#that was a huge step for me. it’s been. years. since I’ve communicated a case of defense for myself against a my parent-aged adult

[oneknightlight]

Reminding myself that speaking up for myself, setting boundaries, and pointing out when others are inconsiderate toward me is important, even if my voice wobbles while I do it, and I have to cry after.

[j2hoes]

Don’t Trust Him. (Wally Clark x Reader)

Summary: With Rhonda, Charlie and Wally trapped in the fallout shelter, Y/N is their only way out.

Word Count: 2,727

Gif Not Mine. Requests Are Open!

Warnings - Violence, Swearing?

A/N - So I know technically the ghosts don’t bleed but I felt like it was slightly better in this situation if they did so let’s just pretend they do. I also apologise for how rushed this is, I really just wanted to get something posted.

Before I died, my knowledge of ghosts was based on what I’d seen in movies. Completely fictional. Turns out there is no way of communicating with the  living, nor any way of possession or torment. Not even a way of leaving the place you died. Unless you’re the exception. Which in my case, turns out I am the exception. It’s funny, in life I was very much average, no different from the other thousands of kids attending Split River High. Though in death, I’m powerful. Able to leave the place that the others are stuck, able to speak with the living if only for short periods of time. Mr Martin tells me I’m a vessel. That I should be careful because other ghosts may attempt to take advantage of my unique skills. However, I haven’t had any issues so far. In fact, I’ve done my best to help those trapped here to heal old wounds. Allowing them to forgive.

I’ve been here since 2007, over a decade and yet I’m still the newest ghost. Rhonda died in the sixties, Dawn the seventies, Wally the eighties and Charlie the nineties. Not that I mind, as much as we’re a weird bunch, we’re friends. Hell, I consider them family at this point as we have done nothing but support one another since dying. Wally even more so. He made a point of helping me get settled when I died. Sticking by me through all my meltdowns and the struggles I faced when coming to terms with the powers that I held. It’s safe to say we grew close.

So close in fact, that we’ve been dating for the past seven years. Contrary to popular belief, Wally is fairly shy and so it did take a good few years before either of us dared to confess our feelings. I can’t complain though, we’d been going to homecoming together for years at that point and as we lay on the field gazing up at the stars, he finally asked me to be his girlfriend. What followed was a pretty eventful night fuelled by passion and desire. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Which brings me to the present day, returning from my trip to the grocery store, I wander aimlessly around the hallways. Hoping to find Rhonda, Charlie and Wally, however, they are nowhere to be found. I must admit, the empty hallways are pretty eerie, with Dawn gone the air feels heavier. She brought a certain lightness to the school that can’t be replaced.

Entering the basement, I find myself swinging the shopping bag slightly. Attempting to give myself a confidence boost by acting as though it’s a happy, cheery place to be. Despite residing here for all the years, I’ve never once found myself in the basement, so as much as I am creeped out, I do use this opportunity to be nosy and explore everything on the shelves. Nothing peaks my interest though. Dusty old paint pots and garden tools aren’t exactly my idea of entertainment.

At that moment I begin to hear yells and shouts for help. My head spins in the direction it’s coming from and only then do I notice the huge metal door tucked into the wall. Hesitantly stepping towards it, the shouts get louder, pleading for help. The voices sounding very familiar to those of my friends.

“Wally?” I ask, feet pushing me towards the door a lot faster as I realize who is yelling. “Rhonda? Charlie? Is that you?”

Pushing on the door, I try to move the latch but for whatever reason it is completely sealed shut. No movement whatsoever. It doesn’t matter which way I attempt to pull or twist, the latch isn’t budging. My brows furrow in confusion as I try to work out how this could have happened. The door is old but not old enough to become so stuck that it is impossible to open.

“Y/N!” Wally calls out, relief evident in his voice. “Y/N, we’re completely stuck, the back hatch is locked too.”

“It’s okay. I’m here, I’ll get you out.” I tell them, still pulling on the door, though my eyes shift around the room, hoping to find a crowbar or any sort of object that may help me.

“Y/N, be careful! You can’t trust him!” Rhonda shouts, her voice panicked, the first time I’ve heard her sound genuinely scared.

“Trust who?”

Before my question is answered, the basement door swings open and I see a shadow looming over me at the top of the stairs. The shopping bag slips from my hand, glass bottles smashing against the floor as I realize who Rhonda was warning me about. Mr Martin’s friendly demeanor is gone, appearing menacing and dangerous as he makes eye contact with me. Shuffling backwards slightly, I keep my eyes on him. Trying to calculate his next move.

“Y/N, do you remember our little chat?” Mr Martin asks, slowly descending the stairs with his hands clasped together, truly looking like a villain.

“I’m not sure which chat you’re talking about, but I’m sure you’re going to enlighten me.”

Each step Mr Martin takes towards me, I take a step back, putting as much space between us as I possibly can. Unable to contain it, I feel my body trembling, the sounds of my friends pounding on the door simply heightens my nerves. Their shouts fill me with dread and I do my best to remain calm, to remain observant. Mr Martin feels like a predator, stalking me as if I’m prey. Was he always like this? Were we all fooled by his supportive teacher act?

“A short while ago, I talked to you about your uniqueness.” He starts, throwing a sharp glare towards the metal door that my friends are trapped behind. “You told me that you wouldn’t use your gifts to benefit others. Clearly you are not a girl of your word.”

He talks slowly, I’m assuming to get some sort of reaction out of me. If I react on impulse, he is in control. I can’t let that happen. If he gains control of this situation, there is no way I can help Wally and Rhonda and Charlie.

“I don’t think I’ve really used it to benefit anyone other than myself.”

“Peach iced tea. Is that not Rhonda’s favorite beverage? Plus, I know for a fact that pack of jelly doughnuts is for Wally.” Mr Martin points out, reaching down to the shopping bag on the floor and rummaging through it to see its contents.

“If I’m going to the store, I’m going to pick up their favorite things. That’s called being a decent person.” I respond, feeling my back touch the shelves that line the walls as I continue to step away from Mr Martin. “They’ve been stuck here long enough, they deserve good things.”

He smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes and ultimately feels incredibly forced. Continuing to make his way towards me, I know he thinks he has me cornered. He thinks I am trapped in the room with him. Little does he know he has made one major mistake. If there is one thing about me, it is that I am insanely loyal and I will do whatever it takes to protect the people I care about. Right now, those people are trapped behind that stupid metal door, and there is nothing I won’t do to get them out.

“You know Mr Martin, I think you’re just jealous.”

“Y/N what the fuck are you doing?” Wally shouts, the banging on the door becoming more frequent as I sense he is becoming increasingly more panicked.

“Jealous?” Mr Martin questions, an expression of confusion on his face as he obviously didn’t expect me to steer the conversation in this direction. “Jealous of what Y/N?”

My hand snakes behind me at a snail’s pace, ensuring that he doesn’t catch the movement and spoil my plan. I just need to stall slightly, catch him off guard and then if all goes well, I should have them out in no time. Then I can stop worrying, especially about Wally. I know he’s only on the other side of that door but it feels like he is one million miles away.

“Well, you’re the only teacher here. Stuck with a bunch of teenagers, must be hard right? I’m sure you feel isolated and alone. Especially when one such teenager has powers that you can only dream of having. Powers that she uses to get her friends and boyfriend their favorite snacks or new books and films.”

“You think I’m jealous that you use your gifts on something so trivial?” Mr Martin questions, stepping towards me once more so we are practically inches apart. “Trust me Y/N, if I had the gifts that you hold, I would be using them to guide myself to the light. To cross over. Not you though, you’re just a stupid little girl that wastes talent on a bunch of people that do not care about you and are only using you for your gifts. I mean do you really think Wally would be sticking around with you if you weren’t able to bring him little treats? Though I suppose you did spread your legs for him the moment you arrived so who really knows.”

With a sigh, my hand takes a firm hold of the paint pot handle. “I really wish you hadn’t just said that.”

With a sharp swing I aim the paint pot directly at Mr Martin’s head, hitting him right above his ear. A pained groan escapes his mouth as he is knocked off balance, planting his hand against the wall so that he doesn’t fall to the ground. Sure, he can’t die twice, but I’m certain that I can at least knock him out for a while. As I go to swing the pot again, his forearm blocks my blow. Sending the pot clattering to the floor.

“Well now I’m angry.” He states, giving me no time to react as he grabs the end of one of the smashed glass bottles swiping at me with the sharp end.

Despite finding reassurance in the fact that I can’t die twice, I still wince at the feeling of the glass drag directly across my cheek. Cut opening, I feel the blood dripping down my cheek and in the one moment that I reach up to hold my wound, Mr Martin strikes again. Blunt end of the bottle hitting the back of my head sending me crashing to the ground. Grunting softly as I hit the floor with a thud.

“Y/N!” Wally bellows, worry laced in his voice and guilt floods through me as I hate to put him through this. “Y’N be careful, please. Y/N!”

Rhonda and Charlie are shouting as well, pain in their voices as they are evidently stressed out not knowing what is going on and only being able to hear the sounds of our fight. It must be hard having no indication of who is winning.

Flipping myself so that I am no longer facing the ground, I watch as Mr Martin stands over me. Dropping himself into a crouch, his fingers brush a stray hair out of my face. A wicked smirk settled on his face.

“Such a pretty face, too bad nobody else will get to see it.”

A rush of energy pulses through my body and with all the strength I can muster, I manage to stretch my arm out to grab the paint pot. Repeatedly hitting the teacher over the head with it and I feel little splatters of blood coat my face and body as he collapses to the floor. When I see no sign of movement, I begin to search through his jacket pockets. Whether that’s for a key or a key code, I’m not too sure. Though, I’m hoping when I find it, I’ll know.

With just my luck, a key slips into my hand, just in time for me to watch his body disappear as he resets to wherever he died. I’m unsure of how long he will be out and so for now I ignore my injuries focusing on finding any sort of lockbox.

“I’ve got a key. Any idea where it’s supposed to go?” I ask, hoping I can find some sort of answer from the three behind the door.

“I’m pretty sure there’s a little box to the right of the door, just above the ground.” Charlie answers, allowing me to search quickly.

Within no time I have found the box, twisting the key to find a switch which completely resets the lock on the door. This time when I try the door it pushes open with ease and I’m greeted by a swarm of tight hugs. Even Rhonda wraps her arms around me, squeezing slightly.

Wally hangs back, waiting for the other two to finish their greetings first. As soon as he gets the chance, he’s sweeping me off my feet, hugging me so tight that I feel as though my ribs may shatter. He’s twirling me around clearly happy just to see me again, and no doubt to be out of that room.

“I hate to break this up guys but we should probably head off before the evil teacher decides to come and take his revenge on Y/N.” Rhonda states, already beginning to make her way up the stairs.

Once we make it to the library, Wally is immediately all over me. Tending to my wounds as best as he can with the limited medical supplies we picked up from the nurses office on the way. He has a slight frown on his face as he wipes away the blood and I can’t help but place my fingers under his jaw, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips as a way of cheering him up. Yet the frown remains.

“Hey, what’s wrong? We made it out didn’t we?” I ask, cupping his face with my hands, thumbs stroking his cheeks.

“Yeah but I should have been out there to protect you. If I was there you wouldn’t have been hurt. You would never have been in that position.” He tells me, eyes not meeting mine as he speaks and I have a feeling that it’s because he is embarrassed and ashamed that he couldn't do anything.

Smiling softly, my lips press against his forehead, followed by both cheeks, then his nose, chin and lips. As I’m peppering kisses all across his face, he finally begins to crack a slight smile. His hands wrap around my forearms as he tugs me into a slow, heated kiss. Lips moving against mine at a relaxed pace and I find myself pulling at the hair on the nape of his neck. He groans quietly, hands moving to carefully pull me onto his lap as we get caught up in the heat of the moment.

“Can you guys please be gross somewhere else?” Rhonda asks, tilting her book down slightly to make sure we hear her.

I giggle as a soft rose blush tints Wally’s cheeks, pink from ear to ear. It’s cute, and he’s the most relaxed I have seen him since leaving the basement.

“Not to kind of spoil the mood, but what do we do about Mr Martin?” I ask, sharing a worried glance between the three other ghosts sitting at the table.

“I mean, we’re already dead, he can’t hurt us.” Rhonda states, a logical answer though I’m sure he’d still find a way to make our lives hell.

“Yeah but he still trapped us and look at Y/N’s face.” Charlie comments, clearly nervous by the entire situation. “No offense.”

“Not to mention he’s been studying us.” Wally adds in, to which he receives a questioning look from me. “I’ll fill you in later.”

“I guess we just avoid him and maybe brush up on exorcisms and ridding ourselves of negative spirits.” I say, smiling at Wally as I feel him reach for my hand under the table.

As eventful as today was, and as scary as today, I’m no longer scared. Mr Martin may be big and tough but I know that the four of us are able to take on anything. Besides with Wally by my side, I know I’m able to accomplish anything.

[kraeki]

Warning - personal yapping post ahead!

That post I just reblogged about making friends on Tumblr reminded me that yesterday marks one year since I posted my first media post on Tumblr. It was an Andy/Ibou hug, very on brand for me 🫂🥰

When I decided to stop lurking and try to be an active member of this little community we have here, I could have never imagined I’d be where I’m at today. I’m lucky enough to have gotten to know so many funny, kind, interesting and amazing people during the past year. Some of them I now consider among my closest friends.

It honestly kind of frightens me how close I was to never experiencing any of it because it was hugely out of my comfort zone to establish any sort of internet presence. I’ve been a fandom lurker since 2005, it was always too scary/confusing/intimidating for me to step out of the shadows on any platforms for any fandoms. I really don’t know what made me start a football tumblr last summer, if it was just stars aligning finally or if the community on here seemed so open and friendly, whatever it was I’m so glad I did!!

In case any lurkers read this, if you are contemplating starting a blog too or wondering how to get to know people on here, I would just like to say that I have found that the key to enjoying Tumblr is to just be yourself, post the stuff that you find interesting, without a care in the world what anyone thinks about it. That will attract the correct brand of people to you that are just as weird about things as you are. You don’t even need to do original posts, reblog stuff that’s on brand for you and show us your personality in the tags!! Some of my faves on here I got to know because I saw we had things in common based on the tags. I even share a brain now with someone who’s first interaction with me was writing an absolutely unhinged tag essay on a video I posted that compelled me to message her 😭

Anyway, I’m so happy to be here with all of you guys! Looking forward to another year of this ❤️

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hello, hope you’re having a good summer break. I’m an intp who’s probably been overcompensating for and overworking Fe, and I don’t really know how to ask for help.

I feel like I’ve come a long way in terms of emotional intelligence since my teenage years - mostly stopped feeling worthless, more action and task-oriented, reaching out to make new friends and care for close ones, and they’ve responded by saying I’m much more understanding and emotionally stable now, even coming off as extroverted - but it doesn’t keep me from feeling lonely. I’ve spoken with friends about feeling sad and unsupported, they would respond by saying they understand, but truth is I barely feel the connection. I’m happy for their company, they just don’t seem able to share my burdens, which are objectively my own. It feels like I’ve overworked myself so now my psyche is demanding that someone else take care of my emotions instead of me doing the work myself. A very subjective internal temper tantrum.

With my infp partner, I’m in this loop where I can sense she’s sad/anxious/unfulfilled, she wouldn’t talk about it because she couldn’t put it into words and also doesn’t feel the need to do so either, I could either try to cheer her up or accept that she’s in her own emotional state and simply wants company. I know and she confirmed that she’s lost interest in many of our common hobbies, but will feel sad if I pull myself away from her for alternative stimulation. But I need stimulation even if she doesn’t. I’ve expressed that simply sharing some of her life and thoughts takes a huge weight off my chest, I love hearing from her, but she insists there simply isn’t any event or thought she could share. I can talk, and she will respond happily. It’s just so draining especially since we’re long distance right now and can only communicate in words. It almost feels easier if I could just be obliviously content to talk to her about anything like I was several years ago.

I’m hoping that taking a vacation from work and study to go home will help me focus more on the things I love (reading, drawing, creating and experiencing life in ways that stimulate my brain) although it does mean a lot more time spent staying with family and other new social circles as well, which could also be a mixed bag.

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

When you're in touch with Fe, it makes you more aware of your emotional needs. This is not a bad thing, but it can be a hard thing when you haven't yet learned the best ways to fulfill them. You say your self-worth has improved, which I take to mean that you see your emotional/social needs as legitimate and yourself as deserving of support? Believing you deserve love is the first step for many people.

Because Fe is the inferior function, it's safer to get to it through the auxiliary function whenever possible. For example, using Ne, are you able to visualize the ideal social interaction/communication/relationship that would help you feel more supported and loved? If you were granted control over other people for a short time, what would you make them do to better fulfill your needs? This visualization might give you a more precise idea of what you ought to be requesting of the people around you.

You seem to be implying that this romantic relationship is putting you in a difficult position of having to choose between you and her? I don't think that's the case. While I agree it is sad to feel forced to seek stimulation outside the relationship, a healthy romantic relationship should allow space for such a move. It is unhealthy to believe that one person can/should satisfy your every need. Don't put all your eggs in one basket. Healthy couples should be able to live satisfying lives together... and apart.

I think a good way of looking at the situation is you have a need but she, for whatever reason, isn't capable of fulfilling it. It's nobody's fault but just the reality of the situation. It sounds like she's not as emotionally available as you would like, or not in the way you would like. Maybe when you first met, you didn't realize you needed emotional availability, but now you do. This doesn't mean the relationship has to end, though choosing a new partner better suited to your needs is always an option. When the things that brought you together no longer work to keep you together, then you have to find some other way to remain bonded. Relationships can evolve over time. You also need to come to an agreement that it's okay to get some of your needs fulfilled outside of the relationship. Be honest and transparent about every move.

It sounds like you've imposed an obstacle on yourself and now feel stuck because you really want it to be her to fulfill this need of yours. The fact is, no matter how much you want it, it isn't her. Face the fact and move forward accordingly. Grant yourself permission to take proper care of yourself.

[darnedchild]

I’m dumping my emotional guts here, please ignore if you just follow me for funny memes and fandom shit

Some of you may have noticed that I’ve been mostly absent and disengaged for a bit.  Truth is, I’m emotionally drained and barely keeping my head up enough to care about anything going on outside of my home and immediate family.  And I have been for so long I’ve stopped counting.

Just for the highlights over the last few months -

My son has been having issues in one of his classes at school.  It was like pulling teeth to get his teachers to communicate with us about what they were seeing on their end; but eventually we had enough information to push to get the Demon Spawn evaluated and he was diagnosed with inattentive ADHD.  I’m not going to go into the details but I will say that the “F” this specific teacher had been threatening him with all semester was suddenly an “A” when we were able to put in an official request for a 504.  My husband, myself, my sister who teaches the same grade in a different district, and my therapist (all 100% biased, obviously) agree that it feels like we’ve been gaslit. 

