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spencers-renaissance · 4 years

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The Noiseless Crash of Crumbling Walls

Summary: After Derek and Spencer are paired up on a science project in their senior year of high school, they become the closest, most unlikely friends possible. But what happens when Derek finally finds out what Spencer's dealing with at home? Inspired by the prompt “where did you get those bruises?”

Tags: high school au, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, hurt spencer, protective derek, abuse, friendship, pre-slash, spencer just turned 16, derek is almost 18

Word Count: 4.6k

Pairing: Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Part Two

This is a platonic Derek & Spencer friendship fic because they are minors, but there are seeds being fairly obviously sown for part two of this series which will be set when they are both over the age of 18.

Spencer unfolds the creased piece of paper he’s holding for the eleventh time as he stares up at the house in front of him. He remembers the address scrawled on the sheet Derek Morgan had ripped from the back of his notebook earlier that day perfectly, the spiky peaks of his handwriting and the surprisingly loopy ‘y’s and ‘g’s are burned into his brain, but nerves have overtaken his helpless body. He’s not exactly in control of his actions.

It’s not much but it’s definitely a cheerful house, that much is clear from the brightly lit windows and colourful curtains, the many gnomes decorating the front garden and the carefully planted flowers neighbouring the vegetable patch. One of the windows upstairs is cracked slightly and he can hear 90s R&B floating through the airwaves, accompanied by a female singing voice. The welcome he knows he’ll receive, though, is exactly what’s giving him pause.

A happy home is so foreign to him he has no idea how to behave. He’s used to being the adult, but tonight he has to play the 16 year old he is, and his mask is so dusty and disused he’s worried he won’t be anywhere close to convincing.

Eventually, though, he summons up the courage to make his way up the stony path leading to the bright red front door. A brass knocker stares him in the face, but there’s a doorbell to his right as well, and the choice debilitates him for a moment, leaving him standing uselessly on the front step. He decides on the doorbell, since it’s a little more subtle, and he only has to wait a couple of seconds before the door is being yanked open and a smiling Derek Morgan is right in front of him.

“I thought you’d never come.” His voice is bright and cheery but Spencer wonders for a moment if he’s mad at him. He’d been early when he first turned onto Derek’s road, but his over-thinking and ritualistic obsession over the address written on a scrap piece of paper had made him late.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, and his desperation to be understood, his clear discomfort in such a foreign environment must be obvious, because Derek’s face softens even further.

“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty boy,” he grins, slinging an arm around his shoulders and leading him deeper into the hallway as he kicks the door shut behind them.

Pretty boy. He’d used the nickname once earlier that day when they were planning when to meet up for their science project, and Spencer had flushed immediately. No-one’s ever called him pretty. He’s an awkward, lanky 16 year old senior who’s far too short for his age; his appearance isn’t exactly conducive to flattery.

The last time anyone had called him by a fond nickname was when he was eleven years old and his mother was still somewhat rational. She’d pulled him close and called him her baby boy, and while some pre-teens might have recoiled from such a name, he simply snuggled closer and tried to remember every second he was wrapped up in such warmth. Five years later, he’s so thankful he did. He replays it most nights before he drops off to sleep.

He blushes again at Derek’s easy affection, trying to relax into the warmth of his house.

“Is that your friend, honey?” A woman emerges from what Spencer assumes is the kitchen, drying her hands on a teatowel. She looks every bit the stereotypical American mother, dressed in casual, comfortable clothes with a warm smile plastered across her face. “It’s so nice to meet you, sweetheart. I’m Fran, Derek’s mom.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” he says shyly, trying to meet her eyes but failing miserably. He can’t help that this whole experience is so out of his comfort zone it’s ridiculous.

“Do you boys want any snacks to take up with you?”

“Are you hungry, Spencer?” Derek asks, and he internally panics for a moment. Yes, is the answer. Yes, I’m so hungry. The only thing I’ve eaten today is an apple this morning. But is he allowed to say that? He examines the both of them and it does look like a genuine offer, but will they guess that something is wrong if he says yes? It’s only six o’clock, though, so maybe he can swing it.

“Yes please,” he dares, “I haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Fran says, putting her hands on her hips. “You both head on up. I’ll bring up a tray.”

Derek’s room is big, filled with football trophies and posters. It’s so achingly normal that Spencer’s stomach clenches as he gingerly takes a seat on his bed at Derek’s instruction.

“I did some research that will help us with our presentation,” Spencer offers as Derek sits on his desk chair, spinning around to face him.

It had been a shock when they’d been paired up. Derek’s friends had hollered and laughed when their chemistry teacher had paired them together, and Spencer had gone bright red at the humiliation, not that he could exactly blame them. Pairing up the skinny nerd who’d been moved up two grades with the jock who was almost guaranteed a football scholarship to an excellent university later this year had been a rather bizarre choice on their teacher’s part.

It’s not that Spencer minded: along with being the quarterback with a 4.0 GPA, he was also painfully nice. But everyone else certainly did. Every girl in their science class had sent him death glares as Derek had sauntered over to his desk at the end of class, wearing a lazy grin.

“Chill, pretty boy,” Derek chuckles as he pushes himself side to side in his spinning chair. “We got time.”

“I have to be back home by 9,” Spencer says sheepishly. He’s sure most people in their senior year are allowed to stay out later than that, and he hopes against hope Derek thinks it’s only because he’s sixteen and not that he has to get his mother into bed and try and force her meds down her throat so she won’t wake him up in the middle of the night convinced the shadows in her room are government spies.

“Still three hours. Anyway, I’m sure my mom can drop you home,” Derek shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. Besides, we have weeks until we have to present. Why don’t we spend tonight getting to know each other? I feel like I should know a little bit about my project partner, especially if we’re going to be working together for the rest of the year.”

“The rest of the year?” His voice squeaks anxiously but he can’t help it, Derek’s completely catching him off guard.

“Yeah. Ms Farron keeps partners from the first project together for every assignment that year.”

This is news to Spencer, but he tries to keep calm. It’s a good thing, right? Derek has always been friendly to him, and he’s intelligent, too. It’s unlikely he’ll fob all the work off onto him. But being taken advantage of and subsequently left alone is what he’s used to: ‘getting to know each other’ is decidedly new territory. Spencer’s head is spinning.

“Oh.”

“So, pretty boy,” Derek grins, giving himself another 360 spin, “tell me what a 16 year old is doing in senior year.”

“I got moved up two grades back in elementary school,” he explains, grateful that this is at least a rather impersonal topic. “My teachers wanted me even higher but two grades is the maximum our school district allows.”

“I guessed that much,” Derek points out. “Why were you moved up two grades?”

They’re briefly interrupted by Fran’s delivery of a delectable spread for them to feast on. Spencer reaches for a cracker and dips it in some cream cheese, but as soon as he’s swallowed his first bite, Derek gives him a look that tells him he hasn’t exactly gotten away with it.

He sighs. “The last time I was tested, I had an IQ of 187,” he admits, looking down at his worn sneakers. He’d expected to be told to remove them, but he’s glad he wasn’t. His socks almost certainly have holes in them, and laundry isn’t something he can afford to do often. “And I have an eidetic memory.”

Derek lets out a low whistle. “Damn, I knew you were a genius but that’s some next level shit,” he says, before popping a grape in his mouth. “You’re going places, Spencer Reid.” He’s saved from having to fight his blush too hard by Derek moving swiftly on. “Your turn to ask me a question.”

Spencer takes a second to think before deciding to push the boat out, to ask something he actually wants to know instead of playing it safe. “You’re popular, star of the football team, get straight As,” he starts slowly, not meeting Derek’s eyes. “What makes you so nice? You could easily join in with your friends and be another asshole jock pushing me into lockers.”

When he looks up, Derek’s face is an array of emotions. “Kindness costs nothing,” he says seriously, and the intensity of his gaze surprises Spencer. “I saw my pops shot to death in front of me when I was ten and I got my ass kicked every day in freshman year, believe it or not. I know what kindness can mean to a person just as much as I know what cruelty does to someone.”

Spencer doesn’t really know what to say to that, but he knows that he’s finally relaxed a little. Derek’s stark honesty and vulnerability, as much as he doesn’t know quite the right way to react, is refreshing to him, and it’s made the icon of their school seem much more human.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Spencer says quietly.

“Thanks, man,” Derek says, a half smile crossing his face. “What about your family life?”

Spencer swallows another bite of his cream cheese and crackers, his empty stomach thanking him for finally filling it. “My dad walked out when I was ten,” he admits, treading as carefully as possibly. “It’s just me and my mom now.”

“I’m sorry. Are you and your mom close?”

How does he answer a question like that? They’re close in the respect that Spencer cares for her and spends every free moment he has with her. But he also holds his breath every time he turns down his street, half expecting to see his house up in flames, and they’re going hungry this week because she threw most of their groceries in a nearby river after convincing herself it was all poisoned. They don’t exactly have a typical mother-son relationship.

“Something like that,” he mumbles, stuffing another cracker into his mouth. Derek clearly takes the hint that he doesn’t want to elaborate and moves on.

They spend the rest of the evening taking it in turns asking one another questions, ranging from simple ones like their favourite colours to deeper conversations around their future plans and biggest fears. By the time 9 rolls around, they’re lying next to one another on Derek’s bed both facing the ceiling as they trade questions back and forth. Fran’s dinner tray is now covered in crumbs, her carefully prepared spread having been demolished by two hungry teenagers.

Their assigned topic, Enthalpy, Entropy, and Free Energy, hasn’t even been touched, and Spencer can’t find it in him to care. He could throw together a perfect presentation the night before if he needed to. Right now, getting to know Derek Morgan seems far more important. Ironically, the boy he’s only really started to get to know three hours ago is probably the person who knows him best in this whole world, and the thought makes his chest hurt.

The jittery nerves that had consumed him at the start of the evening have dissipated into a calm companionship, and he can’t believe how comfortable he now feels. He doesn’t want to leave, but he has to take care of his mom; she’s already been on her own for so long today.

As if on cue, Fran knocks on the door, poking her head round. “Would you like me to drop you home, Spencer?”

He feels guilty accepting, but the last thing he wants is a twenty minute walk home through the streets of Chicago in the pitch black December night. “Yes, please.”

Derek comes with them for the short drive, and Spencer feels a little embarrassed as he points out the apartment block he lives in. It’s a shitty neighbourhood and his building is crumbling, but it’s home and it’s the cheapest they can afford on welfare. He ducks out of the car and shoots them both a grateful smile.

“Thank you for driving me home, Fran,” he says. “And thank you for a nice evening, Derek.”

“No problem, pretty boy,” Derek winks. “I’ll find you at school tomorrow and we’ll sort out another night to meet up, yeah?”

The smile the Morgans put on his face doesn’t fade until he opens the door to his apartment and reality brings him crashing back down to earth.

⭐️

Over the next few weeks, Spencer Reid gains his first friend. They finally end up actually writing their presentation and naturally, they get an A+ but Spencer’s anxiety that Derek would want to stop hanging out with him once the project that had brought them together was behind them ended up being for nothing. Derek had fist-bumped him as they’d walked out of their classroom. “Come over tonight?” he’d asked, and once Spencer had recovered from his shock, he’d beamed and nodded excitedly.

As Christmas comes and goes, they continue their bizarre friendship. Spencer runs up to Derek’s room as soon as the door is opened, and dives under the covers on his bed, always freezing cold. The first time Derek had cuddled Spencer, he hadn’t been able to stop smiling. He’s seriously touch-starved, and it’s only more apparent from the way he craves contact with Derek. He’s ridiculously thankful that the older boy is so free with his affection, not consumed by the same toxic masculinity that seems to plague the rest of the football team.

It’s nearing February when Derek asks the fatal question.

Spencer had whizzed home after school and made sure his mom was okay before running over to Derek’s, breezing past Sarah on the staircase and diving onto the soft, clean bed sheets. He’s sometimes jealous of all the home comforts his friend has access to, but he does his best to tamp it down. It’s not like it’s Derek’s fault that he’s well-loved and cared for.

“Whoa, pretty boy,” Derek chuckles as he spins around from where he’s doing homework at his desk. “Where’s that shy boy who sat right on the edge of my bed only two months ago, hm?”

“You prefer confident Spencer and you know it.” He moves up the bed a little to sit with his back against the headboard. He’s never become so comfortable around a person this quickly before but there’s something different about Derek.

“Can’t argue with that.” He gets off the chair and moves to sit next to Spencer on the bed, lifting his arm to let the smaller boy cuddle close. Spencer sometimes has nightmares that the boys at school find out how affectionate they are with one another and call them gay after which Derek doesn’t want to hang out with him anymore. (Secretly, he thinks he might actually be gay, but he won’t tell Derek that. Just in case.)

“Can I stay for dinner?” he asks. It’s a moot point: Spencer always asks if he can stay and the Morgans always say yes, but he doesn’t like assuming, especially since he knows how expensive food is. Not that Fran has ever complained about an extra mouth to feed, though. The dinners at Derek’s house are always a family affair, full of laughter and hearty, homemade meals and Spencer likes pretending he’s one of them, just for a little while.

The guilt that he’s leaving his mom for so long eats him up, only eased by the knowledge that she usually sleeps the afternoon away, worn out by a manic morning. He has no idea how to navigate this anymore. It was easier when the only person he had in the world was his mom, but now he has Derek and his family. And as much as he loves his mom and doesn’t mind taking care of her at all, spending time with Derek doesn’t automatically trigger gut-eating anxiety and heart-wrenching misery.

“Of course you can stay, don’t be ridiculous.” Derek elbows him playfully. “You don’t need to ask every night.”

“What if one night you don’t want me to stay, though?”

“I thought I told you to stop being ridiculous?”

Spencer can’t help but smile at Derek’s relaxed, easy grin. For some reason this popular football player with the world as his oyster and a million friends chooses to spend every evening with the nerd who’s two years younger than everyone in their year. For some reason, Derek chooses Spencer.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Derek asks the question. “Why don’t I come over to your place instead one evening?” It’s a casual suggestion, there’s nothing really behind it. “I’d like to meet your mom and see your bedroom. If you’re gonna make fun of my football trophies, I need some revenge material.”

Spencer freezes. He has no idea how to respond to such an innocent proposition. Derek takes his stunned silence as reluctance simply cured with a little more persuasion. “Besides,” he continues, “I feel bad that you always have to run home first before coming over here. It’s like a twenty minute walk.”

“I don’t know,” Spencer hedges, trying to buy time as he comes up with a cover story. “My mom is really particular about our space and she doesn’t really like visitors. I’m not sure your mom could spare you a family dinner anyway.” He pushes Derek playfully, hoping to God he’s even half-way convincing.

One glance at Derek’s face tells him he isn’t buying it, but he can clearly read Spencer’s troubled anxiety expression so he doesn’t push it. “Okay, pretty boy,” he says, relaxing back into the bed, “we’ll stick with the Fran Morgan dinner delight for now.”

