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alsosprachvelociraptor · 3 years

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Existential dilemmas, insects, and La Brea tar pits

VERY strange story I tried to write. It’s actually a re-writing of a re-writing of a story I tried to write some months ago and I failed back then because the character is a bit...... DIFFICULT to write about?

I never say this but im quite proud of this one. I think i managed to write about him... and not going OOC on him it’s like. the hardest thing i’ve ever done. IF i managed to do it??? jkgdskjds

The nails enter the flesh, and try to tear it off, and the feeling that was stauning it. A touch. How had they gotten so close?

The Spunk concert was over, and Seamus, bass broken between sore fingers, was directed to the backstage, his back to the audience. A shapeless mass of arms and vocal cords, a swarm of faceless insects.

And it's okay that they are- Seamus doesn't want them any other way. Those aren't people- so he can do whatever he wants to them. People are terrible, dangerous animals, but insects just sting or bite. Sometimes not even that. Sometimes they’re just black dots under his fingertip, sometimes dark shapes tattered against a white wall by his fist.

Then he heard his name, and a couple of those bugs had bitten him, their hands on his arm, back, chest, thousand-handed arthropods anchoring themselves to his skin, sliding under it, and Seamus had stopped breathing and reacting and thinking.

Elbowing and punching and some involuntary movement of his body, somehow, those two or three or a thousand fans had been pushed away, and Seamus had run backstage, tripped over something, and fell to the ground.

Other hands helped him get up - but those are known hands. Hoover's hands are different, familiar, they have a single, indistinguishable temperature, they apply a pressure that Seamus recognizes. His smell - cheap shaving foam, poor deodorant that barely covers his smell of sweat, worn clothes, dust - makes Seamus come to his senses just enough to get him off the ground, where he wanted to sink, like quicksand . The tar pits of La Brea, Seamus thinks as he is resting on a stool. His mind doesn't want to go back to reality. He had been there last year, at the La Brea tar pits, near Las Vegas. They had played a concert outside of Las Vegas - or was it Los Angeles? Maybe it was Los Angeles- and Seamus had heard of that place, and wanted to go there, and Gavin had made a fuss as usual and Seamus had punched him. And he had gone there with his boyfriend Hoover, and Seamus was so excited that Hoover had taken him by the hand and led the various departments of the museum to see skulls and animals that no longer exist.

Seamus wanted to be those animals now, who had slowly sunk into that sticky and deadly asphalt slime, an unscrupulous rubbery grave, but the backstage floor is not made of tar but only concrete and the two of them, Brian and Hoover, have succeeded to pick up Seamus, face to the floor, and place him on a stool near the wall.

"Shamy," Hoover says, with his nasal and perhaps a little croaking voice but so familiar and close and warm. "Shamy, it’s ok, they’re gone, they didn't do anything to you."

Seamus knows they don't do anything to him by touching him, he knows those fans' hands aren't covered in thorns and poison, but what can he do about it? His skin stings where those women's sweaty hands touched him, on his arm. It stings and trembles and just wants to tear it off, he wants to forget that touch that keeps pressing on the skin of his arm, his phantom fingertips still there, always there, sweaty and eager and predatory... Not even the nails in her flesh help. Under Seamus's nails, those hands are still there.

Seamus leans towards Hoover, standing in front of him, rests his forehead on his shoulder, his nose against the collar of his shirt. He smells of old, of dirt, of sweat, of dust. Moves his nose, pulls the boy to him with one hand on his bony hips - so thin, so short, so fragile, so interesting and fun to hold, push, move like a doll, a barbie, his personal toy!- the nose behind his ear and against his hair, dirty and sweaty wet. The smell of his hair and his sweat is pungent like spices that Seamus does not know, he does not know their names, but it is a good smell that he smells of calm and peace and non-fear. Of the opposite of fear- there’s a name for that?

"Are you all right, baby?" Hoover asks, and his hand rests on his shoulder. He is checking that Seamus wants to be touched, Seamus' shoulder muscles react - a little. Not so much. Not too much. He is still too shaken.

Hoover's sharp fingers are not claws, they are delicate and tenderly scratch the back of Seamus's neck. His nerves tremble; Seamus trembles, an electric bolt along his touched spine, and Seamus feels calmer.

Hoover always manages to make him less angry and less scared. Hoover is everything Seamus was missing. But he's not sure it's love, what is love anyway? Seamus feels Hoover close to himself, he feels it under his skin - not like those hands, those fans and their claws tearing at his skin - Hoover is a breeze or water from a hot shower. Hoover is a band-aid on a cut and a warm blanket in the winter, when it's so cold and his bones ache, and his nose seems to want to detach itself from the rest of his face- Hoover always lies beside him, his warm breath on his cold and numb nose.

Hoover is someone he would never want to part with, to whom he wants to say a lot of things. Everything that passes into the confused mind of Seamus, always empty and full at the same time. Often Seamus is just silent, thoughts running through his mind. Sometimes he doesn't think at all, there is really no need.

Who knows if that is love?

At that moment, now, he's getting lost in his thoughts. Many. Too many. They don’t fit his head, they don’t fit in the backstage of the concert. There is no way for Seamus to keep them, like helium-filled balloons they want to fly away and he has to follow them. His head is full of helium, he has to hurry up and follow her if he doesn't want to be beheaded.

Seamus stands up, shifting Hoover off himself - gently, holding him by his hips, his cute doll that he can move and shift as he pleases.

"Where are you going?" Hoover asks and his glasses are so thick that Seamus can barely make eye contact with him. He raises his arm and touches the frame of his glasses, runs it with his finger. They must also be so heavy. Hoover's nose has a small indentation on the bridge of the nose where the glasses rest. It’s cute. Hoover is so interesting to watch, he would watch it for hours. But not now.

Seamus has to go - somewhere, outside. He says it. "Somewhere, outside."

Sometimes what he says coincides with what he thinks.

Seamus walks through the aisles of the backstage - he doesn't really know if they are aisles, to tell the truth, he doesn't know if they are called that - he takes his jacket from the closet where their dressing room is located and goes out into the night.

The cold slaps him, and Seamus growls at him in affront.

The jacket is new, he got it last year with his mum and Hoover, because the old one no longer fit him. Seamus has grown a lot in those years, and he still doesn't realize it. Seamus is a man now, big and strong, and the beard grows bristly on his angular face like a shadow made of gold on his cheeks - Hoover called her that one day and Seamus loved it, and he repeats this phrase often in his mind, under his breath.

Seamus jumps up the sidewalk step, ventures into the night, looks at the ground. There is no one on the street, almost no one, no actually there are people, but they are not interesting, and they count as zero. There is no one, actually, if you put it on this point of view. And Seamus is nobody to them, so there is nobody on the street. There is a man looking at his watch impatiently at the bus stop, he has an umbrella leaning on his elbow and talks on his cell phone all angrily. His gaze barely touches Seamus, and he resumes looking at his phone. Seamus is someone, but for that man he is not.

Seamus thinks back to the skulls he saw in Los Angeles - or was it Las Vegas? - of animals that fell into the tar pits during the Ice Age. Were they also nobody and someone at the same time?

A brick on the ground is uprooted, and Seamus walks on it. It falls back into the road pavement, a little crooked. Seamus stops and with a few kicks puts it back straight.

His arm hurts, and under the pain of skin, torn like that brick of street pavement, he still feels those fingertips and Seamus gets angry, because he doesn't want that feeling. He doesn't want it. His skin keeps feeling it, his skin keeps reminding him of that. He doesn't want to remember. Seamus doesn't want to remember, he wants to forget, he wants to pretend that even those three crazy ones were nothing, he wants them to never be born, and he feels the lungs tighten in his chest, the Adam's apple pressing so hard against the trachea until it closes, and the eyes fill with tears and the head becomes heavy and the heart goes TUM TUM TUM TUM!!!

Seamus leans with his back against something -a wall, a lamppost, a shop window, it doesn't fucking matter- and remembers that he has to stay calm. He rummages in his pockets, cold fingers find nothing while his lungs are still closed -how long can he survive without oxygen? Twenty, thirty seconds?

He takes the inhaler from his pocket, puts it in his mouth, inhales, and really breathes.

That stinking air flows into her newly opened bronchi, which looks like a dry sponge squeezed into the water.

Seamus drops to the ground, sits on his heels, a hand in his sweaty hair. Covered in cold sweat, shivering to his spine, how many times has this happened to him, how many times does he get scared, how many times will it happen, how many years will he continue to be scared? Will his body, his mind always react like this? Will he one day learn to react in a different way, like those cool monks or ninja warriors on television, the ones dressed in orange who get kicked in the balls and don't react.

"Boy, are you all right?"

To his right an elderly gentleman is calling him. Seamus had his back pressed to a shop window, and that guy had come out of the shop, he had seen from inside him having one of his usual respiratory fits.

Seamus doesn't answer because his vocal cords still won't let him. When he tries to articulate even one sound, the air seems to freeze again, and Seamus bends over and falls to his knees.

Man's hands rest just right, exactly, where the insects had stung it.

That hand washes away that insect dirt a little. His skin forgets, even just a little.

"Come inside, asthma attack? You know, my daughter also has asthma." continues the man. Seamus lets him do it.

Beyond the door, the air is hot and there is a stench of closed, clean, wood and old paper. It reminds him a little of Hoover's smell, but better. Hoover doesn't smell good, neither does that place, but Hoover smells a lot more, but Seamus likes the way it smells. What stinks, what perfumes?

Aren’t they, somehow, the same thing?

The old man makes him sit on an old wooden bench and Seamus sits on it, and under his weight he makes CRIK CRIK sounds and Seamus moves a little, back and forth with his hips, to reproduce that sound. The bench also looks old.

Seamus looks up and hanging from the ceiling there is a large wooden plane!

It's made like those old planes you see in WWI movies, or maybe even earlier, the ones with the four wings that are actually two but one on top of the other, and the propeller in front, hangs from the ceiling and you it moves and bounces a bit moved by the cold air coming in through the open door, and next to the plane there are other colored propellers, and other models of other planes hanging but smaller and Seamus watches them in awe.

They are really beautiful.

"You feel better?" asks the old man sitting behind the counter of the cashier, all skinny with gray hair and glasses on his nose and Seamus can barely see him among the books in which he is buried.

Seamus nods to him, and looks into his eyes, and his expression does not change but in his mind a thousand questions assail him, a thousand questions that he cannot answer because they are questions about the old man's mind, and he cannot enter other people’s mind. What prompted the old man to let him into his shop, to help a stranger, a nobody? Maybe he just wanted to take him away from his window, maybe he is just a good gentleman who helps all the nobodys who lean on his window?

What if it wasn't Seamus, but a drug addict, a thief, a murderer?

How was that song? The one that spoke of the fisherman who fed a murderer, and also gave him wine? In the shadow of the last sun a fisherman had dozed off...

Seamus started humming it, whistling it, but he didn't know the words and couldn't pronounce them and didn't know that language. Hoover was the fan of these stuff, these old foreign songs that Seamus had never heard and Hoover and his weird theatre friends enjoyed hearing them, translating them, and then explaining the lyrics and Seamus was often there to listen, almost always by chance, and some were interesting like this one he just remembered and just happened! Sometimes these songs made him sad, for no reason whatsoever, and he didn't like that sudden big feeling.

"Il Pescatore!" the old man said with a smile. "How do you know this song?"

Seamus shruggs. It doesn’t matter that the old man knows about Hoover and his theatre friends.

"Are you interested in foreign songs?" and Seamus denied it because he really didn't give a damn about those boring ballads. Seamus was a punk. He liked screaming and smashing things and hitting someone with his bass and shouting bad words and sending people to fuck off. He didn't give a damn about doing difficult and boring lyrics, he didn't give a damn about giving a message - who was he supposed to give a message to? Those assholes who followed him everywhere, beat their fists against the door of his house at three in the morning, those who took him, pulled, touched, tore him alive, cleaned his bones like the scavengers they were, hyenas and vultures and hungry jackals with sharp teeth and beaks ...

Seamus realized he was in a bookstore. It also had toys and wooden stuff and posters and there are also vinyls and there is a lot of stuff and everything looks old.

The old man notices Seamus' gaze wandering, he still talks. “Are you interested in something? I have a lot of books that talk about a lot of things. Maybe music? I have a lot of books on music, and a lot of vinyls too- but maybe you’re a bit too young for vinyls, eh?”

Seamus goes around the bookcase with his gaze, he doesn't stand up, he's tired and doesn't want to and his throat still hurts a little and even a few pieces of his brain hurts from the effort to breathe and calm down first. he remains seated and thinks that he had actually thought of something he would like to know more about, but he has not found any series or film or documentary about it...

"La Brea?" Seamus asks and his voice is still hoarse and it hurts to speak and his vocal cords are still all numb from that attack before.

"Excuse me?"

"La Brea tar pits." Seamus repeats, more nervous. "The Ice Age."

"Oooooh!" says the old man, who gets up and walks across the room and Seamus follows him only from the corner of his eye, and then returns with a couple of books.

Seamus was never interested in reading. Reading is difficult, the words are difficult to put one after the other, because they seem to flee under his gaze, the letters mix, the words are mirages that change shape with every movement of his eye, sometimes they disappear, sometimes they multiply and sometimes they make no sense and must be looked at several times, too many times, so that they form something that makes sense.

Often they are wind that flies into his eyes and then comes out of his ears, and after the sentence Seamus finds his brain empty, those words run away like animals with an open cage, and he gets angry, throws the book away, screams and promises himself never to try again, so much effort for nothing.

But on the cover of the book there is a mammoth and a saber-toothed tiger, submerged up to the knees and elbows in the tar...

Seamus reaches out, grabs the books and pulls them to him.

"Tell me, is there someone I can call for you?" asks the old man again, and probably thinks that Seamus is one of those poor children stuck in the body of adults, with a slow and vacant mind, in constant need of help- Seamus is not like that. His gaze turns grim, his knuckles white, his face red, and the ruffled and furrowed eyebrows on his forehead as his face grows warmer.

Seamus is not a... one of those. He spent a whole life being pointed out as the special child, put in a corner, treated as inferior- he saw it, he always saw it in the eyes of the tired and pitiful teachers and the children who laughed at him- and then they cried when he beat them. Fucking children. Damn lousy babies, he hates children. He had also tried to beat a teacher, she dared to treat him like a small child, different from his classmates, inferior-

Well, Seamus needs someone on his side, actually. Often he forgets what he has to say, do or where he has to go, he has not yet understood how to use a washing machine (and has no intention of learning, too complex, useless) or washing the dishes (it sucks, and then they get dirty the next day! Same with the bed, why do it again? Why tie your shoes? That knot is stupidly complex, unnecessarily complex, there's no need to tie a shoe like that, with that stupid lousy ribbon?)

