#I don’t know what to do about my parents

[yumeboshi]

𝜗𝜚。．． ❛ #HER NEW BOYFRIEND’S NEXT!

𐙚 synopsis。．short hcs/scenarios of jealous yandere aventurine & sunday ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

．。𝜗𝜚 cw。suggestive themes . general yandere themes, brainwashing, gaslighting in Sunday’s part, mentions of violence, mentions of scide, imprisonment, except for aventurine relationships are not established, WARNING: extremely obsessed and smitten with you, read at risk!

．。𝜗𝜚 a/n。honestly why do i think sunday will be literally the most dangerous yandere you could ask for。man has all the resources to brainwash you and lock you up pls

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY．。

。… a classic yandere obsessed over control. 。literally, he will be such a control freak. he has eyes all over penacony. he would have already kept track of what kind of soulglad you drink, when you get home, what your sleep habit is, all under the span of a week, and that’s before meeting you. obviously, as your future spouse, he is just obtaining information he needs for the future! 。will treat you surprisingly equally to his other guests when you meet, he doesn’t want gossip to get around, and he wants to make this “process” as natural as possible. 。after you are successfully within his area of control, he will start to monitor you even more meticulously- who you meet, what you do in your dreams.. he is a bit disappointed you don’t visit him on your own accord, but that will all be arranged soon! 。will casually go up to your room to ask you about “room service satisfaction” when he’s actually just busy breathing in your lovely scent and assessing your room for any “threat.” 。he doesn’t like that you’re affecting his ability to work. he’s impatient, of course, but he knows that he will have to wait for the perfect opportunity to whisk you away like a knight in shining armor. And all he needs is a little pawn to play the act of a villain- oh, your little male acquaintance will do! 。he’s like that- using people around you as puppets to his grand stage. Sunday is well-informed about morals, of course. But he won’t feel much guilt, not when he knows this is all for the ‘greater good.’ “They” will approve of it. 。and so, he starts to crack his charming facade- he will start asking you for private meetings, and he will put you in a vip room so you are isolated. He does this under the mask of ‘danger,’ saying that you have faced too many threats and he needs to ensure his guest’s safety. 。If you call your friends for help? The next day, they are mysteriously gone from penacony. You call them but your phone is out of service. 。but if you are still not charmed over his chivalry.. he’ll have to settle for easier methods.

❝ WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?”

Your demand was choked with such pleasant sobs that SUNDAY couldn’t help but slip out a small victorious smirk that quickly masks itself to a concerned facade when you fix your angry watery eyes at him.

“I know it was you,” you continue, pacing around his office while he remains nonchalantly seated, trailing his eyes to your every step. “You made all my friends vanish from penacony, you had my parents escorted away to aeons know where, you stowed me here like I’m some kind of precious little jewelry for your eyes only. What do you want from me?” The evident snarl in your words merely makes Sunday tip his head a little, staring at you with the same serene look that frustrated you.

“Oh, sweetheart, you got it all wrong.” He shakes his head in disappointment and rose up from his seat, taking silent strides to you at an alarming speed that made you stumble backwards to the door. “‘They’ have done nothing for you during your stay in the Reverie. You are always disappointed with them, but you choose not to speak up. It is such a painful sight, you are just like a bird who lost its voice.” His voice is surprisingly gentle, dangerously neutral, which scares you, and makes you doubt yourself.

Maybe you were just being stupid, Sunday was acting like it wasn’t a big deal. And your friends indeed did not do much for you here, unlike Sunday, who provided you with all this luxury without accepting anything in return. You feel safe here, almost. You blink a little- the heat that had pounded through your ears was gone, and now you feel like a harmless puppy that just barked his best at a wolf.

“It‘s natural to be mad, dear.” His hand delicately entangles itself into your locks, and you stare at him, unable to say anything as he soothingly whispers. “It is hard to understand actions for the greater good. relax, sweetheart. Everything will be better now,” he purrs, staring right into your eyes. They are endless depths of azure. They are very, very mesmerizing, you think.

“Everything will be better now,” you realize, and you sigh into his arms that seemed to suddenly be present around you. But the worry disperses, you are fine with being close with him. His embrace is welcoming and soft. You don’t want to leave it ever again.

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE．。

。this man takes the cake for being the most jealous man in honkai 。he’s a charmer. he wins you over easily, because who could resist his charisma and his wealth, honestly. He flirts his way easily with you— unlike Sunday, he likes an impromptu plan, and rather enjoys surprises- any attempt of you trying to break up with him will not irritate him at all, contrary to the former. 。“Your attempts fascinate me. Too bad you lost all your bargaining chips. You gonna play another round with me, love? I’m more than willing to, you know.” 。he will be pleased, intrigued at how he can break you down again. he likes a little chase and gamble, he doesn’t want his prey served on his plate, he likes the thrill of hunt. 。he’d even be impressed if you escape him. But not for long, because he will bring you back to where you belong. 。this man will barely be angry over you. He won’t force any affection onto you, he satisfies himself by buying you expensive clothes instead, as if you are his little doll. He is content with you being a quiet and submissive trophy. 。what this man does not tolerate, however, is you being with anyone else. He cannot bear the thought that someone is around you more than he is, and that you rely on someone more than you rely on him. Aventurine has pride over his abilities, anyone taking you is like taking his most precious trump card. 。despite the jealousy he feels, he will still regard this as a particularly entertaining game. But he knows he will win this gamble, too.

❝ AH, IT’S SUCH A THRILLING GAME, ISN’T IT, SWEETHEART?”

You watch AVENTURINE toss the coin into the air and roll it around his fingers, his mesmerizing eyes examine the bitter look of defeat on your features.

“This isn’t funny,” you sobbed, despair dawning on you upon realizing that you truly lost everything to him. You had no more moves left in this game he put you in. He was merciful enough to spare your blood relatives, but your friends were gone- including the nice and sweet, innocent guy you shared friendly banter with for barely an hour.

“A gamble is fair and share, love.” He puts his hand on your waist, giving you a short kiss that tasted of wine. You felt nothing but defeat as he tossed the coin on the table where it flopped. “You just picked the wrong set of cards to play with.”

He is close to you all of a sudden, his hot breath tickling your skin, smelling of victory and wealth. His eyes stare right into you as he chuckles, the sadistic glint in his eyes glitter a little more when you feel a tear escape your eye. He leans to your ear, lightly biting your earlobe as he adds,

“Nobody wins with a deck with only clovers, my love. A shame that your cards were so… discardable.”

He laughs at that, watching your stunned face. He loves the look of surprise on you. It is endearing, it shows so well that you do not know how to play his game at all.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Would I be the asshole if I refused to pay my phone bill?

📱🧾♿️ <- To recognize my post for later :)

The title is probably already a bit of a red flag, but I genuinely didn’t know how else to word it…

For context: I am a disabled, chronically and mentally ill trans guy who recently turned 20. I haven’t left home yet for a lot of reasons, some being that my parents promised to let me live rent-free so long as I was in college (which I am, just not currently for the summer) as well as the fact that they really haven’t raised me to be very independent and rely solely on them (which is honestly a whole other can of worms), but primarily because of my disability. It isn’t safe for me to live on my own, as I faint commonly, cannot stand up for more than maybe fifteen minutes at a time roughly, and sometimes am unable to eat for long periods of time due to debilitating nausea which leads to weakness. I also have severe chronic pain in my limbs and gut, something I’ve had most of my life, while my chronic illness I’ve only had for about a year and a half now and am still struggling to adjust to.

Because of my disability, I also can’t work a traditional job. I offer art commissions online, because I’m very passionate about art and it’s one of the few things I’m good at, and I haul in a decent amount, but certainly not enough to live off of. I make enough to set aside some good savings (I’m currently saving for a wheelchair, as that might grant me more freedom and the potential to get a job at least for the summer) while also indulging myself in buying the occasional fatty treat (I’m very underweight so that’s not an issue, and I was raised essentially in an almond mom household all my life, so this form of eating is really the only sense of control I have over my life, as I’m fully dependent on my parents elsewise).

The issue has come upon relatively recently. I feel like a huge entitled brat for it as well, and if others believe the same, I sincerely don’t blame you.

My mom sat me down the other day and said that she expected me to start paying at least one bill. She offered my cheapest bill (which would be for my phone; my parents bought it, and it’s theirs, they’re just letting me use it as my own.. I don’t own a whole lot of “my” items myself) and asked what I thought about that. I was fully honest with her: if I had a steady stream of income, I wouldn’t hesitate to offer to pay for all of my bills, but with the way it stands, I just don’t make enough month-to-month to regularly afford the bill. I also do my commissions through my phone, so if I could afford the bill, my phone would be turned off, and I’d be unable to continue.

My mom got very upset and started talking to me like a child (though she really has every right to, honestly, and I know that). She went on a very long rant about teaching me responsibility, and how I can’t rely on my parents forever, and that I need to grow up at some point… All things that I fully agree with. I sincerely want to! I want nothing more than to be fully independent. But the way it stands, my parents cover my entire medical bills and they pay for my meds… And I just don’t make enough to survive on my own, and I can just barely afford a meal or two from a sandwich shop I enjoy twice a month to keep my sanity in check because I’m usually bedbound.

I tried explaining to her that I would if I could, sincerely, and that I’m not trying to be a leech or lazy, but she wasn’t having it. She just scolded me and said that if I can afford to eat out every month, then I can afford the phone bill. But again, with the way things are, I don’t think I’d be able to do it every month without tapping into my savings, which again, is for my wheelchair so I can regain some sense of freedom for myself. I’m seriously debating just telling her no straight out, but I don’t know what the aftermath might look like…

So, sincerely: Am I in the wrong here? Should I just swallow my protests and cough up the money somehow? I really don’t know and would love an outside perspective.

[aloesarchives]

Domestic Headcanons w/ Mama!Reader and the Fushiguros #2: New Addition to the Family!

TW/Warnings: Domesticity, AFAB/Female Reader, Family life, Pregnancy, Mention of Creampies but not sexual, unhinged crack, JJK OC(but not main x Reader)

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Pronouns/Usage: She/Her, Mama/Mom

It was about time I finished this, been sitting in my drive for a few months. Anyway, this is a general headcanon that takes place mostly in my Modern Au as Mayumi will appear in future along with her bio. But she may appear in my "Toji Lives" au depending how I'm really feeling, I will probably age her up if I do.

If you has questions or wanna ask more about her, feel free to drop an ask in my inbox!

Introducing:

Name: Mayumi (L/N) Fushiguro

Kanji Name: 万優三

Age: 2-3(Modern Au)

Given how Toji is a dog 25/8 whenever he’s given any alone time with you, Megumi is genuinely surprised he and Tsumiki don’t have at least two or more younger siblings.

It mostly comes down to you and Toji’s schedules and how having another child or having more children wouldn’t be the best choice for you two and the kids themself.

It was decided by you AND Toji that Megumi would be your last child since baby Megumi was a hassle and you two were dealing with two kids under the age of three. As time went on, raising the two was hard work but both of you two managed. Now Tsumiki and Megumi are in high school and can function, there’s no need for you and Toji to treat them like children even though they will always be your babies.

But with Tsumiki and Megumi always away at school, it’s mostly you and Toji at home. Yes, it was nice and peaceful to have your house with you and your hubby. But you start longing for the days your children were younger and small. Missing when Megumi would call you Mama and Tsumiki with Mommy. You become all sentimental especially looking through family pictures throughout the house and the family albums. You started to miss having to take care of a little one in the house.

Toji notices this change in your behavior so he asks what's on your mind. When you tell him you missed your children being children, he suggested having one more child. This shocked you considering that Toji told you himself that Megumi was your two’s last child. He didn’t want to have any more after that because Megumi was a handful. You told him if he’s not comfortable and isn’t ready for another one that he shouldn’t force himself just to make you happy. You’ll just satisfy it with old baby pictures from the past.

You didn’t want to have a child just because you wanted a baby to coddle and that’s it. All children deserve to have a parent but not every parent deserves a child. But Toji brings up the point that both you and him are more stable, both financially and mentally, and have more time to be at home. Since your two other children are teenagers who can do basic functions, you can focus on taking care of a child while taking care of teenagers.

After some time and Toji being the little devil on your shoulder, you gave the green light to have another child. Albeit being the last child you and Toji will ever have.

Toji is excited to have another kid with you and to give Tsumiki and Megumi a younger sibling. But we all know why Toji is REALLY happy to give you another child. As the man got to stepping in making you pregnant and having another kid. This man put so many creampies in you it’s insane.

But you guessed the universe wanted to make it easier the third time because, like all of your pregnancies which is only two, you got pregnant fast. It only took a month of trying to get pregnant. Just like any pregnancy, it was rough. It was your third time so you expected what’s to come, though it had been 12 years since you were last pregnant. But Toji, being your ever loving husband, took care of you and was at your beck and call(Explain in detail here). Your scary, intimidating, and grumpy dog of a husband becomes your sweet and protective puppy all over again(if Toji wasn’t fucking already lol).

You wanted to wait until a visible ultrasound was possible to tell your two children. Luckily, Megumi and Tsumiki would be home right after school ends and you would tell them the news. After dinner, you told your two children to wait a bit at the table as you got the ultrasound that’s sealed in an envelope. As you just place the envelope in front of your kids, they look at it curiously. Toji chuckles as Megumi flips the envelope on both sides before Tsumiki grabs it from her brother.

“So we opened it, Mom? What’s inside?”

“You’ll find out once you open it, my dear.”

Then Tsumiki opens the envelope and finds the picture. She takes it out and holds it so she and Megumi can look at it. It took Tsumiki a few seconds to figure out as her smile extended. Megumi is still confused when his sister says, “Are you really, mom?!”

You nodded your head as Tsumiki stood up from her chair and gave you a hug. Megumi was still trying to wrap his head around the picture. Toji chuckles at his son as he walks over to him. “Are you okay, Megumi? You’ve been staring at that picture like it was a puzzle.” “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking at. How come Tsumiki got it before I did?” Tsumiki goes to Megumi as she starts explaining the picture. Before she even finishes, your son looks at you with wide eyes as he blurts out, “You’re pregnant, Mom?!”

Toji bursts out in laughter at Megumi while you smile at your son. You were happy that your children felt the same way you did, especially seeing Megumi smile. You were worried about the age gap between your children and their youngest sibling but it seems to not be a problem to your kids. 

You loved the fact your children were happy about having another sibling.

Ever since the announcement, Megumi has been home more often. While your children have been more considerate(if they weren’t already), Megumi had this shift in behavior that made you a little worried. Once you were in your 2nd trimester, Megumi always tried to be home before sundown. He always called you after school if you needed anything from the grocery or convenience store. He was very reluctant to leave you alone. At home, he always checks up on you whether you’re in the bedroom, sitting on the couch, in your home office/personal rooms. 

As much as Megumi says he doesn’t take after his dad, you thought it was adorable and endearing how Megumi looked after you like Toji did. Because of your already fluctuating hormones, you dote and gush over Megumi way more than usual. You didn’t before because you wanted to respect Megumi’s space and independence. Always playfully pinching his cheeks, giving your mama kisses, petting and ruffling his hair, the list goes on. Megumi never pushes you away or rejects your affection because you are his mama and it makes you happy. It’s also because Megumi loves your affection as it reminds him of when he was a little boy, but since he’s older he wants to be taken more seriously and wants you and Toji to treat him as such. Yet it bit him in the ass because you respected his wishes and only gave him physical affection when he gave the green light.

Megumi, every time he’s home, is stuck at your side. You’re in the kitchen making yourself a drink, Megumi is sitting at the table already. On the couch folding a small laundry batch, Megumi’s helping you with it. Sitting in the garden underneath the tree, Megumi makes you sit on the blanket as sits beside you with his dogs laid out in the shade. The only time he isn’t is when you’re in the bathroom or sleeping in your bedroom. But Megumi sends his dogs to watch over you during your naps. Bro, Toji told Megumi to make room for him on the couch just for him to side-eyes his dad and say “no”. Then Megumi’s dogs appear next to you and lay their heads on your lap. Toji was so annoyed.

But you didn’t know how concerned Megumi was for you until you Gojo called you and said Megumi wanted to opt out of dorming his first year at Jujutsu Tech. You asked Gojo if Megumi said why and Gojo only said, “Megumi-kun only told me he just can’t, (Y/N)-sama.” By the time the call happened you were in your third trimester, meaning you were nearing your due date. You asked Toji if he knew but he had no clue either. You and your husband had a talk with Megumi about it. Megumi said he didn’t need to dorm when he’s in high school because he could just walk to school from the house. But Toji being the better interrogator, he got Megumi to spill the real reason. And so Megumi reveals he doesn't want to dorm once he goes to Jujutsu Tech because he wants to help out around the house and watch his little sibling grow up. 

