#this is mostly bc a) i’ve been meaning to write this for like six months lmao it’s so funny

[possibilistfanfiction]

nightmare for the one word prompts

[a little sad but mostly very silly, butch bea universe]

//

'i really don't have to go today,' beatrice says, kissing your forehead before settling down next to you on the couch. you know she means it: beatrice means everything she says, first of all, and you have grown — despite your brain's best efforts to steer you otherwise — to trust her when she offers care. you take her in: her fresh haircut that she gets done every month now, usually neatly parted on the top, messy from sleep; her tender wrists; the soft skin of her thighs; the soft sweater you bought her last christmas, sleeves pulled down over her hands, which are always cold.

you sigh. you had had nightmares — more than one, which is rare this many years later, after the worst of it — and woken up with scars that you don't think about too often, or at least with too much pain or sorrow anymore, aching all over your body. your legs had been pins and needles — worse, you've discovered, than feeling nothing some days — and your spine had ached, the halo feeling your sorrow, sharing in it. beatrice had skipped her typical surf session this morning, partially because she'd woken up with you both times last night, and partially because she's worried. she doesn't try to hide it anymore, her concern written all over her gentle face, in her sweet eyes, her soft hands. you find it nestled along all the small things she did for you in the past two hours: bringing you pain meds along with an easy breakfast of scrambled eggs and your favorite rosemary sourdough toast, doing a few snuffles with korra's morning unkibble so she's calm and ready to work today for whatever you need, helping you, after your glum nod, transfer from bed to your chair. you twist the wedding band around on your finger, focus on the few freckles that sit on the tops of her hands because of her time in the sun. your life is real, you remind yourself. your time on the other side, every endless day you spent in hell, was worth it for this, for beatrice quietly and patiently sitting next to you, soft and always becoming more herself; for your family visiting at the end of the week, camila begging to go to universal studios, lilith grumbling but giving in; for the respect people owe you now, and ready give; for your dog and your bar and the edibles you share with beatrice some nights, easy with laughter, and the farofa you feel confident in making for dinner when your friends come over, a warm offering.

'no,' you decide on, firmly, and you know beatrice will trust you. 'we should go. it'll be fun.'

'it will be fun,' she says, the same gleam in her eye you remember from years ago when she was ready to "maim or kill" (lilith's words) anyone who was in the way of her and the mission, especially once you became involved.

'you remember this is, like, your weekly tennis match for fun, right?'

'of course, ava.'

the way she cracks her knuckles tells you that the for fun is lost on her for the most part. it's endlessly amusing to you, though, and quite harmless — although maybe not to her opponent's pride — so you don't bother to argue any further. 'okay, well, i think angela and ruth wanted to have lunch anyway today after their jazzercise class, so we can watch you play.'

'no catcalling.'

you pout. 'you're my wife.'

'not from you, not from ruth or angela.'

'they're old, bea. let them have some fun.'

'at my expense? no thank you. i need to focus while i compete.'

she's already sitting up straighter, eyes lively. she's playing david today, you think, if you remember the club's "adult intermediate to advanced tennis league" rotation correctly. he's a decent player, and their head to head record is relatively even. he's also a bit of an asshole, and a venture capitalist, so it stands to reason beatrice despises him.

'fine.' you squeeze her hand. 'but can you change your shirt between sets?'

'ava.'

'gratuitously towel off or something at least.'

'ava.'

'whatever,' you say. 'i'm wearing a bikini. at least ruth and angela will appreciate it.'

'oh, i'll appreciate it,' she says, and then laughs softly and leans over to kiss you.

/

everything about beatrice, you decided years ago, is endearing. can she kill a man in, like, one second using just her hand? yes, sure, but you've seen her very skillfully practice her forms every morning for years, barring injury, and frown when anything is off, even by a breath. most people find her precision in all things kind of terrifying, but you've learned that some of it is a trauma response — from her childhood, from being a soldier, from losing you — and some of it is really just how she is. her books sorted exactly how she wants them — by genre, subgenre, and then author's last name — on the bookshelf; the meticulously labeled spices in your pantry, always in both their language of origin and english; her surfboards waxed perfectly and neatly stored in the small shed in your yard. everything about her precision is endearing because you understand her and you love her, and maybe the most endearing, or at least you think some days, is the way she treats rec league club tennis.

no matter how many times you've jokingly reminded her that your club isn't wimbeldon, she likes to wear all white little outfits; men's shorts and, your favorite, a neat polo. in the summer, she favors tanks, which you are not complaining about. she has three racquets and a very impressive bag like all the pros carry onto the court, special towels, pristine sneakers, and, when you're most amused, a wristband she very sincerely wipes her sweaty forehead on. since you'd met she'd loved watching tennis, and she'd taught you — as patiently as she has always taught you anything — the rules, her favorite players (not that it was, like, hard to think serena williams was the best athlete ever), common terms to know. you'd gone out with her a few times to the courts and she'd shown you proper form; you'd found out, eventually from her, that her dream as a little kid was to be a tennis pro, which was so charming and a little unexpected. you had thought she would've wanted to be some kind of scientist, maybe a really good lawyer, but her brother had dug out some pictures of little beatrice in her tennis getup, her expression so, so serious for a nine year old, and you'd fallen in love all over again.

she listens to her "pump-up music" — a lot of pop, surprisingly — as she drives you both to the club, focused already in her tennis outfit, complete with a quarterzip warmup top and everything. you're endlessly amused by her, in a way that most people are too intimidated to be, and you think it's good for her, to feel human, to not be taken so seriously when she should get to just enjoy things. your pain meds are helping by the time you get to the club, the pins and needles down your legs leveling out, the halo shaking off some of its deep sorrow, the memories of torture and abject aloneness that sometimes show up in your dreams. today is bright and sunny, the bluest sky, and your friends wave to you once you get out to the tables near the tennis courts. beatrice says a quick hello and then bustles off to start her very precise warm up routine, and you all wait until she's out of earshot to share a fond laugh.

'david today?'

'i swear she was rewatching coco and iga's last match yesterday to prepare.'

ruth pats your hand and angela orders a charcuterie for the table, gets prosecco for ruth and herself and — they both know you well enough by now that your chair usually means you've had to take medication, which you don't mix with alcohol — a cranberry soda for you, your favorite.

david shows up a few minutes later as you're gossiping, angela gasping at ruth's latest escapades with her new boyfriend while you laugh delightedly. he's the kind of muscular dude that likes to run along the beach shirtless because he thinks it's impressive but really it just looks ridiculous, the kind of dude that would give unwanted pointers in the gym. you don't have a disdain for him like beatrice does, because he's never done anything abhorrent to you personally, but when you see her steely gaze as he goes to his bench on the court, you get it. and, also, it's hot, so, like, you shoot a quick thanks to david and his douchey backwards cap for that.

/

things go just about as you'd expected: beatrice plays with the amount of passion you'd see in a wimbeldon final, and angela and ruth relentlessly whistle and cheer and boo. the charcuterie has a new truffle havarti you're all in love with, and the bottle of prosecco gets split happily while you watch. it's a fairly even match — david hits harder than beatrice but is slower and definitely stupider — and she wins the first set 6 games to 4. she gets mad at him for serving too slowly, and they briefly have an argument over whether or not one of his backhands was in. it's all deeply ridiculous for an afternoon at in an amateur club league, but beatrice and her overhand serves get you every single time.

she's down a break in the second set when she hits a drop shot that has david falling over his own feet, and you know it's over then. the second bea realizes someone is truly out of sorts, in any scenario, she's already won.

they shake hands after the match is over, beatrice taking the second set much quicker than the first, and then she makes her way over to your table and sits, very satisfied, in the chair next to you, a towel around her neck.

'my champion,' you say, and she rolls her eyes, accepting the congratulatory beer angela had already ordered for her as the last game was winding down with a thankful nod.

'great match, beatrice,' ruth says, half-sincere, half-teasing, but beatrice smiles anyway. sometimes, things are not good; sometimes, on the worst days, even now, even still, even with all this love, you still remember what it was like to suffer alone — without feeling, with too much feeling — for so much of your life. but beatrice slips into her quarterzip next to you and you smell sweat and laundry detergent and the pomade she puts in her hair, you feel the sun warming along your back and you hear the small group of children starting their lesson, laughing brightly. beatrice holds your hand and you'll nap later; you'll order takeout from your favorite thai place and watch the sunset on your patio; you'll fall asleep in her arms. you'll wake up and do it all over again — the loneliness, the pain, the longing — just for this.

[pedgito]

i think we need a blurb of eddie with a tounge piercing bc that scenario and your writing skills combined would make a great story i believe (if you want ofc)

author’s note: i wrote this while violently ill, but the whore in me never quits and the idea of Eddie with a tongue piercing has me foaming at the mouth, so thank you for this.

cw: 18+ (minors dni), both reader and eddie have a tongue piercing, harmless coercing, established friendship, oral (f&m receiving), eddie is such a cute best friend to reader, kinda friends with benefits if you squint.

word count: 4.3k

Eddie’s fascinated when he sees it for the first time—a small peek at your mouth as your lips clasp over the straw of your drink. Eddie nearly chokes on the fry in his mouth, gathering strange looks from you and the rest of his friends. From the outside, he would’ve never expected it. It seemed like an odd first choice for a piercing, since you hadn’t a mere scratch on the outside, not even an ear piercing to suggest that you liked the idea of them, though even that was pretty tame. But a tongue piercing? Eddie couldn’t explain the visceral reaction is caused, it was something you picked up on secretly—stuffing that information for later.

He finds the courage a week later to say something, a momentary bathroom break from your weekly D&D game—everyone had left but you and Eddie. His hands are interlocked, settled close to his mouth, one foot propped up in the chair, forearm resting against his knee. He points, something you catch out of the corner of your eye, fiddling with the dice in your hands.

“When did you—“ Eddie motions to his mouth, almost scared to ask, like you were going to bite him if he did—which wasn’t off the table, but it was nice to watch him squirm, “—your tongue?”

“It’s been six months, Eddie,” You say flippantly, surprised he didn’t notice sooner, “—what—do you want to see it or something?”

Eddie shrugs nonchalantly, “I didn’t want to seem weird by asking—“

You drop the dice with a loud, jarring noise, turning fully for Eddie to see, parting your lips for your tongue to jut out, showing off the silver bar topped with a black jewel, a vibrant constant to the pale pink of your tongue. Eddie’s kind of mesmerized, if he’s being honest.

“Does it hurt?” Eddie asks curiously, hand tensing at his lap. You laugh slightly, tongue still hanging slightly out of your mouth.

“No,” You tell him honestly, “Do you—wanna feel it?”

There’s probably some underlying tension there, but neither of you address it. He doesn’t answer outright, but you can sense the curiosity.

Eddie reaches a tentative finger forward, shiny skull rink covering most of it, he curls it slightly, letting you guide his finger over the jewelry, pushing it around gently. It feels weird, ticklish, and you laugh, teeth grazing his finger.

“It doesn’t bother you?” Eddie asks, a small dismissive head shake from you in response.

“You get used to it,” You shrug and Eddie’s eyes narrow slightly, still mostly staring at your mouth instead of your eyes, like he usually does. “Just ask Eddie—I know you want to.”

Had the room been full of everyone else, he would’ve chickened out—but you’re expecting it, so he does ask.

“Does it—have you, like—“ It was an attempt, at least.”

“Gone down on someone?” You finish with a subtle pull at your lips, smiling at his embarrassment. Eddie’s seen you in plenty of questionable situations, and you him, so it really made no sense. “I didn’t take you for a perv—but yeah, I have.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at the comment, knowing you mean no harm in it, “I’ve just heard it feels—good, you know?”

“I wouldn’t know,” You laugh softly, “—I’ve never been on the receiving end, but from what I hear—it’s just a person to person basis.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

Eddie is the least subtle person you’ve ever met.

“You’re curious, aren’t you?” You ask teasingly, poking gently at his thigh.

Eddie doesn’t shift his leg away, practically leaning into the touch. “No—no, what the hell?” It’s all entirely unconvincing.

Your head tilts slightly, knees tucked up to your chest as you lean forward, “Eddie, do you want to find out?”

“Find out?”

“How good it feels—I can,” You motion toward his groin, his leg shifted strategically to angle away from you, “—if you’re really that intrigued.”

“That’s funny.” Eddie smiles impishly, nose scrunching at the movement. “Good one, sweetheart.”

Your face drops slightly, “I wasn’t joking, Eddie.”

You’ve never seen him pale so quickly, face stone cold and void of any emotion. But, there was a catch—one that would deem that certain experience he wanted impossible.

“But—I’m curious too,” You admit to him, “—so, I’ll do it under one condition.”

Eddie takes the bait, “Which is?”

“You have to get your tongue pierced too.”

Eddie’s life was made in haste decisions; this was no different.

Eddie brings up his decision a week later, your eyes widened and mouth slack as it hung open. Eddie laughed at your initial reaction, tipping your chin slightly to close your mouth.

“I wasn’t being serious, Eddie.” You say, chasing after him as he led the way to his van, “Eddie—what are you—“

He was your only ride home, so you had no choice but to follow. Eddie’s fingers loop around your wrist lightly, dragging you alongside him, his arm slung over your shoulder when he pulls you close enough.

“I already made the appointment, can’t back out now.” He admits, shrugging his unoccupied shoulder.

“You know—I get that being impulsive can be a good thing, but Eddie, I mean—I was just joking with you.”

Impulsivity was Eddie’s strong suit—if you were ever unsure or scared to do something, Eddie was always the first one to reaffirm you; he’d never let you try something you felt weird about without trying it himself first. He also liked to show up at your house on a whim, always bringing you random things that reminded him of you—a key chain with stars plastered against a night sky because you enjoyed midnight talks on the roof of his van, a little elf that resembled your D&D character (it turned into your permanent figurine during games), and even being as sweet as to visit you with snacks during a late night of homework—just because; Eddie didn’t participate in the homework part, but the snacks were definitely devoured equally.

“I mean—I’m surprised you didn’t notice for as long as we’ve been friends, I didn’t really try to hide it,” You explain, “I just don’t want you feeling pressure or obligated to do this because of some stupid joke I made.”

“Well, I don’t make it a point to stare at your mouth all the time,” Eddie confesses, unlocking his van and opening the passenger side door to let you in, ever the gentleman he was, “—honestly thought we were closer than that, sweetheart—it kinda hurts.”

You give him an annoyed look, eyebrow raised in testing, waiting to see if he’d push the guilt further. He doesn’t, fortunate for him.

“Besides—I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.” He shrugs before disappearing, showing up at the driver's side only seconds later, “And I need my moral support buddy.”

“You’re scared.” You deduce, the engine roaring to life, music blasting from the speaker like usual.

“Absolutely.” Eddie agrees, falling into his usual head bop to the gritty beat of whatever song was playing on the radio—and you’re almost sure he’s fucking with you until you pull into shop, doubling as both a tattoo and piercing place. You’ve never seen it before.

“It’s the same place I’ve been getting my tats for the past two years,” Eddie explains, he sees the weary look on your face, adding, “it’s safe, I swear.”

“I hope so,” You reply softly, “unless you feel like losing a tongue.”

Eddie chuckles, a slight head shake at your sudden inability to trust him, but there is no turning back now, not with Eddie barreling into the shop before you can try to change his mind, scrambling out of the van to chase after him.

The shop is loud and crass and overwhelming, to be polite, but it’s the type of environment Eddie thrives in—you follow behind closely and he senses your discomfort, slipping his fingers into your own to soothe the anxiety—it helps, but not by much.

And Eddie was as physical as physical could be, it was how he showed affection, care—it was his love language and his friendship language, along with the showering of gifts—but you had a sense that was only reserved for you. Dustin didn’t even rank that high, which was a hard relationship to beat. Eddie and him were like siblings—it was important to distinguish that dynamic was not familiar between you and Eddie, not by a long shot. Eddie always lingered on the idea of whether touching you in certain situations would be too overwhelming, come off as crude and misguided, so he tried to follow your lead—but hand holding, that was never off limits.

The process is quick, seemingly painless aside from the small noise the leaves Eddie’s throat as the clamp tightens against his tongue, but that’s the worst part—he barely even remembers the needle going through before the jewelry is slid in, a much long bar than your own to accommodate the swelling that would follow.

“You’re insane.” You comment, helping Eddie through his sudden head rush, squeezing your hand to keep him steady. He moves his tongue back into his mouth carefully, offering you a flashy smile. “I mean—completely fucking insane.”

You return the smile anyways—Eddie appreciated the push, even if it wasn’t initially serious; the idea had always intrigued him, but sticking to tattoos was his thing.

This way, he could still hide it if he wanted to—not that it would work against you; but there was that lingering promise and as much as you kept telling yourself it was a joke, you could help but think about Eddie between your thighs, piercing or not.

Eddie is nothing short of a whining baby the few days following, tongue swelling half its size and unable to snack on his usual food without the fear of accidentally biting his own tongue. It’s a lot of soothing on your end, assuring him that it would pass quicker than he would be able to notice.

“The mouth heals quickly,” You explain to him, throwing a stray M&M in his direction, “a few weeks and you’ll be fine.”

By the end of the initial healing, Eddie is already bugging you to help him switch the jewelry out; he picked out a fully blacked out pierce, bar and all—fitting, but now your fingers were rubbing against his tongue and you had forced yourself in his lap to keep him still—and oh, those were definitely his hands against your thighs, the heat of his breath hitting your fingertips as he tried to speak, not understanding a word he says.

“If you keep talking I’m gonna accidentally drop this down your throat,” You warn, untwisting the piercing to replace it with the new one, “—stop—stay still—here, just breathe through your nose.”

It was like trying to wrangle a toddler.

“Ha, there,” You say triumphantly, making sure the ball is safely screwed on before letting go, finger tapping the underside of his chin to close his mouth, “let’s see.”

Eddie sticks his tongue out, the flat expanse of it spilling over his chin—and if that wasn’t a sight to behold, you weren’t sure what was. If there was any inclination that you were turned on, Eddie didn’t sense it.

“We’re matching now,” You laugh softly, sticking your tongue out for him to take a glance at—Eddie pokes at the soft flesh of your tongue playfully before shoving you away from his lap, your legs falling lazily against the bed, laid out on your back as he turned to you, “so, what’s your consensus?”

Eddie makes a face, head pulling back slightly in confusion.

“Oh my god,” You mumble, forgetting that Eddie wasn’t the brightest person in the world and sometimes your vocabulary flew over his head, “what do you think of it? Was it worth it?”

Eddie nods thoughtfully, “Yeah—I do, it’s nice—why—why is that your only piercing?”

“It’s easy to hide.” You shrug, “I mostly just like the look of it—but you have to be careful about playing with it. It can chip your teeth.”

Almost by coincidence, Eddie had the bar pulled between his teeth, quickly letting go at the words, checking his teeth for damages—there weren’t any, but he’d never thought about that.

Eddie’s drumming his fingers against the blanket, pulling at the frayed threads of your cover that was much too old—he’s silent, contemplating. You reach over to calm his insistently moving fingers, hand wrapping around his own.

“What’s up?” You ask softly, his eyes pulling up slightly to look at you. There’s a small shake of his head, not bothering to answer you audibly. Your finger wraps gently around the chain of his necklace, pulling at the guitar key until he can’t ignore you.

“You never shut up around me,” You tease, his hand wrapping around your wrist to loosen your grip on his necklace, he’s leaned closer now, arms resting just by the side of your head as he hovers over, running the soft strands through his fingers, “what’s the problem?”

“We’ve been friends for a long time,” Eddie starts quietly, “and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable—“

“Eddie,” You laugh softly, “I was joking about that—you don’t need to feel obligated now that you have one too.”

Eddie shakes his head, face scrunched up in frustration.

“No—I, uh—can I kiss you?”