His teachers noted in the evaluation forms that my son is demonstrably depressed, anxious, feels isolated, and thinks no one likes him at school.  That was the first time I’d heard ANY of that.  I knew my son was anxious and sensitive, but there is a HUGE step from what we see at home and what they wrote on his evaluation forms.  His teachers are our eyes and ears during the school day, they see my son when he’s not dealing with his emotionally damaged mother who is trying her best not to show her son how anxious and scared she is while he does the exact same because we both want the other to just be happy.  They recognized and identified all this devastating stuff about my child and didn’t tell us.  I have been informed that there are “reasons” the teachers might not have feel comfortable approaching us directly but I’m pretty sure this is exactly the kind of thing a school counselor is for.

I was a depressed, anxious, isolated child.  I very clearly remember what it was like.  And I damn sure do not want my kid to go through that.  If something tragic had happened and they knew he was on the edge of crisis and they didn’t tell us... I don’t even want to think about it.

One of my best friends died last year.  Her birthday was in February.  I did not handle the lead up to that well.  And in just a week or so it’s going to be the first anniversary of her passing.  I am definitely not dealing well with that.  I got a little note from the family, written by her mother, two weeks ago.  It’s been almost a year since she died and the family is still using the old address labels that include my friend’s name along side her husband’s (different last names), her mom crossed out her daughter’s name.  Maybe, maybe toss those labels out and get new ones so that people don’t break into tears the second they see their dead best friend’s name scratched out with a fucking black pen?

And the final highlight of this shit parade is that my 15 year old baby kitten Bellatrix was just diagnosed with stage IV kidney disease.  We took her to the vet because she’d lost some more weight (down to just over six pounds) and it was yearly shot time anyway, so why not draw some blood and see what’s going on?  She’s dying, that’s what’s going on.  Fun phone call - the vet, my husband, and me on speaker phone.  All three of us audibly sniffling away tears while we discussed palliative care options and best case scenarios and how much time do we have left with her?  The answer is not enough.  Never enough.  She turns 16 this year.  Would turn 16, but the vet insists we understand that the likelihood of her reaching her birthday is extremely low. 

I rescued her neurotic, balding butt when she was 11 months old.  My son has never known life without Bella.  She let him pull her hair with his chubby, sticky fingers and give her slobbery open-mouthed toddler kisses and use her has a pillow when he didn’t feel well, with only her usual “See what I put up with” side-eye in complaint.  If I’m sick, she’s at my side.  If I’m upset or anxious, she somehow knows.  She’s sleeps at the head of my bed (sometimes with her fur pressed against my face) and snores like a sputtering chainsaw. 

We haven’t told my son yet.  He had a big thing last weekend and we didn’t want him to forever associate that memory with finding out.  Our plan is to tell him this weekend so we can make sure he has a day or two to deal with his feelings before he has to go back to school.  I feel guilty about keeping it from him, though. 

And I’ve spent the last week wondering if this cuddle will be the last, so... yeah.

[gothicneo]

What Comes Next? Thoughts for 2025 and Beyond

Hear ye, hear ye! In this, the year 2024, the United States of America has loudly declared that it shall reject drab decency in favor of electrifying cruelty.

Tuesday night was traumatizing for a lot of people. Can anyone really blame them? For many of them, the worst assumptions about the American people were proven true by the results of the 2024 Election and many people’s lives are about to be severely upended if not outright destroyed. And the worst part is that we’ve been through this all before. They know Donald Trump is an agent of chaos whose first term was defined by cruelty and dysfunction that culminated in over a million dead from a pandemic and an attempt to violently overthrow the government. His allies have literally written out an exhaustive document titled “Project 2025” detailing all the ways they intend to do even worse if given another opportunity. Still, over 70 million still people voted for him, and, more tragically, 15-20 million voters who showed up in 2020 chose to stay home in 2024.

And yet, I’ve remained oddly calm throughout this week. No tears have been shed, no doom scrolling or posting on any of my socials. Friends know me as someone who’s often prone to emotional outbursts and catastrophizing in times such as these, and as a poor trans woman who views juggling two jobs as a tremendous personal success, I certainly have a lot to lose in the years ahead, but I’ve remained cool as a cucumber. Why? I’d already accepted this outcome as a strong possibility months ago, and I want to take this moment to reflect on the institutional failures that got us here.

First off, the American people either have no idea what they want or will throw their espoused values into the nearest bin the instant they face any hardship.

Let’s go some of the things accomplished under the Biden Administration: we got a once in a century pandemic under control, oversaw the end of the final war American troops were deployed in, delivered huge on rebuilding the country’s aging infrastructure, worked to combat climate change, built factories and brought back manufacturing jobs, walked a picket line and was the most pro-union President in decades; he prevented a recession that in 2021-22 every economist swore was inevitable; he was the first President to publicly support the transgender community, and he did his best to relieve as much college loan debt as possible despite obstruction from Republicans in congress and the Supreme Court. And how was he rewarded for this service? People either refused to acknowledge his accomplished or in some cases punished him for delivering on campaign promises, all while being subjected to constant ridicule over his age, and personal attacks against his character from all corners of the political spectrum.

Apparently, none of those accomplishments matter because there was 2.1% inflation. Hardly anyone will talk about how coming out from the pandemic has been hard on every country; or that the American economy under Biden’s leadership returned stronger than any other nation. That wasn’t a fluke, it was the result of President Biden’s steadfast, competent leadership.

I may not have shed a tear this week, but I was devastated when President Biden was forced to drop out from this race. Since 2021, the media worked itself into a frenzy to punish this administration every step of the way.

And they won.

That was when it became clear to me that doesn’t matter how hard someone works or how much they accomplish, if the people control the narrative want you out of the picture, they’re going to make it happen. So, while the rest of my friends were celebrating in July, believing Kamala Harris was on course for a 2008 style sweep, my gut told me things were about to get worse.

And just so we’re clear, this is in no way a knock against Kamala Harris. She was a fantastic candidate who ran a valiant campaign without any major missteps. How was anyone in the Democratic Party supposed to run an effective campaign when the public refused to acknowledge the record of successes accomplished under the Biden Administration? Sure, we all hoped that everyone was so sick of the other side’s cruelty and would turn out again, but it was impossible to ignore just how heavily the media was hobbling us, all while the historic fundamentals that used to determine election outcomes were in our favor.

President Biden’s greatest sin was being a boring and incredibly competent leader. This was infuriating for our news media. Joe Biden didn’t generate the constant drama that sells newspaper subscriptions, or gets people tuning into talk shows and podcasts, and there wasn’t a steady stream of ex-staffers coming out to sign book deals spilling all the sordid behind-the-scenes details. Thus, every major media outlet set out to destroy President Biden and his party in the hopes that they’d once again be able cover D.C. with the salacious glee you’d expect from the celebrity rags that line the racks at the supermarket, not the D.C. press corps.

And it wasn’t just the traditional news media. Even more than other modern elections, this was an election swung by online content from social media, YouTube, podcasts, and beyond. There’s a lot of money being made churning out this content in non-traditional media spaces too.

Take a moment to really think about what content has consistently been popping up at the top of your feeds these past couple of years. Did you notice any trends? I sure did. Whenever I logged onto a major website I was inundated with “stories” from fake news accounts and memes/jokes advancing right-wing talking points. Claims that we’re in recession, inflation is out of control, attacking “woke culture,” claims that Joe Biden’s going to lead us into World War III— these assertions were constant and inescapable.

And it’s not just right-wing content creators. “Leftist” creators pushing a narrative that both sides are about equally bad was also boosted to the top. There is plenty of money to be made singing songs of doom and despair on both sides of the aisle.

But how did this content become so gosh darn lucrative?

In some cases, the blame rests squarely on loud and proud right-wing owners who’ve directed employees to push their propaganda (see: Twitter). Others are just mindless algorithms that push whatever content generates the most engagement with their users; the sort of inflammatory statements that are either hyperbolic or outright lies. Social media, YouTube, Google search— None of these platforms are engineered to produce a well-informed userbase! They are there to keep people logged in and consuming for as long as possible. The impact this method news delivery is having on the public is frightening, and I don’t know what can be done to combat it anytime soon.

Alright Vivian, you have ideas on how this all happened, but what are your plans for the next four years? Is there any hope in this situation? Absolutely! I wouldn’t be writing this if I believed the future was lost forever. Yeah, things are probably going to suck these next couple of years. I can’t say how much it’ll suck, but there’s still joy in the world. It is more important than ever that we continue seeking it out and creating it wherever it’s in short supply.

I know that, for me, one thing was true before this election, and remains true after: I am tired of my happiness being determined by the day-to-day antics of a loud-mouthed reality TV star. I’ve been stuck as a captive audience along with millions of other people since this man first rode down that escalator in 2015, and I’m done letting it consume every waking moment of my life. I don’t want to think about Donald Trump, see his bloated face, or hear his whining voice, so I’m simply going to unplug from most of the media I’ve engaged with the past decade.

I have that power to change the channel, and so do you.

Changing the channel doesn’t mean ignoring everything going forward or giving up on the future. I’ll still be a registered member of the Democratic Party who votes in every election, gets off on shows like “The West Wing”, and works for a better tomorrow. Changing the channel simply means that, from this day forward, I refuse to spend another minute feverishly tuning into “The Donald Trump Show.” I won’t spend hours reading and watching journalists and late-night comedians takes on every incident; or arguing with strangers online about what needs to be done. I tried that last time and got nothing but sleepless nights and a desire to jab people in the nose with a fondue fork.

Instead, I’m going to spend the next four years doing the only things I have any control over: Looking out for myself, keeping my friends, family (especially found family) close, volunteering for and donating to charities I support, and never giving up on brighter days to come. Who knows? They might be closer than we think.

Oh, and as for y’all who voted for DJT a third time: I hope you get everything that was promised on the trail. You deserve it.

[georganas]

The Ultimate Fall Show: Gilmore Girls

If your algorithm is anything like mine, you’re probably starting to see Gilmore Girls stills and posts popping up—yay! It’s that time of year to cozy up on the couch, grab a warm cup of tea, and binge-watch the ultimate comfort show for fall.

If you haven’t watched it yet, let me prepare you: it’s a lot of fast-paced dialogue, sometimes bad acting, and classic romantic drama at both adult and high school levels.

I’ve watched this show all the way through three times, and I can feel it calling for a rewatch as if it were my first time. I’m not alone in this—there’s a huge following that’s backed up by countless posts and people trying to figure out this phenomenon.

So, why exactly does this show scream fall?

The storyline centers around Rory Gilmore’s academic journey, from high school to college. While I’ve been lucky enough to experience higher education, I can’t relate to private schools, Ivy Leagues, or the cutthroat New England academic system, but somehow, it all feels nostalgic. Watching Rory grow and navigate life, you’re right there with her. Since the show revolves around school, it’s only natural to start watching as the academic year kicks off—in fall.

The picturesque aesthetic is another huge factor in why Gilmore Girls feels like a fall show. From the very first episode, we’re greeted by that signature New England foliage, bringing us that cozy, nostalgic autumn vibe. The crisp air, steaming coffee (which is a theme throughout the series), and fall festivities—it’s all part of the magic. 

If you’ve ever played Animal Crossing, it’s similar to how the game invites you into seasonal transitions. The little details, like pumpkins in the fall, make all the difference.

And then, there’s the food. Fall, to me, is all about the transition from early autumn into November, where food becomes the centerpiece of every celebration. Whether it’s the endless cups of coffee, freshly baked treats, or sharing meals with loved ones (or, in some cases, not-so-loved ones), Gilmore Girls makes me feel like I’m sitting in that inn kitchen or diner, enjoying a meal alongside the characters.

And the characters! This just feels like the ultimate fall show is the sense of community that’s shining in every episode. Stars Hollow, with its quirky characters and small-town traditions, creates a warm atmosphere that feels like stepping into a cozy fall day. Whether it’s the annual town festivals or impromptu town meetings, the show captures that close-knit feeling I often crave during the autumn months. The changing seasons in the background highlight the passage of time, but there’s always this comforting consistency in the relationships and traditions.

Beyond all the fall vibes, there’s a playful humor that taps into that sense of nostalgia. Even though my life doesn’t mirror the Gilmores’, there are so many relatable moments and feelings that make the show resonate enough for me to get cozy and watch for the 4th time.

[starkraivennemad]

The First Friend - The Last Goodbye

Sherlock had accompanied John on a two-week tour of speaking engagement in the States. Dr. John H. Holmes-Watson’s latest studies was getting a buzz in the medical community.

The alpha’s testimony on medical theories and new procedures in the years since his first papers on the subject when Dennison vs, Zhao otherwise known at the Emancipation of Simone Zhao from Lei Zhao, the precedent setting case that became public knowledge in the AO Magistrate. Dr. Watson’s pain-management procedures guided the couple through their six-month atrophy with minimum physical pain. What it cost Zhao to be free of his wife financially, yet keep their Second Mate, soon-to-be Zhao’s First Spouse Rolando, was a different story. Still the success of the ground-breaking case made Dr. Watson, already known for his seminal work on omega studies, was no longer a rising name, but a well-known and respected name in several countries with notable alpha-omega populations for nearly two decades.

“In the over near three thousand cases only fourteen did not work out as expected. And I phrase it that way, because in eight of the cases the alpha or omega died evoking actual severance which overrode everything else. In two cases - one was still in love with their partner and was sabotaging the process not wanting to separate…”

John frowned slightly feeling a spike in tension from his omega waiting off to the side before he caught himself. 

{Omega?}

He mindspoke with Sherlock even as he continued with his audience.

{Apologies my alpha. Please finish.}

{Okay.}

“In the remaining cases, when it became clear the process was not working the couples were interviewed anew. In the end it turned out they still very much wanted each other. And as no one knows the minute physiological details of what makes severance what it is, it turns out �� even if there are huge problems in the marriage – when a couple truly love each other, they cannot sever themselves. As a result, in the past few years, couples counseling has been added to the interview process to help the couple determine if there is a need for emancipation or simple communication and…”

{We must go, John, NOW.}

John technically had another five minutes, but he knew by Sherlock’s tone, there was not enough time.

“In conclusion: There’s Alpha and there’s Omega and especially when it comes to our kind our bodies know there’s nothing better than love. Thank you.”

He had barely cleared the stage when Sherlock stepped up to him.

{ I got the call.}

John understood the urgency by Sherlock’s face.

{How close is she?}

He asked, but he is a doctor after all. He knew the answer.

{Louis genuinely believes she’s only waiting for us, but I know not how much longer she can wait - even for us.}

John and Sherlock were on the next plane available back to London and went straight from Heathrow Airport straight to her bedside.

Cancer respects no one, not even doctors.

First diagnosed some five years ago, she had already undergone a Whipple procedure. It bought her time, yes, but never enough. Three months ago, the pancreatic cancer returned with a vengeance. Two weeks ago, she signed a DNR.

Knowing they were in the states and what it would mean - seven hours ago, her husband, Louis Brealey, called Sherlock and John and asked them to hurry. 

Refusing a medical facility, she had chosen to hospice at home. She lay frail in her bed, until she heard the two men at the door and smiled. Louis Brealey looked up and guided everyone else out of the room, giving Sherlock and John time with her.

“You have no idea how I wish I could heal you.” John whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

“Stop it John, I’ve seen some of the amazing advances you’ve done with alphas and especially omegas. I absolutely know if it were in your power to help me you would.” She chastised. “As a beta I’m out of your bailiwick. It’s okay. I’m just glad you were in my life. You and Sherlock are among my closest friends. Though the least either of you could have done is bring in those portraits I know you have hidden in 221c.” She had teased.

John and Sherlock’s true ages were not reflected in their faces. Though all three were now in their sixties, only she looked it. She was just the latest in a string of people to have jokingly made a Dorian Grey reference to their aging.

“That’s all? Easy. You want to see them, my friend; you must make an appointment to come by Baker Street next week.” Sherlock returned the tease.

“Fine. Tuesday after work. 7pm.” She chuckled. Her ever-bright eyes belied what all knew were her last moments with them.

Sherlock held her hand and fought against the tears.

John left, giving Sherlock some time alone with her, because he understood.

She was his friend.

Being the type of person he was, especially as an omega, Sherlock did not have any true friends outside of Victor. During the decade that Sherlock and Victor were apart, Sherlock became the World’s Only Consulting Detective. Yes, the first couple of years when she was desperately infatuated with him and it was uncomfortable for both, but it passed and a true friendship with her grew from there. She was the first person in his adult life, that was not family, who cared about him, did not try to change him, and wanted nothing from him. Yes, Sherlock met Lestrade first, and met her through him, but she was the first friend Sherlock made on his own.

And now he was losing her.

Less than two hours after they arrived, retired Medical Consultant Margaret Anne Brealey – née Hooper, affectionately known as Molly, became one with the universe. Her husband, Luis, their three children, Mina - her best friend since childhood, along with John and Sherlock her closest friends since her early 30s were by her side.

Read on AO3

[aielwasteofspace]

So, it’s been a little over two years since I originally plonked this out, and I can honestly say that the MCU is not in the same place it was back then. It’s worse.

Let’s start with Captain America and the Winter Soldier, since I pinned a lot of hope on that series for setting the stage for the X-Men. To say that CAatWS perfectly exemplified my arguments about the status quo would be an understatement. The series’s main antagonist, as so often is the case in the post Thanos MCU, was on a foundational level, at least, correct. To the point they had her basically burn an orphanage to make her evil. The show had a chance to SAY something with Sam taking up the shield. To really talk about how much harder bipoc have to work to get to the same starting point as white people in this country. Sam is just as decorated as John Walker, plus he’s an established Avenger, and Steve’s pick to take up the stars and bars. And then they don’t do that. They have Sam give a “Deal With it” speech, dedicate a statue to Isaiah, and move on, Status Quo observed, hard conversations avoided.

Let’s take a side step and look at Ms Marvel, while there are a handful of problems with that particular series, I’ll leave those to your own discretion, and that of people a lot more passionate about the character than I. Ms Marvel establishes a clear and present adoration for superheroes in the community and world at large. Kamala may be a huge fan girl, and a bit on the obsessive side, but she is by far not the only fan of heroes and hero society. I enjoyed MM for the most part, but that all changed for me with the mid-credits scene for the last episode, one word, and a few notes of synth.

Making Kamala, an Inhuman in the comics, our first official MCU Mutant. I was fine with the initial change, I understand distancing yourself from a failed project (the ABC Inhuman’s tv series) to introduce something new in the form of the Djinn. But the refusal to commit, and instead co-opt a character from an as of yet unestablished MCU peoples and recode them feels halfassed and unearned. And the audacity to try to use my nostalgia for the X-Men the Animated Series toget me hyped for this unnecessary change? Rude.

That fairly organically leads me to my next MCU project, one which also played on my nostalgia in an attempt to buy my hype. Multiverse of Madness.

I could type a novel with all the problems I had with MoM, and maybe one day I will, but suffice it to say that the movie was bad. Wanda’s off screen villain arc, Stephen’s role as a prop in his own film, and America Chavez being reduced to a McGuffin in her introduction, the gratuitous cameo during which none of the characters behaved like themselves at all. But worse than all of that, beyond all of that, past the pretty colors, the one-off mention of queer characters, the lack of characterization in characters, the movie was just boring. Tedious almost.

