#the first sentence is supposed to read “i am” i was just too lazy to rework all the tags sorry

[chaoticgoodcaptain]

yk i think it's really funny to watch all the people around here mentioning the ship full of refugees now when we have the oceangate, but damn where were you before, why was not the refugee ship in trends a week ago huh

like you say people are hypocritical when not paying attention to the refugee ship, but where were you then...were you that vocal about it as you are now?

[lettersregardingjeeves]

My Man Jeeves vs. Carry On, Jeeves: A Choice On the Basis of Charm

So as I was having a go at putting the letters together with Mr. Wooster, I realized that the versions of the early New York saga on Standard eBooks, where I sourced the text, were taken from the 1919 collection My Man Jeeves, rather than Carry On, Jeeves - the latter being how I presume the majority of fans read the stories. Naturally, I figured that I really ought to get the most recent public domain versions of the stories, to best represent the current nature of the series. So I had a look at Carry On, Jeeves, curious about the differences therein. And the ones I found were... kind of disappointing.

So, if you haven't read the stories, or just aren't bally interested, then I'll just say that I think the versions present in My Man Jeeves are an awful lot more fun than their rewrites, and am making the executive decision as Woosterian Substack Secretary to use the old instead of the new. For those who are bally interested, I'll chat a bit more under the cut.

All in all, the differences aren't extreme. None of the plot elements have changed, most of the lines haven't changed, and really, if you know one version of the story, you won't have trouble conversing with someone who knows the other. But I find the changes made in the nature of baffling. Some are very tiny changes, but odd nonetheless. Here's Bicky in "Hard-Boiled Egg", talking about why he doesn't want to go in for ranching, in the original My Man Jeeves.

And here's the same passage in Carry On, Jeeves.

Why cut the line about Bicky hating horses because they bite? It gives a more interesting context to why he doesn't want to ranch than the one in Carry On, Jeeves. He doesn't just not want to do the work out of laziness - he's afraid of horses! It's an unexpected and interesting thing for him to say, and it builds a sort of unique speech pattern of short, snappy sentences that fire one after another. It's such a tiny thing that I'm not even sure why it was deemed necessary to cut, unless there were length requirements, but it sands Bicky down a bit.

However, some of the other changes are much more considerable. Take the intro to "The Aunt and the Sluggard" in My Man Jeeves...

...and compare it to the intro in Carry On, Jeeves.

Not even close! What possessed anyone - Wodehouse or editors - to make this sort of cut? On some level I suppose I could understand it if it were purely for the sake of not needing to introduce the character partway through a book, when you'd certainly need to in a magazine, but clearly My Man Jeeves didn't see a problem with having Bertie repeatedly introduce Jeeves this way - and as a reader, neither did I! It's a very charming paragraph full of Bertieisms, and the nervous sort of hesitation upon wishing to call him a friend is even more endearing. Sure, the "guide, philosopher, and friend" quote is later used in the first chapter of 1923's The Inimitable Jeeves, so I can see why Wodehouse and/or editors might have thought the sentiment too repetitive to stick in a collection published afterwards, but the two are subtly different. Here, Bertie is unsure that he can call Jeeves a friend, but in The Inimitable Jeeves below, he says it with surety.

It's especially sweet with the knowledge that My Man Jeeves was published before The Inimitable Jeeves, because that shows this as growth! He's more willing to let himself acknowledge their friendship, and that's a wonderful thing! And even without that linearity, it's just so much weaker of a start. You aren't as drawn in by the significant blander intro as you are by the acquainted birds of poet Johnnies, or the "guide, don't you know" that Bertie relies on at every turn. It's more conversational, engaging, and just plain fun.

But that's not even really the most egregious removal. No, the biggest difference is the excising of the entire intro to "Leave It to Jeeves".

This whole section, which later segues into a sum-up of the events of "Extricating Young Gussie" and a description of New York, is just plain gone in "The Artistic Career of Corky", which this story has been renamed in Carry On, Jeeves. No "Melonsquashville, Tennesee", no horses named Banana Fritter, no Bertie trying to give Jeeves racing tips because he's fond of him. It's peak Bertie silliness, and I remember that I really loved reading it. And yes, again, maybe it was cut just because it follows "Jeeves Takes Charge", which already introduces the character, but I certainly don't see a reason why none of it could be kept - especially since the conceit of the series tends to read as if being told aloud to someone else, and thus it makes sense to repeatedly introduce the character in such a way to new listeners and audiences. Instead, we are given this by way of introduction.

This goes straight into the "Gussie" sum-up and the description of New York, as well as the subsequent description of Corky. All that fun before, reduced to a paltry bit of introductory exposition before the exposition that already happened in the original. Was it cut merely for length? Why else could this possibly have happened? Why remove all that delightful humor and prose in favor of something so much weaker and less interesting? It boggles the mind - boggles it.

In short, I've decided to keep the My Man Jeeves versions of these stories as they are. While some of the changes I saw weren't bad - saying that Rocky's poem went on for "three more verses" got a chuckle out of me, I will say, and the connective tissue with the other stories wasn't bad, either - it was not enough to sacrifice all this. Bertie's narration is always a delight, and I think that delight should be preserved. But if anyone has rebuttals as to why they think the Carry On, Jeeves versions should be used instead, I'd honestly love to hear them!

Thank you for reading!

[sunfyredarchive]

i really wasn't gonna do this but i just started typing and couldn't stop myself. pretty sure so many things left unsaid but needed it to get it off my chest somehow.

let me start with saying that as a sunfyre && aegon enjoyer, the actual reason of my discomfort is NOT the way they ended up. i am sad about it ofc, but i knew that was one of the few canon outcomes they wouldn’t alter much ( && must have reaaaallly enjoyed depicting for reasons 🤡 ) so what left me so shaken was not the sight of sunfyre— a creature i’ve been stanning and really wanting to see for literally a decade— and aegon’s canon fate but the way it was delivered, obviously. as i’ve been discussing with some of my close mutuals and friends on here, personally i’m no longer enjoying the endless and, at this point, quite out of control woobification of aegon in particular. please don’t get me wrong, i wasn’t expecting him to be depicted in a controversially positive / heroic light all of a sudden especially with their unquestionably pro-rhaenyra ( not pro-black in general ) and anti-aegon ( not anti-green in general ) agenda, which did not bother me this much until this season. at first it seemed creative and tragically engrossing, to depict aegon so unwilling and pitiful and so not ready to rule. it added him way more nuance and promised a compelling character development. something that honestly made me find him way more interesting because i seldom care for stereotypical && morally flawless / less flawed leaders in fiction. but i was expecting / hoping for jaehaerys to be a bit of a turning point for aegon’s character, and i know i’m not alone in that so i also can’t be the only one who’s so sick and tired of aegon still being a clumsy comic relief with how cartoonishly pathetic they’re so adamant on depicting him until the very end ?? stuff like his own council leaving him on read and now his terrible high valyrian ( i don’t wanna start yapping about this either but lemme say i like the idea of aegon being not as fluent and eloquent as aemond, it fits his overall personality. can be interpreted as him being lazy / easily bored / having adhd / rebelling his targaryen upbringing like cutting his hair short also indicated etc etc I LIKE THAT !! makes sense. but they didn’t need to go so overboard with it like they did with every other logically negative aspect of him. the high valyrian scene would be so much better with aegon simply getting irritated and backing down from the conversation due to his current lack of military prowess rather than him downright being unable to form a single coherent sentence lol ), like .. please. so are we really going to take only the most outrageous, downgrading theories from an already unreliable narration because anything that is mildly admirable about him must be green propaganda ?? he just has to be so laughably bad at everything and anything because he’s “evil” ?? i didn’t know this was supposed to be a morality play.

now back to rook’s rest. i understand there aren’t enough details about the dragon conflict here so of course the anti-aegonism pioneers felt justified to run with the idea that’d paint him in the worst light by ridiculing him as blatantly as possible ( aka taking away one of his few redeemable qualities, which is trying to be an active player by commanding his own armies instead of remaining out of harm’s way by choice ) and make his most prominent attempt at leading look like a scorned child’s petty, impulsive, barely-conscious decision which only proved everyone who believed him to be a failure; right. whereas all the other prominent characters on team black are made to look utterly brave && heroic for merely suggesting to do the same... cute. now they can because they ain’t aegon uwu. you know, someone who actually did fight until he was left almost unrecognizable. now look me in the eye and tell me that isn’t a too under the nose way to manipulate “canon” info to serve a biased agenda.

what’s more disappointing for me personally is how sunfyre could not escape the anti-aegonism’s wrath either, who’s always been more special to me than aegon himself. here we see aegon and aemond as joined forces, against the common foe, appearing at the very same time so nothing justifies aegon showing up unannounced and almost ruining a whole ass plan nobody bothered to fill him in on— another illogically biased addition to further ridicule aegon. mind you, since there isn’t enough to decipher aemond’s true intentions during this battle, i really wouldn’t mind him ending up causing more damage to aegon/sunfyre than even rhaenys/meleys, but the choice to make him so blatantly attack his brother/king and one of the very few fighting dragons they had when they chose to make this very same guy be a lot more distraught over killing lucerys is just .. cartoonish. imagine society if we were allowed to watch two brothers managing to set aside their personal grudges despite all the clumsy attempts at paving the way for a bigger enmity ( the brothel scene can’t sit with us ). i also wouldn’t mind seeing aemond visibly being tempted to hurt aegon for a split second during the intense eye contact only to attack in a more ambiguous way rather than downright aiming at aegon, it’d be closer to his actions in book too but the disney villanism won because, again, they simply cannot be allowed to appear like a semi-caring family. something i will also omit in my own portrayal because i’ve always believed the eye incident being a turning point for aemond/aegon’s relationship.

gonna end my angry rambling by going back to woobified sunfyre. notice how it is worded as “against vhagar alone she might have had some chance, but against vhagar and sunfyre…” not the other way around. not pointing out the more obvious fact that meleys would be able to take down sunfyre if it wasn’t for vhagar. which means we can safely accept the fact sunfyre was an important and necessary player for this whole “trap”. him and aegon didn’t just randomly show up on a whim to rain on aemond’s parade out of jealousy. they were always meant to be a part of this because apparently not even vhagar could defeat meleys alone and remain unscathed, she needed a distraction. and before anyone claims the attached part might also be pro-green propaganda ( just like the whole sunfyre’s beauty && loyalty were exaggerated allegations because apparently anything that’s mildly praise-worthy is immediately shot down as a propaganda but !! only if it’s about a green 😉 ) — i strongly disagree, mostly because of that iconic line about princess rhaenys’ courage. because guess what ?? you actually can praise AND accuse both parties in a well-balanced manner instead of butchering a perfectly tragic && intentionally ambiguous story by bending the “facts” to your will. shocking to some i presume.

[pidayforpi]

(Okay.

So, if anyone remembers: In last July (which was already nearly 9 months ago omg), there was a "Donro Week 2023" event here. From 23 July to 29 July.

For once, I had...actually planned to participate in it (which would have been the second time I participate in a community event, after a (small) Discord secret santa in 2021).

Of course via writing, because you won't want to see me draw.

The format of the (story) writings would have been like this:

If anyone still remembers, there were "question prompts" for each day of the Donro Week (in addition to the "one-word" prompts, like "Lazy Days" for Day 1, or "AU" for Day 6).

The question prompts were something like:

[Day 1: "How do you think Donald and Gyro first met and become friends, then eventual partners?"

Day 2: "What qualities do Donald and Gyro get annoyed by or not like in each other?"

Day 5: "How do you think the extended Gearloose and Duck family would react to their relationship?"]

etc.

What I had planned to do, was writing out a set of Dewey Dew-Night interview scenarios, in which Dewey asks Paperino and Archimedes the corresponding question for that day.

[NB: Not Donald and Gyro, at least not the DT17 versions. You will see why below.]

The format would have actually been like the "Chicken Soup" thing I had written all the way in 2020. Free form, equally cringe.

Uh...that didn't happen. Obviously. And for some unknown reasons, because I was somewhat motivated and inspired during that time much better than now at least. So...sorry.

But what I did write, however, was the "intro" to this set of "interview stories"...which is the entire purpose I am saying all this context all of a sudden. It has been a while, and way too long since I last produced and published...something.

It is a very short story - not even a complete one - but it is one of the last things I did before I kind of...stopped. Everything.

I also wrote this on a train, too.)

[A very late tag, but I hope it is the thought that counts. Thank you for organising this wonderful event. Just watching/reading through others' works was already super awesome.]

@donro-week

Donro Week 2023 [July 23th ~ July 29th]

(Just a small note: Sentences/Words in italic mean they are not supposed to be caught on camera, but are caught on camera accidentally regardless.)

Dewey: (Dewey Dew-Night Intro!)

Dewey: "And joining us tonight are two birds of a feather you know very well, yet ALSO know NOTHING about! *Gasp!* How is that possible?! Go on, ask! How is that possible?!"

"......"

Huey: "What?"

Dewey: "Dude, you are supposed to ask out loud. We've talked about this."

Louie: "You...you were serious..."

Dewey: "When was I not serious? Actually, don't answer that. Just cooperate. Ask that aloud, c'mon."

Huey & Louie: "*Sigh* Oh my god, how is that possible?!"

Dewey: "Well, I dunno!"

*LOL!*

*Facepalm*

Dewey: "But we are about to find out! 'Cause joinin' us tonight is the greatest uncle of the universes...Donald Duck!"

Donald (Paperino): "Hi!...wait where even is the camera? That rectangular gadget on the stack of books?"