Seamus ...

He releases his fists.

He sighs.

He has different needs, but he does not have those lacks that they attribute to him. But he doesn't know how to prove it. He can't express the emotions on his face and he doesn't know what others are trying to tell him. Does he not recognize the thought on the old man's face - worry? Compassion? Fear? Curiosity? And he has no way of knowing.

“I can go back alone. I came here alone." Seamus growls, too fast, maybe the old man didn't understand, he ate a few letters.

But then he snorts, growls, and forgets it. Let them think what they want, mum said once. Anger simmers inside him, like hot bubbles in a pool of tar.

La Brea, that book that the old man who is still staring at him brought him.

Seamus accepts his fate. Gives Hoover's phone number, he memorized it because Hoover wanted Seamus to always be safe, he knows he's looking for him, he knows he's worried about him.

Does Hoover also consider him an inferior being, something to be protected made of porcelain and glass and papier-mâché, someone unable to fend for himself?

Seamus looks at the drawn mammoths and doesn't see them. Is Seamus really capable of looking after himself, on the other hand? Has he ever done anything by himself in his life?

He frowns again.

No, not really.

"I'm calling, you can stay here as long as you want, don't worry." the gentle old man explains to him, takes an old cordless phone and presses the keys that make a noise, ding dong dong ding dong deng ding ding deng, he recognizes the numbers he dials and he knows it's Hoover's phone.

"Ah, what's your name?" asks the old bookseller, the phone already in his ear.

"Seamus," Seamus replies, without looking him in the face.

The man disappears into a back room, Seamus touches the book covers. One is new and the pages are white and rigid under his fingertips, the other is older, a little yellowed and smells good. Seamus bends over, sniffs the cover, sniffs the sheets that form the thickness of the book, he has smelled a scent like that on Hoover's hands once or twice. This almost brings a smile to his tense lips.

He opens the one with the cover of the mammoth and the smilodon, and turns the pages. The words are small, thick, many, a crowd gathered under his stage but the people - insects are letters, and he is him, but he doesn't have a bass in his hand but only a book.

He squints his eyes. He reads the writing under a black and white photo, really ugly and hard to recognize that he recognizes it only because he was there in person and saw it in color and not printed by a cheap black and white photo of La Brea.

The excavations for the recovery of the bones... no, he read it wrong. He goes back. Excavations for the recovery of fossil bones began in... so many Xs and Is that Seamus can't read. Seamus gets lost, skips entire lines, finds half-eaten sentences that don't make sense. He bangs his fist on the table he is leaning on, growls, snorts, squints, eyes are already beginning to intertwine and ache.

He presses a finger on the paper, hard, and if the book had been a person he would have screamed in pain but he was not made of flesh but only of paper.

Originally, what a big word, very long, but particular enough for Seamus to understand what the word is without reading it all, originally it was thought that they dated back to the last glacial period... about... 3 thousand... no, 30... a hundred? Thousands? How many zeros!

When the old man finds he finds Seamus bent over the table and the book, a finger sliding over the page, his face very close to the sheet, trying to analyze its secrets, a few words that escaped from his lips as he laboriously read.

Reading had always been difficult, for as long as Seamus remembered, and he never particularly cared - but he had one point to twist, that he was capable of doing something, even just reading that book himself.

But he just couldn't do it.

"Do you want me to read it to you?" asked the old man, taking the glasses that he had hung around his neck with a cord and putting them on his nose. “I can read well, I have read to many people. Don't be ashamed."

Seamus shrugs, snorts, sits with his legs spread and sprawled on the bench and doesn't care anymore. He just wants Hoover to hurry up and pick him up, he wants to go home and throw himself on the bed and sleep, he wants to take Hoover's arm and bite him even though Hoover tells him it hurts (and that he likes and wants him to continue) with his pointy teeth a little broken by fights, a little never born on their own.

Seamus sticks a finger in his mouth and it tastes like dirt because with that finger he fell to the floor and played bass and beat people and stuff, and runs his fingertip over the jagged edges of his teeth; pointy and sharp. Like those of a saber-toothed tiger.

The man sits next to him and begins to read, slowly as if he knows how long it takes Seamus to process something. And Seamus shuts up and listens to him, yes and no, every now and then he gets confused and thinks about something else but that's a children's book and it's not that hard to follow, and then he talks about stuff he saw with his own eyes.

"I've been to the museum. With Hoover." Explains Seamus, pointing and tapping his finger hard on a print, this time in color, of a photo of the La Brea museum and the old man goes ooh and Seamus forgets to explain why and who Hoover is and he doesn't even care to explain it and the old man he nods the same as if he had explained some weird mathematical formula.

The old man reads for an unlimited number of minutes and Seamus taps his fingers on the table and plays with the coves of the wood under his fingers and peels off a piece of wood and then looks up and watches the wooden plane.

That thing is really big. And it's small at the same time.

From the door that opens onto the empty and black street, a very small and skimpy figure appears and it is Hoover- Seamus stares at him, without expression. He is happy to see him, but he was happy enough even before he arrived, on the other hand.

"Shamy!" he says and walks over, pulls his hair back from his face, examines him like a doctor and Seamus hates doctors so he backs off with an angry snap and Hoovy lets him go.

"Did you break something? Do we have to pay the damages?" Hoover asks and Seamus doesn't answer. Why should he? He hasn't done anything wrong. Every now and then he does something bad but that is not the day.

"No, we just read a book." The old man explains and Hoover smiles crookedly. "Have you become a nerd too?" Hoover asks him directly and Seamus is not interested in either looking at him or in answering because it is not true, the question is not interesting, it is not even worthy of a thought, and Seamus then does not think about it and continues to look where he was looking before.

Seamus snatches the book from the old man's hand, because he wants to take it, and he takes the other one as well and slams it on Hoover's thin, frail chest, and he makes a strangled sound.

The car is parked outside. Seamus stands up, staggers a little, and walks towards the exit.

"Shall we buy them?" Hoover asks him and Seamus replies with an eh that he means yes as he leaves.

"Hey, don't you say goodbye?" Hoover says again and then Seamus stops in the doorway, the soft seats of the car are so close and instead he has to answer stupid questions like that.

He turns to look at Hoover at the cashier and the old man and continues to smile like an idiot. "I'll be back anyway."

He gets out, gets in the car and notices the driver, his usual driver, the one Hoover hired to chauff them around because neither of them knows how to drive, opens the door and abandons himself in the back seat, dislocated and messy like a pile of bones in a bag.

Does he have to stay a bit folded up because the rear seats are a bit short for him, is he too big or is the car too small?

The car door opens again and Hoover climbs aboard, raises Seamus's head, and puts it on his lap as he usually does. His thighs are thin and hard, his belly against the back of Seamus' head is flat and his hand is in his hair and it's very relaxing.

Not comfortable but cozy and relaxing.

Seamus reaches out, touches the cockpit ceiling with his finger, and then drops his finger a little, points to something hanging that isn't there - not yet. He swings his finger as it swung hanging from the shop, in the night air.

"The plane, I want it."

And then he gets as comfortable as possible and Hoover hands him the two books he took. He hugs them to his chest, where he can feel them better.

"Tomorrow I'll read you one, what do you think?"

Seamus replies with an affirmative grunt; he is there, but he is too tired to know if the next day he will want to listen to Hoover extoll a children's book, and now he does not want to think and answer and he is sleepy.

"It's an hour's drive to our hotel."

The perfect time for a nap.

#HERE WE GO this brat fic is over #that's a LONG fic is it #ALMOST 4900 WORDS!!!#im sorry to make you read such long fics but this baby needed it #he's a good boy after all #i do things #Very Important ArtTag #Seamus Webb #Hoover

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thankskenpenders · 5 years

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Yeah, this is the big one. Grab your popcorn

Sally finally gets a moment to talk to Sonic after being ignored all day, and tells him what’s up. With her being put in charge, and Sonic being her royal consort (basically, the guy who’s committed to marrying her someday but isn’t quite her fiance yet), Sally wants Sonic to stop going on away missions and lead Knothole by her side

Look. Let’s set aside all of our preconceived notions about what a Sonic comic should or shouldn’t be. Ignore the fact that we obviously want to see Sonic go on adventures. Forget it. Let’s look at it from Sally’s perspective for a second

Yes, this is the post in which I explain that “The Slap” isn’t that bad. It’s certainly not great, but it’s not The Worst Thing Ever like it’s been made out to be. I wish I didn’t have to spend my evening writing this, but 15 years of hyperbolic fan outrage (note: some Wikia rando added that “reception” section this year) have forced my hand

First of all, again, Sonic is formally committed to marrying her and ruling alongside her someday. This was established ten issues ago. He was already committed to this. Then, Sonic went and died. Sally still spent an entire year of her life thinking her basically-fiance was dead, and had to deal with shit in Knothole without him as things continued to get worse and worse. No one can just bounce back from that unscathed. After his return, she WANTED to help Sonic and go be a Freedom Fighter on the last mission, but her parents forbade her and the royal guards kept her in the castle. (That SUCKS, but is a whole ‘nother conversation.) She wants to fight by his side and keep him safe, but her parents are forcing her to stay home and be the princess, which only makes her more distraught. Last issue, she broke down into tears when she saw Sonic get shot by M over Eggman’s video feed, and her mother had to console her and reassure her Sonic wasn’t dead

Sally very clearly has PTSD over Sonic’s “death” a year ago. She doesn’t want to lose him again. She’s outright said as much

And also... when she says Sonic isn’t the only hero around, she’s got a point?Sonic barely did anything in the last arc! Tails was the one who outsmarted ADAM. Shadow dealt with Eggman. Bunnie did most of the damage to M and took out an entire fucking aircraft carrier on her own. Knuckles, the Chaotix, Rouge, and Amy took out the robot horde. All Sonic did was land the final attack on M--which, honestly, someone else could’ve done. And he got his arm injured in the process

Add on to this all of the chaos of the last few days. Sally’s barely had a free moment to see Sonic since she found out he was alive. They nearly got nuked by Eggman. They’re being harangued by the paparazzi. It sucks. And hell, it goes back WAY further than this! She spent years as a kid trying to save her parents, and now all they do is belittle her. She found out she had a secret older brother, and then her parents decided he was the more important child. She went through all sorts of relationship drama. She nearly died a few times herself. And now, her parents have decided to leave her in charge of their whole kingdom at a time of war, while she’s still a mess from the trauma of losing Sonic. The idea Bollers had was apparently that Sally had been bottling up her issues for years (which she totally had been), and this was just the breaking point

I know Sonic’s desire to keep being a hero is understandable. I know he’s right. That’s all he really knows how to do, and he feels useless in times of peace. And obviously, we the readers want to see Sonic go on adventures. But Sally’s concerns are valid. We don’t have to agree with her plan to have Sonic rule by her side for her emotions to be understandable

Sally’s been on the verge of a breakdown for who knows how long. She should be mad at her parents, but they’ve worn her down to the point where she thinks she’s unable to confront them. (It would be very, very easy to make a case arguing that Sally’s parents are emotionally abusive. Max especially.) She thinks that Sonic is the one person who will listen to her and have her back. They’re betrothed, after all. This is literally what he signed up for. After trying to get his attention ALL DAY, she finally gets a chance to talk to him. But he wants other things in life, and refuses. In front of a crowd, no less

So she lashes out at Sonic and slaps him

Then they both start yelling at each other and crying. Sally asks Sonic if she’s more important to him than fighting Eggman, Sonic can’t answer, and Sally runs away in tears. For all intents and purposes, Sonic and Sally are now broken up. (For now.)

Should Sally be lashing out at Sonic? No. Could this scene be done better? Oh, absolutely. This is not the direction I would want Sally to go in as a character, and if you ARE gonna have them fight, this wasn’t written with the care required to make fans sympathize with both parties. The fact that we’ve seen everything from Sonic’s perspective with barely any insight into Sally’s certainly doesn’t help. But as the several lengthy paragraphs above explain, this does not come out of nowhere. It’s easy to find lots of fans online calling Sally all sorts of names (sometimes very misogynistic or ableist ones) because they think she just flipped out on Sonic out of nowhere. But she didn’t. Sally having some sort of breakdown had been foreshadowed for several issues, and the reasons why make sense. No, she shouldn’t have lashed out at Sonic, but this isn’t just her going “Oh no, my period! Let’s nuke England!” as so many have made it out to be. (And hell, the comics already had a lengthy history of treating Sally even worse than this, with Gallagher making her the nagging girlfriend who bickered with Sonic all the time and Penders sympathizing more with her shitty dad.)

