#this was downright therapeutic to write

[contract-crawdad]

Look Outside Pacifism Concepts Part 1

Wouldn’t it be neat if more encounters in Look Outside had alternate methods of beating them?

Assorted thoughts along that vein, starting with the early F3 crowd!

I want to preface all this by saying that this isn’t me ‘fixing’ the game in any way. Just some thoughts about how things might play out if there were a way to resolve things with more enemies by either calming them down or neutralizing them!

And that’s not to say all of them are easy solutions, obviously solutions, or hell even worth doing at all!

Wounded Neighbor

If you guard against the Wounded Neighbor after he’s revealed the eye in his chest, his knife will break (it’s only fair that the weapon degradation mechanic goes both ways)! At which point the combat ends as he huddles in a corner.

‘He seems to be trying to open more holes in himself using just his bare hands. Progress seems slow, and you’re definitely going to vomit if you stay and watch.’

The knife always breaks as long as you guard after his eye is exposed, much like how any attack after the eye is exposed is scripted to always kill him.

You can return later and find him as a pile of nothing but pulsating eyeballs. Sam wonders if this is what his neighbor wanted but can’t think of any way to ask him.

The Onlookers

Once you’re in combat with an Onlooker, there is no peaceful way to resolve things aside from running away.

But the overworld is another story! You can bait them near any television by getting them to chase you, at which point they will stare transfixed at the screen and no longer be interested in fighting. Both the television in the wounded neighbor’s apartment or the one in Vincent’s apartment will work (though the latter will need to be turned on first).

‘It seems too focused on the static to care about you anymore.’

Once every Onlooker is glued to a screen, you can come back one in-game day later to see that they’ve all jumbled together and become a tangled mass of wiry black limbs and eyeballs filling the couch.

‘Many limbs fight over the TV remote as if parts of itself are arguing over what channel to watch. Occasionally, they manage to change the channel from one wall of static to another.’

They’ll offer you huge amounts of change from beneath Vincent’s couch if you trade them batteries for their remotes!

Gawker

Unlike the Onlookers, the Gawker won’t get distracted by screens and can’t even be led out of the bathroom you find it in.

If you let the Gawker transform into a Witness and from there into an Eternal Eye, surviving three more turns against it will cause it to metamorphose into the Enlightened Oculus.

“Good heavens, I simply must apologize for my uncouth behavior a moment ago! Up to this point, the act of beholding another person and tearing them asunder became one and the same to my addled mind!”

The Enlightened Oculus will then offer you a bottomless jar of eyedrops as means of an apology.

“Now then… I do believe it best if you leave immediately. Posthaste, even! I am quite concerned that my enlightenment might loop back around into madness in a moment, you see... so I suggest locking the door behind you as you exit. Ta-ta! Oh, and do tell Vincent that he threw a delightful party!”

After this interaction, Vincent’s bathroom becomes inaccessible after leaving. You can knock on it, and each day there’s a 50/50 chance for either unintelligible bestial noises to be heard on the other side, or for the Gawker to cheerily inform that it ‘Feels just fine, thank you ever so much for checking!!’ but that it still thinks it’s a bad idea for you to come in.

Vincent

If you manage to take out all of his protruding eyes without killing Vincent, he will get woozy and need to lay down. You can find him in his bed, but he doesn’t respond.

You can check on him eight hours later to find him up and about, not entirely lucid but seemingly understanding that Sam would really rather not do whatever ‘letting him close’ entails.

Joel and Benjamin

These two already have pacifistic options, and I imagine that everything involving their encounters would remain entirely unchanged (hahaaaaaa just because you don’t have to kill anybody doesn’t mean there’s not still tragedy). But I’ll be doing the rest of the teeth family as well as the apartment 31 folks next time!

[laswells-ashtray]

Do you have anymore Weapon!Price? I just can’t get enough of how you write him as a sergeant and his interactions with Mac.

Also, since we’re on the topic: I think when he and Nik first meet he’s awfully wary of the Russian and avoids him like he’s filled with diseases. I also think that since Mac is in his tiny circle of trust, he’d keep him away from the pilot.

That wouldn’t stop Nik though, and he would(slowly but surely) get John to trust him enough to where they can talk without John holding him at gunpoint.

It's reflexive to treat anyone around him with suspicion and borderline disdain. His only exception is MacMillan. Mac is the hand behind the trigger, and John is the shield that warps into position to ensure any stray bullets head his own way. Any knife launched in Mac's direction will meet John's throat long before they draw Scottish blood. That's his captain.

And that's exactly why John pushes himself between Mac and the Russian stranger who insists on feigning a friendly dialogue with the captain. He not so subtly pushes MacMillan back and keeps the older man behind one of his shoulders.

Nikolai's stance is too open to be honest. He's open to different attacks, making himself seem almost docile in nature as he talks to Mac but John sees the scars covering his forearms and the bruises painted across his knuckles. Nikolai is a violent man, the question is: is he a quick one? Could he outmove John if the sergeant decided to plant a knife between his ribs?

He doesn't plan on finding out unless he has to, MacMillan isn't overly fond of how blood stains concrete when it pools below bodies or drips from John's knuckles.

Nikolai's eyes drift between MacMillan and John curiously, raising an eyebrow at the sudden, blunt interruption. He's half smirking, clearly entertained by whatever meaningless falsehoods he was rattling off to the captain under the guise of being helpful. As if MacMillan isn't one of the most competent and downright vicious men on base when it came down to it. It's only a matter of time before the Russian is caught spinning a web of fabrications and stories of suffering, Mac would wrap the web around his throat and let him hang from it.

He'd wait patiently for the day and he'd kick the stool out from under his boots when it arrived. Made in Russia, buried in Britain.

So, he stares blankly at Nikolai until the Russian stops talking and he mutters some half-hearted excuse to leave, anchoring his hand around the Scot's wrist and dragging him away. The amused scolding he receives is worthless in the name of the captain's safety.

When Nikolai walks in, there's already a blade in his hand that he's mechanically cleaning. The repetitive actions are good for him, calming or at least that's what Mac says. John would argue that the most therapeutic activity of all is breaking every bone in someone's hand until they're incapable of using it without chronic pain, every little twinge of pain that shoots up their wrist would bring John's face to the front of their mind.

But he knew there were some opinions he just didn't verbalise, he might be a weapon but he'd been taught the basics of social etiquette contrary to popular belief. John just chose to dismiss that lesson when the man behind him wasn't enforcing it with a belt.

The Russian man glances around the room and it's obvious that he appears to be looking for Mac. They'd be stuck with him for the foreseeable future according to the older man, Nikolai had connections that they didn't and they had to utilise him while he was available.

John will put a knife in him without hesitation if he puts a foot out of line, in fact, he's willing to ensure he leaves the Russian with a jaw wired shut if he so much as approaches the line and there is no doubt in his mind that Nikolai would.

He doesn't roll his eyes when the other man sits down by John's table, nor at the questioning look, he receives when Nikolai notices the way the other soldiers in the room make a conscious effort to avoid so much as even looking in John's direction. He's the feral dog that only the captain can pin down to muzzle, it's hardly a secret.

He cuts off Nikolai before the words have even left his mouth, he has no time to entertain a man whose hours are slipping by him like sand in an hourglass. He should await every word with bated breath in case it should be the last he'd ever hear.

"MacMillan isn't here, he won't be available until half five and then you can find him in his office. Don't waste your time wandering, go back to your bird."

It isn't an order. John Price isn't a man who orders people, he isn't a man at all. He's the split second of recognition before a bullet pierces someone's skull.

It's advice. Stay in your lane and hope that no one merges into it with a semi.

Nikolai, to the surprise of no one, does not take it.

The Russian man looks far too amused as he leans forward, elbows resting on the table and eyes drifting across the scene of John's knives in front of him. "You have a very... distinct way of telling someone to piss off."

John narrows his eyes at the other man as his hands still on the blade reflexively, the split-second preparation of a stabbing is arguably the most important part of one. The time it takes John to register whether he's thrusting the knife with his dominant hand or not, how much vigour he's using to bury the knife in the flesh and the point of entry for his blade.

"You have the ability to use your legs so I've yet to see why you're failing to piss off." He counters, irritation practically dripping from his tone.

Clearly, Nikolai retained some of his intelligence on whichever journey landed him in the UK. he's quick to push himself up from the table but not without a deep, hearty laugh at John's expense.

"I see, I shall leave you to your knives. If you see your captain, tell him I would like to see him."

The sergeant only glowers at him in lieu of a response.

"Please."

He smacks MacMillan's hands away instinctively as the captain reaches for John's jaw. He can't see out of his left eye and he looks like he's been doused in blood. Most of the crimson staining his clothing isn't his, he's only responsible for it. But there's a laceration above John's left eyebrow that's spitting and bubbling blood across his face and the severity of it appears to be a point of contention between himself and Mac.

You'd think his eye had been gouged out with the way the Scot had responded to the sight of his sergeant.

There's a presence lingering by their side that has John's good eye trained on the knife at Mac's waist. Nikolai had been involved in the shitshow of a mission, much to his own displeasure.

John had torn through crowds of armed men like taking a chainsaw to paper, he'd cut them down with a lack of hesitation and a growl arising from the back of his throat. He hadn't cared what the Russian had witnessed, he could take it as a warning. The sanguinary display at Sergeant Price's hands is far from uncommon.

He ducks back again when MacMillan tries to land his hands on John's face and he's met with a swift smack to the back of the head which only incites John's primeval desire to bite the man.

"Fuckin sit still while a deal wae yer heid, ye squirmy prick." The Scot chastises.

John's bestial act of protest is to offer Mac's shin a soft kick.

"Cunt."

He'd been called worse.

If it weren't for the fact that the blood oozing from the wound on his face had seeped into one of his eyes, forcing him to close it then he'd have caught the hands as they moved and beaten the shit out of the man they belonged to. But he doesn't and before he can attempt to, he's met with MacMillan flicking his forehead like John is an unruly toddler instead of an unrelenting mechanism of slaughter.

"Don't. Ye've done yerself a fuckin nasty yin here and he's stopping the bleeding, ye hit him and a'll huv ye tits oor taes."

If it weren't for the fact that his very sense of being is shaped around the survival of one Captain MacMillan then he'd be performing a makeshift vertebrectomy on the man for all to see.

He watches bitterly as Mac walks away, likely searching for a medic who can stitch John's face up and add to the collection of scars that decorate his being. Every mistake immortalised upon his skin. His entire frame is defined by his inability to meet the standards of a military-grade weapon.

The faint change in pressure against the wound on his face is enough to make him hiss and clamp his hand around Nikolai's wrist, pointedly ignoring the fact that the rag held against the mangled, gaping cut is already sopping. John has always been a heavy bleeder.

"Apologies."

