#am seen as a person. All I am is bragging rights for my mom. I don’t feel loved. I don’t feel seen. I haven’t felt like I had an actual

[mrs-weasley-reid]

JUST SAY WHEN

Spencer Reid x writer!reader

Synopsis: You always choose Spencer Reid, but is it the right choice? Word Count: 3500+ WARNING: ANGST. not proofread!!! A/N: oh, here we go again... the angst plot in my head. this one feels disorganized. like my writing is all over. i've had this one in my drafts for over a month. but today i have the courage to hit post. honestly have mixed feelings about this. it's a new type of reader I'm dabbling in so i really am anxious about this. tell me what you think!

 “You should’ve seen him when he first saw me.”

THE PURCHASE.

 Vast lavender field soaked in chamomile tea. Dusty sunset through the window pane. Overwhelming aroma of old books. One figure tiptoes to the eighth shelf. Arm stretched to reach an old copy of The Scarlet Letter.

 Whenever Spencer is asked what he felt at that moment, he thinks, “Like I saw an angel freshly descended from heaven.”

 “Shit—” Gasps by the said angel.

 A book and body drop on the carpeted floor.

 Spencer runs to your aid. A failed attempt to prevent the seething pain you momentarily felt. First of many.

 “Are you okay?” He asks, kneeling next to you. Spencer reflexively offers his hand.

 You chuckle, taking his hand, and you feel him tense. “Don’t worry, I’ve had it worse.” You retract your limb to focus the pads of your hands on dusting yourself, squatting down to pick up the book.

 Spencer nods unknowingly despite the confusion and the knots in his eyebrows. He glances at the book, “That’s a great book.”

 Following his gaze, you hoist it up with a grin. “Very,” You emphasize. “I’ve read this, like, ten— thirteen times?” You brag excitedly, sparkling eyes as you meet his big brown sight.

 “Eighty-four.”

 You hum, raising your brows. 

 “I’ve read it eighty-four times.” Spencer shyly smiles, tight lips in a curved line. His hands grip the strap of his leather satchel. Socializing has always been his worst skill, let alone talking to someone as beautiful as you. He can’t help but feel his tongue twist itself into knots he can’t untie.

 You blink—slowly and adorably innocent. “What?” You chirp. It’s not every day you meet someone who’s read a book more times than you. Plus, the boy in front of you is quite the charmer, and you’re distracted by the glow of hazels in his eyes. 

 Spencer nibbles on his lips, and a faint reddish glow creeps all over the land of his skin. “I— uh, I have to go. Bye.” He shuffles as if his body can’t figure out where to direct itself and ends up malfunctioning in the process. In the end, he walks past you, rushing to another aisle.

 It takes you roughly twenty seconds to process that he’s no longer in front of you, twisting your body to his trail. “Eighty-four?!” You exclaim, baffled. 

 Your feet chase after him. “Wait!” You try to match his pace, almost jogging to catch up. “How is that even possible?” You get past him, completely blocking his way. “You just love this book so much that you read it on a loop, or what?” 

 “It really isn’t that big of a deal…” He mumbles, eyes glitching from one title to another, to towers of spines except you. A book with such a beautiful cover, his hands itch to reach and flip every page into memory.

 You place your hands on your hips, furrowing your brows. “Tell me how you read it eighty-four times. I won’t leave you alone until you do. And I swear I’m the most annoying person you’ll ever meet, so it might be in your best interest to get rid of me quickly before you go insane.” You shrug like it’s a normal thing to say to a stranger.

 Curiosity brims from your eyes, like a big doe's eyes begging a prey to bite her limb for the sake of adventure. And like a pirate tempted by a siren, Spencer takes the bait.

 “My mom loves the book, so I read it to her all the time.” He admits, a hand behind his neck. It’s the start of a long explanation. You don’t dare stop him. Your eyes are fully fixed on his moving lips. He can feel it. And he fights not to meet yours because he just might explode.

 Right then and there, you know the small contact from his hand completely stole your heart. And his words hold you into a willing prisoner because you saw him first from afar. Because you specifically chose the book in your hand despite having two copies of it to avoid first contact. Because you didn’t want him to know how long you’ve been staring. 

 Spencer gets abruptly cut off by a patron bumping into him. You fight every willpower in your chest to keep yourself from making a scene in a mall’s bookstore, shifting your attention to him.

 “Want to talk more about it over coffee?” 

 “I was mesmerized. The beauty of his mind was so intricate I couldn’t stop myself from falling even if I tried. I wanted him to own me. And it happened just as I wanted. I just didn’t know it’d be torture… Reaching his hand out was his fatal mistake. Taking his hand was my demise.”

THE FIRST CHIP.

 Disheveled. Broken. Sharp.

 Big brown eyes dull in the dead of the night. Spencer stands before you with indifference.

 He’s changed.

 But the grip on the neck of his satchel tells you your Spencer is still there behind the walls he put up. The first of many false hopes you convince yourself to believe.

 Five months. You’ve been dating Spencer Reid for only five months. And you’re in love with every fiber of his being. Only five months, and you know you’d love him for the longest run. 

 When people ask why you love him, you say, “Because I know he’ll never hurt me.”

 Then it happens.

 Tobias Hankel. 

 You loathe the name the moment you hear it. Accidentally burn yourself in the middle of making dinner when you receive a call from Penelope Garcia that Spencer’s been kidnapped by a serial killer. 

 In the moment, you panic. Almost causing a huge fire in your apartment building as you babble over the phone, asking Penelope where the hell your boyfriend is being held as if the word kidnapped meant a mark on a map.

 Then, you worry. You beg Penelope to let you in on the progress of his search. You pace in your living room. You read every true crime book on your shelf. You pray on each page that an answer will dawn on you and that you’ll have something of use to locate Spencer, as if you knew everything when, in reality, all you knew was that he’s held captive by some sick villain in your story. 

 You felt like every sidekick in a hero’s movie. Useless.

 When Penelope tells you that he’s on his way home, you’re never too tired or sleep-deprived to drive to his place. You waited hours outside his doorstep. You ignore the shivery breeze all over your skin, as you’d forgotten to change into something more weather-appropriate. You don’t worry about the unattended kitchen, the food you are excited to make. 

 You only think about one thing: be the first person Spencer sees when he comes home. 

 He arrives in the sixth hour, close to dawn. There's a gauze on his temple. His eyes are glued to the wooden floor.

 It’s a strength not to cry out from the sight. Worry courses throughout your body. But the relief that he’s made it home safe cancels the anxiety out of your head. All you want is to cradle him, wrap him in your arms to remind him of home, of safety, of being loved.

 You take Spencer into a tight hug. “I was so worried.” You whisper in his chest, breathing in his wake. He’s safe. Everything should be okay. “I’m glad you’re safe. I care about you so much.”

 Only for him to say, “You should go home. It’s late.”

 “I’m not gonna leave you by yourself.” You shake your head, pulling away to stare at his empty face. Your palm cups his cheek, and it’s cold. He doesn’t lean against it. He simply winces like your touch is dangerous.

 “I’m too tired to entertain a guest.”

 You.

 A guest.

 There’s a small sting inside your chest that you ignore don’t notice. Your heart feels similar to a teacup with a chip on its rims. Delicately painful to the touch. 

 You swallow the thick air in the middle of your throat, nodding as you bite the tears from the back of your eyes. “Alright, my love…” You softly enunciate, not wanting to sob at the sight of Spencer avoiding your image.

 The spark in him that you love so much is nowhere to be found. Only hatred and something you can’t figure out swim behind his irises. He doesn’t even reach for your hand. Doesn’t hum in delight like he always does when your skin caresses him.

 A prominent chip marks your being. As if you had been dropped from two floors down. 

 You shove the thought away. 

 You tell yourself that Spencer needs his space. Tell yourself that he needs time to process, to heal. You tell yourself it’s okay because Spencer’s had a long week. You tell yourself it’s not about you.

 You leave a kiss on his cheek, “Rest well. Call me if you need anything.” You walk down the stairs with a weight you don’t discern. 

 Spencer doesn’t say he will.

 And he didn’t.

 “It takes a while before I realize the chip he caused. And even then, I said, what is love if I never get hurt? What is love if there’s no struggle? Besides, there are moments when the chip didn’t hurt. Minimum effort filled the aching void. Simplest gestures blinded me. Sweetest words impaired my hearing. I wasn’t hypnotized or caught in a spell. It’s plain and simple. He had a hold on me. I chose not to break free.”

THE VOICES IN HIS HEAD.

 “Oh, here we go again.”

 You feel yourself physically shrink.

 Spencer rolls his eyes, pushing one hand into the depths of his right eye socket. Heavy sighs drool off his lips. The pounding in his head makes his vision blurry. And you’re convinced some type of voice tells him you’re no one important in his life. 

 You had asked him if he’d like to take a break from his files. After he’d said no, you carefully made a point that he hadn’t eaten anything the whole day. Then, you’re back to the now, where Spencer snaps at the mere mention of taking his fingers off the thin edges of the case. 

 A year into loving him. A year into being his solace—his words that now seem to be a lie—and you feel your entire body tense with every twitch and narrow of his eyes. 

 “Can’t you just leave me alone?” 

 Your chest tightens. A tug hitches your breath. A strong pressure sits over your lungs, deflating every air out without any chance of inflating back. 

 Since that night, Spencer changed. And you don't blame him. Completely understanding the stake of his trauma. Motivated to make his days better, to make him feel better. 

 The first month since that evening, Spencer didn’t text or call. He didn’t answer yours either. He isolated himself, and you’d heard from JJ that they even had a hard time talking to him. 

 So, you thought you weren't alone. That you weren't the problem. Because if everybody else can't reach him, then Spencer must want his solitude.

 You climb on your shelf. You patiently wait for him to want you again. You let it happen. Let him consume you despite the ache that gnaws in the back of your mind.

 And when he comes knocking on your door. You swing it so fast, eager to have him back in your arms. You lock the tingly feeling inside a vault. Because Spencer said he loves you that day.

 “I’m trying to do my job. It’s a difficult job, unlike yours, where you just scribble on paper or tap on your annoying keyboard and be done for the day.” 

 It cracks. Every fiber of your being cracks. The colorful memories are stricken with connected lines, slowly turning into a depressing gray. 

 You crack internally. A glass hit with force enough to break but not enough to shatter apart. Your skin holds up every broken part like a puzzle piece. 

 He’s just mad. He doesn’t mean it. You chant inside your head. You don’t know who you’re lying to.

 Spencer said he loves your writing. Love every word lined by your weaving hand. Love the stories formed from mundane moments and late nights. Love the emotions that brim within spaces and punctuation marks. 

 And you wonder if you should've kept not believing it. If you should've stayed appreciative but never convinced.

 “There are people’s lives at stake. I’m saving people’s lives, not filling their free time by reading your made-up stories.” 

 A target made to be maimed. Spencer aims at the center with precision. And you’re stricken with every shot.

 Your feet step back on their own. A subconscious pull for safety. Heart beats in fear, in ache. 

 “I’m sorry.”