“Megs, you know I’m home, right?”

Megumi looks at his father before continuing.

“As I was saying, I need to be here in my little sister’s life. I don’t want to be a stranger because she can’t remember me, Mom.”

You gave a reassuring smile to your son, placing a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

“I get it, Megumi. I completely understand where you’re coming from. But I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. I have your sister and papa after all to help me, especially your papa since he can cook anything we ask for. And know the school requires their first years to live on campus, so you do have to live on school grounds. You can always come back whenever you need to, this will always be your home, My Dear Megumi–Wait, little sister? You think it’ll be a girl, Megumi?”

He shrugs, causing Toji to raise his brow at him.

“Ya sure, Megs? You don’t think it’ll be a boy? Don’t you want another boy in the family?”

Megumi squints at his dad as he frowns.

“If I know this family, your genes are too strong, Dad. I’m a complete copy of you and Tsumiki only got Mom’s personality and smile. If it’s a boy, it will be another version of you and I don’t even wanna think about that. Plus, I wouldn’t mind having a baby sister around, especially if she takes after Mom.”

You were flattered and honored that Megumi felt this way while Toji was utterly offended at his own son.

Megumi is a good brother and son all over. He looks after you, he looks out for Tsumiki when he can, and has a good relationship with Toji. You’d think he’ll be an amazing older brother considering how caring and gentle he can be. He may be a little clumsy but he tries and that is what matters. 

You decided to bring Megumi and Tsumiki with you and Toji to your next ultrasound appointment. Luckily, no problems were detected for the precious Fushiguro baby. The doctor and technician also revealed that you were having a baby girl! Tsumiki is visibly happy, slightly shaking Megumi's shoulders while he had a soft smile of his own. Then you looked over at your husband to see him with a wide but genuine grin.

“What’s with the grin, Toji?”

“Nothing, Hon. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Having another girl to spoil~.”

Your pregnancy goes as planned. Much to the dismay of Megumi, you gave birth while they were in school. As soon as Megumi and Tsumiki walk out of the school doors, they see Toji with the car waiting for them. “C’mon you two, don’t ‘cha want to meet your baby sister?” Tsumiki never saw Megumi sprinted towards the car so fast, whipping past her. Toji just laughs at Megumi’s eagerness to go see you and the baby.

Megumi is bouncing his leg in the car as they go to drive to the hospital. Once checking in, Megumi leaves his dad and sister in the dust to go find your room. Once he did, Megumi knocked gently before going inside with Toji and Tsumiki not far behind. Then the kids see the little baby bundled in your arms, sleeping away as you greet your older children. 

Megumi was right because Mayumi took after you except her eye color, which was like Megumi and Toji. But everything else, she was a carbon copy of you. You joked to Toji about being even since your third child looks like you. Toji goes along with it but he can’t help but feel warm inside knowing he has a daily reminder of his beautiful wife.

Megumi and Tsumiki get to hold their little sister. It was game over for Megumi because as soon as she was in his arms, he’d do anything for her. He was melting for his little sister and she didn’t even know it yet.

Megumi tries to spend a lot of time with her until he has to dorm at Jujutsu Tech. Megumi gets sentimental when he sees her baby pictures then and now she’s a toddler speaking full sentences. 

She loves to be held or sitting in someone’s lap. You, Toji, Tsumiki and Megumi, it doesn’t matter. She just likes to be close. It took her a long time to understand personal space but she tries her best. But she mostly likes being held by Toji since he’s tall. Plus she says Toji gives nice hugs. 

But Mayumi is picky when it comes to other people. She gets comfortable through exposure but she doesn’t like other people that much. She knows the others and is fine with them, but she’s not so much a people person. Not shy, just like a small circle.

Mayumi calls Tsumiki Miki-Nee or Tsumi Nee-san, then Mayumi calls Megumi Gumi-Nii and/or Mimi Nii-san.

Toji’s nicknames for Mayumi are Princess, Little Lady, Sweet Pea, and Snapdragon. Sometimes he does a variation of her name like Yumi or Mayu. But those don’t start coming until she’s much older.

Toji gets bummed out that Mayumi hangs out with Megumi and is her self-proclaimed favorite person. But you always remind him that she loves all of you, including him. This is true when she gets picked up by Toji at daycare or Toji comes home and she greets him. Always a smile on her face, arms out-stretched, while saying “Papa!”

Every time Toji is doing something outside, she’s either playing on the engawa, underneath the tree for shade, or running around and playing in the garden and the Koi pond nearby. She mostly likes watching the koi fishes swim around. She even deeps her feet into the crystal blue water as the fish gently nibble on her feet.

She’s also not a picky eater. Will eat anything and everything put in front of her that is seen as food. Her favorites are berries.

Mayumi’s favorite person is definitely Megumi. Toji thought it was him but he soon found out that was not the case. All because her first words weren’t Mama or Papa, her first words were Gumi. Then she started walking because she saw Megumi sitting on the couch while you were making lunch with Toji and took her first steps because she wanted to be near him. Sometimes when she can’t sleep, has a nightmare, or wants someone to take her to the bathroom, she usually goes to Megumi because his room is the closet. Some mornings, you would find Mayumi sleeping alongside Megumi. She usually hangs out in Megumi’s room doing her own thing or playing with his dogs. Megumi doesn’t mind but only gets annoyed when he’s napping or sleeping and she wakes him up. 

But she also hangs out in Tsumiki’s room too. Trying a new hairstyle, clothes, or playing with her stuffed animals. Tsumiki makes Mayumi into a Sanrio fan and even gives some of her plushies to Mayumi because she doesn’t play with them anymore. Every morning, Mayumi goes to Tsumiki to do her hair for the day. Sometimes asking Tsumiki to put a nice hair clip or bow for her. Mayumi’s so happy once she’s done that she shows you and Toji and it’s just so sweet oml.

She loves Megumi’s dogs and shikigamis. But her favorites are his white and black doggos. She loves playing and hugging them, always so gently with them. She likes to put ribbons on them like a collar and read to them. She would nap while laying on top of the white dog’s side and the black one is guarding her feet, making a protective circle around her. Then they allow her to grab onto them to help her practice walking. It’s so cute.

Mayumi knocks on doors before she enters. You don’t know where she picked it up from until you remember knocking on the doors yourself as you hold her. You assume she picked your habit, which turns out to be useful and courteous. It’s always three short knocks, keeping this habit even as a teenanger. 

Mayumi is the apple of the family’s eye and almost everyone, even for Yuuji, Nobara, Maki, Yuuta, Toge, Panda, and fucking Hakari and Kiara. They all have a soft spot for her. The worst of them all is Satoru, proclaiming he’s her big brother to which Suguru smacks him on the hand for it. He tries to win her over but his grand gift-giving actually scares her and makes her wary of him, much to Satoru’s dismay. To which goes to my next point:

Bro, your daughter doesn’t like Satoru. It’s high-key funny. She doesn’t hate him per say. She’s more scared and unsettled by him. One time, she started crying late at night because she had a nightmare. Megumi, with Mayumi in his arms, had to knock on your bedroom door because she was inconsolable and wouldn’t tell Megumi anything. Took all three of you, and eventually Tsumiki joined in, to calm her down. She was sniffling, burying her face into your neck, gripping her little hands as tightly as she could.

“Mayumi, Honey, do you feel a little better now?”

She nods into you but still holding on to you for dear life.

“Can you tell us what’s wrong? Please, Sweetheart?”

“White monster…The white monster with blue-eyes…Scary smile with pointing teeth…”

Tsumiki and Megumi looked at each other confused, you were just trying to figure out where she got that image from, while Toji held a frown before his eyes opened a bit upon realization. He has this goofy smile as he takes Mayumi from your arms and holds her in his own. Upon feeling being inside Toji’s arms, she instantly relaxes and looks up at him with a pout.

“So there’s a monster in your bedroom, Princess? You want me and your big brother Megumi to look for any monsters?”

She looks up at him with her little pout, sniffles, and nods her head quietly. Clutching to Toji like a Koala. Toji gets up with a grunt along with Megumi and they go into her room to look for the “monster”. Turning both the lights on and off along with Megumi bringing his dogs out. Mayumi watches the dogs sniff out her room, under her bed, and her closet.

“No monster, Gumi-Nii?”

Megumi pats her head softly.

“Yeah, no monsters in here, Mayumi.”

She’s still pouting even though Megumi confirmed no monsters while Toji rubs her back gently.

“Well Little Lady, you’re gonna sleep with Mama and I tonight so no monsters can get you. If there are, I’ll eat them.”

Mayumi giggles as he takes her into your shared bedroom to sleep peacefully for the night. Luckily she did as she snoozed away on his chest along with you tucked into his shoulder as your head rested on top of its side.

The next day, Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, Nanami, Haibara, and Yaga came to your house to talk about something. As they were discussing in your personal office, Mayumi knocks and she comes in to be held by you. While being held by you, you feel Mayumi shifting in your arms. You look down as she looks at Satoru with wary eyes. She clutches closer to you as she whines. Satrou looks over at her and smiles, causing her to hide into you further. By then, you noticed Satoru didn’t bring his blindfold. He brought his glasses instead so you could see the glimpses of his eyes. As soon Mayumi caught a glimpse of his eyes, she started getting uncomfortable and whining. You’re worried as you try to calm her down but nothing works. Then Toji comes in with the pitcher of water you asked for and she makes grabby hands at him. Your husband takes her in his arms and she points at Satoru while sniffling, making everyone, including you curious.

“What’s wrong this time, Mayumi?”

“Papa,” 

Points at Satoru

“White monster…big blue eyes and white teeth…that’s him…”

Everyone blinks a couple of times except for Toji who has his dastardly grin. Then the silence is broken by Suguru’s cackling followed by Haibara bursting out in laughter. Now you understand why Toji wasn’t so concerned about last night because he knew what Mayumi was talking about. The monster was random, she had a nightmare about Satoru. Nanami smirks while Yaga and Shoko chuckle at this. The only ones who weren’t anything were You and Satoru. You because you’re just shaking your head at Suguru, Toji, and Haibara. While Satoru looked like a hurt puppy that was kicked. You tried to comfort your unofficial oldest child but he just stayed hurt. He let out a sigh when he and your daughter made brief eye-contact before she hid herself in Toji, causing him to bark out in laughter. His laugh joined in with the other two. 

Toji calms down a bit before comforting Mayumi.

“Princess, that’s just Gojo. He’s not a scary monster, see? He’s harmless.”

Mayumi looks at Satoru before looking at you then Toji. She shakes her head at Toji causing him to chuckle. Mayumi says bye to everyone as she leaves the room with Toji. But Suguru wouldn’t stop teasing Satoru about it and it’s an inside joke everyone is in on.

So that’s why Satoru always wears his blindfold on because he doesn’t want to make Mayumi cry. As she gets older, she gets over it and funny enough doesn’t remember this event. No matter how much anyone brings it up, she can’t fully remember any of it. But their relationship gets better later on.

Though Mayumi’s humble, she’s spoiled. By you, Toji, Tsumiki, Megumi, your family, even Suguru and Satoru, specifically Satoru. Mayumi gets an allowance of 38,948 yen(which is roughly equivalent to $250 US dollars) from Satoru every month, and that’s not including holidays and birthdays. Toji and Satoru are fighting each other on who’s better at spoiling her to which you have to calm them down because it shouldn’t be a big deal.

Mayumi gets all sad and pouty when Megumi has to live on campus but Megumi promises to call frequently or visit once a week for her. Megumi gives her his old plushies of his twin dogs, telling her to hug them when she feels like missing him. Because of that, she is overly attached to them. She sleeps with them, goes to the bathroom with them, brings them outside to the garden, goes out, they come with her everywhere she goes.

Megumi hangs a drawing she made of him and Mayumi with his dogs in his dorm room. Also has a picture frame of him and her on his desk too.

When Megumi brings Yuuji and Nobara over, they always want to play with her. Nobara dresses her up while Yuuji shadow boxes with her. When they come over to sleep over, it’s twice the fun. Yuuji and Nobara get bummed out when it’s her bedtime but they remember they see her in the morning so it’s all good.

They also help Megumi watch and babysit her when you and Toji are out on a date/outing. It’s chaotic but it’s fun.

Toji and Megumi will be irritated and annoyed when someone, other than you and Tsumiki, asks them for anything Gojo. But once Mayumi starts asking for things, they won’t even bat an eye. She is spoiled by both her grumpy older brother and menacing father. One time you came home to see your daughter gleefully smiling at you, holding her plushie tightly as she told you about what she did with Toji and Megumi. Then you look over to see your son and husband wearing bows on their heads and had sanrio stickers all over them.

Mayumi’s such a bubbly and happy child that it’s like looking straight at the sun. Of course, she takes after you mostly both in personality and physical traits. It’s not until she’s in teens when Toji’s traits start revealing themselves in her.

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[phantomrose96]

Sham Sacrifice: Chapter 2

(Sham Sacrifice: Chapter 1)

Chapter 2, because @ciestess voiced an idea that absolutely consumed my entire mind and I could not rest until I made this

...

Danny’s eyes tracked the swing of gunfire raining bullets across the horizon. Tucker reloaded, crouched, dodged left and pivoted, another blast of bullet confetti launched through a gaggle of zombie heads. He tossed the magazine and reloaded. Click. Ching. Danny flinched when a zombie smashed a hammer clean through Tucker’s head.

 “God. Fucking…” Tucker pulled out of his hunch. He unclamped his fingers from his controller like bug legs unfurling. He extended the controller to Danny, bouncing it in his grip. “Your turn.”

“Huh?” Danny asked, as if he hadn’t been watching Tucker’s game the whole time.

“You. You’re up. I died.”

Danny accepted the controller, reloaded the screen, and jogged about a hundred feet forward before the first horde of zombies took him out football-style from the left. The death screen rolled.

“Oops,” Danny said.

“Not your best work.” And Tucker took the controller back. Tucker shot a few spare glances to Danny while the level restart loaded in. “Is it Vlad?”

“No. Well, yes,” Danny answered, flopping back into his normal position on the Foley attic armchair. Tucker’s mom had planned to toss it ages ago, before it became Danny’s chair. “But at least he left when my parents went all zombie mode into the basement.” Danny picked absently at the scabs of leather flaking from the armrest. “It was just weird.”

“I don’t mean this as an insult, but it’s definitely not the first time your dad’s gotten some math wrong,” Tucker said. “He blows up like three things a week doesn’t he?”

“He does. But he doesn’t care when he gets that math wrong. This one was like I broke something important.” Danny’s expression soured, and he picked a leather flake clean off the chair. “Vlad did, I mean.”

“Does any of the math actually work?” Sam offered from Tucker’s desk. She leaned an elbow around the back of his chair, head tilted to Danny. A pencil dangled from her loose fingers, nib-half worn to the History of an Invention report she was actually working on. Tucker had half-assed his earlier in the day about the palm pilot. Danny had not done his. “Like, it’s all crackpot theory, right? Do ghosts even follow math?”

“I think they follow some math. It’s not magic that makes the ecto-bazookas work, or the Fenton-phones work, or—well the thermos DIDN’T work—until I made it work.”

The unspoken thing Danny had been not-quite-saying hung in the air. He said it this time.

“So I’m wondering if I did it. Like the Fenton thermos. And now maybe they’re gonna do the math all over and realize the missing piece of the equation is one half-ghost son.”

“Well the order is backwards, for starters,” Sam said. “Thermos worked because you pumped ghost-energy into it. How would you have done that to the portal? You were human when you walked in.”

“Sam’s right. What do you think you brought to the table exactly? Button-slapping abilities?” Tucker loaded up the next level. “It was their portal, and their math, and it worked. There’s a million-billion kinds of math and they probably just forgot one thing.”

Tucker took a headshot and died. Mechanically, he handed the controller back to Danny.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Ask Vlad. He’s got a portal.”

“Like Vlad’s gonna tell me.”

“Just promise to be his diligent little son minion or whatever. He’s easy. Wait, let me do the next level. You know I like the cyberpunk levels.”

“It’s not your turn,” Danny said, reeling the controller just out of Tucker’s wiggling grasp.

“I’ll let you do two in a row for your next turn.”

Danny knocked Tucker away, distracted just long enough for a zombie cyberbeam to launch from the horizon and take him out through the head.

The screen washed sepia. Danny stared at it. You died.

…

Danny hadn’t really meant to stay the night at Tucker’s place. They’d just gotten really far in Man vs. Zombie, and Sam had gone home, and Danny was just resting his eyes between his turns with the controller.