For someone so willing to apologise, it only takes one good eye for him to see the lack of remorse on the pilot's face as he continues to stand over John, one hand holding a cloth dripping scarlet to his face and the other large, calloused hand holding the back of John's head so he can't escape the heavy-handed treatment.

"Stick yer "apologies" up yer arse." He mutters.

Nikolai snorts and presses a little harder.

Alcohol is a sinner's creation, made by unrighteous people who wish to watch even the strongest-willed people fall victim to the iniquitous.

At least that's what John chooses to believe as the Russian next to him rolls onto his back and the sergeant is met with the sight of his cock.

He rubs a hand across his face, taking a moment to scrub at his eyes in hopes that he could awaken himself from whatever nightmare situation he has found himself stuck in.

He'd grown used to Nikolai's presence. The man is useful and after John watched him snap the neck of a man who'd tried to attack MacMillan from behind he decided that the pilot could stay, under John's surveillance.

The Russian is handsome, that is factual. He's tall, he's strong and he's hairy. He has scruff decorating his jaw that he pretends not to care about but he never lets it grow into a proper beard. His biceps are bigger than John's and after offering to spar with the man to teach him something, John had felt just how big his arms were when one ended up around his throat. For only a split second before he sent the Russian to the mat. He's chesty and he insists on wearing the tightest of shirts which irritates John to no end.

But none of that is enough to warrant waking up next to the Russian with a condom wrapper on the floor and finger-shaped bruises on his hips.

He remembers getting dragged to a pub, to celebrate a mission gone right was the excuse of Mac. To get plastered was what he meant. At one point during the night, he and Nikolai had drunkenly stumbled outside for a cigarette. Apart from groping the Russian's tits, John can remember little else.

"Fuck."

The pilot lifts his head off of the pillow and smirks at John, evidently charmed by John's sober reaction to a drunken escapade.

"I believe that is what they call it, yes. Some people also label it sex."

He's quick to turn, grabbing the pillow behind him and firing it at the other man's face. The startled "oof" brings him no satisfaction as it's followed by an obnoxious chuckle.

"This doesn't make you any less insufferable." He remarks exasperatedly.

Nikolai tosses the pillow towards the end of the bed and climbs towards him, offering John a look that makes him far too aware of how hard he is under the duvet.

"I could be insufferable with your cock in my mouth?"

Well, fuck if he isn't right.

[senka-mesecine]

Could you please write some soft headcanons for Barnes? Thank you

-

― Has the habit of wordlessly touching your face. Stroking, caressing it, holding it. Especially on the left side where his own is scarred. There's something to him about the notion that unlike him, your face is smooth and unblemished that's a fact very easy to get lost in. It's both fascinating, therapeutic (as much as he'd never, ever admit to this) and deeply cathartic for him. He could do it for hours without saying a single word and he frequently does just that.

― To extend upon this, has the tendency of tilting your chin up, pinching your cheek, inspecting or idly playing with the very tips of your hair like there's something curious about them, trailing his hands and fingers along your skin or smushing your nose casually or any part of you that's perceived soft or vulnerable, doing so in passing before moving along like with whatever he was off to do; an act usually not followed by anything in particular uttered verbally. Barnes just likes to do so and that's just about as deep as it gets. It's almost a daily ritual he indulges in.

― The usage of endearments, especially if they have that odd Southern flavor. You're more so darlin', sugar, beaut, hon', shug and any number of other affectionate nicknames on a daily basis then you're actually referred by your own God given name at any point in time, in fact, Barnes calls you these things so very often irregardless if he's cross, sarcastic, teasing or genuinely being in a good disposition few people ever actually heard what you're really called. Someone might as well start assuming your actual name is Darlin'.

― His attention to detail; he might not say it, might not make a show of it, in fact, he could be completely silent about it to the point of seeming cold and callous, but the man notices everything about you and just about remembers everything about you too downright to the smallest to the most miniscule quirk. His eyes just catch and asses it as it happens and he makes a mental note about it completely quietly. Man could recognize your scent in the middle of the wild if he truly had to or the sound of your breathing in the dark.

― He's one for acts of service exclusively; he thinks empty talk is just empty talk if you don't back it up with deeds and so while he might not make a habit of verbally professing affection, he shows affection. Every day. All the time. In fact, it's so deeply ingrained in a daily routine you might not even notice it but Barnes runs a smoothly operating machine everything hard, difficult and distasteful that needs to be done in your life is done by him and he never even brings it up. It just is.

― Looking at you. Just looking at you. It's genuinely one of his favorite things to do continuously, without interruptions. To the uninitiated, it could seem as vaguely threatening or a sign of intimidation, but Barnes doesn't figure he should censor himself --- if he likes looking at someone or something, he'll just look and he'll do it for long as he damn as well pleases no matter what you're doing, if you're busy with something or not or if there's other people present.

― If you're a smoker, he undoubtedly does the unthinkable of lighting your cigar for you, maybe even by taking his own connecting the two at the tip or going the simple route of using a lighter (and if you're not a smoker, he's still pondered the image); whatever the case --- commonplace, often understated acts of service. He indulges in the big ones too; Barnes would just about push you out of a bullet's way and take it instead of you. Could be as mundane cigarette or it could be a fatal ricochet. Doesn't matter. It's how his prime love language manifests.

― Speaking of which...protectiveness. An arm and a leg for you, truly. He could be a hard ass, cold son of a bitch, yes, but it's undeniable he'd step in and stand between you and literally any sort of danger whatsoever, big or small, and he wouldn't even consider the act of it some sort of unique, noble gesture of unprecedented, heroic self-sacrifice rather something that's just supposed to be done. Something that's a given...which is just about when he ceases to be soft because it's one of those non negotiable things --- someone trespassing on someone his.

[pongnosis]

this is a rather personal question, so obviously no obligation to answer – but I have been following your writing since I was a kid in school (am now in the process of finishing up a masters degree 😅), and have just always wondered what field you work in?

the amount of insight into business, politics, psychology – even logistics – in your fics feels so Real in a way that is rare even in published literature (if you got all of that through just research i don't even know what to say)

and I guess I've just always been interested to know to what degree you have been able to draw on personal experience when writing your fics?

thank you again so much for writing such absolute masterpieces in the AR fandom! 💕

Thank you so much, and I'm glad it feels at least a little realistic, despite the batshit terrorist supervillain disaster that's canon-SCORPIA post-Alex! ❤︎ I work in economics which (much to my delight) continues to provide a lot of useful background stuff for SCORPIA-related fics. I'd be absolutely screwed if I had to write Alex settling into life in America with Sabina or a classic Brookland at Brecon Beacons fic, but I've had enough different economics-related jobs that writing SCORPIA board politics and terrorist logistics is downright therapeutic. So the basis for the sort of stuff I like to write is there. I don't think that's what my logistics teacher had in mind for practical uses for his class, but here we are. The rest is covered by research, because I will take any excuse to dive into a rabbit hole of obscure research.

(And it's probably obvious by this point but Brendan Chase: Terrorist Accountant in Nautilus is complete self-indulgence on my part, and I regret nothing)

[tako-cafe]

I come with questionsssss ＾ω＾

Damir - 🌹 🌼

Lucien - 🌹 🌱

Wilde - 🌹 🍁

Hemlock - 🌹 🌙

(Maybe that’s a lot, I’m sorry 😂 you can pick a couple from the bunch if it is 😂)

🌹- What's this oc's biggest fear

Oh god what ISNT Damir scared of? making him a dimension jumper to write off using him in so many different media’s has made this man scared of everything. He’s the main character 24/7 and hates it. Anyone he meets could be evil, anything could be poison. He’s secretly scared of everything and everyone by nature of accidentally being the isakai man.

Lucien is easy tho and due to him being my stardew valley oc he’s just scared of losing the farm the most. He isn’t sure how to run a farm and doesn’t want to fumble this opportunity and it gives him anxiety nightmares.

Wilde is a little more of a sad one and it’s losing the last of his ability to care for himself. He’s disabled and sometimes need someone to help him for daily tasks and he’s terrified of needing that 24/7. He’s extremely independent so keeping his freedom is very important for him. Of all people for Comte to bring back..he really didn’t think Wilde would keep all his disabilities. Typically major things end up reversed. Wilde didn’t come back as strong as the others tho. So he has to navigate it.

Hemlock..isn’t really scared but only because he’s literally high or drunk or both 24/7. He’s twisted off the Alice in Wonderland caterpillar and I wanted to explore the school having the typical smart kid who’s burnt out and coping badly. So he doesn’t really “fear” anything right now because he had that typical younger adult/teen mentality of nothing bad will happen to me. (Spoilers bad things clearly end up happening turning his life around later)

Damir 🌼- What's your favorite thing about this oc?

At least when I’m in a better state he’s very much a therapeutic sona. I like to explore my own issues with him, and he works as a way for me to safely communicate and work through things I struggle to deal with.. I know it seems like I just torture him with all his angst and issues but he makes me feel better doing so. He’s a safe place for me.

Lucien 🌱- Does this oc have any pets? Do they have any pets they want?

In the game I picked a cat for the farm, but if the game didn’t provide a pet for you I don’t think he’d want a pet itself? I tend to have him running animal farms over everything (good money in game) so kinda if you count all the sheep, chickens, ducks, and cows I gave him.

Wilde 🍁- What's this oc's favorite genre of movies/tv shows/books/etc?

Sadly Wilde being my ikevamp oc who didn’t come back 100% like the others he does sadly die sooner than any of them do. So he doesn’t really get to experience TV or Movies for long at all. He maybe saw a very very early version of it if he manages to make it at least once. For books though he’s a classics guy. As in like Greek and Rome literature. He loves and breaths it. Quotes old poems constantly he’s so dramatic about it and not shy to share his favourites.

Hemlock 🌙- Does this oc have any unusual hobbies?

His stuff for the alchemy club…taken he is friends with Jade, Rook, and Trey so of course he’s a weirdo. You have to be to especially be close to Jade and Rook. He’s a prodigy so he does know what he’s doing, but sometimes the experiments when he’s bored…are just downright weird. But boredom breeds innovation they say.

[mashasxart]

october has snuck up on me Like Always but i stumbled across this bundle of prompts on the dash for an OCtober meme and i'm going to attempt it

Day 1: Favorite OC

i have So Many but i think atm vanya is definitely The Favorite. i even have a RP blog for him rn lmao i created him for a fanfic and he was never really meant to become a character beyond that, but i've ended up quite attached to him. in the end, i've added so many of my favorite character and story tropes to him that writing for him and his story has become downright therapeutic laughs

he is a very old, very minor god who has currently been suckered into completing three near impossible tasks by the witch grandmother. if he succeeds, she'll let him make a small edit in the book she was entrusted with eons ago. if he fails, well, no doubt he'll eventually think up some other way to try to get what he wants

in the meantime he's easily distracted by hoarding Abandoned Things, doting on his adopted daughter virtuous sirree, and picking on an old frenemy when the mood strikes

[lunapaper]

Album Review: 'I Don't Want You Anymore' - Cherry Glazerr

COVID lockdown, as it did for many, left Clementine Creevy with a lot of time to reflect, resulting in Cherry Glazerr’s darkest album yet. 

