#someone smarter piggyback off of this

[cr-nack]

When Claudia storms and dreamstat says “speaking of mistakes” like yea lestat would say something like that but also do you think Louis’ own resentments of Claudia and her place in the coven is coming out

[danny-doodles]

Steve’s Hobby

This is a short 2k blurb about one of my Steve hcs, I am only really good at critical analysis writing so I’m sorry if this is bad!! Creative writing isn’t my strong suit but I felt like I couldn’t really explain this hc in a drawing as well as writing it could.

Growing up Steve was often taught the importance of words from his father, thinking it would be useful for his son’s future in the business. Steve was never the best reader, letters jumping around the page made it too difficult, so instead he listened to everyone around him. Teachers, his parent’s coworkers, older kids, all of them taught him the importance of the meaning of words.

How certain words would make someone a town pariah yet others a god among men. Steve was a more quiet kid but as he grew up he also grew confident in his words. He could tear someone down with one sentence, ensuring they knew he was not to be messed with. That’s why he was so confused when he struggled in his english class, he knew the power of words and the many meanings, but his teacher never understood. Sure he made grammar errors, how no one else struggled with the dancing letters he didn’t get, but how could the teachers not understand his connections? Steve shouldn’t have to explain why the red of the handmaid’s cloaks represented the ripping of humanity from the women, it was so clear to him. Obviously the boar head could be comparable to the church, how could his teachers not make the connection?

Even Nancy didn’t understand, someone he considered smarter than him. He knew she was trying to be nice when she critiqued his college paper but it still left him in the fog. Basketball was war to him, a fight that was pointless with one but possible with many. A challenge that called for leadership and a strict order. Everyone had the roles, knew where and when to shoot, needed the ability to think quickly on their feet and not struggle under the pressure. Uniforms to not only separate from the enemy but to show they are a unit reaching for a common goal. It was so clear leaving no need to explain, especially to Nancy.

But she didn’t get it, no one got it.

Maybe he wasn’t as good with words as he thought.

Steve from then on fumbled his words when he got nervous, scared he would say something that made him sound dumb and point out his weakness with words. The concussions didn’t help either, making him take longer to grasp concepts. Reading felt nearly impossible, the headaches were unbearable. Not to mention the kids' comments, judgmental and brutal as if Steve didn’t have a reason to struggle in the first place.

Everyone around him loved to put him in a sudden spotlight and when he didn’t say the right line he was booed off stage and dealt with the looks of disappointment from his co stars for messing up. So Steve stuck to what he knew, his quick remarks. Were they bitchy? Yes, but not coated in malice like they used to be. Piggybacking off others points with sarcastic comments so the other person kept talking, anything to get the attention off him.

But Steve had a secret hobby that he shared with no one, not even with his platonic soulmate with a capital P Robin.

Steve wrote poetry.

Years of horrors that by law he couldn’t share that caused vicious nightmares and a clammy grasp on reality at times tended to keep Steve up. Another gift bestowed by his father though was a feeling of shame when sharing his emotions. Didn’t help that those emotions were typically down played or outright ignored by others. Therefore a bottle filled with his emotions rested in Steve’s chest, which after Vecna he really realized probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. So Steve took to writing them down, but he did it for himself.

No need to explain everything, he knew what he meant, he knew every context of every word. He wrote on his experiences, his emotions. He wrote when he was happy, he wrote when he was sad. Steve wrote and wrote and found his love for words again. And god did it feel good, it felt like taking back his voice from a world that underappreciated it. In a weird way it felt like revisiting a relative he had last seen as a child, that sense of freedom and the loss of expectation because in their eyes he was still that little kid. All they wanted was to see someone they loved and to Steve the words welcomed him back with a hug that rivaled his Nonna Maria’s.

Steve would ponder over lines at random intervals of the day, biting his pencil between his teeth during the quiet hours at work or simply jotting down a line right before picking the kids up. Steve wrote so often he kept his small little notebook on him at all times, usually accompanied by a pencil bound to it with a rubber band. (Turns out having hearing aids and glasses made it really difficult to put pencils behind one's ears). At this point everyone had seen his notebook, pale blue with some star stickers because he never had a shortage of them. Everyone assumed it was for something different. Some thought it was grocery lists, to-do lists, something productive. Others thought it was like a pocket calendar with all his plans listed so he didn’t forget. Dustin insisted it was meant to hold the definitions of anything D&D related so Steve never forgot, meanwhile Robin argued it was to hold all the wonderfully obscure movie recommendations she loved to give. All of them were wrong though and Steve kind of adored it that way. He didn’t have to explain himself that way, he could continue to hide under the blankets. Steve no longer held his tongue out of fear of others but because he had an outlet he much rather prefer.

Listening now felt less like a pop quiz, waiting for him to mess up his response, it felt like an actual conversation. Steve may not speak up as much as he would have before the Upside Down but he fell back in love with his own voice and maybe one day he would feel confident enough to share it with the Party, but for now it was all his.

No matter how much they wanted to prove who was right, the kids and older teenagers never touched the book when it was rarely separated from Steve. Well...after someone tried to grab it and they learned they really shouldn’t touch it.

While at the Harrington house the Party were preparing for a campaign session when the argument about the pale binded pages was brought up again. Steve had left it on the kitchen counter while he went to the bathroom, and Mike decided he was done with the bickering. He shot up and went to retrieve and open the book but before he could grab it the book flew through the air.

All the heads turned and landed on El holding it in her hand, “We are not Steve, this is his. It is rude to invade his privacy, would you like me to watch you without telling you,” everyone quietly shook their heads, “Then we do not watch Steve without him knowing.”

That’s exactly when Steve walked back in, it takes one look across the room at all the embarrassed faces and El holding his book with frustration painting her eyes to know what had occurred while he was gone. He walks up, kisses El on her head and softly thanks her while taking back his little literature.

After that incident no one dared touch the book or face the wrath of their favorite mage. They would find out when Steve was ready for them to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That damn little book haunted Eddie’s thoughts. He knew Steve was not what he assumed him to be so anything was on the table, he had been wrong about the guy before who's to say he won’t be this time?

Of course Eddie wanted to respect Steve’s privacy because Eddie personally would be mortified if Steve had seen any of his notebooks, mainly because of the pages of lyrics that not so subtly hinted at an itsy bitsy affection for the badass babysitter. If that didn’t give Eddie away the random ‘Eddie Harrington’ and ‘Steve Munson’ with hearts all over would finish the job. So yeah, Eddie was not crazy to offer up any of his notebooks to venture into Steve’s book. He just had no idea the universe would present him with a much more favorable offer.

Steve and Eddie started hanging out a lot more after Vecna, no shocker considering they shared a hospital room, and soon the bat buddies would spend their time together outside of the hospital. That’s why it wasn’t surprising for Steve to let Eddie venture into Steve’s room while he went to pick up their lunch.

Eddie was somewhat of a curious cat, so when he spotted the notebook and some papers scattered on Steve’s desk he was like a moth to a flame. He softly glided his fingers over the blue cover and exhaled some breath in a soft laugh over the star stickers Steve oh so loved. It was the paper though that caught his eye when he finished observing the book. It looked like lyrics at first but then he realized some of the lines were too short to be lines, if anything they looked more like stanzas from a poem. Steve had poetry on his desk, did Steve read poetry? Thee Steve Harrington likes poetry? God his whole doctrine was garbage huh. Eddie moved the paper towards him and started to read.

Watchful gaze

Setules on the glass.

Wishful gaze

Silent pleas of escaping rolling in the mouth

Fingertips slipping through the veil,

Grasping for warm hands,

Receiving lukewarm.

Hesitant to grab.

Dependency clasping the palms

Such a feverish feeling

Poking at the appendages,

A coldness that numbs.

Gently gripping for the heat,

The balmy yields.

Smoke and simmers,

Arms rushing to sides

Frozen.

Yearning for ardor,

Turn not yet given,

Waiting for the impossible,

Waiting for the unobtainable,

So understanding.

So relieving.

So desperate.

So alone.

Standing for the calling.

So patient.

So pathetic.

Empty Hands by Steve H.

Eddie was staring at the very last line on the paper, utterly flabbergasted. Steve wrote this? Steve writes poetry?! Is that what resides in the little book? Before Eddie could even find the power to turn to the book to look, Steve walked into his room. Again a quick look is all Steve needed to take before he knew what happened in his absence.

“Oh! Uh..I’m guessing you read it.”

Eddie slowly looked back up while caressing the paper, “Yeah, you..um..you really wrote this? Is that…uh..what’s in your notebook? Cause I will admit I never would have guessed that.”

Steve started scratching his neck, “I don’t blame you,” he huffs, “But yeah I write poetry, helps to let some of the thoughts out considering our lives y'know?”

“I totally get it dude! Lord knows my lyrics are infected with the whole spring break bullhonkey. So..totally cool if you don’t want to tell me but, why is this one out of the book? Were you gonna write it into the book?” Eddie picked up the paper to place it next to the notebook and turned to face Steve.

“Actually I copied it from the notebook, I’m gonna, okay wait, you can’t tell anyone this-”

“Even Robin?” Eddie exaggerated his smile to look wild.

“Even Robin.” Steve nodded with his eyes shut.

Eddie put his hands together and swayed while standing, “Wowww look at me, lil old Eddie Munson getting to learn the secrets of the mysterious writer Steve Harrington.”

“Eddie, you want to know or not?” Steve sighed as he put his hands on his hips.

“Yes. Yes please,” Eddie eagerly replied, barely letting Steve finish his sentence.

“The last time I went to Indy with Robin to go shopping at their mall we went to a cafe. The bulletin board had a flier for a poetry night and I got curious I guess.”

“You gonna perform the poem there?”

“That’s the plan.”

Eddie could understand wanting a fresh slate when it came to having a reputation. “Craving anonymity? Must be tough considering you are Hawkin’s golden boy.”

Steve smiles brightly and Eddie sees his shoulders lose tension, tension Eddie didn’t even notice because he was so distracted by the fact that holy shit Steve is a poet. “Exactly.”

Honestly Eddie would give anything to hear more of Steve's hidden works, he grabs some of his hair and brings it to cover his mouth, “I know you don’t intend to tell the rest of the bunch, but uh..would you allow a humble bard to observe your lyrical performance?”

Eddie looks at Steve’s face for any hint of annoyance and finds none, instead he finds a look that he could hope to be correct in his guess is excitement.

“Really? You’d want to hear more, it's not confusing or stupid to you?” Steve softly smiled at Eddie, making him swoon inside.

“It's art! It doesn’t need to make sense, it just needs to make you feel good, who cares if others are confused. And for what its worth even if I’m not right on the money that poem made me feel Steve, I mean as the expert in self-expression it felt real and vulnerable, y’know.” Eddie had to shut himself up before he himself waxed poetry about just how much he is dying to hear more from Steve to learn more about him.

“Thanks Eddie.” Steve gazed at Eddie as if no one had ever told him that before. Which now that hes thinking about it that’s probably the truth. Guess Eddie needed to constantly remind him then.

Eddie smiled, mirroring Steves while bending at his waist, “Oh but of course my liege.”

“Oh my god okay Eddie cmon the food’s gonna get cold.”

Steve started to leave his room and Eddie rushed to follow him, “Now that I know what the book is filled with may I pretty please read it?” Rapidly blinking his eyelashes in an attempt to look innocent and pure but instead looking like a piece of dust got in his eyes.

“Nope.”

“Ugghhh c'mon Steve! Just imagine the look on the little hellions when they see me opening the book! God the jealousy! The feeling of betrayal when they see me reading Steve Harringtons’s treasure trove of text and they are none the wiser to what is inside. And the best part, I have permission! The power I would hold Steve! The possibility, I could use them like little puppets to do my bidding while they crave information I alone hold!”

“Eddie that sounds like a headache for me waiting to happen, they’re just gonna badger me to tell them because they would claim it’s unfair you know and they don’t.”

“Eh, their egos could take a little hit don’t you think?” Eddie was now resting his head on Steve’s shoulder as the younger started to bring the food out of the carry out bag.

“Can I read your lyric notebook?”

Eddie’s eyes went wide as his brain proceeded to remind him of every lyric he had written around his devotion to Steve. Red in the face Eddie responded quickly, “Nope! Mmm you smell that Stevie I’m so hungry, aren’t you?”

“Subtle Munson.”

“Tis my middle name.”

Steve fondly rolled his eyes, “Sure.”

As they settled down on the couch Eddie tracked Steve grabbing the remote, “So I can really watch you?”

Steve turned and looked at Eddie with a calmness on his face. “Yeah Eddie.”

Eddie grabbed his hair as Steve stared at him, “Cool, cool, it’s a date.” Eddie froze about to panic silently as he tried to fix his slip up.

“Yeah, it's a date.” The two looked at each other, neither wanting to look away. After a minute or so Steve turned on the TV and if the two fell asleep together it was their business.

[henrysglock]

Superspy!

This post is just me breaking off the UD double agent section from my time loop theory post (14 Jan. 2024). It's not new, just wanted it separate for ease of referencing.

I'm not sure if anyone else outside the my discord server has noticed this, but in every season there's at least one instance of the UD just...offering up information.

"It does?"

Yup! Let me explain.

On first glance, we look at things like Nancy's vision and even El's vision with Billy in the cabin, and we go "Oh, it's because [insert "the bad guy's cruel/he wants to scare her/his hubris will be his downfall/all serial killers want to be known for their crimes" etc here]"...but maybe that's not the case.

For example: Vecna told Nancy his backstory, and then he immediately went

"Oh hey, so not only am I revealing my identity (Which may help you find out more about me via lab records later on, things like...maybe a list of my abilities, or my weaknesses, like the fact that I have a nut allegry. Allegedly.), but I'm also gonna give you a sneak peek of my apocalypse plans. For free. As a treat. Don't use these to prepare or anything. I'm totally not giving you a head start".

Terrifying, yes. A taunt and a threat on surface view, yes...but also showing his hand. "I want you to tell Eleven everything you see" Why. Why would he want that? He may be confident in his plans, arrogant, even...but he's not that stupid.

I'm serious, though. Check it out in comparison to Henrys visions of the future. The pattern is patterning:

We can track that back to El's cabin scene with Billy, wherein he tells her she shouldn't have looked for him, warns her that they all can see her, and that they're going to be coming after her...and he cries about it. That's vision Billy. That's someone else who piggybacked into El's mind from Billy's mind. Billy doesn't have powers. He can't piggyback into minds. That's not real Billy, just like how Billy in Max's vision wasn't the real Billy. That's someone with the ability to piggyback into minds (sit with that for a beat, it'll come to you). The person giving El that vision warns her.

Why on earth would that person tell her that they can see her, that they're coming for her? That's sensitive information! It would be smarter to let her think she's safe and use that false sense of security to catch her off guard.

In fact, this pattern patterns so well that I'd like to argue this: Henry's TFS visions, Nancy's vision, and El's vision are all the same type of behavior displayed in NINA's chess scene, just in different contexts.

Henry ("Henry") gives some kind of scary prophetic information ("He and the others are going to attempt to kill you", "I would very much like to show you where I am going", "You're going to kill me, aren't you?"), and then we're left to question if it's a scare tactic, manipulative misinformation, or helpful inside information.

It's not that the Mindflayer or Vecna can't hide things from people (see: "Somewhere he didn't want me to see")...like, say, the fact that the Mindflayer is now able to see El, or that Vecna's planning to open 4 gates with his 4 kills.

It's always this miraculous "Huh! Weird info-dropping behavior from the UD's side. Shouldn't look that gift-horse in the mouth though. It's probably just a writing oversight or a shoehorned exposé, so really there's no need to question it." situation where it's just...information that's offered up with no real explanation.

Some of my favorite examples:

...and it's all topped off with Max's line:

"He's been telling us his plan this whole time".

That is to say...You're telling me:

The first message from the Upside Down isn't any of the messages that are concretely Will's, but instead it's the one that's a repetitive Henry line...and it's conveyed in a distinctly not-Will style? A message that saves Joyce, something that's definitely not in the UD's best interest given her tenacity in finding her boy...but is definitely coming from the UD nonetheless?

