#what are you even supposed to do when your family is like becoming clinically insane and convinced the left is out to get them personally

[lad-boyo]

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[xiaochiyo]

jin buyeon being the one true villain in the alchemy of souls universe is quite predictable (and honestly? pretty justified). picture this:

you are supposed to be dead. actually, you were never supposed to be born at all, yet you are pretty much alive and doing just fine thanks to jang gang, your mother, her terrible obsession over a heiress for the jin clan and the power of the ice stone. now, you are a half mass of energy, half human child who lives to fulfill your mom's desire of a perfect daughter and the role of future leader of jiyowon. pretty cool!

since most of your vital energy comes from The Ice Stone™ itself, you also inevitably become the most powerful sorcerer that has ever lived in the country of Daeho. except nobody in said land knows that. because no one has ever... you know... seen you. they have heard of you and your immeasurable faculty, of course, but most can't even prove you exist de facto, in flesh, bones and all. why? because you don't go outside, your crazy mother doesn't let you. to her, you are a treasure! a blessing more than a daughter. you are blind and weak! how could you survive in this cruel world? you are not allowed to have a life, because she fears someone might steal you, kidnap you, kill you or (even worse!) discover the truth about you. so she keeps you in jinyowon, safe, where she can keep an eye on you and control what you can or cannot do with your powers. you have no friends nor life outside jinyowon.

fine, you live with your clinically insane mama, but you're used to it. you have a little sister and a good father. right? right? but oh no, you also have a megalomaniac uncle, jin mu. your father suddendly sides with him and they both go on a mysterious crusade to find the once lost Ice Stone, the same magical stone that gave life to you. the quest is hard and they can't find it anywhere, so they need help. yours, for that matter! who better to find a lost magical stone than the girl that carries the same energy of said stone? you are coerced to go and, eventually, you find it in a river (no surprises, you're just THAT powerful). but your uncle gets way too excited and shoves you down the water in a brief ecstasy at the sight of the ice stone. you drown. your father tries to save you, but it's too late and jin mu doesn't help at all. you're screwed.

happy news! you're saved! a lovely old lady spots you lying unconscious on a beach, takes you home and feeds you. but when she asks you your name, you don't remember it. in fact, you don't remember anything due to the shock and the trauma. you are now powerless. you don't know who you are. you're just a blind girl without a name, a family and a home. you have to start your life from the beginning, and the neighbours at your new place are not nice with blind young ladies. is someone out there looking for you? does anybody, besides that old lady, care about you?

the point is: jin buyeon has a ton of reasons to be a villain, if she even is one. all she ever had was a thoroughly planned life that was given to her by other people and which she had no control over; and out of nowhere, everything she knew was taken from her.

when she met naksu, she saw an opportunity: revenge. buyeon knew what naksu wanted, she wasn't dumb. so she gave her it: a new body and a new, untouched identity. and naksu did have a lot to offer to buyeon too. she had great, although not anywhere comparable to buyeon's, magical power and a good dose of hatred for the people who wronged her in the past (who happened to be the same or related to those who wronged buyeon in the first place). naksu was the perfect pawn, blinded by her own past and too naive to realize why she ended up on a body she didn't choose, and buyeon (then mudeok-i, the poor blind girl) loved that.

i believe, at some point, buyeon did care about naksu. they have, like it or not, a lot in common — dark past, parents that lie non-stop, enemies — plus the swapped body and soul situation. but since buyeon is special and, therefore, her body is special, naksu became useless when buyeon's flesh absorbed most of the energy it needed. the eldest daughter of the jin clan doesn't need a pawn anymore. in fact, keeping naksu (who doesn't remember her past, her original body nor her real name) in a body that isn't hers will only delay buyeon's revenge plans more and more. so, in buyeon's pov, there is no reason to keep naksu/cho yeong alive.

i might be imagining things, but buyeon is a great choice of a possible villain! she is cruel and a well constructed character overall, much as i would love it if the writers gave her more screen time. her relationship with naksu, jinyowon and jang uk is what makes her such a delightful to see manipulating little bitch.

so go girl! gaslight, gatekeep and girlboss the hell out of everyone in daeho!

[tanadrin]

Is there like a popularity threshold below which you'd allow people to act/perform music/create art for the public? Or must it all be automated to save people from the potential negative effects of fame?

hmm, first off, disclaimer: posts prefixed with "hot take" are intentionally inflammatory, not carefully considered proposals, and are not things which i necessarily actually endorse wholeheartedly (or at all). this particular post was inspired by me stumbling across a reddit post on r/all where a ton of people who as far as i know do not personally know joe jonas and sophie turner were intensely discussing if and why they might be divorcing. like jesus christ, people. you don't know these two, you never will, and you have no reason whatsoever to care even an iota about their lives, except that the Monkey Status Module sitting on top of your limbic system is telling you "ooh! high-status monkey! let us pay attention to them!"

actors, and certain kinds of musicians, for whatever reason seem to come in for this kind of obsessive treatment most of all, second only perhaps to the british royal family. probably because they're intensely recognizable, and often attractive. they serve, i suppose, as a canvas for projecting our own hopes and insecurities. every once in a while i get served a tiktok which alludes to the existence of the people who secretly believe that a) taylor swift is a lesbian, and b) she is carefully sending coded messages about her lesbianism to her die-hard fans through her music. this is objectively insane behavior. just truly a monumental waste of time. the people who spend their time and energy thinking about this sort of thing are the equivalent of sovcits--deranged, if frequently by the grace of god not quite deranged enough to qualify for a clinical diagnosis.

there are celebrities of other categories who 1) tend not to achieve fame until a little bit later in life (and so are less prone to actual exploitation) and b) even when they do so tend not to attract the same kind of obsessive, rabid maniacs. writers rarely make it big before their 30s; even prodigies like christopher paolini don't become objects of obsession, or superstardom. jk rowling became like the first or second person ever to make it to billionaire status off her writing career, but people still don't really give her deference, or obsess about her personal life. politicians are very well known, but frequently held in (IMO) a healthy degree of contempt and suspicion simply by virtue of their profession. you get exceptions like Trump--but they're obviously divisive figures, often as deeply unpopular with the broader public as they are popular with their own core constituency. many smaller or more workaday musicians, who are not the subject of marketing pushes by large labels, but who may still be widely known.

we could imagine a system where all entertainment and celebrity gossip magazines were simply banned, and nobody was allowed to act in TV or film until they were 45. that would have a certain charm to it! it might help revitalize struggling regional theater scenes, as people honed their craft in anticipation of competing for film roles once they came of age. and, of course, it would be great to see child roles played by, like Hugh Jackman walking on his knees. all drama is artifice, after all; what we take as acceptable deviation from reality now (like 20 year olds playing high schoolers in TV shows) is simply a result of convention and habit; we could form new convention and new habits if we really wanted to. personally, i think gary oldman could play any role he set his mind to if we gave him a chance.

but technology offers us a better way. really, we've had the technology since we invented animation, but i suppose there is always a desire to achieve a certain verisimilitude in certain kinds of art. we no longer have to compromise. between AI and sophisticated computer graphics, why not simply abolish those professions that tend to produce figures that (for reasons of marketing or simply a defect in our ape-minds) we cannot be normal about? we can create sui generis faces for each film or TV show. maybe we can demand all pop music stars go about masked like the daft punk duo.

that's no help with the royals or for sports stars, though i think i am pretty much on record as saying both those jobs would, in the best of all possible worlds, be abolished for other reasons anyway.

[stxleslyds]

Red Hood and the lost art of telling Joker to shup up.  

Okay, I know that I talked about Jason and Joker in a recent post but this is something different, I promise.

I really want to talk about how different Jason has been written since UtRH when it comes to him confronting Joker. Jason hasn’t been put in that position a lot but the times that he has, he lets Joker talk for far too long and actually pays attention to whatever he has to say.

The Jason vs Joker thing is basic in on itself and letting Joker talk isn’t exactly the problem here, the real problem is Jason letting Joker’s thoughts shape his future thoughts and decisions, I do understand that that’s exactly what writers want though, they want to build the problematic of: “Jason is just like Joker and the fact that he uses the name Red Hood only proves that Joker made who Jason is now”.

But the thing is that THAT problem is overdone at this point and the only time it worked was the first time it was brought up and it worked because Jason shut the Joker down.

Let’s see all the times (that I remember) the Joker and Jason have had a little chat and/or the times Joker’s words actually influence Jason’s thinking and decision making.

 Under the Red Hood – Batman (1940) #649

This is the first real confrontation we get to see between Jason and Joker after Jason’s death and it is beautiful. It's absolutely amazingly written, Joker goes on and on forever about how he killed Jason about how Jason is just as bad as him but that he is also just like Batman because he hasn’t killed him yet.

“You let me live after everything I did, you couldn’t pop my balloon. You just couldn’t. The apple doesn’t tumble too far from the paterfamilias. You are just like daddy-kins”

Jason lets him talk, yes. But he absolutely destroys Joker with what he tells him next.

“You couldn’t be more wrong about me. If right were a country on earth you’d be circling on the edge of the milky way. Yeah, I let you live but like always, every damned minute of your addled, posturing, psychopathic life, you think this is about you. You’re a worm. I’ve pitched you on a hook and dropped you into the brine. And I will beat the hell out of you Pagliacci because it was too much fun not to.”

“Listen to me Joker, I’m not you. I´m nothing like you. I know what I do and I know why I do it. You, you are, clinically speaking, a whack-job. But I know a secret, a good one.”

“You are not nearly as crazy as you would like us all to believe or even as crazy as you would like to believe. It just makes it easier to justify every sick monstrous thing you’ve ever done when you play the part of the mad clown. You are crazy, bubba, but you ain’t that crazy. Look at that. I wiped a smile off of Joker’s face. I have been waiting a long time for that.”

Everything about this is perfect, Jason gives Joker no room to mess with him. Whatever the Joker had planned on saying he had to eat because Jason wasn’t playing games and he was ready for any kind of lie the Joker had ready to tell. This is Jason Todd. He won’t let the Joker get under his skin because he knows the Joker and he, also, knows better. 

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #15

Here Jason comes across Joker during the “Death of the Family” event. In this issue the Joker has information about all of the members of the “Batfamily” and he uses that to mess around with each one of them, in Jason’s case he insinuates that he was present in very specific moments of his life when Jason’s father got shot, when his mother overdosed and when he was on his own before joining Batman.

Jason doesn’t quite believe that Joker was there but as the reader, we can see this sort of sense of doubt in Jason. He hesitates a few times before resolving that the Joker is playing with him.

But as far as this issue goes let’s just say that what the Joker says doesn’t get to Jason, this changes though in the issue that follows up this story.

Teen Titans (2011) #16

This is where that story continues and where Jason starts to buy the story that Joker is selling.

Joker convinces Jason that he has his father and Tim’s father and that the only way for Jason (or Tim) to save their dads is by killing the other (Jason or Tim). Tim doesn’t believe it but Jason is ready to shoot Tim almost immediately.

However, Jason changes his mind about killing Tim just as Tim comes up with a plan for them to not actually have to kill each other. Here is where Lobdell’s writing shows all of its flaws, Lobdell is so desperate to show that Jason and Tim are besties that he forgets that Jason had no reason to stop trying to kill Tim to save his shit father because it is later revealed that Jason truly believed that Joker had found his father and had him captive. It wasn’t until Tim explained his thought process as to why those men weren’t their dads that Jason just goes “you realize, of course, the only reason I didn’t kill you right off is that I knew your big brain will figure out some way out of this” HA, nice save Lobdell but I see right through your bullshit.

Jason bought what the Joker was selling and that is the beginning of Jason’s downgrade when it comes to not playing Joker’s games.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #17

Well, in this issue Lobdell goes back to Jason kinda not believing what Joker told him, and Jason asks Bruce of all people if he thinks the Joker truly “made him or not”. Bruce says that he doesn’t believe that and that he didn’t have anything to do with the man that Jason has become either. For some reason, Jason is actually happy with what Bruce said and for a couple of moments, Jason goes back to being sure that the Joker knows nothing and that he is his own man.

It doesn’t last long though. At the very end of the issue, the trap that Joker had set up in Jason’s helmet triggers and Jason gets his face fucked up with acid or something.

But that’s not all because a hologram of Joker has something to say: “you were supposed to be my masterpiece from start to finish. But you were too stubborn to stay dead. So here is what we are going to do… You’re so determined to be your own man? Fine, let’s start with a clean slate”.

Basically, the Joker insinuates once more that he had something to do with who Jason was supposed to become and that Jason isn’t truly “his own man”, This is all a setup for a very dense storyline that will be continued in this run later.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #18

In this issue, Jason is in a coma after he is dosed with that gas in the previous issue. The Joker isn’t really present in this issue but he does make an appearance as part of Jason’s “nightmare” while he is unconscious.

That’s not all though, Jason has an illusion of Ducra (someone that he appreciates a lot), telling him that “after you left the All-Castle after you went back to the world you continued to let your life be defined by the actions of that man. You became a killer, lashing out at people who may or may not have deserved it. Eventually, you will hurt all those you have cared for. In that way, how are you any different from the Joker?”.

In this statement, there is a lot of wrongs that can come from two places, either bad writing on Lobdell’s part or just Ducra telling lies as a plot point.

“Let your life be defined by the actions of that man” is a sentence that horribly simplifies Jason’s thinking during the events of UtRH, because while he did resent the Joker, his real problem was with Bruce who had not avenged his death by killing the Joker himself. Also, Jason was doing other things back then, like being a pain in the ass for Black Mask and disrupting the drug trade in Gotham as well as trying to control the drug dealing to children. So that little sentence is just a gross misinterpretation of the true events which means that Ducra was wrong, and “she” continues to be wrong when she says that there might be no difference between Jason and Joker.

Luckily Jason thinks the same because he tells “Ducra”: “…don’t you dare compare me to that monster Ducra. I am nothing like the Joker! Nothing!”

Once again please don’t be fooled by Jason’s thinking because in the next issue it turns around really fast and really bad.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #19

Just a heads up this issue has a change of writer, Lobdell isn’t writing this arc, the writer that gives us this hellish story arc is James Tynion IV.

All that talk about Jason not being affected or not believing what the Joker told him is yeeted out of the window and it’s not a fun ride.

In this issue, Roy and Kory find a Jason that doesn’t know who they are or who he, himself, is. This is because S’aru that little floaty little shit took his memories away after Jason asked him to do so, well Jason asked S’aru to erase every memory that darkness has touched (Joker) and he does that. But him doing that is apparently erasing everything which, holy shit, how messed up is that?

But let’s take a look at what Jason says before he gets his memories taken away: “Not only did the Joker almost take my face, but he tells me he might have manipulated my entire life from the beginning! Even the good is tainted by him now. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t have that kind of doubt. If you take it away, I can go on living. I can keep fighting”. So, yeah that was a pretty emo speech. But the thing here is that if Jason is asking this dude to erase every memory that has been tainted by the Joker and he erases all of them then we might be facing one of two situations, either Joker has been messing up with Jason’s life from the beginning or S’aru is just a little bitch.

We will later find out in #20 that S’aru and Ducra planned the whole thing, meaning that they took all of his memories for ulterior motives not because the Joker had actually tainted all of them.

For many issues Jason has no memories and now that I am revisiting these issues, I now remember the twisted and completely insane plot they came up with for the “League of Assassins” and Jason being the “Chosen One”, everything was happening in this run, my god, it's like they wanted Jason to be the center of every single trope in writing history.

It’s in issue #26 that Jason asks for his memories back but the Joker having tainted his memories or not isn’t important anymore to anyone, including the writer (because he is too focused on telling this messy story), Jason (because he has enough problems at the moment) and the reader (because this book makes zero sense and it changes the story and motivations every single issue).

But there is another truth to be revealed in the next issue.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #27

Jason has planned along Ducra and S’aru to give up all of his memories to be cleansed so he could defeat Ra’s Al Ghul. But (there is always a but) Ducra says this: “Your greatest enemy returned and nearly took your face away from you. And in the process, shook your sense of identity to the core” “The final battle here will take place in the Well of Sins, and with all the doubt and fear clouding your mind, it would eat you whole”.

So yeah, now we have confirmation from Ducra that Jason had indeed let what the Joker told him cloud his sense of self and made him doubt who he was and if he really was in control.

All that back and forth for these many issues just to say, yes, Jason let Joker’s words affect him.

So here it is, let Joker get in Jason’s head to build the plot of a story, fantastic, the story was a mess because it had so much information, the mischaracterizations of Roy and Kory were at their maximum potential, and in this particular story arc not only are the events of Red Hood: The Lost Days officially erased from Jason’s canon but something quite out there is added to Jason’s canon from before he was even Robin (that’s a whole different story that I won’t be talking about here).

What an insane ride this arc was. Definitely not the kind of story I enjoy in a Red Hood book but that’s just my preference.

*This whole arc was written by James Tynion IV.

Red Hood/Arsenal #11

Joker is dead during the events of this run but the person who has something to say to Jason about how the Joker made the person that he is now is Duela Dent (“Joker’s daughter”, she isn’t his daughter she just found Joker’s face somewhere and she puts it on and “becomes” crazy, she is an incredibly weird character).

She says this, “You’re a lot like dad in that way” to which Jason says “He is not my father. He’s not even your father” but Duela continues by saying. “You’re kidding yourself if you genuinely believe that. Yeah, he took your life but look what you got in its place, you ingrate. You got your freedom. You were reborn.” 

Jason doesn’t fall for it or anything of the sort but once again writers are bringing up the Joker as the maker of the Red Hood and “suggesting” that what Jason has been doing and who he has become is all thanks to Joker. The idea of Jason having no free will is still present in this narrative, even when Jason doesn’t believe it.

Red Hood/Arsenal #12

I talked too soon because in this issue Jason is having some weird thoughts.

“Funny, isn’t it, so easy to call Duela “crazy” because she wears a dead man’s face. Because isn’t that what I’m doing? Before he was the Joker, he was the Red Hood. So maybe the line between men and the Joker’s daughter is a lot thinner than I’d like to admit.”

Here he is comparing himself to Duela and to the Joker to an extent, writers often bring up the fact that Jason uses the code name that his killer once had and they have people or Jason himself questioning why he uses that name.

Personally, I don’t think there is much to build from it (at least not from the perspective of Lost Days and UtRH), it was just a joke, a morbid one if you will. He wears the mantle of the person that destroys Gotham and fills its people with fear while he is trying to control the city’s drug trade and trying to keep the people safe in his own way. And the way he wanted to do it is almost the complete opposite of the way that Batman does things.

I just think that he is being ironic and acidic about the whole thing. He has obviously moved on from the fact that Joker killed him but he has issues with the fact that Batman has yet another child working with him while the Joker is still alive. And Jason really wanted to make Bruce suffer, so him taking the name and a similar appearance to how the joker used to look is also done to get a reaction from Bruce.

I really don’t think there is any sort of connection to make between Jason and Joker beyond that, much like there is no connection between the name Nightwing and the Court of Owls. Even though Lincoln March tried to convince Dick Grayson that he chose the name Nightwing because Owls fly at night and that meant that he was supposed to become a Talon and all that Dick still didn’t believe it because he knew why he chose that name and no one can twist his reason.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2016) #10

Finally, I can stop re-reading New 52 books, I don’t enjoy it but I have to do it if I want to talk/complain about stuff.

This one is a little different because while Jason does talk with the Joker, the Joker isn’t really there he is just part of Jason’s imagination just like the Robin Jason that he is also seeing.

In this story, Jason is helping Artemis discover who she is but he gets captured in Qurac, yup that place, and worst of all from where he is being held, he can see the place where he died. All of that is helping Jason have some very vivid memories/illusions. He does actively hold a conversation with the imaginary Joker and Robin Jason though, and he is also having a lot of thoughts that let us know how the Joker affects Jason.

“This is why it was stupid of me to come back to Qurac. Even to help Artemis, even if I thought I could handle it. Physically, I am alone, but in my head? I’m drowning in memories of the worst day of what was my very short life. The day I was murdered.”

That’s what Jason is thinking but what I write next is what Jason’s saying as he talks to the imaginary Joker.

“Not interested in replaying this over again, like I have every night of my life since it happened Joker”

So, we are told that Jason thinks about that day very often, the Joker might not be involved much in Jason’s books but he definitely has a bigger role inside of Jason’s head. They chat for a bit up until Jason decides to “kill” the Joker, he knows, of course, that it is not real but it does give him satisfaction. (If only they would have let Jason actually kill the clown for real, or at the very least chase him just to show the reader that Jason does actually want to finish the job since the Bat won’t do it himself).

Having said all that, Joker’s imaginary death doesn’t last long because Jason is trapped in his mind and the Joker is basically functioning on a loop inside of it.

That is where the problem lies in this issue because Jason is letting us know that he is still heavily influenced by what happened that day and that he hasn’t been able to walk away from it. But once more that’s not the worst thing, because all of these thoughts have led Jason to think that he (in the present and as a fifteen-year-old) is the one to blame for having ended up dead. Yeah, it is messed up.

This is what Jason says to imaginary Robin Jason, “He is never going to die, Jason. Not here. Not in my mind, not if at some point I don’t stand up and walk away from my memories. From you.”

This is a major downgrade, from the Jason that we had in UtRH because that Jason had moved on from the fact that he had been killed what he was looking for was for Batman to avenge his death. He had other things in mind as well, like I said before in this post Jason had a lot of things going on, killing Joker wasn’t his only plan.

And this situation (written by Lobdell) is also very different from what was going on in New 52 where Jason being influenced by the Joker was used to build a plot. This is just a writer letting us know that this “new version” of Jason hasn’t worked out his problems when it comes to his death and his killer. That means that we are going backward.

After he realizes that he was unconscious all that time and that he was being tortured he does get his shit together in order to get out of captivity and go help Artemis.

The Joker and that whole thing that happened in his mind aren’t mentioned again, it was just for the reader to know that Rebirth Jason has unsolved issues with his death.

Batman: Three Jokers #1

Oh yes, here we are, we have arrived to that dreaded book, awful writing gorgeous art. In this book, the “Joker made Jason as he is now” trope is at its full potential; Johns drives this hellish truck of a book at full speed into our homes and then ends it by giving us one of the worst takes on Jason Todd’s characterization ever.

But first, let’s talk about the Joker and Jason interaction in the first issue. As Jason and Barbara are left alone with the Joker that they came across moments ago the Joker begins talking because that’s what he does.

He says this, “I’m the loop-de-loop, the hamster-wheel-of-doom. The cycle of pain each one of you is trapped in. Take “Red Hood” here, for example. Have you ever wondered why he uses my former moniker? Who in their right mind would take on the identity of their killer? Am I right?”

He is obviously being a little shit on purpose and is waiting to see if somebody will take the bait. Jason is the first to talk and he says this: “I took it because I’m owning what you did to me. You made me into this. I will be your destruction”.

Congratulations Jason, you took the bait, and now Barbara will fight with you over it.

Jason raises his gun to “break the cycle” and Barbara is like “please don’t do it” and boy is Joker having the time of his life! Both of these idiots are playing his game, Johns really did both Jason and Barbara dirty with this.

Here is where THE problem with letting the Joker talk is. This Joker got under Jason’s skin in seconds and Barbara did nothing while it happened.

This is what the Joker had to say. “Let’s look at the facts here bat-people. I bashed this boy’s skull in. I killed this Robin” to which Jason says “You didn’t kill me, you only made me stronger” which is weird because the Joker did kill him so I don’t know what kinda comeback that was supposed to be but Joker wasn’t done because he continues by saying “Yes, you crawled from the shallow grave I left you in. You lived on to fight another day. Hurrah! You survived because of your tenacity! Or maybe… maybe I beat you to a bloody mess… I took you right to the edge… because I wanted to leave you alive.”

Great that’s where the clown is going, just fantastic, more of the “I made you” but that’s not all because the Joker tells Jason that him having hurt Jason wasn’t because he didn’t like Jason, it was all about Batman, Jason doesn’t matter.

But that’s not the worse thing that was written in this awful book, Geoff Johns seems to have felt that the trauma that Jason went through in the original “Death in the Family” story wasn’t enough because he decided to add something new.

That’s why the Joker says this next, “Do you recall what you said to me while I was breaking your head in with that crowbar? As your blood streamed into your eyes and your skull cracked? Because I cherish those words. I’ll always cherish them. ‘Please stop! Please! If you let me live, I’ll do anything you say. I’ll be your Robin’” “And look at you now my little “Red Hood” shooting up people and making Batman’s life miserable! You are my Robin!”

What a nightmare Johns decided to put Jason and Jason Nation through huh? I hate this, this is the worst thing that has ever been written in a Jason Todd story (although I can say that about many things that were written in this three-issue book).

Jason kills the Joker after he says all that, Barbara does (for some reason) try to stop him from doing it but luckily, she can’t stop Jason.

But here is the thing, Jason killing the Joker doesn’t make me feel as satisfied as I would have liked, and it doesn’t feel that way because Jason let Joker talk for far too long and what Joker said ended up getting in Jason’s head and messing with him.

Batman: Three Jokers #2

Yeah, there is no rest for us, Jason Nation, in this issue Jason goes looking for another Joker to kill and he finds one but he gets captured. Johns really had to get Jason naked for Joker to torture him mentally and physically? Johns is, himself, a major red flag but that’s not what I am here to talk about.

In this issue the Joker that captures Jason has the same things to say as the other one, DC writers really have no imagination when it comes to building conflict between Joker and Jason, huh?

