#this is a 4 + 1 my brain is broken apologies

[god-has-entered-my-body]

What time you coming out? - M.H x Reader // pt.1

A/N: Lenas writer debut??? Omg??? This has a bunch of references to fics like the cellophane house (written by the lovely @vinylandcoffeecollection, srsly check out their work!). It's a bit angsty? Not really but angst will come this is a chaptered fic. Based off fallingforyou, hence the title. Thank you @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff for beta reading and putting up with me xx

wc: 11k

part two

February, 2008

“I'm not sure we should be doing this, neither of us is a professional hairdresser in any capacity” 

Mötley Crüe’s ‘Public Enemy #1’ blares through the small speaker set on top of the toilet lid, the music reverberating off the bathroom's tiled walls. Matty attempts to brush the bleach onto your hair, narrowly missing your eyebrow for what felt like the sixth time. You'd prefer to not come out of this situation looking like 90s madonna if you could help it. 

“Could you maybe not get the stuff on my face? I'm not sure I'd look as amazing as I do with bleached brows,” you say, flicking Mattys hand away from your hair, straightening your posture on top of the sink. Your elbow accidently knocks into the faucet and you curse out loud. 

“You're right love, you'd look well hideous without brows” Matty retorts, laughing in your face. He's right, doesn't mean he has to say it.

“At least I have any sort of eyebrows, I'd get yours filled in if I was you.” Now it's your turn to laugh at him, his jaw hitting the floor at your comment. He clutches his chest with his hand, bending over for dramatic effect as if to say: “You wound me”. You fall into each other's arms, fighting over the ipod once again.

The song changes, and Matty resumes his attempts at bleaching your hair properly, failing once again. It had been a stupid, stoned impulse decision to buy the bleach at all. The local drugstore sold it for cheap, and you had some pocket change on you. Matty wanted you to buy the red dye, and you dismissed him immediately, because even he knew you'd look absolutely terrible as a redhead. 

You hum along softly to David Bowie's “Suffragette City”. Bowie was your Idol. The song reminds you of him. Of Matty. It reminds you of when you first met.

—------------------------------------------------------

You were 15, pacing the street late at night, your boyfriend was blowing up your phone. Insincere apologies and “i love you”’s filled your screen. 4 missed calls. Tears were streaming down your face, making you not quite able to see straight. 

The song playing, was blaring in your headphones, almost deafening. The song didn't fit at all to your current situation, but that didn't bother you.

It wasn't long before you reached a bus stop, sitting down. You didn't even know where you were. 

Suddenly, like it was out of your control, you let out broken sobs, no longer silently crying. How fucking embarrassing.

You're not sure how long you’d been sitting there, in the dark, shivering in the cruel November weather. 

You hadn't even noticed the person walking up to you. 

He’d positioned himself in front of you, twisting his neck to get a look underneath your hood.

“You alright?” his voice sounded soft, concerned even. Through muffled sobs, you managed to look up at him. 

He had a thick, fluffy jacket on. Oddly feminine for bloke, and you were pretty sure it was a women's coat. It basically swallowed him whole. You almost laughed at the sight. It almost made you forget about the night's events. 

You’d had yet another fight with your boyfriend, Phillip. The two of you fought a lot, but never like this. Sure, he’d said some hurtful things, things you maybe shouldn't have forgiven as quickly as you did, but he had never, ever, gotten violent with you. Until tonight.

You'd barely registered it when it happened, your brain not properly processing his actions. In the midst of his screaming, he raised his hand. Raised. his. hand. 

It came down with a crash against your left cheek, the sound echoing through the house. Because he did, in fact, have his own flat. Because 24 year olds usually have that. 

Everything hit you at once. You'd managed to pick yourself up off the ground at a speed which would have given even world record holders a run for their money. You didn't bother grabbing anything else, you just needed to get out, now. 

You could faintly hear his voice calling out from behind you, begging you to please, please come back. And what? Let him put his hands on you again? No way. A rare moment of clarity.

Fucking cunt 

You’re brought back to reality by the sound of the stranger's voice. 

“I’m Matty.” he offered his hand, and you shook it. “What're you doing out here in the cold? Its fuckin’ freezing.” He's right, it was cold. It hadn't occurred to you to take your coat with you.

You stuttered out a pathetic response of your name, barely making eye contact with him. A few beats pass before Matty starts ruffling around in his coat pockets. Raising your eyebrows, you watch him.

You can hear the faint sound of keys in his right pocket, and it's not long before he pulls out a joint from his left. It looks crumpled and old, like it had been there for a while. 

“Spliff? It looks like you need it more than me.” He chuckles, and it somehow makes you feel better. He makes a move to sit next to you, and you twitch slightly when his shoulder touches yours. The bench is quite narrow, so you know it's not on purpose. It doesn't bother you quite as much as it should, given he is a stranger. 

He takes out his lighter. It looks old and used, the black plastic chipping off around the top. It looks like it's a miracle it even works. You can see white writing along the side of it. M.H. Initials? His initials? Matty H something.  

He starts burning the tip. Rotating the joint to get an even burn, you watch his movements closely, taking in some of his features. 

His hair was curly but frizzy, you could tell he didn't pay it much mind. His features seemed soft, almost feminine. He was clean shaven, his pale skin a stark contrast to the dark brown of his hair. 

Matty lets you take the first drag, stating “The first hit’s the best, and I've always been a gentleman”, flashing a grin your way. That made you laugh. You take a drag, letting the warm feeling spread through your body.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked timidly, his voice lowering. 

“Absolutely not.” You mutter, looking him straight in the eyes for what seems like the first time that night. A smile.  

—-------------------------------------------------------

“D’you think I'd look good as a blonde? I feel like I'd smash it,” Matty says, inspecting his hair in the mirror behind you. He has gorgeous locks, and you're constantly telling him to try and take care of them, he just doesn't listen. You study his features before giving him an answer.

“Maybe. Either that or you'd look like a bad hooker,” Matty gasps, shoving your shoulder in protest. The movement  makes your elbow bang against the faucet again, but you ignore the pain this time 

“I'll let you know i'd make an amazing hooker, thanks very much,” He proclaims quite loudly, making the both of you burst into a laughing fit. 

You take the brush from Matty, twirling in your hand. George had taught you how to do that. An idea pops into your head. 

“We could give you a few blonde highlights, just to try it out. There's no need for you to go full Elle Woods immediately” A giggle escapes your lips, picturing Matty with long, blonde hair. That’d be a sight. 

“Let's do it, right now,” he breathes, visibly excited.

“Really? Adam’d take the absolute piss out of you, you know.” Matty rolls his eyes obnoxiously before he speaks. “Well then let Adam hold on to his toxic ideas of masculinity, I need a change.” This piques your interest. Matty? Need a change? Weird. 

“What, did some bird break your heart this time? That's new, even for you Matthew,”

You can see him visibly cringe at your use of his full name. You know he hates it, and that is exactly why you do it. Getting a rise out of him is your favorite pastime. 

“Switch with me then,” you say, and he obliges, letting you hop off the counter. You mix up a new batch of bleach and part off his hair into small sections. Little pink hair bands hold his curls in place. You shoot him a look and he nods, giving you the go-ahead. The bleach goes on smoothly, your practiced hand much less prone to mistakes than Mattys.

It doesn't take long before you're both sitting on your bed with foils in your hair. You manage to snap a picture of Matty on your polaroid camera. The light reflects off the foils, distorting the picture slightly. Matty demands to see it, but you decide to keep it for yourself. Can't get everything you want.  

It's Mattys' turn on the music. 

You've decided on a turn system for music when you're together, to avoid the gnarly fights you used to have over who gets to control the ipod.

He picks the latest Deftones album. It's not really your taste, and you tell him as much. 

“S’not my fault your music taste consists of pop trash. Get well soon”, now it's your turn to shove him, and he almost falls off the bed. Your fights over music happened frequently. He insisted on listening to real music, while you couldn't care less if it sounded good. 

The timer dings and you both get up to wash your hair in the sink. Water splashes everywhere, absolutely soaking the bathroom. You don't care. It's just water. 

Towels litter the bathroom floor, soaking up the mess. Matty helps you dry your hair after you promise to help with his. The warm air feels nice on your neck. 

“I like it, it makes me look camp,” Matty states, admiring himself in the mirror. Of course he'd say something like that. 

“You look great, now get dressed, I've messaged Hann. He's picking us up at half 11” 

Adam was one of your best mates, and the only one who had a car. You and Matty were still in school, along with George, another one of your friends. Adam and Ross shared a flat on the outskirts of the city. Adam's mother had gifted him a car for his 18th birthday last year. A bright red Kia. Bumper stickers littered the back, your favorite reading ‘Vehicle of legends” 

Matty had borrowed one of your tops, specifically, a mesh top you'd gotten from Hollister a few weeks prior. It was adorned with a black tank top underneath, paired with the black skinny jeans you're convinced have fused with his legs at this point. 

His hair had dried, dark curls now in contrast with blonde streaks. They framed his face. He looked good. 

You’d gone for a more colorful ensemble, opting for baggy jeans instead of skinny ones. The bottom had already been well ripped up from years of dragging them on the ground. You paired said jeans with a wine-red off the shoulder jumper, the black strap of your bralette peaking out. You’d always loved that color. It reminded you of your favorite flowers, red roses.

The window closed softly, and you silently thanked God you lived on the first floor. Adam was already parked down the road from your house, impatiently waiting for the two of you. The radio was playing as you got in. Matty immediately started going on about how pop music has ruined the music scene and how it was all 'soulless, meaningless droning' and 'had no feeling anymore'. He always did this, and you'd learned to tune it out by then. 

The drive was short, and you arrived at your destination not long after you’d set off. The air smelled like water and wet pavement. It had been pissing down earlier in the day.  

‘The spot’ was an abandoned paper factory, affectionately renamed “Caroline's house” for any eavesdropping parents.  

Carolines had been abandoned for well over 5 years before you started hanging out there, not many knew about it.

The three of you had already made your way through the back entrance. The front had been blocked off years ago, a futile attempt at keeping kids out. There was one specific room you always went to, and that was the office. It had a huge terrace with an amazing view of the city below. The glowing lights made you feel small and irrelevant in the vastness of the world. 

The night was bright under the full moon, making it easy to see outside. Adam always brought an emergency flashlight with him when you went to Carolines. He was the voice of reason in the midst of the chaos. The responsible one. He always made sure everyone got home safe, talked your way out of situations with coppers on multiple occasions, and knew when to tell the bartender to switch drinks to water or juice. You’d always thank him the morning after. 

“What even is your shirt, mate,” Adam asked with a grin on his face. He loved to take the piss out of Matty for his camp-ness. No harm no foul, Matty would do the exact same to him when the opportunity presented itself. Eyeing him up and down, he shook his head and went back to picking at his nails.   

“She let me borrow it for tonight. Looks good, yeah?” Matty shoots back. 

“Yeah sure, that and those white streaks in your hair make you look like a proper girl, you know” 

You have to laugh at his statement, because it does ring true. From a certain distance, anyone could mistake Matty for a woman. 

“You wish I was a girl, it’d make you feel less guilty about your sex fantasies, innit?” Matty cackles at his own words. Adam chucks a lighter at him, and misses. It instead bounces off the railing of the terrace and clatters down onto the ground somewhere behind you. 

That was your cue to take out the small baggy from the pocket of your jeans. Going to look for the lighter Adam had just thrown, you turn around to see he’d already snatched your papes and weed, and started to roll a spliff. 

“Oh come on, I look away for a second and you steal my weed. What, are you too broke to buy your own?” You huffed, sitting down on the floor next to him. 

“Girls don't roll their own spliffs. You should know that by now, love” he said with a wink. 

Cue eye roll. 

“Oh thank you so much, what would I ever do without you, Hann? Fuck off.” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. This was never a display of chivalry, it was simply Adams' way of trying to get under your skin. Your stubborn self wouldn't let him, of course. Flashing him an award winning smile, you lay back on your elbows and eye him as he rolls your joint for you. 

Matty was preoccupied with gathering enough cardboard so he could sit on the floor comfortably. The three of you couldn't be arsed bringing in furniture from the office, so you were left with the cold, unforgiving concrete floor of the terrace to sit on. 

The minutes ticked by and Adam took his sweet time, presenting the spliff with a look of pride. You reach for it, seeing as you already had the lighter in your hand. Instead of handing it to you. Adam shakes his head. 

“Girls dont light their own spliffs, either” You scoff at that, though deciding against smacking him upside the head. You hand him the lighter.  

Mattys giggles can be faintly heard over your bickering, and Adam finally lights up. The distinct earthy smell fills up the air around you. They both let you have the first drag, stating something along the lines of “Ladies first” another eye roll.  

“Fucking wankers”, you mutter under your breath, and finally, you inhale. It hits you almost immediately, a soft, fuzzy feeling that reverberates through your veins into every inch of your body. The two of them let out a laugh at your expression, utterly euphoric. 

Adam takes the next drag, hitting him just as hard as it did you. He leans against the glass sliding door, letting his eyes droop closed. 

“Fucking hell, this is some strong weed.” He lets out a rough cough, “Where’d you even get it from?” 

“Oh y’know, just some guy. Same as always I s’pose,” 

Matty spoke “What, d’you shag him or something? No one just gives out this type of premium stuff on a whim,” 

This makes you chuck the grinder at him. It hits him square in the chest. You hum contentedly, grinning at him in amusement when he doubles over in pain. You bicker back and forth, calling each other names. Adam passes the spliff back to you, and you take another hit. 

Time passes slowly. The clouds slowly reveal more and more of the full moon. It is quite beautiful tonight, you notice. 

Adam produces a bottle of tequila from his ‘gay-ass tote bag’ as Ross calls it. You take turns taking swigs straight from the bottle, Matty managing to spill some onto his mesh top, making quite literally everything reek of alcohol.

You felt good. The high mixed with the healthy amount of tequila made you feel like you were floating. You could tell Matty was just as hammered as you, seeing as he was now straddling Adams lap, trying to kiss him. 

After multiple attempts at getting him off, Matty stood up on his own, stating that he didn't want Hann to pop a boner au cause de his womanly features.   

The three of you laugh and laugh until you finish the spliff. You’d never had a good tolerance for anything, whether it be weed or alcohol. You weren't particularly small, it just always hit you way harder than Adam or Ross. Even Matty managed to pull himself together when the situation called for it. You, however, were stumbling and tripping over your feet the entire walk home. It had been pissing down the entire morning. Puddles littered the streets, not an ideal weather for someone who was too wasted to even have any sort of depth perception.  

Adam had to leave suddenly, picking up a last minute shift at the shop he worked at. It was in the opposite direction of where you came from, leaving you and Matty to walk home. 

It wasn't a long walk, 30 odd minutes or so. It was made significantly longer by your inability to walk in a straight line to save your life. Echoing laughs filled the streets as Matty helped you trudge along. Your pants dragged on the floor as usual, which meant they were also dragging through the numerous puddles, soaking them. 

You stop suddenly, looking down and pouting at the darkened material of your pants. For some inexplicable reason, this made you stomp your feet like a child. Matty broke out in uncontrollable laughter, tears forming in his eyes. You were actually acting like a child.

“I don't know why you insist on wearing those insanely baggy pants. Look at me! My pants don't get wet AND my ass looks phenomenal in skinny jeans” He twirls around you, making you feel slightly dizzy.

“Oh fuck off!! Not everyone is an attention slag like you, have some decency for once in your life!” You retort, shoving him out of your line of sight. Due to your state, Matty quickly catches up to you. 

The steps of your house come quicker than expected. Both of you make your way to the east side of the first floor, where your bedroom window remains slightly ajar. You'd wedged an old shirt between it to keep it from closing all the way. You'd gotten sneaking out down to an art, always knowing when, where and how. Your mother had caught you once. It was your first time. You knew not to make those same mistakes again.

