#there's not many and I don't do it much or well either

[stevishabitat]

From the perspective of a customer-facing tech support professional, I feel like panic is actually pretty reasonable at this moment.

My company doesn't even have a chatbot, but because they've become standard across our industry, there's no longer an expectation that there will be a live human available via chat or phone 24/7. So they've cut our hours, laid off all our overnight and evening workers, and lean staffed us nearly to oblivion.

The level of customer service across the industry is abysmal, but because so many of them are relying on chatbots, the bar for acceptable service is on the floor. I have managed to survive the culls because I was in the sweet spot of having enough experience to be valuable, but not enough seniority to be too expensive to keep. The layers of people above me and below me are pretty much gutted.

I can't even actually help my customers as well as I used to. Because I can no longer get in touch with publishers or distributors in real time, and there's no such thing as live tech support either.

All of that has been replaced with chatbots and automated ticketing systems neither of which can answer anything I need In Real Time, so it's a constant cycle of acting as a go-between and hoping to eventually get the answers I need in 1-3 business days. At which point someone's system automatically closes the ticket without doing anything at all and without any actual person having looked at it (probably because they're as understaffed and overworked as we are) and I have to submit another ticket or start over with the chatbot gatekeeper again.

I've been doing this for 11 years, and this is fucking DIRE. And although there was kind of a gradual drop in standards for awhile, I would say since about 2018 things have really accelerated and it's like 2020 was the excuse all the companies needed to just gut customer service to the bone. And the availability of chatbots and the acceptance of how BAD they are has changed the entire climate of customer service and tech support.

The attitude towards customer service in general just... Unbelievable. It's like every company is saying "yeah we know bots and automated shit is not actually good at helping people with what they need, but at least we don't have to pay someone to do it better, so I guess that's how it's gonna be"

And when that's the industry standard, there's no point in any one company trying to do better. Even where there are still humans on staff, without the network of other people across the industry, it means our hands are tied as far as what we can actually do ourselves.

And sometimes we talk amongst ourselves about where we could go if the pinch gets any harder, and there's just.... Nothing. I mean maybe I'm a fucking coalminer complaining about green energy stealing my job, but... Shit, I just like helping people with their ebooks so they can get an education. And apparently that's just not a valuable thing to aspire to anymore.

so like I said, I work in the tech industry, and it's been kind of fascinating watching whole new taboos develop at work around this genAI stuff. All we do is talk about genAI, everything is genAI now, "we have to win the AI race," blah blah blah, but nobody asks - you can't ask -

What's it for?

What's it for?

Why would anyone want this?

I sit in so many meetings and listen to genuinely very intelligent people talk until steam is rising off their skulls about genAI, and wonder how fast I'd get fired if I asked: do real people actually want this product, or are the only people excited about this technology the shareholders who want to see lines go up?

like you realize this is a bubble, right, guys? because nobody actually needs this? because it's not actually very good? normal people are excited by the novelty of it, and finance bro capitalists are wetting their shorts about it because they want to get rich quick off of the Next Big Thing In Tech, but the novelty will wear off and the bros will move on to something else and we'll just be left with billions and billions of dollars invested in technology that nobody wants.

and I don't say it, because I need my job. And I wonder how many other people sitting at the same table, in the same meeting, are also not saying it, because they need their jobs.

idk man it's just become a really weird environment.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Eddie seemed to have zero impulse control when he's not actively thinking about it. After Vecna Eddie moved in with Steve because he and Wayne didn't have a new place yet, plus, Wayne was living out of a motel. It was not a place for someone with wounds like his. Also, he was still waiting to be cleared of all charges. Steve was well enough to take care of Eddie. The metalhead was still in a lot of pain and on as many painkillers as he was allowed the first time that it happened. Steve was leaning over to fluff his pillows, and his lips were close to Eddie's face. It was all Steve’s fault, really. Eddie was thinking about how pretty his lips were when he decided to grab Steve by the back of the neck.

"What are - MMHH!"

Eddie brought his lips to his, and it was the sweetest kiss that Steve had ever experienced. It had left his lips feeling all tingly. Steve could easily pass it off on the fact that Eddie was high, and that was exactly what he did do. He never brought it up or told anyone about it. . .not even Robin. He really couldn't ignore it, though, when it happened a second time.

Eddie was feeling a lot better and could move around the house a lot more. Steve had finally been able to cook dinner for the both of them after living off other people's cooking and takeout while they both healed. They had finished eating when Eddie lumbered over to him and spun him around, cupping his face.

"That was the best home-cooked meal I've ever eaten - MUAH!" Eddie exclaimed, kissing him square on the mouth. "You go settle down. I'll handle the clean-up, big boy."

Steve had frozen a little. Surely, Eddie knew what he was doing? Since he hadn't brought it up, Steve decided not to bring it up either. . .except when it happened a third time. Eddie was completely healed, and he was able to be let out of the house since he was he officially cleared of all charges. He wanted to meet up with Corroded Coffin at Gareth's since they refused to come over to Steve's house despite the fact that Steve had told them they were welcome anytime. Even though he understood where they were coming from, it still stung that they refused to even try to get to know him. Anyways, Eddie was on his way out the door except for the fact that his keys were lying on the counter.

"Hey, did you forget something?" Steve asked.

"Oh, right," Eddie said, twirled around and kissed him while scooping up the keys. Then he was gone.

Okay, he really couldn't ignore it this time. Steve really needed to talk to someone about the kisses and about how much he liked them. He needed to know what that meant, and he knew exactly what kind of conversation this would turn out to be.

"Eddie keeps kissing me," Steve said as soon as Robin got in the car.

"I'm sorry, what?" Robin said, blinking.

"You know how Eddie's really affectionate," Steve replied. "Does it bother you when he kisses you?"

"Oh, you mean like kissing on the forehead and the cheek? No, I think it's sweet, actually," Robin said and rolled her eyes. "Are you feeling a little insecure in your masculinity because a man is getting a little affectionate with you?"

"What?! No, I don't mind getting affection from a man, Robin. You know I hug Argyle all the time," Steve said. "I'm just wondering why Eddie kisses me on the mouth and he doesn't do that with anyone else."

"Stop the car!" Robin screamed, and Steve pulled over the side, parking the car.

"Jesus, Robin!" Steve exclaimed.

"Eddie's been kissing you on the MOUTH?!" Robin asked.

"Yeah. He doesn't do that with you?" Steve asked.

"No, I think that's a treat only for you," Robin said.

"But why? We're both straight," Steve said. "I mean, I'm not trying to complain or anything, it's nice but why is he doing it?"

"You like it when he kisses you?" Robin asked.

"Yeah," Steve shrugged. "If I were into men, I'd be asking him on a date, but I'm not gay, Robin. . .well, maybe just for Eddie. Is it possible to be gay just for one person?"

"I mean, maybe, but I doubt that it's the case here," Robin said. "Usually, I would probably let you figure this out for yourself, but considering how long you kept it hidden that you like Nancy Drew, it might just take a while. . .do I have permission to rip off the band-aid?"

"Uh, yeah. I guess," Steve asked. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, how the hell were you so sure about Vickie and completely clueless about yourself?" Robin asked.

"Are you still on it that I totally called it about Vickie being a lesbian before you did?" Steve asked.

"She's not a lesbian, dingus," Robun said.

"Okay, I was pretty sure that you two were dating. Robin, she's clearly into you, so I'm pretty sure you have a shot," Steve said.

"Yeah, we are dating but she's not a lesbian," she said.

"I'm so confused," Steve said.

"In more ways than one," Robin said.

"Robin, we're going to be late for work," Steve said.

"Vickie is a bisexual," Robin said. "She likes more than one gender."

"Oh. . .oh, like David Bowie!" Steve exclaimed. "Right?!"

"Right," Robin said.

"Oh my god!" Steve said. "My Tom Cruise obsession suddenly makes sense - I didn't want to be him - "

"Not to mention, all those times you've stared openly at Eddie along with his posters of Eddie Van Halen and Kirt Hammel. . . "

"Kirk Hammett, Robin," Steve scoffed. "Eddie would rip you a new one for getting that one wrong."

"But you knew it because Eddie did," Robin said.

"I like him," Steve said with wide eyes.

"Yeah, buddy. Are you going to need a minute?" Robin said.

"Nah, I'm fine. I actually feel really good about it," Steve grinned.

"Not even a little freak out?" She asked.

"Nope!"

"Lucky bitch," Robin muttered.

"I'm sorry, the next time I have a realization about myself, I'll make sure to give you the freak out that you deserve," Steve said.

"That's all I'm asking," Robin said.

They spent the morning shift talking about Eddie and what he'd say to him once he got home. Steve debated on giving him flowers or not, or a stuff animal. He decided on a stuffed animal because that was more permanent, as Robin had pointed out. They were just about to take their break for lunch when Eddie strolled in.

"Hey," Steve said brightly. "I was just thinking about you."

"Yeah?" Eddie asked and leaned against the counter. "That's good to know."

Eddie leaned forward and planted a kiss on his lips. This time, Steve responded to it, cupping Eddie's face as he deepened the kiss. He could feel Eddie smile against his lips. Steve heard Robin scrambling to lock the front door and close the newly installed blinds. Eddie wrapped his arms around him, nearly climbing over the counter to do it. Finally, Robin coughed loudly and they broke apart.

"Hi," Steve said breathlessly.

"Hi," Eddie said. "I got something for you."

He climbed over the counter and sat down in front of him. He pulled out a rock and handed it to Steve.

"It looks like a guitar pick," Steve said with a grin.

"I thought you could use it for good luck," Eddie said.

"That's very sweet, thank you," Steve said, blushing. "I'm going to keep it forever."

"So, your boyfriend did good?" Eddie asked.

"Boyfriend?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, I know we're taking things slow, but I was hoping that you'd consider me being your boyfriend," Eddie said.

"Yeah, uh, it's just - it might be the concussions, but I don't remember asking you out or you asking me out," Steve said.

"Oh, you definitely asked me out," Eddie said.

"Oh, God, Robin. The doctor said if I started having memory problems - " Steve said with wide eyes. "I'd definitely remember asking you out."

"Honey! I'm sure it's fine!" Eddie exclaimed. "Robin was there, she'll tell you!"

"I was NOT!" Robin yelled, her eyes going wide. "Or was I? Oh, god, what if I hit my head and I don't remember?! I'd remember my best friend asking out a man!"

"Okay, don't panic, Robin, we'll call Hopper - " Steve started to say.

"You really don't remember?!" Eddie shrieked.

"No!" Robin and Steve yelled.

"Seriously, Robin, you were there, and you turned into a giant duck which, by the way, is rude because you know about my fear of ducks!" Eddie yelled.

"Oh, Eddie, goddamnit, was this a dream?" Steve asked.

"You know what? Now that I'm thinking about it, I think it might have been a dream," Eddie said.

"Okay, those looks you've been giving me make a lot more sense," Robin said. "Have you been living in fear of me randomly turning into a duck, like I'm some sort of. . .wereduck?"

"I don't know, your name's Robin, and we've all been through crazy shit. . .anything is possible," Eddie said.

"Aww, and you've hugged me even though you're scared of ducks," Robin cooed.

"Well, it's my fear, my responsibility. It's not your fault," Eddie said and then looked at her. "But you're not, though, right?"

"No, Eddie," she said softly and then affectionately, "You dingus."

"This whole time. . .," Eddie trailed off. "We haven't actually been dating. You never asked me out."

Eddie started to scramble off of the counter when Steve grabbed him and pulled him back.

"Let's fix that. . .Eddie Munson, do you want to be my boyfriend?" Steve asked.

"Fuck yeah, I do," Eddie grinned.

He grabbed the back of Steve’s head and crashed their lips together. Eddie sighed and leaned his forehead against Steve’s.

"No one better fucking wake me up," Eddie breathed and Steve laughed.

"Oh God! I think my nose is turning into a bill - quack, quack!"

"Robin!"

[ellecdc]

Hi Elle! I'm here to hibernate, and I was thinking maybe a poly!rosekiller (you've got me hooked on Barty and Evan) or whatever pairing you think works best, love all our boys, with either:

“they’ve slept for like twelve straight hours. should i be worried?"

Or

“hey, i think it’s time to go to bed.”

Because I am both. Chronically.

If you don't respond it's totally cool, you're such an amazing writer and so many people love your stuff I totally understand not being able to respond, lovely girl!

P.S remember to drink water :)

thanks so much for the prompt, doll!! and thanks for being here with me; I'm happy to be celebrating with you <3

the winter games

poly!rosekiller x fem!reader who's asleep and Barty's afraid of [702 words]

CW: immature boyfriends, muggle/modern au, Barty hit someone with his car but it was chill and also not pictured, mentions of dicks but not described

Evan swore his eyes were beginning to cross when his paperwork was interrupted by the sound of a hastily whispered “Rosie!” 

Evan looked up to see Barty standing in the doorway to his office. Well, it was more like to see Barty’s shoulders and head floating about halfway up the door frame as he leaned around it without actually stepping in. 

“What is it, bee?” He drawled as he turned back towards his work.

“I need help.”

“With what?” 

“Hiding a body.” Barty deadpanned. 

Evan let out a tired sigh and looked up at him. “Again, Barty?” 

“With Y/N, Rosie! And for the last time, that cyclist I hit was fine; he bounced right back up and smacked the hood of my car. He certainly wasn’t too hurt to cuss at me.” 

“What’s wrong with your Treasure?” Evan asked - diverting yet another grumbling at how inconvenient hitting another man with his car was for Barty - as he organized his sheets into a neat stack. He may have called you Barty’s Treasure, but you were his sugar, and Barty seemed to think you needed his help so Evan was inclined to help you. 

“She’s asleep.” Barty said simply - troublesome cyclists forgotten - causing Evan to pause.

“I hardly see what the problem with that is, Barty.”

Barty stomped his foot and rolled his eyes as if it were Evan who was being rather meddlesome and vague. “She’s asleep in the kitchen.”

Oh…that was the problem. 

Sure enough, covered in an array of flour, sprinkles, and icing, you were resting your head on one folded arm with a piping bag sitting dejectedly in your opposite hand; a small stream of red icing pooling out the bottom. Sound asleep. 

You’d refused Barty’s help earlier in the evening, stating that he wouldn’t do as good a job and you wanted your holiday cookies to be perfect. Evan didn’t particularly blame you for that, but he did feel rather guilty that you couldn’t trust your boyfriend to not pipe dicks on all of your sugar cookies when your back was turned. 

“You didn’t want to wake her up?” Evan surmised as he gently took the piping bag from your hand. 

“Listen, I love her with my entire being, but I’m kind of afraid of her.”

Evan couldn’t help but huff a laugh at that. “Fine, can you clean this up then?” He asked, gesturing vaguely to the state of the kitchen as he came up behind you and leaned over your frame. 

“Sugar.” He murmured as he gently rubbed at your shoulders. “Come on, doll.”

An incoherent sound of discontent escaped your lips as you tried to rise; Evan’s weight above you kept you from sitting up too quickly. 

“Hey, I think it’s time for bed.”

“But, th’cookies-”

“Will be here in the morning.” Evan argued as he allowed you to sit up slowly. “Barty’ll even help you with them.”

“No he can’t, Ev. He’ll ruin them.”

“He will not because whilst he’s helping you, I will be supervising Barty.”

He felt something warm in his chest as he watched you struggle to wake up; brain working overtime to make sense of your surroundings and to make sense of what Evan was trying to tell you. 