Anyway, Joker says this, “tell me something. Why would you put on that helmet and call yourself Red Hood after what we did?” Jason of course replies “Come on, is every one of you copycats gonna ask me the same thing? It’s a joke” the answer isn’t enough for Joker (the two of them that are here with Jason) so he continues talking. “A joke? We left you with brain damage and permanent nerve pain. Physical and emotional trauma so severe that the only relief you ever find is when you inflict pain on others. You and me, boy, we’re more alike than you’d care to admit. But you know that already. You nearly died and you blame the Batman. You hate him for it. Me too. You hate him most of all don’t you?”

Now, here is the thing, that whole thing is bullshit, none of it makes sense. From Jason having permanent nerve pain to Jason hating Batman the most, everything is a lie. And my confusion here is that I don’t know if I have to feel like Joker is doing it on purpose to be a little bitch or if Geoff Johns was on crack when he wrote this and he had actually never heard of Jason Todd in his life before.

The whole thing is a mess, it feels like he is writing Jason from an origin and story that we never read. I don’t know how to explain it, but the whole thing feels cheap, it’s a cheap trope and it’s a cheap take on who Jason Todd is, was, and will be.

The nightmare doesn’t end Jason Nation because these two Jokers have something else in mind, you see, if they said that they made the Red Hood when they killed Jason the first time, maybe if they kill him this time then he could possibly come back as the Joker. Yeah, this book did nothing for Jason.

Let’s make something clear, Jason does NOT hate Batman/Bruce for not being able to save him, he hates the fact that Batman/Bruce didn’t kill the Joker to avenge him. That simple thing doesn’t exist in Three Jokers and that’s why things like the ones that happen next are allowed to happen in this story.

Bruce and Barbara find Jason and when Bruce asks if he is okay Jason just goes berserk, he says: “Am I all right? What do you think Bruce?! You did this to me. You put me on this path. And I do hate you for it. For leaving me in the dirt. Replacing me one Robin after another without a thought.”

This, everybody is what you get when you mix bad writing with Jason being mentally manipulated by the Joker.

It's a shame that Jason is being treated this way at this point in time, in a book that came out in 2020 when Jason was able to shut the clown up with a knife and a couple of words back in 2005. What a downgrade.

At the end of this issue, Jason is safe and recovering but he still is in the same mindset, he says, “What the Joker said about how I’ve been on the path to being like them for years… they are not wrong. I don’t want to be like them though. I really don’t.”

It’s like a never-ending wheel of pain with this book. Jason is talking to Barbara when he says that and he is trying to look for comfort in her. And here is where the Jason/Barbara subplot begins and I only bring this up because something that happens in the next issue is based on the kiss that Barbara gave Jason but then was like “that doesn’t mean anything, I was just trying to comfort you”. Johns shouldn’t be allowed to write Barbara and Jason ever again.

Batman: Three Jokers #3

It’s in this issue that we find out the big subplot that Johns has prepared for Jason, are you ready for it? Yup, Jason should stop being the Red Hood because if he keeps it up, he will eventually become the Joker.

I know, I know! Jason would never stop being Red Hood, he is not on a path to become the Joker, that’s crazy! Jason’s Red Hood is a character on its own and he is amazing and just because he has different morals from Batman doesn’t mean that he is a bad guy! Right?...

“I’ll give up being Red Hood for us. I can be something else. Or I can be just Jason.”

To this day I cannot believe that those words supposedly were written by Jason Todd to Barbara Gordon after Barbara rejected him three times. The level of “what the fuck is this” is incredibly high with this one…

This whole book was a mess and I am so glad that it didn’t last longer.

Anyway, that’s it. In conclusion, Jason didn’t let the Joker get under his skin the first time they interacted after he came back from the dead but later when DC decided that UtRH was just too good of a book they came up with stories where Joker does get under Jason’s skin and Jason becomes convinced that he has no free will (or at the very least he doubts his free will) when it comes to him becoming his own man.

As I have said before, that for Jason Todd is a major downgrade. And it's one of the many things that hurts Jason’s characterization in current comics.

[carriagelamp]

Weirdly enough, I often find myself reading less in the summer, since I have more time than I do during the rest of the year to do other things. Also artfight has been eating up more than a bit of my free time! But here’s a collection a graphic novels I sat around on the hammock reading, and some novels I finished up...

(Everyone go read All Systems Red, holy crow guys)

A Whale of the Wild

The “sequel” to A Wolf Called Wander, though it doesn’t actually connect to the previous novel except in the stylistic/thematic sense. A Whale of the Wild is very much a standalone novel. And a pretty decent one! Personally, I think I liked Wolf more, but this one was a pleasant, informative read, with just the right amount of crushing dread sprinkled in. It’s about a young orca called Vega who is learning to become a new wayfinder for her pod but who still has a lot to learn, especially in an ocean that is becoming increasingly hostile to orcas and the other sealife that live alongside humans. When a devastating earthquake hits, Vega and her little brother find themselves separated from their family, lost in a now horrifyingly unfamiliar environment, and fighting starvation as the salmon that sustain them become more and more unreliable. It’s a desperate fight for survival as they search for food and their missing family. This book is written for a middle grade level, and does a really good job of putting the current environmental crisis into an animal’s perspective while giving the readers something to hope for.

The Adventure Zone: The Crystal Kingdom

Every July I eagerly anticipate the next Adventure Zone graphic novel. This one is for their fourth arc, The Crystal Kingdom, in which Magnus, Taako, and Merle respond to a SOS from a floating laboratory that is gradually being consumed by crystals and which threatens the entire world should it fall into the ocean. Carey Pietsch’s art continues to be absolutely fantastic, so beautifully and hilariously expressive, and this one delivers some great Merle moments, lots of Carey Fangbattle, and, of course, Kravtiz. Kravitz, my beloved…

Anyway, I obviously always recommend these. If you’ve never gotten into The Adventure Zone, I totally recommend either trying these graphic novels — or even better, just go listen to the podcast because it really is both hilarious and creates a shockingly good and heart-wrenching story by the end.

All Systems Red

I’ve seen The Murderbot Diaries on my dash occasionally, and it always looked interesting, but a friend’s recommendation finally compelled me to read the first novella of the series. And holy shit y’all. Absolutely the best book I’ve read this month, it’s amazing. Mind-blowingly good. Also, if you’re like me and want a good audiobook, it’s a nice three-hour listen, very chill!

Anyway, All Systems Red is about a Security Unit, an artificially created being that’s part-organic part-mechanical and all-company-owned-and-controlled. However, self-named “Murderbot” has managed to hack into the system that suppresses its own will, and is now coasting along, doing the least amount of work its job requires not to be noticed, while preferring to spend all its time watching the hours and hours of soap operas it has downloaded into its brain. And it’s a tolerable if somewhat dull life, until the science team that it's currently rented to is attacked and the whole mission goes pear-shaped. Suddenly Murderbot has to scramble to keep its humans alive… while its humans scramble with the realization that their “SecUnit” isn’t actually a mindless robot like they had all believed...

This story is both gripping and hilariously funny. Murderbot has such a unique voice and perspective and it’s an absolute pleasure to follow its story. I reallly need to read the next book...

Asterix and the Banquet

A classic. I was startled when I realized I hadn’t actually read this Asterix story… but hell I’m not gonna complain, it lets me read one of the originals for the first time again! In this Asterix volume, the Indomitable Gauls and the Romans end up arranging a bet — the Romans intend to keep them under siege, trapped in their village, while Asterix is confident that he can easily evade them… and will prove it by going on a tour around all of Gaul, collecting iconic foods from each region in order to return and put on a fine banquet. So we get a fantastic adventure in which Asterix and Obelix run all over the country, pursued the whole way, while making cheerful stops at the various eateries along the way. Also the first book Dogmatix shows up in! All around, a wonderful read, fun like all the best Asterix comics are.

Beauty Pop v4

A less impressive graphic novel. The first Beauty Pop is one of my guilty pleasure manga because… it really is pretty stupid but in the best possible ways. I mean, the whole thing is framed around hairstyling battles, like a shojo sports manga without the sports. It’s bonkers. Unfortunately, the series does not really manage to hold up, and it really begins to feel repetitive and dragging as it continues… as a lot of series like this do. *shrug* Unsurprising but still kinda disappointing I suppose. The building three-way romantic tension is mildly interesting if for no other reason than the main character Does Not Notice and Does Not Care about any of it, which is amusing and refreshing.

FRNCK v5

Now this series only gets better and better as it goes. This is the first book of the second arc, and somehow the danger just seems to be ramping up and up and up. The cavefamily have lost their home… as well as Léonard and Gargouille. Heartbroken, shocked, and angry, Franck is the one who ends up shouldering the blame for their presumed deaths as the others mourn. Things only get worse when Franck finds himself separated from the family, and in the territory of another tribe, this one hostile and cannibalistic...

Haikyuu v5

I continue to read this series because it continues to be charming… though it is beginning to feel, maybe, just a little repetitive. Kind of an inevitability with sports manga. But so far it continues to be good enough to overcome that. I’m not sure what I can say about this series that I haven’t already, so I’ll simply say it continues to be one of the most impressive sports manga I’ve read, and the author does a fantastic job of creating engaging characters, fleshed out teams, and really compelling relationships. I do genuinely adore all the main members of Crows, along with a number of characters from the rival teams as well. And of course it has some kickass volleyball scenes that are just drawn so dramatically they can’t help but take your breath away a little.

M*A*S*H Goes To Maine

Meh. The original book of the series was actually quite good in my opinion. This one… considerably less so. The first part I enjoyed more, since it was about Hawkeye, Trapper, Duke, and Oliver Jones trying to set up the FinestKind Clinic and Fishmarket in Crabapple Cove (which… is just the best premise I could have ever asked for). However, the book spends most of its time describing the quirky lives and times of other people living in the area and I… just… don’t care. It was funny at times but… I just don’t care. I wanted to hear more about the main cast. Also I found this book felt more racist and misogynistic than the first which also put me off :/ Wouldn’t bother if I were you. Go read the first book instead, or better yet just watch the TV show which is an obvious banger.

My Heart’s in the Highlands

I have had this on my “currently reading” list for so long but I’m officially giving up. It’s a really good book in theory but my god I can’t get over the pacing.

It’s about Lady Jane, a woman studying medicine in Edinburgh in 1888, and who suddenly finds herself back in the Highlands in the 13th century. Lost and confused, Jane is now at the mercy Clan Donald’s hospitality while she tries to adjust to this new world and hunts for her broken time machine. Fortunately, this hospitality include a burgeoning friendship with a red-haired warrior woman, Ainslie nic Dòmhnaill, who opens Jane’s eyes to the way the world could be.

Listen. It drives me nuts. This book should be completely up my alley, it has everything I like — IT HAS ALL OF ITS HISTORICAL FOOTNOTES CITED AT THE BACK, LITTLE EXTRA DETAILS ABOUT EVERY CHAPTER. THAT’S MY SHIT RIGHT THERE. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LIKE BEING ABLE TO GO OVER HISTORICAL DETAILS?? AND WELL RESEARCHED FOOTNOTES?? And yet it doesn’t. Fucking. Work for me. It has a kickass Scottish warrior lady as a love interest! It has a badass lady doctor! It has fish-out-of-water culture shock! But it also has a completely meandering plot, no sense of building tension, and a romance that just happens out of nowhere and feels completely unearned and uninteresting.

I would genuinely just rather read Outlander again, which I know has its own host of problems, but at least Outlander felt exciting and interesting and tense and funny. The romance built in fits and starts, it was complicated, and kept me interested. That book had me hooked (and has me hooked every time I reread it) whereas this book I’ve been sadly picking at for months like its a plate of overcooked spinach. This felt like an attempt at a queer, historically accurate knockoff which I would normally be super into but which just could not stick the landing.

Moomin on the Riviera

My first time actually reading anything from the Moomin canon. I have zero idea how to feel about it! It certainly is as feral as I’ve heard described! Overall, I think I enjoyed it but it sure made me feel strange emotions I didn’t know existed. I’m not even going to try to describe it. Read it if you want a batshit insane anti-capitalist comic.

Surviving the City

This was good in some areas, less good in others. It had a very interesting indigenous perspective on life in the modern city, the foster system, and The Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women issue, which I’ve never seen handled in a book before. Something about the pacing did not completely click with me and I found myself getting easily distracted, but it’s definitely worth the read just to experience it and look at the issues it deals with through the characters’ (and author’s) eyes. It did give me a lot to think about and wrestle with, which is sometimes the best thing a book can give you.

Torchwood: Pack Animals

A really fun read, more so than I had ever expected! If you like Torchwood and want more stories about the team before everything goes to shit, this is perfect for that. It includes the entire cast, an interest mystery to be unravelled, lots of slavering monsters, Rhys being really wonderful and sweet (which I didn’t know I wanted until I read this book), and all the humour I expect from Torchwood. I had to send a lot of quotes to my long-suffering girlfriend who a) does not watch this show but b) needs to tolerate it because I find it too funny to keep to myself. It was good enough to make me go out another book of the series since this was the only one my library carried.

[miss-spooky-eyes]

intersection (a belated OC Kiss Week fic)

Yes, I am extremely late, but in my defense I didn't know OC Kiss Week was happening and it coincided with some insane work.

Author Notes/What to Know:

This is a fic about the (near) kisses of my IA/Cipher Nine, Devinahl, and @sunsetofdoom's Smuggler Teo. I encourage absolutely anybody & everybody to read what she's written about Teo, which you can find the most important & glorious pieces of here, here and here.

'Karia Madeesh' is the alias used by the future Cipher Nine during her adolescence as a schoolgirl spy tasked with befriending the children of important Republic figures. I think that's all you need to know, but Dev's backstory fic Riddle goes into much more detail.

Warnings: Um ... nudity? Mentions of vomiting? Extreme teenage dumbness?

Thank you thank you thank you to Sunset for lending me Teo and letting me get way, way, way too much into my feelings about him, especially his teenage depression. I hope you like it.

Further thank you thank you thank yous to @vespertine-legacy for reading various versions, encouraging me and gently correcting me on minor details like the names of my characters 😘

‘Childhood is long and narrow, like a coffin, and you can’t get out of it on your own.’ - Tove Ditlesen

Part One

New Baxeid, 3652 BBY/1 ATC

Teonine Lunulata didn’t often wish he was somewhere else. Didn’t see the point.

If he closed his eyes and opened them to find he was in a completely different place, it wouldn’t change a thing; he’d still be there.

Right now, though, he would like to be anywhere - back in his room with the door closed, preferably, but a classroom, his form tutor’s office, the gym even - other than here.

A fresh wave of shrill laughter crested over the top of the already too-noisy compartment, and Teonine winced as pain stabbed through his temples again. He huddled further back into his corner, one arm wrapped around his stomach to try to keep the length of plastic tubing from slipping out from underneath the baggy sweatshirt his mother would be furious to find out he still owned because it was so old and shapeless. Winding the tubing around his waist beneath the overlarge garment usually worked well enough to conceal it, as long as he kept his distance from people and it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to that; but he hadn’t done that good a job securing it this time, thanks to the shaky hands and the rush he’d been in, and anyone he bumped up against in the crowded carriage was going to notice something. Even if he was surrounded by idiots.

The shuttle bumped and jolted as it jerked on to the next mag-rail, eliciting more shrieks and squeals from the nearby knot of girls as the passengers swayed and clung on to each other to keep their balance. Teonine splayed the fingers of his free hand out on the wall behind him, and wished he was dead. As if the noise and the stabs of pain it elicited from his head weren’t bad enough, the smell of upwards of fifty people crammed into the compartment was rapidly becoming unignorable, even with the scented bands he wore on his tresses to keep his pheromone receptors from becoming overwhelmed. And he wished he hadn’t thought about that, because half the people in here were miners with all the sweat-and-damp-and-body odours that entailed and someone standing near him was wearing far too much perfume and he had puked up way too much way too recently for that cocktail of smells to be filling his nostrils.

Teonine swallowed down hard on a wave of bile; the dumb kids from his school standing near him might be ignoring him now, but if he threw up his guts over their jacketed backs you could bet they’d start paying attention. Don’t puke, don’t puke, he chanted silently in time with the rumbling of the shuttle on the mag-rails, don’t puke don’t puke don’t puke …

The wave of nausea abated and his insides settled down into a muttering sourness. Shivering, miserable, Teonine huddled into his corner and wished again that he was anywhere but here.

Not that it was anyone’s stupid fault but his own that he was here, of course. One day a month, the students were allowed to leave the carefully-curated grounds of the school, get on the mag-shuttle which was the only means of transport between the various different settlement bubbles on the space station, and visit New Baxeid. New Backside, as the students had inevitably christened it (quite the sophisticated wit, whoever had first thought that one up), lived up to its informal moniker; it was just a hub of offices, warehouses and what passed for upscale residences and shops which catered to the bureaucrats and corporate types who ran the mines on this system’s various lifeless planetoids and asteroids. But to the kids who spent the rest of the month inside the ergonomically-designed buildings and wandering the manicured lawns of the Pantomathia Academy (and you could guess what the students in their infinite wit and creativity did with that name), positively the finest school in Republic space for wealthy parents who wanted their kids to be able to do anything except escape, it represented the only opportunity for a monthly crumb of freedom.

Teonine usually didn’t bother going. He’d been at Pantomathia for three years already, had exhausted the possibilities of New Baxeid - at least, the bits that students were allowed to visit - within the first term, and ‘town’ weekends were usually a good opportunity for him to work on his still in relative privacy. But whatever he’d decided it was a good idea to try fermenting this time had done a number on the pipes, which had made an urgent trip into town imperative. It wouldn’t have been so bad, Teonine thought with the clinicalness of the truly hungover, if he hadn’t tried drinking the results last night despite knowing they’d started to dissolve inert plastic.

His stomach lurched at the very thought, and he pulled the cuffs of his sleeves over his balled fists, shivering. At the tender age of fifteen, Teonine had had some truly miserable hangovers, but the way he’d felt when he’d woken up this morning had taken the prize for sheer awfulness with room to spare. Only the knowledge that this was his only chance for a month to get new tubing and prevent an unthinkable future lapse in his supply could have made him crawl out of bed. Even then it hadn’t been until well after what should have been lunchtime.

Don’t think about lunch.

That was how he’d ended up in a situation he normally avoided like Talaxii foot-rot; the last shuttle to leave New Baxeid in time for the school curfew, crammed into a compartment crowded not just with weary workers and miners headed back to their residential blocks, but with the kids who thought that waiting until the very last minute to get back to the academy made them somehow cool. The ones who liked to hang back and stray down the side streets and talk about staying out past sunset, when school rumour had it that illicit and seedy nightspots catering to the transitory miner population sprang to life and stayed open till dawn. As if they’d ever dare try it.

In the frantic jostle to get on board the shuttle, Teonine had ended up getting swept to the back of the carriage with the absolute worst and dumbest kids from his class; Torsin Fralx, blond and beefy, and his cronies Voka Ginn and Fotze the Gran - all boys Teonine’s mother had gently forbade him from having anything to do with (‘If only I could believe your good influence on them would be stronger than their bad influence on you’) - and the Kel’Dor twins, Aun and Zu, whose father served with Teonine’s mother in the Senate (‘What a quaint family, really quite civilised, such a shame the way those boys play would be much too rough for you, Teonine’). They were all being particularly loud and obnoxious today, vying with each other to impress the girls who were standing next to them in a tight little huddle, Tixia and H’Rukn and the new one, pretending to ignore the boys but shrieking with laughter a little more piercingly every time Fralx did something dumb. Knowing Fralx, the girls’ laughter was going to be audible only to certain aquatic species by the time they got back to school.

None of them had acknowledged Teonine, of course, despite the fact that he was standing within a few feet of them; if Senator Lunulata’s descents upon the school (once when Fotze accidentally gave Teonine a nosebleed in gym, and then when Teonine accidentally let slip that Fralx sometimes called him ‘squid-boy’) hadn’t done the trick, the fact that their parents had absolutely warned them not to do anything to upset the offspring of such an influential politician would have. He’d been safely invisible for the best part of his three years at Pantomathia, and that was exactly how he wanted it. He just wished they wouldn’t be so fucking loud, that was all. Some people had hangovers.

‘Give it back, Voka, you kriffing herder!’ Fralx bellowed nearby, and Teonine closed his eyes, trying to pretend he couldn’t hear that voice rattling through his skull. There was the sound of scuffling feet and grunts, and a Rodian yelp before Fralx was yelling again: ‘Got it! Hey, Karia, did you see that? The skrag tried to nick my kriffing holocard! Kriffing skrag!’

Behind closed eyelids, Teonine rolled his itchy eyes in their sore sockets. Pantomathia liked to bill itself as ‘Polishing the Best and the Brightest’; in Fralx’s case, they were definitely buffing a turd.

‘Dastardly,’ said a girl’s voice, dripping with boredom.

‘Hey, hey, Karia, do you know what time it is? Do you remember I said I’d show you our game? Do you remember?’

‘Kriff’s sake, Fralx, she remembers, don’t tell the whole room,’ drawled another girl; the exaggerated Coruscant accent meant H’Rukn, who liked to pretend she didn’t come from Uphrades.

‘Yeah, it’s supposed to be a secret, you skrag.’

‘You’re the skrag, skragface!’ More scuffling feet.

‘Are we going to show her the game, or are you skrags just going to feel each other up the whole ride?’ H’Rukn again. ‘We’re nearly out of the bubble.’

‘Kriff, you’re right.’ That was Fralx. ‘Where’s the datapad? Tixia, do you have it?’

There was a momentary pause, and then Teonine heard the bored girl say again, ‘Ooh, it’s a circle that flashes. I can’t wait to tell all my friends.’

‘The circle’s just for picking the players,’ Tixia was explaining. Teonine peeked from under half-closed eyelids; the Mirialan girl had her datapad out, and was glancing suspiciously all around her in a way that would have betrayed she was up to something she shouldn’t be if anybody had been paying the slightest attention to the students at the back of the carriage. ‘Well, player, really. Then the person who gets picked, picks their player.’

‘Player for what?’ the bored girl - it was the new girl, Karia something - asked, and Tixia and H’Rukn dissolved into giggles.

‘To go in there with,’ Aun, or maybe Zu, buzzed through his antiox mask, and Teonine heard the other one rap on the back wall of the compartment.

‘The airlock?’ the new girl asked, and Tixia and H’Rukn laughed harder than ever.

‘“Take My Breath Away” is a Panty-mouth tradition,’ Fralx announced pompously. (So were bullying, self-harm and eating disorders, Teonine thought.) ‘You draw lots, and whoever loses has to pick someone to go into the airlock with, and we seal you in.’

‘And you can’t get out while the shuttle is between the bubbles,’ Ginn interjected eagerly.

‘She knows how airlocks work, skrag-for-brains,’ Tixia told him.

‘So how long till the next bubble?’

‘Seven minutes. No getting in or out.’ There was another gust of giggling.

‘So it’s an excuse to make out, except you could also both die.’

‘Someone did die once!’ Tixia exclaimed. ‘There was a power failure at the coils and the rail de-polarised and these two girls were in the airlock and the emergency hatch systems failed too -‘ This station really attracted some incompetent engineers, Teonine thought - ‘and when the repair crew came they didn’t know anybody was in there so they blew the back hatch and the girls got vented into space.’

‘Still with their hands down each other’s pants,’ H’Ruk’n added.

‘Sure, whatever.’

Teonine gave in and opened his eyes. Fralx and his minions had their backs to him, facing the girls; through a gap between their shoulders, Teonine could see Tixia, H’Ruk’n and the new girl, confronting the boys like an opposing team. Tixia and H’Ruk’n had their arms round each other’s waists like they always did, but the new girl had her hands on her hips in a way that would have looked cool and provocative on someone with hips, and which, to be fair to her, she was very nearly pulling off with the equipment at her disposal. All the kids who could grow or buy long hair were wearing it the same way that year, in absurdly long, high pigtails that were meant to imitate lekku, but hers was cut short in a profusion of seemingly careless flicks and spikes, and dyed a violent blood orange. She had on a synthleather jacket like the spacers Teonine had sometimes seen in New Baxeid, and tight pants, and she had enough piercings in her nose and elaborate cuffs on her ears to almost camouflage the cybernetic implants that looped her ears and extended delicate silvery arms almost to the corners of her eyes.

Karia Madeesh, that was her name, and she looked just as cocky and pleased with herself now as she had when the form tutor had introduced her to the class with an injunction to make her feel at home and ease the difficult transition between schools while she stood there running her eyes over them all like she was trying to decide who was cool enough to hang out with her.

Usually that sort of thing would get you eaten alive at the Academy. But because everybody had already heard that the new girl had got kicked out of her last school, and who knew how many before that, they were all agog to find out exactly what she’d done; and when she acted like she didn’t even want to know them, that sealed the deal, because these were some of the smartest, best-educated morons in the galaxy.

‘It did happen,’ Fotze was insisting, braying through his nostrils the way he always did when he was blustering. ‘My brood-uncle Gakze was here twenty years ago and he said -’

‘No, yeah, I’m sure you’re right,’ Karia said, examining the orange-painted fingernails of one hand. ‘I’m sure it’s a really dangerous game of … kissing.’

‘Like you wouldn’t be scared to go in there,’ Fralx scoffed, rapping his knuckles on the emergency hatch in the back wall of the carriage.

Karia shrugged. ‘I think I could just about handle it.’

‘So do it, new girl.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Don’t you need your little flashing circle to pick a player?’

‘Usually. But since it’s your first shuttle ride, and since it’s all so tame and juvenile, I think you should go in.’

‘Torsin,’ Voka whined.

‘Shut up.’ Fralx had stepped forward, and Teonine had seen him on the edge of losing his temper enough times to be able to picture the look on his face with perfect clarity. ‘So? Are you going to go in there, or what?’

Karia inspected her fingernails again, flicked some stray lint off her sleeve, tossed her hair out of her eyes and said: ‘Fine, I’ll do it.’ Teonine saw the set of Fralx’s beefy shoulders relax, and was laying his own head back against the wall, losing interest again, when she added: ‘With him.’