Matty helped you hop onto the windows ledge, his hands grabbing at your sides. While he looked frail, Matty was actually quite strong, lifting you up without breaking a sweat. 

You're sitting on the edge, slightly taller than him now. Peering down, you reach your arms out. The two of you hugged tightly, whispering quiet “goodnight”s and “sleep well”s. Saying goodbye after a night out often felt strangely melancholic, you never wanted the other to leave. 

You've been attached at the hip since that night. He’d convinced you to break up with Phillip, stating he was a bastard who shouldn't be allowed near women ever again.

Matty went on to introduce you to his mates after you’d found out you went to the same highschool. That was nearly 3 years ago now. 

Late nights often make you wonder what would have happened if you hadn't gone to that specific bus stop and met Matty. If he had ignored your crying instead of offering you weed and sitting down next to you. He’d always been charming, like a magnet, he attracted everyone around him. Sure, he was a bit pretentious at times, but everyone has their faults. 

You roll over and try to sleep, slowly coming down from your high. You made a mental note to take it easy next time, maybe pace yourself. It was hard to know your limits when it came to substances, and Matty was the same way. Adam was the ever responsible one, never too drunk or high, always the parent. You were grateful for him, knowing what situations you'd be stuck in if Adam had not been there to smooth things over. 

The tiredness hits you in waves. Glancing at the clock left of your desk, it read 3:26 am. Fuck. You try to ignore the fact that you had to be up in about 4 hours. You close your eyes, welcoming the rest. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

A harsh knocking sounded from the direction of your window, scaring the shit out of you. You bolt up, pissed at the disturbance. Turning to face the window, and are met with a familiar grin. Matty. 

It takes all of 5 seconds of him being in your room before you start cursing at him for waking you up like that. He simply shrugs his shoulders and sits in his designated chair. A maroon sofa chair in the corner in front of your bed. It even has M.H carved into the wood, because Matty had some sort of fetish for carving his initials into things. A sign of ownership? It made you wonder. 

Shuffling around the room, you kick your still wet jeans off into the corner, instead picking up a denim skirt. You’d wanted to wear that same red top to school, but seeing as you had fallen asleep wearing it, you chucked it into the same corner as the pants. 

A pink baby tee caught your eye from the chair Matty was sitting in. You silently point at it and he passes it to you. This isn't the first time you've changed in front of him. It didn't happen often, but what was the point of kicking him out? It's not like he was actively staring anyway.

After quickly changing, you go to put on some makeup. Makeup made you feel pretty, pretty enough to go outside. The only person who sees your bare face regularly is Matty. Maybe George. You didn't go anywhere without it.

You can feel Matty looking at you from the corner of your eye. Raising your eyebrows at him, you ask him what he's staring at. 

“D’you reckon i can try some of that?” he gestures vaguely at the eyeshadow brush in your hand “I think i’d look class with my new highlights.” he twirls his hair around his finger, giving you a look.

You look at him skeptically, before breaking out into a smile. Matty smiles back. It's not long before he’s sat in front of you, wincing whenever the brush makes contact with his eyelid. You tell him hes just not used to it, and to just stay still, for fucks sake. 

Once you're done, you take a step back to admire your work. You have to admit, he looks good. Really good. His eyes were lined with a dark purple shadow, making them appear slightly bigger. He takes his fingers, slightly smudging the out corners, giving him a catty look. 

“I think you might even look even better than me,” you say, looking him up and down. This is one of those rare moments where you can't read Mattys' expression at all. Finally, he opens his mouth

“No one could look better than you, trust me,”  

A beat of silence before he speaks again

“I do look ravishing though, d’you reckon Adam'll like this more than the highlights?” He always manages to make himself laugh. Then in typical Matty fashion, he pulls out a beat up looking joint from the pocket of his too tight jeans. 

“Fancy a spliff?” 

“Matty, for christ's sake, we have school in about an hour, and you want to smoke now?” 

“It's the only true way to get through Mr. Henderson's maths class, you know it'll be unbearable if we don't.” translation: please smoke with me. He gives you a look, because you know he's right. 

It was too late to protest. He’d already made his way to open your window, knowing how much you hate stinking up your room.

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, and you find your place next to him. 

The wind and rain had calmed down, so Matty had no difficulty lighting it. The smell filled your senses, almost overwhelming you. You were thankful for the fresh air.

He placed the spliff between your lips, watching you intently as you inhaled. Your orange lip gloss had rubbed off the filter, and transferred onto his lips. The weed wasnt as strong as last nights, but still, the sight of Mattys glossed lips made you break out into a fit of giggles. Time seemed irrelevant up until the point you had to run to catch your bus. Sweaty and out of breath, you sat down in your usual spot. 

You can hear comments and insults being thrown at Matty from the back of the bus, but neither of you paid much mind. Matty was high as a kite, and too loopy (hungover) from the previous night to offer up one of his witty retorts. Instead, both of you gave them the bird from over the seat.

Matty was leaning against you, his arms hooked into yours. Neither of you spoke, listening to the soft rumbling of the bus. You stank of weed, anyone could smell it on you. Remembering a perfume bottle in your handbag, you take it out and douse yourself, as well as Matty in it. 

“Oh for fucks sake, now everything smells like Jimmy Choo Illicit!” Matty whined, burying his head in his hands. “Couldn't you have picked a manlier perfume? I'm already walking a very thin line with all of this” He vaguely gestures to himself. 

“Would you rather get kicked out after coming to school smelling like a fucking dispensary? Think ahead, Matthew!” He cringes visibly

“No need to get out the full government name, jesus” he shuffles up against you, and you can see his eyes are a light shade of red. There's no way the two of you would get through first lesson unnoticed. 

George was already waiting for you guys at your stop. Greeting him with a hug, you try to avoid eye contact, yet somehow, he knows. 

“Hey, you alright-?” He cranes his neck to get a better look at your face 

“Are you–? Are you high??” He laughs out loud, smacking your arm to stabilize himself. You shoot him a death stare, but you can feel a laugh coming too. Matty let out a sarcastic haha before kicking George as a way to say get on with it, we have class.

The walk to the room through the sea of people in the halls feels like a claustrophobic hell. B.O ridden teenagers rub up against the three of you, some even (quite violently) shoving past. 

It's a miracle you make it without Matty losing his mind at one of the hecklers. School was actual hell for Matty, and by proxy, you. Insults were thrown at him without a second thought, and the makeup he’d adorned today surely didn't help the comments.

He never let it truly get to him. He didn't care, and that's what you loved so much about him. This part of the city was set back about fifteen years in terms of acceptance and progressivity, so his flowery backpack and femininity wasn't exactly welcomed.

Adam had always taken the piss out of him for his outfits since they were boys, but he never, ever meant it seriously. They were like brothers, those two, and no amount of shit from other people (irrelevants, as Matty would put it) would be able to break them apart. 

The way the room was set up, there were six tables of four, with two people always facing another two. You had sat in the seat next to George, with Matty sitting (well, more like laying) across the other two chairs opposite you. Mr. Henderson had given up on trying to get Matty to sit right a long time ago, instead just flat out ignoring him. It was always easier to fail than to teach. 

“Fucking poofter, that one,” you can hear someone saying from behind you. You know they mean Matty. 

Matty blows them both a kiss before getting flipped off by the shorter one. He loved taking the piss out of the people who insulted him, throwing them off. 

George questions mattys makeup, and you tell him it was his idea. George had always supported Matty, using his insanely tall stature to fend off anyone giving him a hard time. 

The lesson was going by at a snail's pace, with Matty being his usual self, interrupting at every possible moment. It was so obvious he was off his tits, and Mr. Henderson looked suspicious. A particularly loud laugh from George had prompted him to throw you all out. You couldn't care less, getting up immediately.

Matty picked up his things from the floor, making a show out of bending over in front of the two boys that had insulted him earlier. They both scrunch their faces in disgust, muttering under their breaths. A giggle escapes you as they stare daggers.

“Fucking cunt,” one of them says, and now it’s your turn to blow them a kiss. 

The three of you trudge down the halls, slowly but surely coming down from your highs. George suggests going to Ross and Adams flat, seeing as it's just a few bus stops away from the school. They share a flat above a Sainsburys, which is optimal for late night munchies. Adam even works there, so there's always opportunities to sneak a packet of crisps or a can of cola. 

The bus stinks of sweat and mildew, as did all buses in britain. You get used to the stench after a while, your legs propped up onto George and Mattys laps. The back seat was always your favorite, giving you ample space to stretch a bit. You and George share headphones while Matty takes a quick power nap. He always lets you pick the music, and today it was Radioheads ‘No Surprises’. The music plays softly as buildings and trees pass by the window. The day was quite sunny, the light reflecting off of the windows of houses and offices. You'd sobered up enough to be able to think clearly by now. 

These days were the best. They felt calm, like you could forget every other fucked up thing in your life. Your mother, your coursework. Nothing else existed in your little bubble except the people you were with. It felt peaceful, like a breath of fresh air. 

Matty stirred awake as the bus halted to a stop, yawning for dramatic effect. He loved to exaggerate, ever the performer. George was the quiet, brooding type, trying desperately to go unnoticed, which proved rather difficult. Although he was barely coming up on his 18th birthday, he had grown to a staggering 6 '4, with a voice at least 3 or so octaves deeper than Mattys. 

It had proven useful, you aways had someone to send into the smoke shop to buy fags or liquor, even if it always took a pep talk to even get him through the front door. George was convinced he didn't look older, even though he had never been carded. Ever. 

Usually it was Adam who bought it for you, even though both Matty and Ross were also already 18. Matty had already been banned from most liquor stores in the area, so he proved rather useless in situations needing a bit of booze. 

Mattys violent knocks against the flat door brought you back to reality

“C’MON OPEN UP ITS US,” his voice booms through the hallway. You can hear banging and shuffling coming from the other side of the door. It's so obviously Ross bumping into every available surface because he hadn't turned on the light yet. He was an avid day sleeper, mostly working night shifts. A particularly loud crash is followed by glass breaking. 

Matty taps his foot impatiently, waiting for the door to finally open. Ross emerges, looking disgruntled and tired of Mattys shit. 

“Mate, tell me, what possessed you to come knocking about at this hour, don't you have school-? I swear you're going to be the end of me one day” he rubs his eyes, getting the sleep out of them before moving out of the way to let the three of you in. 

“First of all, it's like 11am, so not exactly the ungodly hour you were describing,” Matty starts “Second of all, we’ve been kicked out of class, so where better to come than here?” 

The inside of the flat reeks of cigarettes and laundry detergent. Ross refuses to smoke on the terrace, deeming it too cold even in the middle of summer. Adam always smokes on the terrace, scared of staining the walls like in those addiction documentaries. A futile attempt, but at least he tries. Matty immediately lights a fag, sighing happily when the nicotine hit his system. School had always been an endurance test for him. Getting him to sit still for 2 hours without going for a cigarette proved nearly impossible. He was already itching by the 45 minute mark.

“What did you even do to get kicked out before 12?” He looks at George, who tells him exactly what happened with tears of laughter in his eyes. Matty rolls his before sitting down on the comforter located to the left of the TV, ashing into one of the various ashtrays situated around the house. George sits on the sofa next to Ross, and you make your way to your favorite spot, the table. Sitting cross legged on the table made you all face each other, which you quite liked. 

“Brew?” George asks, looking up from his Ipod. Everyone nods, and he gets up to put on the kettle. Idle conversation fills the air, and Matty starts chatting about the new “groundbreaking” Metallica album. Matty was, if anything, a music snob. No one could stop him raving on about albums or artists, whether he was praising or criticizing them. Once he started, you couldn't stop him to save your life.

Minutes tick past when George brings back mugs of tea. Mattys mug has got the words “I ❤️ cum” on it. Ross has his usual Macclesfield Town mug, and you and George have the plain green ones Adam bought in an attempt to make the flat seem somewhat civilized. 

Hours pass and Matty finally shuts up. You end up on top of him, sitting on the arms of the comforter. You're all watching Skins on the telly, and Mattys hand makes its way to your back, keeping you steady. He’d always been touchy like that, so it didn't bother you. You look at the sofa and see Ross passed out, drooling onto George's jumper. George, polite as ever, lets him sleep. It was a miracle Ross hadn't started snoring already. 

You suggest to Matty that maybe it was time to get going, seeing as you lived on the other side of the city. George's place was right around the corner, so he decided to stay and look after Ross a bit before Adam got home from his shift. Britain's sweetheart. 

Getting up as quietly as possible, making your way towards the door. Ross stirs as Matty almost knocks over his mug. The two of you make eye contact, silently laughing at Ross’ position, basically on top of George. He flipped you off, rolling his eyes and reaching for the remote, turning down the telly.

It was still fairly dark inside, so gathering everything proved a bit of a challenge. The curtains were drawn shut, the yellow material of them painting the house in a warm yellow hue. 

You had spotted Mattys flowery bag in the corner next to the stove, and grabbed it along with a bottle of cola that was set on top of the kitchen counter. Hydration was important, after all, even if you knew Adam would be livid that you were stealing his shit again. What are mates for?    

Matty grabbed both of your coats, mouthing “lets go,” before making his way towards the front door. 

The bright light of the hallway burns your eyes. How do they survive coming out here when that fucking flat is always so dark? You think to yourself. You wonder if Ross has a vitamin D deficiency from the inherent lack of sunshine in his life, yourself excluded. 

The bus ride home is rowdier, filled with kids from surrounding schools. The both of you hid in a corner towards the front, away from the dickheads that usually sat in the back row. You were both too tired to deal with anyone but each other. 

He was right, everything did smell like jimmy choo now, and maybe you shouldn't have sprayed so much. 

His hand wanders to his eyes, rubbing a bit of the eyeshadow off.

“Does it still look alright?” he asks, looking up from your lap. It had smudged a bit, melted off after a full day of wear. It's not like you used your expensive waterproof stuff, after all.

“You look fine, pretty actually,” You give him a tired smile, stroking his hair absentmindedly 

“Can you even call a guy pretty? Isn't that, like, inherently degrading?” Matty mutters, a grin spreading onto his face. 

“It's only degrading if you let it be. You Matthew Healy, are pretty. Pretty like a girl” 

A laugh escapes you, imagining Matty as a woman. Knowing him, he’d be into it. 

“Does it bother you? Y’know, me being feminine and wearing makeup.” The question surprises you. It's a rare thing seeing Matty this vulnerable. He doesn't care what other people think, but he does care what you think. 

“You know I don't care, I actually prefer you this way.” you assure him.

“Though it's still my mission to convince you that the backpack is not the move you think it is.” 

That earns you a frown from Matty. “It is! I'll let you know the lady at the store told be it very in this time of year” its always funny watching him get defensive over his fashion choices, even if he knows he’s fucked up and its hideous. 

“Yeah maybe it's trendy... for 8 year old girls! But you do you mate, don't let me judge you,” that gets you an elbow to the gut. 

The walk home is one you always take together. Arms hooked into each other, walking, sharing headphones. It's your turn on the music, putting on ‘This Charming Man’ by the smiths. 

“You know, Morrissey sort of reminds me of you. You're really similar in your campness”  Matty choked on air, shooting you a faux offended look. 

“Did you seriously call Morrissey camp? He'd have your head for that.” 

“You're both attention slags, so there's at least one similarity.” Matty doesn't say anything, knowing your words do, in fact, ring true. Matty loves attention, and man, is good at getting it. 

He draws people to him like moths to a flame. Always the loudest, always the most interesting. 

That one saying; “You can't be the prettiest girl at the party, but you always be the drunkest” is a personification of Matty. He tips back wine glass after wine glass, not caring about the stains on his shirt or the red ring around his lips. He then makes it a poor Hanns job to make sure he doesnt get into a scrap with three much bigger guys (which actually did happen last summer outside of a pub in london. Matty got out scot free, while Adam nearly suffered a heart attack). 

You hug Matty goodbye, giving him a peck on the cheek. 

You always dreaded coming home. 

