#He didn't think it was worrying because it's his normality

[angelltheninth]

JJK men getting a boner but denying that the girl they're crushing on caused it?

Lol, that's funny, I think some of them would do this though.

Pairing: Yuuji, Sukuna, Megumi, Gojo, Nanami, Yuta, Haruta x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, boner, getting embaressed, teasing, blushing, denial of being aroused, tsundere behavior, being shy

A/N: Some good teasing is what these guys need, you gotta flip the tables on them sometimes.

Yuuji is a bit of a pervert but he doesn't want you to know that so openly. He was your best friend before you started dating so he doesn't want to freak you out by being too horny around you. It's for the best if he takes care of this quietly and doesn't speak of it again.

Sukuna refuses to admit to himself, and to you too, that a human could cause such a state of arousal in him. You see, he has to be careful not to let you think you have any control over him and his actions. That includes his boner, you may help him with it but you're not that special.

Megumi doesn't want you to get the idea that he only got with you for your body or to sleep with you. Don't point out his erection like that, you're reaching for it and why, to keep it from going away? This is so fun for you, getting a rise out of the normally calm guy like him.

Gojo covers the front of his pants but not so quickly that you don't notice. Chuckling to himself he tells you he'll take care of it real fast in the bathroom and then you can watch the movie to the end. This happened cause he was imagining the two of you in the movie love scene.

Nanami knows this is a perfectly logical response to his girlfriend sitting in his lap and grinding against him. Yet he pushes you of instead of letting you help him with it. Doing that right now would be like admitting to himself he can no longer control himself.

Yuta blushes so hard when you tell him you can feel his cock pressing against your inner thigh. Just from a little cuddling and kissing, he's already that hard, ready to fuck. But not really, he insists that it's because he didn't jerk off that morning so his cock is giving him signals.

Haruta almost wants to say this is your fault, the poor guy wants to have sex with you so bad. Still he knows he doesn't have a lot of self control right now, he could hurt you really badly. Lies to you by telling you he was thinking of the last porn he saw, but don't worry, you're hotter.

[aromanticbuck]

AITA for coming out at my sister's wedding?

I (32M) recently realized I'm bisexual and I have my first bf (45M), he's a rescue helicopter pilot (this will be relevant later). I'm out to my sister (41F) and my coworkers, including her husband, who I have worked with for years, but not to my parents or most of the other guests. Everyone has joked that I'm a little too close to my best friend (32M), and we might as well get married, but he's straight and has a gf. They're not relevant to this story, but to give context to how much my sexuality probably shouldn't be a surprise, even if it took me by surprise.

I told my sister and her husband I was bringing a plus one, and they both knew my bf, they were supportive of it because he makes me really happy.

Everything kind of started at the bachelor party. It was just me, my brother-in-law, and my best friend, and we did the usual stuff. We stayed a night in a hotel, went out to get drunk, sang some karaoke at our usual spot. It should have been a super chill night. Until my best friend and I lost the groom??? But it way more stressful than The Hangover makes it look.

He'd been taken by these guys who tried to kill him (no, I don't know why) and we didn't realize he was missing until less than an hour before the wedding. My mom kind of threw a fit about us being late, and then blamed me for losing the groom, which is kind of a normal reaction from her. My dad didn't yell as much but again, this is a normal reaction, I'm kind of the disappointment child. Basically, we had to find my brother-in-law because he still needed to marry my sister.

Before anyone worries: they did get married. He's fine. The hospital says they're discharging him tomorrow to go home. They're gonna reschedule their honeymoon so he's well enough to enjoy it.

Long story short, it turned into a rescue mission, and driving would have taken too long, and my best friend suggested we ask my bf to borrow his helicopter again (long story, but we had to borrow him for something a few months ago, it's how we met!) so I asked him for the favor. My mom asked who he was, since my best friend just used his name, and I told her he's my boyfriend, and she freaked out about it.

When we go to the hospital with my brother-in-law, my parents both yelled at and scolded me for taking attention away from the biggest day of my sister's life by pulling some "stunt" with my bf (to SAVE my brother-in-law from being violently murdered), and I think my dad somehow grounded me?

AITA?

[erwinsvow]

wait I still absolutely love love love kook trio reader with Rafe and because I think Rafe trying to control himself because he’s her ‘friend’ is so funny to me because hello I love him but I can totally get around to her and JJ 🤭

rafe thought he was really good at it—keeping himself under control. he thought no one else could see through the hard exterior, that he was keeping the possessiveness he felt over you well concealed.

he wasn't.

if the obvious staring at all the times of the day weren't enough, he was touchy with you, touchier than what was considered normal for your little friend group. you were the touchy one, always leaning against kelce's shoulder in the backseat when you were sleepy or keeping your feet splayed across top's lap during evenings spent out on the boat.

and though at first you had been the touchiest of all with rafe, he was starting to overtake you. a hand on your waist on the course, only pulling away when it was his turn to swing. sitting in the chair closest to you during lunch at the club, keeping his hand on the back of your seat, pulled closer to his than normal.

even during parties when he'd normally stalk off to sell and flirt with random girls—something that you used to be okay with but now made you feel a little unsettled, a little queasy—he was glued to your side, making sure the drink in your hand was from him, making sure your head only rested against his shoulder, your legs on his lap.

and normally, you ignored it. a little part of you was pleased, you'd always liked rafe the best, maybe because he had been the hardest to win over. when you first started hanging out with the boys, he'd put up the biggest fight, if topper and kelce were to be believed. rafe was the one who had been opposed, the one who thought a girl would ruin the vibes.

so it was nice, almost strangely satisfying, that he was so attached to you now. trying to be a good friend, like he always put it, like today.

rafe had given you a can of mango seltzer poured into a solo cup. what he didn't know was that topper had poured about two shots of vodka into the cup when rafe walked away to make a quick sell. and then kelce had topped you off again when rafe went to go make his own drink, so as a result, you were deliciously drunk, leaning back on the couch, pushing the soles of your feet against rafe's thighs while he kept a firm hand on your knee so you didn't tip over and fall off.

you giggle at his touch, everything feeling hot and tingly.

"really? that fizzy shit does this to you?" he asks, low and quiet. at first you're a little quiet, and he's a little worried—you're never quiet. but you laugh, thudding your head gently back on the arm of the sofa.