Teonine saw every head whip round to follow her pointing finger, and reflexively looked round himself, with the result that his cheek and nose collided with the wall his head was leaning on. There was a hot bloom of pain in his face and a cold lurch of nausea in his stomach and he staggered away from the wall a little, then - idiotically - looked back at the wall again, as if there could somehow be somebody standing behind him.

Fralx’s mouth was open and he was spluttering, apparently lost for words, and a very small, very secret part of Teonine took a mental snapshot of that image. The rest of him was still trying to turn around and look behind him again.

Karia sidestepped Fralx and took two or three steps towards Teonine and the chances that this was some galaxy-sized misunderstanding were further reduced as she looked at him curiously and said, ‘Teonine, right?’

‘Um,’ Teonine said. After a couple of seconds, some neurons kicked into gear in his faltering brain, suggesting that wasn’t enough of an answer, so he added: ‘Er.’

She smiled at him, or at least started to, before she clearly registered the noises he’d made in lieu of words and the smile sort of slid off the side of her mouth. ‘Um … OK?’ She tilted her head to one side, caught somewhere between amusement and confusion. ‘You know about the game, right? So … do you want to?’

Did he want to? Did he want to? Did he want to -? Teonine wasn’t used to being asked what he wanted, except by grown-ups sometimes - visiting professors and more-or-less distant relatives and connections of his mother’s - and that was always ‘What do you want to do when you grow up?’ and that question was always just a cloak for what they really wanted to know, which was ‘Are you going to fall in line or not?’.

Sometimes he thought about wanting, how it worked, what it must feel like: Like a tug inside, a finger hooking itself inside your waistband, pulling you onwards. Sometimes he thought he could sense wanting by its absence, but that wasn’t better, it just left him feeling like a speeder bike with no ignition key.

He might have felt the tug or not, standing there in front of a cool, pretty girl who’d just asked him in front of everyone to make out with her, but he had no idea how he was supposed to know when his whole body was ringing like a bell with the shock and the heat of being spoken to, looked at, picked.

He didn’t know what he wanted.

He knew he didn't want to say no.

So he said: ‘Yeah. OK.’

She smiled and rolled her eyes at him, but not in a mean way, more like she was inviting him to laugh with her at how stupid everything was, and that made him feel another new thing, like something that had been tightly wound in his chest was unspooling, like he might be turning all sorts of colours on the inside. ‘Well, come on then.’

She reached out and took his hand, just like that, like it was a thing anybody could just do; and led him through the centre of the loose knot of kids, pulling him confidently after her, towards the back right corner of the carriage. Teonine heard a few disbelieving mutters and splutters, but for the most part the kids were silent, silent as Fralx, who seemed to have stiffened into statue-like immobility. Not silent because they were avoiding speaking to him in case they upset Senator Lunulata’s precious boy, but silent like they genuinely didn’t know what to say, like they were truly confounded. And to the complex cocktail of emotions Teonine was conscious of experiencing was added a secret squirm of shameful pleasure at how much he was enjoying that.

Voka Ginn hesitated, looking uncertainly over at Fralx, but Karia raised her eyebrows at him and he knelt down by the emergency hatch, connecting his datapad to the controls and tapping in a few commands (slicing, isolating and slaving controls like these was something even the lowest-achieving pupil at Pantomathia’s computer science classes could do). The hatch cover jolted slightly as it sprang free, and Voka moved quickly to catch it before it could fall on to the floor, although it was hardly likely that anyone in the crowded, noisy compartment would hear it if it did, or bother pushing their way through the tightly-packed passengers to investigate.

Karia raised her eyebrows again, at him this time, and feeling like he was lost in a place he was supposed to recognise, Teonine let go of her hand, knelt down and crawled through the hatch.

He had to release his grasp on the tubing hidden underneath his sweatshirt as he did so, and as he made it through the hatch, it started to slip free, one end of it uncoiling and snaking down towards the floor. Hurriedly he grabbed it and tucked it back into place as he got to his feet, just in time as Karia crawled through after him.

Teonine only had time to register a confused impression of the inside of the airlock - grimy metal, a few nets hanging from nails on the wall as if things had once been stored in here and secured in case of ventilation - when the light shining through the entryway was suddenly extinguished as Voka Ginn replaced the hatch after them.

It was … dark. Teonine probably should have been expecting that - why would there be lights inside an airlock? - but in his agitated state the suddenness of it came as a shock which ratcheted his panic up another notch. In a few moments his eyes would have adjusted, but for now all he could make out was the dim movement that was Karia getting to her feet.

‘Cosy,’ he heard her say with casual sarcasm.

It was small - which, of course it was, why would an emergency airlock on a groundside mag-shuttle be big - but the design rationale didn’t make Teonine feel any better about the size of it. It was the same width as the compartment, of course, but in length it was narrow; Teonine reached out with the hand that wasn’t currently keeping the tubing from falling out of his sweatshirt and felt his palm flatten against the back panel of the shuttle. It was rattling faintly, which was not reassuring; right now, if the maglocks that kept it shut were to fail, they would still be able to breathe the air and feel the warmth of New Baxeid’s atmospheric bubble, but in a few seconds …

As if on cue, there was a faint sucking thunk from both the panel at the back and the direction of the hatch, and a familiar shudder ran through the floor.

‘We’re out of the bubble.’ He had tried to speak quietly, to keep it from being startlingly loud in the quiet, but the words came out in more of a terrified whisper.

‘I guess our seven minutes starts now.’ He saw the fugitive gleam of Karia’s implants as she turned her head from side to side as if trying to survey the space.

His own eyes were rapidly adjusting to the darkness, and he looked around him. What he saw was not particularly encouraging. There were big patches of sealant in several places as if covering up places where the metal seams had begun to part, and, worse, none of them seemed particularly fresh. The control panel in the corner, which would instruct the back panel whether or not to open into the hard vacuum of space, had a distinctly jerry-rigged look; Teonine was almost sure there were a couple of loose wires hanging from it, and the floor and walls in the other corner seemed to be darker than the rest of the airlock, as if blackened by fire. Teonine wondered whether he’d been too quick to dismiss the story of the girls who died in here during a game of ‘Take My Breath Away’ as a school legend.

As if reading his mind, Karia said: ‘Wow. We really might die in here.’

He blinked. ‘Wait - you can see?’

‘A bit.’ He saw her hand come up to point at her implants, and a wave of several different perfumes hit him at once, somehow. ‘Magic eyes. Courtesy of Mom and Dad.’

‘Oh. I guess mine are too. From my parents, I mean.’

She giggled as if his weak joke had been a lot funnier than it was. ‘So how much can you see in this light? How many fingers am I holding up?’

Teonine didn’t need to be able to see in the dark for that. ‘One. The middle one.’

‘Oh yeah?’ She thrust her hand in front of his face, trying to cover his eyes with her spread fingers while she waved the other one. ‘How about now?’

Teonine’s senses were suddenly flooded by conflicting chemical scents; he jerked his head away instinctively, choked on a hasty breath.

‘Hey - you OK?’ She drew back, looking concerned.

‘Yeah,’ Teonine said breathlessly, still trying to force down the choke that pinched at each inhalation. ‘Sorry - the perfume -’

‘Huh? Oh. Yeah, we were testing them out at the store, you know, Largxel’s? I guess we put on kind of a lot.’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘I can’t even smell them any more. Is it awful?’

‘No, it’s just - a lot -’

‘Maybe it’ll help if it’s just one scent. Hang on.’ She pushed up her jacket sleeves and sniffed at her wrists and forearms. Teonine saw dark slashes streaking her skin, and thought for a wild second they were wounds, but then realised they were cosmetics of different shades, sampled on her forearms and the backs of her hands. ‘Here - I think this one’s the nicest. Just try to smell that.’

She lifted her right wrist to his face, so close in front of his nose that it almost grazed her skin; his head swam again.

‘Just breathe,’ she told him, her voice carrying such authority that he automatically did what he was told, concentrating on the strongest scent, the perfume she’d told him was the nicest. He knew he knew the different components of it, the creamy notes on top and the earthy, dried body, but he couldn’t put the right names to them; he just concentrated on breathing them in, focusing on that one scent as, slowly, his overwhelmed senses calmed down.

‘Better?’ she asked him, still holding her wrist up to his face.

‘Mmm-hmmm.’ Teonine wanted to nod, but he knew if he did his nose would touch her skin, so he tried to shrug with his body while keeping his head perfectly still. ‘Yeah. How did you know that would work?’

‘When I got my implants …’ She trailed off, and then gave him a wry smile, finally pulling her wrist away from his face. ‘Let’s just say I get it. Being overwhelmed by something other people are barely aware of.’

‘Oh.’ Teonine had heard the other kids circulating some story about how she got the implants; something about needing them to repair damage sustained in some Imperial bombing, some outpost somewhere where her parents were serving, he hadn’t really been listening. ‘Do they - I mean, did it hurt?’

She gave a one-shouldered shrug. ‘You just have to focus on one thing, and shut out everything else. Everything’s fine when you learn to do that.’ She lifted one hand as if to touch his tresses, but stopped short. ‘Aren’t those band-things supposed to filter out … stuff?’

Teonine fought the urge to flick them back over his shoulders. ‘They block. They don’t filter. But sometimes -’

‘I get it. Making a mental note not to wear seven different perfumes next time I go to make out with a Nautolan.’

Teonine had almost been starting to, if not relax, then unwind slightly, but at the mention of making out his hearts jumped so hard he felt as if he’d been punched in both sides of his chest simultaneously.

‘I haven’t, you know. Made out with a Nautolan before.’ She was definitely standing closer to him than she had been before. ‘Have you? Made out with a human?’

‘Uh -’ Teonine felt like distant areas of his brain were fusing together. ‘I - um -’

‘But you’ve, you know. You’ve done this before.’ Karia laid it out like a statement, but it was unmistakably a question.

The air was definitely getting thinner in here. ‘I don’t -’ He didn’t know how to explain that he avoided the dumb kids that played this game, avoided being on this shuttle, avoided everything. ‘I never got picked before.’

‘Yeah, but you don’t have to go into a dark airlock to kiss someone. You can just, you know, kiss them.’

When she made it sound so simple it was difficult to point out that maybe she could, but he couldn’t. Teonine floundered, trying to figure out what he could say that would convey how hopelessly out of his depth he was without betraying, well, how hopelessly out of his depth he was.

He got as far as ‘Um -’

‘So you’ve never kissed anyone. That’s cute.’ She adjusted her stance, shifting closer into him; he felt her torso brush against the arm he still had wrapped around his front, clutching on to the tubing concealed beneath his shirt. ‘Do you want to?’

There was that question again.

He felt the faintest tug as Karia curled her fingers into the front of his sweatshirt, not pulling, just resting there. Now he couldn’t smell anything but the perfume she’d got him to focus on; it seemed to envelop them both like a cloud, cutting them off from the rest of the galaxy. She was looking up at him, her head tilted back and her expression soft, and she was -

She was really pretty.

The thought took hold of him so suddenly he felt as if the ground had dropped away from beneath his feet; maybe he could do what she obviously expected him to, just bend down and kiss her, just as easily as she had taken his hand before. Maybe he could just lean down and put his lips on hers and let whatever happened, happen. Maybe it really could be that simple …

He didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, definitely almost about to do it, when she tilted her head to one side, looked up at him through her eyelashes, and said, ‘You know, I bet your mom would hate it if she knew you were in here with me.’

Just like that, whatever Teonine had been tentatively feeling was erased as if it had never been. ‘What?’ he said, too loudly.

‘Isn’t she some big-time senator? I bet she’d hate it if she knew her son was alone in a little dark airlock with me.’ Karia’s hand in his sweatshirt tugged lightly, teasing. ‘Did she warn you to stay away from me?’

In point of fact, Senator Lunulata had called before Karia even arrived at the school to warn Teonine to avoid her (‘She’s the kind of misguided young woman who could seriously impede the pursuit of your goals, sweetheart’). But Teonine didn’t feel the smallest desire to tell Karia that. His hangover had suddenly returned in full force, hammering in his temples and lurching in his stomach and hot little prickles breaking out all over his skin, and all he wanted was to crawl into his bed, or at least out of this airlock.

Karia’s hand released its grip on his sweatshirt; numbly, he could feel it travelling slowly up his chest. ‘Did she tell you I was a bad girl?’

There was a distant lurch of the shuttle on the rails, and Teonine’s stomach heaved in tandem; he squeezed his eyes shut for a brief second and managed not to be sick, but it made him feel like he was falling backwards. He opened his eyes, but the falling continued.

Her hand was sliding around his collar now, towards the back of his neck, and her face seemed closer, somehow. ‘Do you know why they call me a bad girl, little fish?’

He shook his head, unable to open his mouth for fear he’d be sick. The floor of the airlock seemed to be sliding out from under his feet, tipping him backwards, and there was a faint whistling sound like air was escaping somewhere.

Her hand was pushing against the back of his neck, tugging his head downwards, and he felt her breath against his jaw as she whispered: ‘Wouldn’t you like to?’

The shuttle swayed again, and his stomach was yanked out from under him, and Teonine fell.

*

There was something cold and metal behind his head, and a raised voice. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled automatically.

‘What?’ A girl’s voice. Panicked. ‘What did you say? Are you OK?’

‘Sorry,’ Teonine said again. There was cold metal underneath his legs and butt too, and it seemed to be rumbling and jolting. He put out a hand, and felt more metal, vibrating under his hand with an unmistakable rhythm.

Shuttle. The word set up a train of associations in Teonine’s mind. Shuttle. Airlock. Dark. Cramped. And …

‘Oh fuck.’ He put both hands on his face, and felt how cold and clammy his skin was. ‘Oh fuck.’

‘Dude, you have got to tell me if you’re OK.’

Teonine opened his eyes. He was half-sitting, half-leaning against the bulkhead which had been behind him, his legs sprawled out on the floor in front of him; and kneeling between them, looking scared, was Karia.

‘Are you all right?’ she demanded.

He’d fainted. A girl had tried to kiss him, and he’d fainted.

‘I’m OK. I’m fine.’ He pushed himself backwards, or tried to, but his hands slipped, too damp to get a purchase on the grimy metal floor. ‘Sorry.’

‘You just went down.’ She was pale, and the darkness of the airlock drained the colour from her virulently orange hair. ‘I was just - and then I saw all these colours go off on your, your things -’ She gestured to his shoulder. ‘And then you just went really green and you - you passed out.’

Clearly, his protective colouration had kicked in, a display to warn away predators. Teonine didn’t even have the energy to feel embarrassed about that, even though to another Nautolan it would be the equivalent of pissing his pants. He shifted. No, at least he hadn’t done that. ‘I’m OK.’

‘Are you sure?’ She reached a hand towards his head. ‘You still look pale -’

Teonine flinched away; he thought he might actually die on the spot if she touched him right now. ‘It’s OK, it’s just - I was -’ He sought wildly for an excuse. ‘I’m - I guess I panicked. I’m claustrophobic.’

In the half-light, he thought she gave him a strange look, but what she said was: ‘Oh. Oh shit.’ She scooted backwards towards the other end of the airlock, giving him as much space as she could. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Teonine passed a hand over his clammy forehead; the pain in his temples had subsided to a dull but persistent throbbing. ‘I mean, you didn’t know.’

‘Yeah, but I ask you to come in here, I put you on the spot in front of everybody -’ She waved her hand at the wall adjoining the rest of the compartment.

Teonine wouldn’t have believed his spirits could sink any lower, but at the reminder that the rest of the kids from their class were on the other side of the partition, waiting with bated breath to hear what had happened on this side, they slipped another few notches.

Karia clearly picked up that she wasn’t helping, because she cut herself off in mid-sentence, eyed him warily for a second. ‘Don’t worry. Just breathe, OK?’ She checked her wrist chronometer. ‘We’ll be inside the school’s bubble in a couple of minutes, and then you can get out.’

Get out and begin the rest of his academic career as the freak Nautolan who fainted when a girl tried to kiss him. And to think that this morning he’d genuinely believed his life couldn’t get any worse.

Karia was rooting in her shoulder bag. ‘I really thought I had some water in here. Do you have any? You should have some water.’

‘Huh? No. I don’t have any.’

‘That’s ironic,’ she said nervously. ‘You’re, like, a fish out of water. A fish out of -’ She caught his eye. ‘Never mind.’ She sat back against the wall, hugging her knees, mirroring Teonine’s posture. ‘Are you sure you’re OK? You really don’t look so good.’

‘I’m fine.’ Seeing her sit like that made Teonine suddenly realise he was missing something. He bolted upright, patting down the front of his sweatshirt -

‘Looking for this?’ Karia held up one end of the plastic tubing. It had clearly come loose and slithered out onto the floor.

‘Uh - yeah.’

‘I nearly had a heart attack when I saw it coming out from underneath your sweatshirt. I thought it was, like, your weird Nautolan intestines or something. Or your dick.’

Teonine, caught mid-inhalation, spluttered. His head throbbed again. ‘Thanks.’ He yanked the tubing towards him. ‘It’s - uh - I need it for class - it's a science project -’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Just tell me if you’re building a bomb to blow up the school. I’ll help.’

Teonine smiled weakly. ‘It’s nothing. I - well - I’ll show you sometime.’

‘Sure you will, little fish.’ Karia glanced at her wrist again. ‘We really are nearly out, I promise.’

‘No, it’s OK, I just -’ Teonine broke off, biting his lip.

She looked concerned again. ‘What? What’s up?’

Could you maybe not tell everyone - not tell anyone - about that thing where I fainted on you? He couldn’t even muster up the energy to try to form the words, despite the growing knot in his stomach when he thought about the looks on Fralx and Fotze’s faces. ‘Nothing.’ He leaned his head back against the wall and longed for his bed.

Distantly he heard her say, ‘It’s OK, you know. I’m not going to say anything.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Teonine mumbled.

‘I mean it,’ she insisted. ‘We just won’t say anything about what we did.’

‘Then they’ll assume I freaked out or did something weird,’ Teonine said wearily. ‘It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.’

‘You know what? You’re right. It is fine. Because I’m going to fix it.’ She clapped her hands, startling Teonine out of his daze, and jumped to her feet. ‘Give me a sec.’

Puzzled, he watched as she ran her hands violently through her short blood-orange hair until it lost its carefully-defined flicks and stood out from her head in a fuzzy sort of way. Then she undid the second-to-top button on her shirt. Lastly, she did a weird sort of dance on the spot, jumping up and down vigorously and slapping her cheeks.

‘What are you doing?’ Teonine asked.

‘Trust me.’ She stood stock still for a minute, and Teonine thought she was mouthing something at him, until he realised she was trapping her bottom lip between her teeth and scraping her top teeth over it.

Then she dug in her bag and pulled out a shiny tube of something - lipstick, Teonine realised, as she opened it and scrutinised the colour. She smudged some on her thumb and carefully dabbed her lips with it, then turned to Teonine. ‘Up.’

He pulled his feet in and slid his back up the wall until he was standing; his head swum a little, but he stayed upright. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Making you look the right kind of mess.’ She painted more lipstick on her thumb, reached out to touch him and then hesitated. ‘May I?’

Teonine still didn’t know what she was doing, but he nodded anyway.

She reached out and carefully brushed her thumb against the corner of his mouth, then, seemingly as an afterthought, smudged it against the collar of his sweatshirt. She scrutinised him narrowly, then, apparently satisfied, nodded and put the lipstick into her pocket.

‘Now,’ she instructed, ‘when we get out there, just wipe it off with the back of your hand and look embarrassed.’

Teonine touched the corner of his mouth gingerly with his fingertip. ‘That part’s not going to be a problem.’

‘If somebody asks you what we did in here -’

‘They won’t.’

‘- Just don’t say anything and act like you’re too cool to talk about it. I’ll handle the rest. Trust me, I know just what to say.’

Karia looked down at the tubing he was still holding. ‘Should we try and stash this? Or fit it in my bag? No,’ she decided, ‘stick it back up your sweatshirt. If anybody looks, they’ll just think you’re trying to cover up a boner.’

Teonine, trying to wrap the tubing back around his midriff, choked again and dropped one end.

Karia rolled her eyes and stooped to pick it up. ‘Oh, come here.’

‘Thanks,’ Teonine mumbled, head swimming again as she turned him around with a hand on his shoulder, then back to face her again, wrapping the tubing around his abdomen where it could be concealed by his baggy sweatshirt. ‘You don’t have to … Thanks.’

‘One thing about me, little fish? I might get my friends into trouble, but I always get them out of it.’ She tucked the end of the tube underneath the coils. ‘There. That should be OK until you get back to your room. I’d tell you to go straight back there, but you always do.’

Teonine knew she was trying to make him smile. He knew he should want to smile. Instead, he said, too loudly: ‘You don’t have to be nice to me, you know.’

She laughed, picking up her bag and swinging it over her shoulder. ‘Yes, I do,’ she said, briskly. ‘If only because I triggered your … claustrophobia.’

A shudder passed through the floor and walls, and Teonine heard the faint thunk of seals relaxing, pressure equalising, as the shuttle passed through the atmospheric shield and into the school’s bubble.

Karia was already kneeling by the hatch. She turned to look back at him over her shoulder. ‘There’s another reason, of course,’ she said provocatively. ‘For being nice to you.’

Teonine tensed. ‘What?’

‘Well, you owe me one now, little fish.’ She winked at him. ‘Don’t forget, will you? I know I won’t.’

Teonine knew she was teasing, but as he squatted down beside her and waited for Voka Ginn to unseal the hatch, he felt the familiar, leaden weight of obligation settling into his stomach.

*

Part Two here.

[onisiondrama]

(Note: I’m not repeating stories he’s told before and just putting them in parenthesis. I have a lot more videos to go until I’m caught up so that would save me a lot of time. If he gives details I never heard from him before, I will type those.)

“I Figured Something Out” Sept 24, 2020 Speaks

- Says he likes to make videos pointing out his flaws because when he realizes he was doing something wrong, he likes to point it out and move on. You shouldn’t bottle things up. - Says when he started making these video he was angry and over time he winded down. - Begs his follower to look into the Regina / Adam thing. Says Regina pretended to be a transgender person named Adam. He says he was told this by a friend of someone he loves, by someone he loves, by a Hansen insider, and two other people who looked into it. They fabricated a person and a story. He says it’s gross. He says he doesn’t know exactly what was said because he doesn’t watch those videos. - Says he recently watched a beautiful, capable, smart women talk about cancel culture and drama. She’s a republican who doesn’t believe in the far right or left. Says most people go with the flow, but she’s an individual. He says he didn’t care there were things she said that he disagreed with because of the way she spoke. He says when he talks to people online, he has to remember you’re not that different. We all have feelings and people are less reasonable in your opinion if you don’t approach them reasonably. He says he is too harsh and mean in his videos, unlike the women. He understands you’re not supposed to sugarcoat the truth, but other people have feelings. - (People are after him because he hurt their feelings.) - Brings up Regina again. He says he doesn’t know what their problem is because he never talked to them. Says there’s sincere mental illness sprinkled around the internet and it’s proven if you put Regina and Adam side by side. He says he hasn’t watch the videos side by side, but he’s seen photos. He says he doesn’t know how this got past the filters and how people can be so negligent to the truth. He says that’s what happens when you let anyone on a show. People come on to troll or to project their issues. - He says people who watched him may have felt talked down to. He says he spoke like that because he felt like his audience turned on him before he had a chance to explain why it was all ridiculous. He felt it was unintelligent for people to assume it was the truth, but he was in a situation where he was threatened with divorce if he talked. He was stuck between being the bigger person and staying silent while he was building up frustration seeing what people were saying about him. - Says if the Regina and Adam thing is true, it’s the funniest disaster that ever occurred on social media. People were saying there’s all these victims and one of them turns out to be someone dressing up as a new person. It’s bad enough people can fake texts, but when you fake a whole person that’s another level of crazy. He says he almost feels blessed to be subjected to that level of comedy. He says it’s clinically insane for someone to do that with a straight face. He says he never even heard of Adam. - When his marriage was on the rocks because of cuddlegate, he told Billie he wanted to be alone. Billie tried to work it out with him. Says that’s evil step-mom, homewrecker stuff. [I’m pretty sure he’s talking about when he made the fake divorce video and she contacted him.] Says he had the opportunity to run away and abandon his family. He chose to stay because he doesn’t want to be that dad that choses his lustful side over his heart. He broke down crying at one point because he almost let down his family and he almost lost them. He didn’t talk to Billie for a few months after cuddlegate until Kai was like “uwu”. He says he told Kai it was a bad idea and it ended horribly. Says he’s done better than his dad and numerous other dads. - Says he doesn’t speak to people in his life as respectfully as he should. - Anyone in his shoes would be just as bitter and angry as he was. Some people wouldn’t even be alive. He lashed out because he didn’t get a fair chance. People won’t do a charity stream with him. - Once he told his full side in videos, people didn’t want to interview him anymore because he didn’t seem crazy anymore. - Says he was part of the mob against Chris Brown. He said he’s had people scream in his face and he didn’t do anything illegal to them. He called the cops on them. - (Patreon ban, he didn’t dox on purpose) - He says he wants to get rid of boob squeeze because it’s cringey to him. [thank god!]