So when he woke to the bright strip of sunlight beaming into his eyes through the attic skylight, his first thought was Fuck.

He was awake, here, morning, school. Fuck he had not actually done his History of Invention report, despite the stupid amount of grief it had already caused him this weekend. He pulled his face out of the armrest, now pineapple-patterned from the decaying leather, and pawed for his phone fallen on the floor. If it was still early enough, he could maybe still afford to desperately half-ass something before sixth period science.

He flipped his phone open. A text from Jazz. “Don’t come home. Make up an excuse.”

“…Fuck,” Danny whispered, through the sensation of his heart launching itself into his throat.

He scrambled upright, whole body shaking at the mercy of adrenaline shock so soon after being pulled from dead sleep. His mouth was dry, teeth unbrushed, wearing his old clothes from yesterday, report not done, Don’t come home, Don’t come home, Don’t come home.

They knew. He’d fucked it up. Somehow they knew. The math. Something. And it had to be with guns blazing, because Jazz would not send that text if they’d taken the “We accept you” angle.

Were they coming for him? On their way here? Tracking by his phone? Did they like Mrs. Foley enough to not SWAT-slam her against the wall when she opened the door for them so they could come capture the ghost pretending to be their son?

Fuck.

Danny was upright. Danny was standing. Danny was shaking. Danny wasn’t actually sure what the next thing was he was supposed to do.

Tucker’s ball of blankets rustled from the couch. “Mmph?” he asked, articulately.

“I have to. Go deal with my parents, I think,” Danny said, because any plan felt a little better than no plan. “I think they know.”  

Danny was a ghost. Danny was gone. Tucker sat upright, alone, blinking himself awake. He was staring at the You Died sepia screen still displayed on monitor, now burnt into the plasma of the tv.

…

Danny paused with his human hand slick on the Fenton front door. The gears in his mind turned as his plan quickly unraveled into no-plan. He had no plan, right? What was his plan? Handle this Man vs Zombie style—open the front door ready to dodge wide, because both zombies and parents liked to camp behind closed doors with bazookas at the ready?

“—absolutely absurd, and entirely unscientific, with no probability of being true. It goes against everything we know about neurology.”

Oh, Jazz. Was Jazz enough of a bazooka-deterrent? Probably not. Knowing his parents.

Danny turned the knob. His heart hammered. If bazookas, dodge left.

The first thing he noticed was in fact the no-bazookas. It was what he was most looking for. And so it was Jazz’s expression he did not notice until second—whites of her eyes wide, snapped to Danny, with a look that would be accusatory if worry hadn’t won that battle. Her cheeks were pale. Her hair was unbrushed.

He noticed his parents third. Compulsively, he rocked back onto his right foot, still outside the doorway, still outside the threshold of the Fenton family household.

Seeing his parents tired was of absolutely no shock-value to Danny. It was at least a twice-per-month tradition to see them haul themselves up from the basement sweaty and glaze-eyed at 7am, babbling excitement about some new ecto-spectral-hoozy-whatsits whose concept had shimmed into their minds at 8pm and now existed, fully operational, 11 nonstop hours later.

So it wasn’t the exhaustion on their face. It wasn’t the stagnant smell of sweat or the paleness of their faces or the stains on their clothes.

It was the way they looked at him. Like their whole world had fallen apart with his foot passing over the doorstep.

“Danny,” Jazz said, choked, a break in the silence. “Things are…! A little weird here. So maybe, if you wanna just get to school, I’ll finish clearing up—there’s a misunderstanding Mom and Dad have with their math. I am state finalist in Math League and have been studying college-level calculus in preparation for school applications so I’ve offered to help them fix their math, or prove to them—”

“Danny,” Maddie said, an echo of Jazz, but it felt worse. Danny scanned her hands for anything pointed enough to be a weapon. They were empty. “Danny can I just ask you something honestly, just quickly? Jazz is right. I’m just trying to clear up an issue with our math. And I won’t be mad. Whatever the answer is, I won’t be mad. I just want an honest answer.”

She stepped closer. Danny fought the urge to match her with a step backwards. Her eyes roved over him in a starved way, looking for something.

“Were you there when the portal turned on?” she asked.

“No, I wasn’t,” Danny answered. He wasn’t sure what to do with his face to make it look convincing. “It just. It needed some time to boot up, or something, right? That’s what you two said.”

“That was our guess ,but we don’t really know. The security tapes are wiped. We tried to make them EMF-resilient but a very, very strong blast of EMF could still corrupt them.”

“Yeah. I mean the portal’s gonna do that, right? When it turned on? Ripping open the Ghost Zone that’s—gotta be huge EMF.” Danny’s focus bounced between his mother’s eyes. “Just a guess. I really don’t know. I was in bed, already, whenever the portal started working.”

Left eye. Right eye. Why was she looking at him like that? Like she was sad. Was this part a trick? Make Danny let his guard down, go hey Mom need a hug? and that’s when the bazooka-whipping starts? It made his ribs feel scratchy. Stop looking at me like that.

“Have you felt anything weird at all, since the portal started working? Any gaps in your memory? Any parts of you that don’t feel right? Is there any part of you that feels like it’s changed in a way you can’t explain?”

She reached a hand out. Danny instinctively recoiled.

“Uh, yeah. They taught us about this in health class. They call it ‘puberty’ there.”

“Danny,” Jack said, and his voice was scratchy from disuse, from a long and uncharacteristic amount of time spent not speaking. “Did you die in the machine?”

A beat. A moment. Like when the zombie sends a hammer through your head.

“I’M alive!” Danny declared with a crack in his voice, with hands slammed to his chest. “Look at me. What are you talking about?”

“It’s the only math that works,” Jack continued, his words like chalk, his voice too dead. He looked too much at Danny. “If one of you two walked into the portal, and died in it. And I don’t think it was Jazz.”

This was bad. This was weird. Danny had ghost powers, sure. ‘They can’t kill me I’m already dead,’ was a funny joke sometimes. But it was funny as a joke. He was a ghost sham, really. A faker, a LARPer, whatever Tucker had called it. He was a human who was just kind of a freak now. More of a freak than he already was. He looked dead, for someone who was super-duper still alive.

He’d buried that worry, already. They weren’t allowed to bring it back.

“Look… at me!” Danny continued, mouth dry. He threw his arms wide. “Look how super alive I am! I’m awake! Using energy! Eating food and sleeping with my human body. I’ve got flesh and blood and bones and stuff! I’m not a ghost-expert but ghosts don’t have that.”

This was weird. This made Danny feel like something was scratching to get free from inside his rib cage. It twisted his entrails. Sure Tucker and Sam had thought he was dead, for those first horrible few minutes, but then he changed back to a human and the nightmare ended there. Jazz never called him dead. The ghosts called him freak and halfa and whelp, but never ‘one of them.’ That was his whole thing: being different from the ghosts who became ghosts by something so normal as dying.

He was not dead.

“If you died in the portal, your ghost wouldn’t have been ripped out of your body. It would have been allowed to stay, and then you’d be…” Jack hesitated. “I don’t know what you’d be, but you wouldn’t be alive.”

“Dad,” Jazz said, and she stood herself bodily between Danny and Jack. “What an absolutely messed up out-of-line thing to say to your son! You don’t know that! Dad you’re tired, and just because you weren’t able to solve your math problem in one night doesn’t mean you get to treat Danny like this! I said I’d help you with your math! Now apologize to Danny.”

Jazz looked over her shoulder to Danny, her expression falling at the sight of Danny’s face.

Danny backed up over the door threshold. He shook his head. “I’m not comfortable with this. This is weird. I’m gonna go to school now.”

“Danny, I promise they’re just—”

Danny turned on heel. No backpack, no change of clothes. He took to the street without a single school supply and moved, and moved.

It was supposed to be guns-blazing. Molecule by molecule. Headshot you died. He’d prepared for that this whole time, in the shower, in his dreams, in his daydreams in class. He’d duck and dodge and explain himself over and over until they understood him.

Danny wasn’t sure he was capable of explaining himself anymore.

…

Danny knocked the heavy iron knocker. He was in ghost form, as a threat. He wondered if he still smelled like yesterday’s sweat now that he wasn’t wearing yesterday’s clothes. Now he was wearing the clothes he died in.

No one answered the door. Danny phased himself in.

“Vlad!” he called, and his words echoed along the slope of the two elaborate winding staircases that twirled and met at the top like caduceus. Gold-plated banisters. A security camera buried somewhere in the ceiling, no doubt.

Danny phased into the library. His eyes roved the three stories of bookshelves wrapping the perimeter like a sheath. Gaudy. Audacious. Like Vlad would ever read that much. Danny racked his brain because some something in here was the secret to opening Vlad’s laboratory. Jazz had told him. Some gold something to be touched, and pressed down, or pushed up? Or it opened to a button. Or a keypad, maybe.

Danny spat a curse. He was being stupid. He was frazzled. He wasn’t thinking straight.

He dove into the floor below. Intangibility was the only key he needed.

The sheetrock was cold, even when he wasn’t touching it. The darkness was so piercing it made static jump in his vision, some weird trick of the brain Jazz had explained where, in the absence of all light, the brain hallucinates its own. It came with a sensation of pressure against his eyeballs, and a complete disorientation of direction, and he simply just kept going down.

Danny emerged into a wash of cold air. Cold like metal was cold. The low lights of dials and clicking machines were bright to his eyes previously dunked into the pitchest nothing. He drank it in, eyes grateful for light no matter how little, inner ear grateful for orientation that had left his head swimming and his stomach tight.

His feet tapped down to the stone ground, and the air that breezed past him was chilled.

“Vlad!” Danny called again.

Nothing.

He moved by the floor lighting, which ran in trim along the perimeter of the laboratory rooms. It lit things from beneath, made machines gaunt and specimens into sharp geometries of darkness and flesh. It made the Fenton lab feel warm in a way Danny had never considered it warm.

His feet clacked. His breath puffed.

“Vlad!”

He followed light, followed a wash of green miasma percolating from some far room and catching on the particulate of water and dust that disturbed with the air currents. Danny disturbed it too, walking through, wearing its shade of green which his shadow robbed from the wall behind him.

“Vlad. I swear to god Vlad.”

He crossed the threshold of the portal room, where the dusting of green ambience became a medallion wash of golden-green coating, painting every surface of the room. The Fenton lab was one single expansive room, portal anchored into the far wall and facing all the dead and empty air in front of it. This was different. A much smaller room, walled on all sides save for the simple doorway, and each surface reflected the color back deeper and heavier. It was like a fishtank in the wall of an aquarium lit radiant aqua-blue by all the lights within, but green instead, pure ecto-green.

Danny approached the open portal. He stared into its placid swirls, mesmerized, and scared of it, in a way he hadn’t previously felt about the portal in the Fenton basement.

“Ah, seems the cat is a good mouser after all, it dragged you in my boy.” The words came sing-song. They came spine-shivering for Danny, who felt them like hot breath on his shoulder and reeled back, pivoted, fire crackling to life in his palms.

Vlad stood at the doorway, a solid 20 steps from Danny.

“Vlad.”

“So I’ve been hearing.”

“I need you to explain the portal.”

“Ah, I see you’ve spoken to your parents.” Vlad stepped in, washed in the ecto-green which muddied his ruby red eyes. He held his hands behind his back, cape trailing, a smirk on his fanged face. “Last I heard they weren’t taking the news very well.”

“What news. What did you tell them?”

“Me? Nothing. In fact, very kindly for your sake I even tried to drive them away from the answer but… We know how stubborn your parents can be.”

“What answer?”

“That you’re dead, Daniel.”

Shock washed like ice down Danny’s spine. It sent prickles like spider legs across his skin.

“Well, I suppose there’s still chance for some doubt. It could be Jazz. She could take the fall for you, if there’s any benefit to that at all.”

“I’m a halfa. We are halfas,” Danny said.

“A silly made up word by a silly child,” Vlad mused, and the light smile left his lips. “We are dead.”

“I’m not dead,” and Danny’s words were small, and they were childish.

“You are. I am. Embrace it. It’s nicer this way.” Vlad took a few steps closer, lionously tall in his saunter, feet clacking the ground. “It’s very freeing. After you’ve died already what is there left to fear?”

“I’m alive.”

“You’re a dead body with its soul still stuffed inside it like a Christmas goose. A lot of things in your body don’t work anymore, but ghosts don’t work right anyway and it is, for all its defiance of nature, a perfectly symbiotic relationship.” Vlad’s smile brushed his lips again, warm. “It’s nice to share this with you. Isn’t it nice to share things with people?”

Danny’s heart was beating too fast in his chest, and it was a human heart, a human beat. “I’m not dead,” he declared.

“Your wounds heal quickly because the ghost piloting you only needs to remember form. It stacks cells back into place and calls it good. You’ll endure fatal injuries as you no doubt have many times in your fights, but they’re trivial because physical trauma is not what kills a ghost. It’s what creates one. You’ll necrotize in places but it’s okay, because you’ll carry on, and it will bother you only if you let it bother you, if you’re too sentimental about the puppet you’re still inside.” Vlad closed in closer, neck craning to appraise Danny. “Ghosts love a facsimile of life so you will keep your heart pumping, your lungs breathing. You’ll eat and you’ll sleep but you’ll find you won’t perish if you don’t. It just won’t be a good time if you want to keep occupying your flesh form. Take better care of it. You won’t get another.”

“You’re psychotic. And you’re wrong.”

“I have all the math to prove it.” Vlad leered from over Danny’s shoulder. He circled the boy, knocking Danny’s balance, who still on a hair trigger stood ready to fight. The light from the ghost portal painted Vlad’s face like the phases of the moon as he moved. “Did your parents explain that part to you properly?”

“No, because they didn’t get the math right.”

“Oh they’ve gotten it right. This time. It only took them two decades longer than it took me.” The portal rolled like static, and its fizzling pattern crashed like an ocean wave across Vlad’s cape. “No amount of man-made power is sufficient to drag the entire fabric of the Ghost Zone up against our own, tear a hole through it, and anchor it to a stable frame. It requires something with a pull on the Ghost Zone, a strong pull, and that thing is a human life at the moment of an extraordinarily violent death.”

Danny backed a step away from the portal, from Vlad, but the walls boxed him in. He swam in its green light.

“You stepped in and you turned the portal on, that’s what you thought, right, Daniel? Pressed a careless button on the inside and now here we are. Silly parents for not finding that button first.” Vlad’s face hardened. “No. Jack and Maddie knew about the button. Maddie explained it to me over the phone. What engineer designing and building their own portal would forget the location of the on button? They’d pressed it from the outside. It didn’t work. And so you pressing the button was not the important part. It was you dying to the electrocution that clicked everything right into place. And while your ghost should have been torn from your lifeless corpse and pulled to the Ghost Zone you instead pulled the Ghost Zone here. Your ghost got to stay put. You opened the portal. You became the undead freak you are. And now we’re here.”

Danny’s eyes bounced between Vlad’s. His cheeks felt hot, like he was enduring an accusation of wrongdoing. And he had none of the knowledge to refute what was being said.

“You’re messing with me. You’re wrong,” Danny shot back. He thrust an arm out, drenched in the fog of the portal. “If the portal needs a person to die in it then explain your portal! Are you so casual about it? You killed someone? You’re admitting to murder and you think I won’t do anything about it?”

Anger flashed like a storm across Vlad’s face. His aura swelled, pressing down with a pressure on Danny as Vlad halted and cast his shadow clear across Danny, coating the back wall. “The killing of other people with the wanton carelessness of half-baked machines is the domain of Jack and Jack alone. I’ve brought no such harm onto anyone else.”

“Then how do you have this portal?”

“This portal? This portal that I’ve had for 20 years? Which I opened when I solved the piece of Jack’s broken math that he was never able to solve until this morning?” Vlad stalked closer, hunched, imposing. Danny stepped back. “My boy Daniel you’ve had it so easy. You had it so simple. A truly clean break. So clean so lucky. A single lethal dose of electricity and it was already over. I’m jealous. You never even suffered.”

Vlad stepped closer, striking distance, arm extended. Danny flinched, but Vlad only swept his cape around, clenched in his fist, and pivoted to approach the portal.

“Put out of your misery before it even started.” Vlad slammed his fist against the portal rim, and the explosive metallic clang bounced through the rooms. His laugh belted out. “I should have been so lucky.”

19. Vlad Masters was 19. A sophomore in college. A man actively in the midst of sabotaging his social life to chase a woman who was already deeply in love with Vlad’s best friend who he hated more every day. He wasn’t sure what he ever enjoyed about Jack’s bumbling ineptitude, or his loudness, his brashness, his poor social skills, his bad breath, his mullet. Maybe Vlad had gravitated to Jack because deep down he loved how superior it made him feel to surround himself with the likes of Jack Fenton… And  now, he hated how enragedit made him to watch Maddie’s eyes skip past his to focus on Jack Fucking Fenton again and again and again and again.