I could go on about how the current Phase has been less than stellar but MoM encapsulates all of my writing issues with the current MCU, and the same issues apply to the rest of the phase. Wakanda Forever, Love and Thunder, the former being the last Movie I’ve watched in the universe, mostly out of sheer disappointment from flop after flop. But I’d rather stick to my point. The MCU is STILL not ready for the X-Men. And to prove my point, I want to look at a movie I actually liked, Spider-man No Way Home.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m super happy my boi Andrew is finally getting his ups, and damnit I’m so glad that NWH sparked a well deserved TASM renaissance, but goddamn if the whole movie is all about restoring the status quo. All under the disguise of subverting it. So Aunt May is the one who tells Peter “With great power there must also come great responsibility?”

And then she dies. It’s the same story we’ve seen before, just gender-swap Peter’s dead relative. And for me it falls so much flatter after Civil War already confirmed that Ben was already serving as Peter’s motivation, and that he’d already given Peter a very verbose version of that same speech. The crux of the plot hangs on Peter fighting to restore the status quo but secreting his identity once more, a feat which he accomplishes in a roundabout way, returning the character essentially to square one.

All of that to say I don’t think I want Disney fucking with my X-Men. I don’t know if I can trust them to handle respectfully Magneto’s Jewish history and how it shapes his character as a literal holocaust survivor. Or Kitty Pryde for that matter. I trust them less with Peter Rasputin, a Russian character introduced during the height of the Cold War, whose character could be especially impactful now. I don’t think Disney is prepared to touch on Wolverine, a canonically (in one universe at least) queer man practicing the least toxic foe of masculinity possible (see attached image) and make him a hyper-misogynistic pretty boy with run of the mill anger issues.

So yeah. MCU=bad, Mutants=good, MCU+Mutants= bad mutants.

Support the WGA writers strike.

The discourse on Mutants

Or Why the MCU isn’t ready for the X-Men.

I love Marvel comics. Huge fanboy, have been for a while, but it after phase one of the MCU my excitement for Marvel’s cinematic offerings took a nose dive. And it’s easy to explain why. Marvel and Disney began to sanitize their characters, stories, and the MCU at large. Iron Man 1 and 2 made a large part of Tony’s character arch revolve around trauma and the recovery from said trauma. We see Tony fall face first into alcoholism, and face the consequences of that path. Then Avengers happens, and suddenly our heroes have to be heroes full time. Suddenly Tony’s trauma is the butt of the joke. Steve’s challenges being a man out of time are played for laughs, and everyone has said all there is to say about Bro Thor. The only real Face The Consequences Of Your Actions moment came in the form of the Sokovia Accords, which actively get hand waved in later films. Unsurprisingly, it’s because of Wanda, who is pulling almost all of the weight of setting the stage for a proper X-Men universe, but I’ll get there.

The MCU bends over backwards to avoid actually challenging the status quo. It makes it difficult to get excited for the future of X-films when we’ve seen these historically revolutionary characters who’s entire premise is to push for change, status quo be damned, be reduced to brightly colored guardian sentinels of normalcy. Winter Soldier proves that Cap is right in challenging SHIELD because Nazis were pulling the strings all along. It’s not the government that’s bad, just the Nazis. Civil War says that Cap is wrong, and only cares about his buddy. Tony is right because he listens to the No Longer Nazi government. The status quo is preserved, we do not have to challenge our views.

One needs look no further than Black Panther to see just how far Disney is willing to go to avoid challenging its audience. Oh, sure, they call the white guy Colonizer, but the character who actually acknowledges a need for an overhaul in the system? The guy who vaguely implies in a general sort of way that systemic racism is very real and needs to be fought? He’s the bad guy. And the hero has to beat him up so that he can uphold the status quo then address the symptoms of the problem that he kind of acknowledges is there.

And that’s just the way the studios handle their characters. In universe is another beast all together, but that alone is enough to make me iffy on Disney’s X-Men. The characters and stories are very thinly veiled allegories for the civil rights movement, and most of the time that veil isn’t even there. They challenge the status quo and make the reader ask hard questions about the system and themselves. The X-Men and in a much larger sense Mutants are the ultimate Other and are intended to make the audience feel for them, and hopefully better themselves so that villains like Magneto are be seen as unnecessary. The goal is to make him seem wrong. Humanity can accept mutants, and does. Society can accept poc, lgbtqa+, Muslims, Jewish people, and anyone else othered by our systems and status quo. But we have to challenge those ways of thinking. One of the biggest recurring bad guy groups in the comics is an anti-mutant hate group that is literally just the KKK pallet swapped. I have a hard time believing that Disney will go there.

Now in universe I’d say the MC U has been in the wrong stat for mutants since at least Endgame. Ultron and Civil war had society facing the right direction, instilling a general fear and mistrust of “enhanced individuals”, but Endgame leaves the world in a state of relative hero worship. TFaTWS has Bucky, former assassin and Interpol most wanted basically on parole, and Sam, former Interpol most wanted, acting as free agents beholden to no government body. Sam is greeted and treated as a celebrity. Wanda starts her solo-series with the same impunity, even though she’s basically the whole reason the Sokovia accords happened. They are super heroes, and the world loves them.

But the ground work has been laid for the MCU to have an appropriate atmosphere for the X-Men. And it started with Spider-Man: Far From Home. Outing Peter, and having him framed as a menace begins to establish the framework for an end to hero worship, and starting it with Spidey is actually pretty brilliant. Spider-Man’s powers have no in universe explanation. As far as the public at large knows, Peter Parker was born with these powers. Ol’ Triple J could drop the final nail in the coffin with a single headline (or segment, seeing as he runs Info Wars in the diegetic) “Spider-Man: Mutant or Menace?”

WandaVision keeps the ball rolling by having Wanda essentially abuse her powers in a very public way to the detriment of those affected (no spoilers), sewing the seeds of fear and mistrust. Again, as far as the general public is concerned, Wanda Maximof was born with the powers she turned against others, effectively a Mutant, and no one was prepared to stop her.

Now within the first two episodes of TFaTWS, the stage is set to completely destroy society’s faith in super heroes. There’s a new Captain America on the scene, the public eye is firmly on him, and he has the makings of a spiteful bully. Sam and Bucky, who have mostly been forgiven their trespasses are playing by their own rules, oversight be damned. If they play these arch’s right, it paves the way for a lot of destruction of good will. But we’ll have to see.

In conclusion, while I don’t have high hopes for Disney’s handling of the X-Men, I do think the stage is being set for them to come in in a big way, and while the ground work is being set to introduce Disney’s shiny new toys, they have a ways to go before the Anti-Mutant sentiment they will no doubt try to make a big deal in universe makes sense.

TL;DR Disney needs to hold out on playing with their shiny new toys until they finish putting in the work for the characters and narratives to make sense, and I don’t trust Michael Mouse to handle the X-Men right.

[seanfalco]

welcome to hell | part one.

[ masterlist ]

When you win VIP passes to Scream Fest, a traveling horror carnival, you convince your fellow ASBO-mates to join you for a night of fun and harmless scares, but the horrors turn all too real when a masked serial killer begins to target you and your friends.   Luckily at least one of you is immortal.

Word Count: 2.6k  Tags/Warnings: slight nathan x reader, light sexual themes, violence, stalking, blood/gore, character death (mostly nathan lol), part of the Bad Kids’verse/reader has same power   

a/n: I’ve been dying (haha) to write this fic since last Halloween and I’m so excited to actually get to it this year!  Based on the film Hell Fest, I thought it would be the perfect environment to place our favourite Misfits (and you!) in.  A huge huge thank you to both @santacarlahorrorshow​ & @super-unpredictable98​ for being my sounding boards and helping me brainstorm this bad boy out.  You guys are the best.  <3

The chill of autumn clung to you despite your jacket, misting your breath as you made your usual early morning trek across the estate to the Community Centre.  Most of the trees you passed were shedding the last vestiges of autumn already, their colourful foliage scattered across the concrete beneath, at the mercy of the breeze while their empty gnarled branches twisted toward the sky, leaving the Brutalist landscape around you feeling starker than usual.

However, today, not even your approaching community service hours could put a damper on your mood.  

“You’re in a good mood today,” Nathan observed as you walked into the locker room to change, a noticeable spring to your step.

“Yeah, what’s up with you?” Curtis asked, shutting his locker door while Alisha turned from studying her reflection to watch you.

“You get laid last night or somethin’?” she asked, her glossy lips twitching mischievously as her eyes flicked to Nathan who stiffened slightly, peering at you warily from his own locker door, silently hoping that wasn’t the case.

“No, even better,” you exclaimed, your eyes lighting up as you pulled out the envelope you’d received that morning in the post to hold aloft.  “I won VIP passes to Scream Fest this weekend!”

“What’s that?” Nathan asked, thanking the lord he still had a chance with you. “You don’t know?” Alisha scoffed, throwing him an incredulous look while Kelly rolled her eyes.

“It’s only been advertised like everywhere since th’beginning of the month,” she added.  “Where’ve you been?”

“Well excuse me,” Nathan shot back, pointing across the room at her, “I haven’t exactly been payin’ attention to th’tellie lately, seein’ as I’ve been livin’ in the Community Centre!”

“There are posters for it plastered all over the estate, we’ve been scraping them off the Community Centre walls all week,” Simon pointed out, to which Nathan made a face at him.

“It’s like a traveling horror night.  There’s rides and games, and haunted mazes,” you explained, unable to keep the excitement from your voice.  “I’ve been dying to go since it was announced they were comin’ to Wertham this year, but the tickets sold out like th’moment they went on sale.”

“You said you won the tickets?” Simon asked, running a hand over his hair to make sure it was straight before shutting his locker door.

“Yeah, I entered this drawing and I won th’grand prize!” you answered, letting your gaze sweep the room.  “You guys wanna go with me?”

Curtis looked to Alisha who gave a shrug.  “Yeah alright.”

“Sounds like fun,” Kelly replied while Simon’s face lit up at the idea of being included.

“And you?” you asked Nathan, cocking an eyebrow at him.  “Or are yeh too pussy t’come?” you teased.

Nathan made a face as he let out a huff of air as if he couldn’t believe you’d said that.  “I’m no pussy!” he exclaimed, sauntering across the locker room to throw his arm around your shoulder.  “Course I’ll be there, you’ll need someone t’hold your hand when y’get scared, after all.”

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help but grin.

“Great, that’s settled.”

——

“I heard that a year ago a girl was murdered at one of these haunted attractions and they didn’t find the body for several days.  Everyone thought it was just one of the props,” Simon said as the six of you waited in line to get into the park.

“Oh my God, why would you tell us that now as we’re about t’go in?” Alisha exclaimed, throwing Simon an incredulous look and drawing her arms around herself.

“That’s bullshit, it’s probably just an urban legend,” Kelly dismissed, but Simon shook his head.

“No, it’s true!” he insisted.

“Stop freaking everyone out, man,” Curtis exclaimed, putting an arm around Alisha’s waist.

“Who’s freaked out?  I’m not freaked out!” Nathan insisted, slinging his own arm around your shoulders protectively, though the way his voice went up in pitch made you wonder otherwise.

“Well, if there were a killer on the loose, it’s not like you can die,” Simon argued and Nathan made a face at him.

“Yeah sure I’m immortal,” Nathan agreed with a scoff, “but it ain’t like dyin’s a cakewalk or anything’!  I ain’t lookin’ t’be killed just for a laugh.”

“Guys, c’mon,” you groaned, afraid your friends were about to bail on you.  “What are th’odds of that even happening?”

The others looked at each other and shrugged.  “You have a point,” Kelly agreed.

As you got closer to the entrance, you passed out everyone’s tickets and VIP wristbands.

“Oooh VIP, fancy,” Nathan giggled, looking down at the neon pink band you placed around his wrist.  “What’s this for?”

“This’ll let us skip the lines for the rides and mazes,” you explained, putting yours on last.  “Plus, there’s a whole section of the park that you can only get into if you have these.”

“What’s so special about that section?” Curtis asked and a wicked grin crossed your face.  “The scariest maze is in there and the actors are allowed t’touch you,” you answered, wriggling your fingers for dramatic effect.

“They can touch us?” Alisha cried.  “Eh, no way am I goin’ in there!” she exclaimed, obviously worried about the actors accidentally activating her power.

“Oh, don’t be such a pussy!” Nathan laughed, letting out a playful shriek and backing up when Curtis turned to him angrily.

“You know what happens when people touch her!” he spat, shoving his finger under Nathan’s nose and you hurriedly stepped in to calm your friends down.

“When we get there, you can give her your jacket to wear,” you suggested.  “As long as her arms are covered there’s nothin’ t’worry about.  Right?” you asked, turning to Alisha who reluctantly nodded.

“Yeah alright,” she agreed.  “Let’s get this over with.”

“That’s th’spirit!” Nathan joked, steering you toward the main gate.

Once you made it through the line to the entrance, your tickets scanned, you stopped in the midst of the park’s main thoroughfare, gaping at the sights around you.  Performers dressed in different horrifying costumes and masks roamed the area just waiting to startle park goers, creeping through the colourful smoke that blanketed the ground and swirled around your ankles, obscuring everything like a fog.

“So, where d’you wanna go first?” you asked, opening the map of the park so the others could see.  “There’s a pretty tame haunted maze right ahead,” you mused, checking the ‘thrill meter’ next to the attraction’s name.  “Shall we start there and work our way up?” 

“Yeah alright.”  “Sounds good t’me,” several of your friends agreed.

“If y’get scared, you can hold onto my arm,” Nathan offered, wearing a shit eating grin as he leaned in closer, puffing his chest out.  “I’ll protect yeh.”

Just then, an actor in a clown costume came up behind you, lunging at you with a bloodcurdling shriek as he passed and Nathan let out a high pitched scream in response, hastily stepping behind you to put you between him and the clown.

After your initial spike of adrenaline passed, you couldn’t help but laugh, turning to give Nathan a playful shove.  “Oh sure, you’ll protect me, huh?”

Barely keeping an amused grin from his face, Nathan shrugged, throwing his hands up.  “I was startled, it was a reflex!”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you jumped again as almost immediately another costumed performer jumped out of the bushes on your other side to scare Alisha and Simon.  Kelly merely glared at the guy in the Scream mask, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an unamused eyebrow.  The actor pantomimed shrugging exaggeratedly before hurrying away to scare another group nearby.

Noticing she’d grabbed onto Simon’s jacket instinctively, Alisha scowled and quickly moved closer to Curtis who shook his head in amusement.  “Y’know, th’more you scream, th’more they’re gunna mess with you, right?” he pointed out.

“Yeah, I know!” Alisha snapped back, annoyance lacing her tone.

“It’s fun bein’ scared,” you laughed, your voice carrying, “as long as its all make believe, anyway.”

Little did you know that not far behind you, your words had caught the attention of a passing stranger in a mask, his head down and hands shoved into the pouch of his dark nondescript hoodie.  Raising his head in your direction, he stopped, watching you for a moment before changing his course.

“Alright, we ready t’do this?” you asked, glancing at your friends as you stood in front of the entrance to the first maze, the building looming imposingly out of the darkness.

“I guess,” Alisha whined, bouncing on the balls of her feet, practically radiating nervous energy.

“Oh c’mon,” Kelly exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

“Maybe we should let Kelly do th’honours,” Nathan suggested, gesturing for her to go first.  “Th’first poor sod t’jump us’ll think twice next time after gettin’ a fist to th’face,” he laughed.

“You sayin’ something?” Kelly demanded, rounding on him, raising her hand to smack him.

“Just that you’re th’type t’punch first and ask questions later,” he yelped, dodging her attack.

“Alright, come on then, y’pussies,” Kelly exclaimed, marching forward and you followed eagerly.

Inside, the foyer looked like the entrance to some demonic version of a Catholic school.  Black lights illuminated splotches of neon paint splattered across the walls and floor.  Behind the front desk sat, at what first glance, looked like an animatronic nun until Curtis and Alisha posed for a photo in front of her and she snapped a ruler against the desk, startling them.  

Alisha let out an annoyed huff as Curtis laughed at her and she marched past him, her arms folded tightly over her chest.  “Alright already, let’s get this over with!” she cried, gesturing for you all to follow her.

Passing through the next corridor, you noticed several doors lining the walls and prepared yourself for another jump scare.  When a door to your right flew open and a costumed actor jumped out, you laughed as several of your friends let out shrill screams of surprise, Nathan included.

“Scared?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at him as he once more stepped behind you.

“No!” he snapped back, pushing you forward.  “I have nerves of steel, baby,” he boasted, putting on a brave face and puffing his chest out.

“Uh huh, then how come you’re cowerin’ behind y/n, huh?” Kelly taunted, and Nathan’s mouth fell open.

“I ain’t cowerin’!” he shot back.  “I’m just… protectin’ her backside,” he insisted.

“I doubt many of the scares are going to come from the way we’ve already been,” Simon pointed out, a tiny smug grin twisting his lips.  “Just admit you’re scared, Nathan.”

“I am not!”

“Psst,” you hissed, tugging at Nathan’s sleeve.  “If you pay attention, I think the next actor’s gunna come out on the left,” you whispered, giving him a head’s up.

Nathan nodded, bracing himself as the group continued moving forward.  This time when the next scare arrived, it came from a door on the left, just like you’d guessed, and Nathan barely flinched, though his hand sought yours by your side.

Stepping into the next room, you looked around, waiting for the next scare, but nothing came.  It appeared to be a classroom of some sort, filled with desks, most of which were toppled over and stacked in piles.

“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Nathan laughed, letting himself relax when he found the room empty save for the six of you.

“Maybe that’s what they want you to think,” Simon muttered, his eyes wide as he scanned the corners for any hidden threats while a rather unsettling soundtrack of ambient sounds played in the background, heightening the suspense.

Without warning, a girl suddenly stumbled into the room from the opposite direction, sobbing and clearly distraught.

“I guess there’s your scare,” Curtis said, letting out the breath he’d been holding.

“He’s right behind me!  Please, you have t’hide!” the girl exclaimed, not waiting for any of you to move as she scrambled under the blackboard to hide behind a set of curtains.  Moments later, a man in a twisted mask stepped into the room from the same direction, the hood of his dark sweatshirt pulled up, obscuring every bit of his appearance.  His head swiveled from side to side, searching for his prey, until he noticed the six of you and he stopped, staring as if intrigued.

“Oooo scary!” Nathan taunted, barking a laugh, and the masked stranger moved closer, sizing you up, his head tilted slightly. 

“That’s one ugly mask, mate.  I’m sorry t’hafta tell yeh—” Nathan’s words had the man’s gaze swiveling to him and he stepped forward, standing nearly chest to chest with Nathan, looming over him intimidatingly.

“Your girl’s under there,” Alisha exclaimed, pointing to where the frightened actress was “hiding” in an attempt to get the guy’s attention back to his intended prey and away from you.

The masked man tilted his head the other way, his gaze lingering on Alisha before he strode across the room to where she’d pointed.  Kneeling, he pulled back the curtain and reached in, grabbing the girl by the hair and hauling her out as she kicked and struggled in his grip, sobbing dramatically while tears rolled down her cheeks. 

Pulling a knife from his hoodie pouch, the masked man raised it slowly, looking to you as he held it in the air above the girl who continued to struggle feebly.  