Will, who fell total prey to the Mindflayer in less than 3 days, was not only able to figure out how to defeat the Mindflayer, but was also strong enough to convey it in Morse code? The Mindflayer, who is able to keep secrets (see below), just...let that information slip?

El, who acknowledges that the Mindflayer is more than able to hide things from her, is suddenly sent into Billy's memories and allowed to find the source completely unimpeded? (and she was sent, you can look at the positioning on "Billy's" hand in real time if you think I'm exaggerating)

The Mindflayer, as "Billy" (Remember: not actually Billy, because Billy can't give visions or invade minds), is telling El that because he's able to see her now, and that she shouldn't have looked for him? The Mindflayer, which was supposedly building the Fleshflayer to track El down and kill her? Suddenly he's telling her she shouldn't have done the very thing that allowed him to find her more easily?

Vecna's giving up all the information about himself and his plans before he's even gotten the 4th gate open, despite him being so secretive about it up until that point? He's not cocky enough to broadcast his plans earlier, but he is cocky enough to tip off the girl who found his family and drew all the connections...the "detective" of the group in ST3, about what's happening/going to happen...and tell her that she needs to tell Eleven, the girl who kicked his ass into Dimension X as an eight year old, all the future plans she sees?

Henry's visions in TFS are scaring him into resisting the Mindflayer, making it less likely that he's going to upgrade to killing humans, i.e. the very thing the Mindflayer wants him to do?

None of that makes any damn sense...until we hit this last point:

Orderly Henry is known for giving inside information about "Papa" to El with no clear motive other than getting her to leave the lab.

So, with this new frame of view, I'd like you to chew on this:

"He's been telling us his plan this whole time." vs "He's been telling us His plan this whole time."

By which I mean: "He's been telling us some other man's plan this whole time."

[Mike voice] Superspy.

As a parting thought, I made it all into a nice, neat set of collages:

I'll leave you all with this final, parting bit, too:

None of this even touches on them shoehorning in an entire arc about a spy who goes by the name Enzo/"Henry".

He isn't actually named Enzo/Henry (he's Dmitri), though (hello Edward), but he is working as a guard and feeding inside info about the KGB (CIA equivalent) to Hopper/a "bald" American:

...in hopes of setting said bald American free from prison/hell:

...only to get himself caught up in a creature massacre:

That kills off all the other guards and shaved-head inmates (while he himself is the sole "inmate" with longer hair) and sent on the run afterward.

Okay. I guess. That's fine. Nothing smells Creel-y about that.

Not mention, of course, the interpretation of the Russia arc paralleling Vecna and Hopper rather than El and Hopper. Local father figure gets his ass kicked and sent to "hell" from which he has to escape to go home. Like. Yeah, I get it.

I'd like to posit that this might be a spot for further exploration irt multiple parallels -> multiple versions of events, as per my series on the NINA fight (which showed us at least 3 tangibly different endings for the 4.07 fight). We could very well have one version focused on a Murray/Yuri type deal, one with a Hopper type deal, and one with an Enzo type deal depending on which ending they were involved in. That's just speculation atm though.

[nohoney]

no bc i’m actually obsessed with your Hunger Games AU with Keigo and Katsuki. would you be willing to expand on it??

oooh yes, i’m very willing (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

hawks / bakugou

“I think I’ll die.”

Bakugou listens quietly from behind the door of his room, opened just a small crack as he strains his ears to listen to you speak. He’s supposed to be resting since it’s less than 48 hours for the games to begin. All that stupid parading, those annoying interviews, the scoring of all the tributes skills, all of it has lead up to games.

“Don’t say that, you’re smarter than you look. Let them underestimate you, survive out there for yourself and slip under the radar.” Hawks is trying to comfort you, standing out in the hallway where all the bedrooms are located in the lavish apartment. “You remember everything I taught you?”

He assumes that you nodded your head, he can see it in his head along with the meek little hum you gave. You’re going to live, Bakugou is going to make sure of it. You’re going to make it home and pick those flowers from the bushes you love so much, drizzle honey into your tea after trading a month’s worth of rations for just a little bit of decadence, and you’ll outlive him.

You sob a little and Hawks is shushing you. “It’s okay, cry it out now.”

“And Bakugou? What about him?” you ask quietly, “He’s my friend…”

Sadness rises in his chest and he clenches his fist. It’s swallowed down but Bakugou can’t help his heart twisting at the thought of you being sad over him. He’s always been there for you, letting you piggyback off him when you were too tired to walk through the forest, punching your bullies when they made you cry, and he always walked beside you every year when you walked towards the reaping.

“… do you know why he volunteered? He won’t tell me.”

If Hawks says anything, Bakugou is going to murder him.

“It’s best that you get rest tonight,” Hawks chooses to go around the question, “did you need something to help you sleep? I know how restless you’ve been since you’ve come here.”

There’s a little hum from you again, this one being disagreeing. “Do you remember when we used to go to the lake and play in the water with the other kids? And then we’d all nap together under the trees? You used to pet my head until I fell asleep. You remember right?” You ask quietly.

“I do.”

Bakugou does too, making a small spark of jealousy rise up in his chest. It was all innocent back then, just young kids playing and tiring themselves out. But he was always jealous too, seething silently when you paid attention to someone else but secretly happy when you stuck to his side.

“Can you do that for me please? I just… I’m sorry. That was dumb.” You try to backpedal but Hawks assured you that he’s okay with it, the softness of his voice such a dead giveaway for the obvious feelings he has for you.

It makes Bakugou want to bash his head against the wall, thinking of you and Hawks together. You’re supposed to be with him. He was supposed to have given you your favorite flowers and asked your parents for their permission to go steady at this point.

“Let’s go on the couch, I’ll grab the blanket from your room.”

Good. If Hawks had suggested your room or his own, Bakugou would have blown a fuse.

When Bakugou comes out his room in the morning, you’re sleeping alone on the couch with the blanket tucked comfortably around you. You look peaceful and he stands to admire you for a bit. His eyes look around first, glancing to be sure that Hawks isn’t around. Then he reaches down to pet the top of your head, feeling how soft your hair is from the luxurious shower products that he hopes you will get to bathe in again when this is all over.

“Mmf… Bakugou?” You mutter, your voice still heavy with sleep as you start to rouse. “Good morning.”

“Hey.” he simply greets, “You want some tea?”

You nod your head as you slowly sit up from your spot. You stretch your limbs and yawn. Although you managed to sleep, he sees that you are not rested. “I’m scared.” You quietly admit, “I’m really scared.”

He knows.

“I’m scared that-“ you start to speak but then Hawks emerges from the hallway. You keep your head down and shrink into yourself, unable to look at Hawks or Bakugou.

━━━━✧

Hawks watches with bated breath, everyone quiet as they watch the scene unfold in front of them. You fell sick, running with a high fever and delirious, barely able to stay conscious. Bakugou tucked you away in a cave to keep you safe, trying to keep you fed and alive. Everyone could see that he was upset to see you so unwell and unable to fend for yourself.

The two of you fell asleep together just a few hours ago with Bakugou’s arms wrapped protectively around you despite you complaining that it was too hot. You needed to break the fever and he was making sure of that even when you cried over how uncomfortable you felt. But the cameras were on you, recording everything when you slipped out of Bakugou’s hold and slowly peeled off the layers of clothes from your body.

If only Hawks could tell the cameras to turn away, to pan to the other tributes but he knows they won’t.

This is good television for them after all.

“Bakugou… Bakugou… it’s hot.” You slightly rock him back and forth, sweat sticking to your forehead and looking so sad. “Wake up… wake up!”

He startled awake, his eyes immediately of course drawn to your nudity and he hisses for you to put your clothes back on. You weakly fight him, shaking your head and whining in a way that reminds Hawks of when you used to throw a tantrum when you were a child. He used to pick you up and hold you until you calmed down. Now he watches how Bakugou is struggling to keep his composure around you in this vulnerable state.

“(Name)! (Name)! Stop, put your damn clothes on!” Bakugou is trying to push the thermals over your head and dress you while also trying to keep his head turned away. The stupid hosts comment how chivalrous Bakugou is, admiring with a cooing ‘awww’ that makes Hawks sick to his stomach.

This isn’t meant to be cute; you’re indecent and sick and it’s all being recorded.

“I can’t do it…” you murmur, “Can’t…”

“Yea, you can.” Bakugou sighs in frustration, “just put your head through-“

“I can’t go home without you.” You admit to him, still pushing off the clothing he’s trying to put you in.

Everyone watching the scene holds their breath.

Bakugou freezes, his face looked pained but unsure what he should say to you.

“Please, we have to go home together.” You plead quietly with tears beginning to prick the corners of your eyes, “We need to go home.”

Bakugou remains silent before putting his hand over your forehead. “Your fever is getting worse, you need to lay down and rest more.”

Hawks breaks out of his trance and looks around. He needs to do his part as your mentor, try to get you some aid from his end in any way he can. So even though he’s sick to his stomach that your nudity was televised and such an intimate moment between you and Bakugou was captured, he sets it aside to schmooze up the elites. He tells them precious little stories of you and Bakugou as children, now using the intimate confession to spin a story of sweet childhood friends with secret harboring feelings for one another.

The very thing that Bakugou never wanted in the first place.

The elites eat it up and a little parachute of medicine sails slowly in the air towards Bakugou. He snatches it and practically rips the shell open, his body deflating in relief when he finds medicine inside.

Hawks just knows that if he were to tell Bakugou how he was able to get that medicine for you, he’d be dead.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

STARTUPS AND WORK

Could it be that, in a modern society, increasing variation in income is a sign of laziness. But I think server-based software you can build without studying users is the sort for which you are the typical user. But we weren't saying this to be benevolent. The minimum order for a factory production run is usually several hundred thousand dollars. That's the whole point of technology. I'm not saying there's no such thing. Language designers, or at least inevitable form, but it's the same thing with detective stories. The main complaint of the more articulate critics was that Arc seemed so flimsy. Suppose you're a college freshman deciding whether to allow deductions is that, if they do let you down, will still seem to have regarded wisdom, learning, and intelligence idiosyncratic.

When Steve Jobs started using that phrase, Apple was already an established company. It might be a good thing. So, yes, there does seem to be facing off in a kind of selection going on here too: they're exactly the companies programmers would most like to work for. There your job is largely a matter of spanning a given distance with the least strings attached. The founders thereupon proposed to walk away from the company, as well as your audience. Not so much from specific things he's written as by reconstructing the mind that produced them. A good running back is not merely determined, but flexible as well. But flexible, like a digital image rendered with more pixels. Here it is: I like to find a place where there are a lot of people seemed surprised that someone interested in computers would also be interested in it for its own sake, out of the way as soon as you can be smart without being very smart. Intelligence and wisdom are obviously not mutually exclusive. Don't disregard unseemly motivations. No one thought to go back and debug Aristotle's motivating argument.

The government could not do better than to piggyback on their expertise, and use investment by recognized startup investors as the test of whether people love what they do with it. As a little piece of debris, the rational thing for you to do everything. But those you don't. You'll find more interesting things by looking at structural evidence, and structurally philosophy is young; it's still reeling from the unexpected breakdown of words. The one saving grace was that English courses tend to favor pompous, dull writers like Henry James, who deserve black marks against their names anyway. Twenty-six years later, I still don't even have a flying car. Practically everyone thinks that someone who went to MIT or Harvard or Stanford and sometimes find ourselves thinking: they must be smarter than they were and yet had zero attitude himself. You could call it Work Day.

There is more to be actively curious. They wanted to get staffed up as soon as you get into an office, work and life start to drift apart. The most important reason for having surprisingly good customer service. Fundamentally an essay is a train of thought, as dialogue is cleaned-up conversation. Quite the opposite. Well, you don't take a position and then defend it. What are the great things to work on as there is for things that solve the mundane problems of individual customers. But due to a crime well enough executed that it had been forgotten. But the dictionaries are not doing a very good job. I understood them, but they have at least started to omit the initial Who is this guy and what authority does he have to write a parser or a regular expression library. Professional means doing good work, what you have is perfect. The most common unscalable thing founders have to do to get rich by creating wealth has been turned on and off the prospect of keeping it.

Almost everyone's initial plan is broken. It must be something you can learn. Instead of working back from a goal, work forward from promising situations. In the absence of other information, it would seem the noise is caused by the fan. Once, when I was about as observant as a lump of rock. No one does that kind of works. For example, in genetic algorithms and even product design. Consulting is the canonical example of work that wasn't very common in Confucius's day. People sleeping on airbeds in strangers' apartments?

Thanks to Trevor Blackwell, Robert Morris, the Berkeley CSUA, and Garry Tan for reading a previous draft.

[tomwambsmilk]

just wanted to pop up to say thank you for pointing out logan's trauma and how it affects his relationship with kids as well as the possibility of tom's trauma. because when i started succ posting on here like 3 months ago, all the meta i saw was showing logan as a beast who manipulated his kids for fun with nothing behind it and tom as this guy who had a perfectly normal childhood and life overall but then hit his head on a concrete floor and suddenly got all this psychological issues. and i was like tf have we all watched the same show?

it just makes so much sense with a childhood emotional neglect. because his low self-esteem, extra sensitivity to rejection, him being really hard on himself, having hard time to recognize his emotions and also expressing them in the right way, as well as the fact that it's really hard for him to really speak about his true feelings (i think this is something that mattmac pointed out about the 2x10 beach scene, he said that it was really hard for tom to tell shiv how he really felt). like all of these are the signs of emotional neglect. and i don't necessarily think that his parents did this intentionally, it just often happens that parents don't see children's interests/problems as interesting or important, they'll say things like "it's not a big deal" or "you're just being dramatic", they have trouble understanding their children’s needs for love, affection, they won't praise their children for their success and also won't comfort them when they failed and even blame them for the failure, saying "you should've tried harder". and it just makes so much sense for tom? his desire to reach over the top might come from the fact that he just wants to prove himself to himself and others, wants to show that he can be richer, smarter. and i also think that his desire to get a higher social status does not come from him necessarily, but from his parents and his childhood/teenage years. like maybe someone put that “becoming rich is the most important goal in life” idea in his head? idk like this might be just me projecting too hard, and i’m not trying to justify his behavior, he’s an adult and obviously responsible for his actions and thoughts, but i think it if we’re talking about how roy siblings were affected by trauma, then we need to talk about tom’s experience too

Credit where credit is due - I think @tomwambsgirl and @reasoncourt pointed out Logan's abuse first, and I'm only piggybacking off of them :) But yeah, I've been a little uncomfy with the way the fandom understands Logan for a while, and I've debated writing about it but haven't ever really felt able to summon the words. (I'm also going to touch on Tom, but I'm starting with Logan because in some ways that's more straightforward to me).

This is maybe a good place to say that - elsewhere on my blog I've talked about Logan as a kind of Luciferian/Satanic figure in the narrative, and I really want to highlight that when I say those things I'm talking about broad narrative structures and archetypes and roles, much like when we talk about Kendall as a sort of Christ figure. There are characteristics he has that, if you step back and look at Succession through the lens of a sort of morality epic, a story about people selling their souls and becoming corrupted, he fits a certain narrative part to a T. But that's only one very broad lens through which to view Succession, and it's one that's inherently limited because it does require reducing the characters to certain roles or archetypes - it's fascinating to me, but it really shouldn't be the only read, and I really don't want people to think I'm saying Logan the man - the human character - is Satan incarnate, because it's a lot more complicated than that. If I learned anything from my literary theory classes, it's that comprehensive readings of a story require you to look at them through a variety of lenses and angles, and with Succession one of the most important lenses is that of generational trauma.