Something tells him he won’t get so lucky next time.

⭐️

Spring is just starting to show her face the next time it comes up, and this time it’s completely Spencer’s fault. He shouldn’t have gone over to Derek’s. He should have made up an excuse and stayed in his shitty apartment with his mom, but he couldn’t help it. He was sore and desperately sad, and all he wanted was Fran’s comforting shepherd’s pie and a cuddle with Derek. So he’d made his way home, checked his mom was still sleeping before limping over to the Morgan’s.

He’d concealed it pretty well all day, but energy is seeping out of him and the pain is only getting worse, not helped by the decent trek across town.

He has a key now, so he lets himself in, hoping to avoid Fran until dinner time. Luckily, he’s quiet enough to not disturb her baking in the kitchen, so he makes his way slowly up the stairs, hoping Derek is not as perceptive tonight as he usually is. He’d briefly considered using bullies as a cover story if it came up, but Derek has spent almost every moment he could at school with him the last few days, he wasn’t out of his sight long enough to really encounter anyone cruel enough for it to be a viable story.

“Pretty boy,” Derek greets him, not turning away from the maths homework he’s finishing up. It gives Spencer a little extra time to make it to the bed like he usually does. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Spencer sighs. “A bit tired. You?”

“Training was rough today so I’m sore as shit, but otherwise I’m fine. Better now you’re here.” He turns to smile fondly at Spencer, finally locking eyes on his pale, sallow skin and defeated expression. He scrambles to try and make himself look slightly less terrible, but he’s not quick enough. “You sure you’re good? You don’t look it.”

“No, seriously, I’m fine,” Spencer tries to persuade him. “Just tired as I said. Can we watch a movie while we wait for dinner?”

Derek doesn’t look even close to convinced, but he gives in and brings up netflix on his computer. Spencer collapses against Derek and lets his eyes close as the film they choose plays across the laptop screen, but he must fall asleep because the next thing he knows, he’s being shaken awake by his friend and he’s in a completely different position.

“Spencer, wake up,” he says insistently, and the urgent worry in his tone makes him sit up, wincing when the movement aches his core.

“What? What’s wrong?” he mumbles sleepily, obediently sitting up at Derek’s instruction.

“Pretty boy,” Derek says, sounding teary and a little desperate, “where did you get those bruises?”

He freezes for a second before glancing down at himself and realising that as he’d slept his shirt had shifted, revealing his black and blue stomach. How the fuck was he going to explain this? Not seeming himself wasn’t such a challenge, everyone has their off-days after all, but bruises like these aren’t the sort of thing your best friend just drops when you don’t want to explain them.

“I—” He has no idea what to say. Tears spring to his eyes in a terribly unhelpful fashion, and Derek moves closer, wrapping Spencer up in a hug.

“It’s okay, you can tell me, Spencer,” he promises as he holds him so tenderly it breaks his heart. “Take your time.”

He cries for a good few minutes — it just feels so good to let it out — but as his painful sobs draw to a close, he knows it’s time to face the music. There’s no other option. He has to tell Derek. And maybe a teeny tiny part of him actually wants to tell his best friend.

“I haven’t been honest with you,” he confesses, keeping his head buried in his friend’s chest so he doesn’t have to look him in the eyes. Derek’s hand combing through his hair doesn’t falter. “The reason I didn’t want you to come to my place is because of my mom… She’s a paranoid schizophrenic. When my dad left I became her primary carer, and I’m— I’m not doing a good job.”

Derek holds him a little tighter and presses his cheek to the top of Spencer’s head, shushing him quietly. “Don’t say that, I’m sure you’re doing an amazing job.”

“The other night she got confused because she’d refused her meds again. She became convinced that I was a spy there to hurt her. I can usually talk her down from these moments, or at least guide her to bed to let her sleep it off, but this time there was no reasoning. Eventually, she got so worked up that she shoved me backwards, hard. It sent me sprawling face first across the coffee table, and she kicked me twice before considering herself safe and barricading herself in her room.” He tells the whole story through thick tears, shoulders still shaking with pent up emotion. He wishes it didn’t feel so good to finally get off my chest.

“Spencer, oh my God,” Derek whispers, sounding thoroughly shocked. He’s suddenly fearful that he’s going to report Diana, and he sits up, finally meeting Derek’s teary eyes with his own.

“You can’t… you can’t tell anyone,” he begs. “If anyone finds out, she’ll be locked away and I’ll be put into foster care. I can’t do that to her and I can’t lose you.”

Derek takes Spencer’s hands. “Okay, okay,” he soothes, making him calm down a little. “I promise I won’t tell anyone, okay? Not without your permission. But I also can’t let you be beat up by your mom.”

“It’s not her fault,” Spencer says desperately, “it’s not her fault. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, she thinks she’s in danger.”

“I know,” Derek promises him, “I know it’s not her fault, but she still hurt you. Has this happened before?” Spencer’s hung head and refusal to respond speaks for itself. “Okay, listen. I know you need to go home tonight, but come over tomorrow morning okay? It’s a Saturday and we can spend the morning figuring out a game plan and the afternoon taking your mind off it. How does that sound?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Is this… is this why you like being here?�� Derek sounds nervous asking the question, clearly not wanting to offend him.

“Before I became friends with you,” he whispers, moving back to hide against Derek’s chest where it’s safe, “I went hungry a lot. We don’t have much money between rent and bills and mom’s medical expenses. I had to hide the groceries because she would become convinced they were poisoned and destroy them, but she got really good at finding them. I had to stop keeping them in my room because she would insist that I was corroborating with the government in trying to poison her.”

“Spencer,” Derek breathes, holding onto him for dear life. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t know about any of this, I would’ve done something, I could’ve helped.”

“I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“I’ll keep you safe now. I promise.”

When Fran comes and asks them down for dinner a few minutes later, Derek points to Spencer’s exhausted form slumped against him and asks if they can have it up in his room. She relents, and Derek manages to get him to eat a few bites of the risotto Fran had made, not leaving his safe cocoon against Derek’s chest.

He insists on driving Spencer home himself tonight, surprising Fran who had her coat and boots on already, but he escorts his friend right up to his door. “If you come in, mom will get confused,” he explains so Derek gives him a long hug in front of his apartment door instead, holding him as close as possible.

“Spencer… you know I love you right?” he asks, expression intense and serious as his gentle hands rest on his shoulders. “You’re my best friend. I’m always gonna be here for you.”

“I love you, too, Derek,” he whispers, giving him another hug. It scares him just how much he means those five little words, all the meanings that dance behind them taking him aback. For now, though, he settles on one more tight squeeze before deciding to not procrastinate the inevitable anymore. “I should go in and see mom.”

“Yeah. I’ll pick you up at 9 tomorrow?”

“Perfect.” His heart does an excited little leap at the thought of seeing Derek again in the morning. As he walks away back towards the elevators, Spencer takes a deep breath before inserting his key into the lock on his door and pushing it open. He only has to go 12 hours without seeing his best friend. He can do this.

His life suddenly seems like it holds infinitely more promise than it ever has. He supposes that’s the power of Derek Morgan.

Part Two

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @hotchgans @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith (taglist form)

#my writing #moreid #derek morgan #spencer reid #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #derek morgan & spencer reid #derek #spencer #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds writing #moreid fic #moreid writing #hurt spencer reid #protective derek morgan #moreid fluff #moreid angst

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thechangeling · 3 years

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5, 9 and 42 for the autism asks 💕

Hey! 🥰

5. There are a lot of things I could say for this answer. But the main one is that I wish people knew that we have a very hard time naming and identifying feelings sometimes. To me emotions take a while to hit me and even then sometimes it's still hard to figure out what's going on. To me all emotions basically feel the same. Like pain. Pain or tightness in my chest. I basically have to figure out what it means based on the context.

9. My very first spin (special interest) was when I was 4 and I was obsessed with Blues Clues. Especially Magenta. Magenta even became my favorite colour for a really long time.

42: All right buckle up kids. So Angel the series is the spin off show of Buffy the vampire slayer. Angel is basically Buffy's vampire ex boyfriend with a soul who left the town of Sunnydale to go to LA and fight demons because he knows he and Buffy can't be together anymore (essentially because he's a vampire and she's the vampire slayer.) It's worth mentioning here that vampire don't have souls. Angel got his back through a curse that was put on him against his will as a punishment for killing this girl (sorry I feel like I'm just dumping information on you lol,) who was a member of a Romani tribe. This was way back in the 1700s btw.

The thing is, without souls vampires lack the moral compus that allows you to make morally correct decisions. It also stops you from growing and learning and changing. Vampires are static. They never change. They can feel but it's always selfish and self serving. Without a soul, love looks more like obsession. Before Angel had his soul he was known as Angelus and he was a horrible brutal killing machine essentially. He was the absolute worst of the worst. But then he was cursed and he got his soul, and now he's trying to redeem himself for all of the horrible things he did.

So that's essentially what Angel the show is about. He goes to LA to atone for his sins and fight evil without Buffy. The entire show is about redemption and becoming a better person and finding forgiveness and empathy from people. The show serves as a metaphor for alcoholism. Angel is the alcoholic who has gone off human blood and made a commitment to being good and essentially staying sober.

In his fight against evil he meets up with people who want to help, some new faces and some people he knew from Sunnydale (they were on Buffy) and they decide to create a detective agency so they have a more organized approach to helping people. And thus Angel Investigations is born. People with supernatural problems essentially hire them to deal with it, usually dispatching some demon or vampire or whatever and then the team gets paid.

Also occassionally there's some big apocalyptic threat that they have to fight. But going back to the alcoholism metaphor, you could say that his closest friend Cordelia is kind of like his sponsor. Now Cordy started out on the show Buffy The vampire Slayer as a spoiled, rich, shallow popular girl who in the beginning was an antagonist to Buffy and her friends but then as she learned of the supernatural world, she began to help them. Towards the end of the third season of Buffy and almost the end of high school, Cordelia's family loses all of their money and she loses essentially everything she had and her sense of who she is. She can't go to college because she can't afford it so she moves to LA in an attempt to have a career as an actress and runs into Angel who she knew before as Buffy's boyfriend. She starts helping him and comes up with the idea for the agency in the first place as a way to make money but as time goes on she becomes more motivated to actually help fight the forces of evil (I'm trying not to give away spoilers but I'm terrible at giving summaries.)

There relationship is something that has always been super special to me and I think it always will be. The sponsor element to their friendship is super evident in episodes like Sommunambulist, as is the addict metaphor.

Spoilers:

Sommunambulist is essentially about an old protege of Angelus' named Penn, someone Angel sired when he was Angelus coming to town and committing a bunch of murders identical to the ones he used to commit back in ye olden times. He tries to draw Angel back into his old life that he had without a soul.

We can read this as a fellow addict coming back into Angel's life, finding out that he's trying to stay sober now and trying to draw him back in with the allure of drinking. In this episode there is also Kate, a police officer that has been helping Angel with his cases by using her resources. They are allies of sorts. Now she's working the case of the people murded by Penn and she doesn't know about the supernatural world. She ends up in a position where her life is in danger but Angel saves her, revealing that he is a vampire to her. She understandably freaks out and later on goes to do research on vampires and on Angel. She learns all about Angelus and all of the horrible things he did before he got his soul. She judges Angel and Angelus as the same person and holds Angel responsible for Angelus's actions even though he didn't have a soul as Angelus.

So through Kate we see the person that only sees the addict as they once were, as the horrible things they did and the people they hurt. She refuses to see this new person. She doesn't trust this new person.

But Cordelia does. And during their scene on the rooftop, the final scene of the episode, Angel says to her "I wonder if anything really changes."

He's clearly let both Kate and Penn get inside his head, and now he's wondering if he actually can find redemption. Angel's probably also wondering if he himself has actually changed. I think when we here his line "I wonder if anything really changes" we can read that as him wondering if he has changed. If he is capable of change.

He's clearly spiraling, and as easy as breathing Cordelia catches him.

"Sure they do. You did."

She reassures him so effortlessly, like there's no doubt in her mind. Because there isn't. She believes in him.

It's also worth mentioning that in the show there is this omnipresent almost god like force called the powers that be. The powers are like the ultimate force of good supposedly and they send Angel visions of people in trouble through Cordelia. She gets the visions and then tells Angel who to save.

During their conversation on the roof, Cordelia tells him, "the message in my vision didn't come for Angelus it came for you! Angel. And you have to trust that whoever the powers that be..be...are...is, anyway, they know the difference."

The second step in AA is believing that a higher power can restore you back to sanity. On Buffy, Angel was killed at the end of season 2 by Buffy who had to kill him to stop the world from ending. But then he was mysteriously brought back at the beginning of season 3 and know one is sure why or what brought him back. This is actually never explained on either shows but I think it's heavily implied that the powers that be brought Angel back to life and gave him a second chance.

End spoilers:

But anyways, I'm getting ahead of myself. You should really watch the show, it's so good. You don't neccesarily have to watch Buffy to understand it but I still reccomend watching them both because they're so good.

#asks #mutuals!!#angel the series #buffy the vampire slayer #actually autistic

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1rintooru · 4 years

Text

a relationship gone sour

Warnings: physical abuse, toxic relationships, swearing, the whole ‘yandere’ trope, heavily implied death

Pairing: yandere! Tendou Satori x gender neutral reader

Themes: uhm? read the warning again pls

Word count: 1869 - one-shot

Summary: You and your friends devised a plan to escape your toxic relationship, however Tendou ends things before you even get the chance to.

…You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy, when skies are grey…

A familiar hum traveled with the cool breeze that tickled his cheeks. The smell of wet concrete lingered in the air from the heavy downpour earlier. The streetlights had automatically turned off some time ago and the moon hid behind dark, dried-up clouds. ‘Would you be happy to see him? Excited, even? Or would you look at him the same way you’d begun to for many weeks now?’ Tendou could only wonder. For a moment he was worried he’d arrived too early, but it didn’t matter. He promised you that he would visit – even if you didn’t know it yet.

***

Your legs felt heavy once you finally emerged from the bathroom, a yawn escaping your lips. You weren’t used to staying up so late; you had met up with a couple of friends for a much-needed study session and lost track of time. Once you all finally parted ways it was already past midnight and all that you could do was mentally apologize to your future self for being exhausted the following day.

Conversation of school gossip quickly turned into a targeted interrogation towards you. To be fair, your friends were deeply worried for you. They made no secret of their dissatisfaction in your relationship since you heard every complaint under the sun. Gentle concern eventually turned to stern berating out of desperation and much to their dismay, you easily brushed off their remarks and defended Tendou every. Single. Time.

Tendou always stood out to you as an oddball type; he was loud, playful and marched to the beat of his own drum. You fell in love with his quick wit and sardonic humor and grew innately protective over him when you learned about his difficult childhood.

But as months passed, the line between satire and sincerity became more and more blurred. It wasn’t until he would become increasingly obsessive and his lampooning more threatening that you understood the gravity of his words. You were constantly walking on eggshells around him as your formerly sweet relationship quickly turned acidic.