“Please, please help me!” she cried desperately until he covered her mouth, her heels sliding and kicking uselessly against the tiled floor.  The actor, however, seemed not to pay her much mind, his shadowed gaze trained on you and an uneasy shiver slid down your spine.

“Just do it, already,” you scoffed, more than a little creeped out by the actor’s intensity; you just wanted him to get it over with so you could get out of there.

At your words, the masked man brought his knife down into the girl’s stomach, his eyes never wavering from your face, and for a moment when he pulled his blade free to plunge it down again, the actress going limp, your mouth went dry and a spike of alarm pierced you.

Even if it wasn’t real, even if the blood that stained her shirt was merely coloured corn syrup, something about the scene unsettled you.

“y/n, let’s get out of here!” Alisha called from the other side of the room, and you turned, finally noticing they’d moved away and you turned once more to the masked stranger, who was getting back to his feet before you.

It couldn’t have possibly been real, could it?

“y/n, c’mon,” Nathan insisted, grabbing your wrist to pull you away when you didn’t move.

As you stumbled after Nathan, searching for the maze’s exit, everything sounded muffled beneath the rush of blood in your ears.  Finally bursting outside, you gasped, doubling over to rest your hands on your legs and catch your breath.

“Holy shit, talk about dedication!” Curtis laughed.

“No kiddin’, that was intense,” Kelly agreed as your friends shook out their nerves beneath a small tree.

Nearby, another masked actor screamed, catching a girl and stabbing her while she shrieked, her alarm turning to laughter when the actor revealed the knife to be fake and you felt relief wash over you.  

“It had seemed so real,” you breathed, straightening; the masked man’s intense stare still haunting you.

“That’s what y’wanted, isn’t it?  T’be scared?” Nathan asked, grinning cheekily and you gave him a playful shove, the rest of your tension melting away.

“C’mon, let’s go get a drink and play some games,” he suggested, slinging his arm around you.

“Sounds good.  You gunna win me a stuffed animal?”

“Definitely!”

As Nathan led you away, his laughter ringing in your ears, you felt eyes on your back and you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder.  Outside the maze’s exit, the masked man stood, watching you walk away.  When he noticed you staring, he slowly lifted a finger to the front of his mask where his lips would be and the vague sense of unease you’d just managed to shake off began to creep back in.

taglist: @super-unpredictable98 @salvador-daley @firstpersonnarrator​

[mittensmorgul]

For anyone interested in long-term residence in the supernatural fandom, please have some observations I’ve made over the decade I’ve been here. Take it or leave it as you will, but I’ve found all of this info useful over the years I’ve been here.

I wrote this yesterday, and it achieved its mission of identifying the sort of folks who would react negatively to it (i.e. a lot of block lists have been updated), so now that it’s been edited for content, it’s going under a cut (because that is how we do things on tumblr in general, unless we have a deliberate purpose for annoying readers with excessively long text posts) for the sake of people who actually do care about the fandom and its history. If that’s not you or your reason for being here, then keep on keeping on with your own thing, I guess. For those who are interested, there’s a lot of fandom resources some of us have been building for years that you might enjoy knowing about.

First off, I’ve been informed by a few friends who’ve read through this for coherency’s sake that it sort of reads like a *shakes cane from porch* fandom grandma complaint, but honestly... I earned this rocking chair and goshdangit imma rock now. So apologies for any “back in my day” vibes or faint aroma of tiger balm this post might give off. Then again, it’s loosely based on a similar post from 2012 so like... time is a flat circle anyway I guess.

1. There is no such thing as “tumblr famous,” unless you’re referring to the hilarious and delightful fic of the same name (please go read it, you will cackle). Posting Hot Takes for imaginary Clout™ on this site is kind of pointless in the long run. Sure you can post solely for the sake of stirring shit and getting notes, but the majority of the folks who do aren’t long term residents of the fandom. They’re just tourists moving through our little beach town for spring break. If you’re actually intent on moving to this corner of the fandom for an extended stay, please bother to really feel out the permanent residents and understand the culture and general mood of the neighborhood. It bears no resemblance to whatever’s going on across town where all the bars and beach parities are happening, and those loud, drunken revelers are, again, gonna disappear back to their regular lives or on to the next party eventually. That doesn’t mean the fandom is dying, it’s just evolving.

(funny how I had several comments implying that I’m just trying to keep the fandom from evolving with this post, because I sincerely do want the fandom to continue on for years to come, and that is impossible without evolution. We can evolve without self-immolating, though. mostly i included point 1 for an excuse to push ancient but hilarious fanfic on you.)

2. Once you post something here, it’s been unleashed to the fandom winds. You never know where it will end up, or who will comment on it or add to it. Remember that time Misha tweeted the link to the Epic Cockles Love Story post? No? It was wild. That was 2012. They all know we’re here, and how to find us if they want to. Please don’t take it to their doorsteps.

Obviously if someone is being a dick on your posts, please feel free to block them, but the whole entire point of this site is to engage people with your posts. Being big mad that someone reblogged your post with comments or supporting evidence, or happy headcanons or “HECK THIS IS GREAT BECAUSE (insert personal story about their experience or whatever else made them Feel Things about your post)” is frankly ridiculous. If your goal is to avoid any sort of engagement with your posts, then maybe try instagram instead. From what I understand, there is a SPN fandom presence there, and nobody can tarnish your original posts with unwanted commentary. But the ability to reblog with additional commentary is a FEATURE of tumblr that builds community through conversation. Otherwise we’re all just talking to ourselves in a vacuum, and that’s what actually kills fandoms.

(and for the folks who just want to blog how they want to blog and don’t want people to engage on their posts at all, please feel free to block anyone you want, as well... nobody wants to step on your toes, but most of us also don’t want to walk on eggshells wondering if this post is one of the “do not add comments for any reason” sorts of posts, either. This is a huge fandom and most people can’t even begin to keep track of every creator and their url du jour, and what their personal rules might be regarding interaction with their content. Including a “please don’t add comments” note at the bottom of your posts-- and not in your tags that won’t even show up on reblogs, but in the actual body of the post-- would sincerely help avoid any awkward or unwanted interactions, too. At the end of the day, you are in control of your own fandom experience and the block button exists.

For the record, I block zero fandom blogs (which is why I posted this, I wanted it to reach a wide scope... refer to the opening paragraphs as to why).

3. Since this post was partly inspired by a tag I left on that post going around about how “previous tags” mean fuckall on this site (which you can read here), just a reminder that if you like someone’s tags or feel they add value to the post, part of the Peer Review structure of tumblr encourages you to PASTE THEM INTO A REBLOG. If you do this, then at least credit the person who actually wrote the tags! Don’t just copy someone else’s tags into your tags on your reblog of the post without credit either. They were not YOUR tags. (I have had this happen to tag rambles I wrote and someone else got credited with them on a subsequent reblog and it is FRUSTRATING). Just... don’t even bother to write “previous tags” because WHAT PREVIOUS TAGS?! Nobody is gonna bother to chase back the chain of reblogs trying to find where the mystery tags came from, friendos. That way lies madness.

(for the record, since some folks seemed to focus on this point solely, writing “previous tags” on a post isn’t inherently a BAD thing, but for anyone who actually is here for more than one-off shitposting, then it’s sort of a pointless thing in the long run. This wasn’t intended to suggest people who ARE here for one-off shitposting are bad or “doing it wrong,” but for people who might actually want to preserve that hilarious joke or insightful comment. People delete posts and entire blogs all the time around here. Links break. I get that the upcoming generation just shrugs at that and moves on with their lives, but heck... you don’t have to accept that all entertainment is disposable if you don’t want to. There’s a bizarre sort of nihilism plaguing us all about the impermanence of pretty much everything that feels like something we should be fighting against rather than buying into wholesale, even in our escapist entertainment. I’m just exhausted by the complete loss of joy in community.

*shouts from the peanut gallery* IT AIN’T THAT DEEP, JUST GET SOME FRESH AIR AND LOOK AT A PUPPY OR SOMETHING

Yes... yes it isn’t really that deep, but bigger picture in the state of reality we’re all entirely disillusioned with, are we supposed to just give up on everything, including the things we cling to because they bring us a tiny spark of hope that we’re not all just trapped in this dystopian nightmare and things might actually be worth living for?

*peanut gallery clinging to burnt husks of peanuts in a barren peanut field* but this is how we have chosen to cope

Okay... you do you... I feel bad for you but if that’s the case then this post is NOT FOR YOU. AND THAT’S FINE. I honestly do not care if you don’t care! I mean, I’m sorry anyone has to live in a world that drives them to that mindset, but I understand. This post is for anyone who might look at their lives and their choices and think “no wait, I unironically enjoy this and want more from the experience of that enjoyment than I’m currently feeling.” Everyone else can continue with their lives as usual.)

4. CONTENT THEFT IS NEVER OKAY. PERIOD. Things like “credit to the artist” or tagging gifs or images you found on pinterest as “not mine” isn’t actually credit. If you can’t source an image or gif set, DO NOT POST IT! We don’t REPOST (i.e. save an image and then create a new post with it as if it was our own creation). We REBLOG (click the little square arrows and reblog from the actual creator). That goes for gif sets, fanvids, screencaps, meta, fic... everything.

(hopefully everyone here already understands this one, but I felt compelled to include some “these are stupidly obvious” reminders anyway, since this is ostensibly some sort of advice column. This is the equivalent of the warning label on your toaster reminding you not to use it in the bath. Like... duh...)

5. Close kin of item 4 is SOURCE YOUR SHIT. 

(for 100% disclosure purposes, I specifically discussed this one in this specific way because of an influx of anon ask messages I received in the wake of the finale. Literally the inciting incident for creating this entire post was what I can only assume was a joking ask about a comment Misha made at a con years ago. Someone actually bothered to take the time to type out those sentences to me. I have no idea what they were expecting in reply, or what could possibly motivate them to send this comment about something so entirely random from, again, several years ago. Just a joke? No idea, but whatever... it got me thinking that there might actually be people who are new to the fandom who MIGHT actually care about the fandom history, and maybe they just don’t know where to go for that info, or how to even begin searching through 16 years of history for things they might actually find enjoyment in, rather than just hauling random out of context garbage out on main and pointing and laughing about it now. People are actually allowed to care about things. It’s not cringeworthy to actually care about things, and you are not alone in actually caring, and there’s this whole big room over here full of people who are thrilled to share in that with you. This post is intended FOR THOSE PEOPLE SPECIFICALLY, so if that is not you, please just continue walking by.)

Yes, I know lots of y’all are new around here right now, but dredging up stuff from years ago that fandom has completely debunked and presenting it as TRU FAX again is just exhausting. We’re not trying to be party poopers, but seriously, we have seen it all and are mostly done with extinguishing bags of flaming dog poop on our front porches for the umpteenth year in a row. I’ve seen a lot of posts that have the same tone as “I saw Goody Proctor dancing with the devil” or “I heard kylo ren has an eight pack” and just... the information is there for anyone who cares enough to find it.

This goes double for “why is nobody talking about this thing I just discovered while watching the show for the first time?!” And, oh hon, we have talked it all into the ground over the last fifteen years. We’re happy you’re discovering it again, but I promise we talked about it plenty when the episodes originally aired. We have such a rich meta history that lots of us have worked really hard to preserve. I encourage you to seek it out, if nothing else than as historical artifacts. The way we have discussed the show has been a 16-year evolution. People have written literal doctoral dissertations on this show. Your shitposts are fun! We love reliving our own experience through fresh eyes, and seeing your wonder at experiencing it all again for the first time! But y’all didn’t invent this fandom in the last six months, either.

Meta Sources and Minerals provided by our friendly neighborhood fandom archivist, @lets-steal-an-archive

Academic books and articles about SPN 

A collection of Meta Essays going back to s1 and organized by topic (all of this has happened before, all of it will happen again)

SPN Heavy Meta Archive (s1-3)

Mel’s Dreamwidth archive of meta (s1-12)

Oranges8hands Dreamwidth archive of meta (s1-15, with many similar entries to Mel’s... though ymmv on viewpoint in a lot of these too)

Anyone remember Fandom Wank? Not the concept but the actual LJ... No? Okay have a link to SPN topics that ended up there. Through 2013. We have seen so much... including several fandom containment breaches.

for all your art sourcing needs, please see @theroadsofararchive, the repository for so much fandom art.

need to find a gif of something? canonspngifs is a vast repository of gifsets of the entire series. If the gif you want to use in your post happens to be the first gif in the gifset, in the tumblr gif finder thingy just paste the permalink to that post from canonspngifs (which is easily searchable by episode, character, location, situation, quotes, and sometimes even color and clothing items the actors are wearing... it’s really well organized, especially for tumblr >.>) and the first gif will be automatically linked with credit to the gif creator attached. It makes life easy that way. It’s also convenient when trying to remember something specific but can’t remember what episode it’s from. I’ve used the site to jog my memory before going to the superwiki armed with more specific search results to find episode quotes and references. Or sometimes I just scroll through all the nice gifs for fun, too.

Need a screencap of something and know exactly which episode it’s from? Try Home of the Nutty. You might not find the exact screencap you’re looking for, but they have a complete set of caps of every episode, and it’s an incredibly useful resource for quick reference checks and the like. Just give pages a chance to fully load before clicking on the next one. The site is easily overloaded, but it’s still free to use (and again, with credit... Pretty much every screencap on my entire blog is from HotN unless otherwise credited).

As you can see, this is a fandom built on preserving our history. You absolutely are not required to engage with any of this if that’s not of interest to you, but I can only assume that there are people who would be interested in it if only they knew it existed and how to find it. Well, now they do.

6. A few more notes on tags, and how they work on tumblr. The first 20 tags on your ORIGINAL posts are searchable sitewide, so if you want to be able to find something again, tag that thing first before going on general tag rambles. The only place tags on reblogs are searchable is on your own blog. So you don’t have to put 50 tags trying to get a post seen if it’s a reblog. You’re just spitting into the wind at that point. If you have a filing system for finding things again, then by all means add those tags (again, in the first 20, so they’re searchable), but you don’t need to tag a reblog “destiel” and “deancas” and “dean” and “cas” and “dean x cas” or whatever. Pick one for your personal blog’s filing system, that’s all you need.

(this was only added because tagging and searching on this site is so very broken... I get that a lot of folks don’t care about ever searching their own blogs again for anything, so this one only really applies if you do often find yourself trying to find old posts. If not, then it’s not really relevant.  It took me years to work out a decent tagging system, and at the beginning of my time here I never thought I’d end up camping out here for a decade and falling this deep into the fandom, and I regretted my lack of consistent tags only years later when I realized I actually wanted to be able to go back and find specific old posts again. So... for anyone who wants to err on the side of caution, working out a sensible tagging system really helps if you’re here for the long term. I personally tag content by episode, because some of my other general tags are so large as to be practically useless as a search term. But whatever system you choose to file stuff on your own blog, it really only has to make sense to you. And again, if this is pointless advice for someone who has no intention of settling here for the long term. Please feel free to ignore it. I just wish someone had explained it this way to me ten years ago and saved me the hassle of retroactively tagging something like 30k posts... especially now that using the mass tag replacer is the fastest way to get your entire blog deleted... oops? so yeah, don’t use the mass tag replacer either >.>)

7. Tags on Tumblr DO NOT WORK LIKE TAGS ON TWITTER. If you @ someone in the body of the post, it will show up in their notifications (if they’re the sort of person who even checks their notifications... not all of us do. For the record, I generally don’t...), but putting actor or ship names in the tags on a tumblr post does absolutely nothing. It’s not the same as tagging the actor’s twitter account in a tweet. Nobody’s getting notifications about you tagging a post about Jensen here as “Jensen Ackles.” There is a difference. Please learn it. (and don’t take headcanons and ESPECIALLY RPF or otherwise explicit art or fic from tumblr to twitter and tag the actors in it. That’s just... not okay.)

(I have seen the pearl clutchers getting all in a huff about the mere existence of RPF or even explicit content of fictional characters if it doesn’t meet their purity standards, but tagging those things allows people who don’t want to see it to actively avoid that content here. Nobody has a right to tell people their fictional content shouldn’t exist at all, or that creators of that fictional content somehow deserve harassment or threats for having dared to create such “immoral” content, won’t somebody PLEASE think of the children... and no... you do not do that here. Don’t be the problematic behavior you wish to ban from the world. Learn to use tags to protect yourself from, as i have attempted to emphasize here, fictional content you are personally upset by. That’s a you problem, not a problem for the creators of potentially upsetting content that they tag appropriately for.)

8. General formatting stuff: If you’re writing long text posts, visually break them up so people aren’t faced with one long wall of text. The enter key is your friend. Also, if you put long text posts under a Read More break and send people to your blog to finish reading, please ensure that your blog is actually visually accessible (tiny text, or light grey text on a dark grey background, or a visually busy background might be aesthetically pleasing to you but nobody can actually read it. Loads of folks won’t even try. Which is great if you don’t actually care whether people are able to appreciate your content or not, but something to at least consider if you *do* actively want to encourage engagement with your work. Confirm how your blog looks on both mobile and desktop and make sure it’s actually functional in both, too).

And since I mentioned that most of my experience on fandom tumblr has been in the SPN fandom, here’s a bit of a reminder for folks who are new around here. With the reminder that I have been here more than a decade and still feel like a newbie myself sometimes...

This is an OLD FANDOM. There are many, many people who have been at this longer than some of you have been alive. The average age for creators in this fandom is older than you think (I think of my friends in their 30′s as young’ins okay? okay). With that understood, you are responsible for the content you consume and are exposed to. Curate your experience. Ship and let ship. YKINMKATOK. Don’t deliberately expose yourself to content you find upsetting for whatever reason. Tags and warnings are your friends, not targets for you to attack in some sort of purity war. People will ship things you do not like (or in specific ways you do not like), will say things you do not agree with, and will find their happiness in things you abhor. That is not your concern. Find what you do like, and support and engage with it, and ignore (or block, or unfollow) the rest. Tumblr has a feature that lets you blacklist tags so the content you’re trying to avoid won’t appear on your dash.

Remember the paradox of tolerance.

It is not your job in fandom to police how other people enjoy the fandom. It’s not *my* job to police how *you* enjoy the fandom, UNLESS your enjoyment is in actively harming other real human beings in the fandom. If you don’t like their take on the character or the show or the plotlines or their ships or anything else, you don’t need to engage with their posts at all! The necessary corollary to this is that clarifying misunderstandings or correcting factual misinformation is not “policing.” 

(this is where the peanut gallery reminds me it ain’t that deep, and I plead with them to put down the social media and find just one (1) thing to actually believe in in this godforsaken life, find something other than disdain and cynicism and spite to live for. If those things motivate you to find a larger cause for yourself, then great, use them to your advantage, but use them to find something that makes you a better person or brings you a modicum of joy and connection to your fellow human beings despite living in a dystopian hellscape of a world)

I have seen a lot of posts lately that are founded on the sort of authority that comes with “I watched through tumblr for a few months and then watched the last three episodes of the series” and as such are just... missing the larger context of the entire show, and are unfounded entirely in canon. I 100% appreciate the new enthusiasm for the fandom that we’ve been living in here for years, and it’s wonderful to see new people enjoying the thing we love. Your headcanons are valid, you are valid, but recognize that your headcanons aren’t canon. All of us finale denialists have accepted this in some measure, so we feel you. We truly, truly feel you. But regarding actual canon, we have a resource for that: the Superwiki. Learn it, live it, love it, as Metatron would say.