“My Social Life- Before And After COVID” Sept 25, 2020, Speaks

- (Chris Hansen covid cure) - Says before COVID he stopped going out in public because people were taking picture of his children and posting them to the internet. An employee at Lowes and at Dairy Queen took photos of his children. He’s protective of them. A man [Hansen] showed up to his house when his kids were home. - He was thankful when COVID hit because people would stay away from him. He’s happy he has to wear a mask. He was wearing a different disguise in public before the masks. - (Kai threatened divorce if he spoke) - Says people’s emotions and mental illness cloud their memories. He conquered that when he was 17. A girl dumped him and he told her she was a monster. This was before people would seek clout so it was just between them. He says he supports her breaking up with him because they weren’t meant to be. - Seeing how crazy Seattle and society has gotten, he doesn’t want to be apart of it.  - He was socially lynched without going to court. (Mike went to court) - COVID gave him on excuse to avoid everyone and family members. He says COVID is horrible and people have died, but for him it came at an interesting time. He compares it to when a kid bullied him really hard in elementary school and died in a sledding accident. Says some dude or chick in a truck hit the kid. He says another time a guy was bullying him hard and that guy died in a motorcycle accident. He gave his helmet to his girlfriend. He died a hero. He gave up his life for someone. He was handsome and had his life ahead of him. - Says according to his mother, his father got a women killed by not giving her a helmet. He kept it for himself. His father also allegedly slept with his cousin. His dad tried to sue him and failed. Three of his family member accused his father of being a predator. - A reporter interviewed his father and his father acted like a hero.  - His mom is the one who left his dad. He says she didn’t have to fight for custody so there’s no motivation for her to lie. - (beat up his dad story) - Criminal experts will agree with him to follow the money in cases because money is the root of all evil. Like a news station that will make more money by making a monster instead of telling a true story. It is not profitable to tell both sides. - People like black and white stores, not stories where both people make mistakes. - He love isolation. He was covered in his father’s blood when he went to juvie. His white shirt was brown with dry blood. He was happy to be there because he was away from people and life was simpler. Everybody in there was flawed, which is better than being with his hypocrite god-loving father. Typical Seventh Day Adventist garbage. Greg says he was one as well. When he was 13 he prayed and told god he wanted nothing to do with him. Many amazing things happened to him after that. - Says you have a lot of drifters who came and destroyed someone consistent in you life, then they left. He was that consistent person. He was making hundreds of videos and entertaining thousands of people per video. Now he’s down to 900 to 3,000 views per video. They came, they destroyed, they left. They destroyed someone you connected with, had a real bond with. A lot of you cheered them on as they did this and then they left. Now you’re left with the same person, but he’s more broken. He believed in good people before, but now that he was dragged down into dirt, he has dirt in his eyes. He can’t see the sun or trees. He can just see dark and sadness. He still feels your spit on his face from when you millions of people beat him senseless socially. - He says he saw a legitimate news source says there was an FBI investigation about him. Says the FBI never contacted him. - Leafy recently suggested he should become an actor. He compares it to Kevin Spacey. Says it would be sad to lose a netflix show or a movie deal because of people saying things about you. He says imagine people who were going to be on that show with you stop talking to you because they don’t want to be dragged down with you. He’s glad he wasn’t that big when he fell because it would have hurt more. Now he gets to be a no one who knows who he really is when most people live in an alternate reality. - When he lost BillyTheFridge as a friend, he didn’t lose anything because Billy was a fake friend. Billy wanted to be a white knight. Joe and Anastasia were great friends and wanted to still talk to him. Billy later on realized James wasn’t as evil as he thought and invited him to lunch with them. Says he (James) backed out and decided to stop talking to all of them. He says it’s sad he lost Joe and Anastasia as friends, but he didn’t want to drag them into the drama and make their lives more miserable. Having friends was a burden and he didn’t want them to hurt. - (Regina / Adam) Dobs is barking. - He feels like this whole thing is a grand opportunity to look at things the way they are. He doesn’t trust anyone anymore and he doesn’t believe in friendships anymore. - He swears on his life he’s more honest than Sarah, Billie, and Shiloh.

[solarcelest]

Show Time

How Tim was somehow the one that drew the short straw when there was so many other damn people that could have taken the brat, he didn’t know. But somehow, karma for something he must have done, he had the responsibility of bringing the demon to the doctors. Apparently, no one cared that Tim was currently without a spleen.

That’s how he found himself, sitting in a pediatric waiting room, hissing at a sick ten year old to shut up and behave. Leslie’s clinic would have been the first option, but this was an illness Damian had caught from his germ infested elementary school, and they had been forced to keep up appearances.

The meeting with the doctor was short and quick, thank god, and after a quick swab to the back of the nose, it was confirmed Damian had the flu. The strain had been going around for a while and because no one had brought the kid to get his vaccination (Alfred would be furious), he had contracted a rather nasty case.

After setting an order for the antibiotics and popping a few of his own for his spleen, Tim had to literally carry the kid from the office. Not that he would ever admit it, but the action made him nervous, whether the doctor said it was normal for little kids to lose the ability to walk during the flu or not. It scared him even more that according to the pediatrician, Damian still fit under the ‘little kid’ category.

It was late at night, nearly eight on a Thursday (because that’s when the brat deemed it a convenient time to start dying), when they started towards the car. The other bats would be patrolling soon, if they weren’t already, while Alfred manned the coms and Tim got stuck trying to wrangle a kid into a car seat so they could go to the twenty four hour CVS around the corner. It took him longer than he would have liked to admit to finish, but Tim could only be grateful Damian was asleep. If the kid hadn’t been, and was a little more coherent, Tim would not be coming away unscathed.

He shut the back door and moved around the car to driver’s seat, palming his keys in his hand. There was a sudden crunch.

It sounded like feet on gravel, or drying dirt, coming from somewhere beyond the tall bundle of spring flowers that lay, now suspiciously, in front of the car. Tim pauses, ears and eyes alert, body in a ready stance as he listened.

One minute, two, there was nothing. No sound, no movement, no indication that there was anyone other than a zonked our ten year old for company in the abandoned parking lot.

Still cautious, he proceeds to open the door to the driver’s seat and climbs in. The whole process is surprisingly rather anti-climactic. As is the drive to the pharmacy, and the little old lady in the drive through prescription pick up window. The entire ordeal goes without a hitch until they’re on cruise down the interstate home.

A cop car, the only car for a while at this time on night during the week, comes seemingly out of no where, light flashing and siren blaring. The car looks like the typical GCPD car and Tim sighs. There are two options here, either it Jim Gordon, or someone is being really rude about his two day expired inspection sticker.

He pulls over after a quick check in the review mirror. The sirens are loud and Damian’s a light sleeper, he’s beginning to stir and wriggle uncomfortably in his seat. Tim’s growing more annoyed as the night grows on.

The cop slows to a stop behind them, two cops (so not Gordan, then) exit the car and come to the driver’s window.

“ Look guys, I get inspections are important but I’ve got a sick kid in the back-“ Tim starts as soon as he thinks the cops are near enough to hear him. He’s blabbering, he knows, but he’s had enough of sick kids and their bullshit and really just wants to go back to the case he was working on earlier. A fresh cup of some hot coffee sounds terry good too.

The cops are oddly silent, standing so close to the cars open window that Tims view of their heads is cut off. One of them appears male, arms crossed over his chest ass he stands closer to the back door. The other, a women by her build, standing directly infant of Tim window, hand resting near her waist.

it takes longer than he should Tim was being naive and had been giving the cops of the benefit of the doubt, but warning bells begin to blare in the back of his head. The cops are two silent, their GCPD badged look to be made out of plastic instead of metal and the male is too close to Damian for Tim’s comfort.

He feels stupid that he didn’t realize the threat earlier, and his hand immidialaty goes to the panic button on his belt as he hurries to slam his foot back into the gas. the movements are a moment too soon, they are rushed and sloppy. his foots lips over the gas pedal before the car has even moved an inch, he thinks he hit the right button on his belt, but he doesn’t have much time to think about it all before the cop lady reaches for her taser and everything goes black.

***

Waking up in warehouses shouldn’t come as shock anymore. It doesn’t really, if Tim’s being honest with himself its become more of an annoyance. But there’s something almost admirabely creative about pretending to be cops in order to bag a couple rich kids. Tim appreciates the irony, even if only a little bit.

What he does not appreciate, is the literal bag over his head, and the duck tape closed over his mouth thats both itchy making it hard to breathe.

Tim’s body aches, sore from the electricity of the taser. It’s because of this, and his lack of coffee, that it takes Tim a moment to shake the bag off his head. As soon as the musty fabric is finally thrown to the floor, he’s reminded of something very important.

About ten feet away, facing Tim, sits Damian. His wrists and ankles are tied to the chair. The kid doesn’t have bag on his head, or, if he did, he was a lot faster than Tim at removing it. Damian’s eyes are half lidded and his skin is frightfully pale. He’s got sweet dripping from his mussed hair but he’s shivering with fever.

Tim is seething.

Its one thing to kidnap Tim, its even more ballsy to kidnap Damian as well, but to take them while the kid is dying of flu? Thats asking to be pummeled by: Every. Single. Bat. For once, Tim is glad there’s an endless supply of them.

“ Damian.” He attempts to hiss through the duck tape, trying, and somewhat succeeding, in scooting his chair closer to the younger boy.

Damian looks up, and whether it at the mumble of his name or the scraping of the chair on the concrete floors, Tim isn’t sure. What little of the boys eyes he can see are blood red and teary, it makes Tim wince. “How you holding up?” He asks.

Damian opens his mouth to respond, but instead gives a painful, chest rattling cough. The heavy steel door opens at the same moment.

“ Ah, I see you boys are awake.” Its the women again, except this time she’s dressed in all black and doesn’t have any weapons visible. Still, Tim had learned that means exactly jack shit, especially when the way she says ‘boys’ sends an unwanted chill down his spine. Tim screams through the tape, and she smiles as she approaches.

“ Now, now. We’ll have none of that. If you want to speak, you’ll do so as gentleman.” Her nails are long like black talons, and sharp as she reaches to rip the tape from Tims mouth.

“ Let. Us. Go.” Tim growls, licking his chapped lips.

“ Hmm, I thought you were supposed to be a smart boy.” The clicking her heels made on the concrete floor made Tim want to chop her feet off. “Kidnappings don’t work that way, sweetie.”

“ What do you want then?” Tim snips. “Money? Press? What is it?”

“ Well, originally, yes. But now, I’m more interested in watching your family dissolve.”

“ What?”

“ Well you see, after we broadcast some live feed to your father, he’ll offer a ransom. We won’t accept it, there will be no address, no clues, no saving. I’d rather watch those wretched Waynes suffer through the endless footage.” Her logic was sadistic, no doubt psychotic.

“ You expect them to watch us for days and not do anything about it?” Tim said. He gave them thirty seconds before they began tracking the footage. “Not one Wayne kidnapping has ever been successful.”

“ Do you really think the little one has days left in him?” The kidnapper laugh, waving a hand at Damians slumped form. “Doubtful. And don’t think I didn’t look into statistics. I did, and thoroughly at that.”

“ Then you know you won’t succeed.” Tim was shaking, anger boiling like fire in his veins.

“ Thats the thing, Timothy.” The name rolled of her tongue in a sick, and twisted way. “All of those failed kidnappings had one thing in common. They wanted a reward, I want death.” Her heals clicked towards the shutting industrial door, and a tiny camera in the corner of the room lit green.

***

As soon as the door shut Tim began working on his bindings, camera be damned. The ropes were easy to escape, done by an amateur and the fact gave Tim a little more hope for their rescue.

As soon as he was freed he flung himself over to his brothers chair, slipping the boy easily out of the ropes and cradling his small, feverish body.

“ D-drake.” Damian said, voice dry from lack of water and disuse. His eyes were still only half open, and his lips moved sluggishly as he attempted to speak. Tim feared how long they had been unconscious.

“ I’m here Dames, you hanging on for me?” The question almost gets stuck in his throat as Tim realizes what exactly he’s doing. He’s holding Damian. The Demon child of all people, is cradled in his arms. The feeling is foreign, a touch unknown to Tims skin. Who would have thought the kid would be so light and downright tiny?

For Damian, the question takes a moment to process, and another moment to respond to. His throat is thick with soreness and mucus and his lungs on fire with every breath. He vaguely remembers going to the doctors and being thrown into the trunk of a cop car.

“ L-let g-go.” He struggles to say, feeling and weakly pushing at Drake arms. The idiot is insane, holding Damian when he’s this ill. When Drake doesn’t even have a spleen.

“ Dames, stop.” Tim’s confused, and concerned. The response wasn’t even close to an answer to his question and the kid was shoving at him like he didn’t know who was holding him. Damian’s fever wasn’t that high he hoped.

“ S-spleen.” He hears through a wet cough.

They both stop moving. Damian too tired and Tim in a bout of shock. In all honesty, hadn’t thought Damian would care. Actually, he hadn’t even been aware Damian knew about that. Tim had only mentioned it maybe once or twice around the kid, but never directly to him.

“ I took medicine, kiddo, we don’t need to worry about me.” We need to worry about you, hung in the air like a rancid smell. They were both well aware of it’s presence, but neither wanted to mention it. Saying it would make it that much more real.

“ Father will come to us.” Damian rasps. Tim’s heart doesn’t know whether to fill or clench at the childish belief in their dad. Tim wants to believe it too, wants to believe Bruce and the others have already secured their location through the tape they are no doubt receiving through the camera on the ceiling. But theres the other part of him as well. The adult part of him that knows how the world likes to be an unfair place, and Bruce might not even be watching the footage, might already be out on patrol, that Damian might die before they have a real chance at rescue.

Instead, he swallows those thoughts. “ He sure will, Dames.”

The next few hours are excruciating for all parties involved. The live stream came in through the living room Tv, perfectly timed as Alfred was just coming through from the kitchen, a plate of post patrol sandwiched and tea in his arms. The pixels displayed his two youngest grandchildren, crumpled on the ground in a heap of tangled limbs, ripped clothes and untied ropes. The sound of low whispering grabbed the butlers attention, he turned forwards the sound, half expecting a fight..... the silver tray clattered to the ground as he soaked in the projected image.

“ Alfie? Are you okay?” Dick called, footsteps pounding down the grand staircase in response to the loud sound. His focus was on Alfred but seeing as the man was fixating on the large screen, he adjusting his gaze. “ Oh my god.” He said, already turning and running down the hall, a shout of “BRUCE!” falling hastily from his lips.

Not a moment later there were two pairs of large feet thundering down the hall of the manor.

“ Dick, what is it?” Bruce asked, slightly worried at  his sons quickened pace. A quick hand gesture at the tv confirmed any suspicions he previously had.

“ Is this live?” He asked, straight to the point. Tim was on the screen, sitting in a concrete room, his nose was bleeding and his hair was wild. He was rocking Damian, who in contrast was sickly pale instead of his usual tan and sweating profusely.

“ Yes, Master Bruce.” Alfred replied, shattered dishes completely forgotten on the floor.

“ Damian’s sick.” Bruce muttered, hand already running through his hair.

“ Tim was bringing him to the doctor.” Dick whispered, his hands were clenched in shaking fists, his teeth grinding.

Almost like the boy had heard his name, Tim looked up into the camera, blue eyes wide and alert.

“ Disguised as cops on interstate 95.” He says. His voice is clear and his words are carefully chosen. He doesn’t whisper, it’s like he doesn’t care if he’s overheard or not. Bruce wonders who his captors are, then wonders whether he really wants to know. “ He’s really sick, Bruce.” The name sent a shiver down Bruce’s

spine. Tim Drake and Damian Wayne, not Red Robin and Robin. Not vigilantes, kids. And one of them was really sick.

“ Hang on boys, I’m coming.” He doubted they could here him.

***

Tracking down his boys proved to be more challenging than Bruce had initially thought. The litter of ropes he has seen around the kids had hinted to him that this was an amateur hostage situation.

He was wrong.

They weren’t in a warehouse, or near the docks in fact, Bruce was starting to lose hope that they were still in Gotham at all. There was no trace, no sigma from the feed continuously sent to his living room, nothing but Tim’s forgotten car on the side of the interstate.

Even with both him and Dick on the case, they were still coming to dead ends with every new lead. A time was running out. It had been nearly twenty four hours. Nearly a day of not sleeping and constantly hunting for his boys while Damian got more and more sick. Any longer and he could lose his youngest son, his baby. Any longer and Tim would need another dose of his antibiotic or he would pick up Damian’s flu.

Dick was the one that made the call for help.

Jason showed in no time, not wasting another moment that could mean his younger brothers safety. Now, the three of them sat around the computer in the cave, pouring themselves into different locations known to host criminal bases.

“ There’s no signal from the stream?” Jason asked, red helmet sitting in his lap.

“ No. It’s different, Tim said the kidnappers don’t want us to find them.” Bruce said, sighing and rubbing his hand through his hair… again…

“ They just want to make us suffer.” Dick growled.

“ Those bastards.” Jason cursed.

“ There’s nothing, not in the city or near the docks. Not even in the surrounding areas.” Bruce said, throwing his head into his hands. Not a lot got to see him do this, it kind of scared Dick and Jason.

They sat there in silence for a few moments, sitting and thinking about the consequences if they kept coming up with nothing.

“ Wait, did you check underground?” Jason suddenly asked.

“ What do you mean, Jay?”

“ Underground, like how the killer crock moves around.” Jason explained. “ Maybe there in a facility beneath the city, where they would be a lot harder to track. I mean, there weren’t any windows in the room, right?” He finished up, looking at Batman expectantly. Bruce stared back dumbfounded.

“ Jay your a genius!” Dick exclaimed.

“ Old man needs to step up his game if we wants to remain the worlds greatest detective.”

“ We should call Clark.” Dick sighed.

“ What? Why would we do that?” Brice asked.

“ He has supervision. Bruce, I know you hate asking for help, especially from him but… this is for Tim and Damian. Where running out of time.” Jason and Dick looked at their father figure, they all knew the decision had been made.

“ Let’s call Clark.”

Thirty minutes later, they were bursting through a manhole just outside of Gothams business center. Stealth and preservation of the city be damned, Bruce was done. So DONE, with having to watch his kids suffer, with not being able to find them no matter what he did.

He had Clark with him- or superman, in this case- he had Jim on his way, ready to arrest the kidnappers. They had Red Hood as back up and Nightwing collecting the ‘hostages’. But most important of all, the had Bruce Wayne waiting to see his kids.

He tugged on the cuffs of his wrinkled sleeves, ran a hand through his greasy and mussed hair. He tapped his foot as he listened to the fight below and the sirens coming closer as the police neared.

He listened to his kids reunite, he listened to the painful coughing and grunts coming through the broken concrete. He listened to the sound of superman’s cape fluttering as he flew back to the surface, and to the retracting grapple lines of his kids following.

He listened until he didn’t have to. Until he could feel. Until he could feel Damian’s pained sobs and Tim’s rushed air. Until he could feel superman’s cape fluttering as his friend laid a comforting had on his shoulder. Until he could finally feel his world stop crumbling.

[maxineswritingcenter]

Hunting Dreams

@laphirablack : Okay, angsty request ahead. Could you do one shot of dean x reader where she lives the whole hunting things, saving people, family business, with Dean, just to wake up and realize that she was in a coma for a while and everything was a dream.

Awh shit, here we go again

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"Ma'am?" The very handsome FBI agent, Dean Smith waved his hand in front of (Y/N)'s face. She had been too distracted by his green eyes to even realize what he was saying.

"I'm sorry." She blushed, perfect professionalism, (Y/N).

"What did you ask?" I avoided looking into his eyes. Agent Smith smirked at her, but asked again.

"The report said that the only things missing from the storage were a couple pints of blood." He was referring to the fridge that the blood bank she worked for kept valuable samples, mainly O+.

"Yeah, they just took a couple shelves full, nothing else." She chuckled, "I don't know what they would do with it unless there's a vampire running around town."

Agent Smith smiled, "Ya never know, do ya?" He closed his notepad and stood up from where he had been leaning on the counter. In the doorway she saw his tall partner, also Agent Smith, no relation.

He handed her a card, with his name and contact information, "Anything else happens, just give me a call." She nodded.

He winked, both him and his partner walking out the door. She watched them, they talked as they got into a really nice old car.

The day went on as usual. A few people stopped by to donate blood after the recent hurricane. (Y/N) was on the closing shift tonight. Which meant going through the rooms and cleaning them for the next day and taking inventory. It was hard work, but at least it made a difference.

She had just finished cleaning the last room. She sighed and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She grabbed her clipboard with a notepad and made her way towards the refrigerator. But it was open slightly. She stopped in her tracks and stared at the door. She swore she had shut it after she put in the last donation. And she was supposed to be the only one left here.

She backed away slowly and set the clipboard on the counter. She pulled out her phone and punched in the Agent's number.

"Detective Smith." He answered on the first ring. She didn't answer though. She felt a cold hand on her back and her whole body stiffened. She fell back on the ground, paralyzed. Her head bounced off the ground, her vision started to fade. All she saw was a man with glowing blue eyes and tattoos all over his face over her. And all she heard was Agent Smith's voice calling out as she slipped into darkness.

-

"Hey!" (Y/N) heard a deep voice shout. She scrunched her face up as the pain started pounding her her head.

"Hey!" The voice said again, "Come on, wake up." The person grabbed her shoulder and shook her lightly. She slowly opened her eyes to see Agent Smith, and the other Agent Smith. But the Agent Smith shaking her was the one with the green eyes that made butterflies in her stomach.

"What... What's going on?" When her vision cleared, she looked around. She was in the clinic, exactly where she fell. Agent Smith smiled at her.

"There you are, sweetheart." He said, he helped her to her feet. She stumbled and held onto his arm for support.

"Take it easy." The tall Agent Smith held his hands out. They both looked different than they had that morning. They weren't wearing suits anymore. They were in casual clothes. Jeans, boots, flannels, jackets. A little too many layers for the time of year but whatever. What really brought her back to her senses was that the other Agent Smith was holding a bloody knife.

She gasped and yanked her arm away from the first agent, backing into a wall.

"Get the hell away from me!" She said, reaching over into a cabinet and grabbing whatever she could. In this case it was a syringe. She held it out to him. The agents shared a glance.

"I know how to use this!" She said, her confidence wavering at the fact that she was threatening the two with a tiny needle.

"Sam, put the knife away. Christ." The first agent said. Sam looked at the knife then quickly put it away.

Agent Dean took a few steps forward with his hands up, "Drop the needle. You're safe now. You were attacked by a djinn. He had the tattoos and the blue eyes. He was stealing blood and when we got here he was about to take yours." The only reason she believed him was the fact that he described what she saw.

"How do I know you're not one of them?" She only lowered the needle a little.

"I don't do tattoos, sweetheart." He smirked. She looked between the two of them and put the needle back where she found it.

"So what are you guys? Ghostbusters or something? Because last time I checked FBI didn't hunt djinn or whatever else." She asked, still wary.

"We're hunters, we hunt monsters. My name is Sam Winchester and this is my brother, Dean." Sam said.

"Pleasure." Dean winked. She forced her blush down.

"Alright so, what now?" She asked.

"What now is that you're coming with us." Dean said, "Djinn's have a big extended family and they'll come after you. Your best bet is being safe with us."

This was insane. Not only did she have two fake FBI agents telling her that monsters were real. But now they were telling her to abandon her life here. And something told her deep inside that this couldn't possibly be real. But... Shove gut feelings.

"Alright. Let's go to my place and grab my stuff-"

"Already taken car of." Dean smiled, "Let's head out." He said it quickly, but that didn't seem to bother her. They made their way out to the classic car and got inside.

"In the back, Sammy." Dean smiled, "Pretty lady gets to ride shot gun." Sam rolled his eyes and got into the back seat. It was almost comical, his knees were up against his chest.

(Y/N) got into the front seat and ran her hands over the dashboard.

"She's a beauty, ain't she?" Dean asked as he closed the driver side door.

"She sure is." She smiled and leaned back against the leather seat.

Dean shoved a cassette tape into the radio and turned it up. Classic rock started blaring out of the speakers.

"Welcome to the family business, (Y/N)."

---

(Y/N) soon got the hang of hunting. She seemed to have a natural talent for it. She helped the brothers take down vampire nests, exorcise demons, a werewolf or two. The hunts had been in places she had been before so she knew how to get around, the usual hiding places. She even used her medical training to help patch the boys up. It was odd though, Dean had told her that she would feel guilty of killing them at first. See their faces. But the strange thing was that after they died, she couldn't remember their faces. Almost like they were just becoming numbers on her list. It started to scare her.

She knocked on Dean's room at the motel they had been staying. Dean opened the door and grinned. He was only wearing a pair of jeans and a black tank top. She avoided looking anywhere but his eyes.

"Hey." She smiled, "I just wanted to check in a see how your cut was healing." She motioned to his arm that had been pretty scratched up after the last demon.

"Sure, come on in." He stepped out of the doorway. She entered and looked around. It looked like hers, almost a carbon copy of something she had seen on TV. But it wouldn't looked like that on TV of there wasn't some truth to it.

Dean sat on the bed. She sat next to him and refrained from running her hands over his muscles even though she desperately wanted to. The cut on his arm was still healing. But no red so that was good.

"Looks good." She said, "No infection. I'd still put a little Neosporin on it every now and again." Dean turned to look at her.

"Why'd you really come here?" He asked, "Besides to check me out." She rolled her eyes and shoved him softly.

"I uh... I don't know, I just feel like I'm not feeling any guilt for killing these monsters." She sighed, "Like one of them was my old college boyfriend and I just feel... Nothing. And ya know, I'm a very emotional person. I just feel like I can't feel anything." She looked at her fingers. Was something wrong with her? She cried at UP and now she can't even feel a little bad for literally stabbing her ex in the back with a machete.

The bed shifted and Dean was just inches from her face. Looking at him felt like she was about to burst. She could feel. But all she could feel was the growing connection between her herself and this cocky, charming hunter.

"Baby," He whispered. He licked his lips, lightly biting the tip of his tongue.

Well now he was just doing it on purpose.

"I could show you how to feel again." He said slyly. Was... Was he implying?

"I.... I uh..." She stammered. He put a finger to her lips and grinned at her.