They say your biggest critic is your mind, but yours was your mother. You knew she had already gotten a call from the school saying you cut class. The moment you stepped into the living room, the yelling started. “How can you do this” and “What are you even doing with your life” turned into “Look at yourself, you look like a whore and you're going to school like that?” or “Were you out with that little gay boyfriend of yours again?”

You try to tune it out, not letting it get to you. She's been like that for as long as you can remember, never letting up for even just a second. You weren't the best kid, but she sure isn't helping you “get on the right track” as she liked to say.

Tears well up in your eyes when you finally shut your bedroom door. Your first instinct is to call Matty. He picks up after two rings, immediately hearing the quiver in your voice. 

He tells you he’ll be there as soon as he can. 

Minutes pass by slowly until you hear a familiar, although uncharacteristically soft, knock at your window. Matty.

Your puffy eyes meet his and he can tell you’d been crying. No words were exchanged as he took you into your arms, his hands soothingly stroking your hair as you let out muffled sobs into his chest. It broke his fucking heart to see you like this. You were extensions of each other, the others' pain was always your own.    

“It's all so shit. Why cant she just be normal one fucking time.” your voice audibly shakes, partially out of anger and partially out of exasperation. 

“I know i suck, I know I'm a bad daughter but-,” Matty cuts you off. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” His words only make you cry harder. 

He holds you close, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, the sound of his voice similar to the way he spoke to you that night. His hands feel cold against your skin, and you know he’d rushed to your house without grabbing his coat. You look up at him, seeing his hair was unruly, curls falling into his face. The blonde highlights littered his dark hair and he ran his hand through them, brushing them to the side to get a better look at you. 

“D’you want to sit down? We can listen to music. Whatever you want, and won't even comment on how shit it is, promise,” He knew you didn't want to talk about it then, you never did.  

You sit in silence, your face still in his chest, staining the light blue material of his shirt. You quietly apologize, knowing how much he loves that shirt. He tells you to shut up, and that it didn't matter. 

He had gotten it in Barcelona at some tourist shop for 50 quid. Insane price for a tshirt that just said “Barcelona” on it, but he held it dear to his heart. It reminded him of his childhood summers. 

“There's a bottle of um…,” you trail off, gesturing to the second drawer of your nightstand. Matty understands, and reaches over you to open it. The drawer is filled with half eaten granola bars, bracelets, jewelry, the odd vape for when it was too cold to go outside. Matty always took the piss out of you for having them, saying they were ‘so fucking girly it hurt’. After a second of rummaging, he took out a half drunk bottle of Bacardi. It always sat in your nightstand for when you needed it, and you definitely needed it now. 

“Only you'd have a giant bottle of rum in your nightstand,” Matty says softly, searching your expression. The corners of your mouth tug upwards at his words, and you crack a smile.   

He opens it for you, and grabs an abandoned cup from your desk. The cup he had gifted you on your 17th birthday. It was covered in flowers and stars, very Matty. Very you. Pouring a healthy amount into the glass, he hands it to you.  

“To shitty situations” He raises it, clinking it against your cup. He takes a swig straight from the bottle. You down the whole thing in one go, wincing as the alcohol burns down your throat. 

“You feel better?” he asks, pouring more into your cup. You nod, before taking another drink. “I just need to get drunk and forget,” you sigh. Matty starts to speak again.

“That's an unhealthy way to go about it. Soon enough I'll be picking you up from corners because you can't handle your liquor. It's a recipe for alcoholism, innit?” you cackle at his words prompting Matty to raise his eyebrows at you.  

“Oh come off it!,” How many times have you been so drunk you couldn't find your own dick if you tried. Sort yourself out before criticizing my drinking habits.” you scoff  

You decide ‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis is the right soundtrack for the night. You lay down next to Matty, your shoulders and thighs touching each other. You look up fondly at the dozens of yellow stars littering your ceiling. Reminiscent of your early childhood, you couldn't bear to take them down. You still felt like a child, your heart yearning for the same innocence you no longer possessed. A distinct naïveté you missed dearly. After your breakup with Phillip you'd realized that the world wasn't all it was cut out to be. People wanted, and they took. It didn't matter to them if they hurt others, because as long as they were satiated, nothing else mattered. 

You turn to your left, draping your arm over Mattys stomach. He let out a deep breath, raising his right arm to draw light circles onto your back. His nails had grown out longer than usual, but the sharpness of them was comforting through the thin material of your tank top. The edge of your small twin bed dug into your back. 

The two of you laid like that for hours before sleep took over your body. The stars on the ceiling blurred as your eyes started to shut. You let out a soft hum, settling into Matty even more, holding him close.

You don't know how long he stayed, but he was gone when you woke up. You feel a sticky note attached to your forehead, the glue rubbing off on your skin. You could barely read Mattys erratic handwriting. The note read: you fell asleep, hope your hangover isn't as bad as mine. left you some Advil on your dresser xx. 

Your hand reached next to you, feeling two tablets. You wash them down with water from the sink. Your cell phone lights up with a text from George 

“We’re meeting at Hanns flat, be there in 30,”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The windows were rolled up, trapping the smoke inside. Your eyes were glazed over, barely able to make out Ross’ face in front of you. Watching as Matty took another hit, you made a ‘give it here’ motion at the zoot, prompting him to hand it to you. Rhianna blared through the radio, a far cry from Adams usual taste in music, but no one seemed to care. Even Matty had managed to keep his mouth shut, instead moving his head in time with the music. 

Adam was sitting in the driver's seat, as always. He’d never let anyone else drive his girl, not even Ross. He was insanely protective over his car, even if it was an old piece of junk. 

George was in the passenger seat, holding a pink, polka dotted ashtray in his hand. The colorful ceramic proved quite the contrast against his dark clothes and messy blonde hair. It was a gift from his older sister, and the only ashtray he ever used. 

You were perched in the middle seat, your elbows on the console between Adam and George. Matty sat on your right, and Ross on your left.  

“No joke, I once had a bird offer to give me a footjob. Can you imagine that?” Adam spoke loudly, almost too loud. Ross let out a disgusting snort, the mental image of Adam getting a footjob making him properly lose it. You make a face. 

“That can't feel good at all, innit? Aren't the soles of feet rough?” you ponder. “Only if you have George's hobbit feet, that is,” Matty said, ducking to avoid yet another lighter being chucked at him. You were going to run out of lighters at this rate. 

“I'll show you hobbit feet you fucking cunt,” George retorted, sticking out his tongue like a child.

“I had a girl once who wanted me to properly bite down on her nipples, like hard. Can't imagine how much that would've hurt.” you share. She’d been quite the odd one up until she was in your bed, so you were already expecting some sort of weird kink. Nipple biting was definitely not on that list. Not that you were kink shaming.  

George spoke first: “What d’you mean girl? You're telling me you've been with girls?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “Erm, yeah? Didn't I tell you-?” Everyone shook their heads except Matty. You had already told him this story months before, the both of you laughing at your misfortune. Smiling at the fond memory, you meet Ross’ eye. 

“We didn't know you were like, proper gay,” he says quietly, not wanting to sound abrasive. You suck in a deep breath before answering. “I'm not proper anything, and besides,” you point at Matty sitting next to you, “This one’s snogged loads of blokes.”  A collective “What???” fills the car, with everyone's eyes now on Matty. 

“What if I have? It's not my job to notify you of all my sexual endeavors, innit?” Matty looks slightly uncomfortable, giving you a look. You frown at him, and he shakes his head. Slight signs of a smile linger on his face. It's fine he mouths at you, resting his arm on your shoulder. 

The three of them talk loudly over each other, with Ross asking some very explicit questions on the mechanics of gay sex. 

“How do you even, like, properly shag? It's not like you have anything you can shove into the other girl,” Jesus christ. 

Matty taps Ross’ shoulder, bringing the attention to his hands. He brings them up to his mouth, sticking his tongue out between the V-shape his fingers had made. Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, the whole demonstration makes Ross visibly cringe. 

The car suddenly starts. Adam makes the short drive to Carolines, stating that the hotbox was getting to be too much for him. George has a go at his age, calling him an old man. Hann was in fact, about 2 and a half years older than George, and a solid year older than the rest of you. Old man was right. 

You had rolled down the window on Mattys side, hoping some fresh air would help Adams driving skills. The erratic swerving had begun to make you sick. 

Finally trugding up the stairs to the terrace, Matty says something about it being too fucking cold. Ross says “That's the price of being built like a male Kate Moss,” and Matty nearly shoves him down the stairs. 

It is colder than usual, and you had opted for a dark gray zip up, the material hugging you tightly. You were pretty sure it was Mattys. A pair of green wash jeans hung low, revealing the lightning bolt tattoo on your right hip bone. It was a copy of Bowie's on the cover of ‘Aladdin Sane’. You had gotten it done by another one of your mates, Rome, who was an aspiring tattoo artist. It looked a bit shit, the lines slightly crooked, but it was yours. 

You had convinced George and Ross to carry the sofa from the office onto the terrace. They were the tallest and strongest, and Mattys arms would have snapped like twigs if he tried to carry anything, you said to them. George laughed his octave defying laugh, while Ross let out an annoyed grunt, shoving past you. 

Adam was right behind them, carrying a small wooden coffee table. “For you- I know how much you hate sofas,” he says quietly. You called him a softy, but inevitably thanked him for bringing it out. He had his rare sweet moments, and you appreciate them 

Once you had all settled, you took out your tobacco and papes, starting to roll your first cigarette of the night. You honestly needed a break from all the weed, because jesus. 

Matty let out a groan, taking the piss out of you for bringing all that instead of just buying industrials. 

“I know you think you're better than us for rolling, it's quite pretentious.” he sucks in a breath before talking, moving his hands erratically “Don't tell me it ‘tastes better’ because that's simply bollocks, it all tastes the same!” 

“Pretentious? Her? That's rich coming from someone who raves on about William Burroughs like anyone knows who is!” Matty looks hurt, and you give Ross a look that says you really don't know who William Burroughs is?

The conversation continued without you, too preoccupied with rolling to add anything. All was well until George decided to open his giant mouth again. 

“If you're not fully gay,” he started, “how do we know you're not secretly crushing on any of us?” he raised his eyebrows, looking at you expectantly.

You let out a snort, it slowly morphing into laughter until you look at him, his expression deadly serious. 

“You can’t actually mean that?” your voice is slightly hoarse. “For all we know, you could be harboring secret affection for Matty with the amount of times you’ve slept in the same bed.” 

Mattys perks up at this, shooting George a glare that could kill a man. He told him??? 

You don't know what came over you. Maybe it was the weed, maybe you were just groggy from the lingering hangover. You lick the cig closed, setting down next to the others. Uncrossing your legs, you get up and walk towards Matty. You can see the grin plastered onto his face, and he is definitely not sober.

You stumbled over Adam's foot, kicking it out of the way. Ross moved away from Matty, giving you some space. 

The terrace was dark, but the moonlight illuminated some of Mattys features. Specifically, his eyes. They seemed to glow, following your every step toward him. I'll show you secret affection you thought to yourself when your hand made contact with Mattys face. The stubble on his chin scratched your fingers. He never could grow a beard, and the faint shadow was as long as it would get. 

He sat with his legs spread, skin peaking out through the single rip in his jeans. His arms rested on the sofas back, splaying out to the side. He wore a black v-line jumper, the knit of it almost see-through.  

The makeup from the previous day was still smudged on his face, giving him a rockstar-esque look. The eyeshadow framed his eyes, glittering in the faint light. Your hands cupped his face, lightly stroking his jaw. The grin had been wiped off his face the moment you had settled between his legs, kneeling on the edge of the sofa. 

You didn't think, just moved, your lips smashing against each other. It seemed to take Matty by surprise, and it even took him a second before he kissed you back. One thing nagged at you. Why did you like it?

There was no time to think when you heard George wolf whistle at the both of you. 

You want a show, I'll give you a show you thought, slipping in your tongue and taking over the kiss. He seemed into it, but then again, Matty would fuck anything with a pulse. You smile against his mouth at the thought. It suddenly felt hot, even though you were outside. His hand snaked its way into your hair, tugging slightly. This didn't feel platonic. Was it?

“Alright, alright, we didn't sign up for a porno,” Ross says, his hand covering his mouth. You were the one who broke the kiss. Matty let out a soft groan when you parted, loud enough for only you to hear. His eyes pierced yours, and you moved to get off of him. 

Your heart thrummed against your ribcage, and you felt dizzy. What the fuck?

You wiped your mouth, your lipgloss having smeared all over your face. Wiping the back of your sticky hand against the sofa, you turned and walked back to your spot on the table. 

“See! Absolutely no ‘secret affection’ as George so kindly put it.” you say to the group, going back to your pile of fags, taking one and lighting it. If you had looked at Matty instead of being preoccupied with Hanns bickering about the prissy new manager, you would have noticed a faint shade of red caressing his cheeks. He felt around for his own cigarettes, and took out a pack of parliaments. Spotting the lighter next to you, he reached for it, lighting the cig as he inhaled the smoke eagerly.

It was already half two when the five of you finally piled back into Hanns car. The prominent stench of weed made you scrunch up your nose. You decide to light a cigarette in the car despite various protests and threats to your life if you even dared to ash onto the leather seats. Switching seats with Matty, you ash out the window instead, resting your head against the rim of the car. 

Ross and George were having yet another meaningless debate on whether mixing ketchup and mayo was a cardinal sin or totally acceptable. Every other word was an insult, and you knew they would never come to an agreement, ever.

You had already established that you’d be sleeping over at Mattys, saving Adam time and petrol not having to drive both of you home separately. Denise and Tim were out on a press tour, so he had the house to himself. 

His room was dark, the curtains drawn shut. If you knew Matty, you knew he hated the big light with a burning passion. Instead, a small lamp was turned on in the corner, illuminating the various posters that littered his wall. Band posters, prints, tapestries, the occasional quote. Everything screamed Matty

His room was filled with so much music. CD’s, vinyls, even the odd cassette tape. His purple record player sat on top of a dresser next to his desk, surrounded by various small trinkets of his. It was his prized possession, a gift from his mother for his 14th birthday.  

You had already helped yourself to a cola from his fridge downstair. His house was huge, way bigger than your own. Your parents weren't actors, after all. The walls of his room were stained towards the corners, just another side effect of Mattys near constant chain smoking. His bed was big, and you both fit comfortably on it. The wardrobe next to it had a pile of your own clothes in it, but none to sleep in. Your eyes dart around the room looking for one of his to wear, landing on his bright pink durex t-shirt. He had worn it once to school, promptly getting kicked out of literature class by a very conservative Mrs. Sexton.

Soft music was playing in the background as you unloaded your bag onto Matty’s insanely cluttered desk. Out came multiple pens, makeup, not one, not two, but three lighters, and finally, makeup wipes.    

You sat on the ground in front of his full length mirror, wiping at your eyes and face. Matty was making the bed, giving the both of you each your own duvet, a must after too many fights over the blanket. You weren't a peaceful sleeper, constantly tossing and turning, occasionally even kicking Matty in the back. 

Washing your face, you hear the bathroom door click open. Matty went and sat on the closed toilet lid next to you.

“Hand me my toothbrush, will you? And some toothpaste.” he asked, stretching his hand out. You do, even wetting the toothbrush for him. 

He sat there, brushing his teeth and flipping through a recent issue of playboy while you put moisturizer on, and then a serum. 

“I dont get how you can be arsed to put all that shit on your face, it takes way too long,” his comment makes you roll your eyes at him in the reflection. 

“Not everyone is naturally blessed with clear skin like you, people like me have to put effort into their appearance, knobhead.” A wave of insecurity hits you as you inspect the acne on your face. 

You had been a chronic face picker in your early teenage years, and the consequences of that were gnarly acne scars covering most of your face. They were not prominent, but they were there. 

Matty was fortunate enough to have had maybe three zits ever, his clear skin the stuff of dreams. 

