#guy who fucks up everyone else's life until someone kills him at age 11 because he sucks so much

[bitegore]

I was reminded that i've written like, almost an essay about Motormaster Characterization in the comments of a fic i wrote in class one time and now i'm gonna transfer them to a post so you can all see them.

Obligatory reminder at the start that a) this gets long, and b) this is my own personal take. If it conflicts with yours, great, two cakes, I like reading fics with different interpretations than my own. However, if you vibe with it, buffet rules apply, take whatever you want and however much you want and leave whatever you don't :D free headcanons to a good home or whatever, lol

In regards to Motormaster's approach to authorities, subordinates and equals:

Motormaster literally doesn't know what an "equal" is. If he were anyone else, Scrapper would be approaching him as an equal, but Motormaster has no idea what to make of equals. He has subordinates and he has authorities who must be obeyed, and if one isn't an authority one MUST be a subordinate somehow, or at least treated like one in his head. It's not really his fault that he has no social skills whatsoever, but either he needs to learn them or he needs to get out of the way, pretty much. Scrapper just kind of goes "okay, fuck it, i am your superior by rule of seniority" instead of trying to make friends as equals. Onslaught doesn't have the leave to throw his weight around the same way, so instead Motormaster acts like a dick until some other authority (here, Scrapper) gets in his way about it, but Onslaught is perfectly capable of retaliating as long as Motormaster starts it.

In regards to Motormaster having been "built for leadership" vs having the actual qualities of leadership:

I like the idea that Motormaster may have been "built for leadership" (he is probably the best leader of the bunch just by process of elimination, unfortunately) but he does not have enough emotional maturity or problem-solving skills to actually lead. This guy solves all his problems by hitting them until they go away. You cannot be a leader like that, it does not work, your team will either fracture underneath you and stop working or they will fracture underneath you and decide to get rid of you, no two ways about it.

...Motormaster is so headstrong that he refuses to listen to any ideas he can't pretend are his own or otherwise line up along what he already thinks. Scrapper can threaten him into being polite, but unless he makes politeness into a game to be won that is a prelude to fists and swords and guns (it can be done, but probably not by Scrapper) he cannot convince Motormaster of the value of being polite. He can tell Motormaster that he needs to treat his team better or he'll be ousted, but he can't convince Motormaster of the same unless he can frame it as not only not treason (he Will defend the other Stunticons' honor, after all) but the correct Decepticon response, and something that Megatron would approve of, AND that treating his team with kindness and evenhandedness is not a sign of weakness but a sign of strength, AND!!!! that Mtoromaster will come over stronger not only to his team but also the rest of the faction if he jumps to violence less and trades on words rather than actions. All of which will require a really deft hand, and one Scrapper doesn't feel like wielding at the moment. ... I think that's one lesson Motormaster will have to learn from experience, actually. I can't see anyone meeting him at his level and also being someone he'd deign to listen to in the first place, so instead he'll have to suffer the consequences of his actions in some way or another to decide that he needs a new first response to conflict outside "roll over and seethe internally" and "literally start beating people"

What it really comes down to is that Motormaster lacks almost every tool in a good leader's arsenal. He is a poor communicator, he is recalcitrant, he is stubborn, he takes his failures out on his team, he claims responsibility for his teammates' successes, he is absolutely ignorant of his own flaws, he has no emotional management skills and even worse emotional mediation skills, he does not work with his subordinates but against them, and he sees nothing wrong with this. He's not entirely to blame because he is new, untested and untried and without any of the experience he would need to actually succeed at this, but he's also got no interest in changing, because he thinks he has this shit in the bag and it's only because he was saddled with a defective team full of idiots who don't know how to listen to him that anything ever goes wrong. And, of course, not only does everyone outside the Sunticons know this, but most of the Stunticons do, too :( Motormaster is the only one who thinks he's doing a decent job. The other Stunticons just also don't know how to do anything different either, since none of them have those skills either, and they've never been led by a team leader who does.

Irt the "age" of the Stunticons, something difficult to quantify because they're adult robots who were built very recently and given 0 guidance on how to be functional people:

The stunticons in general are fascinating to me because they have the like, physical and social standing and skills of a young adult (i'd place them around mid-twenties, given they're new to the Decepticons and could be likened to recent college grads) but absolutely zero life experience whatsoever, and the emotional self-management skills of an older child at best. It makes for a really interesting contradiction because they are like. SO ill suited for basically any task that isn't "go in, shoot autobots, get out" and even then they struggle with that because they don't get along well. Given a little bit of time and patience- and probably some external lessons on "being nice", "using your words", and "communicating issues and then solving them together" like the average person irl gets from the ages of 2-15 lmfao- I think they'd all be able to mature into genuinely effective fighters and a genuinely functional team, but first they like. have to not kill each other or get shot for insubordination lmao

Irt Motormaster trying to start a fight with Scrapper, a large part of the fic, but also regarding his approach to interpersonal dynamics in general, just applied narrowly:

Motormaster doesn't have any emotional processing skills, just like the rest of his team. None of them have any life skills at all. Scrapper is just impossible to rile unless he wants to be riled, and since MM has no way to escalate the situation that wouldn't put him objectively in the wrong (he cannot start hitting people here! they're of the same rank as him and both have seniority, though onslaught's position is significantly more tenuous than Scrapper's, so it's against the rules) so instead he just has to chill the fuck out or leave, which would be retreating, which would be losing. So he can't do that either. Someone help this poor truck, he can't start a fight without getting in trouble :(( his life is so hard :((((

and, finally, in the eternal and hilarious words of my friend @megatronismegagone who summed this all up better than i ever could (because I have to write whole fics to say what others can manage in a few sentences, of course)

his self awareness is at negative 1000 and his dicks bigger than his brain. hes such a fucking dude. oh my god. onslaught needs to kick the shit out of him a few times. actually no he needs someone to dunk him in the ocean and shake him dry every time he does or says some bullshit. his socialization is lower than his self awareness somehow

[altruistic-meme]

AFTG fic recs

Hi all! I just wanted to share some of my all-time favorite fanfics for aftg, for no real reason other than I want more people to read them and send their love to the authors :) 

Under a readmore because it got. A little long. But please enjoy!

WIPs

Dangerous Habits by LovelyLittleGrim ( @lovelylittlegrim )

Andrew has run into problems while on undercover jobs before. None of those problems were anything like the troublesome runaway that is one Nathaniel Wesninski

Aka: the fic where Andrew is undercover as a hitman for hire and Neil is the guy who hires him. Things get complicated from there.

Undercover Andrew? BAMF Neil? Hitman AU?? Absolutely. I’m in love. The story is just *chef kisses*

Chapters: 8/9

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, past rape/non-con, Drake Spear (who is his own warning), Butcher Neil, 

--

Negotiations by elesary ( @elesary )

This is what Andrew Minyard knows: his brother is dead, killed by a petty Raven prince who has never learned to keep his hands off of Andrew's things. His brother's daughters are his responsibility, a job that is made infinitely harder when their shitty grandparents want custody. Nathaniel Wesninski is a liar, but he might be the only way to avenge Aaron and protect his nieces. All Andrew has to do is watch Nathaniels - Neil's- back as he carves out his own life and identity from everyone who thinks they own him.

Andrew has always been good at upholding his end of the bargain, has he finally found someone willing to uphold theirs?

This fic has got me fucked up, honestly. I’m emotional over it. It’s fantastic.

Chapters: 11/?

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, attempted sexual assault, Butcher Neil,

--

the upper hand by plantelty ( @plantelty  )

Shortly after losing his mother, Neil arrives in the small town of Palmetto, South Carolina, alone in the world and with an impossible plan to carry through.

At the age of eighteen, Andrew ends up helping a boy stage his own death.

-

Just two fucked up boys learning to trust each other during the course of a summer, but also: multiple references to songs, twinyard angst (Nicky tries his best), The Plotting of Neil Josten's Gruesome Demise, and shit hitting the fan in a variety of ugly ways!

The cliffhanger has got me on the edge of my seat, but it is 100% worth the read and the wait for the last chapter!! 

Chapters: 10/11

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Canon typical violence, 

--

The Butcher’s House by Fire_Bear ( @fire-bear )

Andrew thought something was odd with the house the Foxes had to move into after their Athletes' House had been burnt down. He just wasn't prepared for what was actually wrong with it.

For this was a house full of monsters.

Ghost story! Ghost story! Ghost story! I literally think about this fic every other day, it’s fantastic. 

Chapters: 6/?

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: character death (major or minor is unclear), injuries, 

--

Promise of an Unbroken Boy by elesary ( @elesary​ )

Neil is caught by the police with Mary's burning body and is sent to juvie in Oakland where he is assigned to share a cell with one Andrew Doe, who promises him Exy, if only Neil will tell him all of his secrets. With no access to tinted contacts and hair dye, he agrees, it's only a matter of time until he's killed after all. What does he have to lose?

But Andrew's found someone who knows what a promise means, and he'll be damned if he lets that go without a fight.

Ngl this is definitely in my very top favorites -- I LOVE the idea of Neil and Andrew meeting pre-series, and this fic just BLEW my expectations for that plotline out of the waters

Chapters: 14/?