"It's alright, baby. Just let me show you." He slowly laid her back down the on the soft mattress. He straddled her lap and looked down at her like she was prey. Which should not be as arousing as it was.

~~I don't want Tumblr to take this down~~

Dean fell besides her on the mattress laughing between his panting.

"Well, I felt a little something." He grinned.

(Y/N) sighed contently. She had almost felt something. A large something. And she didn't mean.... Him. That was the first time she had really felt anything in a while. And that's how it went. In the heat of the moment she felt everything. And then as quickly as it came, it was gone again.

"That was...." She began.

"Ahuh?" He asked, pulling her closer to him.

"Perfect." She whispered and kissed him lightly. He hummed, the sound made his chest vibrate against her ear.

"Get some rest." He kissed the top of her head, "Long drive ahead of us tomorrow.

But it wasn't really a long drive. They were going to Indiana which was only about an hour away. He told her they had been all over the country but an hour was a long ride?

-

"Please!" The demon held his hands out in surrender. This demon had been someone (Y/N) had known from college. His name was Jeremy, he was annoying as all hell. She stalked over him with the demon killing knife. They had been on countless more hunts but still. Nothing gave her true feelings anymore. It felt like she was just going through the motions and tomorrow it would start up again.

"Shut up." She glared and stabbed him. She watched him glow orange from the inside then drop. She got on top of the demon, shaking with rage. She took the knife in both hands and stabbed the corpse again and again.

"(Y/N, stop!" Sam shouted as he ran into the room. She kept going, stabbing through bone and meat. With each stab she felt more and more angry and she cried more and more.

"Baby!" Dean called, he grabbed her and pulled her away from the body. She was sobbing now, her whole body shaking.

"I can't feel anything!" She cried, dropping the knife, "Why can't I feel anything?!" She held her head. Sam and Dean shared a glance.

"Come on, baby. You need to rest." He helped her up.

"No! I need to feel something. And if it's pain then it's pain." She ran out the door of the abandoned building and into the alley.

"(Y/N)!" Dean called behind her. She just kept running until she got to the sidewalk. It was a busy street. And she was willing to do anything. She saw a bus heading her way. She gulped and took a step into the road. She could hear Dean and Sam getting closer. It wasn't fair to them. It wasn't fair to her. She had to try. She ran out in front of the bus. The last thing she remembered were the bright headlights, the horn blaring and Dean screaming her name.

-

"Hey!" (Y/N) heard a deep voice shout. She scrunched her face up as the pain started pounding her her head. This was too familiar. She opened her eyes quickly and saw the ceiling of an abandoned warehouse. She tried to sit up but fell back. She felt so tired and week. Like how you feel after you got way too much blood drawn. She rolled over and leaned on her elbows. She dragged herself to a table and stood up. She could hear grunting and struggling coming from the other room. She hobbled her way there and gasped. There was the djinn... And... Dean was there. But if the djinn was here and not dead that meant... Meant everything had been a dream...

She saw Dean and the Djinn struggling. Dean had a tight grip of the Djinn's wrist but was struggling to hold it back. There was a knife, presumably dipped in lamb's blood ok the floor. Sam stood up from the ground, attempting to get to his brother.

(Y/N) grabbed the knife from the floor.

"Sam!" She called out. He looked at her, slightly confused. She threw him the knife. He caught it and stabbed the Djinn in the back. It stumbled back a minute before falling back dead.

Dean panted and looked up at (Y/N). She looked in pretty rough shape, probably because she had been having her blood drained from her for a week.

She smiled at Dean and leaned against the doorway, "Sup boys, long time now see."

Sam chuckled as he panted, "You got out of the Djinn's spell. How did you know?"

She shrugged, looking at Dean, "I may not know the real thing. But that wasn't the real thing. And I couldn't get out of their fast enough." Suddenly she felt very light headed, she watched Dean and Sam run to grab her as she fell.

-

"So you know?" Sam asked. She nodded, trying to ignore the beeping from the heart monitor. The boys had brought her to the hospital.

"Only because you told me." She said awkwardly, "The Djinn made me dream that I was a hunter like you. Even though I could have had no clue what that even meant. But that's what I got."

"How did you know it wasn't right?" Dean asked from the chair besides the bed.

"So... For one thing, everything I was seeing were things, people I had seen before. And I just... I could feel any emotions besides a few."

"What were they?" The question she was avoiding, thanks Sam.

"I could feel angry and I felt...." She looked at Dean from the side. She didn't wanna say lust because uh yeah, that was a big one. He looked genuinely curious and that's what made her heart rate spike.

Dean put a hand up, "Alright alright, let's calm down here. You already lost a lot of blood, now's not the time for a heart attack."

"Thank you." She relaxed back into the bed, "So.... Are you guys gonna leave?" Another question she had wanted to avoid.

"Well, yeah. Djinn's dead. Time to hit the road to find the next one." Dean said as he stood from the chair. She looked away. It wasn't normal that she should be disappointed but she had just spent what felt like a year of her life with Sam and Dean. She knew it wasn't real but she... She loved Dean. Whether he was real or not. But that wasn't fair to him.

Dean saw her look and put a hand on her shoulder, "Hey, kid. Chin up. With all the Djinn knowledge... Who knows. Maybe you could help us out."

"Really?" She sat up.

"Really. You hear anything around town that goes bump in the night. Give me a call, and we'll come as soon as we can." His words gave her little joy. They were still leaving without her. Dean leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"See ya around." He winked. Then both brothers left her in her hospital room.

She laid back against her pillow. Once and hunter. Always a hunter. Even in your dreams. She'd go out on her own. Maybe run into the brothers. And maybe she could feel what the Family Business was really like.

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[ptw30]

Are you happy with Shiro settling down to get married and “leaving the battle” or whatever as his ending? Because I really thought he should’ve gone back to being a piloting instructor at the garrison and maybe staying on standby as atlas commander or something like that. He loved piloting too much to become completely disconnected from it and it feels like he never dealt with his trauma imo.

Short answer: No. 

Long Answer: Somehow, this transformed into, “Obligatory Post-Season 8 Meta: Shiro is still the Black Paladin. No, I’m not delusional. Really.”

The Black Paladin & PTSD Treatment

It’s important to know, especially for @dreamworksanimation​ and @voltron, that someone doesn’t “get over” PTSD, as Lauren Montgomery said in an interview.

I’m not trying to be harsh or “call someone out.” I’m stating fact. According to the Mayo Clinic, PTSD symptoms can be treated by opening up to others and seeking the help one needs. 

Getting timely help and support may prevent normal stress reactions from getting worse and developing into PTSD. This may mean turning to family and friends who will listen and offer comfort. It may mean seeking out a mental health professional for a brief course of therapy. Some people may also find it helpful to turn to their faith community.

This ties directly into Shiro’s story. In Seasons 1 & 2, Shiro hid the majority of his symptoms from the others. In Season 3 - 6, those symptoms were exacerbated by Haggar, and though Shiro reached out to Lance, he did not get the help he needed. Shiro then was attacked in battle by Haggar/The White Lion, and again, he suffered alone. 

In “All Good Things,” the Void scene revealed that Shiro wasn’t as close to the others as he could have been, and that ended up being the truth.

Like Allura never regained her confidence to lead, Shiro didn’t open up to the others and bridge that connection to strengthen it, which is one of the treatments for PTSD. 

Here some of the Mayo Clinic’s advice:

You don’t have to try to handle the burden of PTSD on your own.

[…]

Spend time with supportive and caring people — family, friends, faith leaders or others. You don’t have to talk about what happened if you don’t want to. Just sharing time with loved ones can offer healing and comfort.

Shiro handled his suffering alone, and he did not reach out to family and friends. We didn’t see him working out with the Atlas Crew. We didn’t see him hanging out with the paladins. He was all alone.  

This is also why “Knights of Light” is such a traumatic episode for Shiro fans and those struggling with mental illness. It completely dismissed all the suffering Shiro endured. The original paladins went insane in the Void. Shiro survived and came back stronger. 

Even then, he went through the struggles in the Void alone. The paladins went through it with each other. That two-parter episode originally - I have no doubt - was for Shiro to open up to the others, receive support for his past torture, and even receive help from Zarkon, the original Black Paladin. 

That’s why Shiro’s core fear - I’m too broken to be a paladin - focused on him returning from the Void, reconnecting with the paladins, and forming a stronger bond with the team. In this way, he would have begun to cope with his PTSD as the Black Paladin, proving he wasn’t too broken, and the story would have embraced the found family aspect, where Shiro and the paladins are truly “stronger together.” 

Instead - Shiro was alone. Even in Atlas. 

Even in Atlas/Voltron.  

The rest are all bonded to their lions. We know from “Genesis” that the White Lion isn’t in Atlas with Allura’s crystals, thus Shiro isn’t the White Paladin.  

Furthermore, the others don’t even speak to him in Voltron any longer. 

He asks, but no one answers him. (There was one time that Allura responded, but that is only once. The only other time someone actually answered Shiro, it was Coran, who is not in Voltron.)

Throughout the season, there are instances of this. Here, Shiro and Keith are on the bridge, and they don’t even look at each other. 

They don’t talk to each other. No matter how you see their relationship, they are important to each other. And yet…nothing. 

Another time, Shiro was sad to be left behind when the team went forward. You can’t tell me he’s happy here. 

But Shiro desperately doesn’t want to be alone or left behind. 

How do we know?

Shiro’s only win since Season 2 was an arm-wrestling competition, and he only won because he took strength from his one-time team. (Notice: Future hubby isn’t in the above shot.)

Shiro’s Marriage

Shiro is married, so he’s not alone, right? 

Well, yeah, but…Shiro’s story wasn’t for him to be married off to finally have a family, when Voltron was supposedly a story about found family. 

By Shiro’s happiness coming from marriage, Shiro was reduced to his sexuality. Shiro is queer and nothing else, but being queer is a part of someone’s entire person. If they would have shown Shiro “finding his happiness” on board the Atlas with no-name-dude with a tag like, “Shiro continued as the Atlas’ commander and found his happiness in space,” then fine. Do I still think it would have been random and forced, and all that? 

Yeah. It’s 2018, and it’s baby steps, and I can’t believe there hasn’t been a mlm kiss in all of American cartoons already. But putting my own shipping preferences aside - it is progress. 

However, Shiro’s core desire was to be a paladin, to help, to explore space. Say what you want about the paladin’s guardian spirits, but Shiro’s was the cosmos. Tell me again why Keith has a dog that can teleport and is called Cosmo? Oh, right. Cuz Shiro was supposed to be able to teleport.

Shiro enjoyed being paladin. He wanted to be a paladin, and if one wants to embrace his captaincy or admiralty or commanding office of the Atlas position - all right, but even then he was someone who wouldn’t leave behind the “good fight.” The good fight was where he wanted to be. 

What’s also disturbing to me about “Shiro’s happiness” is that - it’s the ending Adam wanted. If you follow my blog, you know I wasn’t a fan of the “Shadam” pairing, mainly because Shiro and Adam wanted different things. That’s mature. That’s a good representation of an adult relationship. Each wanted something different, so they broke up and moved on. I like that DreamWorks showed that, and I wish they wouldn’t have killed Adam. It would have allowed viewers to see how relationships can have a healthy conclusion. 

But for Shiro then to do what Adam wanted years later, leave behind “the good fight” and settle down, is a complete reversal of Shiro’s character. That also says Adam wasn’t enough for Shiro, but no-name-husband is. To be honest, if Adam hadn’t died, Adam could have filled that role, which is disturbing as well because Shiro is now “cured” of the degenerative disease, supposedly. (Technically, he’s not in the context of the story, but I’m ignoring that for now.) 

So if Adam would have waited for Shiro, okay. But for Adam to want Shiro once cured, is a terrible message to those suffering from degenerative diseases. (Full disclosure - I was a caretaker of a person with a degeneration disease for sixteen years.)

Therefore, Shiro’s ending comes down to three things:

Shiro was married off because the EPs wanted him out of the story since the get-go, and if there is a sequel, Shiro is out of the fight - both the Black Lion and Atlas. 

It was tacked on to fix the BYG trope in Season 7.

It reaffirms that Shiro is “old,” which the EPs just love to say, even though the dude is younger than me. 

Shiro’s Role as the Atlas’ commander/captain/four bars 

If one wants to say Shiro’s heads the entire coalition as a disabled man, which is empowering, I get it. That is a powerful position, though he hasn’t won a fight since Season 2. (The Alteans beat him up in “The Zenith,” and Zethrid’s Olkari tech is the reason the team wins in “Genesis.” In Season 7, the Atlas doesn’t beat the Altean mech, so Shiro in Atlas hasn’t won a fight by himself.)

But my argument is - Shiro’s core fear was not being worthy of being a paladin, and his position in Atlas proves his fear true. (Even though Altas and Voltron merged at the end, Shiro was still not a paladin - as I explained above.)

Also, it’s important to note Shiro was happy as the leader of Voltron and the paladin of the Black Lion. Plus, he was the garrison’s best pilot. (Keith was the garrison’s best up-and-coming pilot.) 

Why would you ever sideline your best pilot? He’s one of your strongest fighters. He’s one of your best skilled fighters, and you take him out of the fight and put him on the bridge? That’s a terrible battle strategy. It’s like having the most winning goaltender in NHL history and taking him out to put in a no-name second-stringer. 

What happens? The franchise collapses. 

Yes, take that both ways, as I intended. After all, it’s no coincidence that Shiro was the Hot Topic exclusive Funko Pop! figurine. 

Not only did the storyline sideline one of its stronger fighters, it continuously reminds fans of this and undeservedly praises itself for doing so. 

Shiro had the strongest bond with his lion, and since the lion swap, almost none of the paladins talk to their lions. I think Keith is the only one who actually directs a comment to his lion - the “you’re back” line, in Season 8 and “I know you’re hurting,” in Season 6. The clone asked Black to trust him, but all the rest of the paladins refer to their lions and haven’t actually spoken to them in seasons. 

Even the final moments of the paladins with their lions reinforce the original line-up, which does indicate that the lions and paladins haven’t spoken to each other because the lion-paladin bonds ceased to exist following the lion swap. In fact, I would go insofar as to say the lions themselves were not happy with the swap.  

After all, Pidge and Lance never do the eye-glow thing, and Allura only did it with Voltron, not Blue. Also, Allura only used her bayard once in Voltron, in conjunction with Hunk’s. Neither Lance nor Allura ever use their bayards alone in Voltron, and also - the Blazing Sword does not return to Voltron until Zarkon is in Voltron with Keith. 

So yes, according to “Knights of Life” - Keith is not the Black Paladin. Zarkon said Keith is a leader, not the Black Paladin, and Shiro, too, never told Keith in Season 2 to fly Black, just to lead. 

Keith, Shiro & Leadership

Disclaimer: I love Keith. He’s my second favorite character, but I love Keith, not Keith acting like Shiro.

I wasn’t going to go into Keith and Shiro’s leadership dynamics, but after seeing this - 

- I felt the need to touch upon it, as Shiro now reflects Keith in Season 2. 

Keith’s leadership is based on two things - his race, as deemed by Zarkon, and two years on the back of a whale leading no one. (This is a story’s fault, not the character’s.) Keith’s connection to the Black Lion is based upon his relationship with Shiro, first asking the Black Lion to fly to save Shiro, then taking up the mantle of leadership because Shiro asked him to, and then again, flying Black to save Shiro.

Shiro, on the other hand, had the strongest bond with his lion, died to save the universe, was saved by his lion, existed in an environment that drove the original paladins insane, and came back to take leadership of an entire coalition.

Yeah, he’s just going to give up? And he’s not going to be the one talking miracles and getting up and moving again?

One can say, “But Keith has developed into the leader Shiro is/was,” which… okay, but then one has to also acknowledge, “Shiro has regressed after all he’d been through”

If one is discussing endgames for characters, this is a terrible place for us to say good-bye to Shiro.

Also, despite Keith’s insistence - 

- it wasn’t. How do we know?

Allura died, saving the universe. In a universe where Voltron wins, it’s because the team is stronger together, and the team wins together. The paladins wouldn’t allow the universe’s survival to hinge upon only one of their shoulders. If Allura went to sacrifice herself, the other paladins would find a way to save her. They would talk her out of it. They would find another solution. 

The Season 8 Voltron line-up cannot save the universe, let alone each other. 

But with Shiro in Black, Allura in Atlas/the White Lion, Keith in Red, Lance in Blue, Pidge in Green, and Hunk in Yellow - we have a team that has saved the universe and a team that won’t let each other die. 

We’d have a true found family that together, would win.

And Shiro would have found his happiness, in Black and in his family.  

TL;DR: 

[piamii]

Taking a mental health day from work today but was really conflicted about how to word it.

Last year I took a few mental health days but there were 6 of us so maybe it was less conspicuous

It’s only me this year and I for some reason keep feeling this push pull with my supervisor to be close and honest with her

Last night I was feeling ok about work. But after once again not sleeping properly I feel like somethings up with me

I’m feeling all the ways I used to feel about my mental health

Being small is not okay, it’s not okay to let go, I’m responsible for all of my clients progress and safety

Which is true in a way but

I also have beeen thinking about the difference between me and my supervisor

She’s the only person I see on a regular basis. Like I see her 4 times a week

So I don’t know how to be myself, a postdoc

I keep comparing myself to her

I wondered to myself would anyone else take a mental health day in my position?

Who cares, others aren’t me

It’s like I forgot I’m extremely sensitive and have been sobbing every day and not sleeping well at all during the weekdays

My nutrition and hydration and shit has been ok, so I’m not getting sick which is the weird part

Im so incredibly emotionally constipated

There are so many incredibly destructive thoughts in my head right now that haven’t been addressed

Things have just gotten increasingly harder for a long time now and I can’t tell where adjustment starts and my dysfunctional mental state ends

Is it really ok for me to say work is too much?

Does it make me pathetic?

Didn’t I feel this way in all previous years too?

2nd year, it wasn’t like this but at least I was more honest with myself about how anxious and nervous I was about work. I definitely took it easy and complained more often. I slept poorly frequently on clinical days and would feel really angry about it. I don’t think I got sick more than once that year

3rd year i wasn’t sleeping quite as poorly but still had sleep problems, hated my commute. That was the year I kind of had to start blocking people out of my life, like not completely but was so down and exhausted that I couldn’t function socially outside of work and school. I didn’t get sick much tho. Definitely noticed SAD symptoms starting this year but to be honest felt somewhat depressed on and off through early winter until spring which is I guess the colder darker months in OR. I think I had some SI but it was towards the end of winter

4th year was when I had more somatic issues. My sleep was honestly not bad that year comparatively speaking but when m and I broke up during internship application season I had a bunch of health issues that resolved shortly after my interviews ended. Tbh internship interviews were a nice reprieve from the dark slump that probably would have hit me if I had just done school in the winter. I had my first sinus infection in spring and went to see Slushii anyways Hahahha.

Internship year... I had a sinus infection too and got a cold maybe 2 other times. Last year was the most I’ve ever gotten sick. I took a mental health day maybe like 3 times and actually used sick days too. I want to say this was the hardest year for me mental health wise until this year in terms of symptoms but the best in terms of self care. By like April/May I was feeling really good about life. Maybe it’s the weather here too idk

This year feels so much harder than the other years combined. I’ve used one sick day and two mental health days and I’m having a hard time understanding where I’m at mental health wise in conjunction with who I need to be to do well at work. It feels like I’m growing at an unmanageable pace. I’ve had the most frequent SI I’ve ever had in my life which is somewhat alarming to me. I’m safe don’t worry but I’m just saying the thoughts coming into my head. My sleep is getting reallynfucked up over these last 2 weeks. I sleep like a baby on the weekends which makes me feel like it’s stress related. On one hand I’m acclimating to this insane amount of stress and on the other hand it feels like every day I’m being stretched open and carved out.

I’m not even ruminating that much before bed anymore. Like I’m not actively distressed like I used to be when things hit me hard last year. I’m just constantly unhappy and anxious this year which I feel like is my lot in life right now. My self care has gotten much better last year and this year, but this year it’s been harder to find ways to relax. Things went downhill really fast, when the seasons finally changed here and I started seeing 4 of my clients in the field. I am most definitely consistently working over 40 hrs a week now. I tried really hard last year to work less whenever I could and honestly the agency was pretty good about giving us a reasonable workload. But now it feels like I’m meeting the real world, where work just comes at you and never says sorry. You had to do extra and stay longer this week? Sucks for you. You have to completely uproot your already untenable schedule because one of your clients has really a really complex risk presentation? Welp that’s the price of doing this work.

Like when I was told the weeks here typically don’t go past 40 hrs I feel like I was lied to. I feel alone and singled out bc I’m the only postdoc this year. I want to know how C felt 2 years ago. If there were 2 of us I feel like I’d be having an okay time. Can you fucking believe they had a hard time building to full caseload last year? It cannot be just me in this position. I want to give up every day.

I don’t feel protected I don’t feel like I can ever let my guard down. There is no one I talk to regularly that I can be honest with. I don’t have the energy to relay this information to the people I do talk to regularly which at this point is my supervisor and M. And like hell im going to tell my supervisor this stuff.

Is this the real world?

Something tells me it is, but I have to find a way through it somehow

I’m still debating about this one client. She’s on my mind a lot and I’m scared which is probably a parallel experience to what her family is experiencing.

The fuck you mean our ethical duty? What am I supposed to take away from that convo? I know I have my own voice and opinion but that made me feel really bad for not doing exactly as you said. I know I tend towards the anxious paranoid side of things but that really scared me because instilll can’t think straight about this client and I sure as hell cant go to you.

The relationship between e and I has changed too, I think she’s overwhelmed too

Something that keeps popping up over and over again is- how fucking awful it would be for a client to complete suicide

I know it happens and it’s time I face that this could happen

It’s a terrifying thought and I almost don’t want to tell anyone that I’m having it

It feels shameful and dangerous to think about, because if I can’t handle it who could?

Who can contain this for me and tell me it’s okay? I don’t want to fucking hear that I should do more

It’s a complex mess of emotions inside my head. I understand why I would need to do more in this situation but there’s no room for it. I want help in trying to balance but my schedule is already unbalanced and bringing me into a dark place emotionally.

What if because I took today off no one sees my hospital patients all week?

Friday is going to suck ass if that’s the case

I could ask my supervisor directly to see them

But I want to be small today

And that would take a lot from me

How does the psychology service work at the hospital during Xmas break?

Uhhhh....

Shit.

I’m scared for some stupid reason that someone will make me stay during break or I’ll have to work some crazy stupid long hours on Friday

I hate ongoing patients bc they still need to be seen but it’s kind of your choice whether or not to see them

It’s like adding an automatic to do to the list every time I’m there but the task takes 2 hrs at least

I’m always scared I have to stay late at the hospital, luckily the latest has been 6:30 but I’m terrified every time I go in that it’s going to be longer

This is new for me and it’s ok to get freaked out

To not have a clear idea how much I am going to work each day and each week really puts me off

I feel pathetic because aren’t there a lot of jobs that are unpredictable like that? Especially once you become salaried ?

My stomach is starting to hurt

It’s weird because I haven’t gotten any somatic symptoms this year but I’ve also been sobbing my eyes out every day so maybe that’s why my body is feeling okay. I haven’t really cried the last few days because I’m just very tired of crying at this point, so maybe that’s why my stomach has been hurting a bit more

Every time m says something nice to me, hell anytime anyone says something nice to me I start to cry and I’m just so fucking done with crying and feeling out of control just to have nothing change and things even get harder at work

Fuck!!!!!

I haven’t properly dealt with this terrified feeling

I have to tell myself this feeling is informative but separate from reality

I’m so fucking scared.

[nadiarexler]

NOIRELLA: The Case of the Glass Slipper

Part: 1: 4

Word Count: 1947

Themes: Fairytale Retelling, Romance, Mystery, Crime, 1940′s, Cinderella AU

NARRATOR:  Rags to riches, told by folklore. The story you know will be no more. They told you of mistreatment, endless chores, unsavory stepfamily and all. So, we'll skip to the part where they're all at the Ball.

"Hey boss, you having a good time?" Donnie shouted over the live bands' music.

I shook my head, staring right at him as he said it to someone else's face. It was a masquerade party, all the guests wearing colorful Venetian masks made it hard to distinguish who was who in the dim lighting. Still, I'd told him at least a dozen times that I'd be in a green mask. The man he spoke to wore one in Gold.

"I'm over here you fat-head," I lifted my mask showing my face.

He marched over to me happily, "Hey boss, you having a-"

"No, Donnie, and neither should you, you're supposed to be watching the door."

"Yeah boss I was, but I had to hit the john, then figured I might as well grab some punch and a snack before I go."

"I hate to bust your chops buddy but we're here to do a job, not to enjoy the soiree."

"What job? I'll tell ya, anyone who tries to break into a Reyes party would be clinically insane. We might as well enjoy it while we're here. I doubt we'll be invited again!"

I gave him a glare, to show him I wasn't joking around. Which made him freeze up like a scared goat before turning to head back to the door.

"He's right you know," I heard a voice near my ear, "My father is just paranoid. You should enjoy yourself, besides, your looming presence is making my guests uncomfortable." He said to me while smiling at giggling girls eyeing him.

Casper Reyes, the guest of honor at this party. All of high society, came out in their best to celebrate his 21st birthday. The Reyes family were royalty around these parts. On top of being rich, Casper was the tall, dark and handsome type. Everyone had their daughters dolled up, hoping they'd catch his eye and become in-laws of the family in the near future.

His father invited me and a few of my boys to run a security -as if we had nothing better to do. As I said, the Reyes family were like royalty and Elil Reyes was the king. What he says goes and the police force was no exception- especially since Sergeant Duke was his childhood friend.