Dewey: "As well as the brightest mind in all Duckburgs, across space and time...Gyro Gearloose!"

Gyro (Archimedes): "H-hello...! Nice to meet you, people of the...uh...interweb? Internetwork? What was that again, modern Dewey?"

Dewey: "*chuckle* Well, pardon the old timers, you can say they might as well have come from the 20th century!"

*Laughter!*

Dewey: "And if you have guessed so, you are absolutely CORRECT! No prize though, sorry. Don't think they are only cosplaying..."

Paperino: "Cospl...what?"

Archimedes: "Just go along with it, honey..."

Dewey: "'Cause who you are seeing are literal time travellers! *Gasp!*"

Archimedes: "Well, technically, we are dimension trav-"

Dewey: "Thanks to this world's Gyro's now upgraded Time n' Space Tub™️..."

Huey: "Which he forbids you from entering a 20-metre radius around?"

Dewey: "...which I definitely have permission to enter a 20-metre radius around! Now! I bring you, Paperino and Archimedes Pitagorico! Donald Duck and Gyro Gearloose from another universe!"

*Fanfare! Applause!*

Dewey: "Stay tuned after the intermission for the exciting interview that ensues!"

Louie: "Wait, you literally haven't done anything yet-"

Dewey: "This is Dewford Dingus Duck, your beloved handsome host from Dewey Dew-Night! Don't forget to like n' subscribe! See ya!"

Louie: "Dude, you literally haven't done ANYTHING yet!"

Paperino: "Subscribe? Is this a newspaper or a magazine?"

Archimedes: "Wait, is this an interroga-"

*Recording cuts*

(11-7-2023)

[formula-fun]

Hi!!!!

Wow!!!!! Am I the first person to have found out about this????🥳🥳🥳

The lightbulb actually lit when I asked why Charles was sleeping without the duvet in part 3 and you answered. And ended your reply with “hope this helps”.

And last year when I was very much obsessed with your if I had words series and kept shooting inappropriately long feelings/asks into your inbox (still obssessed just more controlled now🤣) you like to reply to some of the questions I filled between the “essays” and end with “hope this helps”.

Yesterday morning I woke up to the email notif of your reply and brief morning clarity i suppose(finger snapping sound) 💡 💡 💡

To save myself the embarrassment of being wrong in your inbox I went over the your authors notes and it’s the same way you don’t like to end with “.” at the end of paragraphs, also no capital letters in the title, also sometimes your preference for using two threes for <33. (Hopefully this doesn’t sound like stalkish🥲, because I not, just chronically online when I’m not at work and it’s off-season for my industry)

I searched your asks to remember the time when you said you were doing an anonymous work and it was around new year’s, when the fic was posted and my brain decided to rewire after reading.

And I was rereading if I had words last weekend and was coming to new light about a lot of things that I missed before. So like both the stories were very fresh on my mind. There were sentence structures and word choices that felt like you, so I asked.

In particular sometimes what stood out to me that you like long sentences (I do too!) and you prefer to use “;” a lot in long sentences. And you like to “,” and add adjectives or short descriptive phrases at the end of sentences. Or maybe that’s just me because i not anything close to a Lit major:

“Sleep is calling him back under, warm and golden.”From strange new worlds

“Max smiles at him, warm and sweet.”

“Max reaches for him, a hand settling on Charles’ hip, sleepy and uncoordinated. ”

From remember me love, when i'm reborn

This is getting very long (sorry!) I love strange new worlds very much your Max voice is absolutely amazing! I’ll save my gushing to the next ask.

<3

WHAT

hahahshdhdh im DEAD 😭😭😭😭😭 you’re not a lit major??? They should be giving you an honorary degree, wtfffffff I don’t even know my own style as well as you do, I thought I was so smooth with this dhfjgkgfjgjgj

I thought <3 would give me away but I’m too lazy not to do it because it’s so much faster on a laptop than trying to copy paste an emoji. did NOT realize <33 is now my calling card. Should have known the authors notes and comment section would be my downfall. I also did not realize I have a writing style that’s recognizable but now that you say that that makes a lot of sense?? This ask is wild tbh, im learning so much here

I don’t think anyone else figured it out before you so congrats on that! 🥳 it’s definitely uhhhhhhhhhhh not the kind of content I am known for, nor is it the content I’m assuming people are following me for, so I still go back and forth on whether I’ll de anon. I’m very impressed you made that connection in the meantime 😂😂😂

[goat-shoe]

ok, i Rant time

ive been reading this fic Knowing itd be a mess and im just... ive had it with this characterization! aimless rant below ^^;;;

tw for bullying, harassment, abuse, homophobia

so a lot of highschool AUs are just..... Bad? like LOL sorry :x but. youre taking away everything interesting about the miraculous holders, And youre trying to make Fully Grown Adults into children. ??????

n e ways, i found this highschool dropout au,,, im Sure you can guess how i feel abt dugout and tiderdrop together, but personal biases aside (its Icky to me and someday ill figure out why)..... lets read this fic.

(to prove i am Not taking things out of context, heres the whole fic)

FIRST of all, youre ognna notice that the prose is Boring, written in long and uninspired runon sentences. i dont wanna just bash on an inexperienced writer, but if youre gonna be this lazy about it.. who is it for :x

second, headcanoning mariquitas name as the Only spanish name you can think of that starts with "mari"? is just uninspired. mariquita wouldnt Choose a hero name so obviously close to her Real Name.. again im not an unmasker, but this headcanon is ridiculous....

finally, and most importantly.... "he sighs wearily". umm, No actually. he Doesnt. you dont even get an insight into dugouts thoughts other than "im nervous about school >m<"

Needless to say, this and his whiny, whimpering demeanor is incredibly infantilizing,. Furthermore in this context, all it does is plays into the ""yaoi"" trope of a big buff bad big boy x boy who says uwaaah! (i hope it goes without saying, this is Not a condemnation of boys who say uwahh, yall are doing gods work and ily)

cramming tigerdrop and dugout into this trope comes off as (and actually is) incredibly homophobic and harmful. need i remind you, these are real people. i wouldnt be surprised if this author was a fujoshi or something too :x

anyways.

im a dugout fan Because hes reserved, but in this fic, thats being watered down to him just being sad and whiny.

its just so insulting to be written shrugging every 3 sentences. dugout im so sorry theyre doing this to you ;;;

guhh. ill give them points for this cute relationship with mariquita...

but again, the prose is just.. clumsy. and again, all dugout does is whine about change. its not even a realistic portrayal of adjustment disorder :x

speaking of disorders Lol,

we Know how i feel abt tigerdrop, but i tend to actually like fanfic portrayals of him.

but this one is just... Confusing...

(also we have mandatory "describe their entire outfit in vapid detail" LOL i should have made this a bingo)

i havent really been talking about the plot, but heres what it took the author two chapters to get through:

dugout it new in town, hes nervous about the changes. (we dont even know why he misses home??? just, make it up i guess, god forbid a fanfiction Make That part up!!!!!!)

tigerdrop has lived in new york all his life, and he appears to be pretty bored with life (ex: pushes pipsqueak over just because he thought itd be funny, no doubt an allusion to the canal street incident last july)

his characterization is actually really confusing and i think its supposed to be like, Alluring??? but its just disconcerting :x

thats It. Two established characters and empty conversations with others (the mariquita mischaracterization especially drives me up the wall ever since i confirmed my kin with her)

they meet in math class when dugout unknowingly sits in tigerdrops seat..... girl, Literally no one in high school acts like this.

at this point, this fic is no better than glee and the millions of other incorrect and careless portrayals of highschoolers. tigerdrop has some weird banter with the faceless teacher (yet Another reason i hate most highschool fics)

:/ i Kinda saw it coming, but....

tigerdrop apologizing and not meaning it? In character. But, hes just acting like a greaser, and its Weird

dugout wouldnt care! he would not look like "a deer in the Headphones."

i Realize the author doesnt have a beta reader but :x that doesnt excuse pawning off lazy work btw, in case anyone was wondering....

last but probably Most important: this is setting up such a toxic dynamic. tigerdrop is actively pushing the message that dugout is taking up too much space and he doesnt belong. its alienating and shitty. and this is a fic Shipping Them :x

but i Clicked on a dropout fic, so.... should i be surprised :/

like i said. dugout is Already afraid of him.. his body is reacting just to the sound of his voice, not unlike trauma in PTSD victims!

like. guh. this is literally so toxic. also..

take a shot every time you see the word "smirks"

lips ghosting his nose And ear? Lol.....

likely The Worst way to incorporate their miraculous personas :x reading this literally made me nauseous.

anyways.... thats all of the fic thats been posted so far. so to summarize: this is just Icky. its even worse, setting this kind of relationship in their high school years :x imagine if someone treated you this way! youre Not gonna grow up and marry them.

i Cant even.

~ ty for reading <3 ~

[slowdripsunrise]

BOOK REVIEW AGAINNNNNNN yippee i have actually been reading... not a lot but well i am ! kinda forgot about this blog ok thats not true i was just lazy and didnt want to write a post. well anyways heres a big post for all the stories i read there are 4 - things have gotten worse since we last spoke by eric larocca, paradise rot by jenny hval, soft science by franny choi, and the country will bring us no peace by matthieu simard ! spoilers under the cut

ok first i read things have gotten worse since we last spoke because i wanted to go on a little kick of reading weird crazy people books at 3 am. and i did! chose this one because i saw it was very short so. anyways i thought this was.... okay. i think what made it a little worse off for me is that i already knew about the whole parasite thing from tiktok, so it wasnt that crazy to me when it actually happened. gonna be honest i do Not remember how the book ends at all so i dont even know if it was satisfying or not. was my experience worsened by it being 3am and me not having any thoughts at all? probably. would i do it again? yeah. i was a lil bit disappointed in the apple peeler part too... i thought it was going to be more relevant than it was unless there are some hidden symbolism meanings motifs going on that i didnt get... actually now that im thinking about it big long unbroken peels of apple + a big long probably worm-like parasite? next to each other thats kinda cool. other than that thought i literally just had now typing this out i didnt see anything else. omg speaking of seeing the tagline and also its mentioned in the book, "what did you do today to deserve your eyes?" crazy ass fuck sentence. i kinda love it actually and this is maybe where i would have like to see the apple peeler come in. she takes the apple peeler to her face and peels her eyes out of her head idk. also i feel like either on tiktok/goodreads they were supposed to be ballerinas? but that wasnt mentioned at ALL? i might be misremembering but that also could have been a cool little anecdote. anyways all this to say i thought the book was alright. i was entertained for like 2 hours. my favorite part of this experience was going on goodreads after and seeing a one star review of the book that just said "men stop writing trauma porn about lesbians." which is SO FUCKING FUNNY. because 1 im pretty sure the author is nonbinary, so hes not a man. 2. WHO IS GETTING OFF TO THIS. sorry i do absolutely not see any fetishization here, and also i think they write stories like this in like collections,, so there are probably people other than lesbians in them. idk i just thought that was funny. jesus christ this is getting long and i'm only 1/4 done. i pity anyone who opens this.

next i read paradise rot by jenny hval, which i had heard was dubbed the "bisexual piss book" intriguing and also a short little story i read at 3am. i did like this one, i thought it was fun and interesting and im a big fan of rot. just in general. vibes were on point. this book was moist. however, not as much piss as i expected. as in like quantities on page. they did talk about piss a lot and by they i mean the narrator. not as horror-esque as i thought it would be but i did like it! ohhh to simply rot away...... would not recommend this to normal people and i like that about it.

soft science by franny choi !!!! really liked this! im going to be honest i do not remember more than one poem from this collection. but i do remember liking them !!! sorry i think i need to train my brain to like and remember poetry more. and not just like the ones from tumblr webweaves even though all of them slay.

finally i read the country will bring us no peace by matthieu simard. i liked this, thought it was super interesting,,, ok i didnt think it was super interesting i thought it was good. god i am trying to program myself out of academic reviews of stupid dumbass books i was forced to read. this isn't like that at all. anyways i thought the whole grief aspect was done very well, the sadness at knowing literally nothing will work or come together to make your life go back to the way it was, go back to being whole again. and that deep deep sadness of not only losing their daughter but also the life they had before, the life they had with each other,,, losing all hope. it definitely got to me i did almost cry i think. i think i have more to say about this but i don't remember it. oh well. i thought the vibes of a hostile small mountain town were cool ! i think one of my favorite scenes was when the lavoie's kid falls from the antenna and they are just standing there doing nothing and simon has to go save him... idk the fact that they were shown as perfect parents for their perfect children and how not great they actually were <- this thought is dumb and obvious you get what im saying. one of my main issues is that the ending did feel rushed... and i was a bit confused,,,, the last line "a bird starts to sing" i couldn't tell if that was meant to be marie and simon hearing birds in the afterlife, in the woods by the bowling alley? or was that just the birds in the town finally starting to sing? because if its the latter i don't really get how simon and marie dying would bring the birds back.. the town is still dying and tragedies will still happen... idk its probably the birds in the afterlife but oh well. ok final thought i think but i think the title in french is interesting. it's called "ici, ailleurs" which means "here, elsewhere" or more like "here, something better. here, a new beginning." i like that, obviously it's what the book is about, and idk i think the translator did a good job at conveying the message. i think i would read this book again but in french, mostly to practice because my french is shit but i think since it only really stays in one setting, there's not a lot of characters, concepts are pretty easy to understand, i think it would be fun !!!! ok im done those are my reviews of all the books ive read in the past week or so thanks to anyone who reads this whole thing you are crazy. peace and love

[blankspacebye]

Lieu de Mémoire

“Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts.” - Charles Dickens, Great Expectations (1867).