Again, this was supposed to be a turning point in which Sally bottling up all this crap and carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders finally leads to her breaking. It’s a dramatic low point to build back up from. The problem is that Bollers left the series only a few issues later, and Penders and “Chacon” never did much with this. So in hindsight, many view this as her randomly snapping “for no reason,” because the followup stories that would have explored how she’d been bottling up her feelings were never actually written. But it’s not hard to figure out what’s supposed to be going on in her head if you actually go back and look at the preceding Sally scenes

For the most part, this is just run of the mill relationship drama for Archie Sonic. You see this kind of shit all the time in serialized media. Characters date, but the writers need to keep things ~spicy~, so they break up, see other people... then inevitably end up back together, and the process repeats ad nauseum. You ever watch Scrubs? You know how JD and Elliot are obviously love interests from episode one, but they had to do that will they/won’t they shit for years and have flings with other characters to keep up ratings? Yeah, it’s just that. For Sonic, there’s also the added pressure from Sega, who never allowed Sonic to be in any stable relationship for very long. Several writers have talked about how this limited what they could do with Sonic and Sally. Do I like that this cycle of drama is the norm? No. But after over 200 of these comics, I’m used to it

(And hell, at this point in the comics, they had literally just broken up Bunnie and Antoine, and Rouge was starting to get in the way of Knuckles and Julie-Su’s relationship. Between Julie-Su and Knuckles’ first kiss and them actually dating, Penders had Julie-Su get mad at Knuckles and go out with some random other guy. They do this shit all the time)

The worst you can really say about this scene is that Jon’s art is a little too goofy and undermines the drama a bit. In his own words from his website’s FAQ: “I’m sorry. Like I said, I was an overeager noob and I drew what I was given.” But really, he had been drawing these sorts of exaggerated, frantic expressions throughout the entire issue. Not just with Sally. Look at all the panels of Sonic wigging out in the previous pages. I still think his work is fantastic. If anything, it was a bad call on Archie’s part to give this somber scene to a brand new artist with a very exaggerated, silly art style. He just drew what was in the script

You know what really blows about this whole thing, though? Jon Gray is still, to this day, over 15 years later, getting harassed for drawing The Slap

That is so utterly ridiculous and shitty. People have made up all sorts of conspiracy theories about the slap, saying that Jon had some sort of “anti-Sally agenda” and that it wasn’t in the script. (This is completely false.) People are so stuck in the past and bent out of shape over this one panel in a pretty run-of-the-mill Archie Sonic issue that Jon has to block people who come into his Twitter mentions accusing him of “sabotaging” the series on a regular basis. Y’all, Jon’s a good guy, and he doesn’t deserve to be treated like that

And lord. There’s so much nastier shit within this series. Penders hooking a 15-year-old Sally up with a dude in his 20s (and later saying that he wanted her to lose his virginity to said dude). Gallagher making Barby Koala have a creepy crush on Tails. Penders rephrasing a poem about the Holocaust to be about hedgehogs. Penders having Sally rationalize her dad’s attempt at genocide. (I could go on and on with Penders, can you tell)

This whole thing is just, so blown out of proportion. It’s not a great scene, but it didn’t “ruin” Sally’s character. Neither Jon nor Bollers had some sort of “anti-Sally agenda.” They weren’t out to ruin your fucking ship. And for god’s sake, quit yelling at them about it. This was 15 years ago and all parties involved have moved on. It’s just more melodrama in a series that’s always 90% melodrama

It’s a single panel in a comic about Sonic the Hedgehog. Can we move on

#StH 134 #tkp post #the slap #hall of fame

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tisfan · 5 years

Text

A portrait of a young man in the park not eating his sandwich

Square: S5 - writing format: breaking the fourth wall Warning: unrepentant fluff, humor, breaking the fourth wall Pairing: WinterIron Summary: Jan takes it upon herself to arrange a date for Tony Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19940161 Word Count 1439 For @27dragons @tonystarkbingo

Note: Apparently I wrote this a LONG TIME AGO and forgot to post it. So, here’s this, and it’s my final posting for Card 1 in the Tony Stark Bingo, so that’s a blackout for me!

Tony was sitting on one of the benches in Avenger’s Park, eating his lunch. And by eating his lunch, I should probably inform you that Tony Stark never actually ate lunch at all. Usually he grabbed a fruit smoothie of some sort and drank it while talking a mile a minute and working on three projects at once. Saving some special quality him time every twenty seconds or so to reflect on whether or not he’d screwed up massively in the last thirty seconds.

So when I tell you that Tony was sitting on a bench, in the Park, eating his lunch, you will understand by that that things are very, very wrong.

Tony tore off a piece of his sandwich and threw it. One of the multiple squirrels that lived in the park came down to investigate, but squirrels, I’m sorry to say, don’t really care much for liverwurst, and while he did take the sandwich, he didn’t actually eat it. The penguin that came by later did, however, and liked it very much.

You may ask why there are penguins in the park, but that’s a secret and I’m not going to tell you. You could ask Director Fury, but I promise he will only tell you it’s classified. Black Widow might know, but she doesn’t like to share secrets.

And all of this is beside the point anyway.

The point is, that Tony Stark was sitting on a bench, in the park, not eating his sandwich.

Jan noticed.

Loki noticed.

Even Scott Lang noticed. Which, if you know Scott at all, that’s pretty impressive. Scott didn’t say anything, though.

Loki and Jan, however, did.

(more below the cut)

Of course, being Jan and Loki, they had different ideas about what should be done. Loki wanted to play a prank -- such as disguising himself as a present and then turning into a snake which might make Tony jump and shriek. Jan was all right with the jumping and shrieking part, but vastly preferred Tony’s jumps to be of joy.

Jan is, you understand, an optimist.

That’s about two steps under being a fool.

Loki’s somewhat less optimistic, but he’s also not adverse to Jan’s particular manner of cheering someone up, which is, either:

-- Getting them an entirely new wardrobe, which means lots of time at the mall, one of Loki’s favorite places, or

“Hey, Tony,” Jan said, plopping down on the bench next to him. “Are you busy on Friday?”

“Hullo, Jan,” Tony said, not looking up. “Unless one of the crystal cages cracks and we have to deal with a new round of villains trying to take over the world, and Madame Hydra doesn’t assign any more homework this week -- I swear, Life Lessons is the worst class ever -- then yeah, I’m free. What do you--”

“Great! You’re going on a date.”

“Uh… I am? With who?”

“It’s a blind date, I’m setting it up.”

Loki enjoyed blind dates; they were never much fun for the person doing the dating, and they were tons of fun for everyone watching.

***

When Jan said she had an idea, we’re given to understand that she didn’t, really. She had more like the seed of an idea and the optimistic thought that throwing it on the ground would make it grow into a grand plan.

“So, who are we setting Tony up on a date with?” Loki wondered. “Don’t say me, because we already tried that and it didn’t work out for either of us. And my father’s already blind in one eye, so the blind date thing just makes him nervous.”

“No, no, it wasn’t going to be you, you’re not right for Tony at all,” Jan replied. Which made Loki angry, because he didn’t want to date Tony Stark anyway, but he also wanted it to be his idea and not someone else’s, and certainly not because he was, in any way, wrong.

“I could be,” Loki said.

“No, you couldn’t, and don’t bother to get all trickster god about it, no one has time for that. No, I need the perfect person for Tony.”

Loki sighed and let himself look around the campus. The obvious answers were there; Bruce Banner, Jane Foster (if for no other reason than it would piss off Thor, and that would be very funny), Norman Osbourn. All the scientists and people that Tony had something in common with.

“What about Barnes?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why not--” Barnes was an athlete, not remotely science-y as far as Loki knew, and only spoke to Widow and Rogers. It would be a delightful disaster. Quite a bit of fun to watch. From a distance.

And maybe with some added trickery along the way.

Jan’s eyebrows went up. “I always worry when you’re right about something.”

Loki just gave her a bland smile. Defending his suggestion would just talk her out of it, and Loki wanted to see the fireworks.

He always did like fireworks.

***

By the time Friday night rolled around, he was fine. Perfectly fine, thank you very much. Not the least bit worried about who he’d been set up with, or what they were doing, or any of it.

He still didn’t know who the date was, and that didn’t bother him, either.

And by fine, I mean, very close to, but not yet having a complete panic attack in Pym’s classroom. Which was not quite the exactly the polar opposite of fine.

“It would help if I even knew how to dress,” Tony told Jan.

“Is there talking going on in my class, because there should not be talking, only science!”

Tony slumped down in his desk, pulled out his phone and tapped angrily at the screen. WHO IS IT?

You look fine, Tony.

“Of course I look fine, you’re the one that picks my wardrobe, I’m just--” Tony shrieked as his phone shrank down to the size of a Barbie toy.

“No talking, Mr. Stark,” Pym said. “If you miscalculate while using Pym particles, you could not only kill yourself, but destroy the very fabric of the universe.”

“So, like, no pressure,” someone said from the back of the class. Tony craned to look at who the joker was as everyone else laughed.

Barnes flicked him a two metal fingered wave and grinned.

Oh, oh, oh. Crap.

“Is it Barnes?” Tony hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

How the heck had Jan convinced Bucky Barnes, hero of WW2, normally a cohort with Tony’s damn father and also best friends with Tony’s damn rival, to go on a blind date?

“Relax, Tony,” Jan said. “It’ll be fine, I know what I’m doing.”

Now, that should have been reassuring, when your best friend for most of your life tells you that she knows what she’s doing. But Tony had said the same thing on any number of occasions, and only half of those had blown up in his face, slammed him into a wall, or one time, put him through a plate glass window and a fourteen story fall.

Fifty percent was… not good odds.

***

Bucky knocked on the door exactly four minutes after he was supposed to be there. Jan had told him that Tony tended to be late for just about everything, but Bucky didn’t want to be too late and make Tony think Bucky didn’t actually want to go on the date.

“Wha-- oh, Barnes, it-- should I--” Tony blinked a few times and then, “You look… scruffy.”

Bucky was wearing his second favorite pair of identical black jeans with the knees torn around and the strategic tears in the upper thigh.

In answer to Tony’s comment, he held up his skateboard. “Jan said, you uh… had a hoverboard? An’ maybe you’d like to, you know, hit the ramps. An’ then maybe we could grab a slice and some soda at the quad?”

Tony stared for a few seconds, which was really only a few seconds, but to Bucky, it seemed like the entire universes could have formed, and stars died.

“Um. Skateboarding. Yes, yes, I can do that.”

“Great.”

“Great!” Tony continued to stand there for a moment, then -- “right, let me get my board, why don’t you-- come in?”

Bucky let the door slide shut behind him.

It was going to be a great date.

And I’m happy to say-- it was.

Even when Loki did convince Noir Thor to make it rain, the two of them cuddled together under the awning of the Club Galaxy with its music throbbing from inside, and enjoyed each other’s company.

Much to Jan’s satisfaction.

Because Jan… is always right.

Even when it just means she yells louder.

#tonystarkbingo2019 #tony stark x bucky barnes #bingo fill #fluff #avenger's academy fic

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rogsclogs · 5 years

Text

Some Day One Day (Brian May x Reader); part 4

I’m so sorry it took me so long to post this part, I kept re writing it and was never happy with it, I’m not even sure I’m happy with how it turned out now, but it’s better than it was so that's a start! Let me know your opinions on it! Previous parts can be found under the tag ‘Some day one day’. Enjoy :)

Taglist: @brighter-thanthe-sky @im-a-sheerheartattack @fruityfreddie @discodeacygotmorerhythm @ladylannisterxo (if you want to be added please message me)

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It wasn't a rare sight to witness Brian running around campus like a madwoman holding a thousand different books in one hand and his daily cup of extremely bitter caffeinated beverage in the other, which he would take forever to finish it no matter how cold it got. It was his fuel and he had a very bad habit of relying on coffee to survive more than he relied on food and actual nutrients.

Then one day out of nowhere he started showing up to school holding an extra cup, pouring sugar and milk in it which was not like him at all and people wondered who in the world he could be getting that extra coffee for.

After all he’d never gotten along very well with the other professors, besides few exceptions, and his trust had gotten slimmer ever since he’d been cheated on, so he kept to himself whenever he could. He would eat lunch in his office and prepare coursework in the comfort of his apartment while his daughter played with dolls on the wooden floor, that was an ideal afternoon to him. He was rather shy and introvert although his students always brought out the ‘wilder’ and more laidback part of his soul. Still, it was unusual for him to be caring for anyone else’s caffeine needs but his own, but it sort of became an habit of his to motivate Y/N with a steaming hot cup of latte macchiato as she always performed better and he’d learned to make it just how she liked it, with two sugars and some cinnamon on top. Y/N had been staring at his cup of coffee one day, so Brian offered her a sip and then decided he would get her something from the local café each day they met from that point on, and he soon realized that he liked the idea of doing that for her, he liked the routine and he liked the look on her face when she softly thanked him for being so generous and told him that he really didn't have to. He could get used to that.

They found some sort of connection they could work with, he was so patient and soft spoken with her that it was almost impossible to let him down, and any small improvement was celebrated. They met every Monday and Friday after school and he would sometimes drive her home on Fridays because he could see how exhausted she got and didn't want her to ride the bus and fall asleep when no one would go with her.

She finally seemed to be understanding what they spoke about, and even in class her confidence had boosted, and Brian couldn't wipe that stupid lovey smile off his face because he was so proud of how hard she’d been working. Even her classmates noticed a change in her attitude, her friend Joe being one of the firsts who questioned her about it and he didn't even mind when she remained very secretive about it, all he needed to know was that she was happy.

Joe liked Y/N, very much so, and although they had been close friends since they were barely able to walk and even attended sleepovers together on multiple occasions, he’d never had a chance to let her know how he felt about her. He was also fairly scared that she would not reciprocate, he knew the eyes of love and she never wore those around him. All he truly wanted as a friend was to see her happy, even if he wasn't the main reason for her happiness, so he didn't feel right questioning her about her sudden outburst of joy that had been going on lately.

Admittedly, she was more than happy, more than words could even begin to explain and she was scared of admitting to herself where that happiness came from, because she knew very well it was like biting the forbidden fruit.

She felt on cloud nine any time Brian would fix his glasses on his nose to check her homework and then smile right after when he realized she’d gotten it all right, and when he leaned closer to her to show some calculations on a piece of paper she had to collect all her will power not to kiss him right then and there. What she didn't know was that the feeling was very much mutual, and Brian felt awful about himself when he thought about it at night.

He'd heard stories of college professors falling in love with one of their students and losing their minds for them, and he’d always considered them lowlifes, people who didn’t have their priorities straight, but now he could sort of sympathize and understand where they were coming from.

One time, while he was looking after his daughter on a lazy Sunday afternoon, he even found himself fantasizing about what Y/N would be like as a step mother, which was really morally awful of him to do, but he couldn't help that. He imagined her laid on the floor playing Barbies with Emily and making the little girl giggle out loud like she often did with him when they had a spare moment to talk about something that didn't revolve around numbers and formulas. He loved those moments, when he got to ask her about her personal interests, what fascinated her about the universe (he was pleased to find that she loved animals and nature as much as he did, she told him that the blooming season always reminded her of how powerful Mother Nature was), what made her heart sparkle with joy. He loved knowing small things about her and, although in the beginning he was wary of her and her intentions, he soon let loose and started telling her some things about himself, some of which he hadn't told a living soul in decades. He told her about that time when he broke his ankle falling from his bicycle when he was five and that time when his mom caught him sneaking out to go to his school dance at sixteen, and Y/N had laughed at his hilarious storytelling techniques (which he’d gained from reading so many bedtime stories to Emily) and everything in the world had felt right for a little while.

He was enjoying tutoring her, maybe a little more than what's considered appropriate, that's why he had a bittersweet feeling lingering on his tongue the day his class finally took the exam that would allow her to get into the degree they so badly wanted, he knew that would probably be the end of their little rendezvouses and he couldn't help but feel disappointed, no matter how immoral it was.

He would still get to see her if she passed, after all he did teach one of the most important master classes, but it would not be the same and she would probably forget about him. He was terrified of becoming just another one of her teachers, just a person she was forced to interact with when needed. Admittedly, their relationship had never been much more than that, but when they were alone he felt like maybe something bigger than that could come out of it.