You weren’t wearing your rose-colored glasses anymore and the confession of your relationship woes were met with sighs of relief. Grammar structure and algebraic formulas soon became trivial as you and your friends started planning a way for you to escape your toxic relationship. The worry that weighed heavily on your mind finally lifted as you felt the warm compassion of your closest friends’ envelope you like a heated blanket.

How long has it been since you felt this way?

You smiled to yourself – still riding feathery-light high from earlier – and brushed your thoughts aside, deciding to deal with them again in the morning. You rounded the corner into the hallway, a slight spring in your step as you went, before stopping abruptly.

The light went out.

You made a mental note to replace the broken lightbulb as soon as possible. While you weren’t shrouded in complete darkness, the newly missing light source still created an illusive atmosphere that you weren’t fond of. Your shadow crept up and bounced off the walls and the end of the hallway was left in pitch-darkness. The only thing you could barely make out was the faint outline of your clothes that hung from the clothes stand, creating an eerily human-like shape. You considered to check the door to see if it was locked but decided against it; you were just being paranoid and in your sleepy state it was expected for your mind to play tricks on you.

What you didn’t expect was for the shape to take a step forward.

Your breath hitched in your throat and you could feel how each individual hair stood on end. The figure took another agonizingly slow step forward, revealing its silhouette to be that of a male with a tall, lanky build. You wanted nothing more than to run away, but the cold shiver that went down your spine had you completely frozen. Your legs had locked themselves in place and all you could do was watch in horror as they took a third step forward, the dim lighting cascading across his face and illuminating his features.

“Satori!”

“Hello there, Sunshine.” His tone was sardonic, fleering as he extended his arms towards you. “I’ve missed you… how about a hug?”

You wanted to reply but only managed to choke out a cough; the sharp, excruciating pain at the back of your head traveled down your spine and spread outwards, making your whole backside throb. You didn’t even have time to react when he lunged forward, toppling you off your feet and knocking the wind out of your lungs. The room felt as if it were spinning as you hopelessly watched Tendou and his double merge in and out of each other, both of them offering you an ear-splitting grin. A painful, heavy pressure provoked another coughing fit and your eyes darted to the source – the center of your chest caved in where Tendou deeply dug his knee, the other planted firmly on your left arm while one hand pinned your right down.

You tried desperately to thrash your legs in a frantic attempt to kick him off, but the way you were angled made it nearly impossible to reach him. He remained unyielding as he stayed perched onto you like a gargoyle, his crimson eyes boring into you acrimoniously. A pout formed on his lips as he watched you squirm beneath him, tilting his head so unnaturally that it practically rested on his shoulder.

“Is that any way to greet the love of your life?” he cooed.

“Satori please, I can’t- I can’t breathe,” you gasped, still convulsing in pain.

“Hm? Oh, guess I don’t know my own strength,” he responded dispassionately, focusing his attention on the dirt under his nails. He knew exactly what he was doing, this was all just a child’s play for him. With Tendou it was always a game – and you were the prize. You shifted beneath him, finally able to somewhat breathe as the pressure elevated.

“Satori, sweetheart – if this is about before, then you have nothing to be jealous about! I was just studying-”

“Huh?” he leaned back with crossed arms, not enough loosen his grip but enough so that he almost sat upright. “Jealous? This has nothing do with jealousy. I made you a promise, remember?”

A promise? Your mind frantically raced trying to remember when he had promised you something. What promise?

He smiled wryly and answered as though he had read your mind, “I promised you that I would keep you safe – that I would keep our relationship safe. I know everything about you and I’ll be damned if anything ever gets between us!”

You winced at his menacing tone; you always knew Tendou could switch from cheerful to incredibly threatening at the drop of a hat and you regretted not listening to your friends sooner. However now, dread enveloped you as you felt a sense of foreshadowing in his words.

“Satori… I am safe! I’m not going anywhere, see?”

His face softened and he abruptly leaned forward, his face just inches above your own. His breath tickled your nose and you had to collect all your willpower to not recoil as his long fingers caressed the side of your cheek ever so gently.

“That’s a lie.”

Your eyes widened in panic as you felt your whole body be overcome with despair.

“Satori, I –”

“I thought we had a pretty good thing going for us. You really accepted me fully and I am so, so thankful for that.” Despite his casual delivery, there was a genuine fondness written on his face, only revealed by the small crinkles that developed under his eyes. “So, when you started to look at me the way everyone else did – like some freak – I knew that wasn’t you. My beloved Y/N wouldn’t look at me like I’m some fucking monster.”

“I – I don’t think that – I would never think you’re a monster!”

You were interrupted by a deafeningly loud clap, the sound still echoing through the room as you felt blistering sting from where Tendou’s hand met your cheek. You briefly saw him multiply again, but even through blurred vision you could see his manic eyes twinkle like rubies.

“Goodness Y/N, you’re just full of lies today!”

His cheery tone made you cower. You knew you couldn’t overpower your 6’2” boyfriend – you already tried that – so in your desperation all you had left was to reason with him.

“Satori please! I’m your sunshine, remember…? You wouldn’t want to hurt your sunshine, right?” your pleas came out as pathetic whimpers, hot tears threatening to spill over your cheeks, already sticky and tear-stained from before.

“Well, yeah I guess.” His face turned thoughtful for a split-second while he considered your words. “But you’re also the one who took my sunshine away. Y/N wouldn’t look at me like I’m some demon.” He shrugged nonchalantly, his expression immediately returning to its morbid excitement.

“But if that’s what you think, then I’ll show you a real fucking abomination.”

He leaned forward and planted a kiss onto your right cheek. Then your left. You wanted to scream but your cries stopped in your throat, right where Tendou had wrapped his long, calloused fingers.

“I wanted to be mad at you, but I just can’t. It’s my fault all of this happened, I failed at protecting you.”

He fastened his grip, adding additional pressure through his digits and onto your larynx. While you felt your throat tighten, you could also feel the weight on your chest get heavier as Tendou slowly and tortuously added more of his bodyweight. His frenzied breath and your choked cries were only drowned out by the earsplitting cracks of your ribs. With both arms freed, you frantically tried to pry his fingers off, scratching his face and punching him as hard as you could. He didn’t even react – completely ignoring the scratches that now decorated his face. The hits you landed felt more like pesky flies to him.

“Forgive me, but I have to do this. It’ll only take a sec.”

Tendou’s grip tightened, silencing you completely. Exhaustion overwhelmed you as the adrenaline from before started to wear off. The weight of your arms felt like cinderblocks as they slowly drooped down, just faintly clasping at the fabric of his sleeves.

“I wish things could have been different.”

You were unsure of who spoke as Tendou’s multiples reappeared, almost as if to taunt you while a black haze emerged from the corners of your eyes. His eyes gleamed nefariously and his face split into a maniacal, shit-eating grin – a final farewell – as your vision fully eclipsed.

“I’m sorry.”

***

The pillowy clouds from earlier had finally dissipated once Tendou stepped back outside, veiling the sleepy neighborhood in a dim moonlight. The breeze from before had died down, leaving the air stagnant. How ordinary. Nothing stood out on this night except for the familiar tune that could be faintly heard in the distance.

…You’ll never know dear, how much I love you

Please don’t take my sunshine away…

#*sigh* i lowkey rly hate this #haikyuu x reader #tendou x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq!! reader #tendou satori #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshot #tw: abuse #tw: death #tw: yandere #lemme know what else to tag and ill correct it #at the very least #i was able to put a creative spin on my past #ya-fucking-hoo #selfmade #hq after dark!!

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spaceiez · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 2/?

Fandom: Gravity Falls Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines Characters: Dipper Pines, Bill Cipher, Mabel Pines Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Older Dipper Pines, Older Mabel Pines, Human Bill Cipher, Alcohol, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change Summary:

Sophomore year of college and Dipper is ready for new adventures! But, when there is an unexpected dorm room change, Dipper must face a new challenge, a (crazy?) roommate named Bill Cipher.

Chapter One: Illnnzgv Xszmtv

Dipper felt his lips curve into a smile as he set one of his suitcases into the bright blue college moving cart. He stood back up and slid out a plastic bin, filled with bedsheets, blankets, a mattress pad, and his pillow, out of the car trunk. He plopped it into the moving cart with his black suitcase. The young man glanced up, smiling wider as he took in the large campus around him. Dipper could feel both the excitement of being back at college and the anticipation of starting a new year with new classes rising in his chest.

His pine tree trucker cap was suddenly shoved down in front of his line of sight, which jolted him from his thoughts, “Hey!” He whined, fixing the hat back to its proper place and brushing the hair from his eyes.

His twin sister grinned at him, giggling at his reaction, “Sorry, couldn’t help it bro. I have to let my energy and excitement out somehow!” She poked his arm as she danced around him.

Dipper laughed, “Okay, okay, how about you direct that energy into unloading your stuff from the car?”

Mabel patted Dipper’s shoulder thoughtfully, “Check-in isn’t for another five minutes, I got plenty of time.”

“You have four large bins, a mini-fridge, one suitcase full of sweaters, two suitcases full of other clothes, and another with dorm decorations,” he raised his eyebrow, “And...I’m pretty sure you have a duffle bag full of just gummy candy.”

Mabel shrugged, “Gummy koalas supply more energy.” Despite her words, she did start unloading her college bags into her moving cart, occasionally plopping a gummy candy into her mouth. Mabel pulled out a bag of stickers from her suitcase and smacked a glittery rainbow on one of Dipper's plastic bins, "BAP! Now your bin is stylish!"

"It's already stylish," Dipper smiled as he pointed to his bin. It already had a 'California' and 'film student' sticker on it. He shook his head and continued to unload his bags.

It was their second year in college at a well-known university in Los Angeles. The twins had always wanted to attend college there and as fate had it they were both accepted. They were also thrilled that they could experience college together as they had with middle and high school. Sometimes having your sibling around during new adventures was better than any best friend or significant other. Mabel was a second-year fashion and design student while Dipper was majoring in film and media studies. The kid dreamed of starting some kind of ghost hunting show or something that covered the supernatural. After spending their summers in Gravity Falls, where they were constantly exposed to the supernatural, Dipper became obsessed.

Dipper waved his hand towards his face as he began to sweat, “Gosh, why did our move-in date have to be one of the hottest days of the year?”

Mabel nodded, thankfully she had a loose, white cropped tank top on. It definitely helped with the heat. “Global warming. It’ll only get worse.” She frowned sourly, carefully setting her sweater suitcase in the cart.

Dipper nodded and handed her the car keys, “Hey, lock the car once you’ve got everything in your cart. I’m going to check into my dorm and start unpacking. I’ll say hi to Nick for you.” Dipper smiled at her and she responded with a salute.

Nick was a close friend from Dipper’s friend group he joined last year. They had similar majors and enjoyed many of the same tv shows, hobbies, and books so they decided to room together this year despite the common belief that ‘friendships get ruined that way'. There wasn’t really anyone else to live with anyway. And random roommates were a hit or miss.

As Dipper pushed his cart along the path to the dorm he happily took in the view around him. The college was pretty gorgeous with its Greek-like yet modern-style buildings. The pathways that led to the halls and dorms were surrounded by open green spaces. Most students liked to study there or just relax with friends. The large trees were also a nice touch. Dipper inhaled deeply; it reminded him of Oregon.

He came up to a long, modern-looking building that was around five stories tall. Vines crawled up the sides of the walls and some trees stood around the perimeter. ‘Smith’ was etched on the entrance. The brunette smiled up at it and proceeded to walk inside. Thankfully a gust of AC greeted him, much better than the outside heat. A young woman, either Dipper’s age or a year older, hurried over to him with a wide smile. She had highlighted brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and long eyelashes. The woman wore a blue shirt with loud yellow words, reading ‘Student Coordinator Team’ and carried a clipboard, probably full of welcome sheets or something of that matter.

“Hello there! I’m Annie, a student coordinator, here to help you with move-in! Can I get your last name?”

Smiling politely, Dipper nodded, “Pines. Dipper Pines. Thanks, but I already know I’m in room 128 with Nick Shasta.”

The young woman flipped through the papers attached to her clipboard, soon stopping and squinting at one of the pages, “Ohh.” She sighed through her nose, “I’m really sorry, but there were some issues with roommates and dorms and Housing had to make some last minute changes.”

Dipper blinked twice, his stomach flipping, “What? Changes? Why?”

She shrugged, “They were last minute, but you are now in room 918.” She glanced at her paper as if she needed to double-check, then Annie nodded. She handed him a keycard from a box that sat on the front desk. Dipper stuttered, “I don’t get it, why was my room changed? Does Nick know? Can I change back?”

She looked over Dipper’s face, which was already red from the heat, but now more so from the unexpected news. "You can email Housing Services, I’m sure they can help explain this better than me. I’m sorry.” She gave him an apologetic look.

Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Okay, thanks. I guess. I’ll email them. Thanks.” He sucked at his lower lip, quickly pushing his moving cart past the girl and to the elevators, his head spinning.

Why a last-second change? Was Nick aware? The elevator doors opened and Dipper pulled the cart inside as he went through various scenarios in his head. His anxiety made it hard to process the situation. When the doors opened he arrived at the fifth floor. Dipper licked his dry lips and sighed. Just email Housing, text Nick. No big deal. No big deal.

Students lined the hall with their parents, unpacking their things and getting settled into their dorms. Others were chatting with friends, looks of giddy excitement on their faces. Some were crying and hugging their parents. 916...917...918. Dipper closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing mind before he met the person behind the door. Once the thoughts were as quiet as they were going to get, Dipper unlocked the door with his key car and pulled his cart inside.

The door shut behind him, closing Dipper off from the hallway. The room was larger than an average dorm room, having two twin-sized beds, two desks, two dressers, two large closets near the door, and room for a tiny kitchen area. Although one had to bring a microwave and mini-fridge. There was nice cupboard space which was a plus.

One side of the room was already set up. The twin bed was decorated in soft grey sheets, a fluffy black pillow, and a white comforter that sported yellow triangles. There were pictures hung over the wall above the bed. Some were of a group of friends and others were of odd subjects, like a random fork or tree.

Dipper turned his attention to the kitchen area. The individual had brought a mini-fridge and had decorated it in more triangles and other geometric shapes, this time the shapes were multiple different colors that formed a messy rainbow across the stainless steel door. On the person’s desk was a computer as well as a weird-looking plant, and a jar of…

“The fuck…” Dipper mumbled slowly, squinting to see if he was viewing the objects in the jar correctly.

Teeth. Different sizes and types of teeth filled the mason jar. Dipper blinked slowly, what the hell? He plopped down on the bare mattress on his side of the room and continued to observe the other side of the room as if it was a specimen itself. It wasn’t very messy, but there was an open box of Oreos and a can of beer on the dresser. Colored lights lined the sides of the ceiling and were flashing different colors. It was quite obnoxious actually.