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Underage, attempted rape/non-con, canon-typical violence, 

~~~~~~~~~

Complete

The Nameless Monster by kanekicure ( @kanekicure )

Nathaniel Wesninski wants nothing more than to see his father dead and buried. But when his father promises him the title of The Butcher, Nathaniel quickly realizes that his destiny of following in his father's footsteps is closer than ever before.

So of course, when he gets forced to go undercover for the Baltimore police, he starts seeing what living could truly be.

-

Andrew Minyard is a newly recruited police officer for the worst precinct in Baltimore, who is dedicated on hunting down the notorious Butcher and his unnamed underling. But when Neil Josten is thrown into his midst as his civilian consultant; he starts to realize some things don't quite appear as they seem.

I love the story telling -- the secret identities, the plotting, everything.

Chapters: 14/14

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Butcher Neil, implied/referenced rape/non-con, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced slef-harm (I believe there is a scene that is somewhat detailed on this subject), some characters also get drugged at one point, 

-- 

that’s just something people say by nanatsuyu ( @theoctopusnods )

Neil makes the mistake of stealing the wrong car. Andrew makes the mistake of offering a ride to a liar. They both make the mistake of turning the whole affair into a road trip ‘home.’

Gonna be honest; the summary does not give a big idea as to what is in store and i am SO GLAD I gave this one a try so i’m telling you that you will be too

Chapters: 24/24

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, panic attacks (somewhat grahic descriptions of)

--

The Story After You by kanekicure ( @kanekicure )

Andrew Minyard does not understand how Riko Moriyama landed Neil Wesninski.

How the snot-nosed, small dick, rich brat, second son of the Moriyama family who also just so happened to own the largest EXY gear and merchandiser company in the world “RAVEN” - had landed smart mouthed, quick witted, stupidly blue eyed Wesninski, was beyond him. Well, unless Wesninski was a gold digger, but Andrew doubted it.

-

Or; how Andrew Minyard says he doesn't get into messy situations, until he meets Neil and suddenly he is in the most messiest possible situation ever imagined in his life - oh and also, he might be becoming a homewrecker.

Ok I am behind bc I haven’t read the final chapter of this but!! I love the story, it’s very emotional and moving, and I love the characterization in it.

Chapters: 10/10

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Abusive Riko/Neil, abusive relationship, implied/referenced rape/non-con, implied/reference child abuse, implied/referenced self-harm, graphic depictions of violence, some descriptions of injuries/scarring, 

-- 

This Complicated Life by 5a5b5p5 ( @andrewsbutterflyknife )

“This is exactly why I don’t want you and Andrew to meet,” Aaron says grumpily. “You two would get along far too well.”

Neil grins. “I just like pissing you off,” he says, “It’s not my fault your brother does such a good job at it.”

—

Neil doesn’t expect much from his Sophomore year of college, but when he becomes a waiter at the Palmetto Bistro, his life gets a whole lot more interesting. As it turns out, maintaining friendships new and old as well as navigating an interesting relationship with the head chef of the restaurant—who just so happens to be his best friend’s twin brother—is a lot more complicated than he’d thought it would be.

A much more light-hearted fic than most of the others! Includes a secret relationship, and also chef Andrew >>

Chapters: 10/10

Rating: Mature

Warnings: 

--

When I Fade, Keep Me in Your Memory by demesh 

Neil Josten has a secret: he can flicker out of existence.

He can vanish with the turn of a thought; click his fingers, and suddenly he’s not there anymore. Invisible and untouchable, he becomes a living ghost.

Having promised his mother never to let his ability go, Neil teeters the line between faded and real, a person and an echo. He can’t risk getting hurt.

But then, one day, someone sees him when they shouldn’t be able to.

 A (flower-shop) AU about how a faded and lonely Neil finds it in him to become someone real.

Another fic that I need to catch up on ;; but anyway it’s amazing and I love Neil’s ability in it, it’s so well explained and well-written about

Chapters: 12/12

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: mentions of past abuse, panic attacks

--

12 Ways to Woo a Minyard by NikNak22 ( @knickknacksandallthat )

Neil is a math nerd who, by a stroke of dumb luck, falls into a group of friends that are the closest thing to family he’s ever had. So, when he tells them about his new mysterious crush, he shouldn’t be surprised how immediately they come up with a plan to help win them over. One they insist that if Neil follows it, he’ll have them falling for him in no time. But things don’t always go to plan – or do they?

Nicky wants to set him up with someone else. Matt and Jeremy are confused but supportive. Allison and Seth offer lewd suggestions, while Dan does her best to keep everyone in line. Jean and Renee know something, Aaron doesn’t really care, and Kevin just wants Neil to join the lacrosse team.

But one thing’s for certain – whether Neil’s successful or not, everyone’s got money riding on this.

The romance-trope-filled fanfic of my dreams. Sometimes you just need a fic of pure joy -- this is that fic. 

Chapters: 14/14

Rating: Mature

Warnings: 

--

finders keepers by moonix ( @annawrites ​ )

Andrew meets Nathaniel through a scavenger hunt app. As their team takes part in a hunt that sends each of them to creepy, abandoned places alone to solve clues and gain points, Andrew and Nathaniel begin a little treasure hunt of their own. The anonymity of getting to know each other in small increments, never meeting face-to-face, allows them a level of intimacy neither are used to. Meanwhile Renee’s friend Neil is acting weird whenever Andrew shows up…

This was one of the first fics I read for aftg!! And BOY what a great start!! All of the little pieces and parts that work together, and just the scavenger hunt itself is fantastic! (I also REALLY wanna know if there is an app like this out there because I would be down to do that)

Chapters: 8/8

Rating: Mature

Warnings: (these all come from the author:) “mentions of historical abuse in a mental asylum, mentions of suicide, mentions of murder and kidnapping, morbid facts, creepy abandoned places including a haunted house at a theme park with disturbing rooms, special appearance of a creepy clown doll, fatphobia and some introspection on body image/complicated relationship with food, mention of self harm scars”

-----

Scared to Live (But I’m Scared to Die) by Major_816 ( @major816 )

Neil Josten goes to the Nest for Andrew, but he stays for a lot more.

~

"I'm sorry Coach," he muttered.

"For what kid?" Wymack shifted. "You've got to give me something to work with here."

Wymack watched the thin traces of sorrow as paper exchanged hands and he was looking down at a contract with the Edgar Allan Raven's.

"I signed them Coach, I'm sorry."

~

The one where Neil doesn't come back from Winter Break.

It is VERY dark, and is one of very few fics that I have actually been almost unable to read one of the scenes, so DEFINITELY pay attention to the warnings -- both these, and the ones provided for each individual chapter. I did go through the fic to collect as many warnings as I could find in the chapter warnings, but be sure to take care of yourself.

Chapters: 36/36

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: rape/non-con elements, implied/referenced rape/non-con, discussions of rape/non-con, canon-typical violence, graphic descritions, physical abuse, panic attacks, descriptions of injuries (often graphic), psychological warfare, dissociating, psychological torture, physical torture, use of knives, alcoholism/alcohol abuse, pain-induced delirium, rape/non-con, emotional self-separation, suicidal ideation/thoughts of suicide, emotional distress (which sums up the whole fic and also me while reading it), handcuffs/chains used as restraints, referenced/implied abuse towards animals, vomitting, begging, excessive use of painkillers, drowning, waterboarding, physical restraint, mutilation of an animal, mild hallucinations, non-con drugging, sleep deprivation, starvation, humiliation, the Butcher, 

Also one of the first fics I read and 100% my absolute favorite fic!!! Which is adfjhsd a little worrying, considering, but it is what it is. Anyway. This fic absolutely wrecked me, and while it is technically complete, there is a sequel in the works! So! But I am so so excited for the sequel, and I am working on rereading this. It’s amazing. 1000/10.

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

At 11:08pm In The Music Room, I Was Saved (Part 2)

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

Part 1

A/N: second and last part, lovelies. Thank you again anon for this prompt (I may have, once again, deviated from your original idea bear with me), and thank you @venablemayfairgoode for helping me figure out the end (tw: the death of a dog is mentioned :))))))) ). As always, English isn’t my first language. x

Word count:  ≈ 7 000

You were so fucking pissed. Also, you couldn’t stop crying. The world had ended on a beautiful late spring afternoon and now, for some reason, you were trapped in a gloomy building with people you didn’t know and the woman who had broken your heart bossing you around.

And the worst was, you had been so relieved to know she had survived. And you shouldn’t have. But the tears you had cried on the plane to Outpost 3 had not only been for your family and friends; they had also been for her. They had mostly been for her. And you hated yourself because of that.

She looked different. Her clothes were darker, her hair was darker, her eyes were darker and they were glazed. They looked as if they were made of stone. Tourmaline maybe. Something bad must have happened to her, but you decided you didn’t care. Bad things had happened to you, too, and one of them she had caused.

“There’s been a mistake,” she said, voice very deep and very slow. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t want to be here,” you sobbed.

“You were assigned at Outpost 2.”

You were so mad at her. Had she done this? Ripped you from your family and sent you to this dark place to spend the rest of your life consumed by grief and guilt and hatred? She couldn’t have done this, she wouldn’t have done this but then again and was that panic in her eyes? It was gone before you had time to take a good look at it, but you knew her. You knew how to read her.

“Why are you here?” she asked, as if you had chosen to, as if it had been your decision.

“Because some rude guys barged into my flat and shoved me into a plane,” you sobbed, wiping your nose on the back of your hand. “I don’t want to be here,” you repeated.

“You should’ve been sent to Outpost 2,” she said. She was trying so hard to hide the confusion from her face, but you saw it, and you saw that flash in her eyes again and it was panic.

Suddenly it hit you: how could she know where you should have been sent? How could she –

“Did you…” It was hard to speak. Your throat was too tight. Your eyes widened with horror, and hers hardened. “Are you the reason why I’m here?”

You were vaguely aware that everyone else in the room was staring at you and Wilhemina. You should have felt ill-at-ease, should have felt shy. But all you could feel was anger.

“I don’t want to be here!” you cried again, but this time it was fierce. This time it was a cry of rage.

Wilhemina tapped her cane on the ground. The sound echoed off the walls.

“Better sad than dead,” she said coldly. And then she proceeded to ignore you as she explained the house rules.

You barely heard what she said. You were burning, and you couldn’t stop your tears from falling. This was not happening. You were in a dream. You would wake up and everything would be alright. You would count to ten and the nightmare would end.

You counted to ten. It didn’t end.  

What you did hear of Wilhemina’s speech sounded ridiculous. No technology? No sex? Death punishment for intimacy? People basically being your slaves? Her eyes were too cold. They were glazed. This wasn’t the Wilhemina you knew. The Wilhemina you knew had used cruelty for protection. This one used cruelty for fun.

A few people protested, but the protests didn’t last long. This Wilhemina was just as scary as the one you knew.

And then she was leaving, to the sound of her cane, every tap a stab to your heart. A Grey led you to your room and you collapsed on your bed, hugged your pillow, and cried.

The next few days you didn’t leave your room often. You felt so empty. You spent most of your time lying on your bed and grieving the people you had lost. You got up for lunch and dinner. Sat at the table and stared at your plate as the others tried to make small talk. The food cube had no taste. It felt like jelly in your mouth. You hated it. You hated having to swallow it. You hated how it never soothed the hunger in your stomach.

You sat on the left side of the table. Wilhemina sat at the head of it. The light from the candles would glint off your food cube and fork. Coco sat on your left, a girl named Mary on your right. Coco would do most of the talking. Complaining, really. Sometimes – but only sometimes – you would glance in Wilhemina’s direction. Once or twice, she met your eyes. Hers were cold and like a black hole.

After the first week your tears finally subsided. You spent more time in the music room with the others, playing board games, reading, talking. Coco was a bitch, but she made you laugh, and you soon befriended the girl named Mary. She was about your age, was very shy and didn’t speak often. She kept in her pocket a photo of the dog she had owned and loved more than anything else, a small, sweet thing with big black eyes named Sam.

You didn’t know how Wilhemina spent her days. You barely ever saw her. You could forget her, you thought, if you didn’t dream of her every night. You would forget her if only your stupid heart would stop skipping a beat and break into a gallop every time you heard the familiar sound of her cane, letting you know she was coming, she was coming! in a second you would see her and be near her and hear her voice. You would forget her if she wasn’t your first thought every damn morning when you woke up. If when she was near you, you didn’t feel like you were burning and suddenly became aware of every single sound that was her, the rustle of her dress, her breathing, her heart beating, her eyelashes fluttering, everything.

You barely ever saw her, but when you did, time stopped, and it lasted forever.

You fell into a routine. Aimless, dreary. Getting out of bed every morning. Eating your food cube. Making small talk with the other residents. A teary-eyed Mary showing you her picture of Sam. Trying not to think, not to remember. It went on like this for a week and a half, until two Greys were found having sex and were sentenced to death.

It was Mary who told you the news, just before dinner. At first you thought she was joking. But then every soul at the Outpost was talking about it and even Coco seemed scared.

You didn’t know the Grey girl, but you had spoken to the boy once or twice. His name was Mark. He smiled at you every time you would meet him in a corridor.

You ate your food cube in complete silence and shock. When dinner was over, when Wilhemina stood up and walked off, you didn’t think. You stood up, too, and followed her.

She didn’t become aware of your presence until she was halfway down the corridor to her room. You saw her slow down, come to a halt. She tapped her cane on the floor, then turned on her heel.

Time slowed down. You noticed every detail, even the smallest ones. The way the candlelight glided over her cheekbones as she turned. You were still so attuned to her, every inch of her.

You stopped breathing as her eyes locked with yours. And it would have been so easy, to take a step forward, to wrap your arms around her waist, to pull her close and go back home. It seemed her eyes were pleading you to do just that.

But then she blinked, and her eyes turned cold. Glazed. Tourmaline. You felt your body stiffen.

“May I speak to you?” you asked, almost a hiss. Then you added, “Ms Venable.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly at you, raised her chin. “I do not care to hear what you have to say,” she said coldly.

You took a step forward and snarled, “I will say it. You can either listen to me here, or in your room. Office. Whatever.”

Her nostrils flared, and for a second you thought she was going to slap you. You had seen her slap some of the other residents who had dared question her rules. That was one of the things the new Wilhemina had no problem doing.

But she merely nodded, almost imperceptibly, and led you to her room.

You tried not to look. At the bed, perfectly made, at the pillow where she laid her head every night. At the vanity where she did her hair and make-up every morning. All the small rituals you knew so well.

It hurt. Merely standing there in her room felt like someone was crushing your heart between cold fingers.  

You came to a halt in the middle of the room and tried to swallow past the lump in your throat. Wilhemina stopped in front of you, rested both her hands on the head of her cane.

How did she look so different? Why was her face so hard and so cold? She reminded you of the ancient statues of Greek or Italian gods. The powerful, lifeless stare. The dangerous power. How she could destroy you – how she had destroyed you – with one word or one tap of her cane on the floor.

You searched her face for the light, for the fear, for the love, the shyness and the boldness, the desire to be completely, truly seen and loved. You found nothing.

“Well?” she asked, annoyed, after a while.

You cleared your throat. “I heard you’re gonna have Mark and that Grey girl executed tomorrow morning.”

“You heard right,” she mocked.

You cleared your throat again. Your right hand twitched at your side. “Why?”

She made an annoyed noise. “You know why. They didn’t follow the rules. They put their own little disgusting needs first and compromised the group. We cannot have more mouths to feed.”

“Disgusting needs,” you repeated automatically. You took one step towards her and raised your head defiantly. “I don’t remember you calling sex ‘disgusting’ when we were doing it.”

Something flashed in her eyes. Something that almost looked familiar.

“Don’t be crude,” she hissed.

“You cannot have those two Greys killed,” you went on, ignoring her. “That’s murder, Wilhemina.”

Her name dropped from your mouth before you had time to think. You paused. She didn’t react.

“I know you’re better than that,” you added, taking another step towards her. Closer. You wanted to reach out and touch her. It seemed to you she was leaning forward, forward – towards you. It seemed to you her eyes flicked to your lips.

How you had missed her. How you missed her still. How you wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her and demand an explanation as to why she had destroyed your world, stolen all the stars from your night sky. How had she dared, who did she think she was, and what had happened to her that had stolen all the light from her eyes?

“For God’s sake, Wilhemina,” you cried when still she didn’t react, didn’t speak, didn’t move, “you can’t kill two people for being in love!”

“Why not?”she hissed, low and dangerous, like a snake.”What’s so special about love?”

“You know what’s so special about love. You felt it.” A pause. “And don’t tell me you didn’t. You may think you were good at hiding your feelings, but you weren’t.”

Wilhemina’s gaze hardened. “Those two Greys will die tomorrow at dawn,” she answered emotionlessly.

You raised your hands in frustration. “What’s wrong with you?” you cried. Again, she didn’t react. Her silence only fueled your anger. “If you do that,” you went on, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from yelling the words, “if you have them killed, you’ll be walking down a path I cannot follow you on.” You gave a mirthless laugh. “But I guess you don’t care. Who am I kidding? You don’t want to have anything to do with me anymore. You made that clear months ago. But ask yourself this question, Wilhemina: will you be able to sleep knowing you’ve killed two innocent people?”

Oh, she would. Without a doubt she would. She knew it and you knew it and you saw it on her face. Yours turned sickly pale.

“Okay,” you mumbled, lowering your head in defeat. “Okay. I – you know what, I –“ You met her eyes again. “I don’t even know how I could fall in love with you in the first place.”

She swallowed, but her face remained blank. But that familiar something flashed in her eyes again, something sad, that looked almost like the Wilhemina she used to be.

You knew confronting her would likely make her shut down. You knew that. But you were only human, for God’s sake, and you had been hurt and betrayed and it was a well-known fact, that anger was stronger than Man.

So you took yet another step towards her and clenched your fists.

“I have questions,” you growled, “and you’re going to answer them. Why am I here? What made you think you could dump me with no explanation? Did you even love me, or was it all a game to you?”

By the end of your little outburst you were breathless, and Wilhemina, the Wilhemina you had tried to reach and caught a glimpse of, had been roughly locked away.

“Say one more word,” she enunciated, glazed, empty eyes staring right into yours,” and I’ll have you arrested and whipped every day until you meet your pitiful end.”

You opened your mouth, but she cut you off. “Don’t forget who you are, Y/N. I’m the only one who has authority here. If you question me or my rules again, I’ll make sure that insolent tongue of yours is nicely severed from the rest of your body. And don’t think I won’t enjoy watching.”

Your whole body was shaking. But it wasn’t with fear. It was with rage, and with something else you didn’t like at all, for that something else was love. Love that was terrified and aching because this wasn’t her, this wasn’t right, and part of you desperately wanted to make it right again.

Someone knocked on the door. Your eyes widened.

Don’t, you screamed at Wilhemina in your head. Ignore whoever it is. Talk to me. Let me in, let me help you, let me –

“Yes?” Wilhemina called.

The door opened, and Mary shyly stepped into the room. “I, um, I’m sorry to bother you,” she said in her sweet, low voice. “But, um, Y/N, I need your help with something.”

“Can’t it wait?” you asked her, your gaze not leaving Wilhemina’s face, your voice shaking, your body shaking with rage and love and ache.

“Obviously it cannot,” Wilhemina answered, eyes boring into you. “Or else little Mary wouldn’t have been brave enough to push that door open.”

Mary shot her a scared glance and immediately lowered her eyes again.

Send her off, you begged Wilhemina. Make me stay.

Her gaze was too intense, it was too cold, too dark. You lowered your head and turned to Mary.

“I lied,” Mary whispered once she had closed the door behind you two. She glanced up at you with a smile. “I don’t need your help with anything. I just thought I should come and rescue you.”

You swallowed. Your body was still shaking, and you couldn’t unclench your fists. “Right.”

“I heard her threaten you. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you retorted sharply.

Wilhemina wouldn’t hurt you, you thought. She had only tried to scare you, to push you away. She would never carry out her threat.

But then again. You didn’t know what this new Wilhemina was capable of. Fear vaguely sang in your chest. Maybe she had meant every word.

“If there’s anything I can do to help you,” Mary was saying, “please tell me. I’ll be happy to listen.”

You thanked her, told her you wanted to be alone, and went to your room.

**

Wilhemina had decided the execution would be public to set an example. All the residents of Outpost 3 gathered in the music room and the two Greys who were to die were ordered to sit down on their knees in the middle of the room. They were both crying. Pathetic. Weak. Wilhemina looked down on them and smiled to herself.

A guard walked in with a gun. The Grey boy whimpered.

Someone – the hairdresser – mumbled something, a protest probably, but he was too scared to say it loudly. The old lady who had once been a star nodded at Wilhemina and gave her a smile and a thumbs up. Wilhemina ignored her.

You were standing in front of her slightly on her left, by Mary’s side. Wilhemina was trying not to pay you attention, but somehow you were the only person she could see.

You spent an awful lot of time with Mary, she had noticed. Laughing together, talking together, napping together. Good thing for you. Mary was just the type of person who would treat you right. She’d be kind, and happy, and healthy, and enough.

The Grey boy said something, pleaded for his life, probably. Wilhemina didn’t care. She didn’t listen. She nodded to the guard, and he crossed to him, holding the gun in front of him.

Wilhemina saw Mary grab your hand, saw you touch your shoulder to hers. Oh, you would be alright.

She didn’t know why, but her eyes had started to sting. Her hands were shaking. She willed them not to. They would not stop.

The guard raised his gun, pointed it at the Grey boy’s head, but Wilhemina didn’t see him, not really. She saw you turn your head and look at her, your eyes glossy and pleading, your hand holding Mary’s, and Wilhemina took a sharp intake of breath and felt tears pool in her eyes for she had loved and loved you and she had lost you. And now she was losing you again.

But she couldn’t go back, not now. She would lose her authority, she would be laughed at. And besides, she didn’t want to. This execution was the right thing to do. It would make everyone at the Outpost fear and respect her. They would bow their heads to her and they would hate her but they would never, never laugh at her.

There was a low but fierce shout, “Stop!” Your voice.

The guard lowered his arm slightly. He looked at you, confused, then at Wilhemina, awaiting orders. You stepped forward, letting go of Mary’s hand, came to a halt as if you weren’t sure what to do. A second passed. Then you crossed to Wilhemina, cupped her face in your hands, searched her eyes and murmured, “I love you.”

Something inside of her melted. The warmth from your touch and the warmth from your voice seeped into her and turned ice into water. The water washed down everything and left her insides dripping wet and glinting in the sun like after a hurricane.

You had spoken too low for the others to hear, but they saw the change on Wilhemina’s face. They saw her eyes widen and the light weave in as if she had opened a blind to let the sun in. They saw life and emotion settle back on her face and soften it.

For the first time since the world had ended, since you had walked into this music room sobbing and looked up and met Wilhemina’s eyes, you found her again. And you fell in love with her all over again.

You tried to give her a smile, and it was small and quivering, but it was genuine. It was fond. Wilhemina’s lips parted on a breath as she searched your eyes, wondering, hoping, and when she blinked a tear rolled down her cheek and you caught it with your thumb. You were crying, too, but you smiled again, stroke her cheek. You felt the tension leave your shoulders.

The gunshot echoed off the walls as loud as a crack of thunder. It made everyone in the room jump. The Grey girl screamed as Mark slumped onto the floor at the guard’s feet. The guard moved his hand, pointed his gun at the girl and pulled the trigger.

The second gunshot was louder, somehow. It deafened you and left a ringing in your ears. Your hands fell from Wilhemina’s face as you both turned to stare at the two corpses. Blood slowly pooled around them and shone faintly in the candlelight.

The guard met your horrified gaze and shrugged. “Following orders,” he said nonchalantly. “It was taking too long.”

Wilhemina was staring down at the two dead bodies with an unreadable expression on her face. Then she looked up at the guard, and her eyes were glazed again.

“I didn’t order you to shoot,” she said coldly.

“You did,” the guard argued.

“She told you to stop,” Wilhemina said, nodding at you, her voice growing angry now.

The guard shrugged again. “I only take my orders from you.” He raised his gun and held it to his chest, a defiant look in his eyes.

Someone in the room was crying softly. You didn’t know who. Your mind had gone numb.

Wilhemina turned away from you. Slowly, regally, she walked to the corpses, her dark, glazed eyes fixed on the boy’s head. She stopped in front of him and tapped her cane on the ground. Then she gave orders to carry the corpses outside and burn them.

Dinner was silent that night. You swallowed your food cube and drank your water. You couldn’t look at Wilhemina. Coco tried to diffuse the tension with a few sly remarks that made some of the residents laugh nervously. When dinner was over, you excused yourself and went to your room.

You lay on your bed and prayed for sleep, but sleep, unsurprisingly, didn’t come. You turned and turned until you gave up. You sat up with a groan and buried your face in your hands.

Blood, slowly pooling. The two bodies, not moving. Wilhemina’s eyes, widening. A tear rolling down her face, that you caught with your thumb. You couldn’t chase those images from your mind.

It hadn’t been her fault, not really, you told yourself. She would have spared them in the end. You knew it. Without a doubt.

You buried your fingers in your hair, dug your nails into your skull. She would have spared them, for the Wilhemina you knew had come back, if only for a few seconds – and she had been hopeful, and you had been, too.  

And you knew you should still be mad, you knew it was too early to forgive her. But you were ready to surrender and fall back into her arms the second she’d want you back. If she ever decided she wanted you back.

There was a whisper, in your head, that assured you she did.

At 11:00pm you gave up on trying to sleep. You got up and went to the music room, hoping someone would be there and would like to talk to help you pass the time. Maybe Coco, for she would make you laugh. Or Mary, for her kindness would soothe you.

There was only one person, and it was Wilhemina. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. You thought it was because of annoyance, or disappointment maybe. Bullshit, your heart told you. She had been the one you had wanted to find.

Wilhemina was sitting in an armchair, her hands resting on the head of her cane, her eyes fixed on the fire. She raised her head when she heard your footsteps, and met your eyes.

“What are you still doing up?” she asked, not unkindly.

“There’s no curfew I know of,” you replied, probably too sharply, but Wilhemina didn’t seem to mind. She nodded, then resumed her staring at the fire.

For a minute you hesitated. Going back to your room was the wisest and safest option. But before you had consciously taken your decision, your feet moved towards Wilhemina. A moth drawn to a flame. Always, when it came to her.

You sat on the armchair opposite the hearth from her. For a long moment there was only silence. The fire crackled lazily and warmed you up.  

You glanced up at Wilhemina, only to realize she was staring at you. You quickly lowered your gaze, nervously shifted in your armchair, then glanced at her again.  

The expression on her face wasn’t closed, you noticed. There was a wistfulness to it, some sprinkles of curiosity, too. You felt hopeful again.

“So,” you said, assuming a casual tone as if you two were having a friendly conversation in a bar, “what’s your plan in the long run?”

Wilhemina watched you for a few seconds before she answered. Her voice was emotionless. “The Cooperative should contact me soon enough with new instructions.”

That’s not what you had meant. You had meant about her and you. But you let it drop.

“So you’re still following orders, uh?” you taunted. “I thought you were the only boss around here.”

“This is bigger than this outpost,” Wilhemina replied coldly. “This is about building a new, better world, where everyone is at their rightful place according to their worth and abilities.”

“What is my rightful place in this new world, do you think?” You waited, but no answer came.”What is yours?” you tried again. “Let me guess. You are the feared, hated leader. Making sure everyone respects you, making sure everyone survives. Noble work, but it sounds awfully lonely. Wouldn’t you rather fall asleep in somebody’s arms every night?”

Wilhemina’s expression hardened. She kept silent, which surprised you, and averted her eyes from your face to stare at the fire again.

You watched her. You watched the shadows the flames threw on her face. Followed the arch of her brow, the line of her mouth.

Had she done something to her hair, or was it the dim light? It was darker now. She had let you dye it once when you two had been dating. You had frowned at the smell and coughed and splashed the walls with tiny dots of orange. Wilhemina had tried to scold you, but she had burst into laughter instead, her hair piled on top of her head. She had let you wipe the dye splatters from her face and tuck her hair in a shower cap. And while the dye processed, she had sat on the couch reading and you had rested your head on her lap and grinned at her.  

Wilhemina cleared her throat, bringing you back to reality.

“What you said earlier, did you really mean it?” she asked in a low voice, still staring at the fire. “Or were you only trying to save the Greys?”

You leaned forward, digging your elbows into your thighs. “I’ll answer that once you’ve answered my own question. Why did you leave me?”

A pause. An annoyed look.

“Because I felt like it,” Wilhemina replied.

Your jaw dropped. “Wow. Because you felt like it?” You shook your head, anger rising in your chest. “I don’t believe you. I’ll ask it again. Why did you leave me?”

Wilhemina’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve just told you why. It’s not my fault you’re too proud to accept it.”

“Why did you leave me?” you repeated, clenching your fists.

Wilhemina made an angry noise. She tapped her cane on the floor, then slowly stood up. You jumped on your feet and followed her when she crossed the room and turned right down a corridor.

“Did you wake up one morning and realize you didn’t love me?” you called, as she opened the door to her room. You stepped inside after her. “You’d had your fun, but now it was time to plan the end of the world? Uh? Do you have any idea,” you growled, voice growing louder and angrier, “how it felt to watch you leave without even knowing what I did wrong?”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Wilhemina said, voice quavering.

“Then why the fuck did you leave?” you growled, taking one step toward her. “Tell me! For fuck’s sake, I deserve an explanation!”

She couldn’t meet your eyes anymore. She was staring at the floor and her breathing was quickening at it always would when she was trying not to cry. And suddenly you were in the company of the Wilhemina you knew, the one you loved, the one who didn’t think she should be soft and kind but was still willing to try, for you.