I don't know how to put it up. Words flew away and I can't describe my feelings. There's no reasons behind this post. I just really want to write something but nothings came to my mind. A lot of subjects and topics or (maybe) things to write but no words seems fit into this piece of blank space.

I reach my laptop and end up staring for five minutes. Staring nothing, seeing my bare plain desktop and searching for nothing. Opening my music list and replaying Never Let Me Go by Florence + The Machine for couple times. Start to read some of personal essays on Medium. Re-read my own digital bible, my "unpleasable" poems, bunch of my "hideous-brief" notes, accompanied by rain, family chit chats from across the room and Florence's serene voices.

It has been months since I rarely self-talk. I've got myself a lot of distraction and wasn't brave enough for paying attention to myself. I wasn't brave enough to dig deeper and peels every layers on myself. There's time when I searching what lies behind beneath the surface of myself but most of times I ran away and looking for places to hideout.

When you read this post, you might be asking why this girl "out of the blue" being so brave emotionally expose and vulnerable? Is she okay? Is this post seems right to do for this 'not-so-young' girl? Are this kind of things quiet normal to do by a woman whose in her mid twenties? And another questions that might be line up in your heads right now.

I don't care. I supposed not to care but (maybe) I am.

Lately, I've been finished two Netflix series as my lovely Roman-Empire. Re-watching Normal People and first time seeing One Day. Bunch of moral code or you can call it as life-lessons lie beneath those Nrtflix series but I'm too lazy to rewrite. Cause personally, this post just another random things that I want to write. Later on, while I watch Robin Waldun channel on YouTube and seeing another public lecturer class, I recalling memories from a series of black list people. I start questioning whether some of my decisions were right nor have to think again.

Well, as we know: as time goes by, life must go on. Even if you really want to survive and take roots for something, you can't deny that time is ticking. The rhythm should be constant, but sometimes it feels very slow and sometimes it goes fast. Sometimes I can handle it but most of times I overwhelmed in silence.

I found Charles Dickens quotes that seems align with my mood for the whole weeks. One sentences that keeps me hovering "bluemyday" mood. Once I read his books, Great Expectations but back then I wasn't a good reader. I missed lots of points that he offers beneath the books. Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts. So raw and enigmatic. A lines that reminds me to allow me being vulnerable and more human within acceptance.

Seeing it again makes me want to write a notes. A notes that I never know that I might need it (or maybe not). A long-list of topics awaits me to bursting out but then I stunned. I know, I don't want to write it right now. As I said, this post might be another (series) of my random notes. If you asking me: then why you write and post this if you don't have any to write? Well, I wasn't said that I'd write beautifully right? You can call this as a messy notes with solitude memories which I call it as: Lieu de Mémoire.

Write-Wrote-Written-Writing: one of my hobbies. No. It's much more than hobbies. It's kind of therapy session. Daily journals, weird poems, long/short stories, unsend letters, quick notes, instant quotes, personal essays that full of egocentric minds, reciting bible with additional self-contemplation notes, 'not-so critical' editorial for my concern-issue, and so on. I'd like to share all my writings. Well, I mean not all of them. Some people might said that all my writings were bullshits, raw, wasn't good enough, too much guilty, immature, lack of consistency, and messy.

But I don't care. Well, I shouldn't care but well I am. At the end of the day, there's a sense of validation from my readers that I need to hear. Lately, since 2020, I just threw out the words on my head and posted it. I didn't care enough about what people say and think while they read my writing. I just keep writing, curating some points, making sure it's on the right track, and posting it. Some of them found their readers while rest of them might not be lucky enough.

As a self-proclaimed writer, I'd like to say that sometimes writers don’t cry, they bleed on papers. Back then, I like to write in Indonesia but lately I write in English even my grammar is awful. I don't know. I feel much more relax and comfortable to bursting out my feelings when I write in English.

There are multiple things that you can do to healing yourself. The way that I do, is by writing. I think writing is one of the most independent instrument on this earth. Through this, you don’t get interrupted from other living creatures, you don’t need validations from other (even I hate to admit that I ever need it once is a foolish one) but well, yeah, you don’t have to following a bunch of shit regulations, and so on. It’s just you, pen and paper or laptops anyway. Actually, that’s what writers do when they got sad. The most powerful words is the honest one, and the best words is the flowing one. Quite simple, but trust me, the hardest things to write is to be honest and to be flow.

Then, what's next?

As I recall my memories, finished watching a heart-wrecking tv series One Day and listening Never Let Me Go as I remember how Emma Morley (a lead-women character on films) says it's one of the great cosmic mysteries, how it is that someone can go from being a total stranger to being the most important person in your life. I start chuckling, laughing while crying at the same time and nodding. It's true. I start to reaching out my laptops and thinks that I have to write something.

Love is the spark that ignites the flame of our souls, the fire that warms our hearts, and the light that guides us through the darkness. It is the melody that sings in our hearts, the poetry that flows through our veins, and the art that colors our lives.

When I find love, I find a piece of myself that I never knew was missing. It seems like we are drawn to each other like magnets, irresistibly and inexplicably. And when I love, (supposedly) I become the best version of myself. I learn to let go of my fears and insecurities, to trust in other people completely, and to embrace every moment with open hearts and open minds.

In my search for the meaning of love, I find that it is the fuel that sustains me and the light that guides me. It is the force that brings me together and the bond that holds me close. And as I journey through life, I was reminded that every word I speak, every action I take, and every thought I have is rooted in love. It prevents me from being cruel and awful to others. It helps me to build my resilience and strengthen my believes in kindness and genuineness.

Whether lots of names I'd like to forget, I can't deny that they gave me lessons. I might have a lingering feelings that I kept. Joyous to displeased memories. All those things which layering and adding more structure on me. But then I realize, one thing that I shouldn't forget: love is beyond. Pain in the name of love is a pivotal point to learn that love is beyond of belongings, expectations -such a great complex concept that's beyond of what you can see. Love (might be) lies beneath the deeps of hearts-minds ocean. Love is an sacred oath that I keep deep down in a sanctuary of heart and I acknowledge it.

I realize that there's a longlist of people that comes to my life. Every names gives different feelings. Some of them stay still with all the lingering memories while most of them blurry. The landscape of my feelings became solid in solitude. Of course, there's a pain (sometimes) crawling up my minds. But times heal. If the proverbs is wrong, just remember a quotes from Antonia's Line movie: if time does not heal all wounds. It merely softens the pain and blurs memories.

With unwavering faith to love, Sati Soirée.

[kazumiroleplay]

Roleplay Rules

roleplaying styles

✧ i roleplay semi-lit. and in third person. if you don't roleplay like that, then i most likely won't roleplay with you. stars are acceptable if you don't write one-liners; however, I'd still not prefer them.

✧ good example: tatsuya sighed softly as he walked to the park. he hated being around this many people... but he would bare it, at least just for his child.

✧ good example: *tatsuya sighed softly as he walked to the park. he hated being around this many people... but he would bare it, at least just for his child.* what am i supposed to do now...

✧ bad example: tatsuya: sighs softly, walking to the park. his child: *crys*

✧ bad example: *he walks to the park with his kid.*

✧ no one-liners. they seriously make me bored.

✧ no repetitive stuff either. please.

✧ reply around the same length. i know i'm bad at this, but still- just try. if i have a paragraph and you only have a sentence, what am i supposed to do??

✧ i don't do female x female often, i'll usually do male x female or male x male. just because i get bored fairly easily when doing female x female (maybe my partners were bad, or maybe my ocs just plain sucked lmao-) (also i'm only saying female/male because i'm lazy, but non-binary/genderfluid/etc characters are always welcome!)

✧ i prefer doing rps in pms.

⊱ ───── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

smut

✧ i won't do smut unless i'm really close to the person, and we've been roleplaying for a while

✧ smut honestly makes me bored, like- the part where the characters actually do it. i like the romance and the foreplay y'know?? (ugh makes me cringe writing this)

✧ no roleplays that jump immediately into smut to start (unless we've roleplayed before). waking up after a smut scene is okay. fading to black is okay if we don't really know each other. but please don't use me just to have your characters get laid (hopefully they're not self-inserts because then... that's kinda sad at that point). also no one who is 18+ can roleplay smut with me (because people over 18 have made me uncomfortable in the past. though, we can still roleplay regular romance and stuff and timeskip the smut)

⊱ ───── {⋅. ✯✯ .⋅} ───── ⊰

character troubles

✧ if my characters are being annoying/rude/too flirty, please tell me. your characters can tell them off, but if it really makes you uncomfortable, just tell me ooc and i can force make them not be as flirty/pushy/rude/etc.

✧ i seriously don't approve like half of the things that my ocs do but. please separate me from my characters, and again, tell me if they make you uncomfortable. i don't condone any of their actions.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

canon characters

✧ i usually do original characters and not canon characters; however, i will do double rps (you play my crush and i'll play yours). other than that, i'll rarely play canon characters (unless i really like you or your roleplaying style).

✧ i have not watched any anime in the english dub so if the character's dialogue sounds different than the english dub then i apologize. i pretty much can't watch most anime in english because my first thought when hearing the voices is pokémon (the only anime i watched dubbed because netflix doesn't give me it in japanese) (but yes most of it is me translating a japanese accent as best as i can into english lmao)

✧ you can play canon characters if you want, just note that i'll most likely use an oc.

✧ don't play canon characters too ooc. i'm bad with this but at least try to not do it. if your character is an alternate-universe version of a canon character, then it's fine.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

other

✧ i do not have to roleplay with you, so don't whine if i decline a request to roleplay.

✧ if my descriptions in roleplay are bad, just tell me- they probably suck anyway. i'm better with dialogue and emotions than describing the scene- so yeah lol.

✧ if you read these rules, please comment with "i love teddy!" in the comments. (he's my dog ok i love him)

✧ don't be a mary sue. if your character seems like a mary sue but just seems that way because they're more reserved or whatever, then it's fine, but if you yourself say that your character is perfect and has no flaws, everyone loves them, etc, then no. but if your character says that but you know better and let them have flaws, i'm happy to roleplay that. (characters who think they're amazing but they really aren't >>>)

✧ please for the life of me don't god mod (your character can suggest an action (let's say it's a fight scene, and your character says that they prepare to dodge a right hook. i could choose to make my character do a right hook, or something totally different). just don't assume my character likes every single thing your character does. they're human (or, at least somewhat human) and they have different feelings and thoughts. also the other time when it's acceptable is if your character has a controlling-type power (think doflamingo (one piece)). just don't control my character's emotions, and please don't let it go on for too long.

✧ no illegal stuff (adult x minor, incest, etc)

✧ please don't assume relationships without talking beforehand (unless it's something like faking being in a relationship for some reason (like to make gross people go away)) (or if we've roleplayed a lot together y'know??)

✧ don't force personality-changes or stuff like that on me. if a profile says that a character is gay, then don't do a romantic roleplay with a female. your female oc may be romantically-interested in him for a while (maybe only like a couple replies though) before realizing he's gay (coming out or whatever) and then tries to get him with his crush? that's okay.

✧ don't make your characters know things they shouldn't. because that's dumb. and not realistic. (so no mind-reading unless that's discussed beforehand)

✧ please show some sign of when you're talking ooc- i use //, or talk in tags (in the wonderful site that is tumblr (sarcasm lol (but fond sarcasm))) so yeah- but i love being friends with people i roleplay with so-

✧ don't spam me with "when are you gonna reply" and that sort of thing. if my profile says i'm online and active, then you can, but if it says that i'm on a semi-hiatus, then don't ask me when i'm gonna reply. i'll get to it under three weeks, tops. (probably).

✧ also reminder that i don't own the pictures for my ocs (unless stated otherwise).

[chuckbass-love]

please do #19 with ransom🤭

A/N: Hey, sweet anon. I let all of my requests build up so hence the long wait, which i am sorry for. However, i really hope you love this. I was supposed to upload an Andy Barber request first but it’s a long one and i’m in the process of editing it for y’all. But for now, here is a steamy, short and sweet Ransom fic because he’s my fave, to keep y’all satisfied for now.

Prompt #19: "Do you need me to finger you first?"

Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Warning: Smut, vaginal fingering, brief thigh riding, degradation, swearing and a small mention of murder and prison. 18+ as always guys!

Word Count: 2,210

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @evansensations go check them out💕

Get You Ready

It’s 2:45pm, early afternoon time in Massachusetts and you’re currently held up and pre occupied in the middle of nowhere in a rented cabin with Boston’s most notorious playboy. Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

To say you’ve become well acquainted with the convicted murdered would be an understatement to say the least. He’s dangerous, bad news or a bad egg as your mother likes to say. But you couldn’t bring yourself to abandon him when he got arrested, and so the regular visits began. 

At first, you tried to deny him the simplest pleasures of just kissing you, you refused to give yourself to a man with such a unsettling reputation. However, that refusal didn’t last long. He found a way, by somehow coercing you into succumbing to his touch, the slow drag of his lips across yours before he bit down hard on your bottom lip was enough to have you panting and keening for more.

And so it continued...

The kissing turned to touching and the touching turned to more, with your consent of course.

But the haze of white bed sheets and lazy morning sex had to end at some point, that point being the death of Harlan, Ransom’s grandfather. 

From the moment news broke of his death, Hugh began to act shady, and although you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, you knew you had reason to be suspicious.

