#and that’s exactly what I’d expect from either of my parents I am in so much residual emotional pain

[dykeredhood]

The way Under the Red Hood addresses fatherhood and a wayward/formerly esteemed child deciding on the best way to handle existing issues (even if it conflicts with resolute parental authority) instead of being used as a tool (or if it comes to it: a useful body)

It wrecks me every time

[fumifooms]

Wait one darn diggity second what’s this about unmarried half-foot women being embarrassing for the family, what’s this about being unmarried as a half-foot being "different [worse than] for other races". Maybe Flertom and Puckpatti’s intensity about finding a husband is the norm, maybe Meijack, despite Chilchuck approving of her disinterest in romance, is the one who’s considered weird by social standards.

Maybe they’re less well-adjusted than I thought. Don’t misunderstand me I’m aroace, but if there’s a lot of societal pressure and it’s considered a failure if you’re not married, it is notable when all 3 of your kids haven’t married past the time that’s expected. For reference adulthood for a half-foot is reached at 14, Chil got married at 13, Puckpatti is 14 while Flertom and Meijack are 16. The other half-foot character we have is Mickbell who is also unmarried, unsurprising considering his situation. I don’t think them not having married is about their family being poorer, if anything I’d think Chil’s family is on the comfier end of half-foot families with the high wages he gets paid with and the nice living conditions we’ve seen (although we don’t know when he started being paid well). We know about Flertom having high standards, but she and Puckpatti are actively looking to date, so there’s something going on here whatever it is.

It is nice that it doesn’t seem like Chilchuck cares at all, he even seems to generally dislike the idea of his daughters dating. I imagine that their mother must have also not pressured them into marrying at all, maybe even encouraged them not to marry if they didn’t have someone, which is sweet. And understandable, considering she might not want her daughters to rush into it and live with…….. Being stuck in an unhappy marriage. And here comes in what I meant when I said well-adjusted, daddy issues. We aren’t shown a lot of Chil’s married life, but I would bet my life on there having been tensions and warning signs. Especially since, since the daughters and Chil hadn’t seen each other since the separation before post-canon, there’s an air of not having been very surprised or panicked about the whole thing: the separation wasn’t unexpected. Having to watch your parents fall out of love and growing up seeing them in a taxing marriage can be hard, and not exactly put you in the mood to try and find romance and marry. Fear of abandonment, fear of intimacy, stunted emotional intelligence, fear of commitment… Oh girlies I am about to extrapolate so much from this

Half-foot society has a lot of coding I don’t have enough specialized knowledge to pin down, but they’re a poor working class people, anglo peasant vibes. They have tightly knit communities, but then the double edge is that if your community has expectations and rules to belong the pressure will be harsh and it can end up being more isolating if you deviate from it. Marriage historically and in Dunmeshi has a lot of economical aspects, in Laios’ Adventurer’s Bible profile for example dowries are hinted at.

So the pressure to marry might very well originate from the need to bring money in to your family, and to unite families as allies. And from there it grows into an expectation, and thus if they aren’t marred it’s "an unmarried woman was deemed unfit by suitors, something with her must be off"/"This woman was unable to provide for her family, she must be a burden on them" which results into the family having a bad reputation. If Flertom says it’s worse for half-foots than other races, the reasons must be either social or economical or both. There’s of course their lifespan being shorter too, so that might play into it, expectations to go about things quickly and to have a fast life cycle and making sure to have kids. As we see with Laios having kids is a pressure that does exist globally as well. Elves are another interesting example of how familial expectations are like in Dunmeshi and heirdom and whatnot, but free me I just wanted to bring up the possibility of Childaughters being societal misfits and having relational issues.

[nolanfa-fanart]

Funny batfam gen (non-romantic) recs

last rec list was not exactly happy fics, so to offset it, have funny ones:

Gen fic recs for @genuaryficrecs! Fandom: DC, batfam. Focus: Humour (most some also tear your heart out or engage in subtle character building, but you'll laugh while you cry) Humour is very widespread in fic (…in some fandoms at least), ranging from humour woven in the writing style itself, to situational absurd (crack), to making the reader laugh about absolutely horrifying shit (while still acknowledging how awful it is; which is something I feel I've only ever read in fic), to absolutely unhinged character reactions (to more I don't have in mind right now), so here, a small homage to that.

The Lone Ranger Never Had to Deal with Bruce Wayne, by @theskeptileptic (https://archiveofourown.org/works/51476074) Chapters 6/6, 25.522 words G, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne

Type of gen relationship: uh. Concerned Adult to Kid? Parental-ish? Or just neighbours, depending on who you ask.

Official summary: Tim is an independent, clever, and super mature eleven-year-old. Unfortunately, his dopey neighbor, Bruce, can’t seem to understand that. When he decides to disappear on a “solo camping trip” and run away to Canada, he figures it’s the perfect plan that will make everybody happy. He didn’t expect the Waynes would tag along with him and ruin everything. A six-chaptered tale filled with identity shenanigans, s’mores, soon-to-be-brothers, and a kid who is in desperate need of a new family.

Why I love it: This is. Hilarious. The perfect mix of very competent Tim and him still very much being an 11-years-old. Himbo Bruce Wayne who just so happens to totally accidentally run into Tim several times to innocently inquire about his parents' whereabouts. The horrifying fact of what Tim is actually doing and how he thinks, in his very logical way (and the horrifying fact that his parents agree with him).

Excerpts: from: thenanny8725@aol.com to: bwayne@we.com Mr. Wayne, Timothy told me you stopped by earlier today. I am sorry I didn’t get to talk with you. My thyroid was acting up and I was sleeping. Timothy is a good kid. I can make sure he’s safe skateboarding so there is no need to worry. Have a good day! Sincerely, The Nanny

from: bwayne@we.com to: thenanny8725@aol.com The Nanny, Thank you for your email last week. Timothy is most definitely a good kid. One of the best. I saw him at the Army Supply Store this afternoon and he mentioned you would be taking him to Cheesequake State Park to meet a friend this weekend? My boys and I are heading that way, so why don’t we save you a trip. We’ll make sure Timothy is taken care of. If you need anything at all, for any reason, please call me at this number: 9088780078. This is my cell phone and I answer it at all hours, no matter what. Nothing is too small or too much of a bother to pick up for. Anything that you need, Timothy’s Nanny, please call. Sincerely, Bruce Wayne - “Anyway, I was on my way to the course, and I realized your father and I haven’t gotten a chance to really ‘hang’, as you kids say, and I had a late tee time, so I thought I’d invite him along.” Mr. Wayne’s teeth were bright and Tim wondered if he used some sort of diamond paste on them. He looked around Tim’s shoulder, as if he wanted to see inside the mansion better. Tim hadn’t turned on any of the lights on account of his shitty night, so the early fall haze that Bristol was so well known for didn’t do much for his visibility. “I’m sorry, sir, you just missed him.” A pause. “Well, that’s ok, son. Why don’t you get your mom and I’ll give her a message? I’m sure you’ve got things to do.” He looked at Tim vapidly, smile still firmly in place. “I’m afraid she’s not here right now either. Shopping.” Tim gritted his teeth and went to close the door. Mr. Wayne’s huge ham hands (why were they so large?) stopped it before it slammed. He chuckled and Tim winced. “Your nanny, then.” Tim wasn’t sure, but thought the question sounded more strained than Mr. Wayne’s usual flavor of airheadedness. “She’s sleeping.” “At eleven in the morning?” “She has a thyroid problem. I’ll let them all know you stopped by.” Tim pushed the door closed but Mr. Wayne had somehow entered his foyer while he was speaking. “I’ll write them a note. They can call me when they get back.” He inched closer towards Tim, who sidestepped him before he could ruffle his hair.

--

Ain't No Compass, Ain't No Map, by @ebjameston (https://archiveofourown.org/works/38048365) Chapters: 9/9, 51.863 words T, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake

Type of gen relationship: siblings and friends

Official summary: CPS Agent, pointing at Tim Drake: We need to take him with us Red Hood: He's fine where he is CPS: He's a minor Hood: Timbo, you a minor? Tim: Can't prove it CPS: I mean, I can. There are records – Tim, who has just finishing hacking CPS to remove his own file: Oh really, tell me more about these records +++ A CPS agent gets sent to investigate a tip that Tim Drake has been abandoned by his parents and is living with the Red Hood. The CPS agent leaves with no Tim Drake, a date with Red Hood's lieutenant, and an intern who's promising to fix the IT systems at his office. It's a weird day for Theo.

Why I love it: This is probably the first (non-crossover) DC fic I read, and to date still one of my favorites. It's. Listen. It's from the point of view of a Child Protective Services agent. Who, given his whole deal is to Protect Children, has Opinions about the Robins. And interacts - unknowingly - with them when they're grown (identity porn! Banter!). And he likes them! And they like him! But they have… differing opinions. And I absolutely love it. So. Many. Feels. And humour. It's 80% jokes and 70% feels and 50% social commentary about the canon and 20% plot and 40% fluff and 30% angst and some parts are all of that at once.

Excerpt: “Nightwing, wait, serious question,” Theo says. “About when you were baby Robin.” Max’s fingers tense up a bit on Theo’s elbow, and some of the earlier tension creeps back into Nightwing’s frame. “Yes?” “Did the Batmobile have a car seat?” “Did the what have a what ,” Nightwing says. “I’ve seen your stats from when you were just getting started,” Theo says. “You weren’t anywhere close to 4-foot-9. You would’ve needed a booster seat for at least the first two years you were Robin, so.” “So, did the Batmobile have a carseat,” Nightwing repeats faintly. Theo gets out his phone to take notes. “Yes. That is what I am asking.” “Buddy,” Hood says. “Most of the Batmobiles don’t even have seatbelts.” “How would you even know that?” Bernard asks.

--

IRIS Log #1548, by @deadchannelradio (https://archiveofourown.org/works/51647209) Chapters: 1/1, 8531 Words T, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: whole batfam

Type of gen relationship: familial

Official summary: A Disclaimer From Your Friendly Neighborhood Oracle: The following is a transcript of Patrol Communications Audio written by state of the art transcription technology, IRIS (Interpretation of Recorded Intelligence Software). IRIS was created to provide easily searchable records, automatically, and eliminate the need to transcribe each patrol audio log manually. That being said, IRIS is still experimental, and may not always be entirely accurate. - (01:25) Red Hood: (Mild static) (Out of breath, slurred) You motherfuckers. Put some fuckin- (01:25) Batman: (Shaking) Red Hood- (01:25) Red Hood: Shut up. Put some fucking respect. On my name. Start fucking copying me. I just got thrown fucking. Um. 40 feet. Into a fucking uh. What's it. Ditch. I'm still fucking conscious. (01:25) Batman: Red Hood, do not move, we're en route- (01:25) Red Hood: What'll I win if I stand up. (01:25) Batman: (Loud) Do not stand up.

Why I love it: The format (transcription of comms) is fun. Also it's. Just. Really funny? The… energy of it? I mean just read the excerpts honestly.