It’s not the first thing you’re extracting to hear, but you’re definitely not opposed to it—you’ve only ever kissed him one other time, in a weed induced high, the first time you ever smoked weed with him. He still remembers it, the soft noises you make when he pressed harder and harder, letting him press you into the mattress until your body felt like mush and your nose burned with the stench of weed.

You leaned onto your arm, meeting him halfway—he pulled back slightly, apprehensive that you might reject him—and it’s not that he would mind, but he wasn’t sure he could suffer the embarrassment of being turned away by his best friend after being so vulnerable with them.

“Is it because you’re curious about how it feels?” You ask, titling your head slightly to peer up at him, “Or because you just want to kiss me?”

Eddie chuckles, button lip pulled between his teeth as he chews, a horrible bad habit of his. “Both—I guess, but more of the second one.”

You nod gently, thumb nudging his lip from his mouth gently, your own chin tilting up to meet him. “Then quit wasting time and do it.”

He’s on you in seconds—slow, despite his eagerness, a soft gentle press of his lips as you both inhale, eyes falling shut for a moment, savoring in the feeling.

Eddie’s timid in a way, scared that you might change your mind—but that wasn’t even in your realm of choices, you give him a soft encouragement, hoping they soothes his worry.

“More,” You sigh, mouth opening up along with his, tongues bumping against each other teasingly, Eddie makes a small noise, leaning forward to drop his arm over your side, guiding the smooth expanse of your thigh up and over his waist, “—hmm,” You chide disapprovingly, “—more, Eddie.”

He really needed to stop holding back.

So he did, startling you by shifting your weight with ease, settling your legs on either side of his hips, his hands disappearing into the hair at the nape of your neck, guiding your mouth back toward his.

“What about your homework?” Eddie says against your lips, tongue peeking out to tease your top lip, him pulling away just as you lean in. There was a forgotten pile of books in your bed and you couldn’t care less about this right now. “I don’t want to distract you.”

“You distract me every time you’re around me, Eddie.” You admit with a soft laugh, reaching forward to seal your mouth over his, putting an end to his teasing.

Eddie flicks his tongue out testingly, metal clanking against metal as you returned the action, a small moan slipping from your lips as Eddie’s hands move toward your ass, squeezing until you’re moving to your knees, front pressed directly against him—it gave you height advantage, hand winding into his curls to pull softly, angling his head the way you wanted it.

“That feels weird,” Eddie chuckles lightly, tongue slipping out to lick against your own, a messy kiss full of spit and haste, a tension building between you two that had been there far too long, “—kinda like it though.”

You laugh breathlessly, head thrown back in relief as he trailed open mouthed kisses down your neck, the familiar tingle of cold pressing against your skin.

“Do you—do you still want to—“ Eddie nips lightly at the underside of your chin, distracting you far too much, “Eddie—hey—“

“Hmm?” Eddie hums, eyes peeking open to look at you, dark and mesmerizing as you stare back at him.

“You with me?” You ask curiously, receiving a subtle nod of his head. “Okay, good.”

Eddie pulls back further, admiring your flushed face, cheeks hot from exertion. “We don’t have to.” He assures you, but you two were in far too deep to back out now.

“Eddie—I made a promise,” You laugh, albeit it has always been a joke—Eddie followed through and it only seemed fair, “so—are you gonna let me suck your dick or not?”

Eddie can’t contain himself at your crassness, eyebrows disappearing behind his bangs in surprise—he didn’t think you had it in you, to ask, but you were constantly surprising him.

“I don’t even think you need to ask,” Eddie laughs slightly, “—hell yeah.”

“Just wanted to make sure.” You shrug, sliding gently off of his lap and onto the soft carpet of your floor. Eddie leans back, hands stuck out behind him, watching you work with his belt, metal clanking as you yanked the leather from its hold, opening it just enough to unbutton his jeans. Eddie aids you slightly as he wiggles his hips, allowing you to pull his jeans and underwear down in one go.

And you’d never thought about Eddie’s dick, not really—at least not how it looked, but perhaps it being inside you, that was a different story. He’s fully hard at this point, clearly affected by all the kissing that he didn’t need any extra help in that department, his cock leaning up toward his belly, small bead of precum leaking from the tip. Eddie adjusts his shirt slightly, pulling it higher up his chest, watching you watch him. It was entirely too fascinating to see him like this, already fucked out and you haven’t even got your mouth around him.

You grab his cock in your hand, the soft, warm flesh molding into your palm, giving him a few soft tugs, just testing his response—he closes his eyes, head leaned back. If he looked at you, this would be over in ten seconds, and he couldn’t have that.

You lean forward tentatively, taking the tip into your mouth teasingly, tongue flat against the flesh as you sucked gently. Eddie’s hands squeeze at his sides, the muscles in his stomach tightening before your eyes, you lean down further, hitting your tongue out of your mouth in show, hoping he would look—he does, barely, as you lick a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, earning a strangled groan from Eddie.

“Is it okay?” You ask softly, taking him fully into your mouth for a moment, bobbing your head at a slow rhythm.

“Never—never, uh—I’ve never—” Eddie says on shaky breath, wide eyes staring down at you, you pull back slowly, and Eddie would come right there, but he’s desperate trying to hold off.

“Is this the first time anyone’s ever given you a blowjob?” You ask in shock, “Eddie—you could’ve told me.”

“It’s embarrassing.” He laughs slightly, watching you lean back down to tease him, the flat of your tongue pressing against the underside of his cock, the cold sting of your piercing makes his cock twitch against your tongue—there’s no way he’s going to last as long as he hoped for.

“Not embarrassing,” You assure him, “would've been nice to know though—now I feel like I’m corrupting you.”

Eddie gives you an absurd look, knowing how ridiculous it sounds coming from you. You swallow him down quickly, earning a strained, “Fuck.” as his legs spread wider, giving you more room to move, your hand joining in alongside your mouth, and it’s all overwhelming—Eddie squeezing his eyes shut, panting through his quickly creeping high, moaning with every stroke of your mouth, the small tingle of the piercing against the underside of his cock was barely noticeable, but there—he wanted to spill himself over your tongue, your face, too ashamed to admit it out loud.

“Fuck—I’m close,” Eddie struggles to say, gently nudging your head away, a polite warning, but you can’t be bothered, “I’m gonna come—move, sweetheart.”

You shake your head fervently, guiding his own hand to his dick, letting your mouth fall open, tongue sliding against his tip gently—Eddie doesn’t need you to explain or assure him, tugging at himself in quick, hurried strokes. It doesn’t take long, a few more seconds and he’s spilling into your mouth, coming on a long, drawn out groan as you swallow—it really should feel as visceral as it does, but Eddie can’t help it. He’s never met anyone like you.

“Holy shit,” Eddie deduces when he finally gains his bearings, tucking himself back into his pants, “—that was—“

“Good, I hope.” You remark, wiping the side of your mouth. Eddie laughs softly, using his finger to wipe away the small bit of drill that had accumulated down your chin, and his touch lingers.

“As long as I can return the favor,” Eddie decides, thumb rubbing at your tender bottom lip, “or try to, at least.”

“You sure?” You ask hesitantly, still sitting on your knees below him. “We don’t have to.”

“There’s no fucking way you’re gonna give me head without allowing me to return the favor,” Eddie says with finality, a sudden urge to make himself clear, “that’s absurd.”

“Absurd?” You say teasingly, “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“I should warn you though—I’ve only done it one other time, so if it does suck—“

“I’ll help you.” You assure him, letting him pull at your arms until you’re toppling over him, his large hands spreading over your back, the cold bite of his rings digging into your skin.

“I got an idea, actually.” Eddie smiles, fumbling around with the button of your jeans, “Take your pants off.”

You strip quickly, letting Eddie assist you in the struggle of getting out of your clothes, panties going with—Eddie wants to stop, admire your body, but he’s almost too eager, hauling you up and over his chest, until your cunt is nearly settled over his mouth.

“Are you sure?” You ask with a slight breathlessness, fingers finding their way into his hair, pushing his bangs away from his face.

“Positive.” He nods eagerly, his fingers digging into the tops of your thighs, spreading your legs wider, “—you can come closer, I’m not gonna bite.”

You scoot forward hesitantly, met with the eager mouth that belonged to Eddie, flat of his tongue swiping through your folds, earning a loud gasp as your hands hit your headboard, almost falling forward at the sudden movement.

“A warning would’ve been nice.” You chide, the faint chuckle from Eddie gave you the inclination that he didn’t care, licking broad stripes over you cunt, the tip of his piercing catch your clit, you whine soft, “Fuck—do that again.”

And Eddie’s a great listener, you’ve learned, repeating the motion over and over again until you can’t handle it, yanking harshly at his hair, using the control to rub your cunt against his face without restraint—you’re so caught up in the pleasure high that you forget that Eddie wanted to be the one to provide you with release—though, you sure he doesn’t mind. By the looks of his blissed out face, eyes barely able to stay open, he’s enjoying himself a little too much, the glide of his tongue against your cunt was nothing short of filthy.

“Tell me what to do,” Eddie says against you, mouth muffled by the quick movements of your cunt, “—fuck, just tell me and I’ll do it, whatever you say.”

“Up—“ Eddie moves his mouth up a minuscule amount, just over your clit, “right there—just use your tongue.”

The stark black of his jewelry peeks out, flicking his tongue in hurried movements against your clit, causing you to let out a high pitched moan, hips rocking involuntarily.

“Don’t stop,” You beg, “Gonna come—fuck, keep going, please.”

Eddie alternates between quick flicks and sucks, the familiar pulsating of your cunt, mumbling soft praises as you rode out your orgasm against his mouth, the obscene sound of his mouth as it dipped into your slick, sticky and wet as he pulled back, mouth covered in wetness.

“Only one other time my ass,” You call his bluff, unfortunately for Eddie, everything he said was true. “Jesus Christ, Eddie.”

“So, it wasn’t bad?” Eddie asks through soft pants, letting you wiggle back down his chest, palms planted firmly against his pecs, firm underneath your hand. You offer a loud laugh, almost in disbelief.

“I’ve never come from someone eating me out,” You admit, “if that’s any indication.”

“Oh, wow.” Eddie answers softly, a small surge of pride running through him. “So what’s your opinion then?”

“On the piercing?” You ask in amusement, “God—who the fuck cares—I need you to keep you around forever if you can make me come that easily.”

“I was gonna say it was actually kinda nice.” Eddie shrugs slightly, “That and it already looks good on you—so I don’t really have any complaints.”

“Worth it, then?” You ask curiously.

Eddie chuckles, leaning forward to bite gently at your hip, causing you to squeal out, curling over his body. He pulls back, peering up at you from where you’re positioned over him.

“Definitely.”

[sj-ficrecs]

1,000+ followers fic rec!

Recently noticed at some point a little while ago I passed 1,000 followers on this page! In honor of that here’s another fic rec of some good ones I’ve been reading lately. As usual, no specific order. 

PREVIOUS FIC RECS HERE!

(Hopefully this shows up in tags bc my last one didn’t & tumblr wouldn’t fix it) 

Thanks to @whimsicalrogers for this divider I’m using below :)

Bucky x reader:

3B by @softlybarnes Bucky x reader

“Bucky is used to being alone, so is the girl living in apartment 3B. He keeps to his routine, to crossing off amends. But mutual loneliness forges an unlikely friendship. Alone and reclusive, sweet and incredibly strange, with deep secrets and regrets, 3B has more to reveal than meets the eye.”

(un)cool by @belowva rockstar!Bucky x reader

“in the summer of 1973, after covering the howling commandos’ concert for a night, you - a young and inexperienced music journalist - accidentally end up following the up and coming band from new york city across the country. between shows, parties, backstage nonsense, interviews and failed attempts at writing a cover story for rolling stone magazine, you end up developing a love/hate relationship with their brooding, but devilishly handsome, guitarist james “call me bucky” barnes. (based on “almost famous”)”

Your Song by @summergrls​  Rockstar!Bucky x reader

“it’s not summer without you. or, that’s what your favorite rockstar always says. it’s all happening.”

Last Love by @wicked-mind Modern!Bucky x reader

“Based on the quote “He may be your first love but I intend to be your last” by Klaus Mikaelson.”

Remember Me by @wicked-mind​ Modern!Bucky x reader

“Y/N and Bucky were the unlikely match when it came to love, but they were inseparable since they met. After a fight, Y/N left to be a trauma surgeon in the military and returns without her memories. How will Bucky remind Y/N how she is the fire in his bones?”

Cake by @tellmealovestory (Part of the Something More universe) Modern!Bucky x reader

“The wedding plans continue as you and Bucky try to decide on a cake flavor.”

My Eyes by @invisibleanonymousmonsters Bucky x reader, past Steve x reader

“Steve is a good man, America’s golden boy, a hero. He’s Captain America for christ’s sake! So it’s normal to want what he has… right? Bucky knows he doesn’t deserve her. He doesn’t even deserve the second chance at life he’s been given. But Bucky can never let him know. Steve can never find out that his friend is in love with his best girl.”

The Mess by @sanguineterrain​ Bucky x Avenger!reader

“A wild night in Vegas changes everything between you and Bucky. Suddenly, all eyes are on you and you’re left wondering just how much can change between you and a man whose guts you hate (and who also hates yours).”

The Devil Has Lilith by @write-orflight Bucky x reader, soulmate AU

“They say your soulmate is supposed to be the one person you love unconditionally. So why did they make yours so insufferable?”

College!Bucky series / Couldn’t Be Me by @drunken-imagines College!Bucky x reader

Bucky is a known fuck boy trying to win over reader

Best of Friends by @anna-phora Modern!Bucky x reader

“When your best friend steals marries Bucky’s best friend, the two of you are left with only one solution: to become best friends yourselves.”

Back to You by @celestialbarnes Modern!ex-Bucky x reader

“desperate to find a place to stay after your boyfriend cheated on you, you end up crashing at bucky’s apartment, the problem is he’s the ex that you never really got over and he’s got a new girl who doesn’t like you very much.”

It’s Been a Long, Long Time by @luminnara Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

“When HYDRA had their prized asset, the Winter Soldier, they did something no one ever thought was possible: they gave super soldier serum to an omega. With the sole purpose of tending to him during his ruts, she spends decades living in HYDRA facilities, denied her humanity and her life. Now, years later, Bucky Barnes has his mind and his own life back…and the last thing he ever expects is to see a familiar omega again. Bucky/OC, a little angsty but mostly smutty/fluffy/romantic!“

Friends Don’t by @watchtowerindistress Bucky x reader

“Reader is in a friends-with-benefits relationship with Bucky Barnes. Rule #1: no feelings - so don’t get attached (written by Bucky). Rule #2: don’t ever stay over (written by (Y/N)). After a fateful mission, one of them is going to break all the rules.”

Just a Touch by @buckychrist Bucky x reader

“Your powers? Controlling any feeling a human can have, from emotions to pain, with a simple brush of your fingertips. Your mission? The traumatized soldier with sad stricken eyes and scream filled nightmares.”

Under Pastel Skies by @redgillan Modern!Bucky x Artist!reader

“Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.”

A Long Ways Away by @ai-unknown Bucky x reader

“Connection, reconnection, and a small miscommunication. Bucky will travel however far, if it means making you smile.”

No Rest for the Wicked by @abovethesmokestacks Trucker!Bucky x reader

Based upon this ask: “i have the absolute weirdest urge today to get railed by trucker!bucky in a motel in like southern florida🤨 and it’s late too, maybe 3-4 am. the place is kinda seedy & it’s rlly humid and hot outside & the ac barely works so we’d both be sweating a lot but it makes it hotter”

Meanwhile in Louisiana by @multifandomwriter Bucky x reader

“You are Sam’s best friend and you meet Bucky when Sam organizes a party down at the docks.”

A Tender Heart by @river-soul Alpha!Bucky x Omega!reader

“You’ve been sweet on Bucky since you started working at the compound six months ago. Normally quiet and mild mannered, an unexpected fight with a coworker brings Bucky into your orbit.”

Steve x reader:

Jane Doe by @justkending Modern!Steve x reader

“They weren’t next door neighbors, but they did live in the same apartment complex. However, they were on completely different sides of the complex. Steve always sees her across the way doing her daily routines and way about life on her balcony from his own. Something about her has him checking in on her from across the way when he can… She’s intriguing and has a way about her life that he finds calming and captivating. He wants to know more about who she is, but there’s no non-creepy way of approaching a neighbor that doesn’t know you exist. Is there?”

[fortheloveofwonderland]

A Memory Locked In The Heart - Spencer Reid x fem! Reader

A/N - Requested by the lovely @overduelibrarybooks I hope this was the kind of thing you were looking for!

Find my masterlist here.

My taglists are open and requests are open.

Requested: Yes l No

Request: "could u ever write a spencer reid x reader where reader def works for the cia but more as a translator who’s kinda forced into doing agenty things in order to gather intel and on a mandated break she finds out the UNSUB before the team does so she uses herself as bait, and shoots the guy all very badass fashion n then gets interrogated bc ms girl just shot him coldblood and halfway thru she recognizes spencer bc her mother and his mom lived in the same care facility??? idk sorry my mom has paranoid too so it just hits different but u don’t have to write this if u don’t want to i love ur writing <3"

CW: disclaimer: I know next to nothing about the CIA and what they investigate so please go easy on me here. This is all made up so hopefully it makes some kind of sense. Mentions of violence and sex work, schizophrenia, Alzheimer’s, some swears. Mentions of drug use and overdose. Spanish used towards the end is from Google Translate so I apologise if it isn’t completely accurate. Italics indicate flashbacks.

Plot: Eighteen years ago you met a boy named Spencer Reid whilst visiting your mother at Bennington Sanitorium. This time you are meeting under entirely different circumstances; across the table of an interrogation room.

WC: 5.3K

—————————————————————

How did I end up here?

That was a question you kept asking yourself as you rolled into your third hour of sitting in that cold, dimly lit interrogation room at the FBI headquarters in Quantico, Virginia.

Well you supposed you’d have to go back to the beginning to truly work that out.

The CIA and FBI joint task force for a country wide sex trafficking ring they believed to be operating out of DC.

When your team at the CIA had started investigating it was estimated that the ring had close to a hundred women who had been abducted and forced into the sex industry.

A lot of women were believed to have been taken trying to cross the border. Your job as a translator had involved spending a lot of time in Mexico, helping interview witnesses and family members who didn’t speak English.

The FBI involvement had come when women believed to have been part of the trafficking ring started turning up dead.

At last count they were up to twenty bodies. The Behavioural Analyst Unit had given their profile of the man they believed to be running the show.

White male in his mid to late forties. Bilingual. Possibly born in Mexico or an area surrounding the border but grew up in DC, they assumed based on his knowledge of the area. He’s attractive, charming and has a good level of education, he’d need to be able to charm the women into trusting him. He doesn’t have a full time job because he wouldn’t have time for one. All his time and focus goes on his girls. He was tech savvy, incredibly so, he’d have to be, to be able to set up the network on the dark web which enabled his customers to pay for his services.

It hadn’t been going well. Bodies kept dropping and the task force was no closer to catching the person responsible.

This went on for six months. Everyone was exhausted. You kept hitting brick wall after brick wall. It was demoralising.

Your boss had called for mandated time off. You’d all argued but she had been absolutely adamant. You’d all been working yourselves to the bone and she didn’t want you burnt out entirely.

You’d argued but your words had fallen on deaf ears.

“Can I get you a glass of water or something?”

The voice startled you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see the lanky, messy haired agent who called himself Doctor Reid, sticking his head through the door.

“Is coffee an option?”

He smiled brightly at you, a smile you swear you’ve seen before.

“Coffee is always an option.” He told you. “How do you take it?”

“Strong and black. Please.”

“I’ll be right back.”

