as possible from your lips to just about anywhere else he can reach. Will be staring at you 99% of the time with big smoldering eyes that don’t waver in the slightest. In fact if you give him eye contact back he’ll just be even more turned on

Now...this might be controversial but... Capricorn Mars usually suggests power play/dynamic kink - think rich powerful CEO who secretly fantasizes about being tied up and blindfolded. Not to say that is exclusively his main kink bc it’s definitely not, he is 100% mostly dom BUT with the right person he’d be more than willing and very excited to try it out - probably because they are always in control so it’s an adrenaline rush for them to relinquish it to someone else. Doesn’t necessarily mean an extreme level of being submissive even just simple restraints can feel very extreme for a bossy and in-control Capricorn

Aquarius Venus also likes breaking relationship “norms” and trying out new things. They are super fun and bright when happy so when he’s in love he’s in LOVE. Wants to sing about it 24/7 but is too stubborn to be clingy or needy. The type to smile during sex, especially when he’s on top of you or drunk. Don’t even get me started on drunk handsy Kun whining in your ear about how he just wants to sneak out of the party early.....bc I will genuinely never recover

Very vocal in the bedroom - gives his partner tons of praise. Completely loses his mind and is loud af when you kiss your way from his neck down to below the hips

Most of the time sex with him is more passionate than kinky, not lightening fast jack rabbit thrusts instead hard and deep rhythmic ones that make your whole body shake - Hungry makeout sessions, sneaky little hickeys where no one else will see, massages than turn into hours of love making, takes his time to hit deep and hard inside you, handfuls of your hair, gaspy whispers

When he is feeling more kinky it’s usually spur of the moment. In the car in the middle of a rainy night during a cancelled schedule or after an especially steamy date night where he decides to take you to a hotel afterwards

KING OF AFTER CARE (NOT up for debate) - cooks you an amazing meal afterwords or orders up a feast if he’s too spent to get up too, cuddled up in blankets watching a movie for the rest of the night afterwards.

[fandomscombine]

Period Cravings

BG: Periods can be a pain. Food cravings are usually the easiest to handle. But with Hogwarts under curfew and not willing risk it all for the blood quill what could you do? Looks like someone had go above and beyond to help.

A/N: Why did I decide to write something about food in the middle of the night, it’s like I wanted to make myself crave on purpose!

This is an entry to @blisfvll ‘s 1.5 celebration writing challenge! With the following prompts:

14. “I swear to God I’ll punch you.” “You can’t even reach my shoulder.”

15. “I don’t know if I wanna kill you or kiss you.”

WC:1223.

>>MASTERLIST<<

>>JOIN MY WRITING CHALLENGE!<<

You don’t normally get period cramps you are very thankful for, but of course when it does come, it hurts like hell. Luckily Madam Pomfrey has a supply of menstrual pain-relieving potions available for those in need. Which you had taken after dinner. Although now sitting in front the common room fire, you had another problem. Cravings. Which magic unlikely could not fix. Oh what you would do for a plate of a hot chocolate lava cake topped with cold vanilla ice cream!  A glance to the clock- 9:55 pm- had killed whatever small hope of getting that sweet treat from the kitchens. It was almost curfew.

The last of the students were arriving back, deflated like always after Umbridge had become High Inquisitor and held Hogwarts with an iron grip.

‘If you keep making that face y/n, your brows are gonna be permanently sewn together.’ Fred remarked.

Which only made you scowled further.

‘Sorry Sorry!’ Fred raised his arms in surrender. ‘I bet you would still look cute even when your face ultimately stays mad.’

Did he just called you cute?- Well no exactly but also could he be? You thought but before your brain could process if his teasing had something behind it, your body reacted first. Next thing you know, you had hit his arm.

‘Ouch woman! You hit hard!’

‘Well these chaser arms do pay off even outside of quidditch.’ You knew Fred only tried to cheer you up. He always does, when he sees you down or anyone for that matter and would crack jokes to brighten the day.

Placing your hand on his arm as to lessen the pain you begin, ‘I’m sorry. You were just trying to make me feel better and I released all this crap onto you.’

‘Heyyy heyy it’s okay.’ Fred said, pulling you for an embrace, ‘Take it out on me all you want, I can take it. Anything for you.’

Breaking away he continues, ‘What’s got you bitter anyway?’ Genuine concern in his eyes.

You looked away. ‘Ahh it’s so stupid- It’s nothing really.’

‘I am Fred fucking Weasley, I do stupid things all the time. Try me.’

‘I want a hot plate of lava cake with ice cream.’

‘Say what now?’ Fred stated, a bit confused.

‘I would die for some lava cake and ice cream right now.’ You stated with a deadpanned face.

‘This craving is driving me insane!’ You explained. ‘Normally I would just sneak out to the kitchens but now with the threat of getting my hand scarred with the blood quill, it is a no go. No way am I risking that just for a period craving. I wouldn’t even wish the blood quill to a bully.’

‘yeah yeh….’ Fred mumbled, lost in his own thought.

Waving a hand in front of his face ‘Freddie are you even lis—’

Fred abruptly stood up. ‘I—I got to go y/n. I forgot something in the—’ Running out of the common room, the rest of his sentence cut off by the closing of the door.

~

An hour later, right before you were getting ready for bed. Your roommate had come in giggling, ‘Y/n! Good you’re still up. Fred is downstairs waiting for you by the way.’

Waiting for me? What could this boy be up to now??

But you nod anyway. ‘Thanks y/f/n. I’ll be right down.’ You put on your fluffy slippers and make your way down to the common room.

You first caught sight of Fred pacing, making your way closer to the communal study tables you then saw it. ‘WHAT THE-‘you exclaimed.

‘Surprise!’ Fred said with handing presenting the table full of desserts- Chocolate frogs, cauldron cakes, hot butterbeer and the showstopper plate of a hot chocolate lava cake topped with cold vanilla ice cream!  

‘As you can see, I have also added a couple more stuff, which I noticed Ginny and Mum eat during you know the time of the month, been told that those help ease the pain and cravings. And Ohh! I also have these…’ Fred handed you more stuff from the chair. ‘Heating pads and a couple of potions from Madam Pomfrey- though she was a bit annoyed and worried that I asked her for them so close to curfew…and’ His cheeks blushed. ‘after all that she calmed down cause she said that I was being the most caring boyfriend and knew that we would make a great couple…’ Fred chuckled nervously.  

Seeing that you haven’t said anything, yet he continued hoping to salvage anything after that boyfriend/girlfriend comment, ‘apparently quite a number of teachers are shipping us together, some even have bets!’ He tried to sound nonchalant but failed. ‘Can you believe?’

Alternating from him, the food on the table and the heating pad and potions in your hand. You brain is going a hundred miles an hour.

On one hand, this is just wow, never had you felt so taken cared of before- and securely this surpasses best friend territory, right? Fred had gone above and beyond. This was some boyfriend material stuff right here. But what if you’re just overthinking and reading too between the lines y/n? What if you just want to see what you want to see.  But your thoughts keep going back to the boyfriend quality worry, the going above and beyond.  And he did mention that relationship comment right? He didn’t seem to take offence at the idea….

On the other hand, your own worry had taken over. What he had done for you was so risky, he could have been caught. If he had he would have suffered and have scars on his hand, all because of you and you could live with that. How could he be so reckless? – Wait why are you even still saying this to yourself…

You broke off your internal monologue. ‘WHAT THE FUCK FRED?!??? YES FREDDIE THIS IS ALL SO SWEET AND I REALLY DO APPRECIATE IT BUT WHAT IF YOU HAD BEEN CAUGHT?? YOU WOULD HAVE SUFFERED AND BE PUNISHED BY THE BLOOD QUILL!! HOW COULD YOU BE SO RECKLESS?!?’ Your anger from worry had slowed now, you looked up to him with soft eyes. ‘You did this all for me. If something bad had happen to you, it would because of me, and I don’t think I could live with that Freddie.’

Fred had always been able to see through you, and to see you so anxious for his safety warms his heart. He tucks the hair that had fallen out during you rant. ‘But you see love, I wasn’t caught. Reckless- Yes. But caught? Nope. Maybe I should try that again….to test my skills.’ He teased.

You glared at him. ‘You. Will. Not. Or else, I swear to God I’ll punch you.’

‘You can’t even reach my shoulder.’ Fred resorted. ‘You know… you are so cute when you’re frustrated.’

‘Ughh!’ Rolling your eyes. ‘I don’t know if I wanna kill you or kiss you.’

‘Rather kiss me more, I hope.’ He smirked. Then got serious., he held your waist. ‘But I wanna do it properly and take you out on a date first.’

You brought your hands up to the nape of his neck and started to play with his hair. ‘Well then let’s us consider this as our first date!’

---

Taglist [All/General]: @gruffle1​

(omg I just noticed that tumblr tagged a different account 😳that have a similar username, just a letter off😳 this is why sometimes I don't trust tumblr's automatic tagging system! @blisfvll my bad😅)

[cuntess-carmilla]

Common traits of Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome

I’m not a doctor, so there may be some details off here though tbh chronically ill people usually know more than most doctors. I'm making this post because there’s very little awareness about this, and people who fit the diagnosis criteria end up never being diagnosed and suffering in silence, even risking early deaths, as I now suspect happened to my grandma.

Definition:

Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS) is a group of disorders that affect connective tissue. It’s a genetic disorder that has no cure, but does have palliative treatments depending on the type of EDS.

All types of EDS are characterized by abnormal collagen synthesis. This doesn’t mean that you have too little collagen (necessarily?), but that the collagen your body synthesizes is and will always be altered or of bad quality, regardless of how much of it you synthesize.