"rafe, when has one can ever done this to me? you're funny." you say, pushing yourself up and balancing on your elbows to look at him. you look pretty, enticingly so, almost enough to distract him from your words. the short denim skirt and white shirt is among his favorites, and he stares a little longer than he normally would.

you don't notice—he's always staring at you.

"what's that supposed to mean?"

"how do you think that bottle of vodka got empty so quickly?"

"they gave you more?" rafe questions, his hand coming to your ankles to hoist them to the side so he can stand up. he searches for topper and kelce, spotting them with two girls by the pool table, and just as he starts to take the first step, you sit up, grabbing his wrist and holding him back.

"hey! what the hell's that about?" rafe turns to look back you, staring up at him with your pretty eyes and confused expression. "i always drink with you guys. why would i stop now?"

"because i had said-"

"yes, i know you said not to." he sits back down, body facing yours, too close not to arouse suspicions from other people watching. you don't mind though, you're used to it. "i know you're being a good friend rafe, but i can't stop having fun because you're worried about me."

the alcohol has made you surprisingly honest—normally he thinks you whack the side of his head and call him an idiot.

"right.." rafe says slowly, processing the words. "a good friend. right. i am."

"i know you are." you lie back down, swinging your feet across his lap again, resuming position.

he strokes the skin of your legs, all the way from your thigh to your ankle. a boy walking by stares at your short skirt, but darts away when he sees how rafe's looking at him.

"you're all good friends," you ramble. "so nice to me, especially you. i thought you hated me at first. sometimes i worry you still do."

"could never hate you, kid."

you giggle again, taking another sip of your drink.

"stop being an idiot then, and have fun. i'll go get you another scotch if that's what it takes."

the night goes like that until kelce and top rejoin, and even then, you somehow end up like always—asleep next to rafe at tannyhill. you wake up to the blare of your alarm, while rafe covers his ears with the pillow.

"turn that shit off," he mumbles. "where the hell are you goin' so early?" you yawn, stretching next to him. he looks up, eyes opening by themselves, yearning to catch a glimpse of exposed skin.

"i have to go back home. will you bring me? pleeease?" you elongate the word, singing it sweetly so he'll comply.

"right now? why?"

"i'm going on a lunch date. i wanna get ready, y'know, look nice," you say, turning off your alarm and fiddling with something on your phone, replying to a text he thinks.

rafe sits up immediately.

"a date? with who?"

"um, this guy my friend buys weed from sometimes. he's nice, though, not weird at all. well, not weird like that, like not creepy, but he's funny-"

"shut up. you're not going." you turn from your position to look at him.

"rafe, you're so weird. friends are supposed to be excited for each other."

"right. excited."

"c'mon let's go, i don't wanna be late." you gather your discarded clothes on the floor, but keep his shirt on, wearing it home like you always do.

"friends," he mumbles to himself. friends. that's when he decided he was gonna have to do something about you.

[nunalastor]

There was an earlier idea that didn't make it into the show proper that Alastor wouldn't be able to talk without his microphone, and I think it's fun to imagine if that stayed true to the show.

Alastor pops back up in the hotel but no singing. He just smiles, accepts the group hug, and then fucks off to his new room as soon as he possibly can.

Charlie's glad to have him back, but as the weeks pass, she worries. Alastor's never been super sociable, but he's practically become a ghost in the hotel. She tries going up to his room and inviting him down for some group activities. He doesn't have to join in! It would just be nice to see him around. To know he's okay.

Alastor smiles, pats her head, then shuts the door in her face. He never speaks a word.

But the next day he's downstairs sitting in his favorite chair while she guides Angel Dust through her newest exercise. He just watches and doesn't say a word, but that's normal for him. Charlie's glad to see him supposedly going back to normal. Once the exercises are over, though, Alastor starts to leave without excusing himself like he normally would and Charlie catches him, thanks him for showing his face, tries to strike up a conversation-

Alastor cuts her off with a finger to her lips and walks off. Charlie doesn't know what this means. Is he upset with her? Has she done something wrong? She can't help but be crushed by this apparent rejection.

And Lucifer, who's been watching this whole time, can't stand to see his darling daughter crushed.

So Lucifer goes up to the tacky piece of shit's room, bangs on the door, and demands that Alastor come out and have a word with him. When Alastor refuses to answer the door, he busts it down, earning some radio dial eyes and a black tentacle trying to throw him out of the room. 'Trying' because Lucifer vaporizes it with the snap of his fingers. Lucifer grabs Alastor by the front of his coat and demands to know where he gets the gall to just ignore Charlie like that after claiming to see her as a daughter. The longer Alastor refuses to answer him, the angrier Lucifer gets until he's screaming at Alastor to just open his mouth and talk dammit-

Alastor opens his mouth.

His lips move.

No sound comes out.

That takes the wind out of Lucifer's sails, especially when he sees Alastor's eyes go wide and Alastor's hand flies up to cover his mouth, too late to take back his mistake.

Of course, Lucifer isn't going to keep this to himself, not like he's trying to be a dick or anything, he just wants to reassure Charlie that her (annoying) hotelier isn't ignoring her intentionally and actually can't talk. And Charlie being Charlie want's to figure out a way to solve this problem. So Alastor finds himself roped into Charlie's attempts to 'help.' He makes his displeasure known by glaring daggers at Lucifer the entire while.

👀

[aurumacadicus]

132?

"Steve?" Tony croaked, and then, louder, more distressed, "Steve?!"

Steve fought the urge to hold him tighter. His hands were numb, and the numbness was starting to spread up his arms, too cold even for gooseflesh to rise along his skin. He couldn't risk hurting Tony when he was already injured. "Tony."

"Where are we? What happened? Why are--it's so cold," Tony asked in a rush. He squirmed in Steve's hold. "Did we... did we have a mission?"

"I thought I lost you," Steve whispered into the back of his neck. "I still might. We're snowed into a cave. I didn't get a chance to send an emergency signal."

"Oh," Tony murmured, squirming slowing to a stop.

"That missile hit you, and you fell like a stone. I thought you'd died. But I was already so cold that I couldn't tell when I finally got to the armor. I'm so glad you're awake."

"...So..." Tony began slowly. "You didn't even know if you were holding a corpse?"

Steve flinched, burying his face in Tony's back with a shuddering sigh. No. He didn't. The snow was already coming down heavily, visibility was down, he'd lost feeling in his hands trying to tear the icing armor off of Tony, and he'd worried that the warmth of Tony's body against his numb fingers had been because he was so cold. Tony had gotten colder. He'd thought maybe he hadn't had a heart beat left to heat him, even as he'd hoped it was just a normal reaction to the cold.