“Elijah came to see me,” she answered, so low you barely heard it.

“So what?” you growled. “You fucked him and realized he was your one true love?”

She winced, and you bit your cheek, thinking that maybe you had gone a bit too far. But she deserved it, part of you thought. She had hurt you too badly.

You waited, but she didn’t add anything after that. So, rage beating inside your chest instead of your heart, you strode to her and planted yourself right in front of her, fuming, and she flinched but held her ground.

“Tell me,” you hissed through gritted teeth. “Why did you leave me?”

She drew in a breath, turned away from you and crossed to her chest of drawers. You were about to yell at her when she opened one of the drawers, closed it again. She crossed back to you and dropped something into your hand.

A lighter. Small and black and plain. You stared at it uncomprehendingly.

“What…?”

Wilhemina had never been good with words. But when you two had been dating, she had been willing to open herself up to you in any way she could. Actions sometimes were easier, she had found.

You glanced up at her, then back down at the lighter in your palm. “I don’t understand,” you said.

Wilhemina had averted her gaze from you again. “I couldn’t pick it up from the floor,” she whispered brokenly.

It didn’t hit you all at once like a revelation. Instead it felt like something spreading inside your head. A bubble. Slowly inflating until it burst.

“What?”

Somehow, it was the only thing you could say.

Wilhemina squared her shoulders, raised her chin, built up her walls. She met your eyes and glared.

“You got what you wanted. Now leave before I feed you to the monsters outside.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but instead you burst into tears.

Your chin dropped to your chest and you sobbed, as Wilhemina stared at you in shock. She extended one hand towards you, hesitated, changed her mind. Her brow pushed up in confusion and concern as she waited for you to calm down, dying to touch and comfort you, but not daring to. She had lost you, after all. She hadn’t been enough.

Some people are just too fucked up to be loved, Elijah had said. She could hear his voice now as if he were saying it again, remembered his exact intonation, the way he had pronounced every syllable.

“It’s alright,” she tried after a little while. “He was right.”

“Who was right?” you sobbed, wiping your eyes.

“Elijah. I did the right thing for you.”

That made you burst into tears again. Except this time, you wrapped your arms around Wilhemina’s waist and pulled her close.

She stiffened against you, but you buried your face in her chest and held her tight and cried and cried at how blind you had been. Your heart broke, but this time it didn’t break for you. It broke for her. For how low her self-esteem was, how she had tried over and over again to be kinder and softer and yet had still been convinced loving her was a burden. Loving her had been the best thing in your whole goddamn life.

Tentatively, Wilhemina slipped one arm around your waist and rested her chin on top of your head.

“I’m gonna bring Elijah back from Hell and kill him,” you mumbled against her chest.

“But he didn’t do anything wrong,” Wilhemina replied. “He was right. All he did was love you so much he only wanted the best for you.”

You shook your head, wailing as Wilhemina brought her free hand up to your head and started stroking your hair.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked. “I’m so sorry.”

Wilhemina’s fingers stuttered in your hair. “What for?” she asked, and you couldn’t see her face but you knew what her expression must be like right now, brow pushed up in confusion, eyes wide as she tried to think of something to say or do to help you calm down.

You sobbed against her chest and tightened your grip on her. “I’m so sorry he did this to you and I let him.”

“I don’t –“She paused, hesitated. “I don’t understand,” she breathed after a moment, which only made you cry harder.

You felt her body stiffen again. “No no no, please don’t cry,” she pleaded. Her hand hovered over your head, afraid to touch you now. “I’ll stop talking, I’m sorry, I’m going to shut up. But please don’t cry.”

You clung to her, clutching the back of her dress, wishing that you could… you didn’t really know what. Let her creep inside of you, let her nestle by your heart so the outside world could never hurt her ever again.

When you had calmed down enough to speak, you asked her what Elijah had told her exactly. You wanted to hear every word, so you could erase them from her brain and replace them with words of truth and love.

You had expected her to refuse, to shut down and keep silent. But to your utter surprise, she let out a shaky breath, pressed her cheek against your head, and started to speak.

It was barely a whisper, and at first she paused and hesitated every second or so; but then, words poured out of her, ashamed and painful. You closed your eyes against a fresh wave of tears as you listened.

It didn’t last long. When she was done, her whole body slackened and you tightened your grip on her, afraid she was going to collapse on the floor. She didn’t, though. She nuzzled your hair and sighed.

She hadn’t broken up with you because of you. She had done it for you. Or at least, she had thought so. And it made everything worse, for you had said hurtful things to her. Accused her of things that had never even crossed her mind. Rubbed salt on the wound.

Not your fault, said a voice in your head. You hadn’t known.

After a quiet moment had passed, you took a deep breath and pulled away. Wilhemina let out a faint noise of protest, but you cupped her face and locked eyes with her.

“Have you ever thought that, maybe,” you whispered, offering her a small, teary smile, “I’m the only one who can decide what and who’s enough for me?”

Wilhemina’s eyes widened a bit. You gave her another smile, then let go of her face and looked around the room.

“You said Elijah told you you could never be enough for me and you believed him,” you said, gathering unlit candles in your hands. “I know this kind of thoughts don’t go away easily. I know it takes time and work. But let me show you something.”

You came to a halt in front of Wilhemina and held out the lighter. She glanced at it, then met your eyes, frowning. You leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on her mouth. Wilhemina’s lips parted on a breath as you pulled away.

You smiled. “Let’s pretend these candles are my heart. Shush, let me finish. Sit down. Let me show you how you light up my heart.”

You set the first candle down on the bedside table. “Remember the day we met at the supermarket? I was blocking the aisle with my cart and you snapped at me. Told me my ass was too big for this world.” You chuckled softly at the memory. “My life was so boring before that day. I hadn’t realized it, but it lacked challenges, it lacked passion. It’s like my brain was asleep, and with just a few words, you awoke it.”

You flicked the lighter and lit the candle. The flame flickered, then grew. You glanced at Wilhemina, gave her a smile.

“Remember the first time we made love?” Wilhemina’s eyes were riveted on the burning candle. You bit your lower lip, set a second candle on the chest of drawers. “You were so nervous, and you tried to hide it, but Mina, honestly, I can tell you now, you weren’t very successful. You thought you would hurt me or not know how to pleasure me. Remember how many times you made me come that night? You’re a great lover, Mina. And you sure have talent in these fingers and tongue of yours,” you teased. Wilhemina’s eyes, wide and shining, flicked to you. “But do you know what you’re even better at? The way you take care of me after. The way you cannot seem to be able to stay away, how you always snuggle up to me and hold me and ask me if it was good.” You lit up the second candle.

You took a third one, put it on the floor by the door. “Remember my birthday?” you went on. “I’d spent the last one alone. You brought me breakfast in bed, bought me flowers and a cake.”

“I ruined your birthday cake,” Wilhemina whispered sadly.

You shook your head, flicking the lighter again. “But you bought it. For me. To celebrate me.”

You crossed to the other side of the room, set two candles on the vanity. “I don’t know if you’re even aware you did it, but you’d always fluff my pillow when you’d make our bed in the morning. You’d never fluff yours. Only mine.”

Wilhemina let out a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob.

“It’s only one example of all the things you did that made me feel so loved. Like how you’d always buy pears even though you don’t like the taste of them, just because you knew I do. Or how you read the whole of War and Peace just because I said it’s one of my favorite books. That’s more than a thousand pages, Mina.” Your voice broke as your lips parted on a smile. “You didn’t even think it was that good. But you read the whole thing. Valentine’s Day. You said you hated Valentine’s Day. You bought me flowers and chocolates and tickets for Carmen. Front row center seats, Mina.”

You were crying again by now, but these tears were happy. You set the last candle by the bed. “You made sure I’d survive the Apocalypse. It was you, wasn’t it? I don’t know how you did it, but I’m sure it was you. I used to be mad at you for having saved me but left all my friends and family to die. But you saved me. Gave me another chance at life. Because you still cared about me.”

Wilhemina sniffed, wiped her nose on the back of her hand. You walked around the bed and took her hand.

The whole room was studded with bright, dancing dots of light, as if you had stuck your head into the night sky. Wilhemina’s hand was shaking, but she laced her fingers with yours and gave them a tight squeeze.

“So, you see,” you whispered, “see how bright you make my heart shine.”

A sob pushed out of Wilhemina’s throat. She wrapped her free arm around her waist, hugging herself as she cried. You leaned towards hers, bumping her shoulder with yours. For a while she didn’t move; then she, tentatively, laid her head on your shoulder. And then, as you did not protest, did not push her away, she slipped her arm around your waist and pulled you close.

Her hand cupped your face and her mouth crashed against yours as she sobbed and you sobbed and kissed her fervently back. How you had missed this. How you had missed her. One of your arms wrapped around her shoulders to press her closer still, tongue sliding inside her mouth. You were shaking, entirely too hot and so, so alive.

Something seemed to break loose inside Wilhemina. She let out a noise like a whimper, and suddenly she was crying over and over again “I’m so sorry” and “please” and “don’t go”. You pulled away slightly, cupped her face to make her look at you.

“I’m not leaving,” you whispered. “I forgive you.”

Her shoulders slumped with relief as another sob pushed up her throat. “But what about Mary?” she hiccupped.

You frowned, stroking her cheek. “What about Mary?”

“And what about the two Greys?” she went on, voice growing frantic and breathless. “What about the rules? I’ll hurt you again, I’ll hold you back, I’m too fucked up –“

“None of that,” you shushed her gently.

“But I –“

“No.” A kiss on her mouth, slow and sweet, meant to reassure. You tugged softly at her lip, and she moaned, dug her fingers into your skin. She let out a breath that went all the way down into your lungs, and sank into you.

After a moment, she rested her cheek on your shoulder and opened her eyes to look at all the lighted candles. You held her, stroking the nape of her neck, rubbing circles on her back.

The candles were burning. They lit up the room.

Tag list:  @sapphicsarahpaulson @mssallymckenna @supremeinlilac @pluied-ete @rainbow-hedgehog @pearplate @angelxsarahp @paulawand @asktammyr @peggycarter-steverogers   @coconutlipss ​ @saucy-sapphic​  @thesupremewife @coxmicbabygirl

[rimaiahwrites]

Red handed—

Chapter seven

After Erik drove away Israel came in to the house grinning even though he low key pissed her off.

She was still happy that she got to spend time with him, Erik was actually bringing happiness and excitement to her dull life and she couldn't be happier about it.

Israel walked right passed her brothers and into the kitchen, not even noticing all her brothers and their friends sitting in the living room looking at her like she lost her mind.

She grabbed a water bottle and began to chug it. Until she heard someone clear their throat. She turned around and started choking on the cold water. Noah got up from the floor and made his way over to pat her on the back.

When she got her choking under Control, she waved at them giving her best smile trying not to look suspicious.

"Who the fuck was that nigga you was wit'?" Her smile dropped.

"What are you talking about I-" Jay cut his eyes at her, daring her to lie to his face. Israel rolled her eyes trying to play it off. "He's Just one of my friends jay, relax."

"Since when do you have guy friends?" He asked walking into the kitchen. Everyone now quiet like he was some sort of king.

"Since when did I have to answer to you?" Israel spit back, looking him up and down. Jay was a bit taken back from her tone because it wasn't like her to get go smart mouth with him.

"Since you were born fuck you mean when? You forgetting that you the youngest?" He said cocking his head back like she just said the most stupidest shit ever. "no but You keep forgetting I'm grown. I can do as I please." She hissed slamming the freighter door shut. "I'm not no damn baby anymore, stop trying to tell me what I can and can't do I'm grown rather you like it or not, the fuck" she said stepping up to him as if he wasn't 6'0 and bulky grown man. not even realizing that she had raised her tone with him...or that she was cussing.

"Girl-" she quickly held her hand up to hush him. "No! I'm so done with this shit! Y'all three get to do whatever y'all want and y'all still live in mom and dads house and don't nobody say shit to y'all but when I hang out with someone of the opposite gender it's a problem? as if you did just sneak that girl In your room not to long ago, as if y'all wasn't fucking in there while mom was downstairs right under your room." She spit out dropping her head down a bit to give him a death stare. She was so irritated and had so much adrenaline running through her, she was shaking.

"You really can't say shit to me jay!" She said slapping her hand on the counter, and her other hand in her hip. Looking like a middle aged black mama yelling at her disobedient child while jay just stood there staring wildly at her but there wasn't much he could say. It was all true. She cut him up and now he was stuck not knowing what to say.

It was quiet in the living room and kitchen.

Jays friends didn't say a thing but they were fully entertained with the argument going on between the two Sibling.

"So what you just fucking random niggas now? Huh? That's where you was last night? At that niggas house being a hoe?" He shouted, veins popping out the side of his head. Israel face dropped at his words and they stung more then she thought they would.

You could hear a pin drop nobody made a move or spoke a word. Just a silent staring contest between the two. Jays fists balled, shoulders squared looking like he was ready to fight while Israel on the other hand was her eyes were getting glossy and her breathing heavy. She could feel the lump in her throat getting harder to swallow.

She cleared her throat and turn to walk back to get her bag by the front door. And heading up stairs, there was nothing else to be said. Israel now knew that her big brother saw her as nothing more then just a hoe, he has made it very clear today.

Israel waited until she was 18 just to talk to men and now he was calling her a hoe not even knowing that she only stayed for the night, And that was all. But there was no point in arguing with jay, he was stubborn and a asshole. if that's what he thought that's what he thought.

She shut her bedroom door and headed straight to her bed, stuffing her face in her pillow tears coming down like a waterfall.

She was Tempted to call Erik just so he could come get her of the hell hole she called home.

Maybe that was over dramatic but she hated it here, she loved her family but being with them 24/7 wasn't something she planned on doing once she turned eighteen. She honestly thought she would have been treated like her brothers were but then again she was never given a fraction of the freedom her brothers has. She was never treated like her feelings mattered, everything has always been about the boys.

You would think that since she's the only daughter her father has she would be treated like a princess and get away with everything but that definitely wasn't the case with her father. She was always the one to get yelled at first, she was always the first one to get blamed for something she didn't do and was always the first to get it the worst of her siblings.

Her father was a strict, mean military man that had no Sympathy for anyone and he clearly passed that down to his oldest son.

She was so sick of crying over them, she was so sick of being mistreated.

With tears still running down her face she sat up and took a deep breath feeling like she was dropping down into that deep hole she liked to hide herself in when she was feeling down.

His words replaying in her head like a broken record. She wasn't a hoe and she knew that and she knew that she didn't sleep with Erik but some how his words sank into her skin so deep that she felt dirty. Like she had committed some sort of sin.

She was only having fun, and finally getting the teenage experience she never got to have when she was younger.

Israel was tired of crying over things her family has said to her it was time for her to stop letting their words hurt her and effort her mental health.

She stood up from her bed and decided that she wanted to take a flower bath and just pray her troubles away.

-

Erik parked his black Mercedes-Benz G-Class outside of the were house he owned. This was the place he kept all of his weapons, books, important papers and information he had collected over the years of him being in college and the navy.

He and ten of his close friends that he met in the navy had formed a elite group of former navy seals. Their jobs were to Take down small governments and expose them. They also would kill small amounts of police officers and clans men which 9 times outta 10 were the same group of men.

About six months age they made a little mistake that almost got them caught which would've cost them their lives which is why they took a break to regroup to better themselves. Erik and three of his boys ace, zeik and Rae all trained the hardest they ever have far as fighting techniques, Brent, rocky and von all worked with weapons and the rest of the boys were hackers.

Today was their first meeting in six months. Erik has changed Plans and moved things from the original date so this meeting is important.

Erik walked to the side door of the warehouse and slide up the side  paneling to reveal the handprint scanner, that was the only way to get into it up less you climb to the very top and through the window but the chances of that happening was slim. Once he was into he went to the corner of the large warehouse and behind the staircase that lead you to go upstairs which was empty.

He walked into the staircase little door where there was a another door that used Voice activation to open. "State your name please." a robotic voice said as it Scanned his face. "Erik Stevens."

"Face scan complete, welcome back erik." The voice said as the heavy Metal door opened to Reveal his underground lab.  "Feels good to be back." Erik Chuckled as he walked down the steps. All of his boys turned their heads from the game of pool to Erik. "Ayo Erik where you been at motherfucka you was supposed to be here a hour and a half ago." Erik grin as he dubed ace up ignoring zeik interrogation. "Right and you be the main one mad if Someone else late to the meetings." Rae butted in.

Erik rolled his eyes.

"If y'all don't shut the fuck up, I gotta life to I just got caught up." He shrugged them off as he walked over to his desk. Rae eyebrows raised as he looked at the rest of them and they all were just as confused as him. Erik and "personal" just didn't go together in the same sentence, if he wasn't working out he was working. Erik was always work, work, work.

Brent smirked as he grabbed his water  bottle and took a sip "him must got a new bitch or sum'" ace snorted "nigga yeah right that nigga ain't been in a relationship in years, Erik fucks and dips." It was true. That just wasn't like Erik.

"All I hear is you motherfuckas being worried about me let's get to work!" Erik clap his hands exactly as he went into the meeting room with the rest of the men following.

-

After a four hour meeting they had finally figured everything out. It was now 10:46 and Erik was tired, Israel sleeping over had him exhausted since it fucked up his sleep schedule. On a normal day Erik was in bed 11 o'clock and up at 6 o'clock in the morning. Sleep was very important to a healthy life style. It was Proven that people that get at least 7 hours of sleep they live longer.

Soon as Erik got home he took a shower and got straight in bed. he didn't even bother putting on clothes.

It's almost been a week since Erik has last spoken to Israel since he had been so busy. It's been strictly wake up, eat, work, train and work some more he didn't really have time to hang or call.

He felt a little bad for it but he knew that she knew he wasn't ignoring her intentionally...at least he hoped she knew that.

Today Erik was going to the gun range with ace just to do some training and catch up with him since they really hasn't had the chance to do that.

Since ace's car was in the shop right now so erik decided to pick him up instead of him catching a Uber. Soon as erik pulled up to aces Apartment he saw he step out of his door and jogged over to the passenger side.

"Wassup E," he said as he sat his bag down in the back seat. "Wassup bro you ready to show these niggas how to aim?" Erik said jokily as he drove off.

Erik cooked his AMT and aimed it at the head of the paper man all the way in the range and let multiple bullets fly from it giving him a slight rush. He adjusted his safety glasses and gripped the handle of the gun again before pulling the trigger but aiming at a different figure. Him and ace were both in their own little worlds before the ringtone from Erik's phone pulled him back down to earth, it caught aces attention too.

It was Israel.

Erik beamed down at the screen but Debated if he should answer it or not, he wanted to he really did but decided it would be best if he called her later since he could barely hear from all the gun shots being fired.

"Who was that? Got you smiling and shit..." ace asked with his eyebrows raised. Placing his gun down to face Erik. "Nigga why you so damn nosy?" Erik cut his eyes at him while blindly putting his phone back into his pocket.

"What you mean nigga? I'm just trying to see who making my dawg so happy is that a crime?" He said jokingly jerking his head back. Erik rolled his eyes.

"It's was one of my friends." Erik stated before grabbing his gun again trying to get off the topic. Ace put his hand out and pushed the gun down before he could pull the trigger.

"What friend? cause the last time i checked we had the same circle of friends?" Erik sigh getting annoyed with aces interrogation. Did he want to tell his best friend about Israel? Hell nah. Because he know his best friend and he knows he's going to go over bored and start doing the most with questions.

"You don't know her. Drop it nigga."

"Her? So you got a bitch or sumn'" Erik shock his head not even meaning to slip up and say anything. It was to late to take back now. "Nah she not my girl, we just been chilling." Erik shrugged, as he corrected him.

"Lemme see what she look like nigga how you know I don't know her?"

"Hell nah nigga stop being nosy-"

"Ok but if I had a bitch I would show you-"

"She not a bitch tho." Erik said sternly in their back and forth bickering. As annoyed as Erik was ace had a point and they both knew it. Ace talked to him about everything and if he was interested in a girl Erik would be the first to know about it. Erik put his gun on safety and sat it down before digging In his back pocket to grab his phone.

He scrolled through his camera until he found his favorite picture of Israel. It was one she sent to him not to long ago, her hair was wild with tiny ringlet coils. Her lips and mouth were stained red from the dumdum that hung from it. She had her white silk night gown on and a dainty rose flower necklace that hung between her collarbone.

Erik handed him the phone and watched as he brought his fist up to his mouth. "Nigga she fine as fuck damn where you find her at?"

"A party I went to not to long ago, she was shy as fuck she would barely talk to me." Erik chuckled taking his phone back to put it back in his pocket. "We been hanging out the last few weeks, she cool." Erik said nonchalantly to make it seem like he wasn't feeling shordy as much as he was. To someone like didn't know Erik as well as ace did he would've them really thinking he didn't like her and it wasn't a big deal but ace knew.

"You feeling her?" Ace asked facing Erik now, Erik shrugged.

"Like I said she cool."

"Mm." Was all ace said. Erik didn't need to answer, ace already knew the answer.

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

I’ve been rewatching CM and god, what I wouldn’t give for them to bring TG back for this revival. I haven’t even watched seasons 12-15 yet because I’m in denial about him being gone 😭😭😩

omg I haven't watched it either xD I've been holding off watching s11e22, The Storm, for like a month I swear. Which, I know is going to be amazing but I also have heard it's the beginning of the end and I'm not readyyyyyyy.

I would give anything for TG to come back. A n y t h i n g. But idk what CBS feels is the appropriate amount of time to be blacklisted or whatever the hell they did 🤷‍♀️ despite how it would be so easy to write him back in, and the missed opportunities is already making my skin crawl.

Okay. This was going to be a quick answer, but I've been THINKING about this way more than I should lately, without ever having watched 12-15 but I feel like I know enough, and with all the projects I'm going to be finishing/starting soon I know I won’t have time to do anything with my ideas. So I'm just going to type this little beginning I have plotted out and maybe one day I'll make it into the fic I want it to be:

(I know you didn't ask for a hc/blurb thing but surprise you get one xD)

CW: Spoilers for season 11-15 that are probably inaccurate af, fighting, violence, bit of blood and injuries talk, some profanity. 

-

((I legit have this all plotted out like a full season, and picture everything as shots and scenes and I know exactly how I would want to bring Hotch back.))

-

It would start in a small suburban town in Indiana, legit white-picket fence, middle of nowhere, off the grid town. With the most pedestrian name ever, we might as well call it Mayberry. Typical weekend morning, bright green grass and trees and summer sunshine lighting it all up, they still get papers delivered it’s that picturesque. And it’ll pan to all sorts of people on this street of nice, two-story houses, and finally zero in on not the man picking up his paper from his front porch, but the jogger slowing down that the man calls to next door, calling him a name we’ve never heard before -- but the jogger answers with that dark eyed squint and a nod... and it is Aaron Hotchner. Or the man who used to be Aaron Hotchner. He hasn’t gone by that name in years, WITSEC provided him and Jack with new ones.

His house isn’t even really decorated like a home, he’s been in enough over the years to know tell-tale signs of what a happy home should entail. Photographs, memorabilia, nostalgia tucked away in corners -- they don’t have that. He has a couple of photographs he keeps in his office, the only two in inconspicuous view being a photo of Haley and Jack when he was two years old, and a photo of his team the day he completed the FBI triathlon and they all showed up to support him. Everything else of their old life is in boxes in a storage facility in downtown D.C., under another false name that can never be linked back to them. 

Mr. Scratch was a poor excuse for why he and Jack were still under WITSEC, but he hopes near daily that it was enough of a reason that no one would question why he didn’t return once that monster was dead. That no one smart enough to read between the lines would go digging for more reasons, or worse -- try to find him -- and they pictured him living a happy retirement very similar to the charade he is living now. 

But Aaron Hotchner was never meant for retirement. No matter how easy and simple his days have been the past few years. It was only a matter of time. 

He walks through his home that looks more like the insides of a Home Living magazine, to his kitchen which is bright and spacious and tiled white that he knows Haley would have loved, getting a glass of water from the sink and chugging it all in one go. It isn’t until he’s getting a second glass that he hears it. The faucet was supposed to have masked any disturbance, they were careful in when they moved, how they placed their feet, the slowness of the their approach -- but not enough.

Hotch keeps his shoulders relaxed, his spine still ram-rod straight but that’s just how he stands and it keeps tension ready at a moment’s notice. Keeps him on alert, which he needs as he takes slower sips of water and lets all his other sense shift to a heightened awareness. Knows this house like the back of his hand, even if he’s never allowed himself to consider it home, so he knows which floorboards creak and where all the furniture is strategically placed. Always prepared for something like this to happen, even if he never imagined someone would be so bold. 

Their mistake.

With a careful tick of his head, peripherals his only guidance, he strikes before the intruder gets to. An iron grip and momentum that propels their face into the metal of the sink basin, shocking them that what their file was so misleading about their target. Retired FBI agent, almost 60 years old, living in Pleasantville with a picket fence and a vegetable garden. This should have been easy. The intruder is stunned by the blow, attempts a quick recovery where they lash out and get a few good body shots into the older man -- but he’s built like a brick wall, can take a blow and give it back twice as hard -- a few more precise hits and another crack of their face to the sink that shatters the bridge of their nose leaves the attacker slumping to the floor. 

“You didn’t do your research,” Hotch tells them, breathing a little heavy, opening up a drawer usually deemed for junk and pulls out zipties and an ancient looking cell phone buried deep at the back. “Sloppy. I expected more from him.” 

The attacker kicks out Hotch’s knees in a fit of rage (at having his skill set insulted so), leaving them both crashing to the floor. They grapple and fight a bit more, knocking dishes from the counters and pots and pans to the floor from the grill top island, but Hotch is so well-trained in take downs he gets the slighter man pinned with only a split lip and a single hitch in breath. He barely broke a sweat. Knocks the guy out clean, two solid punches to his face, and he stops because he knows better. Has been there before, and they need to question whoever was sent to his house to kill him. 

He’s barely off the floor, the intruder binded and stuck in a corner when Jack walks in from early morning soccer practice. Takes one look at the kitchen, his dad with blood in the corner of his mouth, and the guy all in black bound by zipties and already knows what happened. Sixteen, nearly as tall as his father now, he looks only mildly worried for all of two seconds until he sees that his dad has an old flip cell phone held up to his good ear, awaiting a connection with their handler in Indianapolis. 

“... Does this mean we get to go home?” 

The shot would pan back to Hotch, and he wouldn’t answer him, just tells the person on the phone to ‘patch him through, they have a situation’, and there would be no very obvious look in answer to Jack’s question. But all of us who know him, know the subtle changes in expression and the slight softening to that stern frown, knows what his reply would have been.

-

The very next scene would be the BAU. JJ and Emily walking at a brisk pace covering a debrief, since they basically run the department now. Everyone has been called in, everyone, retired and moved away and even the ones who cut all ties have been contacted. JJ has just gotten off the phone with Elle, who is working as a liaison in Rome and assured her that if anyone showed up in her home to attack her that they would be leaving in a body bag. But she appreciated the heads up. 

In the bullpen it’s more like a family reunion than anything. Garcia has just gotten off the elevators, a flurry of color and blonde curls and bright as ever, Morgan and Savannah are trying to corral Hank and the twins (both girls and pure chaos now that they can walk) while still making introductions with the new team and their families, and asking if Reid or Rossi know anything about what’s going on as JJ gets there and asks for everyone’s attention. 

“Not everyone is here yet, Kate and her family are on their way from upstate, Will’s getting the boys from school, and Alex and her husband are on a plane, but we need to get started as soon as possible.”

“What’s is going on, JJ?” Morgan asks, passing off one of the twins to Penelope who is in full baby fever mode despite what is obviously a very bad circumstance that has brought them all together. It’s a juxtaposition that has put everyone on edge. It doesn’t help when JJ and Emily look at each other as if in confirmation, trying to decide who is going to tell them.

“Okay, that doesn’t inspire confidence,” Rossi points out. “What happened?”

Emily sighs and makes a gesture for JJ to take the floor, since she has been on point for most of this.

The bull pen is silent in anticipation.

“Earlier this morning, Hotch was attacked in his home in Indiana,” she says, and whatever anyone thought was going on -- that wasn’t it. The shock across the room is like a bomb has detonated.

Rossi curses something out in Italian, looking down, and JJ immediately realizes how this all sounds. But doesn’t even get to backtrack as Reid looks completely devastated and Garcia like she’s about to cry and everyone else starts shouting questions at her. 

“What happened to Jack?”

“How did they even find him? What the fuck is wrong with WITSEC?!”

“Is he okay?” asks Tara, the only intellectual who can see the panic now blooming on JJ’s face.

“Yes, yes! He’s okay, sorry, no -- Hotch is fine. The guy who tried to kill him... not so much, but he should be conscious soon so they can question him.” 