"Good, maybe it'll keep them in line," I told him, scanning the room.

"This is a party, not a sting detective, try to blend in. A highly decorated officer like you could catch a criminal in your sleep." He patted my shoulder before sliding his red and gold mask back over his eyes and going to greet more guests.

The compliment cut me like a double-edged knife. I had a career to be proud of, the youngest person on the force to make detective, then captain. I connected clues like puzzle pieces, and I didn't need all of them to see the full picture. Never had a perp I couldn't catch, nor one I couldn't get to confess. That was my legacy - until a year ago when the jewel thief showed up.

A thief in the night, bold enough to climb over gates, into mansions, and take thousands of dollars’ worth of jewels with them. Smart enough to take one valuable piece at a time instead of everything. Whoever this guy was, he was no robin hood. It seemed no one was benefiting from it, the jewels didn't show up in pawnshops, or on the street and the poor kept on getting poorer. There wasn't a single trace of the thief or the jewels left behind.

We didn't have a time frame of when the robberies started. It wasn't until some rich, old, broad discovered that she was missing a necklace that anyone knew there was a problem. A dozen people came out of the woodwork after it hit the papers, saying they were missing this or that.

They hadn't realized there was a stranger in their homes. They hadn't even realized when their prized possessions were taken. Yet, they expected me to solve the case at the drop of a hat.

I looked around at all of them, dancing, laughing, dripping in jewels. Silently judging each other over meaningless things, while my career was slowly going down the drain. My necktie suddenly felt tight, I needed some fresh air or maybe some smoke in my lungs. I thought I'd relieve Donnie of his door duties, after all, let him enjoy the party instead.

I narrowly made to the doorway when I saw a bundle of blue fabric rush passed it. I jogged over, looking down the hall in the direction it went. A Blonde dame in a blue dress was running as fast as she could in her high heeled shoes.

"Hey," I called after her, "Hey!" She kept running.

My natural curiosity kicked into gear. I began to follow her, trying to keep up with the twists and turns but, eventually, I lost her. I searched room after room until I spotted her in the garden, sitting on the ground by a fountain.

"You're gonna ruin your dress, sitting like that."

She turned to me; a white mask covered her face but her tropical sea-blue eyes were unmissable. Tears dropped out of them, making the whites turn red.

"Hey now, what's a beautiful girl like you have to cry about?"

I reached out to her, offering my hand.

"What's it to you," she sniffled, letting me assist her.

"Wondering if I could help, that's all."

"Can you bring someone back from the dead?" she scoffed.

"Sugar, I can't even keep a goldfish alive."

She tried not to, but she smiled brightly. Though I could see another tear rolling down her face as she did. Nevertheless, it was a beautiful smile, pearly whites that weren't too big or too small for her mouth, plush pink lips that surrounded them and one adorable dimple on her left cheek. Mortality must be offensive to whoever is lucky enough to be in her life. I was sure the ghost of whoever she was trying to bring back was lurking somewhere nearby, kicking himself for making her cry and being powerless to stop it. Hell, if I were him, I'd let Dr. Frankenstein himself reanimate my corpse just to be with her.

"That's a bad joke, mister, something my, my-" her smile faded, and tears filled up between her eyelids again.

"Hey, hey doll, it's alright. People die, it's a natural part of life. I'm sure whoever is looking down you right now wouldn't want you to be sad."

"I know, I'm not a fool I just... I'm not usually like this- I'm the strong one, you know."

"We can't be strong forever, we're only human after all." She nodded, agreeing with me but didn't say another word.

"So, who was it, that you lost?"

"My father... he was my best friend."

"That's a tough one, I lost my old man too, right after I turned 12."

"Really?" her eyes widened, "What did you do? How'd you move on I mean."

"The only thing I could do, keep living. Even when it was hard and bleak I just kept on going."

She nodded again, sniffling away the last of her tears. It was quiet for a while, so quiet that the music from inside the Reyes estate was clearly audible. It gave me an Idea; I outstretched my hand to her once more.

"Darling, would you like to dance?"

"Who do you think you are, some kind of prince?" She cackled.

"As a matter of fact, I am."

She exhaled with contempt, a matching look in her eyes. "It's time for me to take a powder, your highness." She bowed facetiously then began to walk around me, leaving the garden.

"One dance," I called to her, "then you'll never have to talk to me again." She stopped in her tracks. "It'd be a shame for that pretty dress to go to waste. I doubt you came here just to cry in it."

She stood with her back to me for a moment before turning around, "One dance... and no funny business, I mean it."

We kept quiet as we swayed back and forth, trying to keep to the rhythm of the faint music. I could feel her muscles relax in my arms and her head rest on my shoulder. If I had to guess, I would say the last person she had ever danced with was her father. I was comforted by the fact that I could soothe her for this moment. It's been some time since I felt this feeling.

It was part of the reason I had gotten into law enforcement. Solving cases, giving people back their piece of mind. I lost myself somewhere along the way, caring more about my conviction rate than that one simple feeling. But the more this small dame with the tough exterior, melted into me, undoubtedly thinking of her dead father, the more it came back.

I smiled to myself before taking her hand and twirling her around making the skirt of her long dress swirl around her. I ended the spin with a dip. Her eyes went round -surprise on her face and a small smirk on her lips.

"Maybe you are a prince after all."

I chuckled and pulled her back up, looking directly into her sparkling eyes.

"What's your n-"

I was cut off by the sound of a long car horn, coming from somewhere within the gates. I was going to ask again when I saw her squeeze her eyes shut in despair.

"That's my ride." She announced, smiling at me a second more before the horn sounded again, making her lift her dress to run off.

"Wait but what's your-"

"Goodnight your highness!" she continued to run.

"Oh what the hell," I said aloud, giving myself permission to go after her.

I followed her to the front door hoping that she'd stop, turn around and at least tell me her name before leaving. Donnie hopped up after seeing me frantically burst through the doors. He was calling my name, but I paid no attention. The back of her dress dragged on the ground as she went down the stairs.

     I watched her run towards the red convertible roadster parked at the bottom, a girl with orangey-red hair at the wheel. She hopped in and the car began to pull off. I waited for her to look back, going down the stairs slowly. Finally, I saw her blonde mane billow in the wind as she turned her head.

I smiled to myself, looking down to hide it, feeling a light hit my eyes as I did. I looked for the glimmer again, finding the culprit. There, on the 12th step, was a crystal high heeled shoe. I picked it up, looking in the distance towards the direction of the red roadster.

"Bill! Bill!" Donnie shook my shoulder. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah Donnie, everything's alright."

"Thank god, you scared me half to death. Who was the good-looking dame? Is that... a shoe?"

"It's a shoe indeed Don," I sighed, “maybe the most important one I'll ever have."

 Narrator: And so, that orange-haired girl drove off into the night. Leaving Detective Bill knowing he would have a sleepless night. He stood on the steps holding the tiny crystal shoe, wondering who was that girl with eyes so blue.

[domestic-harry]

have you made an angst rec?? I saw your top 5 angst fic rec but do you have one with all of them?

My Bible of Angst Fics

Undone, Undress : Louis’ new roommate is shy, skittish, and flinches at the slightest sounds. He’s an art major who gets drunk on cherry wine, wears lacy lingerie, and shows up late at night covered in bruises that blossom across his skin like flowers.

Obviously something is wrong. Louis just doesn’t know what it is.

Never Gonna Dance Again : Louis is a spy and Harry is a dancer. The only real thing they know is each other.

Got the Sunshine on my Shoulders : Five years ago, Harry styles left his tiny home town to make it big as a recording artist. he didn’t have much regard for what he left behind - a life, a family, and a husband, who woke up one morning to find him gone.now, Harry has everything he could possibly want: he’s rich, famous, and adored by everyone he meets, including his boyfriend. But when said boyfriend proposes to him, he’s forced to face the uncomfortable facts of his past - and louis, who’s spent the last five years returning every set of divorce papers harry sent him.

Adore You : Against his wishes, Harry spends the holidays at his family’s summer estate, and is reluctantly pulled into a courtship he didn’t ask for. Harry doesn’t want to get married, but Louis does. They don’t fit, but then again they really, really do. Vaguely set in the 1920’s. Headpieces, jazz, fashionable canes, and flapper dresses, and that.

Perfect Storm : What do you do when your best friend asks you and your (now) ex to be the best men at his destination wedding? You can either tell him the truth, tell him you’re not together anymore, and deal with the consequences, or you can pretend you’re still together and roll with it, just pray you don’t spiral. Fake it ‘til you make it. You know, for the sake of the wedding.Harry and Louis choose the latter.

Young & Beautiful : Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn’t stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes.

Say Hallelujah, Say Goodnight : Louis is an angel who is just a little too bad to be good, Harry is a demon who is just a little too good to be bad, and they’re both a little too in love to be impartial when angels and demons go to war.

Where Your Heart Is : Louis is ready for his brand new adventure. So what if he suffers from a genetic condition that prevents him from being touched? College is going to be awesome. It has to. Karma kind of owes him right now. Forget about his overprotective mother, or Liam– his entirely too chipper step brother– or his mess of a roommate. Forget about the gloves he has to wear at all times. He’s here to expand his knowledge, write and drown himself in books – No matter how distracting ‘Hallway Boy’ may be– The obnoxious, flirty frat wannabe determined to become the bane of Louis’ existence.

Own The Scars : Louis has never felt like he was good enough: for his stepdad, for his life-long best friend, for the life he’s supposed to want. After an accident that nearly costs him his life, Louis’ parents send him to rehab where he’s forced to face his demons. On the long and difficult road to recovery, Louis must confront the truths he’s been avoiding about his future, his relationships, and his sense of self-worth. Because before he can love anyone else, he’s got to learn how to love himself first.

Unbelievers : It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

Scintillating : The one where they fall in love, Harry wins the X-Factor, and everything goes to hell.

Burn to Ash: Harry is sitting there, so fucking casual, and Louis realizes in a split second he was not ready. When Harry walked out in Detroit and never looked back, he was a boy verging on a man, still only twenty years old, but there’s a man in his place now. Hard and resolute, yes, but still, for the first time in a long time, Louis can kind of see the old Harry in him. The soft, directness of his gaze, the hesitant smile he gives to Lou, the way he wrings his ridiculously large hands in his lap.He’s a little bit the eager sixteen year old puppy dog again, his innocence and sweetness resurrected miraculously, and Louis freezes in place. He was prepared to face the asshole Harry. He was prepared to meet a whole new Harry.Louis is not prepared to meet one of the old incarnations of Harry, and it absolutely tears him up.Or the fic where Harry spirals out of control, the band breaks up, and then he shows back up, five years later.

Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can’t Lose : American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers).Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football. A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

With a Whimper : Dystopian AU. Louis has been alone for too long to remember how not to be, and Harry has too much to worry about to deal with a scrawny, wild, stranger.

Butterfly Gun : Harry has never been much of a fighter, but—as always—where Louis Tomlinson is concerned, a lot of things stop being true.1940’s AU. Even after six years apart, they can’t forget their shared wartime childhood.

Take My Breath Away: There is a prestigious school in the British Royal Navy classified as Premier Delta - or as it is known by its flyers, 1D. These select pilots are an elite set of Naval lieutenants who are trained in the skill of aggressive aerial combat. They are instruments of war, trained in times of peace. They are dogfighters, relentless and fearless in their mission to protect their beloved country. From their lofty vantage, they are always watching, waiting, and ready to lay it all on the line.Lt. Harry Styles, call sign Sparrow, is a prodigy when it comes to flying. The owner of an unrivaled Naval pedigree, being a pilot was always written in the stars for Harry. With his trusty RIO, Lt. Niall Horan, Harry has made an unprecedented ascension in the ranks of the Naval aerial combat elite, and has been recruited to the esteemed Premier Delta flight school, carrying on his family’s legacy. What he finds there are unexpected friendships, perilous challenges, and something beyond what he ever thought possible. Because as his father had always told him, before the great Captain Styles went tragically missing in combat, you don’t fall in love with the sky, you fall in love with what keeps you on the ground.

Through Eerie Chaos : For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead. 

Love Is A Rebellious Bird : AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who “has made Mozart cool again” according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Ever since New York : Before the One Direction hiatus, Louis and Harry had decided to break things off, and they were doing as promised. But they bump into each other in New York and things take a sharp turn. No one knows how many times they’re going to have to push each other away until they face the inevitable truth: they’re each other’s soulmates. akaThe one where Harry writes a song about Louis and he finds out.

Gods & Monsters : The instructions were simple: seduce and destroy Harry Styles. Not once did they discuss the option of Louis actually falling in love. So, naturally, that’s exactly what he did.

Baby Heaven’s In Your Eyes : Or a sixth form!AU where Harry is the fucked up bad boy with too many problems, Louis is the perfect rich boy with too much money and their schools are right across from each other. They meet at a party and that’s the last (and maybe the only) thing they need.

These Bountiful Silences : They live in a world where they can only say four words per day. harry meets some people that don’t want to live that way.

The King of Spades : Undercover Metropolitan Police officer DC Louis Tomlinson has worked his way up the ranks of a prominent London crime family without raising suspicion, but when he finds himself pitted against a rising crime boss with a police background and a favoured employee by the name of Harry Styles, everything starts to unravel. Finding himself in the middle of an escalating war between two bosses whose bad blood runs deep into a violent past, Louis has to be even more careful where he steps in case his big secret catches up to him – and if it does, he knows he won’t survive it.Not to mention he’s falling for someone he can’t have – whose earnestness and honesty is a bright spot in a dark world – he can’t sleep because his nightmares haunt him and he’s in way over his head, but it’s just a game, always just a game, and if Louis plays his cards right he might just make it out alive.

Wanted Most : Louis Tomlinson is a thief, and a damn good one at that. Most have heard of him. Most don’t understand him. And Harry Styles is the FBI agent who can never seem to catch him.

Never Be : The one where Harry Styles moves to Connecticut from England for nine months as a part of a study abroad program, and he just so happens to move in with Louis Tomlinson and family.

Coax The Cold : England, 1897. English Professor Louis Tomlinson’s passion for the occult has been a source of mockery and derision for most of his life. When he hears whispers of a travelling freak show newly established in London claiming the existence of a monstrous sea hybrid, half-man, half-fish, Louis sees it as his ticket to credibility amongst his peers. The summer he spends undercover working on the show, however, gives him much more than that.

Red Brick Heart : Uni AU. Harry had turned up at the halls of residence expecting fun, new friends, and maybe a life experience or two. What he doesn’t expect is a surprise roommate who’s loud and dramatic and obsessed with tea and is maybe, actually, all he’s ever wanted.

The End Should Be A Good One : It doesn’t feel like falling in love, the way it had felt the first time around, easy, simple, almost like floating, wrapped up in a whirlwind of touches and kisses, late nights spent laughing breathlessly into each other’s skin. This feels broken, complicated, like every move carries the weight of their past. Like the floorboards beneath them could collapse at any moment. This doesn’t feel good. Or, the one where Harry loses the love of his life on New Years Eve and finds him again, six months later, ready to open some poorly-stitched wounds.

Hiding Place : Louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. Enter Harry Styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. With one fateful meeting in an X Factor bathroom, Louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because Harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual. From the X Factor house to Madison Square Garden, from the Fountain Studios stage to stadiums across the world, Louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace Louis as the center of his universe. Meanwhile, Harry begins to think that maybe fate doesn’t actually know what it’s doing after all, because his other half has clearly been right in front of him the whole time. All he has to do now is convince Louis to give them a chance. Or, the canon compliant Harry and Louis love story from the very beginning, where the only difference is that the love between them is literally written on their skin, and there’s only so much they can hide.

Fading : Louis knows about beauty; the combination of qualities that pleases the aesthetic senses. He creates that combination every day in the garments he designs while studying fashion at uni. The cut of the design, the color of the fabric, the intricacy of the stitching; it all comes together to create something beautiful. When the science student with the long legs and dimpled smile agrees to model for him, Louis decides he’s found beauty personified. Harry just thinks Louis needs someone to show him how beautiful he is.

You Are The Blood : A seventh-year Hogwarts AU in which Niall gets all the girls, Liam goes on a journey of self-discovery, Zayn falls in love, Harry wants something more, and Louis tries to figure out once and for all why he, a Muggleborn, was sorted into Slytherin.

Bigger Than Life : “Boybander Harry Styles spotted leaving West Hollywood joined hand in hand with new beau, Xander Ritz”His heart drops in his chest as he scrolls down, ignoring the short irrelevant article and looking desperately for a picture. Sure enough, there’s pap shots of Harry and Xander, walking hand in hand, looking drunk and cheerful and together.And that’s—that’s really not what Louis was expecting at all.

Strawberry Milk Series : Au where Harry paints his nails and drinks strawberry milk and is too nervous for it to be nothing and Louis’ just trying to figure out whats wrong with him

Who Painted The Moon Black: Hunger Games AU where Louis Tomlinson is district six’s victor from the 69th Hunger Games and Harry Styles is district seven’s victor from the 72nd Hunger Games.

Empty Skies : For three years, Harry has been running from his past. Now, he is moving to London and pledges to fulfil his only dream – making it big in the music industry. Not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. As is his past catching up on him.Louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there had meant a lot of hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. He’s still happy. Maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain?

Time Bomb : Or the one where Louis has everything: a lead role in a giant Hollywood franchise, a glittering new house with an entertaining Irish neighbor, and a steady, normal boyfriend who he probably loves. Louis never expected to become a household name among young Hollywood overnight. He also never expected to find something endearing about the enigmatic rockstar who keeps showing up on his back porch.

Shake Me Down : Harry’s new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization. 

Louis Lucas : Pornstar!AU. Louis is a pornstar with more issues than he can drink away. Harry is a bisexual singer/songwriter who is desperate to be signed to a major label. Zayn and Liam are Louis’s long-suffering best friends (who also happen to be pornstars, and also happen to be dating each other). Niall just wants to play his guitar.

Turning From Praise : Louis has had a strict Christian upbringing that he never realized he resented until he meets Harry Styles, a boy who lives to rebel and doesn’t give a damn what anyone else thinks. But the better he gets to know Harry, the more he begins to realize that maybe Harry does care. And maybe “the children who God forgot” are closer to God than the devout will ever be.

Into the Blue : AU. In which Louis is Harry’s scuba instructor and quite happy to provide the requested special treatment, pun fully intended. It can’t be all that difficult to convince Harry that they’re on the same page, right? Also, Niall and Liam may or may not be dating, and Zayn is surrounded by emotionally stunted idiots. He bears it with dignity.

Give Me Truths : Louis is a psychology student with a tattoo count as high as his genius IQ. Harry is in a (sort-of) relationship with a homophobic man and hates himself a little more every day. Things fall apart and Louis puts him back together.Or, the one in which Louis falls in love with a fragile boy and tells him every beautiful truth in the world, as long as it makes him happy

Hush. : Au where small towns suck, Louis is losing it, and Harry’s just too perfect.

Wear It Like A Crown : AU. As part of a team of fixers hired to handle a gay scandal in Buckingham Palace, Louis expects Prince Harry to be a lot of things—most notably a royally spoilt brat. Never mind that the very same Prince Harry used to star in quite a number of Louis’ teenage fantasies.

You’ve got to see yourself from far and wide : Harry and Louis meet at a very early age under all the wrong circumstances, which leads them to absolutely loathe each other for years on end. Eventually they both make it as professional football players in (very) rival teams, but are suddenly bought by the same club and depend on one another to either make it or break it at the height of their careers.With a side of sports journalist (and bridge friend) Niall, teammate Liam and wannabe football rep Zayn. They say that there’s a fine line between love and hate. That line might as well be shaped as a football trophy. 

Nameless Night : For their 18th birthday, every person receives a letter that reads a simple date. That is the date you’ll meet your soulmate. Harry and Louis have different beliefs, live in different worlds and have different dreams, hopes and fears. Yet, they’re not so different from each other when it comes to love. When their paths cross, there is no doubt they belong together. Except for that one, essential difference: they didn’t receive the same date.

Chasing Empty Spaces : The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

Back To You And Tennessee : Louis Tomlinson rises to rock and roll fame at age twenty three and is thrown into a life of luxury and excess, but being on stage isn’t easy for a boy who has always stuck to the side-lines, and Louis struggles to deal with his new fame as he joins the Grand Ole Opry and is sent out on tour with names like Liam Payne and Elvis Presley. His life takes a turn, however, when his childhood role model, Harry Styles, joins them on tour, and the two become closer than two men in the spotlight are allowed to be.

OR, the one where Louis is Johnny Cash and Harry is June Carter

Tainted Saints and Velvet Vices : A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they’re forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

Stars Are Guiding Me Back : Directing the first ever season of The Bachelor with a bisexual star is a huge career move for Louis. After throwing himself into his career, he finally has the opportunity to prove himself as a director with a unique vision.For Harry, being cast as the first ever Bi Bachelor means finally putting his ex-boyfriend behind him and starting anew. He’s taking a chance on finding love and determined to do it right this time.They didn’t exactly think this through.

OR the BACHELOR AU where Louis directs his ex-boyfriend Harry in his season as America’s first bi bachelor.

Cocaine for Breakfast: Louis Tomlinson is a drug addict, sent away from his beloved party-scene to recover. There, he discovers that small towns have just as much access to drugs as London did, plus something even better that he just can't get enough of. That something is a boy with green eyes and bouncy curls named Harry Styles.

[darkcivet]

Of Unsound Mind

A GaaSaku Fanfic

Alternate Links: FF.net & AO3. Pairing: Sakura/Gaara. Summary: It's only when her life has crumbled down around her that Sakura finally finds some kind of peace. GaaSaku. Modern AU. Rated M just in case. Warning: Psychologically dark elements. (No blood or gore.) Sexual themes.

There were many words used to describe Sakura Haruno during her fall from grace.

Anti-social. Cynical. Violent. Bossy. Obnoxious. Friendless.

And those were the friendly examples.

There was also, whore, bitch, psycho, tight-arse, freak, and various interpretations of the hysterical woman stereotype.

It was depressing enough to be called these names, and more heart breaking to embody them. But the worst part was that they came from people she’d never have suspected. From people she loved and had trusted for years. Some hadn’t even waited until her anger had reached its crescendo before writing her off.

She’d lost her cushy office, her friends, her aghast family, and all hope of returning to her former life; Sakura was at least grateful that her OCD meant she had a decent amount of money saved up for this seemingly unending rainy day.

It was in moments like this, that she took pride in her tight-arse ways. It was a cold slap in the face in the wake of the reality of her responsibility to clean up her mess.

And somehow, sitting on a chair, next to others arranged in a dysfunctional, sparsely spaced circle and being lectured on the meaning of her anger issues did not strike her as particularly constructive. But Sakura had no intention of reacquainting herself with her inner demons, so she had to try to put it behind her.

For years, she’d built a damn in her mind to keep her inner, sanctimonious persona quiet, but it had all come crashing down several months ago when she’d been tossed aside for a more available girlfriend. A seemingly innocuous event that many others went through and came out the other end unbroken, but not Sakura Haruno. She snapped like a proverbially twig over a roaring fire. It was like letting a beast out of a cage that had been perfectly crafted to contain it. White hot rage; she had no control of herself, and for a short while, all Sakura knew was the burning, angry harpy that lay within her mind.

The need to make someone bleed for it.

Now, she had no-one. No friends. No family. No glimmer of a hopeful future. Her inner had driven them all away.

That was why she was here of all places. A group anger management session; the judge had been clear that evading these weekly torture sessions would land her back in Konoha Psychiatric Hospital. She couldn’t go back there. Everyone there was crazy. It would drive her insane.

“Let’s begin, shall we?”

Doctor Kato – possibly the hospital’s most likeable tight-arse. She was always friendly enough to Sakura, but the pinkette could never fully respect someone who played by the rules so religiously. Squashing herself inside a tin can and answering, “how high?” whenever her superiors said, “jump”. It boggled the mind.

She sighed, sitting up straight in an effort to not be called out. Again. Today was her first session in a group and this whole anger management thing was just another part of her community service – though the question of who she was supposed to be helping right now, was anyone’s guess.

She forced herself to listen as Shizune Kato started her morning sermon.

“Anger management is the process of learning to recognise your anger for what it is and control it. Anger is an emotion we use to mask feelings of fear, inadequacy, guilt, confusion, depression, hurt, or loneliness. It is not uncommon for us to fall into this trap when we feel too helpless to do anything else.”

Sakura rolled her eyes and regressed to slouching in her chair. Shizune tended to drone on about the definition of things. As both a Clinical Psychologist and a nationally recognised motivational speaker, she was the enemy of succinctness

Sakura smiled at that.

She’d been acquainted with the brunette for years, but never truly known her. Despite her pleasant yet oddball nature, Shizune wasn’t the most charming person Sakura had ever met, especially one-on-one. They’d both been mentored by the great Lady Tsunade Senju – an actually motivational person who didn’t like to get up on podiums and talk about it.

Sakura interned with Tsunade straight out of high school; she’d been interested in psychology for years, because of her inner, fascinated with the inner workings of the human mind. Keeping her inner quiet helped her pass as “normal”, but she always got the impression that Tsunade knew her favourite protégé had issues.

Their bi-weekly “let’s build a snowman” sessions were a dead giveaway.

“Sakura?”

The pinkette snapped out of her internal musings and rattled off a few facts about herself while keeping it impersonal. Shizune gave her an odd look and Sakura sat up straight again, suddenly self-conscious.

But she couldn’t help but lose focus again as the brunette pointed to each of her patients in turn, asking for introductions. Even though this was her first group session, she knew some of these people anyway, from her time in hospital. There was the girl who’d run over her boyfriend when she found out she was pregnant. The older man who beat up the teenage boy who was screwing his trophy wife. Another girl who blamed God for her voices and repeatedly stole from and trashed her family Church. Not to mention the guy who attacked a mime because he wouldn’t give him directions.