Matty watches you pick yourself apart in the mirror. He hated when you did that. It made his heart ache in his chest. He wished you could see what he saw. What did he see?

“You’re quite beautiful, really,” he says, making eye contact with you through the mirror. You’re taken aback, not quite sure how to respond. You open your mouth to speak. 

“Oh bugger off,” you say, your voice breathy and annoyed. You didn't want to sound annoyed, it just came out that way. 

Matty raises both his hands in defeat, and spits the toothpaste into the toilet bowl, flushing. The hairbands sitting on the bathroom counter eventually end up in your hair, holding together two braids on either side of your face. You stare at the mirror one more time, examining yourself. The pink fabric of your (well, Mattys) shirt clung to you like it did Matty. Taking off your bra, you go back into his room. He had changed into a loose Kiss t-shirt and black boxers. The light of the corner lamp helped you find your phone, sitting on the nightstand next to you. 

The atmosphere was calm, calm enough that you’d almost forgotten about the kiss. Almost. 

Matty reached over to turn the lamp off, lighting a candle for light. Cinnamon. 

“You know it's dangerous to sleep with candles lit? We could catch on fire and die,” Matty had rolled over on his side, now facing you. A grin spread onto his face. 

“If it kept me from ever seeing Hanns ugly mug ever again, i’d gladly let cinnamon spice scented flames burn me to death,” 

You giggle at his words. Poor Adam, always taking the worst of Mattys jokes, if you could even call them that. Accepting his decision to keep the candle lit, you pull the blanket over your shoulders. Your eyes shut and you can feel butterflies in your stomach. Butterflies, really? Jesus fucking christ. 

You're scared to open your eyes, scared to even look at Matty. Maybe it was a mistake. He's your best mate. That kiss didn't mean anything, especially not to him.

A million thoughts race through your head, and you shove them into a small corner of your mind. Ignore ignore ignore, it didn't mean anything. He's just some wanker who picked you up at a bus stop three years ago and somehow became your best mate. He's just some guy you share a bed with sometimes. He's just some guy who lights your spliffs for you. He's just some guy who you kissed on a terrace overlooking the city. 

Fuck. 

[arbiterlexultionis]

Instant Eternity Pt. 2

So, Danny has the infi-map and uses it to go on vacations and the like to enjoy his now eternal life. The infinite realms are Infinite, really and truly. But locations within the realms correlate to spaces in the “real” world, so what happens when you travel beyond what should be the ends of the “real” universe in the realms? You find other universes. All universes, realities, multi and Omni verses connect with the Infinite Realms, hence the name kind of implying the existence of infinite realms. With the infimap Danny’s able to visit and explore these other planes of existence to his hearts content, and over the course of his travels makes a number of close friends.

He can’t just say goodbye forever, can’t leave them with no way to call for aid or call for small talk so, he comes up with a bit of a crazy plan to make sure all his new friends can meet each other and stay in contact. A combination of the infi-map, Fenton portal technology, time medallions/assistance from clockwork, help from the yeti’s and maybe even some help from Dr. Strange or Dr. Fate all come together to make a private club that connects to who knows how many dimensions. In a Ghost King AU his royal palace has all the normal palace stuff but surrounding Phantom’s Keep is a whole town for inter-dimensional travelers. The portals themselves are all in a massive tower, either leaning tower of Pisa style or a massive clock tower because of how much Clockwork helped out, arranged kind of like how all the statues of the avatars are arranged in the air temple in ATLA.

Danny’s sitting at his desk in his office while 7 Gokus, 13 Vegitas, 4 Beeruses(Beerusi? A pod of Beerus? Flock?) 10 Piccolos and 1 Gohan crowd the rest of his office. “Two Hundred and Forty. 2-4-fucking-0. That is the number of of Territories that have lodged official complaints about the ruckus your fights have been causing! Queen Patet sent a fifty seven page long letter asking me to give every single one of your dimensions eternal travel bans to all of your dimensions and every dimension where even one of you exist. Because the shockwaves from your fights were still strong enough to shatter glass when they reached her Territory. The territory of Vitrum, which makes Fucking Everything from glass! Including the Goddamn Buildings! They build their cities in massive glass orbs! More than thirteen hundred buildings torn down in one day. Including every single hospital they had. You fought for nine days straight. Get out. Get the crap baskets out of my office. Now. Go home. Let the Bulmas know that they’re paying the reparations.” They all file out of the office, Vegitas and the flock of Beerus mumbling about how they shouldn’t have made their buildings out of glass if they didn’t want them to get broken. The one(1) brain cell the group had, otherwise known as Gohan, was apparently the only one with manners, profusely apologizing and offering to help with the clean up even as he got shooed out of the office.

More then a dozen Quirckless!Izuku vigilantes come together to form a great big club to share intel that match’s across their various worlds, analyze quirks, train and give each other therapy. It’s all going well. Then the Batmen stop developing contingency plans for literally all the beings they meet here juuust long enough for their adoption senses to start tingling. The Dad Mights, Dadzawas and Dad for Ones put aside their differences to combat this new threat. The Spider-men are sitting in a corner grateful that their spider senses and Peter tingles helped them avoid all that nonsense. Until the Iron Dads show up. Then they’re all to busy running and cursing their Parker luck to be grateful.

Passing through a gateway to another universe that isn’t yours require approval from no less then half the visitors from that verse and/or Danny himself. Same thing goes for leaving the compound to explore the Realms.

All the adoption addicts from across the multiverse take one look at Danny, listen to all the rumors about his parents and go “Mine!”. Luckily for Danny he doesn’t really have to to worry to much, doesn’t even notice really, because 2.3 seconds after they did that they all turned to each other and went “No! Not yours, Mine!” The infighting has kept them busy ever sense. However, according to an ancient, sacred prophecy(something that Clockwork mentioned in passing 2 months ago) they will eventually all decide that Danny having a proper support network is more important then who his favorite supporter is. So he’s going to get parented so hard by all three hundred and eighty of them. More moms, dads, ma’s, pa’s aunts and uncles then he’ll know what to do with.

[audreyscribes]

CARRY ON MY WAYWARD CHILD [PART 4: EPILOGUE]

Ω PJO IMAGINE Ω

PROMPT: When a dream makes the reader unable to settle, they decide to take a walk, converting their dream to reality.

Reader encounters Luke, Thalia, and Annabeth on the run when they have a dream that makes them go out and see a sick Annabeth with a tired, injured Luke and Thalia. They take them in, saving them, and encounters them years later when they remembered a kind stranger.

a/n: Reader is neutral; no specific pronouns or descriptions used. Referred to as Y/N. Roughly college/university age. [AO3 LINK] | [1] [2] [3]

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“... and yeah, that’s what basically happened” you recounted, nodding to yourself while licking at your now dry lips. Your fingers nervously wrapped and drummed against the cup.

You glanced from your empty cup, struggling to decipher the tea leaves at the bottom but also trying not to because you didn’t want any more mystic, mythological, magical, whatever nonsense right now.

On the other hand, your nerves were shot with your aunt sitting across from her. So it was either trying to divert your attention to reading the damn tea leaves or staring at your aunt.

You took a quick peek up at your aunt, who was sitting across from you, sipping her own tea with a seemingly neutral face. Which either was good or very bad for you.

Pretending to sip your tea from very empty cup, you thought back to the situation.

You had watched the dawn rise and the sun peering over the horizon, light filtering through the open, broken doorway. The sky changing from its dark hues to lighter hues, the clouds appearing with tints of colour. You weren’t sure exactly how much time passed or if you somehow slept in your daze.

The only reason you snapped out of your stupor was it was time to make breakfast. When you had pushed yourself up and begun to make breakfast, it was only then you realized that the kids weren’t here anymore and you didn’t have to make breakfast on time.

It was strange how these kids appeared in your life and gotten you into a rhythm that you didn’t know you found yourself playing. When popped in the first bite of food, you chewed numbly, you noted why breakfast didn’t taste as it used to be.

With a full stomach, you turned your attention to cleaning up the house now it was daytime. The house was in such disarray with everything strewn all over during the scuffle, with broken furniture and pieces filling the gaps.

Time passed by you as you cleaned and straightened the house, taking moments to pause to eat the leftover breakfast for too many for one or to reminisce about the kids’ impact on your life when it came to you.

Then something strange happened. As you took the blankets and duvet outside and begun to hang them on the line, you saw something in the corner of your eye.

Your heart leaped, thinking the kids came back, but as you turned, your heart leaped for another reason as you saw a person. You let out a curse in surprise, hands and legs flying as you jumped, sending a duvet flying before you scrambled to catch it before it hit the ground. You heard chuckling and your face burned at the display.

“Sorry for scaring you” said the person, giving a grin that was more playful then apologetic. You stared skeptically at him, not believing his apology. He was a man with salt and pepper hair, with blue eyes that seemed to crinkle with mirth. There was something about him that made your brain itch, but you had no idea why.

Your brain could only handle so much itchiness.

You tossed the blanket back on the line before making your way to the stranger warily; your experiences with the monsters making you think twice. “Is there something I can help you with?” you asked carefully, looking for anything inhuman about him. He seemed like an other middle-aged man, but then again, monsters came in plain sight-

“Actually, I’m here on business if you will. You are (y/n) (l/n) correct?”

You felt a bit unnerved when he knew your name. You kept your toe to the fence, hoping the protections were still active.

“...Yes...how do you know that...?” you asked slowly.

“Well, before I can answer that, I come here on behalf of some individuals to extend their thanks to you.”

“Huh?”

The man gave a (too) charming smile and reached into his pocket. He took out a business card to you and handed it to you. You carefully took the card and it’s inscriptions read:

HERMES AGREIPHONTES

Ω

OLYMPYUS

Travel Agent, Head of Communications, Head of Commerce

you could feel something connecting in your brain, as you looked up at the man named Hermes. You squinted as you felt a connection forming before you gasped, connecting the dots. Of course, how could you be so blind?

“Wait, I know you-”

“Yes, (y/n), it may be a bit surprising for a mortal, but I am Hermes, the god of-” he started to say,

“You’re Luke’s dad?!” you said before he could even finish.

Hermes stared at you for a moment, eyes wide with surprise and totally off guard, before bursting into laughter while you had a red face.

You invited the man into the house, apologizing profusely for the strangeness of a lack of a door, but the man waved it off goodnaturedly and grinned, “I’ll just deliver a door for you as a replacement” he said before pulling out a blackberry and begun typing.

You opened your mouth to protest but you decided to just get your guest some drinks and snacks, hopefully not minding that you couldn’t host properly due to damaged house.

“So, uh, how may I help you? Like are you here for Luke? Because something happened and he’s not here, but uh-” you begun to stammer and Hermes gave you a soft, sad smile.

He gave a bitter chuckle, taking a sip of his drink, before giving you his full attention.

“Don’t worry about it. I know Luke was here recently, but it’s because of that I’m here.”

“What?”

Hermes eyes became dimmer and had a weak but amused smile.

“It’s a bit complicated and there’s only so much we can reveal given your limited knowledge. It’s against the law for us to reveal too much to mortals who are not prepared for it.” He said it a way that felt very personal.

You felt your mouth go increasingly dry. You remembered the dream that led you to meeting the children. Their weapons. The monsters. The man, the being, in front of you. You could feel yourself grasping onto something but you knew once you accepted that reality, it was the point of no return.

“...So why are you here? If not for your son? Or the other children?” you started to say otherwise. Hermes flashed you an appreciative smile as he continued.

“I, among a few others that I’m representing in their case, want to thank you for taking care of our children. There are...circumstances that prevent us from directly interacting with them, so the fact you have helped them as a host, not only under the Laws of Xenia, but also a protector, we are grateful for your actions and you will be rewarded with a boon.”

“A boon? Like blessings from a god?”

Hermes smirked, “Exactly”.

Your spine shivered at his words and you felt something looming. “And what are these...boons?”

“Well, that’ll ruin the surprise wouldn’t it?” said Hermes as he got up from his seat, and pulled out his blackberry phone, and for a moment you thought you saw something slithering around it. “But really, you’ll be getting your boon after we get approval from your patron and aunt, but for now, will suffice for now. Goodbye (y/n) and thank you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion but the doorbell rang, making your head turned. From where you were in the living room, you had a view of the foyer and there you saw two men with tool kits and a giant door. “Hello, we’re here to deliver and install your new door!” one of them said.

You opened your mouth then turned back to Hermes, or would’ve, but he was no longer there. You stared at where he stood and promptly turned back to the people at the door, pushing Hermes aside because you didn’t want to deal with it now.

And now here you were, with a new door that Hermes ordered for you on express service, and your aunt still sipping her tea.

“You’ve done well” said your aunt, as you looked up at her in surprise. She was giving you an amused smile.

“Uh...I did?”

“You did” she nodded. You waited for her to say more but she just gave you a smirk. You sighed at the how your aunt went back to being vague and you ran a hand through your hair, before leaning back into your seat.

“I still don’t know if all those things really happened but everywhere I look, I know it did” you started to say, “but if it was real, and I really did help those kids, I wonder if they’re okay.”

You felt your aunt pat your shoulder as she spoke. “It is how it is; but know this little one, they ever come back, they know this is a safe space for them.”

You nodded as you closed your eyes when your aunt patted your head. You closed your eyes as you listened to your aunt disappearing into the kitchen and begun making dinner. You listened to her bustling around the kitchen, the warmth of the house, and the lack of it as well before drifting off into a nap.

From that point, you almost forgot about those kids; being swamped back into college. It was almost the end of the semester and the full force of college work, with back to back projects, papers, and presentations. You were so busy and tired from it all, that you begun to dismiss some minor coincidences; things that were a little bit too good to be true but in the rush of work, you weren’t going to look a gifted horse in the mouth. Small mercies.

It was only after you finished your last hurdle as you merrily went made your way back home, finished with the semester. You had plans to go home, gorge on your aunt’s food and that dessert you’ve been saving for a job well done, and take a long year nap.

But when you bent down to slip off your shoes, you felt a subtle shift in the like something rippled in it. You looked up and found a girl dressed with brown hair and eyes, in a brown dress, giving you a warm smile. You looked at her with wide confused eyes as she sat at the table, laid out with a feast. By her side, was your aunt as she looked at you with a unfazed look.

“Ah, (y/n), right on time” she said, gesturing for you to sit. You hesitated but did as you were told, eyes on the guest.

“Uh, hi, how do you do” you introduced yourself to the guest, glancing at your aunt for any hints.

The guest smiled as you felt warm like a homey sense kind of way. “Hello, (y/n), we finally meet.”

You glanced at your aunt as she huffed. “Be on your best manners, our guest decided to stop by and prepare you this feast to celebrate your hard work.”

You looked down at said-food, and now you realized what was odd. It could be information passed by your aunt, but even then, the food was laid out with all your favourite foods; even if your aunt knew some of them, she didn’t know all of them.

There was a knowing smile to the guest as she gestured for you to eat. You did, slowly, but as soon you took the first bite, it was an explosion of flavour that made your body buzz in a way that was like eating the perfect bite. Your aunt and your guest ate and talked with each other like they were old friends and you couldn’t pay much attention, as the food seemed to draw you in.

With stomach full, fatigue was creeping onto you with the lack of stress. You were about to drone out with the dessert, when your aunt cleared her throat.

“(y/n),” she said, “Now you’ve eaten, it’s time for me to introduce you to our guest and patron.”

You looked at her and the guest as your aunt spoke next. “(y/n), this is one of our patron deity; Hestia, the goddess of the Heart, Fire, Home, and Family.”

You stared at Hestia with wide eyes as she smiled. Something seemed to click as you remembered about Hermes, then the children-

“Oh my gods, this is really happening. Hermes wasn’t just a guy named Hermes, that was the actual Hermes-”

Hestia giggled good-naturedly. “Yes, it really is (y/n).”

“Uh, why now? I mean, not I’m not glad for your presence Lady Hestia, but what brings a god to our mortal life?” you squeaked out.