 It dies in your throat. Your body shakes in so much pain you don't mind the way your heart and lungs shrink. Afraid that tears may fall, willing them to stay in place—in the back of your eyes where Spencer won't find them. 

 His migraines worsen. You tell yourself. 

 He’s still in pain. You remind yourself.

 His job is more important. You convince yourself. 

 Excuses after excuses. You make it a habit. Make excuses for him to distract the piercing agony.

 “W-why don’t I give you some space? Refill your cup?” You offer a smile like it’s a job you must carry successfully.

 Spencer gulps, hands in his pockets. “That would be great. Thanks.” He replies, getting back on his seat as if he hadn’t just cut through you like a sharp ax splitting a small trunk in half.

 You flinch when he shuts the door as soon as you step out of the room. Each piece vibrates in place, waiting for the last hit.

 “Litany of reasons come after that. I woke up each day with yet another excuse. A shameful attempt to sell what was rotten. Until I took a bite of it myself, and I tasted the sickening truth.”

THE DESTROYED SAND CASTLE.

 It's deafening. 

 The sound of you shattering into a thousand pieces. Sharp edges cut through every fabric of what you thought was true, what you thought was real. 

 “I love her.”

 But you're not her.

 You’re not the great Dr. Maeve Donovan. The woman who kept his migraines at bay, if not anything, cured them. The smart, beautiful, successful woman who rang every local pay phone in his vicinity. The woman that occupied his waking days. Days he went through next to you.

 Dr. Maeve Donovan. Spencer’s great love.

 And he’s never seen her in person until her last breath. But her voice is enough to steal him away from you. Enough for the color in Spencer’s skin to light back up after years of your failed attempts. Enough for Spencer to fall in love with her. Enough to stay in love with her despite her being gone in the wind. Despite you sleeping next to him every single night.

 She was enough. The idea of her is enough.

 “I love her.”

 Love. Present tense. Spencer loves her. 

 You don’t remember the last time he’d ever said those words to you. Don’t remember the genuine emotions that radiate along those words. Don’t remember the last time you’ve ever felt loved by him.

 “Hey…” 

 You walk past Penelope. You don't realize it until she catches your arm, distracted by the fatal explosion inside your chest. You can see the way your world crumbles like a sand castle kicked by the meanest bully.

 “Sweetie, what’s wrong? Did you not find Reid? Is he not in Hotch’s office?” Her eyes soften at the sight of your tears flowing like a steady river. “He’s safe, I promise. Just a little graze, you’ll see.” She tries to console you, rubbing the side of your arm.

 Just a little graze.

 Spencer has been carving little grazes on you for years, and the final blow causes your entire life to shatter in fine dust—close to nonexistence. 

 “Do you mind telling Spencer that there was an emergency, so I had to go?” Your voice breaks with each syllable, fighting the sobs from spilling out. It’s numbingly painful. Every part of you is sore and aching. 

 Penelope furrows her brows, “Sure, but is everything okay? What emergency?” She pries, no bad intentions, simply a sign of her kindness.

 You take a rough gulp. “I…” You look into her eyes, begging for her not to ask further. 

 She nods, giving you a soft squeeze on your arm and a warm smile. That's when you knew that she knew exactly the source of your nonstop tears. Maybe no longer than you did because you can see the anger in her eyes. At least she's on your side. And it's enough for you. “Call me if you need anything, love,” Penelope says, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. “I’m always here for you. I’m always ready to be on your side.” She adds against your neck.

 And you're heading towards the elevator without a second thought.

 You hear your name as the doors close, lifting your head to find Spencer coming out of the bullpen. Penelope is true to her words, blocking him from reaching where you stand. His voice makes your insides churn. The sound of your name rolling off his tongue is sickening.

 Your body collapses on the floor. The sobs finally echo within the tight space. The tears endlessly flow in raging torrents between floors. You wrap your arms around your torso, holding yourself together.

 But it's way too late.

 Every piece of you has already shattered into messy pieces. Spread out in broken parts, unfit even if you tried to glue yourself back together. 

 Spencer has destroyed the castle you've built. The castle you made just for him. 

 You wonder if it's all for show. If Spencer chose to keep you just to avoid his boredom when Maeve’s unreachable. If he only tolerated you to fill her physical absence.

 But you should’ve known that it was a matter of time. His kisses were merely ghosts. His touch was stinging cold. His words were hallow. 

 The signs were clear in plain sight.

 Spencer stopped loving you a long time ago.

 "It's my fault." You say out loud, as if thinking it isn't painful enough.

 You made a choice. Each day, you choose to make up new reasons why Spencer is distant. You convince yourself that you aren't hurt by his cold glances. You tell yourself that it’s not torture if you love him.

 The elevator dings to the last floor.

 “Remnants of myself dried up inside that box.”

 Tongue runs over the softness of your lips as the final lines of your book approach with the same heart-wrenching ache. For the audience, at least.

 You flip the page, lifting your gaze. You scan the mass of teary eyes and silent sobs.

 There, you find two familiar faces. Penelope sniffs next to Rossi, who’s smiling proudly. The sweet blonde became your secret ray of sunshine. And the Italian mentored your way to a New York Times bestseller.

 "In that tight space. In the center of those four moving walls. I wished so much that he'd only said when. When everything felt too much. When I was unwanted. When he stopped loving me. I would've understood. Because I always did."

 What you don’t expect is the third familiar figure. It stands in the farthest back. A shadow if you don’t know any better. You take a deep breath.

 The next words are etched in your brain. The first words you’ve ever written in the making of the book under your palm. The words that still ring in your ears.

 “I must say, it’s not that I never learned. I learned so much that within the cracks of my broken self, I filled them with empty promises. Promises I never kept. Promises I broke because I believed I’d be fixed in a couple of days. I believed that the space between pieces of me would mend if I made the choice to stay.”

 His hair is unkempt. His eyes are as brown as the healthiest earth. His build is leaner. His face is worn out by horrors you don't dare imagine.

 Flashes of his pleas, his tears, his knocks on your door. You remember them like they were just yesterday. The pain that left a prominent indentation on your heart.

 Tattoos of pain adorn his face. Has he been there the entire time? Do you really care if he was?

 You lock eyes with Spencer, pausing for a moment. You let the past seep in. You unlock the vault of your broken pieces. Let them sing in agony. Let him hear the melody of your suffering.

 And then it stops. They vanish through the air of peace. The relief of moving on.

 You smile at him. The one that started everything.

 “It’s important to know that I always had a choice. And with that is the acceptance that each time I chose wrong.”

reid masterlist | masterlist

[casualsnickers]

Month of Emmet Quick Write #11

Prompt #11: Photo

Dawn is visiting the two brothers again to spend some time with Ingo while on winter break. She also brought some pictures from Hisui to flip through for a project of hers. Emmet gets invited to see a few of them and he's... mildy concerned, to say the least. Old habits really do die hard.

Read the whole thing below the cut.

“Dawn, these are absolutely abhorrent and you need to delete them.”

“But what’s wrong with them? They’re funny!”

Emmet sat nearby, Eelektross coiled around him as Emmet loaded that week’s dishes into the dishwasher. Emmet could practically hear the ludicrous amount of stress that rolled off of his brother’s voice as both him and his invited guest, Dawn, sat nearby in the living room.

“How were these pictures even taken in the first place? Dawn, the perspectives on these are not in first person.”

“Two of my pokémon have opposable thumbs, uncle.” 

“Why are there pictures of me in here? I don’t remember you ever taking these.”

From over the top of the couch, Dawn peered at Emmet, excitedly waving her phone around as if to beckon him over. “Uncle Emmet! Uncle Emmet!I need you to look at these pictures for me! Pretty please? I took them back in Hisui, and I want to know which ones I should get printed out!”

“Preferably none of them!” Ingo voiced. Ingo then shuddered. “Please don’t show any of these to your guardians- they would sooner have my neck.”

“What’s wrong with the pictures?” Emmet carefully set down what progress he’d made on the dishes, gently accepting Dawn’s phone as the teenager made room on the couch, eagerly snuggling in next to him as she began to flip through the pictures.

“Okay, okay! Look, look, look! Tell me which ones I should print out! I wanna put a few on my wall back home.”

“Very well.” Emmet carefully began to flip through the pictures, the first one making him do a double take. The first picture featured Dawn standing in some massive grassy field, her entire head obscured within a massive Gyarados’s mouth, saliva dripping onto her uniform. She was making a double thumbs-up gesture despite the fact that the Gyarados in question was glaring at her headless torso.

Another picture featured Dawn grinning and standing enthusiastically in front of what looked to be an active volcano pit, a massive, blurry Arcanine-like creature bearing down on top of her with all of its teeth exposed while Dawn was none the wiser, grinning as if taking a picture in front of a tourist hotspot.

Yet another picture, blurrier than the last, featured Dawn squaring up with an utterly massive Ursaring with only her bare hands in the middle of what looked to be a marsh. Another Ursaring laid a few paces away, its body twisted in an odd fashion like a pretzel.

Emmet swallowed, sparing Dawn a bewildered glance. “...I am… deeply concerned. I also have multiple questions.”

“You haven’t even seen the best ones yet!” Dawn complained, completely ignoring the fact that the context of the photos were all but missing. “Keep going through them! There’s like a bajillion of these in my photo gallery and I want to showcase only the best!”

This girl is insane. “Please define what ‘only the best’ means to you.”

Dawn looked thoughtful for a moment. “Hmm. Okay! I know! Pick the ones that surprise you the most. See, you guys are the first to see these pictures. My mom would absolutely murder me if she saw any of these but I mean- bragging rights, so- “

“None of these are ‘bragging rights’, Miss Dawn,” Ingo groaned, his head in his hands.

“I just think it’d be funny if I put up a string of these in my room and then invited my friends over and they saw.”

“A conversation piece?” Emmet questioned.

“...Yeah! That! I’m creating an energy!”

“That energy is fear and probably uneasiness,” Emmet muttered under his breath. He could see the humor in a few of them and Dawn looked to be having fun for the most part. But then, Emmet knew next to nothing about Hisui and how it was for both Dawn and Ingo, having heard nothing about the subject.

Dawn flipped over to another photo that made Emmet pale in the face. The picture was majorly zoomed out but Emmet could easily see Dawn’s blurry silhouette. She was falling head first, her arms and legs stretched out to her sides as a large Braviary darted after her, some kind of massive electrical storm moving in the background.

The next photo was surprisingly of Ingo. Both Ingo and Dawn were sitting calmly in some wooden hut, Emmet recognizing both Ingo’s Gliscor and Alakazam as they sat around a roaring fire. However, the main oddity of the photo was the fact that a massive Froslass with glowing red eyes was positioned directly outside the window with its face pressed up against the glass, reaching in one sleeved hand to quietly unlock the door; something that clearly neither of them had realized when the picture had been taken.

Yet another photo showcased Ingo way up high. So high that he was practically a smudge on the cliff he was scaling. With his bare hands. And no climbing equipment. Emmet recognized Sneasler’s form a ways above Ingo. Dawn was in the forefront facing the camera, pointing exasperatedly at Ingo while shaking her head. Some other boy- one that looked remarkably similar to Dawn- was almost losing it in the forefront with his eyes wide as he yelled something.