I'm speaking here from my own observations, which may be flawed, but I think that often people with visibly terrible childhoods tend to reduce everything wrong with their upbringing to the most visible fault or faults. It's a really understandable impulse! If your parents were beating you within an inch of your life, you're probably gonna spend more time thinking about that than the ways in which your parents didn't fully support your emotional growth - something which feels far less serious compared to the real physical danger you were in. Consequently, though, when they raise their own kids, they think that if they just eliminate the really obvious bad things, that should fix the situation. I've always viewed Logan as that kind of character; I think he puts his own shitty upbringing down to physical abuse and extreme poverty, and that he's always believed that if he can make sure his own children experience neither, they'll turn out okay. Except they didn't, and now they're adults he can't figure out what the hell happened. Maybe he has an inkling that he fucked it up, but he can't really acknowledge that because he feels that he did his best. Maybe he did, in fact, do his best - the ideas that "my parents did their best given their circumstances" and "my parents fell far, far short of being good parents" are not mutually exclusive. It's something people are really uncomfortable with, though, because everyone wants to believe that if they try their best it'll be okay

(As a side note, the incident with Logan hitting Roman and gaslighting him about it later has always exemplified this for me. Logan seems to really define his parenting style in opposition to 'evil uncle Noah'. I fully believe that he told himself he would never hit his kids - but then he did, not as often or as seriously as uncle Noah, but he still did, because he doesn't have the emotional toolbox to control his temper. If he's defining himself as a parent in opposition to uncle Noah, though, everything in his being and his worldview is invested in not acknowledging that or believing it to be true. When he says 'I would never do that' to Roman in the car, I think he really believes it! That's not him. He's not uncle Noah. He would never hit his children like that, so clearly they just misremembered the situation.)

There was a Tumblr post that was travelling around a couple weeks ago that stuck with me, because it spoke to something in my own experiences that really rings true. It said that, if you want to help people who are suffering, you have to make peace with the fact that they likely will not be good people. It is possible to face suffering and make choices that make you a better person, but it is very difficult, and most people do not succeed, especially if they lack support systems. Sometimes, if you and others step in to try and help them, they may become good people - but not always, and not often. And that's such a difficult reality to confront. I think we want clean narratives, split between perpetrators and victims, that are easy to digest and understand, but that simply isn't how people work. That's why generational trauma is so devastating. I think a lot about Kendall's line, "I love you but you're kind of evil," because I think that really captures it. Logan is evil, but he's also a person who is loved, genuinely and truly, even by the people he's hurt, who are also the same people he loves. That's a hard thing to wrestle with, but it's something we have to wrestle with, because it's incredibly true to the reality of these situations.

And TOM. Boy oh boy do I have thoughts about Tom. (I'm tagging @mcperaltiago in this, because months ago you sent me an ask about my thoughts on what's wrong with Tom, and that kind of turned into a creative writing project filling in some of the gaps in his backstory that I've not yet finished. However it's been haunting me that I never actually answered that, so this is essentially the more analytical answer to that question).

I absolutely can't recommend enough the book "Running on Empty" by Jonice Webb, which I think anyone who has ever felt there was something not quite right about their upbringing should read. It unironically changed my life, both in helping me understand my own issues and giving me the tools to start working on it before I was financially stable enough to pay for therapy. Her main focus is Childhood Emotional Neglect, something which she believes runs absolutely rampant in North American society, but most people are utterly unaware of, because: "it dwells in the sins of commission, rather than commission; it's the white space in the family picture rather than the picture itself. It's often what was NOT said or observed or remembered from childhood, rather than what WAS said." A lot of people who were emotionally neglected as children come from families that seem ideal - and not in the sense of 'we're doing a good job at hiding our dysfunction'. There's often nothing at all outwardly wrong with the family and the way the children are brought up.

I actually grabbed "Running on Empty" off my bookshelf to reference while I wrote this, both because I think it explains Tom to a T, but also because the information in it is incredibly valuable, and I kind of want to throw some of it out there in this context in case it strikes a chord with anybody. So this is incredibly long, and I don't fault you if you don't read through the whole thing, because I also want to use this as an opportunity just to raise a little bit of awareness about CEN for people who don't know much about it.

Webb breaks down twelve different types of emotionally neglectful parents:

Narcissistic parents take their children's mistakes personally and punish them for it, rather than offering the help their children need.

Authoritarian parents equate obedience with love, and feel personally rejected and unloved when their children disobey, which causes them to respond overly harshly.

Permissive parents appear loving to others and to their children because they avoid conflict, but this leaves their children utterly unprepared to deal with the realities of the world.

Divorced or widowed parents without strong support systems are often unable to help their children properly process the grief of losing a parent, because they themselves are struggling to manage their own grief.

Parents with addiction issues behave unpredictably, which can cause chronic anxiety and insecurity in their children.

Depressed parents who aren't receiving proper help and support in managing their illness often don't have the energy or enthusiasm required to be emotionally present.

Workaholic parents don't pay enough attention to the needs and feelings of their children.

Parents who have children with special needs, especially if the family has a poor support system, are often unable to care effectively for the children without special needs, who seem to need them less than the special needs kids do.

Parents who focus on achievement and perfection and pressure their children into doing what they want (rather than supporting what their kids want) unintentionally force their kids to squelch their own needs and feelings.

Sociopathic parents who lack the proper support in managing their illness tend to lack awareness of their children's feelings, and so can't effectively support them.

Parents who 'parentify' their children - who allow, encourage, or force their children to behave as parents in the family - unconsciously teach their children that their feelings and desires don't matter.

Parents who are loving and well-meaning but were themselves emotionally neglected as children struggle to be 'in tune' with their children because they lack a general understanding and awareness of emotions.

(It's important to remember that a lot of these parents are not bad people - otherwise, it might feel unfair to single out widowed parents, or depressed parents, or parents of kids with special needs, many of whom are genuinely trying their best. And Webb points out that experiencing those kinds of hardships do not automatically mean that a parent will be emotionally neglectful. It's very possible for parents who experience these things to stay attuned to their children, and provide them with the care and attention they need, although it's challenging and requires deliberate effort. Studies have shown that parents need to notice and respond to their children's emotional needs only 33% of the time in order for their children to grow up emotionally literate and stable.)

We get so little information about Tom's childhood, but it's possible that any one of these situations could apply. I think a lot about the exchange in "Pre-Nuptial" when Tom freaks out over "his mother dying of thirst"; yeah, he's a hyperbolic drama queen, but it's such an overreaction that it does stick out to me, especially when coupled with his mother protesting because she doesn't want to be a burden. It's only one small window, but there's something not quite right going on there, I think. Somewhere along the line Tom learned that expressing needs, emotional or otherwise, is burdensome and bad, and that if you love someone you're going to keep an eye on their needs for them so that they don't have to ask for it.

Even without knowing too much about his upbringing, we know his mother is a highly successful divorce attorney, and I think his father might be an economist? They never clarify that. But if Tom's mother was a highly successful attorney, she probably was around far less than other kids' parents were, simply because of the kinds of hours she'd have to work. His parents also have a sort of WASP-y vibe to me, especially with how they insist on paying for the wine at his wedding, and then Tom's dad can't help but let everybody know how expensive it was. Status is clearly important to them. And on top of that, WASP-y types aren't exactly known for their emotional intelligence; it's really easy for me to imagine that Tom grew up with a physically absent mother and an emotionally absent father, without any siblings and probably desperately lonely. Maybe his father taught him not to bother his mother when she was home, because she works so hard and loves them so much and 'we don't want to burden her'. Maybe Tom became somewhat parentified, and felt it was his job to look after his mother, and maybe his father too if his mother's job kept them apart for long periods of time. Maybe he felt a little bit neglected and unloved and felt guilty over it because he knew it objectively wasn't true, but he also couldn't help feeling this way. Maybe he started idealizing wealth and status as a way to prevent himself from being a burden, or because wealthy people seemed to be loved by everyone. Maybe his mother would talk about her cases at home and it made Tom fearful of all the ways a marriage could go wrong. Or maybe his parents simply came from emotionally neglectful upbringings themselves, and just didn't have the toolkit to pass on to him.

Since emotional neglect is often something you can't see in childhood, it's mostly identifiable through signs and symptoms present in adults, and Webb breaks down ten. All of them are things that everyone struggles with to a certain degree, but what sets emotionally neglected people apart is the unusual severity with which they experience it, and the degree to which it prevents them from living fulfilling lives. I'm going to break down each of them and the ways I feel like Tom exemplifies them.

The first is feelings of emptiness. Most emotionally-neglected people who come to therapy for anxiety, depression, or family-related problems eventually express empty feelings in some way. Typically the emptiness is chronic, and has ebbed and flowed over the course of their lives. At times, they might feel physically empty inside. They might be emotionally numb. They might question the meaning and purpose of life. They might have suicidal thoughts that seem to come out of nowhere. They might be thrill-seekers. They might feel mystifyingly different from other people. They may often feel like they're on the outside looking in.

This is one that's hard to pin down to a single moment with Tom, but I've always gotten the sense is somewhat omnipresent. Tom is not a man who is happy with his life, and it can't all be put down to his marital situation. We get little glimpses of it in Matthew Macfadyen's performance, especially in the first season, particularly in the way his face will kind of fall sometimes when no one's looking. We also get very muted reactions to things that must be incredibly emotionally devastating, like when Shiv asks him for an open marriage. He's clearly upset, but we know this mostly because of the absence of joy in those moments, rather than an outward show of emotion.

It's also abundantly clear that Tom feels like he doesn't quite fit in, which results in him over-compensating - trying to make sexually suggestive jokes that come out wrong, trying to be enthusiastic or affectionate and saying something strange or off-putting, and a degree of people-pleasing that's almost cloying. The irony is that this makes others view him as an outsider, which makes the whole situation worse. While I think being catapulted to the Roy's level of wealth and status made those feelings worse, I would bet that they didn't start there, and it's something that's plagued him probably for most of his life, and is a big part of why he so desperately wants to be a member of the elite.

The second major theme is counter-dependence. Emotionally neglected people are afraid of being dependent, and will go to great lengths to avoid asking for help or appearing needy. They make every effort not to rely on other people, even at their own great expense. They might have feelings of depression but not know why. They might have inexplicable, longstanding wishes to run away or simply be dead. They might remember their childhoods as lonely, even if they were happy. Others might describe them as aloof. Their loved ones might complain that they're emotionally distant. They might prefer to do things themselves, and find it very hard to ask for help. They might be uncomfortable in close relationships.

The example you cited of Tom struggling to say how he feels in 2x10 absolutely screams this to me. While at first glance we might think of Shiv as the counter-dependent one (and she definitely is counter-dependent), Tom is constantly swallowing down his emotions. When he finds out that Shiv has moved the wedding to England in 1x06 without asking him and gets upset, she responds by getting frustrated and he immediately backs off, despite the fact that this is clearly something that matters to him a lot. Throughout most of season 2 he's in varying states of emotional crisis, but he never actually articulates this to Shiv until 2x10, which is part of why it takes her so utterly by surprise. And if it wasn't for Shiv throwing him under the bus at breakfast on the yacht, I think he probably would have continued simply swallowing his misery for a long time, unable to actually ask for or even simply express his needs. He definitely is needy, and he definitely wants reassurance, but he’s afraid to openly express that, so he starts playing five-dimensional emotional chess in his marriage, trying to hint to Shiv that he needs reassurance without openly looking like he needs reassurance, and Shiv, who has her own host of issues rendering her emotionally illiterate, truly believes nothing is wrong because he hasn’t told her anything is wrong.

The third theme is unrealistic self-appraisal. It's not just low self-esteem, although that's pretty common - but emotionally neglected adults have views of themselves that are inaccurate, even if they aren't negative. It might be hard for them to identify their talents; they might over-emphasize their weaknesses; they might not know what they like and dislike; they might not sure what their interests are; they might give up quickly when things get challenging; they might choose the 'wrong' career or change careers several times; they might feel like 'a square peg in a round hole' or a misfit; they might be unsure what their parents actually think of them.

I kind of connect this to Tom's obsession with being rich. I think about 1x06 and his night out with Greg, how he feels he has to mold Greg's palette, and then they go out to a club and drink overpriced vodka for no reason other than they can, and I think - this is not a guy who has hobbies. I don't think he has any sort of personal taste beyond "expensive = good", and I think it's probable that when he started actively social climbing (probably in college) he compensated for not knowing his own tastes and likes and dislikes by just deciding to like things that were expensive and classy, because that means he has "good taste". The first time we get any sort of inkling of personal interests is when he tells Greg he bought a book on the Romans to read in prison. Other than that, his hobby is basically "doing rich bitch shit" which is not a hobby and barely a personality trait.

The fourth theme is a lack of compassion for oneself, while having plenty of compassion for others. They're very forgiving of others' foibles and flaws (at least on the surface), and they appear non-judgmental and accepting when it comes to others, while being judgmental and perfectionist about themselves. Other people might seek them out to talk about their problems, or tell them that they're good listeners; they might have very little tolerance for their own mistakes; there might be a critical voice in their head, pointing out errors and flaws; they might be much harder on themselves than others; and they might often feel angry with themselves.

Tom definitely doesn't seem to be in the category of 'easy to talk to', except - with Shiv he is. He listens to her problems and her struggles even when it hurts him deep down to do so. Again, the wedding night conversation is example number one; a lot of people would respond negatively to being asked for an open marriage on their wedding night, and maybe even angrily, and... probably wouldn't be altogether in the wrong. Changing the parameters of a relationship so dramatically - and presenting it almost as an ultimatum - immediately after making a lifetime commitment is kind of a shitty thing to do. But even though Tom is clearly devastated he responds sympathetically and compassionately, reassuring Shiv that it's okay for her to tell him that, trying hard to understand where she's coming from and getting on that wavelength... at least on the surface. Yeah, the resentment eats at him deep, deep down, but he's extending an incredible amount of grace in this situation that most people wouldn't.

And on the other hand? We all know he doesn't like himself. "I don't really like who I am, Greg," is a pretty defining moment for him. I'm not even going to bother listing examples because I think in the space of about five seconds we can all think of multiple examples of his self-loathing oozing through. (Props to Matthew Macfadyen's performance once again.)

The fifth theme is guilt and shame. If their feelings weren't validated by their parents, then they may struggle to validate those feelings for themselves, and may blame themselves for their negative emotions. They might feel depressed, sad, or angry for not apparent reason; they might feel emotionally numb; they might feel like something is wrong with them; they might feel that they’re somehow different from other people; they might push down or avoid their feelings, or hide them so others won’t see them; they might feel inferior to others; and they might feel like they have no excuse for not being happier.

At this point we start retreading old territory, because there’s a lot of overlap between this and the other themes. I’ll just say that in addition to the other stuff I’ve mentioned, Tom’s inferiority complex is pretty apparent - and he compensates for it by trying to surround himself with people he can feel superior to (like Greg, and I would argue probably even Shiv when they first got together and she was ‘such a mess’) and buy abusing the little bits of power he does have.

The sixth theme is self-directed anger and self-blame. This is distinct from shame because shame doesn’t necessarily become self-directed anger - but it can if you don’t cope with it healthily. Emotionally neglected people might get angry at themselves easily and often; they might use alcohol or drugs as a release; they might feel disgusted with themselves; they might have self-destructive episodes or tendencies; they might blame themselves for not being happier or “more normal”. Again, I think we’ve covered this with Tom in other points, although this particular theme isn’t as prevalent in Tom as it is in the Roy children.

Number seven is the “fatal flaw”, or the sense that if people really knew you, they wouldn’t like you. They might fear getting close to people; they might find it hard to open up to even their best friends; they might expect rejection around every corner; they might avoid initiating friendships; it might be hard for them to keep conversations going; they might feel that if people get close to them, they won’t like what they see.

I think we see this most dramatically in Tom’s relationship with Greg, who I think genuinely is Tom’s best friend. First off, Tom seems to have 0 other friends. Not only do we never see him spending time with non-Roys, but he and Greg gravitate to each other in the background of every scene, even when there are other people in the room who Tom has known and worked with longer. I think he feels comfortable with Greg precisely because of the power imbalance between them, which means that even if Greg doesn’t like Tom he can’t actually say it, and Tom can pretend this is the same as genuine friendship. But even with Greg we never see him getting open or vulnerable until 3x04, and even then gestures of affection are wrapped up in threats of violence - “I would castrate you and marry you in a heartbeat”. Right up until the forehead kiss in 3x07, he makes a conscious effort to keep Greg at arm's length, emotionally.

Number eight is difficulty nurturing oneself and others. They might come across as distant, cold, or arrogant; they might think others are too emotional; people might come to them for practical advice but not emotional support; they might feel uncomfortable when someone cries in their presence, or might be uncomfortable crying themselves, especially in the presence of another person; they might not like the feeling that someone needs them, and they might not like feeling needy. I'm not going to spend too much time on this one because I think it applies to Tom a little bit, but for less than other characters, and the limited ways it does apply to him we've covered already.