Some Sakura knew only by face, but it was a safe bet they were all violent in some way.

But there was this one guy that everyone seemed to be giving a wide berth. He had this dark aura around him, like a solid barrier made of hate and bloodlust. His blood red hair seemed to finish off the look of death and wrath nicely. Not to mention that he was the only person she’d ever seen with a kanji tattoo on their forehead of all places.

“Gaara?”

Sakura watched the others suddenly become uninterested; she imagined Shizune only called on him because those were the rules.

The redhead grunted out his name and something inaudible; she caught the words, “temper”, “family”, and “fucking”. Shizune didn’t press any further.

Sakura couldn’t take her eyes off Gaara as the introductions continued – some clearly more enthusiastic than others.

Based on appearance alone, she gathered he fit into the goth stereotype, but she’d never been much of a profiler. Her field of study was psychiatric rehabilitation and Sakura had just been promoted before her life went to shit. She was rising fast for someone her age. And enjoying the perks that came with a higher paying job.

‘I miss my office.’

She blinked heavily as Shizune started talking again.

Gaara swivelled in his chair suddenly and unintentionally caught Sakura’s eye. Though clearly startled by her attention on him, he didn’t look away. She felt her face warm under his stare. She’d heard that, during his first therapy session, he threw a chair out the window and broke the psychiatrist’s teeth when the man had tried said “hello”. They said the shrink needed counselling after that. Though plausible, she highly doubted that had happened – he wouldn’t have been considered for group sessions, if he was that easy to rile up, surely.

“Who wants to talk about why they’re here, first?”

Shizune’s voice snapped Sakura to reality and she tore her eyes away from Gaara to listen to the pregnant girl whine about men and how unfairly the “quacks” had been treating her, but she could still feel his eyes burning a hole in her.

His dark aura shifted, and he seemed a bit content then, to Sakura. She chanced a look at him; he didn’t look ready to kill her. His reputation had to be wrong, then. She had to remind herself how easily rumours could get out of hand.

Unlike her therapy companions, Sakura had a degree in psychology. She had a many great deal of things that were no longer important anymore. Like people in her life.

“Sakura?”

She mentally cursed herself for not paying attention and sat up straight, realising she’d slumped again. “Y-yeah.”

Shizune smiled at her. “Why don’t you share something more in depth with the group.”

She wasn’t here for her health, that’s for sure.

Sakura cleared her throat, avoiding Gaara’s gaze; it was getting unnerving. “Um. I’m doing these sessions as part of my community service.” At Shizune’s insistent look, she added, “I... uh, had a breakdown.”

“That blows.” One of the girls gave her a sympathetic look.

Sakura just stared back at her. The old her would’ve smiled back and maybe engaged her in conversation; the new and improving version didn’t have the energy for that shit.

“Moving on.”

Shizune rounded off the session and they started to file out. Sakura noticed that Gaara wasn’t asked to add anything more in depth. She sighed and stood, stretching out her muscles and keeping her attention settled solely on herself; a certain redhead was still staring.

“Same time next week!” Shizune called.

Sakura hurried out, unwilling to remain under such close scrutiny any longer.

This group therapy thing was going to be exhausting.

 .:.

 “Got a light?”

Two weeks later, Sakura decided to bite the proverbially bullet. He’d been staring at her on and off, and she had finally worked up the nerve to approach him. In between bouts of self-loathing and therapeutic jogs along the beach, she’d been keeping up-to-date in the world of mental health. Call her an optimist, but she figured it would help her get back into it once all this community service was over.

It beat picking up rubbish – that was on her morning schedule.

Gaara was Shizune’s problem case, but Sakura wanted to reach out to him. She wanted to see if anything she did or said could make a difference. This would go a long way to seeing if she still had what it takes to be a Psychologist. Obviously, it would be in a non-professional capacity, so she couldn’t be reprimanded for it.

In her planning stages, Sakura noticed he took the time to smoke both before and after the sessions, like he was bolstering himself for battle and then rewarding himself for not annihilating everyone. That was a start. So, she used their common ground to start a dialogue.

Without removing the cigarette from his mouth, he looked up at her question, stared at her for a second, and then nodded his head. She swore to herself up and down that she would quit these disgusting things one day. But that day was not today.

He tossed a red lighter at her and grunted out, “this is going to kill you. You should give it up.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes until after he turned away. “I will if you do.”

He didn’t respond.

They’d just spent an hour in a gruelling session, so he clearly needed to unwind.

Sakura took a seat two feet from him, overlooking staff parking; they were far enough away from the front doors of the hospital to not be called out, but she somehow figured Gaara was less concerned with that rule and more concerned with solitude.

She stayed quiet, settling in and lighting up. He didn’t ask for the lighter back straight away and she waited until she was ready to leave before returning it. Gaara’s pale fingers stretched out to grasp it, and she made a note of how he deliberately avoided her touch, before standing to leave.

Slow and steady; she didn’t want to startle him. It was a good start. His moods during the sessions was always dark, but some days he was clearly holding on by a thread. For all the darkness and chaos that stormed inside Sakura’s head, she had a feeling what he kept bottled up inside was worse.

 .:.

 The following week, Sakura beat Gaara to his usual smoking spot, prior to their weekly torture session. She didn’t light up during the six days they had off and felt no urge to do so until she drove into the Konoha Hospital parking lot and remembered what she was about to do.

Yeah, the dark aura around Gaara still intimidated her. And the mindless prattling of her fellow therapy inmates made her want to slap their heads together and tell them to grow up. The redhead continued to stare at her during the sessions and then ignore her when they fell into silent, mutual cancer inducing stupors. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t help herself.

One month on from their first interaction, she decided to finally break their monotony of silence.

And then chickened out when his head snapped around and he stared at her, suddenly, like he knew it was coming. Jade orbs stared blankly at her and she summoned her courage, mentally berating herself. She’d come this far.

“I was thinking...” Sakura drifted off; his eyes widened, and lips twitched. The cigarette hanging lazily from his mouth jerked with the movement. “...of smoking something a little stronger next week.”

He blinked slowly, almost owlishly, and then looked away from her. She almost continued talking several times, waiting for him to respond.

“Don’t do that.”

“I just–”

“You’ll just get sent back to the loony bin.”

And that was the end of that.

Sakura felt herself flush with anger; she wanted to rant and rage at him, tell him he didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing instead. It wasn’t her intention to fly off the handle at him. She just needed to focus. The object of her rush of anger sat quietly as she calmed herself.

And just like that, she was calm again. She sighed, put out her cigarette and turned to face him. He was looking back at her, those intense eyes curious; she almost forgot what he’d said to annoy her. “I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t.”

It took a few seconds to sink in, but before she could formulate a response, he stormed away from her and back toward the front doors. A full ten seconds later, Shizune’s voice drifted over to her and Sakura knew she’d lectured Gaara on the rules involving smoking near government buildings. There was no way, however, that Shizune was brave enough to confiscate them.

Sakura joined them and was both annoyed and confused when Gaara pointedly ignored her for the first time in weeks.

‘Men.’

 .:.

 Sakura arrived early the following Wednesday, and sat in her car, writing in her journal. She wanted to get down everything she was feeling before heading in there – last week, Shizune had suggested this when the pinkette let it slip that she’d almost lost her temper again. She hadn’t had a black out in almost two months. She was getting better.

But Gaara’s attitude was not conducive to her mental health.

The worried look on Shizune’s face bothered Sakura too – she’d figured out that two of her patients were smoking together, outside the hospital and wasn’t amused. That dark aura around Gaara was more powerful than Shizune’s disapproving glare, but the brunette’s made Sakura feel guilty. That was nothing, however, compared to how Sakura was feeling now.

Tsunade’s car was in the lot, today. She was here.

‘Did Shizune go running to shishou about my fascination with Gaara?’

Sakura was torn between annoyance and happiness; it wasn’t their business, but it had been too long since anyone cared if she got herself hurt. Was she supposed to feel angry or comforted? Maybe both? She was a red-faced child wrapped in a warm blanket brandishing a bloody knife with one hand and nursing a cup of hot cocoa with the other.

She wasn’t crazy. She knew she wasn’t. The dark voice inside of her was quiet and she hadn’t lost control in so long. Sakura felt like everything was falling into place. The only hiccup was where Gaara fit into everything. Anyone with eyes could see he was worse off than her – he may never get better – but she didn’t know his history. She didn’t know how bad off he was.

She had to find out, if she had any hope of putting her fascination with him in the proper context.

The tap on her car window startled her, but somehow, she wasn’t surprised to find Gaara’s questioning stare on her; rugged up against the cold, his red hair poking out from under a black beanie, and his breath fogging up her window. She took a moment to truly appreciate how good he looked before he indicated wordlessly behind him – toward their usual smoking spot – and she nodded in acquiescence.

Sakura smiled after he turned to lead the way. It seemed she wasn’t the only one that look forward to these morning rituals.

 .:.

 An hour later, Sakura was trying to sneak glances at Gaara while pretending she wasn’t interested in doing so. Tsunade had taken over the group today, with Shizune nearby taking notes, and the busty blonde was currently questioning Gaara – in a way that no-one else had the balls to do so.

Everyone else normally avoided looking at the emo boy who had a reputation for trying to kill people for looking at him wrong, but today they were staring unabashedly as he was questioned. Like he was an animal in a zoo. His simple, clipped responses delivered in angry undertones that promised pain and retribution didn’t deter Tsunade; his audience was hooked on every word.

When the blonde finally relented, everything went deadly quiet and Sakura found herself alone in watching him. Shizune and Tsunade conferred as the session came to an end and the pinkette forced herself to not get up and follow Gaara as he stormed out.

Murmuring broke out, but she ignored them, making her way over to Tsunade. The blonde hugged her.

“Sakura, it’s been too long.”

She smiled. Her first real smile directed at anyone but Gaara for a while. “Yes, shishou. I’m glad to see you.”

She wanted to question Tsunade – she undoubtedly had information on Gaara that she needed.

Shizune would be against it – that girl had never met a rule she didn’t worship – but Tsunade was the type to indulge her pupils, be they present or past. During her internship with the busty woman, Sakura had often had access to information she wasn’t supposed to know. She trusted her. She knew she wouldn’t repeat anything she read or heard. It was a level of trust Sakura had never had before and was sorely missed in her life.

That “I have no-one” voice in her head was sounding further and further away the longer she felt the warmth of her mentor’s smile on her.

‘How could I ever think shishou would turn on me?’

They both understood mental illness and didn’t judge it.

Tsunade spoke before Sakura had a chance to ask her; that mind reading thing of hers was still annoying, after all these years. “If this is about your sudden interest in a certain redhead, you know I can��t tell you anything.”

A bubble of annoyance swelled in Sakura’s chest, but as her mentor made a show of shuffling her papers, the pinkette forced herself to calm down. Shizune sat nearby, finishing off a few notes; when she was done and left to find something to eat, Tsunade indicated to Sakura to take a seat.

“I want to preface this with I understand,” Tsunade said. “Gaara’s a good-looking boy and you’ve always had a thing for the emotionally closed off type.”

“Shishou–”

“Let me finish.”

Sakura nodded her head, admonished.

The blonde pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’ve been through so much lately and your life has become a black sinkhole. You’re so cut off and confused; you know you are,” she added, when the pinkette huffed in annoyance. “It’s understandable to find comfort in a kindred soul. But Gaara’s different than you. You should be more careful with him.”

Sakura frowned. “Why?”

Tsunade lowered his head to whisper and the pinkette leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s in his file, but you didn’t hear this from me.”

Sakura nodded; her heart pounding in her chest. Doctor-patient confidentiality was still a thing between doctors, but Tsunade loosening her tongue was motivated purely on a personal level. She’d always thought of Sakura as the daughter she never had.

“What he has is a touch disorder; his anger manifests similar to an extreme case of Skin Hunger.”

Sakura nodded, understanding. Skin Hunger was a yearning to touch, basically; if Gaara’s anger was connected to this, she assumed it meant he lashed out when touched. All awhile craving that touch.

It was interesting.

“Don’t set yourself up for failure with him.”

Sakura frowned. “What do you mean?”

“All I’m saying is that whether your interest is professional or personal, don’t get your hopes up. So far, all observable outcomes from people trying to get close to him have resulted in some form of violence.”

“I already understood: you’re saying he always attacks people who touch him.”

“Or it manifests itself sexually.”

Her eyes widened. She didn’t need to know that part.

Sakura was already checking Gaara out every time he passed in her field of vision. She didn’t need to know that an accidental touch on her part could end with her flat on her back and screaming his name.

She was definitely going to make a point of not touching him.

“He is not a rapist, Sakura, I assure you.” Again, Tsunade was reading her mind. “I spent six months working with him after I was asked to profile him; he’s capable of a great many things, but he isn’t capable of that.”

‘No... he’s not going to force me.’

Sakura knew that, despite her initial concern. He was the type to make her want it. Badly.

‘He already has.’

She closed her eyes for a second, just absorbing everything Tsunade had told her. Her attraction to the redhead had started without her really noticing and escalating into full-blown, make-out session with herself.

It gave her goose bumps and made her never want to go to bed fully clothed again. And strangely, gave her a desperate craving for cheese and ice-cream.

It boggled the mind.

“Then why is he here, among people?” Sakura realised the answer the moment she’d finished asking but had to hear it.

“This is the only thing keeping him out of jail.”

Anger management for most people was a program with steps and slogans and learning about yourself.

And that annoying prayer circle thing.

For people like Gaara, it was avoiding the worst-case scenario of getting locked up and never seeing the light of day again. She felt sorry for him, though she was sure he wouldn’t appreciate it.

Sakura was torn between continuing her curiosity driven desire to crack him open and give him his space, so he could get through these sessions untouched. She really wanted to pick his brain.

(Must be the therapist in her.)

“Lady Tsunade!”

“That’s my cue.” Tsunade hugged her former apprentice. “Just be careful, Sakura.”

“I will. I promise.”

Sakura stayed in the chair for a few minutes before remembering she was technically standing Gaara up and rushed out to find him. He was leaning against the building, his hands in his pockets, eyes closed, and no cigarette to be found.

She hesitated to disturb him, but as her feet carried her over to the enigmatic redhead, he seemed to come to life and turned to face her. The look he gave her was new; she wasn’t sure if it was calculating or distrustful.

Had he heard her conversation with Tsunade? No... he’d have been too far away, and they were whispering. But her shishou had questioned him pretty intensely and Sakura stayed behind to talk with her afterward. Perhaps he just put two and two together. Her mind went back to what Tsunade had said about being his therapist for a while.

‘They already know each other.’

Maybe he wasn’t as bothered by the questioning as she’d thought.

“I’m not a good person,” he said gruffly. “But I won’t hurt you.”

‘Is there anyone around here that can’t see right through me?’

“Okay...”

He sighed.

They shared sessions once a week, and every time, Sakura followed him outside afterward to ask for either a cigarette or a light. He would grunt one-word answers to her questions and then take off on his Kawasaki without so much as a glance in her direction. But today had gotten under his skin, apparently.

He watched her, waiting to see if she would flee from him.

She gave him a small smile. “I was thinking...”

He scoffed. “You do too much of that.”

“...that maybe we can do an experiment.”

He didn’t ask for clarification, but the question weighed heavily in his eyes.

“I... think maybe we could do that thing Shizune suggested last week. Together, I mean.”

She was too cowardly to put it into words, worried he’d hear the hope in her voice. Basically, Shizune had suggested to all her patients to let their anger out on something constructive – kind of like kickboxing or tae kwon do – in a controlled environment, with a partner. Sakura tried to school her features so Gaara didn’t think she was excited by the idea of getting hot and heavy with him. His calculating stare pierced right through her and he raised a non-existent eyebrow.

“If I let my demon out, it will break you in two.”

He really knew how to end a conversation.

 .:.

 “You ever tried to kill yourself?”

Every week she asked a question, he answered it, then he asked her something, and the cycle went on. It was the only experiment she suggested that he would go along with. Now, with only one more shared group therapy session left, Sakura was feeling the deadline to break through him fast approaching; the end of having him in her life.

She thought of the craziest question she could conjure; the rumours of his violence having escalated to murder lingering on the edge of her mind. And the question blurted itself out of her mouth before she could stop it.

Gaara didn’t look offended though, just nodding his head slowly. After a minute, he asked “you ever killed anyone?”

“No.”

She came close once, though. It wasn’t something she was particularly proud of. It was a line she didn’t want to cross. Even in her darkest moments while her inner was in control, that last breath and final punch to the gut never came. She never did it. It was why she’d been carted off to the loony bin rather than jail.

Sakura was not grateful to her inner, but rather grateful it at least wouldn’t do that.

“It’s almost the same thing,” Gaara said. “Except the pain isn’t yours.”

Her heart was racing now, but she just had to know. “What does it feel like?”

Sakura had no idea what she was expecting from him – perhaps, “horrible” or “it feels like dying”. She held her breath, waiting.

“Only an idiot would ask that.”

She seethed. “Fuck you. It was just a question. Why are you such an arsehole?”

He reached over to her and she stiffened. Gaara gave her a wry grin and plucked the unlit cigarette from her fingers without making physical contact; so absorbed in their game, she hadn’t remembered she was still holding it.

“It’s my turn to ask a question.”

She huffed. “So, ask.”

“Why are you such an arsehole?”

Sakura sighed. She rubbed her forehead and groaned. His light chuckle startled her. “What’s so funny?”

He waved her cigarette at her patronisingly. “I don’t think you understand the rules of this game.”

“I don’t like this game anymore.”

“You don’t like to lose.”

“What? I’m not losing.” She frowned, realising her slip. “This isn’t a competition.”

He just shrugged.

Sakura glared at him; as usual, he was unfazed. The nerve of him! When he continued to ignore her heated glare and put her smoke in his mouth, she growled. “Fine. I’m an arsehole because it keeps people away who I don’t want to deal with.”

He stopped flicking his lighter to stare at her. “And that’s all?”

“No.”

He gave her a Cheshire grin. “Why else?”

“Why else?”

Gaara nodded and inhaled; shuddering and closing his eyes for a few minutes. He looked like a satisfied cat that had just dismembered a bird. Or maybe a whole flock of them. She could just visualise the speck of blood on the corner of his mouth while his tongue darted out to taste it again.

She shuddered, then shook herself, almost forgetting to answer his question. “I don’t like that goody-two shoes act. I used to play it all the time. It’s annoying. Why are you so pushy?”

“It’s fun. Why were you in the loony bin?”

Sakura bit her lip to keep from snapping something inappropriate at him. It wasn’t until she regained control from her inner that she’d been locked up. It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t a game. She’d have thought he, of all people, wouldn’t make light of that.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

She offered a small smiled. “No, it’s no worse than me asking you what it feels like to kill someone. I shouldn’t have asked it. I just...”

“Wanted to know.”

“How do you read me so well?”

Gaara shrugged. The truth was, it was like looking into a mirror – one with pink hair and a cute little nose, but a mirror nonetheless. She was a version of himself without the need to tear things apart. He loved that.

Sakura fiddled with the hem of her shirt. She wanted to avoid that murder question, but she didn’t want to ask anything trivial. Everything seemed bland by comparison.

“Why... when did you start smoking?”

He snorted. “Lame.”

“Stop telling me how stupid my questions are and answer me.”

Gaara stared at her blankly. “I was thirteen.”

“Why?”

He sighed. “My turn.”

“Sorry.” Again.

He nodded but said nothing. After a few minutes, she started to fidget. As soon as she opened her mouth to tell him to ask her a question, he spoke.

“When did you start smoking?”

“Talk about lame questions.” She giggled when he glared at her. “Fine. I was nineteen. But I don’t smoke often. Never have. Uh... why–”

“No more simple questions. I’m bored.”

She bit her lip. “I noticed you don’t touch people.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Can I touch you?”

He didn’t stiffen like she thought he would, just stared at her – almost unseeingly. “No. Why do you want to?”

She blushed. “Uh... because...”

He rolled his eyes.

“Craziest place you can imagine having sex.”

“On a plane.” Gaara held her gaze unblinkingly. “The last time you had sex?”

“Uh.” Her face must look like a tomato by now. “Um. Maybe... a year ago.”

Gaara had put out his cigarette (her cigarette, the thief), and was leaning closer to her. She could feel his breath on her skin. She had to get the topic away from sex before she touched him and let him crawl inside her. And die. She would literally die.

“Uh...” She cleared her throat. “Where else in the world would you rather be right now?”

That was a safe topic, surely.

“Inside you.”

‘Fuck me.’

She stuttered. “What happened to you not wanting to touch me?”

“I never said I didn’t want to.”

“I thought–”

“Doctor Senju filled your head with the he can’t touch people routine?”

Sakura growled at him. “Are you accusing her of lying to me?”

“Just skirting around the truth.”

“She warned me to be careful with you.”

“Kittens aren’t supposed to be masochists,” he snarled.

“I’m not a cat.”

“Yes, you are.”

She frowned at him. “What’s gotten into you?”

Gaara smirked devilishly, his fingers now tugging at the top button of her shirt. She made no move to stop him, but Sakura had gone stiff, terrified of the animalistic look in his eyes.

He stood, leaning over her, and shoved her backwards; she’d been sitting on the edge of a concrete garden, hedge flowers at her back. Gaara held her down, climbing over her; she spared only a momentary thought for the fact that her shirt was getting dirty and was laying at an odd angle before gasping. His hand was on her throat; his body encased hers. Fingernails scraped along her neck; not enough to bleed but enough to hurt.

“Do you ever dream of me?”

Gaara was continuing their game, even as he nipped her throat and settled between her legs.

“Y-yes.”

Gaara shifted his weight on her to kick her legs apart. “Is this what you wanted?”

She licked her lips. “Y-yes.”

He chuckled when she groaned. There was a sharp pain along the back of her legs from being held down like this, but she ignored it. What she really wanted suddenly scared her. “Wait.”

Gaara growled; his grip on her throat tightened and Sakura gasped for air. “No more waiting. He wants you.”

Sakura coughed and spluttered. “He?”

He added a little more pressure but eased enough to allow her airflow. “Yes. He’s been thinking about you hot, wet, and wriggling underneath me.”

“Are you...”

It suddenly clicked. Sakura had an inner – a voice that spoke to her and lashed out. A female voice. It wasn’t inconceivable that Gaara had something similar. From her one-on-one sessions, she’d begun to unravel her inner; to see the reflection of her psyche for what it really was. But clearly, Gaara hadn’t made that leap into redefining himself. He still thought of his inner voice as something separate from himself. Something that can’t be overcome because it had a mind of its own.

She pushed her pity down and shifted into medic mode. He needed her more than she needed him, right now.

“You can pull away if you want.”

It pained her to deny herself something she had grown so desperate for, but maybe taking it slow and letting this come more naturally would be good for her, too. Sakura had no doubt they would progress that far eventually, but in the bushes, just out of sight of the hospital entrance, was not the place to have sex with him for the first time.

They had time.

“Gaara.” She reached up and touched his forehead. The complicated kanji felt just as smooth under her fingers as the rest of him did. Almost like it wasn’t even there. “Push him away.”

He growled down at her, almost like that persona was speaking through him. “I will fuck you. I don’t play games and I don’t fuck around. Next time you push me, I’ll push back. This is your only warning.”

He shoved her again, and then jumped up, moving away from her. But he didn’t go far before half turning to frown at her. “If you do that again, he’ll kill you.”

She swallowed heavily, watching him through her blurry vision as he limped away from her; whether he was in pain from something he did to himself or being so turned on, she couldn’t tell.

She’d pushed him too far. She knew it.

And if it wasn’t for the fact that he had already proven himself to be possessive, Sakura would worry about never seeing him again.

No.

He wasn’t done with her yet.

[hunterenough]

Life Changes

Chapter 3: Responsible Adults

Summary:  Dean gets a look at the way a responsible adult actually lives, and he really likes it. (Or maybe he just likes the responsible adult attached to the house he's looking at...)

Dean’s morning seemed to drag by, probably because he was looking forward to meeting with Castiel and checking out his potential new living situation. He’d let Benny, his lead technician, know that he might be a bit late coming back. He’d set the map on his phone for Castiel’s address, and Google had informed him that it was a four minute drive. Wouldn’t that be a nice change from his current half hour commute.

He pulled into the driveway at 12:04 exactly. The house was white with a dark grey foundation and trim. The walkway was shoveled, and everything looked well cared for. Dean climbed out of his car with his folder of check stubs and headed for the door. He knocked quietly before noticing the bell. Shit, do I ring the bell? Should I wait? What if he didn’t hear me knock. His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening.

Holy fucking hell. This guy, the guy he might be living with, was everything Dean had wet dreams about. His faded Led Zeppelin t-shirt stretched softly over his tone chest, highlighted his biceps. His hands, huge hands , cradled a steaming white mug with a bright yellow sun grinning from it. His dark jeans barely clung to his narrow hips, but they sure fit his muscled thighs well enough to make Dean drool. The face though, his face...perfect chiseled jaw, straight nose, fucking chapped looking red lips, all haloed by the most amazing sex hair he’d ever seen. But it was the eyes that held his attention. Intensely blue, hundreds of shades of blue , just staring at him.

Dean realized the guy was probably staring at him because he was fucking staring. Like a dumbass. He cleared his throat, and offered his free hand.

“Dean Winchester.” Smooth. At least his voice didn’t crack.

The man quirked his lip and shook the offered hand.

“Hello Dean. Castiel Novak. Nice to meet you. Come in.” He stepped back from the door to let Dean enter. He closed the door behind himself, and Cas gestured behind it. “You can take off your coat if you’d like.”