With that the door closed leaving you to your thoughts once more.

There was something so familiar about the Doctor. His dark yet sparkling eyes, his awkward smile and the way he dressed. You couldn’t place it. But there was definitely something about him that stirred some memory buried deep in your brain. You just weren’t sure what it was.

He returned a few minutes later, bringing your coffee into the room and placing it on the table in front of you.

“Hopefully you won’t be stuck here too much longer. It’s just standard procedure.” he spoke sweetly, his voice stirring the hidden memory.

“Yeah I know. I get it.” you sighed as you spoke, wrapping your hands around the coffee. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome.” he smiled before he started backing out of the room. You wished you could ask him to stay because you felt so much more at ease with him around. But you knew you couldn’t.

He turned to you in the doorway.

“You look cold in that.” He smiled a little sadly at you.

You’d forgotten about your outfit choice. No self respecting CIA agent dressed like you were right now.

“I guess I am a little.” You shrugged.

Spencer instantly shrugged his blazer off of his shoulders and laid it in front of you on the table.

“Thank you Doctor Reid.” you spoke again before he disappeared out the door.

“Goodbye Agent Y/L/N.”

The door closed, his voice reverberating in your ears, dragging you into a long forgotten memory.

As you slipped his jacket on, your eyes fluttered closed, his scent wafting up your nose.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid.”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

Your eyes shot back open, a frown on your face.

“Spencer?” you muttered under your breath. “Spencer Reid.”

Where had you pulled that name from? And why did it feel oddly connected to Vegas?

You tried to push the thought away, you already had enough on your mind. There were much more pressing things to deal with than a vague memory from your hometown an undetermined amount of time ago.

***

You’d been instructed to switch off. Your time off should be used to recoup, relax and not to think about the case.

Easier said than done you thought.

Before you’d left the office on your mandated leave you’d taken photocopies of some files and slipped them into your bag. You knew you’d be in trouble if you were caught but you couldn’t help yourself. You wouldn’t be able to relax with this case still open.

As far as you were aware the BAU was still working on it but it provided you little comfort. In your time with the CIA you’d never gotten to be involved so heavily in a case. Your skills were mostly utilised in interview capacities and then you were sidelined.

You’d never had the privilege to work on a joint task force or investigate a crime so brutal.

You felt personally invested in this case. You thought if you could just find that one missing puzzle piece you could crack this case wide open.

And then you’d found it. The golden ticket. The smoking gun. The missing piece.

It had taken five days of your leave and copious amounts of coffee but you’d connected the dots no one else had.

You knew how to draw the unsub out. And you were going to do it tonight.

***

“Let’s start again from the beginning shall we?” Agent Rossi linked his fingers together on top of the table as he looked across at you, still slowly sipping your coffee.

“Oh goody.” You sighed. “Could Agent Jareau not fill you in what I’ve already told her?”

“Humour me.” The old man shrugged.

You didn’t have any ill will against him. Far from it. You were actually a big fan of David Rossi. But you were sick and tired of being treated like a criminal.

“Tell me how you managed to work out how to find him.”

You took another long sip of the coffee.

“All the pieces were there, they just hadn’t been put into place.”

“And how did you piece them together?”

“There was a pattern to where the women had been last seen. It was a guess more than anything. A lucky guess.”

“And the pattern was?”

You sighed in frustration.

“As I told agent Jareau,” you sipped your coffee. “The bars they were last seen in all had ties to Mexico. I’m not a native to DC but I know the area like the back of my hand. They were all either Mexican owned, had a Mexican name or were previously establishments such as Mexican restaurants. I made an educated guess that he frequented places such as these looking for his targets. I just got lucky I picked the right one.”

***

You felt incredibly exposed, but you supposed that was the point.

If you were going to get this guy's attention, you had to do this right.

It was a long shot. Just because Western’s bar was known for its famous tacos did not mean it would be the place he chose to pick up girls.

You just had to hope.

You wore a skimpy skirt that barely covered your ass, knee high boots and a crop top that accentuated your assets.

Your firearm was hidden in your left boot.

Your outfit garnered a lot of looks as you headed through Westerns towards the bar.

You felt men’s eyes on you from every angle, making you feel extremely self conscious. But you needed to keep your cool, exude confidence.

If your guy was here he needed to see you shine.

You ordered a soda to keep your head clear and sat at a table over the far side of the bar. From there you had a good view of the entrance and most of the room. And more importantly, the room had a view of you.

Three hours you sat there nursing your soda. It was a huge stab in the dark, you weren’t really surprised.

You finished your drink and headed out onto the cool DC street.

You made it five steps before you felt a presence behind you.

Just as you were about to turn, something covered your mouth.

You struggled against a pair of strong arms.

A smell wafted up your nose seconds before you lost consciousness.

Chloroform.

***

“Why didn’t you tell your unit chief before you went in?”

“Because I thought it was a long shot.” And because she would have been furious I was working the case.

“So you chose to use yourself as bait?”

“Yes.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

“Do you know how dangerous that could have been?” Rossi raised an eyebrow at you.

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“Yes agent Rossi, I’m well aware. But I had a lead and I wasn’t going to ignore it.” You pulled Doctor Reid’s jacket tighter around your scantily clad body.

You caught his scent again. Coffee. Old books. A hint of peppermint.

Another long shut off memory wormed it’s way to the surface.

“So are you here visiting someone?”

“Yeah.” You smiled sadly. “My mom.”

“Oh.” He returned your sad smile. “Me too.”

“Agent Y/L/N?”

You were brought back by Rossi’s concerned voice.

“Hmm?”

“I said, what happened next? You were chloroformed and then what?”

You shook your head, your mind clouded.

“Can we take a break? I could really use some air.”

Rossi sighed with a small nod.

He stood from his chair and motioned you to follow him.

You got some odd looks from his fellow agents as he led you to the elevators. They all recognised what you were wearing as Spencer’s jacket.

You followed Rossi into the elevator and he pressed the button for the ground floor.

“Agent Rossi, can I ask you a strange question?” You asked as the doors closed.

He gave you a curious look.

“I suppose.”

“Doctor Reid. As in Spencer Reid?”

“The one and only.” Rossi frowned unsure what you were getting at.

“Where is he from?”

Rossi’s frown deepened, not sure he should tell you such things about his team. But you were an agent and you didn’t pose a threat to the team.

“Vegas I believe.”

Vegas. Of course.

“Ok.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t know.” You chewed your lip. “I think I might have known him.”

“Oh?”

You wished you hadn’t opened your mouth. This was not the time or place.

“I’m probably wrong. Just forget I said anything.”

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. As you stepped out you pulled Spencer’s collar to your nose and sniffed it.

No you weren’t wrong.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Hi again.” You smiled at the lanky man, Spencer you’d met a few days ago. “How’s your mom?”

“Still angry at me.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and stubbed the toe of his shoe on the floor.

“She came in recently?”

“Yeah a few months ago. I turned eighteen and I was able to have her put into care.” He blanched, clearly feeling guilty for his decision.

“Do you want to grab a coffee?”

“Uhm sure.” He shrugged.

He followed you through to the day room. It was late and there were only a few patients inside and a few nurses milling around.

You got two cups of coffee from the machine and the two of you sat at a table together.

“Do you mind me asking what’s wrong with your mom?” You dared as you slid him the drink.

He sighed heavily, gnawing on his bottom lip as though his life depended on it.

“She’s a paranoid schizophrenic.” He spoke clinically, words he’d had to say too many times in his life. It was as though he’d distanced himself from it. Like he was giving a patient a diagnosis rather than talking about his own mother.

“Mine too.” You gave him a wry smile. You had something in common, just not something you would like to have in common.

“How long has your mom been here?”

“Three years. She got really bad and my dad couldn’t take care of her anymore. She’s been doing much better since she moved in here.”

“That’s good.” Spencer nodded. “I hope my mom realises I did this for her. For her well being. At the moment she’s just so...angry.”

You reached across the table and placed your hand on top of his. He seemed a little startled by the physical touch but you didn’t move your hand.

“This is the best place for her. I assume from what you said earlier your dad isn’t in the picture?”

He used his free hand to sip his coffee with a sad shake of his head.

“He left when I was ten. He couldn’t handle mom's illness.”

You gave his hand a small squeeze.

“I can’t imagine what it was like for you to have to look after her by yourself. It was hard enough with my dad there. Really makes you grow up fast.”

“It really does.” He agreed. “I’m not sure I ever got to be a kid.”

“I know that feeling.”

After that you spent hours chatting about anything and everything until way into the night. It wasn’t until a nurse came and asked you politely to leave that you realised how late it was.

“I’ll probably see you around?” You spoke as you stepped outside together.

“Maybe. In a few weeks I’m heading out of state. I’m working on a PhD.” He didn’t want to tell you it was actually his second PhD.

“Oh. Ok.” You tried to hide the disappointment from your voice.

Despite the circumstances you’d enjoyed talking to someone like minded, someone who understood. You didn’t have anyone else your own age you could talk to about this kind of thing.

“Maybe we could exchange numbers?” You blushed a little.

“I don’t have a cellphone.” He shrugged.

“Oh.”

“It’s not an excuse.” He sensed you didn’t believe him. “I’m not so into technology. I don’t even have email.”

Normally you would have thought it was just a bad excuse to get out of seeing you again but the look on Spencer’s face told you he was being genuine.

“Ok.” You gave him a shy smile. “Well maybe I’ll see you again before you leave.”

“I hope so.” His eyes sparkled as he looked at you on the dark street.

There was an air between you, some kind of thick tension but you didn’t know what it meant.

“If I don’t see you again,” you spoke trying to ignore whatever it was. “It was really good to meet you and I hope your mom gets used to the facility.”

“You too.” He smiled so genuinely at you, it made your heart skip a beat.

And then you went your separate ways.

***

“Ok, so what happened next?” Rossi wasted no time once you were back in the interrogation room.

“Well I blacked out after I was chloroformed so excuse me if I don’t remember.” You gave him a sarcastic smile.

“What’s the next thing you do remember?” He reworded his question.

“I woke up in a large basement. It was gritty and dingy. And there were other women there too.”

“How many?”

“At least twenty.” You sighed letting your mind travel back to the basement you never wanted to go back to. Not even in your mind.

***

You woke with a start, your head pounding. You gasped for air as though you’d been drowning.

You blinked your eyes trying to adjust to the dark room you found yourself in.

It was cold and damp and you could hear a pipe dripping in the distance.

You tried to roll over but your arm wouldn’t budge. You were met by a loud clanking sound when you tried.

You tugged your arm, hearing the same sound and being met with a sharp pain in your wrist.

“Good luck.” A woman’s voice scoffed. “They don’t come loose.”

You blinked a few more times, looking over to your left arm. There was a heavy metal cuff right around your wrist that was attached to a metal bed frame.

That’s when you realised you were laying on a small cot on top of a ratty, itchy blanket. You were still dressed, thank god.

You suddenly remembered your firearm concealed in your boot. You patted your left calf and sure enough you felt the hard weapon still inside.

That was something at least.

Oversight on their part.

You remembered the voice you’d heard before and turned as much as you could with your arm cuffed to take in the rest of the room.

There were at least forty other cots close together lining the walls, with at least half of them containing the body of other women.

The voice you’d heard belonged to a woman in the cot next to you. She gave you a smile but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Her eyes were broken.

“Hi,” you croaked. “I’m Y/N.”

“Delilah.” Her accent was Spanish. You were sure Delilah wasn’t her real name either.

“How long have you been here?”

She sighed, playing with a strand of curly black hair.

“What month is it?”

“September.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Not that long then. I’ve been here since July.” She looked confused as though that couldn’t be long enough.

“Delilah?” You narrowed your eyes on her. “What year do you think it is?”

“2018…” she saw your face drop and knew instantly it was no longer 2018.

“Oh gosh.” You felt for her, tears welling in your eyes. “It’s 2020.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. “Wow.”

“It’s ok.” You lowered your voice. “I’m CIA. I’m going to get us out of here. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

***

“Delilah.” Rossi opened the file in front of him. “Was that Roberta Suez?”

He pulled out a photograph and slid it across the table. You averted your gaze.

“Yes and please I don’t need to see it, I was there.”

“How did she end up in hospital fighting for her life?”

“You know how.” You huffed. “Look I’m starting to get fed up with this now.” You folded your arms. “Carlos Ramirez was a sick son of a bitch. If I hadn’t done what I did he would have killed all those women. I don’t regret what I did.”

“How did she end up in hospital?” He repeated.

“Good lord.” You grumbled. “I’ll talk but I don’t want to talk to you.”

Rossi narrowed his eyes on you.

“No? But I’m so compassionate.” He spoke sarcastically.

“I won’t say another word unless it’s to Reid.” You looked up to the two way mirror. You didn’t know why but you had a feeling he was there.

Sure enough it was barely twenty seconds before the door opened and Doctor Reid himself stepped in the room.

“I got this Rossi.” Spencer told the older man who stood up with a shrug.

Rossi left the room while Spencer took the seat he’d been occupying.

Did he remember you? It had been close to twenty years since you’d last seen each other. Had it not been for the olfactory memory that struck you when you put on his jacket you might never have remembered him.

But you knew the rest of his team was behind the two way glass, or at least some of them were so it didn’t seem an appropriate time to ask such things.

“So agent Y/L/N,” he smiled softly at you. “Can you please tell me how Delilah ended up in hospital?”

“You already know the answer to that Doctor but since you asked so nicely,” you leant your elbows on the table, entwined your fingers and rested your chin the little bridge you’d created. “She had a drug overdose. But you and I both know it wasn’t her who administered the drugs.”

“And who did?”

“I did.”

Your words hung in the air between you and Spencer. He knew the answer, the whole team did. You’d already told Agent Jareau everything.

This was a huge waste of time.

“I administered the drugs because he told me if I didn’t he would kill me. I needed to stay alive so I could save those women.”

“Who said he would kill you?”

“I don’t know his name.”

“It wasn’t Ramirez?”

“No.” You shook your head. “If it was Ramirez I would have shot him. But it must have been one of his right hand men.”

“How would you know that? You’d never met Ramirez correct?” Spencer had a soft tone to his voice which made his line of questioning easier than Agent Jareau’s.

“I’m not a profiler but I’ve been to enough seminars over the years. He didn’t fit the bill. He was young, scatty, he didn’t strike as much fear into the other women as I thought the boss would. I made an educated guess and I was right. If I’d shot at him I would have blown my chance at getting Ramirez.”

***

“Shit shit shit!” You pulled yourself as close to Delilah’s cot as possible with your restraint. “Delilah, keep breathing, try to breath. Fuck I am sorry.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks, the empty needle you’d been made to inject in her vein between your cots on the floor.

He’d held a gun to your head and said he would shoot you if you didn’t do it. You didn’t think he was bluffing.

“It happens a lot.” A woman opposite spoke up. “You’ll soon find out. If she wakes up she’ll have the pleasure of returning the favour.” She gave you an almost manic grin.

If she wakes up. It was the if you were having the issue with.

“Who’s in charge around here?”

She shrugged.

“Don’t know his name. Big guy. Tattoos. Mustache. You can’t miss him.”

“Does he come down here often?”

Again she shrugged.

“Being down here you have a way of losing track of time.” She clicked her tongue. “But he’ll be here for you later. He has to test his new girls.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Test?” You swallowed, pretty sure you knew what she meant.

“He can’t very well expect you to make him money if he doesn’t know how good you are.”

Oh god.

Your heartbeat raced. No, it was not going to come to that. You were a CIA agent and you were armed.

It was not going to come to that.

***

Spencer’s face paled a little at your words. You hadn’t told Agent Jareau that part.

“He was going to...he didn’t…”

“No.” You cut him off, pushing the memory back down. “I had a gun, remember.”

You offered him a wry smile.

“So you know what comes next.”

“I’d like you to tell me.”

The way he said it was more like he was a therapist than an FBI agent. As though he wanted you to tell him so you could get it off your chest, unburden yourself, rather than for interrogation purposes.

“Ok.” You nodded. “He came for me later that night. And that’s when it happened.”

***

“Ahh look at you.”

A deep, Spanish voice woke you.

Your eyes fluttered open and landed on a strong, tattooed man with a mustache standing over your cot.

This must be him.

“Tan hermosa.”

So beautiful.

You tried not to shudder.

You sat up wiggling your legs in your boots to make sure you could still feel your firearm. You could.

“Su nombre es Rosa.”

Your name is Rosa.

Guess again.

“Su nombre es Y/N.”

“Tú hablas español?”

You speak Spanish?

“Si.”

“Eres perfecta.” He grinned menacingly. “My clients will love you.”

He reached in his pocket and fished out a key chain. He reached over you and unlocked your cuff.

You rolled your wrist to try and get your blood circulating again.

“On your feet.”

You complied and stood up. Your legs were shaky.

He grasped your wrist, hard enough so you couldn’t wriggle free but not hard enough to leave a mark. He started dragging you across the room.

With his free hand he undid the four locks on the large steel door and pulled your through it. Once on the other side he took care to lock them all again, keeping a firm grasp on you the whole time.

You were dragged down a long, narrow corridor towards another steel door, this one with just one lock on.

He slid the key in and opened it, pulled you inside and locked it behind him.

The room was much smaller than the one you’d been held in and only housed a single cot.

He licked his lip as he looked at you. His large, thick fingers stroked your cheek and you had to try and hide your disgust.

“En la cama. Ahora.”

On the bed. Now.

You had to pick the opportune moment. You had to plan this just right. You had no doubt he had a gun on him so if you faltered even slightly, he would kill you.

“Qué tal esto.”

How about this.

You made a show of licking your lips and then dropping to your knees in front of him.

“Whoa, feisty. I like it.” He grinned, his meaty hands going to his belt buckle.

Yes. Right where you wanted him.

While he was fumbling with his belt, you reached your hand back into your left boot, drawing your gun in one swift move.

You head butted him in the crotch, sending him stumbling backwards, crying out in pain.

“Mierda!” Shit. “Usted puta!”

You whore!

You were on your feet in a second, your gun trained on him.

“You will never hurt another woman again.” You spat, furious tears suddenly streaming from your eyes.

He looked up at you, his mouth opened to speak.

But the words didn’t come out as your bullet hit him between the eyes.

“Who’s the puta now?”

***

“I would say,” Spencer chewed his lip. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

You breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank god.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly. “And I did. If I hadn’t shot him, who knows how many other women would have died.”

Spencer pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Just so you know, we got word from the hospital a little while ago. Roberta Suez, Delilah, is going to be just fine.”

“Oh thank god.” You felt tears brimming your eyes.

He opened the door and turned back to you.

“Are you coming?”

“I can leave?”

“You were never under arrest.” He smirked at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

You got up from the chair and Spencer motioned you out of the room.

“I’ll walk you out.” He showed you across the bullpen towards the elevators. There was an awkward air between the two of you.

Did you say anything? It didn’t seem as though he remembered you, was it worth reminding him?

He motioned you into the elevator first and he followed, pressing the button.

The elevator started its descent.

Time was running out.

“So uhm…” Spencer turned to you and turned too. “How’s your mom?”

A smile broke out on your features.

“I didn’t think you remembered me.”

“Are you kidding?” He laughed. “I recognised you the second you walked in.”

“It’s been twenty years.” You laughed.

“Eighteen years, seven months.” He corrected you. “But I could never forget your face.”

You blushed a little, averting your gaze.

“My moms doing ok. Thanks for asking. How’s your mom?” You looked back at him.

“Recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.” He told you sadly.

“Oh gosh I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok. These things happen.” He shrugged. “Made it to thirty without having a schizophrenic break but now I have to wait until I’m older to find out if I’ll develop Alzheimer’s.”

The doors to the elevator opened and you stepped out, Spencer close behind.

“I really am sorry Spencer.”