EDS is regarded as “rare” by most doctors, but many patients believe it’s more common than they think, only being so “rare” on paper because doctors perceive it as rare, so they don’t diagnose patients despite fitting the criteria (search why EDS communities use the zebra as a symbol). Due to this, EDS communities encourage self-diagnosis, and many times even self-treatment.

Abnormal collagen sounds like it’s “only” one thing, but collagen is a key structural protein ALL over the body, so if your collagen is wrong, a lot of things are wrong or at the very least unusual. As a result, EDS affects the skin, ligaments, joints, blood vessels and other organs (including gastrointestinal organs and the uterus).

Common traits and symptoms:

Please, keep in mind that these symptoms don’t have to be super extreme to count. EDS symptoms range from mild to severe. Most of my symptoms aren’t remarkably visible to the eye, but they’re still bad enough that I suffer tremendously and it affects every single aspect of my life.

Take into account that many of the following traits/symptoms aren’t exclusive to EDS, but if you have more than one or two...

Joint hypermobility: Being "double jointed". The joints are so lax, that they luxate or even dislocate for as much as staying still in the same position too long. It can affect some joints, or all joints, small joints or big joints. It obviously comes associated with joint pain, including chronic joint pain. Can also manifest as scoliosis.

Skin elasticity: You can pull your skin (by pinching it) and it stretches more than the skin of most people. This can, in some cases, make EDS patients prone to skin sagging.

Abnormal scarring: The skin of people with EDS is fragile and elastic, and takes longer to heal. Abnormal scarring includes “cigarette paper” scarring, keloids, slow scarring and healing, higher propensity to stretch marks, post-inflammatory hyper-pigmentation.

Bruising too easily: The blood vessels of people with EDS are fragile to one degree or another. This makes us prone to bruising easily or dramatically, to the point some present spontaneous bruising. Spontaneous bruising might point to vascular EDS, in which case please seek medical help because it’s the most dangerous form of EDS. There’s cases recorded of parents who’ve been falsely accused of beating their children because of the child’s easy or spontaneous bruising.

Digestive and/or nutritional issues: GUESS what intestines and other digestive organs are made of. Yes, collagen. People with EDS are prone to having delicate digestive systems (IBS, nausea, constipation, diarreah and food allergies included), and/or difficulty absorbing the nutrients from our diet. This trait can be bad enough that the patient needs to be fed through a tube or have nutrients injected into their bloodstream, but most of us do fine with regular nutritional supplements (I recommend multivitamins and minerals). Among other things, the nutrient absorption issue makes us prone to excessive hydration due to imbalance of water-salt intake or absorption, and that’s a REALLY bad thing. It made my hair fall off MASSIVELY for years, and intensified my pain, brain fog and fatigue.

Chronic fatigue: Between the physical pain and bad nutrient absorption, most if not all of us experience chronic fatigue (as a symptom, not the disorder). This isn’t just being tired, it’s being exhausted to your bones for no reason all the time, even if you’ve done absolutely nothing in weeks. Might be pervasive, might be recurrent.

Muscle pain: When you have EDS Everything Hurts™. This can be exacerbated in EDS patients by imbalance of water-salt intake (generally leaning towards excessive hydration, but can be dehydration too).

Chronic pain: Everything Hurts™... All the time. It’s a general pain expanded throughout your body that just won’t go the fuck away no matter what you do. Except that this can be exacerbated by imbalance of water-salt intake too! Fixing mine made my chronic and muscle pain so much more bearable to the point that on a good day it’s GONE (just remember, your pee should NEVER be even close to clear, it should just not be solidly opaque, and you could damage your kidneys too by drinking too much water).

Brain fog: Linked to chronic fatigue and pain (ALSO POSSIBLY THE WATER-SALT INTAKE). Like chronic pain and fatigue, it’s not necessarily present every single day, but be recurrent instead. You can’t think. You can’t read or process what you read. You can’t turn thoughts into words. Your grammar goes to shit. You can’t retain or process new information. You can’t remember words that you KNOW you know. You can’t remember things in general. Someone asks you a simple question and it’s like they’re speaking to you in another language. You start to feel increasingly frustrated and desperate because you’re constantly disoriented and your mind is lagging like an old computer running on a 256 MB RAM memory. ERROR 404 BRAIN NOT FOUND TRY AGAIN LATER. Well, turns out you are not dumb, your body is not cooperating with you, and that includes your brain.

Asthma: Highly comorbid. Just... Everything is made of collagen, pal. EVERYTHING.

Autism: Don’t ask me why, but EDS and autism are highly comorbid too, so if you’re in the autism spectrum (same hat) and experience any or many of the other symptoms/traits listed, it’s very likely that you also have EDS.

Depression: It’s really hard to be "positive”, have any motivation or enjoy anything, when NOTHING in your body works right, Everything Hurts™ and you’re so depressingly exhausted that all you CAN do is lay in bed all day. People and doctors telling you you’re “faking it”, people thinking you’re lazy, underestimating how much pain and fatigue you’re going through, having to pull through all of that anyway because you have no other option (ie. your job is your or your family’s only source of income) does not help AT ALL with this.

Tight/narrow “inner plumbing”: In my case, my throat is so narrow, that swallowing one (1) small pill is genuinely difficult, and big pills make me GAG. But its not just your throat, it’s ALL your plumbing being too tight or narrow.

Varicose veins: The whole blood vessels being fragile thing. Most common in vascular EDS, please seek help if you think you may have that specific type.

Thin “transparent” soft skin: Again... FUCKING COLLAGEN. I think it’s obvious what this one means? Except it’s likely that it’s harder to notice the “transparent” part of it on darker skinned patients, but if you’re pale or light skinned, you’d be one of those people whose veins are very easy to see.

“Moldable” nails: Yet again, collagen is everywhere. Some of my nails (index and middle fingers) are slightly deformed because I tend to clench my hands A LOT by instinct and the continued pressure changed their shape.

Aracnodactilia, or “spidery” hands/fingers: The fingers are very skinny and long in proportion to the rest of the hand, can apply to feet too. Having very narrow feet (ie. your shoes are always to wide for you) is part of this.

Gynecological issues or abnormalities: Excessive bleeding during your period, bleeding outside your period, infertility, spontaneous abortions, pre-term labor, high risk pregnancies. Very common with vascular EDS too.

Dry eyes: I didn’t know about this one until like, literally two days ago but apparently it’s a thing, since the test this Chilean EDS specialist we’re hoping to see gives you, includes it as a potential symptom.

“Elongated” body, face (and its features) and/or limbs: Actually the aracnodactilia is often part of this. I also have no idea why but many EDS patients have “elongated”, narrower features, be it subtle or very visible.

Chronic fatigue and brain fog are really hard to describe properly to people who don’t go through them. Hell, even to people who DO go through them. So here’s two videos by Jessica Kellgren-Fozard (just in case, she was misdiagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, but discovered recently that she has EDS, besides her neurological condition). All her videos have CC.

[popculturebuffet]

Star Vs Tom Luictor Retrospective Detour: Skooled!

                                         Dedicated to Jessica Walter                                                     1941- 2021

Welcome back all you still mourning people to Prince of Wishful Thinking, my Tom Lucitor Retrospective... or at least a detour from it as I need to cover the Meteora arc to cover Divide/Conquer properly. When we last left off with Star she and Tom were going closer, but both are taking a break this time. We’ll get back to them in April... oh will we get back to them in april.  For now we’re back to Meteora who I forgot was ABSENT for a while. not forever, but while her parantege, the cover up related to her and all of that has been vitally important, Meteora herself vanished after Monster Party and hasn’t been seen till now. But i’ts a good storytelling engine.. it ratchets up tension for her inevitable return, and gives us time to find out what happened with her and let that sink in.. granted i’td also be the last time it sunk in but I can dunk on the series decline later... I still have season 4 episodes to cover after all. So join me under the cut as we get the welcomed Return of Henious, an unexpected hero.. and Ponyhead because this series clearly hasn’t hurt me enough. And as usual for my Star Vs Reviews, i’d like to thank one of my Best Friends @jess-the-vampire for her insight on this episode. It’s always welcome and she always manages to find something I didn’t think of . 

So we open at Saint O’s with Ponyhead returning to the school, having previously run it post rebellion before leaving because.. I don’t know. She probably got tired of being a leader, and out of universe they needed her to be around star more. Look the series has far more important things it never explained and never will, not explaining why a recklessly irresponsible asshole left a position of authority and responsibility I can let slide. 

She’s come for brunch but things have changed... the school is still a warm, free environment for princesses to better themselves and party hardy, no longer an oppressive brainwashing gulag run by someone who as it turned out was horribly brainwashed herself.. it’s just now it actually has rules and structure. 

It now also has an actual leader, Princess Patty Arms who showed up in the school’s previous appearance this season here and.. that’s it. I think she showed up in the background of the original st o’s episode. And it’s a shame because she’s a really fascinating character. No really she’s calm, dosen’t take Pony’s shit, and while a brunch exam SEEMS like a waste of time... it really isn’t. A good meal can loosen up a dignitary and some rulers have sticks up their keisters about things like this, so being able to do it just right can win them over. It’s still a touch ridiculous but given the world of star is a touch ridiculous to start with, it works. 

Pony naturally leaves in a rage over this especially when no one backs her up.. but soon the School has bigger issues and we get to why we’re actually here: Meteora is back. And while she has changed, now having grown larger and stronger, easily scaling the wall, she still wants payback and we get a damn fine battle sequence as the princesses all unite against their former tormentor. It’s also sad in hindsight.. because as Jess pointed out to me almost NONE of these characters show up again. And I only added the almost because Penelope is in there. They all seem interesting, the setting of ST O’s itself is interesting, and the idea of a school for princesses of various types is a cool idea. I’ts something the show could’ve come back to to see how they bounce back from this attack.. but like most cool background elements in the show they forget about it. It was intresting to see the schools slow evolution from horrible nightmare to princess ran utopia and like many things coming up it feels like a lost opportunity. 