“We’ll get it done in the morning, yeah? Together.” He offered gently.

“Yeah…” You let out with a sigh after a beat, Barty letting out a sigh of relief of his own from behind him. 

“Go get in your pyjamas, pretty girl.” Evan instructed as he helped you stand, pressing a kiss to your hair and patting your hip in dismissal before watching you plod off in the direction of the bedroom.

“Ev, can’t I just-”

“No.”

“Just one.”

“I said no, Bee.” Evan pressed more forcefully. 

“I hardly see what the issue with one festive dick is.” Barty grumbled as the two of them followed you towards the bedroom. “What if I save that one and then we give it to Reg?” 

That gave Evan pause. 

“One.”

“Thank you!”

“What’s happening?” Your voice sounded from somewhere in the washroom, causing both boys to freeze outside of it.

“Nothing.” They chorused; one of them in the form of a question and the other in the form of a delighted cheer.

[azaharinflames]

I still don´t get what they thought they would achieve with Brad but it seems to never have crossed their minds that people would actually NOT care for the character. It is wild how much screentime he got, in a mid-season finale no less, and this public ass kissing of cast and the official account after he left is so weird. Nobody piled hate on the character or the actor they just were not interested, so why the need for this outpouring of support all of the sudden?

When the next character making eyes at either Buck or Eddie comes around and this lot decides to stay silent again we will all have our answer without a shadow of a doubt. That they hang the LI out to dry because they are scared shitless of Buddie backlash, but will jump into action for the next bit part player who just wasn´t as popular as they thought he would be.

I really started to dislike them, not gonna lie. I like Tommy, I like bucktommy but I will cheer on who ever comes next for Buck or Eddie just out of spite now. Because whoever plays them will be treated like shit by the fandom and will get no help from the mean girls clique that is the 911 production

Hi, Nonnie! Thanks for the ask. I see what you're saying, and overall I have to agree.

Here is my take. I try to play devil's advocate and give grace as much as possible. But earlier today I went on Twitter, and I saw a hate tweet (disclaimer: I've blocked hundreds of BD accounts by now, and I have blocked many, many words to not find a new one, but a BT account I follow had quoted it, so I saw it). In it, they were essentially laughing and having a party at the goodbye comments Callum had received, because that 'confirms' for them that the cast hates Lou. That they knew before, but now it's confirmed.

And the thing is... I've said it before, Lou is not a defenseless little boy. He's a grown man that, in my opinion, has a great head on his shoulders and knows very well what he's doing. And he's a busy man. So I honestly don't think he gives two craps about some losers on Twitter claiming his co-workers hate him - he knows better (he knows what happened), and he's the one with a career in acting and loving fans, so. Does he deserve the harassment? Hell, no. But I don't think he cares if some loser claims the cast hates him.

However. This behavior is only enabling hate. Not addressing the hate the LIs go through and the harassment the actors receive isn't just 'ignoring the hate so it goes away'. Ignoring that behavior and then showing support for other guest stars tells the deranged fans that they are good to go. That their bullying and hate is allowed, justified.

Is that the truth? Well, no. But it is what has happened. Because all the people being this hateful and sending harassment or death threats fully believe the show has their backs because nothing has told them otherwise.

Is it the intention of the show? No.

Is it still what they're accomplishing by their lack of response? Yes.

I don't overall dislike the cast as people because I don't know them. But the representation of themselves they're giving right now,? Not exactly a fan of that.

Also, as for Brad... I just have to laugh. They fully thought the Facebook moms would fall deep in love with him, and didn't take into account their hearts were already taken by Tommy, and that they'd be heartbroken enough for Tommy to not care for a character that doesn't have nearly the same charisma or depth.

Anyway. Thanks for letting me rant, lmao.

My inbox is always open for venting, ranting, and to discuss any topics <3

Take care!

[forgot-my-line]

By actively making posts that put people down and make a public space feel unsafe, unwelcoming or not open/accepting of someone, you are doing the exact same things they are. If it's bad when they do it, it's bad when you do it. It's not a one-way street. You are being just as bad as they are.

I completely agree that we don't owe them Respect. They didn't show us any. I do, though, wholeheartedly believe that there isn't a single person ever who doesn't deserve basic human decency. That includes feeling safe in spaces that are open to literally any and everyone. And yea sure, most aren't helping, but what about the ones who are at least trying? what about the trump voters who are donating to trans health donation centers? or the trump voters who didn't get a say (for personal safety or other reasons) or were spoonfed misinformation, who are trying to right things now? Do they not count for something?

I'm also not saying we have to coddle anyone. I'm saying if we could stop making public spaces unsafe for some people, regardless if you like, love, hate or despise them, that would be just peachy. These spaces are where some people go to escape other oppressive forces, don't add to the list of people they have to avoid. Actually, in fact, don't coddle them. That won't help. What won't help either though, is isolating them. If we isolate people, we do the same thing as the people you are so against. You are being just as bad as they are.

Not every person who voted againt Harris is a bad person. I apoligize if this fact is upsetting to you. Some trump voters, as touched on ealier, weren't in a position where they could vote how they wanted to. I am well aware that this is a very hard subject to come to terms with. Not everyone has to see things like abuse or manipulation first hand but that doesn't mean it isn't a real thing that actively affects choices and decisions. Sometimes the only thing they could do to avoid voting for Trump, was to withhold from voting or vote third party. They didn't get a choice so why make them feel worse about it.

It's been made more than clear that these are the consequences of what happened at the election. Not only has it been spelt out for everone, their dead grandma, and their pet fish, but it's been spoonfed to each and every one of them. Repeating the same things over and over and over again only make people sick of listening to you. They'll see and hear how upset you and everyone are regardless

As for standing up for what's important to me, Unity has to be pretty high on my list. Sorry if my standing behind that ideal upsets you. Change isn't gonna happen if you stand alone, acting as if the entire world is against you. Rome wasn't built by a single person, just as it wasn't built in a single day. You need to have people in your corner.

As you said, Change doesn't magically happen. People work for each and every change that has happened, big or small. Shaming and tearing people down doesn't have to be a part of that work. I'm not saying shaming people won't get the results you so desperately want, I'm saying that there are much better ways of getting people to realize they are wrong and/or need to change than making public spaces an unsafe space to be and to make people feel worse about themselves than they already do.

It wasn't just this particular post that was the issue, but the fact that no matter how many political opinions and posts I ignored completely and scrolled past, posts like these still showed up on my dash. My passion is my compassion and ability to care for everyone. I'd much rather live in a world where every single living thing feels safe, at least in my presence, than getting into silly arguments with random strangers on Tumblr dot com. Responses like these are not only condescending, they actively miss the entire point I was making.

[nothorses]

Regarding the Congress bathroom thing. I cant help but think their strategy is to try to cast it as 'dems are wasting time standing up for trans people instead of focusing on real issues' while making a hostile workplace so they can just make her look crazy. A lot of people think trans issues are a waste of time bc there aren't that many of us, and it's in their favor to make it look like other people are the ones wasting time on it. It's bait - fighting it would be falling into a trap.

I think the problem with this is that Republicans are actually literally passing very enforceable laws that make it illegal for trans people to use the bathrooms that correspond with our gender, and by extension also put us at greater risk of transphobic violence- and MUCH greater risk of police brutality- if a visibly gnc/trans or passing trans person uses any other gendered bathroom, too.

It's dangerous for me to visit my fiancé's family in Florida right now, and I haven't tried in over two years, because they passed a law there that makes it essentially impossible for me to safely use the bathroom in the airport after I land in Florida (and many other bathrooms!).

Anyone who suspects me of being in the wrong bathroom can tell me to leave, and I have to comply immediately or risk arrest (and police brutality as a result). If I don't leave immediately enough when told, they can call the cops to "verify my sex assigned at birth", a thing that there is currently no documentation to prove, meaning I'd have to show my genitals to the cops... and again risk police brutality! Even if I'm in the "right" bathroom by their standards!

Either I try the men's bathroom and hope I pass well enough to everyone there that nobody thinks to question it/that there are no "transvestigation" freaks feeling particularly inclined towards vigilantism that day, or go to the women's bathroom and hope even harder that the only people in there are trans allies. Again: even in a women's restroom, I would have to leave or risk the cops. Because I do not and cannot look (or sound) like a woman.

This is so much worse for people who actually live in FL, and who can't just, like, choose not to fly in. And this is happening in other places, too.

Bathroom laws aren't a silly niche unimportant issue that can be sacrificed to Republicans in pursuit of more meaningful justice. They actually literally matter, in real life, right now.

[ruhua-langblr]

Language Apps Suck, Now What?: A Guide to Actually Becoming "Fluent"

The much requested sequel to my DL post that was promised almost a year ago.

I'm going to address all of the techniques that have helped me in my language learning journeys. Since 95% of these came from the fact that in a past language learning mistake, they are titled as my mistakes (and how I would/did things differently going forward). For those that read to the bottom there is a "best universal resources" list.

Disclaimers:

"Fluency" is hard to define and everyone has their own goals. So for the purpose of this post, "fluency" will be defined as "your personal mastery target of the language".

If you just want to pick up a bit of a language to not sound like a total foreigner on vacation or just exchange a few words in a friend's native language, feel free to ignore what doesn't apply, but maybe something here could help make it a little easier.

This is based on my own personal experience and (some) research.

Mistake 1: Asymmetrical Studying

Assuming you don't just want to do a single activity in a language, or are learning a language like ASL, a language requires 4 parts to be studied: Speaking, Listening, Writing, Reading. While these have overlap, you can't learn speaking from reading, or even learn speaking from just listening. One of my first Chinese teachers told me how he would listen to the textbook dialogues while he was biking to classes and it helped him. I took this information, thought "Yeah that's an idea, but sounds boring" and now regret not taking his advice nearly every day.

I think a lot of us find methods we enjoy to study (mine was reading) and assume that if we just do that method more ™ it will eventually help us in other areas (sometimes it does, but that's only sometimes). Find a method that works for you for each area of study, even better find more than one method since we use these skills in a variety of manners! I can understand a TV program pretty well since I have a lot of context clues and body language to fill in any gaps of understanding, but taking a phone call is much harder—the audio is rougher, there's no body language to read, and since most Chinese programs have hard coded subtitles, no subtitles to fall back on either. If I were to compare the number of hours I spent reading in Chinese to (actively) training my listening? Probably a ratio of 100 to 1. When I started to learn Korean, the first thing I did was find a variety of listening resources for my level.

Fix: Find a variety of study methods that challenge all aspects of the language in different ways.

A variety of methods will help you develop a more well-rounded level of mastery, and probably help you keep from getting bored. Which is important because...

Mistake 2: Inconsistent Studying

If there is one positive to a language app, it is the pressure it puts on keeping a streak. Making studying a part of your everyday routine is the best thing you can do. I benefited a lot from taking a college language course since I had a dedicated time to study and practice Chinese 5 days out of the week (and homework usually filled the other two). Memorization is a huge part of language learning, and stopping and starting is terrible for memorization. When I was in elementary school, we had Spanish maybe a couple times a month. Looking back, it seems like it was the first class to be cut if we needed to catch up on a more important course. Needless to say, I can't even speak Spanish at an elementary level.

However, I'm sure many people reading this don't have the time to do ultra-immersion 4-hour study sessions every day either. Find what days during the week you have time to focus on learning new vocab and grammar, and use the rest of the week to review. This can be done on your commute to school/work, while you do the dishes, or as a part of your morning/evening routine. Making this as realistic as possible will help you actually succeed in making this a habit. (Check this out for how to set realistic study goals)

Fix: Study regularly (ideally daily) by setting realistic goals. Avoid "binge" studying since remembering requires consistent repetition to be most effective.

Mistake 3: Resource Choice

This is really composed of two mistakes, but I have a good example that will cover them both.

First, finding resources that are at or slightly above your level is the most important thing. Easy resources will not challenge you enough and difficult resources will overwhelm you. The ideal is n+1, with n as what you know plus 1 new thing.

Second, getting distracted by fancy, new technology. Newer isn't always better, and there are often advantages that are lost when we've made technological developments. I often found myself wanting to try out new browser extensions or organizational methods and honestly I would've benefitted from just using that time to study. (Also, you're probably reading this because of my DL post so I don't think it has to be said that AI resources suck.)

A good example of this was my time using Clozemaster. I had actually recommended it when I first started using it since I thought the foundation was really solid. However, after long term use, I found that it just wasn't a good fit. The sentences were often too simple or too long and strange for memorization at higher levels or were too difficult at lower levels. I think that taking my textbook's example sentences from dialogues into something like Anki would've been a far better use of my time (and money) as they were already designed to be at that n+1 level.

Fix: "Vet" your resources—make sure they will actually help you. If something is working for you, then keep using it! You don't always have to upgrade to the newest tool/method.

Mistake 3.5: Classrooms and Textbooks

A .5 since it's not my mistake, but an addendum of caution. I think there is a significant part of the language learning community that views textbooks and classroom learning as the worst possible resource. They are "boring", "outdated", and "ineffective" (ironically one of the most interesting modern language learning methods, ALG, is only done in a classroom setting). Classrooms and textbooks bring back memories of being surrounded by mostly uninterested classmates, minimal priority, and a focus on grades rather than personal achievement (imagine the difference between a class of middle schoolers who were forced to choose a foreign language vs. adult learners who self-selected!) People have used these exact methods, or even "cruder" methods, to successfully learn a language. It all comes down to what works best for you. I specifically recommend textbooks for learning grammar and the plentiful number of dialogues and written passages that can function great as graded readers and listening resources. (Also the distinction made between "a youtube lesson on a grammatical principle" which is totally cool, and "a passage in a grammar textbook" is more one of tone and audio/written than efficacy).

Classrooms can be really great for speaking practice since they can be a lot less intimidating speaking to someone who is also learning while receiving corrections. Speech can be awkward to train on your own (not impossible if you're good at just talking aloud to yourself!), and classrooms can work nicely for this. Homework and class schedules also have built in accountability!

Fix: Explore resources available to you and try to think holistically about your approach. CI+Traditional Methods is my go to "Learning Cocktail"

Mistake 4: Yes, Immersion, But...

I realized this relatively quickly while learning Chinese, but immersion at a level much higher than your current level will do very little for you. What is sometimes left out of those "Just watch anime to learn Japanese" discussions is that you first need to have a chance at understanding what is being said. Choosing materials that are much higher than your level will not teach you the language. It doesn't matter how many times someone at HSK 1 hears “他是甘露之惠，我并无此水可还”, they will not get very far. Actual deduction and learning comes from having enough familiar components to be able to make deductions—something different than guessing. An HSK 1 learner, never having heard the word 老虎 will be able to understand "tiger" if someone says “这是我的老虎” while standing next to a tiger. This is not to say you can never try something more difficult—things should be challenging—but if you can't make heads or tails of what's being said, then it's time to find something a bit easier. If mistake 2 is about the type of method, this is about the level. If you wouldn't give a kindergartener The Great Gatsby to learn how to read, why would you watch Full Metal Alchemist to start learning a language?

Side note: Interesting video here on the Comprehensible Input hypothesis and how it relates to neurodivergence.

Fix: Immerse yourself in appropriate content for your level. It's called comprehensible input for a reason.