(which you could discover he said in 10.17 Inside Man, thanks to the superwiki! accept no substitutes!)

(and again, there have been people who have been involved in fandom for years who haven’t engaged with canon in years, either! You can play in this universe however you choose, BUT FOR PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT CANON AT ALL, WHICH I AM AGAIN POINTEDLY SAYING MIGHT NOT BE YOU, READER, AND I’M NOT SUGGESTING YOU ARE WRONG FOR NOT WANTING TO ACTUALLY ENGAGE WITH CANON, but if you DO want to engage with canon, please have some useful resources. Why do people feel personally attacked by being presented a list of helpful resources? Absolutely baffling.)

(also: words have definitions. “Canon” is a specific thing, meaning in this case “the finished media product that aired on television.” Anything beyond those limits is secondary canon (think: john’s journal, which is not canon but canon adjacent at best...), word of god (i.e stuff said by the writers and showrunners), or headcanon (which includes actor commentary-- they may have helped create the show with their acting choices and whatever, but they are not in control of the story overall). If there’s something you dislike about actual canon, you can reject it and supplement it with your own theories or preferred outcomes-- that’s basically what fanfic is-- but that doesn’t make your theories canon (much to all our dismay, that’s just not how any of this works. This is not to invalidate how anyone engages with the show or the fandom, just trying to clarify what seems to have been a source of unintentional misunderstandings. Your theories do not have to be “canon” to be legitimate interpretations.)

***I am setting this section apart, and did make a separate post of just this following information, because this is where we go from being relatively chill about different parts of fandom choosing to interact in different ways and you do you and blog however you want, to “hey can everybody please understand that the way you are interacting with this specific material might be harmful for specific legal reasons, and stating that you do not care about the consequences of your actions does actively make you the asshole here...” Okay, now that we have that understood:

The spnscripthunt collective has been steadily acquiring new scripts (which are posted in full on the superwiki for everyone to enjoy, for free). The language around how some folks are talking about these scripts is... concerning. For very real legal reasons, actually, and not because we’re feeling precious about the collection and don’t wike it when meanies use them in shitposts.

-First off, these scripts are not “leaks.” They are all verified and legally purchased (or gifted, in some cases, but still acquired entirely above board. we didn’t whack anyone over the head in a back alley for these scripts, or swipe them out of someone’s trailer on set).

(in case anyone was unaware, these scripts are the copywritten protected property of Warner Brothers. So yes, how we use them and share them with the fandom could have legal repercussions. We present them as a collected resource of fandom history which SHOULD fall under Fair Use doctrine, but this is untested legal water. Insinuating that the scripts are somehow not entirely legally obtained, or that posting them for public access involved less than 100% transparent and entirely legal transactions is incredibly concerning.

Once again for the peanut gallery, if you don’t care about any of that and are just having a good time with it, at least be mindful of the work and expense a large group of people have gone through to acquire and present the content you’re all too eager to exploit for cheap thrills. Some of us do actually care and are not exactly comfortable with the fact that others don’t seem to care about burning it all to the ground. We can’t force you to listen or behave as we’d hope you might, but at least be aware of the potential consequences of your actions. All we’re asking is for you to not be the douchebag who sets the whole neighborhood on fire with your illegal fireworks display. Is that too much to ask for? more on that in a second, first... a psa)

-If you see a script for sale and are unsure if it’s legit (or believe it might already be freely available in our collection), please feel free to ask us for advice. Our goal is to make as much of our fandom history available to the entire fandom, and we absolutely do not want anyone shelling out money for stuff you can already find for free.

(seriously, we’ve seen a bunch of resellers cropping up selling printed versions of the scripts we bought and uploaded for everyone to enjoy free of charge, or scripts that are otherwise of dubious origin. We’ve been at this for years now and know what’s actually out there. We don’t want anyone to fall for a scam if we can help it)

-Also, the usual reminder that the scripts we acquire ARE NOT NECESSARILY THE FINAL SHOOTING DRAFTS. In fact, the majority of scripts in our collection are NOT. Changes are made daily to scripts, even during filming. Comparing a Production Draft (white pages, effectively the first “final draft” of what usually becomes a series of drafts before filming wraps) to a much later revision (say... green or goldenrod revisions, several of which we DO have in our collection for comparison) and how those earlier drafts often differ wildly from the aired version versus how similar a much later green draft is to the aired version, for example, can teach you a lot about the television writing process. The link above to the superwiki scripts page has a nice little explainer about how this process works.

Differences between our posted scripts (many of which are white drafts, aka FIRST complete drafts, which will likely go through multiple rounds of revisions before filming even begins) and the aired version of the show are not all “acting choices” or a director or editor just cutting whole scenes on a whim. It’s insulting to everyone involved in production to suggest that’s the case.

(and yeah, fine... whatever, make any sort of posts you like regarding how those changes came about, but at the very least understand that it’s not actually the truth about how any of this works. Don’t care that that’s not the truth and want to make the posts anyway because shitposting is fun and that’s the extent of your sense of humor? FINE! You’re entitled to do that! But at least you DO know the truth now, and hopefully so do the people who engage with your posts. Deliberate ignorance isn’t cute, smooth lions notwithstanding)

There’s probably a whole other post to be made on fandom tagging etiquette, but again I don’t really use the tags enough to know what’s going on with that whole situation. I’ve also probably left a lot of stuff out, so please feel free to add things I’ve overlooked.

Thanks also to @trisscar368 and @thayerkerbasy for help compiling this, too. They were kind enough to escort me through the park to feed these pigeons. Now I need to take them out for ice cream. :’D

So I guess welcome to the neighborhood. Make yourself at home, but like... try not to trash the place while you’re here. Some of us live here by choice, lol.

[littlemixnet]

To me, a good ally is someone who is consistent in their efforts – there’s a difference between popping on a pride playlist or sprinkling yourself in rainbow glitter once a year and actually defending LGBT+ people against discrimination. It means showing my LGBT+ fans that I support them wholeheartedly and am making a conscious effort to educate myself, raise awareness and show up whenever they need me to. It would be wrong of me to benefit from the community as a musician without actually standing up and doing what I can to support. As someone in the public eye, it’s important to make sure your efforts are not performative or opportunistic. I’m always working on my allyship and am very much aware that I’ve still got a lot of unlearning and learning to do. There are too many what I call ‘dormant allies’, believing in equality but not really doing more than liking or reposting your LGBT+ mate’s content now and again. Imagine if that friend then saw you at the next march, or signing your name on the next petition fighting for their rights? Being an ally is also about making a conscious effort to use the right language and pronouns, and I recently read a book by Glennon Doyle who spoke of her annoyance and disappointment of those who come out and are met with ‘We love you…no matter what’. I’d never thought of that expression like that before and it really struck a chord with me. ‘No matter what’ suggests you are flawed. Being LGBT+ is not a flaw. Altering your language and being conscious of creating a more comfortable environment for your LGBT+ family and friends is a good start. Nobody is expecting you to suddenly know it all, I don’t think there’s such a thing as a perfect ally. I’m still very much learning. Even recently, after our Confetti music video I was confronted with the fact that although we made sure our video was incredibly inclusive, we hadn’t brought in any actual drag kings. Some were frustrated, and they had every right to be. You can have the right intentions and still fall short. As an open ally I should have thought about that, and I hadn’t, and for that I apologise. Since then I’ve been doing more research on drag king culture, because it’s definitely something I didn’t know enough about, whether that was because it isn’t as mainstream yet mixed with my own ignorance. But the point is we mess up, we apologise, we learn from it and we move forward with that knowledge. Don’t let the fear of f**king up scare you off. And make sure you are speaking alongside the community, not for the community. Growing up in a small Northern working-class town, some views were, and probably still are, quite ‘old fashioned’ and small-minded. I witnessed homophobia at an early age. It was a common thought particularly among men that it was wrong to be anything but heterosexual. I knew very early on I didn’t agree with this, but wasn’t educated or aware enough on how to combat it. I did a lot of performing arts growing up and within that space I had many LGBT+ (mainly gay) friends. I’ve been a beard many a time let me tell you! But it was infuriating to see friends not feel like they could truly be themselves. When I moved to London I felt incredibly lonely and like I didn’t fit in. It was my gay friends (mainly my friend and hairstylist, Aaron Carlo) who took me under their wing and into their world. Walking into those gay bars or events like Sink The Pink, it was probably the first time I felt like I was in a space where everyone in that room was celebrated exactly as they are. It was like walking into a magical wonderland. I got it. I clicked with everyone. My whole life I struggled with identity – being mixed race for me meant not feeling white enough, or black enough, or Arab enough. I was a ‘tomboy’ and very nerdy. I suppose on a personal level that maybe played a part in why I felt such a connection or understanding of why those spaces for the LGBT+ community are so important. One of the most obvious examples of first realising Little Mix was having an effect in the community was that I couldn’t enter a gay bar without hearing a Little Mix song and watching numerous people break out into full choreo from our videos! I spent the first few years of our career seeing this unfold and knowing the LGBT+ fan base were there, but it wasn’t until I got my own Instagram or started properly going through Twitter DMs that I realised a lot of our LGBT+ fans were reaching out to us on a daily basis saying how much our music meant to them. I received a message from a boy in the Middle East who hadn’t come out because in his country homosexuality is illegal. His partner tragically took their own life and he said our music not only helped him get through it, but gave him the courage to start a new life somewhere else where he could be out and proud. There are countless other stories like theirs, which kind of kickstarted me into being a better ally. Another standout moment would be when we performed in Dubai in 2019. We were told numerous times to ‘abide by the rules’, which meant not promoting anything LGBT+ or too female-empowering (cut to us serving a four-part harmony to Salute). In my mind, we either didn’t go or we’d go and make a point. When Secret Love Song came on, we performed it with the LGBT+ flag taking up the whole screen behind us. The crowd went wild, I could see fans crying and singing along in the audience and when we returned it was everywhere in the press. I saw so many positive tweets and messages from the community. It made laying in our hotel rooms s**tting ourselves that we’d get arrested that night more than worth it. It was through our fans and through my friends I realised I need to be doing more in my allyship. One of the first steps in this was meeting with the team at Stonewall to help with my ally education and discussing how I could be using my platform to help them and in turn the community. Right now, and during lockdown, I’d say my ally journey has been a lot of reading on LGBT+ history, donating to the right charities and raising awareness on current issues such as the conversion therapy ban and the fight for equality of trans lives. Stonewall is facing media attacks for its trans-inclusive strategies and there is an alarming amount of seemingly increasing transphobia in the UK today and we need to be doing more to stand with the trans community. Still, there is definitely a pressure I feel as someone in the public eye to constantly be saying and doing the right things, especially with cancel culture becoming more popular. I s**t myself before most interviews now, on edge that the interviewer might be waiting for me to ‘slip up’ or I might say something that can be misconstrued. Sometimes what can be well understood talking to a journalist or a friend doesn’t always translate as well written down, which has definitely happened to me before. There’ve been moments where I’ve (though well intentioned) said the wrong thing and had an army of Twitter warriors come at me. Don’t get me wrong, there are obviously more serious levels of f**king up that are worthy of a cancelling. But it was quite daunting to me to think that all of my previous allyship could be forgotten for not getting something right once. When that’s happened to me before I’ve scared myself into thinking I should STFU and not say anything, but I have to remember that I am human, I’m going to f**k up now and again and as long as I’m continuing to educate myself to do better next time then that’s OK. I’m never going to stop being an ally so I need to accept that there’ll be trickier moments along the way. I think that might be how some people may feel, like they’re scared to speak up as an ally in case they say the wrong thing and face backlash. Just apologise to the people who need to be apologised to, and show that you’re doing what you can to do better and continue the good fight. Don’t burden the community with your guilt. When it comes to the music industry, I’m definitely seeing a lot more LGBT+ artists come through and thrive, which is amazing. Labels, managements, distributors and so forth need to make sure they’re not just benefiting from LGBT+ artists but show they’re doing more to actually stand with them and create environments where those artists and their fans feel safe. A lot of feedback I see from the community when coming to our shows is that they’re in a space where they feel completely free and accepted, which I love. I get offered so many opportunities to do with LGBT+ based shows or deals and while it’s obviously flattering, I turn most of them down and suggest they give the gig to someone more worthy of that role. But really, I shouldn’t have to say that in the first place. The fee for any job I do take that feels right for me but has come in as part of the community goes to LGBT+ charities. That’s not me blowing smoke up my own arse, I just think the more of us and big companies that do that, the better. We need more artists, more visibility, more LGBT+ mainstream shows, more shows on LGBT+ history and more artists standing up as allies. We have huge platforms and such an influence on our fans – show them you’re standing by them. I’ve seen insanely talented LGBT+ artist friends in the industry who are only recently getting the credit they deserve. It’s amazing but it’s telling that it takes so long. It’s almost expected that it will be a tougher ride. We also need more understanding and action on the intersectionality between being LGBT+ and BAME. Racism exists in and out of the community and it would be great to see more and more companies in the industry doing more to combat that. The more we see these shows like Drag Race on our screens, the more we can celebrate difference. Ever since I was a little girl, my family would go to Benidorm and we’d watch these glamorous, hilarious Queens onstage; I was hooked. I grew up listening to and loving the big divas – Diana Ross (my fave), Cher, Shirley Bassey, and all the queens would emulate them. I was amazed at their big wigs, glittery overdrawn make-up and fabulous outfits. They were like big dolls. Most importantly, they were unapologetically whoever the f**k they wanted to be. As a shy girl who didn’t really understand why the world was telling me all the things I should be, I almost envied the queens but more than anything I adored them. Drag truly is an art form, and how incredible that every queen is different; there are so many different styles of drag and to me they symbolise courage and freedom of expression. Everything you envisioned your imaginary best friend to be, but it’s always been you. There’s a reason why the younger generation are loving shows like Drag Race. These kids can watch this show and not only be thoroughly entertained, but be inspired by these incredible people who are unapologetically themselves, sharing their touching stories and who create their own support systems and drag families around them. Now and again I think of when I’d see those Queens in Benidorm, and at the end they’d always sing I Am What I Am as they removed their wigs and smudged their make up off, and all the dads would be up on their feet cheering for them, some emotional, like they were proud. But that love would stop when they’d go back home, back to their conditioned life where toxic heteronormative behaviour is the status quo. Maybe if those same men saw drag culture on their screens they’d be more open to it becoming a part of their everyday life. I’ll never forget marching with Stonewall at Manchester Pride. I joined them as part of their young campaigners programme, and beforehand we sat and talked about allyship and all the young people there asked me questions while sharing some of their stories. We then began the march and I can’t explain the feeling and emotion watching these young people with so much passion, chanting and being cheered by the people they passed. All of these kids had their own personal struggles and stories but in this environment, they felt safe and completely proud to just be them. I knew the history of Pride and why we were marching, but it was something else seeing what Pride really means first hand. My advice for those who want to use their voice but aren’t sure how is, just do it hun. It’s really not a difficult task to stand up for communities that need you. Change can happen quicker with allyship.

Jade Thirlwall on the power, and pressures, of being an LGBT ally: ‘I’m gonna f**k up now and again’

[buckyownsmylife]

Secret Door: the one where there’s a ball and some undisclosed feelings

President James Buchanan Barnes is the first president to occupy the White House without a first lady ever since… well, President James Buchanan Barnes. But he’s not too worried about it, since he got his best friend from college acting as his VP, supporting him just like only someone who knew everything about him could do. What happens when feelings from the past start to resurface?

Or the one where you and Bucky used to date but now you got a country to run.

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

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Are you free?” I asked as I chanced a glance inside the oval room, only to find James looking down at nothing in particular with a defeated look on his face. My movement had him glancing up to meet my eyes though, and a beautiful smile brightened his expression at the realization that I was the one talking to him.

“For you? Always.” He excitedly waved me in, already leaping out of his chair. “Come here, darling. I need one of your hugs.” I opened a little smile of my own at his request, but more tentatively than I would have if I hadn’t seen just how tired he looked before he saw me.

I was worried about him. Even now, while I had his arms around my body, his beard tickling my neck, it didn’t seem like he was really here at all. And it felt like he thought the same if the way he squeezed me was any indication of just how hard he was trying to be more present in the moment we were currently still living in.

I tried to pull away, but his arms only tightened around my smaller body, and so I relented, letting him rely on me for as long as he needed to. It was the least I could do, not for the President of my nation, but for my best friend since college.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” I asked once he finally let me go, still keeping me close by holding my wrists delicately but with purpose. He seemed to consider my words, lips pursed in thought, that cute little frown that made me want to bury my thumb between his eyebrows appearing on his face, but ended up shaking his head.

“Not really. What I would like is for you to come have dinner with me tonight. Do you think you can make it?” Of course I could. No one in their right mind would pass up the opportunity for dinner with the President, if not for his title, at least for his personal chef, but it wasn’t my case.

I could never say no to him because his company was my absolute favorite. I’d always chosen him over anything, and he’d done the same for me. But tonight, I knew neither of us could retreat into any sort of personal encounter because we both had the same social gathering to attend.

“I’d love to, but the ball, remember?” I watched as realization struck over Bucky, and he slapped his own forehead and groaned, making me giggle. He really was such a manchild at times, even if only with me.

“Ugh, do we really have to go?” Rolling my eyes at his whining, I fixed his suit while I bit on the inside of my cheek, so I wouldn’t just relent and laugh. I knew he was only saying this for show, an immature effort to get on my nerves.

I really did know him too well.

“Yes, we do. We can have dinner tomorrow. I’ll ask your assistant to clear off your schedule, I don’t know of any major commitments you have to attend.” When I finished fixing his clothes, I noticed the lack of response, and so I looked up to find him staring down at me with the most lovesick expression in his eyes. I laughed, but only to try to soften the mood of the room, ignore the way it made my heartbeat pick up.

“You really are the perfect woman, have I ever told you that?”

“Only all the time.” I smiled, thinking back fondly on everything we’d shared that led us here. It was a hell of a ride, but it was definitely easier with him by my side.

“It’s because it’s the truth.” I nodded, accepting his words as I prepared to leave, but then a gentle hand on my elbow had me looking back. “What color is your dress for this evening?” The question made me curious, but it wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary. Bucky was always looking for ways to show me that he cared.

“Yellow.” He nodded, releasing me as a silent way to say that I could leave. I smiled back at him, nodding in return.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

Bucky’s P.O.V.

The sound of heels against marble in the nearly empty hallway alerted me of her arrival. Turning around, I found her wearing the most beautiful and elegant yellow dress, the exact shade I had chosen to wear as a tie for the evening.

“Oh, wow,” I commented, opening a smile after I was able to close my mouth. “You look wonderful, sweetheart.” She looked extremely suspicious of me, although a huge smile took over most of her face.

“I like your tie.” Chuckling, I subconsciously adjusted it before reaching out to take her hand, wanting to close the space between us as soon as possible. The feeling of her warm skin always made me feel comforted, even if I didn’t know that I needed any sort of comfort. 