“Fear not, no harm will come to you” she reassured and you believed her. “As for why you became involved...the gods are restrained in interacting with their children directly, but when they saw their children were in dire need of help, they were guided to one of my sanctuaries.”

“One of?”

Your aunt huffed. “The children you saved were not the only ones to sought safety here.”

You gaped at your aunt as more puzzles begun to fit into place; but acknowledge the bigger picture was even more daunting.

“You...were the only who sent me the dream,” you slowly said, not believing it yourself.

“In a way yes and you responded.”

“But-” you wanted to counteract, somehow logical it out-

“Child, have you ever realized something?” your aunt asked. You looked at her confused. “What are the children’s names that you cared for?”

“Luke, Thalia, and Annabeth, why-”

“But do you ever recall them telling their names?”

You went to open your mouth to say “of course they did, how else would I know their names?” but as you were about to voice it out, your brain caught it. You went through your memories yet you couldn’t recall them every actually giving their names. You stared at your aunt and Hestia in confused horror.

“How?”

“Our family are not strangers to offer sanctuary to those who need them, from all walks of life, nor do we have one singular patron goddess. In turn that allows us to have our own skills” explained your aunt, “There’s no true stranger in our homes, allowing us to offer them what they best need. Of course, this also applies knowing when to deal with unwanted guests.”

You tried hard to lean away from your aunt.

“(y/n),” said Hestia as you turned to her. “You’ve taken on your aunt’s duty when she was not here, and you’ve done is wonderfully. For your efforts, you are rewarded with boons by the gods.”

You stared at her as you heard a but. “But?”

“From this point on, you may return back to your life before you’ve met the demigods without any harm and with the rewards you’ve earned,” told Hestia, “But we also offer you to tell you about the world of the gods, and take on the same duty as your aunt has, and many of your fore-bearers. However, once you’ve crossed the line, you can never go back. What is your decision?”

You stared at her and flashed a look at your aunt, who remained neutral. You could tell she was giving you a choice and she would support you whichever you chose.

You looked back at the goddess, licking your lips nervously. Immediately, you were going to choose the former, knowing you weren’t equipped to handle all of this, fully aware it was safer in general.

Yet, you couldn’t help think back to Luke, Thalia, and Annabeth. You remembered meeting them for the first time and how relieved they looked as they realized they were truly safe. They didn’t tell you explicitly but you put it together that as demigods, their fate was going to be tough and rough. This was their norm yet...should it be?

You remembered those three, and knew they had already changed the course of your future. Even though you may never see them again, you wanted to offer some warmth to those who needed it, and maybe, one day you’ll see those three again.

You looked at Hestia and your aunt and you knew by the proud look in their eyes that they knew your answer.

“What do I have to do?” you asked as you decided to cross that line.

Years passed.

Since that fateful day, you finished your college studies. You got a job surprisingly quick (which you really thanked the gods cause it was nothing short of a miracle which you suspected was a boon used. Maybe), and you were satisfied, and you were setting up a good life all things considered.

It was almost a normal, mundane life.

Except for a few things.

The house was managed not just by your aunt, but also you; making you a co-owner. Your aunt showed you the ropes and provided you with experiences and knowledge. And magic, let’s not forget magic.

It also turned out the door that Hermes gave you, free of charge, had a hidden motive. It was also a magical door; that let anyone who prayed for sanctuaries to enter from anywhere; just they had to enter through the door. It was a bit of a shock when a different demigod and their satyr (which was a whole entire another experience), appeared through the door, looking very confused as well who were just in another completely different area.

It was something to get used to but at least the door allowed you to also go wherever you wanted to which you used regularly. Your aunt also used it more and more often to go to different places; especially now she didn’t have to make annual trips to get supplies (Athen’s Olives did not disappoint). The only drawback was to the door was it didn’t allow any demigods or those seeking sanctuary to wherever they needed to go; and would only go back to where they originally entered from; with a leeway of a 100 mile radius.

In retrospect it made sense. It allowed them to find sanctuary but they still had to go through the journey to wherever they needed to go. It was a process that you couldn’t help with.

But that only made you put more effort into the ones you could help with. With every demigod you helped, you learned more and more about each individual.

Imagine your surprise when you gotten a thank-you package of very fresh strawberries from a place called “Delphi Strawberry Service” and a quaint letter from a man named Chiron. You immediately clocked in on it.

It was nice helping those who seeked refuge. They weren’t limited to just Greek demigods, you also encountered others; Roman, Egyptian, Norse, all sorts of other cultures, and even some mortals.

But some part of you kept hoping you would see Luke, Thalia, and Annabeth. You told about them every so often to those who came over, hoping for some hint of information but you didn’t get much (you weren’t sure if they just didn’t know or they can’t tell you).

More time passed and now you had fully grown into your role. You were working from home and you heard the familiar special doorbell ring throughout the house that acted a forewarning to those incoming.

“(y/n), get ready for the next guests; I’m in the middle of this brew-” said your aunt through the pipe system. You heard a series of hisses and garble in the background following that, and you weren’t going to think what ingredients she was using

“Alright!” you said through the pipe before you pushed yourself from your desk. You did a big stretch, popping all the stiff joints in your body before getting up to greet the desks.

You went through the familiar twists and turns of the house before reaching the foyer. You expected the next occupants to be hurried or hesitant but what was strange this time were a single doorbell.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you answered the doorbell and your breath hitched. You looked at the person in front of you and then what was in their hands; it was the ID, your old, beaten up and slightly scratched, college ID card...the one the kids still had all those years ago.

You gaped at the person in front of you as they gave you a tentative smile. The people behind them looking a bit confused.

“Hi (y/n), it’s...been a while...” they said, before looking sheepish. “If it’s not too much trouble, can we stay over for a night, please?”

You looked at them and then at their companions and back at them. You let out a scoff and grinned, “Of course, in fact, there’s a lot you need to catch me up on.”

[F I N]

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a/n: that's a wrap folks! thanks for reading "Carry on My Wayward Child"! You can decide if it's either Luke, Thalia, or Annabeth at the end, there are no wrong answers ♥️ Like and reblog if you feel so inclined, and see you all later~ thanks for all the support! Much appreciate!

[icey--stars]

Vanserra Brothers (Headcanons)

Headcanons for each of of the Vanserra brothers. All 7, including the ones who passed in the Spring Court incident.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

Day 1 of @erisweek2023 (Brotherhood / Family)

a/n: welcome to Eris Week 2023 everyone! I have a couple headcanons coming toward you that will include the headcanons that Born for Tragedy is set in as well as other future stories about Eris or Lucien! So... if anyone starts wondering about my headcanons, bOOM. I had too much fun with this one.

So… let’s start with family/brother headcanons. (post-beron’s death because fuck that guy) also I added a bit of dad!Helion in this because in my hopeful heart, I want the Vanserra brothers to have a real dad.

WARNINGS: MENTIONS ABUSE/TORTURE, VERY ANGSTY, TRAUMA DISCUSSED AND BAD TRAUMA RESPONSES

I hope you enjoy it regardless though! This was actually quite fun to make because I can use it for my other stories when I talk about the Vanserra brothers :)

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

So, Eris has 4 brothers that are still alive. I’ve already named them in Born for Tragedy, but I plan to use the HC across many different stories, so let's talk about them.

Jax is the second eldest Vanserra. He’s probably the one who got abused the least because his personality and stoicness is exactly what Beron wanted for a son. 

However, he is widely regarded as having snails for brains, so Eris still got the general position while Beron lived because Eris was more apt in strategy and getting people to do what he wants.

Jax likes to fight and while not too impulsive since his teen years, he tends to be always looking for a fight.

If anyone was going to get him a gift, he’d probably most appreciate armor/weapons. However, make it fancy because he likes to be well dressed and look the most wealthy compared to everyone else.

Jax is the brute warrior of the Vanserras with very little ability to do anything court-related.

Normally, he has quite the cold heart and Eris has struggled to have any sort of relationship with him.

Of course, Eris actually was jealous when Jax was born, as he got more attention than Eris during those times, and Eris wasn’t completely mature enough to realize that the fact he kept seeming to reject Jax, hurt the poor boy more.

So, Eris has the worst relationship with Jax of all and Jax is too standoffish and holds grudges so long that they just can’t find any sort of relationship with each other.

But Eris does keep in mind his brother’s preferences though because he eventually realized his mistake when the now dead, third-eldest Vanserra, Fynn came along.

Now, before we go on about Fynn and perhaps how he died while chasing Lucien to the Spring Court… Jax does know that Eris tries. He does, but he’s salty. That’s all. Salty motherfucker who’s virtually emotionless, but probably the least traumatized of all the brothers.

He was one of the 2 brothers to help Eris chase Feyre into the Winter Court.

Nothing much changes for him when Eris finally becomes High Lord. It’s just a change of seasons for him.

Now, Fynn was kinder than any of the previously born brothers. Beron resented him for it and often punished the boy when he was found being kind to a servant.

So Fynn hardened and by the time he was an adult, he was rageful and absolutely miserable to be around. Such a short fuse and a big boom to go along with it.

Fynn constantly was angry. At Beron, at Eris- not too much at Jax because they mostly ignored each other. Fynn was jealous of Eris.

Eris never did manage to apologize for the whippings that Beron forced him to give Fynn before the brother died.

But in all honesty, Fynn had been broken beyond repair. His kindness cost him and he was angry and rageful all the time. At everyone.

Some say it was a good thing that he died when he did.

The boy was smarter than Jax, but Beron still prized Eris for his manipulation tactics, so of course, Fynn was salty about that as well.

Eris and him often fought, but it was always Eris who cut it short and dismissed his brother. Yet another reason Fynn was so rageful.

He was ignored. A third born meant nothing to everyone. Eris was the prized first born Vanserra. Jax was close enough that they didn’t care. But Fynn meant nothing to them. And worst yet, he was weaker than most of his brothers and had less control over fire than any of them.

In the Spring Court incident, he was one of the two brothers besides Calix (6th born) to die. The third brother chasing Lucien under Beron’s order was Kuhn (5th born). Killed by Tamlin- his rage was at last quelled.

The next brother is Hue, 4th born in the Vanserra line.

By the time that Hue had been born, Eris had managed to get his head out of his ass and swore to protect his youngest brother, helping his mother to raise them in secret and helped his brother deal with Beron’s beatings.

Hue was as kind as Fynn, and he was intelligent as well. He was fascinated by everything. However, Beron called him his “failure.” The boy acted more like a scholar than anyone else in the Forest House.

At one point, Beron ordered Eris to take the boy during some constructive early teen years to a cabin and raise him. Eris had mastered seeming as cruel and manipulative as his father by this point. Eris kept his rage down and followed orders.

Eris fostered his brother’s scholarly heart, but trained him well to never show that weakness to his father. Hue was a more lanky brother, and while training was enjoyable, he preferred reading in his rooms.

But in any battle (which he has been in many, as he was the other brother helping to chase Feyre with Eris), he is very fast. The quickest reflexes.

He’s one of the more emotional brothers, but hides it well.

He enjoys the finer aspects of magic. The beautiful parts– not burning someone’s face off, but using it to make a piece of artwork.

Hue is fascinated by shiny little trinkets that he can collect and either hide or put on his bookshelves to decorate them. His bookshelves are a mess.

But he also enjoys art. Drawing, painting and other various options are some of his favorite pastimes as he tries to capture the beauty of a very simple scene in a canvas.

So, if you were getting him a gift, the best option is a bunch of little trinkets, a lifetime supply of books (which is exactly what Helion does as he gains Hue’s trust. He gives him little trinkets maybe with a little bit of magic from his libraries and then gives Hue free access to said libraries whenever he wishes for it) and maybe some art supplies, but Hue doesn’t need much. He just needs a canvas, pencil and then some paints to be happy.

When Eris becomes High Lord– Hue is very happy when he allows him to explore any and all interests he has. And Eris is very proud of him 🥹🥹🥹

The next Vanserra, the 5th born, is Kuhn. Kuhn is similar to Jax in ways, as they both have quite broad shoulders and enjoy training. Eris is more lanky than Kuhn, but no matter for either of them. Kuhn gives better hugs that way.

Now, seeing as Hue was such a “success” when being raised by Eris, as soon as Kuhn was able to be fed solid food, he was whisked away to the cabin.

Eris promised his mother to care for his brother. Kuhn grew up very similar to Hue– free from Beron’s wrath, but trained to avoid it, and not get either of them in trouble when they return to the Forest House years later. Beron was pleased with how Kuhn acted so warrior on the outside and actually rewarded Eris for his efforts.

Kuhn is like a mix of Jax and Hue at the same time. He enjoys training and is quite apt in his bow skills, but at the same time, he’s also fascinated by particular things– namely animals and the stars.

So… when Helion is giving out gifts, he gives Kuhn a little trinket that shows the view of the stars in the Night Court from the top of some mountains and makes sure to get an invitation for them both to the next Starfall in Velaris. (Kuhn was very happy)

Kuhn enjoys helping Eris with his hounds when he can, learning at least their names and offering advice when Eris off handedly mentions some issue, or that some hound got injured

When Eris is High Lord, Kuhn and Hue are some of the most useful when dealing with the lords and other annoying things.

Calix is the 6th born Vanserra, and according to canon, the last of Beron’s sons. One of the perished ones.

Beron did the same as he did with Kuhn and Hue– have Eris raise him. Calix didn’t seem scholarly at all though and was quite the violent child. But he was better than Fynn, and that was for sure. But they were similar, but Calix lacked the “loss of kindness” that Fynn had.

Calix was inherently violent, often killing frogs and other creatures just for fun and then throwing their bodies around for fun.

Eris did his best to “train” Calix, but the boy was unbothered and ignored him.

So, when it came time to go back to the Forest House, Calix was punished harshly, and with him, Eris. Calix didn’t understand, however, that it had been his fault that Eris was so cold toward him afterward.

Calix looks like almost an exact copy of Eris, so Beron had been hopeful, but quickly found that Eris was much more well trained and so Calix was resented, but not nearly as much as some of the other brothers.

Calix is the other brother that is killed by Tamlin. Beron basically taken the two sons most desperate to please him to chase Lucien to the Spring Court. Calix had been quite desperate, and Fynn, and Kuhn had simply been ordered to go along, as Beron considered him one of the more pleasing sons. Eris, since he refused to go along despite being ordered, was punished severely.

So, Calix and Fynn died, and Kuhn returned with gouges from huge claws in his back.

Hue was banned from helping either of the injured brothers and was barely even allowed to grieve his other two. (Hue had cared for them despite them mostly hating him for being more well-liked by their father)

Now, naturally, Lucien is the last brother we talk about. He was born before the Spring Court incident, and Beron was practically raging at the fact that Eris had failed at raising Calix as he did with Kuhn.

However, Eris managed to convince Beron to give him a chance with Lucien and his mother didn’t even wean Lucien off her milk, she just sent Eris to get him in a panic.

Eris found out why the panic soon after when Lucien was laughing with joy in a cradle in the cabin. The boy was glowing.

So yes, in my mind, Eris did know that Lucien was not Beron’s son, but treated him all the same.

Before Lucien could remember anything though, Eris found a spell to lock that Day Court magic inside the toddler before he burnt down the house with all the heat pouring off of him. After all, Day Court and Autumn Court abilities were similar in that way– heat. And Eris didn’t have a damn clue how to train Lucien to control his Day Court powers, so he locked them away and managed the fire instead.

Lucien was different from any other brother Eris had managed to raise. He was smart, could fight very well, but he was… different. Emotional and very quickly bonded with anything. Animals, most notably. When one of Eris’s hounds accidentally bit the boy in play, Lucien had acted so rejected.

Eris tried his best, and it paid off… mostly. They were ordered to return early from the canon and Lucien wasn’t vicious enough yet and Beron punished them both, finding the smallest excuse to do it to Eris.