Mistake 5: On Translation

I work as a translator, so do you really think I'm going to say translation is all bad? Of course not. It's a separate skill that can be added on to the basic skills, but is really only required if you are A. someone who is an intermediary between two languages (say you have to translate for a spouse or family member) or B. It is your job/hobby. In the context of sitting down and learning, it can be harmful. I think my brain often goes to translation too often because that's how I used to learn. Trying to unlearn that is difficult because, well, what do people even mean when they say "don't translate"? They mean when someone says "thank you", you should not go to your primary language and translate "you're welcome" from that. You should train yourself to go to your target language first when you hear the word for "thank you". A very literally translated "thank you" in Chinese "谢谢你" can come off as cold and sarcastic. I don't tell my friends that, I say "谢啦～". Direct translation can take away the difference in culture, grammar, and politeness in a language. If there is a reason you sound awkward while writing and speaking, it's probably because you're imposing your primary language on your target language.

Fix: Try as hard as you can to not work from your primary language into the target language, but to work from the structures, set phrases, and grammar within the target language that you know first.

Mistake 6: The Secret Language Learners Don't Want You To Know...

...is that there is no one easy method. You are not going to learn French while you sleep, or master Korean by doing this one easy trick. Learning a language requires work and dedication, the people that succeed are those that push through the boredom of repetition and failure. The "I learned X in 1 year/month/week/day!" crowd is hiding large asterisks, be it their actual level, the assistance and free time available to them, "well actually I had already studied this for 4 years", or just straight-up lying. Our own journeys in our native tongue were not easy, they required years and years of constant immersion and instruction. While we are now older and wiser people that can make quick connections, we are also burdened with things like "jobs", "house work", "school work", and the digital black hole that is "social media" that take up our time and energy. Everything above is to help make this journey a little bit easier, quicker, and painless, but it will never be magic.

I find that language learning has a lot in common with the fitness community. People will talk about the workout that changed their life and how no other one will do the same—and it really can be the truth that it changed their life and that they feel it is the ultimate way. The real workout that will change your life is the one you're most consistent with, that you enjoy the most. Language learning is just trying to find the brain exercise that you can be the most consistent with.

Fix: Save your energy looking for shortcuts, and do the work, fail, and come back for more. If someone tells you that you can become fluent in a ridiculously short amount of time, they are selling you a fantasy (and likely a product). You get out what you put in.

For those that made it to the end, here are some of my "universal resources":

Refold Method: I don't agree with their actual method 100%, but they've collected a lot of great resources for learning languages. I've found their Chinese and Korean discords to also be really helpful and provided even more resources than what's given in their starter guides.

Language Reactor: Very useful, and have recently added podcasts as a material! The free version is honestly all you need.

Anki: If I do not mention it, the people with 4+ year streaks with a 5K word deck will not let me forget it. It can be used on desktop or on your phone as an app. If you need a replacement for a language learning app, this is one of them. Justin Sung has a lot of great info on how to best utilize Anki (as does Refold). It's not my favorite, but it could be yours!

LingQ: "But I thought you said language apps are bad!" In isolation, yes. Sorry for the clickbait. This one is pretty good, and more interested in immersing you in the language than selling a subscription to allow you to freeze your streak so the number goes up.

Grammar Textbooks: For self-taught learning, these are going to be the best resource since it's focused on the hardest part of the language, and only that. If you're tired of seeing group work activities, look for a textbook that is just on grammar (Modern Mandarin Chinese Grammar is my rec for Chinese, and A Guide to Japanese Grammar by Tae Kim is the most common/enthusiastic rec I've heard for Japanese).

Shadowing: Simply repeat what you hear. Matt vs Japan talks about his setup here for optimized shadowing (which you can probably build for a lot cheaper now), but it can also just be you watching a video and pausing to repeat after each sentence or near simultaneously if you're able.

Youtube: Be it "Short Story for Beginners", "How to use X", "250 Essential Phrases", or a GRWM in your target language, Youtube is the best. Sometimes you have to dig to find what works for you, but I imagine there is something for everyone at every level. (Pro tip: People upload textbook audio dialogues often, you don't even have to buy the textbook to be able to learn from it!)

A Friend: Be it a fellow learner, or someone who has already mastered the language, it is easier when you have someone, not only to speak to, but to remind you why you're doing this. I write far more in Chinese because I have friends I can text in Chinese.

Pen and Paper: Study after study, writing on paper continues to be the best method for memorization. Typing or using a pen and tablet still can't compare to traditional methods.

The Replies (Probably): Lots of people were happy to give alternatives for specific languages in the replies of my DL post. The community here is pretty active, so if this post blows up at least 20% of what the last one did, you might be able to find some great stuff in the replies and reblogs.

I wish you all the best~

[ye4gerism]

𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊, 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍!- 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

word count 4.8k

content warning a little bit of spiciness, false positive pregnancy mention, black reader friendly

author’s note hi. i suffered through writer’s block these past three months but BOOM mouthwashing and fanart of this fine ass man popped up on my fyp. i’ve watched two playthroughs of this game, so i hope i captured the right image of curly. oh and he’s australian here. and my requests are open!

synopsis on a study abroad trip, you meet another (handsome) study abroad student who talks his way into your heart and ends up being a key part of your life

Winter in London was not up to your standards.

You were here on a study abroad trip for your master's program. You did the whole overseas thing during one quarter during your time as an undergrad - it was a little visit to South Africa which you thoroughly enjoyed. But “travel some more,” everyone said.

After a lot of thinking, you gave in and decided to travel to the U.K. as you wanted something that felt familiar. You were wrong in so many ways - the roads followed unnecessary loops, plugs were shaped unusually, and...oh, every drink there was some sort of 'diet' or 'zero sugar' crap.

But over time, this place began to feel like a routine. It wasn't home but you were okay. You liked the opportunity to grow in your program and you liked your classmates. Everything was balanced - school, eat, chat, sleep.

Except for one particular day after your classes, a few of your classmates insisted you go to a pub with them. Something about 'getting you more exposed to the London culture'. After much pestering, you indulged.

So you found yourself at this pub but not as excited as the people who invited you. Over time, they were engulfed in their own conversations and inside jokes and you were off to the side, whiskey in front of you, own your own. It's weird to drink when the people who are supposed to have your back don't.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Oh boy, were you about to have your first unwanted encounter in London?

You look over your shoulder and see this strikingly tall man, his head full of bright hair. His shy smile

is highlighted by his stubble. Your eyes soften for a moment and the tension in your shoulders fades.

But then it returns. "I'm enjoying myself. Thank you. I'm with my...my classmates." Your tone is sharp. You gesture to your classmates, who are still in their own world.

"You're American? Are you sure these people know you?" He asks. You pause, trying to find a witty answer of your own. Part of you wanted to point out his thick accent as it wasn't as posh as the Londoners. Maybe Australian. You think for a while but you're still stuck.

"Curly." He extends his hand to you. You shake it.

"Your name is Curly?" you ask curtly. "And I'm supposed to feel bad about my situation?"

He chuckles at your response, his face settling into a smirk. "My name is Grant. Everyone just calls me Curly."  He swirls his glass, eyeing the empty barstool next to you. "Do you mind if I sit with you?"

You look him over noticing his muscular build once more. "I don't mind." He swings his leg over the seat and rests his forearms on the counter. Curly takes you in for a moment. You take this time to take note of his eyes - a shade of deep blue. He's sort of cute, you think.

"So, why exactly is an American girl like you here in London?" And it all goes away. You find yourself a little annoyed with his question as it's yet another variation of the same question you've heard since you arrived here.

"You ask that like I'm not supposed to be here. It's not like the United Kingdom is some sort of war zone," you respond. He raises his right hand in defense. "I'm studying abroad for a quarter. I'm a grad student," you finally answer. "You don't sound like you're from here either. What's your deal?"

"Well, I'm here for school too." He downs the rest of his drink. "Masters too actually. I'm trying to go to space."

"Still doesn't explain the accent," you cut in.

"Well, my father's Aussie and my mother's from here. They separated years ago and I spent most of my life in Australia with my Pa and spent time with my mother when I wasn't in school. She moved to the States after the divorce. I decided I'd pursue my college education in America and have been there since."

"So you're here studying abroad as well," you state. He nods and then gestures to someone behind him. "That's Jimmy. I like to think we've been attached to the hip for the longest time."

This Jimmy he speaks of is on the opposite side of the bar, socializing. "I'm really happy we got to take this trip together. He made my breaks great. I was really bummed that the person I considered my best friend lived on the other side of the world but the great thing about adulthood is the lack of limitation."

You laugh at his comment and he gives you a confused look. "As an adult, I feel that there are so many limitations. Especially as we get older."

"Well, it's up to you if you let those limitations run your life. You have free will, you know, and...and you typically only live once." He places a hand on your arm and it slowly runs down to your elbow. Your eyes are locked now.

"My name is Y/N."

"I like that."

You like the weight of his hand and you like his eyes and you like his hair. He seems like a cute guy and he has such a cute name - Grant Curly. What a cute face.

"Hey Curly." The moment is broken by an unfamiliar voice but a familiar face. The Jimmy guy. "It's getting late and we have shit to do. You think you can stop flirting and leave now." He pauses and looks at you. "No offense."

You're taken aback and not sure of what to say but you respect him for keeping his friend in check...but maybe not with that tone. You look behind you and see that your classmates have left you. So much for adults.

"You're right. I lost track of time," Curly admits sheepishly. He looks at you first, then at Jimmy. "This is Y/N."

"Great. Nice to meet you, Y/N." You wait for a handshake or something. "Let's go now." Jimmy starts to walk away from where you're both sitting.

"Sorry about him. He's nice! I promise!" Curly rubs his neck nervously. "How are you getting home? Going back with your friends?"

"They left. I'll have to call a cab or something," you say. He looks over at Jimmy, who's exiting the pub, and then back at you. "I'll take you back home. What's your address?"

"It's okay. Your friend...he doesn't seem receptive. And besides, I can take care of myself," You answer. You start to rummage through your purse and pull out your wallet to pay for your drink. Curly gently holds your wrist. Your breath hitches at the electrifying feeling. "Let me pay for your drink and take you home," he starts, "I know you're definitely capable of taking care of yourself but it'd kill me if I left you alone."

You look away from him for a moment and think. This was your opportunity to get his number. "Okay...I'll pay for the drink and you can take me home," you offer. He shakes his head and gestures to the bartender. "Please put this lady's drink on my tab," he says. Curly pulls out his wallet, then his card, and slides it over to the bartender. You lightly slap his arm in protest. "Why would you do that?"

He just smirks at you before taking back his card and receipt. "Let's go." He offers his hand to you to help you off the barstool but you playfully swat it away before plopping off.

Curly leads you outside to the parking lot and clicks the unlock button on his keys. His friend is leaning against the car and you take note of the fact that he was rushing Curly when he didn't even own a car himself.

"What is she doing here?" He asks. "Jimmy, we're dropping her off. You think you could move to the back so the pretty lady can sit up front?" His friend asks.

Jimmy gets off of the car and mumbles something illegible under his breath. You feel bad so you say something, “He can sit-"

Curly cuts you off, "No, no, you sit down." He opens the passenger seat for you and you slide inside.

Something you noticed about the two friends was how opposite they were; Jimmy was clearly someone who didn't like too much change and you assumed that Curly lacked any anxiety. They seem to balance each other out...maybe?

As you conversed with Curly about your respective lives, you couldn't help but notice Jimmy's eyes piercing your image through the rear view mirror.

“Hi love." You feel so much relief when Curly's lips meet yours. You can't help but melt against him. It felt so good to have him in your home.

The two of you had decided to go long-distance months after you met in London. Curly was based in Colorado; his mother lived there, it was where he attended school and he loved it so much because of the snow. It seemed like whenever you called, he was on some sort of mountain or on his way there. While you were living in California, where there wasn't much of that, Curly claimed it reminded him so much of home - so he didn’t mind you living there.

After your first meeting, you regularly hung out and spoke over the phone. Sometimes you both were lucky to be alone; he'd take you out to lunch or take you to tourist sights in London. Sometimes you'd spend time in his flat and Jimmy would be there. The latter wouldn't say much but you always felt like he never really wanted you around. When he did speak to you, your conversations would start somewhat simple and then he'd say something to kill the mood.

One night as your school's study abroad program came to an end, Curly showed up at your flat without any notice. The Curly you saw that night wasn't the one you were getting to know all this time - he was much more bashful than ever. Not the type of bashful when Jimmy tries to embarrass him but bashful in the sense that he was well into his twenties, almost 30, and was struggling to find the words to confess to you. Luckily for him, he didn't need to completely contextualize as you felt the same way.

"How is work, baby?" You ask him. He came to California as it was his turn to take the flight to see you.

"Same old, same old." He started working for some space freighter company months before he met you; you only heard about it once you got back to the States. You weren't too sure about the whole thing but he was making money and getting practice for the career he really wanted.

You pull away from his chest and take his image in. "I missed you so so much." Curly pulls you closer to him so that he can kiss you again. This time it's a bit longer. He pulls away looks behind himself to find your couch and leads you to it without bumping into anything.

He sits first and invites you to crawl onto his lap. Once you're settled, he grabs your thighs and you take hold of his shoulders, kissing him again. His hands roam from your thighs to your back before finding themselves under your shirt. At the feel of your bra, he asks, "Oh, what's this?"

You feel your cheeks heating up at his playfulness. "Why don't you take my shirt off and find out?"

Taking this as permission, Curly unclasps your bra and moves his hands to your shirt; you raise your arm as he pulls the bottom of your shirt off. Once it's been discarded, your bra slightly falls off your chest and Curly does you the honor of taking it off of you.

He lets the back of his hand run lightly against your nipple and you can't help but mewl a bit. "Missed me?" He asks. You nod. "Every single day."

"I think about you a lot. At work, at home, when I'm outside. It's hard knowing that I have such a pretty darling on the other side of the country." He brings one of your breasts to his lips and wraps his lips around your nipple, where his tongue dances around. He pulls his lips away with a 'pop'. "Grant," you let out breathlessly.

"I think about doing you at my desk, on my bed, everywhere." He lowers you down on the couch and adjusts himself so that he's on top of your lower half. "I think I'll take you on this couch and maybe if you're up to it, on your island counter next, and then after-"

He's cut off by a vibration in his pocket. "Just a moment, it's probably work," he says, pulling out his phone. You notice a slight annoyance on his face when he reads the Caller ID.

"Jimmy, hi." Speak of the devil. At the sound of his name, you shuffle to sit up on the couch. Curly puts a hand out to stop you but you swat it away.

"No, Jimmy, I didn't eat your pickles. Have you tried looking around the fridge?"

You reach next to him to pull your shirt and bra out of the crevice of the couch.

"You found them- no, I landed here hours ago."

You clasp your bra and put your shirt back on.

"I'm sorry that - Jimmy!" You jump at the volume of Curly's voice. He sees this, places a hand on your knee and mouths an apology. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't call you. I just got here. I'm with my girlfriend- huh? Ok. I'll talk to you later. Bye Jimbo." He then hangs up. Curly sits back on his knees. He brushes his hair back with his hand and releases a sigh before placing both hands on his knees and looking at you. "Sorry. Just Jimmy."

"I don't like him." You give him a pointed look. You cross your arms, obviously disappointed that his idiot friend ruined your time with your man. You're aching for him but at the same time, you don't even want to fuck Curly anymore.