But surely there was hope still. Surely it was a matter of time before the rose-tinted glasses fell away and Maddie saw bumbling and inept and every such word in the basket when she looked at Jack. There’d come the day she tested the waters with Vlad to complain about one of Jack’s little quirks, and they’d find solace together in all the things Vlad was that Jack wasn’t, and all the things Vlad had that Jack didn’t. And he’d be gone, back to bumble elsewhere, and it would be just them.

The day didn’t come. It wouldn’t come. And maybe Vlad needed to change himself for Maddie. If he listened to her and Jack’s ghost ramblings, if he could put Jack in his place and solve the things Maddie couldn’t, it would show her. She’d understand.

Because that was the thing about Jack. His math was never right. Enduring Calculus 1 with Jack was all it took to prove this to Vlad. How many times he’d caught a single error on a single line for Jack, like a dropped stitch that would unravel the whole sweater. Every problem, without exception. Jack only passed on his homework grade with Vlad’s help. On his tests, he failed.

So Vlad was staring at Jack’s equation, full of bogus math, which Vlad knew was wrong because Jack had penned it, and Vlad had not yet fixed it himself.

“I’m telling you Jack, it won’t work.”

“Bogus V-man it totally will!”

It wouldn’t. But Vlad wouldn’t fix it for him. Not yet. Vlad would let Jack embarrass himself first, fully in front of Maddie, watching on, judging. Vlad would solve it for her. After. Once Jack had made a fool of himself for the hundredth time since college began.

He leaned in to study the portal frame. The gears were turning in his head already. He didn’t hear the whir of the power source catch.

…

19. Vlad Masters was 19. A tube ran down his nose and into his lungs, supplying oxygen for lungs which were failed by a diaphragm sloughing itself away. He was poisoned from the outside-in. Irradiated by ecto-energy none of the nurses or doctors could fully understand. It damaged his DNA. First obvious in the skin of his face where the blisters of his ecto-acne drained and sloughed. “Acne” was the wrong word. An unkind word. They were boils where the blast had cooked his skin, microwaved his cells. The skin on his body blackened over time. Organs decayed. Vlad Master read a lot about radiation sickness. He knew everything he had to expect.

Jack and Maddie had stopped visiting. They were dating now. It was on their last visit they’d told him, and Vlad hadn’t taken it well, and he’d perhaps burned a few bridges with the words he chose. It was deserved. Considering what Jack did to him.

He’d found the error in Jack’s math, by the way. Errors, but all the rest paled in impact compared to the lambda. The ecto-energy. The necessary ecto-potential to pull the Ghost Zone here. How stupid. How idiotic. For Vlad to die to a machine so botched in its construction.

When Vlad was released from the hospital, it was not because they’d cured him. It had been because there is a certain cruelty in making a 19-year-old live the last of his days bedded down in a white-walled room with just his books, his equations, and no one coming to visit anymore.

He was released with bedrest instructions. Vlad did not heed them. In his beater car, every cell of his body aching, he drove. At the materials lab, he disconnected his oxygen tank and moved through the lab space with the tube dangling loose from his nostril. No one was Vlad Masters’ friend. No one cared to stare long at his ugly boil-ridden face. No one stopped him as he hauled sheet metal, and supports, and bolts and wiring and resistors and power tools, checked out with a valid student ID, from the lab. The lab inventory room would not be seeing these back.

It was a prep bunker, buried beneath a vast lot of empty Wisconsin land, that Vlad hauled his materials. He and Jack had discovered it as freshmen. Poked through its bowels with flashlights and quipped and laughed over how eerie it was. Deep beneath the sheetrock, boxy rooms carved out of walls of stone. Shelf upon shelf of dusty canned foods, and shotguns sealed in cases fastened to the walls. The locks had rusted with water damage.

His arms ached until they throbbed, dragging beams of metal across the stone floor, scratching chalk-mark stains into the ground. His skin sloughed, inflamed, burning to the touch. Vlad didn’t bother to rest, because these injuries would never heal anyway. He hauled, and welded, and wired up his circuitry and resistors with a care and caution Jack would never have bothered to practice. He checked it against his math by flashlight. He took naps on the cold stone floor and woke with deep purple bruises on every part of his body that had pressed against the ground.

His appetite left him. His lungs filled with mucus. The boils on his face had spread down to his chest, his shoulders. The touch of his shirt chafed them, so he worked without one, a figure of skeletal rib ridges jutting from tight skin that bloomed with the projection of his shadow against stone walls.

He knew why Jack’s math was wrong.

A silly mistake. A stupid mistake. Anyone with half a mind for the paranormal should have realized the Ghost Zone was not so easily at your beck and call. Not without chumming the water with something it would rise to feast on.

And in that violent death, what would happen to the ghost? It would stay, wouldn’t it? If it successfully anchored the Ghost Zone to the portal it stood inside, then by definition the ghost would stay?

And was that death? Yes, in a way. But it was a death one would get to keep living. As opposed to the death Vlad was headed for, whose coldness and finality scared Vlad more than anything he could put to words.

He’d fixed the oxygen tank back to himself. He couldn’t work without it, hauling it about on a little dolly with him, back and forth, while he fetched and affixed the last of the plating he needed to craft the frame of his silent soulless portal.

He’d stolen a generator from the sports storage shed. It was meant to be enough to power the portable stadium lights they hauled onto the fields for late games, an absolute obelisk meant to cast light across an entire football field.

Surely, it contained enough power to kill one simple human.

Vlad fixed the last bolt in place. Jumper cables clamped generator to portal wiring. It was a pure skeleton. A paltry thing, like the bones of something already picked clean. Built in haste, sloppy, by a 19-year-old whose fingers were too inflamed to clutch a wrench any longer.

He could have asked Jack for help. Maddie. But he wouldn’t let them have this. They had to solve the portal on their own. They didn’t get to know his hard work. They did not get to save him.

Vlad would save himself.

A ghost anchored to a body. What was that? What monster was that?

Vlad moved. He coughed mucus from his lungs. It made it hard to breathe. So he moved slowly, and crouched, bony jutting angles, painted blotchy purple, all bruises and skin, sloughing away.

He crouched, because the portal he’d constructed was not large enough to hold him standing up. He bowed inside it, a small thing, a pathetic man of little life. He wheezed. He hurt. His eyes burned.

And he held in his hands the remote to flip the generator switch, and connect the circuit, and bring to life the math Vlad had so kindly corrected out from under Jack’s grip.

Vlad did not. Because throwing the switch would kill him.

Deep in his animal brain, his dying brain, he knew this intimately. It filled him with a drowning fear like paralysis. He did not want to die.

He would die if he did nothing.

It would be this one throwing of the switch which could save him. Which would burst the portal to life right through his heart. Electrocute it out of its rhythm, slaughter him like a pig on spot and… maybe… hopefully… drag the Ghost Zone here. And whatever he was, dead, would stay.

And whatever he was, dead, would be better than this.

Vlad held the remote in his clammy hands.

And from within the humming skeleton of his portal, his fingers caressed the on button.

…

The portal sung its happy contentment, mused in its healthy green aura, staining all the slabs of rock wall. Danny swiveled his head, recognizing now the bunker this had been before it had been a laboratory.

“I’ve harmed no one, Daniel,” Vlad concluded, his voice too measured for the horrors it had spilled forth. Too calm against the blossoming terror its words had wrought across Danny’s face. “I opened the portal to save myself. You’re lucky, Daniel. It was because of my fast thinking that your father is not a murderer. I took that honor from him.” Vlad’s head tilted to the side, suddenly sympathetic. “Although, you’ve maybe made the title whole for him.”

Vlad reached out, Danny shot away.

“Dad didn’t kill me,” he choked. “I did this to myself.”

“How lucky Jack is, to always dodge responsibility for his actions.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Of course you don’t. If you believed me, you’d have to accept you’re not wriggling out of this. There’s no denial you can bring home to your parents. If you believe me, then this is reality.” Vlad smiled, a playful glint to his fangs. “I suppose I should have more sympathy. I quite like being this way. It is so much nicer than wasting away to death, like I was. But you. You were healthy before this. This killed you, and it didn’t save you from anything.” Vlad cocked his head. “Such tragic fates, both of us, due to the carelessness of Jack Fenton.”

Danny shook his head. His heart beat—his human heart beat—all too fast in his throat. It made him sick. It made him feel like the walls were closing in around him. This was Vlad’s doing. Vlad’s trap. Vlad’s prison he’d been forced to join.

“Of course not,” Vlad said, sweetly. “How sweet denial is. Deny it if you like. Call me a liar. But if you ever want to come to terms with what your father did to you, consider coming to me. I understand you in a way no one else will.”

Danny gave no response. He gave no acknowledgement of Vlad’s words. He took to the air, phased himself up through the sheetrock that had been packed atop the doomsday prepper bunker. Up through the mansion, which had been built atop the portal beneath it, and not the other way around. Into the open sky, he breathed fresh air not stagnant and damp beneath the ground, bathed in light pure white from the sun and not tainted green like the bowels underneath him.

And he flew back toward the portal that made him, leaving Vlad with the from which portal he’d made himself.

...

(inspiration post from @ciestess)

[steddieas-shegoes]

congrats on 3000!!! 🎉🍾🎊💖

For the sentence prompt: "I'm just gonna go freak out for a minute first."

Thank you!!!! ♥️

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

Steve was holding his hand while the doctor checked his stitches. It wasn’t really that weird for him to be holding his hand, not since he woke up half-dead in the hospital.

It was a little weird that he was rubbing his thumb against the side of his thumb, though.

And probably a little weird that his other hand was resting on his head, a weight that was comforting and confusing all at once.

“Looks great, Eddie. I’d say by the next visit, we’ll be able to get them out and let these finish healing naturally,” the doctor smiled at him as he pulled his shirt back down.

Steve’s hand squeezed his, and he couldn’t help looking over at the sunshine in the seat next to him.

It had to be pretty obvious how he felt about Steve. He’s lucky none of the kids have caught on and started teasing him yet.

Robin has, but at least she knows to do it privately.

“I’ll have the front desk schedule you for two weeks out. You can grab an appointment card on the way out. Keep them all clean and don’t do any heavy lifting or physical activity quite yet,” the doctor reminded as she pulled off her gloves and threw them in the trash. “You boys have a nice day.”

As she left the room, Steve helped Eddie sit up slowly. He didn’t really need the help anymore, but he’d be an idiot to admit it with how much Steve touched him.

“Two more weeks, Eds! That’s better than what they thought last time,” Steve was so excited for him. His smile was lighting up the room and he looked five seconds away from bouncing on his feet.

“Yeah, it’s great.”

“Aren’t you excited?” Steve’s smile dropped at Eddie’s tone.

“Yeah! Yeah, it’ll be great to have less limits. Might be able to get the guys together for a jam session,” Eddie gave a small smile.

“But…?”

Eddie sighed. “But then you won’t be around anymore, right? Like, other than when we all hang out on movie nights. You only stuck around because no one else could really help me every day. Everyone had work or families that wouldn’t let them out of their sight.”

Steve looked heartbroken, and Eddie couldn’t figure out why.

“Eddie, I’m not gonna leave you just because you don’t technically need me anymore,” Steve shook his head. “We’re- we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course! I mean, I thought so. But I know it could just be that you feel bad and I wouldn’t expect you to stick around because of that.”

Steve grabbed his other hand, his grip tightening on Eddie’s skin almost painfully.

“I wanna stick around for a lot of reasons, Eds.”

Eddie was caught in his gaze, his wide, pleading eyes almost too much.

“Like what?”

“Like because you’re fun to be around. You’re funny and talented and smart. You taught me about Hobbits! Love those guys,” Steve stepped closer. “You’re brave and you care about all of us. You-“ Steve swallowed. “You see me. The real me.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie’s heart was racing as he looked between Steve’s eyes, down to his lips where his tongue had poked out momentarily to wet them.

“You’ve seen me when my parents have come home and made me feel like shit and you just distracted me with singing whatever pop songs are on the radio and helping me cook dinner. You’ve been there when I had a two day long migraine and couldn’t even stand up to go to the bathroom. You made grocery shopping fun! I fucking hate grocery shopping, but you just keep being silly and making me laugh and I had fun.” Steve leaned in so his forehead was touching Eddie’s. “You laugh at my jokes, even when they aren’t that funny. You listen to me when no one else pays attention. You see who I am and you let me be who I am and I don’t feel scared that you’ll run.”

“I’m not running.”

“I know. I love that you aren’t, that you won’t.” Steve closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they were watery. “I love you.”

Eddie was certain he was dead. Maybe the last month had all been some coma-induced dream and they finally pulled the plug. Maybe he actually died in the Upside Down and the last month was his final goodbye to everyone in his own head.

He stood up slowly, trying not to push Steve away, but having to guide him away from the table he’d been laying on.

“Where are you going? You’re not leaving, right?”

“Nope. I’m just gonna go freak out for a minute first.”

“Um.”

Eddie smiled, leaned in to kiss Steve’s cheek, and pulled away.

“Give me a minute. This is either the most realistic dream I’ve ever had or the best day of my life.”

Steve snorted, but let him walk to the door and stand outside of it for a moment.

When Eddie came back in, his cheeks were red, but he looked determined.

He pulled Steve into him by his hips, crushed their lips together, and smiled so hard their teeth clacked against each other. It was a little messy for a first kiss, but they could get better.

“You love me? Really?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Steve laughed as they pulled apart.

“I thought I was obvious!”

“Not really. I was convinced I was imaging things! Robin had to explain to me what the hanky code was before I even believed you liked guys!”

They both laughed so hard they cried, forgetting entirely that they were still in the doctor’s examination room.

Someone knocked on the door and they broke apart quickly, trying to stop the laughter for a moment to deal with whoever was at the door.

A nurse poked her head in. “Sorry, don’t wanna rush you, but just wanted to make sure everything was okay? Did you need to see the doctor again?”

“No, no. Sorry. We’re heading out. He just needed a minute,” Steve said quickly, smiling back at her.

She nodded and left, leaving the door open as a silent reminder that they needed to disinfect the room for the next patient.

“Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, too.”

“You don’t have to say it just-“

“I’m not. I’m saying it because I love you. I see you, remember? There’s a lot there to love.”

Steve turned a bright red, and Eddie decided then he would do just about anything to see that shade on Steve’s cheeks and neck as often as possible.

“Let’s go home,” Steve finally said when he recovered. “Wanna kiss you more.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

[wearebarca]

Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character pt. 3

Part 1 part 2 part 3

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed too long at the same place. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

word count: 4,3K

18 + (eventually)

A/N: Hello, notify me if you'd like a little album of the pictures Rosalie takes. Spanish is from google translate so please be nice. French is my first language so all should be good on that part. Enjoy.

The question took the brunette by surprise. She could see that the footballer was getting more comfortable around her but she did not think that the woman would ask such a personal question. The subject had always been quite sensitive for the Canadian but, for unknown reasons she felt that, here, in this empty facility, with the catalonian trusting her with this whole process, she felt like she could share this bit of her story.

“ My uncle was a wedding photographer. When I was younger, he used to bring me with him to some weddings and have me play his little assistant. He would give me one of those single use cameras and tell me to capture what I found beautiful.” The memory put a nostalgic smile to the woman’s face. To this day, she still incredibly misses her uncle and wishes that he could see her today. 

“My parents were busy people, so my uncle took me under his wing. He taught me everything he knew and encouraged me to pursue this passion and helped me make a career out of it.” She raised her camera and snapped a shot of the blond who was listening with a small smile on her face.  “ Can you angle yourself towards the left please?” 

The blond moved to the side and for the first time tonight, really took the time to look at the brunette. Her hair was in a messy bun with a few strands escaping and framing her face. Her high waisted jean shorts showed off her long legs. She had on an oversized gray grandad cardigan on top of her black t–shirt. The sleeves of her sweater were slightly too long and went over her hands. The brunette looked comfortable and at ease, she was relaxed and completely in her element. She looked nothing like the photographer’s Alexia had worked with in the past. She was used to flamboyant people who yelled orders at their models or were constantly harassing her with their camera, not this slightly awkward, caring, beautiful woman who was willingly sharing her story with the footballer.

“ He must be an incredible photographer.”

“ He was yes,” The brunette’s expression dimed at that, Alexia suddenly felt bad for bringing the subject but the smaller woman motionned to her that everything was ok and continued. “  Eleven years ago he was diagnosed with bone cancer. He died a year later, not long after my eighteenth birthday.”  