Lucien resented Eris after that, and Eris never did try to mend that relationship, nor did he find the time when Lucien fell in love with a lesser fae female. However, he refused to hunt Lucien after he ran for the Spring Court. In the few minutes he had before Beron came after him, he made sure his littlest brother would be cared for and sent a letter to Tamlin.

Also, as an added note as to why Lucien believes Eris is so cruel: he thinks Eris was the one to report Jesminda to Beron- purely to make gain off of it (acceptance from Beron being the goal)

I’m not going to go too much farther into Lucien, as we know a lot about canon past that point and there are other times to talk about all my HCs for Lucien. This is about Eris and his brothers.

Now, if you notice, I’ve done all the Vanserras except the first born. Eris. Poor, tortured Eris.

In my mind, Eris is one of the most traumatized Vanserras, with Hue, Calix and Fynn coming close in second. He was the first to learn of Beron’s cruelty, the first to face it, and the one to face it the longest.

He messed up a lot too. Beron wanted cruel, wicked and manipulative. Eris was none of those things as a child. He was curious, loved cuddling with his momma and loved playing with the hunting hounds people brought around. He loved riding horses-

Basically, Eris wasn’t that way. But he quickly learned to be. Permanently changed by Fynn to be exactly who his father wanted because he was desperate to avoid the whip and the fire and the pain. However, he still managed to keep the pieces of his fractured heart, even if they were slipping between his fingers.

That is probably the only reason he was able to raise his brothers the way he did. Hue and Kuhn care for him deeply in that way, and he is the same way. But they never show it. However, the little fist bumps or secretive gifts were enough for Hue and Kuhn to know that Eris still cared even when he was forced to whip them by Beron’s command.

Oh yes… Eris wasn’t just the abused. He was also the abuser. Even if he didn’t want to be. But he always managed to show enough pleasure in the act to placate his father, because sometimes it was a good feeling. He felt in control, despite not being in control in the slightest.

But without Beron’s command, he always felt guilty for it and knew that in some way, his brothers did hold something against him for it. I mean, honestly, who wouldn’t though? Eris truly seemed like he enjoyed it. And he never came to check up on them afterwards. (He sometimes wanted to, but refused to risk his father’s rage again)

His brothers (especially Lucien because Beron knew he was different than the other pale red heads that were his sons and was punished more, and much more by Eris himself) think him cruel. Even if they saw a softer side when they grew up, he was still vicious with training. Sometimes heartless. And he can't help this because of how he grew up. He's sort of like Fynn in those ways.

Eris isn't completely kind though. Some (like his mother) like to paint him as damaged, but even while he is damaged, he is still not absent of cruelty. After all, Beron drilled it into him. The pleasure in whipping was surely evidence of such.

But he does truly hate Beron. He knows his father is a cruel male- crueler than he. Willing to kill lovers of his own sons and lords whenever. He hates Beron- for everything. For what he did to Eris, for what he did to the Autumn Court, for what he did to his mother, and what he did to his brothers. There are of course, many more reasons, but those are the main ones.

Even after becoming High Lord, he didn’t show much more emotion or care, but he did allow his brothers more freedom and they lived with less fear. It would take a millennia to repair the damage done to them all though.

So, to say the least, the Vanserra family is fucked up and there isn’t much repairs in sight. Even when Helion tries to get closer to them, it's hard. They are traumatized asf and often, lonely because lonely=safe in their mind because there is nobody to report them to their father.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

Btw, feel free to ask more questions about the headcanons <3

TAGLIST HERE! - see post for specifics <3

Tagged in all ACOTAR Stories: @bunnymallowo, @officiallyunofficialperson, @margssstuff, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @graciereads, @eos-princess, @bubybubsters

(please let me know if you'd rather not be tagged in Eris Week or would like to!!)

[thequeenofsastiel]

1. I was at home picking lint off the sofa.

2. The night's gone, the room's soiled and once again I'm here with mop and midlessness to clean it up.

3. So the room got dirty, so what, I'll clean it up! NO I clean it up! You make the mess and I clean it up. Mark it on the calendar, align it with Ursa Major, Louis' triannual FUCK OFF and find me, with apologies to follow.

4. To seek comfort in the arms of lowlifes, and unfortunates, and broken children, fine. Oh fine, the fine that doesn't sound like fine.

5. But revealing our nature to a reporter you met in a bar ten hours ago; what if it was published? You don't have enough to fear from Paris? I was having some fun! I was in the middle of ending things, when you-- No, you'd be passed out on the floor next to him, Louis. Out on your feet from the drugs you stuffed him with.

6. Oh, this is boring! You're boring. You are SO BORING! Colorless, flavorless, dull. Dull. Dull nights, dull weeks, dull months, dull as FUCK! Suffocation by the world's softest, beigest pillow. The ten hours I spent with that boy were more exciting, more fascinating, than DECADES with YOU!

7. And here come the drugs. Up the fangs. Down the throat. Into the heart and off the fingers, feet, and wallowing brain!

8. Oh there it is. The half blank, half apocalyptic look! But what does it mean tonight, huh? Does he want to lick my boots, or chop my hands off? Is it the gremlin, or the good nurse tonight?

9. Okay, okay perhaps. But am I as boring as the blather committed unto the ferric tapes of your FASCINATING boy? "Oh it's so hard to be me, it's so hard to kill humans. I can feel their feelings as I drain them, Louis de Pointe du Lac it's so hard to be me. Everyone I know wrooooongs me!"

10. "Picking lint off the sofa??"

11. Okay, okay, let's wake the boy up and let's try you. "I'm the vampire Armand and my daddy vampire groomed me into a little BITCH, but the vampires who murdered my daddy made me pretend I didn't have a dick for 240 years!"

12. "My brother he tossed himself off a roof, my sister, she buried me alive!"

Part 2 to come.

Is it bad that I only needed to double check one line from this fight?

[chenfordspiral]

What are your top 5 Chenford scenes ever?

Sarah, we need to have a serious talk because this is not okay. I can barely narrow it down to top 5 scenes from each season, now you want me to name top 5 scenes EVER?? I don’t have a word strong enough to tell you how rude this is. (Apologies in advance for the mountain of gifs I put in here. I just couldn't decide. Such a shocker, I know.)

(1) Um, so… can I already cheat for this one and say both the hug in the desert and the hospital scene? Yes? Cool.

(2) The ending scene from 5x12. You all know why.

(3) THE DANCE (4x18). Just… look at them. I could watch this forever.

(4) Their first real kiss (5x10).

(5) The entire buildup to and then the subsequent awkwardness after their first kiss. I mean, Tim in her apartment and them sitting on her couch so comfortably, his broken brain, Tamara walking in on them "practicing," Tim's realization at the end in the hall... just everything. Seeing gifsets of this scene is what got me hooked on this show two years ago, so of course it needs to be up here.

And because I’m an indecisive bitch (you all know that I am) and Sarah's a meanie, here’s five more, not in any particular order, just numbered to keep track.

(6) Tim giving her the ring back in 2x12. We saw Lucy struggling the entire episode even when she wouldn’t admit it, and in the end it was Tim who got through to her. And then of course she realizes who found and saved her when he tosses her the ring. So yeah, I’m super normal about this scene.

(7) Maybe not a super popular choice, but their talk in the parking lot at the end of 5x08. I had this scene playing on a loop for all of December 2022, and I still love it.

(8) Their hug in the hospice in 4x09. I mean, how can you not love this and completely melt away when you see Tim just totally giving in and practically being held up (and together) by Lucy?

(9) Airplane bathroom kiss. I think this one explains itself. Actually, all of those airplane scenes because.. woah.

(10) 5x22 fight scene. Love me some power couple completely crushing it. (Can I add the hug in here, too? Mh, my post so I will, lol.)

There’s about a million more that I wanna add right now but I will stop here and pretend I don’t wanna change everything about this list already.

Thanks for the ask, Sarah! ❤︎

[radgalniya]

“it should’ve been called the love doctor”: a ‘how to date billy walsh’ movie review

i really only watched this bc charithra was in it, but also sometimes you just get in the mood for a cheesy teen romcom.

1. anyway. i hate archie’s character. he is the worst friend ever. like are you sure you like her??? bc hes so mean to her. he basically called her an ugly loser and made her fucking cry and then STILL chose to pretend to be the love doctor, lie to her face, and saboutage her the entire process.

2. that scene where amelia does the whole school girl outfit and then struts past everybody is so cute love her character. i’m so mad it didnt end well for her then they called her splat face girl like yall are DEAD WRONGGG lmaoo

3. yknow ik shes crazy for being in love w/ billie after 10 hours but hes fine as hell so i mean.. i get it.

4. mean girls in movies need to have better digs. they were not intimidating. NO BARS. but when archie said “if i throw a stick amber would you chase it”?!?!?! he ate this one lil thing and the bitch responds w/ “sorry i dont speak nerd” girl pls move on. and then he said “we’ve got geography and these bitches are history” BARSSSSS

5. i’m sorry i’m back again to shit on archie. he is the WORST. it’s so hard to watch amelia take his love doctor advice on her date with billy brooo it’s painful i had to keep pausing. i’m praying she uses her brains and they end up dating at the end bc i stg if somehow archie gets the girl after treating her like shit i’ll throw up.

6. i’m ngl billys you dont know me speech reminded me of that riverdale scene where the guy is like i had to drop out of the fifth grade to push drugs to support my nana or whatever he said

7. i’m sick of millenials making teen movies and shows and putting every cliche they can. no one uses hashtags anymore outside of tumblr like pls get real and then the overuse of emojis boooo

8. i feel like they forced this whole billy and amelia arent right for eachother thing and it makes no sense. like they pour their hearts out to each other for what…for him to judge her for a fear fart pls…like archie is an asshole stop trying to make fetch happen!

9. she ditches him… at her house… right before the dance…ykw maybe i was wrong maybe amelia and archie are made for eachother. both so unnecessarily mean

10. he said “ive never been broken up w before so can i stop u right there” lmao iconic. love billy walsh. he is the best character in the movie. nobody deserves him. ig i forgive amelia tho cus she apologized.

[eff-plays]

Wyll really is just so ignored, I'm playing for the first time and just got to act three and jesus, first time seeing his dad in forever at gortash's ceremony thing and theres like no reaction from Wyll?? unless my game bugged which it's been doing more than a fair amount since patch 7.. Like a lot. I saw someone say that Wyll gets treated like Karlachs backpack and like yeah... that scene is about gortash and karlach mostly, Wyll and his dad are just kinda there?? Mean while astarions plotline about vampires doesnt really seem relevant to the story literally at all but theres so much content focusing on that.

HEY sorry for coming back here to yell. If you know all of this or don't care for my flabbergasted yelling then please don't mind me, apologies if this is nonsensical, I am bewildered and my mind has been servery boggled. I just fully took a second to notice that wyll has 1 (ONE) greeting if you've romanced him, I was a lil baffled so I spent a minute spamming everyone in camp and saying hi and ahahahahah, everyone but lae'zel and the side npcs has at least two for the approval I have with them, karlach has 4. So I went to the wiki and, lae'zel has 4 possible romantic greetings and everyone else have above 10 APART FROM WYLL, WHO HAS 1, some of those greetings are if you've broken up but Wyll apparently has 0 (ZERO) if you've broken up BECAUSE Wyll has 7 possible greetings TOTAL TOTAL!! lae'zel has the same amount of platonic greetings as Wyll does total, asstarion has 27, shadowheart has 36 , Karlach has 38. what the actual shit, I'm not sure if the wiki is outdated and they added more for patch 7 but like?????? I also just had that cutscene with mizora, we had just doomed either Wyll or his dad, his dad in my case (even though what Mizora was offering was his location and protection from all but us, doesn't mean that he's dead for sure but everyones acting like Wyll just sacrificed his dad for his freedom, EXCEPT for Karlack whos acting like I took the deal, they really refuse to fix any bugs that involve Wyll huh), and we just get one of those "talk to me" interactions in camp, you don't even get to talk to him about it after that, he just goes right back to "I'm here for you, always" and all the default dialogue options, like bro you dad apparently just had his death cemented and THATS ALL WE GET? thats all he gets? No extra lil bit of dialogue to reassure him seeing as we may have just killed his dad?? idk it feels very significant to his character seeing as he often talks about how much he adores his dad but no? I really regret romancing Wyll first, I'm just getting mad at the game and his treatment like damn. I'm so disappointed, usually fandom ignoring any and all poc in games is just their racism and I've no doubt thats still happening here but I really can't blame people for not latching onto Wyll, he's great and I love him but even when romancing him and no one else, every other companion seems to have so much more going on, cause they literally do, they have so much more content. I knew he had less, I've seen that reddit post about the amount of hours each companion gets but the greeting thing really just whacked me in the face. small and minor correction, i misread the 10 as a16 I believe, so astarion has 21 not 27 as i think i said before! STILL OVER DOUBLE WHAT WYLL HAS AHAHA

(I assumed these were the same person so I bundled them in one big ask)

Oh but remember, Larian ENSURES all their devs work on EXACTLY what they want to work on!!! :))))

This is also why I think Durgewyll is the big brain romance of the game. Because it's the only way to experience even slightly more Wyll content. Like?? ONE romance greeting that was BUGGED for until a much later patch? Like!!!!! GENUINELY THE FUCKING AUDACITY. They should be legit fr fr ashamed lmao. Also Neil Newbon glazing Larian for being soooooo inclusive and making such groundbreaking representation while their only Black character is in the fucking toilet.

Ugh. It sucks so bad lmao. It's frustrating too cuz there's nothing one can do. Clearly speaking up about it has done fuck-all. Even if they drop the world's biggest Wyll patch, it'll still be like oh ok so all that racism was just a funny joke I guess? "Haha tricked you all into thinking we were racist?" To be clear I do want a massive Wyll patch, but I'm still never getting a Larian game again even if they drop it. I'll mayhap pirate one but even so. They've shown their priorities and preferences. They're SOOOOOO keen on speaking to their fans and addressing every little piss-ass useless gripe as soon as possible, except when you ask about Wyll. Then it's radio silence. Because even acknowledging it, apologizing for it, would be inconvenient. It would make it a Big Deal that people would Talk About, and it would tarnish Larian's current status as the gamer audience darling. So better to pretend it's not happening. After all, the only people upset are just some Twitter randos, and nobody listens to those guys.

Whatever man. Theo Solomon saying peanits.

[planetaryaether]

unfortunately i really don't have the time or the attention span to keep up with livestreaming or vods so have just been seing stuff about kirbycraft on dash. If you know/it's too much trouble could you give me the cliffnotes of Rythian kirbycraft stuff of importance?

Apologies for the late response! I was a few streams behind on KirbyCraft so I wanted to be fully caught up before answering. So KirbyCraft isn't really a rp but there is some lore and plenty of nods to Blackrock, so I have broken it down by stream in case there is a specific moment you are interested in/want to watch for yourself!

Stream 1: 20/01/2023 - Rythian died immediately - Rythian "finagled" his way into the group - "You can't trust endermen" - Ryhian is the only one with a brain cell "deep breaths rythian, deep breaths" - (Exasperated) "don't cause trouble with the endermen!" "don't cause war with the endermen, that's like 3 seasons from now" - "I can give you all the lore if you want" "Their entire world got ruined by a big ol' magical experiment so now it's a wasteland" - (after being called edgy) "listen. edge is my history. I can't pretend I wasn't an edgy boy. I'm holding onto that" - In response to "if we're cold, they're cold" about endermen "He's not cold - he comes from a dimension of void. He has no sense of temperature!"