"I think he's a nice bloke," Curly says under his breath. You raise your eyebrows, practically asking him to speak up. "It's like you guys are the brother and sister that hate each other for fun. You'll both come around eventually."

Your face twists in disgust and you fake gag, which makes Curly laugh. "What brother is deeply in love with their sibling, you in this case?" you question, "He clearly wants me out of the way."

"No, he doesn't. He loves you!" You can see Curly's face melt into confusion. "Maybe not love you...but he likes you around?"

You scoff. "See, you don't even know yourself." You wiggle your legs from under Curly and get up off the couch. He reaches for your hand. "You don't know want to...?" He cocks his head toward the couch.

You purse your lips and shake your head no.

"So gorgeous!"

"How many karats?"

"The proposal! What was it like?"

One year and a few months after your meeting, Curly decided to propose. He took you to Australia to meet his paternal side. In truth, you were scared of those big-ass Australian spiders and whatever the hell else happened to live there but your love for Curly was stronger. The night before your flight back home, he planned a candlelight dinner for the both of you in his father's home and proposed to you - your answer obviously being 'yes!'.

Today you were at your wedding shower with all your friends - Jimmy too!

"How do you feel about getting married after just a year of knowing each other? I mean, Grant can't possibly know everything about you in a year!"

Curly's mother was a piece of work. You had met her a handful of times during your trips to Colorado and yet you couldn't seem to just get along. You were polite but she always had something to say. There was some attachment to her son but he was her only one so you let it slide.

"Well...you do know we're getting older. I fell in love with him and have been since I met him. I feel that Curly-"

"Grant. His name is Grant," she interrupts.

You take a deep breath and smile a forced one. "Grant. I feel that he and I can be mature adults and grow and learn about our marriage and what makes it work." Part of you wants to mention why her marriage didn't work out but one of had to be the bigger woman.

Mrs. Former Curly hums trying to find some witty response. "Is the Bride-to-be avoiding me?" You let out a sigh of relief and you never thought you'd do it to this particular voice.

"Jimmy! Nice to see you, hun!" Curly's mom moves past you to hug Jimmy and kiss him on the cheek. For once, Curly's friend looks cleaned up compared to the other times you've seen him.

When Curly's mom pulls away, he looks over at you. "I wanted to pull Y/N aside. Haven't gotten to properly congratulate her on the engagement. I can catch up with you before I head home," Jimmy tells her.

After the engagement, Curly decided to move in with you. It was a decision you were confused by; you were easily willing to pack up your bags and move to Colorado with him. You knew he loved the snow and his mom would probably lose his shit if he was so far but he insisted on moving in with you.

At first, he wouldn't tell you the truth, something about high housing prices and about wanting to explore more. Eventually, he told you he wanted to get away from Jimmy. He opened up to his friend about the idea of getting engaged - showed him the ring and everything. It turned into an argument about you being the right choice and Jimmy low-key insulting you. After he told you the truth, you let Curly move in before the wedding.

Over time, Jimmy apologized to Curly and even extended an apology to you and the two got closer again. Although they weren't best buddies, it didn't sit right with you how quickly Curly took Jimmy back as a friend. Maybe Mrs. Former Curly was on to something.

"How have you been, Jimmy? Has living alone served you well?" You ask. He makes a funny face at you. Were you making a dig at him?

"It's fine. I actually got a new roommate. He's pretty chill. Keeps to himself." Jimmy avoids eye contact for a second. "How's living with Curly? I know he's ecstatic but are you?"

Living with Curly was great, especially when Jimmy was briefly out of your lives; uninterrupted cuddles, uninterrupted dinner, uninterrupted sex. You were living the life!

Instead, you answer, "Living with Curly is great. He's lovely. He's the best roommate and fiancé I could ever ask for."

Jimmy's trying to keep a light demeanor but he truly couldn't. "You know, I hope you're really right about that. Hopefully, he doesn't drop you like a sack of potatoes...although, I hope he does. I really really hope he does. You don't deserve any of this."

Your face drops and for once he's left you silent. Jimmy smirks when he realizes he's really hurt you. "Congratulations again, princess," he says before walking off.

You feel your body buzzing and you just want to cry but everyone - your family, friends, Curly - are all gawking over you and you don't want to set any alarms off. You want to find Curly but you know at the sight of him, you'd burst into tears.

You eventually find the strength to walk out of the party - passing by with polite 'excuse me's and 'just a moment's. You take a moment to feel the breeze. It picks up and your breath struggles but once it slows down, an entire weight is off your shoulders.

You decide to sit in the car. A tired heavy sigh escaped you. You noticed your fiancé left his winter jacket in the car and used it as a blanket.

For a moment, you wanted to cry but you had all this makeup and didn't want others to realize that you were upset. But besides that, you didn’t have the urge. Why couldn’t you cry?

You chalked it up to space. You needed to be away from Curly's petty mom. You needed to be away from Jimmy and his weird attachment to your fiancé. You both needed space for this whole thing to work out.

A shadow hovers over the window and you turn your head to see Curly, who lifts his finger to knock on the window. You open the passenger seat door and before allowing him to speak, you start first.

"Sit."

He doesn't argue and walks around the car to sit in the driver's seat. "Babe, what's going-"

"I can't do this, Grant." You can see his eyes and panicking and his mouth trying to find the right words. He grabs your hands and lets out an incoherent version of "but I love you" and other things you couldn't catch on.

You shush him and it takes him a while to quiet. You place a hand on his cheek. "I don't want to say my vows in front of people who are wishing on our downfall. You know what Jimmy said to me tonight?"

His eyes go from saddened to worry and then a building. "I knew it. I shouldn't have - what did he say to you?!"

You place a finger on his lip, quieting him again. "Grant, baby, please. We'll deal with him later. I want to go to the courthouse and marry you. I want to say the vows I wrote for you there. And then after, I want to eat a burger or something...something greasy and salty as hell, and then after that I..." You move your finger from his lips down to his chest and then even lower.

"You want to...?" He's playing coy.

You move his finger away from his pants and slap his chest, which makes him release an "oof". "I want Jimmy and your mom to suck it and let us have our moment," you say. You watch his face as he starts to think (he has this cute thinking face that you can't help but melt for).

"Ok. Deal." Curly kisses the corner of your lip. "Can you come inside now? Everyone's worried." You kiss his cheek now and chuckle an 'ok'.

Back at the party, everything felt fine. You had your friends and family to cheer you on and your amazing fiancé who loved you more than life. It was toward the end of the night you felt a shift.

You were catching up with another friend when you observed Curly walking Jimmy outside. After a few moments, it was just Curly that returned.

"They want you to do what for how long?"

"It's just a year, baby." He was still with this Pony Express bullshit. "It's nothing we haven't done before. Think of the other times as practice.”

He was doing space deliveries in a span of a few days or even hours to the International Space Station....when he could be working up there.

A part of you felt bad for complaining but the money with good. With your income combined, you were able to buy your first home. You had the most spacious dining room and connected kitchen. It helped with family gatherings, dinners with friends, and hard conversations like these.

"Why can't you get like...I don't know...a real job at like NASA?"

He slams his hand on the table. "It is a real job like NASA!"

You're startled - you can't think of one time he has ever raised his voice at you. Your utensils clutter against the plate and you get up, pushing the chair back with your legs. “Y/N, babe, sorry-” he tries.

You ignore him and leave the dining room, your shared bedroom being your target. Curly’s pleadings and footsteps can be heard behind you.

You reach your bedroom and Curly places a hand on your shoulder. It stops you from walking away from him again. He counters you and now both hands are holding your shoulders. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. I know I never yell at you.” His right hand moves from your shoulder to your cheek. “I’m really really sorry. I shouldn’t have taken my frustrations out on you.”

You blink and your face scrunches up trying to stop yourself from crying, which you fail. Curly brings you in and holds you.

“Grant, I can’t do it. I can’t do a year,” you sob, “And with all the negative tests…I can’t do it. I need you here with me.”

The both of you were trying for a baby but haven’t been lucky. Just a lot of no’s and one false positive - that was the one that hurt the most. The excitement was immediately gone when your doctor told you there wasn’t anything to begin with.

So it was back to Square one and other options.

But this year's mission had thrown a wrench in your plans.

Curly leads you over to the bed and has you sit down. He kneels in front of you and takes your hand. “Listen, it’s some quick cash. A lot of money. When I get back, I’ll quit. I’ll find something else. And we can focus on ourselves and our family. I’ll make it happen. It’s a promise.”

There’s so much hope in his eyes. He sticks out his pinky finger, indicating that he is serious in his own lighthearted way. You hug him instead.

"So who's the lucky girl?"

Curly looks up and sees Swansea, who's pointing at the gold ring on his left hand.

"Oh!" He turns red at the thought of you. "My wife is back home. I didn't realize how hard it would be - being this far from her. We actually dated long distance for the longest time but yet, I can't shake the unusual feeling in me."

“Your wife…” The older man thinks for a moment. “Oh! The one that pulled you to the side to give you an earful!” He lets out this belly laugh and it goes on for quite a long time. Curly takes a deep sigh, letting his shoulders drop. Swansea slaps his left shoulder, perking him up again. “Yeah, I miss that too.”

Curly was about a month into this delivery trip. He stopped counting the days because it made him miss you more. He just wanted to blink and be home so that he could hold you in his arms and apologize a hundred times over.

You both got into an argument when you found out that Jimmy once again found a way to be in Curly’s space.

One night, Curly got back-to-back calls that he kept ignoring. “Just pick up please so we can sleep,” you tiredly snapped. He chuckled at your annoyance and kissed your forehead before complying.

You didn’t find out until you saw Curly off at work before the start of the mission.

“Are you kidding me? Don’t tell me he was the one calling!” You exclaimed. Curly looks back at his crew who are feet away saying bye to their own families or prepping the ship. “Can you please-”

“No! No, no, no, no,” you hold a finger in front of his face. “Why is he there? I tell you all the time - I don’t like him and I don’t like the influence he had, or I guess has in this case, on you-”

“He needed a job! He needed some help. Things aren’t good on his end. He’s a damn good pilot. He just…he just needs the right push.” His blue eyes hold so much sympathy. You loved your husband’s compassion for others but when it came to Jimmy - after all the times he made it clear you weren’t welcomed - you just wished Curly had a little bit of backbone.

There’s still so much anger and disappointment in you but you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.

“I hope it all works out and that your boy succeeds. Good luck, Captain.”

You raise both hands in defeat and start to walk away from Curly. This is your last image of him before you fully turn around. He says your name once but doesn’t follow you.

[ask-inspector-adventure2]

Horus: well, since he has broke himself out I believe we should have a trial but first what do you suggest?

Inspector: hmm, I could go find him and bring Apophis to the trial what we should do with him either give Apophis to change his ways of not doing anything evil which means not going after Ra trying to swallow up the sun bringing forth eternal darkness around the world or my second chance just lock him back up with better shackles and stronger chains

Sobek: change his ways, inspector I don't know if you got sand in your ears but Apophis can't be trusted he's a evil Demon Cobra God and he could do much worse things with his powers

Set: he has a fair point there, let's not get to cocky about he can hypnotize anyone with his majestic eyes but most of all he has deadly poison in his fangs he also can control anyone that worships him and turn them into his snake army

Horus: exactly, are you sure inspector that you want to do that think carefully if you let Apophis change his ways the sooner he turns his back on you it's over

Inspector: I understand what your talking about and trust me I've been through with many evil Demon's but I did once made a promise to one God The King of the skies Zeus was his name and he told me to keep a closer eye on two demons Rampage and Traffic but I didn't keep my promise I let them go so give me a chance to talk with Apophis and if I can convince him to changing his ways then perhaps you guys won't have to deal with him anymore he'll be my responsibility from now on

-this got them to think about it that way Ra had made up his mind-

Trying the inflation H2O:

This is... New..

Don't worry it's water

[edwinspaynes]

GHOSTS IN THE SNOW

I spent a lot of the day thinking I WILL SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST IF I DO NOT SEE A PAYNELAND SNOW KISS RIGHT NOW. Unfortunately, I could not find one to look upon, so I decided to write one. Here you are! You can also read it on Ao3.

Edwin did not like to admit it, but he barely remembered what it meant to feel cold.

Charles did - considering the manner in which he died, it was no surprise. And yet all Edwin could recall was heat, not only from the fires of Hell but also from running, and running, and running. As he strolled along the peaceful nighttime streets of London, Charles's hand in his, he contemplated what it might be like to feel the light snowfall on his face. To have his cheeks wind-whipped and numb, to catch the large, fluffy falling snowflakes in his mouth and taste them.

Edwin did not frequently yearn for life, but in that moment, he felt something like nostalgia for it.

"What're you thinking about, mate?" Charles's voice cut through the still darkness. The world was quiet here, away from London's main roads at three in the morning, but Charles's voice was bold and brave. "You've got that look on your face, the one you get when you're really engrossed in some book or puzzle."

"And what sort of look is that?" Edwin's voice was light.

Charles scrunched up his face and narrowed his eyes rather adorably.

Edwin chuckled. "You are being ridiculous," he admonished. "I have never looked like that. You once told me that my contemplative expression is quite clever; I shall choose to believe that rather than your insulting impression."

Charles smiled slightly. "Are you saying I didn't look clever like that? Well, that's rude, isn't it, when I tried so hard."

"You shall have to make a better effort next time." Edwin waved the hand that was not holding Charles's in the air, and Charles squeezed his hand. They continued to stroll along, and Edwin watched the flurries swirl under the light-posts. Electric lighting had been new back in his day, and it was not nearly as bright as this, so bright as to illuminate the snowfall and -

"Oi," Charles said. "You're doing it again." He did not release Edwin's hand, but brought the other one up to poke him on the shoulder. He poked far too many times, far too quickly. Edwin would not have had Charles any other way. "Come on, Edwin," he continued, "what's going on in that big brain of yours, huh?"

Edwin rolled his eyes and huffed. "I am simply contemplating what it might be like to feel... cold," he said. "I do not remember it."

"Oh." Charles stopped walking, and Edwin with him. His hand went slack, and they pulled apart as Charles continued. "That's... I guess... I don't really remember normal cold either, do I? Just like, the perils of terminal hypothermia or whatever."

"Very uplifting," Edwin murmured, and Charles nudged him.

"But. But." Charles tilted his head at Edwin. "I bet it's, like, the opposite of warm, yeah? Like, when you hold my hand, that's warm. Cold would be... the other thing, yeah?"

"Have you never thought it odd that humans always wish to sort things into arbitrary binaries? As much as I enjoy organized thought processes..."

"Hot/cold doesn't feel that arbitrary," Charles argued.

"I shall have to conduct further study." Edwin steepled his hands before himself, an unconscious habit that he knew made him appear confident.

But Charles grinned again. "I mean, if you want something else warm so you can better understand what its opposite might be..."

"Whatever do you mean?"

Charles reached out. He clasped Edwin's hands in his own, breaking his folded hands apart and squeezing his fingers. Then, still smiling, Charles took a step closer to Edwin and placed his hands on either side of his face. Edwin smiled at the last moment before their lips met, and Charles's mouth was as gentle as the snowflakes blowing lightly through the sky.

And warm. Of course, he was warm.

When Charles pulled away, large, uniquely-shaped snowflakes were stark against his black hair. Edwin wondered whether he was in such a state, too, and whether Charles liked the contrast as much as he did. But he did not have to wonder for long. Charles laughed quietly and reached upward to smooth down Edwin's hair, his expression so woefully fond that Edwin had to fight the urge to look away. "Love you, mate," he said casually, and Edwin could not help but smile.