Number nine is poor self-discipline, because their parents didn't set and enforce rules and expectations. They might feel lazy; they might procrastinate; they may struggle with deadlines; they may overeat, overdrink, oversleep, or overspend; they may be bored with the tedium of life; they may avoid mundane tasks; they may get angry at themselves for how little they get done; they may be underachievers; they may have poor self-discipline; they might be disorganized, even if they know they have the capacity to do better. I'm not going to spend too much time on this one either, because it's the only one I think doesn't apply to Tom at all (at least not textually; it's possibly true but I would have to read in things that aren't actually there in the show). The Succession character that I think does exemplify this one the most is actually Greg, who I think was also emotionally neglected, maybe in a far more obvious way than Tom.

The last one, and maybe the biggest and most consistent, is 'alexithymia', which refers to a deficiency in knowledge about and awareness of emotion. People with extreme forms of alexithymia find their own emotions, and those of others, utterly indecipherable. They might have a tendency to be irritable; they may seldom be aware of having feelings; they might be mystified by others' behaviour; when they do get angry, it may be excessive or explosive; their behaviour might seem rash to themselves and others; they may feel fundamentally different from other people, or like something is missing inside of them; and their friendships may lack depth or substance.

Beyond the stuff we've previously mentioned, I think the biggest examples of this for Tom are the safe room and the compliment tunnel. Both in terms of irritability and explosive anger, for obvious reasons - but also because in both scenes we see Tom wrestling with intense emotions that he clearly doesn't understand. In the safe room the closest he can get is that it 'isn't a good feeling', and when he's talking to Greg afterwards there's an air of perplexity, like he's not entirely sure why he reacted the way he did. As absurd as it sounds, I really think he doesn't know - he isn't drawing the connections between the situation with Greg and his unresolved feelings around the open marriage, and his fear of abandonment. It's a similar situation in the compliment tunnel, where he's in utter misery and has absolutely no idea why. He feels that he shouldn't be miserable, and he's kind of angry at himself for feeling miserable, and so he blames it on the drugs - but it's clear to the viewer that at most the drugs have enhanced the deeper feelings of dissatisfaction and resentment that he's been burying for months.

I won't go on for too much longer because this is... excessively long already, but I do want to briefly acknowledge that these characteristics plague all the Succession characters to varying degrees, because, while not all emotional neglect is emotional abuse, emotional abuse inherently includes emotional neglect. I wanted to highlight Tom specifically because I think he exemplifies the epidemic of invisible emotional neglect, which can sometimes plague people for decades before they or their loved ones realize something is wrong.

And since this is a lot of depressing shit, I want to also highlight that these are definitely things that can be worked on, both individually and in relationships! I want to mention a show I've been watching recently called "Couples Therapy", a Showtime docuseries that follows several real-life couples working through issues in therapy. (I was worried it would be sensationalized or exploitative, but it isn't either - all the couples have talked about it being an overwhelmingly positive experience, and are happy with how the show portrayed things in the end.) Some of the couples are working through really intense, deep-seated issues - some of which are so severe that I went into early episodes going "hey, maybe they should just get divorced". And some do - but a lot of them actually slowly start working through them and substantially improving their marriages, and it's actually incredibly inspiring and hopeful to watch. Given that 'Succession' focuses so much on dysfunction that spirals worse, I feel like 'Couples Therapy' is a nice palate cleanser, showing you that struggling with these issues does NOT mean you're unlovable and your relationships are doomed, so I highly recommend!

[indiaalphawhiskey]

Something I don't understand about these articles that bring up Larries and their 'conspiracy theory' is that it draws more attention to it and could create new Larries. People who have never heard of Larry will read those articles and be curious and look it up and see youtube vids, blogs and etc. If they are on the fence about Harry's sexuality then they definitely will. So there is just as much chance people will read into it as them laughing it off. The fact that Vulture is paying to promote their trash article hating on Harry and using a clickbait title about his acting and then mentioning the 'conspiracy theory'. Like are they completely dumb? If they want to bury the 'conspiracy theory' then don't mention it at all? I don't get it. Why are these so called critics all going after Harry and writing hate pieces on him and barely acknowledging that there are other actors in the movie too? I'm guessing that they come from WB's side trying to ruin him after messing up DWD promo, or Sony who are terrified of him 'coming out' or even competitors. The hate campaign against him is getting weird, and now they're paying to promote it? Why is his PR team nonexistent? Shouldn't they be planting some positive stuff about him?

Hey, love.

I’m gonna go to the second part of your ask first.

I really don’t think Warner Bros would send a PR “hit” out on Harry like that, for multiple reasons. First, studios and record labels don’t work the same way, in that Harry’s not under an exclusive contract with Warner Bros. and so they have no reason to want to keep him in line or under thumb the way Sony used to in One Direction, nor do they have the power to. He’s employed for one movie, and essentially, because it was a bad experience for Harry (and everyone), WB would have everything to gain by maintaining a cordial, professional relationship with him, if they intend to work with him again in the future. (And, considering how much they’re relying on his brand to keep this movie afloat in theaters, it’s likely that, however they feel about his acting chops, they recognize that the smarter business move is to have someone like Harry (and his fan base) as an open option for the future.)

Second, he didn’t actually do anything he wasn’t supposed to. “Screwing up DWD promo” is a fandom opinion, because we know what he’s like when he actually wants a project to succeed. In terms of his professional obligations though, he did everything he was hired for (and, unfortunately, more). He didn’t speak out of turn, or bad mouth the movie. In fact, he spoke about it in as effusive a manner as he could, given the quality. He played a good little stunt puppet, and even allowed them to piggyback on his music to make bank, so they literally have zero reason to “want revenge”, even in light of the contrast with My Policeman promo.

Rather, I’m pretty sure the disdain from critics boils down to nothing other than the gatekeep-y nature of the industry. Critics are never welcoming of musicians who want to work in acting - literally never - and this is something we foresaw. We always knew Harry would have to be utterly flawless in his role (impossible, three movies in) in order to receive even a modicum of critical praise because they were always going to be exceptionally hard on him, as they are on other celebrities who try and make the leap. The only reason he was spared during Dunkirk was because criticizing him (simply for being Harry Styles) would be tantamount to criticizing Christopher Nolan’s casting decision and that wasn’t a hill critics were willing to die on, especially for a minor part in an ensemble cast.

This, however - pop culture’s current obsession scoring two leading (and one queer!) roles in the same year, with two directors who are still finding their feet - this was fair game. And, it sucks because I think critics would have been so much more willing to go into My Policeman with some room to be surprised, if not for the absolutely overexposed media catastrophe that was DWD. But it’s just too tempting now, too sweet, too (seemingly) justified to be able to tear him down for just having the audacity to throw his hat in the ring, because after that circus, no one is expecting him to be any good. More importantly in entertainment, no one is expecting anyone (of note) to come to his defense. So, even if he holds his own, it’s not ever going to be enough (not now, at least).

This is not to say the criticism of Harry’s acting isn’t warranted. I’ve read some very fair critiques, especially pointing out the contrast between him, and David and Emma. But that’s the thing: rarely are these articles criticizing the actual acting. Rarely do they even seem to get the objective of the movie, if they deign to mention the movie at all. Instead, they’re focused on the Harry of it all and it’s making me laugh because they’re doing the one thing they make fun of fangirls for: they’re making it… ✨all about Harry Styles.✨

And, as for the Larry stuff…

One, their PR teams never did seem to get the memo that if you wanna prove Larry isn’t real, stop trying so hard to prove Larry isn’t real. It’s their twelve year struggle; we’re still waiting for them to catch on.

Two, I’ve said before that fan girl hysteria is an easy and juicy scapegoat. In a bid for attention (which is entertainment media’s main goal), the easiest people to pooh-pooh are young women. Nothing will get you clicks like making fun of a predominantly female fandom, because you have the patriarchy fully in your corner. So, you get the clicks and you get the bonus points of the Jack Chambers-es in every basement high-fiving you with both Cheeto-crusted wank hands.

The caveat, though, is that we silly fan girls turned out to be just a little too right about Olivia Wilde (shocker!) so its still too soon to try and sell the whole “they hate her/her movie cause they fancy her boyfriend” shtick again. So what did they do? They pivoted on the hysteria strategy, and the next best narrative to fans who would fully shank your girlfriend out of jealousy is fans who are so crazy they believe you’re gay and in a 12 year closeted relationship with your former band mate.

Just another day in the fandom. Sigh.

[soldrawss]

So I’mmina start this off by saying literally all your aus/drawing make me smile. They’re all so fascinating and sweet and so,SO well thought out! That being said, not to be that person that brings angst into a fluff buffet but... in your Movie Star Dad AU, do the boys every have mixed feelings about their father suddenly appearing in their lives after a prolonged absence? Also would Christof Von Bradford be an issue for the fam, considering his active competitive jerk energy he has with Lou?

Hi, thank you for your sweet words!!! I literally think about my rottmnt aus every waking moment, no joke, so I’m glad that you think they’re well thought out! I do my best! (also always bring angst. I always have a lot of angst in these au’s, I just also try to even it out with just as much fluff) The boys were YOUNG when Yoshi came into their lives, and each of them have their own perspectives on it, so at the time, they didn’t really have any huge negative feelings towards their situation before Yoshi found them because his absence wasn’t really,,, prolonged.

Mikey was literally a baby, barely a year old, so he doesn’t ever remember a time when Yoshi wasn’t in his life. Yoshi is the only parent Mikey really knows, and he’s completely fine with that. If Mikey has any mixed feelings, it’s towards his late mother, who he has absolutely no memories about, and only really knows her through the pictures Raph kept and the stories Raph and Yoshi would tell about her. He sometimes feels bad that he doesn’t feel as sad about her passing as Raph or Yoshi does, and he sometimes feels bad about not remembering her at all, but it’s also weird cause he knows he shouldn’t feel bad about it, cause he was too little to remember anything anyway and that’s not his fault, but the weird gross feelings in his stomach are there all the same when he thinks too hard about it. So he tries not to think about it. And just blissfully goes about his days with his doting dad and his overindulgent big brothers. 

Raph was nervous and distrustful of Yoshi at first, because of course he was. He was 4 years old, sitting in a hospital bed alone with just his tiny baby brother in his arms, nursing a concussion and ugly road rash on his arms and legs while also nursing a broken heart after just losing mama. And then suddenly this man appears, the man in the movies that mama always loved to watch, except he’s not wearing the flamboyant jumpsuit he’s always wearing, but a maroon sweatshirt and old jeans. His signature styled pompadour and orange shades replaced with a disheveled ponytail and bags like bruises under his eyes. And a lot of people come and go throughout the next couple of weeks. Doctors and therapists and child services and lawyers and all of their faces begin to blend together in a dizzying swirl and Raph has a hard time focusing on anyone who isn’t Mikey. But the man stays the same. His face stays intact, and he follows them wherever they go. And then suddenly Raph and Mikey are allowed to go home with the man, and he tells them how he’s their dad. And how he didn’t know they existed, but he’s going to make up for all the lost time tenfold. And he promises he’s gonna love them enough for both him and their mama. Which Raph doesn’t think is possible, and so he’s suspicious and untrusting at first, cause no one can love them more than their mama did. But the man tries. Boy, does he try hard anyway. Tries to win every smiling giggle Mikey shoots at him and earn Raph’s faith that he’ll be there for them. That he’ll protect them. That he’s going to love them forever. And over the weeks and months, through every tantrum and screaming fit and long sleepless nights, he proves it, little by little. He stays. And he loves them. And Raph’s faith in the man grows with every bedtime story and piggyback ride and half-cooked pancake with too much syrup, and Raph’s guard slowly goes down until it’s fully surrendered over to this man who is their dad, and it’s never raised again.  Donnie knows the routine. He’s been through it approximately 27 and a half times before, through all the foster care homes. A new family takes him in. He messes up something. The new family gives him back. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. He’s been here before. He knows this isn’t going to last long, despite all the promises the man with the thick accent says. And Donnie doesn’t really register that this man was his biological father. He doesn’t really care to, to be honest. What was the point? His own biological mother had willingly gotten rid of him, Donnie’s snuck a peek at his record, he knew it all. So what if this man was his dad. That didn’t mean anything. He was gonna get tired of Donnie the same way all the other parents did. Tired of the constant questions. Tired of the broken appliances and half baked reasons why he took them apart in the first place, because apparently “I wanted to see how they worked” wasn’t a good enough answer. And Donnie was three years old and smarter than anyone ever gave him credit for and you know what? He was tired of it too. Tired of getting his hopes of a family finally understanding and accepting him. Tired of wanting a family who would love him back. Tired of getting his heart broken time and time again. So he wasn’t going to get his heart broken this time. He wasn’t going to accept anything of this man, with two boys already that shared Donnie’s eyes, and he wasn’t going to let himself be the fool again. And as the weeks went by, this cold shoulder game he was playing was getting harder and harder to keep, because dangit, this man really did try everything to prove that he was the real deal. The forever family. And Donnie’s new ��brothers’ were always bright-eyed and curious about everything Donnie did and said, and actually wanted to play his weird word games and puzzles and wanted to spend time with him, and Donnie felt something short circuit in his brain because he wasn’t used to this feeling in his chest. This warm and light feeling. Something must be overheating in whatever engine was running inside of Donnie’s chest, and Donnie didn’t have a clue how to fix it. He also didn’t know if he wanted to fix it. But of course, it didn’t matter anyway. Because Donnie messed up. It was bound to happen eventually, Donnie got to brazen with how comfortable he was getting in the large house, and when he was running in the hallways, chasing after Raph in an impromptu game of tag, he accidentally slipped and knocked into the t.v stand, sending it straight to the floor where it broke into a hundred different pieces of glass and tiny wired parts. Donnie was mortified, knowing this would definitely send him back, and he got on his hands and knees and tried to collect the parts and put it back together but there was no time. The man that Donnie was half tempted to call dad half the time was already in the room, searching for the source of the loud crash and when his eyes finally landed on Donnie and the broken t.v behind him, Donnie couldn’t help but burst into tears. And he tried to explain, tried to apologize and he promised he’d fix it, he promised, he’d fix it up brand new and then the man wouldn’t have to send Donnie back. He’d be good. He’d fix this. He promised. Just please don’t send him back. And Donnie didn’t see the way the man’s body flinched at Donnie’s sobbed confession, and didn’t see the man lurch from where he was standing to pick Donnie up and hold him in a tight embrace saying all kinds of things that didn’t make sense to Donnie. Because the man was supposed to be angry. Angry like all the other parents eventually were. Angry and disappointed and tired, not... well... whatever this was. Which was holding him close, and running shaking hands through his hair and rubbing circles into his back and saying “Are you ok? Did you get hurt anywhere? Did you touch the glass? Shhh, shhhh, it’s ok buddy, breathe, you’re ok. You’re not in trouble. You don’t have to fix anything. It’s just a t.v. As long as you’re unhurt, then it’s ok. You’re ok, sweetheart. I got you.” And Donnie could feel the man press kisses into Donnie’s hairline that made the 3-year-old cry even harder, and press his face farther into his dad’s shirt as he clung to him for dear life. Because it’s never been just ‘ok’ before. Never. And for the first time, Donnie was starting to learn that with this family, with this man, being ‘ok’ might just work out after all.