She seemed to know it, though. She always did. It was why I knew my decision to ask her to become my vice-president was the right one to make, even though our previous history together would make our run a peculiar one, to say the least.

“Good, you were supposed to appreciate it.” She hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t give me any more shows of how it affected her, eyeing the knot I’d just secured before reaching out for it again. Maybe it should make me irritated, but I could only find it adorable, how she insisted on double checking my outfit when I was sure nothing was wrong with it.

“Sam helped you with it?” At the mention of my assistant, I looked up from her cute little face to see that he was standing right behind her, sporting a knowing smile on as he watched our interaction, just patiently waiting for us to decide to leave.

“You know it.” She smiled up at me then, and suddenly there was an unspoken conversation between us that I didn’t want to break. I wasn’t too sure if what she was trying to communicate was the same I wanted to hear, but a guy could hope.

All hope eventually ends up lost when there’s a presidential commitment to attend, though. I should have known it by now.

“We really should be going,” Sam’s voice interrupted us, and still I smiled. She returned it as well, knowing this was our life, this was what we did - at least for the next three years.

“Shall we?” I asked, offering my arm to her, who bowed teasingly before accepting it.

“We shall.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Time would pass and we would eventually step out of power and I still wouldn’t become accustomed to all of this. All of the press, the fake smiles, the insipid conversations. But it was a part of the job. And at least I had James by my side to help me deal with all of it. If there was one thing I admired about him, it was his ability to make every situation exciting.

“I don’t think I actually told you just how beautiful you look tonight,” a familiar voice murmured right by my ear, hands slotting themselves over my hips as one of mine clutched my chest in surprise. I guess I truly had been distracted, staring out at the beautiful garden from the balcony I managed to find so I could get a breath of fresh air.

“You really think so?” I asked, turning around to meet his eyes. He had a cheeky smile on his lips, the one that made him look younger than he was - the one I adored so much.

“Oh, yes. You’re also incredibly distracting. I couldn’t focus on a single conversation people tried to hold with me tonight. But you know what?” I hummed, tilting my head to signal him I wanted to hear what he was going to say. “I find myself enjoying this distraction.”

It was impossible not to giggle - he’d always been a charmer, and that was the reason why I fell so hard for him back in college. If there was a reason we worked well together, however, it was because I knew how to give him a hard time.

“I mean, I would too, if I was stuck in a conversation with Senator Johnsson. Although everything is distracting when you’re near that man.” He tried to control his laughter, he really did, but in the end, it broke free, floating in the air around us and coaxing my own to join his.

By the time he was finally able to breathe again, he was shaking his head, his eyes crinkling in the corners, in that familiar way that I knew meant he was thinking I was too much.

“Well, then. I think I’ve earned myself a small break from all that boredom. Mind if I join you out here?” It was my turn to shake my head with a small smile, stepping to the side to give him more space to breathe.

“Not even a little bit.” It was silent for a second as we stared out to the garden, just reveling in each other’s companies. Despite how frequently we saw each other, it wasn’t usually this quiet, or ever this peaceful. It felt good to just feel enchanted by his proximity again.

But I knew I couldn’t stay there too long, and if he wanted some time to relax, I should probably get back there and distract people so they wouldn’t come looking for him. That was my plan when I took a step back, almost turning around to open the door when I felt his hand clasping me.

Only it wasn’t over my shoulder or arm, which was probably his original goal. Somehow, in the effort to keep me still, he didn’t anticipate in which direction I’d turn, so he ended up with a hand curled around my breast.

“I-I’m sorry,” he was quick to apologize, immediately dropping his arm. “I didn’t intend to.” He looked so utterly embarrassed by the situation, it was almost heartwarming. I felt the overwhelming urge to console him, not even for a second feeling uncomfortable because of what had transpired.

Bucky’s P.O.V.

“James, it’s okay,” she comforted me, her hand over my shoulder. “I’ve felt your hands in far more intimate places, remember?”

How could I ever forget?

The door slammed behind us but we were too busy lost in each other’s lips to care. I almost tripped on a forgotten sneaker as I tried to guide us to the couch, unwilling to worry about one of my roommates walking in on us right then.

It’s not like it would be the first time.

Her hands reached around her own torso to get rid of her shirt and bra, and I was left with my mouth watering at the sight that really should be familiar by now. She still hypnotized me all the same.

“C’mon, James,” she whined, hands tugging on my hair to try to pry me away from her nipple. “No foreplay. I need you now.” I groaned, finally relenting and letting go of her breast to work on unbuckling my belt as my cock twitched at her words.

“Naughty little slut,” I sneered, wrapping her hair around my fist when she positioned herself on her knees for me, holding onto the armrest of the couch. “I’m gonna fill you so good.”

She gasped in satisfaction upon feeling my cock stretch her out, something that had my heart skipping a bit every time. “Only I can make you feel this good, huh?” I asked, pulling on her strands to make sure she’d listen to me, even despite how roughly I was pounding her.

“Tell me,” I ordered, all insecurities and nerves, a young man still in college, finally exploring all of his sexual desires with the woman of his dream. Thankfully, she always gave me just what I needed, not only physically, but emotionally too.

“Yes, yes, Bucky. Only you, baby. God, you fuck me so fucking good.” It always thrilled me to no end to hear her usual perfectly composed self say the nastiest shit when I had my cock inside of her. Only I got to have this side of her, only I knew all of her.

She felt like home, in more ways than one. Whenever I had her, it was the best, sloppiest sex ever, and even years after I’d last touched her, I could still remember it perfectly.

I don’t think I’d ever be able to forget.

“God, you are such a fucking tease,” present me jokingly chastised, burying my hands in my pockets so I wouldn’t reach out and touch her again. The need was always there though, and it was overwhelming each time.

“Too much?” She joked, biting her lower lip as if it wasn’t the sexiest fucking thing ever. It made me groan, more out of desire than frustration at her words, but she’d never know.

“Just short of enough. Maybe it’ll keep my hunger at bay for a little while longer.” I looked up at her from under my eyelashes, trying to gather how she felt about what I was implying, but other than seeing her eyes widen a little bit, she gave me nothing.

She really knew me all too well by now.

“Still,” I continued, trying not to let the situation become awkward. “It seems like you’re not wearing a bra…” I teased, eyebrows raised high as if I was judging her for it. “Care to explain yourself, madam vice president?”

When she threw her head back to laugh, it exposed more of her delicious neck, and I unconsciously licked my lips at the clear skin I saw there. It didn’t use to look that way when we were together. I was very much into marking her all over - immature, possessive, and extremely in love with the woman before me.

“With this dress?” She asked, looking down at herself and making me look down at her neckline automatically. God, she was incredible. “Of course not. Can’t wear panties either.”

And just as I groaned at the new information, she giggled, winking over her shoulder as she reached out for the door. “Why must you tease me like this?” I shouted over the music, but all I could hear in response was her delighted laugh, and honestly, that was more than enough.

[rum-and-shattered-dreams]

Life Updates and Status Report for The Man Downstairs (Feb. 16, 2022)

Firstly, the status report!

I've had trouble weaving things together for this chapter and making a few decisions on how it plays out. It's like trying to wrangle several threads of different textures through the eye of a needle at once and they're too bulky to use a threader XD

But! I’m hoping to have it figured out soon. Preferably by this Saturday but if not, then by next Saturday. (And honestly, I could use some encouragement on it like, what are you looking forward to seeing or what questions do you want answered etc...)

Hope everyone else is doing as well as possible in these messed up times and if not, then I’m sending hugs and hope that things will get better soon.

And now for life updates - long post under the cut:

Sorry for being silent for so long.  I honestly didn’t want to think about a lot of this so I’ve been putting off writing about it... And talking to most people. Which is an issue and I’m sorry for disappearing. I could at least communicate with others about their lives more. It’s just been easier and taken less energy to distract myself (though even that has its own issues attached)

It’s been A LOT for a while again. Some of this is recap from things I’ve already mentioned but here’s the rundown of the past several months to year:

I thought I had made some progress on treating my ADHD but the meds may or may not have caused a colitis flare up. I stopped taking them to deal with that. In the meantime, I tried an alternate medication and the lack of benefits from it was not worth the side-effects. So I stopped taking that one too.

As for the colitis, I needed a colonoscopy which, without insurance is hella expensive, of course. I tried to get financial aid but the only facility close enough to me to make it worth it only did routine ones for seniors, not diagnostic ones.

So I contacted several Gastroenterology offices.

Not a single one answered their phone. I left a message at every office in town. Multiple times.

Only one called me back.

I ended up getting the money together to get it done, all the while worried that the inflammation might have finally turned into that cancer that the doctors from my teen years promised it would. If it had, there was no way I could afford treatment so it was basically the “guess I’ll die” meme. (I even asked a few friends to be keepers of the notes for this fic just in case. At least someone would have access and could post them if things went sideways.)

But the good-ish news is that it’s still just inflammation. The bad news is that the meds for it are $200 a month. 

I’m sticking to supplements instead because they’ve gotten me this far with less issues than my previous attempts at using prescription drugs. And this way, my Chinese medicine doctor knows what she’s working with. (She’s the one who wanted the colonoscopy results just to be sure there wasn’t anything that needed different medical attention.) And hey, at least the internal bleeding has stopped so that’s a step in the right direction. 

Next up, I’m going to try the ADHD meds again to see what happens and see about trying other prescriptions for that since none of the supplements I’ve tried have done much for it.

While all that was going on, my cat developed a lump on her back hip. Turned out it was cancerous and she had to have her leg amputated. She’s recovering now and I’m waiting on results to see if the margins were clean or if she needs more treatment (which would mean she might only have a year or two left vs her normal lifespan if the margins are clean). And of course that was another huge expense. 

And hey bonus stress points for getting the results on my cat having cancer on the same day as my dad’s skin biopsies came back as positive for cancer too! That’s basically my entire real life support network right there!  

Luckily dad’s cancerous spots were removed and we got clean results back. He’s healing up well now.

But seriously, I’d be homeless without him. And that’s whole other thing because he’s in his 80′s and I’m terrified for what happens when he’s not here anymore. (which sounds selfish but we are also pretty close. He’s the same kind of autistic as me so we’ve kind of shared an understanding with each other that no one else really gets. Plus we have the understanding/shared experience of taking care of my mom before she passed). 

I’ve tried so hard to hold down a job and make it on my own and my health flares up every time. Sometimes I want to scream because I tried to do everything “right” by what adults told me while growing up. I don’t smoke. (allegic to it actually). I rarely drink (which is funny considering my screen names) and when I do, I actually can’t get drunk. I’ve tried and actually stopped trying because what’s the point of spending all that money on basically just needing to pee a lot more than usual? I studied hard and tried to get good grades (that’s a whole different rant). I didn’t do drugs (from how others describe it, I feel like I’m high all the time already. I don’t need more of it.) Then everything went tits up in my senior year of high school and I’m chronically ill and can’t shake the feeling that I’m a total waste of resources now. 

(I just want to be a house spouse so bad. Why am I ace and didn’t know for so long that it screwed up my self-image and relationships/ability to form and keep them to the point where I believe I’m not worthy of a partner? I always wanted a spouse and at least one adopted child and now I’m just plain too old. So yeah... depression has been a thing too.) I’m looking into the path toward getting on disability but I was hoping to get citizenship first (I’m only a resident now) and that requires focus and at least some amount of studying which the whole ADHD thing is doing it’s best to get in the way of. Not to mention the social anxiety of having to do the interview as an autistic person who has gone mute in situations like that before. But a few friends have offered to help and I’m super grateful for it and hopeful that I can make progress.

Everything hasn’t been terrible though! I got to meet a few online friends in person recently and that was amazing. And I got to spend some time at a resort with another friend. It’s like remembering there actually is fun out there still. There are reasons to keep fighting. 

Also, thanks to @ramblesanddragons I’ve still been watching Critical Role which has been providing enough laughs to get me through things. But I did go into hermit crafter mode again because it’s just enough to keep my hands and mind busy so I’m not worrying about other things but not so much that it’s another thing to think about. I’ve mostly done latch hook kits, plastic canvas kits, and felt embroidery.

(Old lady crafts - though, as mentioned at the beginning of this, there’s blah attached even to that now. It used to be more of an escape than it is now. It feels sort of pointless to work on them now. They’re kits so it’s not particularly creative. And what purpose do they serve once they’re done? I don’t even really want the finished products. And, just like the christmas ornament collection my mom started as something to be passed down to future generations, what will happen to them when I’m gone? I have no siblings. I have no kids and, as mentioned, am too old now. It all feels meaningless. I’m trying to have a better attitude about it like if it brings me joy, then there is meaning but that’s hard when you feel meaningless yourself. ANYWAY...  Ha ha ha... trying to have better mindsets. Trying to keep up hope. Trying to focus on what’s good and what there is to be thankful for. And hey, I have some proof that the work I’ve put in on trying to be better at social situations is helping. I went to a local touristy shopping center recently and got a job offer at the second store I went into just by talking to the employees. I might take them up on it, though I’m not sure if I could handle retail again and, if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, its that the advice that you take whatever you’re offered for a job isn’t actually that great. I’d rather take time to get the health stuff and everything else figured out and see what happens. If I take the job, it could be a sentence to another serious health flare up... But at least I know the option is there.)

[fabulouspotatosister]

is it still you?

summary: getting left behind is never easy. being found is even harder.

word count:  6,127

gif(s) by: @gabrielokun, @elenaglbert​

a/n: hello there, everyone! welcome to my first proper fic since the school year started! you might have seen this on that wip title game i did a little while back, and here it is! thank you to @penguinwithitsarseonfire​ for reminding me that this idea even existed and inspiring me to write it :0 hope you’re all doing well lovelies!

~ o ~

“Amy, I’ll be fine.”

Amy rested against the console, one delicate eyebrow raised as she watched you hover by the Doctor’s side. You were watching him tinker with something on the console, but you could still feel Amy boring holes into you. “Right, just in case we forget the last time you said you were gonna be fine - remind me again why you’re the one doing this?”

“Because I’ve done it a bunch of times!” You glanced up at Amy, then shrunk back at her piercing gaze. You were definitely being judged. You swallowed the urge to say “sorry, mom”. “Reconnaissance. Right, Doctor?”

“Right,” the Doctor replied, sounding slightly distracted. He was peering at what looked like an earbud through a magnifying glass. His coat lay abandoned, flung carelessly over one of the chairs in the console room. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of large circular goggles rested over his face as he worked. He was cute, but you’d never say that to his face. “I’ve tracked the weapon to this planet, but they’re a hivemind - if they see me, they’ll raise an alarm. I need you to be my eyes and ears.”

“Aye aye, captain,” you said cheerfully, raising a hand to your forehead in a mock salute. “Racked up your fair share of enemies, huh?”

“Oh, you know me.” The Doctor poked at the earbud-thingie with a sparking device. “I’m like James Bond.”

“You wish you were like James Bond,” Amy piped up. 

“Oi!” The Doctor looked up, indignation written over his face even through the huge goggles. “I’d make a great spy.”

Amy grinned at you. Something dangerous glittered in her eyes. “You’d trip over those laser things and set off a bomb with those limbs of yours.” 

The Doctor made a frustrated noise, and buried his nose in the magnifying glass again. 

“Okay, maybe not James Bond,” you said. You let your hand rest on his shoulder, trying not to jostle him as he started connecting some very thin wires. “I think you’ve got the gadgets down, though. You’d be the Quartermaster.”

“The man in the chair,” the Doctor muttered. 

“Yeah, the man in the chair,” you repeated. Absentmindedly, you let your hand wander, travelling down his back slightly. The Doctor went still. “You’ve got a very important job.”

“...Yep.” The Doctor’s voice was strained. 

“Okay, enough, lovebirds,” Amy said. She raised a finger before the Doctor could protest against the “lovebirds” comment. “Is she gonna be gone long?”

“Hopefully not,” the Doctor answered. “Just long enough for me to find out where they’ve landed so I can shut off their queen. It shouldn’t be too far. Twenty minutes, tops. And - aha!”

The Doctor grinned widely at you, pushing the goggles off his face. “That should do it. Look -” He plucked the earbud from the console and beamed at it. “Your very own communicator. Brand new! You don’t even need your phone.” It gleamed silver as he turned it over in his hands. “It links up directly to the TARDIS so we can hear you twenty-four-seven. Or seventy-two seven here.”

“It’s beautiful,” you said, and if it was possible, the Doctor beamed brighter. You reached out to take it, but the Doctor moved forward before you could snatch it from his hand.

“Hang on, let me,” the Doctor said softly. He leaned down, brushing his hand against your hair, and you shuddered. Some kind of heavy silence fell over the two of you as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and gently pushed the communicator in - it fit snugly, almost like it was made for you. Which it was. When he spoke again, his voice was hushed. “There we go.”

Amy met your gaze. Lovebirds, she mouthed.

Shut up, you mouthed back. 

The Doctor ran to the other side of the console, picking up the telephone and quickly punching in some numbers. There was the whining sound of feedback in your ear. He tapped the receiver, and the soft tap tap tap felt like someone tapping directly on your brain. “Can you hear this?”

“Loud and clear.” He tapped again, and you winced. “Ow.”

“Sorry,” the Doctor said. He raised the phone to his lips and spoke again, but quieter. The sound sent shivers down your spine, and you tried not to visibly tremble. “It doubles as a tracker, so I’ll know exactly where you are.”

“Useful,” you squeaked out. Amy waggled her eyebrows at you, and you didn’t have the strength to tell her to stop. “Anything else?”

“Nope!” the Doctor said, setting down the phone with a thunk. “Alright! I think you’re all set, mission control.”

You frowned. “I thought you were mission control.”

The Doctor opened his mouth, as if to say something, but caught himself. He settled on smiling instead, the corners of his lips turning up meekly. “My mistake. You’ve been mission control before, I just…”

“Yeah, when you lost the TARDIS with me in it,” you said, giving him the gentlest smile you could muster. “Remember that? Good times.”

The Doctor hummed in reply. He shifted in place, staring at you, his hands hanging limply by his sides. In the dim, yellowish light of the TARDIS interior, you couldn’t tell if he was blushing or not. He stood there for a moment, his lips slightly parted, seemingly lost in thought.

“Hey,” you ventured. The Doctor jumped at the sound of your voice, his gaze darting up to meet yours. “You okay?”

“Always,” he said quickly. “I’m just seeing you off. That’s what I’m doing.”

He was not, in fact, just seeing you off. This was typical Doctor behavior - he was dodging the question. It was almost frustrating, but the way he looked like he was pouting took the edge off the frustration a little bit. But only a little bit. “Are you worried?”

“Me?” The Doctor pulled a confident face, the one he put on when he wasn’t. “Never.”

If you weren’t looking at the Doctor, really looking at him, you would have believed him. But then there was rule one - after some time, the Doctor had turned into an open book for you. The way he stood, very still when he was usually bouncing off the walls, told a different story.

You met his eyes, and something shifted. His face morphed, from confident to bittersweet, to an expression that looked almost mournful. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Oh, bugger it,” the Doctor muttered under his breath. 

“Doctor - oh!”

He grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him, pulling you flush against his chest. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and squeezed. He dipped his head down onto your shoulders, his face disappearing into your neck. Amy whistled, but you didn’t hear her - you were too busy focusing on feeling the Doctor’s lips on your skin, and his breath, warm against it, and - well -

“I wasn’t expecting that,” you gasped out.

The Doctor didn’t reply - just squeezed tighter. This face was most definitely a hugger, but they were mostly short and sweet. Little celebratory hugs. These hugs were reserved for certain moments, and certain people. 

“I’m the man in the chair, of course I’m worried,” he finally muttered. “It’s sort of my job.”

“You’ll keep me safe,” you said. You leaned back, and the Doctor lifted his head to look at you. “Mission control, remember? You’ll be there to guide me.”

The Doctor peered at you. “You trust me,” he said quietly, like he couldn’t believe it.

“After all this time, how could I not?” You gave him another soft smile. “You’re trusting me to do this, I’m trusting you to keep me safe.”

“Just -” The Doctor sighed, ragged, and squeezed his eyes shut. When they opened, they were filled with a familiar concern. “Promise me you’ll be careful. I can’t lose you too.”

The last part was nearly a whisper. The sound of his voice tugged at your heart. 

“You won’t,” you said, pulling away from his embrace. Disappointment flickered in the Doctor’s eyes as you stepped backwards towards the doors. “Ever.”

“Okay,” the Doctor said. He looked you over, his expression turning serious. “Ready?”

You nodded. “On your signal, captain.”

A grin slowly spread across the Doctor’s face, childlike. “Captain. I like the sound of that.”

Amy ran up to you, pulling you into another quick hug. She looked just as concerned as the Doctor when she pulled away, holding your face protectively. “Seriously, be safe, alright? I don’t want to be stuck with him without you.”

“Noted,” you replied, and Amy brightened.

“My company isn’t that bad, is it?” the Doctor asked. 

“It’s unbearable,” you joked, and the Doctor pouted. Amy laughed, you laughed, and eventually the Doctor joined in too, chuckling quietly under his breath.

The TARDIS doors swung open slowly, and a gust of cold air burst through them. You walked backwards, waving your fingers at the two in a two-fingered salute, and creeped quietly through the doors.

The first thing that startled you was the smell. The familiar smell of wet grass. A light drizzle fell on your skin, and you looked up. The sky was dark and full of stars - in the distance, you could see the faint lights of flickering street lamps and lit up windows. You could hear the faint sounds of people chattering and cars passing through the night. All of these things were things you knew -

“Doctor, we’re not in the right place,” you said, tapping your earpiece. 

A feedback whine, then the Doctor’s voice, loud and clear as if he was beside you. “What? No, the coordinates were right, I checked -”

“Check again.” Something felt off. You took a hesitant step backward, your back resting against the TARDIS doors. “This is Earth.”

“No, it can’t be,” the Doctor said, incredulous.

“I can see houses in the distance,” you said, “human houses. Unless this is a really convincing simulation, I’m really sure we’ve just landed back on my home planet.”

“Why’d you send us here, old girl?” he asked quietly, probably to the TARDIS. You could faintly hear the TARDIS hum and beep in reply. Then, sharply: “What?” 

"Doctor?” you asked. You tried to keep the fear from creeping into your voice.

“Come back inside, quickly,” the Doctor snapped. 

The urgency in his voice scared the hell out of you, and you straightened, whirling around to face the doors. The handles rattled, but the doors didn’t budge. “I can’t,” you gasped. 

“They’re not locked.” The Doctor’s voice sounded strange through the earpiece. It was getting fuzzier, the ends of his sentences tapering off into silence. “I’ve unlocked them, you should be able to get inside -”

You moved to try again… and your hand passed right through the door handle. You stumbled forward, shocked, and stared at your hand like it was the one that had turned transparent. Then the air started shimmering, and you heard the beautiful wheezing and singing of the TARDIS’s engines -

It was leaving you behind.

“No, no -” Your voice was like molasses in your mouth. You pressed yourself against the doors. They were still solid, still there. The door handles were impossible to grab now, just a faint image in the air, and a sob crawled up your throat. “Doctor, don’t leave!”

A yell ripped through the earpiece, and you winced - the Doctor only ever raised his voice when he was furious. You curled your fists and pressed them against the doors. 

“This can’t be happening, this -” Another strangled noise. It sounded like a sob, and your eyes blurred with tears. “Stay put,” the Doctor said, his voice trembling with emotion. 

If you imagined hard enough you could feel him on the other side of the door. “Okay,” you replied shakily, and sniffed. 

“I’ll come find you.” The Doctor sounded like a broken man. Your name falling from his lips sounded like a promise. “I -”

His voice cut off, and the TARDIS was gone.

You pitched forward and didn’t even bother to put up a fight - your knees buckled underneath you, and you fell onto your knees in the wet grass. Sharp rocks dug into your skin. You could barely feel their jagged edges. You looked up at the night sky as the drizzle slowly eased into a rainstorm, and suddenly your home planet had never felt so alien before. 

“Doctor?” you whimpered, your voice impossibly small. It was foolish, thinking the Doctor could hear you, but you didn’t care - “Doctor, can you hear me?”

Nothing. You were soaked now, raindrops running down your face and blurring with your tears. Biting back another sob, you tried again. “Please - come back, okay?”

The silence was deafening. 

You didn’t know how long you had spent in the rain. Long enough for the lights in the windows to shut off, one by one; long enough for chattering and the sounds of passing cars to quiet down; long enough for the rain to fall even harder than before. Long enough for you to stop shivering from the cold, and long enough -

Long enough for something to block the onslaught of the rain. Blearily, you looked up at the face of a young woman in a police uniform, holding an umbrella over the both of you.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” she asked softly. The tone of her voice was enough to make you start bawling again, as if you hadn't spent the last hour just crying your eyes out. “You shouldn’t be out here in the rain.”

“I know, I just -” How could you explain this to her? “I’m lost,” was what you settled on. 

The woman’s face brightened in a reassuring smile. “Not to worry, I'm here to help."

You nodded, bringing yourself to your feet. The policewoman held out her hand for support, and you wrapped your hands around her arm. You didn’t trust your legs to keep you upright right now. “Sorry, weird question, but - where am I?”

She probably thought you were drunk. That was a better alternative than the truth. “Sheffield,” the policewoman replied.

You hoped she was ready for an even weirder question - “What year is it?”

 A year passed. Settling in was easy enough - thankfully, you had your wallet and phone on you when you arrived back on Earth. All it took was a quick call back home, some trips back and forth to move your things, some paperwork, and you were officially a Sheffield citizen. 

You kept the earpiece. Found a way to wear it around your neck like some kind of ornament. It looked pretty enough, but it was hard to move on when you had a reminder of him resting like a weight on your heart everyday. 

You had tried talking into it on some days, on rainy days that reminded you of the day you were left behind. Sometimes, if you listened hard enough, you could hear faint conversation, sometimes laughter.

Maybe he’d forgotten. Maybe he’d found another companion. Maybe he had gone off to find that Clara girl. It was none of your business now, and yet -

You could’ve gone back to your actual home. But it was so hard to leave - it was hard to leave when the Doctor’s last words had been stay put. Your rational brain tried to convince you that he could find you wherever you were, but there was just something that was keeping you from leaving. 

Yasmin Khan was the policewoman’s name, and she was your very first friend in Sheffield. She’d been the one to help you adjust, and had been the one to help you find a job - as a receptionist in a hospital. 

It was a little funny, working with doctors when none of them were him.

A bolt of lightning lit up the sky. You turned to look out your window - there was no rain, and yet the rumbling sound of thunder echoed across the land. Absentmindedly, you brushed your fingers against the earpiece. It was worn now, from all the constant sentimental holding. 

Your phone chimed. A weather forecast - scattered thunderstorms, it read. And your lock screen - a still image of you and the Doctor that Amy had taken, once upon a time. You were on your tippy toes, adjusting the Doctor’s bow tie with an exaggerated focused look on your face, while the Doctor just stood there, flustered.

They say take a picture, it lasts longer. You still had pictures of all your travels. They felt like tourist pictures, posing in front of alien architecture and making silly faces at otherworldly flora and fauna. They lay buried under pictures of paperwork and cute kids that came into the office, but they were still there.

A year. It would be seconds to him, but an eternity for you - and you couldn’t live an eternity hanging on to just memories of him. Your finger hovered above the delete button.

Sorry, Doctor, you thought. The mere idea of just deleting pictures made you feel sad, then you sniffed indignantly. You had to move on some time, and if it could be now, then -

Knock knock knock!

“Who is it?” you called. There was shuffling behind the door, and a hushed argument. “Hello?”

“Hello!” That voice sounded familiar - it was Grace, Grace Sinclaire, who used to be a nurse and someone that you worked with and who was notoriously really nice - “It’s me! Could you open up, love?”

“Coming!” you called back. You ran a hand through your hair and rubbed your face, wondering why she would be at your door at this hour when she should have been heading home with Graham -

You swung the door open and very nearly dropped your phone.

It was Grace, alright - Grace and her grandson Ryan, who was carrying an unconscious woman in his arms.

“Grace, what the -” you floundered. “What’s going on?”

“We need your help,” she said, and gestured to the woman in Ryan’s arms. “Can we come in?”

You were gaping now, craning your neck to try and get a good look at this woman’s face. “You need to take her to A and E, not to my house! I can drive you there, if that’s what you need -”

“I said that too,” Grace said slowly, like she was bracing to drop a bomb on you. “But right before she fell, she said -”

“Said she didn’t trust anywhere that was just initials,” Ryan finished, glancing down at the woman and then back to Grace, who gave you a sympathetic look. “She said your name.”

You swallowed. How -

“No.” An incredulous smile spread across your face, and you shook your head. “No, you’re kidding.”

“It’s true,” Ryan said. 

“...I don’t know this woman,” you said nervously.

“She knows you,” Grace said, almost pleading. “Please, love.”

There was no reason for them to be lying - the shell shocked expression on Ryan’s face was enough to tell you that he was absolutely telling the truth, whether you liked it or not.

And something that the Doctor had taught you - never refuse a call for help - echoed in your brain.

“Put her on the sofa,” you said quickly. “I’ll go get blankets.”

A few minutes later, you had a stranger lying limply on your sofa. 

She didn’t even make a noise when she was laid down. You laid a floral blanket over her middle, and it settled over her clothes - clothes that were obviously too big for her. The sight rang a bell in the back of your mind, of a night where a man climbed out of his broken ship in a past life’s clothes, clumsy and new -

There was a pull to her that you couldn’t resist. You sat down near her, gently taking her head in your hands and guiding it onto your lap like it was second nature to you. Her skin was warm, almost flushed, blonde hair falling over a surprisingly beautiful face.

Grace crouched down near the woman. “Do you know her?”

You stared at the woman’s face. Your answer would have been no, but now you weren’t so sure. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from her even if you tried - and you were trying. Very hard.

Your hands found their way into her hair, and soon you were running your fingers through it like it was the most natural thing to do. “I don’t know.”

“You look like you do,” Grace’s voice was soft. “You look at her like you’ve known her all your life.”

Your head shot up, and Grace just shrugged. She had a small smile on her lips as she reached for the woman’s arm.

“How do you know that?” 

“I can tell,” Grace said simply. “That’s how Graham looks at me, sometimes.”

There was a beat of silence as she took the woman’s pulse, then she gasped - “Ryan - look.”

The woman’s skin was glowing gold. 

“Whoah,” Ryan said. The woman’s eyebrows were pinched together, a small crease forming between the two of them. Gold patterns swirled under her skin, pulsing like starlight, and you jerked your hands away from her like she would burn you. 

Grace looked up at you, her eyes wide. “She’s got two separate pulses.”

The woman’s arm fell limply at her side as she exhaled - golden dust fell from her lips, floating around like a miniature star in the room. You followed it with your eyes, your mouth hanging open for what must have been the third time that hour.

“Oh my God, what is that?” Ryan asked, moving out of the way.

Grace stared. “I have no idea.”

But you had an idea. You knew. Only one person did that. Only one alien did that. If this was who you thought she was, then -

Suddenly, the woman shot up, sitting bolt upright, breaking you out of your racing thoughts - she clutched her collarbone, gasping, eyes wild and searching. “Who woke me up? I’m not ready - still healing, still -”

Still healing. Your mind was still reeling, still trying to pick up the pieces - her voice was so painfully familiar, and now you knew why. You reached out, placing your hands on your shoulders to soothe her. She startled under your touch.

“You’re alright, you’re fine,” you soothed. A part of you was saying that to yourself. “You’re safe, yeah? Look at me.”

The woman whirled to face you, and you shrunk back. Her eyes were striking, green flecked with yellow and brown. It looked like a galaxy.

“Safe - you…” The woman breathed, staring into your eyes. She stared for what seemed like forever, her gaze locked onto yours, searching your face for something. Then something shifted - her eyebrows quirked up, then pulled down, her face morphing from shocked to confused to mournful. 

“Oh,” the woman said. “Oh no, I’m too late, am I?”

Too late for what? you wanted to ask, but the woman had shot up again, crouching like a bird on the sofa.

"Can you smell that?” she asked, then stopped, one hand coming to press against her collarbone. “No, not smell. Not hear. Feel. Can you feel…” She trailed off, her expression serious. “Stay still, Ryan.”

“What is it? What’s the matter?” he asked quickly. The woman leapt forward to pull down Ryan’s shirt slightly. She exhaled, a worried noise, and spun to face the others.

“Show me your collarbones,” she said, a touch of authority in her voice. Everyone else in the room pulled down their shirts slightly, and you gasped. Small glowing dots, pulsing with a magenta light. You’d only ever heard of those kinds of devices, whispered in the dark alleyways of alien cities, hidden under layers of conspiracy.

“Oh, you’ve all got them,” the woman breathed out, eyes wide.

“So have you,” Ryan pointed out, and the woman looked down. Another blinking light on her collarbone. She made a face.

“Yeah, I have. Okay.” The woman inhaled sharply, straightening her posture, preparing to give bad news. You knew that posture. “Really sorry. Not good news. DNA bombs.”

You rose slowly from your chair. “What?”

The woman cocked her head towards you as she walked in a circle around everyone else, her hands behind her back. “Microimplants which code to your DNA. On detonation, they disrupt the foundation of your genetic code, melting your DNA.”

“But -” you spoke, and everyone’s eyes were on you. “But those are illegal in almost every galaxy, right?”

An unspoken how did you know that hung in the air, but the woman just nodded, her lips pressed together grimly. She reached out to press against Ryan’s glowing dot. “Right.”

Ryan’s eyes widened. “How did we get them?” 

“Nevermind that, are they gonna go off?” Graham asked. 

The woman grimaced. “Quiet. I’m trying to think, it’s difficult -” Her expression changed, her eyes big and searching and so very new. “Brain and body still rebooting, reformatting… oh, reformatting! Can I borrow that?”

“Yeah, I guess so, but what for?”

The woman had reached over and grabbed Ryan’s phone. She was tinkering with it, her brows knit as she focused. “That creature. On the train. When you two came onboard, it zapped us all with these. Simple plan to take out witnesses. Very clever.”

“Merciless,” you piped up.

“But clever,” the woman continued. The phone beeped a few times, and the woman gasped, then held it up proudly. “I reformatted your phone!”

“No! All my stuff’s on there,” Ryan groaned, but the woman just grinned. 

“Not anymore!” She said cheerfully. 

She held the phone to her collarbone - there was a loud zap, then she was knocked back against the wall like she had been thrown. She looked up at everyone, gasping. 

“That nap did me the world of good. Very comfy sofa,” she said, breathless. She glanced down at the phone, gasped again, and then scrambled to her feet. She yanked her coat from one of your chairs, and headed for the door - “Come on, keep up!” 

Everyone stopped to stare at each other, then quickly turned to follow. You took a few steps forward, the woman still drawing you towards her - “Wait, let me come with you -”

The woman turned to face you, already halfway out of your door. She shook her head. “No.”

You frowned. “No?”

She stared for another moment, and you saw it - the familiar gleam of concern, of protectiveness that you had seen at least a billion times in another face. The way her mouth dragged downward and her eyebrows knitted together, an expression somewhere between angry and worried. Your breath caught in your throat, your outstretched hand frozen in place. 

“I’m not putting you in danger again,” the woman said, determined. “I don’t know why. Think I’ll find out later. But you -” Her gaze burned you, with eyes that seemed so old and so new at the same time. “You have to be safe,” she continued. “Please. Stay put.”

It sounded like a promise. The woman glanced down at your hand while you lowered it, drawing it close to your chest.

“Okay,” you said. “Go. I won’t keep you.”

The woman nodded. “Thank you.”

And then she was gone, driving off into the night with everyone else. 

You didn’t rest easy that night. Lightning flashed and crackled across the sky without any rain. You jumped every time the sky lit up - too on edge to be calm at all, too confused to try and get some rest - your hand thumbing the silver earpiece that still hung around your neck, strangely warm to the touch.

“This can’t be happening, this - stay put -”

“Please. Stay put.”

“Doctor,” you whispered. 

 Grace’s funeral was a few days after that.

At first glance, it didn’t seem like a funeral. The place was covered in balloons. There wasn’t a hint of melancholy in the air - the sun was shining bright through the windows of the church, not a single cloud in sight. No sign of the lightning from the days before. It was almost like the world had moved on.

You decided not to sit in the front. Tried not to think about the Grace that had brought the Doctor to your doorstep. Tried not to think about you had never thanked her for bringing her back to you. Instead you thought about happy, knowing Grace, and hoped that she could hear you, wherever she was now.

You found Ryan standing near the doors of the church. He was waiting - your heart clenched at the sight. Steeling yourself, you moved to comfort him -

And you stopped in your tracks. The Doctor walked up to him slowly, her hands in her pockets. Ryan glanced at her in acknowledgement. 

“What time did your dad say he’d get here?” the Doctor asked softly. 

Ryan kept on looking out, searching. “Two hours ago.”

“If he said he’ll come -” That was the Doctor, always trying to comfort -

“He says a lot of things,” Ryan said, gruffly. “He’s never been the best at being reliable. I mean how can he not be here? She’s his mum. She would have wanted him here.”

The Doctor nodded, pursing her lips. She kept that empathetic look in her eyes as she gazed up at him, not knowing what to say. That was another familiar thing that hurt. She still was so kind, still out to help others in need.

“I want him here,” Ryan finished. 

That was you, once upon a time. But things had changed, and you weren’t the one that left.

The Doctor’s gaze flickered to where you were, standing just a few feet away. Your eyes met for a second, and something passed over the Doctor’s face. Recognition. Her mouth opened like she wanted to call out for you, her mouth forming over the syllables of your name - 

You turned on your heel and walked away before she could see the tears forming in your eyes.

The door shuddered in its frame as you slammed it behind you. Stupid, getting emotional over her when you were supposed to be moving on like she had - your hands clamped onto the earpiece, gripping onto the small device like it was a lifeline. You hadn’t noticed that you were shaking, or that you had fallen on your knees onto the floor. You took in quick, shallow breaths, blinking the tears away like your life depended on it.