He would have held Tony until he was torn from his hands, though. Maybe even longer, if he still had strength.

"Okay," Tony said, voice soothing, when Steve couldn't bring himself to answer verbally. "Okay. I still have my watch gauntlet. I can send a beacon that way. We're gonna be okay, Steve." He shifted in Steve's arms. "Is this--is this your top? Did you put it on me to keep me warm? Steve. You'll freeze."

"I survived it once before," Steve answered mulishly, but only realized just how terrible it sounded when Tony couldn't help an overwhelmed sob in response. The knowledge that Steve would strip off a desperately needed layer to put on someone he thought was dead, just in case, and end up freezing to death himself... it was probably shocking. Heartbreaking, maybe, if he allowed himself to think about it too much.

He didn't tell Tony that he would do it again in a heartbeat. That seemed like too much when he was cold and injured.

[electraslight]

Gwen Tennyson is one of my favorite characters in anything ever but there's this pervasiveness in this fandom that shes. Well. A nice, good person. And I don't really like that, especially when shes absolved of her very clear faults to the detriment of other characters. Basically all of Gwen and Kevin's relationship is Gwen doing things to Kevin that, in a normal show, she would be made to apologize for, like rushing him into a relationship when he has made it clear he is not interested at that moment, trying to make him jealous and putting their whole team in danger (which is entirely put on bens shoulders and not hers), hitting him as a punchline for a joke when all Kevin's done is make a silly comment, calling him ugly, blah blah blah you get my point I've been over this a billion times. There are other characters who get the short stick too. In the episode where Elena pretends to be Julie and puts the alien trio under the impression that she ditched nationals to hang out with ben, sure as a friend you'd be worried, but Gwen keeps saying over and over that it's not like julie, she shouldn't put a boy over herself, telling her she made a bad decision, even when julie tells her no, I've made my decision, I don't want to talk about this. Gwen does not respect anyone's boundaries even people like Kevin, Julie, and Ben, who are supposed to be her friends. But people in the fandom characterize Gwen as sweet, kind, helpful, never in the wrong ever even when she is doing something horrible. Remember when people used to say that "Gwen didn't deserve kevin" not because of the constant belittling of his interests, lack of appreciation of his boundaries (see also: those scenes in Trade Off where Kevin repeatedly takes her hand off of him and she keeps trying to touch him anyway), and general nastiness, but because Kevin, who was at the time under the impression that Gwen was getting tired of him (wonder why he'd think that what with her calling him hideous every other episode) got groomed, assaulted, and enslaved. And that's his fault I guess because he's a guy and guys can't get abused. Gwevin is so good you guys the only problem is Kevin,the guy who left his entire support system to go live with his girlfriend, the guy who carries her bags and nonstop talks about how much he lives her when she can never muster up a word to say about him besides "He's nice" and "he's changed". Gwen is always in the right because shes a girl boss character who is not allowed to have flaws besides being stuck up or whatever, and it's totally OK if she needlessly suspects everyone around her and crosses the boundaries of basically everyone she talks to. Read me this: if you think female characters should be strong, why shouldn't you acknowledge Gwen's flaws? Why is it better to have a character who's kind, sweet, motherly, badass but only in ways that won't upstage the male main character, than an awkward, horrible teenage girl who loves people so strongly she strangles them, who's overly paranoid based on her own biases, who views her friends as projects she can fix, but God she is trying so hard. God, I'm begging you, please factor this in to your Gwen fanworks, I'm so tired of her being portrayed as a good person. Shes not a good person. Shes a 16 year old girl.

(Also sorry I talked so much about gwevin its just that Gwen isn't allowed to be her own person outside of men in this show)

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest April warm-up round.

Who Will Buy My Memories?

Prompt: Taxed | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Eddie Munson Lives, Established Relationship, Welcome to the 90s, Fluff, Corroded Coffin on the Road

"What do you mean, I owe back taxes?" Eddie asks, pressing the receiver of the payphone closer to his ear. As if that'll make him hear Steve differently.

"The letter says you didn't pay them. They're overdue, from, like, three years ago," Steve says, and Eddie's sure that's not right. He doesn't want to pay taxes, but they do. He pays under protest. Not, like, legally. But in his heart. Point is, he pays. Jeff makes sure they all do. For sure. Surely, Eddie's hasn't slipped through the cracks. Even if Jeff missed it, Steve would have caught it when he did their personal taxes. 

"Did you call them and ask?" Eddie asks.

"Call who?" Steve questions, and Eddie can picture Steve's face scrunched up. Can hear it, somehow. He really misses him.

"The IRS."

Steve lets out an exasperated sigh, "No. I didn't call the IRS for you. For one, why would I know what your tax fuck-up entails?"

"You do our personal taxes!" Eddie interrupts, but Steve keeps talking, ignoring him

"And two? It says right in the letter that for someone else to call, you'd have to submit, like, a signed statement. Granting permission to discuss it with a third party. It's the law, Eddie."

"I'll do it. I'll do it right now," Eddie says. 

"I'm sure you would," Steve laughs, "Is Jeff there? Or Goodie? Hell, Gareth? Somebody else that might know more?"

Eddie presses the speaker into his chest, and screams across the parking lot, just as Goodie's walking back to the van, arms full of snacks and a precariously teetering six-pack of beer. 

Goodie drops the stuff on the seat, then turns and puts his hands up, in a what the fuck question, and Eddie just waves him over, frantically. He can't shout across the parking lot about this.

Luckily, Goodie starts to saunter over, but he damn well doesn't get in a hurry about it, and as soon as he's within range, Eddie shoves the phone at him, not even telling him who's on the other end.

"Steve," Goodie says, and Eddie grins, of course Goodie knew who it was without having to ask.

And then Eddie watches as Goodie listens, nodding along. Eddie has shoved his thumb in his mouth, and is biting at his nail, nervous. 

Finally, fucking finally, Goodie speaks, "Jeff filed them. I'll have him call the accountant."

And that's it. No concern about Eddie for sure getting sent to prison for tax evasion. Nothing. 

Then, he's handing the phone back, and walking away, like he has no worries over Eddie's financial well-being.

"Well?" Eddie asks, like maybe Goodie told Steve something he didn't hear first-hand. 

"Jeff filed them," Steve repeats. 