The will reading then fast approached and it only got worse, his restlessness, the way he seemed to be so irritable yet so unable to find anything to help. Nothing would suffice, not even the soft touch of your hand on his shoulders to massage the tension away. 

And then Marta was handed everything...literally on a silver platter. Though you couldn’t fault Harlans choice, the same could not have been said for the good for nothing, money grabbing Thrombey's and Drysdale’s. They were angry, seething even. However, Ransom was peculiarly calm, it was worrisome. 

Days passed with Blanc trying to solve the mystery of the best selling authors demise but to no avail. No one could figure it out. Fingers were pointed, digs were thrown. But no one knew, just who did kill Harlan Thrombey? It was a mystery. 

That was until Hugh Ransom Drysdale was found out, Blanc clocked on eventually, he realised how Ransom had pulled the wool right over his eyes, for far too long.

This same realisation led to his arrest. 

But with great lawyers, he weaselled his way out of a long sentence. 

The day of his release, and much to your mothers dismay, you rushed into his arms. You wanted to be the first person he saw, the first person he held. You wanted him to know what he meant to you, how loyal you were to him. And you still are.

Throughout all of the shit that’s been thrown at the two of you, you’re still together, albeit in some old cabin in the middle of nowhere, but together nonetheless.

And now here you are on an extremely cold day, wrapped up in his warm embrace as you lay between his spread legs. Your head is rested on his chest as his fingers brush against your clit for the umpteenth time today, you had a taster of his cock inside of you and after days of him being too busy, it hurt a little, the stretch.

See, how you ended up here is a funny story, you dared to tread the waters around him whilst he was working on something in his study and in doing so, you earned a punishment. 

He had told you he was busy one time too many and you didn’t listen, you actively ignored his refusals. 

The whore that you’ll always be for him just couldn’t resist getting on her knees as he sat there man spreading and looking too good not to touch. And the moment you worked at his belt to pull his slacks and boxers down, his hardened cock sprang free from its confines and he looked too good not to taste. 

But before you could wrap your sweet gloss covered and tempting lips around the throbbing tip that leaked his tasty pre-cum, he gripped your face aggressively with one hand. His phone rang in the other and as he answered, his punishing grip relented and he was tapping his lap for you to sit down on it, not before he signalled for you to strip though.

Whilst you undressed, he shimmied out of is slacks, until they dropped to his feet along with his boxers. He stepped out of them and waited for you to straddle him, for you to sink down on his hardened length. But just as you were about to, a better idea rose to light. Instead he manoeuvred the two of you so that you were straddling his thigh, the words ‘ride it’ that he mouthed let you know that that was all that you’d be getting today.

The phone conversation seemed to drag out agonisingly but he’d assist you by moving his thigh just to give you some reprieve, some friction, even if it only lasted a second.

However, once the phone call came to an abrupt end, it was game on. You began to move more, letting moans slip so casually until he stood up with you in his arms. He carried you to the bedroom, taking his time to admire every inch of your face as he walked, you felt warm under his stare.

Reaching the bedroom, Ransom positioned the two of you so that you were between his spread legs, your own legs wide open for his pleasure. He began to toy with your cunt, muttering degrading words while he pulled orgasm after orgasm from you just by rubbing at your over sensitive clit and now you’re not sure you even have another inside of you. 

“Does my dumb baby need my cock?”

Your eyes droop as you fight off your spent state, but you still manage a slow nod as you turn your head to look back at him, eyes pleading for just an inch of him to be buried inside of you.

“Beg for it, baby”

With a dry mouth and zero energy, you whisper “please, daddy. Please fuck me with your cock” 

Your words, nothing but a whine to his ears but since you’ve been such a good girl thus far, he caves in easily until before you know it, you’re on your back with Ransom hovering above you.

He pumps his shaft a couple times, before tapping it against your sex lightly, making you jolt. 

“Are you ready for me?” he asks, lust blown eyes focused on yours as they turn darker. You give a simple nod along with a meek little “yes” to satisfy him.

And with that he slams inside of you, causing you to cry out in pain.

Ransom may be a lot of things, but he can never bring himself to fuck you if you’re uncomfortable. He prefers you to enjoy the sex.

His hips come to a rushed halt as he lowers his head to where yours is laying on the pillow beneath, his thumb brushing your tears away.

“Shhh, what is it, baby?” 

“It’s been a couple days since we last did anything, i’m a little tight, it just hurt that’s all” you explain, trying to signal for him to continue. But instead he chuckles, pulling out entirely and pulling your bottom lip down as his other hand roams south.

“Does my dumb baby need a little help? Do you need me to finger you first, hm? Get that tight cunt ready for me?”

His crass words resonate deep within, sending more arousal to pool at your sore entrance and regardless of how bad it hurts, you want him.

“No, i want you now-”

“Hush, baby. Let daddy take care of it for you”

His lips begin to trail from your tear stained cheek to your lips and then down to the valley between your breasts. He sucks a now hardened nipple into his mouth, biting down and flicking his tongue across it with precision but you daren’t get too used to it as he soon moves further down toward your needy and aching sex. 

Once he reaches it, your chest begins to rise and fall, your breath growing heavier. 

You watch on as he licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit and he repeats this action a couple more times before sucking on the pulse point, flicking his tongue just like he did across your nipple. Your back arches and endless lewd moans slip as you struggle to contain how good he feels. 

Two thick digits slip inside of you, scissoring you open and easing you through the stretch to prepare you for him once again. The thing with Ransoms size is that regardless of how often you fuck, he’ll always need to prepare you before he fucks you.

“Tastes so good, baby” he coos, his fingers pumping in and out of you, slowly at first and then the pace picks up until your clutching at the sheets beneath you. His mouth giving your body that extra push toward the edge, the pool of pleasure awaiting you below as you writhe around, enjoying every second of his sinful mouth.

“Ransom” you groan, hips bucking up to meet the rhythm of his fingers, chasing that all important release.

It’s like whenever Ransom is involved, your body ignites and you turn into a blazing inferno, every inch of you so needy for him, it never fades. 

He has you right where he wants you and you feel absolutely no shame in that.

Your bodies are drawn together constantly, like a magnetic pull is responsible. And as much as your family don’t approve, you adore it.

The feel of his fingers curling inside of you, the tips poking that spongy spot deep within you that has the power to send your body into a shaking mess. You crave that release now, you’re starving for it. And you’re going to make sure he gives it to you.

The continuation of your hips rolling and bucking alerts Ransom of how close you are and a smirk appears on his sinister face... here comes trouble.

Without missing a beat, he withdraws his fingers from your tight cunt, lifting them up for you to see the way your slick covers them beautifully. His tongue dips out to wet his lips as he ogles the sight of your arousal before he takes them into is mouth, his tongue working expertly, making sure that every drop hits his tastebuds. 

An overly satisfied and deep guttural groan rumbles from him and you feel your eyes widen at the hottest sight you’ve ever seen. Ransom in his element, pleasuring you until you break for him. 

There’s just something about the way he fucks, the way he teases, the way he touches and kisses. It’s him in all of his glory.

He merely has to look in your direction with those darkened lust filled orbs and you’re a goner, weak at the knees. Some people’s talents lie in photography or creative writing, but Ransom’s lies in the art of seduction and pleasure. He knows exactly what he’s doing and no other man has ever come close to him. 

It makes you question how you coped all that time before you met him.

“You think you can handle me now, hm?” his degrading tone doesn’t skim over your head, but somehow you live for the way his entire demeanour switches when it comes to these things. 

He hovers above you once again, his hands braced either side of your head as he urges you to lift your legs up as high as you can before he drapes them over his broad shoulders. 

Your breathing picks up, your chest rising and falling as your eyes remain locked on his, the tip of his impressive size nudging at your entrance. The edging he put you through now a distant memory as he eases in, or at least for the first 2 inches. Then he slams in, forcing you to take the rest of him, all the way.

“God” you scream, hands scrambling around again, searching for something to claw at as his hips snap into you, his pace nothing short of unforgiving. 

“God can’t save you now” he grumbles, mouth falling open as he scrunches his face up in reaction to the feel of your pussy wrapped around him in a fist like grip. Wet and perfect.

The noises filling the room are making you grateful that you’re well away from everyone else, your own little safe haven in the middle of nowhere, no one can interrupt you now.

And It’s bound to be a long night....

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

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[thefanficmonster]

Innocent Life

Ethan Winters (Resident Evil Biohazard) & Child!Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death, Grief, Spoilers for RE8:Village, Swearing

Genre: Angst

Summary: As Ethan stands outside the ruins of Luiza’s house, looking the aftermath of the death he barely escaped in the eye, he cannot get the wails and cries of a child out of his head. Takes him a bit to realize they’re not a product of his trauma.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for the wonderful request, I had a blast writing it - what can I say, angst is my specialty hehe. Hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

How the hell is this happening? Why is this happening? Why to me? Why my family? Why were we the ones chosen for this suffering to be thrown upon? What did my daughter do to deserve this, for fuck’s sake?!

Why does everyone around me die? Why do I always loose everyone?

I’m the problem....

His knees are weak, his head’s spinning. His lungs have filled with smoke and ash so much he can barely breathe. His eyes sting, reddened around the edges, his vision blurry. However, what bothers him most is the mess that is currently his mind - swimming with the feeling of betrayal, sorrow and dread.

He lost so much so suddenly and in such a short amount of time. He lost Chris - someone he thought of as a friend but has now been replaced by a coldblooded killer and backstabber. He refuses to believe that’s still the Chris who saved him and Mia from Louisiana, he has to be dead.

Mia....

He lost Mia. He’s lost her before countless times - he lost her when he though she was dead, he kept losing her and getting her back at the Bakers’ residence as she switched between her monstrous form and being herself. He lost her again when they made it back, when her mind was clouded and darkened, when all she needed was solitude and when he wasn’t allowed anywhere near her as doctors upon doctors used her as a research object. And now he’s lost her again, this time for good. It’s just him and Rose now.

Or it would be if she too wasn’t taken from him, leaving him in the pit of grief and loss, both emotions at an intensity he’s never experienced before. Like a drill going through his heart, or a sledgehammer breaking it down to shards. Or as though his heart’s completely vanished, unable to take the anguish Ethan’s existence has become. The anguish that will live on for as long as he will.

Those three years of Mia being gone.

That nightmarish night back in Louisiana.

The horrific sight of dozens of bullets entering his wife’s body in front of his very eyes as he remained helpless.

The sound of Rose’s wailing cries.

God, he can still hear them. And oh so vividly. Like a cursed, haunting loop in his brain. If he closes his eyes he can almost imagine her being a few feet from him, near him, giving him the opportunity to soothe her, calm her down, tell her it’s all gonna be ok even if it seems like hell at the moment. Promising he’d make it all alright and make the right people pay for what’s happened.

But then finally, he picks up on it - the oddity in the cries he’s hearing.

They’re too realistic for a mind to be able to produce. They’re too loud and too close and are external. And, most importantly, they sound like the cries of an older child.

Ethan quickly snaps himself back to reality, coming to terms with the knowledge that the sounds he’s hearing are a part of it and not some dark corner of his mind. Despite the horror he feels and creep up, taking over his whole body in the form of cold sweat, he still takes a step towards the source of the ear-splitting and heart-sinking noise. It’s instinctively human to feel a sickening feeling of sympathy combined with the need to shield something so powerless from any harm.

To save an innocent life.

Heading towards the side of what used to be Luiza’s house he spots it - a crib on top of which there’s a pile of rubble and wooden planks. The thing seems to barely be standing and yet it’s harboring the child whose cries have now grown louder. Ethan’s frozen for a few moments, frozen with fear. Frozen with the overwhelming thought that there’s no way he can save that child. Frozen and powerless, just like he was on the floor of his own home as life left Mia’s body.

You didn’t do anything for her....

The sound of a crack in the already weak wood, seemingly coming from the child’s crib, sends all his senses on edge, his adrenaline once again starting to rush through his veins.

But you can do something for that child, Ethan! Do something before it’s too late!

Within the blink of an eye, Ethan finds himself standing above the unsteady wooden structure, putting all his strength into removing the rubble that has thankfully piled atop the wooden planks, preventing anything from landing on the baby and harming it. Hell, it’s a miracle it didn’t suffocate from the smoke in the first place. Its cries are put to a halt when its wide eyes land on Ethan, who’s looking back at the toddler with the same amount of distress.

“Hi there. It’s ok, you’re safe now.“ He finds himself breathing out shakily as his trembling hands reach down, picking up the now silent toddler. “It’s ok, little one. You’re a literal miracle, you know that?“ His gaze travels over the ruin the house has become, the house that was this child’s home. Its family’s home. This toddler knows loss much like Ethan does, or it will when it grows up. But as of now, it’s secured in the bubble of blissful ignorance due to infancy.

And Ethan has come across yet another bump in the road: making his way in the castle was already gonna be a difficult and possibly lethal venture, but doing it with a child in his arms, that’s a death sentence for both him and the kid.

“You and I have a thing for surviving hell, but not even I am willing to take the risk of taking you with me, kid.“ He gently caresses the toddlers head as its big awed eyes blink up at him with curiosity.

One one hand, a castle with horrors he’s yet to be familiar with; on the other, a village which’s horrors he’s already seen and experienced and would rather die right in this very spot than subject this innocent kid to them.

Ethan’s once again stranded.

“What do I do with you, kid? Being with me won’t bring you any good. I’m like a death sentence to everyone around me.“ His heart breaks as he says that because - in his mind and by his logic - it’s the truth. It’s the only thing that makes sense in such a nonsensical situation.