“It’s ok.” He shrugged. “Is your mom still at Bennington? I used to see her when I went to visit my mom but I moved her out a little while ago.”

“Yeah she’s still there. She likes being close to my dad.”

You both hovered by the exit, not ready to say goodbye.

“Can I take you for coffee? If you don’t have anywhere else to be.” Spencer blushed as he spoke.

“I’d like that. A lot actually. But I’d really like to shower and change out of this getup.” You laughed. “How about dinner?”

“Dinner sounds perfect.” He grinned at you.

You gave him a smile and turned to leave but before you made it to the door Spencer spoke again.

“Y/N,” he called your name, his voice cracking a little. “You uh...you forgot something.”

You turned to face him curiously.

He walked closer to you and without a second thought, placed his hands on your face and kissed you.

For a second you stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

But after a few moments you wrapped your arms around his neck and opened your mouth to deepen the kiss.

When the kiss ended you were both smiling at one another.

“What was that for?” You asked softly.

“Oh you know…” he shrugged with a coy smile. “Just something that needed to be done.”

“I’ll meet you back here in a few hours.” You told him, touching his chest briefly.

“Ok.”

“Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.” He croaked.

And with that you sauntered out the doors but not out of his life.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Spencer?” You’d only made it a few paces away from Bennington before you stopped in your tracks, calling his name. “You uh...you forgot something.”

He turned to face you curiously.

You walked closer to him and without a second thought, placed your hands on his face and kissed him.

He stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

It was just a brief kiss, Spencer was too confused to do anything but stand there dumbly.

“Wh-what was that for?” He swallowed.

“Just something that needed to be done.” You smiled. “Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.”

And with that you sauntered back down the street, hoping that one day, the universe would lead you back into each other’s lives.

—————————————————————

Taglist (let me know if you would like to be added) -

@muffin-cup

@andiebeaword

@mggsprettygirl @measure-in-pain

[ghostbustermelanieking]

11, “drastic,” for the microfics! :)

thank you for giving me the excuse to write this!! i've been waiting for a good opportunity. this is a mag 154 au; warning as such for discussion of blinding oneself (not actually depicted), and for canon-typical s4 jon self loathing.

to clarify: this is a fix it au. jon will be able to blind himself and he will be able to live without the eye bc it's my au and i said so.

11. drastic 

"I should've known," says Martin, "that it would be something like this." He laughs a little, bitterly. "Nothing simple, right? No easy way out?"

"That's never been how anything is for us," says Jon. "You know that." He laughs hollowly, too; his head thunks softly against the stone wall of the tunnels. "If it were easy, we all would've left a long time ago." (He tells himself, sternly, that this is true.) 

They've been down here nearly an hour; no chance of Elias seeing them down here. (One of the recorders is running, has been since just before Jon heard the pound of footsteps heading down the hall into the Archives. He'd known immediately that something had to be happening; Melanie had left for the night, Daisy and Basira had gone out, so it'd just been Jon in the Archives, for once, a rare enough occurrence. He thought maybe one of them came back, but he wasn't sure why the tapes would want to hear that. And then Martin had burst through the door, panting and ashy, his eyes fixing directly on Jon, and he'd said, Yes.

Jon, barely daring to believe it, had said, Yes? and Martin said, Yes, said, Christ—yes, Jon, I'll do it, I'll go with you, staring at Jon almost like he expected Jon to take the offer back, to say he hadn't really meant it. Jon had strode across the room instead, moving to embrace Martin in a desperate hug—tight enough to make Jon question the status of his remaining ribs. And when Martin had sagged into the embrace, limp like a puppet with cut strings, Jon knew that he had meant his answer.)

They're here in the tunnels, now, sitting with their backs against the wall, passing a bottle of rum Daisy stashed under the cots back and forth. They're supposed to be discussing strategy, how they're going to blind themselves (where they'll go, what they'll do after), but they've mostly just been talking in circles. Stuck in the quiet awe of what they're about to do, and the fact that they're doing it together—this is the most Jon has talked to Martin since he woke up, and the reality of that is overwhelming. 

"I think Melanie is going to do it," says Jon, just for something to say—and because it is the truth. "So… we'll have some company, I suppose." He issues a weak little laugh. "If… if she even wants to see us after this." He has his doubts. He knows Melanie has a lot of anger towards him, and he knows the majority of it is earned. 

"I… I haven't even talked to Melanie since… before you woke up," Martin says softly. "Jesus. It's… it's been that long." 

"She deserves to get out," says Jon. "I… I hope this is a way for her, too." 

Martin makes a loud sniffling sound, and Jon turns abruptly to see him wiping his eyes. "I… I think Tim would've done it. If he'd know," he says, voice thick with tears that haven't fallen yet. "I… I wish… I wish we'd found out about this sooner. Given him a way out, too."

Jon's throat closes up a little at the mention of Tim—he's barely been able to think of Tim at all over these past six months. Unable to make it past the reality that Tim is dead because of him, because he brought him to the Archives… this just feels like another way he's failed Tim, in the end. He nods a little, looking back out at the tunnels, says, "Yes, I—I wish that, too," and is unable to go any further, his voice breaking into pieces. Tim, Sasha—both are dead because of him, because he couldn't save them. At least now he's found something that might save Melanie and Martin—that might even save him, even though he doesn't deserve it. 

Martin makes a sound of dissension, almost like he knows what Jon is thinking, and scoots closer until their shoulders are pressed together. "We… we can live in my flat," he says, his voice still thick. "If you want. I-it's gotten worse, since… I-I mean, it isn't in the best shape, a-and there's only the one bedroom, b-but…" He offers another little laugh—gallows humor. "I can promise you that there aren't any worms."

"Oh," says Jon, biting back laughter of his own. "Oh, well—good. That—that sounds lovely, Martin." 

There's a moment of silence then, a long moment of just the wet, eerie sounds of the tunnels, and of Martin's soft arm against his. Jon swallows and adds, "W-we'll be all right, Martin. We will. O-once the pain and the healing has passed, we… I really think we'll be all right." Happy, a part of his mind suggests, daringly. Maybe they will be able to be happy. 

"Do you really believe that?" Martin says—and there's an edge there, something sanded off by the Lonely, remnants that haven't left yet—but there's also something genuine. A real question. 

"I do," says Jon. He doesn't Know—he can't Know, his mind takes a sharp swerve every time he broaches the subject—but he has a feeling. Something almost like hope. "I really do."

Martin must lean a little, because their shoulders press together; he says, "N-not to rehash wh-what we said… earlier… but… why me, Jon? W-why not Basira and Daisy, o-or… we haven't talked in months, just… why me?" 

Jon could say any number of things. Daisy and Basira didn't want to do it, or There's no one else who would WANT to run away with me, I can't think of a single other person, or I'm in love with you, I should've told you sooner, I'm so sorry. But he doesn't say any of those things. He says, "M-Martin, there isn't…" He takes a deep breath. Presses his head back against the wall and shuts his eyes. "There isn't a… a single other person I would want to do this with," he says quietly. "It's… it's just you. Only you." 

Martin makes a small sound, somewhere between a gasp and a squeak, and it is so Martin, so familiar in a way Jon hasn't seen since he woke up, that his chest seizes a little. "Okay," he says, "okay." He reaches down between them and, tentatively, takes Jon's hand.

[spine-buster]

peaceful easy feeling ft. b.boeser | one

A/N: Here’s the beginning of my new mini-series!  I hope you all enjoy it.  It will definitely be a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, so be prepared!  There will be five parts!

SUPPORT MY WRITING HERE: https://ko-fi.com/spine_buster

CONTENT WARNING: parents with disease/sickness (Parkinson’s); swearing; sex; alcohol use; lots of emotions.

                                                                   *     *     *     *     *

Brock Boeser felt like he was at some sort of Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, with everybody around the circle introducing themselves and their similar predicaments.  The group was in a big meeting room at the local community centre, and when he walked in, he saw a group of dads playing basketball in the gym.  He sort of wanted to join them instead of being here, in this room, with all these people that he didn’t know talking about what they were going to talk about, but he’d done this back in Minnesota, at his mother’s behest with his siblings, and he was going to do it here, too, in Vancouver, to make her happy and ease her mind and to make sure that he was easing his own mind.  

“Um, hello everyone.  My name is Brock Boeser.  I’m from Minnesota, but I’m living in Vancouver.  And um, I’m here with you all because my dad was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease.”

“Hello Brock,” everyone smiled at him, and he smiled and nodded back.

“So it was your dad that was diagnosed,” the leader, a kind, older woman named Esther who had greeted him at the door and stuck with him until everybody sat down, egged on a conversation.  He knew she was doing it because he was new; everybody in this room probably already knew each other.  A part of him actually wondered if anybody knew who he was.  “When?”

“Um, he—he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s in 2010,” Brock revealed, stuttering it out.  He knew he’d have to be open at these things – open so people could empathize with him, open so he could empathize with others – but it was still tough for him to do so.  “But he—it’s—it’s not just Parkinson’s.  Two years after he was diagnosed, he was in a car accident and suffered a traumatic brain injury.  In 2017, he was diagnosed with lung cancer.  He beat it but then in June it returned to his liver and chest.  In July, he had a heart attack and his heart stopped beating for 15 minutes.  I was with him and—I—it’s—it’s a lot, as you can imagine,” he tried not to start crying right then and there.  Imagine that – first meeting with a Parkinson’s Society of BC support group and he’d bawl like a baby.

“Goodness me, Brock,” Esther said.  “He has support at home?”

“Um, well, money isn’t an issue now, but when I was growing up my mom worked three jobs to make sure we were all taken care of,” he revealed.  “I’d pitch in too wherever I could, obviously.”

“But it’s been tough for a number of years.”

Brock paused.  It had been tough for a number of years.  It had been really tough for a number of years.  He nodded his head.  “Yes ma’am.  I try to take it day by day.”

Esther nodded as well.  “I don’t know if you pray, Brock, but I know a couple of members around the circle do, and, well – you’ll be kept in all our prayers.”

Brock saw a few people nod their head.  Another older woman, probably his mom’s age, clutching a rosary; a Sikh man dressed in a casual suit; a younger woman, probably in her thirties, with short blonde hair.  He appreciated the sentiment.  He knew that people took prayer very seriously – that people suffering took prayer very seriously.  It was, realistically, one of the kindest things somebody could ever say to you: “I’m praying for you.”  “Thank you very much,” he said, nodding his head once.

***

There was an arrangement of cookies at the end of the meeting.  Even after the 90 minutes of everybody talking about their experiences and emotions, they apparently liked to stick around afterwards as well just to mingle.  It didn’t all have to be doom and gloom, he thought.  It didn’t all have to be about Parkinson’s or about sick people or losing your loved ones all the time.  Maybe some people just wanted to talk about the news.  Maybe some people just wanted to talk about sports.  The weather.  Anything.  Anything to make a connection with someone beyond something so tragic.  

After stuffing an entire Fudge-O cookie into his mouth, he looked up to see a young woman staring at him, holding her trenchcoat in her arms.  She was smiling to let him know she was friendly.  He was embarrassed because he knew she just saw him stuff an entire Fudge-O into his mouth.  “Hi,” he said, his mouth still full of cookie, the sound of his voice reflecting that fact.

“You’re Brock Boeser, right?” she asked sweetly.  “You play for the Vancouver Canucks?”

“Yeah,” Brock couldn’t help but smile.  He swallowed the rest of the cookie even though he didn’t really finish chewing it.  “That’s me.  Are you a fan?”

“My step-brothers are more so than I am,” she said.  “But I’m a fan of the team, yeah.  I’m Grace Gillespie,” she extended her hand to shake his.  “God, they��re not gonna believe me when I say I met you.  They’re gonna freak.”

Brock couldn’t help but chuckle slightly.  “Do you—I mean, do you want a picture?  I don’t mind at all.  I’ll sign an autograph on a napkin if you want me to.”

“Well…it’s a bit awkward to ask you at a Parkinson’s Society of BC meeting, but we could go to the Starbucks down the street and I could buy you a coffee.”

Brock was slightly taken aback at her forwardness.  He shouldn’t have been.  Girls came up to him all the time.  All the time.  And they were most definitely not shy.  But he wasn’t exactly expecting it to happen here, of all places.  A bar, sure.  Out with Petey or any of the other guys, absolutely.  But not here.  “Yeah…yeah sure,” he stuttered out.

“Then we should go,” Grace smiled.  She turned to look behind her.  Brock saw Esther picking up a few Oreos.  “Thank you for leading another great session, Esther,” Grace said.  

“Oh you are most welcome Miss Gillespie.  How is Hamish these days?  You didn’t speak much today.”

“He’s been doing fine lately.  His caregivers have been working around the clock for him.  They just work wonders, don’t they?”

Esther nodded.  “They are angels on Earth.  Anyways – we’ll catch up next week,” she said, leaning slightly on her leg to look beyond Grace and to Brock.  “I hope to see you here again next week, Brock.”

“Thank you, Esther.  See you next week,” he said, realizing he made the commitment before he could even realize what he was saying.

***

“I take that was your first meeting?” Grace asked as she set down the two lattes on the table against the window where Brock was waiting.  

“Was it really obvious?” Brock asked.

Grace shrugged her shoulders.  She didn’t want to make him feel self-conscious.  “It was the stuttering that gave it away, at least to me.  I know I stuttered a lot the first few times I came to these meetings.  I wasn’t the most comfortable talking about my dad’s condition to a room full of virtual strangers.  But within just a few months I realized the people in that room are the kindest, most empathetic, most amazing people that I’ve ever interacted with.  So I became a lot more open.”

Brock was transfixed by every word that Grace was saying.  “So you’ve been coming here a long time,” he said.

Grace nodded.  “My dad got diagnosed with Parkinson’s when I was fourteen.  I didn’t start coming here until I was about eighteen, though.”

Brock knew he shouldn’t ask.  He knew he shouldn’t.  But his brain had ulterior motives, and his mouth – well, his mouth listened to his brain, because it apparently needed to know.  “Is your—is your dad like my dad?” he asked.  “Does he have, like, other problems complicating things?”

Grace shook her head.  “No,” she said softly.  “But the Parkinson’s is enough for him.  I mean he was diagnosed just short of ten years ago and he’s already on puréed foods.  It’s not—I mean, you know as well as I do that it doesn’t regularly develop that fast.  But that’s…I don’t know how you do it.”

Brock didn’t know either.  Some days he didn’t.  “I just take it day by day,” he said simply, just like he said in the meeting.  “If I think about it too much…that’s when it’s bad.”

“I hear ya,” Grace said, taking a sip of her coffee.  “But let’s…not talk about this for too long.  Do you like Vancouver?  Do you find it nice?”

Brock appreciated the change in topic.  “I love it here,” he nodded his head, smiling.  “The city’s great.  The fans are great.  My teammates – I mean they’re amazing.  What do you do?”

“I’m a dance teacher at Goh Ballet – little kids and teens, mostly.”

He wasn’t expecting that.  She was drop dead gorgeous, sure – Brock wasn’t blind – but he wasn’t expecting to hear she was a dancer.  “Do you, like, dance in the real ballet?”

Grace snorted slightly at his phrasing of ‘real ballet’.  “No.  I pursued it only up until a certain point.  I was good, but uh, I stopped when my dad got diagnosed.”

“Why?  Don’t they always tell people like us to have, like, an outlet or whatever?”

“They do.  But I loved my dad more than I loved dance.  And I would have rather spent the time that I was spending on dance with him instead.”

He understood where she was coming from, and he wasn’t there to judge her.  “And your brothers you mentioned, did they help too?”

“Oh no no no.  Sorry – I should have specified.  I’m an only child.  Like, the only child between my parents.  But they divorced when I was six and when my mom re-married I gained two step-brothers, Jasper and Theo.”

“How was the divorce?” Brock found himself asking.

“You ever see footage of a nuclear bomb exploding?” Grace giggled as she asked the question.  It caused Brock to laugh too even though the analogy she was making was dreadful.  “It was awful.  The type of divorce nobody deserves, you know?  I became a pawn, basically, and my parents would only speak to each other through lawyers.  Even stuff concerning me.  It was bad.”

“That sounds horrible.”

“It was.  But it’s the only life I know,” she said.  “He was lucky my mom ended up marrying another rich guy.  I mean, my mom only marries rich men,” she giggled slightly again.  “That’s how Jasper and Theo became my step-brothers.”

“So your family has money?” Brock clarified.  “What’s it from?  Dad a lawyer or something?”

“Not exactly,” Grace said.  “My dad and his brothers own a private equity firm that started like this,” she pinched her fingers together, “and went like…” she continued, spreading her fingers and moving her hands around her like a bomb explosion.  “Gillespie Brothers Investments.  I’m sure as a Vancouver Canuck you’ve heard of them.  I mean they wanted to buy the Canucks before the Aquilinis.”

Brock hadn’t heard of them, but he now knew he’d have to do some snooping when he got home. “I haven’t heard of them.  But I mean – sounds like they were successful.”

“Three billion dollars is pretty successful to me,” Grace quipped.

“B—Billion,” Brock sputtered out.  “With a B.”

“With a B,” Grace nodded.  Brock had no idea he was sitting across from the daughter of a billionaire.  She didn’t act like a billionaire.  Not like Brock knew what billionaires acted like.  He’d never met one before in his life.  Well, besides Francesco.  “But tell me more about what you like about Vancouver.  What about the nature?  I always kind of fine a good long walk along the Seawall or through Stanley Park really clears my mind from all…this.  What about you?”

Brock smiled.  “I find the white noise of downtown clears my mind.”

***

“You want my number,” Grace said as a statement rather than a question as she and Brock exited the Starbucks.  They were kicked out.  They’d been there for so long that they’d been kicked out because they were closing.  Their coffees had gotten cold.  They hadn’t ordered new ones.  And now they found themselves on the deserted sidewalk, jackets put on hastily, and Grace came up with that.

Brock looked down at her.  They’d been able to look into each other’s soul for the past few hours.  “Of course I want your number,” he said.  There was no reason to hide it.  No reason to deny it.  No reason to have to wait until next week to see her again as they sat around in a circle in a community centre talking about their parents.

He took out his phone.  She gave him her number.  He texted his name to hers so she’d have his.  When that dance was done, she looked up at him.  “I’m really glad I met you tonight,” she said, her voice sincere.

Brock nodded.  “I’m glad I met you too.  I—I really enjoyed this.  And I mean—I needed it.”

Grace smiled, nodding her head.  “I needed it too.”

“D’you—” Brock stopped, trying not to get too far ahead of himself.  “D’you need a ride home?”

“Oh no no, my driver is right there,” she motioned her head towards a black Mercedes waiting by the curb.

Brock hadn’t noticed the car until now.  “Chauffeur?”

“Billionaire dad,” she winked.  Brock understood.  She took a few steps back before smiling one more time.  “Call me,” she said, before flipping her hair over her shoulder and walking towards the Mercedes and getting into the backseat.  Brock watched as it drove off, making a right at the end of the street.

He would definitely be calling.

[criphd]

hello.... idk how to start this tumblr so here's some stuff about logistics & what i've been doing/ what i'll be doing [?] & all the waiting & liminal space & even being excited !! about doing a phd which is one of my dreams in life !!