That being said the fight is awesome, with Meteora proving to be a juggernaut in strength and outplanning her enimies, having brought an overide switch for the robots (Patty reprogrammed them to work for the school) and having them throw their hearts/ power sources as bombs. It’s a damn fine sequence as she finds way after way to keep going, with a now restored rasticore helping them simply portal in.

Pony meanwhile.. is hiding , as Patty find sout when she finds her, and Pony assumes this is about her... though for once i’ts not JUST ego.. but because she was one of the two who started the uprising at the school in the first place and THE person who tossed her out. We also get a nice character moment as while Pony tells patti she still hates her.. she puts the princess behind her when Meteora approaches. She may be a selfish twit whose massively unlikeable.. but she has a good heart.. and not just the one she keeps in a jar she got from one of her boyfriends. 

But Meteora has more important buisness and finds her way to the depths of St. O’s.. where we meet the Schools namesake and her adopted mother a robot played by tress macneile.. another thing the series never bothered to care about as where did these robots come from and why? 

Turns out Meteora came to find out her own personal history, with the remote from before used to find the real dirt.. and what we find .. is heartbreaking as we slowly journey back through Meteora’s childhoods as Henious.. and it’s fucking heart breaking with Tress voicing her younger versions, hence why I didn’t use this as the jessica tribute as while walter’s good in the episode, she isn’t given much. 

We see her as a teen, forced to hide her tail and insulted over it by her mother.. and it only gets worse as when her cheeks glow as a kid St. O tries to wash them off and we get the poor child desperately begging that “she can be better”

We do finally get the answers Meteora saught as we see Shastacan dropping off the baby meteora, calling her “Henious”.. which St. O took as her name. Proving the spiderbites minus penelope’s dickishness is indeed genetic and why I have no sympathy for the prick getting eaten later... and hopefully globgor will do an encor with penepople’s parents. Here’s hoping. 

So Meteora now knows she’s the rightful queen, and decides to go take it back.. though Pony does try to stand up for her friends... and while we don’t see it hte next episode confirms she got her horn ripped the fuck off. And this horribly traumatic injury.. is magically fixed via 3d printing next time we see her after an episode grappling iwth it instead of having pony deal with not having a horn, or her prostetic not giving her magic powers again. Because this show again really likes to leave good ideas out to rot in the sun like that  package of hamburger I left out in the sun yesterday. And I actually had a reason there: I need a lot of Racoons for an elaborate scheme involving a map to tex cruz’s house, a used apache helicopter and a bulk order of tiny parachutes. 

We do get some payoff to things though, as Henious comes on to rasticore who not so politely rejects her for being nuts.. before it’s revealed Gemini, her loyal servant is also a robot and she uses his heart to blow up rasticore and take the arm with her... which is ALSO never brought up again. Seriously this episode is so full of loose ends i’m suprised it just dosen’t end with Zuko asking his dad about his mother. Gemini’s death is genuinely tragic as his last words are “If you wanted my heart.. all you had to do.. was assssskkkkk”. God damn. So with that Meteora heads out to reclaim her birthright.. no matter the cost. 

Final Thoughts on Skooled!: This one is decent.. but like the last episode I covered, the lack of payoff off for almost anything here, excluding the Meteora plotline and the Pony thing which instead got a BAD payoff, is really starting to rear it’s ugly head as the series greatest weakness. Yes bigger than the romance plot. And given that romance plot after this season can be best discribed as...

The show just.. forgets a good chunk of things happened to keeep things chugging along. It sets UP plots, what happens to st o’s from here, buff frog and a small caravan of monsters leaving forever, the message from shastacan, who built the st o’s robots, and on and on.. but it never PAYS them off. It dosen’t care to. It just does things so the plot can move but never bothers to think about the fucking consequences. It just gets more and more irrtating to think about as other shows throughly DO: Amphibia has the fact the characters get into shenanigans become a commented on running gag and something they grow past, and everything that happens matters. Every episode of Owl House builds on the foundation of the previous episodes. OK Ko dosen’t forget one episode had the characters not be able to turn back into humans and implies their wearing human costumes for the rest of the series. Which is fucking weird, but it was their memory. My point is other shows around the same time or right after didn’t magically forget things happened for convience sake. While it’s OKAY to loose some things in the shuffle, it happens to the best of us, it’s not okay to do it SO fucking often and with no clear care for the audiences desire for payoff. The show just ignores what plot points, like the huge cliffhanger of Star telling marco how she felt at the end of season 2, it dosen’t care about till it needs them and ignores the ones it never does. You can’t just.. bring shit up like it’s important and then try and forget it ever happened. People remember stuff, we are NOT stupid. KIDS are not stupid. When I was younger I REMEMBERED things that happened on KND, Danny Phantom, Xiaolin Showdown, TMNT 2003, because those shows, which are from decades ago, knew I would and trusted even if I missed something and was thrown off i’d tune in for the quality. 

And in an age of streaming and more story based tv you can’t just.. ask kids to act like something they saw didn’t happen because your fucking lazy and frankly YOU never should have. Kids deserve better, my niblings deserve better and frankly the adults your clearly also writing for.. deserve better. This episode is eh, but the problems it represents are so fucking worse. 

Next time on tom. If you thought I got angry towards the end of this one, just you wait. Next time i’ts Booth Buddies. Yeah.. yeah that one. Stay tuned.

[lovelyirony]

fic title: I’m falling and the sun is blinding me to your faults

i wanted to do an au of this one, so presenting: tony and rhodey, but make it villainous. i think it’d be fun! 

James Rhodes is two things, first and foremost being that he is a businessman. 

People call him a villain. He doesn’t really think he’s that villainous. 

After all, he only took over New York. He left all the other states alone, so that has to mean something. He was gracious! 

He also wouldn’t consider himself a villain because everyone who works under him gets health insurance. They don’t complain that much, although he’s gotten some about the quality of the buffet on Fridays. 

Catering companies. Hit-or-miss, you know? 

There have been a couple of companies who try to stop him. Rivals that hate that his products are better and employees are happier, for one. Those are easy to dismiss. 

SHIELD is one company who tries, and fails. Repeatedly. It would be embarrassing, but Rhodes has respect for Agents Romanov and Hill, who have been the closest to breaking into his personal office. 

- 

The player that isn’t registering on the field is Tony Stark. Perhaps because he isn’t so much of a player on the field as an existing person who just happens to be on a field. Or a building. However you would like to imagine it. 

In other universes, he walks like he owns the world because he could buy up everything and still have money left over to get ice cream at the end of the day. 

In this universe, his father kicked him out of his house for various things, the most prominent being that Tony is rather partial to kissing guys and ladies, and that just simply won’t do. 

(Tony also stole enough money out of his bank account to buy a house and also start his own business without his knowledge, but in the grand scheme of things, that’s just a small drop in the ocean.) 

Tony made his own tech start-up business. He’s invented a few new things that hit the market discreetly, and he’s building up more and more clientele. He’s about to open another shop, and in all honesty he’s not worried about getting noticed. 

This is until Rhodes comes across an employee bragging about a new repair guy who makes computers run twice as fast, charges less than most repair shops, and looks mighty fine in a tank top.

The last reason is reason enough to visit. 

But also, to see who’s been fixing up Rhodes tech and can make it faster. He doesn’t know why he wouldn’t have just applied for a job. 

Tony is not expecting Rhodes to enter into his building. He has people who are walk-ins, but usually you would expect a villain to make an appointment. Or not, they are villains. 

“I heard that you’ve been improving my phones,” James says. He leans into Tony’s space. He smells quite nice, has a well-tailored suit, and Tony is trying very hard not to find him attractive. That’s not the sort of thing you could be focusing on. 

“You gonna sue me or something?” 

“No, I want to hire you.” 

Tony blinks. 

“Oh. No thank you.” 

Rhodes pulls back. 

“Why ‘no’?” 

“I like my shop just fine. And you have things well-handled.” 

“Could I consult you?” 

“You can’t afford me.” 

Rhodes grins. 

“Are you sure about that?” 

“Of course I am. Can I get anything for you today, or did you just want to beg me to come work for you?” 

“Most people would never be this bold.” 

"What would they be? Terrified in your presence?” 

“More or less, yes. It’s what I prefer.” 

"I don’t cater to people’s preferences, it’s a character flaw and strength,” Tony quips. 

Rhodes smiles. 

It’s terrifyingly beautiful, really. Tony is at a loss for words. 

“I think I’m liking you, Stark.” 

“Tony. You don’t call me Stark. I don’t do the last name dynamic.” 

“Sweetheart, then. Not your last name.” 

“Pet names, seriously?” 

“Oh you got it, honey.” 

“Then go on, platypus,” Tony throws back. 

“Platypus? Really?” 

"Pet names are on the menu, honey bunch. Just try me.” 

Rhodes smiles, turning to exit. 

“I’ll be in touch, darling.” 

Tony leans against his desk, legs shaking underneath. 

There are two problems that he’s not sure how to solve. Here they are: 

1.) Rhodes now has Tony on his radar, which is probably bad because Tony will absolutely be used for world domination or whatever. 

2.) Tony doesn’t really mind as long as he gets to see Rhodes because goddamn. That man could get so many things, and he probably has. And Tony wouldn’t mind being one of those things if he played his cards right. 

But for now, Tony just wants to fix computers and maybe just buy a new brand of tea, but he’s honestly not sure. 