Edwin's heart melted, but his eyes narrowed. "Wait," he said. "What on Earth did that have to do with our previous conversation? How am I meant to better understand the nature of cold due to that?"

"You're not," Charles said without a hint of shame. "I just made up an excuse to kiss you, didn't I. And it worked."

Edwin pivoted toward Charles. "You are trickier than I gave you credit for," he said, smirking.

"And you love me," Charles said, smiling as he trailed after Edwin.

Edwin reached out behind him, and Charles took his hand. "I suppose I do," Edwin mused.

He did not see the way that Charles smiled down at his boots.

dbda taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed):

@tiredandoptimistic @thevagabondexpress @stormkitty97 @innocentmapleleaf

@honorarypines @tragedy-machine @pisces-swirlix @authoricdemon @many-gay-magpies

@edwardianedwin @babyseraphim @stephen0118 @ingridmatthews

[thelunarfairy]

The Shadows of Doom

I've been waiting for evidence so I could make this post, although many signs were present and I've mentioned it in some posts here and there, we can now clearly talk about the new vision about the twins.

It's not news that the entity is an evil supernatural and it's also not news that most people don't give this creature the attention (and blame) it deserves.

We now see an adult Amane who has become a "serial killer", and well, everyone agreed that Amane is not the culprit, it's the entity that is controlling him.

Yes, that's true. Amane can't even remember that he was controlled and probably has no idea that he killed so many people, that's because he was used as a shell. He's just the body that the entity needs to attract its victims.

And yes, this is not exclusive to the new reality.

The difference is that in the old reality Hanako is sealed and the entity doesn't have as much power over him as in the new reality.

So, how about we talk about Tsukasa?

Tsukasa never feared the entity and he sacrificed himself to save Hanako, I know you know that, but even though the boy had this "bond" with the entity, they worked together for a goal.

Tsukasa never did things for the entity because he liked it or what it did, he wanted to save his brother.

But why does Tsukasa seem to be more conscious than Amane?

Because of the partnership.

Tsukasa does what the entity asks, which means that it doesn't need to control and force him, because he will do it.

He talks casually with the entity, as if they were close friends. He isn't afraid of anything, so Tsukasa doesn't need to be manipulated or controlled, he does what he has to do.

But does he seem happy about it?

Hanako fights the entity, so he is controlled and forced to do things he doesn't want to do.

Tsukasa chooses not to be against the entity, as if he knows it's not worth it, and he does what the entity demands, even if it's something bad.

The entity has influence over the twins and at many times I saw Tsukasa behave in ways that didn't seem like he was "himself".

Even though he was conscious and remembered everything, it seemed like the entity was controlling/influencing some of his actions.

The dark eyes reflected in him

In the same way that the same eyes are reflected in Amane's eyes at the exact moment the entity takes possession, not only of the twins but also of Kou, give us a clue about some of Tsukasa's behaviors.

Even Sakura knows what that dark eyes means.

So, if we compare, the Amane of the new reality is a serial killer now, but it's not exactly him. The boy is just a shell that is being controlled by the entity, it's the entity that wants the deaths.

Why is Tsukasa, who has always had the entity inside his body, still considered a "psychopath", and when Amane kills MANY people, he is just the boy who is being "controlled?".

I have this answer, perhaps because of the self-awareness he has after doing certain things or allowing the entity to do them, while Amane wakes up from something confusing that takes his memories temporarily, Tsukasa is always awake and conscious.

But the difference between the twins is precisely in the concept of accepting or persisting.

Hanako is the type who insists a lot, he hardly lets something he likes "free from him", we saw this in the actions he did with Tsukasa and Nene, he is extremely persistent.

Tsukasa is the opposite, he is free and allows the freedom of the people important to him.

While Hanako is fighting with all his strength against the entity and trying to save Tsukasa, Tsukasa just allows the entity to do what needs to be done.

The entity is a difficult creature to destroy, it's as if Tsukasa had realized that it's not worth fighting against. In addition to, of course, the entity's own influence here.

As Tsukasa always values ​​freedom, the boy who has lived imprisoned since he was four, either because of the house and the entity or because of the boundary and Yorishiro's connection with Hanako, he wants freedom and values ​​it.

Therefore, he gives the entity the freedom it needs, even when Tsukasa has no wishes to make anymore. He just wanted to save his brother and he would stay in the red house, doing what the entity wants.

One fights and the other accepts.

The entity possesses and controls whoever fights against it, and partners with whoever stands by it.

But in the end, the goal of this thing is always the same, to kill people.

What defines whether they are like the entity or not is how they react to it, and clearly, they are both not happy.

In the end, the entity will necessarily possess both of them, the difference being that one does not fight against the influence of the entity and the other does, and both will have to do what the entity tells them to do.

Both will kill or cause death, whether they like it or not.

There is no option.

The entity is like a shadow of doom, the price it charges for a wish is too high for anyone to pay.

Obviously, I'm not going to take away the guilt that the twins have for the choices they made, the suffering they caused to other people, and the mistakes they made over time (and still make) to this day.

But let's be fair and say that the entity has a direct link in the behavior of both of them.

If the entity didn't exist, the twins would be two normal kids, like everyone else.

I wonder if it would be like that.

*This is an analysis of the characters' behavior, not my direct opinion on it, but an evaluation based on their actions throughout the story, remember that this analysis may be incorrect, but, with the information we have so far, it's a small observation that I thought would be interesting to share.

[genericpuff]

Do you have any entry level recommendations for someone looking to learn a bit more about Greek mythology? I’d love to read up on it but I’m not sure how to find reputable sources and avoid Americanisation.

I mean, at the risk of sounding crass, you're likely going to run into Americanization no matter what you do because America itself was built on many cultures, especially that of Greek philosophy and storytelling.

Buuut if you mean you wanna read some actual Greek myth content that AREN'T modern American spins on classic tales, Emily Wilson is a popular choice for many people dipping their toes into translated mythology as her translations are both simplistic and concise in their language choices as well as fun in their structure to read both internally and orally (iirc her translations are done in iambic pentameter which is very familiar to anyone who's ever read Shakespeare). I've been working through her translation of The Odyssey, it's been pretty enjoyable :)

I've also heard great things about both Lattimore and Fitzgerald, the latter of whom I will be reading next after I finish Wilson's translation. That said, I haven't read either of their works yet, so take my recommendation of them with grains of salt! (I hope you enjoy them though if you check 'em out! If you beat me to it, let me know how they went!)

OH also, I know it's sorta the opposite of what you're likely looking for as it's VERY influenced by modern contexts, but thanks to another anon I recently got into Destripando la Historia which is a super fun animated Youtube series that retells the stories of various different gods from different mythologies. If you're into stuff of the goofy anime variety, you might enjoy them, it's a Spanish series but you can turn on captions to read the translations! It's super beginner-friendly, it covers a lot of different stories and myths without getting into so much detail that it's overwhelming (but gives you a good kickoff point to start with!) and the songs and animations slap, Afrodita is one of my favorites haha

Overall the biggest advice I can give you if you're trying to avoid fanfiction-y / "Americanized" retellings is just to cross-reference. If you find a retelling you really like but aren't completely sure of its legitimacy as a functional retelling, keep reading, watching, and learning more. It's a skill like any other, and the more you read, the more you'll be able to pick out what's a legitimate retelling from studied scholars vs. what's fanfiction that you don't need to take too accurately or seriously LMAO

And honestly, nothing wrong with the fanfiction stuff! Mythology, in its very nature, changes over time, it's an inevitability and many of the myths we still draw from today are often derivative in and of themselves from even older versions that pre-existed them (see: Ovid).

it's okay if your introduction to Greek myth is through derivative fanfic, stuff like Disney's Hercules and even Lore Olympus ARE fun to consume for a lot of people and make for a good entry point into learning more about the myths!

What's frustrating - and what I tend to criticize the most here - is when the fanfiction gets advertised / sold as legitimate retellings; when the fanfiction grossly misrepresents the actual mythology and yet tries to claim it as legitimate anyways which results in fanbases that are running around with completely false information claiming it as fact. If you can give the team behind Hercules credit for one thing, their rendition may not be completely accurate, BUT the folks who made it never bragged about how much smarter they were than other people about Greek myth or call themselves "folklorists" when they didn't even have any formal education/training/etc. in it cough like another creator we know cough 💀 If we want to make a comparison between LO and a Disney film in terms of how it grossly misrepresents the themes and cultural contexts of the original stories it was drawing from... Disney's Pocahontas does exactly that 💅

So if you want to avoid any "grossly" Americanized versions of Greek myth that are borderline disrespectful to the stories they're drawing from... yeah, that's usually a pretty indicative red flag LMAO

But outside of those very specific scenarios, just have fun with it, there really is no "right or wrong" way to engage with the mythology if you're simply just wanting to learn more, the beauty of it being mythology is that it's very diverse in its mediums and thus you don't have to be restricted to learning about it exclusively through academic translations or lectures. Of course, there are cultural intersections with these myths that shouldn't be ignored, we always have to treat it with care when engaging with it so that we aren't overwriting another culture's traditions or beliefs - but if you're simply wanting to learn about and entertain yourself with some amazing stories that have quite literally stood the test of time, do so however you see fit :)

[starly-amazing]

In Baths and Salts: Stinkfrin Gets Cleansed

Rating: Teen

Summary: Siffrin is a stinky fella after the loops. Isabeau and Mirabelle take it upon themselves to give them a nice relaxing bath and some much-needed pampering. Emotions and minimal crying are to be expected. Happy 1st Anniversary ISAT!

Tags: Bathing/Washing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Queerplatonic Relationships, Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst

archiveofourown org/works/60726061

--- --- ---

"Siffrin, you smell terrible." Odile sighs as soon as the party makes it back inside the clock tower. The festivities outside were set to go on well into the night, but none of the Saviors had any desire to mingle—or be showered in praise, food, gifts, or marriage proposals.

Isabeau gasps as if personally insulted. "M’dame!? That’s so blunt!" He grips Siffrin tighter as he helps them to the dining table.

They flop over in their chair and let out a harsh wheeze. They don't even try to argue.

She lowers her glasses and raises an eyebrow. "So we’re in agreement, then?" Her arms fold over her chest.

"Well... " He rubs his shoulder. He sniffs his shirt where Siffrin had been leaning and makes a face.

“I’m in an an-greement!” Bonnie yells and fans the air in front of their face. “Belle too!”

“What!?” Mirabelle sputters in the middle of wiping a spot of Siffrin’s blood off her dress. “Bonnie, why are you bringing me into this?”

"Bath sounds nice," Siffrin mumbles into their cloak. The clock tower surprisingly had a full washroom with plumbing. They couldn't imagine why, but they're not about to complain. The bathtub, complete with a crafted heating element, had tempted them so many times during the loops, but they could never justify using it.

But now... 

They're still not sure they can justify it but maybe they should just say ‘blind it all’ and do it anyway.

“Yes, see? Siffrin didn’t need any convincing!”

Though, it seems like their family isn’t going to give them much choice either way.

Odile smirks and tilts her head at Mirabelle.

“Don’t say it!”

“Hey, hey, don’t bully poor Sif! What they need right now is some nice gentle reassurance!”

“And a bath!” Bonnie adds. They start putting away the plates of food that grateful villagers and Housemaidens managed to laden them all with.

“Yep,” Siffrin mumbles, too tired to be phased.

"I'll get it ready!" Isabeau chirps and heads to the washroom.

Odile doesn't even try to hide The Smirk.

Siffrin puts his head down and closes his eye. He breathes deeply a few times and lets the sounds of his family wash over him. Odile is scribbling more in her notebook. Bonnie is messing with the food and gifts. Mirabelle is rummaging through her bags.

"How are you feeling now, Siffrin?" Mirabelle asks after a few moments.

"Gross." They rub at a bloodstain on their cloak.

"Good thing that's going to be remedied soon," Odile hums. She scribbles something down in her notebook. “Teasing aside, is there anything you need—or want us to do for you now? It doesn’t have to be big if you’re not yet comfortable asking, just something that might help you feel more at ease.”

Siffrin eyes the bottle of gifted wine by the sink.

Odile follows their gaze and shakes her head. “Anything but that. We’re not going to let you pick up any new self-destructive habits.”

Siffrin grunts. “Water then, please.”

“I got it!” Bonnie races to the sink and fills a glass in record time. They rush back to Siffrin and nearly spill it onto them.

“A good snack duty-er also includes hydreeshon!”

“Hydration, Boniface.”

“That’s what I said!”

Siffrin cracks a small smile and takes a sip. The cool water is a shock to his parched throat but after the initial tingle fades he downs the rest in a few gulps.

“Wow! Super fast!” Bonnie grabs the cup and runs back to the sink. “Want more?”

Isabeau calls out from the bathroom. “Okay, I think it’s about ready!”

“I’m fine, thank you Bonbon!” They move to get up but their body protests. They flop back down and lay their face on the table again. “Urgh.”

“Whoa, Frin. Do you need help getting to the bathroom?”

“No, no I’m fine I—” They try to push themself up but fail. “Okay maybe yes please.”

It takes both Bonnie’s and Mirabelle’s help to get Siffrin to their feet but once they’re standing they’re able to blink some of the exhaustion back. Still, the two each take one of his arms and help him maneuver to the bathroom. Odile follows close behind, hands at the ready in case his legs decide to give out on him.

The bathroom isn't anything spectacular. Just plain stone floors and walls with some generic concentric circles etched in to break up the monotony. It has nothing in the way of storage; the party all had to drag in some barrels to hold their supplies. It’s a miracle it even had a toilet and bathtub with working plumbing.

At least they can expect hot water. Despite the fever that still makes them sweat, they want nothing more than to get their sore, cosmically stretched, and clone-attacked muscles soaked to the bone.

Loop.

They touch their neck and hope it hasn’t bruised visibly yet.

They'll be back. They have to come back. They just need rest, too.

"Everything okay, Siffrin?” Isabeau hums nervously. “I mean, well, relatively speaking"

"Yeah," they nod and take a step forward. "Just... crowded."

"Come on Boniface." Odile picks them up by the armpits with little effort. "There are some things you are not meant to see here."

Peak physical condition is right.

"Aww come on, let me help, I won't look!" They wave their arms with one hand still gripping Siffrin's. The tug hurts a bit but it's too cute to pull away.

"You can help by fixing up all the food everyone gave us and some more things our little problem child hasn't eaten in a long time."

"Oh! Oh, you're right!" Bonnie wiggles their legs until Odile puts them down. They run out of the bathroom, almost tripping on themself. She chuckles at them, her hand on her hip.

"I suppose I'll go help. You two probably can handle it on your own and my knees will not allow me to do any of this."

Mirabelle and Isabeau both nod as Odile turns away.

"Wait, handle what?" Isabeau tilts his head.

"Giving said problem child a bath,” she says over her shoulder.

"Oh!" He gasps.

‘ Oh’ is right! Siffrin feels their arm hair stand on end.

“Uhm, I think I can handle it on my own.”

But do I want to?

She turns to meet his gaze. "Siffrin. You needed all three of us to help you walk twenty feet to the bathroom. We wouldn't want you falling asleep and drowning. Unless that's something you want to risk, I believe that supervision is warranted."