“ I am sorry,”

“ Don’t be, I’m happy to talk about him,” She said smiling, “ What about you? Why football?”

“ My dad, he loved football. He was always very supportive and proud. He got sick.” The blond said, looking down, not wanting the photographer to see her be vulnerable. Rosalie felt the shift in the atmosphere and put down her camera. “ He said that he would not die before seeing his daughter play for Barcelona’s first team, but he went two months before I reached our goal.” 

The brunette wanted to hug the girl standing in front of her but could not decide if she would be comfortable enough to do so. “ I am sure he is extremely proud of what you have accomplished, La reina”, the name earned the smaller woman an eye roll from the footballer who shifted in a different position for the photographer. 

“ Ok, let’s get this shoot over with, I think we both deserve to go home and finally relax.” They finished up quickly and Rosalie was quite happy with the pictures that came out. While she uploaded the pictures to her computer, the blond helped picking up the equipment. Grateful for her help, the brunette promised the captain that she would bring her coffee next week as a thank you.

They walked out of the empty training center as the sun was starting to set. When the brunette reached her small car, she turned around to see the taller woman standing awkwardly behind her. 

“ I just wanted to thank you for making this shooting so casual and easy.”

“ Of course, anything to make you comfortable, Alexia.” She grabbed the blond’s hand and gave it a light squeeze. “ Have a good weekend Capitana,” 

“Thank you,” The blond started to walk towards her own car but turned back around after a few steps. 

“ Bonne nuit Rosalià.”

The morning air was crisp against her sweat coated skin and the breeze coming from the sea kept the brunette cool even after running for an hour. It was still incredibly early in the morning and the only sounds that could be heard were the odd car passing and the sound of her feet hitting the pavement. Early morning was her favorite time to go run. It allowed her to be completely submerce by the calmness of the still sleeping city. Rosalie didn’t often run with music, preferring to listen to the sounds of her own steps, which acted as some sort of metronome for the torrent of thoughts running in her head lately. 

It had been four days since her shooting with the captain and still, the whole ordeal seemed to be the subject her brain would drift back to whenever the French-Canadian would let her mind run free. The fact that the blond seemed to make tremendous effort to stay as far as she could from the photographer had not helped the questions that were quickly multiplying in her head. 

Rosalie somehow thought that after that night, Alexia would be more approachable and less standoffish. But clearly the woman was not as comfortable as she thought with how vulnerable they had gotten and now she was probably regretting telling the brunette so much. Or maybe she thought that Rosalie went too far by sharing her story with the footballer. Whatever the reason was, the results were still the same. 

Later today, the team will be taking off towards Sevilla for a two day trip. They would all meet at the training center and take the team bus towards the airport. Flying had always been a tricky thing for Rosalie. When she was a teenager she had been on a plane with extremely violent turbulence that had scared the girl and ever since, flying had been one of the woman’s biggest fears. Her friends had always found the thing ironic, since the brunette's job required Rosalie to fly frequently and said that she should’ve gotten used to it by now. But nonetheless, every time the photographer simply thought about flying, she would get restless and anxiety would start creating a pit in her stomach. 

This was the reason why she was currently out at such an ungodly hour, trying to literally run away from her anxious thoughts. Around her she could see that the small coffee shops that were lined on the streets were starting to set up their front patios in order to open and the smell of freshly baked pastries was floating in the morning air. A quick look at her watch told her that she still had a good three hours before Lucy and Keira would arrive at her apartment to pick her up, meaning that she still had time to hit  the half marathon mark before heading back.

She wasn’t used to running this long on morning runs, but she had gone over her training program with Sara, one of the coaches and switched up her training to make it more challenging. So far her breathing was good and she could feel the slight burn of her legs but overall, her pace was good and she was more than satisfied with her time. 

Sara had been a true angel this past week. She had helped the runner organize a new training plan that was focused more on endurance rather than speed. Rosalis had always struggled with long distances which was why marathons were her least favourite type of races. She was extremely hard headed though so she was still focused on mastering this type of event. 

She even went as far as going running with the Canadian during the weekend. She was quite impressed by the level of fitness the brunette was displaying and found that she very much appreciated the company of the French-Canadian. After their run they had stopped at a local café and had agreed to room together during the upcoming trip. 

When Rosalie arrived at her apartment complex, she noticed the couple’s car parked by the door. She checked her watch to see that she technically still had at least an hour and a half before they were supposed to be here. She opened her door to come face to face with a sleeping form on her couch and Lucy running around in her kitchen.the smell of crêpe was wafting in the space.

“ Took you long enough,” The older woman whispered, handing Rosalie a fresh cup of coffee.

“How did you even get in here?”

“ You’re the one who left her door unlocked Rosie, which is not very safe darling you should be more careful.” 

The blob of  blankets on the couch stirred enough to reveal disheveled blond reddish hair. “ Lucy, please shut your mouth. I'm trying to sleep here.”

Rosalie made her  way to the living room and jumped on the woman who screamed at the Canadian to get off.

“ Frenchy you smell like ass go shower, Mama Bronze isn’t done with food anyway.” 

After her shower the brunette put on some comfortable clothes consisting of the staff’s tracksuit pants, a white t-shirt with the Barcelona logo and the Nike club vest that had quickly become one of her favorite articles of clothing. When she came back in the kitchen, everything had been picked up and the kitchen island was dressed up with the food. Lucy and keira were already sitting down and shoveling down food.

“ Mais quel bande d’animal, sincèrement? Vous ne pouviez pas attendre que j’aille fini?”

“ Tais toi femme et viens manger.” Lucy replied with her mouth full.

“ I regret teaching you French, I hope you know that.” She sat down and sipped on her coffee. She wasn’t hungry due to the knot that kept her stomach in check. Knowing that the younger woman would most likely not be able to eat due to her nervousness, Lucy got up and pulled out from the fridge a protein smoothie she had made at home before coming over. 

“Here, at least drink this, you just came back from what I assume was a big run. You gotta put something in you.”

Once breakfast was over, Rosalie finished packing up her camera bag while the girls were loading her bags in the car. The drive to the training center was quiet. Keira was still half asleep and Rosalie was simply too stressed to engage in conversation. Lucy didn’t mind the silence, she was relaxing and enjoying the time spent with two of the most important people in her life. 

The bus ride with the team was more or less the same, with everyone in  pretty much the same state as Keira. As they got closer to the airport, Rosalie’s nerves became worse. Her knee was bouncing up and down and the woman kept zoning out, unable to keep listening to Martina who was going on about a rumor about some people working in management. Thanks to Marcello’s participation in the conversation, Rosalie’s state remained relatively unknown. Or so she thought. 

A few seats behind her, Ingrid, Alexia, Mapi, Keira and Lucy were all sitting together. Knowing that the younger girl was quite fragile at the moment, Lucy had kept a close eye on her. 

“ Hermana, you keep watching Rosie, is everything good?” Mapi wondered, stretching her neck to catch a glimpse of the photographer. 

“She hates flying, it affects her a lot. I just don’t want her to get too bad, you know » Alexia had also noticed the change in the brunette. The normally bubbly woman looked pale and uncharacteristically quiet. 

« Can we do something to help? » Ingrid asked.

« Not really, nothing really distracts her in this situation. We just have to let her process this and stay close, just in case. » Keira replied. They were used to flying with the brunette and had tried everything to help her calm down but nothing really did the trick. She usually would put her headphones in and grip the seat as  hard as she could until they would land. 

Lucy got up and excused herself. Alexia watched her make her way to the front of the bus where the coaches, therapist and the rest of the staff were. “What is she doing?”

“ I think she’s trying to figure out who’s sitting with Frenchy on the plane.” Keira answered, turning towards her girlfriend.

“ They are close, Si?” Alexia’s curiosity had gotten the best of her. She wasn’t jealous, she could see that Lucy and Keira cared a lot about the green-eyed woman and she did not understand why, but she wanted to know as much as she could about her. 

“ Yeah, Like sisters they are. Lucy’s very protective of her, she does have much family. We’re hers now, you know.” Keira smiled as she watched Lucy walk back to her seat, but not without stopping to drop a granola bar on The Canadian’s lap and threatening her to eat it before they boarded. 

“ So who’s with her?” 

“ Apparently she’s the only staff member who didn’t get a ticket in the same area, probably because they booked it after everyone else. She’s gonna sit with the team, but we don’t know our seats yet so..” She said as she sat back down.

“ It’s ok, I can ask whoever is with her to swap with me, I’ll sit with her.” Ingrid said smiling. 

“ Thank you Ingrid,” Lucy said, visibly more relaxed knowing that the brunette would be with someone she seemed to trust.

At the airport, security went smoothly and the team collected their boarding passes only to be called moments later to the gate. The speed at which everything was going was a godsend for Rosalie who was too focused on making sure she had all her documents all the while taking pictures of the team, to have time to think about the moment the wheel of the plane would leave the ground. 

As she walked in the tunnel leading to the aircraft, Rosalie could feel her heart hammering in her chest and her palms getting increasingly sweaty. Lucy’s grounding presence helped the brunette a little but her fear was fighting hard to gain control. The photographer checked her boarding pass for the first time since receiving it to check what seat she had been assigned. 

“ where are you sitting?” The question came from Ingrid who was walking in front of them. 

“ I have B47,” her answer came put a lot more calm than the woman felt as she scanned the seats to find her own. 

“ That's good, Mapi and I are right in front of you,” As she was answering, the Norwegian stopped and picked up her bag to place it in the overhead bin, which told Rosalie that they had reached their seats. She walked the few steps that separated her from her seat, only to come face to face with the woman that had been occupying her mind for the last few days. 

Suddenly, Rosalie’s anxiety found a new target to spiral about. A hand on her shoulder pulled the photographer out of her thoughts. 

“Are you ok? We can sit together if you want? I have a few movies downloaded on my tablet. Mapi can sit with Alexia.” Ingrid asked, smiling softly at the brunette. Rosalie appreciated the dark haired girl but there's one thing that woman hated more than flying, and it was  pity. She knew that they only wanted to help her but she couldn’t help but feel like they were pitying her and she didn't want to appear weak in front of her new team, which is why she politely declined, thanking the couple and placing her belongings in the bin on top of her seat. 

The comotion caught the attention of the blond captain who had not seen who was prepared to sit next to her. She was more than surprised to see the photographer standing in the alley with a nervous small playing on her lips. 

“ Hey,”

“Hola,” Alexia said smiling, picking up her bag from the seat next to her. She sat down next to the blond and closed her eyes to try to calm herself before take off. 

Looking at the brunette, Alexia felt a strange sense of protectiveness wash over her. She wanted to make the brunette feel better, make that smile that takes her breath away appear on the photographer’s soft features. A few seats away, she could see Lucy watch them with a worried expression which Alexia answered with a reassuring smile. She would not let the brunette spiral. 

Surprisingly, Alexia was not the first one to speak. “ I am sorry if I overstepped during the shooting. I didn’t want to male you feel uncomfortable.” She said, eyes still closed and head thrown back. If she was to sit with the blond for this trip, might as well try to make it a little less awkward. 

“ What do you mean?”

“ I don’t know, I just  don’t want you to think that I’m probing your personal life.”

“ No, no I did not think that, do not worry,” the footballer took a second to think about what she was going to say next. She was aware of her own behaviour towards the photographer. The woman made her nervous and she felt like with the brunette, she did not need to put on a controlled facade like with the rest of the media team, and that scared the Ballon d’Or winner. Alexia hated feeling like she wasn’t in complete control of herself, so the easiest solution in her mind was simply to keep her distances. But staying away from the brunette did not appease her curiosity. “ I am very sorry if I made you feel this way. I appreciate your presence Rosalia.” 

The blond’s small confession made Rosalie slightly relax, enough for a small smile to escape her lips. She turned her head towards Alexia, who felt a warm feeling take place at the sight. “ I appreciate your presence as well.” 

The plane jolted, signaling the brunette, who had momentarily forgotten where she was, that they would be taking off very soon. She quickly grabbed the arm rest and panic flooded brain. Alexia, who had seen the brunette deteriorate, did the first thing that came to her mind. She grabbed the hand that was gripping the arm rest and held it with her own. She reached with her other hand and gently turned the photographer’s face towards her. Green met Hazel and the brunette was instantly captured by the depth of the footballer’s gaze. 

“You’re ok, hey look at me, breathe with me ok?” The blond took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her lips. The brunette followed the footballer’s lead, her eyes never straying from Alexia’s. “ bien, lo estás haciendo muy bien”

Alexia’s words ignited a small flame at the pit of the photographer’s stomach which successfully calmed some of the anxiety, but replaced it with an odd feeling that the French-Canadian was simply not ready to face yet. 

“ Here take this, it'll help with the pressure,” the captain pulled out a pack of gum and popped two pieces in Rosalie’s hand. The first bite surprised the photographer who made a face that pulled a chuckle from the footballer. 

“ What kind of psycho chews cinnamon gum?”

“Hey it’s good don’t be mean,” the woman answered with a hurt expression. She could see that Rosalie had calmed down quite a bit, but the deadly grip she still had on the blond’s hand showed her just how sacred the photographer was. Suddenly, they could feel the plane gain some speed and the wheel lifting off the ground. The brunette’s gaze shifted quickly towards the small window as panic clouded her eyes.

“ no, no sigue mirándome” With her hand still on Rosalie’s face, she drew the brunette closer still. Only a few inches separating the two. Rosalie could smell Alexia’s perfume, something sweet, like strawberries. She smelled like summer, it was intoxicating. She didn’t understand what the blond had said but it did not matter, since as soon as her gaze met hers, the blond smiled sweetly and Rosalie forgot once again where she was. 

“ Tell me one of your happiest memories,” The French-Canadian was surprised by the blond’s question. She had gone from ignoring the photographer to taking care of her during takeoff. She knew that Alexia was simply trying to distract her, but the curiosity she could see shining through her eyes made the brunette realize that maybe, the football player didn’t hate her after all. 

“ My first triathlon, it would have to be one of the most meaningful things in my life.” She answered.

“ Tell me about it, si?” 

“ It was a few years ago, my uncle loved triathlons. He used to do one every summer. He also volunteered as a photographer for the races. When I got older I would volunteer with him and he used to say that I would be a great triathlete if I wanted.” She said, smiling at the memory. 

“ He knew that my football days were over since I had gotten injured and needed surgery on my ankle. He said that once I’d be on my feet again I should give it a try. But I used to think that I would hate running, it was the part I hated the most during training.” Rosalie’s expression darkened. 

“When he died, I thought that it would be a good way to honour him in a way, the training was so hard. I had never swum before and my cardio wasn’t great coming back from injury.” She took a deep breath and her gaze left Alexia’s to shift to their intertwined fingers. 

“ But the rush of crossing the finish line was electric. It felt like I made him proud.” She looked back up only to see the captain's face lighting up along with hers. 

A few seats in front of the two, Lucy was witnessing the whole thing along with Keira. They couldn’t believe what they were seeing. In the time they had known her they had never seen her be so relaxed on a plane, nor being so physically close with someone she had just met. She had always been a bit weird about physical touch, it had taken a while before she started to relax whenever the English women hugged her. But at this moment, hand in hand and only a few inches separating their faces, the photographer looked comfortable, happy almost. 

The sound indicating that you could take the seat belts off pulled the two women out of their little bubble. Realizing that she was still gripping the footballer’s hand, Rosalie slowly untangled her fingers from Alexia’s and slightly pulled away from her. 

“Thank you for distracting me,” 

“My pleasure, I am always happy to know more about you Rosalia” The footballer turned around and pulled out her headphones from her case. Rosalie, still surprised by the blond’s statement, put one headphone back in her ear, letting the other one dangle in on her chest and closed her eyes, listening to the calming sound of her music, all the while keeping an ear out in case anything happened. 

A few minutes passed, not much could be heard around. Everyone was either on their phones or had put a movie on their screen. Rosalie could see from the space between seats that Mapi and Ingrid were snuggled up and watching The Lion King on their tablet. An intense shuffling sound pulled her attention away from their screen to see Alexia intensely searching for something in her bag.

“ Ah mierda , where are they?” She sounded frustrated enough for the brunette to lean in to see.

“ Are you ok?”

“ Si, I think I did not bring my headphone charger and they just died,” The blond said frustrated. 

“ Here,” The brunette took her headphone that was resting on her chest and offered it to the footballer. “ we can share if you’d like, I’m not using them both.” She said smiling. 

“ You don’t mind?” 

“Of course not, it’s the least I can do after you helped me like that.” She said, getting closer so the wire wouldn’t pull her other headphone out. “ What do you usually listen to?” 