Dipper groaned. Hopefully, he could move in with Nick after he sent an email to Housing because the person who lived on the other side of this dorm room was a freak. A freak who collected deer teeth and probably got drunk every night.

The dorm room door suddenly swung open and a young man lazily leaned against the doorframe as he looked over Dipper, a strange glint in his eyes. The man had different tones and layers of blonde hair, which caused it to be fluffy and stick out in random places. The freckles across his cheeks and shoulders complimented his sun-kissed skin nicely. His eyes were two different colors, one being a soft golden and the other a bright blue. Dipper didn’t have much time to take that in, because his already-stressed brain was focused on other key aspects about this guy. For one, he was wearing nothing but black shorts, not even shoes or socks. The second was that he had some nice abs. Shit, they were really nice abs. And the third, he held another jar of...something...in his hands

“I lost this bad boy in my car,” he wiggled the jar and whatever was in the inside bobbed around within the liquid solution, “took me ten minutes to find it. It was so hot outside, thought they might melt or something. Hell, I could have melted. Damn heat!” He laughed loudly which made Dipper flinch. The young man waved his hand in front of his face to cool off, “Bill Cipher by the way.”

A second later, the blonde tossed Dipper the jar. Dipper’s reflexes kicked in and he caught it in his hands, fumbling a little. He stared down at the jar to see what was inside and what was inside...stared back. The jar was full of real eyeballs.

Dipper shrieked.

#AO3 #Billdip #bill cipher #dipper pines #mabel pines #fanfic #fanfiction #gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #atwr #and they were roommates #college au

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humans4vampires · 4 years

Text

Cold Heart

Context: This story was inspired by a tumblr post from tumblr user @cozycullens. The post outlined the potential for sappy holiday content that the original story lacked. The post noted that Twilight fans had to fill in the blanks; I thought it would be fun to write out what Valentine’s Day could have looked like for Edward and Bella. The timeline of this story edits the original canon, meaning the breakup in New Moon and subsequent recoupling happens earlier, allowing the pair to be reunited in time to spend both the Christmas holiday season together and Valentine’s Day. This is before the events are set in motion for the vampire army attack in Eclipse. I’d also like to mention that this story addresses a scene that occurs later in the timeline of the novel. I’ve edited it here to give Edward and Bella a bit of private time that is free of the pressures that the later happenings of Eclipse bring to the moment. In this, I have used direct quotes from Meyer’s novel, and I do not claim to own that content in any way. As stated, this is purely for fun and to share with my fellow Twilight fans.

READ PART TWO HERE

______

The dull blue grey light of the morning filtered through my window in a haze, waking me gently from inconsequential dreams. My natural instincts to unfurl myself from my usual swaddle of blankets to reach for him felt empty and unnecessary. Rather, I found myself spread across my bed in a sweaty mess of fabric.

“Edward?” I said softly, propping myself up to take in the room. I blinked quickly and tried to brush the mess of my hair from my face, speaking his name again as a question. There was no reply.

I tried to think back to the night before; I didn’t think he had gone hunting. No, he had surely been with me when I fell asleep. A compilation of Victorian poetry was open face-down on his side of my bed. We made the trip to Seattle a few weeks ago to get the book I needed to get started on my research paper. I had chosen the topic of Tennyson and Rossetti as an ironic gesture toward him – my very own post-Victorian era angel. He was reading his favorites to me, his voice a velvet whisper when I had fallen asleep in his cool embrace.

No, I was sure he had been with me throughout the night. I ran my left palm over the bare sheet beside me and felt the lingering presence of his wintry skin. It was unusual for him to leave before I woke. It was my favorite part of each day, and his. I was wondering what had called him away as I picked up the heavy text to see where he had left off. As I turned the pages to face me, a small piece of paper fluttered into my lap. The note he had left in his elegant script explained his absence.

‘Who are wise in love, love most, say least. Happy Valentine’s Day, love.’

He quoted Tennyson, I was sure, but the poem he had left open was not the same one he referenced. Instead, the book was open to Tennyson’s ‘Crossing the Bar,’ which was certainly not a love poem. I scanned it quickly, trying to garner any meaning from it without success. My mind was racing elsewhere, my heart beating quickly with exultant dread. So he had gone to prepare whatever exorbitant Valentine’s Day surprise he had planned. As fate would have it, this holiday had arrived on a school day and would provide a public audience to witness the surely over-the-top display Edward had planned for me.

Edward’s obsession with making the most of my human experiences had only intensified since reaching our compromise for Carlisle to turn me after my impending high school graduation. Christmas had been a deluge of cheer and merriment thanks to Alice, who was overcompensating for lost time with me – while also, just being Alice. I was still convinced it hadn’t snowed quite as much as she’d wanted and she had somehow managed a snow machine to fill in my yard for Christmas morning. Alice had laughed off my assumptions as absurd, but Charlie was still trying to work out how our yard had had a good three feet more snow than the rest of our neighborhood.

The halls had certainly been decked in Cullen home, too. It had to be visible from space from the sheer amount of Christmas lights neatly hung on every eave and railing. For the entire month of December, the house smelled of fresh gingerbread and pine. Every surface had been transformed with fresh garlands and shiny decorations. The fireplace in the grand living room was constantly crackling a gentle fire, flickering its light against the enormous tree trimmed with ornaments gathered over the many decades of Christmases past. And the gifts – oh – I couldn’t even bring myself to continue the thought.

I was brought back to reality, the sweet valentine in my shaking hand. I took a staggered breath and made a passing glance at the clock as I rushed to the bathroom. I tried not to think about the day ahead as I dressed. Charlie had already left for the station and the rest of my morning at home seemed to move in a blur of anxiety. I stumbled out the door in a black turtleneck, jeans, bean boots, and my mustard yellow coat. I thought my very standard attire might signal Edward to my disinterest in any outlandish public displays of affection. I drove slowly to Forks High School through the rain muddled snow. My truck dredged through the sludge into the parking spot beside the familiar silver Volvo.

The parking lot was already full and busy with the usual Friday commotion. I looked out my rearview mirror to take in the pops of pink and red from the Valentine’s baubles that everyone seemed to be toting. I had always found the holiday rather arbitrary – a well-marketed event to boost the sales of chocolates and flowers. Until my mother had found Phil, Valentine’s Day was usually spent in front of the television with a pint of ice cream, two spoons, and a chick-flick. I was trying to remember the last Valentine’s Day movie my mom and I had watched together when a quick knock on my driver’s side window snapped my eyes from my rearview.

The morning’s panic melted from my bones as I took him in. Edward was standing there, my favorite crooked smile on his lips, a single and perfect red rose held up in his hand.

“Good morning,” he murmured as I opened my door and got to my feet to stand in front of him. “Did you get my Valentine?”

“Mmm,” I hummed. “Tennyson?”

He nodded, a smirk crossing his expression. “Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

I felt a blush beginning to mark my cheeks and looked down at my feet as he handed me my rose. He moved to rest that now empty hand above my head on the frame of my truck, leaning to tighten the space between us. His free hand swept down my jaw, his gentle fingers stopping below my chin to tilt my head up. He bent down to press his lips to mine, his cool breath sending my delicate humanity into a tailspin. The kiss was, as expected, refined… at first. Unexpectedly, he draped an arm around my body to pull me closer to his frame. He lifted me effortlessly to continue the kiss as my free hand found its way around the base of his neck and into his bronze hair.

When his response became rigid and he began to return my feet to their reluctant ground, I realized I had forgotten to breathe. My legs trembled against the sudden gravity and he steadied me as I took in sharp breaths. He chuckled lightly and shook his head.

“What am I going to do with you?” he teased.

“With any hope, that, again.”

He took a slow step back and smirked, “I do enjoy sweeping you off your feet.”

My head was still spinning as I grabbed my bag from the truck and shut the door behind me. Edward took my right hand as we walked to class, my single rose in the left.

The rest of the day continued on and I was a happy bystander to the couples declaring their love for one another throughout the day. It seemed each period passed with another sudden delivery of roses, large teddy bears, or chocolates. Joyce Lowell in Government received a loud serenade from half of the school’s marching band, her boyfriend, Aaron, the faux-conductor. Each time the door to the classroom opened my heart skipped a beat with the fresh fear that Edward might have some embarrassing demonstration planned. I wasn’t eager to hurt his feelings and so I kept the question from him all day. I had cracked by fifth period when he finally asked, “Why is your heart is thrumming like a hummingbird’s?”

“I’m worried that you have a grand romantic gesture planned,” I took a sharp breath, anxious for his response. My heart rate only increased when he shrugged and walked ahead of me into the classroom.

I was at a loss for words when he chuckled. “Am I not allowed a grand gesture on Valentine’s Day?” Panic rushed through me before he continued in a more serious tone, “Do you honestly believe that my romantic displays are akin to those of someone like Mike Newton?”

His eyes glanced down at the trinkets gathered in my arms. I thought this tradition had been left in elementary school, but it seemed my friends still enjoyed giving each other Valentine’s treats. Jessica and Angela both had given me small paper crafts and chocolates to mark the occasion. Even Tyler and Eric participated, handing out boxes of tiny heart candies.

The only class Edward could not manage to work out to have with me our senior year was math – considering my being in a far lower level than was excusable for him to fail into. This, of course, was the only class I had exclusively with Mike. I had found it funny that it bothered Edward in the slightest; until today, when Mike seized the opportunity to give me a large stuffed bear, a rather huge box of chocolates, and a clearly handmade valentine. All platonically, Mike had assured me, as he was still on-and-off with Jessica and I was still very much Edward’s – only Edward’s.

I shook my head as I fumbled to stack all of my favors onto a pile on my desk, keeping the rose in my hand to tap lightly on the tip of Edward’s nose.

He tilted his brow at my playful gesture. “You have nothing to worry about. I simply have arranged for us to have a night alone. My family have their own Valentine’s Day traditions and we’ll have the house to ourselves. For this one night could we try to forget everything besides just you and me?” he pleaded, unleashing the full force of his eyes on me. “It seems like I can never get enough time like that. I need to be with you. Just you.”

“No,” I shook my head again. “Just you is good.”

The hitch in my tone caught his attention, but he didn’t have a chance to respond. Mr. Banner began lecturing on optics and light. I couldn’t focus on Physics; I could only hear Edward’s methodic voice repeating ‘I need to be with you’ again and again. Each passing thought brought a new blush to my cheeks that I tried to hide behind a curtain of my hair. I was sure he could hear my fluttering heart, but I couldn’t focus on that either. I was entirely clouded with thoughts of him. I stared at his strong hands, folded together in front of him on the table. How I imagined them on my body a million times, his cold fingertips grazing over my bare skin in the places he refused to wander. It was all I could think of the rest of the day.

When I was back in my room, a different blur of anxiety plagued me than when I had left it in the morning. Edward and I went our separate ways after school. He had filled me in on how exactly he had planned to handle the issue of Charlie. My father was still learning to trust me again and another night out of the house was certainly going to come under some heavy interrogation. I was technically still grounded even though Edward had been following Charlie’s very strict rules to a perfect degree. I was sure that Charlie hadn’t missed the fact that it was Valentine’s Day and I could only imagine the things he would think Edward and I would be doing if left alone. I was pressing the subject when Edward said, “Esme spoke with Charlie today and let him know that Carlisle is taking my brothers and I on a long-promised camping trip. You’ll be having a girls’ night with Esme, Alice, and Rosalie, as Charlie knows it. He’s been hoping you’d be spending more time with Alice soon.”

I felt a twinge of guilt for all the lying that had to be done to protect Charlie. This lie was much less to protect him from the perils of life threatening vampire attacks and much more about protecting him from the thought of his teenage daughter being alone with her boyfriend on Valentine’s Day. The guilt subsided when I remembered that I would get to be alone with Edward.

I stood in my room, hands steadying me on my dresser, knees shaking from the anticipation. The mix of emotions kept wracking me in waves. Edward had made it very clear; we could not be together physically until I was changed. My safety, was not something he was willing to jeopardize to satisfy any desire – which, to his credit, was entirely the reason I was alive. It was difficult to argue with Edward on that fact, but it was so incredibly difficult to argue with my own desires, still. And yet, I felt foolish all the same. I was so intensely human. Though he’d told me many times that he felt the same way for me, I knew he couldn’t possibly lust for me the way I did for him. I was able to reason that point logically, but part of me questioned it in this moment. Had he changed his mind?

I knew what was waiting for me at the Cullens’. It hadn’t been much more than a month since the last time I had genuinely spent the night there for a ‘girls’ night.’ Edward didn’t want me anywhere near Jacob and so Edward had been avoiding distant hunting trips to keep a close watch on me. Alice was all too eager to babysit to allow Edward a satiating hunt; it left me free to be played with as if I were her life-sized doll. That wasn’t what I was fixated on now. The image of the intricate wrought-iron bed burned in my mind. The thought of Edward and I wrapped tenderly in its golden threads made me quiver again, a sigh escaping my lips.

A knock at the front door made my heart stutter. I heard Charlie gather himself up off the couch to get the door. I stopped listening and only heard the light murmur of greetings as I rushed to find something appropriate to wear. What kind of outfit were you supposed to put together to seduce your vampire boyfriend? I was clashing hangers together across the pole, a bit frantic, when I heard her behind me.

Alice shook her head. “You look like you need to sit down. Let me handle this,” she said.

I decided it was better not to argue with her. I was, in all fairness, a mess, and there was only so much harm she could do with my own wardrobe to work with. She confidently pulled my small duffle from the top shelf of my closet and began packing things without truly looking at them. She had already seen what she would need.

I was sitting in my rocking chair when she looked back to me, still absently packing my bag. She looked like she was waiting for me to say something, but I swallowed uncomfortably rather than working up the nerve to talk.

She cast me a sympathetic smile as she removed something from my closet and tossed it toward me. “Try this,” she said.

I stood to change into the hyacinth blue sweater Alice had given it to me as a Christmas gift. Unlike many of the other fashion pieces Alice had tried to dress me in, I did like it. It was soft, probably a thin cashmere, with a plunging V neckline. It fit my frame tightly and was flattering in a way that I couldn’t justify being embarrassed by. She moved to my dresser then, digging through the very bottom drawer to pull out a short skirt she had also gifted me that I was not particularly fond of. Before I could argue, she slung it onto the bed.

“Work with me here, Bella,” she said sternly.

I pulled on the black skirt without a fight. Alice finished off my outfit with a pair of expensive black leather boots.

“And those were a gift from Esme, before you think of disputing them,” she lectured.

“No, I like them. At least they’re covering more of my skin,” I said, zipping them up.

Alice peaked her eyebrows, a smirk budding on her face as she closed my bag. I felt the rush of blood on my complexion again. “Alice – “

“Come on, let’s go before you lose it,” she said quickly, pulling my hand and leading me out of my room and down the stairs.