Dawn then tugged hard on Emmet’s sleeve. “This one’s my personal favorite.” She clicked over to a wide-shot photo where both her and Ingo were scarcely visible due to some kind of shrapnel explosion taking place between them. Emmet could just barely make out Ingo’s silhouette and signature pose- the one they used to mirror while on the Multi Line- but Dawn was at the forefront, mirroring Ingo’s pose while commanding… a Magikarp. A Magikarp whose expression conveyed an unspeakable amount of resignation and terror.

“What happened? In this photo?” 

“Path of Solitude. Magikarp.” Though Dawn was still smiling, she regarded Ingo coldly, her eyes brimming with venom as she balled her hands into fists. “His idea. To bring a Voltorb to a Splash fight.”

“And you used Self-Destruct?” Emmet blurted out incredulously. “No... Wait.” He grimaced, modeling Dawn’s same expression of irritation as he scooted a centimeter away from his brother. “That is standard Ingo behavior: tank everybody’s pokémon whenever convenient in the worst way possible. No strategy; only brute force.”

Ingo immediately went red in the face, pointedly not meeting either Dawn nor Emmet’s accusatory stares. “We are not getting into the debate about using Earthquake again-”

“It took a hundred tries for me to beat you!” Dawn retorted angrily, reaching across Emmet to grab at Ingo’s coat. “You traumatized Guppy! You made me use so many experience candies! It wasn’t even beneficial to the pokédex!”

They were optional!”

“Cruel and unusual punishment!” Dawn cried, crossing her arms. “Uncle Emmet, I need you to destroy Ingo for me. Teach him a lesson.”

Emmet immediately rolled up his sleeves. “Gladly.”

Ingo held up his hands in surrender. “Could you possibly reconsider?”

Emmet would have dropped the matter. He was a bit tired from taking care of the household chores and his pokémon hadn’t reacted in the slightest at word of a pokémon battle. But that was before Dawn had tugged on his sleeve again, a photo already preloaded, the cutesy charms on her phone jangling as she shoved her phone into Emmet’s awaiting hands.

“I have more,” she spoke slowly, her glare still trained on Ingo as she began flipping through other pictures. “There are several just like these. Uncle Ingo challenged me to a lot of solitude battles. A lot. Good thing I kept them, huh?”

[the-cult-of-russo]

Do Me Damage (Part 1)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Warnings: cursing, angst, mentions of drugs. 

A/N: So, I wrote this a long ass time ago (before I disappeared) and came across it in my docs. There’s four parts to it and I’ll admit, its not quite finished or wrapped up fully, but I figured I’d give you guys something to read while I’m working on another Billy story. If people like this one, I’d be open to really finishing it off. I got really paranoid that I’d already posted this because it felt so familiar when reading it (of course it did, I fucking wrote it lmao) but I can’t find it on my blog so I’m gonna take a guess that I never posted it.

Name of this fic is from the song of the same name by Digital Daggers.

We made a cut without precision

And we stitched it up the best two children could

But we were ruled by indecision

And we pushed and pulled more than two people should

When you want me I am here

When you change your mind again and disappear

When it's settled and all is clear

Oh, you change your mind again and want me near

So do me damage or do me right

We could be the ones who see the other side

So do me damage or do me right

We could be the only lovers left alive

We made a pact and said forever

Then we blurred the lines so much, we lost our way

We were broken and stuck together (stuck together)

Then we tried to find the reasons we should stay

When you want me I am here

Then you change your mind again and disappear

So do me damage or do me right

We could be the ones who see the other side

So do me damage or do me right

We could be the only lovers left alive

When it's settled and all is clear

When you want me I am near

When you say that you're mine I come running everytime

—--------------------

You stepped out of your car, the moonlight casting an eerie glow on the streets of New York as you looked around. The money in your pocket seemed to be burning a hole right through you and you ignored it as you made your way down the street. Paranoia was something you lived with now. It was as normal to you as breathing. You'd learned to deal with it but it never went away. That's why you had parked your car a few blocks from where you needed to be. There was a bitter chill in the air and you wrapped your scarf tighter around you as your feet picked up their pace. As you turned a corner, you saw some kind of event going on outside of the Wythe Hotel. There were people in fancy clothes and others pulling up in cars as the valet helped them. You outwardly rolled your eyes as you kept walking. You despised these kinds of people. Living their high life and throwing their cash around. The world was your oyster if you had enough money. You'd admit to feeling jealous but it was mostly bitterness at how different your life had been. You felt like you'd been shit on since you came out of your mom's womb. These people were in there having the time of their life as they bragged about all of their shit and they were the same people that would walk past a homeless person while looking down on them or tell them to get a job. You wished the place would go up in flames. 

Heaving a heavy sigh, your boots thumped softly against the pavement as you got ready to cross the street so you didn't have to walk through the sea of stupidly rich assholes. Your feet stopped in their tracks though as someone got out of a car. Your face paled, eyes wide and confused, looking like you'd seen a ghost. You felt like you had. It was Billy. But it couldn't be Billy because you'd been sure for the past ten years that Billy was dead. Yet standing in the middle of the sidewalk, you were more than sure it was him. He looked different, his hair short at the sides, longer and slicked back on the top. He was wearing a tailored dark grey suit with a black pea coat on top. Your feet refused to move as you stared on, feeling bewildered and you watched him help a pretty blonde in a red dress out of the car. The shock wore off as the realisation set in. Billy was alive. That meant he'd willingly left you behind without a word for all of these years. The betrayal you felt was scathing. 

Your body was coiled and tense with anger, your fists clenched tight with your nails digging into your palms. You watched as he laughed and smiled with the girl on his arm as he made his way inside. It seemed like he finally got the life he always wanted. You just weren't included in it. Your top lip curled in a snarl before you crossed the street. You still had money to deliver and Tony wasn't known for being a patient guy. With each step, your body felt heavier as the hurt got more intense. All this time you'd presumed he'd died overseas and here he was, living it up as one of the rich assholes you both used to take the piss out of. You couldn't believe it, yet you knew what you'd seen. What you couldn't understand was why. It didn't make sense to you and you couldn't figure it out. Like you had a puzzle but none of the pieces fit together. 

You finally got to the apartment building and jogged up the stairs before knocking on the miserable brown door. You could hear music coming from inside and a few seconds later the door swung open. Tony was an older man, his greying brown hair chin length and dishevelled as it always was. 

"Y/N! You got the cash?" He asked jovially. You could see by the glazed-over look in his brown eyes that he was high. It wasn't exactly unusual.

"Yep," you stated simply before grabbing the large wad of cash out of your leather jacket. You handed it over to him and he chuckled as he took it. He didn't bother to count it, you'd been working for him for years now. It took a while but he trusted you. 

"You wanna come in? I got some spare H," he asked with raised brows. Your face was unimpressed as it always was when he asked that question.

"Nah, I'm good," you smirked sardonically. He always asked and you always turned him down. You'd never used the stuff and you had no desire to. 

"Alright, no need to be such a Debbie downer, jeez," he huffed. He disappeared inside his apartment before he appeared once more, handing you some clear bags with powder in them. You took them and stuffed them in your pocket. Once upon a time, you felt dirty for doing what you did, but now you'd become immune to the feeling. You didn't have many other opportunities in life and by this point, it was just easier to continue what you were doing than find something else. You didn't like it though. You thought frequently of getting out of the business and trying to do something legit. Something that didn't make you feel guilty or wrong. What was the point though? No qualifications, no experience, no anything. You'd end up with a shitty-paying job like you did when you got out of the group home. Barely make enough to live. It was just easier this way. Getting out and doing something worthwhile was just a pipedream for now. 

When you were 18 and left the group home, Billy was serving his first term in the Marines. Alone, you'd gotten a job at a diner and got a small crappy apartment for the both of you. That was the plan, he'd have a home to come back to. But after struggling at the job and Billy not coming back and you thinking he was dead, you found yourself turning to this way of life instead. Tony had been a regular at the diner and you'd struck up an odd sort of friendship or camaraderie with him. After hearing you complain about how little you got paid and how much you were struggling, he offered you a job. You’d been conflicted but after being kicked out for not being able to pay the rent on the shitty apartment and then losing your job due to cutbacks, you didn't feel like you had much choice. And the money was much better. You'd been able to get yourself a nicer apartment, even if it was still small and not in the best part of town. You'd also been able to save up some money in case you needed it. You wondered if one day you'd have enough that you could get out of the game and pursue something different. You already had an idea of what you might want to do. 

After saying goodbye to Tony, you left to go home. You couldn't help but think back to Billy. It was hard enough these past ten years thinking he'd died overseas and never seeing him again. But the harsh realisation that he'd chosen to walk away with no goodbye or explanation hurt way more. You'd been best friends. He'd been family. He just never came back and it was a painful and raw pill to swallow for you. You weren't sure you'd ever be able to understand it. You wanted to text Leanna and tell her what had happened. You'd met her at the job at the diner, both working together and becoming best friends. After also being laid off, she also turned to working for Tony. She only quit last year after becoming pregnant but you were still best friends. You'd told her how you'd been thinking of getting out of the game too and she'd introduced you to a friend of hers that worked in journalism, knowing you were interested in it. She knew about Billy and everything that happened but you weren't sure you were ready to tell her Billy wasn't dead after all. That he'd just walked away and left you behind to go and live his life. 

It hurt immensely and you were confused as all hell about it. But you had no choice but to accept it and move on. He clearly thought you weren't good enough to include in his life. Part of you wondered if he'd ever really cared. There was no point dwelling on it now. Billy didn't want you in his life and was doing just fine without you. He could go fuck himself and choke on all of his money. You didn't need him anyway.

----

One month later 

Billy stepped out of the bar into the crisp cold autumn air, feeling relaxed after a good night. He'd brought a group of his guys from Anvil after a job well done the day before as a treat. He hadn't actually been to The Moonlight Bar before but one of the guys swore it was a great place so he thought he'd try it out. He was pleasantly surprised by how upscale it was. He'd asked Frank if he wanted to come but of course, he was too busy with Karen to say yes. Billy would be disappointed with his best friend if he didn't like Karen so much and if he wasn't so happy for them. Billy and the guys had been drinking and just having a good time, but it was getting late now and he had an early morning so he decided to head home. He hadn't brought his car since he knew he'd be drinking so he planned on getting a cab home. He was standing outside of the bar, getting his cell out of his pocket to call a cab when he glanced over to the side. There was a man standing there talking in hushed tones to what he presumed was a woman but she was facing the other way. He looked on in disdain as the man gave her money and she gave him a plastic baggie of something in response. The man walked away hurriedly and his dark orbs stayed on the girl as she counted the money then she turned around. He almost choked on the air he was breathing as he saw you. It felt like someone poured ice-cold water over him, his entire body going rigid as he watched you stuff the money into your pocket. He felt like he was watching some kind of train wreck, unable to move or say anything as he just stared at you, a pain in his chest getting worse by the second.