“ You can leave on what you were listening to, I just don’t like working without music.” The blond said, pulling out her laptop. Rosalie pressed play again and the soft piano song started again in her ear. After a moment, the blond stopped typing and spoke again. 

“ This is nice, very calm, what is it called?” 

“ This is Interlude by this group called London Grammar. The singer’s voice is so powerful, it’s one of my favourite groups.” she said, happy to share her music with the blond.

“ Good, I will look them up then.” The blond went back to her work, softly humming to the music in her ear. Meanwhile, Rosalie was starting to feel like her lack of sleep and intense morning run were slowly taking a toll on her body. Alexia’s calm and grounding presence, along with her perfume that flooded her senses every time she took a breath allowed the photographer to relax enough for her eyelids to become heavy. Slowly her whole body became heavy and her head lolled to the side, resting gently on Alexia’s shoulder. 

At the contact, the footballer went rigid, but relaxed as soon as she realized that the photographer had finally succumbed to sleep, after being on edge all morning.  Knowing she could not work without disturbing the brunette, Alexia closed her laptop and relaxed in her seat, letting the soft music guide her towards sleep as well.

A/N: feedback is appreciated

[acotarxreader]

Storm Chaser

Azriel x Reader

Synopsis: You and Azriel go your separate ways after a vicious fight leaves Azriels jealousy calling the shots but can the ever brave Illyrian brave a storm without you.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, storms?

A/N: A silly goofy fic. I wrote 5 other fics today and I'm going back to edit a monster of a one tomorrow, it has such a serious amount of angst in it I've run out of synonyms 😂 Nothing like a day off from college to send my hands typing😌

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

“WELL THEN?!”

“IF YOU DON'T STOP SHOUTING AT ME AZRIEL I’M LEAVING!” your partner crossed his arms tightly across his chest and furrowed his brows, anger and frustration twisted across his face. He huffed loudly while you threw your head back in frustration. Taking a long, deep breath in and out before looking at him again. His bedroom, the stage of this battle.

“Azriel” he couldn't meet your eyes. You huffed at his response. Archie was always the jealous type but this was taking it to the next level.

“I’m the one who should be mad with you Azriel… you followed me...like I was one of your targets” you said quietly and firmly. Azriel still looking anywhere but you.

“Azriel…”

“WELL WHAT THE FUCK ELSE WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO YNN?!” His raise in volume again fueled your anger.

“I DON'T KNOW? HMMM? WHAT COULD MY PARTNER HAVE POSSIBLY DONE TO FIND OUT IF I WAS CHEATING ON HIM? HMMM, I WONDER, I MEAN HE COULDN'T TALK TO ME ABOUT IT, THAT WOULD BE INSANITY!” you sarcastically shout back to match his volume. Azriel ran his hands through his hair in angry frustration. He hated this argument even though he was always the one to start it. He couldn’t help his thoughts, his jealousy, his behaviour.

“You have to stop this incessant insecurity” The words cut Azriel probably deeper than you intended, his voice escaping him before he could control it.

“OH FUCK OFF YNN I WOULDN'T PUT IT PAST YOU, YOUR PARENTS WERE CHEATING ON EACH OTHER, IT RUNS IN THE FAMILY!” Azriel tried to stop the words from bellowing from his as they left his mouth but he couldn’t. You took a step back from him at the words, regret fogging Azriel instantly. 

“No wait YNN, I didn’t mea-”

“Don't call me that, don’t call me YNN ever again” You fought the tears growing, this was further than the argument usually ran on for. Deeper than it had before. 

“I-I can’t do this anymore Az! I can’t! This is insanity, round and round again. It’s too much, it’s too much all the time, you’re too much all the time. You go off threatening everyone who even looks at me. You threatened Cassian, Az. Cassian! I can’t handle your intensity every single day in and out.” The words were low and shaky as Azriel found himself unable to support his weight under your words, sitting down to relieve some ounce of strain on the edge of his bed. 

“You don’t love me anymore?” The words were as heartbreaking as the look on his face. You sat slowly next to him, taking his hand lightly in yours. 

“I think I love you so much some days I think my heart will burst but-but- I need space, I need time, I need-”

“Anyone but me? I can’t help but want to protect you” You shook your head at his words, standing again, releasing his hand for what would be the last time in a long while. 

“This level of control goes beyond protecting. Az I-”

“Go YNN, leave! Go!” anger leaked through the words, his armour to shield his shattering heart, his face twisting in an almost blind rage, a look he had never given you ran a chill down your spine. Then you did. You went.

-

You fell to the outskirts of the group, only meeting to carry out your official role within the Court as Rhysand’s emissary to the other Solar Courts. You and Azriel did your best to stay out of one another's way, trying not to show the hurt you both still felt by the words that had cut you both. The group could feel the awkward energy but chose to believe that you both would sort it yourselves and were in no rush to get involved. A few months after the break up, Feyre had had enough of the divide. 

“Please come YN”

“Feyre” you sighed, closing your novel, landing your eyes on Feyre's puppy dog eyes. 

“C’mon, we’re all going to the cabin for my birthday, it’ll be fun! Please come, Mor is already not coming because she’s on the continent, you’re not also going to bail are you?”

“Fine” you sighed, the guilt trip working on you. 

-

Your friends and you sat around the painted living room table of the cabin, the wind howling violently outside. You enjoyed the familiar energy of your family truly relaxing into their environment. You sat across the way from Azriel, all playing a round of cards, for the first time in a long time, some element of normalcy hung between you. Until it was time for bed. 

Everyone was mated except for you and Azriel, even Amren had brought Varian to keep her company in the wild hills. The cabin expanded to allow enough rooms for all the guests and as the fire crackled down the couples retired to their rooms, leaving you and Azriel alone for the first time in a long time. 

“Well, I better head to bed Az” You smiled softly at the Spymaster who looked like sleep evaded him. 

“Goodnight YNN- or sorry YN” he pushed the flush rising to his cheeks away. 

“It's okay Azills' ' You found a small laugh leaving you at the nickname you never thought you’d hear again. Lucien came stomping out of the room the Cabin had given him and Elain, pillow and blanket in hand. 

“I have to sleep out here” he said sheepishly. 

“Lucien, take my room, I’ll sleep out here, I’m very comfortable” Azriel sprawled along the deep sofa, pulling a throw blanket down around him. Lucien nodded in thanks, swiftly exiting the room in his embarrassment.  You then gave Azriel a small wave before leaving him to cuddle into the couch. 

You stared up at the ceiling of the cabin for an hour or two, the last time you were you and Azriel stayed awake the whole night worshipping one another's bodies. A small shiver ran down your spine at the warm memory. 

The sky then seemed to entirely crack and shatter open above, the heavy torrential rain making an attempt to come in the wooden roof above you. You swaddled yourself deeper into the sheets, protecting yourself from the eardrum-bursting sound. 

The lightning came then, cruel and unforgiving, making your veins feel alive. Lighting the whole bedroom before plunging it back into darkness, the electricity of the storm interfering with the power in the cabin, plunging the place into the dark. Thunder rattled the wooden walls, almost shaking you in the bed. You smiled at the feeling, loving storms so deeply for their unkempt uncontrollable nature. The air was thick with the electricity that coursed through it and then a thought came to you as fast as the lightning. A certain someone who hated storms with a burning passion, an irrational fear he was quite ashamed of was in the sitting room full of windows, alone. You rose from the bed, another crack of lightning hit, setting your adrenaline on fire and you loved the feeling so purely. 

“Hey Az?” you cautiously whispered in from the doorway of your room. 

“Y-yeah YN, are-are you okay?” he replied quickly, cursing his shaking voice. You thought about the proud male, quietly rattling in his make-shift bed and decided to be kind. 

“Az, I’m kind of scared, can you come in here?” you buried your lying smirk as you removed yourself from the doorway and lay back into the bed. The silence that followed had your mind racing, did you make the wrong call? Had you just embarrassed yourself for the sake of nothing, you could almost feel Azriel through the wall weighing up his options. Another boom of deafening thunder sent Azriel bolting across the living room, slamming to a stop on his heels in the doorway, trying to play his run off as easy breezy. You buried your grin under the duvet as he slipped into the bed below the sheet. 

“I’ll protect you” 

“My hero” you teased, he wrapped his heavy arms around you, pulling you into such a familiar position. You could hear his heart beating 120km/hr off his chest in erratic movement and you muffled your smile into him. 

“That’s what partn- it's what friends are for” he said into your hair, cursing his little slip-up internally. Lightning lit up the room again, Azriel gripping you to almost bone-crushing levels of pressure. You intertwined your legs with his, tracing a small circle along the base of his spine, calming him down under your touch. Azriel had missed being this close to you, missed your scent on his skin, your loving touch and he knew you loved storms, he knew this whole thing was to protect his ego. He didn’t mind, if this was his one and only chance to hold you again in his arms he’d take it. 

“YNN, I don’t think you cheated on me” he found the words slip from his voice into the comfortable silence. You looked up from his chest to meet his eyes. 

“I don’t think I did either Azills” you smirked and he turned the same.

“I’m serious YN, I should have trusted you more, I know I can trust you more…..would you consider giving me the opportunity to trust you more?”

“I don’t know Az” your voice betrayed your heart in favour of your head.

“I can prove I’m serious” he pulled away from you suddenly and you missed the heat and the shape of his body against yours. 

“What are you doing?” you half laughed, leaning up on one arm to watch him run out into the living area, you followed him confusedly. You watched him haphazardly throw on his shoes, and whip the front door open, the wild cruel wind blowing gail throughout the cabin. 

“Are you crazy?!” you almost shouted over the wind. 

“About us?! Yeah!” 

“Crazy and cheesy it would seem!” you laughed before he winked at you and ran off into the storm, you chased after him, stopping at the threshold of the door. 

“Azriel what the fuck come back!” you were shouting in a mix of hysterical laughing and absolute fear for him. 

“Do you believe me?!” The rain lashed off of his body, the wind threatening to whip under his wings and lift him to be lost to the sky forever. 

“Yes! Yes! Come back inside you freak!” your laugh rose over the lightning, lighting the path back to the house for Azriel. He bolted in fast from the storm, the bravery being seriously tested as the thunder bellowed. His soaking hand took yours, as he almost ran you back into your room. 

“You’re out of your mind Az” you looked at the drenched Illyrian with wind-burned cheeks and messy dark brown hair in knots on his head. He looked as wild and untamed as the storm but more of a mess, your mess. 

“YN, I know it will take more than storm chasing to prove it to you but please, let me prove it to you and I -”

“-Yes' ' you cut across him with the best word he’s ever heard, he pulled you into his soaked body as you shrieked with the cold, it pulled you in and you couldn’t not laugh. Azriels icy lips met your warmer ones and you missed one another in immeasurable amounts. Thunder rolled loudly again, causing Azriel to jump. 

“Come on storm chaser, you can protect me better from under the cover”

“It is my only job”

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

Hehe, whatcha think?

[what-even-is-thiss]

Hi roman. I know this is very weird, but i've seen you give some life advice to other people, so i thought i could give it a try too. Don't answer if you don't want to. Anyway

Do you have any advice/tips for a 15 y/o who thinks they just have no control over their life? Like, my concentration is dog shit, i think my grades are slipping. My executive dysfunction so bad and i think i'm disappointing a lot of people. I have no idea how to handle anything in my life. I can't force myself to do the things i need to (not that that'd be any good, i'll immediately cry lol). I just, don't fucking know how i could make things better for myself. And i can't really talk to adults about it, they'll repeat the stuff i already know, and i am the worst person to put their feelings into words, so they'll prob never understand. Not in the edgy way.

Yeah so sorry for half venting into your ask box. Thank you in advance if you'll answer it, if it's too weird and you don't want to do that for whatever reason, that's ok. Peace and love <3

Dude, you’re unfortunately suffering from being 15. And possibly a learning disorder. Godspeed to you.

And I don’t say that to belittle your problems. In many ways as a teenager you don’t have control over a lot of things. You’re still under the control of your parents, you’re still learning how to deal with adult level emotions and ideas. A lot is expected of you and a lot of things are made to seem more important than they are. It’s hard to tell what’s actually important and what’s just adults blowing things out of proportion. It sucks and it’s frustrating!

If you can, you might want to talk to a counselor. If your parents or guardians are anti-counseling you might try to talk to someone at your school like a teacher or administrator or school nurse about the possibility of getting counseling without your parents knowing. Some schools have programs like that.

The adults closest to you might not understand but if you keep looking you’ll eventually find someone who remembers what it’s like to be in your shoes.

And I remember fully feeling like I’d never get control over anything. The end goal of life was graduation from high school and god only knows if I keep existing after that. But the thing is, you do! You keep existing and you figure a lot of stuff out. Wisdom does come with time, it turns out. And legally and practically you end up getting a lot more autonomy as time goes on.

And I know hearing things like this might not feel comforting. When you’re stuck, you’re stuck and no matter how much you logically know it’ll get better right now it sucks.

Just find ways to keep going. And try asking for help sometimes. If your family won’t listen, find someone who will. Take the time to write down your problems and how you feel if you can’t come up with explanations of what’s going on. Or find a friend to talk it out with so you can practice explaining yourself.

If there’s one thing I can promise you, when you’re a couple years into adulthood all of the problems from your teenage years start to feel small. At the time they were big and important though. And that’s what you’re going through right now. And a lot of adults forget about that. Hang in there, and when all of this is behind you, remember how hard it was and maybe someday you can help someone like you.

I’m sorry if all that wasn’t helpful. I don’t know too much about your individual situation. But ask for help when you can. Someone out there understands. You’ll find them.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi. I’m sending this anonymously but if tumblr glitches and it isn’t anonymous please don’t post this because I’m absolutely completely entirely mortified.

I’m 20 FtM. About a year and a half ago, when I moved out and started at college, I discovered fandom, and began to get really into reading fics on AO3. My parents had heavily restricted my internet access growing up, and as new adult I began to discovered the barrage of content online.

Soon enough, I was spending about an hour or two every night reading smut fics. I never thought anything of it, because, well, it’s just words, it’s not *actually* porn, right?

Recently I did start watching some explicit videos but tried to limit myself to only once or twice a month because the shame I felt as well as the strange dissatisfaction just wasn’t worth it.

After doing some research, I found a study that said that watching porn for more than an hour a week was unhealthy. I thought, yeah, okay, fair enough.

Then I realised: does my fanfiction reading count as pornography?

I kept thinking to myself that because it was text it didn’t count, but —does it? Is that the reason that lately I’ve been feeling strangely dissatisfied and empty after reading/watching? Will I feel like this when I eventually have sex?? (still a virgin, mainly for dysphoria reasons)

I found all this stuff online that says porn addictions can screw you over for life, that you can’t find sexual satisfaction with a partner.

Should I cut back?

I don’t normally masturbate while consuming porn. I feel too ashamed. I normally just sit there and read/watch.

Am I a porn addict?????? Should I quit reading smut? Help.

If you can’t tell, I wasn’t raised in a very sex positive environment and I feel very ashamed. I don’t really know who to talk to and I just feel very guilty so I’m resorting to an anonymous ask on Tumblr.

If you read this, thank you for taking the time. I appreciate it.

— Jason

hi Jason,

I don't think you're a porn addict. I think you're probably just an anxious 20 year old from a pretty restrictive background and now that you have a little more freedom you're kind of nervous about it, which is very normal.

I want to be super clear: written porn is porn. porn is any sexually explicit material designed to titillate; it's existed since WAY before the moving picture existed and it will exist long after the internet has crumbled to dust. people like porn! and it's okay to like porn. the text-based stuff is particularly high on the list of porn that's pretty unambiguously fine, morally-speaking, because you never have to worry that the performer you're watching has had their video stolen by pornhub or that, god forbid, anyone onscreen isn't a willing participant, but I want to be super clear that liking sexually explicit photos or videos of real people is also 100% fine.

obviously I have no idea what study you read, but I'd be cautious about any study being boiled down to such black and white, attention-grabbing headlines. you can interpret a study to mean virtually anything if you want to, and there are a lot of interest groups with a vested interest in demonizing porn. if reading smutty fan fic makes you happy and isn't interfering with the rest of your life, you should do that.

unfortunately it sounds like it's not making you happy lately, dissatisfied and empty feelings. in the kindest way possible, I don't think much of that is being caused by the porn itself. it sounds like it's coming from your gnawing worry that you're a porn addict. maybe it's best to take a little step away from porn and smutty fic for a while, if only until you feel able to engage with it without feeling bad.

also, speaking of porn addiction: that's a very dubious condition, and one that's not scientifically or medically recognized. to be certain, people can develop a reliance on porn that disrupts their daily function and can wreak havoc on their lives, but that's true of anything that causes your brain to spit out happy chemicals. anything that become a maladaptive coping mechanism, including and especially things that are fine and even necessary in small doses. sleeping, exercising, and going shopping are all things that can be life-ruining if done to harmful excess, but that doesn't mean you're doing anything wrong if you like to sleep in, go for runs, or browse your favorite online stores every once in a while.

if reading smut isn't causing you to skip out on your more important obligations, fail to take care of yourself, or bringing on bankruptcy, I think you're probably alright. the biggest danger I see here is you beating yourself over the head with your own anxiety about this, which may be a sign that it's a good idea to take a step back for entirely different reasons than you were worried about.