‘[T]he music I make is always a reflection of where I'm at in life, and what I'm going through,’ the singer/guitarist told Alternative Press It's funny because I was just telling someone that this album specifically might sound like it's the heaviest, darkest thing that I've made — and people have even been like, “Whoa, it's really heavy” — and I think that's true, but I also feel like I was in a worse place mentally in my life when I was writing [2017’s] Stuffed & Ready, the one that I put out before this one.’    An ode to tortured romance and all-consuming obsession, I Don’t Know You Anymore combines the slick, grimy grooves of 2017’s Apocalypstick with the fuzzy, synth-infused rock of Stuffed and Ready, along with a big, heaping dose of snark and sleaze. It’s like the audio equivalent of having an existential crisis while staying in a cheap motel room: The wallpaper peeling, the carpet all brown and matted, crying on the edge of a bed you’d be scared to run a UV light over. 

‘Addicted to Your Love’ aches with a melancholic desire, with Creevy declaring ‘I’d die for you.’ On ‘Soft Like a Flower,’ she admits, ‘I like you killing me.’ ‘Bad Habit’ does a complete 360 with its cybernetic dance pop, lit up in bright, lurid neon as the singer/guitarist likens her love to, well, y’know... ‘Sugar,’ meanwhile, can either be interpreted as a seductive promise or a threat, Creevy’s acid-fuelled self-loathing harking back to the scrappy, lo-fi charm of previous releases like Haxel Princess.    Though most of the tracks on I Don’t Want You Anymore describe a brutal and toxic love affair, they could just as easily apply to Creevy’s relationship with herself, often self-destructive and fatalistic. I’m a very therapeutic writer. It’s all a form of therapy for me,’ says Creevy. ‘I have a complicated relationship with myself. I went through a period of gaslighting myself a lot, because I had gotten into that mode [of] hanging out with people who did that.’     ‘Touched You With My Chaos’ is a rather desperate plea, Creevy breaking down under the weight of bruising riffs as she apologises to the people that ‘I’ve sucked into my world.’ ‘Ready for You’ - easily my favourite track on the album - seemingly revels in the aforementioned sleaze and scuzz, so delightfully menacing at times. But beneath the filth, there’s a world of pain (‘I get choked up/I've got to find my way outta my brain/Don't think that I can get the words out/I've got to find my way outta my brain/Up against me now’), Creevy ultimately at war with her own mind.    Eventually, though, the singer/guitarist comes to a grudging truce with her anxieties and insecurities. ‘Shattered’ contributes to a more psychedelic second half of the record, written in the aftermath of family drama when Creevy came to co-producer Yves Rothman ‘bawling’ and ‘crying.’    Interesting detours like the glitchy and fluttering nu-jazz of ‘Golden’ and the swirling Tame Impala-esque ‘Eat You Like a Pill,’ with its lush synth work and limber bass, also deliver on the dark yet kooky humour and wordplay that Creevy has long made her own. ‘Wild Times’ is especially fun, its woozy New Wave feeling like a much grimier take on city pop. Seriously, Make City Pop Grunge Again... for the First Time.    I Don’t Want You Anymore is one big filthy rock exorcism, Creevy tearing into the emotional viscera with a hurricane force. It’s messy, brutally human and downright ugly at times but also rather fun, effortlessly swerving between grooves. Rock hasn’t felt this exciting in a while, and it’s a shame that bands who serve up sweaty, ramshackle garage rock in spades like Cherry Glazerr, Slothrust and Bully are (still) so wildly underrated, sounding a hell of a lot rawer and more interesting than what the rock scene is delivering nowadays... 

I definitely want more of this... 

- Bianca B.

[foodvips]

A Therapeutic Coach Tells Us Why Exes Might Appear In Your Dreams (& What To Do About It)

Experts

A Therapeutic Coach Tells Us Why Exes Might Appear In Your Dreams (& What To Do About It)

Static Media / ShutterstockBy A. R. Hopkins|Sept. 22, 2023 11:00 pm ESTWhether you've recently gone through a breakup or haven't seen your ex in a decade, you've probably experienced the ick factor that comes with dreaming about at least one of your former partners. Even if you've managed to have a successful friendship with the ex who's popping up in your subconscious as you sleep, the experience can feel downright uncanny. If you have these dreams regularly, you might find yourself wondering what it all means and whether it reflects on your actual waking feelings.In order to get an accurate breakdown of the meaning of this all-too-common dream scenario, Glam spoke exclusively to Delphi Ellis of Helping You Sparkle. As a therapeutic coach and the author of "Answers in the Dark: Grief, Sleep and How Dreams Can Help You Heal," Ellis has a unique perspective on why people sometimes dream about partners from the past and what it might mean if you can't shake these nocturnal visits from your ex. 

What does it mean to dream of an ex?

fizkes/ShutterstockAccording to Delphi Ellis, there's no singular cause of dreams about exes. However, the phenomenon tends to boil down to one of three themes. The first? Not understanding what happened during the relationship or surrounding the breakup. "Unfinished business can sometimes show up in our dreams because we still feel we're owed an apology," she exclusively tells Glam. "Sometimes, our dreams give us the 'sorry' we never got, or we can give the apology we never got the chance to give."Second is the possibility that you were recently exposed to something that your brain still associates with your ex, like a favorite song, movie, or food. Finally, there's the chance that your current relationship is triggering anxieties associated with the previous one. For example, Ellis points out that this could be "a fear that if an ex-partner cheated, it will happen again."

How to process dreams of a former partner

Ahmani Vidal/Getty ImagesThe only person who can truly interpret the dreams of your ex with complete accuracy is you. If you really want to become acquainted with your own subconscious, Delphi Ellis recommends writing down your dreams in a dream journal. "Keeping a dream diary can be key to understanding our dreams because it helps us spot patterns," she exclusively tells us. "If you're able to correlate what happened during the day with what showed up at night, it makes translating them a lot easier."Ellis insists that dreaming about an ex doesn't mean that you aren't happy in your new relationship or that you should reach out to the ex in question. "People sometimes have these dreams because they're so happy," she explains, "but the dream perhaps reflects a fear that something could go wrong." She then reiterates that she doesn't recommend reaching out to an ex just because you've been dreaming about them. "Do the work of understanding why, rather than making it about them," she advises. Ultimately, our dreams appear to be ways of looking out for ourselves, and this is no different when it comes to past relationships. Read the full article

[alwritey-aphrodite]

hiiiii 😊 for the valentine's prompts:

steven grant + You took my breath away, so now I can’t suck in my stomach around you anymore. (touch tank, quinnie)

please and thank you 💖

7 Days of Valentines

There was just something about Steven Grant that made you completely put your guard down. Even before he’d clumsily asked you out, when he was just that cute, nervous looking man who worked at the museum gift shop, you’d felt comfortable around him. He always let you talk about whatever was on your mind, eyes wide and attentive as if there was no place he’d rather be.

As the two of you spent more and more time together, those feelings just continued to increase. There was something so disarming about Steven that made you want to be completely yourself around him, despite all of your worries and fears about what others thought of you. He’s always accepted you, 100%, and if Steven Grant, the most wonderful man alive, can ignore your flaws maybe you should too.

Being with Steven just feels like a warm hug, being with him gives you the same feeling as waking up in a nice warm bed and realizing it’s the weekend. He’s lovely, in everything he does, and he’s never made his affection for you a secret, something you needed to pry out of him. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him say anything downright rude about someone unless they deserve it.

While he might not be an angel, he’s definitely yours. You’ve never felt as cared for, as able to let go of your fears and doubts as you are with him.

On bad days, when you can’t think of a single good thing about yourself, Steven is there to tell you that while you might think these things, they aren’t true in the slightest. He bats away your self-deprecating comments with huffs and affectionate eye rolls, before he lets you know that everything you said was complete nonsense.

You’d asked him before, why he’s always so adamant about letting you know he doesn’t share those same nasty thoughts about you. He started by saying he doesn’t appreciate lying, before adding on “and everyone deserves to know that the bad things they think about themselves aren’t true. You don’t want those feelings to grow, now do you?”

It made you beyond sad to think about why Steven discovered that, that he was alone and picked on constantly, with no one to tell him that he was a good man, that he wasn’t crazy, that he just needed some time and everything would work out. Now that things have worked out for him, he always makes sure to be that light in the darkness for everyone.

His positivity and light never stopped at the physical, the way you’d sigh and frown at yourself in the mirror. Steven made sure to love every single aspect of you, even the parts that made you embarrassed or sad or uncomfortable.

You’re a little clumsy? Steven finds it endearing, he’ll always be there to catch you. You’re forgetful? Steven loves writing notes, he’ll write you a reminder. You can get messy? Steven finds cleaning therapeutic, he’d love to turn on some music and organize with you.

Every single aspect of you that could ever make you feel unlovable Steven loves tenfold, making you feel like the happiest, luckiest person in the universe.

[theminecraftbox]

Can I vent about something real quick

I don't think it's controversial to say that the way this fandom treats the subject of abuse is... not great. But something I don't see talked about as much is how a lot of fan works sand down the rough edges of survivors' personalities to make them easier to woobify and squeeze them into your run-of-the-mill H/C formula.

And to some extent, I get it. Fluff feels good to write, therapeutic, even. It's easier to love and pity the goid kid who cries softly and waits for a rescuer than the one who snaps at the hand that hurts them - or at the hand trying to help them. There's less there for "antis" to latch onto. And... yeah, some of the braided-hair-fluffy-sweater-cuddly-clingy-catboy designs are very endearing and sweet.

But these depictions usually aren't accurate to the characters in question. Tommy didn't just wait quietly in exile, he snapped out of the conditioning, killed Dream twice, and coped with imprisonment by screaming in autotune for a week. Quackity didn't sit around and cry in Manberg, he argued against Schlatt's policies and insults, put an arrow through him when dared to, and defiled his corpse. Even Dream, who had basically nothing on his side in prison, still talked back and tried to grab a weapon after two months of torture, and gave Sam the grilling of a lifetime followed by execution. And that ties into something I really appreciate about Strangling Fruit - that Dream doesn't completely lose his snark, his cunning, that he's still going to bite if it helps him stay sane, even if Sam sees it as proof that he's still dangerous...

Which leads into my last thought. It's easy to think that a victim can earn better treatment or a "savior" with proper behavior... but that's not really how it works, is it? It doesn't matter how "good" you are, because if somebody is determined to hurt you, they're going to find an excuse eventually.