It was you. Sure it had been years, many goddamn years, but it was you. A barrage of memories hit him like a freight train but they were accompanied by guilt and pain after seeing what you were doing with your life. It was only once you started to make your way over to a beat-up car parked on the sidewalk that his shocked stupor ended and before he knew what he was doing, his legs were taking long strides towards you.

"Y/N!" He called out, making your head whip around. If he had any doubts it was you before, they were gone now. You looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights and he was sure he was sporting the same look as he just blinked at you in shock. 

"Billy?" You asked, bewildered. Your voice trembled a little as you gaped at him.

"You… you're a drug dealer now?" He hadn't meant to say those words, let alone sound so hostile. But the anger had built up from watching you sell drugs, knowing your past and his own. This was the last thing he expected you to be doing. His little Bunny wasn't supposed to be selling drugs. She wasn't supposed to be living a life of crime. This wasn't the life he'd ever wanted for her. For you. 

The shock on your face got worse and he winced when you looked like he'd physically hit you with his words.

"Y/N…" he started sheepishly.

"Fuck you, Billy! I haven't seen you in what? Ten years? And this is what I get?" You asked angrily. He didn't miss how your eyes seemed to glisten and his chest constricted painfully at not only the thought of upsetting you but also your words. He'd missed you more than he could verbalise but he also knew he hadn't really left things well.

"I didn't… I'm sorry, alright? It was just a shock," he muttered lamely. You scoffed as you glared at him and all he could do was take you in. Despite your womanly curves now and the fact you'd aged, you were still the same girl he used to know. Sporting the same look you used to wear when he'd playfully steal your stupid stuffed bunny rabbit. The one that was in his closet and had been with him overseas on every goddamn tour he did over there. 

"It's nice to know you're alive by the way. I mean it's not like I spent almost ten years thinking you'd died in the Marines or anything," you said coldly. He winced again. Cutting you off the way he did had been harsh, he knew that. He had his reasons and he didn't think you'd want to hear them. But he honestly hadn't expected you to think he might have been dead. But then again he wasn't sure what he expected. The last time he saw you, he was leaving for the Marines and he'd never contacted you again. He'd been 18 and you'd been 17. You still had a year left in the group home and you'd been devastated when he told you he was joining the Marines. But once he'd convinced you, you'd been nothing but supportive. You talked about how you'd have your own place by the time he got back from his first tour and that he could live with you. That had been the plan until it wasn't. 

"I… I'm…" he couldn't get his damn mouth to work now he was here facing you. All the bravado and cockiness he'd come to personify had completely abandoned him.

"You're what? Sorry? I doubt that very much. Why are you even here, Billy?" You asked harshly. He swallowed thickly, his shoulder rolling as he glanced to the entrance and then back to you.

"I came here with a few of my guys. I didn't expect to see you," he admitted, knowing it might make matters even worse. 

"Right. Anvil, Mr Big CEO," you said snidely, face like thunder as you crossed your arms over your chest. After his perplexed look, you chuckled mirthlessly. 

"I spent years thinking you'd died over there. Not a single word from you, not even a fucking letter back. You never came back for me like you promised. And then a month ago… a month ago I see you. Getting out your fancy Rolls Royce with a tall blonde on your arm. I didn't think it was you at first, I mean how could it be, you were dead? Yet it was," you muttered bitterly. 

He frowned, his dark eyes sad and guilty as he stared at you.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He asked softly. 

"That's a joke, right?" You scoffed incredulously. 

"Why the fuck would I? You never came back, Billy! You just… you just left me. Just like everyone else. You left me and got the life you always wanted except I wasn't part of it anymore. But I guess that was your plan after all," you glared. 

"That was never the plan," he said vehemently, taking a step closer to you. When you took a step back he felt like someone punched a hole right through his chest. But he knew this was all his fault. He'd abandoned you just like your parents and the foster parents at the group home. He was just another person to let you down and now here you were, selling the poison that ruined your life to start with, just to get by. He felt sick.

"You know what? I don't care. I spent far too long hurting over you. Over thinking you'd died and then hurting when I realised you'd left me by choice. I'm not interested. Go back to your high and mighty life, Mr Russo," you sneered before you forcefully yanked your car door open. He was too hurt and shocked to do anything about it and all he could do was watch with a pain in his chest as you drove away. He knew you'd never care about his feeble excuses for why he did what he did and after seeing you, he couldn't believe he'd ever made that choice to begin with. He'd buried you and all the memories of you deep in his mind and that's how he'd been able to get by. But every night he'd think of you, where you'd ended up. Now all he could see was you dealing and the betrayal in your eyes. He didn't know how to fix it. He didn't think he could. 

Taglist: (if you’ve been asked to be tagged and aren’t here, it wouldn’t let me tag some people.)

@firexfate

@blanchedelioncourt

@ariesbutalibra

@sunshinedaisies-anddeath

@snowkestrel

@music-indie-tv

@idaofinfinity

@sweetserendipity65

@ramadiiiisme

@k-marzolf

@celestialams

@woowwwee

[twothpaste]

So 👏 pls share your thoughts on Paula and any has you have for her (especially with her family. I’m all for that angst. Especially with how you portrayed her parents)

I love Paula to bits and pieces. After all I've done to develop her, she's probably become my favorite EarthBound party member. Which feels weird to say, 'cause most of the stuff I associate with Paula I made up from almost scratch. The game only provides a handful of tiny character details to extrapolate from, and boy do I strive to get maximum mileage outta them. But reluctant as I am to warp canon characters into OCs, I do reckon that's kinda the point with EarthBound. Itoi wanted to keep the party members vague enough that players could picture their real friends in their places, or dream up their own versions of 'em based on impressions alone. So, alright, Shigesato, sir. I've got yer small town damsel in distress right here.

My Paula's the literary nerd to Jeff's science nerd. Rockin' local accolades and the second highest IQ stat in the party, only makes sense she'd be good in school. Havin' her be clever and bookish is a fun contrast to Ness too, who I imagine is a lovably ditzy C-student. Made her an American literature enthusiast, since EarthBound's all about those anachronistic americana vibes. Made her obsessed with chess, since playing Paula at her best involves a lot of strategic micromanagement on the player's part. Her ruthless glass cannon gameplay, utilizing her unique psychic skills, implies a great confidence in her own talents - but also a secret brittle side. She's delightfully witty and self-assured on the surface, desperately insecure underneath. Anxious to admit how badly she needs supportive friends to help prop her up, 'til she comes to love and trust Ness n' the gang.

It hit me like a truck, right about here, when I realized how easily all of this could stem from her growing up with an overbearing mother.

I initially didn't get much of a read on Mrs. Jones in the game dialogue itself - aside from her bein' kinda rude to Ness once or twice. I've seen several fics & fanart intepretations of Paula having a troubled relationship with her folks (this fic's one of my very favorites!). Love how this kinda thing really gets to the heart of EarthBound's gloomier themes - kids uncovering dark undersides to things that're seemingly benign, and often close to home. I imagine Paula's mom as the kinda parent who's awfully affectionate and supportive at first glance - and genuinely thinks she's doing everything right! But she's actually deeply possessive, in a covert sorta way. She hinges her own self-worth on her daughter's reputation, lives vicariously through Paula's success, needs to prove her merit by bragging about her perfect little angel's straight A's. Hopes to compensate for her own failures and broken dreams (read: law school) by ensuring Paula has a prosperous future (read: rich lawyer) in her stead. Doesn't help that Mrs. Jones is just as relentless as her daughter, and refuses to admit fault for years and years.

Kid Paula, an only child, used to be real close with her mom. Wanted to be just like her, wished for nothing more than to impress her. Only to grow up and realize she's unwittingly inherited all her baggage. She gives herself no leeway for failure, feels as if she's gotta do everything on her own, craves praise but can hardly stomach it. Even the snarky banter I love to cram her dialogue with probably comes from her mother. Paula wears her intellect as a badge of honor 'cause it's one of the few things that earned her mom's favor. Pursues success 'cause she doesn't know any alternative. Holds herself to impossible standards, 'cause she associates mediocrity with unbearable shame.

But like. Like!!! The best thing about Paula isn't that she's smart or talented or an ultra-powerful psychic!! It's that she's a selfless person with a great big heart!! She's the one who prays for everyone's safety, and in so doing defeats the fucking embodiment of all things evil! She's beloved by the preschoolers she cares for! I imagine she helped ease Ness n' Jeff n' Poo through so many homesick meltdowns!! Her sharp attention to detail and experience with kids makes her really adept at noticing others' feelings, and patiently tending to them. Given that her mom's a wreck, she probably gets it from her dad. I think it's funny if he's kind of a pathetic pushover wifeguy, lettin' Mrs. Jones walk all over him n' Paula both. But my headcanon's that starting a preschool was his idea. He's a kind, gentle soul, who does a lot more listening than judging. Someone Paula can go to - though she absolutely loathes to burden him. Ness n' pals help to bring out this softer side of her, and remind her what a great person she really is.

There's a long, grueling period through her teens and early 20's where my Paula notices herself looking and sounding more and more like her mom, and it drives her to tears on regular occasions. Growing more resentful and rebellious. Threatening cut-offs she'll never go through with, doin' things just to spite her. But ultimately, I do imagine there's a prospective future where she gets to reconcile with Mrs. Jones. Probably with dad's help. And lots of words of encouragement from little ol' Ness.

[stargazer-sims]

15 OC Questions!

I was tagged by the lovely @rebelangelsims (twice! But I'll happily do two of these!) I love this type of ask, where the character gets to answer the questions in their own words. It's a great way to improve (or create) narrative voice, and I love the challenge of making it sound convincing, as if the character really is answering it themselves.

Victor Okamoto-Nelson

Are you named after anyone?

Actually, yeah. I’m named after my mom. Her real first name is Victoria, which a lot of people don’t know because she’s always gone by her middle name, Grace. Anyway, if I’d been a girl, I would’ve been Victoria too, but I turned out to be a boy, so I’m Victor instead.

I'm also named after my dad, Thomas Edward Nelson. Thomas and Edward are my two middle names. I lost my dad when I was six, and it’s always meant a lot to me that I have his names because it's like I'm carrying a part of him with me no matter where I go.

When was the last time you cried?

Oh. Uhh… yesterday? I cry pretty easily, and it doesn’t take much. Yuri, my husband, likes to joke that I cry for everything, and he’s kinda not wrong. I mean, it’s not always full-on sobbing. In fact, it’s mostly not, but getting teary-eyed is still technically crying, so… yeah. I guess I’m soft, or I’m not very good at masking my emotions, or something.

Do you have kids?

No. Yuri and I don’t want any. We’re enough for each other.

Do you use sarcasm?

Not really? I think you have to be smarter than I am to use it effectively. Plus, sometimes it’s just confusing. And also, it sometimes feels kind of mean to answer people with sarcasm.

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Their physical condition. Like, if they look healthy or not, whether they’re fit or not and if they’re moving and talking and breathing comfortably. I know that’s probably weird, but it’s something I really pay attention to.

What’s your eye colour?

Blue. They're almost the exact same shade as my mom's. Someone once described them as 'oceanic blue' and even though I've seen the ocean before, I never really saw why that person made that comparison until I visited Sulani for the first time. Mine and my mom's eyes aren't just oceanic blue. They're Sulani ocean blue.

Scary movies or happy endings?

I don’t like movies that are seriously, intentionally meant to scare people. I enjoy some of the more campy horror movies, but I don’t want to see anything that’s gonna give me nightmares. Yuri also doesn’t like scary movies, so I never have to worry about sitting through one for him either. We both prefer happy endings, or at least endings where most — or even better, all — of the characters are still alive.

Any special talents?

I don't think so? I'm super awesome at snowboarding, but I don't think that's what you're asking. Yuri says I give really good massages. Is that a special talent?

Where were you born?

Willow Creek

What are your hobbies?

Snowboarding? Oh, you mean other than my obsession, right? I love cooking and baking. Is that a hobby? I like fishing, gardening and playing video games. Dog training is probably a hobby, right? I really enjoy working with the dogs.

Have you any pets?

Yes, we have two dogs. Rosie is a smooth-coated chihuahua, and Sango is a Pomeranian. When we move to our new house, Yuri wants to have chickens and maybe a cat.

What sports do you play/have played?

All the sports! Seriously, I haven't yet found a sport that I'm not good at. I love all kinds of sports and I've played a lot of different ones. My favourites are soccer, swimming, and of course snowboarding. Not to brag or anything, but I'm a world-class competitive snowboarder. Like, I mean... shredding is life. If I couldn't be on the mountain, I think I'd be super depressed, because that's one of the things that makes me feel most alive.

How tall are you?

187cm

Favourite subject in school?

Physical Education. I wasn't really that great in any academic subjects, but I liked P.E. a lot and I also liked Home Economics.

Dream job?

This is a hard one, because I think I have more than one option for my dream job. Like, my current job as a wellness coach and personal trainer is amazing. I love helping people reach their health and wellness goals. and I'm really happy doing this. But, even when I was in college, doing my diploma program in Health and Wellness Management, I was still thinking about my future career. I thought I'd like to be either a physical therapist or a nurse. These days, I'm leaning more towards licensed practical nursing, and maybe specializing in home health care. I think I'd be good at that.

______

I'll tag: @holocene-sims @theageofsims @ljfoxie @cawthorntales @dandylion240 (I know you've already done this) and @blithesomebawcock

Feel free to ignore this if you've already done it or don't want to. <3

[nervouscloudtheorist]

April 9th 2024

Dear Diary,

I did it! I paid off my house!

Well...apparently just the first part of my house. Tom Nook agrees that my house is pretty small and that I should probably get it bigger but that just means that I would have to take out another loan. I don't know if I want to do that but it's nice I guess just to know that I can.

Anyways, I woke up pretty late today at like 7:40pm. I spent so much time fishing last night that I didn't realize how tired I was. I have to not do that again because everything was about to close by the time I woke up so I needed to rush to do my shopping and talk to Tom Nook.

On the bright side though, I don't think as mayor Isabelle cares what time I wake up because she is always at Town Hall. I mean like ALWAYS. I don't think she ever leaves except to see me at my house.

When I woke up today I had three letters. One from the Happy Home Association, one from Pascal at the RV park delivering my table and one from my mom.

Mom's letter was really nice and she also sent a table to go with it. She's so proud of me for moving out and living on my own. I miss her a lot still so it was really nice of her to send me that letter. I immediately set up the table in my house. It was too precious to me to not set up.

After that was all done, I checked with Isabelle who still didn't have anything for me to do so I just wandered around town again to show that I am the people's mayor.

OH! I found out that Ribbot is a robot frog so I guess wisp didn't lie! He moved in next to Keaton which was unfortunate because Keaton saw me walking by to talk to the new person and decided that was the best time to talk about Trains.

Now I don't have anything against trains or Keaton but there is a time and place for that kind of talk. Like in the comfort of a house or cafe drinking coffee.

When I was talking to Ribbot he said that he knew me and that he was happy we got to meet again. I was really confused because I had never seen this man in my life. I didn't know if he just made up a story in his head where we were previously friends but I didn't want to correct him either because I didn't want another situation where they forgot my name.

Chrissy, I learned, is very sweet but not very observant. She ran up to me today and asked me to deliver something to T-bone for her as she wasn't able to find him and thought that I would be more likely to come across him. She was right, but that's only because he was 10 steps away from her.

Thankfully it was close enough that I didn't have time to ruin his present so I was able to deliver it without having any issues. T-bone was super happy about it and gave me a shirt as a reward which is great because the Sable sisters sell their clothes anywhere from 10 – 5,000 bells from what I can see and I do not have that kind of money if I am going to be giving it all to Tom Nook.

I mean, I did buy a shirt for 800 bells today but I also bought a bookshelf from Tommy today at Nookling Junction from 2,400 bells. So I guess it's not just Tom Nook who is taking my money.

OH!! Also I met Digby, Isabelle's brother. He is in charge of the Happy Home Showcase. What is that you ask? I guess when people are ridding on the train, he goes and asks them for a floor plan of their house (Not weird at all) and then they rebuild a scale model of it so when I am on Main Street I can look at them and get ideas for my own house. He did mention that this is only done when people are passing by my town so it wont be like a TON of houses at the start. Honestly, I'm not sure how many people will pass by my town, since the train I was on to get here was pretty empty but that's a cool idea!

I also checked in on the town bulletin by the train station and learned that there will be a fishing tournament this Saturday! I don't want to brag but I think I have first place in the bag if they allow mayors to enter. Why? Because I caught an Oarfish today and it was SO BIG. I had a lot of trouble getting it to Blathers but that is okay because now the museum looks a lot less sad with that swimming around!

I also checked in on the RV park like I said I was going to yesterday and there was a new RV but it was filled with bugs. Nat, the owner, really likes bugs I guess. I did manage to barter with him for some pretty cool items but just like Pascal he will only mail them to me. Like sir, I am right here I can carry the items home! I guess it doesn't matter though, I just really wanted that new bed. I am a little tired of sleeping on the floor...

After everything was all said and done, I went back to town hall determined that Isabelle was going to give me some actual mayor stuff to do but when I talked to her she said I had finally gotten 100% on my rating and that she would be turning in the permit tonight so that at the soonest my development permit would be done is tomorrow so I should rest for day.

So I guess my job as mayor isn't exactly to run the town but to just be nice to the people? I dunno anyways I'm still tired so I guess I will see what tomorrow brings. I didn't see any new plots of land for people so I think the moving in period is over which means I have more time for the people who have moved in.

Anyways, I can't wait to update you when my town permit is finally accepted. If it is accepted anyways.

Good night!

-Finn

[mezmer]

I take encouragement very well. To the point that I feel it would change my whole life to hear it.

I spent the whole last year telling myself it’s a wrong to seek encouragement from others in my life, and that I should learn to encourage myself, but a year later I’ve only gotten so far and I feel a sadness, a coldness, without somebody asking me, hey did you do your exercises tonight? How has that been going? The scoliosis shit is a war I surrendered to for almost a decade until I was slouched nodding out on fentanyl waiting for death. It was only this year that I got help and started fighting it. When a curve passes 40 decrees, the prognosis for noninvasive intervention is poor. The only good results I’ve seen from severe patients are the ones who fought for it. I’m so inspired by that. I just wish I had a few folks on my team cheering me on, interested in it. First thing in January I’m calling my physical therapist again to charge my insurance for another 20 appointments just to hear her encouragement and interest.

There’s a certain culture or an aura that surrounds scoliosis as a condition and it’s patients that to me is just a weird joke to other people. The reactions I’ve gotten over the years could make a whole post. Really, it’s something people don’t give a shit about. I’ve dealt with it now, but it mystifies me. Why? I don’t know, but I have a feeling this strange rejection contributes to my not having anyone cheering me on.

I hear often that people are so proud of me for kicking opiates. Well, I didn’t try that hard at all. That isn’t a brag, although it’s truly a miracle.. I only have God to thank.. I just walked away and said I’m done. I feel like scoliosis is a way more bloody and intense war. I’ve tried to share this in a way that doesn’t drive anyone away… the words themselves are driven away.

Anyway, point of it is, I realized finally that encouragement isn’t that much to ask for and I am innocent for seeking it out. Specifically for what I feel so beaten down about. I would love to return the favor and I do try. What hurts more is that the encouragement i dole out to some people is completely trashed. If I heard the words I say to others, i would feel completely magical, enchanted with power.

This goes for more than my back. When anyone says I’m a good mom, the first thing I go and do is pick her up and tickle her and smile. It is so infectious how this positivity hits me. And, you never know who needs to hear it so do not hesitate for a second. I KNOW HOW FRUSTRATING IT IS when you feel like somebody you are trying to help does not care. Some things I heard a decade ago come to me now like the acorn finally opened and a tree grew. They were just lying dormant and every word suddenly rings true. Maybe, if you pass along encouragement, it won’t work right away for some people. For me, it does. When I’m even tasked with something (something POSITIVE and helpful or loving) by another person, I feel compelled to get right to it.

[ohwhatagloomyshow]

scarlet hollow fan theories as of 12/10

ok! i read some good theories in the tag today and wanted to join in the fun and write down my own thoughts - especially bc i’m like, unnecessarily confident in them and i want bragging rights, lol. spoilers for ep 4 below!

feels fair that i start this post by saying i’d seen the reese-as-werewolf theory in the discord since i s2g ep 1 and thought “that’s funny, y’all are funny,” so you can IMAGINE MY SURPRISE at ep 4. yeah, not technically a werewolf, but A CREATURE! absolutely knocked on my ass.

THAT SAID! FEELIN PRETTY CONFIDENT ABOUT THE REST OF THIS, LOL.

so i wrote my fanfic the sacrifice to get my biggest, earliest theories on paper:

1) the scarlets (enoch, specifically) made a deal with the devil to keep the mine going

2) the seals are part of the deal

3) the seals need blood

4) tabitha killed her mother as part of the sacrifice. it didn’t work, so she’s invited you down so she can try it again.

THIS BEING SAID, i don’t know if even i fully believe that tabitha is/has been planning to kill the player. i don’t know how much i think tabitha killed her mom, even! that’s just the way the story has been leading me to think, and they’re certainly interesting theories to ponder when looking at tabitha’s behavior.

I do firmly believe enoch made a pact with the devil, i firmly believe the seals are part of it, and i firmly believe the seals are activated with blood.

I’ve held these theories since ep 1 into ep 2. now ep 4 has tangled my timeline a bit, and i really need to reread the books on the scarlets in the library for more timeframe clarity. even typing this out, i realized one of my theories conflicts with another one, which i’ll get into below. post-ep 4, my theories are as follows:

1) my initial hunch was that enoch had made a deal with the devil to save the mines and the town. this required blood sacrifice, and led to the creation of the seals, one of the first seals was placed in the Shaw mine. enoch purposefully used the ruined wood to cause a collapse and create an easy sacrifice. however!

2) his brother teddy’s injury was an honest mistake, and enoch’s dealing with the witch is totally unconnected to the original dark deal.

OR!

1) enoch used the ruined wood in typical capitalist fashion: cheaper costs, screw the risks.

2) teddy lost the use of his legs in the mine collapse. enoch, consumed with guilt, went to the witch to make some sort of bargain - both to restore the mine and goodwill in the town, and for his brother’s health.

now, this part works with either option: enoch then lied about teddy’s death in the mines and locked him up in the estate because he couldn’t bear to lose his baby brother. i think whatever agreement he made with the witch gave teddy supernatural powers instead of giving him his legs back.

so, in in ep 3, avery plays teddy. this became clear to me upon a replay before ep 4′s release, where avery says something like they’d use those fine legs and get out of town. oh, i thought, that’s the sentiment of someone who can no longer use their legs. then bam: ep 4, teddy can’t use his legs, enoch says it’ll be fine, and we know the person in the estate could sense edwardine’s pregnancy. thus! teddy is given some sixth sense in exchange for his legs, as part of enoch’s bargain with the witch OR the devil (they could be the same! i’m differentiating them because i don’t think the witch is the cause of ALL the bad things).

assuming i’m correct and the seals need blood, where better else to put another one than in a hospital for people who cough up blood?

i do not know why there’s a seal under town hall (the library). i do believe edwardine had to kill charles jr there, specifically, and that it’s not a coincidence.

i also am leaning toward edwardine doing a lot of the other killings throughout the family history (except for her brothers, i do not think she went with them to kill them on D-Day, or forged those documents, lmao.) i’m VERY interested in the theory that charles jr’s son, andrew, wasn’t actually a stillbirth. i think there’s a reason a lot of the young girls have died in the family. i think there’s a reason your mom was basically driven out of town by the treatment from her family. 

additional theories: sybil is the cat, no question. i don’t remember when i started distrusting her - may lean on the side of tooting my own horn and saying even episode 1 because i didn’t like the way she kept secrets and talked about the ditchlings/duke’s death. she’s absolutely controlling kaneeka with the tea, though to what end i’m not sure. i don’t necessarily believe she’s fully sinister but she is absolutely an antagonist.

wayne. my pet theory on wayne now is he’s possessed by the spirit of an earlier scarlet. this is obviously incorrect from the romance option for him, but i’m trying to work out how i could be right without incest lmao. he’s a dead body possessed by a spirit connected to our family.

finally, returning to my fic, i don’t believe there’s a seal in our basement because, from the way the game has been going, we should probably feel connected to it, and we don’t at all. but maybe tabby’s already interacted with it? maybe that’s dulled our interest/pull to it? idk. just wanted to put it out there that i’m pretty sure that’s a bad guess on my end.

i do think we’re gonna find another one in the woods, around where our one relative died while hiking (was that enoch? definitely murdered)

man i just love this game so much, and would LOVE to talk about with anyone, especially if we’re strangers but you made it this whole way through after finding this post in the tag! i love you!

[whoiwanttoday]

I am posting Charli XCX today because today is my day so it's all about me. Which is a silly thing to say because this blog is always about me. It's not called who someone other than me wants to fuck today. Not that there isn't some overlap with other people, I am sure someone out there has seen my post and said, "Wait... but that's who I want to fuck today". That isn't actually because the blog is about them though, it's just a coincidence. So the blog is always about me, you can tell because very entry is always in danger of spinning out of control as I go off on some story about how one time my friend and I came up with this killer plan for me to go to his house and play video games after we went ice skating. The plan would be when they drop me off and I would lock myself out of my house so there would be no way in and his mom would have to do it. The problem was I did that and it turned out my mom was home already. I got in a lot of trouble for that one. Anyway, we're getting pretty far afield of the fact that I am posting Charli XCX because it's my birthday and that's what I want to do for my birthday. I mean, there are lots of things I want to do but this is one I have control over. I'd also like to call in sick and while technically I could my sense of responsibility prevents me from doing so. I'm a lot like Spider-man in that way. I never, ever feel good about pretending to be sick, my brain immediately imagines some poor coworker who is sick and isn't allowed to go home because I called in and has to like... mine salt or something? I don't know, it's very dramatic, there are no salt mines at my job or really anything resembling hard physical labor but my coworker maybe having to fill out a form or something doesn't really make me feel guilty in the right way. So, back to the point, I quite like Charli XCX, she is the most posted person on this blog by a pretty big gap. Wasn't the plan, just happened that way. I'd like to claim this is because I have better taste and always have and since it's my birthday I will. I have seen so many waves of her fandom and I hate gate keeping, it's gross and nasty and to me the beauty of music is there is always more of it. If you just discovered the Beatles that seems sort of great, you have a whole adventure in front of you, I can't imagine wanting someone to feel bad about that. There is too much music for anyone to have heard it all and a lot of it is very evergreen in the sense that unlike a TV show, you don't really need people to talk to about it. You can just dig it. That said, I have posted her the most cause I have been a big fan since she was some obscure "Who is that" and got no notes on my blog. I actually got True Romance in a clearance bin for like $10 just a couple weeks after it came out and was thrilled cause I thought I was going to have to order it online. I bring that up because someone offered me $300 for my copy online recently. And $500 for the #1 Angel and Pop 2 record. I am not doing this to brag, just to point out that I was there when. I wouldn't sell them. One I want the records, second I would feel really bad charging someone that much. They must be a big fan to be willing to spend that but I would tell them just wait, everything gets rereleased some day at this point, give it time. Anyway, that was a weird tangent and I can't remember why I got on it other than I guess to prove that I am being sincere when I say this is my choice today? I don't know, I got distracted by a text and have completely lost any thread I had here. Today I want to fuck Charli XCX.

[nickeverdeen]

Hi! I was wondering if you’re still doing matchups? If you are, then I hope you don’t mind doing mine! I’m hoping for one for Harry Potter with male characters. My pronouns are she/her.

Appearance wise, I’m a short left-handed girl, standing at 4’11 3/4 or 152 cm. I have dyed Camilla rose (closest color name I could find on Google lol) hair and dark brown eyes. I’m a Sun Capricorn, Moon Virgo, and Rising Leo with a personality of an ISFP. I am straight (leaning towards greyaromatic), but according to every single one of my friends who thought (some are still convinced) that I’m a lesbian that I give off very gay vibes. No matter how loud I get, I’m 100% an introvert. I don’t mind silence, I love it at times, which sometimes creates first impressions of me as a nice, polite, and quiet girl, so when they see me being mean to my friends, they get so surprised.

My entire humor consists of the classical “Your Mom” jokes, exposing my friends, bullying, and lying/gaslighting. I also love exerting my right to say ‘no’ since a lot of people don’t like saying it and I love gaslighting the hell of my friends. Although, I do lie about some things because I don’t want to be seen as weak or ignorant or easily exploitable, which leads to me acting like a know-it-all at times.

Despite that, I have a blunt personality which also stems from saying no a lot. My friends describe it as the humbling kind. l tend to be more blunt for emotional things, like calling them out if they went too far on someone else, but if any of those things were directed at me, I tend to be silent. I don’t like talking about myself a lot to my friends and even my parents. I’m about blunt with talking about vulgar things, sometimes sexual stuff but only if my friends bring it up first, and it doesn’t help that I curse a lot. I also love being a bad influence, trying to convince my friends to do stupid things with me. Generally I don’t stress which is weird to both me and my friends. A very important test could be happening in the next hour and I’d be out here making jokes and playing around while my friends are stressing out of their mind.

Hobbies! I play the piano, violin, guitar, clarinet, and just recently the kalimba! Despite all of this, I’m planning on dropping my music lessons in a few months. I’ll be sad to drop especially the piano which I’ve been playing for over 10 years now, but I was never that passionate for music as it was something I forced to keep going by my parents. The other instruments, I’ve picked up within the last 3-5 years. Music’s always been and will be my friend, but it’ll just be on the back burner for now. I’ve gotten new hobbies instead, like drawing and writing!

I see

Your Harry Potter match is…

Ronald Weasley

First of all: height jokes

When Ron’s feeling really playful, he’d rest his arm on your head teasingly

As soon as you got mean to your friends, Ron was really suprised thinking they maybe did something?

After a while he realized it

He doesn’t care that you give off gay vibes, he loves the whole of you

At first he wasn’t really into the all “your mom” joke thing

After a while he’d definetly warm up and start using it too

Maybe way too much

Ron mainly likes the fact that you can stand up for yourself and say “no”

At first he thought you were like Hermione in the first year: know-it-all

It didn’t take him long to realize thag the “know-it-all” thing is not the real whole you

Does his best to comfort you if you’re feeling stressed

Even though you don’t like to talk about yourself, he’d definetly brag about you and show how amazing you are off to Harry, Hermione and definetly his family

Ron is a trouble-maker, so if you ever wanna do something stupid, count him in

When you’re in public he likes to hold your hand

If Ron gets jealous he’d probably put his arm on your lower back

Even though it seems to him kinda weird that you don’t stress, he’s glad that you don’t

Ron prefers if you wouldn’t stress at all instead of stressing all the time

Asking each other for help with homework

He’d mostly ask you

Playing piano? He’d ask you to teach him how to play

He’d try his best, but still fail

Mad at your parents for forcing you to do something you don’t wanna

Ron is amazed by how many instruments you play

He’d like to see your drawing if you’d let him, sometimes

Molly loves you!

If you’re ever meeting up with his family they will probably tell you about all the stupid and embarrassing things Ron did when he was a kid

No matter what, Ron us really supportive and caring

Does some silly magic to cheer you up if you’re ever feeling down

Cheek kisses

————————————————————

[wonderfuldeath]

.o| It's a small world : XII |o.

Warnings : Violence, injury, graphic depictions, sex

Please, consider supporting me on Ko-Fi ! ♥

« - To your new job! » 

The atmosphere in the nightclub was euphoric, as Jimin seemed the happiest man in the world. The school vacations would soon be over, and in three months' time he'd be entitled to his moment of glory. Elyzabeth also seemed to be on cloud nine, looking around almost disappointed not to see what she had most certainly come for. Taehyung felt a bit like the ugly duckling, the person who didn't really belong, brooding, drinking without even wanting to, he didn't even know why he'd agreed to come to the party organized by the establishment's manager, Mr Jeon Jungkook. Just thinking about him, the man who'd left him in the lurch for the whole week, made his bruised little heart ache, reminding him that despite a lot of sex, they had something together. Something that obviously wasn't mutual. 

« - If that's not the deadbeats. »

Straightening their gaze, Taehyung, Jimin and Elyzabeth looked at the newcomer with a rather curious air. A tall, rather handsome, blond man looked at them as if they were criminals from high places, and Jimin seemed the first to react, deadbeats? They'd never been asked to pay. On the contrary, they had even offered them their drinks. Silence reigned in the group, as everyone turned to each other. 

« - So, you're not answering anything ? You owe us money. 

- We don't owe anything, get out of my way! 

Taehyung had been colder than he wanted, and the man seemed to take the piss. 

- You know who I am? 

- Let's calm down, you want money? Call your boss. » 

A shiver goes through Jimin, as the man looks him up and down, trying to undress him with his eyes, as he comes closer, threatening, a terrifying little laugh passing his lips, as he looks very much like a predator. Making the dancer uncomfortable as Taehyung moves, just in case they have to fight. Dr. Kim didn't brag much about it, but since the incident, he'd been boxing frequently, so that if it came to it again, he'd be able to defend himself. And it was obviously going to help him, considering the mentally ill man was obviously a dog. 

« - I didn't know we accepted our future dancers until they were taken. 

- I didn't know? 

- What, you didn't know? You thought Mister Suga just wanted your ass? He always does. He makes them all fall down one after the other. » 

Jimin went from laughing, to slowly turning pale, to simply having his heart broken. Taehyung stood up, really pissed off, ready to put his fist in the face of this punk who'd just completely insinuated things that weren't very clear. But obviously, heavy man, the club's security guard, put his fist in his face before Taehyung could, surprising the group of three. Without another word, the blond was dragged away by his hair, something the gang didn't know about, while Kim Namjoon, the name on his badge, apologized for his slight mismanagement. 

« - Please excuse him. He wasn't really in his right mind. The drinks are completely on the house. And the house is also offering you a discount for our next evening. » 

Pulling out three gold and blue bills from his jacket, he placed them on the table before walking away, visibly weary of this kind of situation. As the three of them sat down again at the table, rather disturbed by the situation. And by what the man had said. Who was Suga? Yoongi? And what did he have to do with this prostitution business? The party mood disappeared, as they left the club in dead silence. 

« - I've got to go home. My mom's coming tomorrow. 

- Yeah, okay. » 

 Jimin slipped away, his stomach churning as Taehyung and Elyzabeth joined Taehyung's car, both seemingly digesting the information as the doctor spoke first. It was funny, but he'd been wondering about Yoongi for a while now. Or Jungkook. Once he'd seen Jungkook take a phone call, he had to be sure he was asleep, but he wasn't. And finally he'd heard Jungkook's voice. And finally he'd heard Jungkook whisper that a head was due to roll that very evening. He'd put it down to his work, but now he wasn't so sure, and he pinched his lower lip as he drove up to Elyzabeth's apartment complexe, who seemed eager to talk. 

« - - I think that guy was just drunk. Or stupid. That's all. 

- Yeah, probably. 

- Have a good evening. » 

 -x- 

Taehyung isn't sure what he's doing outside Jungkook's door. Shifting from one foot to the other, hands shoved deep in his pockets, he stared at the snow falling from the sky, wondering if this wasn't stupid. He was tired, drunk. Jungkook was probably working at the club, so all that remained was the potential for hypothermia. This made him laugh, a little yellow. A doctor out in the middle of winter, waiting to lose a toe or an ear for no good reason. He must have been pretty drunk. Rejoining the path again, he felt the warm coat against his shoulders, making him jump before looking at Jungkook, who seemed rather worried. 

« - You're not at the club? 

- I don't need to be. The reason I was put there was more. 

- Don't do that. You left me on the sidelines. 

- I know, and I'm sorry. Really... come in. You'll catch a cold. Or worse. »

Simply nodding, Taehyung joins him in the warm house, which feels good on his stiffened and probably reddened body, and he doesn't mind a really hot shower. When he emerges, dressed only in a towel, his eyes fall on Jungkook's body. Muscular, beautiful, covered in scars. He ticked, his eyes moving from one cut to another, before his eyes settled against his back, the recent trace of a wound making him move. Finally realizing that Jungkook always accepts exposure only in total darkness. Taehyung's fingers rest against the wound, making Jungkook shudder, he can feel his muscles stiffen, as he turns around in surprise, letting Taehyung see the entrance to the bullet. 

« - Taehyung? 

- What's the matter? 

- Anything wrong? 

- None at all. »

He moves forward, kissing her full on the lips, making them both moan, running his hands against the body he's stripping bare, the torrid night ahead making him think, as he looks at Jungkook's body completely asleep against the unraveled sheets. Lost in his intense thoughts. What if Jungkook wasn't telling him the whole truth? Then what did that make them? 

[i-say-spooky-you-say-scary]

Very very very painful to remember the ways I was discriminated against in my family for being perceived female

Like. I really was held so much more responsible for my actions than my brothers, I was held back socially, I was restricted, when I finally got the chance to socialize I was shamed from it and yelled at and told not to, I was treated like I was insane, and I was there like why the fuck are you trying to protect me now from threats that don’t exist when you didn’t give a shit about the boys my brother befriended molesting me in front of you?

Literally I was 12 and a guy said “I want to suck your throat” to me in my home and I was disgusted and horrified and I said “if he says anything like that to me again I’ll rip his head off” and my mom yelled at me first…violent language??? She was just like “don’t talk like that!!!” Ok but why don’t you care?????? You were a victim of sexual abuse yourself!!!!

A man kept putting his hands down my pants and up my shirt in front of everyone when I was 13 and I kept asking him to stop and he didn’t and not only did nobody help me or save me or care, nobody remembered or pretended they ever knew anything at all when I brought it up six years later. Like. How. How could you have not seen it. He did it right in front of all of you, all the time. Was it just because he was charming and cute? But once again, the only person anyone saw fit to protect me from was the one nice boyfriend I had who actually respected my boundaries and was nothing but sweet and kind and patient with me. THAT was the guy everyone was concerned about and shamed me for being around. Not the actual predators.

I kept trying to spend time with my brothers in ways they’d only spend time with each other, and I did just get rejected because I was told it was supposed to be a “bros thing” and it was like??? So I’m just some fucking girl to you?

Why could my brothers drink together and do projects together and go to shows together and be wild together and just do Bro Things together and not only did they reject doing any of those things with me, they reject and guilt me showing any emotion at all? I’m shamed if I’m upset, I’m shamed if I’m too enthusiastic, I’m shamed for existing. I’m on a Fourth of July rooftop party in Seattle sucking Jell-O shots from a watermelon rind amongst a bunch of horny gays and being told I’m being embarrassing for going WOOOOOO at the fireworks after my brother brags about his drug use and how he made out with a “gold star lesbian.” How is that fair. How. Other people are allowed to act out and be wild but I’m not?

My brothers could run wild and I couldn’t even leave the fucking house. Every move I made was scrutinized by everyone around me, and, just like now, when I was driven to a breaking point, it was my fault. Everything is always my fault, and I have to apologize for my own abuse and how I react to it.

And no, I do not think this misogynistic abuse has contributed in any way to my understanding that that I am queer and trans. My abuse did not make me queer or trans. Misogyny has been a constant factor in my life, but so has the fact that I’m not actually a girl or a woman. I have known in some way for my whole life that I am not a girl or a woman. I am a person with feminine experience and I do very much value my femininity, but I’m not a woman. I’m just. Some guy. A very fucking sad guy.

[doabg]

My bf keeps making jokes about getting married. Yesterday we went on a date and I the car he was joking about proposing at an LOTR event. Really it's just a harmless joke, I know that... But he keeps making these kinds of jokes a lot. Just joking about getting married. Even asked about my ring size after my mom got me a ring as a birthday present.

Last year I had an honest conversation about marriage with him. I remember feeling a little upset afterwards, because he said it would be too early to get married and would not bring any benefits (like taxes and stuff). There are also a lot of other circumstances which would make this really difficult for us (as I have a lot of responsibilities with school and would literally not have the time to plan anything at all). So just saying this is not only about him not wanting to marry me (not saying he will ever do that though).

So I try not to bring it up. At all. Because I know that I can't allow myself to dream. I don't want to obsess about getting married, I want to focus on something else. Hell I know that I wouldn't feel ready to be a wife yet anyway, so why does this bother me so much? Idk.

I just want to feel important. Just one day in my life I want to be seen, one day I would love to be more than I am. I have always been the person that people forget about, the one that gets left behind, the one that is not important. I can't even count how many terrible birthdays I had and how soooo many of my 'friends' don't even reach out to wish me a happy birthday (not joking, like every year they forget about me).

I tried to stop caring. To pretend it doesn't matter. I tried to pretend like my special days are not important to me, like I am okay with everyone not saying anything. Told my bf and family that I did not want to celebrate this year because there is nothing to celebrate. It's just my birthday. It's the day where my depression is at its worst.

I have always been made to feel insignificant. Be in in school or even if former relationships. I know that I am not special but damn I wish I could just be seen for a single day. Just a single day of people noticing me. Is that too much to ask for?

Been always bullied because of my weight. Always. I have always been the fat disgusting blob I am today. I used to find comfort in food, because it tasted great and since they bullied me no matter what I did I might as well eat right? Eat all my worries away.

Not anymore though. I realize that the first people notice about me is my weight. They look at me, disgusted, this fat blob just trying to pass. Oh sorry, my gigantic ass needs to pass through without wiping everything from the table with my clumsy, fat body.

I feel so worthless. I want to get married - but I have to be skinny first. I can't make a good friend/ girlfriend/ wife when I am just eating everything in front of me. I have no self-control. I need to be skinny. I need to be pretty. I want my future husband to be able to lift me up, I want him to be able to brag to his friends and coworkers about his hot wife.

Matter of fact is though that I will most likely never be skinny, I will never be pretty, I will not be important and I will also never be anyone's wife.

I know this is long, just needed to rant a little bit...

[flippedorbit]

I don’t want to fucking be here anymore I’m sick of putting up with everything and bottling up every single feeling and opinion I have and experience all to keep everyone else happy

[belovedblabber]

Ok time to make my hopefully coherent adjacent post about the whole ‘John made Alecto look like Barbie’ thing. Also this goes out to @opticor and @2impostors​ for the interest in my semi-coherent thoughts on this topic. 

I’ve seen people reading it as like ‘wow John took the soul of the earth and made her look like Barbie what a typical dude thing to do’ and personally I don’t at all vibe with that reading of it so now I am turning some rambly tags I made into a proper post. 

I’m going to start by posting a crappily highlighted passage, as is my wont:

I think one aspect of this that people misconstrue is “I wanted to make you the most beautiful body I could think of.” I think a lot of people are taking this as  beautiful=sexy=John is super gross and wanted to make the earth a sexy hot Barbie body. 

However, I very much read this as John, who loved the earth so much, wanting to make a beautiful vessel for the earth’s soul. I don’t think ‘sexy’ is the right way to interpret this one. There’s a big ol’ gulf between that ‘beautiful’ and the way people seem to be reading it as ‘sexy.’ Now is there a lot to unpack and think about in all of this? Yes. Is it ‘John is gross and made Alecto sexy because he’s gross and gave her the classic sexy lady body of Barbie?’ No. 

And also very key here is “Most of what had made me John had gone somewhere else. There were a few little thoughts left...a handful of things that made me me...”