When Leo meets Yoshi for the first time, it’s with a heart already filled to the brim with excitement and acceptance as he fully lets him into his life. Because Leo’s 3, and doesn’t know where he came from like most of the other kids in the halfway home. All he knows is that he’s always lived in this cramped house, sharing a room with a broken AC unit with 4 other boys around his age that just loved picking on Leo because of how small he was and how his skin was two different colors. He’s used to the house, and strict rules about eating and playtime, and the mean older kids that come and go while Leo always stays. He doesn’t want to be used to it, but he is, and his lonely daydreams and nights wishing upon all the stars in the sky are filled with thoughts about a life where he gets to leave this place. Dreams about a mom and dad or even a cool uncle or caring grandparents or literally anyone, coming and rescuing him and taking him far away from this place. Dreams about finding a home, with someone there calling him theirs. Belonging to someone, and having someone belong to him too. And then on a dusty and warm afternoon, that very person showed up, and Leo smiles at him hard enough to hurt his face. And he was looking for Leo, Leo specifically, not someone around Leo’s age or who looked like Leo, but actually Leo. And the man wanted Leo. Wanted him like no one had ever wanted him before. And wanted to take him home and call Leo his forever and Leo would have thought he was still dreaming if he hadn’t kept pinching himself the entire 6-hour flight to New York. And not only did Leo get a dad, but he got 3 brothers as well! 3 brothers, who all looked different than Leo but shared his brown eyes all the same, and didn’t mind that Leo talked a lot or made a lot of jokes and didn’t bully him for being or looking ‘weird’ like the other boys he grew up with did. And even though dad says that Leo’s his, and Raph and Donnie and Mikey want to hang around and play with him, Leo still finds himself pinching himself every night just in case. Because this is almost too good to be a dream. It couldn’t be real, right? Did Leo deserve this? Was it really his to have? To call his own? Was a kid like him, who grew up with nothing, who grew up as a nothing, allowed to have everything, and be somebody worth keeping around? Leo wasn’t sure, but if this was a dream, it was the best one he’d ever had, and he hopes he doesn’t wake up from it anytime soon.

[millkyyo]

Obey Me! 𑁍 Songs

Prompt: Demon brothers as Melanie Martinez’s songs Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor

A/N: No hate please! This is just my personal opinion and how I interpret them to the songs and the song’s meaning. Also spoilers from Lesson 16 mostly in Belphegor’s part!

Lucifer

Lucifer would be ‘Show and Tell’ from K-12. Honestly, the lyrics itself kinda tells and I feel like Lucifer is forced to put on a good image to not tarnish Diavolo’s reputation. “Cause I’m over here working my ass off.” I also have a feeling through this lyric, students in RAD makes bad assumptions about Lucifer although he’s just working to grant Diavolo’s request and as Vice President. So, like, he probably has bad rumours spread out about him while he’s just working his ass off and maintaining a good appearance.

Mammon

Mammon would be ‘Piggyback’. It’s pretty obvious, yes? We all know the brothers love to bully this baby boy of ours. “I’m so tired of playing piggyback, ooh.” I feel like he’s tired of getting bullied by his brothers although he’s trying his best to show that he’s got something to show his skills off. He probably listens to the song to get his mood back eyesclosed. Finally, if y’all remember about the Maddi thingy yeah that lil witchy gal. I feel like Mammon is always stuck in toxic relations that’s why he’s like tired and the only way he can show him being him is whenever he’s around MC.

Leviathan

Leviathan would be ‘Lunchbox Friends’ from K-12. I mean, we all know he is the leader of anti-social social club. Levi probably wishes for like a friend who would stay by his side for lifetime and someone who appreciates his interest because he just lonely man. “Come to my house, let's die together. Friendship that will last forever, no” Levi wants a friendship that is long-lasting and meaningful  like he may have online friends or even acquaintances but like he just want someone to be with him whenever he needs someone the most.

Satan

Satan would be ‘Alphabet Boy’ from Crybaby. We probably know the fact he is well-aware that he’s above average than other demons in terms of intellect. “You won the spelling bee now, but are you smarter than me now?” But I think like I could say Satan can be a bit immature, in my opinion, because he can’t control his anger and it just flows through him. He’s quick to succumb to his sin and I feel like that’s his downfall. No matter how superior or smart he is, deep down he can’t control his bubbling emotions.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus would be ‘Pacify Her’ from Crybaby. The thing in the official video probably happened to him no shit please we must protect this lovely man. I can say that he knows how to treat a gal right. If he will steal a girl from their man who’s not good to them, he would do it fingersnap right away. I have a small headcanon where Asmo doesn’t like seeing lovers suffer? Like especially if he knows the other partner doesn’t love the partner back. That being said, Asmo deserves more love and appreciation.

Beelzebub

Beelzebub would be ‘Crybaby’ from Crybaby. Look he maybe tough physically, but he has a soft heart. “They call you cry baby, cry baby. But you don't fucking care” We also know that Beel is naive and childish and his only wish is to live in peace with his siblings. So when he’s being emotional he doesn’t care what others think because he just wants the best and that being emotional is not somethign wrong. That being said, baby boy here deserves to be protect because this teddy bear deserves reassurance and love. I think if he’d have a breakdown, he’ll do it infront of MC only because he trust them fully.

Belphegor

Belphegor would be ‘Detention’ from K-12. Totally isn’t a joke because we all know how Lucifer kept Belphegor in attic jail hehe. “I'm physically exhausted Tired of my knuckles beating” I bet Belphie was like ‘What was my fault I just didn’t like humans cuz they’re the one who is responsible for the death of my lil sis” in like the attic because like he had rights to hate humans because it ended up taking his sister’s time and even soul to protect them. Also, this song totally isn’t a ref to him in the attic for half of the story, and a headcanon of mines that he sleeps to get his loneliness and exhaustion away.

[bumblebee-moreno]

I just wanna make a quick post about interacting with kids, because people on here seem to not know how kids work. (quick note before I start though: this is all spoken from my experience in working with kids--I do not have children of my own. I volunteer every year at an elementary school, working closely with younger kids who are struggling with learning certain subjects but don’t necessarily qualify for special ed (COVID has put a pause on this but I fully intent to resume as soon as it is safe to do so.) I am also a facilitator for a support group through a nonprofit--I’m part of the team in charge of facilitating the middle school group (ages 11/12-14). I didn’t really want to make this post because a lot of people get offended by these viewpoints, but the more I observe how kids are being treated by the adults in their life, the more I realise I need to say something.)

***I encourage you to reblog and add your own thoughts: I want to have an open discussion about this. 

Ok, first of all: Kids are a LOT smarter than you think they are. 

The problem is, they don’t know how to communicate and apply this yet. Calling them dumb and treating them as if they have nothing to offer conversations doesn’t support their development at all; in fact, it is one of the easiest ways to discourage a kid. This doesn’t mean turn off your filter and talk to kids the same way you’d talk to your friends. It just means, genuinely listen to their perspective and allow them to be part of intelligent conversations. Kids can’t learn responsible, mature ways to communicate if you don’t give them the opportunity to try it. 

One city in Colorado did a project that got kids involved in city development. In fact, this project was so successful that they are still continuing it! The classroom I volunteer in did a project inspired by this a few years ago. The first grade classroom was tasked with creating a city that could be applicable to real life. Their only restrictions were that they had to include four things: recreation, housing, jobs, and education. How they did that and what else they included was up to them. They were allowed to be as creative as they’d like. 

The teacher, other volunteer and I expected the city they made to be something out of a fantasy world. What we saw, though, was absolutely incredible. 

The kids created a detailed park complete with a pond for wildlife, a pool for recreation, walking trails, parking, wheelchair ramps, disability accessible bathrooms, community gardens, playgrounds designed specifically for younger kids, and another for older ones. They included apartment buildings and bus stations. They added traffic lights to intersections and lowered speed limits nearby their school. They made several large public schools, as well as a college (which they insisted, unprompted, was low-income accessible. They made a hospital and a fire station. 

Their instructions were only to create a city with only four boxes to check. They weren’t required to do any more than build the layout of it. But when we asked them to give us a tour of their city, they not only told us what each building was: they described laws that protected minorities. They told us about what roles people would have in their city, including the roles of kids.

No, it wasn’t to the great detail and precision that an adult could. Yes, there were many holes in their creation that would cause problems in the real world. They obviously weren’t thinking in terms of budget or government restrictions. But in a way, that made their ideas so much better. They weren’t tied down by the expectations adults had. They added features that we’ve been fighting for for years, such as basic accessibility, both physical and financial (such as their insistence about free college education).

Kids’ lack of experience doesn’t make them stupid. In fact, I believe it’s part of what makes them so smart. They observe the world around them and aren’t seeing things in terms of criticism and limits. They see something that needs to change, and they aren’t afraid to come up with creative ideas to make that change.

Talking at kids doesn’t do shit.

Telling a kid to do something or not to do it is probably the quickest way to encourage them to do the exact opposite.

But you know what I’ve found works almost every time? TWO WAY CONVERSATIONS!

Saying “don’t talk to people like that” is a very easy way to not change behaviour. Rather, help them understand why they shouldn’t talk a certain way. 

When working with young children, I usually start off with saying “When you said [x], my feelings were hurt because...” And then they usually figure it out for themselves that they said the wrong thing. 

This works so much better because:

1) the kid doesn’t get defensive. When you scold them for misbehaving, they quickly learn to guard themselves from that. When you can calmly explain to them what was wrong about that situation, they’re less likely to try to protect themselves from your words: because they won’t need to.

2) They learn exactly what was wrong about what they said. When you just tell them they’re wrong but refuse to talk to them about how or why they did something hurtful, they can’t always take it the right way. When a kid says “you look dirty” and you tell them that’s rude, they don’t understand why. In their heads, that may have been them trying to say you have mud smeared on your pants, or you have food spilled on your shirt: they may have just been trying to help you. When you explain to them exactly what about that statement was hurtful, and perhaps offer a kinder way to say it, they’ll recognise their mistake much quicker and remember it better.

3) They’ll learn how to express their own feelings in a much more healthy way. Kids learn from their surroundings. When you snap at them for making a mistake, you teach them to do the same. Then, later on down the road, you may hurt their feelings, and they may lash out at you. When you teach them to communicate more openly, they’ll learn how to address their problems in a productive manner.

4) It gives them the opportunity to problem solve. When you say “this hurt because” instead of “you’re wrong”, it allows them to come to the conclusion that they made a mistake on their own. It’s basically the child-equivalent of providing someone with sources to try to disprove them. Except when it’s taught from a young age, they’ll learn to accept the criticism instead of attack it.

On a related note, when you see a problem coming up repeatedly, or a child is growing upset about something: Share your feelings about the situation, ask them to share theirs, and then help them come up with solutions.  

Mistakes are healthy

Stopping a young person from making a mistake isn’t always helpful. Obviously, if they’re about to hurt themselves or others, stop them. But if it’s a little mistake, let them make it. And then talk to them about it. Help them come up with ways to first fix this mistake and then to avoid making the mistake again in the future.

It conveys the message of “you’re human and mistakes are normal: I’m here for you.” instead of the message of “You can’t do anything right, just let me do it for you.”

You can’t learn and grow as a person if you’re never allowed to put yourself out there and make mistakes. Give young people the chance to try things themselves: but make it clear you’re here for them when they need support. 

Listen to them.

This piggybacks off of a lot of what I said above, but listening to kids is important. 

When a teenager says they need help, it’s far more effective to ask them how you can help them than it is to tell them why they’re struggling and then refuse to help them solve it. I can’t tell you how many kids I’ve had reach out to me saying they feel alone because of this. They’ll come to me saying that they went to their parent to say they feel depressed (or even are on the brink of hurting themselves in some way), only to be met with “well you should think about how I feel” or “you’re just being dramatic.”

When a kid says something hurt them, LISTEN TO THEM. Kids’ feelings are every bit as complex as those of an adult. You don’t turn 18 and suddenly have a real brain with real emotions. You have that your whole life; humanity doesn’t come with age. experience based decisions do.

And, spoiler alert: kids know themselves better than you do. No, this doesn’t mean when your 11 year old refuses to eat vegetables or brush their teeth, you can shrug and say “well they know themselves best”. This means when they try to share how they’re feeling (ESPECIALLY when they’re sharing a feeling about something you did), listen to them and try to compromise when it’s reasonable to do so. If you hurt their feelings--apologise. If they feel like they deserve more freedom, offer up ideas for how they can earn your trust. 

TL;DR: Kids aren’t brainless creatures you can ignore and wonder why they aren’t becoming functional adults. They don’t lack intelligence: they lack a method to communicate that intelligence

Treating kids like adults (in an age-appropriate way) gives them the opportunity to learn the skills needed to act like adults when they’re thrown into the real world. You can’t treat them like they’re dumb their whole life and then ask why they’re not succeeding.

[blightarts]

Blades of Order & Chaos

Chapter Title: 8 - Rival

Previous Chapter: Lion VS Bear

Word Count: 5239

Disclaimer: All rights belong to Pixelberry. This is my version for the upcoming sequel of Blades of Light & Shadow. I am not claiming this to be the canon story of the book. This is only written to increase the hype for the actual sequel.

MC/Pairing: Kite (Blue Elf Male MC) / Kite x Nia

Taglist: @princessstellaris​ @mechaspirit​ @brightningstar​ @cal-north​ @lxdy-starfury​ @tyrils-star​ @imturaxamara​ @kelseaaa​

In the middle of the Vishanti Kingdom market square, Kade comes face to face with the former prince of Morella, Aerin Valleros. While Threep glares along with Kade, Kite and Bella are left confused.

Kite: Kade, is this person a danger to us?

Aerin scoffs.

Aerin: I’m hurt, Kite. After a year of not seeing each other, you’ve forgotten all about me?

Kade: Kite lost his memories.

The prince raises his eyebrow.

Aerin: Oh? That’s quite unfortunate.

Bella steps up.

Bella: Hold on. Is there some romantic tension that I’m not gettin’ here?

Threep: This young man is Aerin Valleros, prince of Morella, who betrayed his people and aided the Shadow Court in their return.

Bella tenses up upon hearing the words, “Shadow Court”, but composes herself before walking up to Aerin and grabbing his collar.

Bella: So, this li’l fella is a problem to you guys then? Should we throw him off the mountain?

Aerin chuckles and sarcastically raises his hands in defeat.

Aerin: Easy, easy. I’m not even showing any hostility towards any of you… yet.

Kade: What are you doing here? How’d you even survive the Empire’s attack on Whitetower, let alone escaped your prison cell? Did they let you out and got you a spot in their ranks?

Aerin: What’s in it for me if I tell you?

Bella: We don’t let gravity decide your fate.

Aerin rolls his eyes and shrugs.

Aerin: Alright, fair enough.

Bella lets go of Aerin as he dusts himself off.

Aerin: A year ago, after you lot had your first encounter with that coward, Laundsellyn, he took me from my cell and dragged me into the Shadow Realm.

The prince then turns around for a stroll, signaling the party to follow him.

Aerin: After that, I thought I was done serving jail time, but no, they threw me into another cell for my failures in defeating you.

Kade: Well, it serves you right for joining the wrong side.

Aerin ignores Kade’s rude comment.

Aerin: I stayed in that cell for about three months and during that time, I’ve heard from one of the Shadow Guards that once served under me, mocking me and laughing about the news that Laundsellyn killed my father.

Kite notices Aerin clenching his fists in anger.

Aerin: Upon hearing my father’s name, visions began to clutter my mind, visions of the past that I cannot even recall, visions of me… and my brother, Baldur… actually getting along during our childhood…

Threep: I thought you two were at odds with each other until you plunged the Blade of Shadows unto him.

Aerin: That’s what I thought as well. For years, I believed that my brother had always been a condescending jerk who treats people who are beneath him as insects. But no, my memories proved that to be wrong as when we were young, he offered me to be his right-hand man, his closest advisor once he becomes king.

Kade: So, what you’re saying is that the Dreadlord somehow manipulated your memories, as well as Baldur’s in order to tear yourselves apart and use one of you as a puppet?

As the party nears the kingdom’s gates, Aerin stops walking.

Aerin: I don’t know. That’s what I intend to find out.

The prince moves forward once more.

Aerin: I spent my three months in solitary, recalling my memories and struggling from countless headaches, but I could not make any progress whatsoever. And then… he came along, Ignis…

Shivers run up everyone’s spines while Aerin clutches his chest.

Aerin: He visited my cell and “offered” me to join his ranks in exchange for my freedom.

Kade: Well, seeing you here right now means that you’ve obviously said yes.

Aerin turns to Kade with rage.

Aerin: I was not even able to give an answer!

Kade flinches as Kite gets between him and Aerin. Citizens begin to stare at the party.

Aerin: I was dragged out of my cell before that accursed devil casted a spell…

Aerin then tears open his shirt, revealing a Nerada Stone still etched onto its chest while small purple sparks surge through it.

Aerin: …on this damned thing, making sure that I get in line and follow the orders of the elf that killed my father, else I get electrocuted to death!

The prince then grips his hair as he starts to lose it.