- 

Rhodes makes an appointment to meet. 

Of Fucking Course. 

Tony is not impressed, and is also not impressed that he comes in with a very expensive custom-made designer suit, whereas Tony is not sure the last time his pair of jeans got washed, and an old t-shirt that’s advertising an ice cream shop that is closed now. 

“You love to make an entrance all the time?” Tony asks. “What can I legally do for you?” 

“You’re assuming I’m making you do illegal things, babe?” 

“Yes, Rhodey.” 

“It’s Rhodes.” 

“Hm, maybe. But not to me. Rhodey. I wanna ruin your business impression.” 

Pepper snorts besides Rhodes, who is suitably impressed that Tony doesn’t give one flying fuck about the fact that he could destroy him at any point. 

“I’m ordering that on your next business card deal.” 

“I’ll fire you.” 

“You can’t find someone as competent as me, don’t even joke.” 

“I came here for an opportunity for you. You’ve managed to get some people’s computers to speed up so much. And I want you to do it with all of my employee’s computers.” 

“What, you couldn’t reverse-engineer it? See what I did for yourself?” 

Rhodey grins. 

“I never question a handsome man’s work, darling.” 

Tony turns red. 

“You’re really bad with professionalism, honeysop.” 

“What the hell is that?” 

“What, never heard about romance in the fifteenth century? Boring.” 

“Will you do the job or not?” 

“What are the terms, the conditions, and how much are you paying?” 

Pepper steps forward, a sizable stack of paperwork in her hands. 

The work would pay off the building. It would pay off his mortgage on his house. Hell, it would help a lot. He’d have extra to mess around and maybe go on a vacation. 

The downside is that he’s helping a villain get faster speed and better battery life with laptops. This could also mean he’d die, but honestly he was kind of expecting an early death. 

Rhodey assures him that he won’t die. 

“If anyone touches you, then they feel my wrath,” he says. His teeth glint underneath the lights. “And honey, no one ever likes feeling that.” 

“What, it isn’t all feather-light tickles?” 

“Touches a bit more than that.” 

There’s an unspoken story there. Rhodey’s grin goes from tight and eyes empty to refocusing on Tony and turning soft, genuine. 

“We can discuss the official plans over dinner.” 

“Dinner won’t work for me, I got plans tonight.” 

“A hot date?” 

"A special movie screening,” Tony says. “Can’t miss it. Maybe next time, or the next three times.” 

Rhodey smiles. 

“Maybe sometime.” 

“Maybe.” 

- 

Holy fuck.

Rhodes International has a local coffee shop on the lobby. A barista is a cheerful girl who has neon yellow hair greets him and asks if he wants a complimentary drink. 

“You...know who I am?” 

“Not in the slightest!” she says cheerily. “I have a memory thing where I remember everyone I ever meet and who I don’t meet. What kind of coffee guy are you?” 

“Um...you guys have mint syrup?” 

“Yup!” 

“Then I guess a peppermint latte?” 

“Coming right up!” 

So here is this girl humming what sounds suspiciously like the Winnie the Pooh song as she makes a drink, and that drink is amazing. 

Also, people are wearing, it seems, whatever outfit they want. There are some people talking, and two look to be dressed in professional business clothing, but the third guy they’re talking to is wearing ripped jeans and a tank top has the phrase of “I’m Just Existing on a Manifestation of Reality” emblazoned. 

It’s odd. 

“So glad you could make it, Tones,” Rhodey says. 

“Tones?” 

“What, too much?” 

“Tones sounds like you know me.” 

“And I don’t?” 

“What’s my favorite jam?” 

“Why jam?” 

“If you know someone well, you know their favorite type of jam.” 

“Orange marmalade?” 

“What the fuck do I look like, Paddington?” 

“You’re right, Paddington’s not near as sexy.” 

“This counts as harassment, right? This counts as harassment.” 

“Don’t have him sue us already, he’ll win,” Pepper says, breezing to their sides. God, she’s gorgeous. Casually dressed in a pencil skirt and a blouse and acting like she doesn’t look like a goddess. Must be exhausting. “Tony, great to have you. Let me show you who you’re working with.” 

He has his own fancy office, a team that knows what they’re doing, and catered lunch. 

Catered lunch. It’s not even a Friday. 

“Friday’s are questionable,” Rhodey says. “Weird selection.” 

“You don’t wanna know,” says Intern Joe. 

That’s literally on his ID card. 

- 

Tony starts work. It’s not bad, not at all. He works in the mornings on the weekends and Mondays as well as Thursdays, and then sometimes does work from his own office. 

Rhodey is...nice. 

This is a bit unsettling, because Rhodey literally just threatened the president over an environmental bill not being accepted and currently all employees are only slightly scared. 

“This is just like three months ago,” says Janice The Badass. (Also on her ID card.) “Don’t worry, the government can’t do anything. They rely on us too heavily.” 

“For what?” 

“For safety.” 

“Not asking.” 

“Good, I’m not going to answer.” 

“Okay?” 

- 

It’s also weird that Rhodey checks in on him. He brings him coffee how he likes it, and he makes him sit down and try new foods with him. 

He’s not bad at conversational topics either. Tony’s used to talking, and he’s used to bad-talking on dates. This doesn’t come close. 

No, they talk about the differences of Star Trek and how much Tony hates specific brands of pens, and how Rhodey is a disaster when it comes to coordination of ties. 

“I don’t like ties,” he scowls. 

“Then why wear one?” 

“Pepper says they look nice.” 

“Why do you need to look nice?” 

“Most things are all about presentation.” 

“Ah, need to be taken seriously.” 

“Only at times when I’m facing government officials or weird corporate bosses.” 

“Aren’t you a corporate boss?” 

“I’m a corporate boss who is also an enemy of fellow corporate bosses. Weird thing.” 

“That’s...intriguing.” 

“How so?” 

“Well, how does that work?” Tony asks, popping a couple blueberries into his mouth. “How are you both the same and an enemy?” 

“Watch and learn, sugar. Watch and learn.” 

Tony is allowed on the next business meeting. Which, coincidentally, his old Uncle Obadiah is part of. 

This leads to rather undesired complications. 

-

“You’re working for a supervillain?” Obie practically yells. 

“Well, it’s a bit more complicated than that,” Tony says. “I just work with computers.” 

“Besides if he wanted to work for a real supervillain, wouldn’t he be working for you?” Rhodey asks. 

He’s sitting in one of those rolling-chairs, and despite that, he made it his throne. He’s relaxed in it, perfectly at peace with the situation. All eyes are on him. 

“I’m not the one that the government is after.” 

“And yet I’m the one who’s successfully paid taxes. Where have yours gone, hm? Strip club in Vegas? Weapon sales in Afghanistan?” 

Obie freezes. 

Tony knows that when you freeze, it is your worst tell. 

“Does dad know?” 

This time, Rhodey turns towards him. He’s surprised. 

“We’ll discuss that later. But does Howard know, Obadiah?” 

“Howard is none of your concern.” 

“Oh my god, he is,” Rhodey says grinning. “You haven’t told him about your little back-door escapades. I wonder what would happen if I told him.” 

“You don’t want me as an enemy,” Obadiah says, shaking. He looks at Tony. “And you, boy, you just earned yourself a death sentence.” 

“Funny, Howard said the same thing when he kicked me out of the house,” Tony says as he’s checking his nails. Rhodey thinks he is in love. 

“Go ahead and try to get me as an enemy, see how well it works for you,” Rhodey says, pearly whites on display. “I took over the entire state of New York, leaving everyone in power allied with me. Plus, Tony hasn’t pushed his legacy from what I’ve seen, but what would happen if I just...let him talk? At the next press conference, perhaps.” 

Tony grins, and it’s dangerous. 

“Yeah Obie, what if I talked? I’m sure Howard’s disastrous attempt at fatherhood would be a real uptick in stock points.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“Just watch. Just fucking watch,” Tony says. “I still know how to smile for the press, and I still remember all of my lessons for how to make sure anything is believable.” 

He shakes. 

Rhodey gets security. 

Tony visibly relaxes as Stane is led out of the building, and Rhodey smiles over at him. 

“What?” 

“You wanna grab dinner with me?” 

“Like as a casual dinner, or a date-dinner?” 

“How about both?” 

“Thank god, I can’t remember where my nice shoes are.” 

- 

Tony supposes it is odd to be out to dinner with one of the most-feared men in all of New York. 

But it was hard to fear him when he was currently trying to lick ice cream off the tip of his nose with no such luck. 

Or when Rhodey kisses him senseless on his doorstep and makes fun of the little gnome that he’s put outside, and Tony giggles and watches him leave in his fancy car, still leaning on his door. 

Oh, he’s got it bad. 

But he doesn’t mind. 

[arse-crack-thistle]

quality time

rwrb and the five love languages | part four

in which bea nearly crashes from the stress of party-planning (aroace rep)

Princess Beatrice buzzes around The Masquerade, double-checking place cards, straightening table settings, and pulling dried rose petals from the centerpieces. She rented the concert venue for the night to throw a modern Valentine’s gala to benefit Henry’s queer youth center in London. He and Alex are around here somewhere, probably hooking up in a broom cupboard and definitely not nitpicking every detail like Bea is. Her assistant follows her with a clipboard and updates her on the schedule: t-minus three hours until guests arrive and, in the meantime, she needs to give final approval, soundcheck with the band, and get dressed up. Jeans and a blazer, while royal casual, are not party-appropriate, and tonight needs to be perfect.

She usually hates royal events like galas, but this one is special. Not because it’s Valentine’s Day—Bea could not give two fucks about the holiday—but because ever since coming out as asexual around Christmas, she’s been looking for an opportunity to help other queer people, or at least give them a public figure they could point to and say, “See Mum and Dad, she’s like me.” Henry and Alex got their chance, and now this time, it’s hers.