Excerpt: (01:34) Nightwing: Don’t get mad, Red. He’s got a concussion. (01:34) Red Hood: (Agreeably) I am all bonked up. (Laughter: Nightwing) Hey. Cass. Cassie. Is my leg fucked. The right one. (01:34) Blackbat: It. (Pause, 3 seconds) (Reading) I am not your medical provider and can’t diagnose injuries or illness. Please ask your doctor when you are under their care. (01:34) Red Hood: Oh. Um, okay. Can you tell me as buddies? Not as my doctor. (Laughter: Spoiler, Red Robin) Just as buddies. (01:35) Blackbat: …Super busted. Bad. As buddies. (01:35) Batman: Blackbat. We are not medical- (01:35) Red Hood: She said as buddies. It’s fine. (01:35) Spoiler: (Laughing) The as buddies legal loophole.

--

Bang, bang, by Ididloveyou_once (@ididloveyou) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/30246978) Chapters: 1/1, 5.563 words T, Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (an accidental gunshot wound played for laughs)

Main Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd

Type of gen relationship: very much Siblings

Official summary: ‘You shot me!’ Jason gasped, stunned, ‘Holy shit, you actually shot me.’ Tim’s eyes widened and he froze. They stared at each other for a second, dumbstruck and then- ‘Don’t tell Bruce.’Or: The family enjoy a normal movie night. Except Jason has a gunshot wound and Tim’s the only one who knows and oh- that’s because Tim’s the one who shot him and they really, really need to find a way to leave before anyone finds out.

Why I love it: Hmmm okay so maybe I really like a good Jason & Tim relationship. But objectively. This is great. Peak siblings relationships. The threat of Getting In Trouble forcing an emergency alliance between two mutually annoyed siblings who scramble to hide something? Peak comedy.

Excerpt: ‘Okay, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that either,’ he pinched the bridge of his nose, ‘I just mean. Don’t worry about me being in pain. I’m fine. And don’t worry about looking like an asshole. You shot me, you already look like an asshole. But that’s fine because now we’re even.’ Jason sighed at the kid’s sour expression. So his words of reassurance needed some work, sue him.

--

Into the Brighter Night, by @shoalsea (https://archiveofourown.org/works/20935463) Chapters: 12/12, 162,894 words G, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: Tim Drake, whole batfam, Young Justice team

Type of gen relationship: familial and friends

Official summary: When an unknown enemy threatens Robin, Gotham's vigilantes come together to keep him safe. Unfortunately, they're protecting the wrong Robin. Or: Tim Drake plans his own rescue. Things get complicated.

Why I love it: Oooooh not just batfam this time. Tim is way too competent, and the Young Justice have his back (and a lot of resentment towards the batfam). Hyperactive Young Justice energy, Very Good Characterization, miscommunication (as in Bruce -the whole batfam really- is trying but they're super bad at clearly expressing feelings). And the tone of it? The writing? Hilarious and rips your heart out. This is super interesting interconnected character dynamics (with the batfam and Tim's team that's so many more different relationships than usual) and a deep look at canon events, all of it wrapped in hilarious dialogue. One of my fave Tim-centric fics, and I've read some very good ones.

Excerpt: [Impulse on a long distance call with the batfam - minus Tim] Jay makes a disbelieving sound. “You’re telling me that Red Robin—Mr. Responsibility himself—helped you hide and maintain a secret spaceship for years? Seriously?” “Uh, yeah? Duh?” “No offense,” Duke says, “but that doesn’t really sound like the guy we know.” Bruce sighs. Stephanie huffs out a laugh. Impulse just looks unimpressed. “Are we talking about the same person? Robin numero tres, currently Red? The same guy who once hid an extra Batmobile in the batarang budget and shipped it to California in secret? The same guy who founded Young Justice, an unauthorized vigilante group of teens that started out with no adult supervision? And lied to the Justice League and the government to keep Secret safe?” “Secret?” Duke says at the same time Jay sputters out, “He stole a whole Batmobile?” “More like embezzled,” Impulse says. “But yeah, dude, it’s Rob. I know he gives off the straight-and-narrow vibe, like, 90% of the time he’s interacting with the public or authority figures, but that’s mostly because it’s way, waaaay easier to get away with stuff if you don't ‘openly project an air of defiance.’” “Oh my god,” Stephanie says. “He’s given you that speech too?” “He’s given us multiple versions of that speech,” Impulse says. Stephanie’s turned away from the screen now and is explaining to Duke, “Red Robin is kind of the definition of ‘I do what I want,’ but most of the time what he wants to do is at least nominally reasonable or responsible, so no one cares.” “And when somebody does care,” Impulse says, “you just gotta be sneaky and smart. Comply until their backs are turned, you know? I mean, even with the Titans we—what?” he pauses, spinning his chair, clearly distracted by something off-screen. “No, I’m just talking to the Bats. I think there’s a whole flock of them.” Conner Kent wanders into view, towelling off his hair and wearing what looks like some kind of maintenance jumper. “‘Sup,” he says to the camera, leaning in. “Superman’s not there, is he?” “Nope,” Impulse says. “Thank god. Where’s Rob?” “Batnap.” Conner puts his hands on his hips. “Dude. Weren’t you supposed to wake him up?” Impulse spins in his chair again. “Wonder Girl said not to.” “What, and he agreed?” “No. He might have been unconscious at the time. Which, technically, means Wonder Girl is in charge.” Conner groans. “He’s gonna kill you.” Turning to the camera, he adds, “Look, sorry about this, I’ll go get him.” “Heynowaitaminute,” Impulse says. “Listen. I’m the captain, you gotta at least hear me out!” Conner rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t move. “Everything is still going according to plan, okay? Rob did in fact say that we should one hundred percent wake him up as soon as we could get a call through. True. But Wonder Girl said to let him sleep. And he definitely needs it.” “Yeah, but, again, he’s gonna be pissed if—” “Listen. I have thought this through.” When Conner just looks skeptical, he adds, “I have! I worked it out logically. See, if we wake up Rob, Wondy’s gonna be pissed off. At us. Right now. If we don’t wake him up, he’s gonna be pissed off later and he’s gonna be mad at her, not us. Therefore, we should do what Wonder Girl says.”

--

Beef Consommé, by @vamillepudding (https://archiveofourown.org/works/42348438) Chapters: 2/2; 14.230 words T, Chose Not To Use Warnings

Main Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson

Type of gen relationship: siblings

Official summary: Parenting is Bruce's thing, and Jason isn't planning on messing with that. But when Bruce fails to spot the countless red flags about Tim's home life, it falls to Jason to step up. Of course it does. Because he's literally the only one in his family who knows how to be responsible, and if Dick disagrees, he can suck it.

Why I love it: I have a weakness for the "Dick and Jason team up and adopt Tim" trope. Also, I love Jason's voice in it. (and this fic is very funny but I feel like I'm repeating myself)

Excerpts: “Pizza?” Tim repeats, sounding hopeful. Jason is on the verge of telling him to go screw himself, but then he starts wondering how long Tim has been in his apartment and whether he ate dinner before he came here. Probably not. Did he eat lunch? Should Jason ask? What would Dick do? “Fine,” he says eventually. “But I’m picking the toppings, and you can’t have dessert.” There’s a beat. “I didn’t want dessert,” Tim says, voice taking on a bewildered edge. “What are you talking about?” - It’s Wednesday evening and Jason is getting pizza. Dick’s waiting back in Jason’s apartment, because growing up with Bruce has him used to getting waited on hand and foot, and apparently he thinks Jason is his own personal servant or something. It’s oppression, is what it is. “It’s not oppression,” Dick yells after him just before Jason closes the door, “it’s called losing a coin toss, asshole!”

--

Birds on Jaybird Street, by @cynassa (https://archiveofourown.org/works/39115587) Chapters: 4/4, 14.717 words T, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake

Type of gen relationship: Siblings

Official summary: Jason is both annoyed and weirdly flattered when the replacement turns up to ask him for help. He mentally rearranges his calendar so he can be free Wednesday evening and says, “No, fuck off, I have very important business going on.” Tim eyes his 72” TV playing Japanese wrestling more judgmentally than it really deserves. “Important crime things,” Jason emphasizes. “Make Wingdick do it.” Jason doesn't think much of it when Tim needs his help, or Damian moves in, or even when Dick turns up looking beat all to hell. But at some point he realizes that he might be the best option his brothers have to recover from the cycle of violence that Batman has set up, and all he can think is that things were much easier when he was the villain.

Why I love it: In which Dick and Jason decide to adopt Tim and Damian (Jason's kind of an asshole, but a caring one). Kind of the same reason as the previous one: love that trope, love the tone, very funny.

Excerpt: Jason lies, "Sure, I'll take it up with Bruce " "Sure you will, " Tim scoffs. Jason changes his mind, and decides he will take it up with Bruce. "I don't have the time to keep being your nanny," he announces and then says, disapprovingly, "you skateboard, why don't you have knee and elbow pads?" "I'm Robin," Tim snaps, like he didn't put pants on the costume like a little wuss.

[whatisthatmae]

Neteyam x Vitiligo Metkayina! Reader

Part 1

Authors note: my second post!! Hopefully this doesn’t disappoint! Enjoy!

Pronouns: She/Her

Y/n pov

I was on my way to hunt some fish to eat for dinner when I heard someone blowing the horn for some odd reason. I got up from where I was and then I see people rushing to see what had arrived at our shores. I stop what I’m doing and go see what the commotion is all about. Once I got there I see my parents, Ronal & Tonowari, and my siblings Tsireya & Ao’nung. I had skipped my way over to where all the people from my clan were, swinging my tail a bit side to side,only to see some new comers. They looked like they were from the Omatikaya clan from the forest.

My siblings were beside my parents by the time I arrived. I skimmed my gaze over the new comers only to see what looks like to be their eldest son looking my way. I look at him a bit confused, mostly because he was just..staring at me. Either way I at least tried to give him a small smile. I don’t really like new comers, or anything new that comes to our clan. My attitude is similar to my mothers so at first I don’t really like them,but I at least have some heart to be nice..unlike her.

She had been looking over these new people with a judging look on her face. Even though I wasn’t the one she was looking at, it made me nervous. Her whole gaze, just makes me nervous. My mother, and the boys mother started growling at each other when my mom got to close to what seems like the other woman’s mate I assume. Toruk Maktou has apologized for the woman’s behavior, blaming it on the flight on the way here.

After a while of talking, my father declared that me and my siblings will help the new family learn our ways. I was not really happy about it because I have better things to do, I am the second eldest child in our family. I am training under my mother to become the next Tsahík. “Father, you do know I have other things to do, correct?” I said with a scowl on my face. Me and my father have butt heads a lot ever since I’ve gotten older. “It had already been decided.” He said sternly.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes at him. I told my sister Tsireya to hurry up so we can get this over with. We showed the family to their Marui & I felt the older brothers gaze on me again. I don’t know what exactly he’s looking at me for though. Maybe it’s because my skin is sort of different? I don’t know. But I try to ignore it the best I could until the day was over. After a while their parents went with mine to go learn elsewhere, while me & my sister teach their children.

———————————————————-

After their lesson I tried to leave as fast as I could. I honestly like to keep to myself, it just feels better that way to be alone. When I was on the shore I felt someone tap my shoulder for a moment. I turn around & guess who it was. Yup, the older brother who I still don’t know the name of. “ Yes? Do you need something before I leave?” I asked, being as polite as I could. “Yes actually.” He said, I raised and eyebrow for him to continue. “Could you tell me your name? I’d at least like to know the name of the person I’m learning from.” He asked. I sighed and told him what he asked for. “ My name is ____” I said back to him.