Then suddenly, an idea sparks, fueling what little hope and courage he has left and getting his legs to move from the spot they’ve been stuck in for the past God knows how long. That’s not important right now. What matters is that, for the first time since this nightmare started, Ethan Winters has a clue of what he’s doing. He’s got a plan.

                                                                *  *  *

“I see you have returned!“ The Duke greets him with his signature lazy smile before his gaze lands on the child in Ethan’s arms, his eyes widening in surprise, “Oh, and you’ve got company!“

“Actually...“ Ethan stops in front of the shop, adjusting his grip on the kid, “They’ll be keeping you company from now until....well, until I come back.“

“And where is it you’re planning on going?“ The Duke asks, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I know how to take care of a child.“

Ethan grows irritated, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I’m gonna take a kid into that castle you called me insane for wanting to go in myself. Trust me, I wouldn’t be leaving them with you if it wasn’t my only choice.” When he doesn’t receive a verbal response from the Duke, more of an expression change that suggested he’s accepting of this, Ethan grow relieved, turning to the toddler that hasn’t taken its eyes off him even for a second. “Hey, you’re gonna be just alright with the big guy, ok? He’s gonna keep you safe until I come back.” His initial intention was to say ‘even if I don’t come back’ but he just couldn’t bring himself to say it, not to the kid at least, “Until then...” He pauses when a name automatically pops up in his head, “Until then, Y/N, you’ll stay here with the Duke.”

After that heavy-hearted goodbye, Ethan reluctantly hands the kid - Y/N - over to the Duke, a shift they are not very happy about seeing as how they start wailing immediately.

“You owe me plenty, Mr. Winters.“ The Duke says with a frown on his face, displeased and already developing a headache from the child’s cries.

“I owe you nothing. What you’re doing is basic human decency.“ Ethan glares at him before turning his attention to Y/N, “Hey, it’s alright. I know you two aren’t big fans of one another, but I promise I won’t take long. I’ll be back before you know it.“ Planting a quick reassuring kiss on top of the child’s head, he steps away, relieved to find they don’t break out in a crying fit again.

With that peace of mind, he takes off on the path that’ll lead him to the castle. A part of him has found some peace, knowing that one innocent life has been saved.  However, there’s still one awaiting rescue. And he’ll be damned if he’s not the rescuer.

[iwadori]

Atsumu dating Kita's younger sister (their manager). That's it. That's the request. Hope you like this prompt 🤞😅

Dating your brothers teammate (Atsumu)

Part One Part Two Part Three

Word count: 1.6K

Genre: angst, fluff

ATSUMU

You and Atsumu started dating a month after Kita introduced you in your first year

You’re now in your second year and still going strong

However, no ones knows about your relationship since Atsumu said you being the manager and him being the setter it will affect the team dynamic?

You start the day off, seeing a message from your boyfriend,

‘Tsumu: Mornning babe, can’t wait to see you today!

You don’t respond, you are Atsumu have been at odds for the past few weeks as you feel like you guys should make your relationship public. Not even public per se, but you definitely feel it shouldn’t be hidden away especially with it being nearly two years of you being together.

Of course, Atsumu disagreed. He felt like at this moment you and him revealing your relationship to the team will just mess up the ‘dynamics’ or whatever that’s supposed to mean.

You get ready for school eating the breakfast your grandma made you and conversing with her and Kita before you both headed off to school together meeting Aran on the way.

You had an early morning practice and you didn’t mind it. To be honest, you love being around the team you were all a little family, you having a good relationship with all the guys.

This morning, the guys were all practicing different sorts of skills Kita was helping some of the gives with dives and receives and the rest doing other things. You were helping Osamu, Suna and Atsumu with there serves. 

Regardless of your public or private relationship status with Atsumu, you the twins and Suna were all good friends. You did have a slight inclination that Osamu and Suna knew of the relationship with you and Suna but just didn’t bring it up.

At the end of practice, the usual fan club was there waiting for the twins and the other guys to flirt and talk with them. As you are their manager, you did get some slight hate and jealousy from the other girls in your year but you didn’t pay no mind to it. 

When leaving practice, Atsumu (who usually walks with you to your class) gets stopped by a girl who seems to have something important to say so you politely step to the side (still in ear shot though.) 

“Miya-san” she said a bit nervous as her finger were shaking “I have this letter I would like for you to read.” 

He took the letter and said “Thank you, and you can just call me Atsumu” he smile at her.

“Thank you Atsumu, I hope to hear a response to you soon” she says about to walk away “Also, just to clarify you are single right?”

“Yes yes of course” he assures quickly making you annoyed “Why did you ask?”

“I assumed you were dating your manager, you seem pretty close”

“Oh her” he laughs and you already start to walk to your lesson leaving him behind “we’re just friends”

This makes the girl smile as she leaves, Atsumu turns to where you were standing shocked that you were completely vanished. He did think back to the conversation you had a week ago about your relationship status which did make him kind of sad for you since he did understand your reasoning he just wanted to you atleast wait it out till nationals is done.

He finds you at lunch, and to him it seems you don’t have a problem with him at all as you were being your usual smiley self interacting with him and all of your friends. So he assumed everything was fine (which it wasn’t of course.)

The next day at practice, when it ended the same girl came back again this time with friends and instead of approaching Atsumu they decided to approach you.

“Hi you’re the manager right?” one of them asks.

“Yup I have been for the past couple years.” you say 

“Oh and you’re definitely not dating any of the guys on the team right?”

“I don’t see why it’s any of your business, but no i’m not.” it pained you to say this but you did agree with Atsumu to say you weren’t dating to people and as much as it pained you to say this you couldn’t break your ‘agreement.’

Once the girls leave, you start to softly cry because you don’t want to have to hide your relationship anymore. Atsumu enters the corridor and sees you upset and rushes towards you, “Hey babe what’s wrong with you?” he asks 

“Nothing ‘tsumu just go back to practice” you murmur 

“No i’m not going until you tell me whats wrong?”

“it’s just that girl that confessed to you yesterday and her friends approached me about if I was dating anyone and i-”

“what did you say, he told them no right?” he interrupts

“Is that all you care about? Wether I keep our relationship secret or not ..” you say slightly raising your voice 

“Well I would appreciate if you don’t go round telling the world that you’re dating me gosh Y/N” he shouts a bit 

“I’m not even fucking doing that, I havent told a soul and that’s all because of YOU” 

You’re screaming match has alerted the team (who you didn’t notice) and they all stood around you watching before Kita steps in “Y/N are you okay??”

“yeah i’m fine bro” you say preparing to leave with tears still in your eyes “I just got into an argument with a friend” 

Before you leave the corridor you look back at Atsumu and catch all the guys attention when you say “Also Atsumu, happy anniversay ‘babe’”

“I KNEW IT!” shouts Osamu but Suna nudges him telling him to ‘read the room.’ Kita slowly approaches Atsumu and punches him in the face “I don’t care what you did but you made my sister cry so you better go fix it you dick”

Atsumu nodded and clutched his face, “Also I think it was pretty evident that you guys were dating.”

“Wait they were dating?” said Aran

You were in your room, scrolling through old pictures of you and Atsumu and looking at the presents he was going to give him for your anniversary still crying. You hear a knock on your door “Granny, I’m not hungry right now” you shout. But the door opens anyways “Granny I said I wasn-” you pause when you see a bruised Atsumu ‘Kita’ you think making yourself smile at the thought of your brother coming to your defence.

“Y/N, i’m sorry baby for trying to hide our relationship and not seeing how wrong it was until it was knocked into me... literally” he says cautiously sitting on your bed “ I’ve always wanted to be able to show off to the world but I just couldn’t cause I thought Kita would be mad and I genuinely thought it would mess up the team dynamic, however I’d rather have Kita be mad at me and the team loosing nationals if it meant getting to date you”

His words make you swoon and to add on to your fawning he whips out a wrapped up box giving it to you. When you open it, you see it’s a necklace with both your initials on it “ Happy anniversay babe, this has been one of the best years of my life.”

You silently hand him your presents, murmuring a quiet “Happy anniversary.” After seeing your presents, he gives you a big deep hug whispering mutiple thank yous and compliments into your neck making you smile.

“So does this mean we’re in a public relationship? right?” you ask making sure you were on the same page.

“Of course!” he exclaims “Also check your phone”

You look down at your phone seeing a bunch of notifications all tagging you in one post that was from Atsumu on instagram. It was 8 pictures of him and you and a caption that read *insert long romantic sappy paragraph that I’m too lazy too write since its 3 am :3* 

Your heart was overwhelmed with love for Atsumu, you spent the rest of your night cuddling and watching movies and before you went to sleep you told him you loved him.

Waking up the next morning, you thought it was all a dream to be honest. Because there was no way that Atsumu did all that right? You go downstairs and are shocked at the sight you see, Atsumu and Kita both sitting down eating breakfast together “What are you doing with my boyfr-” you stop yourself from finishing that sentence,

“Its okay Y/N you can say boyfriend, I have given your boyfriend the talk I just had to make sure that he knows that if he was ever to lay a finger on you that he would definitely get a bi-”

“Ughh nii-chan you’re being so embarrasing” you say pulling Atsumu back upstairs hearing Kita’s laughter in the backround.

You and Atsumu, stay together and it wasn’t much of a suprise when your relationship was public to the rest of the school and that girl that wanted Atsumu she ended up with Osamu anyways (it does makes sense since they do have the same face afterall.) Kita enjoys his days embarassing the both of you whenever you’re at your house. But you don’t care since you can finally show off to the world how great your boyfriend is.

Authors Notes: I don’t know if you wanted it to have angst in it but I hope you enjoy? Might make this a series so if you want anymore characters Request them and I’ll write for them too 

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 124: Joke

"Draco?" Harry asked as he twisted his fingers in Draco's hair.

He hummed, feeling too content and comfortable to use any actual words or even lift his head from where it was resting over Harry's heart. Lightly he trailed his fingers over Harry's rib cage in response.

"Do you think-" he broke off and Draco felt him swallow, "I want to tell my friends about us."

He froze for a moment, unable to quite believe his ears.

"Or not," he said hurriedly, "If you're not-"

Draco sat up and pressed his lips to Harry's because he knew it was the fastest way to get him to stop talking. And because he couldn't quite believe that he would ever be someone that the other man would want to tell the world about, he'd never imagined Harry would be proud to be with him.

Harry sighed into the kiss, wrapping Draco tighter in his arms.

When Draco pulled back he said, "Do you mean it?"

The corner of Harry's mouth tipped up and he nodded, "If it's okay with you." He brushed his fingers over Draco's cheek, "I really like you," he confessed, "and it just keeps getting harder and harder not to tell my friends how happy you make me."

Draco swallowed past the lump in his throat, "Really?" he whispered.

Harry nodded, tucking a strand of Draco's hair behind his ear. "Would you come with me? Maybe we could go out to dinner with them?"

"Yeah," he said, "Yes, if you want me to."

"I'd like that," Harry replied.

"Can we tell my friends, too?"

The smile that Harry gave him made him a little breathless, "If you want to."

"I'll owl them tomorrow."

Harry kissed him again and if they didn't get much more talking and planning done for a while after that who could blame them? They had far better things to do.

(Read more below the cut)

As fate would have it, they went out to brunch with Pansy, Blaise, and Greg first. They met at a muggle restaurant that wasn't far from Harry's apartment and when they arrived, Draco's friends were quite taken off guard by Harry's presence.

Harry held the door for them and Draco stepped through, Pansy following close behind and hissing, "What the bloody hell is Potter doing here?"

"Relax," he said, hooking her arm through his and following the hostess to a table.

After they ordered drinks Draco cleared his throat, "There's something I wanted to tell all of you," he started and Harry draped his arm over the back of the chair behind him, brushing his thumb over Draco's tricep in a silent show of support. "Harry and I are dating," he said, glancing over at Harry and giving him a little smile.

"I'm sorry?" Pansy asked and Draco glanced over at his friends' shocked faces.

"We've been seeing each other for a few months," he said.

"And we're serious about each other," Harry added.

Draco nodded, "So we thought it was time to start telling our friends."

Pansy blinked at him and Blaise was still staring with his jaw dropped but Greg just nodded, "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Harry said with a smile at Greg.

Greg looked between the two of them, gave a nod, then opened his menu, "So what's good here?" he asked and Harry started to list off some of the dishes they'd enjoyed when they'd come on lazy Saturday mornings.

He glanced across the table to find Pansy still staring with an inscrutable look and Draco felt a tingle of apprehension at the base of his spine.

Everything was fine while they ordered and ate their breakfasts, it wasn't until Harry got up to use the loo that Pansy started to speak frankly.

"Draco, you're not serious," she hissed.

"About?"

"You dating Harry Potter! This is an elaborate joke, even for you, how on earth did you manage to convince him to go along with it?"

He shook his head, "I'm completely serious. We ran into each other at work, started talking and realized how much we enjoyed doing that. Then we started fucking and realized how much we enjoyed doing that too. And it just makes sense," he said with a little shrug. "We spend all of our free time together and I can't even remember the last time I slept in my own flat-"

"Draco, be reasonable," Blaise said. "He can't possibly," he broke off as though he didn't want to finish that sentence.

"He can't possibly what?" Draco asked, putting years of practice making his voice sound cold as ice to good use.

"Darling, it's just that you're you," she said, "And he's Harry bloody Potter."

"The press is going to destroy you," Blaise added. "Imagine those headlines."

Pansy shook her head, "And not only that but don't you think that Potter is going to end up with someone that the wizarding world will approve of? A wife who'll give him three kids, a home, the whole nine yards."