The earpiece was cold in your palms. You tried to let the feeling ground you, but even just remembering what it was made you nearly tip over the edge -

Knock knock knock.

“Yes?” Your voice was rough, and you coughed. “So - sorry, who is it?”

There were some hushed voices. 

“Isn’t it so weird how they know each other?”

“Not the strangest thing anymore, after what’s happened.”

“Hush, both of you.”

Then - a soft call of your name, warm and everything you’d ever needed. 

“It’s me," the Doctor said. “Could you open the door?”

You stilled, not trusting your ears. This wasn’t the triumphant reunion that you had wanted for the past year. That fantasy had faded over time. And yet there was a spark of hope in your chest, threatening to set everything alight.

The Doctor spoke again, her voice impossibly gentle and impossibly the same. “Listen -” Her voice cracked, and you bit back a sob - “I know it’s been some time, but I am so so sorry -”

That was it. You rose to your feet, red eyes and runny nose be damned, and flung the door open.

“No,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “No, don’t start.”

The Doctor’s beautiful new eyes widened a fraction. 

“Hello to you too,” she said quietly. She wasn’t as tall as she used to be - in fact, she was much shorter, so you didn’t have to crane your neck as much to take a good look at her face. She was dressed differently too, finally out of her raggedy clothes and into a new outfit that you’d say was cute, but never to her face. 

You blinked up at her, sniffed, and crossed your arms over your chest. “Don’t apologize.”

The Doctor frowned slightly. “I have to, I left you behind for - oh!”

You grabbed the Doctor by her new suspenders and pulled her against you so she was flush against your chest. You buried your face in the crook of her shoulder, throwing your arms around her neck. Someone - you weren’t sure who - maybe it was Ryan - whistled, but you didn’t hear him.

It took a moment for the Doctor to let her hands rest against your back. Maybe this face wasn’t much of a hugger. But she didn’t let go, and leaned in closer so her chin rested on your shoulder.

“Let me say sorry,” she whispered. “I promised I would keep you safe, promised I’d come back for you. You trusted me, and I let you down.”

“I didn’t think you were gonna come back,” you mumbled. You shifted, letting your cheek rest against her skin. “I thought you’d left me forever and I thought - I thought -”

“Hey,” the Doctor soothed, pulling away. She brought one hand up to rest on your cheek, her thumb delicately brushing tears away, and you sniffed again. You probably looked ridiculous. “I’m here. I’m sorry I took so long.”

You nodded. “Is it still you?”

The Doctor grinned, and the way it lit up the world around her made your heart do flips. “‘Course it’s still me.” She looked down at the earpiece resting against your chest and raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You kept the communicator.”

“I - I couldn’t throw it away,” you stammered, shrugging, “sentimental value. Or I just missed you. Maybe both.”

“Oh, you,” the Doctor said, her eyes glimmering. “You won’t need it anymore.”

Your hands shot up to grab it. You raised an eyebrow at the Doctor, whose grin was just growing wider and wider. You couldn’t help it - you let a smile slip onto your face. “Why is that?”

“Because I want you to come with me. Again.” The Doctor leaned backwards on the balls of her feet, and tucked her hands firmly back into her pockets. 

You felt like you’d just been kicked in the chest - all the air was suddenly gone from your lungs. Every last bit of eloquence that you’d had disappeared in an instant, and all you could manage was, “Uh.”

The Doctor smiled, a kind of nervous, polite smile. “What do you say?”

You could - take her hand and fly away with her again, like nothing had ever happened. Your gaze moved to behind her, where Graham, Ryan, and Yaz stood. They had seen this face before you did, and maybe - just maybe - 

“I can’t. Besides,” you gestured to the three of them, “you don’t need me anymore.”

The Doctor turned to face the three of them, and when she turned back to face you there was an intensity in her eyes that you weren’t a stranger to. The Doctor’s brows furrowed, and you curled in on yourself - that was something the Doctor never liked, when people put themselves down - but you thought it was the truth. 

The Doctor shook her head.

“Yes, I do,” she said simply. She leaned forward to press her lips against your forehead. It still felt magical. “I always have. Always will.”

She peered down at you, looking you right in the eyes, and you tried to find any sign that she was lying. Any sign that this was some kind of trick, some kind of fluke. 

But there she was, her voice gentle and earnest, one hand outstretched to take you back.

You took her hand and her lips quirked up just slightly. That same spark of hope instantly blossomed into a fire, comforting like a hearth on a cold winter evening. 

She led you outside, let you cross the hidden gap between a normal life and a life with her, again. Ryan, Graham and Yaz smiled as you stepped through, your hands intertwined with the Doctor’s.

“No ship, but at least I’ve got you,” the Doctor said cheerfully. Your head shot up to meet her sheepish expression, and you breathed out a laugh.

“The TARDIS? Really? Again?”

“Yep,” she replied, popping the “p” sound. You sighed deeply, but you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face. 

“Oh, you definitely know each other,” Yaz said, her eyes wide with amazement.

“Well? Just like old times,” the Doctor said. “Ready?”

“Aye-aye, captain,” you chirped, and the Doctor laughed.

And when all of you got spat out in the middle of space, in the split second between life and death, you met the Doctor’s gaze and grinned. Perhaps nothing had really changed at all. Perhaps this was just a new chapter.

Geronimo. 

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 12)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Kyoto-Tokyo Goodwill Event

Next Chapter: Home Sweet Home

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife @lordguameow @track5enthusiast

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty <3

2.8k words for this chapter.

Chapter 12: Goldenrod

You went to check on Noritoshi getting cleaned up in the infirmary. He perked up upon seeing you.

"Ieiri San!" You smiled at the woman who was dressing his wounds.

"Y/n, it's been a while. How are you?" She called out.

"Doing okay here. You let your hair grow out!" You hurried to her side for a quick hug.

She laughed. "The last time we saw each other, I still had short hair?? That must have been years back. You as well, from a little girl that came up to my waist, you're nearly my height now!"

You nodded wistfully at her before turning to Noritoshi, looking over his wounds. "I'm alright, y/n." He said quietly. You gave him a shaky smile, quietly hiding the fact that you were worried when he got knocked around by some of the seniors.

Ieiri smiled at the both of you. "No need to worry, he is fine y/n."

"Ayiieeee, lovebirds get a room!" Satoru popped up from behind you. You flinched hard and on pure instinct, lashed out with your whip. It sprung out, but Satoru easily stopped it with two fingers up. "Women in love are so scary."

"Toru nii, can you not?!" You wanted to skin this man alive. Ieiri just sighed out, cleaning up her tools. "I've done what I can Kamo kun. Try to get more rest for tomorrow." He nodded, "Thank you Ieiri san."

"Wahhh, you got kicked around huh Noritoshi? You look all worn out. Ain't my students amazing?!" Satoru taunted.

CRACK. Satoru teleported a few meters away. The space where he was a few seconds ago was filled with ice and frost.

Your face was hard as stone as you said, "Noritoshi did amazing. He did his best to coordinate with his team members as he fought against 2 of his seniors. Okkotsu kun was just different as a Special Class. But of course you know all about that, Toru."

"Why so defensive Neko Chan? I didn't say your man didn't do well right?" He drawled.

You opened your mouth, eyes furrowed, ready to retort when Noritoshi pulled you to him, gently hushing you as he softly patted your back. "He's riling you up. It's okay, I've learned a lot from today. It's our loss."

You leaned into Noritoshi, "You're too nice to that dumbass."

"Hey! Anyways, I wanted to speak with the both of you. If you're done here let's go." Satoru motioned towards the door with his head.

Both of you turned to him, before looking at each other and nodding.

◇◇◇

Satoru led you both to his room. "So, how long has your soulmate bond been active?" He asked as he closed the door.

Noritoshi was surprised, "How did you know about this?"

You nudged him. "He's my family friend, he eventually found out." You lied for the sake of protecting the details of Satoru's six eyes ability.

Satoru removed his blindfold, revealing his crystalline like eyes. "Yup, don't worry your secret is safe with me. I'm surprised but not too surprised that it's the two of you." He sighed out.

You crossed your arms and sat on his bed. "What do you mean?" Noritoshi remained standing.

"Both of you are just so different. And I've known you both since before. I guess it just never crossed my mind that you'd be together.

A soulmate bond is incredibly rare and fragile as you know. And I guess it only fits since both of you are more complementary to each other rather than have similar personalities like twin flames.

I have the soulmate records of some from the Gojo clan if that would help. But Noritoshi, sorry I have to ask you not to share it with your family." He said.

Ahh. The Great 3 clans still hold their secrets. You turned to Noritoshi, worriedly looking for his reaction.

He had this internal war of obedience to his clan elders vs seeing you so close to Satoru and seeing another side of the Gojo and Tsuchimikado clans like this.

"Toshi, if you can't, it's okay, we don't need to read it." You said carefully. "I know how hard it is to keep secrets from family."

Noritoshi mulled it over. Satoru was actually sizing him up. Seeing his family friend get entangled with a great 3 clan's future head… he would be lying if he wasn't worried for you.

“I’m assuming that there might be some details or secrets of the Gojo clan involved in the diary entries, which is why you’re being wary of me. But you have offered to let me read it, which already shows a bit of trust. As a future clan head, I know the significance of keeping good relationships with the other clans and elders. And so, I promise not to tell anyone else of the details in the diary.” Nori said solemnly.

Satoru perked up at that and smiled, “There shouldn’t be a problem then. Here, you both can have a look. Return it to me tomorrow afternoon. I hope it can help with your situation. It must be scary not knowing anyone else to turn to for help with the bond.”

You felt touched by that, “Thank you Satoru.”

◇◇◇

That night, you slept over once more in Noritoshi’s room, reading the excerpts.

"A soulbond can be rejected?!" You both stared at the notebook in horror.

"That must be so painful… imagine shutting down your fated pair." You murmured, turning to Noritoshi.

He patted you and nodded. "Hey look at this." He pointed to another passage.

“Wow, they can really telepathically communicate with complete sentences, that’s insane.” You said in awe.

Noritoshi cozied up to your side, playfully nudging his head against yours. “You want that for us too someday angel?”

You turned and bumped your nose against his before kissing him. “Of course, I want to experience everything with you Noritoshi.”

Noritoshi’s heart skipped a beat or two at that. His pulse was irregular for once. What on earth was that feeling? He confusedly looked down at his chest and patted it. He checked his vitals with his technique, but everything was in order.

You worried over him, “Are you not feeling okay? You got hit in the chest earlier right? We can call it a night and rest, you need sleep for tomorrow’s individual battles.”

“Okay then. Let’s quickly skim the diary.” You both caught a few important details, like how strong trust and honesty can strengthen a soulbond.

After spending time with each other and having significant encounters (“What on earth does that mean?” Nori asked. “Maybe like notable events with each other” you supplied.) helps a couple to move forward from one stage of the bond to another.

Something caught Noritoshi's eye. Reverse cursed techniques and some other advanced techniques that usually can only be done on oneself can be applied to the other soulmate.

That made him wonder… if he could manipulate your blood. But he put that thought aside for next time, unwilling for you to be a subject of experiment.

After that you both went to bed. "I'm gonna have such a hard time sleeping alone after spending so much time in bed with you." You whined out.

He chuckled, "Then just stay over as often as you want to. I like sharing the bed with you. It's not like it's cramped for the both of us." He pressed his lips to your forehead as you kissed him on the neck.

His heart squeezed tightly once more. What was wrong with him?! He was used to having it speed up whenever he was around you and attributed it to regular attraction. But this was different. His chest was tight, almost painful, and it was getting harder to breathe.

"Okay then. No take backs." You smiled, before closing your eyes. Noritoshi watched the moonlight illuminate your features for a bit before falling asleep.

◇◇◇

The next day, the lots were out. They announced that it would be a duel between 2 students on top of thick, tall, vertical standing logs set in a small lake. First one to push the other off the logs and into the water or out of bounds wins. Momo senpai has a huge advantage with no handicap at this.

To your slight horror, Okkotsu Yuuta was matched against Noritoshi. You visibly paled, but he went up and squeezed your hand before he left for the event. “I’ll be okay.” He promised.

“Oh you will be okay. I’ll make sure of it.” You said determinedly, already planning to step in just in case Rika goes wild on Noritoshi. Your thoughts were cut as Nori poked your forehead.

“I can hear your thoughts. Have a little more faith in me.” He gave a small smile. You nodded dumbly.

You watched the matches. None of them were particularly eye-opening. Until it was time for Okkotsu to fight Noritoshi. You clasped your hands together in prayer, eyes and senses wide open.

“Ready, Start!” Satoru called out.

Noritoshi immediately fired arrows, which honed on Okkotsu even though he tried to dodge. Good technique. Okkotsu had some trouble keeping up with the arrows and Noritoshi quickly moved in to punch him hard.

But Okkotsu was quick on his feet, leaping back diagonally onto another log before slashing at Noritoshi with his Katana. It went on a bit like this. With both men trading blows back and forth. They had decent balance on top of the logs.

Until Noritoshi made a major move, “Blood Manipulation: Slicing Exorcism!” He cut down a huge number of logs in Okkotsu’s area.

Okkotsu barely held on, jumping to another log that was borderline about to collapse. The water was now dangerously filled with the sharp edges of cut wood.

Your eyes brightened, ‘Please win Toshi.’

Noritoshi moved in for the kill, “Red Flowing Scale”, the X mark appeared on his eye as he readied to knock Okkotsu off. Until the dark mass that had been hanging around Okkotsu screamed, making everyone wince. “Yuuutaaa! You’ll get hurt if you fall down now!”

Satoru had explained that Orimoto Rika was the Special Grade curse with overwhelming power. Rika made a half-manifestation, easily smacking Noritoshi away. But she hit him too hard on the head, sending him flying way past the little lake set up.

Everyone gasped and yelled in horror. You saw red.

He was going to hit the ground hard. You stood up, slowing down his body in midair as you blasted your way over to him. You caught him in time.

"Angel?" He looked up to see you, and his heart tightened again. Ah... this might be love.

"Shhh, it's alright Toshi. You've done really well. Don’t speak," You worriedly activated your Reverse Cursed Technique as you floated down to the ground, hugging Noritoshi tighter.

“Thank you for catching me.” He patted your arm weakly. Blood was streaming down his temples. Not a good sign. “Ieiri san!” You cried out, but she was already making her way towards the both of you.

“Winner! Okkotsu Yuuta!”

Your blood boiled, but you knew it was still Okkotsu’s win. ‘He didn’t have to be that harsh on Noritoshi.’ “Age doesn’t matter to Jujutsu sorcerers darling.” Noritoshi coughed out as though he could read your mind. “I said not to talk!” You worriedly scolded him.

Ieiri quickly activated her reverse cursed technique alongside yours. Hers was incredibly refined, easily sealing up Noritoshi’s popped blood vessels. “Infirmary.” She said, putting a brace around his neck just in case of any spinal injuries.

“I’m so sorry, Rika went overboard!” Okkotsu yelled out. He looked really worried and sincere. You shifted uncomfortably; the apology isn’t for you so you backed away. Noritoshi waved him off, “It’s okay. Thank you for the fight, Okkotsu kun.”

A few more apologies and words of thanks were exchanged before Noritoshi was sent to rest in the infirmary. Satoru caught you by the collar, “Stay until the end of the event. Shoko will take care of Noritoshi.”

You glumly nodded. To be honest, Okkotsu was really friendly, easily chatting with all of you. And you all were delighted, laughing hard when Rika beat the living shit out of Todo as he tried to harass Okkotsu for his ideal type. The Tokyo kids weren’t too bad.

◇◇◇

“Take care y/n!” Satoru hugged you tight as the Tokyo school students and staff readied to go home. “Thanks again for everything Satoru.” You already returned his diary to him in Noritoshi’s place. He was still resting up in the infirmary.

“Hey…. Have you ever considered transferring to Tokyo Jujutsu Tech?”

‘What?’

“No, why would I? Noritoshi and my family are here.” You were taken aback.

Satoru looked thoughtful, “I could teach you a lot, and honestly I’d love to have you as my student. You’re really strong y/n. Think about it. Later!” and walked off with the rest of them, leaving you at a loss for words.

◇◇◇

It’s been a while since you’ve been dating Noritoshi, and everything seemed a bit brighter. Like the sun seemed to be really strong, the flowers smelled so nice, the air currents seemed to bend a little more easily under the command of your technique.

'Is this the effect of our bond?' You wondered to yourself, but then quickly shook away the thoughts to focus on your task.

A few days have passed since the Goodwill event. You would be lying if you said you weren’t inspired by watching Okkotsu and Rika fight. Rika was just a force to be reckoned with.

Learning how to move well in mid-air was a challenge, but it wasn't impossible thanks to your inherited technique. Since you grew up mainly focusing on items around you and the four elements, you were still having some difficulty with some mobility techniques.

But there was something you’ve been itching to do. Aside from working on your cursed technique: reversal, domain expansion, extension techniques, etc., there was another special technique that ran in the family.

You remembered your father’s words: “Lightning is generated in the presence of both hot and cold air. You can manipulate molecules to generate both. But doing it simultaneously is the challenge. The ice shards in the cold air collide with the warm water particles in mid air, causing static electricity to form."

"That way, you separate positive and negative charges in a space. That is how you generate your electricity. Take particular care, because for this to happen, you need to master both your extension technique: Niflheim and technique reversal: Inferno.”

For personal reasons, you didn’t like using Inferno. Because the last time you successfully used it was when you were 6 years old and it caused a disaster. A memory which you’ve buried so far under everything else that you continuously try to forget about it.

But for the sake of the secret art, you will.

“Merging techniques… does any other jujutsushi do this…” You wondered.

You set up several targets of bamboo shoots and wood. “Niflheim.” You froze a target then took a deep breath before trying your reversed technique.

“Cursed Technique Reversal: Inferno.” You put out two hands and linked your thumb and ring finger in each hand together. One hand facing the other from above and below. Then a red light appeared as you encircled and swapped the positions of your hands.

This hand movement activates Inferno as the target immediately explodes from the rapid heat expanding the cooled target. Steam and smoke billowed out. You let out a slow breath. So you can still do it even after all these years.

“Special Art: Goldenrod.” You manipulated Inferno in one palm and Niflheim in the other. Your left hand had your ring and thumb still linked together. While your right hand uses the 4 pointer hand position designed for Niflheim.

At first it just made small explosions of steam. Your hands got really sore from the back and forth temperature control.

This is where it gets tricky. Goldenrod has to be activated within your hands. So you also guard your hands against the drastic temperatures with your cursed energy, as you do when you control fire.

It hasn't worked out so far. Maybe you simply had to condense the molecules. You condensed them further and started seeing small sparks of lightning.

Your eyes widened in joy. You tried activating it once more with more cursed energy, only for a huge bolt of lightning to shoot out from your hands and destroy a large amount of targets. There was a loud crack of thunder.

You didn’t expect the energy to be this high as you were pushed back from the force. The air was knocked out from your lungs as you hit the ground hard.

“I think I need help. Maybe Satoru nii can...” you wondered to yourself. ‘Is it worth bothering him over something like this…’ With a shock, you realized you were actually considering his words to transfer to Tokyo Jujutsu High. “No way.” You laughed it off with uncertainty.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents