#One of these is untrue good luck guessing which though

[five-rivers]

Cozy/Slasher

Written for Dannymay 2022 Day 1: New Style/Genre. This is a mystery!

.

Danny turned over the packet in his hands, scanning through the abbreviated catalog.  “I didn’t think anyone did this anymore, except for like.  Girl Scout Cookies, or cookie dough.  Does anyone other than parents buy this stuff?”

“I guess it’s like a donation to the school,” said Sam, leaning over to look at Danny’s packet even though hers was exactly the same.  “Except they feel like they’re getting something for it.”

“Wouldn’t it be better for the school if they just, I don’t know, asked for donations?  Doesn’t the company take like half of the profits?”

“Yeah,” said Sam.  “But they might get more people to donate, this way.” 

“But all of this stuff is so stupid,” said Danny.  “I mean, keychains?  Who is going to pay that much for a keychain?  Or back scratchers?  Off-brand phone charms?”

“I don’t know,” said Tucker, “some of these prizes look pretty sweet.”

“Yeah, and they’re impossible to get,” said Sam.  She huffed.  “Danny’s right, though.  Turning students into salesmen while holding their education hostage is just another way society has failed us.”

“Yeah, yeah, take your boyfriend’s side, I see how it is.”

“Look, I don’t know what you’re basing these accusations on, but if it’s on the number of agreements or total hangout time, then you’re my boyfriend as much as Danny.  Maybe even more.”

“Hey,” said Danny, who had already been blushing.  

“Sorry, Danny,” said Sam, not at all apologetic, “but Tucker and I have a lot of quality time while you ditch us.”

“Um,” said Tucker, who was very wide-eyed.  “What?  That’s, but, just– One?  You can have one.”

“Only if I’m a coward.”

“You in the back!” shouted Mr. Lancer, who had been droning on about the fundraiser and why it was important to give it their all because the last ghost fight had put several holes in the science lab roof (not Danny’s fault).  “Quiet down!”

They rolled their eyes.  

“So, are you going to do it?” asked Tucker.  

“With what time?” asked Danny with a shrug.

.

The student body, finally free, spilled out into the hallway and made a beeline for the cafeteria.  Danny, because his luck was trash and nothing good happened to him, was grabbed by the front of his shirt and pulled out of the stream.  

“Hi, Dash,” said Danny, already bored.  

“Hey, corpse sniffer,” said Dash.  “Fen-tombstone.”

“Huh,” said Danny, “that’s a new one.  Which one of your friends came up with it?”

Dash slammed him against the wall.  “I heard you and your little friends are going for the grand prize.”

Well, that was blatantly untrue.  What even was the grand prize again.  “The year pass to Floody Waters?”

“That’s the one,” said Dash, “and you aren’t going to get it.”

“Sure,” said Danny.  

Dash blinked, his whole tirade apparently knocked out from under him.  “Wha?”

“I wasn’t going to do the fundraiser at all.  That prize is all yours.”  Danny patted Dash’s arm.  “Can you let go?  I don’t want to miss lunch.”

A scowl swept back onto Dash’s face.  “Huh?  You making fun of me?”

Danny hesitated just a bit too long.  Dash shoved him again.  

“No, I’m really just not doing it,” said Danny.  

“What?  You think you’re too good to help out the school?  Too high and mighty, when it’s your weirdo parents that keep knocking the doors off the hinges?

Danny ignored the weird nails-on-chalkboard sensation that came with the accusations.  “Hey, they paid–”  

“And you are, too, Fentoenail!  You’re gonna do this fundraiser, or else.”

Danny stared at him in disbelief.  “Isn’t that completely the opposite of what you were just threatening me about?”

“I’m civic minded,” said Dash, putting his nose in the air.  

Stars above, it would be so easy for Danny to punch it.  

“Come on, Dash,” said Sam, from somewhere Danny couldn’t quite see, “you either want him to do well or you want him to give up.  You can’t have it both ways.”

“Do well?  Do well?  No way is this little shrimp going to do better than me!”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

“Sam,” hissed Danny, “you’re making it worse–”

Dash cut him off by leaning on his chest.  "You think you can do better than me, Dash Baxter, king of Casper High?  Fine, let's make it a bet, Fen-dork, and see who can make more money.  If I win, you’ve gotta climb up onto the school roof in nothing but your tighty-whities.  Got it?”

Dash pushed Danny into the wall one more time and promptly left.  

“What was that?” demanded Danny, somewhat breathlessly, recovering from having his lungs compressed by Dash’s football player bulk.  

“I think Dash just said that if you don’t get more fundraiser sales than him, he’ll make you climb the school in your underwear,” said Tucker.  

“I don’t think Dash knows how bets work,” said Sam.  “He didn’t say what he’d do if you won.”

“That’s your takeaway?  Gosh, how’m I supposed to get more than him?”  Danny slid down the wall and pulled at his hair.  

“You’re not,” said Tucker, “because if you do he’ll beat you up.”

“I’m okay with being beaten up,” said Danny, “but I can’t have anyone see me without my shirt on.”

“What?” asked Sam, crouching down next to Danny.  “Why?”

“The scars, Sam.”

It took Sam and Tucker to realize what scars he was talking about, but he saw it on their faces when they did.  

“Well,” said Tucker.  “Heck.”

“Look, you can just pretend none of this happened and run away from him, can’t you?” asked Sam, her face pinched.  “You aren’t obligated to deal with Dash’s issues.”

“Yeah, I guess so.  Yeah.  I can just ignore it.”

“To the cafeteria, then?” asked Tucker.  

“To the cafeteria.”

They walked in through the doors and started for the line.  At the same time Dash (how did he go through the line so fast?  He must have cut, the jerk) stood up and pointed at them.  

“Hey, necrophiliac!  You’d better not forget our bet!” 

Danny felt himself flush.  “I am not a necrophiliac!  That isn’t what that word means!”  Whispering started throughout the cafeteria, and Danny realized he’d denied the wrong part of Dash’s ‘greeting.’

“You gonna be eating someone’s shorts again, Fenton?” jeered a senior Danny barely knew.  

Danny hunched his shoulders and focused on keeping his feet tangible.  This would be a bad time to fall through the floor.

Dash snorted.  “Nah, I can’t let this sucker eat all my good luck charms, you know.  Nah, if he doesn’t deliver, he’s gonna be in nothing but underwear.  Right, Fentina?”

“He doesn’t have to do anything,” said Sam, apparently sensing Danny’s imminent meltdown and stepping in-between Danny and the rest of the cafeteria.  “You decided on this ‘bet’ thing all on your own, he never agreed to it.”

There were boos.  “Don’t wimp out, now!” someone shouted.  

“Yeah, Fentonio,” said Dash.  “Don’t wimp out!  Don’t you wanna help out the school with the fundraiser after your parents wreck everything.”

If there was one thing Danny was weak to, it was social pressure.  "Fine!" he snapped.  "But you have to stop calling me names!"

"Sure, Fentertainment."

Sam put a hand on Danny’s shoulder and steered him to an empty table.  “Oh, he’s always better at social engineering than expected."

"Are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

Sam made a face and pushed him to sot down.  "I'll get your lunch."

"You hate the school lunch."

"Yeah, that's why this is a favor."  She patted his arm awkwardly.  "Hey.  You can have my sales.  That should help, right?  When Tuck and I get the food, we'll come up with a real plan."

"'Kay," said Danny.  He slowly lowered his head to impact the cafeteria table.  

He was almost certainly going to die.

.

“So,” said Tucker, the next morning, meeting Danny and Sam next to their lockers.  “I got Mom and Dad to by a couple things, but I don’t think it’s going to push you over whatever Mr. Moneybags Dash has got going for him.  What about you guys?  Sam, you’re our main hope.”

Sam sighed heavily and leaned against her locker.  “My Mom told me that she didn’t want any more of my ‘tawdry junk’ in the house, and then tried to get me to wear a sundress.”  She poked the lock nearest her with one finger.  “Might have blown up at her.  Danny?”

“Dad gave me a forty minute lecture on how door-to-door salesmen are vectors for hauntings and how all non-decontaminated catalogs are therefore suspect.  Then he lit my list on fire.”

Tucker stared.  “There’s something wrong with both your parents.”

“Trust us,” said Sam dryly, “we know.”

“I guess this makes us the haunted door-to-door salesmen,” said Danny, bitterly, slamming his locker shut.  

“Looks like it,” said Tucker.  He held up his PDA  “But don’t worry, I already have a route planned out for Saturday!”  

.

“Just one more street,” said Danny.  “I just want to do one more street.”  

This was not, in fact, true.  He actually wanted to do no more streets.  Walking around while on patrol was one thing.  This?  This was something altogether different.  Knocking on the doors of complete strangers and trying to get them to buy things was complete, soul-crushing torture.  

And since he’d been through the next best thing to literal soul-crushing torture, that was saying something.  

“Danny,” said Sam, whose slumped shoulders indicated similar feelings, “most of those houses are brand new.”

“That means that anyone living there needs stuff,” said Danny, optimistically.  

“This stuff?” asked Tucker, skeptically.  

“And they have money,” continued Danny.  “Just one more street, promise.”  He gazed at them, desperately.  “Don’t leave me here.”

“We’re not going to leave you,” said Sam.  “It’s just that I think some of those houses are still under construction.”

“Well,” said Danny, pointing at a blue and white three story with fancy trim, “that one has a bunch of cars in front of…”  He trailed off.

“Oh no,” groaned Tucker.  “Do not tell me that there are dead people in there.”

“I’m not sure at this distance,” said Danny, cringing.  

“Well, then,” said Sam.  “Let’s go check it out.”

When they reached the driveway, a fine blue mist spilled from Danny’s mouth.  

“Oh, good.  That means it’s just a ghost.”

Danny, still feeling rather unsettled, shrugged at Sam.  He rubbed his face.  “Let’s see who,” he mumbled, before loping up the drive.  He rang the doorbell before he could talk himself out of it.

The last person he’d have expected opened it.  

“Mr. Lancer?” said Danny, flabbergasted.  

“Er, yes, Mr. Fenton.”  He peered past Danny, missing his ghost sense go off again.  “Mr. Foley, Miss Manson.  Whatever are you all doing here?”

“Er,” said Danny, weakly.  “The fundraiser?”

“Oh, I see.  That’s very proactive of you three.  I’m afraid I’ve already bought all I wanted from the catalog, however…”

Over Mr. Lancer’s shoulder, he spotted Technus - in a human disguise, yes, but still unmistakeable - and stared at him incredulously.  Why was he here with Mr. Lancer?

“Oh, um, that’s– that’s okay, but what…?”

“Ah,” said Mr. Lancer, blushing a little.  “Please refrain from telling your classmates, but it’s my birthday.  I’m having a small celebration.”

“Oh,” said Danny, trying to look at what Technus was doing without being too obvious.  “Happy birthday.”

Behind him, Sam and Tucker echoed the sentiment.  

“Um,” he said, watching Technus slip away, deeper into the house, “I’m really sorry to ask, but could we use your bathroom?  Only, we’ve been working on this all morning, and, well…”

Mr. Lancer’s expression twitched, but evened out quickly.  “Of course,” he said.  “It’s just down there, at the end of the hall.”  He stepped away from the door and smiled at them.  “Tell me what you think before you go, this is a new house.”

“Sure,” said Danny.  The unease he’d felt earlier was much stronger, now.  Whatever was going on here, it was more than just Technus.  The murmur of voices, a faint song played over the radio, and the repetitive sound effects of a video filled the house.  They didn’t help.  

“You use the bathroom first,” said Danny, pushing Tucker forward as soon as Mr. Lancer looked away, saying something to a guest that looked like he’d stepped straight out of the Skulk’n’Lurk.  Where did Mr. Lancer find these people?  “I need to check something.  Cover me?” he asked Sam.  

“Don’t wreck our teacher’s new house, okay?  We want him to not be stressed when he grades our essays.”

Danny shrugged, choosing not to commit.  

He flicked into invisibility as a precaution, no need to run into any guests, and made his way to the second floor, looking for whatever was bothering him by peeking into rooms.  The guest list apparently included Mikey, Star, and Kwan.  Wow, that was a weird group to be playing video games together.  Although, seeing that top of the line console in what looked like a dedicated gaming room in Mr. Lancer’s house was equally weird.  Still, the bedrooms and office space weren’t what was bothering him.  

“Phantom,” said a quiet voice.

Danny whirled to see Ghost Writer, who raised an eyebrow.

“What are you doing here?”

“That’s my line,” said Danny.  

“I’ll have you know I’m friends with William,” said Ghost Writer.  “I go by Andrew, like this.”  He gestured at his human disguise.  “Now, will you answer my question?”

Danny shrugged.  “Something is wrong here.  Something…” He trailed off.  “Maybe it’s just you and Technus, but I need to check.”

Ghost Writer surveyed him for a moment longer, then shrugged.  “Check away,” he said.  “But be aware that William is under my protection.  And Technus’s.”

“That’s my line,” said Danny, who was not whining.  “He’s my teacher.”

“Hmf.  Good,” said Ghost Writer, before promptly walking away.

Danny stuck out his tongue.  Maybe the two of them had never really fought, but man, the guy rubbed him the wrong way.  

He went back to the stairs and climbed to the third floor.  The third floor wasn’t entirely finished.  There were still some power tools around, a few paint buckets and tarps lying here and there.  Compared to downstairs, it looked weird.  

Speaking of weird, this was a big house for a teacher, wasn’t it?

Danny walked over to the furthest door and put his hand on the knob.  Despite Technus’s and Ghost Writer’s presence downstairs, here, in front of the door, was what was making him so anxious.  He knew what he was going to find.  

Bracing himself, he opened the door.  

He immediately slammed it shut again, covering his mouth with his hand.  Okay.  Okay, apparently he didn’t brace himself enough.  That was fine.  This was fine.  He could–

“Mr. Lancer?” he called.  

Ghost Writer flew up through the floor, an annoyed expression on his face.  “What have you done now, you stupid child?”

Danny backed away from the door, not really trusting himself to speak, and raised a shaking finger to point at the door.  Ghost Writer rolled his eyes and opened the door.  

He froze, going completely still in a way that only ghosts could manage.  

Reality shuddered.  The light spilling in from the windows at either end of the hall turned green.  There was a great deal of shrieking downstairs.  

“Oops,” said Ghost Writer.

.

“What do you mean there’s a body in the third floor bathroom?”

“That’s just what I mean, William,” said Ghost Writer.  “I wouldn’t recommend checking on it.  It is… rather gruesome, all things considered.  But it is there.”

“It really is,” said Danny.  He was sitting on an ottoman in Mr. Lancer’s living room, where everyone had gathered after the screaming was over.  He… hadn’t ever seen a body that… that fresh before, not from someone who died like that, someone who wasn’t already in a hospital or something, and, well…  

“And how did you find it?” asked Mr. Lancer.  

“I don’t know,” said Danny.  “You know that sometimes I find dead stuff.”

Mr. Lancer scrubbed his hands over his face.  “Who was it?”

“Unfortunately, given the state of the body…  I couldn’t even say if they were a man or a woman.”  

The other guests, most of whom Danny hadn’t really registered, except peripherally, shifted, muttering.  Teachers from the school, some kids, the weird goth dude, the Nasty Burger manager, and Lance Thunder, for some forsaken reason.

“And us being in the Ghost Zone?”

“Ah, an unfortunate side effect of some of my powers,” said Ghost Writer, who had shed his disguise.  “When circumstances align in such a way as to facilitate a specific genre of story, in this case the so-called cozy mystery or whodunit, my powers apply the rest of the needed circumstances.  Especially if I am, ah.  Upset, let’s say.  In this case, the circumstance they have applied is isolation.  We are in a pocket dimension, not the true Ghost Zone.”

“And how do we get out?” asked Ms. Ishiyama, stepping up behind Kwan.  

“By solving the murder, of course!” said Ghost Writer, with a rather forced smile.  “That should ‘finish’ the story, as it were.”

“How do you even know it’s someone here?” demanded Lance Thunder, angry and loud.  

“As I said, circumstances,” said Ghost Writer.  “If the murderer was not here, we would not be in this pocket dimension.  The victim is also almost certainly a guest, so if you were expecting anyone else, or if anyone who was already here is missing…”  Ghost Writer waved his hand.  

Mr. Lancer frowned.  “There’s no one missing,” he said.  “Maybe it was a construction worker?  None of them were scheduled today…”

“Oh, dear,” said Ghost Writer, “but–”

“Ghosts,” interrupted Danny.  “Ghosts don’t always know they’re dead, right away, and high ectoplasm environments make them form faster.”  He swallowed, still fighting nausea.  “At– at least that’s what my parents say.  We’ve got to find the murderer, but I think– I think we also need to find the victim.”

[ina-nis]

Hmm... I guess the perceptions of feeling myself as unwanted and unlovable - while knowing with certainty they're untrue - are probably other of the many symptoms I'll likely have to deal with for the rest of my life, huh?

I can't quite pinpoint where they come from. I don't really know if it would make any difference? Oh, maybe it's the Complex PTSD, even obsessively ruminating from OCD, or AvPD's rejection sensitivity and inferiority complex. It could be all that, too.

I've been trying to get around my head how is it possible to have a good self-esteem and still feel that way (since, supposedly, your self-esteem will make things like that improve).

My reaction (after the fact) has improved, a lot.

I still get these feelings triggered. They still cause bad meltdowns. It doesn't last for days anymore, thankfully.

I'm able to get back up almost right away because I know they're untrue, because I know my worth, because I know it's not about me or not about anything I'm doing wrongly, etc... it just is.

I'm not unlovable, or unwanted, or uninteresting and I know how special and unique I am - me and each other person, too. Everyone is important simply because they exist.

Dealing with people triggers those feelings all the time.

Even though I've been trying my hardest to just not take it personally, to start seeing it more casually and not looking into things too deeply, I find it extremely difficult... if not, straight up impossible...! And I can, at least, understand why.

Complex trauma rewires the brain.

I'm sure most my disorders originated from it.

Considering it's (still) an ongoing issue, considering I've been mostly unable to tilt the scales for long enough, with good enough experiences... it just keeps on digging deeper and deeper in my skin.

So... ultimately, it doesn't really matter how much I love myself and tell myself how wonderful I am when that doesn't translates into real life experiences outside of myself.

My individual, personal experiences with myself are but that: individual and personal experiences starting on me towards me. There are environmental and social factors and influence, too, obviously, but this is something I mostly go through in the solitude of my own mind.

This is, I think, where AvPD thrives a lot...

Good luck getting out of your head once you get to that point... the alienation and disconnection will only get worse and worse as that goes one - I know it did for me, I eventually stopped caring because it was just too exhausting and dissociation-inducing to care I guess.

Ironically... here I am! My self-esteem has never been this good, I have never liked myself more (and never been happier with my life overall) and yet... I can't shake off these feelings. I can't help but feel unwanted and unlovable with every rejection, perceived or not; I can't help feeling unimportant and disposable even though I know my worth; and so on...

Even when I do understand where these feelings come from - and it's so frustrating that I do! - even when I understand that taking a more casual and not-letting-it-get-to-me approach would be the way to go, even when I understand this is natural and part of social relationships, even when I understand most connection are not what I'm looking for (so I need to keep on looking anyway!)... even when I know all these things, I can't really help my feelings.

I can't wish them away, I can't pretend it doesn't hurt and even if I try to reframe it or look on the bright side, see it as a lesson, etc, it doesn't really address the pain, it doesn't really make the hurt go away - oh goodness, do I even want to "reframe" these things? No! It sucks, it hurts, it feels awful.

The pain is made so much worse because I know how lovable I am.

The pain is made so much worse exactly because I know my worth.

But yes, most people don't really care? And that's fine. Most people don't really see all that in you either, which is also fine. I can understand that too.

Where are the people who will love me in the way I need to be loved?

Where are the ones who will actually want me? Who will choose me?

Where's that someone who will think I'm invaluable, so important they won't want to lose?

I already know I am that person for myself, that doesn't change my predicament because it doesn't address this emotional loneliness that withers me.

[fbfh]

I think you've horribly misread the situation [shitty roommate pt 2] - leo x reader

wc: 2.3k

genre: contemporary drama, you're definitly going to get second hand embarrassment, cozy fluff

pairing: leo x reader, attempted isabella x leo

reader: gender neutral, they/them

requested: hell yeah

warnings: mild swearing, roommate tries to steal your man once again, mentions of various mainstream vampire media (twilight, the vampire diaries etc.), brief mention of castlevania (even though i haven't seen it yet lol), breif mention of videogames and assassins creed, very mild delusion (roommate is secretly convinced leo is a vampire that's in love with her), attempted age gap relationship (she's 17 and leo's 19, he shuts that down real fast), very bad poetry

summary: You and Leo are both looking foward to spending a long weekend together, and Leo is determined not to let anything interrupt it, even if it means turning down your roommate's attempts to seduce him in the kitchen.

a/n: absolutley no hate or shade or judgement to anyone who has the same or similar traits as isabella!!!!!! at her core she's annoying because she's the antagonist, not bc of any isolated trait or traits

also she's shitty cause she keeps trying to steal your boyfriend?????

Edit: I forgot to mention before, but this is a college au where you're both still demigods, so you went to camp and on quests and stuff together

This weekend is going to be all about recharging. Recharging from the ridiculous back to back closing and opening shifts at work, recharging from having to redo that stupid project twice because your professor couldn’t decide on a clear way to define the criteria, and recharging from Isabella having her townie friend Regan over almost non stop to “completely shake up her look” as she put it.

Between the constant presence of someone you’d barely consider an acquaintance and Big Time Rush’s self titled album blasting on repeat out of her giant airpod shaped speaker, it’s been harder than usual to get in some effective self care. You have no idea how many more times you can hear the phrase “I’m going for Jade West meets Elena Gilbert, with just a little Buffy Summers” before you lose your fucking mind.

Thankfully, the hard part is almost over. There’s some minor holiday tomorrow on friday, so you and Leo both have a three day weekend ahead of you, which you intend to spend entirely together. You planned ahead, frontloading homework, chores, errands, and everything you could think of to remove anything that isn’t cuddling or playing video games and watching netflix together from your horizon.

This includes going straight from work to the grocery store to stock the fridge and get any snacks you and Leo want. You had texted him a while ago asking for anything he was craving, and head into the store with a concrete list. After a while, you circle around some aisles, avoiding the check out.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something,” you muse, knowing it’s untrue, but hoping to trigger a memory anyway. You can’t put it off any longer, finally checking out and heading back to your apartment. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t avoiding Isabella just a little.

You know bringing in all these groceries would be way easier with Isabella and possibly Regan’s help, but you just don’t have the social energy to talk to anyone, much less her, right now. By some miracle, you bring everything in yourself, and hope to get it put away before you see Isabella.

You turn to the freezer, putting away the ice cream. When you turn back around, you’re suddenly met face to face with Isabella, who has opened one of the boxes and is picking at a pastry.

“Hey girlie,” she says, elongating the hey.

“Hey,” you reply lethargically, putting the last of the groceries away. She looks at the pastry in her hand like she’s just noticing it.

“Sorry, I can’t help it, I’m italian.” She smiles, endeared by her own behavior. You have no idea what being italian has to do with asking before you open a box of your roommate’s food, but this really isn’t out of character for her. She brings up the fact that she’s half italian more than Lele Pons blames her behavior on being latina.

She’s wearing sweatpants that say chaser on the leg in red and gold varsity font, and a tight tee shirt that says “it’s okay to love them both” with silhouettes of the male love interests from one of the vampire shows she always watches. You collect the plastic bags to put in recycling, and see a piece of paper on the counter.

It reads as follows:

Drowning in my mind

No one hears me cry

Who was I before society

Before society put me in a pink dress

And handed me blonde hair dye

And told me to lose ten pounds or be labeled a freak?

The happiest people cry the most

Let the lyrics be your story

But I’m not like the other skinny blonde pretty girls

I’m

Different

-b.g. xox

You hold back a sigh.

“I think this is yours.” you say, handing it to her.

“Oh, it’s just some of my poetry I left lying around, that’s so embarrassing.”

I know, you think, you do that all the time.

“Did you read it?” She asks, hopefully.

“Nope.”

“Thank god, that would have been so embarrassing. My poetry is something really… deep, and personal to me.”

“Uh huh. Hey, I’m going to be doing a lot of self care this weekend, so-”

“Oh!” she interjects, eerily similar to Phoebe Buffay - you guess she’s been watching friends again - “I wanted to ask… is Leo coming over later?” Her voice is riddled with subtext, the expression on her face a little too invested in your answer.

“Uh, yeah. I told you the other day we’re spending the weekend together…”

She cuts you off again, a sudden, intense look on her face.

“When will he be here?”

You check your phone, scrolling through your recent texts.

“By 7 at the latest.” It’s around 6:40 now.

“Oh my god, I have to change,” she rushes back to her room, presumably digging through her recent additions to her closet.

You’re frozen for a minute after the interaction, left with a furrowed brow and the beginnings of a headache. You blink, then choose to reschedule processing why she feels the need to change for your boyfriend to a more convenient time. That’s enough of that for today. You don’t care what else happens, you’re not talking to anyone besides Leo for at least the rest of the day. You retreat to your room to finally shower and change into something comfy. As you pass by Isabella’s room, you hear her talking to Regan.

“...There’s something almost… supernatural about him.”

You bite back a laugh.

“Do you think he’s a…” Regan begins, ending the sentence with something too quiet to hear, but you’d bet almost any organ she said vampire.

So close. So, so close, and yet… here you are.

Not much later, Leo texts you to let you know he’s here. You read his text, and run out to hug him in the living room before even typing a reply. He picks you up, and spins you around. The embrace is warm and fulfilling and familiar, and you wish it would last forever.

“Hi, Sparky.” you murmur into his neck.

“Estrella…” he says, rocking you back and forth gently and pressing a kiss into your jawline, “I missed you so much.” He punctuates the sentence with another kiss, this one to your lips, and you smile more genuinely than you have all day. You’re about to agree when you remember the good news you’ve been saving to tell him in person.

“Guess what I got on sale for like, half off,” you start, excitedly, continuing at his invested expression, “the Assassin’s Creed bundle I showed you!”

“No way,” he starts, and you nod.

“I’ll go get everything set up, drinks are in the kitchen!” He watches you retreat into your room, disbelieving how he could possibly get someone as perfect as you to fall for him. He’s not going to question his luck. He grabs a couple caffeinated sparkling ices, and meets you in your room, setting down his bag and grabbing some comfy clothes to change into.

As you both get settled in, you fill each other in on all the ridiculous shit you’ve been through this week. You finally conclude the bizarre - yet somehow standard - Isabella escapades.

“So I will be avoiding all contact as much as possible,” you laugh.

“Yeah, no shit,” he agrees, “Consider me your human buffer.” You thank him, hugging him again and pressing a kiss to his lips.

The next couple hours are spent cuddling and finishing season 4 of Castlevania. Both reeling from the season finale, you agree this is a good place to take a break, get some food, and decide what game you should start with. It’s already 10pm, which most people would consider too late for dinner, but you have all weekend to fuck up your sleep schedules.

“Let’s review,” Isabella says, holding up two red lipsticks. She turns to Regan. “Which one?”

“That one,” Regan says, pointing to the one on the left, then turns to her list, and continues. “Here’s what we know; we’ve never seen him eat, and he never seems tired. He’s really smart-”

“Almost too smart,” Isabella adds, selecting black rose dangle earrings from her jewelry. Regan agrees, and continues.

“He’s almost hypnotically attractive, and his smile is a little too dazzling.”

“There’s something… supernatural about him. Like he’s not… all human.”

Regan writes this down.

“Plus he’s always wearing black and red, and those flowy button up shirts? It’s all adding up, Ree. That dream that someone was outside my window, the ring, everything…” She says, referencing the black and red cocktail ring she’d found with her stuff when she’d first moved, “I’m not saying it’s definite, just that… there’s a chance.”

“What about…” Regan says hesitantly, nodding toward your room.

“Please,” she scoffs, “he’s only with them to get close to me, like Damon and Caroline. Edward couldn’t have just approached Bella out of the blue, he had to infiltrate her friend group first, to seem less suspicious. Not to sound mean or anything, but they really don’t seem like the type someone… like him… would choose.” her voice gets dreamy when she mentions him.

In spite of having seen most mainstream vampire media almost as many times as Isabella, Regan still considers her the expert on these things, and decides not to point out that Edward didn’t infiltrate Bella’s friend group. Maybe it comes up in one of the retellings she hasn’t read yet.

“So, what now?”

Isabella sets down her lipstick, and turns to her friend.

“I tell him.”

Regan’s eyes widen.

“You’re going to tell him you know?”

“No… not yet. It’s too soon, we don’t have enough evidence. I’m going to tell him I know he’s in love with me, then once he’s secure in our relationship... we’ll see where it goes.”

She stands up, assessing herself in the mirror. She chose her outfit carefully; short red dress with black roses and black mesh collar, black rose bracelet to match her earrings, snug faux leather jacket, and black stiletto ankle booties with a very skinny heel, the zipper on the outside gold, not silver. She fluffs her wavy hair and turns towards the door. She looks back one more time, holding onto the doorway.

“Wish me luck.”

Leo enters the kitchen, seeing Isabella already there, leaning against the counter seductively. She’s wearing an outfit and jewelry this late at night that makes Leo wonder if she’s going to an emo tea party. He puts the takeout in the microwave. She’s still staring at him.

“Uh… hey.”

She lets out a dainty giggle, looking him up and down.

“... Hi.”

At a loss for words, and really wanting the awkward silence to be over, he continues, “Did you need something?”

“What I need,” she walks closer to him, tracing her finger over his collar, “is you.”

What the fuck?

His brain seems to stall for a moment, and she uses this opportunity to continue.

“I know why you’re here. I know that you’re only using them to get closer to me. I know-”

“Woah-”

“That you’re in love with me.”

Okay, double what the fuck.

She takes his stunned silence as shyness, and steps closer, putting her arms around his shoulders.

“You don’t need to play so coy, I-”

This time she’s the one that gets cut off. He grabs her arms and gently steps away, trying to make it abundantly clear that he’s not into this.

“Woah, okay, slow down. First of all, you’re 17 and I’m turning 20 in a couple months, so that’s a hard no. Second, I don’t know where you got this idea, but I am not dating them to get closer to you. We’ve known each other since we were like, 15, and have been through everything together. I’ve only known you for a couple months. I love them. Probably more than I’ve loved anything ever. I thought that was pretty obvious.”

He doesn’t want to be mean, he really doesn’t, but he can tell from the look on her face that she still thinks this is all part of some game.

“So why don’t I ever see you eat? Why are you so smart, and always up at night? I know what you are.”

He has to physically hold back a laugh. He takes a step back, and places his hands on the counter.

“Isabella, I have adhd. And I’m literally an engineering student. Why wouldn’t I be smart and have a shitty sleep schedule?”

She starts to protest, and he pulls out the reheated take out from the microwave.

“And for the record, I do eat.”

Exiting the kitchen quickly and retreating back to your room, he hands you your food.

“I got the game set up!” you say excitedly.

“Nice!”

You take one look at his face and can tell something happened. He sees this, and continues.

“I just had a very… interesting interaction with Isabella,” before he finishes the sentence, your head is already in your hands. You let out a groan.

“What did she do?” you mutter from behind your hands.

He pulls you into his lap, rubbing your back.

“I’m not totally sure,” you laugh, “but I think she thinks I’m secretly in love with her…” you’re both laughing before he can even finish the sentence.

“No…” you laugh, “no fucking way…”

“Believe me, I put an end to that as soon as it started.”

“Oh, I do.”

He runs his hand over your back, and you’re quiet for a moment.

“You know,” he continues, “I think getting our own place has definitely moved up the priority list.”

You couldn’t agree more.

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 66)

Where Next?

Thanks for your patience guys ❤ This one is pretty short, I'm sorry about that, but there is action coming, promise. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter with cute little Jack 😊

Tagging @emily-strange and @actuallyhansolo​​ ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

I didn't see much of Arthur for a couple of days. Things were strange at the camp, there was no sense of permanence at all, there was plenty of talk about what next, where next? Some people had their answers, but mostly the camp was quiet with everyone in their own bubble of quiet contemplation. Everything had fallen apart in a matter of days and suddenly everyone had to figure out what to do next. 

I just waited patiently, doing what I could for the group. I hunted and provided some meat for everyone to fill their bellies with, it helped us to keep warm. It wasn't the toastiest of locations, so far north, but it would do until we had our plan. 

Arthur had spent the past two days with Charles. They had broken Eagle Flies out of prison after nightfall and they were up first thing the following day to be with Rains Fall. He was meeting with the army; things were not good and he was hoping to salvage some sort of deal or relationship of trust. That's where they were as I was sitting by the fire, wrapped up in a blanket and keeping an eye on Jack for John and Abigail, who were nearby discussing their plan. All I knew of it was they were wanting to get as far away from this place as possible. I wondered if we would ever see them again, or if they would keep on going further and further until the only evidence we'd ever have of their existence was a letter in the post once or twice a year. It made me sad to think about it, but I couldn't for one second protest it. We couldn't have much of a happily ever after, not after the things we'd done. We just had to make the best of things. 

"What're you doing, Jack?" I called out when I saw him wandering a little too close for comfort to one of the geysers.

"Just looking," he shouted back to me, though he stopped and turned around to smile at me. He was still smiling. It astounded me, honestly, he'd taken everything so well. 

He did ask about Dutch once or twice, wondering when we were going back to him. Abigail was usually the one to tell him the truth, but softly, carefully, while John and the rest of us sat tongue tied, unable to think of the right words to satisfy a four year old in such a situation. Jack usually responded with silence, and I couldn't tell if his silence was a signal of sadness or indifference.

I watched the boy as he picked up a pebble from the ground and then eyed up the geyser. I knew what his question was going to be before he opened his mouth. 

"What would happen if I threw this inside?" He called. I exhaled a chuckle and went to answer, though the words got stuck. I didn't actually know.

"Uhh," I vocalised cluelessly, "I s'pose it'd shoot back out again." 

"Can I try it?" 

"Best not," I chuckled, "the speed that thing would come out– I don't know. I wouldn't if I were you, sweetie. What if it falls down and bops you on the noggin?"

"I'd be okay," he assured me, and I cocked my brow a little. 

"Your momma might not be, I'm supposed to be looking after you. I imagine she'd toss me in there if you got hurt on my watch. C'mere." 

He kept hold of the pebble but did as he was asked, and came trotting over to me with a pair of rosy cheeks.

"Sit by the fire, okay? It's freezing out here, ain't you cold?" 

"No," he told me, his tone was high and it was very obviously untrue.

"Your nose'll drop off if you ain't careful," I warned, a little smirk on my face. He touched his pink nose and considered it for a moment. 

"It didn't fall off when we were in the snow." 

"The snow?" 

"With Uncle Dutch and Hosea, and everyone else. Before you were here," he said, gazing down at the rock in his hand, scratching at a piece of mud caked onto it until it gathered under his fingernail. He wiped it on his trousers.

"Ohh," I nodded, I'd heard about it before, their short stop at Colter after the Blackwater fiasco. "Wow, seems like a long time ago, I bet. You've been to so many places since then, ain't you?"

He hummed his agreement and nodded, not looking up at me. 

"You like going to different places?" 

"I guess so," he shrugged, "but sometimes I get bored." 

I chuckled, "yeah, I think we all do," I smiled at him and stroked his hair for a moment. It was feathery soft and light, and I sighed at his innocence. Such a sweet boy. I had no doubt that Abigail and John loved him and were the best parents they could possibly be to him, but I wished he'd had more normal beginnings in life. And I hoped he'd forget some of the awful things he must've seen and heard. 

"How're you feeling, about going away with your ma and pa?" I asked him. 

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" I repeated, leaning my head on my fist as I leaned forward and down to his level. 

"We're going away. Uncle Arthur, and you, and Sadie won't be there? And all the others?"

"No, sweetheart, we won't. But I'm sure it won't be the last you'll see of all of us, hm? Right now, your mama and papa only wanna take you someplace safer, you understand that, don't you?" I asked softly and he sighed, his little shoulders jerking with it.

"I guess so," his voice was small and I gave his shoulder a little squeeze. 

"Keep your chin up, little prince. Your parents love you to the moon and back, a million times over. You're gonna be okay," I smiled at him, even though he was staring at the rock. I considered it for a moment. "Can I see that?" 

He looked up at me in question, and noticed that I was looking at the rock. He paused for a second before handing it over. I inspected it for a moment, it looked much smaller in my hand than it did in his but it still filled up most of my palm. I clutched it tight in my hand, then looked at Jack as I kissed my knuckles. I closed my eyes for a few moments, and I heard him giggle. 

"What're you doing?" He questioned and I scrunched my face up, shushing him softly. 

"I'm concentrating," I murmured, and continued the performance for a few more moments, his giggles continuing until I slowly cracked one eye open, and then the other. 

"What did you do?" He stood up and turned to me, his hand going to mine, trying to pry my fingers from the stone, his cheeks round and rosy with his grin. 

"I filled it with my love Jacky, and a little extra that I got from Karen, Mary Beth, Tilly, Hosea, Kieran, Molly, Sean, Mr Trelawny, Reverend Swanson, Mr Pearson, Uncle…" I made a show of gasping for a breath after listing off so many names, then swallowed before deciding to mention the names which followed, "and Javier and Bill too, and Mr Strauss… and Dutch." 

My voice had wavered and I needed a second to compose myself. I cleared my throat, and was grateful that Jack was preoccupied by looking at the grey lump of rock in my hand. It was warm from my body heat and he gasped a little when he took it from me, marvelling about it's temperature.

"But it's a big rock. Plenty of room for more love. How 'bout you ask everyone to hold on tight to that rock, and put all their love and care into it. So, as long as you've got that, you'll be safe, and you'll be able to remember all of us and know that we ain't ever leaving you, not in our hearts." 

"Okay!" He did a little jump and squeezed the rock in his hand again, holding it to his chest with the biggest smile I'd seen all year. It warmed my heart despite the freezing temperatures. I glanced up to where Lenny was sat wrapped up in his winter coat, a book in his gloved hands. 

"Why don't you go ask Lenny if he don't mind taking a break from reading?" I suggested, and Jack immediately spun around and ran over to him. 

I watched him from a distance, as he excitedly explained the concept. Lenny chuckled and looked up at me from across the camp. He put his book down, laced his fingers together and pushed them out to stretch out his hands before giving them a shake and rocking his head from side to side, limbering up before taking the rock from Jack and cupping it tightly between both hands and squeezing it as hard as he could, eyes intently focused on them. I grinned and laughed to myself, loving his commitment to making the boy smile. I knew everyone would be just as eager to please, not afraid of making a fool of themselves. 

For the rest of the afternoon Jack went around the camp asking people to contribute to the pebble. I was glad to have given him something to amuse him, and perhaps something to remember us all by, even if it was just a simple rock. It would be nice if he remembered us all each time he looked at it, if it didn't get lost along the way during whatever trips he and his parents were about to embark on. 

In the late afternoon Arthur came back. Charles was not by his side but he quickly reassured us that he had simply gone to visit the Wapiti Reservation after the negotiations hadn't exactly gone to plan. I tried not to listen to the details, despite this horrid feeling that built in the pit of my gut as days went by. I kept trying to reason with myself that Arthur had been putting his life in danger far longer than he had known me and had always come out alive. It didn't stop the voice in my head that would whisper about his luck running out…

Before I spiralled into those thoughts I got on with preparing dinner. As long as I had Arthur back in my arms at the end of the day, whatever chaos had found him while he was gone was not worth thinking about. Torturing myself was not going to help anyone, especially not Arthur, who would no doubt grow tired of my whittling about his well being. I just had to keep telling myself that soon this would all be over. 

–

"Canada, I'm thinking. Would be their best chance. They can't stay here much longer after all of that mess we left behind after the negotiations today," Charles was saying over his helping of rabbit stew. He'd returned from the reservation, where he'd apparently spent the best part of the evening convincing them to start packing up to leave. "Rains Fall seems hesitant, not that I don't understand him.  They've been moved around enough, all they want is to settle and have peace so they can live."

"Doesn't seem like they'll be able to do that here though," John said, and Arthur murmured a sound of agreement.

"He's coming to terms with that I think. He knows they'll have to move on sooner or later, it's just hard for him to accept right now, even harder for Eagle Flies. He's even more against the idea," Charles replied.

"He's got a lot of passion and fire in him, that man. He ain't quite learned though, that sometimes passion like that can get you killed," Arthur said. Charles silently nodded in agreement and looked down at his plate. "Canada, you say?"

"Canada," Charles nodded. "And I'd go with them."

"Really?" My brows raised. A quick, sharp pain went through my heart as in a second it became reality that the group was splitting up. These people I had lived with for so long and come to love, we were all going separate ways...

"Yeah. I don't have any other ideas," he chuckled a bit, then shook his head and became a little more serious, "I like it, with them. I feel closer to my mother." 

I smiled, comforted by the fact that even if Charles wouldn't be with us, he'd have a family.

"Arthur," I heard from behind. It was Sadie's gravelly whisper and my heart dropped. I knew what she was going to ask. Arthur, sitting beside me around the fire, glanced over his shoulder and nodded. Then he wordlessly leaned over to kiss my temple, and got up. He stepped over the log we sat on and headed away from the group with Sadie.

They were going to the O'Driscolls' hideout. More bloodshed. More danger. I took a breath and met Charles' eyes.

"I'm happy for you Charles. You deserve to be with people who care about you, who'll all keep each other safe. And the fact they also share your heritage, that's even nicer," I smiled at him and he nodded, "when do you think you'll go?"

"Soon as I've convinced them," he chuckled a little again, the corner of his lip lifting. 

"I'll miss you," I told him. It seemed to startle him but only a little, he was often cool and calm and not even surprising words of emotion could throw him off for long. 

"I'll miss you too," he said after a moment, and the words sounded almost like a revelation, like he also hadn't fully wrapped his head around the fact he'd be saying goodbye to us all until now. "We'll write to each other, all of us, yeah?" 

"Definitely," I nodded, my smile widening, "and if I ever find myself in Canada, I'll have a free place to stay, right?" I teased just a little and he laughed. 

"Of course.”

[luxurybrownbarbie]

Firstly, I am sending you well wishes with regards to what is going on in your life. It seems, based or your post, you are having a hard time. So good luck❤ Also take as much time as you need to answer this.  This is going to be pretty lengthy. I will also be asking a few personal questions, so I hope you do not mind. I don't mean to be intrusive rather I am aiming to be educated and to hear different perspective of people who posses knowledge in this area, which I presume you do. Also everything written is meant respectfully. So I have been doing more research on everything concerning level up and hypergamy culture. My interest has definitely been peaked. Where I think my caution lies in this whole culture is the emphasize on age and in relation to that love. Based on my short experience following different sugaring, sex workers level up and hypergamy blogs my out look on love in particular has changed. So to start my two main points. Since the age of women is what is especially emphasized in these above mentioned spaces, how do you navigate this? I am in particular talking about wealthy men for the most part desiring younger women. Not to make this too personal but say for example you and M being close in age is something that happens but that does not seem as common in this culture. But both of you will age. Do you struggle at all with the idea that (for example) M can cheat (this is not at all about the fake assumption of wealthy men cheating more than men who are not wealthy. I know there is no difference between the two. Also knock on wood) or get a divorce leaving you to be with two kids just to start a relationship with a younger woman just because you are not 'young enough' anymore? I feel like it puts a expiration date on a woman which is obviously moronic and untrue in my opinion. I struggle and get a little bit confused specifically when I see these blogs with women saying things like 'you are young and fun, something his wife is not' (or something close to this) as if at some point these women won't be the same ages as these wives being mentioned. I guess this leads to the point of love. Do you believe that there can be genuine love in such relationship? As stated its pretty much a trade: beauty and youth for wealthy and status and vice versa. If one fails or gets away, it will be replaced. How do you not get cynical with these perspective? I have read stories of sex workers and sugar babies on here where the men admitted things such as 'being happy to be with a younger woman because his wife of x years was old and not exciting anymore' (which honestly this is something that happens on the regular with broke men too so I guess this whole section can be lumped into a big 'Is love even worth it at this point' or 'should you fully low your partner is there is a chance of being unfaithful?') My mind is all over the place and I am still trying to cultivate my stance on all of this and see how I want to build my journey. I hope this was somewhat coherent lol.💕 i am probably going to have follow up thoughts and questions

I’m going to answer this in sections.

Firstly, I am sending you well wishes with regards to what is going on in your life. It seems, based or your post, you are having a hard time. So good luck❤

Thank you. Losing people is never easy, but we move.

Also take as much time as you need to answer this.  This is going to be pretty lengthy. I will also be asking a few personal questions, so I hope you do not mind. I don't mean to be intrusive rather I am aiming to be educated and to hear different perspective of people who posses knowledge in this area, which I presume you do. Also everything written is meant respectfully. So I have been doing more research on everything concerning level up and hypergamy culture. My interest has definitely been peaked. Where I think my caution lies in this whole culture is the emphasize on age and in relation to that love. Based on my short experience following different sugaring, sex workers level up and hypergamy blogs my out look on love in particular has changed. So to start my two main points. Since the age of women is what is especially emphasized in these above mentioned spaces, how do you navigate this? I am in particular talking about wealthy men for the most part desiring younger women.

Our society as a whole is incredibly focused on youth. Because of the way it’s set up, youth is the preference, because of work, childbearing, and so forth. It isn’t new, it’s just that swers and to a slightly lesser point, hypergamy blogs discuss age regarding women. It’s a very nuanced discussion though. It’s interlinked with a lot of other societal discussions. For most men, youth makes them feel virile and youthful.

Not to make this too personal but say for example you and M being close in age is something that happens but that does not seem as common in this culture. But both of you will age. Do you struggle at all with the idea that (for example) M can cheat (this is not at all about the fake assumption of wealthy men cheating more than men who are not wealthy. I know there is no difference between the two. Also knock on wood) or get a divorce leaving you to be with two kids just to start a relationship with a younger woman just because you are not 'young enough' anymore?

Our age gap both is and isn’t common. For our peer group and circle of friends and acquaintances, our age gap is normal. We also have friends with age gaps of a couple of decades. If you take a holistic look at our relationship and the steps towards it, especially with my goal being to marry a trust fund kid, it’s in line with the “norm”. In older money circles, there’s large age gaps, and there’s small age gaps. It’s all there. I have to remind people, there’s wealth in all ages.

The guy doesn’t have to be 96 and knocking on death’s door. (Also, with medical advancements being what they are, this probably isn’t a solution for short term gains. That guy could probably live another 8-10 years.)

I don’t fear infidelity. He could cheat, or I could cheat. Both of those are possibilities we could face in our future. How likely they are, who knows. But they are possibilities. Either party could be culpable for cheating. If we get a divorce and he chooses to be with a younger woman, so be it. But I could also go be with a younger man. I might get more questioning looks than he might, but I could do it. I don’t... really care. It sounds flippant, but the two of us have talked about it before. I think in discussions like these, we tend to remove women’s agency. Anything a man could do to end their relationship, a woman can do as well.

Side note, infidelity isn’t a dealbreaker for everyone. Some of our friends literally say they can excuse cheating, but not lying about finances or moving their parents into the house. No joke. Infidelity tends to be the most prominent dealbreaker, but it’s not everyone’s.

I feel like it puts a expiration date on a woman which is obviously moronic and untrue in my opinion. I struggle and get a little bit confused specifically when I see these blogs with women saying things like 'you are young and fun, something his wife is not' (or something close to this) as if at some point these women won't be the same ages as these wives being mentioned.

Thankfully, I haven’t seen that in a while. But I think it was borne out of a bout of cynicism that tends to take hold with this. Yes, we will all age, it’s a natural part of life. But like I said before, society is very youth focused. People acknowledging that youth will be a factor in getting one of these men isn’t a bad thing, it’s the truth. But it’s also a constant reminder to always be building something of your own, because things aren’t always perfect.

I don’t believe women shrivel up and die at 28, nor do I believe every marriage is doomed the minute the woman gets older. I think moving with the idea that all marriages fail once you both get older is very concerning. Very.

I guess this leads to the point of love. Do you believe that there can be genuine love in such relationship? As stated its pretty much a trade: beauty and youth for wealthy and status and vice versa. If one fails or gets away, it will be replaced. How do you not get cynical with these perspective? I have read stories of sex workers and sugar babies on here where the men admitted things such as 'being happy to be with a younger woman because his wife of x years was old and not exciting anymore' (which honestly this is something that happens on the regular with broke men too so I guess this whole section can be lumped into a big 'Is love even worth it at this point' or 'should you fully low your partner is there is a chance of being unfaithful?')

You’re going to be very disappointed if you go through life thinking you shouldn’t love people just because there’s a possibility of infidelity.

Also, saying love isn’t real because is some old men want to have their cake and eat it too is not healthy. Some men just suck. Doesn’t mean they all do.

Love is real. It is. There is a lot of cynicism, but I can tell you, I’m fairly certain 75% of the women who marry wealthy actually like the person. They either find them to be a great companion or a great partner for life.

Possibly building a life with someone you don’t even like is not advice I’ve seen in a very long time, so I would say you need to evaluate each piece of information you get, so you don’t internalize bad advice.

I was cynical for a long time. I drained my SDs dry, didn’t care, and moved forward.

When my goal became marriage, I decided to actually be with someone I loved and liked. It made the lows even more painful, but the highs even better.

There’s many versions of love, many different ideas, and sometimes companionship is the piece people want.

There’s different versions of genuine love, because solely looking at your relationship as a transaction of beauty and power will exhaust you. It’s normal to think about it, casually, but it’s not the center of every discussion.

Entering this world full of cynicism is not smart. You don’t have to be doe eyed and overly optimistic, but you cannot be a cynical woman who doesn’t want to actually be vulnerable with the person she enters into a relationship with, you’ll lose out every time.

The hypergamy journey is about choosing the best partner, one who actually brings something good and doesn’t bring you down. If there’s a connection, either a great friendship or romance. That’s at the heart of it all.

[mc-critical]

I remember not too long ago, I had read an analysis on Kösem and Ahmed’s relationship, namely its development and whether or not it was truly healthy. I remember the sudden development of Kösem’s feelings for Ahmed were ascribed to stockholm syndrome, which as you dissect it further, even later in the series after Ahmed has passed away, makes total sense. However it made me wonder, why stop at Kösem/Ahmed? Truthfully, I think stockholm syndrome, trauma response and survival instinct were the primary factors in all of the sultanas “love” or attachment to the sultans. Hürrem, Mahidevran, Aysë, Halime, Handan..all of them. Hürrem had initially thought her fiance was murdered when she came to the palace, and within what looked like a couple of months if even, she was shown to be totally head over heels for Suleyman. No one can simply discard their former love interest so quickly unless trauma was a catalyst..and even when Leo came back to the palace that whole time period where he was in such a close proximity to her visibly caused Hürrem so much pain mentally and emotionally. Or with Handan and Kösem going on to fall in love after their sultans had died..it makes me think of when Handan was confessing her love to Dervish and called being a member of the royal family “her prison.” None of these women were truly in love with their sultans, nor do I blame them for it. Love is what develops when there’s no consequences, no strings attached, which is entirely untrue in the harem’s enviornment. Even with Mahidevran’s arc way back when Hürrem was first introduced and she started to feel like she was losing Suleyman. It looked to me Mahidevran ultimately feared lonliness rather than losing Suleyman himself. Harem rules wouldn’t permit her to fall in love with someone else if Suleyman lost interest in her. He was pretty much her only confidant and the only person she had been intimate with and likely from a very young age, unhealthy attachment is bound to develop due to those curcumstances. We all feel so sorry for royal borne sultanas when they’re forced to marry men they don’t love..but this courtesy is seldom extended to their mothers. It’s all very sad when I think about it. How do you feel about this perspective?

(~Fun fact: I got yours and the last ask in the same day and they are both somehow related to Kösem and Ahmet!!~)

Anyway, I have also read that analysis and it's really nuanced and awesome, Joanna always does such an amazing job with her blog and these posts! <3 It gives an amazing perspective to the nature of Kösem and Ahmet and makes us think hard on whether there are more relationship cases in the franchise where Stockholm Syndrome can be applied and how many women there are in the harem that aren't so in love with their sultans.

I also fully believe that, just like motherhood, love in the harem can't not be toxic in a way, because the environment itself won't ever let healthy dynamics happen, thanks to its very roots. And while mothers of children still have the small chance to forge some kind of a relationship with genuine affection despite of the toxicity, we have a totally different situation with the sultans who are basically on the top of the system that brought them in this mess in the first place. It's not easy to let go of the people you loved and it's even harder to get to truly love a person you not only don't know at all, but one you know you're supposed to at least try to win over by sheer force.

Survival instinct plays a lot into this, because sooner or later you see that you don't have a choice. You do what you have to do or else you'll either rot in this palace with everyone always bossing you around or be done for. Something I see some viewers forget is the way Hürrem was ultimately "convinced" to try her luck out with Süleiman. She wanted to get out of this place and let it burn in hell until Nigar told her what it took to win the game. Keep in mind that she hadn't met Süleiman yet back then and that faint was merely an act she pulled to gain his attention and she gained some kind of an affection for him only after some time had passed. This sheer pragmatism could've turned into something more eventually, but the beggining was precisely this survival instinct that was kept intact throughout the entire relationship and the birth and living of Hürrem's children. I think she had let go of Leo by the time when she met him again, but that letting go pained her so much, as seen by all her breakdowns when she saw him and lost him completely. It's something she knew she had to do; notice how she kept telling him to leave for "his own good" and for "the good of both of them". There is this looming, prevailing fear that if they had escaped, the consequences would be severe and Hürrem had already planted roots in the dynasty: as if she gained attachment after attachment she felt the need to protect. She's now responsible for these children and can't leave them behind for her own possible desires to get out of the system. Ibrahim did threaten the children in front of Leo and Hürrem in the S01 finale and that's a big reason why she decided it would be for the best to lose him in this particular situation, no matter how much it hurt afterwards. Hürrem already had a set goal to fulfill in the dynasty and letting go of Leo became the only plausible option for her thematically and narratively. Everything these women do in the harem they do is to survive, adapting to their circumstances and forging some kind of relationships with their sultans is the peak of it. A healthy dynastic is far from one where you have to be opportunistic at every turn. Even the favored women have to be as careful as ever, because a mistake can cost everything. They have to make sure they always have his approval and be in his good graces, behaving like he wants them to behave, not the way they actually are. The goal they have set for themselves in the harem is tightly linked with their love for the sultan. He isn't only love, he's also power, prestige and reassuring. The Sultanate of Women are probably even the most affected by this, because they are the ones who want to break the boundaries of power and by doing that they have to put the leg work to make him happy and pleased. These relationships need so much work and decisiveness for their flourishment, with the women having to be mindful of the sultan's moods and unpredictable nature. (especially when you have an unpredictable, very short tempered sultan like Murat!)

But attachment is still attachment and that's where Stockholm syndrome comes from. They do their best to win him over, but with doing that for such a long time, they learn to feel something for him. There is so much toxicity in the dynamic, but they get used to it and normalize it in their heads. The concept of the harem itself succeeds to make their life revolve around it and it's not something they question anymore. I absolutely agree that it's not limited to only Kösem and Ahmet - everyone is somehow subjected to it, no exceptions. The relationships each woman of the franchise has with the sultan certainly differ from one another, depending on the different personalities and goals, but its unhealthy core remains the same: it's still a toxic, dependant relationship with a massive power imbalance and will always remain so in these castle walls and rules. The big attachment makes it even scarier for one to discover that they might be losing everything, that's why there is such a resistence from Mahidevran, Hürrem, Kösem, Ayşe, Farya etc. when the sultan accepts or outrightly begins to favor other women and I always roll my eyes when these women get accused of "behaving like that while knowing the rules of the harem" without it being understood from a narrative standpoint - even though they know the rules, it still hurts, because the attachment is ultimately more self-centered than anything: they want the sultan to be all theirs, to have him all for themselves, perhaps for a validation of their efforts to forge and preserve their relationships. When they lose favor, everything seems to be crumbling and falling apart and that is so difficult to accept, you can't face helplessness like that, you can't face vulnerability like that and I guess for that it took Mahidevran so long to get over Süleiman. As you said, she got destructively attached to the person that seemigly gave her so much for years. (she herself even said that she's like a little kid in front of him in the second episode) And her suddenly not being regarded in the same way by someone she thought was her family (I still adore that thematic note of her character and perhaps it's the reason why we didn't get any backstory from her.) was catastrophic to her emotional stability and it took her 46 (55, if we begin from her direct confession) episodes to accept that she has lost and even then she was still trying to achieve vengeance at the very least, by thinking of her rule of the harem as a battle she fought with Hürrem, a last helpless try to prevail over her. (E63: "I congratulate you, Hürrem, you won.") That's also why Hürrem almost killed herself when Firuze seemed to have taken away her Thursdays, without having any regard for the children. It's like a chain, of sorts, that women are stuck in, fighting to the end to be the ones next to him, to the point of wanting to end their own lives if they lose. If they lose, that's the end. If they lose the favoritism or the sultan himself dies, leaving them to rest in the hands of the enemy, that's the end.

That's why Mahidevran and Ayşe getting over Süleiman and Murat respectively and realizing that it was more or less an unhealthy dynamic is so important, because these character arcs help spread awareness of the toxicity of this grown attachment to the sultan and the struggle it takes for them to take account of said toxicity, because of their attachments. Ayşe had a rough path accepting that Murat was the way he is, trying almost until the end to make things right with him, both missing in the process and slowly uncovering his unpredictability. While this realization rendered her to do the inevitable in killing herself along with the kids, her letter to Murat indeed felt so eye opening in this regard, putting this whole deal into perspective. Mahidevran, conversely, also found out his true nature and detached herself from it, daring to openly call out a root of the attachment (E139: "He decides the fates of all of us.") and put the free choice of everyone into light and question. (E139: "God, apart from reason, gave people free will.") It's rare for someone to gain such awareness of the system and that's a valuable quality to have, but in a future where Mahidevran and Ayşe aren't as grossly mistreated, would all this be possible to happen? No, I don't think so. And even from the ones that aren't favourites who are more likely to find this out, there are still people out there that probably would stay trapped in the attachment forever. And favourites would be the least likely to figure stuff out, judging by the series' themes. (Hürrem, E134: "I am the soul of all the women in the world and my existence is hidden in the love of the conqueror of my heart." - this assertion is honestly self-explanatory.)

[Handan's arc also extends on the traumatic response one gives the system and I think this aspect applies to her the most. She's a person with no real attachments that is so traumatized by fighting, she didn't even expect the possibility to win over players like Halime and Safiye. She's trying to adapt to her new role as Valide, give "cruel" advice to Ahmet in order to ensure it and make impulsive decisions, dictated by the fear it would all come back to square 1 again, but when she met Derviş, it turned out that nothing about the system made her fit. Hence, she "adapts out" from it by finding true love and killing herself for that love, leaving everything behind.]

So no matter how much these women come to idealize it, no matter how much they begin to think it is actually love or a "fairytale", there still are so many signs that it's not quite like that and that prevent it from being that. That truly includes everyone in the harem, it can't be denied.

[disenchantedfaerie]

So many things to say and so many things not to say.

Fandom: This fandom is toxic. There is no other way to put it. It’s toxic from top to bottom, left to right, diagonally. My partners and I discussed this today because we were bored. We whole heartedly believe it starts at the top and by top I mean her majesty of the written word. Of course, now that’s she’s dropped the self diagnosis of “somewhat autistic,” you really can’t say anything because then you’re a horrible person. But she uses that as an excuse for her snark and condescending attitude. Hey. Whatever lady. I don’t follow you, I don’t read your books and aside from the few things I see, you’re no better than the leads. The difference is you’ve been milking the fandom for 30 years; people are waiting for you to finish and you can’t even complete the one that was supposed to be done last year. Yet you continue to yak about this side thing or that side thing and really, I don’t need a JF origin story. We’ve gotten that enough in the 9 other flipping books. You see the pattern here tho folks?

The female lead: She has done her share of being flippant and rude to people on her SM. She becomes sweet as pecan pie on Thanksgiving when she wants to want to launch something though. She was the one who wanted to end the shipper rumors and so IFH happened but sadly when you skirt around a subject and don’t say your partner’s name or take photos of them/with them and only take photos with your male lead in what could be construed as compromising positions - yeah. People will continue to buy what you sell to them. I’ve said it time and again, they are the biggest trolls in the fandom and do more to fuel the ship, even now that she is married to another man who is not the male lead, than anyone else. That’s all I have to say about her. She doesn’t owe anyone anything, none of them do actually, but sometimes being kind goes out the window with the lot of them.

His highness: Where to begin? His “fans” come all the way over here to our little corner of tumblr to hide behind Anon Asks to spew their hate and vitriol to those of us who seem to have opinions that differ from theirs. Namely, he is not a god. He is not someone we worship. We simply come together over coffee and tea and trade stories of current events and talk about the what if’s. My opinion of him is based on his own actions. Maybe all these “fans” want to blur the timeline of events and take it as gospel from his highness that he went on his luxury vacation before the travel ban while the rest of us cancelled ours and many lost jobs and incomes. Well that’s simply untrue. When he was called out, knowing he was wrong, instead of being the sweet, humble, normal guy that everyone says he is, he doubled down, became rude, flippant, went on a blocking spree, posting articles about COVID being no worse than the flu. Did his traveling companion get serious threats. I believe so. I believe he has as well from the same kind of people that come here to our little corner of tumblr, keyboard warriors that hide behind their anonymity and spew hate and vitriol. I also believe that people have gone to Glasgow and stalked his flat, which, come on people. That’s wrong on so many levels. I lived in LA for many years. It never occurred to me to drive to Malibu, Hollywood Hills, Laurel Canyon to actually stalk the celebs. Why? What’s the point? So I can see them in their grungy clothes looking like real people? No thanks. I don’t have that kind of time or energy. Thus the 4 page rant. Hey good for you dude. It’s about time you grew a pair actually but what did it accomplish? Nothing really except people stopped talking about his covidiocy. Why? Not because he wasn’t a covidiot and quite frankly still is (remember, he’s the king of “it’s not worse than the flu”) but because he pulled the mental health card. I think he does have mental health issues. I still have high hopes that some day he will realize this himself and seek the help he needs.

Now these Anons come to our little corner of tumblr and drop their comments saying things like “I hope you get COVID and die. It’s because of you he did his 4 page rant. The people you call mommies are his real fans.” Mmmkay. I used to blindly defend him. I used to buy into his shilling and his ever so sweet exterior, I even bought into the “best fans ever” bullshit. You want to blame us who never name him, her or the one who “writes” in any blog, never hashtag him, her, or the other one or the show, never interact with any of them on other platforms of SM for his 4 page rant, his mental illness, all of his flaws and accuse us of not being fans - fine. He who is without sin, cast the first stone. Perhaps you need to sit back and take a long look at yourself in the mirror as well. Wishing a deadly disease on people, making threats, spewing hatred - isn’t this the exact same thing that was done to his highness and you were all up in arms about it, yet you come here and do it to others and think that’s okay. What makes it okay? Because you’re defending your favorite star? If this is what it means to part of this fandom, part of his fandom specifically, no thank you. When y’all can walk on water, then you can judge me. Until then, judge not lest ye be judged.

I walked away long ago but I’m still human and still have an opinion, everyone does. If he’s your favorite celeb then perhaps you should follow his advice the next time you see something you don’t agree with - suggest you ignore. He’s the one that started the entire “be kind” campaign right? Or does that only apply when it’s comvenient? If you think this is the sort of behavior that will get you on his Christmas card list or the top of his potential list of never ending “girlfriends” - well, good luck. At some point this man (again, he’s a man, he’s flawed, he makes mistakes and he’s not perfect) will fall from the pedestal his fandom have put him on and then where will you all be? He has been unapologetic for all the things he’s done. He continues to shill his swill and all his other crap when a lot people can’t make ends meet. He continues to ask for donations to HIS causes instead of asking people to take care of themselves or their own communities. I love Scotland as much as anyone but my money right now is better served in my community. I ignore most of what they all do, following his own suggestion of ignoring, but things cross my dash and I do not condone or appreciate threats. I didn’t condone it when the threats were directed at him, his traveling companion, or anyone else nor have I ever made a threat against anyone.

I wish to be treated the way I treat others and if you can’t do the same, if you can’t engage with me in a calm, adult manner, I don’t have time for you. You can have a differing opinion than me. It’s okay. We don’t have to agree but we can respectfully disagree and discuss, not argue, about who’s right and who’s wrong. It isn’t cut and dry, black and white. We can agree to disagree and still be civil and still be friends.

My Scotsman added this: When will the games end, when will the games stop? I had high hopes for his highness to lead by example and be better but he’s a follower and he followers her majesty’s lead. He follows his business partner’s lead. He sees her milk the fandom, so why can’t he and he does an excellent job of it. His fandom vote for meaningless awards until their fingers bleed, buy all of his merchandise, buy anything he sells up to and including the ship. Is there an ounce of him being a genuine person left? Yes. He gives us a glimpse now and again but make no mistake, he will take you for what you’re worth. Maybe one day he’ll change and we’ll follow him again. Until then, I’ll be watching like my partner. I’ll be around.

I guess at the end of the day my point is this, the fandom made itself toxic and I highly doubt at this point it can or will turn around. Why would it? All we can do is choose to be part of the toxicity and contribute to it and pass it forward like these precious anons have been doing or we can choose to walk away, scroll on by, try to make the world or at least our little corner of it better.

I’m still disenchanted. I hope one day my wings turn white again with the promise of a better time and place. Until then, take care my friends. I’ll be watching and I’ll be blogging.

[westallenfun]

A Most Unexpected Love, Chapter 2

WestAllen secret santa gift  

From: @jade4813

For: @sophisticatedloserchick

Author Notes: For the lovely @sophisticatedloserchick from @jade4813! Merry Christmas, and I hope you like my first fic after a long hiatus!

Title: A Most Unexpected Love

Rating: PG

Synopsis: Iris has loved Eddie Thawne Allen her entire life. When she returns home just before Christmas, it looks like she might finally have a chance to catch his eye…unless an accident puts his older brother, Barry, directly in her path. Story inspired by Sabrina (with some quotes lifted more or less directly from the source material).

Chapters: 2/7

Chapter Two

Iris squinted at the glare of the sun reflecting off the fallen snow, pulling a pair of sunglasses out of her purse and sliding them on before grabbing the handle of her suitcase and giving it a tug. It had been a long journey, but she was finally home, arriving just in time for the holidays. Her father was supposed to pick her up, but she’d jumped at the opportunity to take an earlier flight than originally scheduled. It would make a tremendous surprise for him, she decided upon landing, and so she walked purposefully toward the taxi station, rather than calling to update him on her change of plans.

The drive didn’t take long, but she still needed to stretch some kinks out of her muscles when she stepped out of the car and fixed the Allen house with a critical eye. It looked almost exactly as it had in her memory, though it appeared someone had affixed the shutters with a new coat of paint at some point in the three years since she’d last stood in this spot. She’d missed this place, she realized, as well as all the people who worked there. Not to mention Eddie. She could never forget how much she’d missed Eddie.

But Eddie wasn’t her primary concern at the moment. She ran a hand down the fabric of her skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. She wanted to look her best for her first meeting with her dad. Of course, they’d seen each other numerous times over the last three years. He’d come to visit her at school, and they Facetimed at least once a week. But this was her first time coming home as a college graduate – and an adult woman who had proved herself capable of running her own life. She wanted to make him proud.

Thanking the driver, she passed him a tip before grabbing her bag, pulling it behind her as she approached the house. It was rather heavy, so she pulled it to the side of the house, where it would be out of the way until she could retrieve it later. Then she stepped indoors on a quest to find her father.

Knowing he often stopped by the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee, she decided to head in that direction first. On the way, she heard the clattering of balls knocking together in the game room and peered in on her way past, curious to know who was inside. Her heart skipped a beat when she caught her first glimpse of Eddie, his tousled blond hair falling expertly across his forehead as he leaned over to line up his cue stick with the ball. As though sensing her presence in the doorway, he glanced up and straightened abruptly at the sight of her, his eyes growing wide.

“Wow. I mean, hi,” he greeted her with that boyish grin that had captured her heart so many years before.

Feeling a little shy, as she always did in his presence, she threw him a small smile. “I don’t mean to disturb you. I was just looking for someone.”

“Whoever it is, I’m happy to pretend I’m him if it means you stick around,” he reassured her hastily, setting his pool cue aside.

The obviousness of his pickup line, combined with the headiness that his attention was focused on her for a change and the astonishment that he didn’t seem to recognize her, made her laugh. “I’m afraid not,” she said, pulling off her sunglasses so she could get a better look at him. How could he not know her? Granted, it had been a few years, but they’d grown up together, and she didn’t think she’d changed that much.

But still, while she was a little disappointed in his continued ignorance of her identity, she was warmed by the gaze he swept over her body. “Let me guess…you’re looking for Barry. He’s always had all the luck. Well, today is also your lucky day because he happens to be my brother. So I’m pretty much the same thing, right?”

As he teased her, he threw her another one of his devastating grins, prompting her to laugh again. “I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head. As tempted as she was to linger and bask in the glow of his flirtation, she couldn’t wait to see her dad, so she took a step back, intending to walk away.

Eddie wasn’t content to let her go, as he bounded after her. Taking position by her side, he walked with her as he chided her gently, “You’re really gonna make me work for it, huh? And here I was, hoping we could get to know each other better.”

Iris threw him a wry look out of the corner of her eye. “Really? And here I was, thinking you just liked the chase but you wouldn’t know what to do with me if you caught me.”

“That is categorically untrue!” he protested, feigning offense. Reaching out, he grabbed her hand gently, and Iris thrilled in the warmth of his touch. “But, you know, I won’t be able to prove that to you if you don’t let me catch you.”

“I suppose that’s true,” she conceded, humoring him. Then, succumbing to curiosity, she pressed, “You really don’t recognize me?”

She knew full well that Eddie wasn’t a good enough actor to feign the surprise that crossed his features. “Why? Should I? I can’t imagine we’ve ever met. I’d definitely remember you.”

“You might be surprised,” she returned in a dry tone.

Eddie might have lost the battle, but he wasn’t about to concede the war. Instead, he pressed, “Well, that’s all the more reason for you to give me a chance. I tell you what. We’re having a Christmas party here tonight at eight o’clock. Say you’ll come. We can catch up on old times, just the two of us.”

Chuckling, Iris shook her head. “You don’t give up, do you?” she asked, secretly pleased with his efforts. After all these years, he’d finally noticed her. He was finally chasing after her. Perhaps it was small of her to revel in their altered circumstances, but recognizing that fact did nothing to change it.

“Nope,” he replied with a shameless grin.

Iris nodded. “All right. I’ll see you tonight. Eight o’clock.” His display of elation at her agreement didn’t even come close to that which she secretly felt. She managed to hide her smile until she walked away and turned a corner. Then it was all she could do to bite back her shriek of joy. It was all she’d ever hoped for, catching Eddie’s eye, and the reality was so far better than she’d even imagined.

That night, Iris gave her reflection one more critical look before leaving her room and heading to the party. Her dad had been overjoyed to see her, but his happiness had been diminished slightly when he’d heard about her interaction with Eddie. She knew he was just worried about her; he’d never approved of her attachment to the younger Allen son. Though he loved the family and would give his life for any of them, he’d confessed he didn’t think Eddie was good enough for her, but she’d always dismissed his opinion as being clouded by paternal affection and a life-long overprotective streak.

His concern did nothing to diminish her excitement, and so she’d shrugged it off as she’d dressed into one of her favorite gowns, obtained during her studies abroad. Floor-length and deep red in color, it was strapless, with a chiffon skirt and beaded top with a sweetheart neckline. It was the perfect dress for a holiday party, and – more importantly – she knew it would draw Eddie’s eye.

She was almost skipping with joy as she walked into the party, her eyes sweeping over the crowd looking for one face in particular. But it wasn’t Eddie who caught her eye first; it was Bartholomew. Tall and lanky – and able to wear a tuxedo like he was born into it, even more than his brother (though it seemed traitorous of her to think so) – he’d always stood out from a crowd. She’d recognize him anywhere, even when his back was to her as it was now. She watched as the tall redhead before him said something to him, nodding toward Iris in the doorway. He turned to follow her gaze, his face breaking into a heart-warming smile when he caught sight of Iris.

She watched as he said something to his companion and then raced toward her, stopping barely a foot away. For just a moment, she thought he was going to pull her into a hug, but he didn’t. Instead, he smiled at her warmly and cried, “Iris! You’re home? Why didn’t you come by and say hi? How was your trip?”

Before she could answer, Eddie appeared as though out of nowhere, stepping in front of his brother. “You came!” he said gleefully. “I wasn’t sure you would.” When Bartholomew cleared his throat, Eddie stepped to the side and looked at his brother in surprise. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I – wait, do you two know each other?”

Bartholomew looked at his brother in confusion and concern. “You’re kidding, right? It’s Iris.” When Eddie didn’t seem to register the name, he prodded, “West? Joe’s daughter?”

Eddie’s head whipped around in surprise. “What, really? Iris?” As his gaze swept over her again, understanding dawned in his eyes, and he pulled her into a tight hug. “Oh my god, it’s so good to have you back! Now you really have to dance with me. Let’s go.”

He grabbed her hand and started to pull her away, and she was more than happy to follow, but his brother intervened. Clearing his throat, he moved slightly into Eddie’s path and cautioned him, “Is this really a good idea? How is Patty—”

Eddie cut him off. “Barry, I know that you excel at being a stick-in-the-mud, and you’re twenty-five going on eighty. But it’s a party! Surely you can go bore someone else? Iris just got here.” It was the first time in her entire life that she could recall being so taken aback by or disagreed with Eddie’s behavior, and when he grabbed her hand to pull her onto the dance floor, she hung back. Finally, her reluctance seemed to get through to him, because he stopped to ask her what wrong.

“I know he’s your brother, and the two of you…well, you don’t always get along. But that was unfair. He a little serious, but he isn’t a bad guy,” she reprimanded him gently.

He grimaced. “Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry.” He gave her another one of his boyish grins, which had gotten him out of trouble over his entire life. “I’ll apologize to him later, too. But for right now, I really do want to dance with you.”

Iris almost protested, but then she was in his arms and he was sweeping her around the dance floor, and it was better than she’d ever dreamed. She felt herself get lost in his eyes, barely noticing when the song changed to something soft and slow and he pulled her closer, tempting her to rest her head on his shoulder.

“You know what I want?” he murmured in her ear. “I want to dance with you.”

“You are dancing with me,” she shot back with a slight laugh.

His grin was unrepentant. “I want to dance with you alone. It’s too public here; we can’t really talk.” Then, as though the idea had just occurred to him, he added, “Hey, there’s something you should see.”

She’d seen him pick up enough women that she knew what he was about to suggest. He was going to suggest that she meet him in his mother’s solarium. He would meet her there with a bottle of champagne and two glasses, and they would dance under the twinkling lights that were undoubtedly strung along the ceiling in observance of the upcoming holiday. While they danced, he would woo her with his words, and then they would kiss. Just because it was a scene she knew had played out dozens of times didn’t means she didn’t want to be a part of it.

“Okay,” she breathed, swaying toward him.

“Meet me in my mom’s solarium?” He paused, grimacing, as he realized that she wasn’t like most of the women he courted in this manner. “Oh, I just realized…you’ve probably already seen my mom’s solarium, huh?”

Afraid this hitch in his plans would cause him to grow skittish, she reassured him, “But I haven’t seen it in years! Will you show it to me?”

“I’d love to.” He danced her closer to the exit and came to a stop, though he didn’t immediately release her. “Head over, and I’ll follow you in a minute. I want to grab a bottle of champagne first.”

“Sure,” she breathed, watching with a wistful smile as he stepped away. The entire stroll to the solarium, she felt like she was walking on air.

[fourteenacross]

Hello, void, I’m back for more screaming. idk, following along the concept from this, which is in and of itself a follow-up to this.

*

When Sam gets back from his last lunch meeting before the holiday recess, Josh is on his way into the office. Seeing Josh around isn't strange--he pops in on occasion to see Donna. What is strange is that  Josh's arms are loaded down with folders and a tablet--he's clearly here for work, despite the fact the place has already mostly shut down for the holidays. His staff is largely gone and there's one senior staff meeting standing between Sam and nearly a month in New York with Will and his family.

"Hey, Josh!" he says. "Donna has a meeting--I'm late to that meeting, actually--but she should be out in twenty minutes or so."

"I'm here for the meeting," Josh says, just as Will pokes his head out into the reception area.

"Oh good, you're here," he says to Josh. Which is...incredibly out of character.

"Oh good Josh is here?" Sam asks, raising his eyebrows.

"You too, I guess," Will says. At Sam's incredulous look, Will absently busses him on the cheek.

"I don't understand." Sam turns back to Josh. "Did Evelyn send you to try and get me on board for the thing?"

"No," Josh says. "I don't work for the DNC anymore. I resigned two weeks ago."

"Wait, why didn't you--"

"You're both late for our meeting," Will says. He tugs Sam's sleeve. "Come on. Cathy, hold the calls?"

"Already on it," Cathy says from behind her desk. "Good luck!"

"Thanks," Will says, and ushers him into the conference room.

Sam's a little hurt that Josh hasn't mentioned quitting his job and a little perplexed that Donna hasn't mentioned it either. When Josh was briefly between jobs after President Santos' first and only term ended, she made sure to remind him and Will both, frequently, that she was the sole breadwinner for her household now, and she really needed a raise. Even more peculiar is Josh showing up here of all places, to meet with Will of all people. Sam gave up on the idea of Josh and Will getting along a long time ago, and while they're generally civil to each other at this point, they're certainly not actively spending time together.

Still, he follows Josh into the conference room. Seated at the table are Donna, Lauren, and Winnifred, all with notes and laptops spread in front of them. Will sits next to Donna, the two of them at the head of the table, and, to Sam's great surprise, Josh sits next to Will and slides him the tablet he was carrying.

"Have a seat," Will says, and Sam sits down hard.

"Okay, someone has to tell me what's going on because you're all freaking me out, now," Sam says. "Is this an intervention? Is this because I said I should take a meeting with Kavan Chowdhury while we're up visiting your parents? Because that was a joke, I'm not going to work over the break, I swear."

"No, it's not an intervention," Will says. A beat, then, "Though I know you weren't joking about that even if you think you were, but we can argue about that later."

"This is the first strategy meeting for your next campaign," Josh says before Sam can continue down that line of conversation.

And that...maybe makes more sense. Sam is genuinely shocked that Will would hire Josh to work on his campaign given their history and honestly almost more shocked that Josh would take such a breeze of a job. Also, it's way too early.

"That election’s still four years away, and not to tempt the wrath of the whatever, but do you really think it's going to be a big enough fight that we need to start planning already?" Sam asks. His first re-election campaign was nothing, and if anything, he's more popular now than he was in his first term.

"Yes," Will says. "Because it is four years away, but it's not going to be a cakewalk. It's going to be the hardest fight of your life and I'm determined we're going to win it."

"I really don't know--" Sam starts to say.

"Just show him the thing," Josh says to Will and Will rolls his eyes, but he turns on the tablet and then flips it over so that Sam can see the screen.

Seaborn for America it says, in stylized red, white, and blue.

Sam can hardly move.

"You're ready for this," Will says gently, switching out of his work voice and into the quieter one he uses in the moments just between the two of them. "You're ready for this and I think the world is going to be ready for it by 2018. I think we can do this."

"Will...." Sam starts to say, but he doesn't even know where to begin.

"It was always heading here, Sam," Josh says. "You know that. We've been talking about this since we were kids on the Hill."

Which isn't untrue--they have been talking about Sam's political career since the summer they first met. But most of those conversations unceremoniously died when Sam came out. Sam always assumed that Josh had transferred those dreams to Matt Santos.

"I don't...I can't...." Sam stutters, still staring at the tablet.

"You can," Will says. There's a fire in his eyes that Sam hasn't seen since he first decided to run for the Senate nine years ago. A bone-deep desire to make this happen. An unwavering determination that once got a dead liberal elected in the California 47th.

"We've started drawing up some preliminary plans," Donna says. "We're starting off in a good place--people are still talking about your speech at the convention over the summer. The younger demographics appreciate that you're active on social media and, well, to be frank, that you're kind of a nerd. Older voters still associate you with Bartlet, and that gives them confidence in your leadership skills."

"Did you...do polling?" Sam asks.

"Well, yeah, I'm your Media Director, of course I did polling," Donna says.

"How long have you guys been planning this?" Sam asks.

"We found out the week after the election," Winnifred says, and Lauren nods. Sam turns to Josh.

"Well, Will called me up after Evanson tanked the first debate and it started to become clear we were in for round two of the Sullivan presidency," Josh says.

"He told me when I started as Press Secretary back in 2006," Donna says.

Sam looks to Will, then, who's radiating pride and just a little of the Bailey smugness that drives Sam crazy.

"Since the moment you told me to give Kay Wilde your name," Will says, and Sam isn't sure if he wants to smack him or kiss him, but he'd settle for the latter, for certain.

He looks between the five of them, all of them so sure that this is what's next, so confident in him as a candidate, as a leader.

"Could everyone who's not married to me step outside for a minute?" he asks. He's trying to keep his voice even, but it goes a little high at the end.

"If you're gonna make out or shout at each other, can't we just turn around until you're done?" Winnifred asks.

"Come on," Donna says, nudging her to stand up. "They just need a minute to psych each other up. And then, yeah, probably be gross and romantic at each other.”

"Just, two seconds," Sam says to them, though his eyes don't leave Will. "Don't go anywhere."

The rest file out, and then it's just Will, sitting at the head of the conference table holding an iPad that's long since gone to sleep.

"Hi," Will says, when it's clear Sam's not going to say something first.

"Hi," Sam says. He gets to his feet, dazed, and walks over to Will.

"I know I've said it before, but the waistcoat is a good look for you," Will says.

Sam covers his face with his hands. "Will," he says.

Will stands too and goes just far enough to lean against the table, crossing his arms loosely against his chest.

"Very distinguished," Will continues.

"Will," Sam says again, and this time Will stays quiet. Sam drops his hands and stares at Will for a moment. "Since that first night?" he finally asks, soft, like he's afraid if he says it too loudly it will dissipate into the air and fade away.

Will nods. No cute remark, no explanation, no smug rejoinder. He just nods. Sam has both never loved him more and never been more terrified.

Something of it must show on his face, because Will's resolved expression softens and he says, "Hey, hey, come here," and reaches out to pull Sam into an embrace. "You have to know I love you too much to have started this if I didn't think you could win it." He presses his nose into Sam's hair. "I would never do that to you."

The problem is that Will thinks Sam can do anything. Will's unwavering belief in him as a person is sometimes so overwhelming that he's paralyzed by the expectations.

"I don't know if I can do this," Sam says into Will's neck.

"You can," Will promises. "And even if you don't believe it yourself, you've got me and Josh and the staff to believe it for you until it sinks in."

Sam closes his eyes and thinks about a quiet night more than a decade ago when President Bartlet challenged him to a game of chess.

Sam, you're gonna run for President one day, he'd said, and the shock of hearing his private dream spoken aloud by one of the people he respected most in the world had stunned him into silence. President Bartlet thought he could do it. He believed in Sam, which meant more than he could ever articulate. It's a memory he's held close, one he's never shared with anyone, not even Will, in part because was certain that his relationship with Will would put an end to those aspirations. In 2002, the idea of an out queer man running for President, let alone winning, seemed like an absurd fantasy.

In 2014, he's startled to realize it might actually be within his grasp.

Sam reluctantly pulls back from Will, just far enough that he can look him in the eye.

"You really think we can do this," he says. It's not a question--Will has made that much clear.

"I'm certain of it," Will says, that steely resolve back in his voice.

Sam loves him so much.

"Okay," he says. "Then I guess we should get the rest of the staff back in here so we can start."

Will's grin could light up the Beltway.

"Yes, sir," he says, and kisses Sam firmly before pulling back and moving for the door. Sam moves with him, an arm tucked around his waist.

"You really called Josh to help?" he asks, just to hear Will's beleaguered sigh.

"I wouldn't use the word 'help,'" Will says. He pulls open the door to the conference room, where the rest of the senior staff and Josh are milling around a little too casually to not have been listening at the door the entire time. "Come on in, everyone, I've bullied him into it."

"I was just telling Will how nice it is that he could ask for your help, Josh," Sam says. "Look at the two of you, working together."

"I don't need help!" Will insists.

"It's very sweet," Sam says. "Don't you think it's sweet, Donna?"

"So sweet," Donna says.

"Spending the next four years working together," Sam says, just to see Will make a face like the milk in his coffee's gone off. "It'll bring you closer together."

"And eight more years after that, knock on wood!" Donna adds, and Sam has to imagine that it's entirely to see Josh roll his eyes so hard it's a wonder he hasn't hurt himself.

"Listen," Josh says as he brushes past Sam and Will and back into the conference room. "I only answered this call because I want Sam to win this and I don't trust the guy who ran Bingo Bob Russell's campaign into the ground to pull it off."

"I ran Bob Russell's campaign into the ground?" Will says, stalking off after Josh. "I think it was more like you manipulating the convention from hell--"

"Excuse me, I did no such thing!"

"It's gonna be a fun four years, huh?" he hears Lauren say to Winnifred behind him.

"I think you mean it's gonna be a fun twelve years," Winnifred replies.

And while Sam is still a little terrified of tempting the wrath of the whatever and even more terrified that he might not be up to the job, he can't help but sincerely think that it will be fun.

"You're an idiot!" Josh snaps.

"I can fire you!" Will snaps back.

Well, a little fun, at least.

[melforbes]

ask meme. what if. patching up. no I still haven’t seen source material

the way i completely forgot about this ask until i wrote like two paragraphs in this and was like oh shit lmao

the source material is getting an hbo series bb you're in luck also ignore anna whatever as tess yes i respect her as an actress yes she is talented in a bunch of things i have not seen but ms annie wersching is the only tess in my heart and also if i have to endure tess being reduced to a powerbitch stereotype i will start foaming at the mouth. but also i have no feelings about this whatsoever <3

WHAT IF: i will pick an important choice or event in my current project and write three sentences (or more?) about if it’d gone done differently

hmmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMMMMm

this is hard because i kind of had a stupid amount of confidence in the decisions i had them make in this and because i have ~a lot of experience~ in flying by the seat of my pants with writing lmaooooo a lot of the time with this ive had some degree of foresight when it comes to certain plot decisions. the only reason i have this in the first place is that with other things ive had kind of sort of plot revelations and then been like "well if i'd set that up three chapters ago it would have a huge impact i think but instead i guess it's just going in this one for a smaller impact" so i think i learned my lesson haha. also because this pairing nowadays has a small and sparse tag i really intentionally put in stuff to make it interesting (maybe the wrong word) to reread. like not Interesting interesting but i wanted there to be certain details that are more relevant on a reread than on an initial read because whenever i read stuff in small tags i tend to read it Multiple Times lmaoooooo and it's like if anyone like me is out there I Will Feed You. I Will Give You Food. you see i have this problem in which im like i dont want to act like i put thought into this because That's Embarrassing and i also dont want to seem like i take this too seriously because That's Embarrassing and also i dont want to act uppity or pompous or something But At The Same Time i do put a lot of thought into certain things and i feel like mentioning that and i dont really want to judge myself for that. it's complicated but also super uncomplicated. where was i going with this

OH right. so most of the plot decisions were made super concretely. like pre breakup arc in the nightmares chapters (which came out so much worse than i intended alkdjksjad;glksjg) when tess and joel talk about ellie Knowing (also legit it is such a trip to me that you dont know the context of that. a trip in a good way) she says we every time and he only ever says i even when she points out that this would affect both of them, and at one point i think he says that tess doesnt understand baseless violence which is 100% untrue, and then there's a bunch of window imagery i put in starting there because im a freak. so like For Once In My Life a lot of this was as planned as it could be. on occasion there's been Plot Revelations that get wedged in (the radio interlude chapter, which was a bit of an inelegant seam between prewritten things that didnt mesh well) but for the most part ive got tits out into every decision. like tess and ellie disagreeing about joel's choice was very planned though i imagine that kind of conversation could be executed many different ways i had my one way and stuck to it. so either way

where was i going with this. did i have a point.

OKAY. let's see. i think one of the big ~emotional beats~ so to speak was the ambush chapter and i think that's the favorite because that's usually where people comment if i remember correctly and initially i wasnt going to go with that tone At All haha. years ago i wrote everyday domestic scenes of mulder and scully from x files and had it all on this blog and it was plotless but largely in the same overarching universe (i say as if it was legit ever That Deep) and after writing this as a oneshot and being like you know? Kind of feel like doing that again. i figured i would just follow the same largely plotless path of legit just domesticity and leave it at that. and i think the first like five chapters are tonally different from the rest because i'd never really intended for it to have plot or really any depth whatsoever. in the end like. How do i say this in a way that wont be interpreted as uppity or something asldkjgalsdgjk like. when i did those mulder scully scenes i was very much a beginner and i think i didnt realize just how inherent that beginner-ness was to the concept itself. which isnt a bad thing! like people had fun with those so far as i remember. bizarrely enough i think people might still read those which. cringe. but you kno!!! but with a few years of distance from that kind of concept i think it was hard for me to Not try something else. especially with this universe in which it's just dense with storytelling opportunity. and also i felt as if the first few chapters were just like super super lighthearted and i wanted some angst factor. which is why in the end the angst factor plot itself is flimsy as fuck. like i did not care WHY they got attacked i just wanted that sweet sweet hurt/comfort cup of tea u feel. and after that i didnt really go for the plot too much But i did edge toward it a lot more. like i mean ultimately this is a romance like it was not intended to be plot heavy ever But it's more plot heavy than it couldve been. had i actually written it as i'd intended from the start i think it wouldve gotten old really fast. like nothing but lighthearted domesticity doesnt make sense in this context. for the first few chapters it doesnt necessarily kill the whole thing imo because like. that's the first few chapters. but after then if there was never any ~deeper thoughts~ i think it wouldve gotten reductive super fast.

hmmm what else. Because i am deciding to talk too much on the internet now.

oh in theory the whole breakup arc couldve been omitted and now in retrospect im like it's hilarious that like the next chapter after they got married i immediately peppered in hints that they would break up lkajsdglaksjgdlkj like wow. That lasted a long time. but like i mean i think with them it fits that they would do something like get married before they even said that they loved each other. like i can see them doing a massive workaround instead of doing a small and simple but vulnerable thing. makes sense 2 me. and like they definitely couldve stuck together in the end but 1 theres interesting storytelling in how maybe joel was too stubborn or maybe they grew apart in certain ways or blah blah blah and 2 I JUST LOVE A GOOD BREAKUP AND THEN RETURNING TO EACH OTHER ARC OKAAAAAAAAAY. legit. favorite trope. if i ever experienced that in real life i would claw my eyes out but in fiction it makes me FERALLLL. and also like i mean i lov these two for their dumb quirks but also like it would be a lil wrong to say there wouldnt be consequences for like. Not communicating haha. also again like the world this game is put in is so full of storytelling opportunities and im like Must Take Them All. like joel is stubborn as hell and shuts down when he's overwhelmed and there is growth in the first game (and in the second too but thats not really shown as much and is more left for the player to fill in the gaps i think) but also i think it would be super easy to regress in that sense and i had fun with putting him in those situations. and it's also super fun to have an additional person for the joel and ellie plots to bounce off of. like joel and ellie are two very stubborn people and having an extra person there to be like You Blithering Idiots has been a good time. im getting sidetracked. like it was fun to answer the question of how these two in a marriage neither of them can fully substantiate would communicate in hard times and the answer i personally found was that they both would end up breaking things. which was fun to write!!!!!!!!! but in theory couldve been prevented. maybe i just cant imagine this a different way haha. like Joel And Tess Learn Healthy Communication Skills Over Time. am i mean for saying that doesnt sound probable aldskjgalskdjgslkgj

OH LMAO THE MARRIAGE PART. that was also a big decision i guess. i wouldnt make it go differently alksdjglasdjg like. i definitely couldve written the context around that many different ways bc again this whole is full of opportunity But a frankly premature wedding just feels right to me. especially with like going from being stuck on survival to being safe for the first time in decades. and then having that sense of safety get boring and wondering why there was that super fast wedding in the first place. cant really imagine it going differently

there is later unposted stuff that could def have gone many different ways and that i tried to make go different ways but that would not be right to talk about akldsjaslkgdjsg so.

this got too long sorry <3

[loosenedidylls]

Blessings, Curses, Autism

My earliest memories are of waiting rooms with musty carpets and buckets of donated, broken toys. I guess it was worse for my parents, who had nothing to stare at but walls and trashy lifestyle magazines. Eventually, the professionals decided I had a condition called Asperger’s Syndrome, and there was one thing they wanted me to understand:

“It’s a blessing, not a curse.”

If someone asked me to list blessings off the top of my head, I’d mention 20/20 vision, pitch-perfect hearing, or George Foreman’s chin — not a neurological disorder that transforms the most natural stages of personal development into a confusing struggle. In hindsight, I would have preferred more concrete advice than ‘it’s a blessing, not a curse.’ Something like:

“Watch out for the train!”

…But the quippy slogan is what stuck. My parents dispensed it like a cheap plaster, and I still don’t know whose benefit it was for — mine, or theirs. What I do know, is that I never once believed them: I felt I was being brushed aside, or told to accept something blatantly untrue. Besides, children don’t care to question whether they’re blessed or cursed, so it was an answer to a question that hadn’t been asked. Existentialism is for adults trying to make the best of a bad situation.

Being an Autistic Child.

Autism is not a superpower. Thanks to certain pieces of popular media, you might think of autistic people as quirky-yet-brilliant detectives, awkward-yet-sexy hackers (always female), or nonverbal children with a deep, instinctive connection to whatever animal or alien the protagonists are trying to communicate with. Often, people with severe autism are plot devices in the same vein as a forbidden orb or set of nuclear launch codes. Instead of damsels waiting for Bruce Willis to save them, they’re objects waiting for Bruce Willis to understand them.

A lot of autistic people are brilliant academically, though not for the reasons you might think. A common feature of autism is hyper-fixating on ‘special interests’, obsessing over a subject until one has learned everything about it, before moving on to the next. Very few people become maths geniuses this way; more often they become diehard Sonic fans or start giving lots of money to Games Workshop. Here are a few of the phases I went through:

-          Thomas the Tank Engine.

-          Pokémon.

-          Old English monster myths.

-          Naruto.

-          Peter Jackson’s King Kong (both the movie and the video game).

-          Bleach (the anime, thankfully, not the cleaning product).

Fairly normal interests for a young person, right? Now remember the hyper-fixation part. People with Asperger’s tend to focus on certain interests at the expense of others, and those ‘rejected interests’ are usually vital for social development. Now remember that high school is a psychopathic hellscape crawling with cruel little monsters ready to vent their newfound territorial instincts on anyone who doesn’t fit in. The kid who wants to discuss the depiction of brontosauruses in a sort-of-okay remake of a 1933 movie isn’t doing himself any favours — constant bullying drives him even deeper into reclusive interests and solitary hobbies, and from there, it’s the luck of the draw whether those hobbies resonate with any of the kids around him.

I’ve always known a lot about things no one knows about, and nothing about things everyone knows about. This, along with the fact that a lack of social life makes it easy to focus on one’s studies, creates the illusion that some autistic kids are eccentric geniuses-in-the-making. Parents — especially the parents of autistic children — are quick to latch onto any display of intelligence. They watch intently for any sign their long struggle is paying off, and when it happens, they praise their child endlessly, reinforcing behaviour patterns both good and bad. Because adults told me I was intelligent, I told other children I was intelligent, and you can imagine how well that went.

This misapprehension — confusing a bunch of random trivia for genius — followed me into high school, hurting me all the while, which is ironic, because it was the only positive way I could think about myself.

I’m lucky to have found books and writing as lifelong passions, but that almost didn’t happen; in fact, I used to despise any writing task the teacher set for me, to the point of outright refusing to do the work. In my defence, I was trying very hard to be somewhere else at the time — mentally, that is. The idea of putting my feelings on paper, for all to see? I couldn’t conceive of anything more terrifying.

Harry Potter changed things. I was gifted The Deathly Hallows when it was first published, and even though I had no idea what was going on in the story (I hadn’t even seen The Order of the Phoenix yet), I thought it was wonderful — maybe because I was getting a sneak peek into a future movie. Since then, I’ve always had a book close at hand, and it wasn’t long before I started writing my own novels (more on those another time).

 Voracious reading was, technically, another un-social activity that would consume my waking hours, but at least it was productive. My grades improved dramatically. I got good at writing essays. I became better at expressing myself, and I started to consider other people’s points of view. I made friends, lifelong bonds. I wouldn’t say I was happy at that stage of life — bullies tend to push back against things like improved mental health — but at least I was growing.

Looking back, I can’t help but wonder how close I came to disaster. I was 13 or so. If I’d left it any later, I doubt the outcome would have been so peachy. There are plenty of autistic adults with no friends, no employable skills, no human contact but ageing parents and rare, fleeting therapy sessions. Many of these people are quirky and brilliant, but there’s no happy ending for them.

Being an Autistic Adult.

Autism never goes away. It never gets ‘better’. It isn’t curable because it’s not a disease, despite what the vaccine deniers might tell you; autism is an intrinsic part of my neurological makeup, and living with it is a process of compromises.

I had to accept, early on, that I’m not the same sort of human being as the people around me. My brain is a different brand of brain: it makes different connections, processes different bits of data at different speeds. Things that seem obvious to you, need to be explained to me. I struggle to read a room, and I’m never quite sure if the person I’m talking to would really rather I shut up.

Put simply, my childhood experiences made me keenly aware of myself as an outsider. I need to watch for people’s reactions to anything I say or do, all the while navigating a maze of social cues and left-unsaids — but sooner or later, I’m always going to slip up. When you are differently-brained, it’s easy to misinterpret instructions, or to misjudge which thread of discussion is most important; and when you’re processing so much data at any one time, small-yet-vital points are going to slip under the radar. The result is being told off, being laughed at (‘laughing with you, not at you’ is another fun slogan I’ve learned to endure), and generally feeling stupid or useless for overlooking one point of data among hundreds.

 As I grew into an adult, I got better at performing normal. Nowadays, only those who spend a lot of time around me can spot the signs of my condition: I seem confident, funny, sympathetic, and I make friends easily. As I write this, I can’t help but feel uneasy: it makes me wonder, and not for the first time, how much of my personality is genuine. In high-stress situations, the generic piece of advice is ‘relax and be yourself.’ Succeeding in life as an autistic person means learning not to be yourself, or at least creating a version of yourself that can exist in public — so, where does the real me end, and the performance begin? Are they one and the same? I’ll never know the answer to that question.

Being an autistic adult, then, means pretending I’m not autistic for the benefit of other people. It’s a lifelong, often exhausting performance, and the temptation to retreat into my shell is ever present. But, just like anyone else, I long for human contact, so the compromise is a necessary one.

Blessings & Curses: Redux.

Terry Pratchett wrote that humans need to learn to believe the little lies so they can believe in big ones. There’s something I wish I knew during the bad years; that I was far from the only person suffering from my condition. My parents were stumbling in the dark just like me, except they had to pretend everything was under control.

My dad confided in me, recently, how he used to cry — a lot — during those days when I would return from school after another worst day of my life, talking about footballs thrown at my head, being cornered and verbally abused, or being removed from class after another tantrum. These were practically daily occurrences, and they’ve left their lifelong marks on me, but I’ve never lacked for brilliant people willing to help, people who were alongside me in my suffering. Raising a child is hard, and raising a neurodivergent child is even harder. Can I blame my parents for wanting to believe in blessings, and not curses?

Most of the time, those bad years seem like a distant memory. I don’t see autism as my blessing or my curse; it’s just a part of me — a frustrating, limiting, often embarrassing part of me, but one just as vital as my eye colour or ethnicity. I’ve come to accept it and be content despite it, and I suppose that’s the best outcome I could hope for.

[dying-suffering-french-stalkers]

wendy’s great big pirates of the caribbean fic rec list

Hello, friends!  I’ve been meaning to make a Pirates fic rec list for years and the day has finally come.  This list is obviously in no way exhaustive and is very much indicative of my personal biases (*cough* lots of Norrington *cough*), but I can heartily recommend every fic that made this list and I hope you all enjoy it.  Making this was a labor of love and I would be thrilled to hear your thoughts on any you choose to read (though you should leave a kind comment for the author first)!

Other notes: I collected the bulk of these years ago, so there are a lot on FFnet and I have tried my best to screen them for various content warnings.  I believe only two fics on this list are explicit and are marked as such.  There is precious little slash on this list since that’s just not what I tended to read at the height of my Pirates phase; my apologies.

Under a cut to spare your dashes from this monster of a post.

“Mutiny on the Dauntless” by Marnie - Governor Swann and Lieutenant Norrington narrowly skirt disaster at the hands of a ruthless captain and dangerous crew on the crossing from England. [19k words. No ships. Warnings: seasickness, battle violence, minor character death, semi-graphic naval discipline.]

THE HONORAT COLLECTION in (hopefully) chronological order.  This author is my uncontested favorite Pirates of the Caribbean fic writer and I’m forever grateful to them.  Here’s to you, @honorat!

“Here’s Luck To You” - A collection of drabbles about Jack and Bootstrap Bill’s friendship, written in late 2005. [6k. Mind any posted warnings.]

“Homecoming” - Author’s summary: The young Captain Norrington has a rare moment alone with his beloved ship.  [1k.  No ships but the sailing kind.  No warnings.]

“Daring Rescue, Daring Escape” - A narration of Elizabeth's rescue following her tumble off the battlement and of Jack's attempted escape afterward.  [7k.  Can be read as Sparrabeth.  No warnings.]

“Worthy of His Steel” - Picks up where DR,DE left off, then flashes back to Will’s apprenticeship with Mr. Brown.  [44k.  Light Willabeth.  Mind any warnings: I remember minor character death, alcoholism, and general angst.]

“A Bargain At Any Price” - Elizabeth reflects on James’ interrupted marriage proposal.  [968 words.  Unrequited Norribeth.  No warnings.]

“Marooned” - A movie novelization of the time Jack and Elizabeth spent on Rumrunner’s Isle.  (If you haven’t seen the deleted scenes from CotBP, they’re now required viewing: Part 1, Part 2.)  [28k.  Can be read as Sparrabeth.  Warnings: alcohol; discussion of past injuries including burns, a brand, and a gunshot; discussion of death, murder, and suicide (latter related only to marooning and not seriously entertained or acted upon); mind any others.]

“Aboard the Dauntless” - Takes place directly after Marooned.  More movie/deleted scene novelization.  [20k.  Can be read as Sparrabeth and/or (unrequited) Norribeth.  Mind any warnings.]

“No Mercy” - Set aboard the Dauntless just after the battle at Isla de Muerta.  Have you ever been unreasonably hecked up by the sailor who rang the bell when he spotted zombie pirates?  I have because I’m Like That but now you can be too!  [1k.  No ships.  Warnings: blood, minor character death, funeral, survivor’s guilt, mention of execution by hanging.]

“For Remembrance” - Elizabeth visits Jack in prison the day before his pending execution.  [2k.  Can be read as Sparrabeth.  Warnings: brief mention of unsanitary prison conditions; death tokens; discussion of death, murder, and execution by hanging.]

“Balance of Justice” - The same night, Norrington struggles with the idea of Jack’s pending execution.  [990 words.  No ships.  Warnings: mentioned minor character death, survivor’s guilt, discussion of execution by hanging.]

“Crossing the Bar” - My all-time favorite PotC fanfic.  After the events of CotBP, Norrington thinks he has Jack cornered, but the pirate has other ideas.  A story of truly literary proportions ensues. [156k.  Canon divergent: written pre-DMC.  Light Jack/Anamaria.  Warnings: battle injuries, period-accurate first aid, minor character death. Other warnings posted in fic.]

“Just Between Us Dying Gods” -  Jack’s POV, takes place on the island of the Pelegostos just prior to Will's arrival.  [1k.  No ships.  Warnings: cannibalism, canon-typical ethnocentrism.]

“Bits of Shine” - A collection of drabbles (in the classic 100-word sense) spanning Pirates 1-3.  [14k.  Assorted canon ships.  Mind any posted warnings.]

“Christmas Reunion” - Author’s description: A Christmas reunion of several beloved characters set post-AWE. Jack's POV. Entirely fluffy.  [2k.  Willabeth.  No warnings.]

SCRUFFINGTON ANGST - Me, aged 15: but sir that’s my emotional support Good-ish Man Brought Low By Hubris (who am I kidding, that hasn’t changed a bit).  As you would expect, general warnings for this section might include minor character death, survivor’s guilt, self-hatred, alcohol abuse, unsanitary conditions, etc.  If you love Tortuga-related angst, this section is for you!  If you don’t go for whump and other unpleasant things, scroll on.

“Seven Deadly Sins: James Norrington” by Edoraslass - Classic drabble format, exactly what it says on the bottle.  Follows James’ DMC arc beginning in Tortuga.  [711 words.  No ships.  See tags on AO3.]

“Three Days” by geekmama - Several scene narrations following James from the pig sty to Isla Cruces.  Smelly bastard man.  [1k.  Several unrequited ships.  Warnings: unsanitary, alcohol abuse.]

“Interregnum: Icarus” by ConcertiGrossi - Follows James all the way from the hurricane to Tortuga, with an epilogue just after delivering the Heart to Beckett.  I dislike headcanons about Norrington ever employing sex workers - it seems very out-of-character to me - but other than that I stand by this fic.  Angst alert.   [16k.  Canon-divergent only if you read Sins of the Father.  Referenced unrequited Norribeth.  Warnings: near-drowning, vomit, mass minor character death, implied (but ultimately untrue) medium character death, funerals, survivor’s guilt, self-hatred, unsanitary, coughing, nightmares, pregnancy mention, parental death, under-eating, alcohol abuse, referenced suicide, suicidal ideation.]

“Birthday Wishes” by YouCantGetThereFromHere - A one-shot AU in which James has a twin brother and they celebrate their thirtieth birthdays, one in England, the other in Tortuga.  [4k.  Referenced OCxOC ship in the first half.  Warnings: alcohol abuse, self-hatred.]

“Eye of the Storm” by Edoraslass - Tortuga barmaid Kate is intrigued by the island’s newest barfly and strikes up a sort of friendship with Norrington until he moves on.  [4k.  No ships.  See tags on AO3.]

“Oil and Wine” by Argyle - Norrington’s descent during his time on Tortuga.  Everything comes with a price and a familiar face dogs his steps.  [500 words.  Norribeth.  See tags on AO3.]

“Absence and Memory” by Meddow - Post-CotBP, Elizabeth reflects on her relationship with Norrington over the years.  [3.7k.  Norribeth.  No warnings.]

“Penance More Will Do” by Meddow - Set directly after the hurricane.  While a wounded James is adrift at sea, he is visited by Hector Barbossa, who gives him a choice on behalf of Calypso.  [5.7k.  No ships.  Warnings: blood, vomit.]

“A Song for the Wretched and the Wrecked” by jadeddiva - Post-CotBP AU in which Will runs off to sea and Elizabeth consents to marry James after all.  They have a lot of growing to do, but it ends well.  [6.5k.  Norribeth.  No warnings.]

“Jack Sparrow’s Black Pearl” by Zath_Chauvert - A filk song in which Elizabeth and Will discuss Jack to the tune of “Tango: Maureen”.  [468 words.  Willabeth, J/W/E if you’re not a coward.  No warnings.]

“Of How a Lieutenant died at Sea” by YouCantGetThereFromHere - Foregoing the ending he's given in OST, Lt. Theodore Groves instead dies in the wreckage of the Endeavour in AWE and briefly greets Will in the afterlife.  [703 words.  No ships.  Warnings: implied major character death.]

THE ERINYA COLLECTION (I forgot that I saved a ton from this author as well!  Not arranged in any particular order.)

“Curiosity” - Elizabeth reflects on her growing feelings for Jack during DMC.  [828 words.  Sparrabeth.  Warnings: alcohol.]

“Sacrifice” - More Sparrabeth UST, Elizabeth’s POV.  [527 words.  Sparrabeth.  No warnings.]

“One Shot” - A collection of PotC drabbles, all written pre-AWE.  [6k.  Various pairings.  Warnings posted in fic.]

“The Game” - Jack and Tia Dalma play cards.  [600 words.  Can be read as Jack/Tia Dalma.  No warnings.]

“Frayed” - Will and Elizabeth, post-DMC, semi-compliant with AWE, but angstier.  I’m afraid this one isn’t very kind to Will but it sets up this author’s character dynamics/reasons for Sparrabeth.  [1k.  Willabeth, implied Sparrabeth.  Warnings: very poor communication.]

“Something Rich and Strange” - A Will/Tia Dalma one-shot, of all things.  A touch of destiny, indeed.  Written pre-AWE based on fan speculation.  [2k.  Canon-divergent.  Will/Tia Dalma, background Sparrabeth.  PG-13.]

“Ocean Heart” - Post-AWE, Elizabeth is visited by Calypso on that lonely beach.  [1k.  Implied Willabeth.  No warnings.]

“The Pirate’s Progress” - Post-DMC, Jack takes a jaunt through the afterlife, featuring all sorts of fun mythology/folklore.  [10k.  I’m gonna be real with y’all, I don’t remember if there’s anything shippy or triggery but I don’t think so?  Implied major character death I guess but he got better]

“Worlds Enough, And Time” - Futuristic AU in which Jack and Elizabeth both partook of the Fountain of Youth.  Our beloved pirates...IN SPAAAAACE.  Angst with a happier ending.  [3k.  Sparrabeth, implied Willabeth.  Canon-divergent in multiple ways.  Warnings: alcohol, discussions of death, suicidal ideation, referenced minor character death.]

“Janus and the Prodigal” - A conversation between Jack and Teague, a few years post-AWE.  [1k.  Can be read as Sparrabeth.  No warnings.]

“At Peace” by Rising Waters - Author’s summary: Elizabeth has been faithful for the allotted ten years, so Will is free of the Dutchman—but he is still plagued by thoughts of a man whose death he feels responsible for: James Norrington.  [1k.  Willabeth, unrequited Norribeth.  Warnings: referenced character death.]

“Second Chances” by geekmama - AU in which James was only wounded by Bootstrap, not killed, and Will drops him off at Shipwreck Cove to be with Jack and Elizabeth for the next ten years.  Fluff all around.  [1k.  Willabeth, can be read as Sparrington if you’re not a coward.  No warnings.]

“For Honour A Heart’s Demise” by Meddow - Another AU in which James is only wounded aboard the Flying Dutchman, only this time he gets to partake in the rest of AWE and becomes captain of the Dutchman instead of Will.  A goddess is defied and everything makes sense.  [10k.  Willabeth, unrequited Norribeth.  Warnings: brief suicidal ideation, survivor’s guilt, grievous bodily harm, major character death (but he gets better).]

“Between Wind and Water” by rexluscus - Author’s description: “England and Spain are at war, and Norrington needs a quick solution to the Jack Sparrow problem. Meanwhile, Jack discovers that the Caribbean he once knew is gone. The deal they make could solve both their troubles, or it might be the worst mistake of their lives.  This story is AU after the first film (sequels never happened). It's an experiment in dropping POTC characters into an actual historical event: the Battle of Cartagena de Indias in 1741.”  [90.3k.  Sparrington.  See tags on AO3.]

“betwixt the devil and the deep sea” by notbecauseofvictories - A character study of Jack Sparrow in an AU with angels and demons.  [2k.  No ships.  See tags on AO3.]

“coda” by notbecauseofvictories - Elizabeth during her time as the Pirate King.  [1k.  Willabeth, Sparrabeth.  See tags on AO3.]

FICS I HAVE NOT YET FINISHED but would nevertheless like to recommend:

The “Rash Actions” series by @blanketed-in-stars​ - I’ve been meaning to finish this for 7000 years but I thoroughly enjoyed the early chapters!  Nicole is a wonderful writer and is doing the Lord’s work in writing quality Turrington content.  [147k.  James/Will.  See tags on AO3.]

“In Service to the King” by sleepylotus/@apirateslifeforme123​ - An AU in which Elizabeth finds James in Tortuga after she becomes the Pirate King.  I loved the first few chapters!  [31.7k.  Norribeth, Sparrabeth.  Explicit.  WIP.  See tags on AO3.]

OTHER LINKS SINCE I HAVE YOU HERE

Curse of the Black Pearl early screenplay (first draft)

Dead Man’s Chest screenplay (final production draft)

At World’s End early screenplay (leaked draft)

Deleted scenes: (CotBP above in Marooned) DMC, AWE

[spaceace314]

Hi! (popping in with a question – I hope thats ok) Are you ever scared to exist where others can perceive you? For context, I want to start a tiktok account, but Im scared of people seeing me, which is a bit of a problem for the type of videos I want to make (cosplay :D). Also, I guess Im terrified of being judged and of the effects of cancel culture. Do you happen to have any advice for overcoming online stagefright... ? And the Fear of Being Known (TM) ? -Whiskers

Hi Whiskers! Great to hear from you again!

Yes, questions are okay, popping in is okay, and popping in to ask a question is okay. Honestly, at this point you could send me a message that said "ur a nerd -whiskers" and it'd be okay. I'm desperate for human contact, and at this point, I've developed a bit of a soft spot for you Whiskers. You're always welcome on my tiny little blog.

Being scared to exist where others can perceive me? Haha yes totally never experienced that *nervous laughter*

Yea, I totally know that fear. But, as shown by the fact I have a tumblr blog where I regularly tell the internet my deepest insecurities and most painful home truths with very little fear of judgement, I kinda got over it. And granted, tumblr is a bit less scary than tiktok, because at least on tumblr you can hide behind the shield of anonymity, but still. Anyhow, I've totally got advice for you.

Imma get straight to the point. The Fear of Being Known (TM) isn't actually about what other people think of you, it's about what you think of yourself. If you're scared of being judged by other people, it's because you're already judging yourself. Any critiques that you're scared of getting are things you already believe about yourself, and you're terrified that other people are going to reinforce your own insecurities.

So the obvious solution to this is to not have any insecurities. Which is great, except that it's basically impossible. But that's okay, because there's another solution. I warn you, this solution really reeeally sucks, because it requires you to acknowledge your insecurities instead of just pretending they don't exist, but it also works, and it'll make you happier in the long run. Also, this method is supported by exactly zero scientists or mental health professionals, take my advice at your own risk.

Spaceace314's super helpful guide to overcoming the Fear of Being Known (TM)

Step 1: Find a judgement that you're scared of getting. Like, some reaction or feedback or comment that you don't want to get from people.

Step 2: Figure out if it's something that you need to address and change. (Note: if it is an issue you are aware of and are currently working on, disregard this step)

Examples:

"You're ugly", no action required. Meaningless because it's arbitrary,  you're not doing anything wrong, and anyone who calls people ugly is petty, shallow, and not worth your time

"You're homophobic", action required. Figure out if it's true, from an objective point of view of "if this was my friend doing what I'm doing, what would I think of them". If necessary, work on becoming a better person, because of your "flaws" hurt other people and are something you can control, it's your responsibility to fix said flaws.

Step 3: When there's no further action you need to take for the judgement but it still makes you sad, work on acknowledging it and accepting it. You don't have to like it, but as long as you're aware of it, people pointing it out won't affect you as much, because they're giving you information you already have, which is more boring than hurtful.

Examples:

"You have a big nose and it's ugly". Accept that you have a big nose. You may not like your big nose, and that's okay, but you have to accept that it's there and that you're not gonna change it. Then if somebody points out your big nose, your internal monologue reaction should be roughly "I have a big nose which I do not like. I am aware that I have a big nose. This is not new information, so I don't really care about it. The fact I have have big nose is old news. Also, I agree that my nose is ugly to some people, including me. This is something I definitely do not like, but it is also not new information. I have already been made aware that my nose is ugly, and I have accepted that I cannot change it, so this is old news. Many thanks for bringing this to my attention, but there was no need as this is something I Already Know".

"You're weird". Accept that you are different from many people. There is nothing wrong with that. You may not like it, and that's okay, just let your weirdness be a thing that you accept is true and allow to exist. Then if somebody points out your weirdness, your internal monologue reaction should be roughly "I am different from many people and I am aware of this fact. I understand that it makes you uncomfortable, but that's not my problem. It also makes me uncomfortable, but I've accepted that, even if I don't like it. Me being weird is old news and something that I am already aware of, therefore I don't really care. But thanks for letting me know anyway, even though it was unnecessary and kinda boring".

Step 4: Find new judgement you're scared of and repeat the process until you can't think of any more judgements that really scare you.

Now, if people judge you for the things you're scared they'll judge you for, you'll be okay, because you're already aware of those things, and you're familiar with your insecurities. And if people throw judgements at you that you're unprepared for, or that are unexpected, then do steps 2 and 3. Or just feel free to ignore the judgement if it's untrue and/or you literally don't care about it. You might even learn new stuff about yourself, and you might even end up being less insecure overall.

Okay, so now you're prepared for any reaction you might get, it should seem a little bit less scary to put yourself out there. Still fairly terrifying, of course, but that's okay. Now you've just gotta be brave, take the plunge, and actually put yourself out there. Because once you really know yourself, you can start to let other people know you too, and it'll be a really positive experience. Being yourself where other people can see you is one of the scariest things you'll ever do, but it's amazing once you've done it, because you're finally feel free to just exist without having to hide who you are.

Also, if anyone tries to cancel you, see if they have a valid reason. If they do, fix the problem. If they don't, ignore them cos they ain't worth your time.

I hope my advice somehow helps you a little bit, and I really hope you get the confidence to do your Awesome Tiktok Cosplay, and if you become a famous tiktok star, make sure you don't forget me! Good luck and Godspeed!

And the rest of y'all reading this (who I haven't forgotten about), I love all of you, be confident in your amazing selves, and stay safe out there!

[celtics534]

Can’t Fight This Feeling

Covert Love chapter 3!!!!

Get ready for some flirty banter and lustful looks 😂

Also Read on: FF.net or AO3

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"Report, Potter," Jamieson demanded, flame flicking around his disembodied head. 

  "No signs of vicious intent towards Weasley as of yet, sir." Harry sat back on his knees. Floo reports were Harry's least favorite way to discuss his findings, mostly because his knees would start to hurt after a few minutes, but also Jamieson's head surrounded by green fire always gave Harry's boss the look of a mad man on the verge of blowing up a building. Maybe it was the beard… maybe he only thought that way because he was jealous of how perfect Jamieson's beard was…

  "That's it?" Jamieson's disapproving tone brought Harry back from his reverie..  

  "No, sir. I can report that I have become close with Miss Weasley." 

 Close doesn't even begin to describe what he felt… what he wanted to be. Nope! He couldn't let his thoughts drift to that. The dreams he'd been having about her were enough, but if she started possessing his mind during waking hours… 

  “Would you say she considers you a friend?” 

  “I’d say so.” Though I’d like to be more...

  “Good, so you should be in the perfect position to stay close to her and work with her brother.” 

  “Yes, sir.” 

“Bill is having dinner at Ginny’s home this Monday night. See if you can get invited. We want it to seem normal for you and Bill to be speaking should the situation ever arise.” 

  “Just her and Bill?” Harry didn’t want to insult his boss, but he saw a large problem with that plan. “And how should I go about getting the invite?” 

  “Eh?” Jamieson’s brow furrowed. “Right, I forgot to tell you that part. Sunday night, you should bump into Ginny and Bill casually while they are out shopping. According to Bill, they will be in Diagon Alley between seven and eight in the evening. Ginny wanted to look at -”

  “Some new gloves because hers are wearing out between the fingers,” Harry interrupted, remembering Ginny taking his hand to show him exactly where she meant yesterday. They had talked for hours on the cliffside near ruins. It was exactly what he wanted… and more . He’d almost kissed her so many times he’d lost count. She was just too… words failed him every time he tried to describe her. Nothing in his vocabulary was enough to say just how incredible she was. But every time his eyes had drifted to her perfectly full lips, a voice in the back of his mind (that sounded scarily like Jamieson) stopped him from following through with his inclinations. 

  He couldn’t kiss her, couldn’t be with her like that while undercover. It was completely against the rules, not to mention immoral. He couldn’t lead her on like that, make it so she developed feelings for him while lying to her. Well, not really lying. He hadn’t told her a single untrue word. Everything about his family, childhood, and quidditch exploits was true. Yet, any time the conversation came to his work history, he changed topics. No . He couldn’t follow through with all the desires. Instead, he was forced to settle for his dream-self fulfilling them. 

  Dirty, hot dreams . Dreams he'd never discuss with a living soul. 

  "That's right." Jamieson’s head bobbed in approval. "So I'd say show up and get to chatting. I'm sure if you say something about how you were hoping the two of you could get together that night, she'll invite you. Or Bill will take the cue and ask you to come." 

  "Okay." Harry took a deep breath. His mind ran through different scenarios, all of which lead to Ginny leaning up to kiss him on the cheek and he just happened to turn at the same time so their lips met. Fucking hell, Potter, you’ve got it bad!  

  He cleared his throat, hoping his boss wouldn’t notice the flush creeping up his cheeks in the firelight. “Will do, sir.” 

  “Very well. Good luck, Potter.” And just like that, Jamieson pulled his head out of the flame. Harry fell back against the side of the sofa. Jamieson had made it all sound so easy, of course, he hadn’t known about the constant war between Harry’s mind and hormones. 

  Harry took his glasses off his face, throwing them aside, before rubbing his palms over his face. The more he thought about it, the more anxious he felt. First off, he needed to put a wrap on these feelings he had for Ginny. They just couldn’t happen and the sooner he got that through his thick head the better off he’d be. Secondly, there was no way in hell he was going to lose said feelings before Monday, and if he was going to be having dinner with Ginny’s brother (who also happened to be his handler for the case from this point on), Harry needed to at least control his desire.

  Yup , he was done for. 

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 Harry took a deep breath before raising his fist and knocking on the dark oak door of Ginny’s cottage. He was fifteen minutes earlier than they’d discussed, but sitting around his flat had been driving him mad. Getting invited to the Weasley siblings’ dinner had been easy. Harry hadn’t even brought up the topic. When he’d accidentally run into Ginny and Bill in Diagon Alley on Sunday, Ginny had mentioned the dinner and then she’d invited him. 

  As odd as it was to say, it both thrilled and frustrated Harry to no end the ease he felt with Ginny. It elated him that she clearly cared about him in some capacity, enough to invite him to dinner at least. But then every time his heart seemed to skip a beat due to his happiness, it would collapse into his gut when he remembered that he was only there for a job. He wasn’t supposed to develop his own feelings for the individual. Quite the contrary actually, he was meant to keep a level head during an investigation and feelings were the number one reason for clouded judgment. 

  Oh, but how the feelings had taken hold of Harry. He knew he’d been in major trouble after one conversation with Ginny, but everything he learned about her made Harry fall further into the all-encompassing void that was Ginny Weasley. 

  And speaking of his temptress...

  The door opened wide to reveal a beaming Ginny. “Harry!” she pulled him into the sitting room. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Before Harry could make a pitiful comment of me too or I wouldn’t miss it , Ginny started talking in a rapid-fire manner. “Bill is bringing his wife, who is one of the biggest food snobs I’ve ever met. And I am no cook. I was literally just going to heat one of those muggle frozen lasagnas, but there is no way phlegm -- I mean Fleur -- will stand for it. Not to mention she’s pregnant so she’s even more phlegmish than normal. I swear Harry, I may -”

  Harry couldn’t keep up with it all, but what he did understand was Ginny was stressed and he needed to fix that. He put the wine he’d brought down onto a small table behind the sofa before grabbing Ginny by her shoulders and giving her a little shake. “Ginny, calm down. We can figure this out.”

  The look in her eye was slightly crazed, but she took three long deep breaths. “Right. You’re right. We are two grown adults and we can figure this out.” She glanced over her shoulder, towards what looked to be the entry to the kitchen. “But I literally have nothing but that frozen lasagna.” 

  “Well, good thing we’re a wizard and witch.” Harry smiled, hoping to encourage her. “Bill should be herein,” he glanced at his watch, “twelve minutes. So I’ll just pop down to the store and get us some ingredients.”

  Ginny nodded slowly. “Yeah, that could work… but there is still one little problem. I can’t cook worth a shit, so just getting the ingredients to make something everyone will like does nothing.”

  “Ah, see my godfather, Sirius, always vouched that cooking was an important art, so he taught me a thing or two over the years.” 

  “Really?” Ginny’s eyes had started to lose that manic look to them, instead, surprised permeated off her. “Why did he think that?”

  “Er --” Harry’s hand came up to rub the back of his neck. “He liked to have company and cooking a good meal was a way he impressed them.”

  “Company?” Ginny smirked. “Based on the stories you’ve told of good ol’ Sirius, I have to assume this would be company of the female variety?”

  “Hey now.” Harry tried to scowl. “You know what assuming makes you.” He paused, watching Ginny’s lips curl into an amused grin. “Correct. It makes you so correct.”

  Ginny laughed, the last bit of stress leaving her shoulders just like Harry hoped. “Well, I guess there’s the silver lining for your godfather being a dog.” 

  Harry snorted. “That’s one way to put it. So, I’ll be right back.”

  “Hang on.” Ginny grabbed a small bag off the little table. “I’m gonna come with you.” 

  “You don’t need to be here when Bill comes?” Harry asked, ignoring the way butterflies fluttered in his stomach at the mere idea of going out with her. Why was it that no matter how mundane something was, the thought of doing it with Ginny thrilled him? Fuck, Harry thought he might even enjoy drunk apparition paperwork if Ginny was by his side.

  Ginny waved off his concern as she tugged on a light jacket. “He has the password so he’ll just let himself in. Also, this shouldn’t take too long. Do you have a dish in mind?”

  “Uh - How does Fleur feel about pomegranate?”

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  “This is amazing, you two.” Bill praised for the third time that night as he finished off his second serving of toasted coconut tilapia. 

  “Thanks, but really it was all Harry.” Ginny beamed at Harry, causing his heart to feel as if it was about to leap out his chest. “He was the master chef.”

  “Where did you learn to cook, ‘Arry?” Fleur asked, a hand resting on her bulging stomach. Harry understood why Ginny had been nervous about feeding Fleur. When she’d first sat down, Fleur had been overly cautious about every bite, taking dainty tasters. But after a few nibbles, she’d clearly decided the fish topped with pomegranate salsa passed the test. Fleur had explained that during her pregnancy that food was a win or lose situation. She’d then reminisced about the last time she’d had Ginny’s cooking and it had been a loss, which in Harry’s mind started to explain the endearing nickname Ginny had for her sister-in-law.   

  “My godfather likes to host dinners and so I would spend time with him in the kitchen.” Harry took a sip from his goblet of wine. “I enjoyed helping him and in the end, I learned a thing or two.” 

  “Well, women love a man who can cook. Is that not that right, Ginny?” Fleur sent a dazzling smile at the redhead. 

  Ginny, in turn, glared at the blonde. “I find anyone who can cook impressive.” She cleared her throat before turning back to Harry. “But yeah this was amazing, Harry. Thank you."

  "Any time." Harry could feel the heat rising up his neck towards his cheeks, but he hoped people would assume it was from the wine, not his thrill at being praised by Ginny. 

  “So, Harry, how are you liking the Bats so far?” Bill asked; his tone made Harry tear his eyes off Ginny. The previously pleasant smile on Bill’s lips had shifted to a deep frown. 

  Harry cleared his throat. He wasn’t quite sure what shifted Bill’s mood, but Harry could guess he hadn’t hidden his admiration for Ginny as well as he’d hoped. “I -- uh -- it’s been a dream come true.” 

  “I can imagine so. And it’s great you’ve already found a friend on the team.” The way Bill emphasized friend made Harry want to wince. Fleur, however, didn’t recoil from her husband’s tone. On the contrary, Harry saw her fingers claw into his knee. 

  “It is.” Fleur’s smile countered Bill’s wince. “You and Ginny make a belle paire .”

  Harry hadn’t spent much time learning French over the years. He had only learned Italian because he had been sent on a ten-month assignment in Rome. So he wasn’t one-hundred percent sure what Fleur had said, but he had a strong guess based on context clues. 

  The room felt as if the heater had been turned up twenty degrees. He looked around the room, taking in the different knick-knacks Ginny had gathered over the years, rather than looking in the direction of the one person whose attention he craved: Ginny. He didn’t want to see the odious look she must have on her face… or worse, if she agreed with Fleur. It would simultaneously elate Harry and break him.

  “How about pudding?” Ginny’s tone was... normal. Harry couldn’t resist the temptation to look. She was glaring at Fleur, not disgusted or hopeful, just glaring. 

  “I’ll help you, Ginny.” Bill stood, leaning down to kiss the top of his wife’s head. The two redheads abandoned Harry as they walked side by side into the kitchen. 

  “So, ‘Arry.” Fleur brought her elbows onto the table, lacing her fingers into a high bridge. “How are things between you and Ginny?”

  Harry would be the first to admit he was oblivious when it came to some things, but even he understood the implication in Fleur’s tone. A blazing heat spread from the back of his neck to his ears. “I -uh -”

  Fleur waved off his stutters. “You don’t need to say anything. The two of you are évident . It’s adorable.” 

  “Uh - thank you.” Harry wasn’t sure what to say. Now his cheeks were as warm as his neck. 

  “But I must ask why you two are not together.” Fleur’s gaze shifted to rival one of his fellow aurors. “You are interested in her, and she, you. So why are you not together?”

  Harry’s stomach churned. “I -” How could he explain what was going through his head? He couldn’t keep all his thoughts straight. Besides, why should he even explain it to this woman he’d only met that night? 

  There was something about Fleur that made Harry’s resolve crumble. Maybe it was the look she was giving him, or maybe it was the overwhelming feeling of happiness and love that seemed to roll off the blonde woman.   

  “I’m worried about work,” Harry said slowly. He needed to mind his tongue, making sure he didn’t reveal his mission. “It’s -- uh -- frowned upon to be with someone like that.” 

  Fleur cocked her head, her hair flowing like a waterfall down her shoulder. One light brow raised. “I didn’t know the quidditch team was so strict about that.” She reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “But, ‘Arry, if you truly feel for Ginny as I think you do, things at work will not matter. You will figure out any problems together. What matters is how happy you will make one another.”    

  Harry blinked at her. “I’m not sure that’s how it works.” 

  “ Pish .” Fleur waved her free hand. “That’s what happened to me and Bill. Did you know, my père did not approve of my union with Bill at first. He thought Bill was only marrying me for my looks.” She smiled grimly. “Being half veela, it had happened to others in our family. But that’s not my Beel . ”  

  The way she said Bill’s name made Harry’s heart clench. There was such affection and love . Harry wasn’t jealous of Bill and Fleur, but jealous of how much they cared for each other. He wanted someone to love him like Fleur clearly did for Bill.  

  Harry tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. It wasn't until that moment that he realized just how much he wanted it. Wanted the love of someone who he loved in return. A deep love that made him glow with happiness, just as Fleur did. 

  Ginny and Bill walked through the kitchen doorway laughing, the latter holding a large treacle tart. As he looked at her adorable curved lips, freckled cheeks, and heard her laughter, Harry knew it wasn’t just anyone’s love he craved. He wanted hers. He wanted her. Ginny. Air seemed to get stuck in his chest, making it hard to breathe. 

  She was everything he desired in a woman. Everything he craved. Her sense of humor, creativity, passion... and that didn’t even start to cover his physical attraction to the redhead. Ginny Weasley was the ideal woman for him. 

  “‘Arry?” Fleur’s voice brought Harry out of his epiphany, forcing his lungs to work again. “Are you a treacle tart fan?” 

  “I -” His heartfelt as if it was about to come out of his shirt. “I love treacle tart.” 

  Ginny beamed at him as she placed the warmed sweet down on the table. “I remembered! I made it yesterday after I invited you to join us.”

  “I didn’t know you made this,” Bill said as he spread the clean plates and silverware around the table. “I assumed you’d bought it. Since when have you known how to make treacle tart?”

  “Well,” Ginny’s grin became sheepish. “I may have had to fire call mum a few times yesterday to get the instructions.” 

  “Well, it looks délicieuse .” Fleur began to cut the tart. “Well done, Ginny.” 

  “I -” Ginny’s eyebrows rose into her hairline. “Thank you, Fleur.” 

  Fleur smiled at her acknowledgment of Ginny’s words. “As you are the guest, how about you try the first slice, ‘Arry?” She placed a large wedge down in front of Harry. 

  It was one of the best he’d ever had. The tart and sweetness flowed perfectly and the crust was that ideal golden brown that created the best flavor. He let the second bite sit in his mouth for an extra second before chewing; he sat back in his chair and let his head fall back.

  “That good?” Bill’s voice asked.

  Harry took an extra moment to swallow before answering. He looked at the party. Bill had a skeptical brow raised, Fleur’s lips were twisted in a knowing smile, and Ginny… the hopeful glint in her eyes made the dessert that much sweeter. “Ginny, I have a question for you.”

  “Okay?” The hope shifted to confusion.

  “What’s your ring size, because I’m about ready to propose to you?” 

  The room was silent for five heartbeats before Fleur gave one of the most unladylike snorts, Harry had ever heard. Then she was laughing. Ginny followed suit, her lips twisted in a wide smile. 

  “Little bit soon for that, don’t you think, Potter?” Ginny asked once her laughter subsided. “We haven’t even had a proper snog yet.”

  “That can be arranged. Would you prefer me to make my move in front of everyone after we win next week’s game, or would you rather a more private affair?” 

  Bill groan. “I don’t wanna hear this.”

  Ginny slapped her brother’s chest with the back of her hand. “The number of times I witnessed you flirting with Fleur… a little payback is well deserved. “ 

  “ Ugh .” Bill sat back in his discarded chair with the grace of a baby giraffe. 

  Harry only half focused on the room as Ginny finished serving dessert. When she rounded the table to get back to her chair, she stopped beside him, her lips brushing his ear. Her voice a seductive whisper. “Dealer’s choice, Harry. “ 

  Goosepimples ran along Harry’s arms as she moved away, a satisfied grin on her lips. It took everything in his power to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing her wrist. It was bad enough that a certain part of his body was reacting to her persuasion without his permission, so pulling her back into his arms and kissing her hard was not going to happen. At least not until he figured out how to keep both his job and her.  

  Sooner rather than later, Harry thought with his eyes on her retreating swaying hips, because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold back.  

[zacharyleigh316]

It’s a Nice Day for a [Gay] Wedding

It’s a Nice Day for a White Gay Wedding | Supernatural Destiel AU ficlet | 1,925 Word Count | Read on Ao3

Happy Pride everyone! There’s actually another fic I’m currently working on for pride, but I was in the mood for some domestic gay marriage fluff, so I wrote up this quick little ficlet before the month of June is over, as I’m unsure when the other one will be finished/posted. Comment/Like/Reblog as you like, I’d appreciate some good vibes sent my way! (And yes, if you couldn’t tell from the title, this fic is inspired by the Billy Idol song White Wedding)

“I don’t think I can do this.”

Dean worried at the chapped skin on his bottom lip with his teeth, and when it split open, he swiped his tongue across it quickly, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth, and sticking to the back of his front teeth.

When he looked at himself in the mirror, the image was distorted, the panic messy to pinpoint. His state of duress abetted in his current appearance, which less than satisfactory in his opinion. His suit suddenly felt very tight, his tie was definitely crooked, and someone must have turned up the heat—it had to be the only explanation as Dean was sweating profusely—just to name a few of the many things going absolutely wrong.

“I can’t go out there looking like this! People would think I look like a freaking homeless person.”

“People aren’t going to think that, Dean, because you look fine.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Which hasn’t changed the last time I said it. Not that I haven’t been saying the exact same thing for an hour now, because I have.”

Dean’s little brother raised a brow, and Dean couldn’t help but feel slightly jealous at his cool head, the clear mind Sam seemed to always have, even when the potential for everything to go wrong was very high. And it was very high, because nothing was ever good for Dean.

The older Winchester had the worst of luck, so this? This was too good to be true. He could hear the elated chatter just outside the room he was being hosted in, which only served to make him more nervous. That many people bearing witness to the miracle, or the enormous disaster this could turn out to be, because why wouldn’t it for Dean?

Sam sighed, and stood behind his big brother, clapping both hands on the shoulders of Dean’s suit.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what? I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to, Dean. You’re my brother. You honestly don’t think I know you by now? You were making that face again.” Dean furrowed his brow, but let Sam continue.

“You know, that face that means you’re trying to pinpoint anything that could be slightly off so you have an excuse to not do something, because you think it’ll go horribly wrong. God forbid anything good happen to Dean Winchester.” Caught!

Dean’s answering silence was enough for Sam to confirm he was right, which he usually is, the bastard, but it also helps Dean have a sound voice of reason, which he’s reminded more often than not he needs just as much as oxygen and water, probably—since his own was apparently so fucked up and incredibly bias; worn down by years of emotional abuse and self loathing.

Sam sighed, this one laced with exasperation, and Dean feels guilty that he was the one who put it there.

“Dean, how many times do we all have to remind you that your an awesome guy? An amazing person who deserves everything good for once? Dad shouldn’t have been so hard on us, you shouldn’t have had to raise me...there’s a lot that I wish I could change, Dean. But you matter to me, to all those people out there who are here for you. You matter to Cas. And you deserve him, just as he deserves you.

“You’re a fantasitc brother, you stepped up and became a better dad, and I know more than anything, Dean, you’ll be just as great a husband. The past will always be there, but it doesn’t mean it has to dictate our futures. You taught me that. That we make our own choices. This one is meant to make you happy, and it’s okay to be nervous.”

“Yeah, Sam, I get that, but what if I go out there and Cas suddenly doesn’t want to marry me anymore? He realizes that he doesn’t want to be saddled down with a mess...with-with a loser, with me. That he remembers how perfect he is, and how perfect I’m not, and then cancels the wedding right then and there.” Dean clenched his eyes shut tightly, and his fists and jaw followed suit, his head angled down to the floor.

He couldn’t do this. It would hurt him more to get out there and see the disscontempt for him in Castiel’s beautiful, blue eyes than it would to just run now and escape the imminent catastrophe that would be this wedding. His suit didn’t fit, he was convinced his tie was definitely not straight—the joke there wasn’t as funny as it should have been, and Dean detested it—his hair was mussed from the many times he ran his hands through it, and Castiel would notice his disheveled state the moment he walked down the aisle, and use it as further proof why he was way out Dean’s league, and Dean could never live up to the title: husband.

As much as Dean wanted it, and god did he want it, marriage wasn’t for him, it couldn’t be; Cas could do so much better than him, deserved better than him.

“I would never do that.”

Dean eyes snapped open, and he let out a gasp, whipping himself around so quickly that he almost fell over and made a fool of himself in front of one of the most important, if not the most important, persons in his life.

His brother let out a breath of relief, and smiled at Cas gratefully.

“Cas what are you...what you doing here?”

“Reassuring my anxiety ridden fiancé that I love him more than anything in the whole world, and reminding him that even though his worries are valid, they’re foolish, and untrue. You’re gorgeous, Dean.” Cas smiled softly, stepping forward, and took Dean’s face in his hands.

Tears were both in their eyes, and the slight tremor in Cas’ hand lent Dean the knowledge he was probably really nervous as well, and wanted to see Dean to reassure himself. At that, he couldn’t help but grin down at his soon to be husband, his Cas, and Castiel mirrored the expression.

“You are the most amazing person I have ever met, Dean Winchester, so don’t you doubt that for a second.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him.” Sam huffed, sending one of his patented bitchfaces over to his big brother, the one said ‘I told you so’, in not as many words.

“I wouldn’t want to marry anybody else,” Cas added, nodding at Sam with another soft smile.

When he looked back at Dean, the depth in those ocean eyes almost took his breath away, and his lips parted in a silent gasp.

“I love you, and not even a slightly askew tie would change that.”

Dean chuckled, and wiped away his, albeit very manly, tears, quickly before they could stain his cheeks.

“See, Sammy, I told you. I knew something was off.”

“Yeah, only because you kept fiddling with it.” Sam rolled his eyes.

Castiel smoothed his hands down Dean’s lapels, and fixed his tie, the hands of his fiancé on him, soothing him more than he’d like to admit. He reached up and fixed Dean’s hair as well, his hand falling to his cheek when he was done.

Dean leaned into Cas’ hand, and closed his eyes, using the touch as a means to ground himself, every worry washing away; down and off his shoulders.

“I love you.”

Their foreheads met, words of endearment whispered between one another.

“I love you too, Cas.”

They kiss, and when Dean is ready, they pull away. He takes a deep breath, hands reaching out to take a hold of Cas’ hands, and gave them a squeeze. Cas squeezes back.

“As nice as this is,” Sam butted in, “how about you do this out there, and you know, get married?”

“I like that idea very much, actually.” Cas chuckled, and raised a questioning brow at Dean, who nods, and grins back at his query.

“Yeah, I...I think I’m ready to finally make you Castiel Winchester, Cas.”

“Finally.”

They all laugh at Sam’s insistence, and the music filters down the hallway and through the door, signaling the trio that ceremony has started.

Castiel squeezes Dean’s hands once more, stealing his attention away from the door. When green meets blue, he smiles, and Dean’s never been more sure of anything.

“Let’s walk down the aisle together, Dean. I couldn’t think of any giving away more fitting than that.”

“Hell yeah. Let’s do it.” The resulting beam from Castiel is enough to make Dean swoon, and fall in love all over again.

Sam grins, and opens the door to meet the rest of the wedding party down the hall.

Gabriel and Sam take each other’s arms, as do Charlie and Meg, and the grooms stop right at the entrance together, hand in hand, waiting for their best men and women to walk down to their own places at the alter. The guests stand for them, when it’s their turn, clapping and crying, and Dean couldn’t even believe he thought it would be anything less than perfect.

Because as he and Cas make their way down to the aisle, side by side as promised, as he and Cas take each other’s hands and recite their vows, as he and Cas seal their union with a kiss, and another, and another and...

As he and Cas are declared husbands by the officiator that’s exactly what it is. Perfect.

Dean chuckles to himself later, during their first dance as a couple, and Cas looks at him with a smile, blue eyes sparkling.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing really. Just that...I don’t think I’ve ever been gay a wedding before.”

Dean grins when Cas throws his head back in a beautiful burst of laughter.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but you love me. Husband.”

“I do. Husband.”

They’re silent for a moment before the both of them are reduced to giggles.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been to a gay wedding either.” Cas says through his fit.

“Well, that’s changed now, I suppose.”

“Yeah, guess so, huh Cas?”

They stare at each other for a moment, all fond looks and gooey smiles, before their lips meet, and Dean Winchester finds that he is finally ready to accept that good things can, and will, happen to him.

When they pull away, Dean looks over to his family, their family, and grins at their support.

Charlie gives him a thumbs up, and Gabriel winks suggestively at the both of them, to which Dean rolls his eyes at. Meg congratulates ‘Clarence’ when they leave the dance floor, and Sam immediately wraps his arms around his brother, and then follows it up with a hug for his brother-in-law. Bobby tries to hide the fact he was crying, which Ellen resolutely teases him for, and Jo make fun of Dean for no longer being a bachelor. Balthazar drunkenly whisks Cas away to the dance floor sometime during the night, and Jody and Donna stay by the buffet table, though not after giving the married couple their love.

All in all, it was an awesome night, just like everybody assured Dean it would be. (Especially with people as awesome as these guys by his side).

‘Hey little sister...’

‘What have you done...’

“Hey little sister...’

‘Who’s the only one...’

‘It’s a nice day to...’

‘Start again...’

‘It’s nice day for a...’

‘White Wedding...’

‘It’s a nice day to...’

‘Start again...’

Yeah, it was wasn’t it?