Idk. I guess there's nothing wrong exactly with wanting to woobify and project on a character, but it always makes me a little antsy. Because as soon as those trauma symptoms start to look "ugly," everybody is going to turn on them. I've seen it happen all too often.

Like you say, I would emphasize that there certainly isn’t anything wrong with woobifying—transformative fan works are meant to be transformative, it’s in the name. In general there should not be judgment attached to wanting to depict a fictional relationship or response to abuse a certain way, no matter if it deviates from canon. No one can be the arbiter of what is the Right way to interact with stories and what is the Wrong way; every writer and every reader has different wants, different needs, different ids, and different relationships to the source material.

But I get what you mean, and it’s something that can bother me too in the wrong context. It’s why I prefer to gravitate towards works where victims are prickly or harmful or downright cruel to other people. What bothers me even worse are works with the premise that the person suffering is now ~ sorry ~ for wrongs they’ve committed.

Suffering can be transformative, but suffering sure as hell isn’t redemptive. Abuse can never be earned. And either way, these characters are still themselves.

[voiceswithoutlips]

Calico - Chapter Eight

— pairing: Hybrid ot7 x Human Reader (Female) — genre: hybrid AU, fluff, angst, slow burn (like real slow), eventual smut — word count: 3k — Rating: G — warnings: Slight mention of past abuse, description of a panic attack. — beta: Thank you @taegularities​ and @joheunsaram​ <3

Tag List || Masterlist || Schedule

— chapter summary:

Y/N is having a hard day, who will comfort her?

— A/N: Guys, I’m so bad at summaries, if this was an exam my grades would’ve been in the negative. Anyway, welcome to the new chapter! I know I was supposed to post fallen, but somehow I ended up writing Calico instead.

I’ve had a bad case of writer’s block this week so writing this chapter was really painful, words refused to come out of my brain xD I hope you like it! You guys have been so awesome, all your feedback is really helpful. Thank you so much <3

— taglist: @lovelyseomin @anaac28 @ghostkat23 @btswdwsmhrdt @sweeneyblue1 @luvtaeha @taegularities @ aajames217 @ littlewolfieposts @nochujeonjk @hamiltrashlebo @minyoonsh @hoebii @ sunshinee0-0 @egm09 @cstobitk @splaterparty0-0 @missseoulite @mirawi-fox @sea-nevermind-enthusiast @hemmofluke @seaoffangirling @gee-nee @woopetals @secretbangtnn @vminkook-ownsme

Ch. 1  Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 3.5 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8.5

I made my way downstairs in search of breakfast. Ice cream, that’s what I needed. It was that kind of a day. I was tired, jet lagged, and the tension in the house had me on edge. The flight home was fairly uneventful, except for the part where Jimin had gotten scared of flying. He had asked to hold my hand, but by the time we were in the air, the hybrid was practically sitting on my lap. Not that I minded, he was hella cuddly and his purring was downright therapeutic.

When I had asked Jungkook, if it would be okay to bring the newer hybrids home, the bunny had sounded excited, but as soon as we had gotten home, the mood had suddenly shifted. It was not the welcome I was expecting.

First, Jungkook’s hair was the color of the rainbow. His beautiful black locks were turned into a colorful mess, his white bunny ears poking out of it in stark contrast. It was a riot of colors, artfully mixed together, and I felt like I was looking at rainbow pasta. Not that the bunny didn’t pull it off, he looked really cute in it, but somehow I had a raging suspicion that it hadn’t been Jungkook’s idea.

Then, there was the growling match. I had never seen Jungkook so aggressive before. The usually sweet and well behaved bunny had started growling at Jimin as soon as we’d entered the house.. That had set off a chain reaction with Namjoon and Seokjin joining in to protect their younger packmate.

On top of that, I had to go to Seoul for three days to take care of business. I had to visit the main office to attend a few meetings and sign some papers. The whole time I felt guilty about leaving the hybrids alone. I was constantly worried that somehow they’d end up fighting. By the time I came back, somehow, someway, Jason had managed to convince Jimin to dye his hair pink. He was on a warpath.

And lastly, there was the issue of a certain stuffed penguin that went missing -  my nights were sleepless without him. All in all, this had to have been one of the shittiest weeks, and it felt like I was losing my grip on reality.

I stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing my eyes, struggling to keep them open. Unlike Jason, who was cheerfully humming, I was not a morning person. Seokjin was busy near the stove, cooking something and by the smell wafting from the pan, I could tell that it was something delicious. I had thanked every existing god when I’d learned that the sugar glider hybrid was actually an excellent chef. The first morning, he had seen Jason cook breakfast, he’d been horrified, promptly taking over the kitchen after that. Even Jungkook had begrudgingly ate his food.

My stomach grumbled as I peered in the pan. Kimchi fried rice, delicious. Unlike Jimin and Jungkook, the two older hybrids weren’t really that affectionate. I wondered if it was because they weren’t used to me yet or if they just had a different temperament. I needed to do more research on that.

I plopped down on the chair with a groan, resting my head on the counter, hands securely wrapped around my stomach. Jason gave me an enthusiastic “good morning” and I shot him a middle finger, too tired to curse at him. The bastard chuckled.

I was debating if I should stab him with a fork when I felt hands wrapping around my waist, long fingers intertwined with mine. Jungkook bent down to nuzzle the side of my face. His muscular body pressed close. My lips curled into a small smile as I made small happy noises. My brain wasn’t awake enough to form coherent sentences yet. I needed my cup of coffee or better yet, some delicious ice cream.

Jungkook’s arms tightened around me possessively, I could feel the vibrations in his chest as he let out a low growl. I opened my eyes to see Jimin standing near the chair, looking distressed, hands balled into fists at his sides. His tail was swishing rapidly in agitation, ears flattened to his head. He was biting his lower lip, trying his best not to respond to Jungkook’s hostility.

“Bunny no,” I croaked, patting his hands, my voice thick with sleep. I lifted my head, extending a hand to Jimin. Jungkook took his cue and reluctantly let me go, keeping hold of my other hand. Jimin grabbed my hand and with his other one checked my forehead, a worried look on his face.

“Are you sick?” he asked, gnawing on his lip.

“I’m just sleepy.” He giggled at my pout and graced me with a forehead kiss. He sat down next to me, and now I was sandwiched between two hybrids who were holding my hands, glaring daggers at each other. I rested my forehead on the counter with a sigh. What was I going to do with them?

Once again I was in a dilemma. I could scold them and make them shake hands, like a couple of kids, or I could let them handle it on their own, like adults. Taking care of four hybrids was tiring. I shot a quick glance at Seokjin, who was now setting up the table; he was ignoring the two younger hybrids in front of him, but his tail was curled tightly, ears flat. It seemed as if he was tense too.

“Guys, I need breakfast,” I said, reluctantly pulling my hands from their grip. I made my way to the fridge to grab a tub of my favorite ice cream, ignoring the stares that the hybrids were giving me. I had to stop myself from pulling Jason’s ear as I passed him, not now Y/N. The revenge for ruining Jungkook’s hair had to be elaborately planned, something memorable, just like old days. Like the time when I had super glued his shirt cuffs closed, so he couldn't put his hands through the sleeves. He had started this war, I was going to finish it.

“I like your garden!” Namjoon said as he walked in through the back door. Ears perked up, an excited glint in his eyes. I didn’t even know he was out there. I wondered if he could help me with the hybrid situation, he was a pack leader after all. He had informed me about hybrid pack dynamics on the plane while I cuddled a sleepy Jimin. Apparently he was their alpha, the leader of their pack, Seokjin was second in command and Jimin was their maknae. He was excited to meet Jungkook, since he was a rabbit hybrid, they're usually very docile and friendly. Needless to say, we had both been shocked at the bunny's behavior.

“I’m glad you like it. Maybe you could help me with it?”

“Really? I would love to!”

We all moved to the seldom used dining table for breakfast - now that there were six of us, the kitchen counter was too small to occupy us all. I debated where to sit, I didn't want to take sides in the hybrid cold war, so I chose to sit at the head of the table, safe middle ground. I knew Jungkook would want to share the ice cream. I wondered if the other hybrids would too, so I had brought extra spoons, just in case.

"Seokjin, this is delicious!" Jason said as soon as he took a bite of the fried rice. "Where did you learn to cook like this?" I couldn't help but smile at the hint of envy in his voice.

"Madame hired a professional chef to teach me when she found out I liked to cook," he said shyly, ears turning pink from all the attention. It was his cutest trait: whenever someone looked at him, his ears would start to redden.

"That was nice of her," I said dryly, the distaste apparent in my tone.

"She was really nice," Namjoon said pointedly, clearly disliking my tone.

“Clair was kind, she saved us from our previous owners and gave us a home,” Jimin joined him.

"Oh?" Jason said, trying to coax some details. The three hybrids shared a quick look. Jungkook had abandoned his fried rice and was digging into my ice cream, his ears perked, listening in on the conversation.

“My first owner was a gambler, but he didn’t play poker. He and his rich friends were into blood sports. They had their own dog fighting ring. He had raised me since I was a pup, trained me to be a fighter, forced me to participate. One day, Clair saw me at a party and she wanted to buy me, she offered him so much money that he couldn’t refuse,” Namjoon finished with a sad smile. I wanted to go and hug him, but I was sure the hybrid wouldn’t welcome the gesture.

“I…” Jimin paused, looking down at his hands. “The lady who raised me, she brought me clients. She’d sell me to people… sometimes it was for a night, sometimes it was more. She used to tell me that I was her lucky charm. Clair rescued me from her, she was really kind to me.”

The spoon in my hand clattered on the table. There was a ringing in my ear. My limbs were paralyzed, heart pounding in my chest as I felt the panic rise, almost drowning in it. I couldn't get enough air, finding myself on the verge of hyperventilating while my brain went into overdrive. It wasn’t my first panic attack, I was aware of what was happening to me, I knew I had to get a hold of myself. I couldn’t lose it here, not in front of them.

“Y/N? Hey can you hear me?” I turned towards the voice, Jason’s face slowly came into focus, “are you okay?”

“Y/N?” Jungkook said, looking extremely worried. He was holding my hand like a lifeline. I slowly removed his fingers and took my hand back.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I murmured, trying to control my breathing. I got up from the chair with wobbly knees, making my way towards the door. “You guys finish up, I’ll be in my office.”

Redemption, what a joke.

It was well into the afternoon when my stomach informed me that I was hungry. I was swarmed with paperwork. I’d been busy the whole week, running errands, filling forms, trying to keep the hybrids from tearing each other apart, so the paperwork got neglected, and now I was paying for it. I briefly wondered if I should go back home and grab something to eat, but then I remembered the look on everyone’s faces this morning. I had panicked in front of them. I had been feeling restless the whole week without a certain comfort penguin. I was too embarrassed to ask the guys if they had seen it.

I groaned, leaning back in my chair. How was I going to face them? What would I tell them if they asked? A knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts. “Come in.”