“I was wondering if you would like to be friends? The other people I’ve met here are being… should I say, rude?” I hum in acknowledgement and nod my head. “Yes, that’ll be fine, I guess. I really must get going though. My mother would be furious if I’m late.” I said in a hurry. “Oh, we’ll I’ll see you around then?” He asked curiously. “ Yes, you will. Goodbye!” I tried to put a smile on my face that looked at least a bit real. “Bye!” He said back.

———————————————————

It’s been a few weeks since the Sully’s have showed up on our island. Me and Neteyam have been getting to know each other better, and it’s been working. I’ve been opening up to him about this recently, like how I’ve been so stressed to keep up with my mothers expectations. He relates to my struggles too, which makes me feel better to say the least.

Neteyam has been getting better at his lessons too. I’ve taught him very well since he’s learned in such fast time. I’ve taught him every ting I know from riding an ilu, to hunting. I don’t really know what else to do when we “hang out” anymore…if you can even call it that. He says the we “ should hang out outside of the lessons” since their is nothing else that I can teach him.

Neteyam’s pov

Recently, I’ve been hanging out with ____ a lot. I’ve been making excuses to hangout with them or even just for the simplest things. Lo’ak is thinking that I like her, and I’m starting to see it. ____ is very mysterious, and interesting. She doesn’t really like to be out much with other people, and she has this fierce type attitude. Sort of similar to her mothers, just more..dialed back.

Today I made ____ a gift. It’s a bracelet from the shells from the shore that tuk and I found a few days ago. “Who is that for?” Lo’ak asked. “It’s none of your business, Lo’ak” I rolled my eyes at him while walking towards the place where me and ____ are supposed to meet. “ Its fine, I have a pretty good guess on who it’s for” he said. I huffed and kept waking. “Look big bro, someone’s gonna snatch ____ up and take her one day . Might as well and confess soon.” He said. “And why do you say that?” I asked. “ One of her brothers friends mentioned that he had a crush on her yesterday. So I suggest you hurry up and do it while you have the chance.”he shrugged his shoulders and walked away. I sighed and just kept walking until I see ____.

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: Just before they leave Kansas the group decides to eat and rest before continuing, giving Y/N the time she needs to visit her mother’s gravestone.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, dead parent, visiting a graveyard, lonely, angst with a happy ending (the happy ending almost didn’t happen)

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44

Word Count: 2022

Reunion

(Master list, Previous ch, Next ch)

I sit in the backseat of the Impala, the wind blowing from the open window, messing up my hair and the book I have in my lap. My spell book. I look down at the hard brown book, only minutes ago did I have a small fight with Dean about what to do with it but even now the urge to do something itches at my bones.

With a small huff I open my bag pulling out a pen before flipping open to the page, on the top left corner I write “April 2005–bags did not work on a house haunted with a poltergeist.” The small warning did nothing to ease me but it would have to do for now, because to rip the page would be to destroy a piece of my mother and a piece of myself.

Dean was right, I'm not afraid to admit that, I am afraid to admit, however, that I acted harshly to his remarks. I knew I shouldn’t have reacted like that, I knew it even in the moment but the words left me too quickly for any rationale to hit me. I felt bad, it must have been hard for him to see his mom again and then there I was causing an argument to rub salt in a wound. Most of all I pity myself for getting like that, an awful anger festering in my gut.

"Hey, how 'bout we grab a bite and take a breather?" Dean suddenly speaks, breaking the silence of the car. I look up from my lap, where the book rested, I meet his eyes in the rear view mirror giving a small nod. I was hoping we would stop somewhere for a while so I could sneak away and visit someone. Sam agrees too so we drive on for a while.

I watch the view from my window the whole time, watching the trees and buildings go by when it suddenly becomes very familiar. I don’t know if it was on purpose or not but we pulled right up in front of my favorite diner, I always went there it had become a go-to very quickly. Different memories flash in my mind to the many times I went with my brother, friends, and even Dean. It’s then that I think it must have been on purpose but instead of happiness filling me it’s a sort of dred.

Even so nothing more is said as we exit the car, but just as I close the door behind me I say, “You guys go ahead, I'm not hungry.”

Dean gives me a confused look but it’s Sam that speaks up, “Do you want us to save you something?”

“No no it’s okay, thanks” I shake my head, clutching the strap of my bag to me. “Could you just text me whatever motel we’ll be staying at, in case I come back and you're not here”

“Where ‘you heading off to?” Dean asks, confusion and concern written in his eyes.

“Oh, I’m just gonna walk around” I half lie with a tight lipped smile to finish it off. Still Dean looks at me skeptically, which I suppose is completely fair, but he doesn't say anything about my blatant lie either. With a simple bye I walk away swiftly, feeling the burn of their gaze on me, only slowing down when I'm out of sight.

My feet guide me, the route so familiar I could do it blindfolded. I spent so many years in this town, and yet it all seems so foreign. It was like I was walking back in time directly toward my past, except nothing is exactly as I remembered it to be. I hate to admit it but I never thought I’d be doing this again.

At each crossroad I wait at, my heart feels like it’s being squeezed. A desperate sadness filling my lungs, how was it possible for something to be so familiar yet so foreign? It didn’t make sense. Yes time changes all things, and yet I think I expected it to still be the same like it couldn’t possibly change because this is where I grew up. Maybe it was because I never thought of this place anymore, hadn’t needed too. My past died here and I moved on because it was the only thing left to do. I never came back, never visited, never wondered what my friends who I met here were doing.

It hurt too much to think of Kansas when out of all the wonderful memories only the worst ones stuck out, branding itself to this place I called home.

I slow to a stop in front of a flower shop, the same one I always went to. I enter the small establishment, the bell ringing as I open the door. The strong aroma of all sorts of flowers hitting my nose, I don’t need to look around to know exactly what I want. What I came for.

I walked up to the counter immediately noticing the owner wasn't behind it, I remembered she always was and she even refused to hire any workers because this was her store and she didn’t want any “hooligans” to ruin her work. I have to remind myself that it’s been years, not a week or a month but years since I’ve been here. She probably retired or…no. I won’t let myself think that.

I leave with my bouquet of forget me-nots and white roses, my moms two favorite flowers. I hold the assortment gently as I continue my long walk. My mother loved forget me-nots she would gush over the meaning and the many poems and analogies she had heard, she was a romantic so the meaning was never lost on her. I definitely got that from her.

Eventually I arrive at the cemetery, the large black gate creaking as I push it open. I carry on the path taking a couple twists and turns before arriving at the gravestones. It was unkempt with dead leaves covering it, the sight alone made me want to cry. I wipe away the leaves that lay on top of it, using my shirt to clear the dirt from her name not caring about it getting dirty. I sit criss-cross right in front of her, “Hi mommy” I smile sadly, tears already filling my eyes. “I brought you flowers” I lift them slightly in emphasis.

Feeling it to be too improper to just lie them down, I produce a glass vase filled with water. Carefully I take the plastic wrapping off the bouquet, freeing the flowers from their restraint before placing them in the vase just beside her grave stone.

I let out a heavy sigh, “I missed you…I’m sorry I haven’t visited you since I moved away”

“God.” I sigh, looking up to the blue sky, fluffy clouds scattered over it, trying to prevent the tears from falling.

“You know” I laugh sadly, looking back at her, “This whole time we were here I planned on seeing you and I thought of so many things i’d like to tell you about, but now.…” I breathe out. “I don’t know.”

“There’s hardly a day that goes by in which I don’t miss you, It’s gotten easier since, well, you know.”

“But being here.” My voice trembles, “I feel as if I could lose my mind to the grief, I thought I was past that. Past being so…lost. Alone?”

I laugh, tears falling from my eyes, “I could really use one of your hugs right now”

I wiped my face, my cheeks feeling stiff from the tears, “I met your friend Missouri, she’s great, I'm surprised you or dad never mentioned her before.”

“Um. I’m with the Winchesters right now, helping ‘em out” I tell her, trying to think of the positives right now instead of the squeezing of my heart.

I swallow down a sob, my throat feeling tight with emotion once more, “I know you’d like to hear all the good in my life but being here, I can’t— I just. I miss you”

“I don’t care if that’s redundant when it’s the truth, I just…I’m so lonely” A sob breaks through my lips, and the tears flow down my face rapidly only this time I don’t try and conceal it. “That sounds so horrible to say because I’m with people I love and care so deeply for, yet something feels wrong. Something is missing and I don't feel quite whole.”

More tears fall, my eyes blur with it. Her gravestone and the flowers turn into a gray, green, blue, and white mix. “Have you ever felt that way?” I ask her even though I know I won’t get a response.

I sit there in silence for a few moments not really knowing what to say or what to do. I don’t want to leave just yet because I don’t know when I’ll be back, and to leave would feel like turning my back on her all over again. I scoot the way I sit so that my back is resting on the side of her gravestone with my legs extended in front of me. I lean my head to the side to rest on the frigid stone.

“I figure I’d find you here” A deep familiar voice suddenly says. My eyes shoot up from my fingers, watching Dean's approaching figure, a cup of something in each hand. I swiftly sit up, wiping at my face quickly trying to remove any evidence that I'd been crying, “What are you doing here.”

“Well Sammy bailed on me for some beauty sleep after you left. Noticed you were off, especially when you skipped out on one of your favorite diners.

‘Figured you’d end up here.” He’s closer now only a few paces away, I stand up to meet him. I don’t understand why he came or how he even remembered where her grave would be, “No offense but why’d you come here?”

He shrugs all nonchalantly, “Didn’t want you to be alone.” It was sweet he was here but it almost felt awkward, like this was too private of a moment. “I can leave if you want” He offers, sensing my hesitance.

“No! no it’s okay, thank you for coming, that's really sweet of you.” I spill out quickly, leaving out the part that my mom wouldn’t mind him being here either.

He shrugs again, “You’d do the same for me.”

“Also, I brought you a milkshake for old time sake. Wasn’t sure what flavor you’d go for, but knowing how indecisive you are anyway I got you a vanilla chocolate mix thing.” He extendeds one of the blue paper cups towards me and I knew he got them from the diner.

I take the cup from him, the coolness immediately seeping into my hand, “You know me well” I smile looking down at the milkshake not being able to meet his eyes. Now sweet wasn’t even the right word to describe him, he brought us milkshakes because when we hung out we would almost always go to a diner and get them with fries or a whole meal depending.

“I told you I did” He responds, reminding me again of our previous “fight.”

I look back at my moms grave, the flowers I brought sitting in the vase somehow the scene feeling lighter now. “We can stay, drink these here, if you want.” He offers, again sensing what I’m thinking.

I turn my head back towards him, this time meeting his green eyes, “No it’s okay.” And it was, I knew my mom would want this. She would want me to walk away now when I was happier and with someone I loved—that romantic in her shining through again. He nods and we begin to walk away, I take a sip of the milkshake, “God that’s good” I smile and he laughs.

We walk silently mostly, “Sorry about before, with the spell book. You were right.”

He swings his free arm around my shoulder tugging me closer to his side, “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

[youreallyshouldtalkmore]

My Little Hybrid Family_Part 2

A.N:  After a thousand years, this 20+ chapter is finally ready to start rolling out!! This is a hybrid AU that features all my husbandos, Leona, Malleus and Scarabia.

In fact, this started because I loved the Scarabian Halloween cards so much, I thought I’d make a hybrid story for it. Then Octavinelle slid into the story rather seamlessly being they are mermen. That’s just hanging out in the wind.

As for the rest of the characters, there are hints and cameos around.

I hope you all enjoy this as much as I do!!

Twisted Wonderland Masterlist  

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

And so Kalim’s and Jamil’s new lives with you began. Kalim seemed to quickly latch onto you, smiling so widely he shamed the sun.  The first time he threw his arms around you, you had never seen Jamil so panicked as he tried to pull Kalim off you with a murmured apology. 

Realizing what he did, Kalim apologized, both of them bowing deeply. 

You waved them away, “Enough. It was a hug. No big deal!” 

Kalim gazed at you, “Really? You don’t mind?” 

Jamil hit Kalim on the arm to be quiet as he spoke to you, “Our old owner had very few rules, but one was to never touch him or his guest unless they requested it. I apologize for Kalim, he forgot his place.” 

With a hand to the back of Kalim’s head, he forced him to bow again, himself included. 

“I want you two to understand something....” 

Still bowing both tensed even Kalim hearing your serious voice, “I am not your old owner. And I’m not a human that gets jollies in tormenting hybrids, either mentally or physically. We are to live together it seems, and while you are here you will be afforded respect. I cannot attest to how it will be when my parents return, but since they are seldom here, it’s nothing you need to concern yourself with. I don’t want you to fear me. Now, please stop bowing. It’s uncomfortable.” 

Jamil allowed the two of them to straighten, looking at you. Kalim seemed to brush the tense moment off and smiled. 

And then you smiled back. 

It was different from that moment on, Jamil felt it. Kalim seemed to grow closer to you each day, sometimes giving you a hug. But after a week, Jamil still did not tell you his name. You both knew that you had heard it, but you still pretended not to know and never addressed him as such. 

“Yo, What are you cooking? Smells good.”, you asked as you entered the kitchen. 

Jamil tensed once. You had discovered that Jamil was very adapt to cooking. Even with their old owner, he left them to their own devices when it came to cooking. Since he didn’t want them to go outside, he provided the food, but never did he or have anyone cook for them. He didn’t want anyone to see them.

“I’m surprised that a human would allow a hybrid to cook for them.” Jamil spoke instead. 

“I’ve heard many have hybrids for domestic duties.” 

“Yes, and how do you know if said hybrid wouldn’t poison the owner?” Jamil stirred the pot, looking into it as he asked lightly. He didn’t want to seem as though he was challenging you. 

But wasn’t that exactly what he was doing? 

But why? 

He never tested their previous owner before. But with you, he had been testing boundaries all week, and each time you brushed it off or never responded as he expected you to. You let them have their space, not policing them. 

“Yeah, I often wondered myself, actually.” 

Jamil snapped his head up to look at you. You were serious, “I mean, if you are going to treat someone badly and then tell them to cook your meal, how can you reasonably expect them not to try to poison you? I would try, though I guess they are bound by fear, so there is that.” You shrugged. 

Jamil had stopped stirring to just stare at you. Then he caught himself and returned, “Dinner will be ready in an hour.” 

“Cool!” you responded, going to walk out the kitchen. 

“Jamil.” 

You stopped and turned to him, “Excuse me?” 

“It’s my name. Jamil.” 

There was a beat of silence, but Jamil didn’t dare turn around. 

“Then, it’s nice to meet you, Jamil!” you said before walking out the kitchen. 

— 

And so three months passed in this manner. Jamil slowly began to warm up to you, and you caught glimpses of a rare smile. You even discovered that he hated bugs. Thankfully there was Kalim because you hated bugs as well. Kalim only laughed and said the two of you bonded then. Both of you yelled at him to can it, but he only smiled and said, that you two were clinging to each other and didn’t even know it. That was the first time Jamil had touched you. 

But then, your peaceful world ended, and you found yourself lost. The private jet that your parents were on crashed. Although you didn’t see them much growing up, they were still your parents. But now they were gone. 

You shut down. 

You were barely aware of Kalim being at your side as much as he could. Even Jamil started worrying in his own way. You barely ate and seem to go through motions. 

As rich parents, their funeral was covered in the news. Jamil never seen Kalim so serious as he paced in front of the TV. As hybrids, they were not allowed to go with you, and Kalim wanted nothing more than to be by your side. Watching the TV, seeing you so distant, broke his heart. 

Yes, even Jamil. 

After your initial shock and break down, they hadn’t seen you cry since.  

Not even at the funeral. 

Part 3

[tourmalinatedquartz]

Make This House A Home

Fandom: Redacted ASMR

Genre: fluff, tiny hints of angst

Pairing: Sam/Darlin’ (GN reader)

TW/CW: non detailed reference to toxic family members. That should be it.

A/N: you know the drill. Written on mobile and not edited. Why am I only good at writing when I’m at work? As always let me know if I gendered Darlin’ on accident!

Darlin’ had inherited their childhood home. It sat about 30 minutes outside of town on 10 acres of unused land. The house itself had sat abandoned since the passing of their parents. The structure was filled with rather unpleasant memories that the shifter preferred to leave in the past.

So why were they stood on the porch, key in hand, on a perfectly good August night when they could be spending it with their mate? Well it’s because of Sam himself. He’d made a comment earlier in the summer that as much as he liked and appreciated his current place and the generosity of William, he’d always had an idea of the ideal home. One that was out of the way, where he could hear frogs in the pond, crickets chirping, owls hooting from the evergreens, morning doves greeting him before bed, coyotes howling in the distance, and relax knowing that he had the privacy to really relax.

The only problem was that most places like that were too far away or not part of clan territory. Except, for some houses William owned outside of Dahlia. Houses that were all on lots of land, but taken. Just at the edge of those houses was where Darlin’ could be found. Staring at a door they hadn’t opened in over 10 years.

Their childhood home was now bordering land owned by William Solaire himself. Darlin’ was surprised when Sam had driven them past it and pointed the house out.

“That’s the one.” His hand crossed in front of their face to the deteriorating building. “Someone else owns it but that’s the one I’d want.”

Darlin’ was at a loss for words for a while but finally managed to ask, “why that one?”

“Well, there’s lotsa reasons. It’s right next to some of William’s homes so I wouldn’t have to worry about being too far away from the clan. It’s not too close to town, so I wouldn’t feel so trapped by all the city life. Plus it’s beautiful.”

They took a minute to take in everything he’d said, staring at the rear view long after the house disappeared in the darkness. They didn’t know the rest of the area belonged to William. Sure they’d gotten multiple offers on it years ago but they turned them all down without looking at any of the information. They hadn’t been ready to let go of it.

“Sam, you’re not exactly in the city right now either.” His current home was removed enough for vampires and shifters alike to feel comfortable and not risk breaking covert in their own lawn.

“Well I know that but this is just…a bit more. I dunno know why but somethin’ about that place just drew me in the second I saw it.”

They gave an almost irritated sigh once they pushed open the door. “Damn it Sam. Why’d it have to be this one?”

Grimacing at the state of it, they did a walk through of the familiar layout and took note of all the obvious issues. If they did this, it would take a lot of work.

———

Same squinted at them from the other end of their couch.

“What is it Darlin’? You’ve been anxious all night.”

He fully expected them to brush him off, or admit they’d gotten themself into trouble again somehow. But instead they seem to Steele themselves for something and say,

“How confident are you in your handyman abilities?”

“My what?” That definitely had not been what he expected.

“Ya know, how easy would it be for you to…” they were too scared to say ‘fix up a house with me’. He waited, patiently, for them to find the right words. “I have a project. Wondered if you’d be able to help.”

He was elated at the fact that his Darlin’ was coming to him to ask for help with something. He was also intrigued at this vague ‘project’.

“I see. And what kinda project, prey tell, is this?”

“Just some demo and remodeling.” They paused to gauge his reaction.

“Like…in a house?” His face remained neutral. They couldn’t spot any judgement or disinterest in his expression, which did ease a little of their anxiety.

“Yea. A house.” Sam wanted to question them. He wanted to know more but it was obvious to him that they were having a hard time opening up about whatever spurred on this project.

“Well, I’m not too shabby at that kinda thing, if I do say so myself.” He offered Darlin’ a small, crooked smile. “When do we start?”

“Do you want to take a look at it tonight? It’s pretty run down, so I wouldn’t want you to commit to it without knowing how much work it’ll take.” They wanted to give him as many chances to back out as possible. Even though they knew he wanted the house, knew he wanted the land, and knew he’d have a blast making it his own, they couldn’t help but doubt that he’d want to do it with them.

“Tonight? Sure, why not.”

———

Darlin’ could see the look of recognition on his face when they neared the property. Every second brought more and more anxiety.

“The drive is on the left, right there.” They pointed although they were sure it wasn’t necessary.

“Darlin’…this is…did William buy this? Are we fixin’ it up for him?” They could see him trying to figure out how the hell he was standing on the land of the home he said he’s wanting for years being asked to fix it up.

“No.” He whipped his head around to face them. “It’s mine…this-this is my childhood home.” They nodded at it with their head, hands shoved nervously in their pockets. “I inherited it when my parents passed. I never thought I’d be back. But selling it never felt right either. I never knew why but…maybe this is why.”

Sam turned towards them fully and placed a gentle hand on their cheek. “Darlin’ I love you so much. You know that? It’s incredible that this house has been yours this whole time. And if you want it, then I’m right here with you. But if you don’t, then I’m fine right where I am. I told you before, you are home to me. As long as I have you then I don’t care what house I’m living in.”

Darlin’ sniffed, cleared their throat, then nodded. A habit they had when trying not to cry. “Yea I know. I came by the other night to…” they shrugged, dropping their gaze to the ground. “I guess figure out if I could see myself living here again.”

Sam waited, patient as always.

“I think I’d like to try. With you. By the time we get done it’ll look so different and…it’ll feel different.” They didn’t have to say it but Sam knew they meant that with Sam there instead of their parents, and with it looking like their own home, it would finally feel safe.

“If that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll get. Are you ready to go inside?”

“Yea, I’m ready.” So they did and Sam held Darlin’s hand the entire time.

[breakerwhiskey]

097 - NINETY-SEVEN

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey.

Transcript under the cut. For more episodes, click here.

[click, static]

I’m on my way to Salt Lake City, land of the Mormons. I have no idea what to expect from a city built by people who don’t drink or smoke or, god, even have caffeine. Maybe it’ll be just the same as every other city in America - half of the ones back East were founded by Puritans and teetotalers.

I never had much use for religion. I remember my parents bringing me to church sometimes when I was a kid, but they weren’t that devout themselves so it never really sunk in.

And no, my weeks on the road have not changed my mind about God. Not even that weird encounter in Colorado. Whether it was a trick of the light or a hallucination I was having…

[click, static]

Who am I kidding. Trick of the light? It wasn’t a trick of the light. And I’ve never hallucinated in my entire goddamn life, I can’t imagine that all this driving has had such an impact on me that I’ve suddenly started now.

I’ve mostly been trying not to think about it. A ghost, a spirit, some kind of angel or demon…whatever it was, I haven’t seen anything like it since and I’m—

Even if it was a ghost, just because I believe in the afterlife doesn’t mean I believe in gods. And I’m not sure that’s what it was! I’m not sure I do believe in the afterlife! Maybe it was just…

[click, static]

Maybe I should pick up some Mormon writing in Utah, see if they have anything to say about it.