"I think it's nice," Greg said. "He looks happy, you look happy. What more is there?"

"Thanks, Greg," he replied with a nod.

"Oh sure, trust the person who's been single all his life to give you dating advice," Pansy said, rolling her eyes. "By all standards, he's too good for you and everyone knows it."

Blaise cleared his throat then, "What do you all think of ordering a few of those delicious looking cinnamon buns to share?" he asked.

"Sounds good to me," Harry replied as he slid back into his seat and bumped his knee against Draco's. "The only real question is if you want the iced ones or the honey ones," he said, turning to look at Draco, "What do you think, love?" he asked.

Draco looked at him and something cracked in his heart, Pansy and Blaise were right. Harry Potter was a dream and it couldn't last. He swallowed, "Let's do the iced one."

He supposed a little while longer before he talked some sense into Harry wouldn't hurt too much.

----------

Harry was in a great mood when they got back to his flat. "Well," he said as he toed his shoes off at the door, "That went well, didn't it?" he asked.

He didn't reply, he just stared at the other man and wondered how to tell him that they were never going to be able to work.

"Tea?" Harry asked, oblivious to Draco's inner turmoil as he headed into the kitchen without waiting for a response.

"You should break up with me," he blurted.

Whatever Harry had been holding shattered as it hit the floor. "Shite," he murmured. "Reparo." Then he returned to where Draco was still standing, a few feet away from the door. "I'm sorry?" he asked.

Draco couldn't quite meet his eye, "You should break up with me now," he said, "Before either of us can get more invested."

"Draco, what-?"

He shook his head and a tear slipped out, "You're too good for me, Harry, and when the press catches wind of this-"

"Stop it," Harry said, clasped Draco's shoulders, "What on earth has gotten into you?"

"Even my friends, the people who have loved me through some pretty dark places, say it's true!" he exclaimed, "Even my friends think you're too good for me, that I'm being delusional."

Harry took his hands in his and it was only then that Draco realized he was trembling. "Hey," he murmured, leaning in so their foreheads were touching. "Your friends are arseholes. I am not too good for you. Draco, I can't even match my socks properly."

And it was such a ridiculous thing to say that a startled laugh burst from his mouth.

Harry tilted his head up to kiss his nose. "Look, they won't be the last people who spout of complete nonsense about us. I'm sure that comes with the territory," he added. "But it doesn't change who you are."

"An ex-death eater," he said. "A school bully, a complete-"

"That's not who you are," Harry said, leaning back so he could see Draco more clearly. "It might have been a part of who you were but it's not who you are." He pressed a kiss to Draco's cheek, "You are brilliant," he said, "and you are gorgeous, and you're kind. And you've got a wicked sense of humor. You're passionate and you work hard."

"I've had to."

Harry nodded, "You're not the boy you were when we were in school just as I'm not the boy that I was when we were in school."

"But people will always remember-"

"What they think or remember doesn't matter," he said. "Because I know who you are and I don't give a rat's arse about what they think."

"I don't know, Harry," he said softly. "My past-"

"Do you think I'm the person they paint me to be?" he asked.

Draco shook his head, "Of course not but the wizarding world isn't going to accept this."

"I love you," he said simply. "And you, as you are, are more than enough."

"It's not going to be easy," Draco said softly.

The other man kissed him softly, "You're probably right," he said. "But I'm all in, if you are."

He pulled Harry into a tight hug and Harry hugged him back, "I'm in," he whispered.

"Then that's all we need," Harry said with a nod.

And Harry was right their friends came around but they found that they could weather the storms. There wasn't any trial or challenge they couldn't overcome when they were both willing to fight for the other.

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

Day 123: Feather | Day 125: Accidental Bonding (Part 1)

[krakenartificer]

When I got my ADHD diagnosis, I looked at the questions on the screening form and thought, "If this result comes back positive, then I'm definitely not the only person in my family who has it." Questions like

"Have difficulty finishing one activity before starting another one" and

"I finish others' sentences before they can finish it themselves" and

"have trouble staying on one topic when talking"

...I thought were just weird quirks of my family, but no. When I got my results, I contacted my cousin, and she contacted her sisters and mother, and .. .. yeah. Basically everyone in my dad's side of the family is ADHD.

Now there are some problems with that, obviously, (getting family reunions to stick to a schedule is lol no) but there are some really fantastic perks. For one thing, no one in that family minds if I interrupt them while they're talking ... everyone's happy to keep 3 conversations going at the same time .... and no one minds if you fidget constantly.

But the best perk -- at least that I've found so far -- is that all of our parents have coping mechanisms, and passed them on to us. When I found myself unable to handle tasks with more than one step, my father didn't say "WTF are you talking about? It's easy! Just do the thing! Stop being lazy!" No, he could relate completely, and he sat down and taught me how to handle that.

So today, I'm going to pass on to you the coping mechanism my dad taught me for handling the "cannot put tasks in order / cannot get started / forget what I'm doing" problem. You'll need to adjust it for your own needs and your own struggles, but hopefully it'll be helpful in setting up your own process.

I'm going to walk through it with a big project I'm doing at work, just to have a concrete example. That will make some of the discussion specific to computer programming and technical writing, but I do the same thing for all my projects, so hopefully it'll be generalizable.

So to set the stage:

I was supposed to modify this piece of code -- we'll call it "Rosetta" -- to make it handle call data as well as what it was already doing. I did that.... but we now need the code to be able to handle calls (if that's wanted) but also to be able to handle NOT having calls (if THAT'S wanted).

Which is just .... ugh. So much. SOOOOOOOO much.

So. Break it down.

Step one is to get some recording mechanism - pen and paper, whiteboard, blank computer document, whatever

(Technically, this is a different coping strategy, so we'll just take a quick detour: WRITE THINGS DOWN. Your brain is shit at remembering things, and anyway you've already got limits on your working memory; why would you choose to tie up some of that limited resource in something that could be accomplished with literal stone-age technology? Don't even try to remember things. WRITE THEM DOWN.)

I like sticky notes: they're readily available in all offices, they're pretty cheap, and (most importantly) they can be rearranged if it turns out that I forgot a step or put the steps in the wrong order (which, like, let's be honest, I am definitely going to do). But they kill trees and create unnecessary methane emissions, so I've recently switched over to using virtual sticky notes. That's the format I'm going to use for this example, but you can use anything that meets your purposes.

So, you've got something to write with, you're ready to start.

The first question is: what are you trying to accomplish here? What would "done" look like? What is our goal?

I need to end up with a version of Rosetta that will make the correct results if you don't want calls, and will also make the correct results if you do.

The goal here is that you end up with a statement that you can definitively say (a) Yes this is what I wanted or (b)No this is not right because _______

In this case, in order to do that, I'll need to define "correct results" for both call- and non-call versions. But if I have that nailed down, then this statement meets that criterion: I'll be able to say "Yes, this is what I wanted: see, it makes the correct result for calls, and it makes the correct result for not-calls". Or else I'll be able to say, "No, this is wrong: see, it makes the correct result for calls, but on not-calls it does X and we wanted Y."

I have a clear, definitive standard about what I need to do and whether or not I've done it.

But there was a prerequisite there: I need to define "correct results".

So that goes on a sticky note: Create test that will compare my results to existing call!Rosetta-results and to existing not-call!Rosetta-results.

[ID: Two blue boxes, one on top of the other. The top one says in white text "Create test to compare my results to call!results" The bottom one says "Create test to compare my results to not-call!results"] OK. So now we know what we want. The second question is: what do we need to do in order to get that? Here's where the sticky-note recording system really shines, because you don't have to answer this question sequentially. You just start writing down every single thing that is not the way you want it to end up.

I need it to remove commas in the python script, not the bash script

I need to delete the first part of the get_runs() function, which doesn't do anything

I need to delete the rest of the parameters passed to build_query_script() function, because runs encompasses all the others

while we're on that subject, runs doesn't even need the group_variable, so let's pull that out of the parameter document

we also have a dmf defined, which the bash script demands but doesn't use; let's change that demand

since we're changing the structure of the parameter document, we don't need to pull new metrics for each run, so let's move that outside of the runs() loop and only run once

right now the parameter document is ALMOST but not quite "one row per template". Make it so it's actually one row per template.

among other things, that's going to require making it possible for a template to be followed by nothing at all, since it's the assumption that a template will have a metrics block after it that makes it not quite one row per template. So make it possible to publish a template with a null block

the other thing that's weirdly hard-coded is the definition of what a block looks like. Would it make more sense to separate that out into an input file, like the parameters document? On the one hand, that would make it much more flexible; on the other hand, that's another piece that can break. Don't know. Put a question mark on it.

etc

Here's what it looks like at the end of this step:

[ID: A black and white background showing many boxes in two different shades of blue, all with white text. Some of the boxes are overlapping each other.]

As you can see, at this phase you don't need to worry about any of the following:

ordering the tasks. Just stick 'em right on top of each other for now

how you're going to do any of this. Right now we just need to know what, not how

sticking to only one project. As I was working on this, it occurred to me that this whole process would have been a heck of a lot easier if someone had just made a user manual for this, and since I have to go through all the code line-by-line anyway, I might as well write up the documentation while I'm at it. (To help out future-me, if nothing else.) So I put those tasks on another color of sticky note.

making notes that make any ***ing sense to anyone else. This process is for you, and only you need to understand what you're talking about it. Phrase it in ways that make sense to your brain, and to hell with anyone else.

on that topic, also don't worry about making steps that are "too small" or "too dumb" to write down. This is for you. If "save document" feels like a step to you, then write it down.

You also don't need to get every single step involved in the project right now. Get as many as you can, to be sure, but the process is designed on the assumption that you ARE going to forget important steps, and is designed to handle that.

When you can't think of any more steps, then the third question is: what order does it make sense to do these in? Are there any steps that would be easier if you did another step first? Are there any that literally cannot be done unless another step is complete?

This is also a good place to group steps if they fit together nicely. When I used physical sticky notes, I used two different sizes; digitally I can of course make them whatever size I want.

So I have several documentation steps that (a) do need to be written to make sense to other people and (b) I really need to know what's going on before I can do that. I could write them now, but if I did, I'd just end up re-writing them based on things that change as I'm coding. So we'll move those to the end:

[ID: Three dark blue boxes with white text. They read "Create step-by-step instructions for creating your own metric agg", "Create step-by-step instructions for modifying a metric", "Create step-by-step instructions for modifying a query."]

These parts, though -- if I had all the variable structures written down, I could look at them while I'm coding. Then I won't have to keep scrolling back and forth in the code, trying to remember if it's an array or a dictionary while also trying to remember what part of the code I was working on. Brilliant. Move that to the front.

[ID: Seven dark blue boxes with white text, three large, four small. The first one is large and says "Write up explanation of how Rosetta works." The second one is large and says "Document structure of all variables." Attached to that one are four smaller boxes that say "All_blocks", "Runs", "metric", "New_block". The third large one says "Document what qb_parameters.csv contains"]

Also, while I'm at it, I should get the list of variables I need to document -- then I won't have to keep scrolling to find them. Make those sub-steps.

I definitely keep needing to look up what's in the parameters document, so I should write that down, too. For the user manual I also should write down what's in the metric document, but I don't need that for myself, so I can send that to the end.

[ID: The same three dark blue boxes from two screenshots ago (create step-by-step instructions for metric agg, modifying a metric, and modifying a query), now with another dark blue box in front of them with white text that says "Document what granular_metrics.tsv contains."]

These five are all small steps, and are all related in that they don't actually (hopefully) change the functionality of the code; they're just stuff left over from prior versions of this code. So we can lump them all together.

[ID: Five light blue boxes with white text that say "Delete first part of get_runs()", "Have build_query_script only receive the "run" parameter" "Delete dmf" "Move metrics=get_metrics() outside build_all_blocks (all the way up to the top level?" "Delete group_variable from qp_parameters"]

My brain likes this better, so that I can keep track of fewer "main steps", but that's just a peculiarity of me -- you should lump and split however you prefer to make this process easier for you.

[ID: The same five boxes from the prior screenshot, now all made smaller and attached to a larger box that says "Remove Legacy Code"]

Keep going, step by step, sticky by sticky, until you've got them in order. If -- while you're doing this -- you remember another thing you need to do, write it on a sticky and slap it on the pile; you don't have to stop what you're doing to deal with it, because it's written down and it's on the pile and it will get processed; you can just keep working on the thing you're on right now.

[ID: All the same boxes from the first screenshot, now in a neat row. Some of the original boxes have been grouped together. The ones that were said to be at the beginning of the process are on the left and the ones that were said to be at the end are on the right.]

Step four: for the love of all that's holy, SAVE THIS LIST.

Write it on your cubicle whiteboard where it won't be erased

write it on a piece of paper and tape it to the office wall

send an email to yourself

take a picture with your phone

I don't care but save it.

When I used physical sticky notes, I kept them all on the hood of my cubicle's shelf. Now, as you can see, I use Powerpoint, which is irritating af but does allow me to keep everything in a single document, which I can write down the path of.

[ID: White text on a black background says "open ~/Documents/Rosetta\ Modifications\ and \Documentation.pptx" The next line says "Notes in Rocketbook pg 10-12, 16" The next line says "Turn that into documentation that can be used for making modifications."]

And now (finally) you can answer the question "How would I even get started on that?" You look at the first thing on the list, and you treat it as its own project. You can hyperfocus on this step and completely forget about everything else this project requires, because everything you need to remember for the rest of it is written down.