It was Jungkook, holding a bowl. He tentatively entered the office, looking everywhere but at me. His ears were drooping behind him. “I brought you lunch,” he said, setting the bowl on the table.

“I’m sorry I pushed you away this morning,” I apologized, extending a hand towards him, which he took hesitantly. I pulled him in my lap and buried my face in his chest; he smelled like vanilla.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked, wrapping his big hands around me.

“No,” I whispered. “But don't worry bunny, I’ll be fine. I just need some sleep.”

“Is it because of Jimin? Can’t we just send him away?”

That made me raise my head to look at him. “Why don’t you like him, bun?”

“He’s too clingy,” Jungkook pouted, jutting his lower lip out. It made me giggle.

“What about Namjoon and Seokjin?”

“They can stay, Seokjin hyung makes delicious food and Namjoon hyung is so cool.”

“Oh, did you talk to them?”

He shook his head no. I almost cooed at him - the poor bunny was too shy to talk to the older hybrids. “Why don’t you try making friends with Jimin? I bet you’ll like him if you got to know him better.”

He buried his face in my hair and shook his head, “...don't wanna.”

I took his hand in mine. “Won’t you do it for me?” I asked dramatically, trying to sound upset.

Jungkook leaned back to look at me, pout more pronounced. He knew exactly what I was doing. “Fine, I’ll try,” he agreed with a defeated sigh.

“Thank you, baby.” I kissed his palm in gratitude. At least he had agreed to try. “Why did you dye your hair?” I asked curiously, running my hands through his multicolored locks.

“Iwantyoutolikeme,” he said in one breath, hiding his face in my hair again.

“What?”

“I want you to like me.”

“You dyed your hair because you want me to like you?” Jungkook nodded. “Oh baby, I already like you!” I squeezed him tight, letting him know how much he meant to me. Is that what Jason had told Jimin? That I’d like him better if he dyed his hair? Jason was diabolical, I really needed to come up with a good plan to get back at him.

“Bun, next time, don’t listen to Jason.”

I was curled up on the sofa with a blanket. It was past midnight but I was wide awake and restless, staring at the ceiling. I had almost turned on the TV, but then I remembered that there were four hybrids in the house with phenomenal hearing, and I really didn’t want to wake them up. And thus, I suffered in silence.

I hadn’t seen the three new hybrids all day; they hadn’t been introduced to the shelter yet, so they stayed at home. When I came back from work, they were already in their room. They had insisted on staying in the same room, something about new places and pack bonding. I was giving Jason the cold shoulder, at least until he apologized for his crimes. And Jungkook was busy playing his new video games.

Clair had saved Jimin.

The thought rang in my head. Why hadn’t she saved me? Would things have been different, if she had stepped in? I had to admit, I was a tiny bit jealous of the panther hybrid. She had saved him.

Madame was so kind.

I was furious. How dare she? Clair had been a coward, had lived and died as one. I knew it in my soul, never in a million years would I ever forgive that woman. She didn’t deserve it.

“You’re angry,” a quiet voice said. I looked up to see a tall silhouette standing at the bottom of the stairs. Seokjin stepped out of the shadows, clutching a pillow in his hands.

“I was thinking. Can’t sleep?”

“Namjoon snores really loudly,” he complained. It made me laugh. The three of them were always attached to the hip, I had wondered if it was because they were uncomfortable here.

“You know we have plenty of spare bedrooms, you can take any of them.”

“Why are you here?”

“I can’t sleep.” I shrugged. Seokjin nodded understandingly, but he didn’t move an inch. “Do you want to sleep on the couch?”

He hesitated, looking as if he was unsure if he should accept my offer before he murmured, “can I?”

“Of course! But I think, a bed would be more comfortable,” I said, moving from the couch to the armchair. Seokjin sat down on the couch, placing his pillow near him.

“Why can’t you sleep? Is it because of what Jimin said?” he asked cautiously, ears erect and attentive.

“I have insomnia.” I shrugged, but Seokjin kept staring at me. I squirmed under his piercing gaze;  staring at me like he could see right through my bullshit. “I didn’t have a good relationship with Clair. She raised me, but she was cruel, unkind. I just… can’t fathom her as someone nice.”

“So it had nothing to do with Jimin being a prostitute?” he asked suspiciously.

“WAIT! Is that what you guys thought? Oh my god, I would never…” I was shocked. No wonder the hybrids were avoiding me like the plague. “I’m really sorry, if it seemed that way but it's not like that. I’m really happy that Clair rescued him. He deserves a good home, a family. I don’t think you’d believe me, even if I told you what my aunt was like. I’m really sorry, if I hurt you guys. But believe me when I say that this is not a place where you’ll be judged for your past.”

“You mean that.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I do.”

“You could sleep on the couch with me?” Seokjin offered sheepishly, ears turning the color of strawberries. I was surprised to see him be so direct. He had been very reserved around me till now, only talking when necessary.

“Are you sure? Won’t you be uncomfortable?” I asked, eyeing the couch. It was big enough to seat five people comfortably, but Seokjin was big too.

He nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

Seokjin adjusted the pillow and laid down on the sofa, leaving room for me. I stood there with my hello kitty blanket, wondering if it was okay. The sudden change in the hybrid’s demeanor was unexpected and I gave up trying to dissect the situation. I had to admit, I was feeling a bit cuddly since the loss of my penguin and I desperately needed sleep. I scooched on the sofa, covering both of us with the blanket, resting my head on his arm.

“You’re not okay,” he murmured, wrapping his other arm around my waist, his tail curling around my thigh.

“I just need some sleep,” I sighed. Seokjin was like a furnace behind me. I wondered why all hybrids were this warm.

“Lies,” he said as he lightly nibbled on my ear. I gasped at the unexpected contact, my heart beating so loudly in my chest that I was sure he could hear it.

“I thought you didn’t like me,” my voice came out breathier than I had intended.

“I do, I just didn’t know how to approach you. You seem so independent, I didn’t know where I could fit in your life. The only thing I could do for Clair was look pretty. But this.... this I can do, I can comfort you. I want to be useful.”

I turned around to look at him. “Oh honey, you don’t have to be useful. You’re you and that’s enough for me. I just want you to be happy.” I lightly kissed his cheek.

“I’m going to be your comfort blanket,” Seokjin said with a smile and hugged me closer.

Previous || Next

[ms-moonlight-inn]

2021 Fic Year in Review

Thanks for the tag @stillbeatingheart

Total Number Of Completed Works:

12 officially posted

+ 4 more completed ones awaiting their waiting reveal date

Total Word Count:

208,063 😳 WTF?

(that's not counting the unrevealed ones)

Fandoms I’ve Written In:

Shameless (US)

Red, White, and Royal Blue

Original Works

Looking Back, Did You Write More Fic Than You Thought You Would This Year, Less, Or About What You’d Expected?:

Way more! 😂😆 Never expected to be writing any fic. Like, at all! I've already got 12 pieces posted & I only just started fandom writing in April.

All credit/blame to: @stillbeatingheart @dancermk @livelynarrations

What’s Your Own Favorite Story Of The Year?:

Ugh. Sophie's Choice...

Degrees of Separation & Love Me At Half-Light. DOS 'cause it was my debut. LMAH 'cause it was my vanity project.

Did You Take Any Writing Risks This Year?:

So far, I've made it a point to do something risky in all my fandom writing. I mean, I never intended to write fanfic to begin, so if I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna DO it. As I'm fond of saying, "If you're gonna be a monkey, you might as well be a gorilla."

The biggest example? That hanging ending in chapter 10 of LMAH. 😆 Damn, I'm sure there were a couple of readers ready to hang me after that. 😬

Do You Have Any Fanfic Or Profic Goals For The New Year?:

Keep writing.

Most Popular Story Of The Year?:

Going by kudos, that'd be Zero To Six. There's something about Mickey & Ian strapped down with a litter o' kids that y'all really responded to. 😉

Story Of Mine Most Under-Appreciated By The Universe, In My Opinion:

I have a soft spot for Graveyard Shift. It's written entirely in the 2nd person, which gives it this sweet lyrical feel. At least, that's how it reads to me. Plus, it got podfic'ed! C'mon, people, what's a girl gotta do to get your attention? 🤨

Most Fun Story To Write:

All my co-written works were fun as shit to write! When the partnership is right, the collab is truly transcendent. So far, those are:

We're Really Bad At This, But We Ain't No Quitters with @jackieq

Zero To Six with @stillbeatingheart

Late Night Calls with @notherenj-nowherenj (yes, there's also the rimming fic)

Most Unintentionally Telling Story:

I don’t normally do self-inserts since I already do creative nonfiction & if I feel like spilling my guts, then I can just go do that there.

BUT, I do tend to write from my very strong opinion. 😂 So, you'll see some common themes in my works. Often, you'll see my characters battling with the push & pull of real-life bullshit. Sometimes, the bullshit wins; usually love does. Yeah, I know, I'm a fucking sap. 🥰

Biggest Disappointment:

How much I've been looking at my stats page. Ugh. Ugly, dirty secret of mine. Here I am, confessing my vanity in public. All my friends already know how vain I am in private. 😆

Biggest Surprise:

That I even started writing fanfiction to begin with. I've always been a creative nonfiction writer; fiction (all types of fiction) has always been my fear animal. But here I am doing the damn thing.

My Favorite Part Of Fandom This Year:

Hands down, the camaraderie I have found in my little pocket of the universe. I have a small, but important collection of friends because of fandom.

Another favorite part has been an unexpected side effect of some of the fics I've read. Seriously, some of y'all are writing some downright therapeutic shit & it's been an additional source of comfort for me. I've been able to see certain things from different perspectives because of fandom writings.

Oops, forgot to tag...

@notherenj-nowherenj @thisdivorce @dancermk @captainjowl

And all others who want to play! I'm curious as shit!

[angrythingstarlight]

I just wanted to pop in and say that I absolutely love your writing and your stories. The worlds that you’ve woven are downright sinful, hilarious, and spectacular. I’m half tempted to turn off my notifications because I get so distracted at work by them. 😅 I look forward to your updates all the time, and respect the time and energy you put into your writing….especially since you don’t have to share your imagination with us.

In all honesty, the fics you and @navybrat817 have blessed us with have helped me come out of a slump I’ve been in sexually more than any other smutty book or movie or whatever has (I know, TMI, I’m sorry 😅).

Essentially, I just wanted to say thank you for allowing us into your world and providing an escape that I didn’t even realize I wanted. I hope you have a great weekend!!! ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for your support. This is so therapeutic for me as well. I like creating worlds and this has brought me more happiness than I expected.

I hope you have a great weekend!

[deejadabbles]

Touch (Yami/Atem x Reader)

Summary: Atem's love of affection became apparent to you rather early on, even before you two started dating. The touch-starved ex-pharaoh meant well of course, but, what happens when his affections lead you to realize that you're the exact opposite?