Charlie didn’t bother looking away from the television as we called a quick goodbye to him. Alice carried me through the slush in a movement so brief that I had no time to process it, placing me in the passenger seat of her small yellow Porsche. Forks blurred outside the windows and in the darkness of the car, it was easier for me to talk about what I was getting myself into.

“Does he…” I asked in her direction, not finishing the thought.

“I don’t think I should really say anything, Bella.” She answered, plainly.

“Since when do you keep things to yourself, Alice?”

She chuckled quietly, “Whatever I say now is not going to help. I’m just dropping you off. You’re not the only one with Valentine’s Day plans, you know.”

“That’s not fair,” I complained. “He’s seen whatever you’ve seen. He’s not going into this blind like I am.”

“Oh, yes he is,” she said proudly. “I’ve been careful to stay away from him today – and it’s not quite clear what’s going to happen. You’ve only been growing bolder in the last few hours.”

Bolder? I certainly didn’t feel it. In the light of the dashboard, I saw Alice turn to me as the car began to slow. We were already in the driveway. When the car stopped, I felt a quick breeze from the opening and closing of her door. She had slung my bag over her shoulder quickly before arriving at my door to help me to the porch steps. I doubted even Alice thought I was that uncoordinated to walk a few feet without falling; she was carrying me everywhere to keep the boots safe, I thought. She set me down on the porch and walked ahead of me into the house. I followed her in, confused.

“I thought you said you were just dropping me off?”

We were in the living room when she said, “I am. Edward isn’t here yet. He had an errand to run. He’ll be here soon and we’ll be gone – don’t worry.”

A fresh blush met my cheeks as I locked eyes with the another set in the room. Rosalie was perched on the edge of the sofa, bent over the coffee table arranging what looked like a large photo album. She had small papers and photos scattered all over the table, some in small piles on the floor beside her. She gazed up at me with the come-to-be-expected level of enthusiasm I generally received, but there was a hint of something else in her expression. It caught me by surprise and left me gawking at her silently. Rosalie’s appearance always struck me, but tonight she was especially beautiful. Her tight satin dress was just the perfect shade of red to compliment her equally satin skin, her golden hair a perfect, elegant twist, and her long bare legs crossed in front of her were only further elongated by her strappy, red stilettos. Alice had done her best with me, but I felt myself self-consciously tug at the hem of my skirt.

That inexplicable look that I had caught in Rosalie’s expression seemed to grow stronger as she gauged my assessment of her. A small smile crossed her lips as she looked back to what she was working on and I looked to Alice, who was dancing back down the stairs now. I hadn’t noticed her departure, but she was already redressed in an ensemble that mirrored the glamour of Rosalie’s. Alice bent one leg up behind her, fastening the tiny buckle on the strap of her heel, careful not to bend and crease the fabric on her burgundy slip-dress.

“Alright, Rose. Let’s not keep them waiting any longer.” Alice rolled her eyes at me quickly before Rosalie noticed. Alice had her keys in her tiny hands as she walked my direction to head for the door.

“I will see you tomorrow,” she said with a coy grin.

Rosalie was out the door faster than I could follow. I turned to Alice as she moved at a more mortal pace. “Where are you going?” I asked.

Alice waved as she replied, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Bella!” The door was shut behind her then. I heard the muffled roar of her Porsche as she and Rosalie left me behind. I assumed that I was completely alone then. I was curious to know where they were going, but my mind was busy calculating other worries. I stood in the Cullens’ living room, taking in the sheer silence. The only sound was coming from the low burning fire still crackling dimly in the fireplace. I unlocked my tense limbs to move toward the heat. I stopped briefly to survey Rosalie’s project and flipped through a couple of pages on the bound album.

Were these all valentines? I picked up a few loose papers from the table and skimmed them quickly. It seemed that Rosalie had been collecting notes from her admirers for decades, compiling the highlights in an album with cards dating back to 1929. Some of the earlier letters were from when she was still human, if I wasn’t mistaken. A few authors were brave enough to sign their names, but most were anonymous confessions. I spent more time snooping through Rosalie’s valentines than I should have, but part of me thought that she must have wanted me to see them. Why else would she have left them all here?

I focused myself again and took a seat on the edge of the hearth.

I was glad I had a moment to gather myself and took the opportunity to take a few deep, but unsteady, breaths. Why was I so unnerved? I closed my eyes and tried to summon my buried fantasies of Edward. There I let myself imagine him, pulling me tightly to his chest, letting his lips roam my jaw, my neck, and the dips of my collarbones. What would he look like bare? I’d only been able to guess the parts of him that were always just beyond my reach. I let those thoughts in too, imagining my own fingers tracing patterns around the curves of his muscles. To bring him close to me, skin to skin – the thought alone painted my face in a soft blush. I bit my lip, letting go a full breath I had been holding. I opened my eyes then and immediately found him.

He was standing across the room from me, a statue of indescribable, sculpted beauty, leaning on the wall casually. He had a peaceful expression resting in his features, but his bright golden eyes were burning with something I couldn’t explain. My favorite crooked smile slowly crossed his lips as his eyes seemed to search my body. I blushed more deeply, a decision forming more firmly in my mind.

I loved him, purely, and every ounce of my body and soul ached to be his. It was exactly the reason I had asked him to change me himself. I wanted his venom to alter me permanently, his lips on my skin to be the last human sensation I’d ever feel. I wanted to be tangibly his, forever; for Edward to lay claim to me in an absolute and eternal way. If I was his, then he was mine. This desire burned in me more brightly in this moment than it ever had. But there were other human sensations I ached for now. And suddenly, I was sure I was not willing to sacrifice them.

Edward moved slowly across the room to perch in front of me. The height of the hearth and his tall body in a crouch before me, leveled us to be equally face-to-face. As he bent, he balanced a small, thin velvet box on my knees. I made no move to open it, so he chuckled lightly and opened it to reveal a small glittering heart-shaped charm. Even in the dim firelight, the brilliant crystal’s intricate cuts glinted countless sparkling rays of color. It was hung on a silver chain as thin as thread.

He was the first to break the silence.

“It was my mother’s.” He shrugged deprecatingly. “I inherited quite a few baubles like this. I’ve given some to Esme, Alice, and Rosalie throughout the years. So, clearly, this is not a big deal in any way.” I could feel his eyes on me, but I continued to stare down, not quite ready to speak. “A hand-me-down,” he reminded me sternly. “You said that was allowable.”

“I guess I did say that,” I said in a whisper.

He chuckled at my reluctance. “I thought it was a good representation,” he continued. “It’s hard and cold.” He laughed. “And it throws rainbows in the sunlight.”

“You forgot the most important similarity,” I murmured. “It’s beautiful.”

“My heart is just as silent,” he mused. “And it, too, is yours.”

I offered the box to him and moved to gather my hair away from my neck, turning to the fire. As he moved to clasp the chain around my neck, I said, “Thank you for both.”

His fingers seemed to linger on the skin of my throat as I turned back to face him. Our lips were only inches apart now. I moved my hands to wrap them around his neck.

“No, thank you. It’s a relief to have you accept a gift so easily. Good practice for you, too.” He grinned, flashing his teeth. His eyes wandered down to take pride in his accepted gift. I was grateful for the plunging neckline of my sweater when his gaze lingered where the crystal charm hung delicately above my chest. I made a mental note to thank Alice later and took a steadying breath. I began to feel cautiously optimistic. Perhaps getting what I wanted would not be as difficult as I’d expected it to be.

No, of course it was going to be just exactly that difficult. I cleared my throat lightly and braced myself. “Can we discuss something?” I asked. “I’d appreciate it if you could begin by being open-minded.”

He hesitated for a moment and returned his eyes to mine. “I’ll give it my best effort,” he agreed, cautious now. He unwrapped my arms from around his neck as he moved to put space between us.

“I’m not breaking any rules here,” I promised. “This is strictly about you and me.”

“Listen to your heart fly,” he murmured. “It’s fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings,” he repeated the analogy he had applied to me earlier in the day. “Are you all right?”

“I’m great,” I said formally. I wondered why I was being so formal.

“Please go on then,” he encouraged.

“Well, I guess, first, I wanted to talk to you about that whole ridiculous marriage condition.”

“It’s only ridiculous to you. What about it?” He was backing further away from me now.

I leaned closer to him, placing my hands on his knees to keep him near me. “I was wondering… is that open to negotiation?”

Edward frowned, serious now. “I’ve already made the largest concession by far and away – I’ve agreed to take your life against my better judgment. And that ought to entitle me to a few compromises on your part.”

“No.” I shook my head, focusing on keeping my face composed. “That part’s a done deal. We’re not discussing that now. I want to hammer out some other details.”

He looked at me suspiciously. “Which details do you mean exactly?”

I hesitated. “Let’s clarify your prerequisites first – matrimony?” I made it sound like a dirty word.

“Yes.” He smiled a wide smile. “To start with.”

The shock spoiled my carefully composed expression. “There’s more?”

“Well,” he said, his face calculating. “If you’re my wife, then what’s mine is yours… So there would be no issue with Dartmouth tuition.”

“Anything else? While you’re already being absurd?”

“Time. I’m finding it quite ephemeral… like it’s slipping through my fingers,” as he spoke, he rose his finger tips to sweep a gentle line over my exposed collarbones.

I shook my head, trying to forget his distracting touch. “No. No time. That’s a deal breaker.”

He sighed longingly. “Just a year or two?”

I refused to give into his burning amber eyes. “What else?”

“That’s it. Unless you’d like to talk cars…”

He grinned widely when I grimaced, then took my hand and began playing with my fingers. “I didn’t realize there was anything else you wanted besides being transformed into a monster yourself. I’m extremely curious.” His voice was low and soft. The slight edge would have been hard to detect if I hadn’t known it so well.

I paused, staring at his hand on mine. I still didn’t know how to begin. I felt his eyes watching me and I was afraid to look up. The blood began to burn in my face.

His cool hand cupped my cheek. “You’re blushing?” he asked in surprise. I kept my eyes down. “Please, Bella, the suspense is painful.”

I bit my lip.

“Bella.” His tone reproached me now, reminding me that it was hard for him when I kept my thoughts to myself.

“Edward,” I said, nervous, staring at a freckle on my wrist. “There’s something that I want to do before I’m not human anymore.”

He waited for me to continue. I didn’t. My face was hot.

“Whatever you want,” he encouraged, anxious and completely clueless.

“Do you promise?” I muttered, knowing my attempt to trap him with his words was not going to work. But he was unable to resist my coaxing.

“Yes,” he said. I looked up through my lashes to see that his eyes were earnest and confused. “Tell me what you want, and you can have it.”

I couldn’t believe how awkward and idiotic I felt. I was too innocent. I didn’t have the faintest idea how to be seductive. I would just have to settle for flushed and self-conscious.

“You,” I mumbled almost incoherently.

“I’m yours.” He smiled, still oblivious, trying to hold my gaze as I looked away again.

I took a deep breath and leaned closer to him, pressing my lips to his. He kissed me back, bewildered but willing, his lips gentle against mine. I began to slide my hands from his knees, up his thighs and slowly toward his waist. I hadn’t gotten very far when I all but heard the click in his head as he put together my words and my actions, his lips freezing in place.

He pushed me away at once, his face heavily disapproving.

“Be reasonable, Bella.”

“Edward, I –. “ He had cut me off, placing a single finger over my lips to quiet me.

“No.” His face was hard.

I was surprised by my reaction to his dismissal. I raised my hand to swat at his. My action didn’t move him, of course, but he moved his hand from my mouth in response. “You are not going to shush me,” I said sternly. “We’re here discussing terms of an eternity together – marriage and other promises – but sex?” I said the word louder than the rest. “Edward, why can’t we talk about sex?”

He was frozen there, hands at his side, eyes locked on mine. I felt the charge of adrenaline passing quicker than it had come. We sat there for a moment in silence with only my quick breathing and rapid pulse as audio. I shifted my gaze down as the rush subsided. It took me a minute to recognize why I was staring at my freckle again, the blush returning – why my stomach felt uneasy, why there was too much moisture in my eyes, why I suddenly wanted to run from the room.

Rejection washed through me, instinctive and strong.

I knew it was irrational. He’d been very clear on other occasions that my safety was the only factor. Yet I’d never made myself quite so vulnerable before. It was hard to beg for the mercy of an angel.

Edward moved then, bringing his hand up to my chin to pull my face up until I had to look at him again. He scrutinized my face for a long moment while I tried unsuccessfully to twist away from his gaze. His brow furrowed, and his expression became horrified as I continued to fight off the onslaught of water in my eyes.

His other hand rushed to my cheek, his thumb stroking there reassuringly. “You know why I have to say no,” he murmured. “You know that I want you, too.”

“Do you?” I whispered, my voice full of accusation and doubt.

He held my face at my jaw now, his fingers on my neck at the base of my hair. “Of course I do, you beautiful, oversensitive girl.” He laughed once, and then his voice was bleak. “Doesn’t everyone? I feel like there’s a line behind me, jockeying for position, waiting for me to make a big enough mistake… You’re too desirable for your own good.”

It seemed like he wanted to press on, anxiety flooding him as it had me throughout the day. I took a breath.

“Tell me if I have anything wrong,” I tried to sound detached. “Your demands are marriage, college, more time, and a faster car.”

“Only the first is a demand,” he said taking a breath. “The others are merely requests.”

“And my lone, solitary demand is – “

“Demand?” he interrupted, on edge again.

“Yes, demand.” I said confidently, looping my fingers around his wrists and tugging until he dropped them. I was not going to concede, now that I knew he wanted this as badly as I did. I would have to be brave for the both of us. I kept my gaze locked on his, placing a hand on his chest to request more space between us.

Edward immediately responded, backing up slightly and resting on his knees with room in front of him. Without breaking the contact we had, I slid down so that we were both on our knees. I brought both hands to the collar of his shirt and began to unbutton slowly, never moving my eyes from his.

“Please,” I begged. “There is nothing I want more than you.”

He took a deep breath. I was surprised that it sounded a little unsteady.

“I could kill you,” he whispered.

I had the last button undone then and slid the fabric from his shoulders to the floor. I was gliding my hands down his chest and placing my lips over his heart when I murmured against his skin. “I don’t think you could.”

As I kissed him there, a low sound escaped his lips. A moan? My body ached in a way it never had. I felt electrified. My heart jolted, words tumbling out of my mouth to take advantage of the sudden uncertainty in his eyes. “Please, try,” I pleaded.

His hands were wrapped around my biceps then, his head bent down to bring his lips to my ear, making me shiver. “This is unbearable. So many things I’ve wanted to give you – and this is what you demand. Do you have any idea how painful it is, refusing you when you plead with me this way?”

“Then don’t refuse,” I suggested breathlessly.

He didn’t respond. I tossed my head back to catch my breath, letting my hair fall down behind me. Edward’s hands still held my arms firmly. “Please,” I tried again.