If, as you're working a step, you think of something else you need to do for the big project, write it on a sticky and slap it on the pile. Don't even worry about trying to order it or identify sub-steps; as long as it's not blocking the thing you need to work on right now, you don't have to care. Just stick that bugger anywhere at all on the list, and go back to what you were doing. When you un-hyperfocus and come back to look at your list, there'll be a big sticky note stuck sideways across all the rest of the steps, and you'll remember to file and order it then.

Other benefits of this system

1) The first question really helps with unclear directions from your boss. You can take whatever they told you to do, and translate it into a requirement that is clearly either met or not-met, and then run it back by the boss.

If they say, "No, no, we want ______" then phew! You just saved a huge miscommunication and weeks of wasted work! What a good employee you are! What an excellent team player with strong communication skills!

If they say "Yes, that's what I want," then you know -- for sure -- what it is you're trying to accomplish. Your anxiety is reduced, and your boss thinks you're super-conscientious.

(And if your boss is a jerk who likes to move the goalposts and blame it on their subordinates, then have this conversation over email, so you can show it to their boss or to HR should it become necessary.)

2) Having this project map means that when you spend an hour staring at the requirements and trying to figure out how to get started (which, let's be honest, you were definitely going to do anyway) ... When your boss/coworker comes by and says, "How's it going?" Instead of having to say "I haven't even started 😞" You can say, "Pretty well! I've got all the steps mapped out and am getting ready to start on implementation!" and show them your list, and they think you're very organized and meticulous. 3) Sometimes, especially in corporate jobs, you and your coworkers will run into a problem that's too big for even Neurotypicals to hold all in their heads. At that point, the NTs will be completely lost -- they've never had to develop a way to handle projects they can't just look at and know how to get started. So then you pipe up in the meeting and say, "OK, well, what exactly are we trying to accomplish?" and everybody at the conference table looks at you like you're a goddamned genius and you don't have to tell them that you use this exact same process to remember how to make a sandwich 😅

4) Having this project map makes it so much easier to stop work and then start it up again later, but this post is already really really really long, so I'm going to address that in a separate (really really long) post.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Make Him Look - Ch 1 / 2

Pairing: Cordell Walker x Reader Rating: 18+ Tags: flirting, many many drinks, jealousy, dancing, slow burn Word Count: 3k Created for: @walker-bingo - In Vino Veritas | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Jealousy A/N: Written with the lovely @thinkinghardhardlythinking in mind ❤️and y'all can also blame her for the fact it got so long I split it into two 😂

Cordell swings his leg over a barstool and settles into his usual spot. The bar is busy but not crowded. There’s a few more empty stools awaiting occupants for the night, and Cordell hooks one with his foot and draws it closer, popping his hat down to save the seat for Liam, who’s on his way. But there’s no reason to wait for Liam before he orders – they get the same thing every time.

“Barkeep! Can I get some queso, hot wings, and whatever Pinthouse you’ve got on draft?”

“Sure thing, man,” the kid behind the bar drawls, his accent thick and voice lazy. Cordell would bet anything the guy had had a joint on his break earlier, but he’s off duty – tonight is not about busting people for drugs, tonight is about letting loose. He checks his phone to see if Liam had texted him that he’d left the office yet, but there is nothing there. Taking a sip of the drink that has just been plopped on a coaster in front of him, Cordell scans the room. It’s a bad habit that every law enforcement worker he’s ever met has developed. Even when he’s trying to relax and blow off some steam, he can’t help being a little vigilant.

He takes in the tableaus around him; the groups of kids from the local community college, the gaggle of mid to late aged men in awful polos that Cordell recognises as the inner city bowling league, a couple of less savoury looking guys playing pool, the cluster of women those guys keep eyeing up – he’ll keep an eye on that one.

Checking his phone again and taking another drink, he still hasn’t heard anything from Liam. He opens his brother’s contact and is about to give him a call to tell him to get his ass in gear when someone suddenly reaches down beside him, picks up his hat and drops it back on his head while they slide into the seat he’d been saving - except it’s not Liam.

“Hey you,” the stranger says familiarly, bumping her shoulder against his. “Thanks for saving me a seat.”

You shrug out of your jacket and sling it over your arm as you head up to the worn wood counter of the bar. You don’t see your friend yet, so you decide to go ahead and order a drink while you wait for her to show. She’s always late, you should have just assumed and shown up fifteen minutes from now. You play on your phone as you wait for the bartender to finish serving the gang of people at the other end of the bar. When you feel someone in front of you, you look up, about to order a glass of wine, except one is already being placed on the bar top in front of you.

You stare questioningly at the kid serving you the drink. You’d been here before, sure, but you’re hardly a regular, and even if you were you don’t recognise this server – so why does he know what you were about to order?

“Um, I didn’t–” you start but the kid interrupts you.

“From the gentleman at the end of the bar, milady,” he gave a geeky little bow, “Sorry, he told me to say it like that,” he grimaces at himself. You chance a fleeting look back to the group you’d noticed him serving a few minutes ago and to your horror, you recognise your ex, Dirk, grinning back at you. He tips the brim of his ball cap and gives you a wink, like he’s expecting you to be impressed that he remembers you drink red wine. Shit, this is not how this night is supposed to go. You’re supposed to be here to get drunk with your best friend and have a bit of a dance, not be looking over your shoulder the whole night hoping that jerk leaves you alone.

Panicking a little now, you check your phone but there’s no text from Lea telling you when to expect her. Knowing her like you do, you would bet anything she won’t be here soon, and you don’t want to wait on your own and risk Dirk coming to talk to you. Desperately, you scan your eyes around the bar, cataloguing your options and escape routes. Someone catches your eye a few seats along from where you are. Tall, broad – dark and handsome, your mind supplies unhelpfully – but what really catches your eye is the badge hanging from his belt. He’s a Ranger.

Normally, you’d pick a group of girls who you know would happily pretend to know you so you don’t have to wait alone but you know Dirk, and you know he won’t be shy enough to let any number of girls stop him from coming to ruin your night. But a guy - and a Texas Ranger at that – Dirk wouldn’t dare. He had an outstanding DUI, and he’d always been a bit of a chicken around cops anyways.

Choice made, you grab the wine he’d bought you – hey, you’re not made of money, free booze is free booze – and you march purposefully over to the Ranger, who’s checking his phone and not paying attention until you grab his black cowboy hat off the chair next to him. Clearly he had been saving it for someone, and you want Dirk to think that someone is you.

“Hey you,” you chirp, placing his hat back on his head as you slide into the seat he’d been saving, “Thanks for saving me a seat.” You smile at the Ranger long enough to see him looking at you completely perplexed before you glance back to Dirk and see him watching you with a scowl. You let yourself feel inwardly triumphant and turn back to the man you’d just decided to befriend, if only temporarily.

Swivelling back towards him, you let yourself get a good look at his face for the first time. His bright hazel eyes are staring back at you, confused but not unkind. Tall, dark, and handsome is definitely apt, and now you’re seeing him properly you’re a bit speechless. You hadn’t counted on him being this freakin’ attractive.

“Sorry,” you finally manage to choke out under your breath. “I’ll leave you alone soon, I promise, I’m just hiding from my ex,” you explain, and understanding melts across the man’s face.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks sympathetically.

“Just pretend like you know me until my friend gets here?” you propose hopefully.

“Happy to,” he smiles, grabbing his drink and holding it out to clink against your wine glass. You tap your glass against his, relief flooding your body as you settle onto your stool a little more comfortably.

“Thank you…” you trail off leadingly, hoping he’ll fill in his name.

“Cordell,” he supplies.

“Now there is a Texan name if I ever heard one,” you giggle.

“If you’re gonna laugh at my name do I at least get the chance to laugh at yours too?” he grins jokingly.

“Y/N,” you give him your name, tucking your hair behind your ear and taking a sip of your wine.

“Well that’s no fun, how can I tease you for such a pretty name?” Cordell takes a sip of his own drink, mirroring you. Jeez, this one is a smooth talker.

-

When you finish your glass of wine, probably a little quicker than normal due to your anxious state, you check your phone again and see a missed call from Lea. “Crap,” you sigh, drawing a concerned look from Cordell, who is happily munching away on some chips and queso next to you.

“Everything okay?” He asks, muffled, mouth still full of food.

“Yeah, s’just my friend bailing on me,” you gripe, listening to the voicemail she’d left on your phone a few minutes ago. “Sorry I gate crashed your night for nothing,” you apologise, popping your phone back in your bag and planning on just going home to turn in early and watch some junky tv show in bed now that your ‘girls night’ wasn’t happening.

“Hey, you aren’t gate crashing.” Cordell shrugs, like he’s hedging his bets with his next statement. “I’ve had a good time so far.” His smile is shy and sincere, and you soften just a little in your annoyance at the world.

“I totally am though, you were clearly waiting for someone,” you gesture to the stool you’d taken up residence on.

“Just my work-a-holic brother, who, as luck would have it–” Cordell pulls his phone from his pocket and holds it up to show the message on the lock screen “–also pulled out on me.”

“Oh,” you blink, not sure what to make of that. It sounds like he’s asking you to stay but… “Well, thank you for being my knight in shining armour for a bit, seriously, but I don’t really want to stick around just to have my ex looking at me all night.”

“Well, if he’s gonna be a creep and keep watching you all night, we could make that fun, give him something to watch,” Cordell offers, his smirk incongruous with the almost hopeful expression in his eyes.

“What?” You’re perplexed.

“I mean, I don’t know what happened between you, but it’s pretty obvious to me that he wants you back, and you seem pretty pissed at him for that. I’m guessing the bastard cheated on you?” You huff in response, a little bitter that he’d read the situation so easily.

“Yeah, he did,” you admit, slumping against the bar, feeling downtrodden at the memory.

“So don’t let him chase you off,” Cordell shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “He messed you around – you tellin’ me you wouldn’t like to mess with him right back?” he raises an eyebrow in temptation, a knowing smirk twitching at his lips.

“And you’re proposing that instead of not wanting him to look at me all night–”

“You make him look,” Cordell finishes your sentence for you. “We’ve already pretended to know each other for the past–” he checks his watch “–twenty minutes. May as well just do the whole pretend date.” Cordell looks at you with so much honesty, you believe that he really does just want to help you screw with Dirk. And you cannot say the idea isn’t appealing.

“Alright,” you concede, shaking your head slightly in disbelief that you’re actually agreeing to this, and Cordell’s face splits into a wide smile. Honestly, seeing that expression alone made agreeing to this worth it. “So, if we’re on a pretend date, you gonna pretend to buy me another drink?”

“No,” you insist, shaking your head vehemently.

“C’mon,” Cordell chides, grinning madly.

“I did not agree to this,” you shake your head, finishing off the last bit of wine in your glass.

“Come on,” he urges again, leaning against the bar and tilting his head close to yours pleadingly.

“I am not dancing,” you repeat, wholeheartedly meaning it. You think if you have to come into genuine skin to skin contact with Cordell, you might actually melt into a puddle. Now three glasses of wine into your fake date, you can feel yourself loosening up and really enjoying yourself with this handsome stranger. He’s kind, and funny, and a little weird but in a charming way – exactly your type. And him begging you to dance with him wasn’t helping your self-restraint. This is a fake date, you keep reminding yourself firmly every time he flashes you that little half smile that makes his eyes light up.

“Well, I don’t know what kind of boring fake dates you usually go on, but mine aren’t complete unless I get to show off my two-step and knock back a tequila shot.”

“Oh, we’re doing tequila now, are we?” You laugh – this guy is actually ridiculous, and you kind of love it.

“That wasn’t a no,” he jumps on your ‘non denial’ and waves at the kid behind the bar. “Two tequilas, two limes?” he holds up two fingers and the bartender nods to him, quickly pouring out the shots and dropping two lime wedges onto a plate. Cordell grabs a salt shaker from the condiments rack on the bar and sets everything up between you. You let him work, watching incredulously but enjoying the show nonetheless.

“Give me your hand,” he holds out his own hand expectantly once he’s arranged all the pieces to his liking.

“Why?” your voice is nervous but your hand reaches out instantly of its own accord. Without answering he proceeds to rub the edge of the lime over the inside of your wrist, then puts the lime in your fingers and shakes some salt over the trail of juice he left behind. He does the same thing to himself, then passes you your shot, which you take in your lime-free hand.

“Right, you wanna do this the normal way or the ‘make Dirk jealous way’?” Cordell asks with a smirk once he’s oriented himself.

“I’m gonna regret asking this, but what’s the ‘make Dirk jealous’ way?” you groan exaggeratedly, like he’s put some great burden on you, but the truth is you’re really enjoying yourself.

“Like this,” Cordell steps up to you and links your right arms together. Catching his drift you smile and try to hold back the snort of laughter that bubbles up inside you – a nervous reaction to feeling the warmth of his body against yours, even through the layer of his shirt. “One, two, three,” he counts off and you go to lick the salt off your wrist except that’s what Cordell is doing. You freeze momentarily, heat shooting up your arm from where his tongue and lips are laving over your skin. You don’t think to move until Cordell puts his own wrist against your lips and you lick obediently.

Your linked arms pull you closer together as Cordell lifts the tequila to his lips and you follow suit in a kind of trance, both knocking back your shots. The tequila hits you harder than you remember it ever doing before, and you scrunch up your face, disoriented for a moment until you once again feel Cordell’s lips on your skin. This time they’re wrapping around your finger tips as he sucks the lime into his mouth. You stand frozen, the burn in your mouth and your fingers meeting in your chest and ratcheting up your heart rate as if you’re trying to run away from the oncoming flames. But it’s hopeless, you’re stuck in the blaze now.

“You want your lime, darlin’?” Cordell laughs at your stock still frame and holds his fingers to your lips, gently pressing the fruit inside and urging you to suck. You’re sure you must have physically combusted into fire by now, but Cordell isn’t jumping away like he’s been singed – he’s pressing closer. “Dance with me,” he rasps, voice hoarse from the burn of the alcohol. It’s not a request anymore, it’s an order, and you don’t question it.

Drawing his hand down the arm of yours linked with his until your fingers lace together, he pulls you away from the bar and out onto the dance floor. It’s an upbeat country song, the kind you’d normally jump around to, but he pulls you in and wraps an arm around your waist like a proper partner dance calls for – except he’s ignored the social convention of leaving room for Jesus. He pulls you after him in tiny circles and you let him lead happily. When the song changes to something a little slower he pulls you just a little tighter, and you can’t stop yourself from moving your gaze off his shoulder up to his face.

His eyes dart over your shoulder, then smile down at you wryly, and you feel yourself blush. “He’s watching,” Cordell grins mischievously. You go to look but he puts a hand on your neck and holds you still, keeping your eyes on him. His fingers are strong and warm against your collarbone, ironically causing you to shiver. “No, don’t look at him,” his voice is low as he leans in conspiratorially, “you wanna make him look, remember?”

“Why are you helping me?” The alcohol swimming through your veins is making you comfortable and fuzzy, and you let yourself lean against him familiarly, your head resting against his chest as he continues to move you both around the dance floor. You feel him shrug as his grips on your hand and the nape of your neck tighten a little.

“The truth?” he asks. You can hear the nerves in his voice, even if you can’t see them on his face.

“No, I want you to lie to me, please,” your voice manages to stay serious through the end of the joke before you burst into giggles, and you feel your laughter move into his body and trigger his own, making his chest rise and fall unevenly beneath your cheek.

“You are one hell of a gal, you know that?” You’re glad your face is buried in his chest so he can’t see just how brightly you smile at the compliment. “Truth is, I’ve been trying to get you drunk and have my wicked way with you.” You can tell by how expressionless his voice has gone that he’s winding you up, but you pull back and slap your hand to your chest in mock horror.

“Well Cordell Walker, I have never met such a rogue in my life,” you gasp in your best Scarlet O’Hara accent. It’s not a good one. Neither of you can keep a straight face for more than a few seconds, and you both double over in laughter after your minuscule standoff.

As your laughter dies down, Cordell grabs your hands again and pulls you back to him, swaying entirely out of time to the song that’s playing. He looks like he’s about to say something but the words haven’t quite found their way to his tongue, and when you catch his eyes you suddenly don’t want to hear what he has to say and you pull away from him. He looks at you, puzzled and just the slightest bit hurt as you try to find some cover for your sudden movement.

“You wouldn’t happen to be a bourbon fan, would you?”

Part 2 Here!

We’re All Mads Here: @vulgar-library @tintentrinkerin @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @austin-winchester67

All Walker: @lovealways-j @delightfullykrispypeach @stoneyggirl @thinkinghardhardlythinking @sams-sass @walkersbabygirl

[supercorpkid]

Mind Controlled – The Series.

Part 4 – There’s no forgiveness.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader.

Word count: 2190.

Warning: Injuries, pain, angst.

Previously on the series - part 1, part 2, part 3

Kara lands in the backyard when the first ray of the sun hits the sky. You’re still glued to her, covered in blood, sweat and tears. Your throat hurts like you’ve been screaming for hours straight. Your mind feels lazy, like for some reason you’ve lost part of your brain function. There’s blood coming out of several parts of your body, and you don’t know how any of those bruises ended up on you.

“Water, please.” You beg, when Kara goes inside the house and she takes you to the kitchen, still carrying your floppy body everywhere. You look at the kitchen wall. Bricks exposed, dust and broken parts on the floor and you gasp at the image imprinted on the wall. “I hurt you.”

“No, baby.” Kara sits you on the stool. She grabs water and pours cereal into a bowl for you. You don’t move. You can’t take your eyes from the wall. “You know I have super strength. You didn’t hurt me.”

“But I tried to.” You drink the water, so your mind gets occupied with something. What have you done? “Where’s mom? Did I hurt her too?”

“Baby.” Kara goes to you, and holds your face, gently. “I know you don’t remember anything, but you have to believe me. You didn’t hurt a single soul, ok?” You want to agree, but it’s hard because you really don’t remember if it’s true. “Eat something. You really need to shower this blood off, and you need some sleep.”

“But-” You try to argue, but Kara doesn’t want to talk anymore. So you look to the floor, finding impossible to stare at the wall and the proof you’ve acted like a monster. “Oh my God.”

“What, baby?” Kara follows your eyes to the floor.

“Mom’s vase. I broke mom’s vase.” You get up from the stool, stumbling your way to the vase. You fall on the floor, collecting one of the pieces. “She loved this.”

“My love, it’s just a vase.” Kara makes her way to where you are, crouching next to you.

“But you brought as a gift from that time you went to Japan, and she… SHE LOVES THIS!” You cry, trying to collect every piece, bleeding on the porcelain. “She will never forgive me.”

“Baby, no, no.” Kara takes the broken pieces from your hands, and picks you up. “That’s enough of self-loathing, come on.” She sits on the stool again. “Eat, please.”

You do as she told you to. It doesn’t take long until you’re clean and wrapped up in blankets and Kara’s arms, and you fall into a turbulent, but still needed sleep.

When you wake up, it’s the middle of the afternoon. You make your way to the kitchen, feeling equally shitty on the outside, but at least you can stand up now. On the inside you feel worse, like you have done things so horrible your brain is refusing to let you remember them. It sits heavy on your stomach and on your heart. You hope to Rao you haven’t done something irredeemable.

You walk in the kitchen and look around. Kara already cleaned the vase, and even though the wall is still broken, she somehow managed to make it look less like her body-shape. There’s so much food waiting for you, it looks like Kara is trying to feed a Kryptonian army.

“Hey, baby. Got some rest?” Kara comes closer, and she grabs your hands, studying them for the marks there. She looks at the marks on your wrists, and even lifts your shirt to look at the raw flesh of your ribcage, to make sure your injuries are better. They are not. “You need sunlight.”

“Momma, I’m not a sunflower.” You huff, while Kara picks you up again, taking you to the backyard, to the table there.

“Yes, you are.” She jokes and you look up to her while pouting.

“You are a sunflower.” You cross your arms, making Kara laugh.

She comes back into the house to pick up the food, and a few seconds later most of the food is in front of you.

“Where’s mom?” You ask, looking around, and since you don’t have your glasses, you can use your x-ray vision. “You said I didn’t hurt her, so why isn’t she home yet?”

“You didn’t hurt anyone, but you broke some stuff.” Kara grabs one slice of pizza, and sits next to you. Your eyes grow bigger.

“Besides her vase?” You still can’t forgive yourself for that. Kara nods. “What else?”

“Your training center.” She sighs, and your eyes are filled with tears right away. “You burnt it, actually.”

“I’m so sorry!” You cover your face with your hands, feeling embarrassed and sad. You loved going there and practicing with aunt Alex and your momma. Why the hell did you do that for?

“It wasn’t you.” Kara pulls you into a hug, and kisses your forehead. “You didn’t want to do or say any of those things. We know, baby.”

“But-” You tried to argue, still not understanding.

“Baby, you were mind controlled.” Kara breathes out her answer. “You did things you didn’t mean to. Someone else was pulling the strings. None of that was inside of you, none of that was what you once thought or wanted to do, ok?”

“Is that why I don’t remember a thing about it?” You ask, confused. Kara agrees with her head, and you look down trying to think. That’s a good thing. To know none of that was inside of you, and to know you didn’t mean to do any of that. But still, somebody used your body and your memories to hurt the ones you loved and the places you love, so that is terrifying. You look up to her again. “Someone, who?”

“Lex.” Kara lets out and you agree with your head, not wanting to hear anything else.

Ok, so you didn’t physically hurt anyone, but you know Lex (or at least his reputation), so you know that he probably found other ways to hurt people. And Lena, poor Lena, was probably his first choice for that, because he genuinely hates her.

You really want to apologize, so you can’t wait until Lena to get home for you to do so. But she doesn’t come. You wait and wait, but Lena never arrives. You probably screwed up with her big time.

Kara keeps reassuring you that you didn’t, that none of it it’s your fault, but it can’t be true. So, one day Lex mind controls you to beat up your momma, destroy important places to you, and you’re supposed to believe this has nothing to do with Lena not coming home to you?

You wake up before Kara does, and you go to the kitchen to make her breakfast, so you can somehow apologize for whatever it is that happened on the day and night before. You make her all of her favorites, and leave a note under a flower on the counter for when she wakes up.

You are the sunflower.

You don’t wait for her to wake up, though. Your heart has been desperate for hours wanting to see your mom and have her forgiveness and feel her comfort. There’s nothing more comforting in the world than Lena’s hands on your hair while you place your head on her lap.

You listen to her heartbeat, and you go to her. You land on Lena’s balcony at L Corp, looking inside to where she is sitting on the couch. You also notice other things: Her overnight bag pushed to the side, untouched food in front of her, her red eyes and puffy cheeks. It breaks your heart all the more.

“Mom.” You go to her, kneeling on the floor in front of her and placing your head on her lap. “Please, forgive me. Please.”

“Come on, baby, stand up.” Lena tries to hold your hand, but you settle on her lap, weeping mercifully.

“I don’t know what I said, or did, but I know I’ve hurt you. Please, please, forgive me.” You ask between the tears and the cracks in your voice. Lena’s hands go to your head. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

“It wasn’t you.” Lena strokes your hair, gently. “It was Lex mind controlling you. Babygirl, I’m not angry. Everything is ok.”

You lift your head so you can look at her. Lena gives you a sad little smile, while cleaning the tears on your face.

“But-but you’re here.” You look around. “You’re not home, because you can’t be around me anymore.”

“What? Baby, no!” Lena holds your arms gently, making you stand and sit next to her. She gives you a comforting hug, that feels too nice to be fake. And cups your face, right after. “This has nothing to do with you. Do you hear me?”

“I don’t understand.” You furrow your brows, looking scared and lost. “You’re sleeping in your office at L Corp right after I was turned into a monster. How can this have nothing to do with me?”

“Babygirl, do you trust me?” Lena asks. Her eyes flicker, anxiously, studying your face, like she’s afraid of your answer.

“More than myself.” It’s your most truthful sentence. She gives you a soft smile.

“Then believe me when I tell you, I’m not mad at you, and I’m not here because I can’t be around you.” She strokes your cheeks with her thumbs. “I love you more than anything, and I’m very, extremely, deeply happy that my baby is back.”

“I am.” You repeat, agreeing with your head. “Then, please come back home.”

“I can’t.” She kisses your forehead, and then lets go of your face. “Not now, anyways.”

“Mom.” You try, but she shakes her head like she’s telling you to stop this conversation.

“Please, have breakfast with me?” She asks turning to the food before you, and even though you already ate, you refuse to say no and let her eat alone.

When you’re finished eating, and you see that Lena actually ate something, you decide to pick the subject back again.

“Mom, I know I was mind controlled, but, um, I need to make sure I didn’t physically hurt you or said anything too painful.” She looks at you, pointing at herself, like she’s saying that she’s not hurt. “Right. And the second part?”

“Baby, I told you. The things you said? All Lex.” She kisses your forehead again. “Stop worrying.” You wish it was that simple. That you could just simply stop worrying, but you look at her face, you see the sadness in her eyes, and you know you would do anything to make her happy again.

Your phone starts ringing and she looks at it, reading the name in it.

“Answer it, so Kara doesn’t worry about you.” She says, and you furrow your brows.

Kara. Heart beating fast. Breath stuck in her lungs.

“Hey, momma.”

“Kid, where are you? You made all this breakfast and left me here to eat alone?”

“Came to check upon mom.”

“Oh, um, right. How-How is Lena?”

Lena. Choking on her words. Dear Rao. This isn’t about you at all.

“Sleeping at her office, so not great.”

Lena raises an eyebrow at you, and you hear Kara sucking on air.

“You guys want to tell me something?” You ask on the phone while looking at Lena.

“We’ll talk when you get home.” You hear Kara’s voice, and then the dial tone. You lower your phone and keep waiting for Lena’s response.

“It has nothing to do with you.” Lena says, holding your hands, and stroking your bruises lightly. “This is between me and your momma only, ok?”

“Mom, please, come home. Whatever it is, you two need to talk.” You ask, and she shakes her head in denial.

“Please baby. Let’s not talk about it.” Even though she added the ‘please’ you know it’s not a request. You know your mom, and you can see it on her face that you better drop the subject right now, or you will make things worse.

So, it seems that none of your moms are mad at you, or sad about the things you’ve said and done. It looks like it has nothing to do with you, and it’s a fight between them.

Alex also doesn’t seem to care, when you see her in the middle of the week, she just smiles and waves at you. She doesn’t even want to listen to your apology, she just cuts you off with a “kiddo, save that apology for a time you do this with your worst intentions. This wasn’t your fault, so I don’t need no apology.”

And you wish that could go into your brain and make you forgive yourself for the things that you know, now, you’ve done. But there’s still exposed bricks on your kitchen wall, there’s still no place for you to practice, and there’s still no Lena in your house. And as the week goes on and on, and you don’t know if she’ll ever come back, there’s no forgiveness you can give to yourself.