The stage lights up with pink and red; it’s cheesy, but Bea digs it. The concert was the one thing she would not budge on with her royal event planner. Did she want to reach into wealthy pockets? Yes. Did she still want to have a good time? Hell yes. And the band she’s joining for one night only happens to be just as queer as the charity they’re supporting.

Permanent Record, local to London, tune their instruments on stage. Bea has met them dozens of times over the last month and vibed with them instantly. Margot, the too-cool lead singer always decked out in a leather jacket and Docs, is ace like her, and as much as Bea has wanted to get to know them, there’s been no time. Turns out, party-planning and party-executing steals the host away from all meaningful human connection. She’s only been able to keep up with Henry because he’s partly responsible for this event.

The pit, full of tables covered in pink and gold, finally looks perfect enough for Bea to hand-off any other minute fixes to the planner and finally have her soundcheck with the band. But then, a large crash comes from the back of the venue, and she hears a loud shriek coming from a familiar voice, the one that’s been shrill and disapproving for the last month. When Bea runs up, she sees hundreds of shattered champaign flutes and her planner on the floor, blood oozing from her hands.

This cannot be happening. The only reason Bea kept this woman around was to take most of the day-of duties off her plate. But she’s in the back of an ambulance now, and Henry is nowhere to be found. Bea’s stress levels go from tolerable to unbearable as she orders her assistant to track down replacement flutes. The staff are quick to fill her other requests: a couple of people start sweeping, someone runs off to find her co-host, another tells the band Bea’s soundcheck will be postponed, and a brave soul steps up as a temporary assistant and follows her around the back tables to check for broken glass. Bea knows she doesn’t have to be the one to do this, but it seems like the success of this event lies solely one her shoulders. If something goes wrongs, it’s her face—not Henry’s—in the papers the next day. Powder Princess Crashes and Burns at Gay Ball. Christ.

After an hour, everything is sorted. There’s no glass. The planner is getting stiches. Permanent Record has started their soundcheck and sound amazing. But even their chill indie tunes can’t calm the princess. She needs to get on stage, but her stylist specifically requested she have at least two hours to work his magic, which is not going to happen.

Bea tells her assistant to get her stylist and his team to the venue, because she won’t be able to leave, and warn him he’ll only have an hour at best. Henry and Alex have already taken off to get ready, and she has to remind herself to smack them later for abandoning her.

She tugs off her blazer, drapes it over a chair, and rolls up her sleeves. If she does get her hands on a guitar, she’ll explode. It’s all she can think of to stop her from raiding the bar at the back.

“Better late than never, eh, Princess?” Margot says as she huffs on stage.

One of the stagehands gives Bea her beautiful sleek, black Fender Stratocaster, and her anxiety reduces itself to a hum. Music can’t cure all, but it certainly keeps her from wrecking every good thing in her life.

“Let’s just play,” she says.

But it’s anything but perfect. Whatever chemistry she had with Permanent Record somehow jumped into the Thames between their last rehearsal and now because this is an absolute travesty and she’s only playing two songs with them tonight. She’s forgotten measures of one song and can’t find the chords fast enough in her solo of the other. Utter shit.

Why does she even fucking bother?

She always fucks everything up. Always. Why did she think she could put this on? Sure, she’s chaired these events before, but not ones she actually cares about, not ones she’s actually put her heart into. Christ, no wonder. She should’ve known it would turn out like this. She’s the anti-Midas; everything she touches turns to shit.

No kid will ever see her as a queer role model. She’s the girl they point to and say, “See Mum and Dad, what a waste.”

She needs a hit so fucking bad.

Which is why she has to get out of here ASAP. Before she does anything she’ll regret. She won’t slip again, and she won’t be the reason this gala fails. Henry can handle it without her.

So when Margot calls for a five-minute break, Bea excuses herself and hands off her guitar. On her way out the door, she tells the stagehand to find her assistant and tell her to have Henry take over. The hard part is over thanks to the planner actually being brilliant at her job, even if she and Bea would never get along.

No doubt, cameras are already lined up outside, so she hides in one of the green rooms and locks the door behind her. If she just takes a deep breath and calms down, she can bring herself back from the edge.

Five things she can see: The 1975, Arctic Monkeys, Oasis, Solange, and Fiona Apple’s signatures on the artist wall.

Four things she can feel: the worn leather on a crusty couch, the chipped-paint walls, her toes in her shoes, and her fingers through her light brown hair.

Three things she can hear: the ticking from the clock, the click of her heels as she paces, and a knock at the door.

Two things she can smell: decades-old musk from artists past—no doubt coming from the couch—and her light perfume on her wrist.

One thing she can taste: a hint of coffee from earlier.

She breathes in and out, and the knock on the door continues.

“Bea, are you in there? Could you let me in?” Margot. Essentially a stranger. She supposes it’s better than facing a disappointed Henry, so she opens the door and promptly relocks it as soon as they’re inside.

“Christ, this place is legendary, isn’t it? Everyone’s played here—is that Bob Dylan? Fucking nuts,” Margot says, pointing to the wall.

“I’ve seen loads of people here. Always wanted to play here myself,” Bea tells them. She traces Lizzo’s signature. That was a fun night; Nora and June flew out for a girls’ night, which was ultimately crashed by Pez.

“Me too, and the rest of band as well, I suppose.” Margot looks at Bea and smiles. They’re brown eyes crinkle in the corner, and it reminds her of Alex. “And now we get to, eh, Princess? Couldn’t’ve gotten here without you. The whole world knows Permanent Record now.”

“You could’ve done it without me,” she says. “You will tonight anyway.”

“Hey.” They reach for Bea’s hand. “Everyone has some hiccups before a big gig. It’ll be grand, but only if you’re there. This is your night as much as it is ours or the youth center’s. You have no idea how important it is for your lot to shine a light on causes people shy away from.”

That makes Bea smile. For so long she wanted to hide from her position. She wanted freedom to do whatever she pleased, but now she understands the power she has, even if people still see her as “The Powder Princess.” No matter what she wears, millions of fashion influencers share links to her clothes. If she walks into a restaurant, their yearly profits skyrocket. When she told the world she was ace, thousands of people messaged her and said the same. One of them was Margot, telling her about their undiscovered band from South London.

She tells Margot how that was one of the first times she really felt like herself. Completely at peace with who she is. How that peace got away from her and turned this gala into a near-panic-attack-inducing event, she doesn’t know.

“Have you let on how stressed you’ve been to anyone?” Margot asks. The two sit together on the couch after Margot bravely plopped themself down on the dirty, old thing.

“Hadn’t the time,” she says. Truthfully, Bea doesn’t think she’s had a genuine conversation with anyone since the gala’s conception.

Margot throws their hands in the air. “Well, there you go then! You’ve got to take the time! To take care of yourself. To hang out with your mates. Just to have some goddamn fun, Bea! Come on! You think I’d be a functioning human if I didn’t let loose with my mates every now and then? This—” They gesture to their body, covered in tattoos and tattered black clothing. “Doesn’t happen on its own.”

Bea laughs. It’s been so long since she’s laughed from anything other than stress. “Right, so how does this all happen then?” She swirls her hand in Margot’s direction.

As they chat, Bea relaxes. They talk about their families and uni and music and coming out. Bea tells Margot about the time she and the gang went to the karaoke bar where Henry got wasted and sang Queen horrifically. Margot tells her about the time in year twelve when they got dared to try out for the school play and ended up playing an old man in the most unbelievable bald cap.

Eventually, the two of them pull out their phones and play a few games of Among Us until Bea’s desperate assistant finds her and pleads for her to get ready though the door. They only have an hour before guests arrive.

“You all right?” Margot asks. “Want to go out there and try again?”

Funny how it doesn’t seem so scary anymore. How it only took a short break, a nice chat, and a little pink astronaut to put Bea at ease. She smiles. The notes come back to her fingertips.

check out the rest of my rwrb and the five love languages series: part one, part two, part three, and part five. (links to come as they’re released)

listen, my permanent headcanon is aroace bea and you will never convince me otherwise and i will never write her as anything else bc i love her so much!! (that being said, if you ship her with anyone, i totally understand). also, i reference a fic of mine i wrote for winterfest so if you want to check out my version of bea’s coming out, you can do that here! and finally, i know this wasn’t a romantic fic for romance week but like i said in part one, valentine’s day is different for everyone. <3

rwrb romance week | @rwrb-fests

[yamalegacy]

OVERLOAD & BUNNY GIRL

[ prologue ]

SUMMARY: A new small group of villains is spreading chaos all over Japan and no hero agency seem to know what to do about them — they are perfectly organized, always manage to escape arrest, never cause any casualties and its members remain impossible to identify. All heroes can do is wait for them to strike again and hope that they will be able to capture them.

mirko x villain!female!oc

Any place that made it impossible to avoid large crowds made it on her list of things that she found too obnoxious to deal with, though they often could be found of her ‘Places that cannot be avoided to lead a life worthy of a decently responsible adult’ list. Either way, she hated every entry on both those lists, as they brought nothing but misery to her antisocial existence.

Subway trains were among the worst of the worst. The overwhelming stench of sweat emanating from the man behind her and his bag digging into her ribs were not helping her enjoy the experience right now. At least that one was not one of the touchy kind who thought he could allow himself to feel her up and throw a shitty excuse along the lines of “Sorry, train’s packed”, which was no excuse at all, really.

Things only got worse at the next stop. Distracting herself by unlocking her phone and scrolling through social medias, she had not paid any attention to the new passengers who had stepped inside the train. When she felt something oddly warm and soft tickling her nose, it was too late.