Nonetheless, he was rooting for her as he handed the exam papers to his students, and he sent her an encouraging smile which she shily reciprocated.

“Alright class, this is the moment you’ve all been waiting for, you may now begin your test. Do your best and good luck”.

Brian kept an eye on her the whole time, he’d learned to read some of her facial expressions and associate them with a thought running through her mind, like how she scrunched her nose when she couldn't remember a formula or how she picked her skin while working through a problem and when she finally figured out the answer she would put her hair up in a ponytail only to set it free again once she found herself stuck on a question. She would generally play with her hair a lot.

Brian had learned to pick up on less noticeable nuances of her personality, working alongside her helped him with that but it was mostly due to how fond he was of the girl, and he thought it would be useful for him to understand how she was doing, but surprisingly she did not show any signs, at all. She was impassible and firm throughout the exam, and if she hadn’t been blinking he would have thought she was made of stone.

He didn't know how to interpret such a signal, he wasn't used to it and he was scared. Was it a bad sign? Was she struggling? He walked around the classroom a couple of times, trying to spy on her sheet and see how she was doing, but every time he stopped by she would cover up her work with her hands, and he knew he couldn't be too obvious or he would end up in trouble. although no one seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary going on, Joe definitely took notice of the way Brian would slow down as he approached Y/N’s desk and the way his eyes would linger longer than usual.

The students only had 90 minutes to complete the tasks, 90 minutes that would be essential for their future education, and Brian was concerned about the amount of pressure they were being put through, he remembered what it was like to be on their side of the class, to feel like no matter how much you work, it’s never good enough.

He feared those 90 minutes almost as much as they did, and he took a breath of relief that he didn't even know he was holding when they were over.

He watched all the 30 people he’d been working with for months hand in their papers, some looking hopeful and some just looking forward to the moment they could finally step out of the smelly room, and when Y/N finally approached him as well, he was waiting for any kind of signal from her to let him know that everything was good, but nothing came from her, so since they were the only two people left in the room, he gently held onto her forearm before she could walk out to stop her.

“Y/N, how was it? How do you think you did?” He looked softly down at her, wanting to be as careful and encouraging as he possibly could be in such a situation, but Y/N still looked impassible, almost unreachable like her mind was on a whole different planet.

“I did what I could do Mr. May” and then she left. Just like that.

Brian had to go back home to an empty house later that day, his daughter was at his mom’s place for the entire weekend and all of his friends were out of town so he would have to spend some days on his own, which usually would put him in a great mood but the last thing he needed at that moment was to be left alone with his thoughts.

He went over her words the whole night, wondering what he could have done to help her out.

He had probably been an awful teacher, he wasn't even able to make someone as bright as her succeed, judging by the tone of her voice she knew she’d done bad and it was his fault to begin with.

He was seriously questioning his worth as a teacher when he heard the phone ring that night.

It was completely unexpected, he was making himself mac and cheese although it was almost midnight because he couldn't be bothered to make himself anything earlier, and he didn't know who could be looking for him at such a late hour. His first thought went to his baby girl, maybe something had happened and his mother was trying to get a hold of him, so he rushed to the phone and picked up.

“Hello?”

No answer came from the other side of the line, only irregular breathing and static noise.

“Hello? Who is this?” He was getting fed up with the silence that met all his attempts at sparking a conversation between him and whoever thought calling him at midnight would be fun.

“Alright, I’m hanging-”

“Brian, it’s me” he would have recognized her voice between a million others, but he had to make sure it wasn't just his mind playing tricks on him.

“Y/N? Is it you? Are you okay?” He recalled giving her his number just in case she would ever need him, but he though she would have thrown it out by then, so he was pleasantly surprised to find that she had in fact saved it.

“I’m fine, I just...” He heard her hiccup and sniff from wherever she was and his heart clenched inside his chest.

“You’re clearly not fine, love, what happened?”

“I just wanted to apologize for today, but.... I did pretty terrible and I feel so fucking awful” she didn't even care about being vulgar, she had had to keep up a happy attitude with her parents when she’d come home so now she just needed to let it all out, and somehow Brian understood that.

“Y/N darling calm down, are you sure it was that bad? We worked so hard, YOU worked so hard!” He thought he could be comforting her in a way, but his words only made her sob and whimper louder.

“I know, fuck, I know! That's why I’m so disappointed in myself, my God I’m such a fucking idiot and a failure and-”

Brian couldn't stand the thought of her talking down on herself that way, so he stopped her before she could go any further.

“Y/N, babe, breathe please, everything is going to be all right, I promise”

The sound of his soft voice calling her babe was somehow enough for her to stop sobbing so loudly and to try to regain her breath. She wanted him to call her that for the rest of her life.

“Listen, I was just making myself some mac and cheese because I didn't eat earlier, do you want to come over at my place so we can talk about this in front of a cup of tea? That could make you feel better, right?” He let out the words before he could really think them through, and he hoped she wouldn't take them the wrong way and think he wanted to get his way with her or anything. After a couple of seconds of silence during which Brian questioned all his life choices at once, she finally spoke again.

“I grabbed a pen and paper, what's the address?”

#Brian May #Brian May x reader #queen fandom #queen x reader #queen fic #fanfiction #some day one day #fanfic #writeblr

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alarriefantasy · 6 years

Photo

Enemies to Lovers (Part 2)

Won't Let Go of You for Nothing by AFangirlFantasy

Words: 3k

Louis’ new neighbor is playing their music offensively loud, and he’s fucking pissed. Every night this week he hasn’t been able to fall asleep because of it, but tonight, Louis refuses to suffer again. Taking matters into his own hands, Louis goes over to knock some much needed sense into their brain.

Things may or may not go the way he plans.

Or a Love/Hate neighbors AU

Like You Hate Me by KrisStylinson

Words: 6k

“You have poor taste for someone with the last name Styles,” he says, turning to show the back of his pants to Harry—the pants Harry had just stitched his name across last night to keep this type of thing from happening again.

Of course, he’s accomplished nothing but indirectly making himself pop a stiffy over Louis fucking Tomlinson.

say i hate you but i always stay by clicheanna

Words: 8k

Or the one where Harry hates Louis, he's almost sure Louis hates him, and they live together. Driving him to football practice everyday is not apart of Harry's plans, but Louis is pretty adamant if it means annoying Harry.

A Stór Mo Chroí by kiwikero

Words: 9k

Louis is a young laird from Clan Sutherland and Harry the chieftain of Clan Gunn, and an alliance between their clans isn't enough to convince the two of them to get along.

Shut Up and Wink at Me by kikikryslee

Words: 14k

Or, the one where Louis wants to go away to college to get away from everything having to do with his hometown. So when he finds out his roommate will be Harry Styles, perfect school athlete and the exact opposite of what Louis wants in a roommate, he's not happy about it.

kiss me on the mouth and set me free by suspendrs

Words: 17k

Or, Louis is a gamer and Harry is a beauty guru, and VidCon is a good place to fall in love.

you flower, you feast by stylinsoncity

Words: 18k

He's King of the Underworld, but don't assume Louis has it all. He could stand for some excitement in his monotonous, eternal life and maybe, even.....a soulmate.

(Despite not having a soul.)

And along came "Harry".

the boys of fall by godgavemelou

Words: 21k

OR an american football au where the boys play for the university of tennessee, and harry and louis quite hate each other.

written in the stars (that's you and me) by fackinglouis

Words: 22k

Written for the prompt: Louis is a funny and bratty psychic and Harry is set on proving he's a scam.

Staring Across the Room by allwaswell16

Words: 26k

Harry Styles has a great life. He’s a children’s librarian at the New York Public Library, he’s got wonderful friends, and he loves cooking, green tea, yoga, and his collection of bow ties. He doesn’t mind that his life seems a little structured, maybe even a little boring. But when Louis Tomlinson joins the library staff as the new Installation Coordinator, things become a lot less predictable. Louis gets under his skin right from the start, bossing Harry around, making noise during story time, and eating the last cupcake in the staff lounge. Louis may be almost offensively attractive, but Harry will not be succumbing to Louis Tomlinson’s charms, even if the rest of the library staff have.

Mine Now by aclosetlarryshipper

Words: 32k

This is the story of how Harry finds himself pouting in Louis’ passenger seat with a raging boner on the way to seduce his ex boyfriend.

like it's a game by soldouthaz

Words: 32k

there is little harry hates more than truth or dare.

and louis.

(we will be) as if chosen by alivingfire

Words: 35k

Or: the course of true love never did run smooth, because sometimes people are stubborn and sometimes people are scared and sometimes, just sometimes, love can cause just as many problems as it solves.

I Hate You by mediwitch3

Words: 35k

Harry and Louis hate each other, a lot, but they pretend to be friends for the sake of their careers. One night, during an argument, they bang. They can’t keep their hands off each other after that.

Be with me so happily by BriaMaria

Words: 42k

aka Louis is the director of the Styles Elephant Sanctuary and really doesn't want to babysit his funder's spoiled lay-about son for two months

no pressure, no diamonds by karamelised

Words: 42k

Louis is a thief, Harry a grifter. They are thrown together for a huge diamond heist in Paris, where their past soon catches up to them.

Wonderwall by AFangirlFantasy

Words: 43k

Or a Love/Hate College AU where Louis Tomlinson is the lead singer of The Rogue - the most popular band on campus - and Harry Styles is the talented Freshman unknowingly challenging all that.

bruise you like a peach by falsegoodnight

Words: 46k

There’s two reasons Harry despises Econ.

The first is that it’s boring as fuck. The second reason is a bit more personal, a bit more focused in a way. As in it’s focused on one specific thing, or in his case, person.

His name is Louis Tomlinson.

Beauty Behind The Madness. by ZiamsLarry

Words: 59k

Harry doesn't meet the worlds perspective of looks, causing him to be judged every time he leaves his house. He never lets it get to him, because he knows that when he gets home at the end of the day he has the most beautiful little girl waiting for him.

So with just her and the lovely old lady down the hall who babysits her, Harry thinks his life is good enough for him.

Of course it all changes when the appartment across from him gets new attendants.

Why Can't It Be Like That by taggiecb

Words: 63k

A fashion AU with a royal twist, where Louis doesn't need a stylist, Harry's thrilled to have a real life Barbie doll, and they're both very wrong about each other.

The Art of Being a Gentleman by frosteddream

Words: 64k

Out of all four of the Styles children, Harry has always been the most adored. He is the handsome, intelligent, and oh so charming golden child of the family, the perfect son who will soon be married to the perfect woman, a beauty queen named Victoria Astaire. Despite how loved he is among all who reside in the affluent town of Alton, his siblings absolutely despise him. In order to stain his squeaky-clean reputation and get their traditional, old fashioned parents to despise him as much as they do, they devise a plan that involves Harry’s giving nature, the desperation of a mother and father, and a mischievous boy who doesn’t give a damn about what’s proper.

to lure a hummingbird (you had me moonstruck) by brokenbeaks

Words: 81k

Or: An enemies-to-lovers fic where Harry and Louis are neighbours who are forced to get along due to the inconvenience (or convenience) of a broken lift.

Nothing But You On My Mind by nonsensedarling

Words: 83k

Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.

Runaway Land by daggerinrose

Words: 103k

Louis is sure he’s stumbled upon a secret, underground nightclub, though that is far from the truth. He’s also pretty sure he’s stumbled upon Apollo, which… isn’t very far from the truth, actually.

Modern Greek mythology AU.

Learning to Breathe by youcomecrash

Words: 110k

He’s playing football at one of the top universities in England and he should love everything about his life right now, but instead he’s moving backwards. How does your past fit into your present? Louis is still figuring it out.

Our Lives, Non-Fiction by indiaalphawhiskey

Words: 113k

Heralded as the next Neil Gaiman, Louis Tomlinson does not appreciate being told that his very serious novel is in dire need of a PR boost. Even worse, that it comes in the form of a joint book tour with the UK’s #1 online romance-writing sensation Marcel Styles. Already turbulent at best, their partnership takes a drastic turn when, overly stressed about his looming deadline, Marcel accidentally blurts out a secret: though he’s famed for his scorching hot literary love scenes, he is, actually, a virgin.

Convinced that the only way to rid himself of writer’s block is to gain some experience, Marcel asks Louis, author-to-author, to sleep with him – for Science. And of course Louis agrees because, well, what on Earth could possibly go wrong?

Empty Gold by rainbow_kings

Words: 148k

In the final year, when Guildhall produces and performs an original play, Louis is heartbroken to learn the lead role has been been received to Harry and he's the second role. He's mostly terrified, however, when he realises he has to date Harry in the play as their characters. They come together through awkward stage kisses that transforms to hate sex, heated arguments, rehearsal times after lectures and baking carrot cake together.

Collision by itjustkindahappened

Words: 206k

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

♡ credit to the owner of the manip

♡ past themed recs here

♡ updated: 3.21.2021

#I DID A PART TWO #wow so many more #enemies to lovers #hate to love #larry stylinson #larry

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kieren-fucking-walker · 6 years

Note

If you're still taking prompts: how Farah realised she's a lesbian

Thank you for the prompt! I found writing this to be so incredibly therapeutic and I can only hope I did it justice.The Farina is mild, mostly pre-slash more than anything, this focuses on Farah first and foremost. I had to put a readmore in as this is longer than I meant it to be. A huge thank you to @softlygasping who beta’d this for me, you’re awesome

Quick warnings: Some internalised misogyny and homo/lesbophobia, and an uncomfortable scene with a creepy guy in a bar (nothing too bad though I promise!)

(Also on Ao3)

Looking back she thinks it makes sense. There are so many things laid out in her memories that point her to where she is now, what she knows now, that it’s almost laughable that she didn’t notice it before. Hindsight is everything though, and she’s already beating herself up about too many things to add this to the pile, so instead she lets it go. She knows herself now, and that’s enough.

***

Farah knows how to play with dolls, and she knows it’s different to the way the other kids play. She doesn’t use her Barbies to play house, instead she’d stolen a sword for her from one of her brothers’ old toys, and for the story’s sake she’d taken one of his dragons as well. Five years old and already obsessed with saving the world, her princess isn’t getting married like she’d seen the other girls do. Instead she’s a warrior, storming the castle in homemade armour and fighting off dragons with ease. She saves the prince from the tower, of course, but when he’s eaten rather dramatically by the dragon her princess isn’t that upset. Not when there’s a princess in the tower too, much prettier and much, much more capable of fighting the dragon herself. If only the prince had given her the chance rather than making them both wait for rescue.

“Boys are dumb,” the first princess says, and the second agrees with her wholeheartedly.