"I'm going to prison. I always knew I'd end up there, I just didn't think it'd be for something as fucking lame as not paying my taxes. I was accused of murder, if you haven't forgotten. I sold drugs. I stole an RV, once-"

"Technically, I think I stole an RV," Steve counters.

"Please, like you could hotwire a car."

"I could now. I watched you do it."

And Eddie grins, because the banter is soothing, normal. He just misses Steve a whole fucking lot while they're on the road.

Steve keeps talking.

"Taxes will get ya. Every damn time. Just ask Al Capone," Steve says drolly, not taking this situation seriously at all. 

"Steve…"

"Oh, wait," Steve says pausing, suddenly serious, and Eddie freezes, "it says right here in the fine print that they're giving you the Willie Nelson treatment. Seizing it all. The furniture. Even your guitar. Selling it all off."

"That's not funny," Eddie says, but Steve sure is laughing.

"It's a little funny," Steve says.

"It's not. Who will buy my memories, Steve? Who?" Eddie asks, and Steve's laughing in his ear, but it's not funny. So, Eddie keeps talking, "And you're wrong. They didn't get Trigger. His guitar. I read it in the paper, and if you love me, you'll hide Sweetheart if they come to the house."

"Sweetheart is with you," Steve says. 

Okay, that's true.

"Well. Fine. But the thought still stands."

"Okay, I'll hide the best of your loot, and after that, I'll expect to see you on an infomercial, shilling an album to pay off this alleged debt."

"That wouldn't be very metal, shilling my art between Jack Lalanne and Ron Popeil."

"Then pay your taxes in full and on time," Steve snarks.

"I did!" Eddie argues. He's sure he did. 

"Does it say how much I'm on the hook for?" Eddie asks. It can't be that much, because while they're doing pretty good right now, they're not, like, rolling in the cash. Not yet. They're still traveling by van. A nicer van, sure, but still a van. 

"It doesn't," Steve says, but then his voice goes soft and kind again, "It'll be fine," he promises, "It's probably a small error. No big deal. Just. Don't ignore it. Okay? I'm officially putting this in the 'actually pay attention to' pile."

"I will. We will," Eddie promises. 

"Good. Now, tell me about South Bend," Steve teases, and Eddie looks around. Steve always asks, and Eddie always tells him something mundane, something true.

"Well. I miss you," Eddie says. "And someone drew a dick on the glass of the phone booth," Eddie offers.

"Is it a good dick?" Steve questions. 

"Not really," Eddie admits, "not as good as yours."

"Oh, the charm," Steve says dryly, and Eddie leans his head against the glass, against the Sharpie'd-on aforementioned dick. They only have tonight's show here in South Bend, and then another two days from now in Fort Wayne, and then they'll be home for a whole month. He can't fucking wait.

"Anything else of note? Besides the dick?" Steve asks.

"Well, it's in this state called Indiana. I'm not sure if you've ever been…" Eddie trails off. 

"Sounds familiar," Steve flirts and Eddie smiles.

They're almost home. Just a few more days.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

The title is a play on Willie Nelson's actual album he made to pay off his IRS debt: The IRS Tapes: Who'll Buy My Memories?

[writing-whump]

Could we get a little ficlet or a long fic, I wouldn’t mind either, about how Isaiah feels now that most of the truth is out?

Maybe him angsting over it at home, with Sel and Mat sprinkled in there. Or however else you see this going.

This just had to happen. Very angsty. Thank you for the request!!

Falling apart

Since Isaiah realized what Hector meant, there had been a strange shrieking noise in his ears.

He couldn't fall apart around Hector, of course, the worry for him, the responsibility and regret at that moment were enough to let him focus.

But Isaiah couldn't fall apart during the meeting either. It was a work meeting, so of course he had to push all that back.

He also couldn't afford to fall apart during the car ride. That was dangerous, he could hit somebody.

Everything was too loud and too hazy and he needed to get out of the public, away from the people, into safety.

So he went home.

The sheer relief at closing the door behind him into space that was just his, that he didn't have to hold out or pretend for anyone, where no attacks would be coming, where the world had no right to enter or see him like this...

He looked at himself in the mirror. His suit was straight and nice, his face looked smooth and normal. There was no outward sign. He was okay. He made it home.

Then he remembered he wouldn't be alone for long. He was early today, but Matt and Seline would soon follow...

God, he didn't want them to see him fall apart either.

But there was nowhere to hide, nowhere to go. They shared an apartment, they shared a room with Matthew. He couldn't hide from them, from the world for days at a time to break in peace, like before when he still had his own place.

Maybe he should have left it running. Lease it for empty, for opportunities like this.

But there was no way to keep them from looking for him there either.

Isaiah shook his coat off half-heartedly instead of hanging it up and went to the balcony.

It was a small balcony, but they had a roof apartment, so the view was good. A piece of sky, just for him.

Wolves always craved open spaces in distress. The walls felt suffocating to Isaiah, the warmth, the light, the promise of company.

He should have at least insisted on having a room of his own to get locked in. Maybe he could climb up on the roof to have some privacy? That would still count as if he was home.

He wanted to drown in a river or get stranded in a forest, or jump from the roof. Didn't think those were exactly healthy solutions though. It would upset them.

He sat in the rattan style terrace sofa, looking at the buildings and then higher, to the sky. It was early after sundown, so the colours were still bright purple and dark blue, darkness taking over.

That was when the pain came. Hot and searing, like a blade, cutting through his heart.

He jolted in his seat, hand digging into the armrest. He expected that, braced himself for it, for his heartbeat to suddenly go from imperceptible to painful.

The intensity still suprised him.

There was a wave of relief as the pain subsided and he slumped back, gulping down air.

His stomach twisted into knots, partly from the knowledge the pain would soon return and partly because his digestive system always stopped working when a heart episode hit him like that. He could feel it churning and bloating immediately, refusing to digest the rest of his lunch.

He stayed quietly in that chair, seeing as the night fell on the skyline and the buildings. The pleasant warmth of the spring day retreated to biting cold.

Isaiah liked the cold. It was somehow soothing against the sweat and the waves of heat that came when his heart seized and made a hole in his insides for the fun of it.

He didn't want them to find out. He never meant for them to find out. He didn't want to destroy Hector's ideal, no matter how fictional. He didn't want Arnie to feel left out. He didn't want them to live with the awareness that their father, their flesh and blood could fail so monumentally.

That they had madness running in their family tree.