[homunculus-argument]

hey there! this sounds like a bit of a silly question, but as a trans guy, you’re one of the few trans people i’ve been following almost since i joined tumblr, so based on your other anon ask and answer i figured i’d pop in and ask if you have any advice? if you want to answer, ofc :) — i foresee this being a bit long, so i totally get if not

so i’m also a trans guy, but i haven’t been able to take any steps toward medical transitioning before since i live with my parents. but i’ll move out soon, and i still can’t decide if i should take any of these steps even once i do. i’ve never felt like i particularly wanted to medically transition (i don’t really care about how my body looks + i’ve never really cared about changing any of it), but i would like to be seen a guy — i don’t mind if not so by strangers, but maybe so by like, my friends. but i can’t help but feel like i’d be laughed at for wanting that — i’m not naturally androgynous or masculine looking to others and i have never been mistaken for a guy, because i have really long hair, d cups, and curves. and without medically transitioning, i also kinda feel like i’m… betraying the trans community, since i’m not really putting the effort into my transition and so i’m just ‘pretending’, even though i do know i’m not.

so my question would be: as a trans person who has transitioned, socially and medically, do you think people are more understanding than i think they are currently? do you know of any trans people who don’t want to medically transition, and do you think it’s possible to live fulfilled that way? or even: do you think it would be easier for someone like me to just live a lie? i usually tell people i’m a lesbian, because they definitely would not look at me and assume ‘straight guy’, but also, as a trans person who doesn’t want to medically transition, i’m just always worried that i won’t be taken seriously. i feel like your experience of being trans and probably interacting with the community is much more than mine, which is why i ask this last one — i would try being open myself, but again, i’m still living with my parents unfortunately.

I'll be honest I don't actually really know much "community" save for former art school classmates. I've only known one trans person irl who chose not to medically transition - at the time, Finland's trans law was still shitty and required sterilisation for legal sex change, and all that. She didn't want kids or anything, but refused to engage in the process as her own little personal civilian protest. I don't want to paint some caricature picture of some Sharp Dommy Tall Scary Goth Trans Anarchist, but I was deeply impressed by the way she didn't do a single thing to try to seem smaller, softer, or in any way submissive or docile to be ~feminine~ the right, socially accepted way.

She wasn't just taller than most men but usually the tallest person in the room, and she stood out in a crowd of cis women like a crane in a chicken coop - a bird just as much as they are, but a different kind of bird. And I remember thinking that I could never do that, being so unflinching and unhesitant about standing out in the crowd because assimilating and muting yourself is beneath your dignity.

Honestly, I don't know what to tell you about being openly trans without transitioning medically, save for that it takes more guts than being able to just go stealth. I had physical dysphoria about the way my body was, and was desperate to get top surgery just for the sake of my own physical comfort, and I like the convenient anonymity of being able to just be Just Some Guy who doesn't attract anyone's interest or curiosity.

It's a smart move to not come out to your parents before you're out of their house and not relying on them for anything - this is something everyone should use their own judgement for, but I stress it to every queer kid to not take the risk if there's any chance that they'll react poorly while they still have power over you. But living your whole life in the closet - "living a lie" is a good way to put it - will corrode you from the inside.

It's better to live in peace with yourself and against the world, than in peace with the world against yourself. There is absolutely nothing in your power that you could do to change the minds of people who have already decided that they don't respect you, and if they try telling you that they would, if you only met their approved criteria, they are lying. That's bait they're dangling in front of you, and there's no "earning" the respect of such people.

Stay true to yourself and be good to people, and you'll have the respect of people who are capable of respecting you. Don't waste your time and energy on people who won't respect you, every thought and effort you spare them is wasted on them.

[five-rivers]

My Kingdom of Fish poll fiction! Continued from here.

.

After a small amount of dithering, Danny took the cameras. He was here to show his parents the library, and he couldn't do that if they couldn't see it. The ambient array could collect data here as well as anywhere else. The Fenton Finder's 23rd iteration was as buggy as the first. He'd actually done a small amount of sabotage to the ‘self-defense system’ to make it safe to carry around, so… Yeah.

The only things he felt at all bad about leaving were the medical monitors and the environmental safety detectors. Both of those had helped him in the past. The Lost Library was supposed to be safe, though. It wasn't a truce zone or anything, but people didn't go there to fight, and the librarians were supposed to take care of any environmental dangers that popped up (mostly because things that could endanger ghosts could certainly endanger books). The Library of Tongues did that, anyway.

He did have to rearrange and remove some of the cameras, especially the redundant ones and the ones that weren't taking his amplified aura well, so that they fit on his much-reduced frame, but they were made to be serviceable, and soon he was ready.

The coat room, as it turned out, was right behind the reception desk.

“There are doors that aren't visible or that won't open for you unless you're a member or have a badge,” the librarian explained as she put the equipment on a shelf. “Another reason not to lose yours.”

“Where's the way in?” asked Danny.

“This way.”

The librarian led him back around, then to the side of the desk. Here, again, the wall had folded back into a set of doors, this one more ornate.

“The copyist's room attendants will meet you down the hallway,” said the librarian, sitting back down at her desk.

Danny nodded. “Thank you.”

The hallway forked right sharply. A ghost woman with bronze skin and dark hair was waiting there, not far from the corner. There was a spiral on the center of her forehead in what looked like gold wire under her skin. The outside end of it disappeared under her hairline.

“Oh my,” she said, hiding her mouth behind a pair of bell-like sleeves, “you’re so cute. Iphigenia didn’t tell me you were cute.”

Danny made a face.

“Ah! Precious! How old are you?”

“I was fourteen when I died,” said Danny, flatly. “I don’t know why places like this make me tiny, but I’m not.”

“You must be young at heart.”

Danny squinted at her.

“Mm? Are you looking at this?” she asked, pointing at her spiral. Danny shrugged, then nodded. He hadn’t been, not really, but in the interest of changing the subject… “It’s what members of the library have instead of another alteration. It’s like the fires you get at the Library of Tongues.” The spiral moved, retreating, unwinding, vanishing under her hair and then spiraling out onto the palm she offered up to Danny. “It’s called the Lìshǐ Yánxù De Jīn Xiàn, although ghosts from western cultures call it Ariadne’s String. No sense of pride for their work, I swear.” She shook her head. “So, if you get lost, or need help finding something, find someone with one of these, okay? We have a pretty big children's collection, believe it or not.”

“I'm not really a child.”

“Oh! So mature!” She poked his cheek, then stood up and opened the door behind her. “Let’s get you situated.”

The copyist’s room was large and brightly lit, lined with beehive-like cubbies that served as shelving for scrolls. There were several work tables spread throughout the room, and a mid-sized manual printing press. There were two other ghosts in the room. One, a stressed-looking larger man with a curly, box-cut beard, and the other a severely thin, angular man with a long, looping tail.

Both wore guest badges, and both had features that did not seem to match the rest of their appearances. The severe-looking man had large, fluffy, soft-looking wings with feathers that twitched and shifted near constantly. He had a quill badge clipped to the belt of his tunic. The other, larger man had moth antennae and wings, but also enormous, ribbed bat ears. He had not one but two badges attached to his robe-like wrap, the candle and the gong.

“Now,” said the attendant, “I know you said that you wanted to do Ancient Greek to English, and when people say Ancient Greek, they mean Ancient Greek from Life, not old Zone dialects, but the Mausoleum of Macaria tipped into the Acheron a few weeks ago, and were swamped with Elysian, Asphodelian, and Tartarian Greek. Especially Tartarian Greek. Would you mind doing something from one of those? It would be much shorter than what we'd give you in regular Ancient Greek, only a few pages.”

She looked at him hopefully.

“It would really help if you knew any of them,” she added.

[calaisreno]

The Client

936 words / Prompt: Secret

Mary looks at the chair. John can’t be serious. “Why?”

The look he gives her is terrible. She knows his temper, but this is the first time she’s seen Captain Watson, who could shoot a man and have no trouble sleeping afterwards. 

“Because that’s where they sit,” he whispers fiercely. “You’re a client now, Mary. That’s all you are. That’s where you sit and talk, and we listen and decide if we want you or not.”

Sherlock is looking sort of grey. She wonders how he managed to sneak out of the hospital and set this up. Was it really necessary? Did he not think that John would believe him?

Her husband—well, the marriage probably isn’t legal, and now that he knows he’s married to a woman who’s been lying since the day they met, he’s obviously not going to stay. Right now, he can’t even look at her. 

Sherlock nods at her. She’s not sure why he’s trying to help her. Or why she didn’t kill him when she had a chance. She was rattled, or she would have done it properly, and this conversation wouldn’t be happening. 

She thought she was finally safe. John is exactly the kind of man she would marry. If Sherlock hadn’t come back, they could have been happy. John is angry now, and it’s not all about her. He’s in love with Sherlock, and it’s something he can’t admit, even to himself. 

Maybe she should have simply disappeared. 

She still could.

“You know what?” She stands in front of John’s chair, glaring down at him. “Forget this bullshit. Open your eyes, John. This—” She pats her belly. “It isn’t real. There’s no baby.” 

He sits up, wide-eyed now.

She smirks. “Don’t pretend you didn’t suspect. You didn’t want to believe it, so you stopped paying attention.”

John’s speechless for a moment, then stammers. “But… why would you do that?”

“Without the baby, I would have lost you.” She turns to Sherlock. “Thanks, but I’ll handle Magnussen on my own.” 

Picking up her handbag, she walks towards the door. On the threshold she turns and gives her parting shot. “Pull your heads out of your arses, boys. See ya.”

John stares after her until they hear the door downstairs slam. He turns to Sherlock. “What the hell just happened?”

Sherlock tries to push himself up from his chair. “John… I think…”

Heavy feet are clattering up the stairs. John looks towards the door, where the paramedics have appeared. 

“Did somebody call an ambulance?”

Sherlock gasps. “Did you bring any morphine?”

A week later…

BBC News. According to Detective Greg Lestrade of Scotland Yard, the investigation into the death of media mogul Charles Augustus Magnussen has turned up no clues to the identity of his killer, or how they came to Appledore, his residence. Security footage is being examined, but the killer obviously knew their target and took care not to be caught on camera. All leads will be pursued, he says, but it appears to be a professional job.

Months later…

“You know, Sherlock, we didn’t need to have such a big wedding.”

“Don’t say that to Mummy. It’s always been her ambition to plan one. And I’m finding I don’t mind it so much.”

“I don’t even know half of these people. Other than Harry, I assume they’re all your relatives.”

“Most are. And acquaintances. My parents have a lot of friends.”

“Mycroft looks… well, less dyspeptic than usual.”

“Every feast needs a spectre, John.”

“Oh, look, he’s talking with Greg. And he’s actually smiling.”

“Who?”

“Oh, give it up, Sherlock. Greg Lestrade.”

“Ah, yes. They do seem rather… friendly. Interesting…”

“Who’s the woman with the hair?”

“All the women have hair, John. Not a single bald woman in the hall. Oh, I see. Looks like a wig. Probably some mystery relative. She’s talking with my cousin Pansy. Mummy will know.”

“Not important. Just… she seems familiar. Look, here’s Harry. Glad she made it this time.”

“Harry! Come here—I need to dance with my sister-in-law.”

“All right, Sherlock—does this mean Johnny gets to dance with Mycroft?”

“Absolutely not! I’m not dancing with Mycroft, even if he’s secretly running the country.”

“Well, your loss. Come on, Sherlock. John says you’re a good dancer. Let me see you get your boogie on.”

“My what?”

“Mrs Holmes! This is all lovely. Thank you so much.”

“Of course, John! And please, you must call me Viola. Where’s your husband?”

“He’s dancing with Harry. Say, who’s that woman over there with the dark hair and large glasses? She was just talking with Pansy.”

“Oh… I don’t know, John. I thought she was one of yours.”

“No, she’s not. Oh, look, she’s leaving.”

“Honestly, who leaves a wedding early? Sherlock, do come here!”

“Yes, Mummy?”

“It’s your wedding! Dance with your husband, dear! I’m going to look for mine.”

“Gladly. Come here, John.”

“Sherlock, that woman—”

“Yes, John. I know.”

“Does Mycroft know?”

“He told me she was dead. But he’s been wrong about dead people before.”

“Why do you think she came here?”

“You mean, why did she crash our wedding? I think she just wanted to make sure you’re fine. That we’re fine.”

“Is this what she meant by ‘get your heads out of your arses’?”

“I believe so.”

“Well, I’m glad she’s not vengeful.”

“No, I don’t believe she is. And I don’t bear her any ill-will.”

“No? Hm. I do, just a bit. But tonight, I only want to think about you.”

“Do you? Then I’ll just have to keep your attention, won’t I?”

“You always do, love.”

--

All my May Prompts 2024 can be read on AO3 here.

[bitethedevil]

Am i delulu or does raphael admire tav/durge? I know its him performing, but as gale says "inviting to dine with devil is devils equivilant of serenade and roses" and first scene where we meet him he does eye tav/durge througly from bottom to top. Also he says "im fan of your work" to durge. So idk?? It lowey feels like raphael is fond of us in game but i need proof/ professional analysis. [Ahem you are the professional mouse afterall heehee~]

He Loves Us, He Loves Us Not: What is Raphael’s Relationship with Tav/Durge?

*Puts on my little mouse glasses* I’m glad you asked. I’m summing up a few points that I have also written about in another analysis called ‘Raphael and weaponized mortality’, so if that sounds interesting, you can find it in my reading list.

Everything about Raphael screams wolf in sheep’s clothing (or a cambion in man’s clothing if you will). Here are a few points illustrating this:

Cambions naturally have a really predatory kind of stench to them because they are entirely carnivorous. Yet, he is described as a perfumed trickster who smells of cherries and sulphur, most likely because he is trying to cover up that smell.

Poetry, an art that is very dependent on nasty mortal concepts such as ‘feelings’, is something we know he uses a lot. He’s not really good at it and he even says it’s not his ‘main interest’ to Karlach in the second act. His theatrical nature and use of poetry humanizes him, and I think he is well-aware of this.

When you call him out as a devil in front of Mol, he says something about how she wouldn’t believe them anyway, ‘not with his angelic complexion’. We also know that Gortash’s parents sold him to a ‘warlock’ and that’s how he ended up with Raphael. I’ve seen multiple places that that warlock is supposed to be Raphael himself.

Now this all makes me believe that he usually does not reveal his true nature to his clients unless: 1) they’ve already signed, or 2) they are so utterly fucked that they have already reached the point of no return with him and are forced to take his deal no matter what.

Yet, he reveals his true nature to us from the get-go. Yes, one could argue that the tadpole-gang does fulfill option 2) according to him and that’s why he does it, but I think it could also be something else. I think he knows from early on that we are his best bet, so he chooses to lay out all his cards on the table and tries to build as much trust as he can from the beginning.

This is also the function of helping us with Astarion’s scars. Dealing with a devil when you’ve never dealt with one before? Scary. Dealing with a devil when he has proven once before to keep his word? Much less scary. He’s ‘grooming’ us for trusting him to keep his word with THE deal (and he gets to fuck over Daddy Meph by potentially robbing him of a lot of souls. Win-win.)

I think Gale is right on the money when he says that it’s ‘a devil’s equivalent to serenades and roses’. Raphael is like a bird or something. He’s showing off, charming us, but also reminding us that he is big and scary. Although despite the fact that he is big and scary ‘he simply wants to help us’.

He’s done his research and already knows everything about us, so he knows exactly how to play us. This is demonstrated in the comment to Durge in the beginning and the thing he says in Last Light if you tell him he knows nothing about you: “Don’t I indeed?.

I really think that we turn into an obsession for him at some point and that the lines between the obsession about the Crown and his obsession about us blurs. This seems definitely to be the case in his journals. I mean the poor guy has nightmares about us…

I also am so sure that he is not even trying to trick us into anything with the Orphic Hammer. He truly does believe that the Emperor is a threat to us. See this:

I DO think he admires us or at the very least is heavily rooting for us. I don’t remember the exact quotes, but Korrilla tells us in Sharess’s that her and Raphael made a bet about if we would make it to the Gate, and Raphael won that bet because we had. He really believes in our merry little band of idiots.