(or, to put it simply, an Atem stays AU where Atem's a touchy-feely cutie, but you have to work through the fact that you flinch and shy away when touched.)

AN: I've been wanting to do a little something centered around my headcanon that Atem's touch-starved for a while now, I just couldn't think of much of a plot until now. The reader's situation is based on my own experiences and feelings, my own "problems" with physical contact that I've been trying to work through. It was actually a bit therapeutic to write about and hopefully some of you guys identify with the reader, or are at least interested in the contrast between them and Atem <3

It became clear to you even as early as a month or two after Atem regained his body; after he was sent back to earth and freed to live his natural life with Yugi, you, and the rest of the gang. You suspected that he became more comfortable, once again being in his own skin and in possession of his memories, and that comforted state made him more willing to...indulge, or perhaps explore his own habits and wants.

You would have never suspected it, seeing as how the pharaoh had always been a bit distant in some ways. Always caring, supportive, and kind, of course, but distant. You would have never suspected it, but Atem was actually a rather touchy person.

It was never anything bad, never lewd or anything that crossed a line. Rather it was his hand on your shoulder paired with an encouraging squeeze. It was a gentle touch brushing between your shoulder blades as he came to stand beside you. His fingers wrapping around yours in a brief greeting, and maybe even lingering there as he smiled at you.

It wasn’t even just with you, he clapped Jonouchi on the back all the time, touched Anzu’s upper arm when she talked to him, hugged Yugi as often as he could. The list went on.

Still, despite the innocence of his touches and the fact that they weren’t directed solely at you, it made something of your own come to a sudden light. Something you hadn’t given much attention to, or even realized on a conscious level- not until you found yourself tensing against those gentle touches and flinching ever so slightly as his fingers brushed against you. You hadn’t ever realized it, but it seemed that had a bit of an issue with casual touching.

You hated your reactions, hated the way you seemed to instinctively recoil from him when he put his arm around you, or the way your very mind jolted when his hands touched yours. You hated it because you didn’t want to feel that way with Atem’s casual affections, you didn’t want to feel ill at ease or downright edgy and upset when he held you.

When you realized just how not-okay you actually were with touch, you did plenty of soul searching and reflecting on your past, wondering where this came from. There was perhaps an incident or two that might have led to this. Words said or an action done that had tarnished your association with physical contact, though you hadn’t realized it at the time, or the coming years since. Not until now.

It didn’t sit well with you at all. You wanted to like Atem’s displays, you wanted to not have those automatic reactions when he showed you those affections. He didn’t seem to notice at first, at least not before his casual touches became something more. Not before he was able to show you that he felt something more, for you.

When Atem kissed you for the first time, your body and heart were at strange odds. Your heart raced with want and elation, even as your shoulders shifted ever so slightly away from his hand as he stroked your back to pull you deeper into the kiss. You didn’t want to ruin that moment, that first wonderful kiss, because damn it you loved Atem and wanted to show him that you did.

He didn’t notice it then, but as one would suspect, after entering a relationship with each other, his affections only increased. He loved hugging you from behind, loved brushing your hair away from your face or neck so he could place a chaste kiss on your cheek or shoulder. And when you two sat together, even with friends, he seemed to almost always have a hand on you, rubbing gently across your knee, grazing the small of your back, or taking your hand in his own.

Atem hadn’t noticed your “issue” at first, but with that increased intimacy, it wasn’t long before he started to. Notice the way you tensed even as you hugged him back, or the barely noticeable flinch you gave when he rubbed your back even as you smiled at him; the way you seemed to pull away from his hands before you caught yourself.

He must have noticed eventually though, because before you knew it, Atem was starting to pull away. You noticed the way he’d reach out to you, just short of grazing his fingers across your side or taking your hand in his, before suddenly pulling back. You didn’t miss the way he shortened his hugs and lessened his chaste kisses; not lingering in the embrace nearly long enough and only giving you pecks on the cheek when you said goodbye. And though his consideration was appreciated and moved you, in the long run, you hated it. Hated that he felt like he had to deprive himself because of your reactions- especially since another part of you didn’t want him to pull away at all.

You wanted to be okay with touch, with his affections, you yearned for a day when you wouldn’t instinctively flinch away from his hands and hugs. Because no matter how or why you had that aversion, you wanted to be...better. You wanted to welcome his affections and return them in kind, but it seemed that simply wasn’t the case. Simultaneously craving touch as well as disliking it on some deep barely explored level, it was an odd situation to be in.

Slowly, you tried to get used to the physical contacts and did so by initiating them yourself. You actively told yourself to lean on his shoulder during quiet moments, to hug him with every greeting and parting, or reach out and take his hand as you walked. In some small way it might be working, but again, much like when he had first kissed you, your heart and the rest of your body were at odds.

One second you were wanting to sigh in content as you leaned against him and felt his arm wrap around you, but the next your skin started to prickle with an anxious unease. It was rather infuriating, honestly, the waring reactions making you want to scream! Perhaps you just needed time, but you wanted to be over this personal hurdle now. Or at least sooner rather than later.

***

It took Atem longer than he wanted to admit to notice it. Perhaps at first, when he had been granted a second chance at life, he was too caught up in his own reality, his own wants and habits. Having his own body as well as his memories back was astonishing at first and in some ways, he almost had to rediscover himself. In that discovery, he actively took notice to a quirk most may not expect a powerful pharaoh to have.

He noticed it in the way his hands reached out before he even thought, the way his skin tingled and warmed when someone hugged him back or touched him in turn. He remembered when he was young, how he had gravitated towards Mana not only for her bright and pure heart but because she was one of the few in the palace who never withheld her affections around him. He carried royal blood and, among his people, that made him a god- and mortals were not permitted to touch the body of a god so lightly.

There was a word for it in the modern age, and Atem admitted to himself quite early on that he was “touch starved”. His father had hugged and held him plenty when he was a child, but that decreased as he got older and most around him were barely willing to look him in the eyes, let alone show him any kind of affection that wasn’t verbal. He supposed five thousand years trapped alone in darkness didn’t help either. So much loneliness, endless and unyielding until the moment Yugi solved the puzzle, the mere memory of it still kept him awake some nights. No, it hadn’t helped at all. Nor did the years he spent as a specter, only able to view and receive the world through the lens of Yugi’s body. Even when others did hug him and clap him on the back when in control, it felt...numb in away. As if the skin not truly being his own made it impossible to truly feel touch the way he once had. And that only made him crave touch more.

It was easier now, with you, Yugi, and the rest of the gang. None of you cared that deeply about his (now irrelevant) royal status, and given how close he had become to all of you, no one seemed to think much of it when he brushed his fingers along a friend’s back or hugged someone just a second or two longer than most.

Then of course, there was the touch he wanted most. The rare times he felt you hug him back or give his hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away made him feel a level of warm content he has never experienced before. He should have noticed it then, long ago, but perhaps he was too caught up in how you made him feel to notice. And of course, he was too busy figuring out the best way to act on the feelings he’d had for you even as a spirit sharing Yugi’s body.

Now that he was his own man again, free to live a life of his own, there was little stopping him from finally showing you how deeply he cared for you- Well, little aside from his own failings when it came to romance. That department was the only place he seemed to become awkward and inept, but he pushed through it all the same!

The first time he had kissed you it felt like his body was soaring; his hand rubbing along your back and pulling you closer, your own fingers gripping his biceps as if you needed grounding or held up so you wouldn’t fall. And now that the door to romance was open, Atem could...indulge even more and sate his need for touch by holding your hand, pulling you into his arms, and planting loving kisses along your skin.

Well, that is until he finally took notice to something. To the fact that you didn’t exactly seem all that comfortable with physical contact.

He finally noted the way you almost- almost, seemed to pull away from him. The way you flinched when his hand brushed your side or slid across your stomach as he hugged you from behind. You always smiled at him and seemed to put effort into returning the affections, but he couldn’t ignore those reactions.

Never, not for one moment, did Atem want to make you uncomfortable. Perhaps you didn’t like how often he showed affection, perhaps you were simply uncomfortable with his kinds of affection, or perhaps it was something else entirely. Either way, Atem hated the idea of making you uneasy, no matter how much he craved you. So he pulled back, he made himself stop when he found himself snaking his arms around you, or brushing his hands against you. He still showed you affection, especially on the nights curled together on your couch, but he decreased it by a notable amount, and prayed you would forgive him for not noticing your discomfort sooner.

You must have taken notice of it because soon enough, you were increasing how often you initiated affection. More often than ever you pulled him into hugs, you reached out to take his hand or pressed your lips to his. And though he wanted to melt into your touch, he hated it. Hated that you felt the need to satisfy him at your own expense, hated that you thought you had to put aside your discomfort to appease him.

Atem loved you, by the gods did he love you, and he’d be damned if his love turned into a selfish one. He refused to cross your line of comfort, refused to let his own needs and wants override your boundaries. No matter how much he ached for you, no matter how elated your touch made him feel, he would not let you suffer for that, for him.

***

You stretched your arms over your head after taking the last bite of pizza, full and content. It was Friday, a night you and your beloved boyfriend always set aside for movies and some alone time. Hanging out with the gang was great and all, but sometimes a couple needed time to themselves. You caught the way Atem smiled before shifting his gaze back to the TV as you leaned back against your couch.

After a moment, you stole a glance at him, how relaxed he looked with his arm resting on the back of the couch and supporting his head as he watched the movie. He shifted slightly as you looked on, and you noted the way he almost (almost) seemed to lean in closer to you. You knew he was probably wanting, wishing to cuddle you close like he had so often on these nights alone.

You scooted closer until you were nestled under his arm and against his side, before resting your head on his chest. As if on instinct, Atem’s arm moved from supporting his head, to wrap tightly around you. His warmth felt nice and you could hear and feel the steady beating of his heart under your ear. However, you already sensed that irritating unease creeping up, waiting to crawl across your skin the longer he held you.

Then, you felt Atem heave a sigh and he whispered your name- before he pulled away!

You looked up at him, wide-eyed and mouth agape, “Atem? What’s wrong?”

He wasn’t looking at you, instead scratching the back of his neck as he sighed again, more frustrated this time. Finally, he looked at you again, but only for a moment before he breathed your name again and grabbed the tv remote. After smashing the pause button and setting the remote aside, he moved again and faced you fully.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, tone firm, but gentle, almost abashed. “You don’t have to force yourself to show me affection like that.”

Your heart sank and an uneasy heat rose under your skin. So he had noticed, everything apparently, not only your discomfort but your efforts to push through said discomfort.

“Atem, I-”

“I’m sorry,” he cut in, averting his eyes, hands tightening as he shook his head. “I should have noticed sooner, how uncomfortable I was making you. I was being selfish, I didn’t even realize I was forcing my affections on you.”