Stream 2: 27/01/2023 - Rythian is assigned the leaky room below the farm (even out of rp rythian gets the shitty room)

Stream 3: 03/02/2023 - Rythian is a canonical boob man - (In response to Briony being excited about the idea of getting an enderman to pick up a pumpkin) "why are you so excited about an enderman, they re evil" "Briony, you are so naive, you'll be the death of me one day"

Stream 4: 10/02/2023 - (About endermen) "I may or may not speak that language"

Stream 5: 24/02/2023 - Au is different from blackrock lore (Rythian can be friends with endermen)

Stream 6: 03/03/2023 - The gang decides to live in a woodland mansion Rythian's wrestling intro is "the voodoo people" (pendulum remix) by Prodegy - "I may not have a finatical hatred for endermen, based on my character's backstory, anymore, but they're still dangerous enemies!" - Rythian goes into how he joined the Yogscast and that he has always had a passion for creative projects so the moment he had the chance to make one, he made Blackrock

Stream 7: 10/03/2023 - Rythian says endermen deserve nothing but then backtracks and says they can have a block. Is deemed a "big softie" for showing the smallest amount of not-hatred towards endermen - Rythian blames a portion of their house burning on an enderman - Rythian (about getting xp back after dying) "I guess I gotta go either go on a killing spree or find some nether quarts I suppose" Briony "Oh, no it's happening. Rythian has reached peak evil Rythian" "It's the evil alt-rythian"

Stream 8: 17/03/2023 - "Beginning of my villain arc? maybe" literally 5 seconds later quotes the lil jon remix of cooking by the Book - Kirsty calls the idea of the end cute Rythian: "It's not. It's terrifying and despair enducing"

Stream 9: 31/03/2023 - Rythian suggests giving the enderman that lives in their house a gift (something pretty that grows) because the End is devoid of anything twits a conversation about bears to (half-jokingly) say that it is okay that he kills endermen because it is 'in his nature'

Stream 10: 14/04/2023 - Only briony can tame endermen by looking them in the eye. Rythian jokes about how many mystery mods are in the mod pack and how he would prefer that all endermen are automatically hostile and "go full-on ender-war" - Rythian is against adding a big-titty-endermen mod - Because the end was transformed into a wasteland with no resources/food, its inhabitants changed into a form that could survive without sustenance. Endermen can survive most poisons, diseases, and curses. - Rythian compares the 'friendermen' to slave soldiers - Rythian describes as an "angy boy" - Originally Nilesy was supposed to be a part of KirbyCraft

Stream 11: 21/04/2023 - Rythian doesn't like that the endermen seem to think that their mansion is a safe place for them - Rythian tries to befriend an enderman and it says "I remember you" - Rythian acknowledges the usefulness of befriending endermen

[mochiwrites]

Guess who's back? Back again? Anons back! Tell a friend.

Lol sorry I'm once again back. The same anon who sent a bunch of questions about night life a while ago since I was rereading songbirds blood au. Soo uhm here's more

1. Mochi why does scar say in villainous thing that he has put his head in a werewolfs mouth??!?!?!?!?!? Scar mah dude u ok???? (Lowkey would wanna try it but I probably would leave the werewolfs mouth with a head 😊)

2. Grian.Trans.Canon? (Or scar? Or maybe both???)

3. With the glyphs is there only one way to use them or could you possible make them a tattoo and still you them. Since they are then constantly touching the glyphs they could possible do the magic of a mage. If they had multiple glyphs he could mix the glyphs somehow.(like how Luz mixes the glyphs by drawing them with eachother but instead they do it with their ✨️MIND✨️)

4. Also I love the idea of papapulse. Like I imagine Pearl or grian (most likely grian:^P) and Impulse going full demon mode tl protect them. (I saw that you tagged "Parent impulseSV (Video Blogging RPF)" in troubke in the dead of night🥺👏😍) Also is there different types of demons and what type of powers do they have?

5. In the fic "sitting in the garden at your feet" they have a whole picnic and all the adorableness. Do they go on more picnics frequently? (I really hope soo) I would guess they do since in villainous things they were also on their way to a picnic...but then yeah...poor birb tbh and poor scar

6. Have Ren and Martyn already have their wedding or are they still waiting? I wanna see treebark and I want to see mumbo ask grian go with him as his plus one to the wedding<3

(Though treebark owns my heart, Grumbo will always win) Don't talk about scarian I've never left the desert and don't plan to either😘

7. Okay soo in the fic "weight of living" there was this one scene where etho stared at grian. Here's the quote: "Etho eyes him for a moment, his gaze unreadable as he does so. It leaves Grian with chills. Weird."

Is it possible that etho is a Watcher? I'm mean   he is definitely not human(or maybe he is an immortal human?)  Etho may recognize grian, either as an old Watcher or a new Watcher to be made. Or maybe etho just thinks it is weird to see scar with grian(A HUMAN) The last one is more logical <:^)

8. On that note with Etho. You never confirm nor deny if grian is the "lost watcher" but what if I were to ask you if EFFO is the lost Watcher. I don't have proof but-...yeah idk

Wait wait just had another thought what if Pearl is the Watcher???? When the dream bugs ate her dreams there was a purple mist! Huh huh gotcha!/silly this is purely a joke🤣

9. Will we see a bad boy grian phase or possibly a drag queen phase🥺👉👈. Since it often mention that grian was a dare devil(still is:^P) or did grian have such phases. One of my friends is kinda a dare devil and he did drag once and I feel since grian might be the same there...

10. What did Scott do with the shard? Did he just entirely get rid of it? Also is Scott pure evil or broken. Maybe with the lost of his brother(Xornoth) did he turn evil or was evil just in his genes?

Those are all the questions and theories for now thank you for listing to my literal brain rot<3

This time it was numbered

(There will possible be more to come>:^] )

YIPPEE WELCOME BACK NONNIE :D

see me rubbing my paws together with a big grin >:3c no apologies needed !!!! I love questions hehe. as always, I can't answer everything clearly, because of spoilers but I'll certainly answer as much as I can!

1- WHEEZE scar just feels like the kinda guy to me to stick his head into the mouth of a werewolf for fun, y'know? he'd try it once just to see what would happen (and I mean, he's got no reason to fear dying, all things considered LOL)

2- GRIAN TRANS CANON !! honestly, just operate under the assumption that any grian I write is trans JFGDHFKKJDFG it's my comfort character and I get to project on him /silly (no trans scar though </3)

3- WAUG OKAY -- I've answered this kind of question before but for the life of me I can't find it D: I'm gonna keep searching for it, and when I find it I'll reblog this with that information mjfdhkfghfjg I don't wanna contradict myself LMAO

4- PAPAPULSE MY BELOVED 🥺I really wanna write more with him ueueue. I actually haven't done much world building for sb!demons but I'm going to say that yes, there are different types of demons! and they all have a wide range of different abilities :3

5- they def go on picnics yeah!!! I think it becomes one of grian's default methods to drag mumbo out of the manor when he can <33

6- ren and martyn haven't had their wedding yet :3 I actually hadn't thought about when their wedding would take place but ;w; oh that gives me some ideas....

7- etho isn't a watcher! the current lore is well. no one really knows what etho is. except maybe bdubs and joel. but their lips are Sealed (he's not the lost watcher either I'm afraid </3)

9- so currently I don't have any plans for a bad boy or drag queen phase to pop up in the story (though that could change, if any ideas come up) but they were certainly things he did when he was wayyy younger

10- what scott did with the shard hm? he broke it :) and I'm afraid evil is just in his genes unfortunately </3

hehe thank you for your questions!! :D

[thighsoverlives]

Savior - 1/?

⋆ relationship ⋆

John Price x F!reader

⋆ summary ⋆

Your deadbeat boyfriend up and leaves you, turning your world upside-down. After a mishap at the local liquor store, an older man with a mysterious background takes interest in you.

⋆ notes ⋆

found this in my docs lol. its like 4 months old but i decided to finish this part of it (where is this motivation coming from??). hopefully it turns into something half decent but god knows because i have no idea where i want to take this. soo.. enjoy lol.

⋆ warnings ⋆

implied/referenced harassment (very brief)

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

hope you enjoy! (●'◡'●)

Part One : Bad Decisions

Your hands are trembling as you angrily pull at fistfuls of hair. All of you want to do right now is feel anything but this stabbing pain. You’re drawing in unstable breaths but it still feels like you can’t breathe. Like all the oxygen in the world will not be enough because your lungs feel like they're going to collapse in on themselves. Like they’re going to explode. Your vision is blurry from all the tears you’ve been crying. You hate this feeling. Hate how the area under your eyes stings as more hot tears stream down your cheeks. You want everything to stop, stop, stop. You can’t do this right now.

Just last week your deadbeat piece of shit boyfriend had up and left you, using the excuse that he’d found someone better. That he’d been seeing that someone for a while. The insinuation that you had never ever been good enough for him in the four years that you’d wasted with that fucking piece of garbage hurt you more than you expected it to. You’d already emotionally detached from him months ago but it still hurt so much. Even though he was the absolute epitome of trash, he was still a major part of your life. He was stability in the sense that your life had been relatively the same for the past four years. Now that he was gone, what were you supposed to do with yourself? Were you just supposed to pick up the pieces that he had so haphazardly broken and discarded and put them back together? It seemed impossible. 

Your breathing was again becoming more labored. Your body physically fucking hurt. Everything hurt. You wanted things to go back to normalcy. Even if normalcy meant feeling alone with him. Even if normalcy meant suppressing your tears every time he made a backhanded comment or cruel remark. Even if normalcy meant being in the worst emotional pain you’d ever felt for the last four years. You hoped maybe he’d come knocking on your door in the dark of the night, telling you how sorry he was and how he’d treat you right this time. But this wasn’t a fairytale. He wasn’t your knight in shining armor, here to save you and take away all your pain. Hell, even thinking that he would apologize or give you anything that even resembled comfort was a fever dream. Why did you still want him to come back? You knew the promises of changing his behaviour were empty and hollow. But you wanted your normalcy back so fucking bad. Stop, stop, stop, stop. You wanted to yell at yourself for even thinking that. Fuck. He had screwed your brain up so much. Fuck, you hated him.

You wanted to scream. Wanted to break something. Wanted to punch a fucking hole in your wall. Wanted to break everything in your shitty apartment. God, you were such a fool. You’d wasted so much time on him and he was such a piece of shit. Fuck. This apartment was suffocating you. The walls felt like they were closing in, coming to crush you. You had to get out. You grabbed the nearest hoodie and pulled on your sneakers and in nothing else but shorts, you left your apartment. Liquor and Tylenol sounded like a nice combo to forget this shitty week. If you were lucky enough maybe you could forget the past four years too. 

The chilly March night air nipped at your bare skin as you pushed the lobby door open. You should have bothered to put a decent pair of pants on and you could hear your father’s voice in the back of your head saying “This is how you catch a cold,” but you pushed on. 

The streets were quiet. The sun had long since set so there weren’t many people out and about. The liquor store was only a couple blocks away but it probably wasn’t a smart idea to be going out in the first place. Your neighborhood wasn’t exactly what one would call safe. The apartment was dirt cheap, and for good reason too. This side of the city was riddled with crime and shady personnel. It was all you could afford though. It didn’t matter much either. You just wanted booze and some pain killers. The store wasn’t that far away and you’d never been hassled.

The door to the liquor store opened with resistance as the chimes hanging above announced your arrival. You went right to the cooler. It was slightly isolated from the rest of the store, the sliding doors separating it from everything else. The cold once again sent goosebumps racing up your legs as the doors slid open. You walked to the back of the cooler, in search of a six pack of Heineken. Maybe you’d get a twelve pack. You were pulled from your thoughts as three men approached you. 

One of the three stepped forward. He was wearing a baggy hoodie with grey sweatpants splattered with stains. “What’s a lovely lady like you doing out at this time of night?” His breath smelled of cigarettes and alcohol, with a pungent undertone of something you could only describe as shit. 

“Just picking up some beer,” you replied flatly. You had suddenly become aware that they were blocking your exit and a twinge of panic began to bloom.

“How ‘bout I take you back to my place. I can show you what a real party looks like.” He gave you a smile and it sent shivers up your spine. You should have never left the safety of your apartment. 

“No, it’s okay, my boyfriend is waiting for me at home.” You tried to return a smile and hoped your bluff didn’t sound too far fetched.

“C’mon, don’t be lame. This would be way more fun than going home to your boyfriend. Just come with me, yeah?”

“No, really, it’s okay-”

“I don’t think you’re getting the fucking hint.” He reached for your wrist, grabbing it tightly. The two other men that were with him took a step closer. 

Your stomach dropped. You were so fucked. 

“Do we have a problem here, gents?” A thick British accent came from behind the group of goons.

“I think you should mind your own fucking busines-” Before he could finish his sentence, he jaw was connecting with the British man’s fist. You were pulled forward for a second before you were able to release yourself from his grasp. He crumpled into a pathetic mess, blood pouring from a gash in his cheek. One of the other goons went to swing but was stopped by another man who kicked at the back of his knee and sent him sprawling to the floor like his friend. 

“I’d suggest you leave now.” The other man spoke in a low, calm tone as he bent down to look the two men in the eyes.. His voice was also thick with a British accent.

The group of men left the cooler quickly without any more protest.

“You alright?” 

Your hands were once again trembling as you stared at the little splotches of blood on the floor. You should have never left the apartment. What were you thinking? God you were such a fucking idiot. 

“Ma’am?” The voice was calm and soft as it broke you from your trance.

“Fine. Yes, I- I’m fine.” You stumbled over your words, hands still shaking uncontrollably. 

“Uhm, the name’s Gaz, and this is Price. Sorry about what happened,” he paused. “Is there anything we can do for you?” 

“N-no, it’s fine.” You felt lightheaded, like you were going to pass out any second. What the fuck just happened? Your head was spinning. 

“Did you come here by car?” The one named Price asked. Price, a funny name, a last name? It must have been a last name. Price. Like a price tag.

“Walked.” 

You might’ve been more concerned if not for your dazed state. These men were still strangers and despite the fact that they saved you, they could also be acting with ill intentions. Why was he asking if you had a car anyways? Was it so he could determine whether or not you were an easy target? Your head was spinning 

Trembling hands grasped for a case of beer. This night was just getting shittier by every passing second. You had to get out of this cooler. It was suffocating you just like your apartment was.

You pushed past the men, bumping into the older one as you left. 

“Ma’am, are you going to b-,” His voice was cut off abruptly. The younger one said something to him and the talking ceased. They were probably plotting to abduct you. You were so, so stupid. Why on Earth did you ever leave the safety of your apartment? Sure, the complex was shitty and the security wasn’t great but at least you’d be behind a locked door. 

 You tossed the case of beer onto the counter, paying little mind to the cashier.

“Everything okay? I heard a commotion in there.” He scanned the beer, eyeing you as he did.

You scoffed, not replying. It felt like the world was against you. Maybe you were confusing genuine concern for something more insidious but you could care less what he was thinking. 

The bells chimed once again as you exited the building. As you began walking towards your apartment, you saw the two men who’d beat the goons up getting into their car. A black sedan type. You were thankful it wasn’t a white van. You sighed, pulling your hood up over your head. You were so tired of this shit. 

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Sorry sorry but I can't help myself, the power this man holds I swear. I feel like aaron and brian just fit them so right??

Sorry for the angst, I actually wanted to save it for when you're requests are open but I thought it's too sad and you might not want to write it. Is it ok if I extend it a little and send it a few days later? (Apologies if it's too much but you've just awoken something in me that I didn't know I had)

But I'm so in love wirh the idea that you'd be that one unfathomably cool trio that is just so reckless and chaotic. We'd be the brain of the group (if that makes sense) and the only one who thinks before we act. Feel like we would be able to handle ourself in small fights, so he sometimes just stands there, awe struck, watching you like, yep, that's my girl. But god forbid someone manages to lay a finger on you, he'll see red. He WILL choke the man to death, no questions asked.

In the novel it is mentioned that he likes to read while on missions (when he has the time that is) so I can just imagine him grabbing two books for both of you as you sit and read like the classy couple that you two are. ("Killed 12 people and y'all are over here reading." lem, probably)

This is so self indulgent so I apologize but if you're first language isn't english, he WILL learn a few things just for you. He adores the surprised look on your face, followed by that pretty smile and laugh of yours.