The entry was as orderly as the yard had seemed to be. A series of hooks hung behind the door, two covered by coats, with a shelf of totes above. Under it, stood a shoe rack, half filled with shoes, on a shallow drip tray which currently homed a pair of wet snow boots. Dean toed out of his shoes, glad that he’d opted for the steel toed shoes instead of his normal work boots this morning, and lined them up on the tray. He offered the folder he’d been holding out to the other man before taking his coat off and hanging it with the others. The folder found a home on the small side table, next to set of keys and a bowl of change. Another door, presumably to the garage, was just past the table.

“So, a tour? The main part of the house is pretty open.” Castiel gestured widely with his free hand.

“Sounds great. I love what I’m seeing so far.” It looked like all of the walls were the same soft blue-grey color with creamy white trim. It was practical, he supposed, for the big open space. It looked...peaceful.

Castiel stepped into the living room, and Dean noticed his bare feet sink into the plush carpet. There was a huge sectional, facing a gas fireplace with a widescreen TV mounted above it and floor to ceiling bookshelves on either side, both nearly full of books, movies, and photos, though again, everything looked well organized. An ottoman occupied the space in front of the couch, and two comfortable looking chairs formed the fourth corner. Overall, it looked like a great place to relax after work. Dean nodded.

“I don’t spend much time here, really, except on the weekends. By the time I get home from work, I’m ready for a shower and bed.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling. You said you have a funky schedule?”

“I work on the oncology ward at the hospital. The afternoon shift is 2- midnight.”

“Long days doing that kind of work.” Dean’s days were generally at least the same ten hours, but he didn’t have to deal with sick people. He’d been in hospitals enough to know that nurses worked hard, and often the work sucked.

Castiel shrugged. “Could be worse. A lot of hospitals run twelve hour shifts now, and I’ve got seniority, so I get the Monday-Thursday schedule. Always a three day weekend. It helps that I love my job.” He walked around the couch as he was talking, and Dean followed. “This is the dining room. I use it even less than the living room actually.”  He bypassed the long dark wood table and chairs to move into the kitchen. “When I do actually sit down to eat, I usually eat at the island.”

The kitchen was gorgeous. Dean imagined it could be featured in one of those home-decorator magazines he kept in the lobby for his customers. There were miles of granite counter top over dark wood cabinets. A bank of upper cabinets was balanced on one end by the wide stainless steel refrigerator, and on the other by the professional looking stove and hood. A half-full coffee pot was set next to the refrigerator, but very little else cluttered the space.

“I cook a little, but cooking for one sucks. I want to get better at it though, it’s one of my resolutions.” Dean moved further into the kitchen.

“My cooking is generally limited to scrambled eggs, toast, cold sandwiches, and spaghetti with jarred sauce, so you’re probably ahead of me already.” He pulled open a narrow drawer on the island. “I’ve got menus for every delivery and takeout place in town though.” He grinned as he waved down at the collection. “I promise not to touch anything on your side of the refrigerator though. You don’t have to worry about me stealing your leftovers.”

“Noted. Definitely an improvement over my current roommate. I’m lucky if he leaves anything for me to eat, even though I do all of the grocery shopping.”

“Ahh, I had an ex like that. Always hungry, but never bothered to actually buy food.” He shook his head.

Dean just grunted in agreement, and they moved into the hallway.

“Unfortunately, there’s only one full bathroom.” He opened the first door on the left. “Fortunately, it is very well equipped.”

“No shit!” Dean had stepped into the huge room. “Sorry, it’s just, I’ve never seen a bathroom like this outside of a fancy hotel.” The shower was walled in pristine white subway tiles, the open side a wall of glass. Towel hooks were mounted to the front. He could count at least four shower heads, plus the rain fall head above. One of the two shelves in the shower was half full of bottles, but the other was empty.

“It’s probably my favorite room. Sometimes, after a particularly bad day, I like to take a soak before bed.” He gestured at the deep soaker tub.

“Oh my God, that sounds awesome.” After a day hunched over his desk doing paperwork, his entire back felt like one giant cramp.

Cas nodded, then gestured at the double sink. “This sink would be yours.” He indicated the one by the toilet. “It has a medicine cabinet behind the mirror.” He popped it open showing several empty shelves before closing it again. “I keep my towels and washcloths in the bottom drawer, and cleaning supplies under my sink, but you’re welcome to the rest of the space.

Dean smiled at the idea that he’d already been accepted. “Given our schedules, I doubt we’ll have much trouble balancing bathroom times. Sounds like I’m out the door before you’re up and you’re gone before I get home.”

“Yes. Should make it easy to keep from fighting over the shower.” He grinned over his shoulder as he stepped back into the hall.

“This is a guest bathroom,” he opened the first door on the opposite side of the hall revealing a toilet and small vanity, “So we really only have to share with overnight guests.” He opened the next door. “And this is the guest room. It’s a little small, but occasionally one of my siblings comes in for the weekend to visit. You’re welcome to use it for guests as well, if you’d like. Either way, it’s probably a good idea to put in on the house calendar so we don’t end up double booking.”

The guest bedroom, though Castiel had called it ‘small’ offered a queen bed, a wide dresser, and a double closet. It was pretty much what he’d imagined renting. Dean shrugged. “My family lives pretty close, so I don’t really have anybody who would need to spend the night. Unless, I become clinically insane and offer to have my nephews overnight, but I really don’t see that happening.”

“They’d be welcome on the weekend. How old are they?” He’d pulled the door closed again and moved further down the hall.

“Three and five. We’re celebrating full potty training and no accidents now. Very exciting.”

“Oh, that is!” His grin was something else, and Dean couldn’t help but smile back as he opened the door to the next room. “This is the den.” He stepped inside. It was clearly a converted bedroom, similar in size to the guest room, with the same closet. A desk sat on each wall, one with papers stacked on top, each with a plush rolling chair tucked under it. In the corner by the closet, there were two wide arm chairs and a coffee table. Castiel had moved to the closet and swung it open. “I actually have several nieces and nephews myself, so there’s a stash of stuff in here just in case.” Dean noted several labeled totes, ‘coloring,’ ‘blocks,’ and ‘vehicles’ caught his eye before the door was closed and Castiel was moving back to the desk. He tapped at a whiteboard mounted above it. “This is the house calendar. Basically, I just use it to organize bills, etc. But if we’re having guests, that’s probably a good thing to note as well. And I keep a running grocery list. I thought maybe we could take turns picking up the standard household things, toilet paper, coffee, etcetera, but if you prefer, we can do it a different way.”

“No, that sounds fine. I usually shop on Saturday, unless something comes up in the meantime, and I don’t mind picking up whatever.”

They wandered back into the hall and to the final two doors, both open. “These are the twin masters.” He walked into the room on the right, indicating for Dean to follow. “This one is mine. Sorry, I haven’t gotten to laundry.”

The room was huge, with an unmade made king sized bed, a pair of dressers, and again, what looked like a very large closet. The mentioned hamper was tucked into the corner by the dressers, and that and the mussed bedding were about the only thing he’d seen in the house that was disorderly. Still, it was the little sitting area that caught Dean’s attention. Again he felt like he’d stepped into a high end hotel. A wide chair with a matching ottoman was tucked into the corner, flanked by bookcases, and a small rolling table was positioned over one arm holding a laptop.

“Judgement free zone.” Dean lifted his hands. “Besides, I was kind of starting to wonder if you kept a maid or something. The whole place is spotless.”

“It’s not too hard, since I rarely have time to mess it, but I do look forward to splitting the chores.”

“Is that the only reason you’re looking for a roommate? I mean I dated a nurse once, and he made as much as me at least.” Dean blushed a little, well, that hadn’t really been how he’d meant to bring up the fact that he was bi, but now that it was out, he supposed it would be good to know how Castiel would react.

“Honestly, that’s definitely part of it. I bought this house a couple of years back, with the intention of starting a family. My partner at the time, didn’t have the same ideas, which I found out when I found him in the hot tub with his assistants. Plural. I love the house, I really do, but it it’s just so big for just me. It gets...lonely.”

Dean huffed out a breath. OK, so he was either gay or bi himself, one thing less to worry about, but that sounded like a really rough breakup. “Man, I’m sorry. That really sucks. My last real breakup was pretty amicable, but I’d gotten pretty close to her kid, so that sucked. Still, at least you got to keep the house, and it really is awesome. I wound up in a shitty third floor walkup.”

“So did Fergus.” Castiel chuckled and led Dean back to the door. “This place was always mine. At any rate, this one would be yours. It’s the same as mine, just opposite. I didn’t ask, do you have furniture?”

The room looked even bigger empty. “I have some, but seeing your room, I think I might get some new stuff. I can call it doing something for myself and tag it as part of my resolutions.” He grinned at the other man. His bedroom set was nice enough, and he loved his memory foam mattress, but the idea of upgrading to a king sized bed, of actually having all of his bedroom furniture match, it was definitely appealing.

Castiel grinned. “I donated everything that was here when Fergus moved out. It was cathartic. New furniture for my fresh start. I wouldn’t mind going with you, it can be a little tedious on your own.”

“I have a feeling I don’t want to get on your bad side. I might come home to find all my crap on the front lawn.”

Castiel laughed out loud. “Don’t fuck your barely legal assistants in the hot tub, and we should be fine.” He turned and started back down the hall.

“I’d have bigger problems than you to deal with if I did that. Benny, my lead technician, has been married for a long time, and his old lady can be downright scary in that Stepford wife kind of way. Charlie, my left-hand girl, is a gold-star lesbian, and I’m pretty sure she’d kill to protect her record.” He was teasing, but both were facts he didn’t want to ever test.

“One less thing to worry about then. Emptying the hot tub is a bitch.” He opened a door in the entryway that Dean hadn’t noticed before, and flipped on a light before heading down a flight of stairs.

The basement, at least the half that he could see from the bottom of the stairs, was finished, and as well maintained as the upstairs, if a lot more industrial looking. At the bottom of the stairs, the laundry area occupied a length of the wall, with a matching high-efficiency washer and dryer set, a deep wash sink between them, a long stainless steel counter for folding, a bar for hanging clothes, and wall mounted drying rack and ironing board.

“I usually do my laundry on Sunday afternoon, but I don’t mind negotiating that. I could probably do it Friday while you’re at work.”

Dean shook his head. “No worries. I like to do mine in the morning, usually Saturday, but sometimes I slack until Sunday. I can have it out of the way by noon, no problem.”

Castiel nodded and gestured to the rest of the room. “The basement is sound proofed, so you don’t have to worry about making noise down here while I’m sleeping.” The rest of the room was clearly used as a home gym. The floor was covered in thick rubber mats, and there was a treadmill, an elliptical, a weight bench with a rack of weights, and an exercise ball. The other half of the room was clear except for a small tote, though there was a TV mounted on the wall surrounded by several full length mirrors. “You’re welcome to use any of the equipment of course. I practice yoga, so there’s blocks and straps and stuff in the tote if you’re interested. Otherwise, there rest of the basement is mostly unfinished. It’s sealed, but that’s about it. You can use it for storage if you want. I have Christmas stuff stuck in there.” Cas shrugged. “I guess that’s about it. Hot tub is on the back deck, the yard is fenced in and completely private. Oh, the garage. You run an automotive shop, I’m sure you’re interested.”

“You say that like you aren’t.”

“Well, I enjoy not having to scrape the ice off of my windows.” It was said with a small smile. He led them back upstairs and to the other door in the entry.

“This is the door I usually use.” He pulled it open and stepped down into the garage. There was a blue SUV parked in the spot closest to the door, with the area in front of the other door empty. The garage was deeper than he’d expected, probably big enough to park two cars lengthwise, though the area in front of the SUV was occupied by a large work bench. “I don’t really use anything in here except the freezer.” He indicated an upright freezer near the door. “You can use the workbench if you want. Unfortunately, the snowblower died in the middle of that last big storm, so we’re stuck shoveling.”

“Or, you tell your mechanic housemate that the snow blower’s broken, and he fixes it.” He was grinning like a clown, he was sure, but the place was perfect, close to work, amazing space, great housemate and a heated garage . Seriously, could it get any better?

“So you like it?”

“Dude, it is perfect. I’m not convinced you’re not a serial killer it’s so nice and the rent is so affordable, but at this point, I think I might be willing to help you bury a body or two for a chance to live here.”

“Awesome. You’re the first person that’s answered the ad that I think I’d actually like to share a house with.” He glanced at his watch “I really need to get ready for work, but I can give you a copy of the lease to read over, and you can text me with questions. I can’t always answer right away, but I usually get a few minutes here or there. When were you looking to move in?”

“Honestly, unless you ask for my firstborn as deposit, I’ll put notice in tomorrow, so within the next two weeks if that’s OK?”

Cas was nodding. “Anytime. We can work out the details this weekend.” They’d moved back to the front door.

“Thanks so much for showing me this place, Castiel. This is exactly what I was hoping for.”

Cas glanced at the contents of the folder Dean had given him earlier, and added a sheaf of papers, and waited until he’d put his shoes and coat back on before handing it to him. “My friends call me Cas, and since I’m looking forward to sharing a house with you, I’m hoping you’ll fall into that category.” He offered Dean a hand to shake.

“Can’t wait Cas. I’ll shoot you a text if anything comes up with the lease, otherwise, I’ll plan on giving you a call Friday after work. Sound good?” He didn’t really want to leave, now that he was here, but he had to get back to work as well. He took the offered hand, and shook if firmly.

“Sounds good. Have a great afternoon Dean.” He moved to hold the door open.

“You too Cas.” He waved as he headed to his car.

He was actually looking forward to canceling the other appointments he’d made. No way could he get a better deal than this.

More Notes:

Three chapters in, and they finally meet. Can you actually imagine a meeting between these two that doesn't involve some kind of awe on Dean's part?

P.S. The description of Cas was very inspired by this magnificent piece of art (https://www.redbubble.com/people/jackiedeeart/works/35675771-sunshine?c=408643-supernatural). That's a redbubble link because I firmly believe everyone needs this in their house.

P.P.S Sorry about the gratuitous amounts of house description. I'm hoping it will help in the coming chapters to know your way around.

[selfwrittenstars]

Larry fanfiction masterpost

Some of my favourite long fics that I’ve come across during the many hours that I’ve spent reading (if I’m not mistaken they all are at least 90k words long).🌈💝💛💚💜💙

1) Dress you up in my love.

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6135802/chapters/14060698

Summary: Harry is single, and more than anything wants to find love. Agreeing to sign up to a dating website was a bad, bad idea. Niall’s bad, bad idea. Louis is single, but has no interest in relationships. Or so he tells himself. 

Harry is a lawyer whose boss, Nick, happens to give him a bonus, which he decides to splurge on a new work wardrobe. Louis is a frustrated designer, working as a personal shopper at Selfridges. Louis happens to be working on the day a very beautiful, but out of his depth, new customer ambles into their department in need of advice. Louis might have just found the muse he never knew he was looking for.  

2)  Shake me down

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/3331958/chapters/7285322

Summary: Harry’s new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.

3) Fading

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/629683/chapters/1138549

Summary: Louis knows about beauty; the combination of qualities that pleases the aesthetic senses. He creates that combination every day in the garments he designs while studying fashion at uni. The cut of the design, the color of the fabric, the intricacy of the stitching; it all comes together to create something beautiful. When the science student with the long legs and dimpled smile agrees to model for him, Louis decides he’s found beauty personified. Harry just thinks Louis needs someone to show him how beautiful he is.

4) And then a bit

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1415272/chapters/2972746

Summary: “We’d like to give the fans what they want.” Magee states, placing his hand on the table in front of him and leaning forward. “We want to give them Larry Stylinson.”   Or, take a parallel universe where Louis and Harry were never together, mix in a two year hiatus and an impending comeback, pour in a dash of lost fans, two tablespoons of strong friendship and a Modest! employee with a good idea. Add a squeeze of pretending to be a couple, lots of kisses and a tattoo or two. Stir. Serve: the mother of all publicity stunts. (aka Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.)

5) Young & beautiful 

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/838537/chapters/1597776

Summary: Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn’t stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes.

6) You are in love

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/5299295/chapters/12594848?view_adult=true

Summary: The one to cry your eyeballs out. Harry is first with Xander Ritz. Larry go from friends, to something more than friends, to lovers, to something more than friends, to nothing, to lovers again. Uni AU.

7) Nobody shines the way that you do

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/3374579/chapters/7381043

Summary: “We might as well just date.”Harry froze in his arms, his body stilled as he slowly lifted his head up at Louis to give him the most confused expression he’d ever worn. Louis literally wanted to fuck him into the next century. “What?” Harry asked. “Are you–.”“No,” Louis said, shaking his head before Harry could go far with that idea and trap Louis into confessing his own feelings. “I mean…like I think I have a plan?”“A plan?” Harry said slowly. “A plan other than me going to Peter’s tomorrow and groveling for hours; maybe even days?”The thought of Harry doing that made Louis’ skin burn, but he schooled his expression well and nodded swiftly. “There will be no groveling. Well, there will be, but not on your end.”orLouis pretends to be Harry’s boyfriend to help him win back his douchebag ex-boyfriend, but things don’t go according to plan.

8) Empty skies

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1261096/chapters/2599474

Summary: For three years, Harry has been running from his past. Now, he is moving to London and pledges to fulfil his only dream – making it big in the music industry. Not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. As is his past catching up on him.Louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there had meant a lot of hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. He’s still happy. Maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain?Featuring Perrie as Harry’s adorable flatmate, Niall as his manager, and Liam and Zayn as Louis’ bandmates. ESCAPADE

9) In circles of you and me

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12266679

Summary: Louis pulls Harry closer by the belt loops. Harry could feel his breath warm against his neck as he brushes his lips against his skin. “You know… I don’t care if you kiss other people.” Harry smiles as he feels Louis’ stubble scratch against his neck. “I know you don’t, but-”He stifles a moan as Louis bites down gently on the soft surface of his skin. “You can kiss other people too-” Louis pauses to look at him pointedly. “I know I can.”“Well, have you?” Harry asks, his brows furrowed. “What’s it to you?” Louis retorts with a smirk. “You’re the one I’m kissing now.”–Or, Louis and Harry keep running into each other at parties. It doesn’t mean anything, until it does.

10) Relief next to me

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1117942/chapters/2251923

Summary: AU. What happens when a baker and a graphic designer meet via a very specific Craigslist post? Fate, friendship, food, and maybe more.

11) Play the odds

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8948758

Summary: Harry and Louis are best friends since childhood who, after a night of drinking, find themselves locked in a bet: first one to kiss the other a thousand times wins. Wins what? They don’t know. Glory, Harry supposes. Bragging rights, though those don’t do much in this economy. All Harry knows is that this is one bet he can finally win. What he doesn’t expect, though, is what happens when he starts kissing his best friend on a daily basis. Namely, he doesn’t expect falling head over heels in love with his best friend. Now all he has to do is make sure the bet never ends, so he never has to stop kissing Louis.

12) Time bomb

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3641511/chapters/8044863

Summary: “Why exactly are you here?” Louis asked, feigning annoyance and failing pathetically at it. “My publicist told me I can’t go anywhere near you.” Harry said, eyes still smudged with last night’s eye liner. “That makes you my favorite person in the world.” Or the one where Louis has everything: a lead role in a giant Hollywood franchise, a glittering new house with an entertaining Irish neighbor, and a steady, normal boyfriend who he probably loves. Louis never expected to become a household name among young Hollywood overnight. He also never expected to find something endearing about the enigmatic rockstar who keeps showing up on his back porch.

13) Hiding place

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4858376/chapters/11133491

Summary: Louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. Enter Harry Styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. With one fateful meeting in an X Factor bathroom, Louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because Harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual.From the X Factor house to Madison Square Garden, from the Fountain Studios stage to stadiums across the world, Louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace Louis as the center of his universe. Meanwhile, Harry begins to think that maybe fate doesn’t actually know what it’s doing after all, because his other half has clearly been right in front of him the whole time. All he has to do now is convince Louis to give them a chance.    Or, the canon compliant Harry and Louis love story from the very beginning, where the only difference is that the love between them is literally written on their skin, and there’s only so much they can hide.

14) You You You

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846690/chapters/1617212

Summary: “Infamous boybander leaves club together with unknown,” read the headline. Underneath were pictures of a boy with dark curls, green eyes and very tight pants. They both studied the article for a moment, reading it through quickly. “Is that…?” Louis frowned. That guy almost looked exactly like… “HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” “Louis,” Niall said, looking absolutely fucked over. “You just fucked the most wanted guy on earth. You just fucked Harry Styles of One Direction."Or, the one where Harry and Louis meet at a club and Louis takes Harry home, only for him to realize that the boy who just made him breakfast half naked is Harry Styles from One Direction.

15) Never Be

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8318785/chapters/19050769

Summary: Monica: You’ve got to see her again. Ross: And why do you care so much? Monica: Because! You could get to live out my fantasy! Ross: You had fantasies about Emily? Monica: No! Y’know, the fantasy! Meet someone from a strange land, fall madly in love, and spend the rest of your lives together.  The one where Harry Styles moves to Connecticut from England for nine months as a part of a study abroad program, and he just so happens to move in with Louis Tomlinson and family.

16) Unbelievers

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3592992/chapters/7924602

Summary: It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

17) Into The Blue

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035822/chapters/2065499

Summary: AU. In which Louis is Harry’s scuba instructor and quite happy to provide the requested special treatment, pun fully intended. It can’t be all that difficult to convince Harry that they’re on the same page, right? Also, Niall and Liam may or may not be dating, and Zayn is surrounded by emotionally stunted idiots. He bears it with dignity.

18) We’re okay

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/635292/chapters/1150082

Summary: It’s funny, really, that their lives hadn’t intercepted before that point. That all it took was one little thing that set off a chain reaction of circumstances which led them all to each other. But it was for the best, really, because in the end, with each other, they were all okay.And if you asked them, the whole thing could be blamed on Liam sleeping in, for once in his life.

19) Don’t Look Down

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738944/chapters/1375483

Summary: AU. In which Louis is a solicitor at one of London’s most prestigious law firms and Harry happens to apply for the position as his trainee. And everyone else is around, too.

20) got the sunshine on my shoulders

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10785375/chapters/23922933

Summary: five years ago, harry styles left his tiny home town to make it big as a recording artist. he didn’t have much regard for what he left behind - a life, a family, and a husband, who woke up one morning to find him gone.now, harry has everything he could possibly want: he’s rich, famous, and adored by everyone he meets, including his boyfriend. but when said boyfriend proposes to him, he’s forced to face the uncomfortable facts of his past - and louis, who’s spent the last five years returning every set of divorce papers harry sent him.(or, an au based on the movie sweet home alabama.)

21) Love is a Rebellious Bird

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162438/chapters/2362331

Summary: AU in which the boys still make music.  Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again” according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best.  Zayn and Liam are around too. Don’t hum Bolero.

22) Wear it like a crown

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1816771/chapters/3900322

Summary: AU. As part of a team of fixers hired to handle a gay scandal in Buckingham Palace, Louis expects Prince Harry to be a lot of things—most notably a royally spoilt brat. Never mind that the very same Prince Harry used to star in quite a number of Louis' teenage fantasies.

23) Lonesome when you go

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11032023/chapters/24588318

Summary: Harry, Louis, Niall, and Liam are surgeons-in-training at the most prestigious program in the United States.More than that, Harry and Louis have a history unknown to the others, a history that involves dogs and God, anatomy lessons, food fights, vinyl jazz records, and one hell of an oyster tour. A story of trust and friendship, of poetry and rock and roll, pink-tinged dawns and the darkest nights. A tale of portraits, tattoos, and everlasting love.

24) You watched me sink

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6896620

Summary: They've discussed it a few times - the boyfriend thing. It's not like it's some forbidden, horrific, abandon hope all ye who talk about furthering the relationship sort of subject. They're mature adults. They're in tune with their feelings, their hearts' desires, the way those butterflies swoop in their bellies whenever they so much as hold each other's hands. They like each other. A lot. It's mutual, they know. But for now, they're just content to enjoy the simplicity of what they have, and what they have is great.  When dating in secret stops being enough, then they'll discuss that too. Or, the one where Harry teaches Sex Ed and sneaks around with the drama teacher, and doesn't realize how out of tune he is with his true feelings until everyone else figures it out for him.

25) we’re not friends, we could be anything

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7873252/chapters/17980723

Summary: The next second, Harry is firing back, “If I wanted to kill you I could have just poisoned your fajitas.”Louis rolls his eyes. “Clever boy.”Harry feels his skin start to prickle with irritation. The way Louis talks to him, so condescending... Like he’s smarter than Harry… Fuck that.“I don’t have time for this,” Harry says. “Some of us have schoolwork to do. And jobs to get to. So if you’ll excuse me.”Harry doesn’t wait for a reply before he pushes past Louis, hoisting his bag further up his shoulder and rushing towards the door. No, not rushing. That would imply Louis is chasing him out. He walks to the door hastily.He’s not sure, but he thinks he hears Louis mutter “Fucking wanker” before the door to the flat clicks shut behind him. ...Or, the one where Harry and Louis are unlikely uni flatmates who definitely don't like each other and definitely won't fall in love (even if Liam and Niall think otherwise).

26) Nameless night

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3467966/chapters/7611533

Summary: For their 18th birthday, every person receives a letter that reads a simple date. That is the date you'll meet your soulmate. Harry and Louis have different beliefs, live in different worlds and have different dreams, hopes and fears. Yet, they're not so different from each other when it comes to love. When their paths cross, there is no doubt they belong together. Except for that one, essential difference: they didn't receive the same date. Or, a fic about differences that make no difference at all: Harry and Louis are soulmates. In every way possible. Featuring Niall as a role model, and Liam and Zayn as a different kind of role models.

Happy reading!!