He bent his head to my neck. “Bella…” He shook his head slowly, but it didn’t feel like denial as his face, his lips, moved back and forth across my throat. It felt more like surrender. My heart sputtered frantically when his lips finally stopped to embrace my skin. The same low sound spilled from my lips now, which seemed to hit Edward with the same electrical shock.

His grip tensed instantly and I was sure he was going to push me away again.

I was wrong.

His lips were on mine, his hands pulling me up to close the space between us. His mouth was not gentle; there was a brand-new edge of conflict and desperation in the way his lips moved. When his hands moved into my hair, I locked my arms around his neck, tightening my hold on him. To my suddenly overheated skin, his body felt colder than ever. I trembled, but it was not from the chill.

He didn’t stop kissing me. I was the one who had to break away, gasping for air. Even then his lips did not leave my skin, they just moved to my throat. So quickly that I wasn’t even sure how it happened, I was in his arms, his lips still exploring my skin, as we nearly flew through the house. Human velocity was not fast enough for him. We were in his bedroom then, still locked in each other’s arms as he fell onto his back on the bed.

The thrill of victory was a strange high; it made me feel powerful. Brave. My hands weren’t unsteady now and my fingers traced the patterns I had dreamed of a thousand times. He was too beautiful. What was the word he had used? Unbearable – that was it. His beauty was too much to bear…

I was on top of him, our lips pulled together again and moving in heated sync. Edward’s hands were exploring my body. His hands were tight around my waist, straining me closer to him. All I wanted was my skin to be bare against his – his grip made it difficult to reach to remove my sweater, but not impossible. Just as I had my stomach exposed, cold iron fetters locked around my wrists, and pulled my hands above my head, which was suddenly on a pillow.

His lips were at my ear again. “Bella,” he murmured, his voice warm and velvet. “Stop trying to take your clothes off.”

“Do you want to do that part?” I asked breathlessly.

“Not tonight,” he answered softly. His lips were slower now against my cheek and jaw, all the urgency gone.

“Edward, don’t –,” I started to argue, trying to free my hands and arching my body to mold myself more closely to him.

“I’m not saying no,” he reassured me. “I’m just saying not tonight.”

I had never felt frustration this way before. I was restless, eyes wild and questioning on his.

“I wasn’t born yesterday,” he laughed. “Out of the two of us, which do you think is more unwilling to give the other what they want? You just promised to marry me before you do any changing, but if I give in tonight, what guarantee do I have that you won’t go running off to Carlisle in the morning? I am – clearly – much less reluctant to give you what you want. Therefore… you first.”

I exhaled with a loud huff. “I have to marry you first?” I asked in disbelief.

“That’s the deal – take it or leave it. A compromise.” Edward pressed himself to me, urging me to accept his terms. His arms wrapped around me, and he began kissing me in a way that should be illegal. Too persuasive – it was duress, coercion. I tried to keep a clear head… and failed quickly and absolutely.

“How did this happen?” I moaned, and not in a good way. “I thought I was holding my own tonight – for once – and now, all of a sudden – “

“You’re engaged,” he finished.

“Edward, no.” I objected.

“Are you going back on your word?” he demanded. He pulled back to read my face. His expression was entertained. He was having fun.

I glared at him, trying to ignore the way his smile made my heart react.

“Are you?” he pressed.

“No,” I groaned. “No. I’m not. I just need time to think. I can’t think right now – give me some time to think.”

He kissed me again quickly. Another too persuasive kiss.

“Take all the time you need.”

He kissed me another time. “Do you get the feeling that everything is backward?” he laughed. “Traditionally, shouldn’t you be arguing my side, and I yours?”

“There isn’t much that’s traditional about you and me.”

Neither of us would surrender in this moment – that was clear. But there were compromises that were pending on the horizon. And, if nothing, I had this night to service my fantasies for awhile. I bit my lip and chuckled.

“I’m curious,” I sighed. “What exactly did you have planned for tonight?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he was up and out of the bed, a hand extended toward me.

I let out my last sigh of contest and threw my hands down on the bed to heave myself up. Edward laughed to himself as I slid to the edge of the bed and stood. I fidgeted in my sweater and straightened my skirt as I walked toward him. I took his hand and noticed him taking in my figure again.

I raised a brow. “Did you want to get back in bed?”

Edward chuckled again, shaking his head. “No, but please do remind me to thank Alice in the morning.”

I rolled my eyes as he led me from his bedroom and into the rest of our romantic evening alone.

PART TWO

____

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Twilight Saga world, which is trademarked by Stephenie Meyer and Little Brown Books. All characters referenced are owned by Stephenie Meyer, and I do not claim any ownership over them or the Twilight Saga. The story told here is of my own invention. This story is for entertainment only – fun – and is not part of the official story line. I am grateful to Stephenie Meyer for the creation of these characters and I in no way am profiting from the creation and publication of this story. Some lines are directly quoted from Meyer’s book, Eclipse, and I do not claim to own Meyer’s words.

References:

Meyer, Stephenie. Eclipse. Little, Brown, 2013.

Tennyson, Alfred Tennyson, and W. E. Williams. Tennyson: Poems. Penguin, 1985.

#edwardcullen #edwardandbella #valentinesday #twilight renaissance #twilightfanfic #twilightfanfiction #twilightsaga

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slashhinginghasher · 4 years

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Closet Space - Jesse Cromeans x Marena Polunochnaya

Self-indulgent college AU? Self-indulgent college AU.

College senior Jesse Cromeans makes out with a hot international student at a frat party.

Jesse Cromeans and Caitlin Spann didn’t often go to frat parties anymore. The connections they’d gathered over the course of four years of business internships were enough to gain them access to real parties, not the desperate orgies of cheap sex and cheaper beer their peers engaged in. The Incident in their junior year also left Jesse reluctant to show his newly scarred face more than absolutely necessary. (Watching CEOs do lines of coke off of strippers’ tits in the hopes of getting a few business cards by the end of the night was necessary. Beer pong was not.) He’d made lots of excuses in that regard, and Spann was good enough not to call him out on it. But winter term was over, they’d both received their early acceptances from the Stanford School of Business, and tonight they felt like celebrating on somebody else’s dime.

They still made sure to choose one of the more monied fraternities. They did have standards, after all.

Old money or not, the inside of the frat house was still chaos. There was a massive, professionally decorated Christmas tree in the living room, which would be largely stripped of its ornaments and tinsel by drunk college kids come morning. Many of the girls had their tits out despite the winter chill, lots of skimpy, crushed velvet dresses and coquettish faux fur trim. Jesse was bombarded with greetings as soon as they walked through the door, and he fielded them with quickly waning patience as Spann drifted off to go do Spann things. He’d achieved a somewhat legendary status on campus after turning a first year stock market exercise into millions of real dollars. Spann had been his partner on that project, but she was perfectly content to take her cut of the money and leave the credit to him. She preferred to work in the background, claiming she got more done when she didn’t have to deal with the interpersonal bullshit politics that Jesse navigated so well.

He eventually wound up in the kitchen, where a steady stream of party-goers helped themselves to overpriced snacks (who put out charcuterie boards at a frat party, honestly?) and mixed half-assed cocktails that were 10% mixer at best. A couple groped at each other next to the pantry, and a short girl with dark, wild hair and an intense expression surveyed the stream of human traffic over the rim of a red solo cup. Jesse poured himself another whiskey and leaned against the island next to her.

PLANNING A MURDER?

The girl jumped slightly at the sound of his phone’s electronic voice, then glanced at him with startlingly blue eyes. She scoffed and took a swig of what looked like water or straight vodka.

“Just contemplating, not planning.” Her voice was lower than Jesse expected from someone her size, with a thick Eastern European accent. His lips twitched with a smile. He did always like them sharp, and a good chase was just what he needed tonight.

YOU DON’T SEEM TO BE ENJOYING YOURSELF.

“I’m not.”

THEN WHY COME?

“I’m fucking poor, and there’s free food.” As if to make a point, she turned around and started rummaging through the fridge like she owned the place. Jesse found himself at a loss for words, a laugh stuck halfway between his chest and his throat.

IF YOU’RE THAT POOR HOW DO YOU AFFORD THIS PLACE?

Jesse and Spann would graduate debt-free thanks to their stock market exploits, but the tuition at their university was… hefty, to say the least. He imagined it would be even worse for an international student.

“They gave me a lot of money because I am very sad orphan girl. And I am also devastatingly sexy,” she said, emerging from the fridge and shoving half a slice of pizza into her mouth in one bite. She flashed him a peace sign that somehow managed to be blisteringly sarcastic and sauntered away with her prize.

She was wearing a heavy plaid skirt that hit mid-calf, her black top looked like it had been run through a woodchipper and reassembled with safety pins, and she was eating stolen pizza straight out of the box.

Jesse wholly agreed with her self-assessment. The sexy part, at least.

***

He was still thinking about her an hour later when Spann sidled up on her platform stilettos, her balance impeccable despite her obvious intoxication.

“There’s a group of loudmouths gathering ‘round the pool table in the basement,” she murmured, resting her head against his shoulder. “You in a betting mood?”

“A hunting mood,” he signed.

“Ooooh.” She waggled her eyebrows dramatically. “Got your sights set on anyone?”

“I might.”

Most people thought Spann and Jesse were an item just because they lived together and spent almost every public moment attached at the hip. Which were pretty good reasons, when one thought about it. But Spann was largely a commitment girl, and Jesse was decidedly not. Spann didn’t want to be a metaphorical notch on a bedpost; Jesse didn’t want to be tied down. They’d made out once as an experiment at the end of their freshman year, then hashed out the boundaries of their relationship in a five-minute conversation that they’d followed ever since.

Jesse had no idea why other people had to make relationships so damn complicated.

Before Spann could convince Jesse to come watch her annihilate some frat boys at pool, the fraternity president approached them. He was a douchebag of the highest order - the type of guy who insisted on being addressed by his last name because his first name was Edwin or Briggsley or some other rich prick idiocy - and Jesse and Spann both hated him, but his obscenely wealthy father would be a useful business contact in the future, so they forced themselves to be cordial.

“Some of the girls are organizing a game of Truth or Dare in the den. You feeling bold, Caitlin?” he asked with a cocky grin. He was also the sort of douchebag who addressed all women by their first name, including his professors and women like Spann who could break his spine over their knee.

“No, thank you,” Spann said, cold and sweet as ice cream. “I finished high school years ago.” He laughed, the insult and the rejection rolling harmlessly off his shiny money veneer, and turned to Jesse.

“How about you, Cromeans?” Jesse was on the verge of saying no when he saw a mane of black hair being led, somewhat reluctantly, towards the small crowd gathering in the den. He shrugged with practiced nonchalance and held up his phone.

SURE, WHY THE FUCK NOT?

“Atta boy!” President Edwin Briggsley Douchebag III clapped him on the shoulder, and Jesse had to force himself not to break the twat’s hand. The other boy left to continue his rounds, recruiting anything with a pair of tits for his little game. Spann - god damn her fucking eagle eyes - had tracked Jesse’s gaze and was now grinning deviously.

“I heard she has sessions with Malloy every other week,” she whispered in his ear, referring to one of the lead staff at the university’s mental health clinic. “Condition of her enrollment.”

Now that was interesting.

“Happy hunting,” she cackled, elbowing him playfully in the ribs. “I’m off to make some rich boys cry.”

***

People were so dreadfully predictable, Jesse thought. Nearly ten people in and not a hint of creativity to be found. People who chose Truth were asked to recount their sexual history or most embarrassing moments; those who picked Dare were promptly relieved of articles of clothing. The object of his momentary obsession appeared to be having similar thoughts as she watched the proceedings with heavy-lidded boredom. The crowd booed as one of the boys dared a girl to kiss him and she threw herself at him with great enthusiasm.

“That’s not a real dare, you’re her fucking boyfriend!” someone protested. The girl stuck her tongue out at them, then shoved it back in her boyfriend’s mouth. There were more jeers and whistles and a few calls for them to get a room. One of the boys tried to get back everyone’s attention.

“Alright, alright, whatever, next victim!” He pointed at Jesse’s girl and trailed off, apparently realizing he didn’t know her name.

“Mareeeennnnaaaaa!” cooed the girl who’d roped her in to the game, dragging the vowels out in a drunken sing-song.

“Marena!” the boy announced. Marena quirked a brow, apparently unimpressed with his pronunciation. “Truth or dare!”

“Dare,” she said with zero hesitation. The boy honest to god rubbed his hands together and grinned like he was about to say something genius.

“Twenty minutes in heaven.” Not that genius, then. He grabbed the closest empty beer bottle and held it up with two fingers. “Spin the bottle and whoever it lands on gets locked in a closet with you for twenty minutes.”

Like hell was Jesse going to let one of these dumb fucks get her alone for even one minute.

“I thought it was normally seven minutes.”

“Are you backing out?” Marena flipped him off as an answer and snatched the bottle from him, sending it spinning with an elegant flick of her fingers.

She had a few whitish scars on her hand and wrist, barely visible in the low light.

Jesse tensed as the bottle slowed, frantically thinking up reasons to start a fight with whoever it landed on. But his efforts were unnecessary, because the universe and physics were on his side that night. The crowd erupted into a clamor of hoots and hollers like someone had just won the lottery. None of them had really expected Jesse to participate; he had connections and status and thus was too cool to be anything more than a silent watcher. President Douchebag ushered the pair to the nearest closet - a walk-in (fortunately for Jesse’s long limbs) that had been converted to a coat room for the night - leering at Jesse like they were good buddies who’d discuss the relative merits of European pussy over drinks later. Jesse ignored him and, ever the gentleman, gestured Marena in before him with a little half bow. Her head barely reached his chest as she passed him wordlessly; she was only a little taller than Spann and she was wearing flats. The door was shut and they were plunged into darkness, the sounds of the party muffled by the thick wood.

A few seconds of quiet stillness passed before Marena turned on her phone (which was at least three models out of date), using the light from the (cracked) screen as a flashlight. She looked ghostly in the faint, bluish light, the shadows deepened in the hollows of her eye sockets. Jesse leaned back against the door and folded his arms as she started a slow circuit of the tiny room, observing the winter jackets twisted haphazardly on every available hanger and piled in the corners on the floor. He would have loved to immediately start making use of his twenty minutes, but there was something animal and twitchy about the way she moved that made him think that any sudden moves would be met with teeth. She did not look at him, or at the way his posture and shirt emphasized the size of his biceps, which he didn’t like, and he really didn’t like the tension creeping into her slender shoulders. When he touched her arm to get her attention, she jolted as though shot.

YOU GOOD?

The amount of time she spent mulling over the question was a clear enough “no”, but she still answered anyway.

“The last time I was locked in a closet was… unpleasant.”

UNPLEASANT IN WHAT WAY?

Thoughts of high school boys with beer breath and over-insistent hands were filling him with a slow rage.

“In a ‘listening to someone be violently murdered outside the door’ way.”

Well, damn. Okay.

WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY SOMETHING?