He also didn't want them to know how much he had failed. How long he believed in his father and listened to him, defended him, loved him and tried to save him. How many things he did that he hated and knew were wrong, felt were wrong, but did them anyway.

In a way there was comfort to the rhythm of the pain. When it came, it took over his mind and senses so much he couldn't think.

His mind went blank and the thoughts stopped eating at him. He looked forward to the shock and blindness as much as he feared it.

"Oi, Zaya? What are you doing there?" Matthew's voice cut through his meditative agony like a falling star.

Matthew shuffled closer, the balcony door shutting behind him. "It's fucking cold here. Can you see the mosquitos? They are having a feast on you, man. Come inside."

Mosquitos? No, he didn't notice. Least of his problems.

If he didn’t say anything, would Matt leave him alone?

No such luck. Matthew came closer instead, crouching down. "Hey. Zaya. Is something wrong?"

Matthew waited for an answer but Isaiah just shook his head, sighing softly. Matt craned his neck up inside, waving at someone, then sat down next to Isaiah on the rattan sofa.

He put his hand on Isaiah's forearm, stretched down on the armrest. "Zaya? You are freaking me out. Please talk to me."

The balcony door and the net against the flies went open, Seline joining them on the balcony. "Hi. Are we having dinner outside? It's a little dark for that."

She came closer. Isaiah couldn't look at her. He was afraid of what she would see.

The blade cut into him then with a new force and he gasped, bowing down.

Matthew's hand was on his shoulder that second, holding him up.

Seline's much smaller delicate hands came to rest on his other arm. "Hey, sweetie. What happened? Can you tell me what happened?"

Isaiah chuckled hysterically, making them both jump at the sound.

"Is he hurt?" Seline said quietly to Matthew who made a helpess shrugging gesture.

"Isaiah." she rubbed his arm, something scared in her tone.

"They know," Isaiah said quietly, feeling like he went mad himself for he was smiling, pressing one palm against his face, covering his left eye. "They know everything. In fucked it up so bad, now they both know."

There was a stunned silence.

"Who knows, sweetie?"

"Hector and Arnie." It was like the seat was shaking underneath him. Why was it shaking? He looked around, letting his hand fall.

"What do they know?" Seline's voice was calmer now, soothing, gentle. Like she was talking to a wounded bird that could fall off the tree if she spoke too loud.

"About father." That's when Isaiah realized it was him who was shaking. Full-bodied terrible shivers all over him, from head to toe like he had a fever.

Matthew's hold on his shoulder tightened.

"What do they know about your father?"

Isaiah's breath hitched, his heartbeat in his ears. "T-they know everything. A-about the training, and what father did to me...how he his shadow went mad and how I had to- I had to challange him, I had to make him step down- but I couldn't- and then I had to leave, I had to-for the pack I had to- but I had to leave them behind- I had-" he broke off with a sob, not sure if he was making any sense.

"And now they know and now you are going to know, and- God, then you will leave me and they will hate me for it, they will know what I did-"

His teeth chattered together, although he wasn't cold, he was boiling, he was cooking in his own skin. Everything was itching and burning and he wanted to scratch it off, get the feeling off and stop feeling it.

"Sweetie, can I touch your face, or will it make it worse?" Seline let go of his arm, hands hovering.

Isaiah nodded to her, not seeing how this could be any worse.

She pushed a strand back from his face and behind his ear, the softest most tentative touch. "Shhhhhhh. It's okay. Let it out. You are okay, you can tell us."

Isaiah let out a dry sob, hands twitching. He felt Matthew reaching over to drape his arm over his shoulders.

"I did- I thought I did the best for the pack- I don't know, I don't know what else I should have done, but it was wrong, it was all wrong! I shouldn't have- I hate that- I don't want to go back there." He looked at her pleadingly, suddenly terrified out of his mind he would have to go back."

"You don't have to go back." Seline stroked his cheek. "You don't."

"I wanted to leave so bad." The admission made something in him crack, he could feel the crack in his chest, making his ears ring. "I couldn't- I couldn't stay there, I couldn't- but I left them all alone, I should have taken them with me, I should have found a way-"

"It wasn't your fault. You had two bad choices and you did the best you could at the time. You didn't want to leave them. They will understand."

"No, they won't! They will hate me for this, just like I hate me for everything- and they will never forgive me, and I left them, do you understand I left them there, for some greater good of the pack nonsense-"

Something hot and wet ran down his cheek. And then another, little hot droplets of pain dripping into his lap. "And you will hate me too, I'm just waiting for you to leave, you should both leave- but I'm so scared of when you will-" The crack was getting bigger, splitting him in half, cutting him open. He looked down at his chest, expecting his organs spilling out by now. The pain would certainly justify it.

He felt Matthew groan like the words hurt him.

Seline took his hand into both of hers, squeezing, gluing herself to his side as the shivers wracked his frame.

Matthew did something similar, tugging Isaish against his side like a pillar made of steel. His hand landed on Isaiah's.

Isaiah was cracking, but they were both pressing against him as if to hold him together with their own bodies.

He felt their warmth, Seline's scent like fresh breeze, Matthew's chest rising and falling next to his.

Two more shudders rocked him, but he felt them dying down, the shaking subsiding. Only his hands were left, trembling.

Isaiah squeezed their hands back, the grip on Matt and Seline somehow anchoring. "I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to apologize-"

"But I'm so sorry," he repeated, needing them to understand. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, sorry, sorry-"

His vision went blurry from the onslaught of tears and he curled into himself, sobbing like a child.

Matthew let go of his hand, which made Isaiah wince, but then his arm came around Isaiah's shoulders, tugging him forward into him.

Isaiah buried his face between Matthew's shoulder and neck, grateful for the cover, for the presence, for the strength. Matthew held him tight, like he was aware Isaiah's ribcage would come flying out if he let go.

Seline wiggled her way under Isaiah's arm, her side against his, her hands wrapped around his middle. Like a warm blanket.

"I miss 'em so much," he wailed quietly into Matthew's shirt while wetting it with tears.

Seline's head came to rest over his heart, holding him snuggly.

They didn't leave.

They stayed like that, in that cold, mosquitos ramming into them.

Isaiah wasn't sure how they were puzzled together anymore. It was a mix of limbs and breaths.

A cocoon of warmth and beating hearts.

[dollya-robinprotector]

Giggling because I love making post with multiple character tags and then wait for the wrong face to be featured on all the tags ksksksks

This sydney looks soooo sillyyyy

Anw I just thought about my past so story time under the cut.