“You weren’t!” your voice was louder than you had meant it to be, but you couldn’t help it with the borderline panic rising in your chest. “Atem, you weren’t- I mean I didn’t-” you cursed under your breath and ran a desperate hand over your face, trying to collect yourself. After a moment, you found your voice again and tried to push through the awkwardness. “Atem, I know you didn’t mean anything bad by it. You weren’t ‘forcing your affections’ on me. I get it, you’re a touchy person, I’m not going to hold that against you.”

“But now you feel like you have to put aside your own feelings to please me,” there was a bite in his tone and he still wasn’t looking at you, instead narrowing his eyes at the coffee table. “I don’t want you to feel that way. I love you, and I want to respect your boundaries, I want to respect you .”

A not entirely unwelcome fluttering started in your chest. You really had won the boyfriend lottery with Atem. After a few beats of silence, you whispered his name and reached out, brushing your hand along his cheek until he finally looked at you, gorgeous eyes meeting your own.

“The truth is, I want to be as affectionate as you. I want to be okay with your PDA and touches- damn it I really really do! I hate that I can’t reciprocate, hate that I can’t even really control how I respond. But I’m trying to get better with it. Yeah, part of it was because I wanted to make sure you weren’t...unsatisfied in the affection department, but it wasn’t just that. I want to be more affectionate too. I want to sit here and cuddle with you for hours, I want to hold your hand while we’re walking down the street, I want to rest my head on your shoulder while we’re spending time with the gang- I want all of it! I think...I think I just need time. Time and practice.”

You took a deep breath, feeling a bit shaky from your mini-rant, then your hand fell from his cheek to take his hand in yours. He finally seemed to ease a little, his shoulders losing some of their tenseness and he leaned in a bit closer.

He whispered your name again, “I just...I don’t want to push you. Promise me you will take your time with this? If you want to hold my hand or be held, that would be nice, but only if you want to. I can wait until you’re completely comfortable in my arms.”

You smiled at him, feeling as though something achy was finally being lifted from your whole body. It felt nice, to be honest and open. Then you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, relishing the way his breath caught in his throat and how he moved in perfect sync with you. The hand holding yours tightened a bit, and a jerk of movement indicated that he was wanting to do something with his free hand too. To test the proverbial waters, and also genuinely wanting to deepen the kiss, you took his free hand in yours and guided him to cup your face. His thumb ran along your cheek and he moaned a little when you nipped at his bottom lip.

“I promise,” you whispered against his lips sometime later, “promise I’ll take my time getting better at this. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to yours as he continued to stroke your cheek.

The two of you lingered there for a while, simply enjoying each other and this open, honest state. Then eventually, Atem pulled back and gave you a small smile.

“I could tell you were getting tense in my embrace earlier, so we don’t have to cuddle during the rest of the movie if you don’t want to.”

You bit your lip, mulling over the truth of his words, even as you wished they weren’t true. “I think I’d be okay with holding hands while we’re sitting here, if that’s okay.”

Atem’s smile softened and he began shifting his pose back towards the TV, “I would like that.”

You settled back into a more comfy position too as he pressed play, one hand resting in your lap, the other holding his as he gently, rather absentmindedly, stroked the back of your hand with his thumb. Only a minute or so passed before you got a certain almost whimsical urge. You brought your clasped hands up and pressed a chate kiss to the back of Atem’s hand, before dropping them back to his lap. You relished the almost bashful smile he flashed you, since a bashful Atem was a rare Atem.

Yeah, it may take some time, but being with a man who was equal parts respectful and loving, you were pretty confident you could reach that higher level of affectionate someday.

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Capt. Syverson-Chapter Two: Therapeutic Procedure

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Shane and Sy share some moments during their treatment sessions…and a phone call that could set the tone for the next few weeks.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: None, yet… ;)

Author’s Note: Sorry, I was so eager and excited to post the first chapter of this last night, I totally put some inaccurate info in my description notes. I will correct that in the original post and  try to do better henceforth! Hope you enjoy Sy and Shane totally flirting some more and getting more friendly in this chapter. Feedback is appreciated! Even constructive criticism! :D

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism. 

Tags: @onlyhenrys @cavillryarchive @summersong69 @titty-teetee

Let me know if you wish to be added to the list! I’m happy to do it!

Shane woke up that morning with knots in her stomach. She dropped every product she picked up in the shower, she was shaking so much. She accidentally ordered the wrong coffee on her way to work and was now drinking something much less caffeinated and far too sweet for her taste. The barista had informed her it was a grande caramel macchiato with an extra pump of vanilla and extra caramel drizzle…with only two shots of espresso…she couldn't begin to describe how wrong that drink was for her. But it was better than nothing, she told herself, not fully convincingly.

She had chosen her clothes with extra care, even though, with the dress code, her options were limited. And she had made sure to put on a bit of mascara and just a touch of perfume, even though they weren't strictly supposed to wear it…she didn't know why she was bothering.

Well, actually, she did know why. She had been checking her schedule extra diligently lately to make sure she didn't look like a hobo when Sy was coming in. He'd been coming for three weeks now, and after the initial bellyaching about Jordan not being as pretty as her…her heart!...and his feeling extra sore after his visits with him, they were on a roll and had a great chemistry together as far as their treatments went…she tried not to think about…beyond the world of therapy.

She thought back to their first session after she got back from her trip. And the conversation they had.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I think the next time you can't see me, I'm just going to cancel." he had sulked as he wiggled his mass of muscle onto the mat.

"Sy, no. you need therapy. Don't be like that to Jordan. He's an excellent therapist."

"He ain't you though." he smirked, sending her heart racing with that smile that somehow managed to look both boyish and rakish under his full, dark beard. Fucking hell. He needed to stop.

"Well, we can't fault him for that, can we? Lay back, Mister." She demanded. Done with the niceties of the evaluation and onto the treatments where she was in charge. The boss.

"Yes, sir!" she laughed at his clear avoidance of calling her ma'am.

"So where'd you go last week? Vacation or stay-cation?" he asked, the term "stay-cation" sounding downright comical coming out of his country-boy mouth.

"I went to the beach. Gulf Shores."

"I thought you looked like you got some sun."

"Yeah," she pretended his noticing the detail of her awesome tan did not send her reeling. "My folks rented a condo right on the water for my siblings and I to come and stay with them. They're still there. It was tough to leave all that beauty." the beach, pretty much any beach, was her favorite place to be.

"I bet…" he looked at her, something dreamy in his eyes, but he looked away before she could process it. "I thought I had my fill of sand and sun when I was over in Iraq. But you make it sound…like paradise." he smiled softly up at her as she worked on his knee, trying to break apart some of the scar tissue from the injuries and surgeries he'd had…and focus on that, and not the warmth rising in her.

"That's the perfect way to describe any place on the Gulf of Mexico. I doubt it's anything like Iraq, since there's so much water around. It's my favorite vacation destination. Well, apart from London."

"Them British folks always seem so stuck up. Don't know if I'd get along with any of 'em."

"It felt like a second home for me. Everyone was very kind and polite, for the most part. At least it was no worse than it is here."

"Maybe it's just because you're so nice."

"Wait 'til about week eight or ten of your protocol. You won't think I'm nice then. You'll be cussing me out and ready to ring my neck."

"Promise?" he asked, a dark grin on his lips and in his eyes…she faltered for a moment, gulping.

"Cut it out, Syverson." she rolled her eyes, covering…without great effect the way he made her feel.

"Yes...ma'am." he smirked with satisfaction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And now, today, she'd be treating him again, fairly early in the day, and she had to prepare herself. She'd checked the policy, and although there wasn't anything strictly against dating a patient, it was clearly a conflict of interest, and would be frowned upon by her frigid tyrant of a boss. Best to let things remain platonic for now.

Her 9:30 was a no show, so she finished up some notes and was working on some continuing education credits when messenger popped up around 10:00.

Sergeant Sexypants is here. He's quite early and he knows it…*smirk emoji* he must like you, Shane!

Heather, come on, be respectful…he was discharged at the rank of Captain! *rofl emoji* and I think you might be right about him liking me…*nervous emoji*

Oooooooooh!!! You guys are gonna *couple kissing emoji* *eggplant emoji* *okay emoji* *explosion emoji* *baby emoji*

Omg…*three facepalm emojis* I am going to go ahead and start him early since my 9:30 was a NCNS.

Don't finish him too early. Make it last. *smirk emoji*

Jeez. She closed the chat and went to grab him from the waiting area.

"Hey Sy, you ready?"

"You bet, sunshine!" he flashed her a crooked smile. He was calling her sunshine now…ad that to the list of things she'd have to pretend didn't make her swoon.

"Great. Let's start on the bike. How's the knee feeling today?"

"Oh, it's…about the same. Stiff. Lil' sore."

"Well, it's a slow process, like I told you at your eval. You've got a lot going on in there."

"I know…just…it hasn't taken me four weeks to do anything in my life." he sulked. "So…thinking about this taking…twelve or more…" he grimaced as he sat down on the bike, and adjusted it for his longer than average legs, putting his feet in the pedal stirrups.

"You may not see it, Sy, because you're so close to it, but trust me, you're making progress. I can tell you're doing your exercises at home, and you're always willing to put in the work here. You have no idea how much that sets you apart from…some of these other people." she leaned in closer and spoke the last part more quietly to him. It was true. So many of her patients were either lazy or just in it to appease their MDs into writing them scripts for pain meds. That wasn't Sy.

"You really think so?" he gave her the side eye with his baby blues, crushing her with the color like the waves of the ocean she'd just returned from.

"In fact, I know so." she placed a reassuring hand on his broad and thick shoulder. She felt the tension between them hum, like electric current.

"Now, level one, and a steady pace. You're not trying to win any medals here. I'll take those crutches."

"When ya think I can 86 'em damn things?" he griped as he handed over the assistive devices.

"Well, you see Potter again tomorrow? I'll write an update today and send it to him. If he likes what he reads, or more likely pretends to read, regarding your progress, he may discharge them. Do you feel like you can be good to the knee and treat it nice without using crutches? I don't want you to regress and re-injure yourself. That's not gonna get you into your running shoes any sooner."

"I'll be nice. Real gentle." he winked at her…he wasn't just talking about the knee. And she knew it. But again, she pretended she didn't, ignoring once more those butterflies threatening to choke her they were multiplying so fast in her belly.

"Okay, I'll put that in my note. Patient compliant with instructions to be nice." she laughed.

They talked as they biked, Shane sat on the one next to him and pedaled along with him for something to do other than be idle. She thought it made him feel better as well. Like he wasn't doing it alone. They covered the subject of her siblings, an older brother in IT and a younger sister who was an MA, and his German Shepherd, Aika, which he was allowed to bring home from Iraq after they were both honorably discharged. Music, both of them completely in agreeance about the superiority of classic rock.