I have always wondered about the multiple wives thing. How does that work exactly? Even if all the women really were happy with the situation—which I’m not saying is impossible, it just seems like a system where maybe they don’t get that much say either way—I can’t really fit the puzzle pieces together in my head. Is it easier if you all have one relationship within the larger…structure, or does everyone have relationships with everyone? I mean, I lived in New York for years and hung out in the art scene, I knew people who had both kinds of situations, and it never made sense to me in those cases either. Not to say it didn’t work for the people I knew, I’m just not sure it’d work for me.

With the benefit of hindsight and plenty of time to reflect over the last few years, I’ve come to recognize that I…fixate. It hasn’t happened very often in my life, but when I lo—when I like someone, really like someone, I get a little bit of tunnel vision about them, whether I realize or not. And if I ever got that person, I don’t think I’d be selfless enough to share.

Maybe that’s unhealthy, I don’t know. It certainly hasn’t helped me have good romantic relationships. I think one of the reasons I never was really able to commit to Martha is because by that point I was already crazy—

[click, static]

It wasn’t fair to Martha. The way I was I just wish I’d figured it out at the time, either to tell Martha the truth, make her understand it was never about her or to, ideally, give myself a smack upside the head and get over whatever feelings my heart decided to develop without my consent. If I’d known what I felt back then—really felt—I would’ve done everything in my power to make sure I stopped feeling that way.

[click, static]

What about you, Birdie? Did you leave a partner behind? If the world were suddenly full of people, is that something you’d want?

I guess I can ask you about it on Thursday. Whiskey out.

[click, static]

[urmumsdrycooch]

ᗷEᗩT ᗩᖇOᑌᗪ TᕼE ᗷᑌᔕᕼ

Max Caulfield x Reader

Summary: Funeral, distant Max, etc.

Warnings: Mentions of death.

Max and I have always been joined at the hip. We met in my hometown in Seattle and were always close. Even though we went to different schools, we always found time to hang out together. We would go on adventures, take photos, and just have fun together. We were always there for each other, even when things got tough, and our friendship has been unbreakable since.

We'd moved to Arcadia together, though she kept rather quiet about it. I didn't mind so much, as long as I got to finally spend time with her without the boundaries of parents and different schools. Arcadia bay's a small town, but it was the best place to be, considering Max's photography wet dream and my... I'm not too sure, either way it could be found in Blackwell.

Speaking of, the final school year had just resumed after Christmas break and Max was already working on a new project. It was a secret, but I knew it was something she was really excited about. We were both so busy with school and our own projects that we barely had time to talk, let alone hang out.

"Black and white or colour?" Max mutters, eyes focused on the screen in front of her.

"What?" I ask, lifting my head to see what she's working on.

It's a photo she took last week of a doe over at the lighthouse. I smile at the memory, I remember her freezing when she notices the opportunity to snap the photo. I remember her coming to me and basically shaking with all the excitement. Later that evening, I was finishing some homework that was due the next morning and she lay on my bed, staring at the photo for hours.

"Wow, Max." I gasp, clearly not having had a good enough look at the photo to realise its true beauty, "It's really pretty," I stare into her eyes, ", the photo... of course." My face burns up, but Max keeps her focus on the photo she'd been editing the entire lesson. She doesn't respond, which doesn't bother me, I'd not been able to get full sentences out of her the past week. Though, I'd never dare point it out to her.

"Hey Max, I was thinking-" I begin, but am rudely interrupted by the ring of my phone, Max turns her head back to the screen again, knowing I probably wasn't going to finish my sentence. I check the caller ID, it's my dad. We haven't spoken since Christmas, so it'll be nice to catch up, but not exactly during a lesson. Dad always understood I'd be busy with school, so it's rather odd he'd be calling at this time.

"Hey, Dad!" I greet, smiling through the phone.

"Y/n, it's nice to hear your voice." My eyebrows furrow at his low and dragging tone. Something's not right, but I'm not sure what.

"What's up?" I ask, trying to get a read on him. But, clearly, the concerning silence on the other end of the line only added to my raising suspicion.

There's a long pause on the other end of the line, "Y/n, it's about Liam..." My heart sinks as I finally put together all the factors from the phone call. The odd timing, my Father's usual cheerful voice dimmed down to a somber, regretful one, my cousin had been overly thoughtful and somewhat appreciative.

"What do you mean Dad?" I breathe, desperation creeping into my voice. I get up out of my seat, heading towards the art room's brightly coloured door, deathly contrasted to the news I was yet to hear.

"Y/n, I know you knew about his health-" My heart stops as he speaks, "- and I don't want to just put this on you and expect to deal with it. So-"

I cut him off, "Just tell me." Quick and sharp, the words awaited acting as a signature to my unfortunate expectations.

"He passed away earlier today, around 11 to be exact."

Tears sat on the brims of my eyes now on the verge of an outbreak, waves of emotions and feelings part like the red sea as the news sink in. He was gone, gone before he could even get a chance to live. And, as much as I wanted to hold on to some semblance of hope, the bitter truth was clear.

He'd been ill for quite some time, and still more was to come. The doctors called it chronic, our family called it a bump in the road. We've downplayed it for so long, and it's finally reached its encore. But, it's the final curtain call. My mind reeled at the thought of my cousin lying in a hospital bed for weeks, maybe even months, knowing his fate. But, we all chose to look the other way. We were comfortable in our own lives and didn't want to rock the boat.

Liam and I were always hot and cold. We were usually either fighting over some silly competition or coming up with the world's greatest new invention. I remember one time for Halloween all of the first cousins dressed up as the mystery gang from Scooby doo, but there were one too many cousins so two of us had to be Scooby, and that just so happened to be Liam and me. We spent the whole night fighting over who was the better Scooby once we got home, we had 0 sweets to celebrate. Which soon lead to the both of us stealing a bunch out of our other cousins' bags.

It feels like yesterday that all that happened. Times change so quickly that sometimes you don't even notice how much it can flip your world. And now, he's gone. The one person I could always count on in a time of need is no longer here to help me out. It feels like the whole world has collapsed on me.

I sit on the floor, my back against the wall, balling my hands into fists as the tears continue flowing freely. I bury my face in my knees, wishing I could take the pain with him. But, that's not how this works.

Footsteps approach, and I hear the door open before the gentle warmth of a hand rests on my back. I don't have to look up to know it's Max.

"Y/n?" She coos, her hand rubbing circles on my back in soothing circles. "What're you doing out here?"

I shake my head, still trying to come to terms with what's happened. "Come on, let's go." The dark-haired girl helps me up, her cold fingers lacing between mine, while her free hand brushes any hair in my face. The phone call was long forgotten, assuming Dad understood and just hung up.

We make our way back to my dorm, walking in silence as thoughts race through my mind. A message notification rings through the silent air, I go to reach for my phone but am interrupted by Max, flashing me warning eyes. I shrug her off and pick up the phone, it reading:

Dad: The funeral is back home, 7:30 AM on the 27th, lots of love x

I huff and fall back into my bed, letting my hands be a blanket to my face, covering any fear presented on my face. I don't want to go back home. I don't want to see the looks on my parents' faces or the pity in everyone's eyes. I don't want to have to think any more about it.

Balled fists rub at my eyes as if to somehow erase the sadness and pass the mourning. Over the half-hour, Max had been accompanying me, she got the gist of what'd happened. "I can come with you if you want."

"No, it'd only be a bother, considering all that work you've got. I can tell Jefferson's been harder on you recently, don't let my problems-" I mutter quietly, guilty to be declining such a kind gesture.

She takes both my hands, pausing my sentence, "No, I want to. Plus, I know you'd do the same for me." She smiles softly, I don't know what to say, so I just nod

The funeral day soon comes around, I managed fine for the week or two after the news hit, but now it's time to actually face reality. I put on a brave face for Max, but I know the truth. I'm a mess. My eyes keep drifting to my phone, expecting it to ring with another notification telling me to go home. But it doesn't.

I make my way to the back of the church, taking a seat in the last row, Max following shortly behind. I know my parents are here somewhere, but I don't want to see them. They don't deserve my tears, they didn't deserve to lose him like this.

The preacher starts speaking, and I try to focus on what he's saying. But it's all so meaningless. And I'm dreading having to speak to the family later on, it'll only be full of pathetic small talk and to-the-side chats.

The speech shortly ended, and I slowly made my way out, Max following behind. We don't utter a word to each other, just make our way to an old wooden bench that would definitely give you splinters if you touched it bare skin. The rest of the friends and family gathered around the one small garden area outside the church.

I gain the occasional stare that is interrupted once I catch on, eyes full of pity, and words tip-toeing on eggshells in fear it may jab at a sensitive topic.

"I don't feel like I'm helping too much." Max sighs, deflating her shoulders in self-defeat.

I slowly shake my head, "No, you being here is more than enough."

The freckled girl glances down at her twiddling hands, attempting to gather her words, "I'm sorry."

"Please Max, that's all I've had these past few weeks," I chuckle, letting the playful statement drag out, lingering in the air.

"No, not like that. Well, yes of course- no- but, you know." She stutters, then takes a few breaths to clear her mind when she notices my waiting face. "I mean for being a bit distant, and I don't want to blame it on school or pastimes or anything, because really, I should've been making time for you. And I feel that the way I've acted has only added to how you feel." She says, slower this time.

"It's okay, I get it." I offer, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind my ear. "You're at Blackwell to do what you love most, I'm there to... well, to be with you. So, always put what you love first." I smile softly, giving her a gentle hug.

"Thank you," She whispers, burying her face in my shoulder, "But the thing is- um, never mind."

I pull back, a quirked eyebrow planted on my face met with a brightly red-faced Max, "What thing?"

She swallows, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve, "I- I'm just not sure if it's the right time." She admits, her cheeks flushing a light pink.

"Max, come on," I playfully jab her shoulder, ", tell me," I say, trying to keep my voice as gentle as possible.

She nods, but she doesn't meet my eyes, "I know, I'm just- I don't know what to say."

I can feel my eyebrows furrow in confusion, "What is it?" Concern grew for the girl.

"I just want to tell you the full truth," She pauses, "It's just- I've never felt this way before. Around anyone. And I thought maybe if I'm distant it'll go away and I won't ruin what we've had." She admits, her voice breaking. "But it hasn't and I know it won't, and I'm so sorry if this freaks you out, but-"

I wrap my arms around her, almost immediately stopping her sentence, "It doesn't freak me out," I assure her, ", if anything, it relieves me." I slowly admit, the words more or less pouring out of my mouth.

I feel her shake her head, "I don't know, that's a bad or good thing." She giggles.

I pull back to look at her, "I'm not so sure. A good thing..?" I try, scratching the back of my neck. "This is really confusing me, did we just confess feelings to each other by beating around the bush?"

"Why'd you have to ruin it." Max rolls her eyes, leaning in for a tighter hug.

[melis-writes]

Micheal or Victoria scolding the kids for something they did wrong ❤️

How about both of them?! 👀 The twins get a lot of spotlight, so let’s say it was little Vincent and James in this parenting prompt! Going to base this prompt here in 1963 where James is 6 and Vincent is 7! 🤞🏻

“Well, well.” Michael hears Lorenzo’s voice behind him, accompanied by the sound of his brother-in-law stepping over dead leaves to approach his side. “I didn’t think your sons were that alike you, Corleone.”