When I was in secondary school, I once knew a friend who was bullied.

For the context, it was a decent school, with 4 grades, each had 4 classes: A for lower-perform and naughty students, B for normal, C for better than average, and D for the Elites who will most definitely have bright future ahead. We are Asian children, study means EVERYTHING for us. Our worth are defined by how well we perform in school, how many awards we have and how good our grades are.

That friend was in class C. I was in class B. Normally we don't make friends outside of the class, but I once saw him being poured water on in the hallway, defended him and we became friends. Or something like that. Let's call him Z because I forgor his name now.

My parents didn't do well with the fact that I failed my entrance test and was stuck in normal class. They didn't have money to upgrade me to class C either, so they made me study extra hard. Back since I started going to school, I was being teased and harassed a lot too cuz I love to draw (what's the problem of kids being mean to artistic kids btw???). But since I was one of the best performers in study, I soon gained some respect and the soft bully subside. (I was terrible in math, but everything else were straight A okay??)

Z wasn't so lucky. I learned that his grades were terrible eventhough he was in class C. He stuttered a lot, always looks down when talking to people, never dare to engage in any conversation, etc... His appearance did not help, and he had some funny smell when I stood close to him. One thing though, he loved drawing too (urgh artistic kids again) and really admired my skill. The only times he would smile are when we talked about our fav anime. Looking back, I think maybe he had something to do with autism? I can't be sure though, but I know his parents spent a LOT to keep him in that better-than-average-class.

The bully was not too terrible, at least from what I saw and heard. He often got splashed by water, threw dirty rag or left-over food at, made fun of, laughed at, his belongings often went missing and be found somewhere dirty, etc... I used to went through all that too, so I helped him to somehow deal with them. Those sort of soft-physical bully were nothing scary once you got used to them. Just a little annoying. He got used to it too, I think, and we didn't mention those when we talk. I admit I might had some savior complex, and that friendship is not entirely friendly. It was more like I thought he would be helpless without me so I can't leave him alone.

And then one day when I was going home from school, Z approached me and asked if I want to go to his house. He said he has a very big greenhouse, and there were some pretty blooming flowers he wanted to show me. I never saw a greenhouse before and I love flowers, of course I said yes!

We rode our bicycles to his house. I've never been to his house before nor meet his parents. I didn't even ask my mom for permission to go but well, I was excited.

We went for a long time, and I started to realize he was leading me into the forest. I still went with him for maybe half an hour more, before I said I was tired and you didn't tell me your house would be this far. Then I look around and truly there was nothing bu trees surrounded the two of us. He looked back at me, clearly exhausted too, and said nothing. I started to realize the situation I was in: a 12 years old, in a forest, with no directions and a strange friend who I didn't really know. Yeh atm I was pretty scared.

I asked Z again where exactly is his house. He stuttered and said I don't need to worry, we would get there very soon. He said if I was too tired I can hop on his bike and he would get me there. Then he attempted to take my hand but that creeped me out so I stepped away from him. I turned my bike, ignored his calls, and just went as fast as I can toward the direction I thought would lead me out of the woods. He called out to me and began to chase after me too, but gave up after some times.

I then just rode my bike with full speed, somehow got out of the woods into a strange road I didn't know, asked around for direction and got home safe. My mom scolded me for being so damn late and I apologized. I never tell anybody, and never talk to Z ever again. He didn't bother me either. And that's the end of the story.

[foressfaction]

:Ticci Toby:{A Rewrite}

Chapter 9

WARNING:: This story contains EXTREMELY triggering topics such as Domestic/Child/Substance abuse, Death, harsh language, GORE and dissociation triggers. This story mentions mental illnesses and disorders such as Depression, PTSD, ADHD, and Tourette's Syndrome. !!TICS MAY BE TRIGGERING!!

Chapter nine

"Hey, hey listen to me okay?" A soft voice rang out, it was Lyra's. Toby opened his eyes to see the bright bathroom lights. He must've finally passed out. He felt a tight restriction around his torso, it was wrapped in gauze, and blood was still soaking it.

"Everything is alright, everything is alright!" She was holding his hand, obviously noticing the red hand marks. She knew what happened.

"...i fell.." Toby mumbled out.

"Dammit Toby! I know you're lying! What happened!? You were bleeding everywhere, your arms are bruised and red, and- are those hand prints?! Were you jumped?! Please tell me!"

Lyra was crying, in tears. Her hair was a mess and what little makeup she did wear was smeared all over her face.

"You're covered in so many other little cuts! You know I can't handle seeing you like this! Tell me please so I can fix this!"

He was flinching to her worried yelling. "You can't fix this, Lyra." Toby started, wincing to the pressure that finally hit him. "T-To fix it, you'd have to fix me. A-And I'm…simply unfixable."

Lyra hugged him tightly. "I'm going to tell you this…at school tomorrow….you go to that kid…and you break his arm, do you hear me! Break his arm!"

Her grip on him was very tight. He had to pat her arm to let go so she wouldn't accidentally suffocate him.

"..Sorry…Sorry I'm just so angry.." She wiped her tears. "So very angry,"

"I'll get in trouble" Toby mumed weakly, not liking the sound of her idea. "I'll do it then." She insisted though he sat up quickly, shaking his head. "No, don't! That's wh-what-what he wants, attention…a reaction!..I-if i just keep ignoring them, they'll leave me alone-"

She cut him off. "Okay well look where that got you, Toby!"

Toby flinched at her sudden words, looking a little offended. "If they don't get it, they'll do what they can until they do! It's a natural human instinct. You have to stick up for yourself!" Lyra kept going, but he felt obligated to confess. "I did try! They were too strong..They threw me around as if i was a ragdoll…"

"Then tell the police! I'll call them myself so be it!"

He perked up, fear in his eyes. "They threatened to kill me…If we do-" he warned.

Lyra went quiet, staring at him. She didn't know what to say

"..Can we just forget about it? Look, I'll b-be healed in a month or so- everything will be normal again.."

Lyra still didn't know what to say. She felt helpless. She leaned on the wall and slid down, sitting criss-crossed. She was sitting right beside the tub where he was laid and treated, and now sat in.

He didn't like the fact she just sat there, looking lifeless.

"Lyra?"

"I love you, Toby, you know?" She spoke, staring at the wall.

"But sometimes you are…A handful.." She slightly laughed under her breath. Toby couldn't tell if she was joking or annoyed, maybe both, who knew.