“Ah, right. That’s a... that’s a good point!” Siffrin stammers and both Isabeau and Mirabelle nod rapidly.

"Good, now have fun." With that, she shuts the door and leaves the three of them alone.

"Well, uhm. So," Isabeau begins. His face is already a shade darker. "So how do you want to do this? I mean we can just, you know, hang out without looking while you clean yourself, and just—then we just make sure you're okay or something!”

"Can I wash your hair, Siffrin?" Mirabelle eyes the rat's nest that’s grown atop their head.

Wash my hair?

They run their hands through the tangled mess until their fingers get stuck in the greasy locks. She’d have her work cut out for her... he’s not sure he can accept the favor so soon.

But, ohh they need it. They need the feeling of Mirabelle's fingers combing through their hair and massaging their scalp. He thinks of how her nails will feel digging deep into their skin. They imagine her reaching through their skull and ripping out every bad thought and memory straight from their mind. It sends a small shiver down their spine. It's all too much for Siffrin to process. They shrink down in their cloak and turn away.

"It's okay if you don't! We'll just be here for moral support!" Mirabelle waves her hands and Isabeau nods.

"I... uh... washing... washing my hair sounds... nice," they manage to force out.

"Ohh!" Mirabelle clasps her hands together and does a little skip in place. Her dress flutters and part of it sticks to the rim of the tub. "Oh, maybe I should change into something else."

"Oh, me too!" Isabeau nods and then turns to leave but stops. "Actually." He removes his sash and outer shirt then gives his undershirt a good tug. "This should be good."

Siffrin takes off his own cloak and reaches for his shirt... 

Oh.

He looks at the lightless fabric of his sleeves—at how some spots stain just a bit darker than the rest. The little gaps in the fabric where light shows through shift slightly with each breath.

Oh no.

He didn't tell Mirabelle about that when she healed them. Nobody has seen.

What do they do? They can't stand the thought of being alone. Not now. Maybe he should have them look the other way the whole time, after all.

But... They promised to be honest now. Though, if they didn't ask, is it really dishonest? He clenches his jaw. It is, he's still hiding something from them.

... They can’t really expect him to be able to open up about everything right away, right?

Still... 

They squeeze their eye shut.

“Sif?”

"Siffrin, what's wrong?"

Breathe. In, and out.

They turn their back to them and grab the base of their shirt.

In, and out.

"Please don't freak out."

Deep breath.

They pull their shirt over their head to reveal the mottling of fresh cuts up and down their arms.

Silence.

Dead silence.

He bites his lip hard enough to hurt. He swears he can almost, almost taste blood.

Each second of nothing wears on Siffrin and they fight the urge to cover back up. The distant sounds of Bonnie rummaging around in the kitchen grate in their ears.

"Let me heal you, Siffrin," Mirabelle breathes.

They nod and slowly hold out one arm behind them. She gently takes their fingers in her hand and places her palm on the back of his. She whispers a few things under her breath and starts moving her hand up their arm. The soreness dissipates in little ripples out from her fingertips.

Isabeau shifts behind them and starts swirling his hand in the bath.

"The water should be good," he murmurs.

Siffrin flexes their arm in front of them as Mira begins on their other one.

Scarred. Of course. Most have faded but the deeper, star-shaped ones remain. They no longer hurt, at least, just a dull ache if they move too much. That could also just be everything else wrong with them.

"I'm sorry, Siffrin," Mirabelle murmurs when she sees them scrutinize one of the larger scars. "I—I couldn’t prevent them from scarring. I just don’t have the Craft energy."

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, they're all probably beyond exhausted from dealing with your tantrum.

Why didn't you even consider that until now? Even Bonnie is probably tired from everything and now they're out preparing you a full-course meal.

Siffrin pulls away and holds their half-healed arm to their chest, out of reach.

"I'm—"

"No, Siffrin, it's okay." Mirabelle reaches for them but they turn further away. “I’m happy to finish healing you, really.”

“You’ve already done so much.”

“And I’m willing to do more.” She takes a step closer. “You’d do the same for me if our positions were switched, right?”

“Of course I would!” He whirls around. They squint as their head spins a bit. “You are all..." he pauses, voice lowering. “So important to me.”

Isabeau pulls up two stools to the tub. “And you’re so so important to us too.” He frowns slightly as Siffrin shrinks into themself more. “We choose to do this Sif. We want you to be safe, healthy, and happy and we’re all willing to push ourselves like this to make sure of it.”

“But..." Their voice trails off.

“Siffrin, I promise I’m not putting myself in any danger doing this. It’s just tiring and nothing a few good night’s sleep won't fix.”

“I guess..."

Mirabelle gives Siffrin a tired smile. She reaches for their face.

A stinging memory flashes through their mind and they flinch. They recoil. Their hand flies part way to their cheek but they freeze.

He blinks, blinks, blinks away the memory. He sees Mirabelle standing there with her hands clasped at her chest. Her body is stiff—as if she's frozen in time—but her rapid breathing betrays that.

"Siffrin, I'm... " She worries her lip and picks at her fingertips. "I'm so sorry. I—I shouldn’t have... I know I was angry at those awful things you said but I still shouldn’t have slapped you."

"Of course you should have!" They dig their nails into their arms, threatening to undo everything Mirabelle just healed. "I said all those... cruel, horrible, untrue things when you were stressing out so much about everything! You had the weight of all of Vaugarde on your shoulders! And then your—” they stop themself. “The papers... Why wouldn't you slap me?"

Her face pulls into a grimace. "I still should have kept trying to figure out what was wrong! You're right, I was so stressed and anxious about everything..." She takes a shuddering breath and squeezes her eyes shut. “And it really did hurt... what you said... But I... I just assumed the worst of you... that you never really cared about me... when I knew that wasn’t true. I should have known it wasn’t that... " Her voice quiets to a whisper. “I shouldn’t have given up on you.”

"But... how were you even supposed to guess what was happening?"

Isabeau chimes in. "Well, we wouldn't have figured out the specifics but it was obvious there was something ."

Their shoulders fall. "And I... still wouldn't have said anything.”

Silence.

Wrong response, stupid, stupid, stupid.

"You should have slapped me too, Isa. How were you so calm?"

Worse response! Stop it!

"Sif, I would never hurt you. I couldn’t.”

Mirabelle’s jaw clenches and her face pulls tight.

Isabeau jumps slightly and holds his hands up. “Ah—sorry Mira, I didn’t mean to imply anything! It’s just... you know, defender training and just... my own..." He brings a hand to his chest. “Er—yeah, I’m not judging you or anything for your reaction! Anyway, Sif!” He lets his hand fall to his side and meets their gaze. They have to fight not to look away.

“We all made mistakes yesterday... and we’re all willing to go to great lengths to help you and each other, even if we’re tired. Even if we’re angry.”

Siffrin can't keep his gaze.

Isabeau hums for a moment and then lights up with a small gasp. "Okay, give me your hand."

He hesitates.

Isabeau holds his hand out, palm up. It glistens a bit in the candlelight—from sweat or bath water, Siffrin isn't sure.

Slowly, carefully, they place their closed hand in Isabeau's. He lifts his other hand slowly enough that it doesn't startle them and then very lightly smacks his fingers against their knuckles.

"Whap! There's your slap."

Despite themself, they couldn't hold back a snort.

"Ohhh, the pain~" they whine in a weak, almost ghost-like manner.

Isabeau releases his grip and Siffrin shivers at the sudden coolness.

"Oh, uh, you should probably get in the bath before it gets cold too, huh?"

"Ah, right, yeah." They gaze at the inviting water. They realize their legs are shaking more. "Can you... look the other way for a minute."

Isabeau spins around and Mirabelle covers her eyes.

Siffrin fumbles with their belt—their grip is weaker and stiffer than before. Was it the scarring? Or just exhaustion? They didn't have the energy to think too hard about it. The bath was calling to them.

He slips out of his pants and kicks them to the corner. They approach the tub and tentatively stick in their toe.

Warm. A bit too warm.

They could use all the warmth they can get.

They step inside and settle in quickly. The water burns at every little cut Mirabelle didn’t manage to heal. He grits his teeth and just waits for it to ease up.

They wish for would like a bubble bath so they could hide under a foot of suds, but the bare-bones bathroom doesn't afford such luxuries. Still, they splash a bit of soap in to create a facsimile of a foam shield and cover up their unmentionables with a washcloth.

"Okay," they breathe.

Mirabelle drops her hands and Isabeau waits another second before turning around. Siffrin holds their arms against their chest. There's not much to hide, but still.

The two of them settle down on small stools next to him.

Silence.

Siffrin pokes at a small bruise on their knee.

"Uhm, Siffrin?"

He glances at Mirabelle and tilts his head.

"Are you ready for me to wash your hair?"

Their eye widens and flashes of the past flick through their mind. Her gentle hands worked through his hair as she brushed it, picking out dirt and pulling out tangles. It was so nice they couldn't bring themself to accept any other time she offered.

But now... 

" Please ."

Mirabelle perks up with a smile and grabs two shampoo bottles from atop a barrel.

"Okay, so we have a lavender scent here. It's good for calming you down and helps with sleep." She holds up the other one. "And here we have pineapple sc—"

"LAVENDER!" Siffrin yelps, causing Mirabelle and Isabeau to jump.

"Okay, okay! Lavender it is!" She puts the other bottle far away from Siffrin. “I didn’t think you had such strong feelings for some foods!” She pours a generous amount of the other onto Siffrin's head until a drop of it splatters on his shoulder. Siffrin clenches his jaw and decides against letting that bit of information out for now.

Mirabelle rubs her hands together and gets to work.

Almost immediately he lets out a sigh as her nails rake across his scalp. His eye rolls back into his head and he sinks deeper into the water.

They're floating, becoming one with the Universe. Their pain fades into dull static as their mind focuses solely on their head.

It's heavenly.

"Uh, Sif," Isabeau's voice is soft.

"Mmm?" they hum.

"Anything I can help with?"

Siffrin cracks his eye open at Isabeau. He's sitting with his head turned to the ceiling and scratching at his chin.

"Oh, uh... " They pause and think. It'd be too cramped to ask him to wash anything else while Mirabelle is still working, but his touch is just so inviting all the same.

They mull it over for a moment. They look at their hand, flex their stiff fingers, and reach out.

"Can you... hold my hand?"

Isabeau gasps. "Of course!" He wipes his hands on his pants and takes Siffrin's between them.

It's nice.

They smile and let out a long sigh. He closes his eye and feels the weightlessness of his body. The way Isabeau’s hand molds around his. The way Mirabelle oh so gently tugs at the many tangles in their hair.

How it feels like... 

His mind wanders.

A tear floats gently in front of him. He’s in the house again.

Ugh. He squeezes his eye shut. Now’s not the time for those thoughts.

It’s completely different, anyway. Tears were always so cold and touching them felt more like missing a stair step and falling forever... and the dreams... the dreams were always so weird.

But now! Now he’s warm and feels like he’s being lifted up, up! And no dreaming! Just perfectly controllable awake thoughts.

... 

He’s in the house again.

Their family is there. Talking about something he can’t quite process. The images and sounds are warped and garbled. They can barely make out Bonnie making snacks in the corner.

Their family goes quiet. Everyone looks over at Bonnie.

They aren’t cooking.

Nope! Not that memory!

They shift in the tub and try to force a different thought, hoping nobody notices their discomfort.

Mirabelle continues scrubbing. Isabeau gives their hand another squeeze.

They are in a hallway now. Things look even more warped and broken; the pillars are sinking through the floor, a haze of static obscures almost everything, and the walls seem to be melting. He can still make out his family standing a few paces ahead, surrounding... him?

They’re smiling at him, and then their expressions fall. “He” vanishes.

No, not that one either.

He’s in front of Isabeau by the tree. They reach out and grab his shirt--

No no no!

They pull into themself and furiously wipe their mouth.

“Sif? What’s wrong?” Isabeau puts his other hand on him. Mirabelle stops and places her hands on their shoulders.

“S-sorry, I just..." He doesn’t want to get into it.

Just be vague. Honest, but vague.

“Just thinking about the loops again.”

They both give him little squeezes.

“It’s okay, Siffrin. We’re here.”

“You’re safe,” Isabeau adds, “it’s over, I promise.”

“Yeah,” they swallow a knot in their throat, “yeah it’s over.” He forces himself to relax and give them a reassuring smile. They close their eye again and wait for Mirabelle to continue scrubbing their hair.

But the memories aren’t over--they won’t ever go away, will they?

They’ve forgotten their own family member’s names. They’ve forgotten their home, their language, their past, and whole chunks of their journey before the loops began.

But the loops themselves are so etched into their mind... 

No. No. It’s too early to even think about that. They’ll fade. They won’t keep popping up every time they have a moment of rest. Maybe they’ll even be able to start remembering things from before the loops! It’s just going to be a recovery process.

A long, long recovery process.

It’s fine though! They have their family! They promised they’d be there for him. As long as he can make himself talk about his feelings sometimes, it’ll all work out fine!

They smile and sigh.

Just happy thoughts for now. Focus on Isabeau’s and Mirabelle’s hands. Think about her brushing your hair or Isabeau holding your hands on the rooftop. Think about Odile ruffling your hair or Bonnie’s hug.

His mind starts to drift again.

In the echo of a memory, the Head Housemaiden is crying. Their family calls out to them from the distance. They race to him and he reaches out. He can barely make out anything through the static but their calling his name is unmistakable.

The scene cracks, and breaks, and he’s back in Dormont. Mirabelle screams. Bonnie cries. Odile grips his cloak. And Isabeau... 

Siffrin’s face pulls into a grimace and he shifts in the tub.

They were loved.

They were loved, they were so loved, and yet, they ruined it.

Isabeau locks their fingers together. “We’re here, Sif.”

Mirabelle holds his head in her hands. “Siffrin, you can talk to us about what you’re thinking about if you want.” Her voice is so soft, so gentle. “But... if you can’t right now you can tell us that too... We can just talk about something light instead... to keep your mind off things.”

‘ So you should just accept it! Accept that you'll always be alone!’

They dig their heels into the bottom of the tub.

“I just—” he chokes.

They say they forgive you, but... 

“Sif.” Isabeau pulls their hand closer.

‘ I know what kind of person you are, now. A Coward, Isa. Never able to say what you mean, never able to do what you want.’

You can’t take it back. Can’t undo it all.

“I—” His breathing quickens. Their chest starts to burn. He tries to speak again but only choked sounds come out.

‘ Deep down, you know you can't escape yourself.’

They won’t forget what you said.

A tear runs down their face. It joins the many drops of water clinging to their neck.

‘ Just leave me behind! Just like you left Ka Bue behind!!! Just like your mom lef̵͉͘ţ̷̟̪̀̒͗́͠ ̵̠̩͕̘̫��͗̌̊y̷̧̡̼͕̮͆̔̆̀̔o̷̝̓̑̍̚͘ŭ̴̘͇̮̄͜ ̷̻̮͔̖̬̇͌̐̒b̵͔͇̤̽̾̽̕͘͠e̶̘̮̦̬͍̿̒ḣ̶̛̝̤̑̈̎̎i̷̪̮͝ň̷͖̣̱̽d̸͙̿̈́́̊̏̿̚!̶͔̻͇̥͎̒͊̅͘’

They’ll live with your words wearing on them forever.

“Siffrin, it’s okay, you don’t have to say it right away.”

They whine and begin to pull away. Their chest is heaving. The room is starting to spin. Stop it. Stop it. Stay in the moment.

“Sif. Breathe with me,” Isabeau’s demand is gentle yet it’s enough to pull their attention to him.

They see him through the tears. He has his hand on his chest. He breathes deeply.

Their head hurts and their hands are shaking and their heart is beating like it's about to explode, so they probably should.

In, and out.

Siffrin tries to copy. He only manages a few shallow gasps at first.

Isabeau doesn’t stop though. He keeps breathing. In and out. He squeezes Siffrin’s hand with each breath.

In. Siffrin closes his eye and inhales. It’s smoother now. He can hear Mirabelle joining in.

Out. He squeezes Isabeau’s hand back.

In. The burning starts to fade.

Out. They can focus on their surroundings more. On the tug of Mirabelle’s fingers in their hair. On the gentle tremble of Isabeau’s hand. On the sounds of their unified breathing.

The echo of their cruel words gets fainter each time, but still crowd the margins of their consciousness.

One more breath.

They slowly open their eye. Isabeau is smiling gently at him.

“Mmmsorry,” Siffrin mumbles.

“It’s okay,” Isabeau assures and Mirabelle hums in agreement.

“I just—” Not again. The tension begins to creep back.

Just say it. It’s no worse than what you’ve already talked about.

"Why'd it... why’d it have to be this time?" they mumble.

"What do you mean?" Isabeau tilts his head.

Another deep breath. "Why'd this loop have to be the one we broke out of? Why this, and not one where I did everything right and you all..." He kicks at the side of the tub, “loved me?"

Isabeau winces. "We do love you now, Sif." They can feel the pain in his voice.

"But I hurt you all so much!”

“Not enough to stop us from loving you.” He squeezes their hand. “Not even close.”

Siffrin’s throat tightens. He paws at the water and watches the bubbles swirl around.

Mirabelle pulls at their hair. "Siffrin, everyone has bad days. People say cruel things they don't really mean to their friends."

Isabeau nods. "Yeah, you just happened to have a really, really long string of really, really bad days. So you only snapping at us now is pretty... urhm... impressive."

Siffrin pops a bubble.

"We really mean it when we say we forgive you, Siffrin." She gives their hair another gentle tug. "And we'll keep reminding you every time we need to."

"But... " They sink against the side. "You said you'll have time to be mad later. So how are you forgiving me so soon?"

Siffrin could sense Mirabelle frowning. "I can forgive you even if I'm still mad! O-or hurt! Just like I can be mad at you and still love you!"

Isabeau nods. "People are just full of conflicting emotions, and it's pretty normal to feel ones that are at odds." He rubs a thumb over Siffrin's scarred knuckles.

"I guess." They pick at a small scab on their forearm until Isabeau puts his other hand over it.

He leans closer. "The important thing is that you're doing what you can to fix it and keep it from happening again."

"What if it does happen again?" They mumble and sink a little further.

"You try harder next time.” He slides his hand up their arm. “And keep trying."

Siffrin mumbles under their breath. "How many times can I mess up before you all hate me?"

Isabeau squeezes their hand. "There's nothing you will do that'll make us hate you. Maybe get mad, or upset—"

"Or worried!" Mira added, picking at her nails.

"Or worried. But we could never hate you. Never. I promise!"

"Siffrin, you know you're such a genuinely good friend, right? We trust that you'll never try to hurt us on purpose. And... we... " She twists a lock of Siffrin's hair around her finger. "You have to trust us to all work things out together if you make a mistake!"

"Yeah!" Isabeau smiles. "You have to trust us too, Sif."

"I do!" Siffrin bolts upright, splashing water over the two of them. "Sorry!"

"Sif! It's okay, it's just water."

Siffrin whines.

Mirabelle pulls his hair and makes them lean back against the tub. They groan softly and move to cover their mouth, but they stop halfway. No point.

"Hehe! Now that we know you like touch, we're gonna make you relax and be nice to yourself! Oh, I mean if that's okay with you! I mean if that's too much it's fine, but we want you to be happy!"

"You make cute noises, Sif," Isabeau blurts out.

"What?"

"What!? Sorry, that just came out!" He covers his mouth. "Mira is right! We're gonna make you care for yourself and be nice and stuff! But only in ways you're comfortable with of course!" His grip tightens and he scratches the back of his head.

The way his cheeks darken and eyes dart around the room is... 

Cute.

"I'm happy to uh... " They sink until their mouth is just above the water. Their knees come up and they pull them closer. "Make more cute noises later, maybe. If it means you'll uh... play with my hair... too."

Isabeau's body jolts and he nearly crushes Siffrin's hand. Mirabelle bites her lip to (poorly) hold back a long 'awwwww'.

"Hahhaha! Yeah, that sounds great! I'll give you a full body massage and everything, I mean if that's what you're okay with obviously I know I've said it before but I just want to make sure you know I'm not gonna do anything too soon or make you uncomfortable I know you said you'll think about it and stuff so it can be a totally platonic massage or none at all but I just want you to know I'm here to make you feel better in whatever way I can!" When he stops he has to catch his breath.

Siffrin holds back a laugh. Isabeau's grip is still rock solid and their hand is beginning to hurt. "Isa," He tries to flex his fingers.

"Oh, oh Sif I'm sorry!" he cries, releasing his grip. Siffrin turns their hand around and makes a fist a few times. The pain fades quickly and they re-link their hand with his.

Isabeau coughs out a laugh. "S-see!? See this is what I mean where you can feel many emotions. Your hand can hurt from my sweaty rock grip but you still love me!" His eyes widen. "R-right?"

Siffrin bites back a snort. Isabeau tugs at his hair. "No, of course not," they say, sticking their tongue out. "Hand hurty is my limit!"

"Nooooooooooooo!" Isabeau cries out and leans back to press the back of his hand to his forehead. "Not the—ACK" The small stool slips out from under him and he goes crashing to the floor, dragging Siffrin out with him. They land hard on top of him and they both wheeze. Soap-suds splatter across Isabeau's face.

Mirabelle jumps up, nearly toppling over as well but only manages to grab the towel bar at the last second.

"Owwie," Siffrin grunts.

"Sif holy crab! I didn't mean to do that I'm so sorry!" Isabeau sounds on the verge of tears. Immediately his hands are on their shoulders and Mira is behind them a second later. It’s cold, it hurts, and they might have soap in their eye but... Isabeau’s warm. They almost don’t want to get up, but before they can even finish the thought Isabeau and Mirabelle are both helping him to his feet. They stumble a bit; their legs are still weak from the shock, but they manage to get their footing. Mira pulls her hands back but Isabeau keeps his grip solid as Siffrin steps back into the water.

Ahh, warm again.

“I am so sorry, Sif. I didn’t mean to keep holding on!” he whines. “... Or to fall in the first place.” He finally lets go of Siffrin only to bury his face in his soapy, wet hands. He groans loudly.

"Isa, it's okay!" They wince and put their hand to a reopened wound but don't stop laughing even as Mirabelle frantically works to close it back up.

More or less okay.

As she finishes and wipes her arm on her brow with a long sigh, Siffrin begins to giggle.

"Ribs hurty too," they wheeze through a bout of laughter.

The muffled sound of stomping catches their attention.

"FRIN! ZA! BELLE! ARE YOU OKAY IN THERE!?"

"Are you being too rough with them Isabeau?" They swear they can hear the smirk in Odile's voice. "In front of Mirabelle, too?"

Isabeau makes a choked sound and turns to the door. "N-no! We aren't doing anything like that!" He whines as Siffrin's laughing grows ever louder. "It's fine!"

Oh stars, it hurts, it hurts so much but they can't stop.

Oh no, you're being weird again. Stop it!

They crack a glance at Mira and Isabeau. They're... 

Trying not to laugh, too?

Isabeau snorts into his hand and joins in, Mira soon after.

He feels tears welling in his eye. He can see them in Isabeau's, too.

"HEY, WHAT'S SO FUNNY" Bonnie yells and smacks their hands against the door. "DID FRIN MAKE A DUMB CRABBING PUN AGAIN?"

Quick, think of one!

"Oh, it's—" Siffrin wheezes. "Uhhh... "

"It appears Sif has really fallen for me!" Isabeau says through giggles.

"BAD! YUCK! THAT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY YOU GUYS BETTER NOT START BEING GROSS ALL THE TIME!"

"Boniface, you're going to burn dinner."

"OH CRAB!" There's a sound of rapidly retreating stomps and then silence.

"Hahha—oww." Siffrin grips their sides again.

"Siffrin, be careful." Mirabelle holds out her hands but stops. Her genuine concern is broken by giggles she can't quite bite back.

They wave a hand at her before wiping his eye. "It's fine." They cough. "I actually feel... better, now." His gaze lands on Isabeau, who’s looking away with a crooked smile and a burning blush.

...Huh?

Isabeau’s shoulders still shake from barely contained laughter. His chest is covered in soap suds, and he is digging his fingers into his wrist.

"Oh, um... Siffrin... " Mirabelle picks something up off the floor and hands it to him.

The washcloth.

"OH!"

Siffrin nearly splashes half the water out of the tub slapping it back over their groin. He pulls his knees back to his chest and winces at the strain.

"Ow."

"Be careful, Sif!" Isabeau does a quick double-take before looking at them again.

Siffrin holds their hand out to him and he takes it. They sway them from side to side.

Mirabelle lets out a small whine. "Madame Odile is probably going to be at our throats if we stretch out your recovery more like this!" She wrings her hands together, then places one on top of Isabeau's. "And I can't imagine how Nille will react if we take longer getting Bonnie back home because of... this!"

Siffrin coughs out a few more chuckles and sighs.

Actually... they think about the things Bonnie has said about Nille. About her suplexing a guy for touching her. About crafting a hammer so big it broke the wall she hung it on.

He fails to suppress a shudder at the thought of her giving him a whole new set of wounds. Despite them becoming unimaginably strong during the loops, they still wouldn’t want to cross an angry and protective sibling.

“Getting cold, Sif?”

They’re snapped back to the present. “Oh, yeah, a bit.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. The water was starting to lose its delightful heat.

"Do you want us to heat it up more or are you done?"

Siffrin mulls it over for a moment. "No, I probably need to lie down after all that," they chuckle.

Isabeau lets out a long whine. "Sif I'm still so sorry about that!"

"Isa," Siffrin squeezes his hand as hard as they can... which is admittedly not very hard with how exhausted he is. "I promise it's fine. I... really needed that laugh." They pull their other hand away from their knees and place it on top of their friends' hands.

"Also, uhm, Isa, " they look away as their face grows hot. "Can you, um... "

"Yeah, what's up Sif?" He leans closer.

"Can you rinse my hair for me?" He looks at Mirabelle. "Oh, i-it's not that you did a bad job at washing my hair or anything! It felt great!"

"I get it, Siffrin," she chuckles. "You did promise him you'd let him help too."

"Wait, I did?"

"No, but you should have!" Isabeau teases in mock offense.

Siffrin pouts. "Well you get to anyway, so here!" He pushes a cup into Isabeau's hands.

"Gasp! You have bestowed upon me the sacred goblet with which I will complete my holy task." He holds it gingerly in his hands and bows to them.

“Of course, my loyal knight.” Siffrin bows back. “There are not many I trust to handle such an arduous task!”

“Did you really have to say ‘gasp’ out loud, Isabeau?” Mirabelle shakes her head with a sigh and a barely restrained smile.

“I sure did!” he hums with a wide smile as he squeezes the suds from Siffrin’s hair.

They take another washcloth to their arms and start scrubbing, smiling.

"Do you want me to get your back, Siffrin?" Mirabelle asks.

"Please," he sighs.

She hums and begins with their shoulders. She rubs gentle circles down his back and is oh-so careful to avoid any visible wounds. Isabeau holds his palm against Siffrin's brow as he pours water over their head. They almost fall asleep right then and there as they’re cared for with such gentleness.

Having so many hands on them felt so... 

Nice.

Much harder to get distracted with dark thoughts with so much going on.

Yet it was getting to the verge of overstimulating. Especially each time he passes his washcloth over the not-fully-healed wounds speckling his arms.

But it's okay. They've waited so long for this. Nothing's perfect, after all.

They move to their chest, then to their legs. He's able to scrub a bit harder now—only old wounds and a few bruises there. He’s definitely working faster than the others. He almost wants to have them help with that too but he doesn’t quite think he’s ready yet.

"Thank you," they breathe.

"Of course," Mirabelle and Isabeau both hum in response.

Just about done. Siffrin finds the stopper with his toe and pops it out.

Isabeau squeezes the water from their hair and they let out another involuntary sigh in response.

They start to stretch their legs as the water drains, remembering at the last moment to slap the washcloth back over their crotch. They suppose Isabeau wouldn't mind seeing what they have but they couldn't subject Mirabelle to the horrors.

"Do you want me to dry your hair too?" Isabeau asks quietly.

"Don't get greedy, Isabeau!" Mira teases with a gentle shove to his soapy shoulder. She makes a face and rinses her hand off in the nearly-drained water.

"Whaaat! I just want to be helpful to our little rogue!"

Siffrin tries to reach for their hat to cover their blush but, once again, grabs empty air.

"I can dry their hair and you can brush it, how about that? Er—" he turns to Siffrin. "If you’re okay with it!"

Siffrin nods stiffly while biting their lip. They shudder from the exposure and Isabeau rushes to grab towels. He drapes one over their shoulders and gets to work on their hair.

"Oh, we should probably get you a change of clothes." Mirabelle eyes the tattered and bloody pile in the corner. She opens the door to find all three sets of their sleeping clothes neatly folded right outside.

"Aww, thank you, Madame!"

"Are you DONE NOW?" Bonnie groans. “Dinner's been done since forever and it's gonna get cold!"

"It hasn't even been ten minutes, Boniface." Odile sighs.

"FOREVER!"

Mirabelle giggles and struggles to close the door with her arms full of clothing.

Isabeau holds his hand out for Siffrin to grab onto and slowly helps them to their feet. Steam wafts off from their shaking legs. They hang on tighter and step out, but don’t let go of Isabeau for another moment.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

“Yeah.” They nod. They let go but hover their hands over his forearm for a moment until they can calm the shaking of their legs enough. He towels himself off and slips into his soft, clean night clothes while Mirabelle and Isabeau switch into theirs. It’s barely a second after they finish before Isabeau is back to drying their hair.

Their knees grow weak and they lean against him.

"Whoa, Sif. Let's get you to bed. We can eat there too."

Siffrin stumbles upright and nods. "Sounds good. I uh... think I could sleep for a year."

"Hah, I think we all could." He takes Siffrin by the shoulders and guides them over to the bed. He flops down halfway on it and both Isabeau and Mirabelle have to maneuver his limp noodle of a body into a more comfortable position. They wrap him up in many blankets and settle in on either side of him. Bonnie and Odile arrive soon after with plates piled high with food.

Siffrin smiles and leans his head against Isabeau’s chest.

Warm.

[burningcheese-merchant]

Sorry for deviating from the current Topic (and from the theme of the blog) but do you have any Shadowvanilla/Pureshadow hcs or ideas? They're my favorite Beat x Ancient pair and your mind makes tasty food

One more ask before I log off and go do my damn work like I'm supposed to lol

Don't apologize, I really don't mind questions about stuff besides Evil Spice Man x Pretty Cheese Lady 😅 I enjoy quite a few ships within these games, PureShadow included. They're actually my #2 Beast x Ancient pair! #3 is split between MysticCacao and SilentLily, with the latter having an edge over the former. I'd probably have a more concrete enjoyment of HollySugar if I had an idea of what Eternal Sugar is actually like (which is hypocritical of me since we don't know Silent Salt either but whatever leave me alone), and also if I didn't love HollyCacao so much (they were actually my #1 straight ship before BurningCheese completely destroyed my life. It's also what keeps MysticCacao lower down the totem pole, as well. I love Dark, Depressed Person x Ray of Sunshine pairs, same thing with AbyssEel)

Blue Discount Bill Cipher x Cookie Jesus, here we gooooooo

I imagine that Shadow would be quite touchy, and likely rather silly and dramatic in how he satisfies his want/need for touch. He'll pinch Vanilla's cheeks. He'll hug Vanilla tight, from any and all sides (and he will try to sneak up and hug him by surprise if he can, because he thinks startling Vani is funny). He'll fiddle with Vanilla's hair. He'll also try to have Vanilla touch him, in turn; like grabbing Vanilla's hands and placing them on his waist, or looping Vanilla's arms around his neck. Just a touch-starved clown goblin thing (but Vani thinks it's cute, so it's ok)

Many, many mind games - but not necessarily the sort designed to torment, the ones legitimately meant to challenge and sharpen one's wit. Shadow gives Vanilla riddles and waits to see when and how he'll solve them (when, not if, because Vani actually is smart and Shadow loves it). They compete to see who can complete a crossword first (extremely large and highest difficulty possible). Games of chess that last all day, with that day ending with an equal amount of victories and losses on both sides. Above all else - and there's a lot, don't you worry - Shadow loves Vanilla's mind. His know-how, his mental fortitude. He considers Vanilla his only intellectual equal. He likes to put Vanilla's mind under pressure just to see how Vanilla will perform. And Vanilla never disappoints.

Vanilla knows Shadow well enough soon enough to know when Shadow is lying, even without the Light of Truth aiding his perception in any way. Shadow has tells, however subtle and controlled they are - and Vanilla comes to know them well, to the point that Shadow well and truly cannot fool him no matter what trick he pulls. (But it's fine; Shadow actually enjoys the frustration that comes with not being able to fool Vani anymore. It only pushes him to practice lying better. To perfect his craft. Vani is doing him a favor, in a way. He'll trick him again one of these days)

Lots of pet names and terms of endearment from Shadow to Vanilla, of varying degrees of silliness (but all equally sincere). Above all else, he's "Vani" and "Silly-Vanilly", but he's also the sun to Shadow's moon, the angel to Shadow's devil, the butter on his biscuit, the award to his stageplay, the wind beneath his wings, the hand rocking his cradle (lol wtf), the kindling to his wildfire, his cutie, his darling, his muse (Shadow calls him this a lot, too). He says it all with all the grinning confidence an unapologetically flirtatious clown can muster... Until Vani calls him "dear", then he immediately melts into a puddle of blue goo lol

Though he insists that he's found joy and peace in the present, Vanilla does miss his old kingdom - and Shadow knows it, because he likes to waltz in and make himself at home in Vani's thoughts and dreams a lot lol. In a rare moment of genuine sympathy (because Shadow does care about him, he might be a menace, and he might have an... interesting way of showing it, but he does love and adore his Vani), Shadow will sometimes try to manipulate his dreams into ones about the kingdom. About that idyllic past that he misses so much. He'll try to draw from what he can see of Vanilla's memories (which isn't much, admittedly; Vanilla's mind is surprisingly guarded) and use those to paint him pretty pictures of people and places that don't exist anymore. He doesn't actually know if it helps, Vani won't really say anything about it (or if he even notices it's Shadow doing it), but... he tries anyway, because being sad when someone else is sad is a garbage feeling and he wants it gone. And he wants Vani to smile. Vani has a nice smile. The prettiest smile he ever did see...

Shadow is actually fun and interesting to talk to, if you manage to undo all the webs of lies and half-truths and ploys for attention cocooning his stupid ass. And Vanilla puts in the effort, out of a genuine want to get to know Shadow - the real one, not whatever mask Shadow puts on for every situation. Shadow never says so, but... he appreciates it. It's rather touching. No one's done that in a long, long time... (Not that Shadow likes to talk about that, or his past at all, even with Vani's gentle insistence)

Shadow will not leave Vanilla alone ever lol. Whether in his mind or in person. Shadow is clingy and an attention-seeker, and he craves Vanilla's attention above all others'. Vanilla doesn't mind, he likes spending time with Shadow, but he does worry about how healthy it is to only want one person in your life and tries to encourage him to also spend time with others (to varying degrees of success)

Shadow is probably into bondage and Vani probably indulges him occasionally, provided he remembers their safe word and still respects Vani's boundaries in general

[gatorbites-imagines]

I actually caught you when your asks are open this is spectacular

I know you write for Plastic Man, but I don't know about Negative Man? Larry Trainor, comics or show. So you can do this with either one you want.

Male reader who's similar to the invisible man – Not criminal, maybe backstory, but at least was a scientist who turned himslef invisible but a tad more realistic, blind but in the more Matt Murdock way, or just blind, I don't mind either. Hcs or anything else of any kind, but hcs would probably be easier.

I alao don't mind if it's ftm reader or the explicitly of it!! So sorry if this is all over the place. I didn't want it to be long😞

Lawrence “Larry” Trainor x Male reader

Headcanons

I don’t actually know a lot about Larry, so this is based off the wiki. The reader is also somewhat based off the 1933 movie The Invisible Man but with my own spin, since I wasn’t sure what else you might have been referring too, hehe. I hope my lack of knowledge still makes this good to read.

I got major Morticia and Gomez vibes from these two as i wrote.

You were no superhero, nor were you a villain. You were just a man who flew too close to the sun and got burnt on the way to discovery. The sun had so much to give, something you knew so many years ago before Superman appeared, and you learned his power source was the sun.

You barely kept track of when you were born nowadays, there was no need too. From what little you could gather, you didn’t age, you didn’t hunger or thirst, you didn’t even need to sleep. But you knew you had been around before radioactivity was discovered.

You had been around before the major superheroes became a thing, it wasn’t something that interested you a lot. There were a couple you knew, like Alan Scott, and Jay Garrick, you had even met wonder woman once or twice. But you were no hero.

So, it was no shocker that you didn’t know about this so-called doom patrol. How would you. Its not like you owned a tv, and you didn’t care much for the news stations on the radio nowadays. It was all ads and dramatic sound effects.

You were never sure what to call yourself. Alan used to call you a scientist, and Jay did too even though he hadn’t visited in a long time, at least it felt like a long time. But you had heard he got married and had kids, so of course that was more important. You still sent them both holiday cards though.

As a scientist you had studied radioactivity before it was discovered by anyone else. You had always had a habit of being consumed by your work, so when you climbed out of your pit of research, someone else had already claimed the discovery.

It didn’t matter though, as what interested you was the sun and the power you just knew it stored. Of course, it didn’t end well. Going invisible, blind, deaf, and losing pretty much every other sense hadn’t been on your list of predictions. But that’s what happened.

You could still see, hear, smell, and so on… in your own way. It was impossible to explain, but you didn’t truly exist the same way everyone else seemed to do. The radioactivity from the sun had given you other powers too.

But those powers weren’t used a lot. Why would you need to fly, or phase through things, or channel the power of the sun to blast somebody. You were anti-military and anti-government, that’s why they never supported your research and buried your existence from the history books, so you weren’t gonna fight.

When you finally learned about this so-called doom patrol you almost felt a little bashful, or could you say miffed? It was like one of them had stolen your entire look. Well, most of it anyways.

You were both wrapped from head to toe in bandages, though his seemed much thicker and sturdier than yours, like they were inlaid with something. And his clothing were more modern, and looked more practical.

What could you say, you were a sucker for the fashion you grew up with. So, what if your clothing, furniture and everything about you screamed Victorian era. Some of the younglings Jay brought along when he visited said you looked very “antique” and that “old stuff is in”.

You also didn’t wear shades like Mr. negative, Larry, you later learned, did. You were blind as a bat and had no physical eyes anyways, so why wear shades in the first place?

It was hard to explain how your body worked, it had the form of a human when you wrapped it, but it also… didn’t exist. You always just blamed it on the undiscovered art of radioactivity and science so advanced the world hadn’t gotten there yet.

It did look slightly entertaining to see you in your Victorian era dressing robe, in a pair of your best slippers with a glass of brandy you couldn’t really taste, beside Larry, who had very clearly seen better days.

Both being wrapped in bandages created a kind of comradery between you two in the beginning. Lary had thought maybe you were like him, especially when you explained how you got where you were, since his accident was based around radioactivity too.

Only for you to shock him, but unwrapping your head and revealing… nothing. Literally nothing. You even grabbed his hand and brought it to where your head would be, only for it to pass through it like nothing.

Your body seemed present when you wrapped it, a phenomenon you were still studying to this day. Right now, your results were pointing in the direction of it being mental, but who truly knew at the end of the day.

Larry hadn’t been willing to remove his own bandages for very obvious reasons, no matter how many times you told him it wouldn’t hurt you, and that it wouldn’t matter. You were raised too well to make any demands.

Instead, you pulled out your very old photo album and walked him through your family, happily pointing out pictures of yourself and how you looked, only scowling a little as he laughed at your hairstyle and outfits of the time.

In the end you touched him by accident. There was some accident in your lab that tore some of the bandages on his hand, and without a second thought you took his hand and wrapped it again. Obviously, nothing happened to you, you didn’t have a body that could be hurt, but it was still a shock for Larry.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Larry was as touch starved as he was. Not having any human contact for so long would drive anybody mad, except you that is, but you also were convinced that that was some mental result of your accident.

So, you didn’t turn him away when Larry would start appearing in your giant Victorian era mansion, far out in the mountains, so far away from anything that whatever radioactivity you worked on wouldn’t reach.

You also didn’t mind that Larry started searching you out for contact. He started small, just sitting closer to you as you had tea together, where it evolved to sitting up against you as you went through your papers, to Larry going as far as laying his bandaged head in your lap as you read aloud from one of your many books.

Larry was so sweet, in his own hesitant way. He even let you study how his own powers worked, but to no surprise you two didn’t reach a certain result, but neither of you had expected that.

Hell, Larry even got more comfortable going around in public, as you would hook your arms together and almost strut along, as if the wide eyed and sometimes hateful stares didn’t touch you.

That was also how you finally met the justice league. The only one that interested you was Superman, and he wouldn’t let you study him as much as you wanted. Your extreme studies of the sun at least caught Batman’s interest, enough for you two to have very long difficult conversations about science. You later learned you reminded him of his butler, which you took as a compliment since he was spoken so highly of.

The doom patrol wasn’t your favorite, you didn’t trust that Chief guy, and rightfully so. But who were you to tell Larry who he could and couldn’t forgive, you just made it very clear you weren’t gonna help that guy.

In the end, the relationship you two shared was strange, but soft in ways that was hard to put into words. Your first kiss took months to happen, as you didn’t have lips when you unwrapped your bandages, and Larry needed so long to grow comfortable to pull his off.

Holding hands, or tapping your foot against each other’s became how you expressed love. That, or giving gifts. You made place in your giant mansion for his many gifts, wanting to show them all off.

And Larry? Larry got a whole new wardrobe as well as many other trinkets he might need. You even dove head first into the tools and armor market, wanting to give Larry something to keep him safe. You couldn’t have cared less about the rest of his team, they weren’t really your friends, just Larry.

Those items might have gotten your usual Victorian flare to them too, even if they were sleek and modern in their abilities and storage. It was a bit like your way of marking Larry as yours.

It was still difficult for Larry to feel safe without his bandages in your mansion, not just because of how dangerous it was, but also because he found himself so hideous. You didn’t find him ugly, not at all. You also knew it would take Larry a long time to believe you, so you didn’t force him to accept it, just left the opportunity open.

You two made a strange but surprisingly strong couple, when you finally visited the outside world. Those few times were either to have tea with Batman’s very smart butler, or to blast somebody with the power of the sun for hurting your dear love. No matter what though, you always left an impression, not that you cared. All you cared about was leaving one with Larry.

[bumblesimagines]

i'm going to scream.

did you two have a nice chat?

are we really doing this now?

Kiara Carrera

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: None!

Tell a friend to tell a friend... I'm backkkkkk

"I'm going to scream."

Sarah huffed out a chuckle, brown eyes peeking over the magazine in hand to eye her friend as Kiara made her way over to the counter. The scowl on her face spoke volumes and Sarah only had to peer at the dock to locate the source of Kiara's irritation. There, standing on the dock by one of the boats, stood (Y/N) and a vaguely familiar girl. Everything about the girl's body language screamed flirtatious but (Y/N) either remained oblivious or ignored it in favor of continuing the conversation. 

"You know her?" Sarah asked, leaning back in her chair and resting the magazine on her chest to focus her full attention on Kiara as the brunette aggressively tidied up the area around their register. Kiara gave a hearty scoff, her eyes rolling so hard Sarah wondered if it hurt before she rounded the counter to stand beside her. 

"Of course, I do." Kiara groaned. "Back when (Y/N) and I still worked together, she'd come in almost every day just to talk to him. Mom thought it was so cute and romantic but it was just a pain in the ass! And now she's popping over here too? She doesn't even fish! Nobody in her family fishes! Her dad owns a convenience store!" 

Sarah snorted and quickly clamped her teeth into her lip to avoid the snickers from flowing out. Kiara shook her head, her brows tightly knitted and her lips pulled taut into a frown. It'd been amusing for the pogues (borderline became entertainment at one point) to watch the fierce rivalry between Kiara and (Y/N) take an abrupt turn into obvious feelings. Sarah lost count of the number of times she teased Kiara over it, cooing in her ear until Kiara swatted at her with burning cheeks while JJ and John B egged (Y/N) on. It'd only taken a devious plan from Cleo to finally push Kiara into confessing. 

The wooden floorboards creaked beneath new weight, drawing their attention onto (Y/N) as he stepped into their little shop, his smile immediately greeting them only to falter when he took in his girlfriend's expression. Sarah rose from her chair, carefully and slowly closing the magazine as Kiara folded her arms over her chest and arched a challenging brow.

"Did you two have a nice chat?" Straight to the point with a sharp tone, typical Kie. Kiara had never been one to sugarcoat things, much less beat around the bush when something bothered her. It'd been one of the many traits they all loved about her. "It's crazy how she came in here asking about so much and then left with- how much exactly, Sarah?" 

"Uh," Sarah cleared her throat and lifted her chin. "Nothing."

"Yeah, nothing."

(Y/N) stared at them, the confusion on his face melting away into a bemused quirk of his lips. "Are we really doing this now? Like, right now, in front of Sarah and whoever else stops by?" His brows lifted, only offering a soft scoff when Kiara jutted her hip out and placed her hand over it. "You're unbelievable, Kiara. Don't you ever get tired of being annoying?"

"Don't you ever get tired of pissing me off?"

"It's part of my charm, babe. It's why you love me." 

In an instant, all the fiery emotions that accumulated vanished, leaving behind a flustered smile and a half-hearted eye-roll. "Yeah, well," She cleared her throat. "You can use that charm and help me tend to the register where I can keep an eye on you."

Quirking a brow, Sarah glanced between the two of them. "You guys have a weird way of flirting."