“Jesus Christ, JJ,” Morgan says looking like he just aged ten years in the past 30 seconds. “Lead with that.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. He’s okay, Jack is okay, they’ve been picked up. But... there’s a lot we need to be filled in on,” she admits, which quiets the room once more. “Apparently, the WITSEC had nothing to do with Mr. Scratch. There’s something much bigger and more dangerous going on, and he went under to keep us all safe. As well as himself, and Jack.” 

“What is it?”

JJ makes a gesture with her hands splayed as she looks a little lost. “I only know bare bones, we have to wait to hear the specifics and get everyone somewhere safe.” 

“You think we’re going to trust WICSEC after this?!”

Emily intervenes this time, “We have a plan, or... Hotch has a plan, I think. We’re just learning about everything as we go, he’s really the one that knows the most about it.”

“Then where is he?” Morgan speaks up again. “If he’s been pulled out, and we’re all in danger, why isn’t he here explaining this to us himself?” 

It’s a good question, and everyone looks expectantly at the two women leading the informal briefing. 

“Will he come back at all?” Reid asks, speaking up for the first time. It’s been years, that’s a long time to rethink a life like the BAU, and everything it entails.

JJ takes a deep breath. “He’s... in--”

“Out-processing.” 

Hotch is at the back of the room. Everyone turns to him, even JJ and Emily look surprised to see him so soon.  ((But we all know the CM cinematography love that kind of return shot, so I’m catering to it. For situational parallels if nothing else. Imagine the gif sets.))

“I pushed it as fast as they could go, but WITSEC always drags their feet.” The familiar drone, dry barely-there-humor, breaks whatever spell that had been over the room at the sight of the old Unit Chief. Disbelief and relief and stunned surprise litter every expression, and although Penelope looks like the first to say something, her words change course just as she opens her mouth. Because  Hotch is still in civilian clothes, a duffle-bag over his shoulder he used as a go-bag for decades, and beside him with a bag of his own with messy dirty blonde hair is--

“Oh my God, is that Jack!?” she near sobs, the teenager smiling at her in a way that looks so much like Haley, and she goes to hug him first with the boy meeting her halfway. “You’re so tall! And so grown up, look at you!” There’s definitely tears and the team converges on the Hotchners all at once. Reid hugs Hotch first, as tight and bone-crushing as that night in Atlanta all those years ago, followed soon after by Rossi who looks like he might shake the man but just hugs him tight and plants an absurdly embarrassing kiss on his cheek that finally cracks Hotch’s expression into something like a smile. Everyone hugs, everyone, Savannah calls him Aaron instead of Hotch because that was how he’d introduced himself all those years ago, the twins wave shyly and he shakes hands with the newer members that never got to meet him but have heard very tall tales about him for years and years. 

(And y’all, it would be the best damn scene and I would sob like a baby watching it.)

Morgan would be the one that would hold back and let the others go first, but it would also be the most profound when Hotch goes to shake his hand and the other man uses that to pull him into a tight hug of his own. 

“I’m glad you can still hold your own,” he’ll tease with nearly no heat behind it. Hotch hears it for the caring that it is.

“Like hell I would let that happen twice in my own home,” he assures him. 

Everyone settles down, and Emily leads some finer points of what’s going to happen with everyone in the next few hours. Days. Weeks, even, because there’s no knowing what is going to happen next. Hotch observes her, and there HAS to be a shot where she glances over to him and they share a look of understanding -- because she is Unit Chief now, and he approves of what he sees. 

But she turns the floor over to him, and Hotch explains what’s going on.

((I’m going to leave the finer points out about the case and the unsub, mostly because I haven’t finished ironing them out yet and I hope once I watch the remaining season I will be able to much more easily))

But at SOME POINT in the briefing, when Hotch is explaining what happened with the assassin in his home and how he apprehended him, and Emily maybe interjects with the injuries sustained and that they are still waiting for the man to regain consciousness. Penelope will 100% lean over to where Jack is sitting beside her and say without flinching, “Your dad is such a bad ass.”

((I also plan on bringing up Reid was in prison in this scene but it will be more humorous than anything because of Hotch’s reaction, stay tuned on that one. Again I’m not there yet))

((and where I’m taking them is also a secret because I need to do research and it will be so damn cool, but Hotch has everything completely planned out -- like he does. Goes as far as asking the few who question him “Secure enough for you?” when he drops where they will be staying and the protection they will have. Full blown mic drop moment.))

“So gather all of your belongings that you have here. Secure pets and homes, call the kid’s schools, whatever you need to do,” Hotch informs them, stepping back into his old shoes as team leader without even meaning to. But no one tells him to stop. “We need to be in the air ASAP, the jet is being prepped as we speak so we need to move on this.”

He leaves it at that, and everyone doesn’t move. Watching, waiting, smirking a little bit (Penelope, maybe even Reid), until he gives in.

“Wheels up in 30.”

Garcia giggles so much she near cackles with it. “Oh, I just got goosebumps!” And by Emily’s smirk and Morgan’s shared grin with Reid, a million watts between them, everyone is up and moving and pulling out cell phones to get their affairs in order.

Rossi sidles up to Hotch at that point, also openly smirking that they got him to say those four time-honored words. “Welcome back, Aaron.”

And Hotch, well -- he looks around the room at the family he had to leave behind without any hope of seeing them again, and feels every hardened edge in his face and demeanor soften. Before he looks to Dave and tells him what’s been going through his head ever since he walked back through the doors of the BAU.

“It’s good to be home.”

((END SCENE))

[ashistrashhh]

here are some fic recs!! including sakuatsu, bokuaka, kuroken and matsuhana bc i couldnt help myself

if you want, ask me about a certain ship and ill give you some recs!

-sakuatsu-

Marble and Sandstone by red_camellia

rating: G words: 12,937 chapters: 2/2 

author summary: Miya Atsumu only cares about volleyball and nothing else. That is, until he develops a strange obsession with the marble statue of a young man that seems vaguely familiar in his university's arts department. One day that statue comes alive as the very real Sakusa Kiyoomi, and they are left with the mystery of why Sakusa Kiyoomi was turned into a statue and only came back to life when Atsumu touched him. Their new-found connection and the strange mystery turns Atsumu's life upside down, not least because of his growing feelings for Sakusa.

my notes: this was a rlly cute fic!!! 11/10 would read again!!

let it go (paint my body gold) by lunarism

rating: T words: 3,272 chapters: 1/1

author summary: It becomes a routine for them. Sometimes they go grocery shopping and make dinner together, other times they end up talking until Sakusa feels like his own shower and bed is calling him. Every single time Sakusa gets home, shrugs his coat off, balls it up, and proceeds to scream profusely into the fabric for a few minutes.

my notes: pining!!! sakusa!!! also casual painter!atsumu!!! and they paint together!!!

craft a miracle with these hands, lips, (silence) by chrysanthe (sonderesque)

rating: T words: 4,252 chapters: 1/1

author summary: ‘Someone is here to ruin your night,’ his door tells him. ‘You should let them in.’ “I’M HOMELESS OMI-OMI. HOMELESS,” yells the one here to ruin his night. “LET ME IN.”

(What does Kiyoomi sell his sanctuary for?)

my notes: hnnn rlly fuckin cute,, and domestic,,,,

Clipped To You by littleboat

rating: T words: 8,174 chapters: 1/1

author summary: It starts with Hinata Natsu, of all people.

Well, if Atsumu’s being honest with himself, it started way before that, but he’s not, so that’s besides the point. And thankfully, he’s just petty enough to blame all of his problems on a thirteen year old girl.

or Sakusa starts wearing hair clips and Atsumu is more than a little obsessed

my notes: minor kagehina, bokuaka // god these fics rlly make me simp for fictional characters even more than i should. but!! sakusa!!! in hairclips!!! and a pining atsumu!!!

learn how to lay me down in something other than danger, other than fury by rosevtea 

words: 34,211 chapters: 1/1

author summary: All of the ways fellow college TA Miya Atsumu reinvents Kiyoomi's definition of normal.

my notes: god i loved this. it’s a fake dating au and like,, even though they’re “dating” sakusa keeps letting his guard down little by little around atsumu and it surprises everyone. komori and akaashi just know  that they’re were genuinely pining for eachother

among probabilities and a thousand fates by aalphard

rating: T words: 15,675 chapters: 1/1

author summary: prompt fill for “in a world where the red string of fate exists, person a’s finger always twitches when person b, who can see the string, tugs on their string” | or sakusa thought he had a tic and atsumu liked to see his confused expression when it started to happen exclusively when he was around.

my notes: i! loved! it!! so basically atsumu and osamu have the rare gift of seeing the red string of fate, so they know its real but sakusa, like most other people dont believe it exists. so atsumu gives sakusa a (kinda) hard time. rlly cute!! i love soulmate aus!

-bokuaka- 

love in the time of wifi by dalyeau

rating: G words: 4,177 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Akaashi is coming to terms with the fact that he might be romantically interested in his volleyball captain. Hence, doing what any sixteen year old with a problem should do. He asks about it online.

my notes: really cute fic about akaashi asking what he should do about his crush on a site similar to reddit. its kinda a “i didnt know it was you” kind of fic and it made me happy

steam by orphan_account

rating: E words: 8,474 chapters: 1/1

author summary:

 bokuto: why is he so hot bokuto: why am i so gay kuroo: LMAO you mean your vice captain right bokuto: yeah

The coach blew the whistle for practice to begin, and Bokuto drummed his fingers against the bleachers, awaiting Kuroo’s reply. He was about to walk away, when his phone buzzed in his hand.kuroo: i got this bro bokuto: what bokuto: wtf does that mean

Bokuto started to panic.

my notes: explicit!!! but really wholesome. kuroo is honestly the best wingman. i also think this is my favourite bokuaka smutfic?? 

just to miss the sun by rosevtea

rating: T words: 15,126 chapters:1/1

author summary: Everything begins to implode when MSBY Jackals outside hitter Bokuto Koutarou crashes Akaashi's livestream.

my notes: akaashi is a booktuber and bokuto crashes one of his streams. fans begin to speculate. rlly fluffy and can u tell i like bokuaka

brain fish by iceblinks

rating: T words: 12,026 chapters: 6/6

author summary: Akaashi wakes up to a string of texts from an unknown number. 

my notes: i love text fics and i love wrong number aus so u can tell how much i loved this. really fluffy and i come back to it time to time

-kuroken-

us three by honey_s

rating: T words: 5,137 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Kuroo’s gaze flits over to the utensil. His eyes bulge out of his skull. “Wh—is that a meat hammer? Put it back!” Akaashi’s head recoils back in confusion. “I don’t understand the problem here.” “Why on Earth have you got a fucking meat hammer? We aren’t going to kill somebody!” “Well,” Akaashi begins, clearly taken aback, “I apologise for assuming. I had heard Kenma-san had been hurt in school and after getting a message from both of you to meet late at night, I merely filled in the blanks and assumed we were going to beat someone up, for lack of a better term.” “Not literally! I meant metaphorically, or figuratively, or something!” “Idiomically?” “That isn’t a word, Bokuto-san.” “Jesus Christ,” Kuroo groans, dropping his head into his hands. “We're going to jail."

my notes: bokuaka and kuroo are ready to beat someone up for kenma!! and we stan!! 

Cherry Pits and Cat Tattoos by strawberryriver

rating: G words: 6,141 chapters: 1/1

author summary: 

Kuroo has been in communication with his soulmate ever since they were kids. They've known each other for so long that he never really worried about when or how he would meet them. At least, not until he meets the roommate of Bokuto's soulmate.Soulmate AU in which things written on your skin show up on your soulmate. Companion piece/same AU as Serendipty

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Kuroo Tetsurou liked to write on his arms. Despite his mother's half-serious warnings about “ink poisoning” or staining his skin, he insisted on marking his arms and legs wherever he could. Not like his best-friend-since-always Bokuto Koutaro, who had to write on his arms or he’d forget to breathe, but artfully. He’d draw designs, animals, the occasional chemical compound. The whole idea behind soulmates fascinated him: how one person could mark their arm and someone potentially thousands of miles away, would have that same mark appear. The amount of articles, studies, and books he’d read about the topic, even at a young age, could put an undergrad researcher to shame.

my notes: again with the soulmate au bc i cannot help myself. but really cute!!! probably gonna read this again later!

Boom, Toasted by protostar (hearthope)

rated: T words: 6,782 chapters: 1/1

author summary:

 FROM: yuuji any bets on who hes texting??

FROM: eita He's smiling at his phone. Kuroo, probably

FROM: kentarou Kuroo

TO: fake family Have any of you ever once considered not prying

FROM: eita You deserve it

FROM: yuuji how can we not when ur in love!!

Kenma gets a text from an unknown number. He'd be lying if he said the guy behind it wasn't kind of endearing.

my notes: again, i love wrong number texts. it focuses more on kenma’s friendship, but kenma’s pov with texting kuroo is more than him realizing feelings and stuff. really cute, ive read it multiple times. 

Japan's most subscribed by NeverNothing

rating: T words: 3,631 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Kuroo Tetsurou @blacktetsurou changed his bio : volleyball player, co-owner of Bouncing Ball Corp. and so much more ;)

my notes: i! love! social media! fics!!! really cute and basically people wondering who the mysterious kuroo is to applepi. 

MATSUHANA!!! the underrated gem

texting (with a capital S) by parenthetic

rating: M words: 2,119 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Hanamaki breaks his No Texting In Class rule, and it's all downhill from there.

my notes: honestly more funny than it suggests, but its matsuhana, they’re meme lords.

rated m for by orphan_account

rated: T words: 10,692 chapters: 1/1

author summary: He should have known that there was a Specific Reason™ why it was so absolutely vital that he and Matsukawa specifically meet for a reading of the script. He should have known that there had to be some evil catch beyond sitting in a tiny, cramped studio with his newly sworn enemy.

Hanamaki stares at the title of the script he’d so gracefully neglected the night before.

FORBIDDEN PARADISE

“Excuse me,” Hanamaki starts, raising a pen in the air while staring blankly at the packet in his free hand. “Just to clarify, you want me to record a boy's love CD with Matsukawa?”

my notes: a very good voice actor au. there is some misunderstanding on hanamaki’s part bc he didnt finish listening to matsukawa, and this is really cute and i love matsuhana. 

In A Quiet Night, All Sounds Carry by levyovochka

rating: E words: 4,794 chapters: 1/1

authors summary: “Ah, ah, Too—!”

Hanamaki hates his university dorm.

“—ru, let me cum, please!”

Hold up. That’s a fucking understatement. Let him rephrase it: Hanamaki loathes his university dorm with passion. Detest the damned abomination, abhors it—

“—ru! Coming, coming—”

It has only been a month and Hanamaki already wants to die.

my notes: as u can guess minor iwaoi // rlly well written and bottom hanamaki rights and maybe my favourite matsuhana smutfic??? and hooh boy i simp for matsukawa

call me maybe by totooru

rating: T words: 33,689 chapters: 14/14

author summary: Hanamaki texts the wrong number when trying to extort tips out of Oikawa in order to defeat Iwaizumi in arm wrestling, and then continues to text the witty stranger who had answered.

my notes: minor iwaoi, daisuga, bokuaka // god i think this is my favourite matsuhana fic overall, maybe in general, but my god is it great. this is probably a common rec, but its understandable as to why it is. basically au where makki texts matsun (who goes to karasuno) instead of oikawa for tips to beat iwaizumi at an arm wrestling match. but they keep messaging. and holy shit i love their conversations. please read this, it is 256/10

there we go!! i might go a part two with more ships (kagehina, tsukkiyama and iwaoi) but this took up way to much time lol. i have an essay due in a couple hours. but hope u like these fics as much as i do!!

[janiedean]

I was wondering what you feel about the opinion that GRRM hates feminine/non-warrior women because they (Catelyn, Cersei, Sansa) are written with intentional flaws while his warrior girls (Brienne, Arya) are not? Do you agree with that? That Brienne and Arya have no flaws? It was some dumb meta about how the world is against Brienne, but she never does harm to the world, so she's a bad character and GRRM is a misogynist or something. (1/2)

I disagree obviously. Just because Brienne is not a demon doesn't mean she doesn't have flaws or she's a bad character lol. Like... why can't we have an angel in a world of monsters? What's wrong with that? Are these people jealous that Brienne is one of those pure character that their faves are not, so they feel like dismissing her as a bad character to make themselves feel good? I'm asking you because I know you love Catelyn and Brienne so I know you're the best person to ask this. Ty (2/2)

... I mean this has a long answer to give but this *meta* seems to me like it was written by someone who has no idea what they’re talking about when it comes to who grrm hates in his writing or his supposed misogyny because they have it all wrong and I think you pretty much guessed the point, but in order, let’s... tackle this one by one:

grrm doesn’t at all hate cat and sansa and their flaws are... flaws in the sense that he’s writing them like good people who aren’t 100% perfect but like.. sansa’s *flaws* from the beginning are stuff that’s common to most 12yo girls in existence and she overcomes them and she’s generally a good and kind and caring person whose main trait is that she’s good and kind and stays like that so how exactly now she’s written... like you’re supposed to hate her? bc she’s not. grrm never wanted you to hate sansa. he wrote her like a realistic 11-15yo but like most of us were like that at that age or have had friends who were like that, so... what the fuck. catelyn.... like guys the one heavy flaw she has is her treatment of jon but she’s written as a smart person who’s trying to live in a misogynistic society as best as she can and she’s written like a tragic character but grrm obviously likes her/loves writing her, it’s.... like if you read her chapters you can see how much work/love/craft went into them and how he worked on her bg very carefully also she is more of a protagonist than ned until asos when it comes to the stark side like.... how is giving her human flaws meaning he hates her?? grrm doesn’t hate her. the fact that she and brienne end up doing the knightly/lady sworn sword thing is even more of a proof he doesn’t but more on that later;

cersei... well I mean grrm obv doesn’t like cersei that much but a) he’s written a version of that character at least thrice already including the asoiaf one so I think he has an ex like that that he doesn’t particularly remember fondly or smth but like... she’s written to be a villain. she’s a villain. she’s a very well-crafted/thought out villain with a realistic background but diff. from cat and sansa she’s there to be the antagonist period, and just like... cersei and cat are aesthetically the same archetype and they couldn’t be more different so idk wtf are people smoking when saying that and if they can’t read cat chapters without fandom-hates-her glasses idk what to tell them;

brienne and arya have flaws are we serious, like arya has the flaws everyone has at that age (too impulsive/tends to judge people very fast/is too fixed on things/doesn’t listen to people etc) but like she’s fucking nine when it starts and she gets traumatized to hell and back, like arya’s sl to me is creepy af because no 12yo should be like that and it’s a very good trauma exploration but like....... she has faults but she’s not a bad person for obvious reasons as in SHE’S A KID same as sansa same as EVERYONE UNDERAGE IN THESE BOOKS except partially joffrey and even he has a background that explains how he is, like.... arya and sansa are supposed to be written in an equally sympathetic but specular way because they have opposite ways of reacting to trauma ie sansa holds on to her kindness arya gets progressively detached because she has to kill people to survive but you’re not supposed to hate either of them? honestly grrm wrote them with the exact same stakes, anyone who thinks it’s qualitatively different needs to go back and reread it with some intellectual honestly;

brienne... I mean we serious? the thing with brienne is that she’s a fundamentally good person who is written to become the ultimate example of a good knight™ and who is supposed to restore decency to the title after the institution has crumpled into the dirt, so... she’s... good, same as dunk is in the novels, but like: lmao she has a lot of faults, first thing that at the beginning she judges everyone on sight and sees everything in black and white, she has zero preservation instinct and nonexisting selfesteem because she thinks her life isn’t worth her vows and she thinks she’s not fit for anything she tries to do and would have died for a guy who danced with her once like sorry that’s not healthy, which are all things,... she’s... getting over.... because she has a character arc, but saying that brienne isn’t realistic or doesn’t have faults is ridiculous because she is;

now, this concept that grrm is misogynist is idiotic because a guy who has an insane number of female povs - some of which are the same trope ie brienne and arya - and have all a distinct different personality and voice and none of them are like too idealized or too evil and are to a level relatable means he’s everything but because a misogynyst wouldn’t be able to pull that off. like, in any other book brienne and arya would have been the same character, in his they’re not, so maybe like... give him some credit in the sense that the moment half of your povs are well-written realistic female characters and the ones without povs are equally well-written/manage to be fan faves (ie marg and olenna) maybe he’s just... not... a misogynist nor hates women so that’s out of the way;

re cat and brienne: like... saying ‘ah he hates catelyn’ when catelyn is literally the first *lady* who treats brienne like a friend/peer/person she cares about is completely fucking idiotic because guess what if you’re like brienne usually most Attractive Girls™ the way cat is are not your best friends in life (I mean c. calls her a cow and they didn’t even meet on paper lmao and it’s obvious from b’s povs that she has bad experiences with other women in general), so the fact that cat actually sees her worth, accepts her as her sworn sword doing a thing that’s usually just between men, trusts her with her daughters’ lives, thinks she’s a better knight than jaime could be and treats her as it befits her station (in riverrun she had dresses made for her but brienne wouldn’t wear them) and is actually good to one of the few good people in these books who gets treated like dirt by most others should tell you exactly what grrm thinks of catelyn, ie nothing too bad, and that she’s a good person who fucked up on one thing that the narrative knows and doesn’t excuse, but like.... lmao that entire argument falls flat just for that;

Are these people jealous that Brienne is one of those pure character that their faves are not, so they feel like dismissing her as a bad character to make themselves feel good? you’re on to smth but as I ranted on twitter once: this all falls again to the fact that people Cannot Accept The Fact That An Ugly Girl Who Is Going To Stay Ugly is one of the moral hearts of these series and is An Actual Good Person Who Deserves Good Things in spite of not performing femininity, and who’s going to get the guy of her dreams (who is Hot) without settling and without becoming beautiful, and she’ll manage to realize her dreams even without becoming beautiful and regardless of having been treated like dirt because of her looks all her life, and like... apparently that is too much or too complicated to conceive and so either they have to decide she’s not That ugly or make her things she’s not or decide she’ll die early wow and whatever else, but like: the problem is that usually the Pure Moral Center Of A Story Who Happens To Be Female and gets her dreams and the hot dude is standard attractive. brienne is not, she has trauma because of that, and she’s still the best person in there (or one of the best) and she’ll get her dreams and the hot dude, and people can’t handle this specific concept nor admit that grrm, having done a thing that no one else has until now because there’s no other brienne in genre literature/in that way, is everything but a misogynist, since he actually, ah, wait, gave decent rep to people who most times are relegated to playing the best friend who stays single or are usually evil bc ugly antagonist women are everywhere, ugly protagonist women who are actually Good People™ and aren’t a paragon of Pure Virtue and don’t die virgins? not really. so: people can’t handle that brienne the way she is is a Good Person and The One True Knight In Westeros and it’s a sad thing but it just shows that maybe more people should go for that trope and that’s my two cents;

other than that no guy who can write the range of women grrm does can be a misogynist by definition, especially a guy who managed to get perfectly how it feels being a straight nonstandard attractive woman in society in general because my friends if before I stumbled into asoiaf I never related 100% to one fictional character ever there was a reason, and I read a lot, so people can bite me on that thing;

to end and comment on one thing: 

how the world is against Brienne, but she never does harm to the world

congrats to OP they went THAT close to it: that’s the entire fucking point. being like brienne in her society (and not performing femininity™ correctly in ours) means that whatever you do people will criticize you and treat you like dirt even if you don’t mean them any harm. the world is absolutely against her because all the circumstances are stacked against her - she’s a woman, doing a man’s job, looking nonattractive and therefore other women treat her like dirt and men don’t consider her or see her as a threat and hate her for it because she’s better at their job than they are, wanting to be a knight which is a thing that’s technically forbidden bc women can’t be anointed as far as the westerosi law says, who’s doing that because she knows she’s good at it but every single person in her way doesn’t want her to succeed except for a handful, can’t use femininity to navigate the world and she has to survive as a woman in a men’s world in an extremely misogynistic medieval society and there’s a reason why no one but three people takes her seriously, ie that if you don’t count a few people in f&b that are history book material in her context/timeframe she’s an unicum and people tend to dislike it when you’re an unicum/sticking out/wanting to go against the system. the system is absolutely stacked against her, when everything she wants is do good to others and making her father proud and be a knight and find love, and even if it’s not that much to ask for her it’s, on paper, impossible.... and the entire point is that as impossible as it looks she’s definitely going to get it because she’s written exactly for that, and if people haven’t grasped that it’s her arc - overcoming a misogynistic society and living beyond gender roles regardless of your looks which in itself is groundbreakingly feminist - sorry for them but they’ll have a bad wake up call when grrm gets wow/ados out.

and that’s my two cents, but like: there’s nothing wrong in liking characters With Faults or evil ones and you can find Good Ones boring, just don’t try to make it pass like the author is a misogynist because the Good Character is a nonstandard attractive gnc woman because that’s actually a thing no one else ever did.

and this stated brienne is more similar to book!sansa than book!arya personality-wise so it’s an argument that doesn’t hold on even joking. /two cents

[goodpeachtea]

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘, 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘥. (𝟎𝟏)

Summary: People could say that Baby was crazy, so they could say that hell is more preferable than spending a day with her. Baby agreed. But no one could say that the girl was not a genius or that she was like everyone else. Baby Jones was special - yes, she could be a nicer special type, but anyway, special.

Couple: Spencer Reid x OC.

Words: 3.9K

Warnings: Cigarettes, mention of murder, slightly PTSD, language.

Author’s Note: In case you want to know, the fanfic starts in the middle-end of the third season - and I hope it goes to infinity and beyond! Many of the cases we will see here are original (including the one briefly mentioned in the first chapter). Hope you like it :)

➤ MASTERLIST.

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             (𝟎𝟏). 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖡𝖤𝖦𝖨𝖭𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖮𝖥 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖤𝖭𝖣.

   JINGLE BELLS PLAYED IN THE BACKGROUND. Children laughed, adults toasted and Baby Jones felt this strange discomfort in her chest as she turned the pages of Alice in Wonderland. The child wanted to be reading one of the "grown-up" classics but was caught trying to reach David Copperfield, causing an accident that involved Les Misérables falling on her head - that experience could be compared to being hit by a brick. December 25th was a big day for the Jones family (more than it was for the other families). The unique and loved Baby was born in Christmas and, as much as she didn’t aprecciated much events like that at a young age, even the most distant cousins came from afar to celebrate the mix of birthday with Christmas.

   Baby could have sworn she saw figures out the window, but supposed it was just in her head. Before turning her eyes to the book she was reading, she observed all of her family members as happy as ever - almost as if they knew that this would be the last party they were going to celebrate - with a slight smile and noticed her parents approaching. "We have a gift for you, dear," said her mother Marie Ann.

– I have to admit that I was totally against it, but your sister is good with sweet talk, no wonder she is a lawyer. – Said her father, Thomas Jones, pointing to Baby's older sister, who smiled and gave a little thumbs up (after playing an important role in the accident that led to Baby's name, the smart Amelie always insisted in pampering the peculiar child).

   The eight-year-old Jones smiled, realizing that the gift was a book the second she put her eyes on the package. She opened the red package slowly, loving to see the suffering in the eyes of those who waited anxiously to see her reaction. She opened her mouth in genuine surprise when she saw David Rossi's book in her hands, thanking her parents and siblings who watched her from afar. The girl had wanted that book for a long time, but her parents insisted that it was worrying for a girl her age to read a book about serial killers.

   The Jones were not nearly the perfect family, but they were a good family. They were extremely genuine and fun, and their children couldn't be much different. The oldest was Amelie, 26 years old. She was extremely studious and hardworking, but when she met her family, Mellie was the same old goofy and good sister and daughter. Then there was Owen. The computer genius was 21 years old and was a problem for his neighbors, but everyone who approached him enough could only see kindness and fun in the Jones children. The youngest of the family was AJ (short for Alexander Jones, but he decided to hate the name early). The little one was only five, but it was the family's energy boost, always playing pranks and cheering others up.

   Then there was Baby left. Nobody could understand her very well (and that was reason enough to send her to the psychologist early) and she didn't seem to care that much. It was a fact that the second youngest in the Jones family was loved by her family, but that did not stop her strange behavior from always standing out.

   And everything changed in a snap. The night of December 25 until 20:11 that was perfect suddenly turned into Hell. And suddenly, "bang!", the beginning of the end.

   The only Jones gasped, and with wide eyes she rose from the bed, sighing heavily. Her brain quickly processed that it was all just a goddamn dream tormenting her again, causing teenage Jones to swallow, closing her eyes in relief and wiping the cold sweat from her forehead and neck. She looked at the digital clock on her head table, seeing the numbers 4:18AM flashing red (so she blew out a surprised breath, noting that she managed to sleep more than usual).

   Baby opened her windows and checked that her door was locked, thanking that today Sophie decided that she would want to sleep with the other children. Jones tied her red hair awkwardly, opening her desk drawer and under her coat she found the pack of cigarettes she shouldn't be using, taking out a lighter from the same place and throwing herself on the bed, lighting a cigarette and looking at the ceiling .

   The teen took the first drag and as she blew out the smoke, her heart calmed down and for a moment no part of her mind was in 10 years ago, the nightmare of just now being slightly forgotten. Jones hated being part of statistics, but what could she do when she went through times of crisis? She didn't drink hidden or smoke in the corners because other teenagers did, Baby did it because she needed to - or at least she thought she did.

   She closed her eyes in anger and tightened her jaw when between a drag and another flashes of the final days of 1997 invaded her head. Baby jumped up from the bed, pausing for a second before punching her mirror, thinking about the noise it would cause, waking up all the inhabitants of the Sunshine Orphanage - the ironic thing is that Jones' days there always felt like rainy days. The girl took her battered backpack and stuffed her pack of cigarettes with her other items, sneaking out the window.