I think it’s really worth keeping in mind here that in this moment John was barely holding onto anything of himself and thus turned to one of the few things he had left to grab at, aka a childhood memory of playing at his grandma’s house. And more specifically of playing with his mom’s old Barbie:

He was eating the soul of the earth and barely holding onto his own identity and personhood and turned to one of the few scraps of himself that remained. His memory of playing with his mom’s old Barbie as a kid was one of the few things he had left in that moment, and that was what his fragmented mind reached out to and grabbed onto as something beautiful. The way he talks about the Hollywood Hair Barbie is also very deeply not in the realm of like, ‘wow Barbie is so sexy and I wanted to make the earth sexy’ sdfghjk. He talks about her “little gold outfit and her long yellow hair.” He thinks she was “the best,” and “got to have all the adventures.” Sorry but this really doesn’t read as ‘ah yes Barbie, the sexiest of women. A doll I lusted over’ asdfghj. 

In a moment of almost completely losing his personhood and identity, John reached out to that memory and that very childlike love for something he’d found beautiful, and that was what his mind held onto. 

John is also very notably defensive about the fact that this was what he chose for Alecto. He seems to view this as something embarrassing. He’s not bragging about making a sexy body, he’s sort of self-consciously trying to explain why his torn to shreds mind grabbed at that form. 

When he made Alecto he wasn’t thinking in any coherent fashion. His broken mind was grabbing at his most basic, simple memories to find something beautiful. He wanted to give her a vessel that could have pretty yellow hair and have all the adventures. 

Also ngl I really don’t see ‘I loved playing with my mom’s old Barbie and having her go on adventures and I loved her pretty hair and her golden outfit’ as a typical dude thing. 

Like there is certainly a lot to think about vis a vis John’s view of himself as creator, and in how he also compares her to a Christmas tree fairy, a Renaissance angel, Adam and Eve, and Galatea. He evokes all of these when describing her, not just Barbie (and he also calls her “Frankenstein’s monster with long yellow hair.”) I think there is a TON to think over and discuss with all of that. (The relevant passage for those comparisons is on pg. 409 of NtN for the record). But yeah, there is a lot to analyze in the things he evokes in describing his act of creation (for one I find it interesting that  not all of them are ‘female,’ so to speak). There’s a lot to think about in terms of how he gave parts of himself to make her ( “I ripped half of my ribs from my body and made you from dirt, my blood, my vomit, my bone.” (pg. 408), and in him choosing to frame himself as creator, and as creator in a distinctly biblical way (the ribs being an obvious call to this). The reference to Galatea is also its own interesting thing. But anyway, John made her body from himself and oh boy is there a lot there but okay this paragraph is threatening to become too long, so I need to leave this topic for now and come back to it later in its own post sdfghj. 

ANYWAY, all of this is to say that I really think interpreting John’s creation of Alecto’s physical form as a ‘typical dude thing, he wanted to make her sexy and picked Barbie, the most basic ideal of womanhood’ is a reading that really misses the mark. 

Annnnd that’s all from me tonight, time to go to bed.

[multiples-fandomswontkillme]

~Metal Family headcanons~

These are like my... general hcs)? which means I didn't include my main hc that Glam, Ches and Vicky are polyamorous, married and started dating after Glam met Vicky, and absolutely everything that implies for the kids and the relationships between each member of the fam. Maybe I'll make a separate post for that or maybe not! Who knows lkfwnlfqnf

Glam

Bisexual

Glam has constant nightmares and ocasional night terrors ever since he ran away home and is an active sleep walker. Ches helped him through the worse ones when they were younger, and learned how to deal with them, always preferring not to wake him up but being with him until the episode passed. Vicky has learned how to deal with them, though she normally asks Ches for advice with it cuz she comes out short sometimes.

He has PTSD. I bet it's diagnosed too, he takes medication and goes to therapy, it doesn't mean he still doesn't have his bad days anyway. He's trying to get better.

Glam has talked to Vicky about his past, his father and his family. This is a direct contradiction of Alina's confirmation that Glam doesn't talk about it with anyone but man FUCK THAT. We love good communication in this house, Vicky tries her best to help him, but there's only so much she can do to help.

Glam enjoys gardening, cooking and making models, he also likes doing his make up, painting his nails and dressing up in fancy, extravagant clothes even if he has nowhere important to go.

He likes taking care of everyone's hair, and constantly helps Vicky brush her hair cuz there's so much of it, Dee when he gets stressed over how tangled it can get, buys Ches hair products so he actually takes care of it, and chases Heavy so the kid actually washes, untangles and brushes his hair.

This one is kind of weird, but I refuse to think any adult in the family is unarmed at any time. Glam owns a taser and pepper spray. They're bright pink and sparkly.

This man cried his eyes out while watching Coco. He's hell to watch movies with cuz he talks and predicts what's gonna happen during the movie, judges them with scores at the end and all.

Vicky

Also bisexual!

Vicky's the one who does everyone's laundry most of the time. She prefers it that way since she's the only one that knows how to wash their black clothes so the colors stay vibrant. (This is based on my gf shaming everyone but Vicky cuz their black clothes always look so muted and almost gray, but Vicky's whole outfit is always the same vibrant black colors, so we decided that neither Glam or the kids know how to wash dark clothes)

She has anger issues, if it isn't obvious. I think she also has PTSD, mainly survivor's guilt due to her surviving the accident her brother died in. She blames herself and cannot bear to talk about it, in some sort of deep denial. If she can't remember, it can't hurt as much, right?

She has scars on the right side of her back and her hip, from the road rash she got on her brother's accident, she never treated it due to grief and it scarred badly. Apart from that, the scar of the caesarean section from Heavy's birth. She doesn't really mind both of them, they happened, nothing to do about them.

She likes watching boxing competitions, brawling matches and motorcycle repairing on TV. Loves doing BBQ's and going to the pool. Also an enjoyer of teasing her kids, kissing and loving her husband at random times, spending time drinking and bonding with Ches and bragging about her family and punching anyone who thinks they're not that cool.

Not particularly a fan of make up, skirts and dresses or any traditionally femenine-perceived stuff. But has been making exceptions due to Glam and Ches being unashamed of being seen as femenine, and actually rocking the looks. The internalized misogyny is kind of slowly dissapearing.

Apart from the guns she carries in each arm (I mean her biceps, have you looked at the size of those?? She strong) she has brass knuckles on her at all times. Glam gifts her new ones sometimes, she loves having multiple choices to punch people teeth in.

Loves horror, thrillers and action movies. Falls asleep during rom-coms and dramas. Ironically, loves gossip and talking shit about people. Enjoys hearing Ches talks about the gossip going on in the nursery home even if she doesn't know who the hell he's talking about.

Rest of the family under the cut!

Heavy

Heavy is a trans boy! He doesn't know his sexuality yet though, he's still figuring himself out. When he's older, i think he definitely dated some men but had better luck with girls.

Heavy has had innocent crushes on some girls on his class before, but they never turn into anything more cuz he's not the best at expressing himself. He follows the bother-the-girl-to-death-until-she-hates-you gimmick, and unsurprisingly, it doesn't work.

I'm sorry to break this to u but Heavy totally had an among us phase, and uses so much reddit and twitch slang... You know he does.

Likes bullying and teasing his brother to death. You know that when Dee had his first romance, Heavy was ALL up in his business being a tease and a bad attempt at a wingman. He means well tho.

He's not squeamish at all. Also has great pain resistance. This kid has picked cockroaches with his bare hands and loves cats, of course the cats have scratched him. He's tough!

Grows up to be the charming himbo he was always destined to be.

Dee

I hc him as demisexual. Kind of inherited his dad's tastes for the takes no crap, intimidating but pretty kind of people.

Can't cook. He tries but he can only do basics like rice, cereal, chicken nuggets or eggs. Complicated meals always burn or don't taste like anything at all. It drives him crazy.

Dee was a quiet and very well behaved toddler before Heavy was born. He never threw tantrums or got whims. After Heavy was born though, and despite the fact he understood his brother was small and needed special care, he started craving attention often and cried and got mad at little things. Typical jealousy of the oldest sibling.

The first time Dee fell in love with someone, he didn't recognize it was love at first. He just thought his interest on the person was born out of curiosity and aesthetic attraction, but as soon as he realized he seeked validation and companionship, that he liked seeing them smile, that he wanted to protect them, that he yearned for more time alone with them and that he wanted more than what just a simple friendship implied, it was an instant 'oh hell no'. He wanted those feelings to get the hell away, but unfortunately, they were there to stay.

Canonically likes MLP, psychological and horror anime like Death note and Hellsing, so I'm deciding he also watched Death Parade, had a FNAF phase, is very into The Walten Files. This guy enjoys any kind of specially dark ARG's and knows a ton of lore of real crime, unsolved cases, ghost appearances and other stuff. Doesn't believe in the supernatural, but sure is entertained by it.

He's a mess at romance. Flirting? His attempts at compliments are hardly flattering. Giving gifts? The best he can manage is jewelry and you can kind of tell he asked his dad for help. Dates? He's so nervous he's silent for most of it, but begins getting comfortable and having fun if his partner really knows how to get him down from his negativity cloud.

Ches

Pansexual.

He's very good with kids. He has the patience of a saint and he's laid-back, chill and fun but still is an authority figure who knows how to put limits. Sure, he's gonna let the kids light up a house on fire BUT hey, now they know everything about fire precautions, burns and how to treat them AND how to get away with arson. What an educational evening, am I right?

Due to certain info from the "Goodbye" official comic, I headcanon Ches as depressed. I don't want to elaborate a lot 'cuz of spoilers, but... God, everything related to his mom fucking hurts, man. How did he deal with all that?

Ches has been Dee and Heavy's babysitter so many times he cannot count them with all his fingers. He learned how to put those kids to sleep almost immediately (Sing Bon Jovi's "This ain't a love song" and any cheesy love song in a slow lullaby style and they're out), which movie were their favorite as kids (Heavy loved 'Monsters Inc.' and Dee never looked away during 'Meet the Robinsons'), how to console them after nightmares (Heavy needed reassurance, sweet words, and to be with someone until he fell asleep again. Dee just had to be tucked in, get his nightlight turned on and kissed in the forehead). He practically raised those kids along with Vicky and Glam.

More than once, Dee and Heavy have slipped and called Ches "Dad". Ches immediately gets his shit eating grin on and answers "Yes, son?" and does a couple of dad jokes just to mess and embarrass them. He's actually very flattered and surprised at how proud of himself he is for being a father figure to both kids.

Has a scar on the left side of his forehead due to a bottle his mom threw at him when he was younger, around the time he met Glam. He hates the scar with passion, it's a permanent reminder of the fact she never cared, that's why he always keeps it covered with his headband. Gets sad about it sometimes.

Ches likes to spend his time with a group of grannies of the nearby nursing home. He genuinely considers them his friends and gossips and hangs out with all of them on weekends. Bingo, billiards, walks in the park, soap opera marathons, you name it. I even designed them, gave them names and backstories... God, i just love the concept too much. I'll make some art about Ches and his granny gang FOR SURE, you're NOT ready for them.

Carries a pocket knife on him at all times. This man grew up on a bad neighborhood and absolutely knows how to defend himself, he can be intimidating when he wants to be and will pose a threat if needed. He's fucking terrifying when genuinely mad. Just cause he looks harmless doesn't mean he is, darling.

That would be all!