In an interview with aaron and brian, aaron looked confused at the word "simp" and I can just picture that with tan and lem. He doesn't spend that much time on the internet so when lem hits him with the "You're whipped." or "Man's got it down bad." he'd look so confused.

Ok but imagine you trim his moustache, omg, he'll have you sit on his lap, his hands gently placed on your waist, you'd be too focused to notice the soft look in his eyes. "Darlin' stop smiling, I'll mess up." he mutter a sorry but the smile still remains present on his face.

Rewatched the movie, love the way this man looks in his full suit. Gotta ask, what's your fav scene of him? Or maybe your fav line of his? I'm in love with the way he explains the white death's backstory, he looks so good in that scene too. Also like the way he says tickety-boo, it's just so silly. Again, I'm so sorry, I said I'll wait a few days but I just couldn't. Just when I send in the ideas I get new ones, no thoughts, head empty, only tan. If you want I'll write them in my notes and save them for few days later.

💺 anon

hii!

1. not to worry, he still has me in one too. and right?!?

2. don’t worry about it!! was a beautifully sad idea. yes yes!! you’re more than welcome to expand it

3. YES!!! like the brainy/ maybe techy one. I feel like he’d let you have your moment/ revenge/ fighting time etc until it gets too close, like he knows you can handle yourself and don’t need a guy to defend/ protect, but tan wouldn’t risk it. like after a few minutes if you’re still fighting, he’ll come and help (he knows you could’ve done it, but again he didn’t wanna risk you getting killed/ really badly injured) you’re like “I nearly had him” and he’s like “yeah, I know” but he’s grinning and checking you over for cuts/ wounds etc

4. UGHH I LOVE THAT!! very classy, sitting in first class, legs crossed reading the same book😩 that lem moment😭😭perfect

5. omg yes!!! even more cute and perfect if it’s broken and the verbs and tenses are wrong and he says something in different language and you’re like “you said, ‘I am very beautiful’” 😭😭😭 and you’re trying not to laugh or embarrass him

6. AHAHAHA yes!! I feel like lem knows lots of the lingo, and tan is at a loss, “peng? what the fuck is peng” “what the fuck does that mean?” so lem is always educating him on the words. I feel like he sounds old when he asks about it, like “when did people stop saying …” “what’s wrong with saying …”

7. 🫠🫠🫠🫠 that’s all I gotta say about that one, omg!!?! melting and crying at that thought. WANT THAT

8. well… I haven’t watched it in a while, but I have many memorable moments. so I love when he walks off the train and lighting his cig (for obvious reasons) when he’s punching the back train window (again, for obvious reasons) when he and lem are debating the 16/17 kill count. and quotes … “you following me? stop… arsehole” and something along the lines of “story about when gordon met percy and how percy’s bleeding from his fucking eye sockets” “not particularly, no” “some 80s dance off, innit” AAAAHH NEED TO REWATCH IT AGAIN SO BAD

don’t worry about it bby, if and evenever you get ideas, keep them in your notes and then like this time and last send them over. don’t worry about sending in a few days, if you wanna, send them when you want. I said send too many times😭😭 hope you catch my drift

[snowangeldotmp3]

tagged by the wonderfully brilliant @figthefruitfaeth ! <3

in no particular order, here are 5 songs that have been stuck in my brain like a broken record.

1.) gold dust woman by fleetwood mac - look this is my favorite fleetwood mac song anyways, and they used it in daisy jones and the six, so it's been stuck in there ever since that needle drop 😪

2.) regret me by daisy jones and the six - listen. it's a catchy song. i'm sorry. (i am not sorry)

3.) smooth criminal by the glee cast and 2cellos - i think it's safe to say that this is one of the best covers of smooth criminal of all time. i won't be apologizing for this one.

4.) no place like home by marianas trench - i blame ira for making me a marianas trench stan

5.) renegade by styx - again. too catchy. also on my haunted hawkins playlist. it's been stuck in my head for like a month. WOOOAAA MAMA IM IN FEAR FOR MY LIFE FROM THE LONG ARM OF THE LAWWWWW.

ok, those are all the songs that have been Plaguing me recently. and some of my mutuals have already been tagged and i will be tagging again sorry <3

no pressure tags: @netflixnormalthings @verymuchablog42 @gothbat99 @el-fandom-birb @griddlenavs 💓💓💓

[dreamii-yume]

okay, i’m caught up with mikoto’s case now, but i hope that i’m not annoying you by constantly flooding your inbox. here goes my early analysis. hopefully i still got the edge for this kind of thing lol.

personally, i still think my former theory is still up for a possibility, because i find some loopholes/suspicious words and actions in both the voice drama and mv. here are the ones that bother me the most:

1. the inconsistency of what john said between the voice drama and mv. in the voice drama, he promised to disappear if we vote for mikoto being forgiven, but at the very start of the song, he clearly said that “you” (even mikoto himself) can’t get rid of him now. considering that the prisoners are probably able to lie in the interrogation but not in the mv (because it was extracted right from their brain), i want to think that john lied to us just to keep mikoto safe. and if this turns out to be correct, then we can say that he has a tendency to lie just to protect mikoto, and resulting that we can’t trust him when he desperately said that he was the one that did the killing. because there’s a chance that he was lying about that just to protect him.

2. how john was really adamant on taking the blame and insisting that he was the one doing the killing, but can’t even answer on how many did he kill because the reason was that it was vague since he was JUST born. honestly, this one is really sus to me. if he was lying, then why would he lie about not knowing something he had openly admit? but if he said the truth, then it would lead to another questions of why or when he was born. why? what was the trigger for his existence? yes, john was born to help mikoto unburdened his stress, but what was the breaking point? and also, when was he born? from his answer, we can deduct it’s probably right before, during, or even AFTER the killing happen.

3. some suspicious phrases from john. first, when he said that he’ll “take it from here”, probably talking about the breaking point that i’m questioning above, but isn’t it weird if he just woke up then suddenly killing the innocent passerby or random people because of simple reasons that they’re annoying?? it’s even weirder because mikoto will gain nothing by them being dead while john’s only purpose was to protect mikoto. mikoto himself doesn’t even know that they’re dead or that he killed them, so obviously it’s not a way to help him let off some steam. so, i still think that the phrase refers to after the killing happen, john was made to take the blame and took the sin of killing from mikoto, he’s made to deal with everything from that point.

second, when he said mikoto’s “already broken”. i’m probably overthinking on this one, but isn’t john’s purpose was sort of like to prevent that to happen? to protect mikoto from stress so he wouldn’t be broken. but if he was already broken, then what else is he protecting? probably the aftermath of him being broken.

third, the apologies at the very end of the mv. was it an apology because he made mikoto’s life harder by killing, or was it an apology because he failed to protect mikoto (1st trial)? for me personally, either is possible. but he also did say something like “if only i was never born”, so the latter was a bit unlikely.

4. the mannequins. i haven’t watched every second trial mv, but from what i remember, they mostly show the victims at the end of the mvs. but not in mikoto’s mv. they only showed the beaten up and bloodied mannequins throughout the video, but not a single living person. and, you know, we mostly see things from john’s perspective this time.

sorry that it’s a bit long, i hope you or anyone else could discuss with me about it, whether you agree or disagree about it 💙

-🍂

Don’t worry about the long message, Darling ☠️ I’m guilty about my hyperfixations too lmao

Personally, I’ve became a Mikoto/“John” apologist now so I’m a little bias, but I’ll try to stay in a “neutral” side here and explain why I think what I think lmao

1. I, too, am suspicious of “John” saying that he will disappear after Mikoto is voted innocent lol Like—Boi, is it really that easy? I doubt he can disappear just like that, because “John” was born out of Mikoto’s stress, so in order for him to disappear, we need to get rid of things that causes Mikoto’s stress. In this case, it’s Milgram itself and his surroundings, and it’s not like Mikoto will feel better if he left Milgram, you know? I think what “John” is trying to say in his interrogation is that he will at least slowly disappear if Mikoto is innocent, but I don’t think he’ll disappear completely. I choose to believe that “John” is not lying, because he understands that by coming out more often, he’s just causing Mikoto more pain. I’m not very knowledgable about DID myself, but I truly believed that the “Original Mikoto” can disappear if he got too stressed.

Also I think “John” is saying “You can’t get rid of me now” in the MV is for both us and Mikoto is genius, but I’m leaning more to the fact that it’s for Mikoto. This is because he knows that Mikoto doesn’t wish to hurt anyone, but at this point, “John” is pissed and tells Mikoto to just leave it to him if Mikoto wasn’t going to do anything. Of course, I’ll keep in mind that he could be lying in his MV too, but my dumbass will choose to believe in him lol

2. I think the reason why “John” can’t say who or how many he killed is because to him, the people he killed are just faceless nobodies. He doesn’t care about those people, because his priority was to protect Mikoto. The mannequins even feels like a symbolism for that, static and humans with no faces—Just like how “John” sees them. It’s not really known what triggered his birth in the first place, but maybe something especially traumatizing happened to Mikoto during those times? Who knows lol But I think he was born at that exact moment, at least that’s what he said during the interrogation.

3. His first line in the MV was interesting, but the english subs are kinda lacking the emotion of what he actually said. Instead of “I’ve got you, leave it to me”, he was more frustrated in Japanese and saying something that goes more like “Ah! Fuck it, let me do it for you” lol

And Yeah, “John” is definitely saying sorry for making Mikoto’s life even harder, because killing those irritating people was probably the only thing he knew of what to do at that moment. In the interrogation, I did remember “John” being confused when he born, I think it just came second-nature to him on what to do.

4. And yep, I’ve said it before but I believe the mannequins are symbolism of “John” not knowing the people he killed. They’re all the same and faceless to him lol

Theorizing is fun! Obviously, we don’t have the same idea now, but it’s great sharing what I think with people lol

[annonniiiiieeeee]

Dude- I read what you just put about the missing piece AU, about Leo and Rapha in the prison dimension and my mind went directly to thinking about these things

1- You said that the Krang mainly attacked Leo after Casey closed the portal, Leo's prosthesis might have been a bit smashed because of that? Or was it partially intact?

2- If Leo and Rapha end up being rescued by Mikey and Donnie like it happens in the movie, my mind went straight to Splinter going to apologize and hug all his kids, but apologizing for the way he spoke to Rapha earlier (about Leo being the leader)

3- But if what happened in your fic AWOSAN happened, would Rapha be aware as soon as they go through the portal to Usagi's world? Will he be awake when Usagi finds them? (Oh my brain just pictured Rapha protecting the unconscious Leo with his body even though he's just as hurt) Rapha witnessing his brother fall in love with a rabbit from another dimension, waos

4- On point 3, I can imagine Mikey having more pressure on himself for trying to support Donnie thinking that his two older brothers are dead. But no matter how hard he tries to help, it's not enough and that only anguishes him more. And I can see Splinter hurt even more, Because he couldn't protect his two children and be there for them, I can see him feeling guilty about how he spoke to Rapha before he lost both of them. (sorry, I live for the angst)

Leo’s prosthetic is broken. Like it is not functioning after this. He needs a new one. He’s lucky the port didn’t get destroyed. Leo is not walking after he gets out of the prison dimension. That’s not including other injuries

Of they get rescued by Donnie and Mikey. There are going to be a lot of changes.

Donnie and Mikey have way more cracks from the mystic over load.

When Splinter arrives he’s going to come one to the scene of an extremely injured Leo. An skittles less injured Raph and a banged up Mikey and Donnie. After they take care of Leo and Raph he’s going to have to apologize.

He tries to talk to Raph but there’s a lot of ground to make up. It doesn’t help that when he arrives he is instantly more worried about Leo. It makes sense he is way more banged up and Splinter hasn’t seen Leo since their mission to get the key. Splinter also Carrie’s a lot of guilt when it comes to Leo and what happened with the Shredder.

But to Raph right now it’s blatant favoritism. And he gets it. Leo’s his little brother he adores him. But Raph needs so support here. He feels like a complete failure and the last time he talked to his father it was Splinter yelling that Leo should have been the leader. He needs some support.

Leo finds out what Splinter said the Raph, most likely from Donnie and Mikey. And he is furious. It was his decision to go after the key. Yes he was upset with Raph for babying him but that didn’t make Raph a bad leader. Raph just needs to learn to balance being a big brother and the leader.

The two need to have a long talk. They have a lot of things to air. Leo’s frustration with being babies by everyone. Raph’s insecurities about keeping the family safe and being the leader.

I think it will end with the two as co-leaders. Of course the first thing Leo wants to do as co-leader is have a good long talk with Splinter about not having outburst at Raph in high stressed situations.

3. But let’s say they don’t get rescued by Mikey and Donnie. Let’s say they end up in Usagi’s world AWOSAN style.

Raph is barely holding on to consciousness when Usagi finds them. He is absolute shielding Leo with his own body.

There is a lot of hissing at Gunichi for his subjection to leave them.

Katsuichi has to help Raph back so you know who gets to carry Leo to the Tenshu.

Oh there are so many dynamics that would change with the addiction of Raph but of course the blue boys still fall in love.

4. The turtle family back home are devastated.

Mikey is a wreck. He failed his brothers

Splinter feels like the worlds worst father. Not only has he lost Leo, his worst fear since the Shredder incident. But he lost Raph as well. The last thing he said to Raph was horrible.

Cassie lost her best friend

April lost two brothers

Casey lost his dad and uncle Leo again.

And Donnie?

One statement. The portal machine.

Do you remember chapter 6? The Krang escape? I’m not saying they get out but oh boy is it a lot for Mikey and the others to handle

[queer-adhd]

Just a ramble about last night below the cut.

So a friend of my parents' (and mine at this point, tbh, I've cooked at his house often enough that I think it counts despite the 25+ year age gap lol) was talking to me last night, and he has a daughter who's having what we in the business would call A Bad Fucking Time of being a teenager.

And kudos to him, because he knows I also had a rough time of it, he just asked 'what would have helped you back then?'

And damn, I had to think about it, because at the time it felt like absolutely nothing would ever help, and that the only real issue was who I was fundamentally as a human being, etcetera etcetera. But I eventually managed to give a few more solid options that help me out now.

Being allowed to just pick up and leave any social engagement or activity if she's not handling it, being given a chance to come back afterwards without a big thing being made of it. Setting up smaller opportunities for an apology if there's been an argument. It's excruciating to have to try and do that in front of a massive audience, but a lot of kids really do want to fix stuff they think they've broken. So yeah, all that stuff that just kind of helps to prevent and mitigate arguments and blowups when you have a kid whose response to triggers is to lash out.

Anyway, the more important thing is that he took all that stuff in, and then said something very sweet, which was that I seemed to be doing great these days (which, I guess I am tbh? Definitely in comparison, but it still felt wild to hear) and asked what the timeline was for that. And it took a bit, but I managed to break it down into around three steps plus one bonus level.

Step 1: knowing that something is wrong and it's not just you, as a person. It's something that is happening to you, and might be a part of you, but it's not the whole of you. See: ADHD, depression, anxiety, all that other good stuff.

Step 2: identifying the thought process. Not necessarily CBT, but recognising the point where something like RSD is coming into play and just. Actually seeing what's happening. Spotting the little bastard brain fucker who's making you feel like that and going 'YOU! YOU BASTARD!'

Step 3: now you've got the process down, practicing processing it, recognising it, not letting it control you. Telling it to fuck off sometimes, sometimes just going 'thanks, that's important, but we don't need to react like this'.

Step 4: (ongoing, advanced level) unlearning giving a shit to begin with.

Anyway I wanted to get this one down in words because it was a good conversation. No real point to the post, just glad that this dude is doing his best to support a kid who's struggling, and trying to pull in some inside sources on the whole 'being a mentally ill teenager' thing. It sucked that I couldn't give him a cure-all, or a foolproof method, or even a solid timeline. But I think it's going to be a lot easier for his kid than it was for me, because they're already at step one, moving to step two, and that's great.