   It was usual for Baby Marie to do that, to try to escape from her reality. She never managed to be very successful on that mission, but that didn't stop her from trying again and again. Baby always arrived before the women who looked after her got up, not wanting bars on her window. The girl sighed as she walked the dark streets of Washington, heading toward a lonely, quiet corner where her chances of being murdered increased. But for her, the feeling was that dawn was always safer. That was the time of peace that the redhead would have, after having to put up with noisy children, adolescents in internal combustion and her own brain devoid of any distraction.

   The little 17-year-old found herself in a park a few minutes later, avoiding children's toys and places where drunks tend to pass. She also ignored the copy of David Copperfield in her backpack, looking away and just searching for the anatomy book she picked up from the library. She spent a long time there, clearing her mind and although sleepy, more awake than ever. The only thing that distracted her from her inner peace that lasted a few minutes was the ringing of her old cell phone and the name David Rossi on her broken screen.

– Rossi? Why are you calling me? – An angry teenager grumbled in her cellphone, rubbing her dark circles and curious about the subject that the longtime acquaintance wanted to talk about. – It's fucking 5AM.

– I know you were already awake and I kinda need your help, kiddo.

   David Rossi sighed, not believing he was going to do that. Baby, in the other side, gave up of her grumpy behavior and smiled, knowing how that conversation would end. She bit her lips and hoped that the most evil of the evil criminals would be out there, killing lots and lots of people - and Baby could try, but she would not feel any kind of remorse about her thoughts. "I heard you are back in the business. Tell me about it, Italy, what can I do to save your and Gideon's ass?".

– Gideon it's not in the BAU anymore, Baby. – He told, looking around to make sure no one was listening to his phone call.

– Oh, crap. But okay, boo-hoo. Moving on, let's talk about dead bodies and serial killers.

   Rossi almost laughed of Baby's behavior, because it would be funny if it wasn't sad. Baby was, after all, an almost eighteen-years-old which the happiest part of the day was imagining what bloody crimes she could solve - or commit, depending on her mood. The only Jones couldn't feel sorry for Jason Gideon farewell, even if she was alive because of him or if he made her life a little bit more happy (or rather, less unhappy) asking for help when his cases entered a dead-end.

– That will count as a "S.O.S BABY"? – David said smiling, making the young girl laugh a little. – Yeah, Gideon left me a note that explained the conditions for me.

– And he told you that if you guys used one more of those I would maybe be joining you as the youngest F.B.I agent?

– Actually, the note said that you would try to trick me when we still have five S.O.S's left. – Baby cursed the old man, while Rossi tried to figured out what could he do when his chances where actually over.

   Baby made a deal with Gideon, that's what this whole "S.O.S BABY" was all about. Jones was special, she could think as the unsub, and as the victim. He needed help, she needed a reason. When the profiler did fifty phone calls to the teenager, she would have a chance to prove herself capable of - breaking all the possible rules - making part of the F.B.I. Everything about it was wrong: first, Baby should be protected by the Bureau, not part of it; second, she cannot even drink legally, she is a child; third, would it be responsible to put someone with serious psychological problems holding a gun? Jason Gideon didn't put a lot of thought when he agreed with that deal, and now the problem was in the hands of David Rossi.

– Now, you wanna help me or not?  

   Some of the other FBI agents couldn't help but notice the oldest of them suddenly withdrawing, calling someone - almost like calling a dealer, looking sideways and reluctantly - and referring to that person as "baby". The famous David entered the sheriff's office in Rosenberg, Texas and closed the blinds, raising more suspicions among members of the Behavior Analysis Unit team.

   “Did you hear what I heard?”, asked JJ, smiling broadly and exchanging shrewd looks with Derek and Emily. “It looks like the fourth Miss Rossi is coming!”, laughed the handsome Morgan, while Reid arrived without knowing what was happening and asking why they were laughing.

– It´s adult talk, kid. –  Emily teased, ruffling the taller boy's hair, who grimaced and mumbled something about him not being a child. – I have to say, I didn't expect to hear Rossi call a woman "baby". It's quite young for him, isn’t it? 

   The subject soon changed when technical analyst Penelope Garcia arrived with bad news regarding the research she had done for the case. Again, that case was clueless and more difficult to resolve than ever. The unit chief, Aaron Hotchner, approached when he noticed the expressions of defeat of the four BAU agents regarding the case of men of different social status and equally handsome being brutally murdered by stab wounds and being left in random places in the city in the southern United States.

   "I got something," David S. Rossi announced, leaving the office excitedly after spending a lot of time inside, while the rest of the team discussed theories that were soon refuted. "I think that our unsub is actually a women. Well, kinda. It was right in front of us the whole time!"

– We have already discussed the possibility of our unsub being a woman, David. It is impossible, all men were physically fit. – Aaron said, sighing and annoyed that they weren't getting a result.

   Rossi ignored what his boss said, remembering the smart point of view that Baby Jones provided him. “When we went to visit Mrs. Wilson's office, the wife of the fourth victim and the psychologist of the second one, we recorded her statement, remember? Her husband had not yet been murdered and she did not want to leave her office”, Hotch, the one who were at the interview with the brand new suspect, agreed.

– Yes, she looked quite shocked up that her patient was murdered.

– And maybe she was quite of an actress. – David suggested, carefully examining the record they had about Mrs. Wilson. –  Me and... I watched the recording again and a detail caught my attention: doctors, like a psychologist, display diplomas on walls and shelves, where patients can see them. It causes an immediate feeling of respect and trust. The family photos, however, are on the table, sometimes even hidden in the drawer, just for the doctor to see. It is an involuntary action, nobody wants mentally unstable people watching their life, their family. But look at Ms. Wilson's office, photos of her children at the table, facing her, while photos of her husband - and her husband alone - are on display everywhere, in the most eye-catching spots possible. Look at this! Who puts a 12 by 12 inch portrait of the spouse on the office wall?

– Yeah, I thought that was weird too, but that doesn't mean she is a murderer. We knew that her husband was possessive and abusive, he was jealous of all the people around her. It is perfectly possible that he told her to put those pictures like that so that her patients would know that, well, "she already belonged to someone".

   “I don’t think so. My point is that Linda Wilson was directing the anger of one of her patients to Mr. Wilson“. Everyone stopped for a minute and thought about the theory, seeing the picture filled with theories and crime scene photos, along with the documents, and seeing that it might actually be right.

– But what about the other victims? – The Special Agente Jareau asked, pointing to the pictures of the men hanging on the board.

– Distractions. Mrs. Wilson is an extremely intelligent woman. If only her husband were killed, suspicions would fall on her right away.

   “I trust you, Dave. Morgan and Prentiss, bring Linda Wilson to the police station, say we need to ask some questions”, ordered Hotch, the pair waving quickly and heading for the black SUV. “JJ and I are going to get a warrant to get everything Doctor Wilson has about her patients. You and Reid stay here and review what we already have, try to find more things that point to our suspect or anything that will help us find the killer”.

ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA - EIGHT HOURS LATER.

   Baby Jones was never the most adored girl in school. It was not a matter of popular and outcast, blond and brunette, intelligence or ignorance. It was a matter of Baby was a fucking pain in the ass. Jones knew. She knew that everyone around her hated her. And what could she do? She liked it.    See, don't get me or Baby wrong. What could I say besides the pure truth about the girl who moves our pages? The fact that she is so stupidly annoying, rude and is a horror movie tucked into 5 feets and looks of a fairy. It is difficult for anyone to describe how horrible Baby Jones is, but, my dear reader, I will do everything to show the indescribable annoyance of our (not so) beloved young woman.    Everything has a reason. We can't blame Baby for being the devil on earth. She herself says, "Everything I do is for a reason" and who are we to go against a mentally unstable redhead who knows how to shoot. Jones is, after all, one of the only people who have the slightest right to be a little irritating in the face of everything she has been through. Of course, nobody expected her to use this right with such enthusiasm, but my point is: Baby Jones is broken and with fewer screws on her head, try to take it easy.

– Jones, put out that cigarette!

   Baby smiled at the shout from her Physical Education teacher as she passed her high school football court, backpack on her shoulder and cigarette between her lips. He ignored the athletic students going around and the girls playing soccer, looking at Mrs. Smith, the couch.

– Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. – She screamed back at Smith, seeing her head shake, sighing and turning her attention to the students who deserved her concern - deep down, she felt sorry for Baby, but it was easier to feel angry. The students around her looked at the redhead, never ceasing to be surprised by the behavior of the well-known Jones.

   The bad-habits girl patted her jeans pockets when she heard her battered phone ring, knowing who the call was coming from and what the news was. No one else made calls to her, so David Rossi was the only possible name to be on the display of Baby’s cell phone.

   “Did you catch the guy?”, Jones asked, ignoring greetings and good manners (which was somewhat usual). She was always excited to know about cases and thrilled when it was possible for her to help. “Of course we did, bambina! I had your help.”

– Yeah, what was I thinking? Of course you would get the guy with my help. I saved your ass. You and these BAU idiots would be screwed if it weren't for me.

– Always very humble, huh? And respect, girl, these "BAU idiots" may be the ones who will decide your future, if you're going to be an FBI agent. – Rossi warned, his voice low because he was on the jet, next to the agents who (theoretically) were sleeping.

– So, I was right, wasn't I? Let me guess, did the psychologist give steroids to her homicidal patient? – Baby ignored the older man's comment, while walking towards the school entrance.

– How did you...?

   "Try to keep up: depression, anxiety, probably abused by the father. He kills handsome men and someone could interpret it as if he were envious of the victims. But I'm not someone, am I, Rossi? Mistreated by the father, men do not usually make fun of the appearance of other men in this way. No, but they make fun of the lack of "masculinity". He didn't kill these men because he wants to be them, he killed because he was attracted to them”, Baby spoke fast, her reasoning at incredible speed. Dave smiled on the other end of the phone, never failing to feel proud of Baby's skills. “He went to a psychologist looking for help, hating himself and disgusting his sexuality. Linda Wilson, a woman with an attractive but scoundrel husband, saw an opportunity to get rid of her husband once and for all, seeing the unsub's homicidal potential. Instead of giving him tranquilizers or some shit like that, she gave him steroids, leaving the man on edge.”

– You are absolutely right. And the curious thing is that the first victim was in fact homosexual, but the others were straight men that Patrick Thomas, the unsub, believed were trying to attract him, trying to make him sin, when they were not even doing anything.

– I can't say that I don't know what that is. – Baby murmured to herself, pressing her jaw in anger as Rossi heard the comment and felt his heart ache.

   Rossi sighed at the feeling that remained in the air at the girl's comment, even if it wasn't even Jones’s intent to say it out loud. "Baby... you know what day is coming, don't you?", he said on a sigh, reluctantly. He noticed the silence of the call being interrupted twice by the younger woman's shaky voice, who stopped talking immediately, not wanting to show weakness. “Yes”, she spoke simply, never being able to forget the meaning of December 25th.

– I know the emotions that day brings to you and...

– No, you don’t. – Aggressive as ever when the subject was brought up, Baby looked around, always feeling watched when someone starts talking about that 1997 season. – You don’t and we don’t need to talk about it. 

– I’m sorry. But along with... that, comes your birthday. Baby, I know you're pissed at me right now, but we need to talk about it. This year is important, things will change, you will have to find a place to live and I...

– You...?

– I'll try to get you on the FBI. – He whispered reluctantly, knowing the commotion of the little redhead on the other state, happy to know that he softened the previous conversation. – Know that I'm not promising anything. You will probably have to train a lot and start doing ridiculous jobs for your skills, but if you want to be a profiler you have to prove yourself in there. You’re still too young.

   “Trust me, sir, I going to prove that I can beat some sick minds even if I'm cleaning the floor, making coffee or printing papers”, she smiled, feeling more excited by the news. Baby saw children approaching - children from her orphanage that she would have to take “home” - and then sighed, knowing that her life would not be based on what she was good doing for a long time before Rossi took her out of Alexandria, “I need to go”. “Try not to get yourself in too big of a trouble, I don't have the guts to put a delinquent in the Bureau”.

– I can’t promise anything. – The ginger quoted him from earlier, hearing a laugh. – And Rossi...

– Yes, kiddo?

– Hum, I... – Jones bit her lip, gulping and arching her shoulders in discomfort.

– I know, Baby. – It was hard for her, he knew it. – You’re welcome.  

   Spencer Reid really felt guilty about listening to the conversation - or at least, David's part of the conversation. But what could he do? He was lying on the seat of the jet, with his eyes closed and his mind totally active and uncomfortable, he having to fight his desire to go to the bathroom and inject into his vein the Dilaudid he had in the bottom of his bag, without the courage to throw it away.

   The Boy Genius' mind was distracted for a while, curious about the person the experienced Rossi spoke to. He, like the other BAU agents the other day, assumed it was a woman, a secret girlfriend, perhaps. But that didn’t fit, Spencer was irritated by not being able to solve the mystery (and even more irritated by being interested in the personal life of his coworker). The Italian-American called it bambina - was it a dear family member? - and why would he put a family member on the FBI? It was dangerous! On top of that, he spoke of the previous case to her as if it were nothing, as if she already knew.

   Spence bit his lip, glancing at the man looking out the window, getting up slowly. Reid sat across from Dave, smiling weakly. "I overheard, I'm sorry," he murmured, making Rossi smile. Dave wasn't as angry as he thought he would be, the eldest believing that some minimal information shared for the trustworthy Spencer would be no big deal. “Curious?”, the young man nodded.

– For now, she is top secret. But I can tell you that if everything goes as planned, oh, boy, we're screwed.

[phereinnike]

I feel like in general the ‘Why did Tom Riddle go so bad’ discourse is way too simplistic when it’s reduced to “born under a love potion so he can’t feel love :(” (which was confirmed purely fandom theory and not canon, or “his mom was a mad rapist that “””abandoned him””” so he couldn’t love” (which is a plain lie and a very ugly thing to say to all people who weren’t loved by their mother).

It dismisses the fact that he is very much an understandable product of his enviroment -on top of like everything else-: 1) grew up in an awful enviroment (London orphanages during the 1920′s-30′s were very bad), 2) probably weirding out both caretakers and other childrens with his early shows of magic thereof both ostrasizing himself accidentally & taking comfort in the fact that he wasn’t like them (he could do things they couldn’t, he wasn’t a freak he was special, he wouldn’t live and die in that hell-hole like they would). 3) Then he went to school and was judged from day one by an obviously rich man who had never been in a situation like his for stealing from other children when he was 10?, and 4) then he was made to return to said very bad (in the flashbacks we’re shown it isn’t just an orphanage in the 30′s, it’s poor, dilapidated, gloomy, dirty) muggle orphanage during the fucking LONDON BLITZ (when he was 14) and WW2 every summer.

Most fandom accounts exploring his time in the orphanage either reduce him to a budding sociopath that tortured other children for fun (wattpad mafia badboy syndrome) or a punny victim treated like garbage for his shows of magic and abused by everyone (poor whump baby :( if only someone had loved him) 

5) This discounts the considerable notes of madness in her mother’s bloodline, which we’re shown and pointed towards clearly on her brother and father and less clearly on her the rapist; and which could very reasonably affect him as well because people stopped imbreeding for a reason, it fucks genetics up. (3)The role Dumbledore and his prejudice (understandable as well in some measure because he did date magical Hitler, & accidentally kill his sister in the process pretty recently and was during ww2 actively fighting said guy -defeated in 1945-) played on shaping his personality (this is an Albus Dumbledore hate account don’t @ me). (1) (4)And the way the socio-historical reality he lived in the muggle world affected him because this is a child/teen that spent his summers in London city in the middle of WW2 (started when he was 13, carried on until he was 19) without being able to use magic for help until he was 17. 

People that live in war-zones are affected for their entire lives under normal circumstances. An incredibly powerful boy that is completely alone in the world, has a strong history of family madness, has had i thammered on all his life that he’s different (meant as a bad thing but most certainly interpreted as i’m better than them, because without going into ego issues that’s the way to rationalize things that hurt us, “they don’t want me? i don’t want them anyway! i don’t need  them!” and that suffered greatly because of muggles (both his living situation in the orphanage and the entire WW2.... finding a way to be protected forever? to have a guarantee to escape death? at the cost of killing the muggle that you think abandoned you to that horrid orphanage & war? (+ the fact that he was convinced when he arrived at hogwarts that his father had to be magical because his mother just up and died on him, and he -without any magical background or studies- thought that was something magic would be able to avoid??) Tom Riddle creating the first Horcrux makes so much sense in context.

And then if you go with the love potion/family trauma route you also disscount that 5) a Horcrux splits your damn soul in two, which should in some measure fuck you up as well and definitely shaped how he acted from there onwards. 

And that during his formative education in Hogwarts he spent every summer in a warzone and every school-year hearing about 6) Grindewald -the effective equivalent of magical Hitler- and his war, the Global Wizarding War (according to wiki) attacking both muggles and wizards, with people throwing themselves asking Dumbledore for help while he delays it (again, understandable in some meassure).

7) We should also account in some meassure that the HP books go from Harry age 11 (when we’re first introduced to Voldemort) to 17. So we were first introduced to a cartoony version of Voldemort and only got to see him fleshed out as Harry grew and his understanding of the world increased and changed and became more nuanced. Philosopher’s Stone is pretty much a children book and has the appropiate simplistic morals, Deathly Hallows is much more grown-up and nuanced. 

So yeah, here’s 4k+ words on why the situation is always more nuanced than that and reducing his rise & downfall to love potion/mommy issues is a disservice to the character and the story itself -as it’s main villain- because for all we joke that he lost his nose and went mad, Lord Voldemort is a villain for his story (on purpose or not) makes a lot of sense. 

[goldenpinof]

so basically here’s a script of “Basically I’m gay” by Daniel Howell, if someone needs it

link to a google doc

Hello Internet.

«Sex! Secrecy! And a whole lot of internal screaming. Starring Daniel Howell. One of the greatest mysteries of our generation. What is Dan’s sexuality?»

Spoiler alert. I’m not straight. Sex, the foundation of life and the only thing we’re really supposed to do. Everyone’s obsessed with it. You bunch of degenerates. In the list of things that identify a person, one of the most important for other people to know is their sexuality. For, if sex is the primal force propelling all of these humans forward by their hips, they have to know. Are we gonna fuck? Or like could we? Or are you, ‘cause I’m just wondering. Now, we live in a heteronormative world, which is a long scary word that makes people feel attacked for some reason. Shh it’s okay.

What it means is people are presumed to be straight. If you’re not, then at some point, you have to “come out”, which is a whole thing. Or people might just try and guess based on something you do or the way you act, because yay stereotypes. So this is something you have to be clear on, because if you’re not, how are all these other people that aren’t you going to cope? But I’m pretty sure no one that knows me thinks I’m straight. So I don’t really need to come out as much as just clarify what the hell is going on. As here I am at age 27 and my sexual preference is seemingly still a vague, debatable, confusing, impenetrable mystery. But why? And what is it? Well, those are some big questions. Are you sure you wanna know my answers?

[YES]

Okay, well, if you say so 'cause this is a complicated and sensitive issue and when it comes to me, boy, there is a lot to unpack here and it is a total clusterfuck. So strap yourselves in and let me tell you a queer little story about a boy named Dan.

Chapter 1 – The Word

♪ When I was a young boy ♪

♪ My father ♪

Didn’t have much time for me because my conception was clearly an accident and he was a narcissistic proud man suddenly inconvenienced in the prime of his life and this emotional neglect gave me lasting problems.

Sorry that’s not all relevant right now.

I was an only child for seven years and with working parents. This meant I had to make my own fun so I was imaginative  and loud which is something that my teachers used to say quite a lot followed by, “However.” Here I am age five. Look at me. Cute, poised, sassy, turning out this photo shoot like sorry, Grandma, I stunted on this set. Are you seeing this? In almost every way, I literally peaked age five. I loved being the center of attention. People said I had an infectious happiness, that my beaming smile brought them hope and joy. People that know me are laughing right now. But a boy, in the '90s being happy and generally polite acting? Sounds kinda GAY if you ask me. Literally, masculinity was so fragile, people were so proud and scared and society so aggressive that a boy smiling!?.. appearing to be empathetic or in any way emoting was seen as a threat. How dare they laugh and feel comfortable? They must be soft and weak and girly and GAY. So basically thanks, Grandma, for raising me to be a nice child, you dick. Just kidding. That’s a joke and I told you not to watch this video because it would be rude so if you send me a disappointed text telling me you’re offended, I don’t know what to tell you. Although, now I think about it, you did make me go to church for 10 years, which in hindsight probably also didn’t help ♪ Hallelujah ♪ the issue here so. But then it was time for little Dan to go to school and this is when it  

♪ All went wrong ♪

'Cause it turns out most children, evil pieces of shit. Doesn’t matter if you try to raise a happy innocent child, throw that kid into school, aka, a literal Mad Max Battle Royale with the feral offspring of your local community. Yeah, that crap’ll be undone in about two weeks. I was six years old running around the playground pretending to be Sonic the Hedgehog or something when two brothers come up to me aged seven and eight with an unexplained aggressive look in their eye. And the younger one pushes me to the ground, kicks me in the stomach, and just says, “GAY.”

This was the first time I ever heard that word. Well, I don’t know what the heck gay means but apparently it means people kick you on the floor so that ain’t good. I didn’t know this child or give them any cause to have an opinion on me. And, actually, I never directly interacted with them again. What epic clustershit of failed parenting and general culture brought this tiny child to get angry and attack someone, then call them gay for looking like they were having fun outside. Are you okay, 1990s? And so my relationship with sexuality began.

I wasn’t looking to define myself as a child indiscriminately playing doctors and nurses with various friends until once somebody’s mum walked into a room to find three fully naked children sat on a bed sticking sellotape to each other’s butts. Yep, which I don’t recommend. Also, Jesus Christ, the poor woman that saw that. Then you get to the magic age around 10 or 11 where everybody suddenly wants to pretend they’re totally a “cool teenager” who’s doing all the drugs and the sex and the fights, totally. Boy, gay was a really popular word back then.

[[Boy] Uh, homework is gay. [Girl] Uh, my mum’s so gay. [Boy] Uh, you touched a girl, gay.]

This one little shit who I won’t name was one of the school bullies and he loved the word gay. He had it in for me and I have no idea why. You know me, Mr. Winnie the Pooh Meets Slender Man. Well, when I was 10 just Winnie the Pooh. I didn’t do nothin’ to no one ever and yet this guy used my pacifism as a punching bag where any group situation was an excuse to single me out call me gay for some reason and then make everyone else exclude me because they were scared of him. I had a girlfriend. We dated for six whole weeks. We kissed in a game of spin the bottle once by literally sucking on each other’s faces. Then she ended dumping me over speakerphone at a birthday party that everyone in my class but me was invited to but, hey. I don’t know what I was doing wrong, but at this age, I understood one thing. Being gay, whatever that meant, was clearly the worst thing you could be. On a Darwinian level, I was being told, okay bitch, “Survival Code”. Don’t be this apparently. Evolution. Plot twist, this bully I think he was a bit gay because once he asked me to have a sleepover at his house and I thought was me finally getting socially accepted only for him in the middle of the night to come up and ask me, “So who’s going to be the boy and the girl?” I was an innocent smol bean who didn’t really understand what he meant because, to be honest, I didn’t actually understand get how babies were made yet. But needless to say I think he was disappointed. Wow, closeted child turns into homophobic bully. Thanks again society. But this whole primary school journey was really just an amuse-bouche for the full six-course tasting menu of suffering that would be secondary school.

I went to an all-boys school. It was a literal hellscape.  I thought it was hard making it through a school of 200 kids with two or three bullies. Try over a thousand where a clean 800 are fully psychopathic gorillas fueled by testosterone, Red Bull, and Eminem albums. Making sure that the word f- no longer means an innocent bundle of sticks or a cigarette anymore in the British lexicon. Nope, now it was a cool homophobic slur along with gay, gaylord, gayboy, puff, pufter, ponce, batty, batty boy, bum-boy, bender. Shit, this is so long. People have a lot of words for something they don’t wanna think about. Look at me in this stupid blazer. Oh, “you’ll grow into it at some point in the next four years”. Thanks, Mum. Day one, kid in form class, some stupid hedgehog-looking motherfucker side eyes me and says, “What you lookin at, puff?” First interaction at a new school. Great! My entire existence on a daily basis then becomes navigating this school like I’m in the bloody “Maze Runner” trying to avoid aggressive pricks with chode ties. And you know being verbally abused for being a nerd or a Greebo at least felt relevant to me at the time. Greebo, definitely one of my faves there and I’m sure that Korn and Slipknot would have been proud to have 12-year-old me as a fan. I kinda knew who I was in the hierarchy at that point. I was essentially a theater kid who spent all of his free time playing Runescape on the AOL browser on his mum’s PC instead of football. I accepted it. But at least I wasn’t actually this “gay thing” people kept throwing around because by now I understood a gay is a boy who fancies other boys. And to be honest I don’t really feel like I’ve ever fancied anyone before.

Then puberty happened.

Oh yeah, this is fun, tingly feelings, I smell bad. It was quite fun dribbling on this girl’s face playing Truth or Dare, maybe later we’ll go behind that bike sheds and, there I was sat in English class, my friend next to me. I watched as he delicately removes a pencil from its case. We briefly make eye contact as he flutters his long black eyelashes with a blink before staring forward. His eyes are so bright and beautiful yet they seem so sad and deep with emotion. I wish I could just understand. Oh fuck, I think I’m a bit gay. You’re telling me this whole time I actually have been the bad thing that people keep calling me? Shit!

Chapter 2 – Feelings

Oh do you hear it that faint hum, something coming from a deep, dark place too powerful to control? It’s the self-hatred. She is here and she’s only getting started. Short version, I fall hopelessly in love with a friend of mine who doesn’t feel the same way which crushes me into a million tiny pieces and years later actually it turns out he was gay the whole time. He just really specifically didn’t like me. [Double kill.] Here I am, 13, crying to evanescence alone in my bedroom feeling like there’s no point in really being alive as I’m clearly a faulty outcast person that has no place in the world. I stopped going to church with my grandma because I felt like I wasn’t really supposed to be there. Also, by this age, the whole Christianity thing didn’t really make much sense to me. And the adult services were dry AF compared to coloring in a picture of Jesus’s face at Sunday school. So other than the free tea and biscuits they gave away after the sermon, religion didn’t really have much to offer me. Damn, there was some good biscuits though. I miss that. But wait! All is not lost yet. Do you see that? A triumphant, rallying cry of guitars, stripey hoodies, and black hair dye. Emo had arrived! I swear to God, emo is one of the best things that happened to pop culture in the last 20 years. As well as inventing eyeliner and skinny jeans, a new word hit the theater, nerd, goth, band, kid corner that would change my world forever.

Bisexual. You can be normal and gay at the same time and some people think it’s cool? Well, slap a long fingerless glove on my arm and sign me up to Myspace 'cause Mum, I’m bi. It was a good term 'cause it was a catchall for anyone who felt sexually confused or curious that didn’t want to commit to something stronger which is very me. Big commitment issues. Thanks, fam. To be clear, regardless of whatever the 2006 teenagers thoughts and feelings were, being bi is valid and should not be excused away or erased by anyone. Thank you.

From this moment, I was a loud and proud raving bi to my close friends and the strangers on the internet who saw my clearly-labeled sexual preference on my Myspace page. And the emo friends I made at this time were awesome. We just used to hang and make out with each other and listen to music and drink bottles of Smirnoff Ice until we were sick on each other with no judgment. The judgment came several years later looking back at the photos that you can’t delete. So I didn’t need to tell my family or people at school anything. But the thing is with a Myspace page, anyone with an internet connection can read it. And so the rumors started spreading through my neighborhood that Dan Howell was in fact a bisexual. I had a friend in French class who one day, totally unprompted, just turned to me and said, “Hmm, yeah, I thought so. You give off a bi-vibe.” A bi-vi-, what the fuck is a bi-vibe? Great, yeah, nothing to make a 15-year-old feel self-conscious about his behavior like being told he emanates a bisexual aura. What am I supposed to do with that? Sorry that I give off mixed signals. I’m versatile. Turns out it was actually a social upgrade from being called gay all the time 'cause bisexual was a new word that only referred to sexuality so people actually had to decide how they felt about the fact I was attracted to boys. As opposed to gay which as we all understand is synonymous with bad and also implies a general threat, plague, curse/evil force that simply must be destroyed. People at school were actually almost nice to me with curiosity about it and a few of the boys that previously loved to just generically call me gay while throwing a compasses at me or something, now started to low-key flirt with me and some stuff happened. Go figure.