“You ask a lot of questions,” Marena snapped.

I CAN DISTRACT YOU ANOTHER WAY IF YOU LIKE.

She resumed her pacing, chewing her lip, but she looked more contemplative than tense. Jesse was acutely aware of the ticking clock.

“When did you lose your voice?”

I NEVER HAD ONE.

“What happened to your face?”

NOW WHO’S ASKING TOO MANY QUESTIONS?

“Answer it and you can distract me however you want.”

He didn’t need a business degree to know that he was being offered a fantastic fucking deal.

I PICKED A FIGHT WITH THE WRONG PERSON.

Jesse barely waited for the electronic voice to finish the last syllable before tossing his phone to the floor and charging her. He burrowed both hands into that black mass of hair and crushed his lips to hers like a starving man. Her skin was cool, but he felt her hands like brands through his shirt when she placed them against his chest for balance. He tightened his grip on her hair, hard enough to pull slightly on her scalp, and let one hand wander lower, fingertips catching on safety pins and ripped fabric as he made his way down to the modest curve of her ass. In turn, her touch moved upwards, exploring the muscles of his chest and shoulders, sliding up his neck until her thumbs rested firmly over his jugular. It was a bold move, dominant, and he wanted - needed - to get closer to her, to press her body against his in a way their height difference would not currently allow.

Marena wrapped her legs around him with no coaxing when he picked her up by the waist, walking forwards until her back pressed flat against the door. She was so light, like a little hollow-boned bird, and if he’d had a little more blood in his brain he’d be worried about crushing her. As it was, his blood was rapidly migrating south and the only thing he was concerned about was the taste of her as he nibbled on her full lower lip. He nipped at her, hard enough to sting, then soothed the hurt with his tongue, and was surprised when her tongue darted forward to meet his. He rolled his hips into hers, slow and deep, as he explored her mouth, wishing there was less clothing in the way. His cock was pressed painfully against his zipper, but he made no move to free it; he was not going to fuck her for the first time under a time constraint.

Finally, he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers as they both panted for air. Jesse shoved a hand up Marena’s shirt, closing over her small breast and rubbing his thumb against the hardening nub of her nipple through her bra. Her head rolled back against the door with a soft thunk, granting him access to the soft skin of her throat. He latched onto her pulse point, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, and Marena purred. The sound shot straight to his groin, and he had a sudden, intense desire to bite down until the salty warmth of her blood filled his mouth and dripped down his chin.

He wrenched back. Jesse was no stranger to violent impulses - had even followed through on quite a few of them - but he didn’t want to ruin the evening by murdering this girl in a closet. Undeterred, Marena grabbed his head with both hands and attacked his mouth with hers. She kissed him ferociously, voraciously, a clash of teeth and tongue, and when she bit his lip hard enough to make him bleed, he almost came on the spot. His hands were all over her, needing to feel every inch of her body but barely registering the ridges of scar tissue they encountered. She slid her hands into his back pockets and pulled him in until his pelvis was flush against hers. He leaned in with his full weight, and the only thing in the world that existed was the heavy grind of his hips against hers and the hot, wet dance of their mouths.

He was so close to saying fuck it, ripping her clothes off and going to town right there on the closet floor, when someone pounded on the door.

“Knock knock, Cromeans! Put your dick away!” Jesse snarled, already planning a way to slaughter the little asshole who’d interrupted the best not-fuck of his life. The sensation of Marena’s body sliding against his as she settled on her feet sent another lightning bolt of pleasure down his spine. There was a shuffle of fabric as Marena picked up her phone and tried to put herself back in order. Jesse didn’t bother; he knew they both looked a damn mess and he didn’t give a single fuck. In fact, the only thing he cared about at the moment was getting her into his bed so he could finish what he’d started.

“Thanks for the distraction,” Marena murmured, opening the door to a chorus of cheers and wolf whistles. She rolled her eyes and started shouldering her way through the crowd. She didn’t look back, which stung a little, and Jesse gave a sarcastic little salute to the crowd to avoid looking like a lovelorn asshole before retreating to the basement.

***

He didn’t realize until much later in the evening that she’d stolen his fucking wallet.

#we're ALL thinking about that t-shirt pic let's be fully honest here #jesse cromeans #chromeskull #laid to rest #marena polunochnaya #my writing #messy #slasher oc

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amouthfulofforevers · 4 years

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For the shyan week’s free day, I decided to make a rec list with my favorite shyan fics I’ve read so far. All these writers are fantastic and deserve all the kudos and comments, I love all these stories!

Fics with a star on the side are big favorites of mine.

if you go down to the woods by Siria | T | 1,752 Words | ☆

The footage shows Ryan Bergara walking into the woods.

The footage shows Ryan Bergara walking out of the woods.

Like You Want To Be Loved by poetdameron | T | 16,535 Words | ☆

"Settle down with me", Shane says without thinking and as Ryan looks at him with wide open eyes, all he can think of it's how many of Ryan's secrets he knows, how Ryan likes his coffee, and the fact that he has loved him since the moment Ryan first looked up at him and smiled.

Early Morning Conversations by idonthavelungs | G | 594 Words

Sleeping in a dead person’s bed in a house that’s probably haunted doesn’t exactly make sleep come easy.

Horror and Chill, Baby by Squeakyshroom | E | 6,206 Words

Ryan won't chill, so Shane gives him a helping hand.

Or: Ryan's straight but not when Shane touches him like that.

Let the Sunshine Burn Your Eyes by YogurtTime | E | 6,577 Words | ☆

An innocent man of taste and leisure, Ricky Goldsworth, just wants to check into his hotel room, but gets into an altercation with the concierge while a mysterious gentleman in expensive-looking clothes watches nearby.

Kismet. by poetdameron | E | 18,625 Words | ☆

Everyone is born with Gifts. It doesn’t matter if they didn’t ask for it.

Shane never thought he would meet the only person in the world he can touch without killing them, let alone fall for him.

un poco loco by sanjariti | T | 2,468 Words

(told in a linear date timeline)

In which Ryan Steven Bergara loves Shane Alexander Madej so much, he plans their one-year anniversary gift 6 months in advance. But what sort of gift requires so much planning?

And they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates) by Squeakyshroom | E | Chapter 5/5 | Complete | 25,690 Words

Shane and Ryan are roommates who fuck, but with rules.

(Now if only they'd stop breaking all the damn rules)

Por Favor, Sweetheart by carrieonfighting | T | 7,859 Words | ☆

Two dorks raise a baby and don't even realise they're doing it together until it's too late

Alternatively, Ryan Bergara is Trying His Best Thanks

Thursday: Turquoise Taupe by shaniacbergara | G | 3,142 Words

Shane Madej’s hometown is…well, a little bit different than most. He and Ryan take a trip there.

When It Happens by Anotherlostblogger | E | 8,790 Words |☆

At some point Ryan and Shane stopped being just friends. That tension has been there just thrumming under the surface, waiting for the right moment to be released but it’s like a valve, slowly turned so it starts out trickling until they’re caught in the overflow.

in the drift by lorena_estrella | G | 624 Words |☆

After losing his brother in a Kaiju battle, Shane never thought he'll trust anyone again. Then Ryan happened.

Pacific Rim AU

ready if it happens with you by sarcasticfishes | E | 4,319 Words |☆

It’s not a thing. Ryan’s just a little… touch-starved. Intimacy-starved.

Shane passes behind him when he’s sitting at his desk, idly touches Ryan’s shoulder, thumb brushing the curve of his neck — and goosebumps erupt down the length of Ryan’s arms.

In His Brown Eyes by poetdameron | E | 9,866 Words

As a kid, a shadow lived in Shane's room that became his friend. All he can remember of it, it's its beautiful brown eyes.

As an adult, Shane meets Ryan and his beautiful brown eyes that are familiar.

Ryan is desperately in love with his best friend.

I Don't Want to Sleep Alone by Anotherlostblogger | E | Series | 3 Works

After Ryan gets really shaken that night at Yuma, Shane is left to deal with the aftermath.

Rough water by heyghouls | Not Rated | 9,092 Words

Ryan's apartment gets flooded. He doesn't have anywhere to live in the meantime but it's a good thing his good friend Shane lives close to the office. Shane happily offers him a home and the boys are forced to face their unresolved sexual tension.

One apartment, two boys with raging attractions towards the other and one undeterminated stay. What could go wrong?

Playing It Cool by poetdameron | E | 27,494 Words | ☆

Ryan needs a new roommate, Shane needs a new place. They both work in the film industry, like the same weird crap, love the same movies, and would die for pop corn. It's a blessed match!

There's only one tiny detail Kelsey may have forgotten to tell Ryan about Shane's acting job.

universal truth by lorena_estrella | G | 276 Words

Shane has no idea how he got so lucky but he isn't complainig either. For the next thousand years, all he wants is to love Ryan

Old Sins Cast Long Shadows by MercurySkies | E | 15,442 Words

Sin /sɪn/ noun 1. an immoral act considered to be a transgression against divine law. 2. any thought or action that endangers the ideal relationship between an individual and God. 3. any diversion from the perceived ideal of human living.

And Longer If I Can by poetdameron��| T | 6,315 Words

After Shane makes an "odd" question, Ryan can't stop thinking about the possible implications of it, obsession over the one conclusion most likely to (not) be: Shane is breaking up with him sometime soon.

Thank you, Satan by Squeakyshroom | E | 7,426 Words

Ryan breaks his arm and Shane takes care of him. It’s not weird...until it is.

Or: Ryan wants Shane. Shane wants more.

won't you ride on my fast machine? by ElasticElla | M | 1,678 Words

“So? Lovers’ quarrel? Work gone wrong? Bad family barbecue that ended abruptly when you accidentally came out by making a pun about your poor math skills?”

“That’s way too specific to not be real,” Ryan accuses.

'Shane was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that, to quote ‘the’ Charles Dickens with an emphasis on the 'dick'. They didn’t tell you the great Victorian novelist was also a grade A asshole in high school but then again what do they tell you in high school? Shane Madej was dead, as dead as one disembodied soul standing seemingly above his own corpse probably can be.'

(a moment) by thisissirius | M | 1,437 Words

ryan is shivering when they get back to the motel

contrapposto by spoopyy | T | 7,301 Words | ☆

Ryan works in a museum. Shane doesn't understand art. They fall in love.

meet me halfway by poetdameron | T | 12,346 Words | ☆

In a world where everything changed over the night, Ryan and Shane's minds connect miles away, making Shane the man of Ryan's dreams. Literally.

the summer is ended and we are not saved by anarchetypal | E | 1,733 Words | ☆

Ryan drops the holy water gun with a shout and stumbles back, fueled by blind panic as he turns and sprints past their sleeping bags for the attic door.

Behind him, he hears Shane sigh almost calmly despite his flesh still burning. “Don't— C’mon, seriously, do we really have to make this a whole thing— You've seen horror movies, you know how this is gonna—” Apparently still annoyed, he breaks off, and the door in front of Ryan slams shut on its own.

Ryan skids to a stop and reaches for the knob, rattling it ineffectively. “Shit, shit, shit—”

“So many horror movies,” Shane says, voice much closer now, and Ryan spins around. “I’m just saying, can we not make this a thing right out of TV Tropes, you know, that’s just boring for both of us.”

#shyanweek2k20 #shyanwritingevents #shyanlibrary #shyan #skeptic believer #buzzfeed unclean #shyan fic #wetookanoath #mine #mine: shyan #rec list #my recs

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datawyrms · 4 years

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More Than Lost (2/2)

Dannymay day 9, Glow. A continuation of this, but you can get the gist without if needbe :v

Danny’s hazmat suit wasn’t simply misplaced, it was missing. Despite checking every reasonable place in the lab, and several nonsensical places, the suit did not turn up. Danny never used it, he had almost seemed embarrassed about it, much like Jazz was. How had it just up and vanished? It wasn’t even a reasonable thing to steal, not many scrawny fourteen year olds were in the market for hazmat. Even if a ghost had decided to try and steal some Fenton tech, taking Danny’s suit and ONLY Danny’s really wouldn’t help. Though ghosts could be completely erratic it still didn’t feel like the correct answer. Surely if a ghost had stolen it, they would have flaunted their ‘win’ over the ghost hunting couple, much like how Phantom casually used a stolen thermos with zero remorse daily, to going as far as stealing the Ecto-Skeleton and defacing it with it’s own ghostly attributes.

A human wouldn’t bother stealing it, and if a ghost had, they would know by now. So why was it missing? Her eyes rested on the Boooomerang, the choking weight of concern setting back on her chest. She couldn’t be certain if the ghost had meant it to be a small taunt or credible threat. At the bare minimum it showed the specter was back in the human would, and didn’t care if the ghost hunters knew it. Was it so cocky to think they were no threat to it? Or was it a reminder that it knew exactly where their children lived if they angered the beast again?

Thankfully Jack could always be trusted to drive such concerns away with loud bravado and strong embraces, even if he might be a tad too optimistic in this case.

“Don’t worry Mads, that ectoplasmic punk’s got another thing coming if it thinks it can threaten the Fentons! The house will know if it sets one slimy foot inside!”

“I know Jack, something just doesn’t feel right. What if it already did something?” her hands fiddled with a pen, unable to write down any reasonable actions the ghost might have taken, or relate anything to the missing hazmat.

“Oooh! I can take the Fenton Environmental Ectoplasmic Entity Detector for a spin! I think I’ve managed to have it filter out the standard amount in our house. All thanks to your calculations!” his grin was infectious.

“Aww, I know implementing them was all you sweetheart.” Still, having Jack do a quick sweep of the house would be comforting. Knowing the pesky pretend ‘hero’ ghost had not approached their children might quiet the strange dread she couldn’t shake from last night.

Jack accepted a peck on the cheek before racing off to finish re-assembling the device while she busied herself with going over the ghost shield schematics. Phantom had a nasty habit of appearing inside areas protected by the green domes, and the sooner she figured out what flaw the terror was using to get through, the better. If she could tune it to reject any quantity of ectoplasm, she would. Unfortunately with the portal, and that whole little problem with the entire town getting dragged into the ghost zone almost everyone in Amity had some level of contamination. Nothing worrisome, but enough that it could harm humans if she wasn’t careful in accounting for that. Maybe a mode for full deflection at night?

The paper was soon filled with calculations and tiny sketches so that Jack could have a helpful visual, completely losing track of time.

“Maddie?” Jack’s lack of joviality was more worrisome than anything else, her attention towards her work gone in an instant.

“The scan wasn’t good?” she asked, privately hoping he simply had failed to get the invention working completely.

“Er well. It definitely tracked a ghost leaving the portal.” he rubbed the back of his neck, showing his wife the glowing trail the ghostly intruder left highlighted on the small screen of the device. “The problem is it completely loses it after it goes upstairs-”

“Into Danny’s room?” she finishes, heart in her throat. If that thing had done anything to their son…

Jack nods, managing to keep his voice steady. “It can’t still be in there, but it doesn’t pick up anymore shed ectoplasm after that. Maybe I over compensated and the ghost was just moving too fast to shed enough ambient ectoplasm?”