Michael doesn’t bother to turn back to face Lorenzo, but rather keeps his gaze to the side while straightening out his overcoat. “Get to the point.”

It’s as obvious to Michael as it is to anyone else. Since the governness’ studies ended this afternoon and with your family at Lake Tahoe, there’s an abundance of little footsteps and children shrieking as they play around; twenty children to be exact, including yours.

Of course, yelling and playing outside, perhaps some cases of the children not wanting to share with one another, the occasion trip and fall causing in some crying is expected and almost always delivered, but Michael knows exactly what Lorenzo’s referring to that isn’t on the list.

“You let your kids exclude others, Corleone?” Lorenzo seems rather irritated by Michael’s cold response. “Do you encourage it?”

“I’ve always found it interesting,” Michael begins, putting his hands into the pockets of his overcoat before looking over at Lorenzo, “how you can manage to say such stupid things.”

“Does my child crying sound stupid to you?” Lorenzo gestures back with his thumb towards the family estate where his wife Alina comforting their youngest son, ten-year old Hugo who cries his eyes out in his mother’s arm.

“Am I supposed to know what happened to him from here?” Michael stares at Lorenzo with an emotionless expression, practically speaking out in a monotone voice. “There’s twenty children here.”

“Ask your two boys.” Lorenzo rolls his eyes, “or I’d have the sense to question my sister’s parenting too. There’s no reason why Vincent or James should be excluding Hugo from playtime whatsoever. I assume they think they run the place—”

“Technically, they do.” Michael interrupts, answering. “This is their home and you’re our guests. I’ll speak with them and their mother but for Hugo’s sake, not yours.”

Lorenzo glares at Michael, an expression Michael ignores altogether as he’s already making his way back towards his and your estate without another word.

You’re already ahead of Michael and the situation, having been outside right when it occurred before your own eyes.

You were supervising your children with your sisters-in-law, seeing that James and Vincent had created an imaginary dragon slaying game with the twins when Hugo approached them and asked if he could join.

Seemingly as Vincent and James came up with the idea of the game, they were deciding the ‘recruits’ and rejected Hugo outright, although you couldn’t hear exactly what they said until Hugo burst out into tears and ran to his mother.

Unlike your other sisters-in-laws, you find yourself on and off a little bit of a rocky relationship with your first sister-in-law, Alina.

When you met her, Alina was somewhat shy and absolutely head over heels for Lorenzo, but as time went on and she grew more comfortable and understood the increasing importance of her husband in the family business, much of Lorenzo’s own brash and cocky personality may have rubbed off on his wife.

Either way, you neither care nor see Alina far too frequently enough to wonder what’s causing her attitude for the day, and you approached Vincent and James quickly to pull them inside before Alina could even recognize what happened.

Even inside the estate, you and the boys can hear Hugo’s muffled crying, but before you can have a proper sit down with them in the living room, Michael walks in as silently as ever—leaning against the doorway.

“Hi, daddy.” Vincent looks up, seeming a little bit unnerved for getting into trouble.

“Hello.” Michael greets both of his boys.

James peeks at his father admiringly, dangling his little feet off the couch and seeming almost a little annoyed by the crying coming from outside. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. daddy.”

“I think you do. Your mother certainly does.” Michael answers, giving you a warm glance.

“Are we in trouble, mama?” Vincent pouts, confused by the whole ordeal himself.

“No, no, nothing like that honey.” You shake your head, sitting across from the twins. “But you see, Hugo is upset and something happened during playtime, didn’t it? We just want to understand what happened.”

“Ummm…” James ponders the question before answering,  “we were playing a new cool game Vincent and I came up with called ‘Dragon Slayers’ and we only needed two teams.”

“Were Niccolo and Verona playing with the two of you?” Michael asks.

“Mhmm.” Vincent nods. “They were the second team, but we only needed two teams, daddy. That’s what we told him.”

“Was that really what you two told him?” You raise a brow. “Was it said nicely?”

“Hugo is not nice to me, though.” James murmurs quietly.

“No?” Michael raises a curious brow. “Why haven’t you told us, buddy?”

James shrugs his shoulders. “I ignore it. He keeps calling me ‘tiny man’.”

“Tiny man?” You repeat.

“Because I’m the youngest.” James explains, “so I asked him nicely not to say that to me, please, but he still calls me ‘tiny man’ and he laughs. So I don’t want to play with him.”

“Lorenzo didn’t bother telling me that.” Michael says to you.

You let out a soft sigh, nodding. “Of course he didn’t. Sounds like my brother alright, always wanting to scold and lecture but not to his own children. Well buddy, if you guys didn’t want to play with Hugo because he’d been mean to you in the past, I understand that, but what your father and I don’t understand is why he was crying so hard like that.”

“Um, well,” Vincent begins, “we kinda weren’t too nice about it. We told him to ‘go away’.”

“But that isn’t very nice to say, is it?” Michael looks over at Vincent. “Surely you could have told him some other way without hurting his feelings?”

“I didn’t know.” James shrugs his shoulders, exchanging a glance with his brother. “I was a little mad at him for calling me ‘tiny man’ again today. He says I’m very sort.”

“You’re six, he’s ten.” Michael shakes his head, “though I suppose being the eldest and youngest means something with Lorenzo’s children.”

“Maybe.” You mumble, irritated by the thought. “I don’t want Hugo to continue before this goes onto rampant bullying, but still.” You smile back at your boys, “next time, can we please use kinder words when we speak to others? You definitely don’t have to play with anyone you don’t want to, but telling your cousin to ‘go away’ like that is very mean. I’m sure you guys see that, right?”

“Yeah, mama.” Vincent nods. “I felt bad when I saw him crying. I’ll go say sorry.”

“In a bit,” Michael tells him. “We can all have our apologies in a bit once we speak to your uncle and Hugo too. He hasn’t been very nice to your brother from what I’m hearing.”

“Mhmm. So, what will we tell someone next time we don’t want to play with them?” You ask your boys.

“Sorry, I don’t want to play right now?” James suggests.

“Yes, you can definitely say that.” Michael agrees. “It’s better to be as straight forward as possible. Too many players in your game, not enough time, and so on. What matters is how you word it. But to be honest,” Michael’s eyes fall on you. “I’m certain how I feel about my sons being around Hugo if his behaviour is going to go on like this.”

“You’re right, baby.” You sigh softly. “We’ll have a talk with Uncle Lorenzo and Hugo, but in the meantime you two can go back out to play, okay?”

“Okay, mama!” Vincent’s smile returns to his face as James nods at you and the two boys hop off the couch, scurrying to get back outside.

“Bye daddy!”

“Byeee!”

“Bye.” Michael chuckles, watching them leave. “There’s that.”

“Am I not surprised something like this keeps happening everytime Alina and Lorenzo bring their kids here?” You sigh loudly, resting your back against the couch. “It’s getting ridiculous.”

“It’ll be an unavoidable topic today, unfortunately.” Michael moves closer to you, taking your hand in his and rubbing his thumb over it. “How they parent their children is not our concern or fault. We’re only responsible for our own.”

“And it’s best to teach them to be kind and respectful.” You glance up at Michael, blushing. “I bet my brother’s questioned both of our parenting.”

“You’ve no idea.” Michael scoffs quietly. “He doesn’t bother me personally. Vincent and James aren’t his sons to talk to.”

“Absolutely.” You rise to your feet, feeling Michael wrap his arm around your waist.

“You’re a fantastic mother, darling.” Michael murmurs against your cheek before giving it a kiss. “And I’ve never had a doubt about that.”

[wordsdarkerthantheirwiings]

I read through my journal today and was struck by quite a few things, especially how insightful I’ve been for the last few years despite not always feeling that way - or rather, not realising at the time that I’m making genuine insights that have changed my perspective.

There were two particular insights that really struck me, the first being this:

[11/10/19] Growing up in an environment where doing things wrong scaled from actually misbehaving/being disrespectful to not doing the housework to a “standard” or being screamed at for judgments, perceptions and projections, coupled with constantly second-guessing somebody’s behaviour and the lashing out over small, irrational or genuinely insignificant things - as well as being embarrassed by somebody either infront of others or personally, about deeply personal things - was intensely traumatising and damaged me in ways I am still unable to fully comprehend. It is absolutely the reason I don’t want children of my own and holds me back from entering a relationship with anyone.

It is why I prefer solitude and isolate myself to cope. Such isolation quite probably also stems from the fact that I was completely isolated while dealing with it.

It is this latter part which really got me, because it relates to something I only realised quite recently:

which is that, as a child, adults in my life knew what I was going through but did not protect or stick up for me, and I really was on my own when dealing with what my parent put me through. The only exception is my paternal grandparents, who both knew exactly what my mum was like and tried on several occasions to step in and tell her to back off while she was berating me infront of them (embarrassing me infront of others, for anything from not finishing a book to the way I looked, my weight, etc, was one of her favourite pastimes), but it never got any further than the initial sticking up because she’d just yell at them to stop interfering. Then I’d inevitably get into more trouble because of how ~humiliated~ she was that other people tried to stop her.

But nobody else stuck up for or helped me. I know damn well that her family know what she’s like because her own mum has spoken to me about it, about knowing she has a massive drinking problem and an attitude and a temper. But they want nothing to do with it, even though they’re the ones who created her. Then on the few occasions as a teenager when I ended up snapping because she was aggressive and in my face, I was the one who had to quit shouting. I was the one who had to back down and leave it. Dad would come to see what in the absolute hell was going on and I was the one who had to stop. Any time I ever tried to defend myself against her always made it worse - and if she did back down, I always knew it would come out the next time, or the time after that. It was always me who had to stay quiet, leave it alone, don’t say anything god forbid she kicks off more.

And so, I had to deal with it myself. At the time that was by throwing myself into whatever fictional world I was into and pretending I was a powerful hero loved by everyone and in total control of my life, relationships and everything else. I listened to music as angry as I was, music that made me feel powerful, and didn’t reach out to anyone. Because I had been taught, for so long, that nobody could be trusted. Because I didn’t realise this parental experience wasn’t the norm. Because in the end, I knew they wouldn’t really stick up for me - it would somehow be my fault, something I had to apologise for even though I never started it. And I was that way for so, so long.

Now, things are different. I recognise when I need to talk about something with another person and am actually planning to ask for a therapist when I see the psych later this month, so they can help me work through a couple things. I do still step back to figure myself out sometimes and I think there’s merit in that - I don’t want nor expect other people to handle me when I can’t handle myself. I’m also pretty self-reflective now and if something makes me frustrated or angry or upset and I’m surprised that it elicited such a reaction, I’ll take it away to figure out why and then move forward the way I need to. A lot of the time it’s often saying “huh, makes sense I’d feel this way because it relates to [x], which I’ve worked out or am working on” and moving on.

But I definitely don’t self-isolate like I used to, especially since the psychosis has really backed off. I’m so much better at self-soothing and getting my feelings out when they need that space. And I’m grateful for the insight I’ve gained that’s helped me to grow in this way. It’s really nice to feel like you’ve overcome something written into the fabric of yourself, something you thought you’d never get over. And it’s nice to look back and see how far I’ve come.