But then I entered the dark ages and no I’m not talking about my hair because I was never actually cool enough to commit to dying it black. As quickly as they arrived into my life, my emo friend group vanished into the night. Like the tip of an eyeliner pencil snapping or the HTML on your intricately-crafted MySpace page falling apart when the host websites of your embedded gifs die, so, too, did my social life. One had to suddenly focus on school, another moved town, two of them just fell out with each other and started hanging out with their old friends again. Well, we don’t all have back up friend groups, Lindsey! I went all in on the emos! You’re telling me I have to go back to sitting in my kitchen playing Runescape now! Thanks a lot. So for a year I literally had no friends. And this is when the bullying at school really stepped its pussy up. The things people used to say offhand to me in a corridor were now said loudly in classrooms where everybody would laugh. People used to sing songs about me being gay on the bus while my fellow nerds sat around me just stared awkwardly out of the window not wanting to get involved. People shouted things out during GCSE exams in front of the whole school and the low key pushing became punches. People used to wait for me after school just to throw things at me. Once a guy put his hand around my throat and pushed my head against a coat peg in the locker room while everyone was watching and just slapped me for five minutes. But I never reacted. I never cried or got angry or fought back 'cause then I’d be giving them what they wanted and I refused to play along. But this way of dealing with things definitely had an impact on my relationship with emotion going into life. I became a total outcast. No one wanted to come near me out of fear that they’d get targeted, too. So no one ever stood up for me. And, you know, I don’t blame them. I just resent them even to this day. No, I’m kidding, I don’t really. I do. No, I don’t. I, hmm. Teachers at the time obviously did nothing. In fact, one of them saw this happening to me and laughed 'cause you know, boys will be boys especially the gay ones that get killed by the other ones, am I right? Ah, classic lad banter. And home. See, keeping this on the topic of sexuality and not economic class, violence, addiction, and health issues, let’s just say some shit was goin’ down. I didn’t think I could ask my family for help or share my feelings about this, mainly due to my dad. Funny guy, kind of a woke hippie who did and said a lot of things I did respect but at the same time used to walk around the house saying how he hoped someone he had a problem with at work would *clears throat* “die of bum cancer.” Yep, so picked the one area to be a bigot that would further traumatize your child. Nice! This experience coming from a childhood hearing the word gay meaninglessly thrown around as an insult at home and school, in music, on TV, to then realizing I am actually kinda gay, to then very specifically being attacked for it was traumatic. The world was clearly telling me if I ever wanted to be accepted by anyone or, in my particular environment, survive, I couldn’t be gay. I was afraid of it, literally homophobic of myself. I am talking Pavlov, sunken place, North Korea-level mind alteration that made me terrified of and repulsed by this part of me. This is called internalized oppression. It’s a real thing and it’s some real shit.

Chapter 3 – Internalized Oppression

From this moment I was no longer advertising myself as bi. No, BRB deleting that Myspace real quick, xD lemme get on that Bebo. “My Chemical Romance”? No, I’m listen to what’s this, N-Dubz? Jesus Christ. I go away for the summer break and come back to school quiet and serious and fully straight. *coughs* I needed me some new friends that were a bit higher up the social ladder, you know what I’m sayin’ for security so I go ahead and join “The Inbetweeners”. Literally this group of friends, the exact middle ground between nerds and desperately wanting to be cool. And oh how desperate we were. The great thing about these friends was they knew loads of girls. So firstly, instant cool points. Secondly, if I date a girl *scoffs* super not gay. The problem with that was it’s not like everyone just forgot everything that’s been said about me and this group of friends, casually homophobic pretty much all the time and also they hung out in places near some even more aggressive and super homophobic peeps. Just full-time Runescape would have been a better in hindsight. I find myself going through the same shit at school but now voluntarily going through it at the weekends from the people that are supposed to be my friends thinking I’m doing the right thing whilst constantly telling myself I’m now totally heterosexual. So I did what many people choose to do at that point and I got a girlfriend. But this is pretty messed up because I really liked this girl. In fact, I loved her as a friend and I was genuinely attracted to her but I was so afraid of sexuality I didn’t even wanna do anything straight in case I had some weird gay panic that I was totally frigid and I led her on. And when she got pissed at me, understandably, for being a terrible boyfriend, I just felt even worse. This was someone who I liked that I was hurting and lying to but I couldn’t leave as then I’d have no armor. Beautiful irony here is having a girlfriend didn’t in any way stop the abuse 'cause remember, gay is a great all-purpose general insult. (Call someone gay today and we’ll throw in a free set of steak knives.) And when these neighborhood teens started heavy drinking and getting into drugs, things suddenly got quite scary as people joked about setting fire to a tent as I slept in it at Reading Festival. Or saying, “You know that notoriously unstable guy? Yeah, he said he’s gonna kill you next Saturday.” Awkward.

This was definitely the lowest point in my life. I just felt totally alone, confused and I deeply hated myself. I used to ask God, in case he was there, to please, just make me straight and everyone stop. But I saw no end, no escape, no way to change the world or who I was. So one evening I thought fuck it and I attempted suicide.

I say attempted, because just before it was too late I thought

“oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit what have i done what have i done fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck?”

“what will your grandma think don’t do this to her she tried her best and she loves you”

“your family aren’t total dicks and this will fuck them up can’t you just get over it surely”

“you’re gonna get to the last year of school and give up now really what was the point”

“I heard this is one of the most painful ways to die so not a great choice if I’m being blunt”

Felt kinda bad for a few days otherwise I pretended it never happened and I didn’t tell anyone, until now, literally. Hmm, I know pretty dark right, but hey spoiler things kinda worked out. I mean still gotta lot of issues but here I am. I’m so glad I failed for so many reasons, for the people in my life, for the future I would’ve wasted. The most important being that I thought I was trapped in a situation forever when in reality, the entire world I lived in and my life changed completely. I thought it was hopeless when in reality there was so much to hope for and that’s it. Time changes everything. With the lives that we have, we can try anything we’ve dreamed of. I want anyone that’s ever felt like this to realize you are never trapped. There is always hope. You just need to believe in yourself and get to the other side. So yeah school age 6 to 18, I’m gonna give that a bad Google review. The thing is I did stand out. I’ve always been a loudmouth, class clown, annoying shit. Since graduating, it turns out half the people I knew were fuckin’ gay. That group of friends I had, all lovely people now. Five of them were gay, five gays! That is statistically irregular. Oh but they flew under the radar. All I’m saying is I wish people just hated me for being annoying and immature. Leave the gays alone!

My light at the end of the tunnel was university. I was gonna get my A levels move to a new town and ghost these bitches. But I took a gap year first to earn some money which was very boring sitting at home and working at ASDA where I was not happy to help. My shift started at 5 a.m. on a Saturday. Signed up for a Twitter account to run my mouth off and then bam. “So my name is [Dan].” My YouTube story begins, a new chapter of my life to redefine. So you know what I do? Get a Formspring because nothing gives you that attention feeling like one of those anonymous question and answer websites that are inherently toxic and no one should use. And straight out of the bat bisexual Dan returns. 'Cause hey, just like Myspace, I’m only telling a few people on the internet right now. It’s not like one day I’m gonna get so many followers that random strangers and my family might see it. Wow, I had a lot fun with many different kinds of people in 2009. Let’s just say I got a lot out of my system. Got a couple of things in my system, too. Sorry.

And this is when, through the magic of the internet, I met Phil. And obviously we were more than friends but it was more than just romantic. This is someone that genuinely liked me. I trusted them. And for the first time since I was a tiny child, I actually felt safe. And the relationship we formed at that point was something that I needed in my life. We are real best friends, companions through life, like actual soulmates, not that souls are a real thing that exist. It’s so lucky to just find someone you can be that compatible with and especially to anyone that has experienced the kind of self-hatred that I have dealt with, one person accepting you can make all the difference. And I bet so many people wanna know so much more about that which, honestly, I take as a compliment. But here’s the thing. I’m somebody that wants to keep the details of my personal life private. So is Phil. I know lots of people these days, thanks to social media, want to share and monetize every aspect of their life and then as soon as something changes suddenly it’s this huge drama because everybody got invested in the story of your life like it’s a soap opera. I don’t want that. I wanna do certain things without an audience. I wanna be spontaneous. I don’t wanna feel afraid to take risks. I want to enjoy totally fucking something up and not have to post a statement about it. And if anyone thinks people really have to share these things about their life, you need to rethink your position. And look, I understand that sex is a fun and interesting thing to talk about. I get it. I am also a disgusting pervert. But the specific minutiae of who I be fuckin’, when, why, where, how long, how, uhh, I mean? Sexuality is a general fact that it can be very useful to know about a person for several reasons, but we can’t force people to disclose that either. We don’t know this person’s life story, what they’ve been through, if they haven’t told people, if they’ll lose their job, if they’re in danger. There are so many reasons someone might not be open about it. We can preach the message that being out is good, but aggressively speculating or trying to out someone is really bad. They might not be gay, in which case we’re just harassing someone and probably stereotyping. And if they are there’s gonna be a reason why they haven’t talked about it. So I don’t wanna see any responses to me finally talking about this like no one is surprised. “Dan we been knew.” Wow, you huge galaxy brain genius. What’s it like walking around with all those brain cells in there working overtime? What, you got like three in there? Don’t lose your balance, mastermind. I haven’t exactly been subtle have I? I’m an awkward, sexually ambiguous nerd. “What the fuck even is your sexuality?” That’s not the point. I’m already dead inside so it doesn’t matter here, but to me if someone’s reaction to a person coming out is just, “yeah, I knew”, they’re showing no empathy towards the issue or that person. They’re just making it about themselves like it was a fun piece of gossip they already knew. All we have to do is listen and be accepting.

So anyway back to the tale. Whilst things were looking up for Dan aged 18, things quickly got messy again. Wow, that beats the emo streak of temporary self-acceptance by like six months, nice. There was a point around 2011 where the relationship with my audience shifted from what felt like direct communication between me and individuals that just saw me as a comedy creator to communities of people that formed to talk about me when I wasn’t there. Which is fine, but for some people it was about getting generally invested in me and my real life which I thought was a bit strange 'cause inevitably like anyone who puts themself out there, some people started to really dig into my private life to find out information about me that I wasn’t ready to share. And this was around the same time that YouTubers finally started to get mainstream recognition in the British press. We had the BBC knocking at our door trying to offer Dan and Phil a radio show. From that, Dan and Phil became this entertainment duo that we could have a creative career with. And we love working together, so when all these opportunities came for Dan and Phil, we were really excited but I was also scared as people clearly knew I wasn’t straight and I hadn’t told my family that. None of my old friends knew about this, and what me and Phil had was ours and personal and yet some people were trying to get access to it for their own satisfaction. It was no longer a few people on the internet, no big deal. So I just shut down. It felt like I was back at school again, surrounded by threatening people trying to expose me for their entertainment. Most I’m sure just wanted what was best for me and I feel such genuine sadness and am sorry that I couldn’t be closer to and more truthful with the people in my life that were just trying to be nice but I wasn’t ready to deal with it at this time so I had to do something to contain it. I definitely sent some mixed messages. Some were just joking around, others were super defensive that in my panic came across like “I’m now telling everyone I’m totally straight” when all I really meant was “please fuck off and don’t invade my privacy, you creepy stalkers, thank you”. But this experience seriously triggered some PTSD in me and I was back in the dark place. I didn’t want to just disappear from the internet to escape it and throw away this creative hobby that actually started paying rent. Thanks. So I just decided to put anything to do with my sexuality in a box to come back to later as I was still processing my past and I wanted to understand my identity on my own terms and timeline and not just have it hijacked as fuel for people’s sexual fantasies or some headline in an article. And whilst we’re not exactly living in a utopia yet here on YouTube, the general internet culture only five or six years ago was a much less wholesome, progressive place as this little bubble is now. Sure, a lot of people probably would have been supportive, but there was just as much open bigotry and general toxicity 'cause people felt less accountable and it was okay to say certain things 'cause it’s just on the internet and I couldn’t handle that at the time. And, generally, I can handle a lot. I have big hands with a very wide reach for playing piano, you fucking.. get your mind out of the gutter. We can’t ask people to just put their lives on hold to address their sexuality first. If a kid dreams of being a footballer and age 18 gets signed to a club and all their dreams come true but they’re scared to come out because of the insane homophobia in that community, they shouldn’t turn it down. Yes, it’s so important to be truthful about who you are and open and proud in front of the world but it’s our society’s fault that these people are scared to say who they are. So let’s all focus on making it a welcoming place and people will come out when they are ready. So when was I ready? Well, it’s always been on my mind that I need to talk about this at some point. I couldn’t just keep going forward in my life ignoring it, not only just so I can be authentic, which is very important for general existing, but also just letting people know what kind of sexual attention I want from the world. All of it from everyone. God I’m so thirsty. And if anything motivated me, it’s the idea that I can help someone else 'cause that’s basically my whole career, isn’t it, admitting to shit that I’ve been through so you will feel better about yourselves. There we go, you’re welcome. I have a platform and a following of millions of people, many of whom I know have been through exactly what I have. And if I tell my story as painful and flip floppy and flawed as it is, I know it will mean something to someone as every time someone speaks openly about sexuality, it saves lives. I’d never met a single out gay person until I was 18. And if I had, or even just seen better representation in the media, I wouldn’t have felt so totally alone. I wouldn’t even be saying this to you now if it wasn’t for TV shows, musicians, and public figures in the last couple years reinforcing this to me. It doesn’t matter if I was living the life privately as there was still so much confusion about my feelings and fear. But things are better now, on the internet, on TV, in my real life. It’s not perfect but it feels safe enough in this space right now for me to feel confident. So thank you, sincerely, to all the brave people that came before me and to any of you that made this world seem welcoming for me. And instead of procrastinating from this by focusing on work, which was a way for me to insure my own independence and survival in case I was rejected, or just doing things for other people to take my mind off it instead of asserting my own needs, which my therapist keeps telling me is one of my biggest problems. Here I am with a fresh void of time in front of me to fuck up however I want. Now look, we all have different experiences in life. Some of us are lucky, some of us not. It just so happened that the first 18 years of my life were horrendously shit. It failed me. But we get dealt cards from the start, too. If you look at my life, I was born into this world as an able-bodied, white, cis-man in Britain which immediately gives me so much privilege in this current world and I am fully aware of how much harder making it to today could have been for me, which is why we all need to stand up for equality and social justice even if it doesn’t apply to us. No one stood up for me when it mattered the most and that almost cost me everything. So if you see a woman being harassed, a gay being threatened, someone muttering something racist, say something, do something because if you’re still or silent, the victim will just think that you are against them, too. We all have a responsibility.

This tale was just some of the stuff relating to sexuality. We all have a whole sob story if we wanna tell it but I just wanted to explain the journey of how I got to this point and overcame the obstacles that tried to block this path. And now I’ve arrived.

Chapter 4 – Labels

Okay cool story, bro, it’s answer time. What’s your answer. Whaddayalikedafuk? Here’s the thing, you want me to talk candidly about sexuality as if it’s something that I understand? I don’t know what it is, why it is. Turns out no one knows. I’ve been sitting here for years waiting for scientists to just work it out like bleep bloop. [Oh this is why and exactly how it’s different for people. There we go.] Thinking I shouldn’t run off my mouth on the internet in case my theories and opinions on varying gayness get debunked next week. Well, I waited long enough and it didn’t happen. Science, ya fucked up, you let me down. And I fully expect to have to delete this video in two weeks when you find out all the answers suddenly. Thanks a bunch. What makes someone gay or straight or all the things in between? What the ever loving fuck is gender about? This is a mess. Yet people want you to give them a word because that’s how humans communicate with words that have meanings. Which is why our disgusting species is impatient, stupid, and obsessed with labels. And this applies to everything, sexuality, gender, political identity, what obscure genre of synthwave you listen to. People just want a label that represents something they understand so they already know how to feel about you and don’t have to bother thinking. [Oh you’re a feminist well I don’t need to know anything more. Oh you’re a leftist. Oh you’re a K-pop fan but but but but.] If people just want to find a way to disagree with you or dislike you, they can refer to the label and turn off their brains. Hey, what does my label say? Huh. The issue is, especially when we start talking about the writhing mass of confusion and suffering that is sexual and gender identity, the limits of language and specific terminology become a big problem. What does being gay mean? You never thought about a boob once? What does being a man mean? You wanna be an emotionless rock rubbing raw steaks against your biceps? It’s not like humanity is all in agreement right now. I don’t like the stereotypes and drama that come with all this terminology so I’m just not gonna use it. Thing is gender identity isn’t my issue. I feel comfortable with the identity that I’ve had my whole life. Dan, a tol boy from England. But being a man means nothing to me. I wouldn’t feel uncomfortable wearing makeup or a sickening pair of heels, though I can’t even draw in a straight line so that would be a disaster. Also is anyone really comfortable wearing heels? Hmm. Icons of masculinity aren’t really a big part of my life. Might as well call me a fucking formless blob that sounds more relatable. Shout out to all my formless blobs out there, rise up. I don’t have to do anything or be anything and I personally wouldn’t feel offended if I wasn’t referred to as a he. Well, she’s feeling hungry today. Stop fucking judging me, Susan. I’m sad and I’m gonna eat this whole damn cake whether you like it or not. But anyone that has this don’t really care attitude about their gender identity is in a way privileged 'cause some people, especially trans, care a lot about their gender identity and using the correct pronouns which other people should respect. Likewise with sexuality, whilst to me the endlessly increasing list of tribes and flags being flown is a bit daunting and confusing and personally stresses me out 'cause I almost find it constrictive, some people like it. Because if you’re feelings are confusing and then you look at a word that represents something and go, “wow, that me”, it can help you realize you’re valid and find a community and that’s great. There is so much controversy around this issue and others but if we all just calm down, respect each other’s experiences and try to just be nice, reasonable people, which is a lot to ask, let’s be real, it’s quite simple. If you wanna use language to express your honest feelings and identity, that’s great and other people should respect what you say. Likewise, if you hate labels and you just wanna be a formless blob, that’s fine, too. No one should force you. The only thing that isn’t cool is telling other people what they should or should not identify as 'cause that ain’t your problem or your business, bye. This was one of the things that held me back from talking about this for years. Shit’s confusing, man. Let’s just go back to cellular reproduction by mitosis so I don’t really have to be specific. Two people that I really look up to and respect, Harry Styles and Janelle Monae, both famously say that they don’t feel the need to label it which, to be honest, is how I feel and is perfectly okay. But I get it, for me, you want a word. Oh, that’s hard, though. I’m an annoying guy. I feel uncertain specifying my sexuality in the same way I wouldn’t say I am an atheist. Who the fuck am I to say whether God does or doesn’t exist? I don’t know shit 'bout shit and neither does anyone else. I mean I think it’s unlikely in the same way I know I like DICK. But I’m not gonna pretend to have a definite answer here. Looking at my public statements is inconsistent and confusing. Looking at my personal track record through life is super confusing. And looking at the void inside my soul threatening to crush the entire universe with the force of its event horizon of misery and melodrama, well, fuck let’s close that shit up. One thing’s for sure whatever heterosexual is, I ain’t it. Really if you ask me, I don’t think anyone’s totally straight. I think there’s a lot of social and emotional issues getting in the way of yet to be understood feelings of attraction that can be very flexible. And trust me, I’ve known a lot of straight guys until a couple of drinks, some deep conversation, and lingering eye contact, and suddenly they just start leaning in. What does that make them? And am I totally gay? No. Am I slightly more gay or is it just easier for gays to hook up with each other because of societal norms. It’s not like the signs for male and female bathrooms are what I’m attracted to. I don’t care what flesh organ you have between your legs, what your hair’s like, if you’re covered in it or a fuckin’ beluga whale. I’m gonna be honest, I’m not picky. I’m easy. So am I bi or pan or poly? Well, now we’re just in a clusterfuck of defining language and I’m confused and sad and horny. This is why I personally love the word queer. I understand that some people don’t as it is a slur but as someone that’s been the target of it several times throughout my life I’m up for some reclamation. It’s like recycling. The definition makes sense because until society is equal with all sexual and gender identifies, it is literally strange from a conventional viewpoint plus it’s better than a super long acronym, it’s inclusive of everyone and therefore great for formless blobs. There we go, an identity I feel comfortable with. A highly-strung, depressed queer praying for a giant meteor to hurry up and finally eradicate humanity. LMAO, yeet!

But to come full circle, I know that even today, deep in my heart the word gay scares me because that’s how I’ve been conditioned my whole life. So, you know what? Fuck the literal definition and the scientific definition and what everyone thinks. I finally have to just confront and accept this.

I’m gay.

Oh look, didn’t spontaneously fucking combust. Well, there we go, that was a lot of stress about nothing, wasn’t it? Bloody hell. So yup, I’m here, I’m queer, and don’t worry I’m still filled with existential fear.

WE’RE HERE, WE’RE QUEER WE’RE FILLED WITH EXISTENTIAL FEAR.

Chapter 5 – Fear

Even though I’m at this current place, there is still so much I’m afraid of and this has taken months to make because of that. Telling my family was a big fear. I have problems connecting with them emotionally because reasons. So I only came out to them this month and if it didn’t go well, as I’m now the independent adult that I fought so hard to be, I was ready to cut them off like the bottom of a sweater turning into a seasonal crop. But I didn’t have to, love you. I didn’t think they’d reject me these days but coming out is still a surprise. It changes things. And I’m a pretty awkward person generally but the idea of just dropping this in conversation in front of them all terrified me. And I tried several times this year to do it but I just couldn’t. So you know how I finally came out to my family? E-mail. Yep, I literally just sent them an e-mail saying and I quote,

“Hello gang. I’ve been meaning to talk to you all for a while, something quite important that should be disclosed at some point. I thought I would around Christmas, then Mum’s birthday, then last Easter Sunday, etc., but every time I meant to, I either felt like I would ruin the mood of the day or I just felt awkward and didn’t want to. So I decided just to email you all instead which is really inappropriate and just weird but that somehow seems appropriate for me and at least I’ll just finally say it.

Basically I’m gay.”

Yup. It was just getting ridiculous so I thought screw it and hey, it worked. Turns out my remaining family, pretty chill bunch of people. Even my Christian grandma said this,

“We love you for being you. It must be a great relief to finally acknowledge who you are. Popsie and I just want you to be happy. People are born as they are and have no say in it. I hope that now you will feel free to live your life as you want with no pretense.”

Aw.

“Don’t forget the iPad.”

Yes, I said I’d give her my old iPad. She mainly cares about that I thing. Wasn’t so sure when I was 17 but it went well now and I know that makes me lucky but, hey, it shows that times change. As for the other people in my life, obviously all the friends I have now are cool. If anyone in my life I’ve ever known isn’t cool with it then I don’t care. And sure here online there might be a few incredibly lost bigots following me or just some classic trolls who I think should get fucked. No, like literally, I think you should try it. You’ll probably enjoy it and you might learn something about yourself. Inevitably some of you watching this might have a weird reaction if you just feel like it was a shock or you feel hurt that I kept it from you. But I feel like I explained myself reasonably here and going forward I can’t have any space for that, sorry. I’ve come to terms with who I am and now you have to, too, ha. Funnily enough straight up homophobia is probably the one thing I’m not that afraid of, because I just don’t agree so it doesn’t hold much emotional power over me but you bet I’m opening myself up to all new kinds of in real life and international discrimination now which is fun. But one of the other big fears holding me back was, honestly, that I wouldn’t be accepted by the community. I know that it’s a big pride flag covering a lot of ground and even the idea of it and certainly most of it is amazing. But there is a lot of drama within it right now especially on the internet. You’ve got Grindr gays arguing about how manly gays should be, bi’s getting ignored, trans people, especially of color, not being historically appreciated, acephobia, fucking SWERFs and TERFs. No thank you. So even though they are my people, I know some of them will have problems with something. And even then, just seeing such a loud and proud, strong and opinionated group of people celebrating something just intimidates a smol introvert such as myself. And in my mind if these people don’t accept me because I’m not being definitive enough or I took too long then I almost feel like I’ll be alone all over again, and this is a fear that a lot of people have honestly. But I’m a nice guy and I’m trying my best so you better be welcoming, you bunch of fuckin’ queers. And obviously with the topic of sexuality, it doesn’t matter where we are or how far you think we’ve come, by merely mentioning it, I will be opening up a primordial box of bullshit which will include every single stupid argument and question since the dawn of time. [It’s not natural.] There’s gay animals. [Adam and Steve.] That’s based on a story and the protagonist that arrives later probably doesn’t agree with you. [Why can’t we have straight pride?] I could spend 10 hours on all the classic crap and people would still be asking the same things. This being posted on the internet, my hopes are so incredibly low, lower than my self-esteem.  Wow, that is unhealthy. I need to stop doing that. This video is about internalized oppression and the problems of language. I’m not here to pontificate on every topic tangentially related to the entire concept of gayness. *ASMR voice*: Pontificate on every topic tangentially related to the concept of gayness.  

There’s other humans and all the time in the world left for that. The time in the world coincidentally being not much longer. Climate change LMAO. But I had to tell my story so people would understand me and these things. Why coming out is still a big deal because queer people are often invisible and suffering until they have to do it. Some people grow up in supportive environments and it’s a positive experience. But more likely, especially around the world outside of the big cities, it isn’t. This is not a fight that is anywhere near over. Even in Britain today people are debating whether children should be taught to be accepting of sexual and gender identity in school.

Queer people exist. Choosing not to accept them is not an option.

To anyone watching this that isn’t out, it’s okay. You’re okay. You were born this way, it’s right, and anyone that has a problem with it is wrong. Based on your circumstance, you might not feel ready to tell people yet or that it’s safe and that’s fine, too. Just know that living your truth, with pride, is the way to be happy. You are valid. It gets so much better. And the future is clear. It’s pretty queer.

So there we go. Now I can proceed authentically in my life with full disclosure. Cute mutuals know to slide into the DMs. And you can all fuck off and leave me alone.

Bye.

[miss-lady-uhane]

Off My Chest Pt.1

I don't see what's so hard about being in a relationship. You are born in to a group of relationships. Your parents, maybe siblings, aunts, uncles, or cousins?

Then immediately you're expected to create more relationships and this time it's with strangers. You're told at a you age to treat others how you want to be treated but who's to say that others will treat you the way you treat them. It's totally uncertain how a person will react to you since not everyone gets along even for the most simple of reasons.

When I was in elementary school I always had the weirdest time making friends and I think it's because no one else was going through what I was going through. At that time I was too young to connect those dots because I didn't even really know what I was going through. I always hung out with my cousin patsy when we weren't in school, mostly because my dad was working and she was also my only cousin who was my age. I think we got along well but we just had different views about things. We both grew up in a Jehovah Witness family, and by that I mean my grandparents were both heavily religious and had 13 kids where majority of them were also heavy in to the JW beliefs. The difference between us was that her dad didn't care about going to church and never let the rest of the family pressure him. My dad was always in the church as a young man but was also a troublemaker and actually was disfellowshiped which means no one in the JW congregation could talk to you because you've basically been banned and the only way to get that back is to do everything you're supposed to do in regards to being a good follower.

I don't exactly know how his obligations transferred to me but we always had to go to church until I was maybe 6-8? And I had to go alone. My older cousins would take me to bible study or come over and study the watch tower. At a young age I started to actually realize how hypocritical that was, why do I have to get dressed up and memorize the Bible when my dad just stays home every night? Boom. All at once I was a bad person even though I never did anything wrong.

As a kid I spent a lot of time with my dad who was really strict. My grandma got me a phone because he would refuse to answer her calls and that was both the best and worst gift. I could have some kind of social life and hang out with my friends but my dad would literally call me every 20 minutes and I'm not exaggerating. It got to the point where I would just turn my phone off even if I knew I would get in trouble.