“We were going to get married,” she says, “it’s gross.” The warrior princess takes her hand, and they watch as he gets mauled by the dragon.

“That is gross. We should be best friends!”

“Best best friends!” The princesses agree between them, flying off on the magical unicorn that also breathes fire, leaving the poor prince to be eaten alive.

When her mother rolls her eyes fondly and asks what happened to them after that, Farah tells them that they lived happily ever after together. Her mother frowns, but doesn’t comment, just tells her to make sure she has her homework finished on time.

***

Farah is ten, and she has a friend. It’s rare for her. She’s found that friends are difficult to make when you’re spending all your free time training and you struggle to talk to people, but Amy seems to have taken a liking to her and will spend hours dragging her around the playground and pointing out trees. Farah hardly minds. She likes the way Amy says “cool” when she tells her all the ways trees can be integral to survival if you ever find yourself stranded in the wilderness.

She likes a lot of things about Amy. The way she tries to catch butterflies, the way she sticks her tongue out when the boys tell her she can’t play baseball. One time she gets into a fight with a girl who tells her she’s stupid, and afterwards Farah shows her how to throw a proper punch without hurting her wrist like she had before. Amy likes to ride the swing too high, and it makes Farah nervous when she lets go at the top, screaming her way down and landing, laughing, on her feet. There are red and orange ribbons tied into her hair and Farah loves the way they dance in the air when she hangs upside down from the monkey bars. She likes the way that she smiles when she drags her back to the swings and dares her to swing all the way up too.

She likes that when she admits it makes her scared, Amy doesn’t laugh. Just holds her hand and says she doesn’t have to.

Her stomach flutters with butterflies, and she wonders if Amy would try to catch them too.

***

“Distracted,” she mumbles to herself, throwing her bag off her shoulder before hanging it up in its rightful place. “Distracted! I’ll show him distracted! I can be focused. I’m always focused. I don’t have anything to be distracted over.” The muttering is for her own benefit. She would never actually talk to her father that way, but god, if it wasn’t frustrating when he implied she was anything less than completely immersed in her task. Farah is fifteen and already outperforming people twice her age in her martial arts class, not to mention at the gun range. Everyone else seems more than impressed; stunned would be a more accurate word most of the time. Everyone but her father.

Her father who assumed she was distracted by the new karate teacher.

Objectively speaking she supposes she can see why people might be. People who aren’t her, of course. She’s not like other girls, something she takes pride in, because if she doesn’t the weight of the added expectations of standard femininity will crush her, but also because she’s just not interested. Giggling over boys was for girls who weren’t focused. Perfect manicures were for girls who weren’t driven enough to complete boot camp training. Caring about dates for proms and formals was for girls who didn’t know how to subdue a group of attackers with only a pen and a piece of string. Farah was not one of those girls, and she wasn’t distracted.

Of course fighting a new person had her thrown! He was different to most of the people she’d fought with before, and while she should be good enough to adapt her style to accommodate that right away, the new experience can only be beneficial. Her father hadn’t seen it like that. The stony silence he’d brought to the car only being broken by; “You can’t let a pretty face distract you. Anyone could be a target.”

A pretty face. She hadn’t even noticed. The only thing she wanted to do to that face was put her fist through it. That would show them distracted. It’s very hard to argue that with her brother and her father, though. To explain that she’s not like those girls. She’s different, has other interests, and doesn’t rate boys as important at all. Marriage doesn’t even factor into her life plan, and if she never kisses a boy in her life it’s no loss. She’d tried explaining that before and had gotten rolled eyes, disbelief, and; “Well then, wait until you’re older.”

Being the only girl left in her family is rough, but it’s even harder when they think of her as being something she’s not. It only leaves her more determined to prove to them that nothing could be further from her mind than boys.

***

When she’s eighteen, Farah joins the Army Rangers. Her father smiles at her for that, at least.

She knows, despite everything, that he’s just trying to do his best by her. He wants her safe, wants her able to protect herself, and he wants her to be the best she can be. She knows all this but it doesn’t stop it hurting. Sometimes she wonders if the reason he’s so distant is because she looks like her mother and it hurts him to see, but not enough to push her away completely. Not enough to stop him making sure she can be strong. The Rangers though, is an experience.

The boys there aren’t at all respectful. The way they talk about her and the other women makes her uncomfortable in a way that goes beyond simple lack of professionalism. She’s used to people assuming she’s incapable, used to proving them wrong and having to do more than them to do so, but being called ‘baby girl’ by a man she’s on patrol with and twice as skilled as is a step too far. When she breaks his nose for it she can’t bring herself to be sorry, even if they make her apologise. When she’d joined they’d said they were strict on sticking to the no dating rule. Farah looks at the group of men surrounding her and wonders why they’d even have to bother; nobody was going to be jumping at the chance to date any of these people. She certainly wasn’t.

The women, though. They were different.

It’s not the first time Farah has been around capable and competent women, but it’s the first time she’s been with so many in one place. They stick together, have each others backs. It feels, for the first time in her life, like a family. A place where she’s understood. Still. She shies away from the general state of undress they like to lounge around in, a few of them laugh and call her uptight but none of them pressure her into joining. She tells them it’s a matter of being prepared for anything, and they tease her indulgently. It’s enough to make her smile, even if it’s not enough to completely relax her.

She can’t help feeling nervous around them. Farah hasn’t felt intimidated by anyone who isn’t her father wearing a disappointed face in a long time, so she doesn’t think it’s that, but there are a few who make her fumble her words. A few that she can’t look at directly no matter how she tries. A few that will make her blush when they nudge her shoulder and tell her to quit worrying.

A few she thinks about long past midnight when she should be sleeping. They stick in her head like honey, and she can’t get rid of them even when she tries to.

***

She’s twenty one the first time she hears the word gay applied to a woman. It twists her face into a frown because it’s not the way she’s used to hearing it. Not that it’s ever been said in a good way when she’s heard it mentioned, and she’s not entirely sure it’s being used positively now, but it’s something. An idea, perhaps. A consideration she hasn’t made before. The moment passes before she can make up her mind.

It’s not long after that she finds out that there’s another word.

She’s standing at the bar, taking her drink slowly because she knows the people she’s out with (she’s not sure enough to call them friends) will need someone with at least a relatively clear head by the end of the night. At this age she’s started to move past the ‘not like other girls’ mentality. She’s aware on some level that there’s something different about her, something that doesn’t fit with them, but she puts it down to the reserved anxiety that prohibits her from interacting with most people. Her inability to connect isn’t exclusive to women. Still, there had only so much time she could spend in the company of women without letting go of the need to differentiate herself from them. She’s seen people in six inch heels with perfectly winged eyeliner be the deadliest person in the room, which makes it hard to separate the two things the way everyone seems to want to. She’s starting to explore gaining back some of the femininity she’d rejected in a bid for her father’s approval, (because she knows now that he’ll never approve,) and while she remains steadfastly practical in her choices there’s something healing in claiming back the right to look how she wants to look without compromising her ability to perform. The worst part of it all though, is that people seem to assume it’s for anyone’s benefit but her own. It comes with side effects, and the man who positions himself next to her at the bar is certainly one of them.

“Whatcha drinking?” he’s resting on the wood top in a way she assumes is supposed to be alluring, but if anything it comes off arrogant.

“I don’t see why that’s any of your business.” She knows it’s not how people want her to respond, she’s been called rude before, but her need for privacy extends to whatever environment she’s in and this isn’t a conversation she wants to have.

“I was only asking, no need to be so defensive,” he holds up his hands and she hopes that’s the last of it. Predictably, it isn’t. “So… What’s a gorgeous girl like you doing in a place like this?”

Farah fights the urge to roll her eyes and instead tips her glass in his direction. “Drinking.”

“Alone?”

“It looks that way.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he leans in. It’s uncomfortably close and she mentally calculates all of his weaknesses, the quickest way to get him to the floor. It’s a public place though, and she’s been working on not acting unnecessarily, so for now she just takes a step back.

“My friends are here, I just prefer not to dance. I like my own company.” It gets lonely at times, she can admit that, but he’s not at all a person she wants to ease that loneliness with.

“Aw, come on now, don’t you want to have a little fun?” He moves to close the space she created, sliding his hand along the bar as he does so. “You seem tense, I’m sure we could work out a way to loosen you up.”

“I’m not interested.”

He grins at her, all teeth, and she wonders if this method ever works for him when he says, “How do you know? You haven’t even asked my name,”

“I don’t need to.” It’s cold, direct, and she picks up her glass making to move. “I said I’m not interested.”

It’s funny, really, how quickly he changes from welcoming to angry in the face of her defiance, but she’d planned for that already. Her hold on her glass tightens imperceptibly.

“What? You think you’re too good for me? You already got a man? You think you’re something special?” He’s waving his hands accusatory, jabbing fingers in an unpleasant way as he slowly turns red with anger. “You don’t like men, is that it? Are you cold? A prude? A lesbian? Because, sweetheart, you’re missing out on what I’m offering here, any other girl in this building would be happy to have me.”

“I don’t think so.” He’s taken a step too close and she doesn’t hesitate to throw her drink in his face, knocking his feet out from under him when he’s distracted and smacking his head into the bar. It’s a kindness that she doesn’t break his nose in the process. It certainly makes dealing with security easier.

The word sticks though, and while she has enough situational evidence to infer what it might mean, she still wants to be sure. There’s a curiosity there that makes her wonder far beyond what she usually would, and she resolves to ask Tricia, who she knows will be too drunk to remember as she’s helping her stumble home that night.

“It’s like… gay. But for girls. Girls with girls, you know? You gotta… guys think it’s hot. But it’s all about girls. Why? You thinking of changing teams? Don’t let that guy drag you down, he was an asshole.” Farah is saved from answering when Tricia promptly throws up on her own shoes. She would be more annoyed, but in the moment she finds herself too preoccupied to care.

Girls with girls.

There’s a thought.

***

It’s a thought she comes back to plenty of times over the years, but if she’s completely honest romance had never factored high on her list regardless of gender, and not much about that changes now. She keeps busy. Training and Rangers and applications, consistently rejected applications as her father likes to remind her. She certainly has no time for distractions when she needs to dedicate her life elsewhere.

Still, sometimes she’ll look at a woman a little too long and she’ll wonder.

A lot of that wonder goes into wondering if she’s the only one. Realistically, she knows that’s not possible, the statistics don’t allow for it, but she wouldn’t have the first idea where to go seeking out other women. She doesn’t know if she’d have the confidence to try if she did know. Not knowing makes for a convenient excuse to hide her fears behind, and sometimes she thinks it’s hard to know anyway if she’s never actually tried. When she gets lonely, or wants something more than her own company, her own pressing responsibilities, boys are easier to find anyway.

It’s not bad, as such, making out with guys. The principles are much the same, and when what she’s looking for is a distraction or a reassurance, it works as good as any. She’s confident enough to feel able to leave if she wants to, and a lot of the time it’s just nice to be close to another person.

It’s different, though.

She’s never kissed a girl but she knows it’s different. There’s something missing, something a little off about the press of their bodies, the way they kiss, where they put their hands. Something different in the aftermath, the way she never wants to stay, the way that even when she knows objectively they’re attractive her eyes never linger on them for too long. It’s not bad, it’s never something she doesn’t want, but it’s never exactly what she does want either. Thinking too hard about why that might be still scares her, and she’s not ready to deal with it yet; but she’s not going to commit herself to unhappiness either, so despite everything she never sees the same guy more than twice at most. It’s easier like that, a clean, efficient break and for now, it’s good enough.

***

It stays enough for a long time. Most of the time she doesn’t bother with it at all, she has a job now, not one her father approves of, but one that has value. Protecting a millionaire’s daughter may not be the most high profile position or realistically the best use of her talents, but Farah cares for Lydia like a younger sister that she will protect with her life. It’s a hard thing to explain to her family, so for the most part she doesn’t, and she finds herself almost content with the situation she’s found herself in. It means she doesn’t go out much, but it also means she doesn’t have to overthink it when she does. No boys means no wondering about girls, and she calls that a win-win scenario.

A week before she disappears, Lydia tells Farah that she likes boys, but that she thinks she might like girls, too. She wonders later on why the overwhelming amount of acceptance and support that she feels towards her isn’t something she has towards herself. When she tells Lydia that it’s okay, that it’s good she’s comfortable being herself she isn’t lying, but when Lydia hugs her and tells her she always knew she’d understand, Farah thinks it goes deeper than being unlikely to judge. It’s not something she knows how to deal with so she pushes it out of her mind, Lydia’s safety and happiness having always been her priority, and that applies to this as well. The last thing she needs is her blowing this whole thing out of proportion. Farah listens to her talk about girls, and wonders how she finds it so easy.

***

When Farah kisses Todd it’s different, but it’s not different enough.

There’s a security there, a depth to it being someone she cares about, a friend. They’ve grown so close in these last few months out on the road, and when they end up kissing in the back end of nowhere it makes sense. Sort of. It’s good at least, a kind of familiar comfort that they both need, something reassuring to hold onto when it feels like they’re ten feet underwater and only sinking deeper. It’s safe to say the search for Dirk is not going well, and she knows sooner or later they’re going to have to talk about what to do next, and she also knows Todd won’t want to do that. They don’t purposefully seek each other out, but they fall into it anyway. One small reassurance of ‘you still have me, we’re still in this together,’ one small distraction from the creeping fear that they’ll never find him. That at some point they’ll have to give up looking, or be made to stop without ever knowing what happened. They’re both a little tipsy, and it feels safe. Like home. It’s the most connected she’s ever felt to another person because there’s no hiding when you’re on the road like they’ve been, they’ve seen the weirdest and worst of each other and still, after all that, Todd isn’t going anywhere. It’s nice.

They laugh about it after, but nothing about the way she looks at him has changed. It’s just comfort, something to take the edge off and it’s a relief that she doesn’t know how to put into words that Todd thinks the same. When she looks back on this moment she’ll see it as the final push she needed, looking at Todd after all that and still only seeing a friend, not wanting to take it any further and knowing that if she tried to it wouldn’t feel right. One night stands with strangers are easy to brush off as meaningless, but making out with one of your best friends isn’t that, and she wouldn’t want it to be, but in this case it isn’t romantic, either. It isn’t anything past physical affection, and she realises that if that isn’t going to happen now; with all this set up, after all this time, then it isn’t going to happen at all. Somewhere she’s always known that really, and she knows why, but fear had always been enough to keep her from looking too far into it.

Now she has people who won’t push her away for that why, people she knows will encourage her to only ever be herself. When she ends up shedding a few tears she blames it on the whisky and Todd asks, joking, if kissing him was really that bad. When she says no she means it, but she knows it won’t happen again.

***

Tina Tevetino is a whirlwind of a person, but Farah is starting to get used to those. What she can’t quite get used to however, is the way Tina looks at her.

It’s appreciative, sometimes verging on awe when she does something Tina finds particularly impressive, but even when it’s not that there’s a weight behind it. It’s lingering. When she catches her looking she doesn’t even look away, usually just waggles her eyebrows and says something suggestive enough to send a hot flush creeping up Farah’s neck because she has no idea how to respond to that.

It shouldn’t feel any different she thinks, the next time she locks eyes with her across the station. She’s had people look at her before in that way and she’s aware that she’s not unattractive, even if she’s never thought too much on it if she can help it, so really it shouldn’t be any different at all. It is though, in a way she can’t quite quantify. There’s something that separates these looks from the way that men had looked at her over the years, and it takes her an embarrassingly long time to work out that it’s mostly because when Tina looks at her, she finds herself looking back.

It shouldn’t surprise her as much as it does, and it shouldn’t make her overcompensate by looking for every reason, purely professionally of course, to spend time with her. Tina’s flirting doesn’t make her uncomfortable, it doesn’t make her cordon off a part of herself in order to feel like it’s okay. It makes her happy and jittery and unsure what to do with her hands. When she finds herself biting at her lip and looking away so as not to smile too much it’s genuine. When their hands brush or they stand too close together, the heat that rushes through her is dizzying. Tina makes no secret of her attraction, and Farah wishes she could get a handle on hers, because if Tina smiles at her like like that one more time she thinks she might just explode.

It doesn’t take long for it all to come to a head.

Farah doesn’t know what it is that gives her the confidence to kiss Tina. Perhaps it’s the love spell, perhaps it’s the certainty that she won’t be rejected, perhaps she’s just sick of waiting for someone else to come along and drag her out of her own head. Whatever it is, she’s grateful. It seems like Tina is too, if the enthusiasm she pours into it is anything to go by, and Farah finds herself laughing against her mouth when she flails her arms for a surprised moment.

“Is this okay?” she asks, hoping it is but wanting to be sure, she’s never wanted to kiss someone quite like this before.

“Wha- okay? Okay? Why are you talking? We could be like, making out! If you wanna make out! I mean, you seemed like you wanted to, but I don’t want to make any assumptions you know? It’s totally-” Farah cuts her off with a kiss that’s more giggling than it is anything else.

“I want to,” she assures her, fingers curling through Tina’s belt loops in a bold move that she has to make quickly before she gives in to feeling too shy to make it. “You’re- This is… nice? I like it. I like you,” I like girls she thinks, but still can’t quite bring herself to say it. Now doesn’t feel like the time anyway.

“Sweet!” is apparently the end to that conversation, because Farah finds herself with her arms full of overly affectionate deputy not a second later. Not that she minds in the slightest.

Kissing Tina is like a revelation, like something in her is bubbling up and fizzing out, tingling all the way down her arms to where her hands are resting on her waist. It’s kissing, it’s just kissing, she’s done it before, but this, this is something she thinks she could do forever. She tastes different, the press of her is different, her energy is different, and it’s all so perfectly right in a way it’s never been. Something slotting into place in her head that tells her this is it, this is what’s been missing. This is what makes sense.

It’s heady and happy and perfect, and when they finally part Tina does that ridiculous eyebrow move and leans in to say, “Not bad at all, Miss Black.”

Farah finds herself grinning through the blush it brings to her cheeks, whatever heat is simmering in her stomach is background noise to the calm relief of having found the last piece of the puzzle, the delight of being able to finally see the full picture.

“Not bad at all.”

***

When life goes back to as normal as it gets for them these days, Farah feels like something has shifted. It’s nothing obvious, at least she doesn’t think so, but she feels more like herself than she has in years.

It’s not just coming to terms with her sexuality, but also learning to let go of all the expectations her father had placed on her over the years. All the ways she’d thought she’d failed him, the ways she thought she’d failed her brother, all the time wasted pretending to be something she wasn’t. That was over now, she’d decided firmly when she’d finally gotten around to visiting her father’s grave. There was a goodbye, a certain amount of grief, but no apology, and while it by no means means that she’s turned her life on its head overnight, it’s as good a place as any to start.

She has a home now, friends, a family. A place where she can be herself and still fit. People who love her for her quirks, and not in spite of them. People who appreciate her both for what she is and what she isn’t. People who are also learning to grow and forgive and move on, and they want to do it with her. It’s enough to move her to tears more than once, but she knows they feel the same way about it too. Dirk, it seems, hadn’t stopped looking misty eyed ever since they’d signed the lease on the agency, and it had surprised both of them when Todd had been the one to break first after hanging the sign up on the wall. It’s good, what she’s found for herself. People who want to know her, finding she wants to let them. There’s only really one thing left to do.

Farah realises quickly that she can’t tell both of them at once. It’s not like she doesn’t want to, but even trying to say the words to herself is daunting, she’s not sure she’s even going to be able to manage saying it to someone else, but she wants to try. It’s important.

It takes her days to work up the courage, thinking it over almost obsessively for hours at a time, and eventually she arrives at what she thinks is the most likely successful plan. What she needs realistically is for it to not be a big deal. She doesn’t want it to become a thing, and while she knows Todd would be supportive and it wouldn’t be a bad experience at all, it’s an unfortunate fact that he’s better with emotional situations than both she or Dirk, and tends to leave her feeling a little overwhelmed with his responses to important situations. It’s nice, usually a good kind of overwhelmed, but it won’t work for this, because there’s the risk of him taking too much care and then it becomes the very thing she’s trying to avoid making it. There’s also the issue of, well, they’ve never explicitly talked about it, but she thinks Todd might be drawing his own conclusions in a similar vein about himself right now. She needs someone who won’t make it a thing, but she also needs someone sure enough of that particular aspect of themselves to know how not to make it one.

She only really has one other option.

***

Dirk is delighted to be invited for pancakes the way he’s delighted by just about anything that involves doing things with other people. He’s quick to assure her that she’s paying, and Farah absently wonders if he’s aware that would be true either way considering she’s the one paying him. She doesn’t point it out.

“Is there a reason Todd isn’t here?” he asks, setting his menu aside after ordering what Farah is sure is going to be a bad idea when he’s bouncing off the walls in a few hours’ time. “You waited until he’d gone before you asked, which isn’t like you.” Even Farah sometimes falls into the trap of forgetting Dirk is, in fact, a detective.

“I… wanted to talk to you. Without Todd. Well, no, I’ll tell him later, or I’ll talk to him later I just- I wanted to talk to you first.” Dirk looks like he’s torn between being excited about being the first to be let in on a secret, and worried about it being something serious. Farah starts systematically shredding her napkin, and wondering if this was even a good idea.

“Has he done something?” He seems to have settled on confused but intrigued, a look that’s incredibly familiar for how often he wears it. “Is it the shredder again? Because I told him that cheese should be grated not shredded, and honestly I’m not sure how he thinks it’s at all hygienic. Not that I’ve caught him doing it, mind you, but the shredder keeps breaking and there’s only one way to shred cheese, if you think about it the clue is in the name.”

“What? I- no? The shredd- He’s not shredding cheese in the shredder, Dirk. It keeps breaking because you keep putting unopened letters in there and they’ve got staples in them. It’s the metal, they can’t-” she realises abruptly that the conversation is getting away from her and shakes her head. “Look. Never mind, we can talk about that later.”

“So it’s not about the shredder. Is it-”

“It’s not about the filing cabinet either!”

“Oh,” he narrows his eyes at her. “You knew what I was going to say before I said it. You’re getting very good at this.”

“It’s personal,” she says before she can stop herself, hoping to call off any more office related worries before he thinks of them. “What I want to talk about. It’s more of a personal nature. I want to talk to you as a friend.” Not that there’s much professional about their relationship in any way, but it’s a clear divide from work concerns.

“Oh,” Dirk repeats, looking a little dumbfounded as if this is a situation he’d never thought he’d find himself in. “Well. In that case, please, continue.” And just like that Farah’s mouth dries up.

She drops her gaze to the table, organising the remains of the napkin into neat little piles to distract herself. “That last case was… crazy.” It’s as good of a place to start as any, she supposes. “So much stuff happened, everything happened and I know we were all running around trying to save the world and stay alive but-” she takes a steading breath, finding she needs it. “Something else happened too, something to me I mean. Or, for me, I suppose. Something that… it’s been a long time coming, I just tried not to think about it before, and then something happened, and now I can’t stop thinking about it and… I think I’m finally okay with it, but I thought- It feels important to tell someone, and I wanted to tell you because, well, I think you’ll… understand.” It’s more than she’s meant to say, but still hasn’t cut to the point of it and it’s starting to frustrate her that it’s not as easy as she thinks it should be.

For his part, Dirk looks concerned but ultimately confused, and he seems to take a moment to pick over his words before he speaks again. “I’m not sure I understand much,” is what he ends up saying, “about this situation, or in fact at all, but I’ll try my best.” It’s the hopeful smile he gives her that helps settle her nerves, if anyone in the world is going to judge her then it’s not going to be Dirk Gently. She finds the thought comforting.

“Okay,” she nods, determined. “Okay. I can- this won’t be so hard.” She’s psyched herself up this way a thousand times before now, thinking about it like a battle plan is only going to help. She knows how to tackle those. “So. Something happened, and I realised… well, no I think I realised a long time ago actually, the more I think about it the more sense it makes in some kind of weird… anyway. Not the point. The point is I’m…” she can’t stop now, not this close. Farah Black does not get to the finish line and quit.

“I like girls. I’m a lesbian.” There. Done. And, god, were her palms always that sweaty? Was her heart beating that fast when she sat down? Had she really just said that? Her thoughts are starting to take on a mind of their own and she’s at risk of working herself up if something doesn’t-

“Oh, thank god!”

It’s enough to pull her out of her head for long enough to look over at Dirk, who looks about as relieved as she’s ever seen him with his hand pressed dramatically to his chest. “What-”

“For one horrible, terrible moment there I thought you were going to say you were pregnant!”

“What? I- no. God no!”

“I know nothing about infant care! And I thought, why on earth would that be something you tell me? Not that I’m saying I wouldn’t support you, because of course I would, and I’m sure babies are lovely when they’re not screaming or dribbling or… anything else that babies do, but surely that’s the kind of thing you’d talk to Amanda about? Or Todd! At least we know Todd has been around a child before!”

Somehow Dirk’s rambling had managed to take away her worry. The fact that she’d gotten such a normal response, for him at least, had deflated the balloon that had filled up with anxiety inside of her and felt just about ready to burst. Suddenly the words didn’t seem as intimidating as before.

“I’m not pregnant, Dirk. I’m just… gay.” Just like that. It’s easy.

“Farah that’s wonderful! Congratulations!” There’s nothing but sincerity in his smile, and she finds herself smiling back, relaxing against the leather seating. “Can I ask, what was it that happened exactly?”

Farah flounders with that question for a moment before admitting somewhat weakly, “Tina.”

“Ah ha! I knew it! I was a little distracted myself at the time but I told Todd you seemed happier, and it’s not like Tina ever took her eyes off you.”

“Shut up.” It’s not as harsh as it could have been; the way she blushes gives her away.

Dirk holds his hands up placatingly, but his smile turns a little more sly when he says, “Did you get her number?”

“Yes.”

“And?” It’s conspiratorial, and she manages to stare him down for a good minute before looking away.

“And… I’m going to call her.”

Dirk’s response is cut off by the arrival of their pancakes, but he beams at her as he pours an ungodly amount of syrup over his stack.

“I really am pleased for you, Farah.” It’s soft, kind, and sincere, not at all something she’s used to yet. She thinks she’ll have chance to get used to it now they’re going to spend so much time together. The thought wells up some unknown emotion in her chest and she smiles, happy and open in a way she hasn’t felt in years.

“Thanks, Dirk.”

***

Later that night when things have settled down and Todd has stopped jokingly offering to coach her in how to talk to women in a show of solidarity, mostly because he’d been shot down by both Farah and Dirk, and had taken instead to sulking on the sofa with his headphones, she takes out her phone. It’s not exactly true to her word, she can’t quite bring herself to call Tina, but she can text. Texting is good. Right now with her palms as sweaty as they are, texting is perfect.

Texting is also difficult. It takes her almost twenty tries to settle on something she thinks sounds good enough to send.

‘Hi, Tina. I was just thinking about you and I was wondering if you would like to go out sometime?’

In the five whole minutes it takes Tina to reply, Farah berates herself for the use of every single word, considers throwing her phone out of the window, and wishes she’d never dared send the message in the first place. When her phone pings with the sound of an incoming message she scrambles for it, thumbs shaking as she reads the reply.

‘Hell yeah!’ is followed by three other messages.‘Go out get drunk?’‘or go out as buddies?’‘orrrr go out on a date?’

There’s a moment where she stares at the screen, wondering if she’d possibly said the wrong thing, or if Tina is just doing what she’d been trying to do and cover all of her bases. She takes a deep breath and types:

‘On a date. If you want?’ This time the reply is almost instant.

‘Yes!!!!!!!!’‘I mean, that’d be cool.’‘Sure thing.’‘Awesome.’

It settles her nerves to know Tina is just as flustered as she is, and the thought of being the person who makes her flustered is enough to give her butterflies in the best possible way. Her grin is illuminated by the light of the screen when she sends off:

‘Great. We can make plans in the morning?’ she feels giddy and silly at the prospect, and Tina doesn’t help that much.

‘Works for me! Sweet dreams, hot stuff xxx’

She hides her face into the pillow for a moment, feeling far far more childish than she thinks she should be at this age. Still, given the circumstances it seems permissible.

‘Goodnight, Tina.’ She sets her phone down, picking it up again quickly to add a hurried follow up ‘x’.

The winky face she gets in reply makes her groan, and she knows she’s going to be harassed into sharing that she went through with it in the morning, but for now she lets herself smile and feel the way her stomach flutters with excitement at the thought of making plans with Tina.

She feels like a teenager, but that hardly matters. Not when she finally feels at home. Not when she feels like she’s finally starting to learn how to be happy.

Not now she knows who she is.