Toby huffed a weak laugh as well. "y-yeah because…g-getting jumped is my fault, haha.."

She faced him, sighing. "..no..no…you're just lucky i'm not as dense as mom, who believes your tiny lies about your physical state." She pulled her knees up into a hug.

During that time of pure silence, Toby was thinking about that figure he saw again, he didn't know why but he couldn't remember much about that day honestly.

•••••

[nelkcats]

Build a bear

Danny went to build his own teddy bear with his parents out of town, Jazz suggested that he could make them say they loved him and record it for life, which would help him when he went to college or finally decides to reveal himself to them, that idea reassured him more than it seemed.

His sister probably wanted him to have a "support bear" like her own, Bearbert, and honestly his old teddy bear was good enough, but maybe a new one with a love reminder would help.

Amity was a small town, so the build a bear shops weren't really there, at least he had found one near Jersey, it was a long drive but he was willing to convince his parents to go.

When they finally arrived at the location, using the excuse of a ghost infestation to lure them; he tried to make a recording of his parents love words but all he ends up recording is "Let's destroy that ectoplasmic scum, he's a threat" with a lot of little lengthy things about Phantom and what they would like to do to him, wich only made him sad.

The last thing that could be heard on the recording was "I just wanted them to tell me they loved me, to remember it when they tie me to that laboratory table" in frustration.

Danny decides to give up and puts the teddy back on the shelf, the manager looks at him sadly and he just pays for it, he did not wanted to cause the employee more trouble; at the end he went back to the GAV, empty-handed and trying to remind himself that his parents love him, even if their priorities are weird and misplaced.

Days later, the Waynes drag Damian into the same store, Damian grumbling the entire way that he didn't need kid's stuff.

While the demon boy complains about the uselessness of everything, Jason notices a green teddy bear, with a jumpsuit full of stars and a sign that says "Boo", it was obviously made to remind a ghost, and he was amused by the "dead" bear so he asked the manager the price, she denies and comments that it was already paid for, but the boy never took it.

More surprised than curious, Jason holds the bear in his arms, squeezing it, it was fluffy; that caused the last thing that was recorded to be played. His blood ran cold hearing what sound like a couple of crazy doctors preparing a vivisection, this in itself was terrible, but the worst part is that the boy's voice at the end, although a little damaged, implied that he was the experiment.

Reluctantly he decided to take the bear to his brothers, this is a mystery in the form of a teddy bear and they are not going to let it go. Even if it's not directly a cry for help, he recognizes incompetent parents and a dangerous situation when he sees one.

[iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid]

having a really old dog is just repeating the mantra to yourself "i am grateful for the time i've been given and when it comes time to let him go i will do so gracefully. i am grateful for the time i've been given and when it comes time to let wait why are you not pooping normally WHAT IS GOING ON WHY WON'T YOU POOP ARE YOU DYING" and then calling the vet in a panic, being told actually he's fine but give the probiotic some time to do its thing and then let us know if anything changes, and then you take a deep breath and go "cool. yeah. obviously he's fine. anyway. i am grateful for the time i've been given and

[lloydfrontera]

if i think too long about the ending making lloyd leave the home he worked so hard to save behind along with the new found family he sacrificed his life for so he can move to a place he has no emotional connection to where he only knows two people (one of which is actually following him from the aforementioned home) in order to make him get a standard "have a wife and children" 'happy' ending i start wanting to bite people not gonna lie

[godsfavoritescientist]

Building off of what I wrote in my fic "Sparks," I'm really compelled by the idea of Ford genuinely no longer being interested in sailing around in a boat with Stan by the time they were seniors in high school.

I like the idea of it not being just a symptom of the resentment that had been building between them, nor it being a dream of Ford's that only paled in comparison to west coast tech, but it being a genuine loss of interest on Ford's end. I think it complicates things even further in some really juicy ways.

Like, imagine going through high school slowly losing more and more interest in the dream you've shared with your twin and only friend ever since you were little kids. How do you break it to him? How do you explain it to him without making it sound like a rejection of him? Without it making him hate you?

How do you explain it without it feeling like a spit in the face to all the hard work he's put into a plan that started out as a way of him comforting you by telling you "it doesn't matter what people say about you, you're going to be an adventurer who sails away into the sunset and never has to hear their mockery ever again, and there will be babes and treasure and heroism, and then they'll all see how cool you really are!"

And all through high school you think to yourself, "he's going to move on to more realistic dreams any day now, and then I won't have to say anything about it!" But no matter how many times you mention something else he could do with his life that he seems interested in, or bring up the challenging logistics of traveling around long-term in a boat, he sounds just as committed to the childhood dream as ever, and completely oblivious to how apprehensive you sound.

So resentment grows, little by little. Because that's easier than confronting the soul-crushing levels of guilt that are building up inside of you, every time you don't take an opportunity to tell him you don't want to do the plan anymore. You don't have a single person in your life who modeled how to have difficult conversations for you. As far as you know, having this conversation with Stan would crush him into tiny little pieces and then he would hate you forever, and you can't stand the idea of losing the only friend you've ever had.

So tensions grow. A lack of interest turns into a bitter resentment that, if you were really being honest with yourself, is directed more at yourself than it is at Stan.

And then the falling-out happens, and it seems like you were proven right. Stan hates you now, and he's never going to forgive you for giving up on his dream. But two can play that game, so you try to hate him too. Because if you hate him too, then maybe it won't hurt as much that he never came back. That he never even turned up at school, or by the boat, or in through your bedroom window in the middle of the night. He knows what dad's like, and how he says impulsive exaggerated things when he's angry, and haven't you both dealt with his harsh words countless times before and been able to dust yourselves off and joke about it later? So why isn't he back at home, joking with you about how absurd your dad acted that night, being impossible and belligerent about ruining your dream, but at least now you're even, because you've ruined his dream too.

-

And now imagine you find out he risked the lives of everyone in existence to bring you back, right after you had accepted your fate was to die killing Bill. It would be terrifying and confusing and infuriating. If he cared so much, why didn't he do something to reconnect with you sooner? Why did he ignore you in favor of trying to make it big without you? Why didn't he take the infinitely safer and simpler action of reaching out to you without you having to track down his address and send a desperate plea for help? You were convinced that he didn't care enough to bother with you unless you had an important enough reason for him to come. But even then, he thought your plans were stupid. He didn't want anything to do with you, not even with the world at stake.