:)))

i’ve been having a weird time for many reasons & haven't been particularly stable for the past like six months to a year whilst i've been working on phd ideas/proposals/funding applications and although i have had some joyful moments & got to spend lots of time with my fav person i'm really glad all that waiting and deadlines and redrafting over and over and over is over. my phd as a project/idea went through i would say three main iterations - the first was mostly just.... wibbly wobbly.... but the second iteration was what i applied with to all bar one place & it did well with academics who were invariably kind to me about my project, enthusiastic about the authors/ideas in it and happy to supervise me if i got a place - & the project did get me some places.

the last proposal i wrote was for a specific medical humanities, health inequality, interdisciplinary studentship and i think it coalesced my ideas to their peak and is the most successful they've been - altho one of the other applications i did was also recieved really well & the did invite me to take up a place applying for funding & starting it in 2023, that just doesnt work for me !

so my phd, rather than being on the original four women authors i wanted to bring together is instead about a whole range of women sociaists from across the uk who were all writing fiction and non fiction about politics, women, care & relationships and it does mean my time frame shifts to focus more on the 1890s than across them into the twentieth century (so i wont include sylvia townsend warner like i had originally planned which is a little sad). it will tho still cross into 'modernism', & that's good because modernism is really important to me!

i'm also kind of hoping to read/work on some naomi mitchison but im not really sure if she fits in terms of 'era' but like... i think she's cool & vibes with the other women included atm... & i would also love love love to discover some working class women socialists lost in the archive who i can fish out and shout about. (i also need to reread my proposal lol bc i pushed a lot of it out my mind when preparing for an interview on the second project!)

anyway i thought i would write this out as a kind of reflection on what the process of applying & interviewing & not getting funding/etc was like as well as record of the amount of work and effort i put in (along with the many kind people who read drafts & supported me through each application!)

logistically i'm not in a totally fine place but i am going to reapply for funding in my first year and in the mean time get a postgrad loan [grimace emoji] to cover my fees and some living costs and i'm lucky in that my parents can help me financially a lot [!] altho i dont want to rely on them at all really bc they suck a bit. my soon-to-be phd supervisor (!) is really lovely, was rly happy when i said i would take up a place with her & thinks i have a high likelihood of accessing funding and i also have found a couple of places to apply to for small amounts of funding, which give out between around £500 to £3000 for postgrads & which i'll write an application schedule out for soon. as well as u know... finding a place to live... moving... etc etc

the process of applying itself has left me with a little web of kind women (most of whom are obviously queer) academics who loved my proposal[s] and so i also feel like i have some folks i could email for advice/checking in/whatever already, across different institutions and that's really nice!!!

anyway i dont quite know what this tumblr will be or how i will use it but yh... i'm sure i'll be sharing some quotes, some ideas & experiences, study inspiration, complaints about how im treated bc i'm disabled, being gay and falling for ghosts etc etc

[beneaththemasks]

Analyzing Atsushi and Akutagawa pt.1 (I have a lot to say so there's gonna be a part 2)

CW: Dazai hate

first of all I want to clarify that I don’t think any of this is going to happen but it’d be really nice if it did... however, since BSD is a fiction story and my analysis is based on what would be ideal in the real life I don’t think it’s too likely for this to happen.

I think Atsushi should leave the ADA and Akutagawa should leave the Port Mafia.

To begin with, I’d like to tell you how I came up with this idea; 

The thing is that in the BSD fandom there’s this (sadly too popular) discussion about Atsushi being a good, strong and entertaining main character or not. Many times I’ve seen people discussing this as if it was simply and wholy a matter of yes or no and the more the discussion grows the more angry I get (but i get angry too easily so don’t mind me).

In my opinion Atsushi is not weak, I actually don’t think any character in BSD is tbh (I mean they’d beat the shit out of me even if they don’t know how to fight because all ever do with my life is sit on my tiny piano and play my silly little mozart). But leaving the physical strenght aside, I still don’t think he’s a weak/strong or boring/entretaining character. I think the charm of Atsushi as a MC lies elsewhere.

Yes he’s pretty, he’s kind, he has an e-boy haircut and I’d let him step on me with those worn-out dirty boots.

But he’s also a common person living among prodigies and demons.

(Really, I feel like standing up and appaluding Asagiri for choosing Atsushi as the mc and writing him the way he did because there’s nothing that could make my shitty life better than knowing that the protagonist of my favourite story in the world is someone I can relate so much to that I actually ended up learning more about myself through him.)

And yes, we’ve seen this happen many times in countless stories (yes yes haikyuu for example) where the plot worked as good as any other even though the MC took longer than the rest to get to where they were but managed to do so in the end (unlike the typical shonen mc that levels-up overnight) plus what people mostly criticize about Atsushi as a MC are his constant war flashbacks and how much he self-doubts himself.

So I came to the conclusion that it's not really Atsushi and his journey as a MC but his unresolved trauma what seems to annoy the audience instead.

And that’s how I came up with a fiction-breaking answer to your problems; If you want Atsushi to stop suffering over and over again for the same things, he has to leave the ADA and get some real therapy.

(Don’t misunderstand me, even if I accept him and love him as he’s now, I’d still love it if this were the real final for him bc it hurts me to see him suffer all the time.)

Think about it, Atsushi is just a poor boy, abandoned by hell itself and thrown into the street in the worst conditions a human being could be just to end up running into a maniac manipulator with a good heart that offers him a roof over his head on the condition he accepts a job that Atsushi himself says doesn’t want and is too afraid to be a part of and that he tried to leave once but failed to do so and then felt too guilty to try again because he eats guilt and remorse with milk for breakfast so now he has no choice but risk his life, face his archenemy physical pain to beat his enemies and constantly fear that he might not be doing what’s right or being good enough while having a huge responsibility on his bare shoulders.

As it stands, his situation can only be explained by that famous saying “it’s not that you don’t want to grow/heal, it’s that the environment is not apt for you to do it”. Yeah, no wonder he hasn’t made any progress overnight and feels so hopeless at times.

I love everyone in the ADA (not you Dazai) and their found family made out of scraps and angsty love is all I ever whish for, but just because he’s finally found people to rely on that care about him doesn’t mean it’s enough to heal so much damage (suprise suprise your family and love won’t always be enough to heal trauma). Atsushi won’t overcome his fears by facing them head-on nor will he become more independent by fighting on his own (actually we all know he hates fighting alone and that’s because he’s not in a place where he can trust in himself yet) instead, it’s very likely he’ll end up pushing himself to the limit to get “stronger” faster and end up loosing sight of himself.

And here's where Akutagawa enters.

The reason why I also mention him is because Akutagawa for me is the perfect example of why Atsushi has to stop now before it’s too late. 

Akutagawa has been past the point of no return for a long time now, he’s fought so hard to get "better" faster for the sake of being recognised by Dazai that he stopped recognising what’s real and what’s not. Akutagawa is already strong enough and has everything he needs but can’t recognise it because he works in a place where the more and faster you kill the better you are, so even though he’s the most feared member of the PM he doesn’t believe it because he hasn’t heard Dazai saying it.

To me it makes perfect sense that Dazai insists so much on making them face each other, I mean, Atsushi has everything Akutagawa wants and Akutagawa has everything Atsushi wants and as long each they stay blinded by their own unrealistic expectations they’ll keep risking their lives for something they will never accomplish under those circumstances, it turns into a vicious cycle where Dazai seems to be the only one benefiting from this since he now has two UltraRare awakened subordinates to fight for the sake of his book or whatever he wants. (but don’t let me get too excited about this topic ‘cause I could talk about Dazai for 3 days)

Yes I know I know, it was a very good thing that Asagiri decided to break that toxic vicious cycle and made one of them think for both to finally make Atsushi challenge Akutagawa to stop killing for six months as a condition to fight with him (that's called GROWTH, breaking out of the cage, abandoning the nest, etc).

But unlike Atsushi, Akutagawa doesn’t have many people to rely on when the time all of his enemies show up -after mori has beaten the fuck out of him for not showing results and lowers his rank to the same Oda had- to make him pay (let’s be honest the mafia couldn’t care less about the errand boy).

Basically, Aku has to leave the Port Mafia in order to stay safe, gain perspective and find a reason to live of his own rather than sit and wait for dazai to approve of his every move (the same goes for Sushi, he has to stop throwing himself off of high buildings to save people and stopping bullets with his mouth to be validated by his peers). 

But yeah, Akutagawa is probably not going to leave the PM and Atsushi is probably not going to leave the ADA but as someone who really wants to see them doing some real growth and barely stands this “just forget your trauma and fight” thing that’s going on I had to say it.

I mean, look at Dazai, it was no untill Oda told him he clearly wasn’t going to find a purpose to live that he decided that mayyyyybe the PM was not a good place to try spiritual healing.

What’s more, I’d say almost every single character in BSD is too fucked up to be able to heal in the kind of environmet they work at and that they must have let the pain sink or whatever bc they jsut don’t want to change their lives but idk man that’s fine if it makes them happy. 

:)

[stealingpotatoes]

I am OBSESSED with your Desmond lives AU!! I want Shaun and Rebecca to be able to give Desmond all the hugs, I want Desmond to be able to choose to be an Assassin, to be able to help save the world again. Also, I am very curious about how you would resurrect Desmond, because I’ve had similar thoughts on such an AU, but I currently stick it near the end of Valhalla with the stuff that happens there. If you ever feel like expanding on it, I'd be super excited to see more!!!

first of all, AH THANK YOU!!! Yes those are ALL points that are very important to the Des Lives AU! Second of all, thank you so much for this ask in general!!! I was hoping someone would send an ask like this so I’d get an excuse to talk abt the AU more lmao XD!! I made this AU back in March last year, so there’s no Valhalla stuff in it, and it’s set right after/ during the Odyssey DLCs. 

The long story short for my Desmond Rez (rezmond, if you will) is “shroud of eden, abstergo, and some Isu bullshit”. The long story long, however, is uh- you know what? I’m going to use this opportunity to explain the vague story I worked out last year -- but dw, I WILL get to the full ressurection explanation I thought through. However... I’m gonna have to tell the story in smaller parts because I’m lazy and can’t be bothered to write the whole thing out right now. So rez comes later and not in this post. 

also uh-- before we start: I’m going to apologise for like… everything about the way I wrote this. It’s sort-of half fic, half that-way-your-friends-colloquially-tell-stories-that-you-can’t-keep-up-with. Mainly the latter. If you can make sense of this babbling, well done.

 Anyways, without further ado, welcome to:

POTES TRIES TO EXPLAIN HER DESMOND (SORTA) LIVES AU: PART ONE

On the 21st of December 2012, Desmond Miles dies. 

It’s not for nothing -- his sacrifice saves the entire world from a solar flare -- but he is dead. big ripz. The Assassins, his family, do not manage to recover his body. Abstergo gets it first. The Assassins hold a funeral as best they can. They mourn (all in their own ways), they keep fighting (for his memory), and they try to move on (they can’t). 

On the 21st of December 2012, Desmond Miles died -- so when he shows up in a city in October 2018, almost 6 years later, it’s a bit of a shock for everyone. What’s even more of a shock is the fact he’s glowing like an Isu and has some abilities he DEFINITELY didn’t have when he died.

So Desmond wakes up in the middle of some city in he doesn’t know where (yeah ok i just never really worked out where the secret lab would be), with 1. no idea of how he got there and 2. no idea why his arms are glowing like that. He doesn’t get much time to think about it because then there’re a load of Abstergo goons with guns surrounding him. Des may have no idea what’s happening, but he knows one thing: when u see an Abstergo, it’s on sight. So he’s fighting them -- which is admittedly not fun or easy when you’re in the middle of a road and only have your fists as weapons. It’s not going well and then someone definitely manages to shoot Desmond which is very bad -- but then Des feels some very weird (but not unfamiliar) feeling and when he looks up from the bullet wound, every one of the Abstergos are on the floor???? He doesn’t think to check if they’re dead, just legs it out of there lmao. 

//

Elsewhere, in an Assassin safehouse in an undisclosed location (can you tell I just didn’t think about the geography of anything), Mr Shaun Hastings is chilling on a balcony after a mission well done. Good for him. Then Rebecca Crane (queen ilu) yells “Shaun?” from inside. 

“Rebecca?” 

“Come inside. Now.”

Shaun immediately does so because he assumes it’s important or they’re under threat. “What happened? Have we been compromised?”

Rebecca doesn’t answer. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Shaun says, mostly joking and with a little smirk -- though Becs looks spooked. 

“Desmond’s alive.”

Shaun’s not smirking anymore. “What?”

“Desmond’s... he’s alive.”

“What are you talking about? Are you high?” he’s totally about to look at her eyes to see if they’re all dilated and druggy. 

“No Shaun, I mean it!” Becs harshly shoves her tablet into his hands. 

Shaun doesn’t really know what he’s expecting to see when he looks down at the screen. What he’s not really expecting to see is Desmond Miles, who’s been dead for six years, fighting a load of Abstergo people -- while lined in Isu markings (also he’s not wearing a shirt forgot got to mention). ??? But wtf??!?! Desmond’s dead. That’s...

“It’s security camera footage from [the city]... About two hours ago.” Rebecca then swipes through more footage with shaky hands and explains that Des very violently burst out of an Abstergo facility in the city with glowing eyes and light leaking out of him (almost like an Apple of Eden). Then the glowing eyes and shining lights shuts off abruptly and Des is standing in the middle of the road looking very confused at his precursor-ass arms and chest. But Shaun is barely listening to what she’s saying and barely even looking at the screen. 

“Where did you get this?” Shaun asks with a hollow voice, not looking up. 

“The Initiates.” (bc who else)

Shaun looks at it again, then at Rebecca, and he’s mildly aware of the fact he’s slightly tearing up; “That’s fake. That can’t be him. He’s dead, Becs. We both saw the…” They both saw the autopsy footage the ac4 researcher got from Abstergo -- or at least, tried to watch it; they shut it off as soon as Shaun ran to the bathroom to throw up and Rebecca quickly joined him. They spent the rest of that night crying and drinking way too much. 

“He died.” Shaun concludes firmly. 

And so Becs is all like “yeah but what if he didn’t?? We need to find him. We need to investigate this.” There’s a determination in her eyes and Shaun knows he’s not going to be able to convince her to drop this -- not that he would. Desmond might be alive, and there is no way they’re going to leave him again. 

They’re both standing there in pure shock and confusion, not saying anything. 

Rebecca’s comm device lights up and starts buzzing, snapping them out of their general ????-ness. Becs goes to her desk to grab it, glances at the caller id and then shows it to Shaun. It’s William Miles. 

The two of them share a Look. They know what he’s calling about -- what else would it be? There’s a stilted moment of neither of them doing anything before Rebecca finally accepts the call. “William?” 

“How quickly can you and Shaun get to [city]?” William sounds shaken -- probably the same way Rebecca and Shaun are -- which is a very weird way to hear the Mentor of the Brotherhood sound. He’s seen the footage, hasn’t he? 

“In a few hours,” Rebecca replies. 

“Good. You need to get there as soon as possible.” 

Everyone’s silent for a few moments. 

“Is this about Desmond?” Rebecca asks. Dumb question. 

There’s a pause. “You’ll be briefed on the ground.” And then he hangs up before Shaun or Rebecca can yell at him.

This is all moving very fast. Shaun and Rebecca share another look. Guess they’re going to [city].  ???

// 

Fast forward several hours and Rebecca and Shaun are in The City [might just have to make the city london bc it’s the one city i actually know well -- however for plot reasons we’ll see later, a swiss city might be better… moving on!]. They get to an assassin base and meet up with Galina Voronina and 2 local assassins. Idk if you’ve read the comics, but to sum things up quickly, Galina and her team were investigating and then ended Project Phoenix -- so Galina now really wants to find out if the whole Desmond thing has anything to do with that. 

Galina also wants to help Shaun and Rebecca get their friend back. They’re her friends, but equally she just lost one of her teammates to Abstergo (while ending Phoenix like 2 months ago, in the comics) and is uh- idk how to say it but she wants to help Shaun & Becs who have a chance to get their lost teammate back.

What follows is cool gang-gang trying to track down any trace of Desmond. You’d think it wouldn’t be hard to find a person who literally glows, but Desmond’s had centuries of Assassin training and knows how to hide lol.. which is making the Assassins’ job harder lol. 

What’s making it even harder is the Assassins know they have to be quick because they know Abstergo is gonna be looking for Desmond too -- and they have way more resources and stuff. That being said, they’re also currently dealing with the fact one of their building and a decent amount of their guards just got absolutely mullered by weird-glowing-desmond. 

The third issue with their entire thing is that they have no idea what they’re going to find when they find Desmond -- or if he even is Desmond. Is he going to be the man they knew but with weird powers? an Abstergo isu-clone? evil? they don’t know, and so they know they’ve got to be wary with him. 

The Assassin gang spend some time (a couple of days at the very most) trying to track Desmond down. Rebecca is using all the tech she can get her hacker mitts on to find a trace of him and equally throw Abstergo off Des’ trail. 

Soon enough, they get a solid lead -- don’t ask for the specifics, i don’t know them. But they get a lead, and it winds them up in an abandoned apartment building or also abandoned building site or something (a building in the city where there aren’t any people, basically). 

Galina scans the place with Eagle Vision and she’s like “There is something very strange about this place.” (someone?) But she doesn’t see a person-shape anywhere. The 5 of them are hopeful but somewhat on edge. 

They go about searching for any sign of Desmond. Galina’s pretty sure her Eagle Vision is just… Messing Up A Lot lol. Like something’s trying to heck with it. So she’s not quite sure it’s working correctly when a load of red figures appear somewhere below them. 

She becomes a lot more sure when the red figures come into sight and START SHOOTING AT THEM! IT’S ABSTERGO!! CRAP! they found them!!

The assassins get down and a really cool fight scene w them vs the Abstergos in the building/ building site starts playing out. Woo Shaun and Rebecca electro-hidden-blade moments!! The fight splits the squad up and Shaun and Rebecca are away from Galina & the others -- but they dispatch the Abstergo guards near them.

They’re about to radio in that they’re all okay/ check if Galina & co are also good when they hear a slightly-too-loud footstep. They whip around to see an Abstergo guard aiming right at them, too far for either of them to get him before he shoots them. crap crap crap.

They would have been shot -- if someone hadn’t come up behind the Abstergo guard and snapped his neck (ouch). 

The Abstergo drops to the ground, revealing the person who saved them and… Shaun and Rebecca stare in shock. 

They’re both looking at Desmond Miles. 

Desmond Miles, who is very much alive (and wearing a hoodie that is 100% stolen). And… with a load of glowing yellow lines on his face. But it’s Desmond -- it’s Desmond for sure. Holy shit.  

Desmond doesn’t seem so shocked, only relieved to see them. Then his expression turns into serious confusion; 

“What the fuck is happening?”

///

ok sorry leaving it there for now! hope you enjoyed what is here will continue soon

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Hi! As someone who’s literary opinion I really trust, I was surprised that you’re a twilight fan? I know almost nothing except commen knowledge things about that series, and I always assumed it was actually bad/un-feminist. What is it that you like so much that others seem to miss? I’m just genuinely curious about your take on the hate it always seems to get vs. it’s actual quality. I’m not gonna judge bc animorphs is also one of those books where you see it and assume it’s bad.

In over 14 years of loving this series, I’m not sure anyone has ever asked me why I enjoy it instead of simply trying to convince me that I’m wrong to do so.  So thank you for that.

First and foremost, I love the Twilight saga because of the vivid detail in Stephenie Meyer’s writing style.  The descriptions are so lush and dense with sensory information that you can practically bite down on them as you read.  Bella and Jacob aren’t just sitting on the beach; they’re sitting on a gnarled log of driftwood, worn smooth at the top from where so many Quileute teens have sat upon it during bonfires but still uneven enough to rock on its branches when Bella suddenly stands to rage at her own mortality.  Meyer describes that log in Twilight, so tangibly and with such economy of detail, that we recognize it immediately when Bella and Jacob return to that spot in Eclipse.  I’ve always disliked the movies, because I’ve always felt that the best part of Meyer’s writing simply did not translate well to the screen.

Secondly, I love the feminism.

Okay, let’s take a quick pause to let everyone gasp and clutch their pearls over me calling Twilight a feminist work.  I will address the criticisms later.  For now, please just hear me out.