[mental-health-advice]

Hi, I feel a very specific way so let me try to describe it accurately. Sorry if it’s a lot.

I don’t think it’s fair to say I’m lonely, because I don’t want better or more friends. The ones I have are honestly wonderful and I feel I have a good number of them.

I don’t like being single, but I also don’t like the idea of dating; it’s scary to me and seems like a lot of work. My friends don’t make me feel bad for being single either, they’re very understanding. My parents ask about my relationship status a lot since I’m in my mid 20s and that annoys me, but I moved out years ago so it’s easy to avoid.

I worry a lot about the effects and causes of me being single (and never having a relationship in the past either). I worry that I’m damaging my social skills and development by not having any relationships, even low quality ones. Kinda like how kids should play outside, have loving parents, or eat their veggies, I feel like I’m missing something important to my growth, especially since I’d like to get married eventually.

And honestly, I think I’m obsessive over this worry. I get random urges daily just to google advice for single people, and asking advice blogs this exact same question over and over again is another way it manifests. I think the best thing I could wish for is just the ability to not think about it, I’d be much happier and (probably) less scared of dating.

Thanks in advance,

-love life hypochondriac

Hey there,

Firstly, thanks for sending in your Ask as I am sure many others have been in or are still in the same or a similar position that you are in. I think that even in times like these, feeling like you are missing out on part of your personal growth/ social skills in life that you have to remind yourself that you are still at a relatively young age, you need to give yourself a break and be kind and gentle to yourself.

I understand the not liking or wanting to be single but at the same time not liking the idea or dating someone either - it is scary and especially if you have never been in such a relationship before. This does not mean that being in a relationship and dating someone will never happen for you though, like I said you are still young and learning and when you are ready to date, you will find that everything will just fall into place as if it was always meant to be.

There is no time limit to say you ‘must’ be in a relationship by or be a certain age and nor does it say anywhere that you even have to date in the near future. You mentioned that you have great friends and this is so good, it’s great that you have such amazing friends who are so understanding of you and still being single. I am just sorry that your parents are not as understanding though, but like you said it’s fairly easy to dodge that question given you have moved out of home. You have good decent friends though, and sometimes that makes all the difference when your parents don’t quite get exactly where you are in life and how you really feel about certain things like dating others.

It can be so easy to over think specific things and especially when it’s on our minds a lot and/ or we see friends and others in relationships themselves – you can feel left out and like your missing out on experiences you want to but don’t want to experience yourself as you don’t quite know what to expect from that experience if that makes sense?

In the end though, try to be kind to yourself and know that if you want to date then you will when you feel ready and actively want to, and not because it’s what’s expected of you from your parents or others that may be pressuring you or constantly asking about your relationship status/ sex life.

Just try to be kind to yourself and focus on other life opportunities you have or social skills you can build on. Dating isn’t everything and the fact you have such amazing friends shows you that you have the social skill of making friends under wrapped so the next step (if and when you want/ are ready to do so) is finding someone you really like and just taking things slowly from there.

I really hope that this has helped a bit and please do let us know if we can help to support you in any other way!

I’m thinking of you and hope that you are going well!

Take care,

Lauren  

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Funny how I feel completely ordinary and unexceptional until I talk to other people. Then I realize just exactly what a bizarre weirdo I actually am!

Dunno if that’s a good or bad thing. Not fitting in anywhere would be fine, maybe even great, if it weren’t so damn lonely.

Wouldn’t it be amazing to just talk to someone and know they will get what you are talking about. Not having to jigger the words you pick, all that personalized phrasing and judicious restraint. It would be like being able to breathe after holding my breath for, um, years now.

I talk to people, but it’s never feels like a proper connection. It’s like I observe them, listen to them, study them, almost absorb the whole vibe they give off, but the me they see is either one they have imagined up or one reduced to whatever peculiarity jumps out at them first.

I dunno which is worse, TBH, the conversation where the person chatters on oblivious to who I am or when they notice I am a bit strange and it derails the whole conversation.

The first makes me uncomfortable, realizing they are talking to who they assume I am but not the real me. I wonder if I should let it slide because there is no point or let them know what I really think or feel and risk ruining upsetting them.

But when my strangeness comes out and the conversation goes sideways, stopped cold by confusion or shock or simply a cluelessness about how to talk to someone like me, it’s an awful feeling. It feels like I spoiled something or disappointed someone by just being who I am.

Either way I end up I end up feeling apart.

I admit I do have a bit of a problem with my need to make people feel that I am paying attention to them. I never want someone to feel ignored for a second if we are talking, which gets to be an incredible strain if more than one person speaks to me or I am struggling to understand what they are saying. Maybe this desperation to make people feel like I am connecting, that I get them, is my way of reacting to almost never feeling it myself.

Reaching out to people, chatting to every stranger that gives mean opening, isn’t really charity. Writing this I realize it’s a little like trying to find whoever fits Cinderella’s slipper. If, you know, the prince had never met actually Cinderella and the slipper was a conversation instead of a hunk of glass made for a ridiculously tiny foot.

Eww, I, of the huge feet and evil step sister face, just made a comparison to the fairytale that lets tiny footed pretty girls get the guy! I must be too tired to be writing.

I know should just accept that without my parents, my fellow oddities, I am like the last survivor of an destroyed world. I used to hope one day I’d encounter someone my brain would spark with. I mean, I have, but they were always fleeting because of the circumstances beyond our control. Magical, heavenly moments, but just moments. An alien stranded on Earth shouldn’t expect to bump into someone from Alpha Centauri while grocery shopping.

I’m not wishing I were someone other than who I am, but….

Why does it have to make me so alone?

[moon-ness]

notes on books read

Bravey Part 1, beginning near the end and working backwards. 

Alexi began dating Jeremy in college and said it was a lucky thing he wasn’t into running. He had no context for it and therefore little expectations for her to live up to. He had no idea how many laps were in a 5k and couldn’t be hard on her for under performing. Sometimes I think how nice it would be to have someone into the same thing as you but I can also see how that could put a standard on you that may leave you feeling disappointed in yourself. Moments when you cannot live up to your own expectations, let alone theirs and moments when them pushing you can just feel too hard when you are already that much harder on yourself. I’m not sure which one I’d enjoy more, someone knowing exactly what it took or someone having no clue. Either way, it’d be nice to celebrate it. She attached to Jeremy and bonded despite a majority of their relationship being long distance. The distance didn’t daunt her. It helped them connect outside of sex but I enjoyed how freely she spoke about them getting it on like bunny rabbits when they did get the chance. Yearning and sex is a part of life, of yearning and connecting and celebration with someone. I admire Alexi so much for her candid and carefree nature, her topless pictures with sparkles on her face. Times walking home from practice with a backpack over the front of her torso because she stripped her soaking top off and forgot a backup. Her unshaken ability to run faster than the creeps that slide into her DM’s while she is just being someone wildly alive. In her own words from a poem “Internet predators can’t get what they can’t catch. Be empowered, not bitter. Playful, not shamed.” One thing I relate to regarding Jeremy was her statement on how sometimes it takes a certain person to tell you something for it to really hit home. Jeremy was the first person to recognize her creatively and have it mean something to her. It really just takes one person to say something at the right time for everything to snap into place… and mean something. To have someone she respect believe in her meant so much. I know how difficult it is to muster up enough belief in yourself, all on your own and having someone else validate that makes the task feel possible - despite how much we say it shouldn’t really matter. She recounted going to a filmmakers party with Jeremy and when they deemed it appropriate she snuck out for a 5k double run. Jeremy met her in the bathroom where she threw her dress on over her running outfit and rejoined the party. Most of their trail blazing together felt nerve racking and uncertain. She was less-prepared than Jeremy to wrap her mind around their new life. Her father worked the same company for years. Jeremy came from entrepreneurial parents. He was familiar with the unknown. She doesn’t shy away from telling you all about how fear crept into their lives post-olympics and post-movie production. Dreams driven by fear are a whole different beast. Instead of running towards them, your fuel becomes desperation, instead of passion. This is what they fought in perfect storms of surfacing anxiety. “When you’re depressed, it is very hard to love yourself.” “Love doesn’t mean you’re everything to the other person all the time. It means you’re honest about who you are in the moment.” This moment was two years after her olympic run in Rio and she had just barely began to run again without injury. I feel that. Here I am at ten months since my stress fracture and I can still feel the injury. It still bothers me mentally and physically. I struggle with this because it was… just a stress fracture, right? The knowledge that others healed in as little as 6 weeks and feel no repercussion tugs at me. Here I am getting reinjured ten months later with what may be a stress reaction, still painful, and my body is simply not recovering with the strength it needs. Getting sick or injured, feels like a betrayal from your body no matter what. I would like to figure out how to work with it instead of against it. Knowing she struggled in and out of her injury for two years makes me feel better. 

A dream come true unfolds very very gradually. Then all at once. “Flat chest and freakishly gnarled feet” They said. Relatable. Not the gnarled feet, my feet are fine but, yes, almost flat chested. When I lay on my back they are all but gone. I have never had the curvish womanly shape up top despite my hip bones that gut out and the curve of a soft buttocks. There are times when I stand naked in the mirror and think it’s cute and times when I want something else entirely. When Alexi reflected on the review of her movie in Variety magazine when she was immediately embarrassed at harsh comments on her flat chest and the cast of characters which “accentuates the Muppet-like side of Pappas’s personality.” She was humiliated at first then remembered Wes Anderson when his critics misunderstood his first feature and felt like she was part of his “misunderstood club.” Success and criticism come hand in hand. It’s not pleasant but it is the way of things. Yes, Alexi exudes a strange mixture of vulnerable, hopeful, silly confidence which is part of the reason I really like her attitude, because I, too, am one strange creature. Grins and tears and dad jokes and don’t fuck with me and here is my heart and I’m not wearing a shirt today. Still, the way they talked about her body really got to her. They were parts of her she had no control over. Her body offended people. They had trouble watching the sex scene. She wasn’t the soft feminine creature they wanted. She wondered, why did the Variety man want her to present her body in a way that turned him on… rather than as what her character actually was? “Quirky is not a compliment. Quirky is a catcall term that writers use when they’re unsure how to classify an unusual woman.” Wow. Interesting. The quirky got under her skin and she felt ashamed because… well, she didn’t used to like her body either. When she began to take running more seriously at Dartmouth her boobs went from grapefruits to crabapples all while keeping her period. Mine have surely never been close to anything but lemons. She wasn’t a gazelle, she was a feral bobcat. Her body showed it as training went on and she felt embarrassed with every hookup in college. Not a woman, but a creature. Not alluring and voluptuous. Naked felt beyond naked with boys and somehow it also effected her female friendships as she came across intimidating and serious and it made them self conscious too. On the track? Spandex and sports bra. Off the track? Baggy oversized sweats. She was bleeding sensitivity. At one point between colleges she almost phased running out of her life and in the meantime she joined a grown-woman running club taking on serious weekly miles that would keep her fit. These grown women had lives and families but were also athletic. She had never encountered women like this growing up and it gave her a new outlook on what was okay. Strong and beautiful and they SAW themselves that way. They taught her that “Discipline is making choices in favor of your goals. It doesn’t mean you’re un-chill, it means you know what you want.” Simple. This time with the group brought more joy back into her life at a time when she was insecure. Training was a celebration instead of an almost-dread. These grown up women didn’t wilt with shame and self loathing. This inspires me so much but also.. saddens me because I wish I had been able to experience this. There are times when all I needed was to see those kind of women. I had none that I connected with. She is her own complex-nuanced protagonist. She dons a Champion dress and Gucci shoes and calls it “athletic chic.” That is Alexi. She grew during that time. “Feeling seen and understood is the most beautiful gift because it gives you the gift of confidence.” You are lucky to find it when you do, with whoever you do. It’s funny how little someone actually needs in order to give them a boost and it won’t be fed straight to their ego like we think it will. How little and how real. 