His reaction if we betray him is also very telling I feel like. Notice how his eyes widen for a moment before they narrow and say the ‘You’ line. He seems surprised. In that whole sequence he is obviously pissed, but most of all I also just get the feeling of a man that has been humiliated and who is angry that he had put so much time, work, and trust into us.

He says that ‘he is fond of us, in his way’ and that I completely believe. It might not be out of love or affection or anything like that, but he is as fond of us as a cambion can be of someone. We’ve grown on him, and he sees potential and use in us. We fascinate him and I’d even go as far to say that he respects us. I feel like even if you give him the Crown of Karsus and he gets to rule the Hells, he will not forget the people who brought him there. He would not flaunt the fact that he had mortals help him get the Crown, but I think that when he goes on his spree to fuck up the realms outside the Hells, Tav and gang would at the very least be spared or even given privileges in that new world order. Is that a bit fucked up? Yeah…But we have to remember what he is: a devil.

(Thank you so much for the ask <3 That became a long answer. I love to yap lol)

[crumblinggothicarchitecture]

Taylor Swift is Derivative nonsense, not intellectually placed allusions. I'll die on this hill, and I have many more examples beyond just the one listed below.

Let’s talk about the difference between being derivative and utilizing allusion in text. :) 

I’ve seen a lot of defenses for Taylor Swift’s work that hinges on the theoretical concept of intertextuality. People don’t often know that they are arguing over the validity (or emotional impact) of intertextual cessions in Swift’s writing, but they are.

Intertextuality, if you don’t already know, is a set of determinable interwoven texts that all correspond on a particular thematic point. This encompasses, but is not limited to, the literary device of allusion.  

There are many examples of intertextual works, since it is intrinsically post-modern. Yet, I want to talk about how Taylor Swift attempts allusions that only ever fall into flat-facing derivative blandness. I want to talk about how, yes, Swift is in the spirit of the age; yet her work devolves into derivative insincerity simply because she is not an artistic writer.  

Now, for an egregiously bad allusion. (I think it’s worse because Romeo and Juliet is my favorite Shakespeare play). In “The Albatross” Swift writes, “A rose by any other name is a scandal” in which the obvious allusion is to Shakespeare's, “A Rose by any other name would smell as sweet” from the play Romeo and Juliet. The line in the play is often misquoted, so perhaps Swift is just ignorant, however the line means to draw attention to the fact that names are just words the that do not actually dictate the internal nature of someone.  

The full line, from Shakespeare, reads “O be some other name/ What’s in a name? That which we call a rose/ by any other name would smell as sweet;/ So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d” (Romeo and Juliet). Thus, Juliet is lamenting the full divisive way in which her family is at odds with Romeo’s family; upon deeper consideration too, Juliet is modulating how social pressures, often outside our control particularly in youth, can impact and modify the discourse between reality, doing what is proper in accordance with the majority, and intrinsic human desire to fulfill our own needs. So, the line is not only explaining how Romeo and Juliet cannot be together overtly due to familial dispute, but in the same words it explains the full breadth of social dissertation for the pursuit of individual need. Afterall, he would still be Romeo "were he not Romeo call'd." Juliet is admitting that she would still love him with or without the constraint of social obligation due the environment, or family, in which we are born; thus, we can see how individually human desire can be placed at odds with the demands of mainstream society.

This is a nuanced conversation when considering it through moral theory. For instance, we often talk about how people should not go against the mainstream for immoral pursuit of individual desire and that is reasonable; yet herein Shakespeare's work the thematic point is on the morality of love and desire to go against social convention. Shakespeare is saying, "Love is a greater moral good than that of social obligation to follow tradition and to hate who you are trained to hate based on parental teaching." It's a genius fucking line, in a genius fucking play. Now, we all know how the play ends, the lovers run off together, they have a brief day in the sun. However, social pressure and adult obligation catch up to them again and thus they die for it. They die for their courage to love and to go against the mainstream.  

Let’s return to Taylor Swift, the human embodiment of mainstream social pressure, as she writes that "a rose by any name is a scandal." As such, she is saying that all roses everywhere are just a scandal waiting to happen. If everything is a scandal, rather than speaking to any nuance grief to the pervasiveness' of social pressure to adhere to mainstream. Swift is simply throwing petulance to the world, by saying “Rose by any other name is a scandal” she limits what a rose could be, or become in using the verb “is” to fully solidify a rose as a scandal; which is a message that is diametrically opposed to the thematic point Shakespeare is making with his line. For Swift, there is no redemption, no nuance, and there is no subtext in which implicit messaging lay to tell people that going against the mainstream might just be the last thing you ever do but God is it worth it. To live with that brief day in the sun. And die for courage. Swift is just saying the opposite and stating that the mainstream is inevitable- there is no use in fighting it. A name is a name. It remains to tell the rose exactly what it is. Swift lacks imagination.

I would argue that Swift does make obvious attempts at allusion in her work, yet it is so poorly done because she does not actually see or use the thematic point of the source material from which she pulls her allusions. For allusions, to be done in an artistic impactful manner, we must keep to the thematic point of the source material. When the allusion is done correctly there is a “layering” effect in literature that redoubles the overarching themes of human experience in a way that calls us from the past, Shakespeare, to the present. Thus, is the theory of intertextuality in literary works.

(I made that bold because it's the main point of this, and I don't want anyone to miss it).

Taylor Swift’s work here simply does not measure up to anything artistic, thoughtful, or well-done.  It is simply derivative of Shakespeare, but I don't think it qualifies as a true allusion.

[buddiebeginz]

I have so many thoughts swimming around my head after that ep not sure I'll make much sense but here goes.

My feeling about Eddie cheating is that even if it might not seem like it on the surface it is very much connected to his sexuality (and eventual coming out). It’s also a big warning sign that he’s not in a good place mentally.

Eddie has always tried to do the right thing. He tried to do what Shannon wanted. What his parents wanted. To do right by Chris. He’s been in these very strict positions of the military and firefighter most of his life. Never taking much time to examine who he is and what he really wants. Just doing what he thinks he has to do and should do.

Looking back on how this season has been playing out I’ve noticed that we’ve been slowly watching Eddie let go of all these rules he has for himself. Just look at how he was at the bachelor party. I don’t know if he’s ever really allowed himself to be so uninhibited liked that before. He just let loose and was enjoying being with Buck and at no point was Marisol brought up at all. There was also a lot of queer subtext in those scenes drag queens, Eddie in pink, Eddie as Crockett, Eddie’s shirt getting ripped off by men (including Buck), Buck and Eddie sitting pressed up together.

Before that Eddie was spending a considerable amount of time with T*mmy to the point that he kept ditching Chris to run off and leave his girlfriend to be his babysitter.

Then there was moving Marisol in and back out again while Chris wasn’t even there and without telling him. When the show has made it a point to always show how much Eddie takes Chris’ feelings into consideration especially with his relationships. But that’s the thing Eddie’s mindset this season has become do first think later and damn the consequences.

Now we have Eddie using this woman Kim he just met as a Shannon replacement but more so as a distraction from his girlfriend and just reality in general. Which this whole situation involves Eddie lying and sneaking around and a disregard for everyone’s feelings involved including Buck’s.

I know some might say how out of character this all feels for Eddie but that’s the point he’s changing and this is how it’s manifesting at the moment. Going back to Eddie’s sexuality I feel like before we can get to a place where Eddie can admit he has feelings for Buck (or any guy for that matter) we’re gonna see him spiral a bit to deny it even to himself. To reach for what feels the most safe instead and that’s his relationship with Shannon.

I think Eddie loved Shannon and will always have love for her but they got married more out of Eddie feeling obligated than anything else. Eddie also hides behind his feelings for Shannon. She’s come to be like this security blanket for him which is understandable in a way given how much history they share. She’s connected to his youth and she’s Chris’ mom, there is so much familiarity there but those memories are also keeping him stuck and unable to move forward.

At the end of season 6 Buck almost dies and I think that is really when Eddie started thinking about Shannon again. I also think Buck almost dying made Eddie realize (on some level) how important Buck is to him and that terrified him because he can’t handle losing Buck the way he lost Shannon. There’s also the Chris of it all which was further highlighted in 7x01 when Chris talked about how everyone leaves like his mom did. Some part of Eddie still wants to give Chris this perfect idylic family he thinks he needs when no one will ever replace Shannon and Chris already has two parental figures.

I know we’ve been mostly focused on Buck and his coming out story this season (and rightfully so) but I also think we moved on too quick from how much time Eddie was spending with T*mmy, how they said Eddie and T*mmy were originally going to be paired together, and Eddie’s reaction when Buck came out to him. How he was shocked that Tommy was gay and also seemed to be holding back some feelings. Eddie also immediately went home and told Marisol to move out after that convo.

Now we have Eddie dating Kim (I assume), in a relationship with Marisol, and lying to his best friend and son. Which btw if Eddie and Buck are just friends why does he need to lie to him at all? Is it maybe because Eddie knows that Buck gets him better than anyone and would not hesitate to call him out if he knew what he was doing?

I just think a lot of how Eddie is acting right now is wrapped up in so many feelings he hasn’t dealt with yet. I know from personal experience the more you try and avoid dealing with things the worse it’s gonna get. Eddie also has a lot of past traumas and pains. From his childhood, the army, from his relationship with Shannon and how she died, from guilt over not being there for Chris, from things he’s seen on the job, almost losing Buck, his repressed sexuality. You can’t keep all that bottled forever sooner or later you’ll snap.

Maybe that comes out in the form of trashing the hell out of your room maybe in cheating with your dead wife’s double. Either way Eddie is careening towards having to fully deal with himself and all the things he’s compartmentalized for so long. He’s put himself in a situation which guarantees he can’t run away this time. Because I do think it’s all going to blow up spectacularly in his face. He’s going to have to deal with why he’s still clinging to Shannon. Why he didn’t want to really invest in a relationship with Marisol. Why he can’t commit to all these women yet he’s been committed in one way shape or form to Buck for years now.

Hoping I made some kind of sense here. If you read all of this thanks. ❤️

[bingbongsupremacy]

Closure Pt. 2

Pairing: Steve Harrington x plus size!reader

Warnings: swearing, anger, idk what else

Series Summary: You never knew Steve could be so shallow. When he leaves you to date Nancy Wheeler, you're left with a pain you thought he'd never leave with you. Maybe you should've stayed friends.

Part Summary: He wrote a letter. You don't need him. Right?

*Not Proof Read* Stranger Things Masterlist

Based off of Taylor Swift Song Closure. This was a request. I tried to make everything as general as possible. Pls let me know if missed something ty.

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

*****

No one was supposed to know we were dating. Steve said he didn’t want his teammates to bug me. He didn’t want people to overreact when they found out about us and say mean shit. At the time, I agreed. I mean, Steve’s the king of Hawkins high. I wouldn’t be the first girl he’s dated who’s had rumors spread about them. 

Hiding us was harder than we thought. A month or so after we got together Tommy found out and told the whole team. Gradually the whole school found out. Gossip spreads like wildfire, especially in a town like Hawkins. 

During the weeks after we broke up, I started to think about our secret relationship.

He wasn’t trying to protect me. He was trying to protect his reputation. Steve might not show it but deep down he’s just like everyone else. He’s got insecurities too. He obsesses over anything negative that’s said about him, analyzing everything that others think is imperfect about him until he finds a way to change it.

That’s something I noticed sophomore year when we started to get a little closer.

He was kind to me, but he wasn’t perfect. I don’t know for sure but I think he still messed with underclassmen, bullying them for praise from Tommy and Carol. He wanted to be liked by everyone, especially those two assholes.

He was always going to pick them over me. 

“ Honey, this came in for you today. “ My mom breaks me out of my thoughts. 

I look up from my stack of paperwork. “ What? From who? “ My brows furrow in confusion. Who would send mail to my parents’ house? I haven’t lived here in years. 

“ It’s from Steve. “ My moms eyes scan over the stark white envelope. 

My heart sinks. 

What the fuck does he want? 

I haven’t seen or talked to him since graduation 7 years ago. What could he want with me? Last I heard he got a job at Family Video and Nancy broke up with him. 

He knows I’m here. He has to. Fucking Hawkins. When one person knows everyone knows. Mrs. Henderson must’ve told someone when I ran into her at the gas station. 

“ What ever happened to you and Steve? Do you both still talk? “ My mom asks curiously while handing over my mail. 

Oh right. I never told her. 

“ We fell out of touch. You know, life. " I shrug, hoping that's enough for her.

" Oh, that's so sad sweetie. I'm sorry. " She sends me a small sympathetic smile. " That's always hard when you lose touch with someone you love. " She gently pats my shoulder.

Love.

Steve didn't love me.

I send her a small smile, hoping to drop the topic. " It happens, ma. "

" Well, I'll you get to it. " She dismisses herself, leaving me to the letter in my hands.

I trace the sharp corners of the envelope. Should I open it? Do I want to?

I wonder what it says.

What could he have to say to me after all of these years? It couldn't be something worth my time. Not after the shit that happened in high school. Right?

But what if it is?

Fuck it. I'm curious.

I pull open the envelope and let the torn paper fall into my lap. A neatly folded letter greens me, the bright white stationary paper matching the envelope.

This is it. Here we go.

I pull open the letter. Dark blue pen lines starkly contrast the white paper. Steve's familiar handwriting fills a good portion of the page. At the bottom his squiggly signature lies, bold and exactly the same as I remember.

Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you. I heard you're back in town. I've been meaning to do this for a long time. I've debated writing to you for years. I didn't know if I had anything good enough to send to you.

I was an asshole to you. You didn't deserve how I broke up with you. I feel horrible about how I treated you. About how I let other people change my opinion and control my actions. I should've stood stronger with what I thought.

That's something I always loved about you. You didn't let other people sway your opinions. I'm sure you still don't. You thought for yourself.

You are so much braver than I am. You didn't compromise yourself for others.

I've thought about what happened for years. About how you must have felt.

I hope you're well. I hope you've been able to move on and you've continued to be yourself. I know I don't deserve to say that, I just wish you the best.

I wanted to explain to you why I did what I did. I owe it to you. I was selfish. I got caught up in the high school popularity shit. I know it's stupid. I wanted to be Hawkins High's main guy. I wanted the Prom King title. I wanted the attention.

I really did like you. You made me feel safe and understood. You were always patient and kind. You urged me to be me, even when I felt like caving under pressure. You liked me for me, not for who I was trying to be. You deserved better than me.

People started to talk. You know. You heard the rumors.

At first, I thought I could handle it. I thought it wouldn't bug me. I thought I could push past it all. I cracked. Tommy and Carol jumped on the wagon and it pushed me over the edge. I couldn't bare the thought of losing the respect I'd worked so hard to get. I couldn't handle the teasing I'd get from the guys after games or the looks Tommy'd send my way when he saw us together.

It was wrong. I didn't think about you. About how you must've felt and how you were handling everything that was going on. It was Senior Year. I should've held on. We would've been out of this shit hole in a few months anyway, I don't know why I didn't just ignore it all. That's one of my biggest regrets.

I've been in therapy for a few years now. I've worked past all that surface-level shallow shit. I really see just how much I hurt you, and for that I'm so sorry.

I don't expect you to forgive me. I just wanted you to know that you're the first girl I ever loved and I am so grateful for you. Our relationship sent me on a path to help myself, and for that I will always love you.

Thank you.

-Steve Harrington

P.S. The week before we broke up I was going to give this to you. I never did.

I glance down at the envelope in my lap and open it. At the bottom lays a shiny silver necklace. A small gem, my birthstone, lays in the center. It glimmers in the light. It's beautiful.

I turn the gem over and spot a small engraving on the back.

SH +Y/N

For a moment I'm torn.

Should I write him back? Should we talk?

Part of me does miss him. I miss his laugh. His playful teasing. The way he looked at me.

No.

He hurt me. A lot.

He can't just send a letter and make it better. Why didn't he talk to me in person if this really weighed on him as much as he says it did? Why didn't he call me?

I don't need him. I'm fine. I've been fine without him for years. I'm not going to let him back into my life because he feels bad about his actions and insecurities.

I left Hawkins for a reason. I needed to get away from Steve. I needed him out of my life.

I'm not going to let him back in for his sake.

I don't need him.

I stand up, taking the papers and necklace in my hand. I walk over to the trashcan near my dresser. Without a second thought, I drop everything into the can.

The necklace makes a small clunking sound as it hits the bottom of my empty can.

The rustling of papers quiets and so does my pounding heart.

I'm fine on my own.

(Do we like this ending? Or should I try to make another part? )

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