Twilight strikes me as a premier example of what Hélène Cixous means when she calls for “women’s writing,” or writing for women, about women, by women, with a strong focus on the concerns and strengths and desires of womanhood.  This is a series about building and maintaining close relationships, both romantic and platonic.  It celebrates beauty, and love, and care.  Bella moves to Forks because she recognizes that her dad is lonely while her mom is quite the opposite, torn between family priorities.  She doesn’t simply subsume her interests to those of other people, but instead actively chooses how and when and where to express her love for her birth family and her found families.  Most of the other major decisions throughout the story — Alice “adopting” Bella, Carlisle moving the family to Alaska, Jacob becoming werewolf beta, the Cullens going up against the Volturi, etc. — are motivated by care and devotion for one’s family and friends.  Even the selfish or morally ambiguous character choices are shown to be motivated by love.  Rosalie tells Edward that Bella died because she genuinely thinks it’ll help him move on.  Victoria creates an army that nearly destroys Forks because she’s avenging James.  Alice abandons Bella and the others before the final battle because if she can’t save her entire family, then she’ll settle for saving her lover before letting him die in vain.

Not only is there a striking concern with love and care, but there’s also a strong commitment to avoiding violence.  Bella’s eventual vamp-superpower proves to be preventing violence and protecting others, an awesome character decision that I’d argue gets set up as early as the first book.  She lives in a violent world — this is a YA SF story, after all — but she has the power to suppress violence and create peace, both in herself and others.  I was already sick of “power = ability to inflict damage” in YA stories well before I knew the word “patriarchy.”  Twilight was one of the first books to convey to me that power could be refusing to do harm in spite of hunger or anger, that power could be shielding ones’ family, that power could be about building enough friendships and alliances to have an army at one’s back when facing an enemy too strong to take on alone.

Closely connected to all of that love and care, I love how much Twilight is about navigating teenage girlhood.  Is it empowering, intersectional, or all-inclusive?  Hell no.  Does it still dare to suggest that a completely ordinary teenage girl could have valid concerns about the world?  Yep.  The main conflict of the story, as Stephen King so derisively explained, is about the romantic entanglements of a teenage girl, and the book therefore has no literary merit.  (To quote my dad’s response: “Bold words from the guy who inflicted Firestarter on the world.”)

There is, indeed, a lot of romance in Twilight.  There are a lot of clothes.  Alice and Rosalie especially spend a lot of time on makeup, and hair, and choosing the prettiest cars and houses.  Twilight embraces all the stereotypically “girly” concerns of adolescence, and makes no effort to apologize for or condemn them.  Bella isn’t particularly good at performing them — she likes but doesn’t excel at shopping, fiercely defends her ugly car as ugly, hobbles through prom on crutches — but she can still enjoy the feeling of being pretty in a sparkly dress while dancing with her sparkly boyfriend.  And Twilight, like Animorphs with Cassie, takes the daring step of treating that feeling as valid.

Speaking of sparkles, I love the commitment to the fantasy concept in Twilight, including the myriad mundanities that Meyer brings with that commitment.  If you have super-speed, why not use it to play extreme baseball?  If you’re a mindreader with a clairvoyant sister, why wouldn’t you two play mental chess games?  I couldn’t tell you, after seven seasons of Buffy or eight of Vampire Diaries, what Spike or Damien or Angel or Stefan does all day when not brooding or lurking in the bushes to creep on human women.  I can tell you what the Cullens get up to.  Emmett and Rosalie work on their cars, usually by holding them overhead one-handed.  Carlisle and Alice read plays, and sometimes talk the whole family into home Shakespeare productions.  Edward and Carlisle debate theology, Emmett and Jasper have dumb athletic competitions, Edward and Esme play music, Alice manipulates stock markets, the twins go shopping online, etcetera.  The Cullens feel real, feel like the vampires next door, in a way that Louis and Lestat simply do not.

To get to the elephant in the room — I just described Twilight as a feminist text! — let’s talk about the other thing the Cullens do for fun: they have sex.  Weird sex.  Kinky furniture-breaking sex.  Sex that Emmett (who would know) compares to bear-wrestling.  These books suck with regards to queer representation, but they are sex-positive.  They feature an old-school Anglican protagonist offering his daughter-in-law a medical abortion.  They treat Edward’s desire for sex only within marriage and Alice’s desire for sex outside of marriage as both being valid.  Like I said, not groundbreaking, even by the standards of 2005, but still more than most teen novels do even today.

There’s a passage from Breaking Dawn that people love to pull out of context as “everything wrong with Twilight in two paragraphs” because it describes Bella waking up the morning after sex with bruises on her arms.  That moment is shocking out of context, to be sure — but in context, it’s the end result of an in-depth consent negotiation that lasts four books.  Bella says that she’d like to become a vampire.  Edward says okay, but only if she spends a few more years living as a human and considering that choice.  Bella says okay, but only if Edward, not Carlisle, becomes the one to turn her.  Edward says they can use his venom, but that Carlisle, who’s an MD, really needs to supervise the process.  Bella doesn’t love the idea of Edward’s stepdad cockblocking what’s supposed to be an intimate moment, and so agrees only on the grounds that she gets to have sex with Edward as a human first.  Edward’s hella Catholic, so he requests that they get married first.  Bella’s super horny, so she demands that the wedding happen within six months.  Edward says that he might hurt her during sex, and Bella says that she wants a little hurt during sex.  They marry.  They bang.  During the banging, Edward makes every effort to be controlled and courteous and gentile, while Bella goes wild and crazy.  The next morning, she has bruises and he does not.  Edward apologizes, but Bella’s actually really into it.  She spends a while admiring her sexy vamp-marked self in the mirror, touches the bruises many times, and reminds us yet again that Bella Swan’s whole M.O. is being a monsterfucker.  Her kink is not my kink, and that’s okay.

To be clear, I think there are other aspects of the romance that get criticized for good reason.  Edward does not negotiate with Bella before sneaking into her room to watch her sleep, and he does make unacceptable use of their power differences when he thinks she’s in danger of being mauled by werewolves.  The text condemns Jacob’s “don’t wanna die a virgin” ploy to manipulate a kiss out of Bella, but not the wider conceit of all the male characters as possessing uncontrollable urges.  Bella’s struggles to adjust to a new town feel very feminine and realistic; her amused tolerance of Jacob’s and Mike’s sexual harassment as the price for their friendship does not.  Werewolf imprinting might be mostly platonic, but that doesn’t make it okay for Meyer to depict it as a form of soulmate bonding that happens with child characters. Those are good points, all around.  I just wish that most of them didn’t come up in the context of post-hoc rationalizations for loathing the femininity of a feminine text.

I’m not calling Twilight an unproblematic series.  I’m saying that it gets (rightly!) criticized for appropriating Quileute culture, while Buffy’s total absence of main characters of color and blatant anti-Romani racism are (wrongly!) not remarked upon. I'm saying that I’ve been told I’m a misogynist for liking Twilight but not for liking James Bond.  I’m saying that there’s a reason people tend to go “oh, that makes so much sense!” when I let them in on the fact that reactive hatred for “Twitards” started and spread on 4Chan, later home of Gamergate and incel culture.  I’m saying that Twilight depicts problematic relationship dynamics as sexy — but then so do Vampire Academy, Blue Bloods, Supernatural, Vladimir Tod, and Vampire Diaries.  All of which take the time to stop and thumb their noses at Twilight, smug in the superiority of having vampires that fly rather than vampires that sparkle, and for thoroughly condemning teenage girls for being girly while continuing to show men inflicting violence on them.

After all, as Erin May Kelly puts it: “we live in a world taught to hate everything to do with little girls.  We hate the books they read and the bands they like.  Is there anything the world makes fun of more than One Direction and Twilight?”  No one has ever called me a misogynist for liking the MCU, in spite of less than a third of its movies even managing to clear the low-low bar of the Bechdel test.  Because people are still allowed to like Harry Potter in spite of its racism, or Lord of the Rings despite its imperialism.  Because hatred for Twilight was never about its very real sexism, or the genuinely silly sparkle-vampires, until it had to justify itself as something other than hate for everything that teenage girls have ever dared openly love.

I enjoy the novels, and I enjoy the fan fiction that tries to fix some of the problems with the novels.  I appreciate the extent to which Meyer has elevated fan culture, and made an effort to acknowledge her own past mistakes.  I would love to be able to talk about my love for the series as a flawed but beautiful work of literature, but for now I’ll settle for asking that the world just let me enjoy it in peace.

[your-turn-to-role]

hi okay i hate sending asks to people without knowing them but you seem kind so im trying: during the break, i’ve been working my way through VM, and i’m at episode 75. my question, because i’ve read some of your more recent meta, is “what’s Percy’s deal?” i know he’s loved by the fandom, but i can’t find myself relating to him, and i find his assertions that he’s the only one with a plan offputting. is there more context you can give to me about percy’s character that explains his motivations?

aww, thank you!

(and yeah, asks like this are totally fine, i totally get that anxiety, good job on sending this!)

i mean, first off, you don't have to like a character everyone else does? if you don't relate to percy you can just, not relate to percy, that's fine

(and to be fair, as much as i love him as a character, i would not want him as a friend, because he's a very flawed person that has a lot to work on, but in fiction those traits are interesting to watch rather than difficult to deal with)

but, percy's deal! the short answer is people generally like him because taliesin's funny and charismatic and he does morally grey right, which is rare and a fun thing to explore (also in his relationships with other people, the entire vex-vax-percy-keyleth square is full of neat parallels and opposites and interesting things and i have whole essays in my head on all six combos there)

i don’t know which posts you’ve read so i’ll link this one here too, just to cover a couple more of the generally unnoticed aspects of his character, and things i like about percy

he’s also far from perfect, as you’ve noted, he does tend to believe he’s the smartest person in any given room, because he’s young and clever and used to being that, which you’re allowed to find off putting, but i will say i find he does that less than a lot of characters of his general archetype? he listens to pike, he listens to keyleth, he listens to vex, he respects when they have more knowledge than him on a particular subject, he’s not above asking for help. and generally most of the arguments he has with keyleth on that subject aren’t him asserting he knows more than her, but more a matter of principles and values (they’re a really interesting pair that way, they have similar backgrounds, both children of royalty running away from the crown, but they’re such opposites. percy is a natural leader who would rather anyone rule than him, keyleth fumbles her way through all of it but sticks to it because she doesn’t want to let anyone down, percy is a pragmatist, keyleth is an idealist, they both are too focused on the big picture but in two completely different ways, i could write a whole other post on this, but to get to my point, they wouldn’t be such good balances for each other if percy didn’t absolutely respect where keyleth is coming from)

for the long answer, i’m gonna break this down into parts and try to get to the core of percy's character and why he is the way he is

(under the cut bc this gets long)

1 - heavy trauma

like... this is the really really big one. percy, at age 17 or 18, had his entire life up to that point completely destroyed. his family was killed, his friends were killed, people he trusted like family (professor anders, who was a more present figure in percy's life than his actual parents) betrayed him and helped the briarwoods, he was imprisoned in his own castle's dungeons and tortured for information, they threw his siblings' bodies in there with him to make a point, cassandra helped him escape but as far as he knew she died helping him. he has two years of his life after that he straight up doesn't remember, his hair turned white from the stress of it. 

trying to go after ripley the first time didn't work, he was captured and left to starve in a prison cell, for the first few months of travelling with vox machina he genuinely believed it wasn't real, because realistically no one was gonna come save him, this was just a hallucination of his dying mind. returning to whitestone he was forced to confront the fact that literally everyone he ever knew growing up (with the sole exception of archibald) was either dead or working with the briarwoods, and even after retaking the city there's a lot that can never be repaired. 

and he's just... never really dealt with any of this? like, he gave vox machina the technical details of what happened to him in the briarwood arc, because they needed to know that information, but the first time he actually started processing his trauma, the first time he admits it out loud to anyone, is the final episode of campaign one. before then it had been occasional snide or handwavey comments, and like, he'll let himself feel the anger over it (in the beginning of the story he encouraged it, because then he didn't have to feel anything else), but he's never processed the grief, never admitted to himself how badly that affected him

which means he's got a lot of pent up emotions in there that he just keeps burying, and sometimes they come out in unhealthy ways. having so much taken from him also makes him really motivated to keep the things he does have - he’s got some deep set abandonment issues and takes any kind of betrayal really badly, don’t know if you’ve got up to the scanlan stuff by the time i post this, but that’s something to keep in mind as to why he acts the way he does there. (and it’s not more explicit because percy was raised nobility, keeping a brave face through anything is part of who he is, he tends to cover emotions he’s insecure about in snark or indifference or, for the intense ones, anger, because those are the things he thinks he’s allowed to show, but the real emotions show up occasionally, when they’re particularly strong, or if you’re reading between the lines. he really does care a lot about vox machina)

2 - legacy and loyalty. 

speaking of nobility, it's hard to do a character study on percy without mentioning whitestone and the house of de rolo. this is the number one thing to percy. he was raised to respect title and name, and most importantly, raised to respect the people he represents - both the townsfolk of whitestone and also percy's ancestors and future de rolo generations. whitestone is more important than any one life, he has a duty to protect and serve it, and that comes before any personal wants he may have. it's also important to him for family reasons - he was a pretty lonely child, but he loved reading about the history of the city, all the weird ghost stories whitestone had even before the briarwoods. it probably made him feel more connected to all of that, this is the place he belongs. and after his family dies, it becomes even more important, because this is his connection to them. the soul of a city lives as long as its people, by protecting what's left, he keeps a little bit of what came before

(and also in just tidbits to understand percy's character, he sees all cities and man-made things the same way - in a world where some races live for centuries or millennia, their history exists mostly by word of mouth, you can physically talk to people who were around 500 years ago and get their take on things - humans don't have that, they get 100 years at most, so the things they build are vital to their heritage. this is how you keep people alive long after they're gone, by honouring what they created. and especially for someone so concerned with legacy and history, percy literally says abandoning westruun would be blasphemy, because the place people grew up is important, yes it's better that they live, but letting the city be abandoned and destroyed would be an irreparable act of violence.) 

this is the number one thing on percy's mind when evaluating anything about himself, where do i come from, and what do i leave behind? which is a question that has a lot of moments to be tested, because of my next point...

3 - pragmatism and terrible thoughts

when it comes down to it, percy is a very ends justify the means kind of person. he finds it very easy to square away any kind of collateral damage as long as it gets him to his end goal. see: trial of the take, where he's fine to catch his friends in the blast radius of a new bomb design because he's so excited that it worked, preparing to fight vorugal and resigning himself to potentially having to kill innocent people to kill the dragon (he wasn’t okay with that, but he would do it), also his conscious decision to let ripley go, knowing she would lead to the deaths of thousands because it was her or the briarwoods and he wanted revenge 

(this is by his own admission his lowest point and worst mistake, because as mentioned, he thinks about the consequences of his actions near constantly, he knew she would reproduce his guns and they would lead to a whole new form of warfare. but in that moment he was just blinded by grief and way too emotionally burnt out and did not have the capacity to care. and he spends the rest of the campaign and honestly probably the rest of his life trying to make up for that one)

he's also, by his own admission, someone who has a lot of bad thoughts he doesn't act on, he's very clever and creative and ideas for ways to use those skills for violence or vengeance come easily to him (like, percy as an actual villain would be ripley but worse, ripley's intelligent but a very direct point a to point b kind of thinker, percy has multiple times criticised her lack of imagination, a percy with her lack of morals would be terrifying)

(honestly this is why i was seeing percy so much in taliesin's narrative telephone, because "sometimes i wake up having dreamed of a terrible thing, and normally i just file that away for things that i would never do, because i wanna maintain friendships, but then LIAM did something to me." and the whole being absolutely fine with throwing the rest of the cast under the bus just to enact revenge on liam was quintessential percy)

but we’ve seen the pragmatic anti hero everywhere, anyone can be a terrible person, and have reasons for it, that alone doesn’t make an interesting character (at least not for me)

what does, is my last point

4 - trying to be good

i still vividly remember when i first watched campaign one, being really surprised at how much percy asked for help? like, i went in expecting the usual full on demon possession storyline, i expected percy to hide how bad it was, i expected him to make poor decisions without realising he was doing it until he was in too deep to back out

and like, he had some of that. but at the first sign of things being out of his control, he asked his friends for help. he let pike greater restoration him. he told vax to kill him if things ever got too out of hand. he was really, genuinely scared about what he got himself into and what he might do because of it. there was never a point where he pretended, even to himself, that making a deal with orthax was okay. the minute he realised there was a demon involved, he was working to stop it. and yeah, by the time he realised it was already a bit too late, there were already some things out of his control (and also taliesin kept having the worst rolls against the whitestone corruption which was really fun on a meta level), which is how things got as bad as they did. but honestly, all things considered, there’s very little to criticise about the way percy handled himself in the briarwood arc. 

and he keeps doing that, trying to get better. he struggles with it, he struggles a lot, against his anger issues, against all the trauma, against the fact that he really doesn’t want to be here and things would be so much easier if he were dead. but he recognises he holds grudges too easily, so he starts actively trying to forgive those who’ve wronged him (this is something he and vex have in common, and something they were working on together before they were together, which probably helped a lot in getting them to that point as well). he recognises he makes poor decisions when he’s angry, so he starts learning to step back in those moments and leave the decisions to someone else. he has never not owned up to his mistakes, he takes responsibility for everything he’s done, and if he notices a problem he can’t solve himself, he asks for help.

and i find that fun to explore. like, percy’s been likened to hamlet in the actual show, and i was the kid who got super obsessed with hamlet when i was like 15 because i was in that same mental space of suicidal self hatred and existential melancholy but also thinking i was the smartest person in any given room and being too young to have gotten over the arrogance that makes you ignore everyone else’s needs for the sake of indulging your own problems. and then i got older and realised there are smarter ways to go about things, like having empathy and appreciating the light in the world and not being a dickhead to people because it makes you feel better, and maybe hamlet can be justified and in the wrong at the same time. and while there’s some stuff i won’t spoil for you, percy after ripley kills him is definitely starting to learn that, which you rarely see in the hamlet archetype, bc everyone’s like “ah yes so Deep so Important who cares what bad things this person did they had Trauma and are Clever”

well, percy cares about the bad things he did, and cares about not doing those anymore. so like, he’s still a disaster of a person bc he’s like 23 and no one has their life together at 23, especially not someone in percy’s situation, and honestly i find that fun to watch as well bc i like watching characters make stupid mistakes and do stuff i’d never approve of in real life, and as i mentioned at the start, taliesin makes captivating and funny characters. but yeah, that’s generally where percy’s at, most of the time

[arsonistblue]

BLUE YOU HAVE OCS???? Please tell me everything about them

AAAAAA YES I DO!!!!! I’m writing a book (technically a series) and they’re all my children

It’ll all be under the cut bc this might get long (It did) since I’ve don a fuckton of world and character building, plotting, and meticulously planning the books, and I have a feeling people will want me to shut up but it’s my blog and I get to rant about my book if I want to kjlsdfkjlsdf

(I kinda have to explain some of the worldbuilding to explain the characters)

Most of them are from a different dimension similar to the “human” dimension, called the Middle. They’re also like humans themselves, but they each have a “difference,” which is what they call their power, for lack of a better word. It’s called a difference because, even if two people have the same ability, say, they could both control water, it would still be different for each of them. They’d’ all have a calling, for lack of a better word. And their styles have to be self taught.

There are 6 people, 2 sets of triplets, who are called the Crest. The Crest were an experiment to try and create a solution to help fix a corrupted world that seemed utopian. Sector 13, a rebel organization trying to fix said corrupted world, decided to tweak the genetics of six embryos to make them more powerful. Their idea of this was for these six to have two “differences” rather than the standard one (the thing is, though, they didn’t know just how powerful the six would be). 