Aerin: After that I was worked to the bone, slaughtering innocent people who refused to bend to the Empire and conquering peaceful lands across Morella, all while suffering from the headaches caused by those visions and the shocking pain that this stupid stone keeps bringing unto me!

Aerin then grabs Kite by the collar. Bella grabs onto one of Aerin’s arms.

Bella: Hey! No bright ideas, royal boy!

Aerin: How do you even live while you’re suffering like this, Kite?! After everything you’ve been through, being betrayed, being separated from those you love, being beaten to a pulp, and having your memories lost! How are you still moving forward?!

Kite is speechless while Aerin keeps rambling in tears.

Aerin: I’ve thrown it all away… I’ve surrendered myself to darkness… I’ve betrayed the people who once saw me as their friend… I’ve let my own father die under the hands of the elf I now work for… I’ve killed my own brother all because a dark entity severed our bonds and manipulated our memories…

Threep leans in on Kite’s ears and whispers.

Threep: We should leave quickly. Everyone has their eyes on us.

Aerin: The nesper is right.

Aerin sniffs and wipes his tears before letting Kite go.

Aerin: This should not be settled by just words.

He turns away.

Aerin: Meet me outside of town.

Aerin then walks off while buttoning up his shirt. The crowd avert their eyes from the group as the tension dies down.

Bella: Jeez, that was one helluva ride.

Kade: We can’t let him get away.

Threep: I believe that he wants to settle things with Kite through combat.

Kite watches as Aerin disappears into the crowd.

Kite: I’ll do it.

The party look at Kite with surprise.

Kade: What?! You do know it’s a trap!

Bella: Yeah, he’s with the bad guys, whether he likes it or not.

Kite: I don’t care. I can tell from how Aerin looked at me earlier. It’s like… he’s asking someone to save him.

Kite runs ahead to chase after Aerin while the party hesitates for a second before following suit. Threep gets on Kite’s shoulder.

Threep: I hope you know what you’re doing.

Kite: I am. You guys have to trust me.

Minutes later, in the outskirts of the Vishanti Kingdom, Aerin sits on the snow, gazing at the sky. His head begins to pain as a vision flashes in his eyes.

Aerin: Tch! Not again!

In his vision, he sees his young self being bullied by three kids in the town square of Whitetower.

Bully 1: Go back to your lush life in the castle, Valleros!

Bully 2: Yeah, no one wants you here!

Bully 3: Weakling!

Suddenly, Baldur appears, pushing the bullies away, and gets in between them and Aerin while holding a stick.

Baldur: Hey! Get away from my brother! He may be not as strong as any of us here, but he is sure as heck smarter than the three of you combined!

The bullies approach Baldur, cracking their knuckles.

Bully 1: Now, you’re asking for it, Baldur.

Baldur turns to Aerin.

Past Baldur: Stand up, Aerin. We can take them on together.

Past Aerin: O-Okay…

Aerin stands up and shyly raises his hands in self-defense.

The vision fast-forwards, minutes after the two brothers faced off against the bullies. They have a few bruises scattered around them, but they were victorious in the fight. Baldur is giving Aerin a piggyback ride.

Past Baldur: Good job handling yourself out there.

Past Aerin: You did most of the work…

Past Baldur: Nonsense. It was smart of you to poke their eyes, giving me time to whoop their butts. I’m proud of you.

Baldur grins while Aerin becomes flustered.

Past Aerin: T-Thank you…

The vision ends as Aerin is snapped back to reality and his headache fades away.

Aerin: How…? Where did it all go wrong…?

The prince turns around to see Kite and his friends standing behind him.

Aerin: You’re here.

He stands up and cracks his knuckles.

Kite: I’m guessing you wanna settle this in a fight?

Aerin: Yeah. Once I defeat you, the Hero chosen to defeat the Empire, right here, I will go back to Shadow Realm and claim vengeance!

Aerin puts his hand forward, materializing a polearm surging with Shadow magic. Kade grits his teeth.

Kade: A new weapon from Ignis, I presume?

Aerin: More or less. It’s called the Blackcliff Polearm.

Kade, Bella and Threep steps back.

Kade: Is it really okay for us to let this fight happen while not worrying about an avalanche?

Bella: It’s alright. The Vishanti placed wards around the mountain to prevent avalanches from occurring, guaranteeing the safety of their kingdom.

Threep: That’s a relief.

Kite unsheathes the Mirror Claymore, piquing the interest of Aerin.

Aerin: So, that’s the Mirror Claymore of the Vishanti. Quite the Sacred Treasure.

Aerin begins the fight by charging towards Kite and performs a few swings and thrusts with the Blackcliff Polearm, but the latter uses his elven senses to avoid all of them.

Aerin: Tch! Alright, how about this?!

Aerin leaps up and attempts to plunge the polearm on Kite, but again, the latter hops back, evading the attack.

Aerin: Got you now!

Aerin lets go of the polearm while it is planted on the ground before kicking it.

The polearm spins vertically towards Kite who blocks it with the Mirror Claymore.

Kite: Damn!

As the polearm begins to slow down in spinning, Aerin suddenly lunges forward and grabs it, surprising Kite.

Kite: What the—

Aerin then uses Shadow magic, transforming himself into a purple bolt of lightning, before traveling upwards. Kite and the party look up in awe.

Kade: What the hell is that?!

Threep: He has become stronger since we last saw him!

Three duplicates of the Blackcliff polearm rain down from the sky and plant themselves around Kite. Sparks then begin to appear on their tips. Kite attempts to block the incoming attack with the Mirror Claymore, but Aerin proves to be quicker as his lightning form comes crashing down onto the duplicate polearms acting as lightning rods. Kite gets electrocuted and hurled from the point of the attack, where Aerin is seen crouching down and holding his weapon, plunged onto the ground.

Bella: Sheesh, remind me not to mess with him when he’s this worked up.

Kite gets up while still recovering from Aerin’s attack. The prince stands up and pulls out his weapon from the ground, boasting about his successful attack.

Aerin: How was that?!

Kite: Tch! Not bad.

Kite gets up and dusts off his shoulder.

Kade: Wait, why was the Mirror Claymore not able to absorb the magic attack?

Threep: I believe that Kite was expecting Aerin to strike from above, even though there were duplicates of the polearm around him. However, when Aerin dropped and struck Kite’s guard, it wasn’t a magical attack, it was instead a physical attack. So, it didn’t count to the magic absorption power of the Claymore.

Bella: Then what caused the electric surge?

Threep: Electricity ran from the tip of Aerin’s weapon towards its duplicates while avoiding the Mirror Claymore, overloading them with magical energy to the point where they would explode.

Kade: That was… actually clever.

Bella: He managed to bypass the insane power of the Mirror Claymore.

Aerin rushes towards Kite once more, but the latter stays composed.

Kite: Aerin, you’re not the only one that has grown.

Kite raises the Mirror Claymore and slams it on the ground in front of him, scattering the snow and obscuring himself from Aerin’s sights. The elf then quickly casts a spell.

Kite: Chaos Magic: Moonlight Circle – Mirror Mirage.

Aerin: You can’t hide from me!

Aerin slashes the thin snow wall between him and Kite in half. As the snow parts, the prince comes face to face with multiple duplicates of his opponent, each holding the Bow of Gal’dariel in hand.

Aerin: Wha—

Kade: He used Mirror Mirage!

Threep: An excellent strategy. This should buy the real Kite some time to strike back.

Aerin stops in his tracks.

Aerin: So, this is the spell you used to escape the clutches of the Empire.

Kite and his duplicates draw their bows and arrows while aiming at Aerin.

Aerin: I know that most of those arrows are not real, but one of them can still pierce my body.

The arrows are let loose as they fly towards their target.

Aerin: So, as long as I find the real you…

Aerin does a forward flip, avoiding all the arrows, before slamming his polearm on the ground, unleashing arcs of lightning towards Kite and his duplicates. The arcs pierce through each duplicate as, one by one, they fade from existence, however, as the last duplicate fades away, the real Kite is nowhere to be seen.

Aerin: What?! Then… where is he?!

Aerin looks around, searching for the real Kite, when suddenly, the snow beneath him begins to move. He looks down.

Aerin: Can it be…?

Kite leaps up from under the snow, equipping the Gauntlet of Pain, and sucker punches Aerin, launching him far away.

Bella: Oof, that’s gotta hurt!

Aerin gets on his feet and wipes off the blood, dripping from his lips.

Aerin: But still not enough to make me concede.

He rushes to Kite, who unsheathes the Mirror Claymore.

Aerin: I will...!

Kite swings the Claymore like a baseball bat, but Aerin leaps to avoid it, ready to plunge his polearm.

Kite: Damn!

Aerin: …surpass you!!

Kite swiftly grabs the sharp end of the polearm using the Gauntlet of Pain, stopping Aerin’s attack, before hurling it behind him. Aerin ends up plunging his weapon on the snow.

Aerin: Tch!

He flips away, giving himself some distance from Kite. The two stare down at each other, waiting to strike.

Aerin: Why don’t we both bring out everything we’ve got?

Kite deeply inhales before casting Lion’s Pride, raising his physical attributes. Meanwhile, Aerin channels his Shadow magic, causing purple electricity to surge throughout his body, increasing his speed and agility. Bella steps in front of Kade and Threep.

Bella: We gotta stay back. When their attacks clash, it could be dangerous for us.

The party steps back a few feet and as soon as they did, Kite and Aerin charge at each other. They both swing their weapons, causing a strong shockwave upon collision. The two keep clashing, trading minimal blows and parrying each other’s attacks. While Aerin has the speed to strike before Kite could defend himself, the latter has enough endurance to not flinch from the attack and strike back.

Aerin leaps up, transforming into a bolt of purple lightning once more. This time, more than three duplicates of his polearm drop from the sky and surround Kite.

Kite: Tch!

Kite hops back, trying to get out of the field of polearms, but Aerin quickly descends from the sky, releasing magical energy to the polearms, causing them to burst with electricity before Kite could escape the area of effect.

Aerin: I’m impressed that you were able to survive that.

The light from the electrical surge fades, revealing Kite shielding himself with the Mirror Claymore as it is filled with magical energy that came from Aerin’s attack. However, the elf is left with burns across his body.

Kade: Kite!

Unconcerned with his own well-being, Kite swings his weapon, unleashing a magical projectile, shaped like a crescent and filled with Shadow Magic, towards Aerin.

Bella: Again, with that recklessness. Has he always been like this?

Threep: Sadly, yes, but it’s what got him this far.

Aerin imbues his polearm with Shadow Magic and uses it to cut the crescent in half, avoiding the attack, but as the crescent parts, Kite comes up right in front of Aerin, catching him by surprise.

Aerin: When did you…?!

Aerin then notices Kite conjuring a ball of Cleansing Fire from his hand. Kite swings his hand down, attempting to slam the fireball onto Aerin’s head, but the latter leaps back, evading the attack.

Aerin: It takes a lot more than a ball of fire to knock me down, Kite.

Kite looks at Aerin with a smirk.

Kite; What makes you think that it was going for you?

Aerin: Huh?

Kite slams the fireball onto the Mirror Claymore as it absorbs the magical energy, imbuing it with flames. He then charges forward while Aerin is still in mid-air, in the midst of avoiding the fireball.

Aerin’s Thoughts: Shit! I can’t dodge it! I have to block it!

Aerin holds his polearm up to block the incoming attack, but…

CLANG!!

…Kite disarms Aerin and sends the Blackcliff Polearm flying through the air, startling the latter.

Aerin: No!

The party starts cheering.

Kade: He did it!

Threep: Kite has the advantage now!

Bella: Nice!

As Aerin lands on the snow, Kite kicks his leg, forcing him to kneel in pain.

Aerin: Aah!!

Kite: Aerin… if you let only your emotions fuel your false resolve…

The elf then pulls his weapon back, ready to swing it.

Kite: …then you do not deserve to win this fight.

Aerin stares in disbelief before slowly lowering his head in defeat, accepting his demise.

Kade: Wait… is he gonna…?

Kite grips the hilt of the Mirror Claymore tight before swinging rapidly, aiming for Aerin’s neck, as if he’s trying to behead him.

Threep: Kite!

Fortunately, Kite stops short, with the blade of the Mirror Claymore almost touching Aerin’s neck. The prince’s heart momentarily pauses as he just looks at Kite, with an expression of pity on his face.

Aerin: W… Why’d you stop…?

Kite sheathes the Mirror Claymore before turning away and rejoining his friends. Aerin grits his teeth and stands in anger.

Aerin: Hey! Don’t walk away from me, Kite! Why didn’t you kill me?!

Kite stops in his tracks.

Kite: Because I cannot kill a man who is just asking for a death wish.

Aerin: What do you mean…?

Kite turns to Aerin, who was speechless.

Kite: Defeating me or the Empire? Can you even do that? Or are you just looking for an excuse to get yourself killed to end your suffering, even though it doesn’t work that way? You weren’t even giving your all during our fight.

Aerin: I…

Aerin trembles, slowly realizing how correct Kite is.

Kite: The fact that you can’t even take it upon yourself to end your own life and instead relying on others to do it, means that there’s still a part of you that wants to live on.

Kite turns back to his friends.

Kite: Once you’ve found your real self, the Aerin before the Empire of Ash, before the Shadow Court, before all of this, then come find me.

Kite continues to walk towards his friends.

Kite: I’ll be sure to fight you again… to settle this properly.

The party gathers around Kite, making sure he’s okay, while they all walk away from Aerin.

Kade: Are you hurt?

Kite: I’m fine.

Threep: Did you really intend to kill him?

Kite: I wasn’t trying to.

Bella: Are you sure you wanna face him again?

Kite: As much as I need to until he’s saved.

As the party disappears from Aerin’s sights, he grabs his weapon, before walking the other direction and wandering to himself.

Aerin: My… real self…

As the party and Aerin part ways, Laundsellyn watches from the sky, laying down on a hovering Blade of Shadows.

Sir Laundsellyn: Hehe, that was fun.

He squints and smirks at the party.

Sir Laundsellyn: Now… where could that Priestess be?

————— END OF CHAPTER —————

[calumbringbackthewatermelonshirt]

Hiraeth (C.H.) Part 2

FIND PART 1 HERE

a/n: I think after this I’m probably going to try and update once a week to keep things consistent! please enjoy and lmk what y'all think!! also feel free to send me any questions!

“I believe you owe me something.” You had set your tray at your spot at the usual table. The time had come. Your cravings had taken over. The need for some awful, over sugared coffee was consuming your every thought. Except for the ones about Cal. But coffee. Coffee was something you could have, and soon at that.

“And what would that be?” Classic Ashton. Playing dumb. You were relentless, though. Especially when he had something you so desperately wanted.

“We both know. A ride into town. I’m thinking Dunkin first, then target, then chipotle for a quick bite, then more Dunkin.” You had been ticking off your town to-do list on your fingers as you went, wearing a smile very similar to the Sierra wore when she was up to something.

“As much as I would love to drag your sorry ass around the entire town, I’m busy tonight.” You frowned, knowing that if you didn’t go tonight that you might very well die from withdrawal. That and you’d have to wait another week and a half before your schedules aligned enough again to make the trip.

“Fuck.” You dropped your feet from the table and sighed, running a hand through your hair and screwing up the part in it. It would be fine, you’d manage. You’d run out of toothpaste and eyeliner, but you’d live.

“However, my plans do not involve my car, so I’ve arranged to have someone take you in my place.” You perked up again. Even though you didn’t appreciate being toyed with, you could appreciate the dramatics of it. After all, it was fun when you were on the other side of it.

“Hell yeah! Is it Crystal? She’s cool.” You pumped your fist, practically buzzing with excitement. Even better. You could already picture yourself and Crystal screaming the lyrics to the High School Musical soundtrack together.

“Nope. Hood.” Ashton knew he piqued your interest when he saw your eyebrows shoot up. All a part of Sierra’s plan of course. The elusive Hood, who’s name you still did not know. You’d finally be able to meet the most mysterious man on campus.

“Even better. I get to meet the mysterious ‘Hood.’” You put air quotes around his name. At this point, you weren't even sure he was a real person.