Dad-sad. 

Most of what she writes about her Dad I can’t relate to, in a parental figure whether it be a mother or father, but there are pieces I understand. I can’t image how it must feel to even have one person like that through life. She recently posted a photo online saying “I was very sad in this picture. My dad is just the right amount of stubborn. The amount that you need in your life when you are severely depressed. I didn’t need him to tell me I was crazy or pathetic. I could already feel that myself. I needed him to let me cry in the car, then buy me a cold pressed juice, wipe my face and get my ass into the anthropology fitting room. The best friends and family help you feel dignified even when you do not. Humiliation cannot survive when a friend is by your side. The pictures of me trying on the skirt are miserable - I look like what I imagine Sylvia Plath would look like in a gown. I look heartbreakingly sad. Now I love that photo because it’s a reminder of how good some people can be to me during a terrible time” and she finished by mentioning how it feels getting help from people when you are in denial. And yes, I relate to her gratitude for the good people who have helped me during a difficult time by having the patience to let me be a little bit of a mess, holding out for a better day. 

[frauschneidersridingcrop]

I'll take one Spartacus AU and one Selkie AU please 🌼

TWO?!?! You’re lucky we’re friends (jk ilysm) 

I’ll put the snippets under the cut

Spartacus AU:

So I’ve rewritten this about...50million times in my head, but the one thing that never changed about it was that Till and Richard are Germanic warriors who get captured by Romans after a disastrous battle. They’re separated, and Till is sent off to become a gladiator. 

It’s very angsty and there’s a lot of yearning, but tbh y’all should expect that from me by now.

-

Selkie AU

I’ve said it before, but if I had a nickel for every time you and I have had similar ideas for stories, I’d have two nickels.

I’ve changed this one up a little, but like the Spartacus AU, it’s kept a similar premise. This is also the closest I’ve ever come to writing something in Modern Day, but even then I failed because it’s set in the 80s. :P

Basically Till is a Bear Selkie who’s forced to work for this evil circus. Richard, Paul, Flake discover this, and plan to bust him out.

(Sparty)

Not once has he seen the Sun since arriving in this place, and he never realized how much he took it for granted. All he can see of it is the faint light from its rays that shine through the gaps between planks of the ship’s upper deck. It’s the only thing that tells him how many days have passed.

The ship has not moved in sometime. He can hear people speaking a language he does not know and the telltale squawks of gulls outside the ship. They’re at a port far from his homeland, or at least somewhere on the coast, but where exactly they’ve stopped he does not know.

It’s the sound of men descending below deck that wakes him fully. Two of them--both Roman. One is the captain of this vessel that he had been sold to by the soldiers that captured him. The other is an older man dressed in finery. In his hair there are few traces of his original hair color as most of it has long since turned gray.

The appearance of these two seems to be a shock to the other prisoners in the pens. It’s a shock to him as well. He had assumed that they were to be auctioned as no one but the captain himself and the sailors under his command are allowed in here. Though given the other man’s appearance, he probably had enough coin to bribe his way in here.

The Romans are speaking, and with every word the surprise of the other men turns to resignation. He wishes he knew what they were saying, but his understanding of the Romans’ tongue is minimal. None of his fellow prisoners share the same language so he can’t ask them either.

--

(Selkie)

“Will you go if Scholle comes along?” Hearing Paul mention him was enough to get him to stop absently playing his guitar.

“Wait, what am I being volunteered for?”

Flake adjusted his glasses. “Paul is trying to get me to go to this circus with him.”

Scholle snorted. “A circus? Really? What are you, seven?”

A crumpled up flyer was shoved into Scholle’s hands. There was a drawing of a clown being fired out of a cannon that looked like it had been poorly copied from another drawing, The ink rubbed off on his fingers whenever he touched it.

“My parents used to take me every year when I was a kid. I thought they had shut down!” Paul’s eyes gleamed with childlike wonder.

“They probably should have stayed that way. It just got worse and worse every year. I don’t know why you’re so eager to watch a bunch of sad clowns try to walk an unraveling tight rope.”

“It’ll be nostalgic!” Paul plopped down on the couch next to Scholle who held on tightly to his guitar to keep from dropping it. He grabbed Scholle’s shoulders and shook him playfully. “C’mooooonnnnn. If you don’t come, Flake won’t.”

“I never agreed to that.” Flake quickly interjected.

“If you want to go so badly, why don’t you just go by yourself?”

Paul looked at Scholle like he was crazy. “Because that would be so lame. What grown ass man goes to a circus by himself? People are going to thing I’m weird.”

“These two people” Scholle gestured to himself and Flake. “already think you’re weird.”

“If the three of us go, it’ll be cool in an ironic way.” Paul lightly shoved Scholle. “C’mon it’ll be totally punk.” There was no way Paul was ever going to convince either of them that a circus was ‘punk,’ but…Scholle could kind of see where he was coming from. There was something appealing about wanting to relive memories from a simpler time.

[watching-pictures-move]

Dispatches from TIFF #1

Hey folks, after two long years, I’m doing TIFF again, so I figured I’d make a little diary out of it with reviews and other thoughts.

Ciné-Guerrillas: Scenes from the Labudovic Reels (Turajilic, 2022) 

This was my first screening of TIFF this year (after not having attended the last 2 years thanks to Covid and whatnot), and either I mistimed my commute or they set it up later due to this movie's lower profile, but I miraculously managed to be the first one in line. During the wait, Steve Coogan arrived in front of the theatre, but because I was too slow in pulling out my phone, I only snapped the back of his head as he turned away. Also, it seems like the segment to thank the volunteers gets cringier every year, and I'm glad to see this tradition was continued despite the pandemic. I took a vacation from work to do a whole bunch of showings like I used to do in the pre-'rona days, so expect lots more exciting reportage from the front lines over the week (mostly when I don't have anything interesting to say about the actual movie).

As for the movie, the subject, about Yugoslavian cameraman Stevan Labudovic and his involvement in the Algerian War, is interesting enough to make this reasonably engaging viewing. Like a lot of modern documentaries, there is a certain formal dryness, but I think the access Turajilic had to her interview subjects and the actual footage alleviates that. That being said, I found the film a little frustrating. It reveals towards the end that despite the Labudovic's hero status in Algeria, very few Algerians had actually been able to see his footage. During the Q&A, Turajilic expanded on this, referring to the Algerian government's tight control of messaging around the Algerian War, and her difficulty filming in Algeria until she used Labudovic's name as a way to get access. For a movie as concerned as it is about propaganda and the way media can be an extension of warfare, I would have liked to see it interrogate that last revelation further.

Fixation (Morgan, 2022)

Jittery genre fun with an appealingly twitchy lead performance Maddie Hasson. I found her a bit much in We Summon the Darkness, and that’s probably true here as well, but it serves the material better this time around. This is a about trauma and whatnot like pretty much every modern horror movie is, but works better as it’s more concerned with translating the heroine’s experience into visceral terms than making sure all its themes tie out nicely. During the Q&A the director and cinematographer said they tried to work in a large number of references to their inspirations, but I appreciated that it wasn’t too distracting. I tend to be put off when movies are too studied in their homaging, as I’d usually prefer to watch the inspirations instead. Now, they didn’t cite any specific films in their answer, and I was too embarrassed to ask to confirm, but I’m 90% sure that between the premise and the inclusion of the line “I know you’re watching me” that the filmmakers have seen Nightdreams. I will say that I was less than enamoured by the ending, but I had a good time for most of this.

On a side note, this opens with a trigger warning indicating that the movie contains content some might find triggering, but provides no details as to what that content might be. I’m not inherently against content warnings (I’ll sometimes check the IMDb Parent’s Guide before putting on a movie), but what am I supposed to do with that warning? I imagine most people watching it in this setting bought tickets through the site, which gives more helpful descriptions of what’s in the movie, so it’s not exactly useful for them. And for people who got in from the rush line? The warning has no details. Are they just gonna get up and leave? Okay, rant over.

Sick (Hyams, 2022)

This review contains mild spoilers in the second paragraph and major spoilers in the third paragraph.

The things that stick out the most to me about John Hyams' action movies are the unwavering clarity of the steadicam cinematography and the sheer physicality of the violence, in a way that almost flirts with body horror. Both of those qualities are present here, so Hyams fans will likely have a good time with this. The camerawork is quite a bit choppier, but never hard to follow, as it tends to follow the action in a pretty natural way. In the Q&A, Hyams mentions a reluctance to intentionally shake the camera, and the shakes here feel like a natural extension of the messiness of the action, with confrontations between the killer and their victims drawn out to be much longer and less one sided than is usual in the slasher genre. Which also means that the gnarliest acts of violence make quite an impact (the hooting and hollering by the audience during my screening was well justified).

Now, I'm going to flirt with spoiler territory in this paragraph, so hold off from reading if you'd like to go in completely blind, even though I'll do my best not to give away outright plot points. This is written by Kevin Williamson, whose credit is essentially a spoiler as he recycles elements from the Scream franchise, but applying it to a story set in the early stages of the pandemic (April 2020, to be precise). I've been interested in how movies have been influenced by the pandemic in their production methods and particularly their storytelling. The COVID element is pretty explicit here, with our two heroines heading up to a secluded cottage. The movie presents some of the preventative measures which in retrospect seem a bit excessive (outdoor masking, wiping down groceries, constant spraying of disinfectant), and plays these as punchlines. Some of this is inevitable given that we have more information about how COVID spreads now, and some of that is the Williamson touch. But in the Q&A he discussed wanting to capture the ambient sense of fear in those days into the story, and I don't know if Hyams or Williamson deserve the greater share of blame, but I never felt that the usual slasher sense of isolation ever translated to COVID paranoia.

I am diving into outright spoiler territory in this paragraph, so skip to the bottom if you don't want it ruined. The way the movie tied COVID into the killers' motivations didn't sit right with me, and I'm going to spill over into my personal views here for a second, so bear with me. In the Q&A, Hyams and Williamson spoke about wanting to capture the need to find a specific target to blame to find some catharsis when the threat is more ambient and the causes are arguably systemic. I guess this is where I differ from from them in that I think individual actions absolutely have played a part making the situation worse. It's not an either or situation. I don't think Hyams or Williamson intend to minimize the harm caused by COVID (otherwise they wouldn't have made this a major plot element), but I think of the way the killers in Scream are given time to develop as actual characters ("humanize" seems like the wrong word, but I got a sense of them as people outside the plot). I guess you can blame Hyams' narrow storytelling focus, which arguably enhances the suspense, but I don't think that happens here. Okay, major spoilers over.

In short, this is a pretty effective piece of slashering, even if certain storytelling decisions left me deeply frustrated.