Two sets of parents (The Quills and the Clearlys) volunteered to carry the children and raise them. However, word of the Crest got out, and in turn sparked a massive war. 

Okay, onto the characters!!! (picrew link)

This is Alex Clearly. She’s the main character, and a member of the Crest.

She was raised in an orphanage in the human dimension. She was born in the Middle, but due to being born in the midst of a giant war about her existence, her parents wanted to keep her (as well as the rest of the Crest) hidden away. So they (The Quills and the Clearlys) hopped from safe house to safe house while still in the Middle. However, they were found by a different organization who wanted the Crest dead (or worse), and a bomb was set to their safe house. The Clearly parents thought they were the only ones to survive, but then they found Alex (keep in mind, she’s a baby at this point) and decide “fuck this, she’s going somewhere objectively safer.”

So, they took her to the human dimension to be raised in an orphanage with one of Mrs. Clearly’s old friends (read: bitter ex-friends who don’t necessarily hate each other to death but don’t vibe any more) who was hiding out there. They would’ve set her up at a foster home but they were like, about to die from sepsis so they decided “this’ll work ig.” They did their best ok 

This orphanage, unfortunately, is run by a horrible old woman who (for reasons explained in the book) absolutely despises Alex. So Alex is kind of an outcast in this orphanage because of that. The only adult who actually likes her is Gwendolyn, aka Mrs. Clearly’s old friend. She also has a best friend, Eli. 

Now, given that Alex is part of the Crest, she has 2 powers. One appeared at birth, which was telepathy, which meant she could read others’ minds and emotions. But, because the universe hated her, she couldn’t block them, so she constantly has waves of other people’s thoughts and emotions hurtling at her (this is also me projecting as an empath jklsdflkjds hyperempathy is a bitch)

I’m currently debating whether to spoil what her other power is because you find out a few chapters into the first book 

Yknow what fuck it, she’s a hydrolic. She can control water and it’s awesome

I don’t want to spoil any more of her backstory, so now I’ll give some attributes!

Me, talking about Alex: So there’s this she/they

She’s been Through Some Shit (tm) but she’s a survivor, and taught herself self-defense, how to steal without getting caught (for when she really needed food/supplies), etc

She’s also a badass and tough as nails

However do not let her badassery fool you, she is in fact a Fucking Nerd

Trust issues are rampant

Definitely Not Straight (see the undercut [important note, the undercut does not exist until book 2])

V sarcastic

If you give her dumplings she will love you forever

Definitely said ACAB after the cops took away her Big Burly Guy Friends for Robin Hood antics (read: stealing from the rich and giving to the poor)

said Big Burly Guy Friends were Big Burly Guys, taught self defense classes in their garage. She (at the time, a skinny 7 year old) showed up and asked them to teach her to fight, and at first they laughed, but she learned self defense and every saturday she showed up and they gave her a juice box and some crackers

10000% has adhd

During book 1, she’s 13-14

In just a normal high school AU, she would be a closeted memelord

But would unironically say poggers

She hates rules

A lot

She goes out of her way to break the especially stupid ones

Stubborn as all hell

She’s also super protective and if you hurt someone she loves, you fear for your life

Long story short, she’s a badass nerd with adhd who could kill a man with ease

I love her so much it’s not even funny ok?? she’s my child

Next!

This is Eli Marcus. He was Alex’s best (only) friend at the orphanage. He’s also from the human dimension. 

Eli was at the orphanage since he was five. He was always friends with Alex, and tried to help her with her headaches, though Alex never told him she was a telepath. 

He’s a loyal friend, and always tries to cheer people up

He has a bad habit of forgetting to take off his binder at night, much to Alex’s annoyance

He loves to play the drums. There’s constantly a song stuck in his head, and he taps his fingers on tables or chairs or whatever to try to get them out

It works, then it’s replaced by another song

He probably has adhd too

He has tried to dye his own hair. It did Not work

Alex kept reminding him that he had dark hair but he was just “I am looking Away, I do not see it” so it only dyed his scalp red

So far we haven’t seen very much of him, he’s in the first few chapters of book 1. I’m planning on putting him in book 2 or 3 though!

This is Jazzi LeCiel, one of Alex’s best friends. 

Jazzi lives in The Middle, and she’s the same age as Alex. She’s a stratic, meaning she can control the air (like an airbender), but like most people, she didn’t discover it until she was around middle school age. Her backstory isn’t as developed since she’s not the main character, and the story is told from Alex’s perspective. 

She’s a disaster bisexual

She would unironically cuff her jeans

Loves causing chaos 

She’s pretty trusting up front but if you break her trust it takes awhile to get it back

Farily petite

Also a badass like Alex, but she’s also a dork jlsfljdfk

I love her so much it’s not even funny 

She’s one of the classic short-but-deadly people. By this I mean she could easily kill a man with her eyes closed and one hand behind her back, and probably would if he pissed her off enough

Very strong sense of community

She’s independent but knows when to rely on her friends and family, something she’s trying to teach Alex (since she always had to be independent)

She’s extremely creative and thinks outside the box, hell, she probably doesn’t even know where the box is

Next!

This is Torrent Rush. He’s another of Alex’s friends in the Middle.

Torrent is about the same age as Alex and Jazzi, maybe a few months older. He’s also a visidem, meaning he can turn himself (and, if he focuses, other people) invisible. (Also that’s not really what his hair looks like, but it was the closest I could find)

Daddy issuuuuuuues

His dad’s a piece of shit

He’s got an older brother, and thus is very competitive

He’s generally very caring and outspoken, also very kind even if you’re a total stranger

Though he has trouble keeping his emotions under control, and when he gets angry or upset enough, he tends to lash out

Someone get this boy some therapy

His favorite color is purple

Idk why I added that, it’s not relevant at all lkjfdskljdfs

He tries to be smooth and he kind of is ngl, but like not as smooth as he could be

He kinda has White Boy energy but he tries to not be like that, you know? Like he was raised with toxic masculinity but he’s trying to outgrow it

tl;dr he needs therapy and a nap

This is Ezra Quill, another of Alex’s friends and a member of the Crest. 

He’s lived in the Middle all his life as well, and is both a pyre (controlling fire) and a hypnolic (basically he can control other people’s minds and therefore bodies as well). He’s lived at a Sector 13 base for awhile, too. 

Imagine sunshine given human form. You have Ezra

Seriously he’s a cinnamon roll

I love him so much

He has on multiple occasions had fucking butterflies land on his nose. This is not an exaggeration. It happens multiple times

He’s a fucking NERD and will hyperfixate on anything 

He specifically loves baking 

Cracks a lot of jokes but he’s generally very sincere

Also he’s a tol bean???? child what are you doing up there

He’s quite fond of mango lassi and payasam

He plays with his fire a lot, purely to have fun. He loves lighting his hand on fire to scare people (Loretta, mostly) 

He fidgets

a lot

He always has to be moving, whether it’s tapping his fingers or doing that fuckin wave squiggle motion with his arms (he’s also really good at it)

He also hums to himself, but it always ends up with him making random sounds and making Alex think there’s a cryptid toddler in the other room

He loves big sweaters, not just because of how cozy they are, but also because he can slap people (read: Alex) with the long, flappy sleeves 

Next is Loretta, Alex’s adoptive mother and all-around wonderful woman.

Loretta is a master hydrolic, and teaches at the academy. She’s probably a repressed lesbian too lkjsdflkjdfs

She was a part of Sector 13 from the beginning of their work on creating the Crest, and when she met Alex, she almost cried because of the strong young woman Alex was becoming. 

Loretta will see a child (read: anyone younger than her), say “is anyone gonna adopt that thing” and then not wait for an answer

She had to physically stop herself from making Alex sign the adoption papers she keeps in her pocket at all times the first time they met

If you hurt somebody she loves, run

Faster

She has some dark spots in her past, in her present, too, but she’s working to illuminate them 

Also she’s in love with her best-friend-turned-enemy but she doesn’t know it

She is a fierce fighter when she wants to be. Nobody expects it, either. They see her and think she’s more laid-back, some daresay delicate, but she’s anything but. She’s taken down a full grown man while wearing heels

She’s basically adopted Torrent, Ezra and Jazzi too

She adopted Alex, but she also saw Torrent and Ezra and Jazzi and decided they were hers too

“How many children do you have?” “Biologically, legally, or emotionally?” 

I love her sm 

[army-of-mai-lovers]

hello arthur!! tbh people are being terrible in your inbox and the last ask killed my brain cells so this is your free bingo card to talk about anything you like. also sometimes googling sharks with human teeth (exactly what it sounds like) helps!! much love <3

oh my gosh I’m OBSESSED with these photos they’re so cute!!!! and thank you for the bingo card Effie I appreciate it so much. I’m gonna rant about Deadly Class (a show I definitely don’t like and thus don’t run a fan blog for....smh) bc it’s on my mind and it looks like it’s just going to go quietly into that good night instead of being made fun of and dissected and I think that should change bc goodness gracious that show does not deserve a dignified death. also I’m gonna put this rant under a readmore bc this is gonna be long and it has nothing to do w atla. warnings for discussions of racism, callous mentions of murder and death, swearing, discussion of Nazis, discussion of gore, abuse ment

Okay so for those not in the know (which is probably everyone considering the show was on Syfy and it’s being canceled due to low viewership) Deadly Class is a teen murder drama set in the late ‘80s starring Lana Condor, which makes it sound like it was engineered in a lab to appeal to me. Literally my friend and I were in the middle of watching Schitt’s Creek, which I adore, and she was like “well I heard about this show called Deadly Class” and described it and I was like fuck Schitt’s Creek we’re watching this. It had a 64% on Rotten Tomatoes, which usually makes me nervous, but I was literally like “I don’t care because I know I’m going to love it.” 

And well. I did not love it. 

I truly do not understand how one fucks up “teenagers (mostly) of color go to murder boarding school in the late ‘80s” that bad (I mean the Russo brothers are involved and they fuck up everything they touch so perhaps it was just that). I haven’t read the comic the show is based on but it does appear that a *lot* of the issues of the show stem from the comic, which is...disappointing. Basically, our MC, Marcus, starts off the show homeless after his group home burned down (and it’s heavily implied that he was the one to do it) and gets hunted down by these elite teenage murderers who invite them to their murder school. 

Already, numerous problems are starting to show themselves. First of all, Marcus is Latino, which, yes, it’s very cool that the MC is Latino, except he is literally the white-passingest man I’ve ever seen in my life, and I’ve seen my dad. I didn’t realize that he was Latino until they showed his extremely stupid backstory in a shitty animated sequence and whoever was voicing his dad did this really, really thick Nicaraguan accent and I was like wait a damn minute. So then, I looked it up, and the guy playing Marcus is named Benjamin Wadsworth, which immediately made me think that they had pulled a Noah Centineo and made me think this fully white actor was half Latino (and yes, Latinos can be white, but I think Marcus is supposed to be a nonwhite Latino, and I thought Benjamin Wadsworth was both white and non-Latino). But you know, as an light skinned ethnically ambiguous mixed kid myself, I thought I owed it to him to dig a little deeper, and turns out our pal Ben is mixed (also, he’s like six months older than me and married, which is a trip). And like, okay, I guess I’m glad they didn’t get a white non-Latino man to play a Latino character, but they literally got the whitest looking Latino they could think of to play him. He originally auditioned for Billy. Billy’s the token white. And the producers were like “wait you have Latino ancestry?” (how they found that out I don’t fucking know) and let him go for Marcus. And like. Okay. The character in the comics is light-skinned but he does not look white, and Benjamin is not a good enough actor for them to just pass on the actors who surely auditioned for that role and were more visibly Latino but like. Okay, I guess. 

Second of all, this show is mega racist and it starts to reveal itself when you look at how the murder kids are styled in literally their first appearance. What struck me the most was the fact that the Latina (whose name is fucking Maria, for heaven’s sake) was wearing a sexy red dress and Day of the Dead makeup, which, I’m sorry, huh? That just so happens to be the Mexican girl’s murder outfit? I’ve tried to give them the benefit of the doubt and speculate that maybe she wears it to like, subvert people’s expectations, but at this point idk how this is subverting anyone’s expectations nor why she’d be so invested in that. Also, she’s supposed to be a teenager. It’s fucked up to sexualize any of your child characters but it really hits different when it’s your Latina character (and yeah, I know the actress playing Maria isn’t a teenager, but still, it’s the principle of the thing). And then of course, the Black guy, Willie (no he’s not related to Billy they were just like yeah two guys with rhyming names in our main cast sounds legit) is a gangbanger dude who talks the way that white people think Black people talk. I keep waiting for this guy to have one line that’s not complete garbage, but I’m five episodes deep and so far nada, which sucks so bad because there’s like, kernels of an interesting character buried in this horrible racist trope. Also, they had him sleep with a N*zi. I hate it here. Lana Condor (her character’s name is Saya) gets off fairly okay, at least in this first shot (they don’t have her wearing a kimono to go murder people, thank fuck), but the way she behaves is super weird, like kinda flirty towards Marcus, kinda badass but not enough to actually do anything, etc. Billy’s white so they couldn’t make him a racist caricature or anything but I have no idea why he’s here. See, instead of talking about the real politics of the real world, Deadly Class makes up fake prejudice that honestly makes the lok bender/nonbender bullshit look sensible. Maria, Willie, and Saya are Legacies, which means that their families are established murderers (fun fact: the N*zi girl is also a Legacy, because her father murdered hundreds of civil rights activists. And the characters of color align themselves with her. I don’t understand.) Billy, and later Marcus when he decides to go to murder school, are Rats, meaning they have no affiliation with established murder groups. So, in this show, the people of color have privilege over the (mostly white) Rats. Make it make sense. Further, this means that Maria, Saya, and Willie should have absolutely no reason to hang out with Billy, and yet they do because the Russo brothers have heard that the kids these days like the found family trope, so they put five unlikely friends in a room together and insinuated that they could all be besties. I swear, this show is the La Croix of found family tho, in that there is absolutely no flavor whatsoever. None of the characters develop into a found family. Saya is bound to care for Marcus for reasons, Maria is using him, Willie is also using him, and Billy is only his friend because they’re both Rats. Saya and Maria are already friends (and honestly their friendship is the most compelling thing in the whole show). There are no other connections between the characters. But they’re totes a found family!!!!/s

Also, they don’t let Saya be mean. Every character says “oh Saya’s such a bitch” but do we ever see Saya being a bitch??? No! Saya is literally just a nice girl who is kinda quiet sometimes and murders people and has a tragic backstory. There’s an argument to be made for Maria being more bitchy than her tbh. And like, fine, if you want Saya to be nice, she can be nice, but stop telling me she’s mean then!!! If you’re gonna tell me that I’m gonna get to see mean Lana Condor in a leather jacket in this show then deliver bitch. 

There’s truly so much more I could talk about (Chico??? What the fuck is Chico’s arc???? What in the actual hell were they thinking when they were writing anything to do with Chico????? my DUDES WHAT IN THE SAM HELL. also making Billy straight was so fucking stupid he’s literally gay come on now, also Master Lin is so fucking useless what is he even doing here) but instead I’m going to outline the version of Deadly Class my friend and I have been talking about while we watch the inferior real Deadly Class. 

lots of things are the same actually because there are some elements of the show that have potential. Marcus is still homeless at the beginning, everybody still thinks he burned down the group home but he didn’t, Willie is still a pacifist, he and Marcus are still partners for their first murder school assignment, Saya’s mean (but like actually), Billy still has green hair and is the token white of the group (although a Billy of color.....thinking), and they all hate Reagan

in an ideal world Willie and Maria would have different names (Willie bc his name rhymes with Billy’s and that’s fucking stupid, also Willie is just a terrible name in general, Maria partially because it sounds way too similar to Marcus and I don’t understand why the guy who wrote this couldn’t make his characters have different sounding names, and partially because no Latina character of mine is going to be named fucking Maria), but for the purposes of this outline I’ll keep their names the same for clarity.

Marcus doesn’t initially have his rep. He’s on the streets when he sees a girl his age (Saya) come out of this elevator in the back of a restaurant brandishing a sword, and decides to go into the elevator, sees the stash of weapons, and decides to steal one so he can fend for himself better. 

also keeping the detail of Rory murdering a bunch of homeless kids, but now Marcus knows that Rory is actively hunting him down. 

in the process of robbing the school’s weapons collection, Marcus figures out that it’s a murder school

Master Lin catches Marcus robbing the school, they fight, Master Lin overpowers Marcus and ties him up. He says the weapons are for students only, and Marcus says he’s applying. Lin asks what his qualifications are, and Marcus says “you know that group home that burned down three months ago? all the kids that died? I started the fire.” 

(also no shade to Benjamin Wadsworth but in this version he is not playing Marcus. Marcus is not white-passing)

Master Lin initially doesn’t believe him, but Marcus presses on and eventually convinces Master Lin that this is really what happened, and so Lin welcomes him to murder school. 

Marcus’s first class is Poisons, and his lab partner is Billy, who takes a shine to him and shows him around school. There’s no Legacy/Rat nonsense, but you do have normal high school drama adapted slightly for murder school. Maria is the prettiest and most popular girl in school, Saya is the mean girl/valedictorian, Willie is the jock, and Billy’s the punky weirdo. 

Marcus is, of course, the new kid with a reputation to live up to. 

Things kind of fall apart when Willie and Marcus are paired up for an assignment: to seek revenge on somebody. 

also Willie’s backstory is extremely different. his dad was a Black Panther, and he was murdered by the FBI when Willie was a kid. distraught, his mom moved to Texas, where she started working a corporate job and rose really high in the ranks. To maintain her status in the company, she had to do some really horrible things, including working with the FBI to take down other civil rights activists. Willie found out about this and was absolutely horrified. his mother insisted she was doing this so that he could have a better life, but he refused to listen to her, and ran away, and ended up at murder school. 

Willie got into murder school because Lin knows who his mom is, and assumes that Willie is just as cutthroat as she is. he gains a reputation as well. 

also, Willie’s extremely wealthy, and this shows in the way he dresses (preppy jock vibes)

you don’t find out about this backstory for a minute tho bc unlike Albert Kim and the Russo Brothers, I can wait until the right opportunity presents itself for a backstory drop. 

ok anyway back to what I was saying earlier

they have to seek revenge on somebody. Marcus asks Willie if there’s anybody he wants revenge on, and Willie very sincerely says no. Marcus scoffs at him and says he’s clearly had a very easy life, to which Willie replies, “Well, who do you want revenge on?” 

Marcus immediately says, “Rory.” 

So they track Rory down, and since Marcus hasn’t actually killed anybody, he hands the weapons over to Willie. Willie frowns and says that he has nothing against this dude he’s never met before, so Marcus should be the one to hurt him. Marcus says that this is a group project and Willie’s got to pull his weight, and they get into an argument

the argument gets loud, and Rory hears them fighting and starts chasing them. 

in the midst of the chase, both of them divulge their secrets to one another. Willie laughs hysterically and says that they deserve each other bc they both lied to get where they are, and now they’re going to die because of it

Rory backs them into a corner, and Marcus uses one of the swords he tried to steal earlier to shank Rory

They throw the body in a dumpster, and after this, they’re friends, and Marcus decides he’ll fit right in at murder school. 

ok so that was only one episode but things to look forward to in the version of Deadly Class that only exists in me and my friend’s heads: Marcus dealing with the emotional and moral fallout of his first murder, Willie trying to figure out what it means to be a pacifist in a world so hellbent on doing violence towards him, Saya being mean to everyone except Maria, Maria convincing Saya to relax and have fun, the gang bonding in a Breakfast Club style situation adapted for murder school and making a joke about how this is like the Breakfast Club because it’s the 80s and the movie just came out, Saya and Maria falling in lesbians, Marcus and Saya being depressing edgelord besties, Billy being gay and fighting his abusive father, Marcus and Billy being uncool weirdo bffs, Willie and Maria rolling their eyes at Marcus and Saya’s cynicism, Billy coming out to Marcus and talking about his experiences being gay, which makes Marcus think “hang on, why do I relate to that?”, Willie seeing Marcus make a sarcastic comment about kissing a guy and having a crisis, Marcus and Willie falling in love, the gang taking a road trip to Vegas to murder Billy’s dad and giving Billy a gnc thrift store makeover on the way, and eventually the gang murdering the shit out of Ronald Reagan. 