"I noticed you've worn a Lynyrd Skynyrd shirt a few times and meant to say something before now."

"Yeah, they're one of my favorites. But there are a few newer groups that I like a lot, too. Kings of Leon got me through some tough times, honestly."

"Oh, they're great! I love their sound. And their lyrics…poetry."

"No shit. Sorry." she shook her head and raised up her hands to indicate that he didn't need to apologize to her for swearing. She'd been known to make sailors blush when she was off the clock. "Only by the Night…that whole album is…it's just in my blood, ya know? Ya ever have an album do that?"

"I have. Whole artists catalogs, actually."

"Which artist?" he prodded.

"The Beatles. Pretty much every song. Like you said, it just, like, I dunno, it's almost deeper than the veins. It's in the marrow. My soul." she stared off out the windows ahead of them, thinking about her favorite band in the world and how magical it was to experience Sir Paul McCartney playing some of her favorites live…twice…and the timer on the bike went off, pulling her from her daydream.

She looked over at him, startled by both the noise, and the dreamy look in his eyes that was becoming all too familiar.

"Sorry." she stood, grabbing his crutches for him and handing them back to him from where she had leaned them as they rode.

"Hey, don't be sorry for…ahem…for loving what you love. We should all…hold on to the things that make us feel like that." she nodded.

"Thanks…I don't think a lot of people…understand the way I…my tendency to take things like music, movies, and shows…books…so deeply to my heart." they walked to the treatment room from the gym, taking their time, since they had it. A rare occurrence for Shane, always needing to capitalize on every spare minute. To make productivity a priority.

"I think…that…well, seeing a pretty grim side of the world like I have…seems like there's enough darkness and bullshit making everyone miserable. If we find something…or…someone…that brings us some happiness or even just makes that misery bearable…we oughta hang onto 'em real tight. Cherish it like gold." the silence in the small room was loud with that electrical hum of their tension again. He'd said all the right things, as he always seemed to, but under the absolute wrong circumstances. She just nodded.

"They teach you philosophy in Basic?" she giggled. He laughed back in response.

"Oh, no, Basic was way easier than…whatever goes on inside of us."

"Speaking of which," she segued deftly, "lay back, and let my try to get some range out of that knee before I take new measurements for this update I'm gonna write."

"Yes, ma'am!" he chuckled.

"You get some sick thrill out of calling me that, don't you?" she scowled playfully at him.

"Oh, you have no idea…ma'am." he winked at her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Shane was wondering how Sy's appointment went as she ate her soup at lunch and caught up on her morning notes. She got a ping on messenger.

You have a gentleman caller…*eggplant emoji*  hehe, he's on line three.

Geez…thanks Heather.

No need to ask for a name. She knew Heather meant Sy.

She picked up the phone at her desk in the treatment room.

"Hey Sy! How'd the appointment go?"

"Hey, sunshine…eh…he said I'm doin' good, but he wants me to stay on crutches another two weeks." she could hear grave disappointment in his voice. She felt for him.

"Aww, I'm sorry Sy. I know you wanted off those. And I know they're a pain. Literally and figuratively."

"Why wouldn't he want me off 'em?" he was so frustrated. He must have just left the office.

"Did you ask him that question?"

"You know doctors, Shane. Not like I would have got an answer in plain English. Figured you'd know."

"Well, I haven't seen your post-visit report, but it's my presumption that he wants to play it safe. You know he spent most of his day in the operating room with you, right? An eight hour surgery, you had. He probably doesn't want to undo all that by d/c'ing the crutches too soon."

"I was gonna be careful though, Shane!" he was worked up properly, and she could hear it over the roar of his pickup in the background.

"I know you were, Sy. I'm sure you were going to take all kinds of precautions. But what if you're walking into your kitchen, during a storm, and there's a loud clap of thunder, and Aika gets startled and busts past you? What if you're feeling good one day, and forget about it, and jog to catch up to someone holding the door open for you and miss a stick or something under foot? You can't prepare yourself for every pebble or patch of mud in your path, Sy. Accidents will happen. Some circumstances are beyond our control…we just have to do the best we can. The crutches are going to help you until we get you stronger. That's what we'll focus on until those two weeks are up."

"Why is it you can calm me down like this?" he asked, sincere and truly calmer than he had been.

"I'm just a good therapist, is all."

"Ya don't think that's really all, do ya?" the sound of his deep drawl in her ear from the receiver made her shiver. He was implying something that she just couldn't entertain. It wasn't possible for them right now. Maybe…down the road…in a few weeks…

"I'll see ya tomorrow, Sy. Come ready to work that knee."

"You didn't say no…" he was too hopeful. Damn it, he was cute when he was hopeful. She was glad she couldn't see his face light up like she knew it was doing.

"You may have noted I didn't say yes, either."

"Yet. See ya in the mornin', sunshine."

"Bye, Sy."

She put the receiver in the cradle and her face in her hands.

"Shit."

She had a feeling this particular patient was about to become much more complicated.

Up Next: Chapter Three-Therapeutic Activity

[sextonsharpwinhalstead]

Finally caught up on Med...

I have to say they are still on their bullshit but for the first time in I don’t know how many seasons the show feels like it’s moving towards something big as in the finale would be huge.

Every single character feels like they have some kind of growth or that they are moving towards something bigger, there’s definitely a momentum that I can’t quite put my finger on. There are so many moving parts and stories and for the first time since season 1 I actually feel some of the familial/friendly feels that they used to have.

Maggie has a real story, and we got backstory about a baby girl she gave up for adoption when she was a teenager who she has decided to actively look for! And how did we find this out? I wish that I could say it was something she disclosed to Natalie but it was to Sharon. This still backs up what I’ve said in the past that they aren’t as close as the show tells us they are (Maggie + Natalie). When Maggie needs to open up and get vulnerable it’s with Sharon, Will, or some of the nurses like April and Monique. But it’s not a shit on Natalie moment, she asks and offers to be there for Maggie more than we’ve seen in a while. I just wonder why Maggie doesn’t open up to her...like really open up.

Speaking of opening up I really like that all of the doctors are seeing Daniel, it allows for a lot of missing interpersonal communication that has been severely lacking in past seasons. I also love that issues like Ethan’s PTSD haven’t been forgotten. Daniel’s sessions with the characters feels more organic this season, the conversations aren’t written off a cliff and he always follows up and touches on issues that they spoke about in the past. It may seem small but it’s big thing for Med to keep the continuity going.

Sharon was MIA for the first few episodes but having her back once again feels organic, her story doesn’t feel shoehorned even though I’m sure some see it as “a lot” it feels right. I hope that there is a resolution with her son going forward and she isn’t caught in the middle much longer with his ambitions and her duty to the hospital.

Daniel’s custody battle is wild to me considering that I’m still in the middle of writing “Let Me Re-Introduce Myself” and I have him losing custody there too. Albeit for different reasons lol. I’m not a huge fan of Anna, I hope that Daniel gets a chance to be a good dad to her, with maybe a Robin sighting somewhere in the mix.

The show has managed to discuss and incorporate Owen more than they have in the last three seasons and I think that’s really cool. Natalie gets to be a mom and I think that’s needed for her character’s growth. I’m still really annoyed that they wrote her taking all these huge risks with her career last season just to have her leaning on Crockett every two seconds. That’s one of my biggest gripes with their writing of her. When she was closer and even in a relationship with Will it was the same. They were always on cases together and she was always getting a second opinion i.e second guessing herself. I don’t like that for the ONLY female doctor on the show. They are the only thing that feels sequestered and like the “old Med.”

The Crockett-Natalie relationship to me is manufactured chemistry which is this case for almost all the ships on the show. They write what they want, because screen tests are not a thing anymore. I like that he finally has someone to open up to and he has a place to finally be vulnerable. I don’t think any of this is meant to last. If this is the season for continuity than we cannot forget that Crockett watched Phillip slip a ring on Natalie’s finger and didn’t say shit...that will always be a yuck spot for me.

Manstead is DEAD in the water right now. But the Crockett-Natalie ship feels like Jeff and Natalie. She is like “yeah sure....maybe” I just don’t buy it for longevity. Crockett is going to end up hurt before she finds her way back to Will. And speaking of Will...

Will is criming every episode. Like the way this dude is head-on backsliding into the illegal nonsense, from giving/taking bribes to unblinding the study and then lying to Virani about it...this is building into something really awful guys. And also, what in the world is going on with the Virani-Will-Ethan weirdness. I think Virani is fond of Will maybe even a little attracted to him but she is flustered around Ethan. I don’t know if he is ready to move on but when he does, I could definitely see her going out with him. What’s odd is that the show after like two seasons finally has Will working with April and with the proximity to Ethan and Virani and all the clashing Will and Ethan have had this season...I don’t know where this is going...nowhere good though.

Ethan is a the best fit for Chief. I’m so grateful that we still see Lanik, I can’t get on board with them calling him Jim...that is a white guy manning the grill at some random neighborhood barbeque. I’d rather them call him James. Anyway we all saw the drill sergeant coming a mile away. I knew he was going to be crazy. I didn’t expect him to be stupid. He had gallbladder surgery and then came to work? C’mon dude. However, I feel like that was Ethan’s second biggest misstep the first was hiring Dr. Archer. Guys, he gives me DARK vibes. Like, Gwen and Jimmy, and Ava, and even Cornelius NEVER had the creep-factor that this guy has. There is something malevolent and downright violent about him. I don’t know if it’s the actor or just his portrayal of the character but I feel like at his most benign he would sue the hospital for wrongful termination, cause lets face it he is not going to make it at Med, or he is going to do something that is really awful. I could be wrong and maybe I’m channeling that feeling into a fic but I got my eye on that one.

And last but not least, April. I worried that she wasn’t going to get much to do and would go back to being a supportive character this season. When she isn’t in a ship she is completely ignored. But they haven’t been so terrible with her. I do feel like they could’ve written something a little bit more articulate about why the Covid-Unit was so important to her. Like we as an audience know April is empathetic but I wanted to hear what that felt like for her, maybe tie back into some of the things she’s given up for this job. I absolutely did not miss her saying that she felt like she was apart of something bigger and that “Ethan took that from me.” It felt like what she was saying had some double meaning, Ethan ending the engagement and ending their relationship as well as her saying he was his own worst enemy felt oddly therapeutic and somewhat foreshadowing of what’s to come. It’s clear that they still have feelings for each other. I just hoped for once that there had been a little more attention given to why she felt such a huge purpose from that work. I’m glad that she is helping with the trial. I have more Sexstead gif opportunities than ever before! Did anyone notice that scene was in the promo pics between her and Will and where she’s crying were deleted? I really want to know what happened, because those tears look like a patient she was closed to died or she was falling apart at the idea of not being apart of the trial anymore.

All the same this season isn’t that bad. What I’m  not crazy about I can tolerate and for once I’m curious to see what they are going to do going forward.