“There is a bit of a hitch. With Hood comes four irresponsible teens.” Ashton winked at you, knowing exactly what he was doing. He had to give Sierra her credit where it was due. This plan was brilliant. Instead of one, Hood would now be operating with four wingmen, each one more bold than the last. Ashton could almost picture the dumbfounded look on Hood’s face when they started to hint at their end goal.

“Fine by me. As long as I get my coffee.” You stood and leaned in closer to Ashton, feeling his breath on your face. It was your hand slipped into his pocket, a twenty finding its way into your sleeve and his keys dangling between your fingers. You dangeled them from your fingers, still grinning at Ashton as you backed away and shot off a text to the members of your group.

….

It took about twenty minutes of scrolling on your phone until you finally heard footsteps and the lively, somewhat loud chatter that surrounded your little group approaching.

Your fingers flying, you shot off one last text and looked up.

Only to be met with a very familiar pair of dark brown eyes.

Elevator guy?

A million questions ricocheted in your brain. What was ele- Cal doing here? With your gaggle of friends?And why was he carrying Luke on his back piggyback style?

You froze, head cocked and eyebrow raised. Cal strongly resembled a deer in headlights at this moment, having missed a step when he noticed it was you leaning against the car. Luke didn’t notice; instead, he took two fistfulls of Cal’s hair, as if trying to control him that way, like Remy and Linguini in Ratatouille.

Michael was the first to catch on to the tension between the two of you. He head swished back and forth a few times, trying to patch together why both of you had reacted to each other like that. It took a second to click. “Wait, do you two know each other?”

“We’ve met. Briefly.” You winked at Cal and slid your phone into the pocket of your jeans, procuring Ashton’s keys in its place. You jingled them before the group for a second before tossing them over to Cal. Kaykay gave her best attempt to snatch them out of the air, but Cal caught them easily over her head, appearing to still be a little bit stunned by your presence.

“Wait a second. You’ve met?” Sierra was screeching. You and Hood were supposed to meet like this, not however you had met before. This couldn’t be right, one misstep could throw off her whole plan, and she had NOT gone to the lengths of planning your wedding only to have it be for nothing.

“Um, yes. Just for a second, though. In the elevator up to the first bell classes.” Hood dropped Luke from his back unceremoniously. Instead, he studied the keys in his hands, looking again like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. You were starting to wonder why he looked like that every time he saw you.

“So you’re the famous ‘Hood’ I’ve been hearing about.” You grinned and pushed yourself off of the car, crossing your arms. You took a few steps toward him. “I was beginning to doubt you even existed.”

Kaykay snorted and stopped messing with Luke's hair for a second. “You two have met. Obviously he existed.”

“No, no. I met Cal. Hood was a rumor.” Kaykay and Sierra turned and gave each other a look. They seemed to be in agreement that maybe the prior meeting wasn’t so bad.

“Alright, alright. Are we going or not?” Hood sighed and stalked around to the driver’s side, getting into the car before anyone of them could even think of saying anything.

You turned and hopped in the passenger’s side. Only to hear five other people shouting at you.

Apparently, getting in the car was cause for rioting these days.

“Hey, why do you get shotgun?” Kaykay was the first one to say something vaguely coherent. She almost never got shotgun, and she had kind of been hoping that today would be her day.

“Yeah, hey, I want shotgun.” Sierra was next, speaking fast. She was right next to the door, tugging on the handle. But before she could make her first pull, Hood clicked the lock button on his side of the car, effectively shutting all the kids out.

“It’s not too late. We can drive off and leave them now.” Cal? Hood? sighed out his words, leaning forward and putting his head on the steering wheel.

“Oh, come on. You know you love them. It’s obvious. Besides, the only way they’re gonna get me out of this seat is if they kill me first.” You turned to the window and stuck out your tongue at the kids staring at you through the window before putting on your seatbelt.

“Have you met Kaykay?” Hood smirked at you, looked out at the murder written on Kaykay’s face, and then back at you. “That might not be as hard as you think.”

“Believe it or not I’m tougher than I look.” You unlocked the car with the button on your side, but flipped the lock on your door back.

The kids piled into the car, grumbling about being shoved into the back.

“Damn. I wanted up front.” Michael climbed in behind Hood, but not before leaning the seat forward to allow the two youngest to clamber into the back.

“Yeah, yeah. We all wanted shotgun.” Kaykay was behind you, picking at her fingernails, disgruntled. “Can I at least have the AUX?”

“No offense, Kay, but no one wants to listen to death metal.” Sierra wrinkled her nose at the idea of having to headbang and messing up her hairstyle. Her space buns may have looked messy and spiky, but that was a carefully curated look that had taken her a while to perfect.

“I wanna listen to Mozart. I find it calming. You know, statistically, babies who have mozart played to them in the womb come out smarter?” Luke was a big fan of classical music, despite his younger age. He found it versatile, great for both studying and falling asleep to.

“Makes sense. I guess your mom must have played you a lot of Mozart when you were little, huh?” You twisted around in your seat and smiled at Luke for a second, who flushed, but still smiled back. “How about we all choose one song to go on a playlist and we can turn that on shuffle?”

All the children shrugged and nodded, so you called names and collected the songs into one playlist on your phone, playing it through the car stereo a bit louder than was necessary.

“That is the fastest they have ever agreed on anything ever.” Hood looked at you out of the side of his eyes before turning his attention back to the road. “And the fastest solution we’ve ever procured for an argument.”

You shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a natural leader.”

Most of the songs on the playlist ended up being ones you all knew enough to sing along to, asides from the cello melody (Luke) and the heavy metal music (Kaykay).

It took about half an hour and another song draft to reach Dunkin. By the time you got there you were practically vibrating with excitement. Hood kept glancing at you, a small smile at his lips and mirth in his eyes. Apparently, he took great amusement in your love for mediocre coffee.

Instead of attempting to corral all the kids in and out of the restaurant, Hood figured the drive through would be a more time effective option.

Kaykay demanded to order for herself, despite being on the wrong side of the car and in the back seat. Still, Michael rolled down his window obediently, just sighing and leaning back when she unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed into his lap to talk into the speaker.

You went next. You felt bold for no reason today. That was the only explanation for what you did. Mirroring Kaykay, you too unbuckled, leaning over Hood’s lap to rest your weight on the car door.

“I’ll have six shots of espresso, over ice, with a caramel drizzle, please.” You heard a scoff from inside the car, turning to find Kaykay gaping at you.

“That’s enough caffeine to kill a small horse.” Kaykay was a little amazed, and a lot worried. You didn’t even order milk. That was gonna taste like battery acid.

“Are you okay?” Sierra looked absolutely disgusted at the mere thought of your coffee order. Even though she was more of a tea person, Sierra liked her coffee as sweet as her personality.

“I think it sounds good. Can I have one?” Luke barely got the words out before five simultaneous nos were yelled.

“Luke, honey, I’ve only known you for a couple weeks, but even I can tell that you and coffee would not be a good mix.” You took sympathy on the child, who looked downright embarrassed by his chastisement. “How about a hot chocolate instead?”

Luke seemed to perk up by that idea, and when the car pulled up to the window, you wordlessly handed Hood your debit card.

“I have cash with me. How much was my drink?” Michael was the first to ask. You knew it was coming, the onslaughts of ‘let me pay you backs’ and ‘here's the money for my drinks.’ But that wasn’t gonna happen, at least not today.

“This one’s on me.” It was simple enough, but all the kids still looked suspicious. You rolled your eyes, a little offended that you had to explain being nice. “Think of it as a thank you. You know, for taking pity on me and allowing me into your little group.”

They still all looked like you were about to tell them their dog had died.

“Fine. My parents are loaded, I took the RA job cause I wanted my own room, and the way I communicate love is through gifts. Happy?”  You sighed and slurped down half your coffee in one sip.

“Isn’t it almost freezing outside?” Hood was the first to break the somewhat awkward silence. “Are you sure drinking an iced drink was the best choice?”

You grinned slowly. “It’s time I told you my life motto. If you can’t handle a cold drink during the winter, your bloodline is weak.”

Seeing as you had the only iced drink in the car, this caused a bit of an uproar.

…

“Hey.” Cal had turned down the music in the car. Aside from Kaykay, who had her headphones in, you and Cal were the only two people awake. So when he broke the silence on the ride back to campus, it startled you just a touch.

“Hey yourself.”

“I, um, I had fun today. It was nice to see you again.” You made a mental note about Cal: he reverted to CEO mode when he got nervous. Well, you assumed he was nervous. He wouldn’t make eye contact with you, so you figured you were probably right.

“You, too.” His nervousness was kind of endearing, you thought. Even if it made talking to him a little bit awkward and choppy.

“You know, I’m actually pretty grateful Ashton bailed on me.” Calum’s eyes widened a bit, but you ignored it. You had a feeling if you pointed it out, Cal might do something drastic like bailing from the car while it was still moving.

“Oh?” Hood attempted to keep his expression neutral, but there were all sorts of bells and alarms going off in his head.

“Yeah, it was fun spending time with all of you. Being part of a group like this…” Your tongue darted out of your mouth and wetted your lips. You rolled them together and then drew your bottom lip in between your teeth. They were such a tight knit group, and while all of them were welcoming and kind to you… it was still hard to not feel like an outsider. You didn’t regret it, of course, but there was a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that this was a honeymoon phase in your friendship. All good things came to an end. You just hoped it would be later rather than sooner. “It feels like a family.”

“We’ve only known each other for three months.” Cal looked at you out of the side of his eye, skeptical. He was close with his little gang, but family was a bit of a stretch in his opinion. Sure, he spent all his time with them and looked after them, and cared about them, of course. But that didn’t exactly mean they were family.

“Cal, you literally make them bring you their report cards so you can make sure they’re doing okay in all of their classes.” Was he kidding you? It was funny how the man in front of you was able to delude himself in believing that was true.

“I don’t give a damn about their grades.” Hood scoffed. He had his own problems that didn’t include the grades of a bunch of freshmen and sophomores.

“You give so many damns they’re visible from space.” The lies about not caring were probably to keep up his stone cold loner ruse. They were, of course, lies, but you didn’t want to spoil that for him.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Hood was grumbling, but there was a slight chuckle behind it.

…

It was a couple of days before you had the time to speak to Cal again. The older kids used a ‘divide and conquer’ method to keep tabs on the troublemakers of the bunch, which was a lot more difficult than you remembered babysitting to be.

It was in the library. You had been in there for a couple hours at that point, desperate to get in some studying for your test in AP history. That table had been your best friend for a while now, so when Crystal started her shift and came over to chat, it was a welcomed interruption.

“Hey. What are you doing?” She motioned to a chair, sliding it out and taking a seat only after you waved at her that it was okay.

“Just doing some cramming before my history test tomorrow.” You sighed, marking your page in your history book before slamming it shut and sliding down in your seat. “You?”

“Luke asked me to pick some books up for him, despite having not yet finished the ones he’s already checked out.” Crystal made her hands busy flipping through the pages of the books Luke requested. They didn’t seem bad, just… tedious.

“Our own little genius.” You stood, pushing your chair back as you went. “I’m going to grab some paper from the supply closet.”

As soon as she was sure you were gone, Crystal pulled her phone out of her pocket and shot off a quick text to Sierra.

Sierra smirked from her own table at the library, hiding it just in time from Hood. He was ‘helping’ her study for english. Or so he thought.

“What?” Hood looked up from his own calculus homework. “You’re looking at me weird.”

“Nothing. Will you go grab more printer ink from the supply closet? I need to print off my rough draft, but the computer says the cartridge is empty.” Hood grumbled, but he rose and set off in the direction of the supply closet anyways. Sierra grinned at his back. Phase three was a go.

It only took Hood a couple minutes to cross the library to the supply closet. It was mostly empty as he navigated through the bookshelves. He gave a quick wave to Crystal when he saw her, but didn’t stop to chat since she had her headphones in.

The storage closet was small. It barely fit the few racks of supplies that had been stuffed in there, much less a person. Or two people.

Hood. And you.

Hood, once again, felt himself freeze. He really, really had to stop doing that. It had been a few days since he saw you last, and he wasn’t expecting to see you here.

That was when he heard the door click shut behind him.

“Oh, no.” Hood whirled around, pulling on the door as hard as he could. Nothing. Shit. Shit fucking balls. He had just managed to get the two of you locked in here. Together.

“Oh, no?” You sounded a little concerned and a little offended. ‘Oh no’ was never great, but there was raw fear in Cal’s voice.

“Um, I may or may not have just gotten us locked in here.” Hood rolled his lips into his mouth. Not good. He reached for his phone, only to realize that it was still back at the table with Sierra. He didn’t think he would need it. Apparently, he had forgotten to account for the fact that he was very dumb.

“ Oh. Oh, no.” This time it was your turn to panic and pat yourself down, also searching for your phone. You had yours on you, at least, but it wasn’t much help since the battery had died a half an hour ago.

“Yeah. Not good.” Hood exhaled slowly through his mouth, sliding his back down the door til he was sitting on the ground. “Well, at the very least, we know someone will come for us eventually.”

“We do?” You walked over and took a seat next to him, your shoulder brushing his.

“Yeah. I’m here with Sierra. She sent me to get an ink cartridge. It’ll probably only be a few minutes before she comes looking for me.” Hood glanced down at his watch. 7:38. He would guess they’d be out by 8:00. And that was being generous.

“Good to know. Guess it’s just you and me until then.” You sigh and tipped your head back, leaning it against the door.

“I can think of worse company.” Hood watched as you raised your eyebrows, leaving your eyes closed.

“Hmm. Like Luke hopped up on sugar.” You smirked at your own words. Luke was already hard to control.

“Have you ever met Luke on a sugar high?” Hood leveled his eyes at you, and you peaked the one closest to him open.

“No?”

“Then you will never know how true your words are.” Hood chuckled a bit at the memory of Halloween. They let Luke ration out his own candy. That was mistake number one.

“Oh god. I don’t even want to know.” You grinned, but it was a tired one.

“Can I, um, ask you something?” Hood fiddled with his own fingers, more nervous than he had been in a while. And for what? You were just a person. Okay, maybe not just a person. But there still wasn’t a reason for all the knots in his stomach.

“I’m an open book.”

“Why did you only start as a RA a couple weeks into the school year?” It bothered him to not know. He was an RA and still couldn’t figure out a reason after thinking about it for weeks.

“Oh.” That was not what you were expecting him to ask. “Um, I had applied. The old RA left to go to the public school. That’s pretty much it.”

Hood just hummed. He felt like there might be more to that story, but it wasn’t his place to pry.

“My turn.” After you felt Cal’s eyes on you, you sat up and met them. “You got to ask a question. Now it’s my turn.”

You studied Cal’s face for a second before deciding on your question. “What do you think is your biggest flaw?”

Hood chuckled. “This is gonna be ironic, but probably the fact that my sense of humor doesn’t exist.”

“Now that can't be true. We're talking, laughing.” That much was true. You were both smiling.

“Okay. My turn again?” After a quick confirmation nod from you, Hood asked his next curiosity. “What’s your favorite place on Earth?”

“Home.” It was so simple, just that one word. And yet, you sensed that it had somehow struck deep with both of you. You were sure for different reasons, though.

Your next words were forcibly bright, rushed. “My turn. Do you prefer when people call you Hood or Cal?”

“That would depend on the person, I suppose. Everyone calls me Hood, including most of my teachers.” Hood smiled down at you, as if daring you to do what you were both thinking. “Back to me. How about your favorite book?”

“I can’t choose just one. There’s all sorts of great crap out there.” You smirked. “The fact that I called it crap is meaningless. My turn again. Do you believe in ghosts?”

Hood gaped at you. “Really? You can ask me anything you want, knowing full and well that I have to answer with complete honesty, and you chose to ask if I believe in ghosts?”

“Just answer the damn question.”

“Fine. No, I don’t believe in fucking ghosts.” Hood wasn’t 100% confident in his answer. He believed in the possibility of ghosts, perhaps. But not the existence of the ghosts themselves.

“Look, I just asked if you believed in them. I didn’t ask what you thought about their sexual habits.” Hood pushed your shoulder playfully, chuckling again. He had noticed himself doing that kind of a lot around you. It felt...nice.