Fluffy bunny ears. There was a pair of fluffy white bunny ears tickling her nose. Fucking obnoxious.

"Hey, bunny girl," she called, and the ears twitched at the sound, "could you keep your ears out of my face?"

"Fuck, sorry," the bunny girl said as she glanced above her shoulder. Sharp red eyes struggled to meet soft green ones — much higher than the little bunny seemed to have expected.

The taller woman blinked. Those red eyes and long lashes, those sharp features and that beautiful, seemingly flawless tan skin. She knew them. She had stared at the little Pro Hero figure discarded on her desk at home just before leaving for work that morning, and even if it had been hours, she hadn't forgotten. That Mirko was a lot prettier than a low quality figure had given her expectations for.

"I don't sign autographs when I'm not in costume," the bunny said after an uncomfortable moment of mutual silent staring.

"I don't want one."

The bunny turned her back to her again, a fluffy ear hitting her smack in the face, and she was certain that she had noticed a flustered blush on the pint-sized Pro Hero's cheeks. How cute. Heroes really were something else, with their out of proportions egos and inability to handle rejection. One more reason to her to loathe their very existence.

But well, that Mirko woman was cute when blushing. (At least it was a discreet blushing, not like her own overwhelming red flush that reached all the way to the tip of her ears whenever she got embarrassed, which thankfully only happened on rare occasions). Poor little bunny.

There was only a handful of stops left before she could step out of the train to walk the rest of the way home, get away from those fluffy ears still too close to her face, from all those people standing too close to one another. Too close to her. And she could not have been more grateful.

As the doors opened yet again, a crowd pushed inside the already packed train. Too much. She could feel too many people pressing against her body, an elbow jabbing her in the ribs as someone struggled to stay upright, a knee harshly bumping into her own. Her left hand cramped up immediately, pain spreading up her entire arm at the tension building inside her body, ready to boil over and explode at any moment.

Bad. It was bad. Real fucking bad.

She gritted her teeth, breath coming out in heavy, shallow puffs, and shut her eyes tightly to focus on keeping it together. Too much noise. It felt like her head was about to implode, threatened the pressure growing inside her skull. She needed to step out, to breathe—

Just before the doors could close again and seal her disastrous fate, strong, calloused fingers wrapped around her wrist and dragged her out, pushing through the crowd for her.

She heard the train leave the station, and before she could process anything else, she was sat on a small, uncomfortable bench. The first thing she saw was a pair of red eyes staring right back at her, as if to try and see through her, to read her thoughts.

Mirko, the Rabbit Hero (Was she really Mirko the Hero when she wasn't wearing her ridiculously revealing bodysuit?), was kneeling in front of her, looking at her with a slight frown, wrist still held tightly in her firm grip.

"You okay there? You look like you're gonna explode, or something."

There was a hint of teasing in the bunny girl's voice, and the woman found herself scoffing at the tone, at the words. She wasn't about to explode, but close enough, considering how messy things could get when her Quirk got overloaded. That bunny had definitely saved many lives without even realizing what she had done.

"I'm okay. Don't worry your pretty Pro Hero head over me."

Through shaky breathes and the pain invading her body, blood pumping against her eardrums, she almost couldn't recognize her own voice. Had she always sounded so pathetically weak? There was no way in hell her voice had always been so croaky... right?

"Aw, you think I'm pretty?" the bunny cooed. That teasing tone again. Though it was much more obvious this time.

But bunny girl wasn't looking at her face anymore, her gaze instead focused on her left arm — she stared for several seconds that seemed to drag on forever, before she started to press the pads of her thumbs roughly over the tensed muscles, massaging the pain away. Her fingers were calloused, but there was a level of knowledge in the way her thumbs moved up and down; it was genuinely helpful.

"You got some water in that bag of yours?" the bunny asked, throwing a quick glance at the messenger bag that had been discarded on the floor. When she nodded in response, Mirko reached for it with one hand, the other one still rubbing at her fingers, and easily took out the bottle, and held it between her thighs so that she could unscrew it open with only one hand. "Drink up. You need to stay hydrated. Cramping like that isn't normal, ya know."

Was that stupid Pro Hero genuinely worried about her health? She wanted to roll her eyes, to laugh, but she found herself unable to. So she grabbed her bottle and drank.

"It's just my Quirk acting up," she explained, unwilling to give the fluffy little Pro Hero more details. "It's not usually that bad, is all."

The bunny girl's hands moved up from her fingers, to her wrist, to her forearm, applying pressure with her thumbs. A shiver ran up the woman's arm as a finger found its way just under the material of her rolled up sleeve. She should have put an end to it, moved her arm away from that hero's grip — but it actually helped, eased the pain of the cramps, made the dangerous tension recede and quiet down to a whisper.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Uh?"

Mirko frowned.

"You could have just ignored me. Everyone else on that train ignored me."

The bunny girl shook her head.

"There should always be someone willing to help. And just ‘cause I'm not wearing my costume, it doesn't mean I don't wanna help others, right?" Mirko smirked. "And my face was right into that dude's smelly armpit. Good excuse to get outta there, ya know."

The woman wanted to laugh, but, still struggling to catch her breath, she just coughed instead. She noticed then that Mirko had retrieved her hands now, that the massaging had stopped. She almost missed the warm contact, the way it so effortlessly eased the pain that had been building up for months now.

"What are you? Eighty and retired?"

"Do all heroes insult the citizens they are supposed to serve and protect?"

"I sure as hell do!"

The Pro Hero was grinning, her teeth pearly white — a pretty smile, no matter if it was overflowing with too much confidence and cockiness.

"Think you can get up?"

At the bunny girl's question, she merely nodded, still unsure. The pain had eased, but it had not left. It coursed through her veins, ever present. She knew that she needed to do something about her Quirk soon, or things would not go as smoothly next time she would feel that pressure inside her body again. There wouldn't always be a stranger in a train willing to help her. Bossman really needed to hurry the hell up.

She watched as the bunny got back up from her kneeling position and extended a hand towards her. She took it and allowed herself to be hoisted up from the bench. And, before she could try to reach down for her bag, the bunny had already grabbed it for her, going as far as hanging it over her shoulder.

“Be good and take better care of yourself, doll face, ‘kay?”

She scoffed at the comment and shook her head. Being lectured by a Pro Hero known to be reckless — she only knew that Mirko was reckless because she had done some research after (accidentally) acquiring the stupid little figure — was a new low in her life.

“There won’t always be a hot stranger in the train to help you.”

The sentence was punctuated with a wink. The only reaction that she could give the hero was a mere roll of her eyes. Who knew a bunny girl could be so obnoxious without even having to try?

“Is flirting part of your Quirk?” she inquired, eyes fixed on the shorter woman.

“Nah, that’s just my natural charms! C’m’on, let’s get out of the station before a crowd comes in, don’t want you to explode, right? Wait— you wouldn’t actually explode?”

“Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn’t,” she answered, shrugging. It earned her a bark of laughter from Mirko.

They walked side by side for a handful of minutes, not exchanging a word. It was weird. She didn’t know how she had gotten herself in such a situation, playing nice with a Pro Hero.

“Alright, doll face—”

“Stop calling me doll face.”

“Then tell me your name.”

The hero was smirking, proud and cocky.

“You could call me Yumeko, but we’re not going to see each other again, bunny girl.”

The hero extended a hand towards her.

“Usagiyama Rumi.”

“Thank you for helping me. Goodbye, bunny girl.”

“Bye, doll face! Try not to explode all over the pavement!”

AOYAMA YUMEKO ( 青山 優芽子 )

QUIRK:: lock & load. allows yumeko to absorb shocks and store them in her body to weaponize them by concentrating the energy of the shocks in certain parts of her body.

[innittowinit]

Runaways and waiting rooms

Relationships: PLATONIC, Tommy and wilbur

Summary:  Tommy has been feeling overwhelmed lately and decides to run away and find Wilbur instead.

Warnings:  for like one line where Tommy is talking about how he feels, he mentions not being able to eat. It's literally only for one line though and if you skip it it will make no difference

Word count: 2385

Language: English

AO3 

Tommy held his breath as he shoved a pair of thick socks into his backpack. He couldn't believe he was doing this; running away was always something he saw in movies. It was a big thing that would definitely be exciting and freeing but logically he knew it would most likely just be lonely and scary. School had been over this countless times, if you feel bad you need to go to a trusted adult. 

That had been drilled into his mind since he was little. So why did the only adults he trusted lived so far away? 

He wasn’t actually running away, he told himself this again and again. If he was running away, which he wasn't, he’d be a lot angrier, he’d probably have gotten into a fight with his parents. 

This wasn’t running away. This was just leaving without letting anyone know.

Next was a fleece blanket, rolled it up as tight as he could to make it to save room; he still didn't know if Wilbur would even let him stay with him. Asking him now felt so overwhelming. It felt like giving up, Wilbur would definitely try to convince him not to leave home. 

With a rough throat and a note left scribbled on his desk, he crept out of the front door. Realistically he knew he could make it on his own, he had a stable income and with his laptop in his bag he knew he'd be able to stream, even if the quality had to be lowered slightly to keep the frames smooth. Hopefully Wilbur's place had good wifi. 

As he walked towards the train station, he thought about why he had chosen Wilbur, Tubbo was closer, much closer, but there was just something about the man that made him feel safer than he did at home right now. 

Maybe it was the big brother vibes, maybe he just didn't want to inconvenience Tubbo’s family. God he hoped he wasn't going to be turned away.

Wilbur had his own life.

what if he wanted to have a girl over or something? it would be so awkward to have a 16 year old in the other room.