Did he save your life out of guilt? Does he pity you that much? It doesn't add up with what he did in the decade leading up to shoving you into the portal. And the dissonance between the version of him in your head that hates you, and the man who held out his arms to welcome you back to your home dimension, is so strong that you feel like you're being lied to again, like you're back in the depths of gaslighting and manipulation that Bill put you through, even though there's no way that's what Stan is trying to do... right? You can't figure it out, so you run away from it. You don't want to know the answer to whether or not Stan hates you, because you don't know which answer would hurt more, so you try to make him hate you more than ever, because at least then you would know for sure how he feels.

And in the end, after he sacrifices his memories for you, and for the world, things seem clearer. The layers upon layers of confusion and anger and hurt seem to have washed away like drawings in the sand, leaving behind the simple truth: that you two had an argument, and didn't move past it for forty years, and despite everything you put each other through, you both still want to re-connect.

So you sail away in a boat together.

And at first, it's wonderful. It's exactly what you want. It feels like an apology to Stan, and a thank-you for saving the world, and a once-in-a-lifetime chance to heal the rift between you two, and it's good to be back on earth, and you wonder why you ever doubted the dream you two once had.

But then, after the first long journey you spend on the sea together, when you get back home to dry land, Stan is already talking about planning your next adventure out on the open sea. He recaps every adventure you had on the first trip, over and over again, and he wants to chat with you all through the morning and long into the night, and you don't have the words to explain to yourself that you don't have enough social battery for this, and suddenly you're slipping back into the horrifyingly familiar feeling of Stan being overbearing and needing space from him and how could you think that? How could you think that about him after everything he's done for you and everything he's forgiven you for? But the longer this goes on, the more you realize that you still don't want to spend the rest of your life sailing around with Stan. It's great fun in moderation, but the idea of your whole life revolving around Stan and going on adventures with Stan and being in a boat with Stan with no time to be by yourself thinking about your own things and figuring out your own dreams makes your skin crawl with a claustrophobic kind of panic that you still don't know how to put into words forty years after the first time this feeling grabbed you by the throat and ruined your friendship with Stanley.

But the first time this happened, it nearly ruined his life forever. You can't let yourself feel this. You don't feel this. You're happy to spend the rest of your life fulfilling Stan's lifelong dream, and making up for the time you crushed his dream, and sure, maybe he crushed your dream once too, and maybe it would be nice for him to support your dreams like you're now doing for him, but you can't say that. He saved the universe, and it would be horrible and ungrateful and cruel for you to try to voice these feelings, especially when you don't know how to voice your feelings without it making other people feel like you twisted a knife into their gut. So you try to pretend the feeling isn't there.

You go out on a boat with Stan again. You planned out another incredible journey together, and this should be fun, and you should be happy about this, but the unspoken feeling you shoved as far down in yourself as it could possibly go is eating you alive. The worst part? Stan is starting to notice. You have never been good at hiding your emotions. The trick to it has always been to convince yourself you don't feel it at all, and not think about it, and that has always worked like a charm. But whenever the emotion claws its way back up to the forefront of your mind, you can tell Stan knows something is wrong. So you can't even give him the happy ending he deserves. You can't even convince him that you want to be here on the open seas forever with him, like he deserves. And you keep trying and trying to hide it, but Stan keeps asking in roundabout ways, like "You're being awfully quiet, sixer," and "whats that look on your face?" and eventually it comes exploding out of you like a shaken-up soda bottle dropped on its cap.

And then it's like you're back at home in New Jersey again, standing in the living room while dad grabs Stanley by the shirt. It all comes pouring out of you, in the worst possible way, with the worst possible phrasing, like a pandora's box of monstrousness, and Stan tries to fight back against the sting of your words, but you're made out of acid and you're burning through him and you can see it on his face, and there's never any coming back from this, not this time, you'll just have to either jump into the ocean or become a monster forever, so Stan can hate you more easily again, and-

-and at the end of the outburst, you're still on a boat in the middle of nowhere in the ocean with your brother, in dangerous waters, and you have things to do to keep the boat running smoothly.

You can't run away from him. He can't run away from you. You're stuck here for at least a couple more weeks, even if you turned around and sailed back towards shore right away.

-

And the thing that compels me so much here, despite how unbelievably angsty it all is, is that it sets up a situation wherein the Stans might end up forced to actually address the decades of resentment and confusion and wanting-to-reconnect-throughout-it-all that they thought they could gloss over and heal with enough time spent adventuring together on a boat. They might end up forced to actually address the crux of the issue that drove them apart in the first place: Ford wanting a little more space to feel like his own person, and to feel like he's able to have his own dreams, too.

It wouldn't happen easily, nor right away, but if they were stuck together on a little boat in the middle of nowhere surrounded by magical creatures they have to protect each other from in order to make it back home alive, then after they had one fight where they brought up all the things they silently agreed to never bring up again, it would probably happen many more times, and each time it would leave them both angrier at each other than ever, until eventually something honest slipped through amidst all the saying-anything-except-what-they-mean bickering. And once enough of these honest moments slipped through, then they would have a thread to tug on to start to unravel the gargantuan knot of their decades of unresolved conflicts.

And then, eventually, maybe Stan could learn that he can have a good friendship with his brother without needing to be glued to him at the hip, and Ford needing a certain amount of alone time doesn't mean he dislikes him or wants to abandon him, and Ford could learn that he can be honest and have a meaningful connection with someone without it driving them away and making them hate him.

[quaranmine]

random firewatch au detail that has basically no impact on the story unless you want to psychoanalyze fw!grian even further than i did as the author, but it's very intentional that i always refer to both of mumbo's parents but only grian's mom. did i give him daddy issues? i guess so, but not in a way where i really deeply examined the implications as meaningful to the story. it was just a detail i stuck with from the beginning as a way to keep fleshing out the story's background subtly. the idea behind grian's dual citizenship was always that he was born in america to an american dad and british mom, and that his mom moved back to the UK when he was very young since she wanted to be closer to her family. perhaps his dad didn't go with them? or perhaps his dad did, and then later they split and he went back to america? whatever the cause, grian never even mentions his dad in the story, and it wasn't because i intended him to be dead (because that would have come up in a story about grief) if you get me

[beholdthemem]

Well, on a positive note, I can at least say that I've finally started bonding with my sister's boyfriend as opposed to making awkward stilted small talk while we both wait for her to reappear and save the conversation.