The frequency of the questions dwindled after that, most of them escaping as yawns through your lips. More than once you found yourself nodding off in the middle of both questions and answers. Hood found great amusement in it. You would scrunch up your nose and sway a bit, wiping at your face and trying to fight your own body. Eventually, you would succumb to sleep, your head just brushing his shoulder. It would rest there for a split second before bouncing right back, snapping you back to consciousness each time. Each time, your head would use his shoulder as a pillow for just a fraction longer, until eventually you didn’t wake back up.

You were just… sleeping. On him. Really, you were snoring a little. It was cute to him. Hood glanced back at his watch. 8:17. It had been over half an hour, and still no rescue. Hood reached behind him and gave the doorknob a little jiggle again. Still nothing. He sighed, not that he was expecting it to magically open. It was worth a shot.

It was five minutes later Hood heard footsteps. He didn’t even have time to turn around to knock before the door swung open. You and Hood fell flat on your backs without the door supporting your weight, waking you up. In Hood’s arms. He had put his arm around you when you fell to make sure you didn’t hit your head, although, now that he was thinking about it, that was a bit weird. You sat up before he could move, pulling him up with you.

“Sierra. Our savior.” You grinned up at her. Cal was already on his feet, offering you a hand to help you up. You took it, barely using any of your own muscles with the strength he used to pull you up. “Well, this has been a pleasure. I’ll see you around, Calum Hood.”

From there, you went back to your table to gather up your things. It was time to get some real sleep. And not on the shoulder of Calum Hood.

…

tags: @rbforsmileycal​ @whatthefuckimbisexual​

[remywrites5]

8 or 15 from the prompt list for wolfstar? I love your writing, you are amazing! So glad you’re back ❤️

Sirius was running late as usual. This time, however, it was not his fault. His Halloween costume wasn’t exactly something he could just throw on. The padded bra wasn’t too difficult but the mustache had taken him some time to glue on. Sirius was well known for showing up to James and Lily’s Halloween parties in outlandish costumes. James and Lily always went as the same thing – Jack and Sally from Nightmare before Christmas. After they had Harry they’d begun dressing him as Ooogie Boogie to match them.

           Sirius was walking as quickly as he could in his high heels. It absolutely freezing out and Sirius regretted not grabbing a jacket. His pink shirt and black leather skirt did little to help him against the cold. If he had been smarter he would have gotten an Uber to the party and not walked the ten blocks to the Potters’ house.

           By the time he arrived on the front steps he could see the house was jammed packed with just about everyone he had ever met. James loved Halloween and always went all out for his parties. Back at University their dorm room floor had always been turned into a haunted house that people would come to walk through. Sirius missed being so actively involved in the planning of Halloween but with his work and pretending to have a love life, there wasn’t much time. Besides, James had Lily for all that now.

           Sirius winded his way through the party and saw in the distance the familiar pinstripe suit James always wore. He snuck up behind his friend and pounced on him, hugging him tightly and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Miss me?”

           “I’m sorry,” a voice said that was most definitely not James. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

           “Oh my god,” Sirius said, releasing the stranger. “I thought you were someone else.”

           “Clearly.” The man turned towards Sirius and his face broke out into a smile, stretching the white make-up he wore. Even with it on Sirius could tell this bloke was good looking.

           “It’s just my mate James always wears that same costume.”

           “James as in James-and-Lily James?”

           “Yeah, that’s the one,” Sirius said with a nod. “So sorry for accosting you. I don’t make a habit of that.”

           “No?” the stranger asked, raising an eyebrow. “That must make me special.”

           Sirius laughed, pretending his cheeks weren’t turning pink. “I’m Sirius Black, by the way.”

           “Remus Lupin.” The man held out his hand and Sirius shook it. It was covered in a glove to make it look like a skeleton hand but even with that Sirius could feel the heat radiating off this man.

           The stranger took a moment to look Sirius over appraisingly. Sirius had a feeling the man liked what he saw. It didn’t take long for him to confirm it. “I like your costume. You’d make Freddie Mercury proud.”

           Sirius preened under the compliment. “He was iconic,”he breathed out, loving Freddie Mercury almost as much as Bowie. But he’d been Bowie before and would never be as lazy as James and reuse a costume. “So how do you know Lily and James?”

           “Lily is a friend from work,” Remus explained, leaning in closer as the music started up. Monster Mash began blaring from the sound system. “She insisted I come tonight because there was someone she wanted me to meet.”

           “That’s funny,” Sirius said, leaning in as well. He liked how tall Remus was, always having had a thing for tall blokes, and even in his heels Remus had a bit of height on him. “She told me the same thing.”

           Remus chuckled and Sirius decided he liked that quite a bit. Remus scratched idly at his cheek, white residue coming off onto his glove. “You know,” Remus said, his expression becoming just a bit mischievous. “This make up is itching like crazy. I’d love to take it off.”

           Sirius hoped and prayed he wasn’t misreading things. “I was thinking the same thing about my heels.”

           Remus licked his lips and stepped somehow closer, their bodies pressed together. “I think we’d be much more comfortable back at my place.”

           Sirius swallowed thickly. Definitely not misreading things then. “You wanna get out of here?”

           Remus nodded. “Unless you’d rather stay.”  

           “Oh god no,” Sirius snorted, grabbing Remus’ hand. “Any moment James is going to put on Thriller and make everyone dance. Bloody nightmare.” He tugged at Remus and led him through the sea of people to the front door.

           Sirius had temporarily forgotten how freezing it was outside but the moment the wind hit his skin he was unkindly reminded. He wrapped his arms around himself and began to shiver. Remus sighed beside him and shrugged out of his jacket, putting it around Sirius. Sirius shot him a grateful smile and put it on. He then snuggled in close to Remus as they walked together.

           “Ow, ow, wank shit buggering fuck,” Sirius said, wincing with every step. “How far is it to your flat? I really wasn’t joking about these heels.”

           Remus huffed. “You’re bloody ridiculous,” he admonished, pulling away from Sirius. Sirius was just about to protest when Remus bent down slightly and gestured to Sirius. “Come on then, hop on.”

           Sirius grinned and took a running start, pouncing onto Remus for the second time that night. He held on tightly as Remus straightened up and began walking. Sirius rested his chin on Remus’ shoulder as he was given a piggyback ride. “My hero,” Sirius said dreamily.

           It was only a few blocks before they got to Remus’ flat. Once they’d scaled the front steps, Remus gently released Sirius and let him slide off his back. The moment he put pressure on his aching feet he whimpered. “Sirius,” Remus said, turning towards him. “I should warn you that I’m not much of one for one night stand,” he explained, glancing down nervously. “So I’d appreciate it if you’d at least spend the night a-and if you have to sneak away in the morning I’ll understand. Besides it’s freezing out here and you’ll catch your death – “

           “Remus!” Sirius said, interrupting him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

           Remus chewed his bottom lip for a moment and then gave a quick nod of approval. He unlocked the door and let Sirius go through first. Remus lived in a tiny flat on the second floor of his building. Although small, Remus had made it rather cozy. “It’s nice,” Sirius said, glancing around. He flopped down onto the sofa and undid his shoes, sighing in relief once his feet were free of them.

           Remus shuffled nervously and then came to sit down beside him. “I should probably go wash my face,” he said quietly, glancing over at Sirius.

           “Mmm,” Sirius hummed in agreement. “I’ll be right here.”

           Remus stood back up and disappeared down the hall to what Sirius could only conclude was the bathroom. He put his feet up and grabbed the blanket off the back of the sofa, wrapping himself up in it. He pulled his fake mustache off and settled in happily. He could feel his eyes drooping closed when his phone vibrated with a text from James.

           Oi you wanker where are you?

           Met Remus just like Lily wanted. At his flat.

           Such a slag.

           It’s not like that.

           Can’t believe you’re missing the Halloween party for a shag. Where’s the loyalty? I’ve been there before this bloke and I’ll be there after him!

           You know you’re my number one Jamie.

           Fine. Have fun. And don’t cock this up. Lily and I like Remus a lot.

           What was that you were saying about loyalty?

           Don’t be a prick. Come by tomorrow if you want.

           No way are you roping me into helping you clean up your party.

           Some friend you are.

           You love me. Now bugger off so I can kiss a cute boy.

           God’s speed my friend. Happy Halloween.

           Happy Halloween!

           Sirius glanced up to find Remus standing in the doorway, some droplets of water falling from his hair. Without the make up on Remus was devastatingly handsome. “Hello stranger,” Sirius said, smiling sleepily at Remus.

           Remus walked over and knelt down next to the sofa. “If I knew you were just going to fall asleep I would have left you at the party,” Remus teased, gently carding his fingers through Sirius’ hair.

           “Rude,” Sirius murmured, pressing into Remus’ touch. “I like it here.”

           “Yeah?” Remus asked, smiling softly and continuing to pet Sirius.

           “Definitely,” Sirius told him, his eyes drifting closed again. “Take me to bed.”

           “I don’t think you’re up for much more than sleeping,” Remus joked, sliding his arms under Sirius’ body and lifting him up. For someone with such a thin frame, Remus was deceptively strong. Sirius could feel himself swooning in his arms.

           “You could kiss me,” Sirius offered, wrapping his arms around Remus’ neck and holding onto him for the third time that night.

           Remus ducked his head down and kissed Sirius with such tenderness that Sirius felt his aching toes curl in response. Sirius had never been kissed with such reverence before. When Remus pulled away, Sirius slid his hand down and cupped Remus’ cheek, his thumb tracing Remus’ lips.

           Remus gently placed Sirius in his bed and then crawled in next to him. Sirius snuggled against him, already obsessed with being close to Remus. “I’ve never been so happy to have kissed the wrong bloke,” Sirius confessed, beaming at Remus.

           Remus chuckled. “I hope you don’t make a habit of that,” he admitted, glancing down at Sirius’ lips. “If you don’t mind I’d like to be the only person you kiss for quite some time.”

           Sirius felt his smile go impossibly wider. “I don’t mind at all. Next year though you’ll have to wear a more distinctive costume so I don’t make this mistake again.”

            Remus snorted. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of ideas for a couples costume by then.”

           Sirius closed the distance between them and kissed Remus sweetly. “I’d already thought of ten different ideas on the way over here,” he confessed, kissing Remus again. Sirius made sure Remus knew that this time it was no accident.

[cadaceus]

C2E81

Here are my notes and liveblogs for Campaign 2, Episode 81 of Critical Role! In which they have (another!) very stressful fight, though Caduceus comes in clutch here tbh. These Happy Fun Ball adventures are getting very interesting, and I feel like they are getting close to their goals!

- [After Caleb’s Polymorph fails at ~28:23] Caleb: “That means I am just piggybacking you right now.” / Fjord: “Yeah, that’s fair.” sdfghjkl

- I DO NOT LIKE THIS GOLEM THING AND ITS ONLY CALEB AND FJORD FIGHTING IT BECAUSE THEY ARE STRANDED ON THIS SIDE OOF

- I’m only like half an hour in and already I am Stressed

- Caleb has a collar around his neck from the Golem thing?? But why?? Aaaah

- JESTER REALLY YEETED NOTT OFF THE SIDE OF THE CLIFF SFGHDJKLF ???!!!! LMAOOOOO

- “Caleb grabs Nott’s hand and drags her through the door” They are really all just pushing and pulling at Nott today aren’t they, someone pls save her

- Jester: “What if it makes me look like a princess?” / Beau: “Both are kind of hot sounding.” / Caleb: “You already do.” HELLO?? TOP ROW IN LOVE WITH JESTER??

- “I feel like the thoughts have always been there, they’re just easier to recall now” is such a good way for Beau to describe/justify the Intelligence boost that the Circlet gives her

- “Nothing is better than Frumpkin, that’s ridiculous. I thought that thing made you smarter.”

- This Frankenstein Halas Room with all the copies having tumors or stitches sporting teeth, tongues, mouths... that imagery is horrifying and twisted and I love it 

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[halloweennut]

Okay, so I LITERALLY just thought of this while I was making my supper, and I managed to write it out. So, once again, happy birthday, and I hope you enjoy this fluffy drabble for your happy family AU ^v^

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

“...What are you doing up?”

Lou froze. Slowly and sheepishly, he turned to face his husband, who was now sitting up in bed. “Well I- I mean, I was just, heh, well… What are YOU doing up?”

“You woke me up,” Draxum said flatly, too tired to be amused.

“Riiiight… Well, it's just…” Lou’s smile softened. “It is after midnight, after all.” 

At that, Draxum’s eyes suddenly filled with understanding. “...It wouldn't exactly be wise to wake them. I doubt they'd be in the mood for celebrating.” Though as he says this, he can't help but smile a little as well. Lou promises that it’ll be quick, and Draxum follows him to the nursery.

It's dark and peaceful in the room, the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling being their only light. Still, with enough time, Lou’s eyes adjusted and he could see the sleeping faces of his sons, all of them cuddling with their favorite plushies as they dream sweet dreams. Raph and Donnie snored lightly while Mikey mumbled in his sleep. Leo was the only completely silent one, but his sprawled out form nearly made him chuckle. Lou made sure to stop by each crib (and bed, in his oldest’s case), taking enough time to smile down at them, whisper a happy birthday wish, and give each of his boys a light kiss on the forehead before moving along and allowing Draxum to do the same.

Raph was already so big, taking up most of his toddler-sized bed while the spikes on his shell threatened to poke through his footie pajamas. Lou could tell that he was going to grow up to be big and strong - easily as strong as he was in his prime Nexus days - but also hoped that his oldest wouldn't lose his kind and loving nature as he grew. 

The twins were coming along nicely as well. He could tell that Donnie was a clever one, just in how he curiously examined his toys and tried to sound out the words himself whenever he was read to. Lou had no doubt that Donnie will grow up to be smarter than him, possibly even smarter than Draxum. And as for Leo, even for someone so young, he was already filled with plenty of personality and charm. Certainly a chip off the Jitsu block, Lou thought with a smirk.

As for Mikey, he was still struggling a bit to get around on his stubby legs, more than happy to just be carried around by one of his fathers. But, whenever his youngest did manage to get ahold of something, he'd usually end up turning it into a very messy yet very creative crafts project. Lou could still remember being scolded by his father for being interested in art as a boy, being told that it was a worthless hobby that wouldn't help him in any way that mattered. As such, he made a promise right then and there that he’d hang every single one of Mikey’s future art pieces up somewhere to be admired, not caring if he’d have to cover every inch of his home to do so.

Once he finished, Lou ended up just standing in the middle of the room, staying in the center of all his sons as he thought about the past year. A year of smiles and tears, of frustrations and small victories, and no doubt plenty of joy. A year of his sons being healthy and happy, a year of having a family… He could only hope that they all received many, many more years such as this one together.

“...Lou?” A sharp finger wiped away a tear he didn’t even know was there, and Lou quietly chuckled as he wiped away the rest.

“I’m alright,” he insisted, “Heh, look at me, getting all emotional.”

Draxum did look at him, his pink and orange eyes filled with the same vulnerability he had when he first proposed the idea of children to his lover, as well as back when he first confessed his love. Lou was the only person who could make him unafraid to feel such things, to want to stand tall even when he felt weak. “Are you happy?” he asked in a whisper, cupping his love’s face, “Truly happy?”

Lou didn’t even hesitate. “Happier than I have ever been,” he replied honestly, putting his hand over Draxum’s. The two shared a long, soft kiss before finally leaving the nursery, letting their boys sleep. Too awake to go back to bed, they spent the hours until dawn sitting up on the balcony, going over various memories from the sons’ first year and sharing both laughs and tears. When they heard the telltale whines and cries of boys who were ready to start the day, the morning became a lot more energetic. 

All four turtles were treated to a yummy homemade breakfast, and in the hours leading up to their party and the rest of their family arriving, they were given piggyback rides, gentle vine swings, and fun flights around the room (courtesy of Huginn and Muninn, naturally) to their tiny hearts’ content. The arrival of Auntie Shen and Auntie Mama brought more sweets and presents and fun, and by the time the day was done, each boy had what seemed like a mountain of presents.

As successful and enjoyable as the day had been, they highly doubted that any of them - even Raph, who was technically three years old - would remember their first birthday. But even so, Lou and Draxum both considered it a day to be remembered, and one that neither of them would forget.

----

AAAAAAH

I'm crying the club right now. This is so good and cute!!!

Thank you love!! 💖💖💖💖