Maybe it would be best if he turned around and went back home.

No. He told himself, the word spinning around in his head as he made his way to the train station. Absolutely, Positively, giving up now would be the wrong thing to do. He had to do this, It would hurt being away from his family and friends but things were just too much right now. He needed an escape. 

Wilbur would give him that escape. He hoped so at least. 

As he made his way to the station, bag slung over one shoulder, he contemplated his reasons for doing this. 

There was too much pressure. That was it. He was expected to do so much and there was such a fine line between being proud and putting pressure on someone. 

How could he be expected to average 100k viewers, bring in excess money, get amazing grades and still have time for family situations?

His reasoning was pathetic, he knew that much, but he didn’t plan to stay gone forever. He just wanted a break, some time to think. He wanted the world to stop spinning for one second so he could catch his breath. 

That’s why he was going to Wilbur. Wilbur understood these feelings, nobody else did. He loved his parents but they didn’t understand the pressure of having so many people watch your every move. He just needed some alone time. 

Before he knew it, he was standing on his platform, anxiously pressing the button to open the train’s door, climbing on with shaky legs.

This was real. He was doing this. There was no turning back now 

Sitting down in a corner and pulling up his hood, he prayed that he wouldn’t get noticed. God that would be mortifying, to have his fans see him now, at his absolute lowest point, where he felt so worthless and tired. 

Not only that but he was sure that the photo would spread like wildfire as evidence he had ran away once the news broke out that he wasn’t at home. 

Much to his delight, the carriage was fairly empty, spare a few elderly couples and a couple mothers with young children. He doubted any of them knew who he was so he just leant back in his seat and plugged his earphones in, setting his playlist on shuffle. There were some songs that reminded him of his friends back at college. 

They wouldn’t be mad at him for going missing right? 

He pierced his lips together and tried not to think about it. 

Nobody would be mad. 

Nobody would even notice that he was gone. 

___

The train ride didn’t feel as long as he had expected. After checking his phone he knew that yes, it completely had taken the few hours that he had expected but he supposed he had more to think about than he had expected too. 

After leaving the train he was faced with the crisp evening air, it was windy and the clouds darkened in a way that he could tell meant it would rain soon. 

Not only that, but he was also faced with the harsh reality that he didn’t know how to get to Wilbur’s house, he didn’t even know his address so it wasn’t as if he could just call an uber.

It was cold and nearing night and he was in a city he didn’t recognise. 

Why the fuck had he done this?

Trying to clear his head, he made his way to the waiting room. It would be warm in there, he’d be able to calm down. 

And he was right, it was warm, and the chairs were soft and perfect for thinking things over in.

He eventually came to the decision that he needed to tell Wilbur what he had done, he was scared and lost but Wilbur would help him. 

Before he could convince himself otherwise he pressed on Wilbur's contact and watched it ring. 

“Tommy Innit! How are you doing my friend? Me and techno are actually on the smp right now if you want to join us” He was laughing, there’s no way he would answer a call like this if he wasn’t streaming.

Shit fuck.

“Sorry, sorry” The boy shook his head although Wilbur couldn’t see it, he had to fix this, he never should have left home; No matter how pathetic he felt there.

“Sorry I… I don’t know why I called you. Uh fuck.. I forgot you were um….I didn’t see the time shit you always start at this time. I’m sorry”

“Tommy?” Wil sounded a lot more mellowed out, Wow Tommy, you really went and made him worry about you. 

“Tommy I muted my stream, are you okay?”

“Wil…” His voice was weak, he sounded small and fragile. His throat hurt and his eyes burned. 

What he absolutely was not about to do was cry in a train station waiting room. 

“Wil I’m sorry this is stupid” An audible sigh had escaped from his lips, he hadn’t meant that to happen. 

“Go back to your stream I’ll be okay”

“Tommy you matter to me okay? If you need someone to talk to I’ll stay on call for as long as you need, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about my stream if you need me, okay?”

That was what broke the dam, a flood pouring out from his eyes as he clutched his phone against his head. He had never been much good at talking about his emotions, this exact situation of breaking down all at once happened far too frequently because of his horrible habit of bottling up his emotions.

He didn’t feel strong when he asked for help. 

“Wilbur, please promise not to get mad, please promise not to get mad or tell my parents. Please dont tell my parents Wil” The boy frantically rubbed at his eye’s with his sleeve as he begged pointlessly over the phone. He felt so pathetic. Wilbur would never want to talk to him ever again. Of course he was only doing this out of pity, Wil saw him as a needy child. He was certain of it.  

“Tommy? Tommy whats wrong? I won't tell your parents if you don't want me to and I could never be genuinely mad with you. Tommy please tell me what’s happening” His voice sounded pained. 

Strange, Tommy thought. It was strange since he was so sure that Wilbur didn’t actually care about him. 

He felt worthless, there was too much going on all the time and if he couldn't keep up with it that meant he was the one who was broken. 

“Wil” he sniffled. Pathetic “Wil I left home, I didn’t tell anyone, I got on a train and I came here.” he took in a deep breath. God he would die if a fan ran into him now, he was so lucky this waiting room was empty. 

“Wil, it felt like you were the only one who would listen to me, it’s too much it’s all too much. Nowhere feels like home anymore, I want to go home but nowhere is home”

Wilbur had taken in a deep breath, Tommy wondered what his chat was saying. 

“I’m coming to get you. Sit tight for me. I’m taking you back to my house and we can talk more. I can’t call when I’m driving so will you be okay in the meantime?”

Tommy nodded, remembering once again that Wilbur couldn’t see him. Instead of vocalising his feelings once more, he made a small sound of confirmation. 

“Okay stay safe, I’ll be there soon”

--

And he was there soon, maybe Tommy should have expected it, he had got the train straight into his city after all. It was less than 5 minutes later when he had got a text telling him to come outside. 

“Didn’t expect you here for another while, in all honesty” The man chuckled as Tommy got into his car, starting to drive off once he was buckled in.

“Do you want a hot chocolate? You know, whenever I feel bad I like sweet things”

Tommy didn’t answer verbally but he did nod. He felt too broken, too guilty, to talk. He knew words would just start flowing out and he couldn’t risk opening himself up again. He didn’t want Wilbur to decide he didn’t want to talk to him anymore. He didn’t want to be alone again. 

Aside from the stop at starbucks, where Wil had bought them both some Hot chocolate, the ride was silent. Filled only by the quiet noise of the radio and the frequent sips of their drinks. Wil had tried to ask him some questions but Tommy just shook his head. 

He liked that Wil wouldn’t force him to talk when he wasn’t ready. Wil trusted that he’d talk eventually. 

Last time he was at his house he had been so happy, he remembered how many things had happened in such a short amount of time during that meetup. He wished he was still as happy now but as Wil carried his bag inside for him, he couldn't help but be reminded of how much of a burden he was. 

The bag had been laid on the floor and Wilbur was sitting on the couch, drink in hand, so Tommy sat down too and mimicked his body language. 

“What’s going on then? Are we ready to talk about it” The older of the too hummed, he really was like an older brother, Tommy thought to himself as he watched Wilbur’s soft expression.

Tommy nodded. 

He just needed to collect his thoughts first. 

“Have you ever felt like you’re drowning even when there’s no water? I keep thinking ‘I want to go home soon’ but I’ll already be at home. There’s so much going on, during the few minutes i get to myself i always end up daydreaming about how nice it would be to pause time and catch my breath”

Even though he felt like he was rambling, like he made no sense at all, Wil carried on nodding. He was listening so intently that Tommy felt a little guilty for not telling him about how he felt sooner. 

“I feel like..maybe if I can't swim back up when I'm drowning, I'm just failing. I can’t remember what it feels like to not feel like I’m disappointing everyone I care about, I always feel cold and I keep struggling to eat. When it’s not because I’m too busy it’s because I feel like i don't deserve it, I always feel like I should be working and when I’m not I feel pathetic and weak”

Wilbur didn’t speak for a few seconds, then he placed his and Tommy’s drinks on a little table and pulled the blonde into a big hug. Tommy was surprised to say the least. He had fully expected Wilbur to get mad, maybe yell, but he hadn’t. 

“I’ve felt that way so many times Tommy and I’ll tell you this much” he sighed and rubbed the boys back “It fucking sucks. But I’ll also tell you this, You’re not disappointing anyone, everyone is actually very proud of you but you need to realise that that pride won't go away if you take a break”

A little hiccup could be heard from where Tommy’s head was snuggled into. He wasn't crying though. Tommy innit would never. 

“You can stay here for as long as you need, i know you just need a break from your life...and I won't tell your parents but I do think you should talk to them. I know you probably don’t want t hear this but they’ll be worried sick and i guarantee they’ll be happier to hear that you’re safe rather than kidnapped”

And so Tommy spent the next few days with Wilbur. He called his parents and explained how he felt, with Wilbur’s help, and he took a small break from social media. 

And if he fell asleep leaning against Wilbur’s shoulder more than once, that didn’t need to be brought up again.

[16ruedelaverrerie]

You are adrift in a vast ocean of sadness and confusion much as I am, anon. Come, let us hold each other, in the knowledge that perhaps we cannot save each other from drowning, but at least when we complain about how much it sucks, we’ll have the other to nod empathetically and mutter “valid, same” through a mouthful of water.