The constant calling and over-protection along with my dad always being gone for work coupled with moving in to smaller and smaller housing situations started to change me inside. I started realizing that not everything was peachy-keen. My dads best friends who I would go over and hang out with their kids no longer wanted him around which meant I had less and less friends. I started to wonder why my dad was always so frantic and why these people he's known his whole life started to drift away from him. The final time we moved to Pa'anau village which was basically Kauai's section 8 housing changed everything. After a lot of drama and overhearing arguments I realized that we were poor. I was still to young to understand why that was but I wasn't really bothered by it because I still wore the same school uniform, I still saw my friends from school, I still went to the beach every day. The only thing that was different now was that my dad was unemployed because the union does massive layoffs all the time.

I was still in middle school at this time and things started to change a little, people wanted to come to my neck of the woods all the sudden and I could never think of an excuse to tell them why they couldn't. Because my dad is a hoarder? Because I live in the ghetto? Or what else? Because my dad refused to pick me up or drop me off because he was always asleep? I never questioned why my dad was the way he was. I always just thought he was sad and missed my mom. He would cry a lot and have nightmares where he would yell for her and I would go in and wake him up and he would just cry.

I learned a lot about growing up once we moved to pa'anau. I had to clean our apartment all the time or it would be a mess, I did my own laundry. I definitely got in a lot of trouble because of who I was hanging out with in the environment. Living there and going to school in the city really changed who I was as a person.

I never saw myself as a "hot girl" or let alone a "pretty island girl". When I was in chief was I remember being like wow I thought I was a tomboy before and now I don't even own a pair of short hollister jean shorts. Either way I made my own path, I had the typical "text" boyfriend that I never saw in my life. We'd look at each other after our friends would go tell them something we each sent them on a mission to relay. Never really cared for any of that because in reality I was still shooting my guy friends with airsoft guns on the weekends.

After a while I realized that I couldn't just hang out with my two guy friends (Curtis & Treydon) because they too were finding themselves in a whole new world. I started hanging out with girls.. I just always felt like I never fit in. Girls as a whole are hard to get close with because there is ALWAYS drama. I still managed to have a group of friends wether I was unsure of if they really liked me or not we all ate lunch and we all hung out every lunch and found each other in class.

In the 8th grade things started to go for a wild turn. I got in a lot of trouble since my after school friends were those in my neighborhood and most of the people who lived in Pa'anau Village have drug using parents or drug dealing parents. I ended up getting arrested for the first time when I was 11 years old. We were eating ice cream I. Old Koloa Town when one of our friends said hey that couple left their bag should we take it? I remember everyone being scared and not wanting to but before I knew it she grabbed it and everyone just started running so of course I ran. She started opening the bag once we got to a bush covered pond near by and I realized we fucked up. The bag had her cell phone, her engagement ring, wedding band, Movado watch, everything. When they caught us I didn't have anything in my possession but the only thing that linked me was a phone call to my cell phone from the stolen phone. That call was made by a friends boyfriend who thought it was funny.

I'm now an 11 year old on probation. Grounded for life, can't affiliate with those friends, not to mention that we all had a different version of what happened. After this I found out that not only those friends but also our mutual school friends also had it out for me. As some kind of joke while we were banned from seeing each other they made a fake MySpace page where they started flirting with all kinds of guys including my last friend left in the groups boyfriend.

At this point I pretty much gave up on everyone I knew. I didn't want to hang out with them and I knew that I could find better people to be with. 8th grade summer my cousin Levi who was for some reason two years older than me in the same grade invited me to hang out with his friends. They were all way older and looked at me crazy!

A 13 year old? Who brought her here. But I was a balmores and they knew my older cousins really well. This group wasn't easy to get in to but once again I found my way and stuck around.

This all leads me to what I wanna figure out. Why, do I consistently get shafted? My 9th grade year I met a boy, he was quiet and literally said nothing to me. We would pass at school and for the first time ever I was like wow who is that. Fast forward, I find out he's friends with my new older friends because he was a senior which would make sense why I never saw him before. We eventually had small interactions and then one day at a party we hooked up. Go figure. We danced and kissed and I was like holy shit I'm gonna get in so much trouble. After that he literally said nothing to me until months went by and it happened again and this time it went all the way. First of all as I'm writing this why the fuck would he be the one to choose? Fuckin guy didn't do anything. Anyway.

I'm 14 and I've lost my virginity to a senior who also lost his virginity to me. Everyone we knew found out and made fun of him for hooking up with such a young girl. Everyone was so mean to me and he never talked to me again not a single word. Later I find out he was too embarrassed, what a pussy.

Instead of being sad I got really mad and started partying more and being kind of a tease because I thought it was funny that guys would try to hook up with me and I could say no but a girl they knew for years would be trying to hook up with them and the guy wouldn't want to. My way of killing two birds with one stone, getting over a guy and pissing off girls who were being mean to me.

Eventually I had my first legit boyfriend and that was.. a first. Typical I threw away my whole world for him but it wasn't hard since we were in the same group, things continued pretty much as normal minus the fact that I always had a ride now.

A lot of things happened that would need an entire book to fill in order for me to explain my self enstated independence from my dad, moving in with a friend, moving in with my coupons, then ending up in Washington.

I spent the entire time in Washington flying back and forth to California partially to see my boyfriend and partially to stay with friends and party.

My boyfriend and I ended pretty bad. He had developed depression and became a legitimate alcoholic, was cheating on me with multiple girls who I was suspicious of, then finally he was a complete drunk monster and that was the end of that.

Once again I found my way. I stayed in Washington and completed high school where I also met a whole squad of female demons. But yet again I started dating someone I met at a party. I didn't know him at all just what I knew from parties and social media. I figured we would be good friends and have fun and it was one of those things where he just called me his girlfriend one day. This was the biggest mistake I could've ever made. This guy was abusive, mentally and physically. I've never dealt with anyone like that and found myself at my weakest point. He spat in my face, threw my belongings all over the place, cheated on me physically, cheated on me on social media, fought with me publicly and on social media. Ultimately he ended up hacking any kind of internet profile I owned and was trying to ruin my life and I had to go to his house get my stuff and tell his parents and threaten legal action. Worst person ever.

Then right before I move to college a friend of mine was really in to setting me up with someone and I told her sure but nothing official. I hung out with this guy and her a few times and started to like him just because he was a normal guy. Pretty basic, friends, family, a dog. Most of all worshipped the ground I walk on. Everything was pretty easy going he asked me to be his girlfriend and I didn't see why not so I said yes, we dated in Washington for 3 months. I moved to California and we were still together even though that wasn't the plan. While I was there the day before my first ever jiu jitsu tournament I get a call "Keanna I'm so sorry I should've never done that I feel so terrible" the voice was a girl but the number wasn't recognized. It was a friend of my boyfriend, she told me that they went to lunch and after went back to his place. I didn't care much about him hanging out with girls because he had a lot of girl friends and it just wasn't an issue. She said that she wanted to break up with her crazy boyfriend and she saw an opportunity (to cheat) and took it. They went back to his house after having a long talk about how they used to have feelings for each other. The stories after this don't really add up but what I gather is that they went up to his room to have sex or something and she started feeling guilty, because we were "friends" and told him she changed her mind to which he responded "can I touch your ass at least" and she pulled her pants down and he touched her ass. Doesn't make sense yeah? So anyway I'm not really trying to deal with this and I should've broken up with him but instead I call him and I said "what did you do?" He sounds confused so I ask again but this time louder. He panicks and says I don't know I don't know. He ended up telling me and flew down the weekend after because wanted to talk. While he was there I looked through his phone and saw some other conversations he was having and also saw that when we first were hanging out he had another option if I didn't go through. Another option who apparently was in his bed when they were making out and she got her period and bled on him she felt so inclined to apologize. After this I lost my shit and didn't trust him at all and I just wanted him to leave. He begged me to forgive him and promised nothing would ever happen again and like me, I go with it. We end up dating for a total of two years. After he said he wouldn't do anything he really didn't. I still let him do whatever he wanted if he wanted to go to Vegas with his friends or party or go to lunch with girls. I just didn't really care I guess, my friend told me "do what you want to do so I know what you'd rather do" so I kept that. Eventually I was tired of how dependent he was. I had to do everything for him aside from basic chores. I had to file papers for him (e.g work, school, gym) I felt like I was teaching him how to do things and I just got tired of it. I felt like everything was almost too good and too plain because I was carrying the relationship. I was better than him at everything. We broke up and he moved out which was a long process.

During that process I was working my first full time job, had a recently found new best friend, and was spending most of my time with someone from high school who didn't like me but we ended up liking our adult selfs. This person suggested that I start hanging out with a teammate, a guy I knew since the 6th grade, or at least knew who he was. She said she thought we would be cute together and people always made fun of us for being so close. Never in my mind did I think I would date him. I just didn't see him like that. We started hanging out and realized we have a lot more in common than we thought. Everything happened pretty fast and things were so different. For once I was open to the idea of having a "friends with benefits" because I knew this person for a while and knew he wasn't exactly the relationship type. I told him that this could work out as long as he didn't keep me in the dark and was honest with me. After 4 months of us being kind of exclusive kind of not he told me that he loved me more than anyone else and I felt the same way. We were officially official. I felt so close to him in ways I never felt with anyone else. Eventually we had our first issue. I had found out that he had been chatting with our old classmate who lived in a city near by, he was telling her all kinds of false nothings and she asked "aren't you dating Keanna?" To which he replied "ugh". I found out because we were sitting with each other that night and she messaged him, I said ew why are you talking to that girl? And he said they were talking because she lived near by. I messaged her "hey girl. Bryson told me you live in LA we should hang sometime" to which she responded something like "Keanna I'm so sorry I shouldn't have been talking to him I'm so sorry I did this to you" followed with screenshots of their conversation. I was hurt. I freaked out, he left, he came back and squeezed me tight after hours of us fighting and said he was sorry and it would never happen again. A few months go by and we're sort of living together mostly because I didn't want to hang out at his house anymore and my place was cuter. Every morning before he went to work he spent a huge amount of time in the bathroom and I was always kind of like wtf and I don't remember how I found this out but I found out that he was flirting with girls during those hours because some how one of the girls told me and sent me screenshots of their conversations. Once again I got mad and forgave him and months went by. I go away for thanksgiving break leaving him at our place/my place. I come back to beautiful flowers and more attention than I had before. He told me shortly after that break that he wasn't going to be hanging with his old friends because they were bad news and I was pretty surprised. I kind of agreed but I also think.. idk my friends are wild too. Either way things were good. One day he gets a FaceTime call and didn't want to answer it, I copied the number in to google and found a name of a girl I recognized from a while ago at my birthday. I was drunk and he let me send a Snapchat to a bunch of girls I told them "I will ruin your life" the only one who responded was this girl who said "I didn't even do anything" and I thought it was funny. I find out that while I was gone for thanksgiving he and his friend picked this girl up and her friend and brought them to my apartment and they stayed the night. They made a vlog about how they picked them up in my car and how they hung out at my place and slept so long that they missed their flight. The next morning there were videos of my boyfriend driving them back in my car. My heart stopped.

I've never felt so blind sided in my life. I hated him and I didn't want to see him again but somehow he convinced me that it was all a mistake and he already cut all these toxic people out of his life.

He suggested that we delete social media and I remember the exactly message "if you love me you'll do the same thing" and I was like wow, yeah let's do it. That was probably the most interesting time of my life. For once I didn't have social media and I had to answer to everyone as to why and tell them that I am okay and that I'm just taking time off. We ended up moving to LA to be closer to school. His friend moved in from Kauai and stayed only 6 months. Living in LA was an interesting change. We got to eat a lot and experience a different kind of the city.

Lots of little things happened while we were here, we fought a lot about social media. He would reactivate his Instagram without telling me which I felt like was kind of shady since we were doing this together and I didn't know there was that option on the table but I felt like life was better without it anyway. At one point I saw a call on his phone made from Snapchat to a random girl. I asked about it and it got no where but I became very suspicious. At this point my trust level was low as could be but I just thought that the goods were good and that bads were so stupid and avoidable. One day I just decided to look through his Venmo and the first name said "queenturtlee" I was like wtf kind of name is that so I look it up on google and see that it's connected to a Twitter account of a girl asking people to send her money. I reach out to her and ask why she's friends with my boyfriend to which she sends me screenshots of their conversations and once again I am frantic. I screenshot all of it and send it to him, we go through the apologies again. And yet again I believe that he was going to delete it. Half way through living in Palos Verdes, life at this point is a fucking rollercoaster. I haven't told anyone about anything thats happened I haven't opened up or really understand how I feel about it we just keep moving. One night after he was out with friends he was getting texts and calls from a Hawaii phone number which I thought was strange, I look it up on a google and I recognize the name. I start questioning it but I get deflected, it's nothing it's nothing. Once again we move on.

A few months go by and we're hit with an actual pandemic. We leave LA all together to go to Washington temporarily and it turned in to permanently after realizing that life in California just wasn't going to be sustainable. I graduated college virtually, we were living in my grandmas house for 3-4 months. Things were weird. We were managing to stay positive by doing all the things we possibly could to stay active and have a good summer.

Eventually we got our own place, moved all our belongings up, and got a puppy! Things were still locked down but at least we had all of our things and more importantly we had this little fluffy bear.

I've always struggled with birth control because I would get the worst symptoms so a friend told me about tracking ovulation and taking my basal body temperature in place of taking birth control. This method was risky but I felt like it was okay because she does it. One day I felt really sick and realized I didn't get my period, I took 5 pregnancy tests all faded positive negative. This led to me having to take a bunch of blood tests and ultrasounds to find out that I was exactly 3 weeks pregnant.

I wasn't ready and had no intention on having the baby but I had to wait until a fetus was visible to do anything about it. While I'm in this process I get a random message from a classmate I haven't talked to in years. They say "hey girl sorry to message you about this but I was at a family party and there were some girls talking about your boyfriend subscribing to her only fans" I immediately felt my heart drop lower than ever. The girl who was at the party messaged me, she told the girl with the only fans to message me and she did. She sent me everything and I remembered a time recently when I walked out late at night and saw him on Snapchat which is where the messages she showed me came from. So once again I confront him but this time it's different. I'm going through something that I never thought. I'm waiting weeks knowing I'm pregnant feeling nauseas, anxious, and scared. What am I supposed to do now.

After a huge fight, the solution was that he would delete it again and give me his password.

This was probably the worst it ever was. A couple nights I unlocked his phone and then got nervous and locked it again. I wanted to look but I was scared of what I would find. I couldn't sleep every night, I didn't know what I was doing, I didn't know if I could trust him anymore. Everything was so good how was I going to deal with a breakup, a puppy separation, all after moving to a new state. I thought to myself, if I don't look now I'll never know. So I do. I find messages that date back to a year. I find all the extra messages that no one sent me, I find money trails sent to females for nudes or sexual messages. Worst of all I find the girl that I saw calling him a year before when he came home late that one night. He had been talking to this girl the entire time, telling her stories about things we were doing. Worst of all is that he wrote the words "I love you".

I completely lost my shit. I woke him up in a rage showing him all the things I saw asking him how he could do this to me.

I never wanted to see him again I felt like I was going to throw up. I was crying so much I felt like the world knew.

He went to his moms house and I tried to stay out or away as much as possible without telling my family anything. At this point it hurt so much. I love him so much, everything outside of social media is a dream so why would he risk that? I felt insecure. A few days before my surgery he told me that he wanted to be there for me and that he was a changed person and realized how fucked up he was but he didn't want me to go through it alone. I didn't want to go through it alone either, I couldn't stop thinking about what I saw and all the names I read. I felt alone and like I was looking at a stranger.

He came back and we slowly tried to figure out how to be normal again. Since then we've moved on far but I think he moves much faster or at least it seems like it. He is my best friend and someone I care about differently than I've ever before. We make a great team, we support each other and know each other on a deep level. We can be our selves with each other. We know each other more than I've ever known any of my friends.

Today, we are still together. He is still my best friend. Our little fluffy bear is now a semi-huge German shepherd who is the cutest and most well behaved 9 month old ever. We've established ourselves in Washington and he actually got a really good job doing what he went to school for. In regards to loyalty things have been going well so far. It's taken me a lot to get to where I am now, I feel like I lost myself for a long time. I'm trying to work on myself lately and trying to stay focused on things that really matter. Our life is pretty much picture perfect but we're still growing up.

Our most constant argument is always social media, but now it's all over the place. It's me being crazy, it's him being careless. A constant circle of misunderstanding each other and breaking each other down emotionally. Sometimes I wish there was a way to forget everything. I wish social media was as it were before, simple. I wish communication wasn't so aggressive and that there was an easier way to mediate instead of getting a therapist. I don't know I wish there was a way to make the pain go away. To not think about what's made me who I am today.

I think it's hard being in your 20s. Everyone is at different stages of life. They have different priorities. People who you grew up with are now spread across the world and you may go years without seeing someone you consider your close friend.

One thing that's hard for me now is not knowing what's next. I feel as if I've given all of the emotional gas I have and if anything else makes my heart drop I think I'll completely give up.

I wish it was easier to get over a fear but some people including myself need extra support. Unfortunately for my boyfriend, not only does he get to deal with what we've been through but he has to deal with all that I've been through.

I always feel like no one I know actually knew what I went through growing up. Boyfriends or best friends are usually the ones who get to know you best and so far only one person who's not my family knows so much about me. Life has shown me how easy it's been for people to leave me or treat me badly. I know that I am not a perfect person but I do know that I don't deserve half the things I experienced. I blame myself for being too forgiving, I blame the church for teaching me that trait, I blame my dad for making me go and making me think life was different than it was.

At this point I have no one to blame but myself for how things have gone. All I can hope is that all that I have now stays afloat and keeps growing in the positive direction that it has. I can't control everything even though I want to.

[bearsfakedthemoonlanding]

To demonstrate what sort of child I was when I was little, here's a list of things I was deathly afraid of throughout the years:

age 4: the geese from the Aristocats. the weird little song that played while they waddled scared the hell out of me, and every time I closed my eyes at night I could hear the song and thought they were marching to come get me.

age 5: house fires. my house was going to catch fire and roast me alive. i was entirely convinced.

age 6: Chucky, from the movie Chucky. I believed any dark hallway I turned down would have him at the end of it, waddling menacingly towards me.

age 6: those timed math worksheets with 20+ addition problems on them. used to throw me into a daily meltdown. 

age 6: i couldn’t use chopsticks. thought that would be my entire undoing.

age 7: i realized that i was as young as i would ever be, and that i was only ever going to get older, and that all the adults i knew were sad and tired, and i worried i was wasting my entire childhood. my mom was unprepared for this crisis.

age 7-8: the little boy from The Grudge. i had those same dark shadows under my eyes and thought this meant I was possessed. i wouldn't look in the mirror for a while.

age 7-8: you know the Extremely Goofy Movie? where Max participates in the extreme sports competition and has to go down that huge skateboard ramp? I thought everyone who went to college had to go down one of those ramps and had a few breakdowns trying to explain to my mom that I couldn't go to college cause I couldn't skateboard.

age 8: bacon. my third grade teacher said her husband ate bacon every Sunday morning, and that's the reason he had a massive heart attack and died. i thought bacon and butter were going to immediately kill me.

age 9: the lizards from Holes. they could be anywhere. i couldn't go up the stairs without holding something to smash the lizards for at least a month.

age 9: the coffee maker sounded like a dog growling, and i thought that if i listened to it brewing coffee, I'd someone employ the power of God and summon a mean dog into my kitchen to eat me.

age 9: my mom showed me a documentary about demon possession which made me terrified of 1. ouija boards, 2. my bed floating in the air and shaking around while i slept (because that's how demons fuck with you), 3. floating cups/cups sliding across the counter on their own, and 4. kitchen cabinets opening by themselves

age 10: the phantom from the phantom of the opera. i imagined him crouching above every doorway and leaping down to stab me if i entered rooms un-prepared.

age 11: heaven. they explained the concept of "eternal life" and what exactly eternal meant, and i was so distraught at the idea of doing anything or being any one place forever that i hyperventilated every time i thought about it

age 12: tampons. this one made more sense than anything else, considering my upbringing. they were the devil's fingers. i didn't start menstrating for another two years, but i was still deeply concerned.

age 13: i thought half the songs on The Black Parade were going to accidentally summon demons into my room

age 13: crucifixes. because of that scene in Nightmare on Elm St 2 (maybe 4? 5? I don't remember). where the bad guy is trying to come through the wall and pushes the crucifix off and it falls down? and other movie scenes where the cross turns upside down. I figured crucifixes would tell me whether or not there were demons there, and I prefered not to be aware of them, thanks

age 14: kissing. tongues, in particular. i was worried that kissing would taste so bad that i'd throw up in the other person's mouth, and i avoided kissing anyone for as long as possible. literally until eleventh grade.

other fears from across the years: the theme song from Law and Order, the cat from the Simpsons, my grandmother stabbing me, Buddhists, Catholicism???, Lake Michigan flooding and washing away my hometown (which was half an hour from Lake Michigan...), empty public restrooms, and the belief that i was going to trip, fall down the stairs, break my neck, and be paralyzed forever.

things i wasn't afraid of that would have been more beneficial: strangers in the woods, falling off the roof, wild snakes, rabies, the religious brainwashing i was raised on

[kainumbernine009]

I literally cannot do anything else until I get this out.

I’m... really not okay.

And when I say that, I’m not mentally unstable. I say that because I’m tired of waiting on empty promises, I’m tired of never having money in our account, I’m tired of living in a fucking city where half of the white people fucking worship the ground Trump walks on, and where most of the gay community has so much messy drama that it’s worse than middle school. And I went to a rough middle school.

I never talk about my past, because I don’t like to. It sucked. HARD. Being and only child in my family was nothing less than torture, especially as a closeted queer person. We grew up in the white Christian part of Nashville that dominated Music Row in the 90′s and early 2000′s. I played basketball with Alan Jackson’s daughter, and being around famous people was just no big deal. But, my parents decided to leave Nashville after my dad lost his job at TPAC, and we moved down south an hour to the town where the KKK got started (Pulaski, TN).

I had maybe two non-white people in my private Christian school growing up. I was never afraid of Black people, but my parents showed their racist asses quick when we moved there. The KKK has never left America, guys, no matter how many articles you read or studies you do. From 2005 to 2009 I saw a white town show its very worst to the Black community. I’ll never forget the first time I saw a march for “White Christians for Purity” the summer before Obama got elected. The disgust I felt inside was palpable. I had all kinds of friends in school, and I didn’t give TWO SHITS who they were or what they looked like... but I saw children my age, being brainwashed by their parents, that “white” is “right.”

Ever since then, I have been learning and growing about the issues of race. I remember my white classmates using the N word and getting away with it. I remember hearing about the principal at the high school punishing all the Black kids but not the white kids. I remember being invited to a church south of town that was a historically Black church, and how nice the ladies were to me for coming.

But I’ll never forget the racism that the religious groups promoted there, especially First Baptist Church and the 12 Tribes. I’ll never forget how FBC told me that my friend was going to Hell because she killed herself. I’ll never forget my mom telling me not to marry a Black man because of “impure genes.” I WILL NEVER FORGET THE INJUSTICES I SAW WHITE PEOPLE DOING TO BLACK PEOPLE THERE. NEVER.

And thank God, I have shaken the burden of religious guilt, but I still fight against this mentality. I live in a place that’s usually not even 10 minutes away from Trump-humping, sister-fucking, meth-addicted Confederate cunts in any direction. And we’re even closer to the rich white people who silently supported him, upset that their taxes would go up because of Biden.

And in the past four years since Trump got elected, I’ve gotten married, graduated college with honors, started my own photography business, and was making more than my husband there for a minute. I did my own taxes, marketing, editing, and everything. And then I came out as trans.

I lost everything.

I lost my studio. I lost friends. I had rumors started about me. I had people post hate messages on my wall. I had people at my drag shows tell others not to tip me, for whatever fucking reasons. I’ve had bosses give cis people jobs over me, and I’ve had government workers give me second looks when I hand them my license.

It. Fucking. Sucks. To. Live. Here. Like. This.

Oh yeah, did I mention I’m also a witch/medium? I’ve talked to dead people before and have told their relatives things I shouldn’t have known otherwise about their grandparents. Like, this information doesn’t even exist on Google. And I’m attuned to reiki. I’m always aware of what’s happening on at least SOME metaphysical level. This is a gift that I’ve had to go through life developing and learning about myself, with no one’s help but me.

I didn’t even know until I was an adult that I have autism and ADHD.

I’ve taken bullets from people who were about to kill themselves. I’ve yelled at 5th grade music classrooms for doing racist dance moves and appropriating Native Americans (I have a degree in Music Education K-12). I’ve consoled kids in classrooms who suddenly have panic attacks. AND I’ve told horny teenagers to stay in their fucking lane and respect the girls around them. I’ve apparently been an inspiration to those around me, but inspiration NOR exposure pays the bills. I’ve already had COVID, and so has my husband, but I knew that after graduating college that I would never have a fulfilling life being a music teacher in Tennessee’s public schools.

And now that we have COVID, and an orange, small-dicked, pedophilic, rape apologizing, dirty, crusty white president who STILL REFUSES TO CONCEDE, who is DIRECTLY RESPONSIBLE FOR HAVING HIS FOLLOWERS SEND DEATH THREATS TO MY FAMILY, I really don’t know what the fuck else to do other than go burn down all the houses I know of in North Georgia that belong to these Christian sex cult pedophiles and call it a day. My girlfriend unfortunately was born into one of those families, and I know just how bad it can get. In fact, her dad’s lawyer threatened me with blackmail earlier in November, so that was fun!

And now, on December 11, 2020, I’m still sitting here in the same fucking house, doing the same fucking things I’ve been doing all year - trying to get a job and failing horribly. I’M SICK AND TIRED OF THIS COVID BULLSHIT AND OUR INCOMPOTENT CUNT OF A PRESIDENT! And there’s only ever one other person I’ve ever called a cunt... my own mother.

I’ve lived in many places. I’ve met many different people. I’ve made mistakes, and have grown, but there’s one thing for damn sure that I always make sure to do, every single fucking day.

I ALWAYS try to do better.

In addition to this, I treat everyone with the same amount of respect, unless they have done something directly to me to negate that. If I know that someone believes in something that directly harms me or my family, I don’t even associate with them. I don’t spend my energy on things that don’t need it. And everyone else should, too.

The problem with some of y’all is that you care about the wrong things. Like will Becky text me back or did I get front row seats to that concert, or did I slave my life away to capitalism just so that I can own a Mercedes and have my friends jealous. I’ve had way too many dear death experiences to know that EVERY single fucking day is a gift. EVERY day.

I don’t want to be remembered first for the art I create. I want to be remembered for my character. I want to be remembered as the courageous person who never backed down in the face of adversity. But when you live in a place that already hates you and that is against you, that’s really fucking hard. Trust me. My marriage went from a cis straight passing couple to a white gay passing couple. I’ve seen how people’s attitudes changed around me as I transitioned. I know what it feels like to slowly lose a piece of your privilege you were born with.