#my writing #prompt fill #this got long #farah black #tina tevetino #farina #dghda #dirk gently's holistic detective agency #coming out fic #this was honestly so therapeutic to write #farah black is a lesbian #i hope i did this justice #I fucking gave up with the breaks because they all align so weird on my theme so they're on the left now #imagine they're central #or read it on ao3

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jade-island-lives · 6 years

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My Rainbow Soul: A Journey To Just Being Me (My Coming Out)

This has been in the back of my mind for such a long time. Seeing as it’s Pride Month, I thought that maybe I should talk about how I came out, my process with accepting who I was, and hopefully give people hope that things will get better.

Now, I won’t be using names or anything. But I will be talking about a lot of things. Lots of negative things such as abuse and anxiety. If you have a problem with this. Don’t read. I’ll be cutting it off here.

Ready? Okay.

Now, I grew up a small town that was pretty conservative. We lived where coyotes, rats, mice, skunks, and raccoons were a problem. A place where you could fish, hunt, and farm. Everyone knew everybody, and there was a real sense of community.

I actually grew up pretty normal. I loved the Disney Princesses, Barbie, and even had a dollhouse. I had an obsession with two things however, mermaids and wolves. I LOVED those things to death. The story of Balto and how he delivered antitoxin to Nome Alaska was incredible, and I collected stuffed dogs to pretend I had a race team. And I had a love for all things ocean. I had mermaid dolls, sea shells, I collected sand dollars. It was a nice time. I also read a lot, and I drew a lot.

Yeah, everything was normal. I played with my dolls and created worlds in my head. But looking back on it, I was a bit odd. I had a HUGE obsession over the Little Mermaid. Especially Ariel.

Every girl liked Eric. I liked Ariel. I dunno why, I just found her interesting. I wanted to be a mermaid like her and live with her under the sea.

In hindsight, that should have been the first clue

I didn’t even know the LGBT+ community existed until I was 12, (by that time I had dropped all things girly and gained a sense of tomboyishness because it just felt right and I loved all the boyish things other girls my age didn’t fuss over) and the way I found out was less than ideal.

No worries, my family was, is, and always will be supportive of the LGBT+ community. But I found out about the community through, and this is going to be the dumbest thing ever. The Westboro Baptist Church.

You see, at that time I was on YouTube a lot. And when I was bored of watching the same Warrior Cat AMVs over and over (which was really rare) I would watch documentaries about strange things. Like mystery diagnosis stuff and serial killer things. (I swear, I was only a writer who needed ideas, still am.) And one day in my recommended section was a documentary of The Worst Family in America. I thought “Oh how bad can they be?”

When I was done watching it, I was confused. Wait, two guys getting married? That’s a thing? And God doesn’t like that? Why? It’s not hurting anyone!”

Thankfully, my family shut that shit down, saying God made everyone for a reason and that he made no mistakes. I did more research on it, being my curious self, and found out that there was a whole community, that being gay wasn’t a choice, God made us as we were, all kinds of rainbows and love. Eventually, loving the LGBT+ community was everything, and I began to hate injustice towards those who couldn’t control who they were.

I started getting inclusive in my writing then. Writing gay and lesbian characters, writing about Bi characters and Pans too. And even Trans and Aces. I started learning that there was a rainbow of sexuality and identity, and as we grow, we find a place among it.

Unfortunately for me, being a teen was a nightmare in so many ways. I had my friends, most of which were boys. And around that time, all the girls and guys started dating. I didn’t like guys in that way, never really did. And at the time I didn’t think about it. I was learning about my writing skill, I couldn’t be bothered. I was trying to figure out what I was good at.

But eventually, it caught up with me.

People started asking if I was gay. And I always said no, but eventually. I found my first crush.

And it wasn’t a guy.

Every time I saw her, it was like butterflies. I could never think straight when she was around. I loved her.

And surprisingly, that scared me.

I never really knew why until now. While I was and still am supportive of the LGBT community. I was well aware of the violence that came with it. The beatings, the discrimination, all of it. People have died because the world didn’t want to change. At the time, marriage wasn’t legal, and my life could be on the line in certain countries.

In fear of the discrimination, I got in a relationship with a guy to keep suspicions off. I thought that maybe if I hid myself enough I would start to believe I wasn’t gay.

But the relationship was toxic. Emotionally manipulative and abusive. I don’t really want to go into it. For the longest time, I thought it was okay. If I could keep it up and make it work, eventually I would be happy.

It was stupid. So stupid. To anyone out there, men, women, whatever. If someone forces you to do something you aren’t comfortable with, if you are AFRAID to be around them to the point where you walk on hot coals around them. If you are afraid of telling them something because of what you think they will say or do. Get out of it. Now. They don’t have to hit you to be abusive, women can do it too, and you deserve to feel loved and safe.

I broke free of it with the help of my friends, including my best friend in the entire world, but to this day I still feel terrible about it. How I lied, how I never spoke up, how I broke his heart. It makes me overlook all the times I felt pressure, all the times I was afraid to tell him how I felt. How I was afraid to be alone with him.

I would be fearful of getting in any relationships. And because most of my friends were guys, of course rumors were spread. I always said that I wasn’t interested in anyone. And I wasn’t.

I don’t remember struggling with my sexuality too much in my junior or senior year. Mostly because I was struggling with my mental health and I just remember nothing but sadness. A black fog over me that I let consume every bit of me until I was nothing but a shell that just appeared and disappeared. But it was there I remember. Crushes and hiding them, reminding myself that the world would not accept me.

Until the morning Same Sex Marriage was legal in the US.

I still remember the rainbow flags all over Facebook. The videos of couples crying, Obama speaking. I remember just tears, curling up on my couch sobbing with tears of joy.

I remember thinking, “I can get married now. It's accepted. It’s okay.”

But there were still issues, there always will be. And I almost fell straight back into the closet.

Eventually I was tired of people asking me if I was straight or gay, and so I just said I was Bi. I...felt it was safer. I don’t know why.

For the record, I’m sorry I hid behind Bisexuality. It’s a misconception that Bi people are just gay people closeted or straight people experimenting. Bisexuality is a real sexuality and it needs to be respected as such no matter the relationship.

I used Bisexuality because I wanted people to think I could still date guys and I wouldn’t be discriminated against. But I wasn’t Bi, I was gay. And I knew it. Please don’t think my experience is the same for everyone. Bisexuality is a real sexuality, a real feeling that people have. And it’s valid whether you are dating a man or a woman.

At some point, something broke in me. I was tired of fighting it. I don’t remember the reason. Maybe it was my therapist telling me to be honest, the headache of living a lie, somehow I realized I that I was done not being me. And so...

I came out to my best friend by text. Tears in my eyes. I was met with overwhelming love and support. He told his family and I was met with so much love that way.

And then I told my family...who already KNEW. They had known since I was 12 and loved me no matter what. It was the sweetest thing, and I wish more than anything that I could go back and tell my past self that it would all be okay, to not care what other people think of me.

And if there is anything you can learn from this, it’s this.

You may be afraid to come out or you can’t. And that’s okay. You don’t have to come out for anyone other than yourself. There’s no set time on accepting who you are. For some, it takes their entire lives. You may think you’re one thing, but then you discover you’re something else, that’s okay too.

As I’ve always said, sexuality and identity are a rainbow, and a tricky one. But you will find your way. And no matter what, whether you are still in the closet or people don’t think your sexuality is real, you are valid, you are loved, and it does get better. And you CERTAINLY are welcome this Pride Month. <3

It got better for me, and now I wear my rainbow heart proudly for everyone to see. So I may never hide in that nasty closet again.

#jade rambles #sexuality #pride month #lesbian #coming out #tw: abuse #tw: anxious thoughts #love is love is love is love is love is love

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alfi-ry · 3 years

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Social Environment

I might as well continue while I’m at it.

“Tell me who your friends are, and I will tell who you are.”

Despite having a barbie doll as one of my first toys, I really wanted a nerf gun. “It’s for boys.” They say.

I don’t remember any problems from a social environment. I was told that I got into kinder a year earlier than most of my peers. I was a sleepy kid then because I stayed up ‘til late night even before I could even turn off the tv on the shelf. It was most likely when I was 3 or younger because the tv was my company. Math was fucking hard, man.

I was awarded as one of the most obedient child and my yearbook says that I wanted to be a nun. They just put that in because I haven’t decided what I wanted.

“Fashion design? There’s no money in that.” “Military! Do you want to die?” “Artist? No money.” “Model? You’re too small.”

My preschool and early elementary was almost none existent. What the fuck.

The only thing I could remember was there was two? three? boys. Four. Two of them were such fucking bullies.

One of them took my toy ranchu goldfish. I fucking cried over it. He always gets my things suddenly. Then he tells me that he likes me. The fuck.

The other one I was kinder to but he would threaten to always hit me. He never did because our class president defended me. (Who was also rumored to like me. What the fuck.) This guy got sick and puked. I got worried and asked if he was okay but he told me to stfu. He left to go to the nurse’s then everyone near me started comforting me and telling me that he was like that because he liked me. I did not bother confronting him because I know what he would say.

There was also one time where a guy just said that he liked me. I don’t remember my answer but it came to a point where they celebrated because I was peer pressured to hold his hand. [Excuse me while I roll my eyes into oblivion]

Lastly, there was a boy that I carpooled with when going to school. He was a neighbor and he invited me over to his house to play with his sister but then they hid me in the closet because their strict grandmother hates visitors. I was snuck out and I never interacted with them since.

Hmm. Grade 3, I think I could say I was rowdy. I mostly hangout with guys because I could relate to them more. But that gave me a reputation with the girls that either I was a flirt or a lesbian. [Women are fucking terrifying.] Can you blame them? I was able to flirt - joke, talk - with one of the most popular guy in school. Kids, we were kids. What the fuck was that supposed to mean.

A good friend of mine confessed his crush but I only saw him as a friend. I confessed to my other friends but they turned me down because they like someone else but eh. I never cried over it.

My cousin and I went to the same school but they had to migrate. Since we were like twins, [not really, she was more femenine] she told me to look after her best friend so when she did we stuck together and got along better than the other girls.

We’re all still friends. I’m fucking proud of those mother fuckers.

Highschool. Fuck it. I hated my peers. I was still rowdy but that made the boys respect me less so I digressed to silence. I was interested more in writing, arts, horror, politics, and things “a typical teenager doesn’t like” so I was ostracized. Also, I was bullied for acting like a man and smelling like one too.

Sorry, I wasn’t the type to fantasize about getting pregnant by an EXO member.

Most of my insecurities formed from this point of my life. I wasn’t the smartest. I wasn’t the prettiest. I wasn’t the talented. I hated myself. And this was during my grandparents we’re dying. I almost had no one. I kept my emotions to myself no matter how extreme. I couldn’t afford to break the picture I made for myself.

I had friends during these time but I still felt left out. An outcast within the outcasts. We were fucking too weird in some ways and it was cringe in retrospect. I grew out of them.

But thanks to them I was able to form my own opinions.

College. Some of my chains broke off. I brushed off the opinions of other people to get in a college that I wanted. I had the liberty to be more me because this was a place where almost no one knew me. I met a few people from elementary and saw others from my highschool. Not gonna forget that time I got told I was “yummy.” Thanks.

It was a pretty difficult start but I got into a good social circle because of an asshole I trusted. It was the only thing he did nicely. Energy vampire was a good description for him. Pathological liar. He got chased away by the same people he tried to manipulate.

It was a so-so ride. None outweighed the other. My need to move and work got me into an official position in the organization I was in.

One of my greatest achievement in this part of life would be making three guys feel the need to gang up on me.

Of course, I wasn’t the only one who wanted to sit on the high seats of the organization. Though I wouldn’t mind not being there, but these fuckers don’t deserve it. My greed for morality wouldn’t let this slide.

Dick#1: Ugh. He was smart I’ll give him that. Cocky with something to show but he was the type that has the need to be superior? No. I don’t think so. He likes whipping his friends to submission though.

Pussy-- I mean Dick#2: I’ll be kinder to this one because we suspect that he is intellectually disabled [but it was only on social aspects so I doubt it a bit. Wouldn’t be surprised if he is tho] which plays great for #1. He was being bullied for being a lolicon but he denies it. He’s not afraid to say that he would jack off to an anime idol.

Dick#3: The bitch of the two. He’s socially awkward but there was something in me that doesn’t like him and he kind of proved it. He likes for his opinions to be accepted always and hates hearing others’. He’s easily manipulated. Naive, more than me I suppose.

They wanted #3 to get the spot I was getting so they created a spot just for him but it wasn’t enough. I needed to be out of the picture for them to move freely. Too bad, so sad, bitches.

My “friends” were worried for me because I was too emotional, I was too busy. First of all, thank you. But I’m the type that pushes myself a little further. Concerns are welcome but put me down and you’re not my friend. That’s why I had to let go of some of you.

I heard news that #3 was stalking a member so we had to deal with it. It got hairy but we were victorious and I was told I got more balls than my colleagues. Thank you but I’m just really impatient and wanted the fuckers out. My kindness is sometimes fueled by my selfishness.

But that aside, it’s heartwarming to hear that my colleagues saw me as a capable person especially since their mostly men, good ones at that. [Including my ex]

The biggest event here for myself is setting a boundary. I know people with actual psychoses but still, I needed to protect my peace and mental health. I don’t know her diagnosis but she guilt tripped me knowing what I was going through at the moment so I had to shut it down.

Current. I don’t go out much nor do I have a reason to. I made use of quarantine and connected to other people anonymously. Tiktok helped me map my morals. I discovered and rediscovered my interests and I am proud of myself if given the peace.

I used to watch people go by and see their stories as they move and talk but since quarantine is a thing. Social media helped me to sonder still.

Conclusion: My social and partially my public environment mostly helped me shaped my mindset. There are traces of my family’s mindsets and I accepted that but anything that differed from them was a work of mine.

#mental #mentally unstable #mental instability #mentally tired #thought experiment #about me

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arplis · 3 years

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Arplis - News: The Best Gifts for 4-Year-Olds, According to Child Development Experts

Age 4 is a huge milestone year. Not only do many 4-year-olds go to preschool or start pre-kindergarten, they tend to become much more well-rounded, articulate opinionated little humans at this age. Most 4-year-olds start to share, ask tons of questions, and form solid friendships. Kids also become choosier about what toys they will or won’t play with around age 4. That’s why the best Christmas gifts for 4-year-olds are toys that play into these new, emerging capabilities while also taking kids’ own specific idiosyncrasies and interests into account.

“Think about simple board games to use new thinking skills and emerging self-control as they wait for a turn and cope with losing, puppets to tell stories with, interlocking plastic blocks to create structures, a child-sized chalkboard for writing and drawing, or a bicycle or other wheeled toys so they can move their strong, growing bodies,” says Rebecca Parlakian, the senior director of programs at Zero to Three. “And pretend play props are always a great idea, as they let kids make up and act out stories.”