[mimirue]

2020 Blog Recap

I saw @desira-sims make a post recapping the events on their blog for 2020 and I thought I’d steal the idea

Everyone knows 2020 has been a crazy year and for me it was no exception. I started working from home in March and I’m still working from home now. I got shingles and that was a painful process of recovery lol. And then after many things pushing it back I started streaming on twitch and hit affiliate which has been such a great experience and feels like such a fit.

Posting in tumblr has been a definite constant throughout 2020. It’s been mostly Markus’ BC and gens 5 and 6 of my not so berry but I’ve loved every second of it.

Be sure to let me know if I included any of your favorite moments or even if i\I missed yours!

January

A Muse for Markus: I started out Markus’ search for love with the thing he’s loved most in the world. It was finally time for him to find the person he loved just as much as music. Markus’ BC has by far been my favorite thing I’ve ever done in the sims and I definitely look forward to doing another BC in the future.

February

Solo dates: We started out the competition with solo dates and there were three girls who had quick leads for Markus’ and my own hearts. They all made it to the final half of the competition so obviously the initial connection meant something. From a storytelling perspective it was challenging to try to think up 12 unique dates for the girls and I learned quickly that this struggle wasn’t going to go away any time soon.

March

The first rose ceremony: *sigh* ...I took a 2 week break before actually writing this scene. I didn’t think it would actually be so hard to let someone go home but hell it really was. I don't think this was made any easier by the fact that the first girl to go home was that of one of my best friends or that it kinda came as a surprise to me literally at the end of the pre-ceremony party when I totaled up their relationship scores. I would soon learn that each elimination really does get easier.

April

The first kiss: I have so many feelings about the Angie X Markus pairing lol. I love Angie so much but I hated how her in game actions made me have to write her (I actually wrote her so much nicer than she was in game lol). Markus was OBSESSED with her for the first half of the competition and I almost felt bad for the other ladies. He viewed her through rose-tinted glasses and she could do no wrong...until she could. For some reason living an entire season (on the longest setting) together was not enough for Angie to stop feeling tense around the other girls and eventually she started taking that out on Markus. All of that being said I put so much love and care into the first of many kisses for these two and also of the competition.

May

Nadia Nadia Nadia: The early favorite to win, the first tears, and the only one to let it be known that she was upset at Markus at the end. I thought she wouldn’t actually fall in love with Markus when this thing started but by the time it was time for her to go you could just tell from in-game actions that she was way more in love with him than he was with her and that was a bit heartbreaking. This screenshot might still be my favorite screenshot ever taken. And I love that Nadia left the show just how she entered it, a fucking queen.

June

The Finale:

(Don’t tell me you expect me to pick one photo from this emotional rollercoaster of a post)

Six months is how long it took me to write this sims story and while I still stand by what I said at the start that I’m not a good writer by any means I learned a lot about writing over those six months. I learned that I CAN write if I want to, I learned that it’s okay if it takes a while to get to the end, I learned that the journey is just as important for you as it is for your readers. And most importantly to me I learned that I want to be that person who writes those cliché stories with the plots you’ve seen a million times because that’s exactly what I like to read and it’s so important that you look back and love what you put so much of yourself into creating. 

Now to these two hotties: Simnosa is no stranger to the fact that I didn’t feel much of a connection to Lorena at first (I tease her about it endlessly). It seems appropriate that Markus was the same as it allowed me to fall in love with them at the same pace that they fell in love with each other. At the very last minute I decided to make the winner a mystery till the second to last post and to have Markus get Lorena back for all the teasing and pranks she had thrown his way. I knew if I made it look like there was no winner I would never be able to pull that off again so it was quite literally now or never and I quite liked the result even if not every reader was the biggest fan of it haha. I love these two and I promise I have more planned for them once ya girl gets the time.

July

Nsb Plum: By the time I was done with the BC I was missing the Berry family something fierce so it was so refreshing to get back to something a little less story focused. 

For some reason I didn’t realize that gen 5 of the Not so Berry challenge would end up so story heavy. I never really wanted to write fighting scenes before but I also wanted to showcase that their divorce was technically neither of their faults individually. Indi was a work-a-holic because he somehow felt he had to be this super successful person in an “important” career just like his family before him and he felt that Clem didn’t understand that. While Clem left without telling him that she was pregnant and then only telling him about his daughter after he had shown signs of growing up (here’s a secret: she needed to do some growing up as well). It was like watching my children grow into adults even if they weren’t necessarily the more fair of parents.

August

Aspirations: I wrote and started posting my first sims challenge. It seems quite fitting that my sim for this challenge was Emilee as she was the reason I first started posting anything on tumblr and she and Sutter were also the only reason I ended up writing my first sims story. It was time I wrapped up their story so we can move on to that of others ~in her family~. It was so nice for me to tell a story that spanned a few years of their lives with no dialogue. I really liked this style and I’ll most definitely adopt it again in the future.

September

Nsb Orange: Back when Ginger wasn’t 90% chaos and she was at least 40% naïve. I’m always excited to move on to the next heir but Ginger had me more excited than normal.

October

October Photo Challenge:  This was a fun one, it was a nice way to give some love to the characters that I’m playing next as a bit of a preview. I also think the photos turned out pretty snazzy. 

November

Next gen: The twins are so freaking cute as both toddlers and children. What I never expected (and kinda planned against) was for them to get along or for Ginger to be such a good parent. I wanted Ian to be a bit of a loner but the two best ladies in his life love to shower him with too much love and care for him to have too much time alone.

December

End of Orange gen: I had so much fun with her story. Ginger might not be my only polyamorous sim but she’s the first one really showcased on my tumblr. I covered a lot of borderline controversial topics and it seemed like you all enjoyed it, for which I’m grateful. Gen 6 is the first generation where there are no rules on your spouse so I knew I didn’t want her to get married. But that didn’t mean I wanted her to be single. 

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

Thank you all to all of you who followed and read my dumb little blog during 2020. 

And a huge thank you to all the people who made sims for me! My blog and stories would not be the same without your creative geniuses being added to the mix as well!

[colour-outside-the-liness]

Hey, I'm doing good too. Just normal amounts of stressful stuff right now. Just moved to a country I've never been to before but can't complain, things are not as hard as the last time I did this so. Thanks for asking! Yeah, I saw you posting about some pretty scary health issues before, I'm glad you came out of that alive and hope you're healthier now!

The nerve some people have! Haha I know I would be pissed if people were questioning my intelligence like that especially after a couple of drinks in haha. Though I do like taunting people when I play group games, I'll be like "don't need to try that hard guys, you're gonna lose anyway" just to mess with them or just call people sore losers if they accuse me of cheating haha (they're probably right on the accusations tho). People get real mad sometimes it's kinda funny. 😂

Omg literally laughed out loud reading this! Hahaha, how did you manage to fall over a road sign then end up in a ditch? lol omg hope you didn't get hurt too bad 😂 I was trying to downplay my drunken escapades but since you shared yours I should tell you my worst one:

I was at this summer street party at night and got drunk on something made out of tropical herbs and cachaça (which is about 48% alcohol), drank 3 and a half bottles of that like it was apple juice, made friends with a bunch of strangers in a bathroom queue (who tried to talk to me weeks later but I had no idea who they were), had to be held by my best friend while I peed (mostly missing the toilet), fell in the middle of the street and scraped my knee, threatened this boy who was helping me walk and told him not to try anything funny or I would beat him up, then dragged my friends to the beach and left them shortly after to go make out with my ex, came back with lipstick all over my mouth and chin and when my friends asked what I was doing I said I was just talking to my ex and they were like NO YOU WERE NOT, hahaha then I kissed all my girl friends on a dare and we danced under the full moon, then I told my best friend I had to puke so she took me to the ocean but I changed my mind and happened to step on a dead turtle on the way back and started crying bc of it, but last month my best friend told me it was a rock I had stepped on (I believed it was a dead turtle for 7 years!). Had the worst hangover of my life the next day. ✌️✨

Ah I'm happy you liked it! I've never listened to Six musical before but it sounds fun! I can see why you like it haha made me want to dance around my apartment 💃. And hey if liking musicals is your thing then it's great, I'm sure Hozier will understand if he's not your top artist of the year. 😋 Here's my "damie" Pinterest board if you or anyone else wants to check it out, totally recommend making one if you're a visual person like me!

https://pin.it/UcHVlkq

Oh I could talk about Dani and Jamie forever I think. I love the beast in the jungle speech too and it's so painful to watch, VP delivered that beautifully, but I have to admit I'm always a crying mess from episode 1 when older Jamie starts reciting that song about being sad while waiting for her lover to return, this show is fucking cruel I hate it and love it at the same time hahaha. Omg your mom 😂 but I mean it's truly an honor to be compared to someone like Dani, no? She's really great even if she needs a little help haha (don't we all).

Aaah you're amazing! Thank you so much, I'll read this pirate AU soon!

I used to draw a lot, really loved doing it when I was a kid as I said before, and all throughout adulthood too but I haven't done that in almost a year now bc I've got a bit of a case of burnout I guess, it just takes a lot of effort to do it when it shouldn't be like that at all. I used to do fanart too, for other fandoms. Even made one for Dani x Jamie but ended up not liking how it turned out haha. I've got a lot of respect for writers and fanfic writers also! Yall can make words make sense in really interesting and beautiful ways, build worlds so enthralling I can see them vividly in my head. Writing is such an incredibly fascinating skill to have! And I guess the most important thing is that we enjoy doing these things right? Even if we think we're not particularly good at it.

Anyway, have a lovely weekend! 👋✨

Good I'm glad you're doing great but sorry you're dealing with stressful stuff!! Hope living in a new country goes well for you I'm so jealous that you've lived in different countries I'd love to live somewhere else even if just for s few years!! Awwh thank you so much I definitely came out of it alive and am feeling so much better now thank you I mean I do some pretty ditzy things so when people say it to me it's pretty deserved sometimes, I'm secretly smart and people just don't expect it so I never mind too much haha I might have to start saying the things that you do and just taunting them over it I mean, I usually do win even when they make me answer different questions so I will definitely have to start saying things like that to them Haha I love that you're just like "yeah they're probably right in their accusations" I agree seeing how mad some people get over games and stuff is funny (it's me I'm people I hate loosing games depending on what it is and I am very competitive) So it was very dark and all we had for light was my roommates flashlight on her phone but while we were walking home a friend of ours that lived else where kept texting her to make sure we were still safe (my phone as dead at this point) so while she was texting him her flashlight was facing down and someone had moved this road sign to the footpath and it was on that sits on the floor so while I couldn't see it I walked into it and fell over it but while I feel I grabbed hold of it and flipped with it and fell in a ditch with it on top of me... I was fine and was just laid laughing while my friend looked down at me and in the most northern accent ever just said "get up you dickhead." and helped me off of the floor and then asked if I was okay... and I was so it was all good!! Haha 😂 I love this drunken story that sounds like one hell of a night and is a roller coaster from start to finish!! I'm sorry you thought you had stood on a dead turtle for 7 years though, someone really should've told you that it was just a rock!! But that sounds like my kind of night!! I love nights like that... stories that will last a life time... the only down side is the hangover... luckily I have only ever had one hang over in my life and it wasn't the morning after the road sign fiasco... I felt surprisingly good the morning after that haha 😂 It's such a good musical it's about Henry VIII wives and I just love everything to do with his wives and that musical is so much fun and actually gives a little insight to the lives the six Tudor queens had away from Henry and with him because at school we're mainly just taught about him which sucks!! I loved the Hozier song and am definitely gonna have to listen to more of his stuff!! I love musicals so much I mainly listen to musical soundtracks at the minute- usually, Legally Blonde and Six on repeat haha 😂 Ooo thank you I will definitely check out this Pinterest board thanks for sending it to me!! I could talk about them forever too... since watching Bly Manor my niece has been asking me so many questions about it and I am more than happy to talk to her about it haha!! The beast in the jungle speech just breaks my heart every time I relate to it so much and VP just delivers it so beautifully!! Oh yeah now I know at the beginning that it's older Jamie I am just a wreck the whole show is just so beautiful and heart breaking at the same time I LOVE IT!! Even though it makes me sob- I keep putting myself through it!! I mean, yeah I was happy that she said it Dani is great but it was the way she said it... my mum can be something else sometimes... she said she thought Dani was like me the first time she does the accent when she says "I've fallen quite in love with London" because I just randomly do accents a lot too but it was the way she was like "She needs help... but I like her she reminds me of you" I was just like... "Should I go get help?" I still don't know the answer to my question about if I need help or not but I mean I probably do need it You're welcome I really hope you like it!! It's a

great fic I love it!! Yeah I get that if stuff starts taking too much effort and burns you out you're not gonna wanna keep doing it so it's understandable that you stopped!! I think fan art is great and I really would love to be able to do it myself but I just don't have the skill it takes!! Awwh it's a shame you didn't like the Dani x Jamie one you did I would've loved to have seen it!! Honestly there are so many talented writers out there and when I read their fics I am just in awe of the worlds they have built and the stories they have created we are so blessed in this fandom to have so many amazing writers and so many amazing fics out there Oh yeah definitely its important to enjoy what you do!! I know I love writing and love writing fics for Dani and Jamie so I think I'll be doing it for a while even if I'm not great at it haha Awwh thank you very much I hope you have a great weekend too!! ☺️

[metalbatandzenko]

About me taking breaks from this blog

Hey everyone!

You might have noticed that I’ve been taking intermittent breaks from this blog. I try to announce it when I am, because falling off the face of the earth isn’t exactly courteous of me.

I’ve been getting a lot of asks asking if I’m alright and/or if there’s a reason why I’m kind of shutting myself off.

And here’s the thing. I know I don’t technically owe anyone an explanation for why I’ve been doing that. 

But I do want to give one. 

So think of this as more of an update I guess? Anyways, update under the cut. 

Warning: it’s long.

So, about why I’ve been taking breaks/why I haven’t been as interactive lately.

I’ve been rolling this around for a long time and trying to form the words to express all this.

There’s several major factors going on here, but the TLDR is I have an issue with feeling guilty about everything, even when I have no obligation to a person or situation, and it’s tanking my mental health.

1. The first, and most inconsequential, is I’m back to school. 

I’m a full time college student generally and have been since I started this sideblog. But as of this semester, I’ve officially transferred to a new university, which means school is taking up more of my time. 

I’m also in an honors program now, which means maintaining a 4.0 is—for financial reasons—more important than ever. I’m a bit stressed out, I’m not gonna lie! 

Also, the switch to remote has been a particularly rough one. I’m having a really hard time defining the boundary between “school and homework time” and downtime, which means anytime I spend not doing homework is really just spent with me feeling overwhelmed with guilt that I’m not trying to get ahead in class.

2. The world is kind of going through shit right now.

I’d be a liar if I said the state of the world isn’t killing my motivation. There’s a lot of shit going on, and it’s overwhelming. It feels like the second we slow down to catch a breath, a new tragedy hits. 

3. My depression is kind of killing me.

Like everyone, isolation is fucking with me. It has the fun side effect of piling onto my depression, so I’ve been really having a hard time finding the will to do anything, even things I enjoy. 

This also links to that feeling of guilt over not being productive: I want to do something I enjoy, but I can’t because I’m consumed with guilt over the fact I’m not meeting some perceived “productivity quota”, so instead of doing that work, or doing something I enjoy, I do nothing. I’ve been sleeping more these past few months than I ever have, but I’m still tired all the time.

4. Family matters.

I’m lucky in that I’m quarantined with my parents, so I have some interaction, but that also means that I am quarantined with my abusive father. As a closeted, nb gay mixed-asian, being forced to spend almost all my time with my violently racist, homophobic and transphobic white dad has been uh. not great for my mental health.

He also just finished his second round of treatments and we’re waiting on a prognosis to see if he’s cancer free or not, so I’ve been grappling with my extremely mixed feelings surrounding him (as well as the fact that I’ll likely be outed at some point and have to plan for an emergency exit when I live in a different state than the rest of my family and the majority of my friends in the middle of a pandemic) for the past six months or so.

5. I have been teetering dangerously close to full burnout for about five months now, and I think it’s finally hit.

Like I mentioned, I’m sleeping more than I ever have in my life. I’m tired all the time, and I keep getting hit with waves of just. really aggressive sadness and isolation. I’ve cried more in the past month than I have in uh. years.

Writing fanfic is a hobby. The problem is, my hobby overlaps with my major: I’m a creative writing major, so a lot of my creative energy has been going towards that.

Trying to balance both is a really tricky line to walk, and I just can’t do it right now. I’m struggling enough with class as it is, so content creation has fallen to the wayside, and I feel really shitty about that, especially since it’s something I enjoy.

I also felt like I always had to be “on”/accessible for this blog. (This is a personal problem that stems from growing up in a very service based culture, and one I’m working on, but it required time away and better boundaries on my part.)

6. Increased sense of alienation from the fandom at large.

This is kind of linked to 5.

Being able to keep anon on is really important to me, I know I personally don’t always feel comfortable sending asks to people off anon (I’ve joked before that even with users I’m genuinely friends with, I send asks on anon bc I don’t want them to feel like I’m waiting on an answer). 

I only answer about a quarter of the asks I receive (I won’t say a quarter of the asks people send me given tumblr’s tendency to eat asks). About a third of the asks are: asking me when a fic of mine will be updated/a wip will be posted, accusing me of something, flat out rude/hateful, or asking really invasive personal questions. 

I’ve gotten a few asking me to elaborate on specific traumas that I don’t think I’ve even mentioned on this blog, which is both violating and extremely entitled: as if someone else gets to decide if my trauma is legitimate enough or something.

There are also the asks that I either don’t have the energy to give the love they deserve and avoid because I feel guilty about that, or just flat out I don’t want to answer.

But deciding not to answer the asks sent in good faith makes me feel incredibly guilty and ashamed. This, again, is a personal problem, and one I’m working on.

I also feel my hyperfixation on opm beginning to fade.

But generally, I just feel less connected to the fandom. It’s mostly because my lack of spoons means I’m not reaching out to people as much, but there are other factors too. It sounds dramatic, but I’m still a little shaken by the spat I had with another opm blog a couple of months ago.

And generally? I don’t think the fandom is as active anymore anyways. Some small, self-absorbed part of me still blames myself for some of that, because the timing of the fandom dying down and fracturing came right after the dispute I mentioned.

7. I really want this account to stay associated with happy things, and I’m not feeling too happy right now.

This blog was one I made because I enjoyed opm and wanted to have fun with it. I still love opm, and I love some of the friends I’ve made on here, but I just. I don’t feel the love for the fandom as a whole right now, and given all the negative emotions/things I just laid out, I’m worried about it somehow rubbing off on this blog, both for me, and for the people who follow me.

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So yeah, that’s what’s going on on my end. I’m trying to stay positive and take care of myself, but I’m beyond overwhelmed, both for reasons related to, and entirely unrelated to this blog.

I want this blog to feel positive, and I worry this feels like I’m fishing for pity. That’s not it. I just need to get it off my chest, and kind of lay out where I am for you all, because I care about you.

Anyways, that’s all I got. I don’t know if I’ll delete this for now, but for the time it’s up, I’ll have it pinned to my blog. 

Love you all, and be gentle with yourself.