So yeah, I kinda get a little fucking upset when I see people saying All Lives Matter, or when I see doctors refusing to treat trans patients in pandemics, or when I see cops YET AGAIN harassing Black people only a few blocks away from my house for no other reason than racism. And at this point, anyone who thinks they know me but only knows what people think they know about me can suck my entire ass and eat ten dicks. I don’t give a FUCK about who you are or what you’ve done. If you treat me or other people with no respect for no reason other than to be an asshole, you’re just plain shit. If you SERIOUSLY believe every little rumor and lie that someone tells about me before meeting me, fuck you AND the horse you rode in on.

What I can’t stand is people doing or saying things just to get a rise out of me or others. I thought we left petty shit in high school. Some of the people that “know” me really need to fucking grow up and grow a pair and either say what they want to my face, or stay mad. I’m tired of playing fucking petty games with y’all. We have a whole ass pandemic to solve.

So here’s the ultimatum... if you agree that Black Lives Matter and that queer people deserve basic human rights, EVEN THE ONES YOU HATE, then that’s the bare minimum to even be a decent person. If you can’t even do those things, then I don’t fucking know what else to say to you.

So NBC, maybe not have John Mulaney joke about my license debacle with my gold van on SNL, and Seth Meyers... maybe HIRE ME INSTEAD of Mulaney because clearly y’all don’t know about the south as much as I do? Oh, and that gazeebo joke with Lee University... I caught that. I may have autism, but I’m not a fucking idiot. I mean. I’m funny when I’m given the chance. And yeah, I’m on a watchlist, but who the fuck isn’t these days? At least all my secrets are out for the world to see, and I have a bangin’ tattoo.

I’m tired of everyone being like “omg, I’ve seen what he can do, it’s fantastic!” or “omg you’re so funny haha” and bragging on me and then NOT FUCKING HIRING ME. I’m TIRED of waiting on something that’s clearly at this point never coming.

I don’t even have testicles, and my balls are bigger than most of the cis men I have EVER met.

So, if you want to help me, or hire me, or get me out to an audition... I’ll be there. But until then, I’m so fucking MAD at some of these producers. Yeah, my mom is a cunt, but she worked in various forms of digital production from the 1980′s until she retired this year. She taught me SO MUCH about directing, writing, shooting, and more. I know how these things are supposed to run behind the scenes. I know what the fuck I’m doing, and I don’t take constructive criticism like a bitch. I actually WANT to be criticized, so I can do even better.

So PLEASE, for the love of Christ... y’all need to get your priorities together AND PLEASE STOP LEAVING ME OUT OF THE LOOP WITH THIS BULLSHIT. Grow a fucking pair and either call me, email me, or leave me alone. It’s really not that fucking hard. Looking at you, Lorne Michaels.

Oh and someone tell my husband what the fuck’s been going on because I’m tired of him gaslighting me about it.

[cxlvins]

...000. INTRODUCTION.

helloooo lovelies ! my name is evan (he/him), i’m twenty-two and from the gmt timezone ! i’m super excited for this to open because i’ve got so much muse right now. i’m down for any and all plots, seriously, i love plotting ! this is calvin, he’s an angry mess of a character, but he’s fun to play, so ! if you just wanna get to know the character, you can skip past the other sections and just focus on personality, i’ve also put some wanted connections in there too ! if you would like to plot, then either shoot me a message here or on discord (heterosexual? how vintage!#8600) or alternatively, like this post and i will message you !

caution: alcohol, drugs, mental health, death.

›› ✱ xavier serrano, cismale, he/him. you’ve met calvin marx, right? they’re around twenty-three and a twitch streamer. they’re all about thrift store clothing and the faint smell of cologne and cigarettes, hence why they’re known as the spitfire around town. everyone knows them to be pretty gregarious but i’ve heard they’re actually sort of volatile, too… don’t tell them i said that, okay?

...001. BRIEF HISTORY.

calvin grew up very underprivileged for the first 11 years of his life in brooklyn, ny.

his father died when he was 5 years old to a drug overdose, leading his mother became a single mother to him and his younger sister, essentially meaning that calvin had to grow up and be the ‘man of the house’ without having a choice.

because of her new single-mother status, calvins mother had to work 3 different jobs in order for the family to pay rent (a cleaner in mornings, a store assistant in the day and a bartender in the evenings), which meant she was rarely home and left calvin to raise both himself and younger sister.

from a very early age, it was apparent that calvin suffered from anger issues, dyslexia and adhd, constantly getting into fights at every opportunity, his complete inability to focus and never managing to make it through a week at school without a phone call home.

these issues remained untreated, due to his mother putting it down to the ‘boys will be boys’ ideology, and concluding that calvin was just an energetic one at that.

because of this, calvin fell into the wrong crowd pretty quickly and settled into his mindset that he was never going to achieve all that much anyway, because no matter how hard he tried, he could never score well on any test at school.

at the age of 9, calvins mother met, fell in love with and soon married a former client for whom she cleaned for.  calvins new step father was incredibly wealthy, due to being a successful franchisee and also being very largely into stock trading.

calvin, his sister and mother were all moved to his home in cherrybrooks, which calvin struggled to adjust to, as he missed his friends back north.

now having access to as much money as he want led him down an early path into experimenting with drugs and alcohol, which soon became a bad habit.

although he wanted to drop out of school, his new step-father would not allow it, which became a large source of conflict for the family over the course of the next few years.

failing to graduate high school at age eighteen, calvin couldn’t deal with living with his family any more and left the house to move into a small apartment, 30 minutes away, with a roommate (possibly a member of the clique).

calvins only real passions were for gaming and sport, and as he smoked and did way too many drugs to make it in any sporting profession, he turned his attention to twitch streaming. he began this pretty soon and built up a solid fanbase (which he wanted to call the marxists, but in calvins words, apparently some dead man already claimed that title).

...002. PERSONALITY.

calvin is a naturally angry person who can lose his cool and go from 0 to 100 in a matter of seconds, he rarely gives off signs that he is getting angry until he boils over, so people tend to watch what they say around him.

calvin is self-serving, his feelings will always come before those around him. although he is getting better at managing this, if something will result in calvin gaining something at the expense of somebody else, he will most likely go ahead with it.

calvin is not well educated, so he doesn’t tend to enjoy arguing with words, as he can never seem to find the ones to correctly express how he feels. instead, calvin is much more likely to act physically when something has irritated him (whether this be on a person or inanimate object).

calvin is an awful liar, he cannot lie to save his life as his face always tends to show when he doesn’t agree with an idea/opion/thought that somebody says. because of this, he is very outspoken, and will just say what he’s thinking regardless of if it’s going to hurt somebodies feelings. he’d rather upset them with the truth, than get caught out for lying.

calvin is an extrovert and gains energy from being around people - the more people the better, because of this, he has become a major party animal and loves attending any and all parties that is going on, despite if he’s fond of the hosts or not.

calvin is a heavy user of drugs, alcohol & cigarettes. this is primarily down to his naturally addictive personality and constant need to feel like he’s happy, so that he doesn’t get sad again. there will rarely be a day where he will not  be intoxicated in some way and he will have a cigarette at least once an hour – and that’s on a good day.

calvin is very much into sports. although not a natural athlete, nor somebody interested in playing sports competitively, calvin loves watching any and all sports, and he likes to play them when he can. due to his smoking habit, he can’t play sports for too long, but will always give it a good go.

similarly to this, calvin is very much into gaming. calvin loves fast-paced games, because they manage to keep his attention despite him not having a very long attention span. most games that he plays are first person shooters, and he’s usually the guy on the mic screaming when a teammate fucks up during online play. a big appeal to him was that games were the only thing he could focus his mind on as a child.

calvin is very much a boys boy, he genuinely abides by the bible of ‘ bros before hoes ‘ because he’s stupid.

calvin hates movies but loves tv, he finds that watching moves involves sitting still for too long, but tv allows him to take more breaks and keeps his interest for longer. although. he’d probably trade both of them for a chance to leave the house.

...003. TRAITS.

[ G R E G A R I O U S ] (+) — a person fond of company; sociable.

[ I N T U I T I V E ] (+) — using or based on what one feels to be true even without conscious reasoning; instinctive.

[ F O R T H R I G H T ] (+) — direct and outspoken.

[ V O L A T I L E ] (-) — liable to change rapidly and unpredictably, especially for the worse.

[ V E N G E F U L ] (-) — not willing to forgive or excuse people’s faults or wrongdoings.

[ H E D O N I S T I C ] (-) — engaged in the pursuit of pleasure; sensually self-indulgent.

...004. WANTED CONNECTIONS.

CURRENT BEST FRIENDS — Possibly a boy squad? I live for a good boy squad. This person will have similar interests to Calvin, or be able to tolerate his volatile mood.

CHILDHOOD BEST FRIENDS — Someone with a similar upbringing from Brooklyn, most likely they grew apart when Calvin moved to Wilmington.

RIDE OR DIES — Although he primarily looks out for himself, I’m down to have Calvin have one person who he’s loyal to and will refuse to betray, we can come up with a fun reason for why he cares so much if you’re interested in this one.

HIS ROOMMATE — Somebody that moved with Calvin into his current apartment when he moved out at 18.

A GOOD INFLUENCE ON CALVIN — One of my favorite connections for Calvin to have is somebody who knows all of his flaws and attempts to help fix them. They’ll have to be patient, though, as Calvin doesn’t see himself for having any issues.

SOMEBODY HE IS A BAD INFLUENCE OF — On the opposite, I love when Calvin has somebody that he can introduce to bad things, corrupt easily and get a kick out of watching the commotion.

EXES ON BAD TERMS — Cheating on each other is usually an easy one to go with, but if you want, we can think of something more unique as to how it all fucked up and why they now hate each other.

EXES ON GOOD TERMS — Maybe they still occasionally fuck? There could still be an attraction there, but just no romantic chemistry. Alternatively, they tried it and both just couldn’t see it going anywhere.

EXES WITH LINGERING FEELINGS — There’s a ton of different reasons for why there’s still lingering feelings. The feelings could be one-sided or both ways.

EX FLINGS — Started as friends with benefits, one of them wanted more, the other didn’t, they decided to stop before someone got hurt.

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS — No romantic intention, just a good way to kill time at 2 AM, or maybe it’s easy to know you have someone to go home to if you don’t find someone at a party.

FRIENDS FOR NECESSITY — This friend may not have that much in common with Calvin, they may not really get on in day to day life, but they are always there to get high, attend a party or do something dumb. an easy person to talk to when they’re both bored and wanna get out.

HIS YOUNGER SISTER — If anybody fancies a second character, I’m always down to have Calvins sister in the roleplay. They can either get along or not, we’ll just figure out the details.

EX FRIENDS — Used to be close but now aren’t, plenty of reasons as to why.

ENEMIES — Despise each other, seeing this person literally makes Calvins blood boil. Possibly sexual tension too if that would work, if not, they can just fight a lot.

WILL THEY / WON’T THEY — Lots of leading on and teasing each other, maybe they both think they’re stringing the other along but it turns out neither of them are interested? Maybe they start out not interested and it backfires later, by that time the other could’ve lost interest.

ANY OTHER IDEAS YOU THINK WILL WORK !

...005. ADDITIONAL INFORMATION.

Calvin is bisexual but heteroromantic, so any sexual-based connections can be taken by any gender.

Calvins Pinterest can be located here. Please note that it contains triggers for alcohol, drugs, blood & violence.

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, here is a rec list of fics where Harry and Louis fight or argue over the course of the fic. While there is at least a small argument between them in the vast majority of fics, we tried to narrow this list down to include fics where there’s either a larger fight or a bunch of smaller ones. Happy reading!

1) Forever, Uninterrupted | Explicit | 8578 words

Harry finds a mysterious picture in Louis' bag one night and drives himself crazy over it. It's definitely not what he thinks. An excuse to write Harry in rut, because there's already so many heat fics out there.

2) Poppies In May | Explicit | 9457 words

And maybe he deserves it, Louis thinks bitterly. His hand curls around the fence tightly, and he feels like if he lets go he’ll slid onto the cold ground and never fucking get up again. Maybe standing here, staring at Harry’s hunched over, retreating back is what he deserves.

3) 3B Neighbor | Explicit | 10407 words

A mysterious neighbour keeps slipping the worst sort of notes under Harry's door.

4) Rather This Than Live Without You | Explicit | 10715 words

Harry decides to give it all up. Louis refuses to be left behind.

5) We Should Get Jerseys | Mature | 12147 words

Harry is a hockey player, and Louis is his slightly melodramatic boyfriend.

6) No Bleeding Hearts | Explicit | 12651 words

“I’m going to come out,” Louis says abruptly. His grip on the controller is tight, knuckles whitening. He doesn’t look at Harry when he says it.

“What?” Harry says. Louis sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“When we re-negotiate our contracts. I’m going to come out.” Harry fumbles with the controller and manages to set it down on coffee table without cracking it in half.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Harry says. Louis is still pointedly not looking at him.

“I’m not having this argument with you again, Harry,” Louis tells him. He leans forward and deposits his own controller on the table beside Harry’s before standing up. “I’m gonna go to the hotel.”

7) Know You Got That Thing (That I Like) | Explicit | 15798 words

Note: This fic has a BH mention.

In all the ways he thought about their reunion going, watching Louis finger himself open was not on the list.

8) Wait For Me (To Come Home) | Explicit |  16066 words

A future fic of time stamps where Louis finally comes to grips with a love he'd denied for too long.

9) My English Love Affair | Explicit | 19198 words

The thing about sleeping with a member of a famous indie band is that the inevitability of having a song written about you is most likely a hundred percent. The second thing is that in the end, nobody's supposed to find out it's about you.

The one where Harry writes a song about his English love affair and Louis sleeps with someone in White Eskimo and all he gets is a stupid song written about him.

10) Dance Like Warriors On A Battlefield | Explicit | 20083 words

Down in the arena, the triumphant gladiator places his foot on the back of the loser, holding him there as he waits for instruction on his next move. Kill or let live. It’s barbaric, really, the bloodlust involved in this sport. Louis is pretty sure that if it wasn’t for his distaste for the killing there would be a lot more blood soaking that sand.

As it is, his father rarely gives the kill order anymore. He gives the order to let the loser live. Louis rolls his eyes, turning away. He doesn’t miss the way the gladiator’s eyes linger on him.

11) Up To No Good | Explicit | 26525 words | Sequel #1 | Sequel #2

Harry doesn’t think of himself as a womanizer, not at all. Sure, he enjoys sex, enjoys how women feel underneath him, and by some people’s standards he has sex with quite a lot of people, but that’s no reason to tell him that he can’t have a female PA anymore.

It’s especially no excuse for giving him a male PA who’s possibly the most gorgeous boy in the world who won’t even let Harry look at him for too long.

Sometimes Harry hates his life.

12) All The Lights are Full Of Colour | Explicit | 26727 words

So, fast-forwarding eight years from the day Harry met Louis, he is now a twenty-seven year old owner of one of the most up-and-coming eating establishments on the London restaurant scene, father of two wonderful boys and… separated from his husband. Now, that last part definitely was never a part of the original plan.

13) Time Out | Explicit | 27539 words

Harry and Louis are perfect for each other.

Everybody knows it.

They know it, their friends know it, everybody knows it.

That's why Zayn, Liam and Niall won't let them get away with breaking up.

No chance in hell.

14) Carnelian | Explicit | 30631 words

Louis finds himself donating blood to the most beautiful being he’s ever seen.

15) Where The Lights Are Beautiful | Mature | 31170 words | Sequel

The accidental bonding a/b/o fic. 

16) Close To Nowhere | Explicit | 34589 words

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

17) No Matter Where You Are (No Matter How Far) | Explicit | 35799 words

An Everest AU where Louis sets out to climb the tallest mountain on the world and meets a curly-haired guy named Harry who worms his way into Louis’s life. It’s not long before reaching the summit becomes the least of Louis’s worries. 

18) The Things I’d Do To Wake Up Next To You | Mature | 36019 words

AU. Harry wakes up to a pregnant Louis Tomlinson and a wedding band on his finger.

19) Bloodsport | Explicit | 40283 words

“You know how our next game is against the Cardinals, right? You remember how vicious those guys can get. I wanted us to come up with some plays, maybe work on a block from the left--” Louis stops when he hears a chuckle. He doesn’t think he’s said anything particularly funny, so he turns to Harry, waiting for an explanation. "‘S funny, ‘s all.” Harry throws his finished bottle somewhere near the other discarded ones. “This is the first time you’re talking to me in eight months, and it’s still about football.”

20) The Sweetest Incantation | Explicit | 40598 words

Harry is a witch who's still working on developing his powers and Louis is a werecat who falls into his life and turns it upside down. 

21) Falling Into Place | Explicit | 40754 words

Louis and Harry spend nine years apart but inevitably find their way back to each other.                        

22) Another Hazy May | Explicit | 41043 words

Louis is a terrible poet and Harry lives in the now and they have six weeks to fall in love but, really, it only takes six seconds. Bookshop meets military meets summer romance AU ft. Malboros, the Backstreet Boys, and underrated literary devices.

23) Show Me Life Like I’ve Never Seen | Mature | 42953 words

Louis never expected to leave the small art studio three blocks down from his job with anything besides the painting he caught a glimpse of and simply couldn't forget.

24) Can I Not Like You For A While? | Explicit | 43346 words

Louis Tomlinson is awful. Harry is just as difficult, and they’re both terrible to each other. It makes being in the same acapella group together quite complicated. 

25) Just A Feeling | Explicit | 43977 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic.

The first time that Harry thinks about marriage in relation to Louis, he’s eighteen years old, standing in the middle of a crowded frat house, six drinks down and another in his hand.

It’s not the first time that he’s laid eyes on Louis. It’s not even the second time, or the third time, but Harry doesn’t believe in denying what his brain is trying to tell him, and his brain has been telling him that Louis might be the prettiest person in the world ever since that first fateful meeting, when Harry hadn’t been able to stop looking and Louis had ‘accidentally’ spilled his tea all over Harry’s lap in retaliation.

26) Love's Truest Language | Explicit | 48193 words

“I don't want your flowers.” Louis chided before directing all of his attention to the arrangement in front of him. Harry laughed under his breath as he stood to his full height, “Who said anything about them being for you, love?”

27) Tug-Of-War | Explicit | 55475 words

Louis' husband dies suddenly and he is left with nothing. Well, not really nothing. He has Harry. And a St. Bernard puppy named Link, whom his late husband left behind for him. Louis takes care of Link and Harry takes care of Louis. Everything is okay until suddenly, it isn't. 

28) Into The Midnight Sun | Explicit | 63523 words

It's 1983, Harry embarks on his first world tour and Louis is a budding actor in LA. Life spent apart isn't easily adjustable, but somehow they make it work.

29) Why Can't It Be Like That | Explicit | 63567 words

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.

30) Perfect Storm | Explicit | 80230 words

What do you do when your best friend asks you and your (now) ex to be the best men at his destination wedding? You can either tell him the truth, tell him you’re not together anymore, and deal with the consequences, or you can pretend you’re still together and roll with it, just pray you don’t spiral. Fake it ‘til you make it. You know, for the sake of the wedding. Harry and Louis choose the latter.   

31) Pinkies Never Lie | Explicit | 83615 words | Sequel

AU in which Louis hates his job and loves Harry, Harry just wants a distraction, everyone else wants them to get their shit together, and Louis learns the hard way that new beginnings are only possible when something ends.

32) I Want You So Much (But I Hate Your Guts) | Mature | 83648 words

AU in which Louis gets accepted to play for the Manchester University Alpha-Beta Football Team. The only problem: Louis is actually an Omega. He is determined to make it big in the football world, though, and he can't do that bound to an Omega team. With the help of a faked doctor's certificate and some pretty strong suppressants he is ready to fight for his dream. That Harry Styles (Alpha, second year and youngest football captain of the A-B team in ages) doesn't seem to like him complicates matters, though.

33) Electing Strange Perfections | Explicit | 84757 words

Back for the summer from university, 19-year-old Louis is faced with a massive problem: their new gardener is quite possibly the most gorgeous man he's ever met. Over the course of the summer, Louis and a 25-year-old Harry will learn that love can be found where you least expect it.

34) For Reasons Wretched and Divine | Explicit | 94655 words

Ten years ago, Harry Styles was just a nerdy kid with one friend and a debilitating crush on the captain of his school’s football team. He thought the stars were smiling down on him the day he and Louis Tomlinson were paired for their end-of-term Literature project. But because Harry’s life is decidedly not a fairytale, the budding friendship quickly leads to the least happy ending of all time. Now, Harry Styles is a household name. Barely twenty-seven with two Grammy nominations to his name, the singer-songwriter is poised to take the music industry by storm with his highly anticipated third album. So, what happens when the best producer in the business is also the only person Harry’s vowed never to speak to again?    

35) Blue Ice | Mature | 102967 words

An AU where Louis finds himself in a marriage he didn't bargain for. 

36) A Taste Of Desire | Explicit | 104414 words

A Victorian ABO where Harry is the owner of the most successful cotton mill in Manchester, and Louis is an opinionated social activist about to disrupt Harry’s world.

37) Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices | Mature | 126056 words

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

38) All I Want | Mature | 289307 words

When Harry and Louis got together it wasn’t under the best circumstances. Louis was taken by another. But go figure that the way they ended up together is the very same way it ended. And Harry left Louis. He left him with a lot more than he thought. A story about how people’s misconceptions almost destroyed a love that went beyond measure.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[itsmyfandomandilikeit]

I'm 26 arcs into Worm: The Stick Up Brian's Butt

So I'm listening to the We've Got Worm podcast and they keep talking about KingBob, the guy on reddit who really related to Alec and ended up understanding him (and by extension Aisha) far better than most of the other readers.

I haven't really gone into this on this blog, I've been reading Worm for like six months now and I don't update that often, but throughout this read I've been the KingBob to Brian. It's gotten to the point where I actually took a few mental health breaks from reading Worm. I know a lot of people thought Brian was boring and dumb. I'm almost done with Worm now and I feel like the inclusion of Brian this story elevated it, for me, from a fun superhero story to something intensely personal, something that was almost a struggle to read. I know from spoilers that Brian's part in this story is almost over. He isn't my favorite character (Dragon) or even my favorite Undersider (Aisha) but I felt like I should write something before this is over. It wouldn't be an honest blog otherwise, as infrequently as I post.

But Kuno, you say. You're a 22-year-old white female engineering student. Why the hell is this the character you relate to?

For a collection of dumb reasons that add up to a large part of who I am. From the time I was eleven to the time I was about twenty-one, I had night terrors. Seven times a night sometimes, I dreamt vividly of the people I loved getting hurt, hurting me, getting killed, killing me. My students and pets melting in my hands. My mom and I clutching each other on the freeway as we're stopped in traffic, a terrorist approaching our vehicle with a shotgun. We don't make it. The dreams made life almost impossible. Seeing people during the day and being absolutely certain they would die before I saw them again. It didn't matter how many times I saw them come back okay. They never would.

I'm afraid of everything. Every missed phone call is a sudden death. Every text message brings terrible news. Every possible situation brings danger, but if my friends go, I can't let them go without me. Something could happen. They'd be safe as long as I could see them. If I was looking at them, everything would be okay. Some child psychologist I spoke to at a young age noted I was a "natural leader". To this day, I lead because I am a control freak. I am afraid of what would happen if I let someone else be in control.

Interlude 15 fucked me up.

My fatal flaw extends from this. I'm terrified that people will see me as weak. I dated a boy on my robotics team when I was in high school. I treated him like shit in public because I didn't want anyone to think I cared about him, even though he was my boyfriend. What would they think of me if they saw there was a person I treated as an equal? Horrible things. I became a better girlfriend to another boy, years later, because someone mentioned to me they thought I could be a good girlfriend, and that it was rough, calloused girls who were the weak ones. It was the perfect two sentences to convince me that for people to see me as strong, I had to be a good girlfriend.

In the We've Got Worm podcast, Scott and Matt always mention that each of the Undersiders brings the team down somehow, their inputs to every situation silly or stupid. I was confused. I always thought Grue's avoidance of conflict, always taking the slow, deliberate path, was the right way to go. Then I realized that, to many, this behavior indicates brokenness. Maybe they're right.

Yeah so I said I'd talk about the stick up Brian's butt in arcs 25 and 26. I don't think he has much to say for the rest of Worm so here we go. I'm building off a lot of what the WGW guys say, but I think I can take it a little farther.

So in arc 10 the WGW guys point out that Brian resists letting Taylor back on the team until the precise moment when it becomes apparent that everyone else wants her back, when he suddenly changes tactics to talking about how they "need her for offense". They make the imo correct deduction that this is because he's afraid of looking weak. Everyone knows Taylor likes him, so, logically, to be Stoic Leader Man he should want her to go away. He needs permission to want her back on the team. Once he has that permission, he is all for it.

I know that sounds convoluted but trust me as a person with exactly these issues this makes perfect sense.

Arc 11, Brian has still not decided to be Taylor's friend again. This is because she's on the team to be offense. Their friendship doesn't help nobody's offense. When Lisa calls him and tells him he needs to lay up on her, that to be her friend would be good, he goes directly to Taylor's house and declares them... best friends. Because Lisa has given him permission to do so.

I hope you're following because I'm aware this is stupid.

In arc 12, I'm gonna veer a little to the side. Let's talk about Brian's second trigger, just so that I can educate the public on exactly how this came around. Keep in mind that trigger events happen from a long period of a specific type of stress coming to a head. And that Brian's previous trigger happened from feeling like he maybe couldn't help Aisha for a long time, and then suddenly being hit with the fact that he definitely couldn't help her.

Arc 1: The Undersiders save Taylor who was saving them from Lung Arc 2: Brian punches Rachel for attacking Taylor Arc 4: Taylor gets blown up by Bakuda, Brian sits in her hospital room and stares at this for presumably a while Arc 5: Taylor looks like she's been hanged, having fought Lung again Arc 7: Taylor and Rachel are attacked by the ABB, Brian shows up late. Taylor is attacked later the same day by Sophia, Brian shows up pretty late. Taylor propositions the boy, he tells her he thinks of her like he thinks of his sister. I am 100% certain at this point, looking back, that this was an early indication that the second trigger process was starting towards a lack of ability to keep up with Taylor. He wasn't just saying he thought of her like he would think of her if they were related, he thinks of her like Aisha specifically, the one his power is attached to. His little brain is drawing the equivalences already. Arc 8: Broken spine, betrayal, yadda yadda Arc 9: Sophia attempts murder because it's Tuesday Arc 10: Brian pretends to not want Taylor to come back Arc 11: Brian does his now-classic "walks into room/why is Taylor injured/maybe she should not be doing this" routine Arc 12: Repeat of arc 11, except now he starts stumbling over her name. He tells her she should have let her people die. If there's a point onscreen when he realizes there might be something going on, this is it.

Point is, this has been stewing in the background since as early as arc 1 and as late as arc 7 but probably actually started in arc 4. It wasn't out of the blue, it was the logical culmination of the entire story's events thus far from Brian's perspective.

Arc 13: Yeah, you know what happens here. In the final chapter, he tells her he thinks about her too much, but even though he received a new set of superpowers and a vision from aliens telling him that he probably loves her, the vision is definitely wrong and he just feels like he can't keep up with her.

She's been attacked by everyone. Lung, Rachel, Bakuda, Sophia, Armsmaster, Leviathan, the Merchants, Mannequin. He doesn't want her to keep fighting, he feels he needs to be the one to do it. At the same time, he knows he's not powerful enough. No one power is enough to deal with all of these threats.

No single power.

But he doesn't love her. That would mean he was weak.

He doesn't even agree to have dinner with her in 15. He allows it to happen because Aisha set it up. She knows what's going on, and she has given him permission to have this.

Aisha had to be the one to give him permission because his previous powerset was for her, and now it doesn't work with her, either. At the same time as his second trigger was stewing under the surface for Taylor, he was losing his power's connection to Aisha because their powers didn't work together and he kept being forced to forget she exists. He had lived for her before, and being Super Big Brother was exactly what Brian wanted to be. Now, Aisha doesn't want to be lived for. She wants to be her own person.

Brian spends the next several arcs simply living for Taylor.

I strongly suspect that the side effect of Brian's power is that it makes him pathologically need to be 100% responsible for others. No matter how dumb everyone's plans are, he always has to be there. No matter how stupid it is, Coil told him being a villain will allow him to get his sister back. No matter how dumb it is, he tells Taylor she has to sit out running from the Nine in arc 13 because she might be tired. He pays for it.

Brian's powers will probably never actually allow him to get over Taylor Hebert. It's like Taylor and bullies. No amount of therapy or time will get Brian's shard to let the fuck go.

So when the girl whom you are physically incapable of not thinking about leaves and goes to prison and tells every single person on the planet exactly how weak you are, who goes to an even more dangerous situation where you cannot follow her, what can you do?

The only possible thing. Try your absolute damnedest to pretend you never knew her.

You walk out of that meeting with the most powerful people in the world because she is there. You go find yourself somebody else. Another girl. Taylor hated her little boobs? This girl has big boobs. Taylor can't stay away from violence? Cozen seriously appears to have never even seen a corpse.

When Taylor comes back, Brian greets her with the new girl on his arm. He tries to shake her hand. Time has passed. There's nothing between them any more.

The next day, Grue is presented with the choice of pushing back against Taylor and standing with the new girl, whoever she is, or supporting Taylor. He chooses Taylor.

Of course he does. The situation calls for it. The situation has given him permission.