When it comes to Christmas gifts, consider a toy’s longevity. Open-ended toys, ones that can be played with in limitless ways, are the gold standard. They include blocks of all shapes and sizes, such as Legos, and toys that mimic real-life objects and tools. As a general rule, the less a toy does, the more your kid’s imagination has to work. When it comes down to it, the best toys for 4-year-olds are those that let them play however they want.

Balance Board by Wobbel

This wobbly board teaches kids about balance, helps them hone their gross motor skills, and supports up to 480 pounds worth of child. Plus, most of all, it's a hell of a good time because it's way harder than it looks. And it doubles as a bridge or a tunnel for playtime.

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Wooden Stacking Board Game by Lewo

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Ukelele by Hape

A wood gorgeous guitar perfectly sized for 4-year-olds, with tunable strings. It looks like it belongs at Coachella. And it lets kids explore the fundamentals of music and rhythm.

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Wooden Balancing Tree by PlanToys

Looks easy, right? Wrong. Kids work on their motor skills, while doing some serious concentration, as they try to balance the six birds on the 10 branches.

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Bowling Friends by Melissa & Doug

Things don't get any more fun than hurling a pin at these soft animals and knocking them over. The weighted bottoms make the game ever more challenging.

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Adjustable Telescope for Kids by Hape

Want to get your kids outdoors? Give them this adjustable telescope, beautifully made from bamboo. Explorers get 8x magnification so they can see bugs and blades of grass up close.

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Hide &-Seek Periscope by Hape

From its lightweight design to its wrist-strap, this is a great periscope for kids. They can hide behind a tree, use it to spy on animals (or each other) and explore nature.

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Nature Detective Set by Hape

First, kids look through the magnifying glass, which magnifies things four times. And then they whistle when they spot something really, really notable.

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Rocket Ship Indoor Playhouse by Melissa & Doug

The sky's the limit with this 4.7 foot long rocket ship playhouse. It includes capsule windows, a door that opens and closes, and four stabilizer fins. Kids pretend to be astronauts, aliens, explorers, or whatever else they can dream up.

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Smart Tech Train Set by Brio

A gorgeous train set, with some added oomph: Kids arrange the tunnels and station, and the train stops, honks the horn, backs up, or blinks its lights. It's compatible with all other Brio train set.

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Grill and Play Kitchen by Hape

Kids fire up this ultra-detailed grill, serving up bell peppers, steaks, and sausages, and using tons (thus working their motor skills) to flip the food. The grill has double-sided grates, a collapsible side table, moveable wheels, and an open-and-close hood.

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My Wooden Weather Station by Moon Picnic

Junior meteorologists can get a handle on the weather by reporting back on what's going on outside. They turn the dials to show whether it's sunny or cloudy outside, how hot or cold it is, and if it's going to rain. All, while helping hone their fine motor skills.

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Pinball Game by PlanToys

Pinball is fun. We get it. But this kid-sized pinball game also teaches them to solve problems while also working on their motor skills. The goal, of course, is to try to keep the ball in play as long as possible.

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Barbie Inspiring Women Series Ella Fitzgerald Collectible Doll by Mattel

Ella Fitzgerald, a musical icon and trailblazer, is immortalized thanks to this Barbie. It's a great way to encourage pretend play, while also talking to kids about history and those helped make it.

Buy Now $23.24

Ice Cream Cart by Tender Leaf Toys

It's never the wrong time for ice cream. This stand is the epitome of pretend play, as kids take orders, use the scooper to fill the cone, and count out change.

Buy Now $95.96

Magnetic Wooden Block Set by Tegu

This 42-piece set of beautiful magnetic wood blocks, with enough to go around so two kids can play together, teaches them about gravity and problem-solving, while also working on their motor skills.

Buy Now $110.95

Just Rocks in a Box 8 Colors by Just Rocks

These 64 long-lasting soy wax crayons are shaped precisely for little hands, specifically created to strengthen kids' grip muscles and improve fine motor coordination. While also letting kids be as creative as they want.

Buy Now $30.00

Baby Stella Doll by Manhattan Toy

Dolls are nurturing toys, teaching kids how to care for something. This doll is cuddly, washable, and wears clothes with a fabric hook and loop closure for easy changes.

Buy Now $30.98

Motor Mechanic by PlanToys

So your car broke down? Happens to the best of us. Your 4-year-old mechanic will simply pop open the hood, pool out the enclosed tools, and fix the problem. This detailed set has a steering wheel, gearshift, horn, brake, accelerator, turnable car key, air conditioner, radio, side mirrors, hood lift support and screw jack. The mechanical tool in the front can be used to change tires, because tires do have to be changed.

BUY NOW $300.00

Micro Mini Kick Toddler Scooter by Micro Kickboard

The perfect starter scooter, this has a stable a lean-to-steer design and a weight limit of 110 pounds, so it will serve you well for years.

Buy Now $89.99

Snug as a Bug in a Rug Board Game by Peaceable Kingdom

Kids learn about colors, shapes, and numbers as they work together to get the very cute bugs to safety before the stinkbugs invade.

Buy Now $20.99

Meal Maker Dough Set by Green Toys

This specific type of dough is made from parent-friendly organic flour. And this particular set empowers your little chef to whip up creative meals using the prep tools, extruder, cutlery, and plate. It's a toy you can feel good about: The plastic components are made from post-consumer recycled plastic milk jugs.

Buy Now $23.53

Tool Belt by Plan Toys

Kids work on their fine and gross motor skills, and engage in pretend play, as they complete fixer-upper chores around the house. This child-sized tool kit includes an adjustable carpenter's belt, hammer, wrench, level, screwdriver, nut, and bolt.

BUY NOW $25.00

ABC Building Blocks by Uncle Goose

These gorgeous wood building blocks are the foundations of open-ended play. They help kids practice hand-eye coordination and learn about balance and gravity. Oh, and they can begin to recognize letters and start spelling out words.

Buy Now $34.95

Learning Resources Botley 2.0 The Coding Robot

The new and improved Botley lets kids work on their grasp of screen-free coding. This Botley has eyes that change colors, and he can perform 45 degree turns and even has night vision capabilities. Kids program him to move in different directions or put on a light show.

Buy Now $52.82

Doctor Role Play Costume Set by Melissa & Doug

Real-world toys like this set help 4-year-olds make sense of the complicated, often overwhelming things they see in the adult world. And let's face it: Seeing a doctor can be a scary thing. This gorgeous medical kit is great for pretend play, as kids dole out pretend shots and take your blood pressure.

Buy Now $27.65

Hand Puppet by Cate & Levi

These offbeat, handmade wool puppets are a fantastic way for kids to act out stories and immerse themselves in pretend play.

Buy Now $19.99

Bristle Blocks by Battat

These 112 interlocking blocks connect together and let kids build towers or cars or dinosaurs or castles or, or, or.

Buy Now $15.50

Imagination Magnets by MindWare

By age four, kids recognize their own body parts. This magnetic set lets them create animals, faces, cars, flowers, and buildings. From flowers to skyscrapers to dogs to mom and dad, the proverbial sky's the limit. They can follow the enclosed puzzle cards, or freestyle. And when done, the magnets are stored in the wood carrying case.

Buy Now $29.95

Magna-Tiles Stardust Set

Kids get insanely creative with Magna-Tiles, and this set has 15 colorful, shiny and glittery shapes including four mirrored squares, seven glitter squares and four equilateral triangles.Kids can use these magnetic blocks to create and build complex structures, which helps with critical thinking and problem solving.

Buy Now $29.99

Dynamo Wooden Domino Set by Hape

This 100-piece domino play set encourages children’s spatial thinking abilities and color recognition, and fosters a basic understanding of physics. What goes up must come down. Kids learn that, and more, with this deceptively simple yet utterly cool domino set. It includes a bridge, a bell and assorted tricks that add extra drama to the domino racing game.

Buy Now $35.67

Playfoam by Educational Insights

It's like slime, without the mess. This non-sticky stuff never dries out, and is great for hands-on sculpting. Not only does it foster creativity, but it glows in the dark.

Buy Now $19.99

Wooden Dollhouse by Hape

A gender-neutral dream house that lets kids play together and act out scenarios they see at home or at school. With six rooms and furniture included, this dollhouse leaves tons of opportunity for open-ended play that won't get repetitive.

Buy Now $127.99

Magnatab by Kid O

This magnatab allows kids to 'draw' by using a magnet to flip over metal spheres, revealing their silver-colored underside. It's like the modern-day etch-a-sketch, and can be used to draw over and over again. And it glows in the dark.

Buy Now $29.99

Checkout Register by Hape

Sure, this cash register sneakily teaches kids about math. And yes, it shows them the basics of what it means to have and spend money. But it's also a good time, as they pretend to run a store, or a cafe, and charge their customers using the bar code scanner and card reader. Plus, they need to count out exact change.

Buy Now $33.49

Every product on Fatherly is independently selected by our editors, writers, and experts. If you click a link on our site and buy something, we may earn an affiliate commission.

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The post The Best Gifts for 4-Year-Olds, According to Child Development Experts appeared first on Fatherly.

Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/the-best-gifts-for-4-year-olds-according-to-child-development-experts

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Arplis - News: The Best Gifts for 4-Year-Olds, According to Child Development Experts

Balance Board by Wobbel

Buy Now $79.99

Wooden Stacking Board Game by Lewo

Buy Now $12.99

Ukelele by Hape

A wood gorgeous guitar perfectly sized for 4-year-olds, with tunable strings. It looks like it belongs at Coachella. And it lets kids explore the fundamentals of music and rhythm.

Buy Now $29.99

Wooden Balancing Tree by PlanToys

Looks easy, right? Wrong. Kids work on their motor skills, while doing some serious concentration, as they try to balance the six birds on the 10 branches.

Buy Now $13.50

Bowling Friends by Melissa & Doug

Things don't get any more fun than hurling a pin at these soft animals and knocking them over. The weighted bottoms make the game ever more challenging.

Buy Now $19.89

Adjustable Telescope for Kids by Hape

Want to get your kids outdoors? Give them this adjustable telescope, beautifully made from bamboo. Explorers get 8x magnification so they can see bugs and blades of grass up close.

Buy Now $19.99

Hide &-Seek Periscope by Hape

From its lightweight design to its wrist-strap, this is a great periscope for kids. They can hide behind a tree, use it to spy on animals (or each other) and explore nature.

Buy Now $13.99

Nature Detective Set by Hape

First, kids look through the magnifying glass, which magnifies things four times. And then they whistle when they spot something really, really notable.

Buy Now $8.99

Rocket Ship Indoor Playhouse by Melissa & Doug

Buy Now $41.99

Smart Tech Train Set by Brio

A gorgeous train set, with some added oomph: Kids arrange the tunnels and station, and the train stops, honks the horn, backs up, or blinks its lights. It's compatible with all other Brio train set.

Buy Now $137.26

Grill and Play Kitchen by Hape

Buy Now $113.09

My Wooden Weather Station by Moon Picnic

BUY NOW $57.00

Pinball Game by PlanToys

BUY NOW $100.00

Barbie Inspiring Women Series Ella Fitzgerald Collectible Doll by Mattel

Ella Fitzgerald, a musical icon and trailblazer, is immortalized thanks to this Barbie. It's a great way to encourage pretend play, while also talking to kids about history and those helped make it.

Buy Now $23.24

Ice Cream Cart by Tender Leaf Toys

It's never the wrong time for ice cream. This stand is the epitome of pretend play, as kids take orders, use the scooper to fill the cone, and count out change.

Buy Now $95.96

Magnetic Wooden Block Set by Tegu

This 42-piece set of beautiful magnetic wood blocks, with enough to go around so two kids can play together, teaches them about gravity and problem-solving, while also working on their motor skills.

Buy Now $110.95

Just Rocks in a Box 8 Colors by Just Rocks

Buy Now $30.00

Baby Stella Doll by Manhattan Toy

Dolls are nurturing toys, teaching kids how to care for something. This doll is cuddly, washable, and wears clothes with a fabric hook and loop closure for easy changes.

Buy Now $30.98

Motor Mechanic by PlanToys

BUY NOW $300.00

Micro Mini Kick Toddler Scooter by Micro Kickboard

The perfect starter scooter, this has a stable a lean-to-steer design and a weight limit of 110 pounds, so it will serve you well for years.

Buy Now $89.99

Snug as a Bug in a Rug Board Game by Peaceable Kingdom

Kids learn about colors, shapes, and numbers as they work together to get the very cute bugs to safety before the stinkbugs invade.

Buy Now $20.99

Meal Maker Dough Set by Green Toys

Buy Now $23.53

Tool Belt by Plan Toys

BUY NOW $25.00

ABC Building Blocks by Uncle Goose

Buy Now $34.95

Learning Resources Botley 2.0 The Coding Robot

Buy Now $52.82

Doctor Role Play Costume Set by Melissa & Doug

Buy Now $27.65

Hand Puppet by Cate & Levi

These offbeat, handmade wool puppets are a fantastic way for kids to act out stories and immerse themselves in pretend play.

Buy Now $19.99

Bristle Blocks by Battat

These 112 interlocking blocks connect together and let kids build towers or cars or dinosaurs or castles or, or, or.

Buy Now $15.50

Imagination Magnets by MindWare

Buy Now $29.95

Magna-Tiles Stardust Set

Buy Now $29.99

Dynamo Wooden Domino Set by Hape

Buy Now $35.67

Playfoam by Educational Insights

It's like slime, without the mess. This non-sticky stuff never dries out, and is great for hands-on sculpting. Not only does it foster creativity, but it glows in the dark.

Buy Now $19.99

Wooden Dollhouse by Hape

Buy Now $127.99

Magnatab by Kid O

Buy Now $29.99

Checkout Register by Hape

Buy Now $33.49

Every product on Fatherly is independently selected by our editors, writers, and experts. If you click a link on our site and buy something, we may earn an affiliate commission.

'Operation Santa' Is Going Online This Year — Here's How To Take Part

34 Small, Nice Things to Do For Family You Can't See This Holiday Season

Millions of Kids Might Not Get A Thanksgiving Meal. Here's How You Can Help

Why 'Jingle Jangle' is the Netflix Christmas Movie Families Need Right Now

The post The Best Gifts for 4-Year-Olds, According to Child Development Experts appeared first on Fatherly.

Arplis - News source http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Arplis-News/~3/hjBfuAptwDo/the-best-gifts-for-4-year-olds-according-to-child-development-experts

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