Nole has been a source of visceral disappointment for me lo these many months. I too unhitched my wagon a few years back -- when the true extent of his bad opinions started to come to light -- and can truthfully say that at this point, I don’t wish him well in his professional endeavors, the way that he is. Being misinformed about food sensitivities is one thing, but being against equal pay? Being an antivaxer?? Being irresponsible with his influence by endangering the health of others??? It isn’t HILARIOUS QUIRKS anymore. Something about this incredibly disgraceful DQ from the US Open feels weightier than mere coincidence, even though 1. he’s physically expressed frustration before without managing to hurt anyone, 2. other players have physically expressed frustration in stormier ways, and 3. his on-court temper isn’t even what I would consider his greatest shortcoming. These points don’t seem to matter, because this DQ incident dovetails so seamlessly with the other genuinely terrible stuff that he’s been doing lately. Accidental though it might have been, it’s shaped like it’s part of a pattern, and that’s so unfortunate. I wish it had felt like the accident it was.

Maybe the sadness you feel is similar to the sadness I feel, anon. I’m sad that he couldn’t be a better person (or, even, a good person). I’m sad that someone who had so many qualities I liked couldn’t remain a source of joy for me! And I’m sad that he seems so resistant to change. Those are some of my feelings and I hope that my rambling has, in whatever small way, been helpful as you navigate this garbage time!

You’re too kind, thank you @magicmaks​! I think that I might not be the best person to give any art tips, most of all art tips that help you find a style different from anime (everything I do is so heavily indebted to anime!) but... I support you in this journey. And as David Cage would famously have it, I suppose that anyone who has ever drawn reverse AU Gavin has dabbled in ANIME STYLE CONNOR so we are none of us innocent in this.

I think that for faces, especially, thinking about the proportions of features in relation to one another is really helpful in establishing style. There are TONS of guides and tutorials on this subject and BASICALLY EVERY OTHER SUBJECT that you can find on Instagram and elsewhere, but it can be a bit overwhelming when you’re just trying to settle on one concrete thing that you can do first to develop as an artist! So perhaps what I would find helpful at your moment is to gather some art that you like, and to dissect the features on those faces to see how they measure against one another. If you draw a tight circle around each eye, for example, how many circles of that same size fit between the eyes? What is the ratio of height to width for each eye? What other features on the face seem to have the same length as the nose does?

This doesn’t really give you solid anatomical fundamentals to build the head on top of, which I think is really important too! But the study of anatomy starts from realistic proportions, which might not even be the style that you’re aiming for-- I’d say that identifying the general look you want and setting it as a specific goal (as opposed to something more general like “less anime”) will allow you to adjust as needed when you DO start getting into anatomy. Also HOW COULD I POSSIBLY RECOMMEND STUDYING ANATOMY FIRST WHEN I STILL HAVEN’T EVEN FUCKING DONE IT OH MY GOD I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ART WHY HAVE YOU SENT IN THIS ASK?????

Thank you, Pastor, but what aboUT MY IMMORTAL SOUL????????

*It’s Always Sunny theme starts playing*

“The Gang Explores Incest”

Well, you know, I don’t really incline towards fixed headcanons -- and if I were to search my soul, I’d probably say that I think of Elijah and Gavin not being related in any way much more often than I do -- but this definitely seems like something that Nines would dispassionately try to argue is no deterrent to whatever they have going on, all the while as Gavin freaks out and paces the break room.

“In the absence of any true imbalance of power--” Nines pauses. “Let me rephrase. In the absence of any imbalance of power which the elder family member holds over the younger, I fail to see how figurative kinship could function as an obstacle in this scenario.”

“I’M JUST FUCKING CREEPED OUT,” yells Gavin.

“Ah,” says Nines, “irrational human taboos.”

Later, Gavin barges into Kamski’s Fortress of Solitude unannounced. “YET ANOTHER THING THAT YOU HAVE RUINED FOR ME, MY NEMESIS!” he yells.

“Please get my brother a glass of water, Chloe,” says Elijah.

[everydisneymovie]

Review #38: The Light in the Forest

Post #42

8/4/2020

Next up is 1958′s The Light in the Forest

Enjoyment : [1]

Watching this movie feels like pissing blood. Watching it actively gave me a throbbing headache I was so furious with it. There is almost nothing enjoyable about this garbage and I actively think lesser of people who defend it. The issue is that the entire premise of the movie is racist and hateful so you can never get on board with the story unless you are also racist and hateful. The story is about a boy named True Son who was adopted by a tribe of Native Americans. Due to a treaty he is forced to return to his biological family where is then tortured and brainwashed until he finally acts ‘white enough’ for their approval. Even if True Son is ethnically white, he was raised by a loving Native family and this movie acts like none of that matters. From the first frame the moral of this movie is “The Races don’t mix, stay with your own kind” and it boils my brain to try and think why Disney thought this was ok.

Quality : [1]

The filmmaking is fine. Camera, lighting, sets, costumes, it probably would have gotten a 4 if the plot was anything other than the shit show it turned out to be. Because the writing is so unbelievably hateful this movie gets a 1. The reason this devalues the quality of the movie as a whole, is that the way scenes are structured is now fundamentally flawed. The writing tries to frame the racist white cultists as villains, but then also does nothing to refute them. The racist villains say something racist, True Son looks sad, and the film moves on like there is nothing else to be said. You can’t possibly write likable character when they are just awful from start to finish. Besides some musical stings, there is nothing behind the camera to display that these racists are wrong, if anything I think the framing supports their arguments and it ends up ruining everything.

Hold up : [0]

The second ever 0 given on this blog, and boy does this movie deserve it. I have already gone over how hateful the core premise is. A ‘respectable white family’ tries to ‘tame a savage native’ because ‘this is where he belongs!’ It is lazy, stupid and spiteful writing. However, what makes this movie truly awful is the ‘both sides!’ angle it tries to push and utterly fails at. The opening scene has the Native chieftain arguing with a British general. The Chieftain says that the British troops have been raping and killing men, women and children that were not part of any war party, to which the general snaps “Yeah but they only killed the civilians because they were scared of facing your savage warriors.” and then they just moves on like that was a fair answer to those accusations. You cannot compare the violence the Natives committed against the Pioneers to the violence the Pioneers committed against the Natives. One side was an invading army and the other was made up of civilians defending their home. Whenever a scene tries to ‘both-sides’ the argument it just sounds like “Why do the people we keep killing say they don’t want us to kill them? That’s so rude of them!” Fuck off movie this is pathetic and you know it. This movie is also truly horrible in its depiction of adoptive families. Despite the fact that True Sons Native family knew him most of his life and provided nothing but stability, the movie frames his racist, abusive biological family as his ‘true family’ since being related by blood trumps everything else. Like honestly fuck that, adopted families ARE real families regardless of race.  On a final absurd note, as if this movie couldn’t get any worse, the final conflict revolves around True Son fighting his uncle, who has been shown to not only be a racist murderer, but also an attempted rapist. And yet, True Son explicitly states he is going to fight his Uncle not because he is evil, but because “he wants to prove his is a white man and wants to earn his respect.” Yeah I am sure the respect of a monster like that is really that important to True Son. Go rot in hell Disney.

Risk : [2]

This movie is once again drenched in the sloppy discharge of American Exceptionalism and Manifest Destiny. I have already gone into detail about how horrible the ‘both-sides’ argument is since it paints the past as an inevitable conflict where the genocide of the Natives was just an unfortunate side effect. The only reason this movie doesn’t get a lower score in terms of risk, is that there WAS actually some attempt to humanize the Natives. They are shown to have complex inner lives and for the most part True Son remains steadfast in his refusal to give up his upbringing. He still ends up ‘turning white’ by the end but his determination made him the only likable character. Even though it was handled poorly, this movie actually acknowledged the existence of the Native genocide rather than painting over it like Westward Ho, The Wagons! did.

Extra Credit : [2]

There was one scene that actually was fun to watch. After True Son has been pushed around by his awful family for most of the movie, he is reunited with one of his Native cousins and it is genuinely joyful. The two wrestle and run around laughing, just happy to be in each others company. It made me smile and I hate that it didn’t lead into True Son going home to be with the family that actually loves him. If this movie had the balls to pick a side, this could have been a really wonderful moment, but spoilers: It wasn’t.

Final thoughts:

This is easily the worst movie on this list so far. Worse than the true life documentaries and worse than Peter Pan. It has been a long time since I sat through a movie that I could describe as ‘genuinely hateful.’ You get the feeling that the people who made this movie actually hated Native Americans and set out to intentionally demonize another race. I didn’t even get around to talking about the bland love interest who ‘fixes’ True Son with love because as we all know the best way to cure racism is good old fashioned heterosexual marriage. The best way to sum up this movie is with this simple fact. The main characters name is True Son, but his biological parents want to call him “Johnny” The scene were he meets his biological mother for the first time, instead of hugging, or getting to know each other, the mother simply says. “Your name is Johnny, you won’t leave this room until you say your name and act like a civilized gentleman.” Her concerns are not about True Sons mental wellbeing or safety, she just wants him to act ‘white’ so SHE is comfortable. There is ZERO love between them and yet the movie frames this like a heartfelt reunion between long lost family. After this scene, no one calls him True Son anymore, not even his love interest. They all call him Johnny and it has the same vibe as a someone getting dead-named over and over until they finally submit. I hate this movie and what is worse, I don’t think this will be the worst movie I’ll watch by the end of this project. God help me, this movie took years off my life. If I have to watch something this bad again I will dig up Walt myself and beat his zombie ass senseless. 

Total Score: 6/50

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Edit: I would like to make a minor note about this movie. It is implied through dialogue that True Son was not adopted by kidnapped by the Native Americans. Which does make his biological families desire to bring him home understandable... HOWEVER: The way the movie is shot and written, it is clear that True Son is happy and treated as an equal while in the tribe, and he is emotionally abused the moment he is brought into the white town.  While he was not adopted in the text of the movie, it is clear that the movie frames and interprets True Son as an adopted child being ‘saved’ by his biological family. Either way Disney did a crappy job with this movie.