“Or that monster has a way to suppress expelling ectoplasm for brief periods. It is in our world far more often than most ghosts manage.” She tried to focus on the possible solution instead of the horror of where the ghost had been. At least it had not gone after Jazz as well, it had likely planned to but ran out of time. “We’ll just have to give the kids a good check after school.”

“And some spector deflectors! You think they might complain less about wearing them if they look like a watch?” Jack was pacing, hands moving as if he was already planning on cobbling the idea together. “Is the belt too ‘uncool’ for the kids?”

“When it comes to their safety, we don’t care how uncool it is. It’s a good idea though, Jazz might prefer it.”

“Alright! Operation: Hands off My Kids, Ghost Scum! Is underway!” Jack seemed a bit more at ease with an actual plan of attack, sprinting off to the lab without barely a second glance. They’d just have a big dinner to make up for all the meal skipping, it was fine.

She knew Danny had always been a bit leery of their inventions, and had expected some pushback from the boy, but she hadn’t expected Jazz to be so vocally opposed.

“Mom this is the fifth time you’ve accused me of being a ghost! Your obsession with them is making you see symptoms that don’t exist!” she pointed an accusing finger at the both of them before grabbing her brother by the shoulders. “Come on Danny, we don’t have time for this.”

“It’s not like that Jazzy-pants! We know you aren’t a ghost, but one of those putrid piles of protoplasm might have done something to you two.” Jack insisted, blocking the exit to the room, barely managing to weather the teenager’s glare.

“We’re much better at detecting ghosts now sweetie. No blasts or goop, no invasive checks. It’ll only take a few moments, then you two can get going, okay?”

“Absolutely not! We are not indulging in your paranoia, I know I’m fine, and I know Danny’s fine, and that should be enough for you.” she almost seemed to be shielding her little brother as she went on. “Your inventions fail all the time, and you’re trusting that over us?”

Danny was remaining strangely silent throughout the argument, as if he was hoping he could become invisible if he scrunched in on himself enough. He was rather timid, but he’d usually have some sort of complaint by this point.

“Well, okay. I guess you’d know if your brother was possessed.” Jack admitted. “Just to make sure you two stay that way, I got you some Fenton Watches! It tells the ghosts that it’s never time to try to touch you!” He held the green and silver timepieces proudly, not noticing how Danny visibly recoiled more firmly into his sister’s grip.

“Oh and become complete social pariahs? Danny has enough trouble connecting with his peers and you’re going to try and force that on him? Honestly.”

That finally got a reaction from her son, the boy glaring at his sister. “Hey! I have friends!”

Jazz gave him the patented sibling ‘Shut Up’ look before going back to glaring at their parents. “I’ll let you know if we start acting out parts of the Exorcist. Until then, all of this? Paranoia, and we’re not indulging it.” With that the redhead forced her way past her father, brother in tow.

“Maybe the ghost did get to Jazz.” Jack muttered, glancing at the stairs the two went up.

“It might have. That’s okay, we can use the EctoIlluminator at dinner. When she understands ghosts are a real threat she might stop protesting so much.” Maddie clutched the flashlight-looking device firmly, trying to keep calm. Something was definitely up with the two of them, now that she was looking more closely. Has this ghost problem been a long term one? They had tried to stop assuming any oddness was ghost related after the incidents Jazz mentioned, but perhaps they had been wrong to do so.

Jazz was still putting up the defensive front, eyeing their served meal before touching it. “If this has any sort of magic ‘ghost detector sauce’ I’m tossing it and ordering something.”

“It’s just food dear.” Maddie started eating her own meal, feigning casualness as she watched the two picked at their food, Jazz eyeing every bite as if it was going to jump up and do something, while Danny just looked too tired to eat with any speed.

“So how was school?” Jack prompted, apparently bothered by the silence.

“Long.” Danny muttered, still chasing a pea with his fork instead of using his knife to help pick the vegetable up.

“Maybe he’d have more to say if you asked about his interests. Or anything that wasn’t school and ghosts.”

“Jazz.”

“What? It’s true! If they actually wanted to have some family time they could at least try to be interested in us as people.” Jazz crossed her arms, apparently satisfied by the wince Jack made.

“Jazz.” Danny repeated, a frustrated edge in his tone.

“You’re right Jazz. We’ve been so busy with the portal and all the ghosts that we may have been a little more distant than you would like.” Maddie felt a pang of guilt, Jazz’s accusation mirroring her own worries. If they had paid more attention, would they have caught that something was wrong sooner?

“When I was a teenager I never wanted to see my folks! Thought you guys might be the same as your old man.” Jack apologized, and Jazz actually smiled at him.

“No, I take after dad. Can I go now?” Danny asked, already half pushing out of his chair.

“We haven’t even had dessert, hold your horses kiddo.”

The boy slumped back into his seat, glaring at Jazz. “Whatever.”

Jazz ignored it, going off on a tangent about her day and future plans, Jack nodding and adding comments about his time in high school as Danny continued to do his best to melt into the chair. Other than a few glances at each exit of the room, the teenager seemed to be incredibly bored.

Everyone seemed distracted enough to run the quick test, slipping the EctoIlluminator out of the cupboard along with the box of cookies that was being used to hide it from view.

The beam of light passed over Jazz with no reaction other than her own, a furious “MOM, we JUST talked about this!” as she got to her feet and moved surprisingly quickly in the direction of her brother, but Maddie’s wrist was faster.

The half awake teenager grunted at the bright light, eyes narrowing to block the worst of it. Yet the glowing green that replaced his normal blue hue and shined back at her confirmed their worst fears.

The ghost using Danny as a meat puppet didn’t seem to notice the change, shielding himself with an arm. It was strange, as if there was an entire separate layer hiding under his skin, almost like a glove. Had their son been possessed so long that the ghost was everywhere, not just in his mind?

“Can you not flash light in my eyes mom?” the ghost asked, blind to their reactions.

“I knew it.” Maddie nearly growled, weapon out in seconds as Jack got to his feet.

Danny’s body swallowed, trying to look at both of them at once. “Knew what? You’re kinda freaking me out here.”

“You think we didn’t notice your threat last night?”

“I haven’t threatened anyone?” the fake insisted, looking to Jazz for support. “Did mom and dad get overshadowed or am I missing something?”

“You’re hopeless.” Jazz said as she stood protectively between her parents and the thing she thought was her brother. “Your gadgets always pick Danny up, stop threatening my brother.”

“Overshadowed, huh? Is that the word you used when you threatened my son?” she ignored Jazz’s outburst, it was for the best that it was solved now. “Sounded nicer than possessing him?”

The ghost frowned, confusion clear on Danny’s face. “Mom, I’m not overshadowed.”

“Humans don’t have glowing green eyes. I don’t know what you did to Jazz to make her defend you, but you’ll pay for it.”

That got it’s attention. He froze for a moment before actively hiding more behind Jazz. “I swear I’m not overshadowed, I can explain-” he was struggling to find words,

“He’s not. Danny is still Danny, green eyes or not.” Jazz insisted, still keeping her position between them and the sputtering ghost.

“Jazz, I know he seems normal, but it’s a ghost impersonating him. Just let us save your brother, okay? Jack lowered his weapon slightly as he tried to appeal to Jazz.

Their daughter just continued to look furious. “I’m doing enough of that, seeing as you’d be shooting at him!” She only spared a moment to glance back at her brother. “You need to tell them.”

“I can’t, look how bad they’re taking it already!” he hissed back

“Either you do or I do.”

“It’s not like they’ll believe me!”

Their argument only made Maddie’s heart hurt. Somehow this ghost had been around long enough to convince Jazz having some ghostly bodysnatcher around was a good thing?

“Mom. Danny isn’t overshadowed, or possessed, or anything else. Put the weapon down.” she squared her shoulders, showing the famous family stubbornness. “He’s just more ecto-contaminated than other people, you know that. He sets everything off.”

“I know you mean well, but the ghost hiding behind you is not your brother.”

“Yes, he is! Listen to me! He’s no different today than from last week! It’s not my fault you can’t see that!” she only had eyes for her mother, not noticing how her large father could be surprisingly quiet when he had to be.

“It might be a very good mimic, Jazz, but ectocontamination wouldn’t make his eyes glow like a cat’s. We know what we’re talking about.” This was agonizing, her own daughter being tricked into defending some filthy ghost so strongly.

Jack managed to hit the thing squarely in the shoulder, knocking it away from Jazz as it yelped and clutched at Danny’s arm, trembling slightly as he got back to his feet. No ghost emerged from the boy, but she spotted as his eyes flared green again, if only for a second.

“Can I go to my room now?” the ghost asked through gritted teeth.

Jack instantly looked apologetic, looking as if he’d run to the boy’s side to bandage any wound he may have gotten.

“Don’t fall for it Jack, it just has a strong grip on Danny. I saw it.”

“No you didn’t! You just shot Danny, no ghost, and you’re still going there’s a ghost? You need to stop this, right now Mom.” Jazz was in her mother’s face, trying to snatch the weapon away. “You need help. You’re seeing things.”

“Fine.” Maddie let Jazz fumble the gun away, keeping a sharp eye on the ghost pretending to be her child. “You said you could explain, so do it.”

Danny swallowed, apparently hoping that she would have forgotten that stammered excuse. “Um. Well. You know that ghost flu everyone had? I’m like that but all the time? Kinda?” he kept rubbing at his arm. “And not sick! I’m fine, really.”

That was quite some time ago now, and a terrible excuse. It almost pained her to address this ghost as her son, but she had to play along with Jazz long enough to get something stronger to cure Danny with. “Danny, the amount of ectoplasm created by that illness would have killed any human exposed to it for more than two weeks.”

“Well I’m not sick! I just...glow sometimes, okay? I knew you guys would freak out, but Jazz saw it and well-” he cut himself off, noting how Maddie’s face didn’t shift an inch. “You don’t believe me, do you.”

“No, I don’t.”

He seemed to be struggling to say something, needing to glance at Jazz before finally sputtering out, “I’ve been like this since the accident, okay?”

Suddenly her boy being possessed didn’t seem like such a bad thing. If he had been ‘like this’ since the accident, could it possibly mean that- “I’m listening.” she managed to force out, hoping she didn’t sound faint.

“After that I uh. Could do weird things. Like the eye glowing thing. I’ve pretty much figured it out, but I was scared to tell you so...I didn’t.” he was mumbling, looking down at his shoes.

Maddie managed to catch Jack’s eye, able to tell he had the same thought, and it broke her heart. How had they completely failed to notice? She crouched down a little, trying to be a little less intimidating. “I’m sorry we scared you sweetie.” she could barely hold the tears back, struggling how to even ask for forgiveness properly. How did you ask your child to forgive you for causing their death and not even noticing?

Jack seemed to have similar problems. “You died in the accident?” the horror in his voice might have been funny if it wasn’t a true statement.

“What? No! I’m fine, heartbeat and everything.” Danny insisted, grabbing at both of their hands so they could feel the slow yet steady pulse. “I’m just a bit. Weird now.”

He didn’t even know he was dead. He must put all his time and energy into looking human, not to fool the world but to fool himself. It would explain why he seemed so tired all the time, burning so much energy to fake a pulse and warmth while barely getting any back from the surrounding air, seeing as how he likely never stepped foot in the ghost zone to replenish himself.

“We’re very proud you haven’t misused that weirdness.” she said, trying to think of a way to ease her son into realizing the truth of the matter.

“Mom! That’s just rude.” Jazz still had a bunch of opinions, apparently buying that Danny wasn’t dead. Of course she would, she wouldn’t want her little brother to be dead.

Jack looked at her oddly, but didn’t argue, deciding she must have a plan. If Danny was a ghost now, that didn’t mean they didn’t love him, but he couldn’t go on pretending to be something he wasn’t.

“...Yeah. Okay, now you know, I have homework so-” he fidgeted.

“Danny, can you just answer something for me before you go?”

“Sure?” his anxiety was contagious, it practically wanted to make her start pacing around the room.

“Did you wear your hazmat suit on the day of the accident?”

“I did. Why?”

“Do you know where it is now?” It would be easier to lead him to the truth by making him realize it himself. “It’s not in the lab.” His mouth slammed shut again, apparently that was going to be his answer.

He continued to struggle over what he wanted to say before finally sighing. “Not really.”

“I know you don’t want to hear this Danny,” she pushed her goggles up so she could look him in the eyes. “The suit is on your body. You lost it when you died.”

“I’m not dead!” his insistence was confident, not the silent acceptance she had hoped for. “I didn’t lose it. It’s just gone.”

Jazz elbowed her dead brother, who gave a bit of a scowl.

“Danny, hazmat suits don’t just vanish. We still love you, even if you’re a ghost.” Jack added his approval and love of his son, but the ghost still seemed obstinate on this point.

“Okay, fine! I know where it is.” he groaned, shooting Jazz another look. “I’m not dead. It just looks a bit different.”

The Fenton parents weren’t expecting that, wondering if Danny had made himself a very long and complicated reason to keep denying his death. “Where is it then?”

“You saw it. Last night. Actually you see it a lot.” the boy rocked on his heels, still looking unsure about something.

“Just spit it out Danny, before they start planning your funeral.” Jazz snorted.

“I’m trying okay! It’s still kind of hard to ignore the being torn apart threats okay?” he said with a huff.

No wonder he’d denied it so long, he must have been scared senseless that they would have treated him like one of those ghost blobs instead of as their son. “We haven’t seen it anywhere.”

Danny let out a long sigh, resting his forehead on his knuckles for a second. “Yes you have. You promise not to shoot?”

“Of course we won’t!” she wasn’t sure what he was planning on showing them, but that was an easy enough promise to make.

“No, he’s totally right to make you promise first.” Jazz muttered, glaring pointedly at her brother’s singed shoulder.

“Yeeeah about that��” Danny looked at them for a while longer before apparently deciding they were genuine. A bright flash, brighter than the flashlight had been summoned two rings of light at around the boy’s midsection before sweeping over him.

He changed from a very human looking boy to what was unmistakably a ghost. A ghost they knew and had fought countless times.

“I guess the ghost zone thought I looked better inverted?” Phantom said, a weak grin accompanying the ghostly green eyes and stark white hair, his frosty glow making the whole room feel frigid. “I really was lost last night.”

All they could do was hold Danny close in a choking hug, tears falling as they struggled to let their poor boy know how sorry they were without words, as their minds couldn’t even begin to think of where to start.

#dannymay2020 #Danny Phantom #Maddie Fenton #Jack Fenton #jazz fenton #my stuff #this got too long #my goodness #also it's super obvious but w/e #i had fun

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queenofallwitches · 3 years

Text

Why I hate people who spend their adult life arguing online;

1. Well it’s juvenile , I personally prefer to leave any and all pseudo intellectual social discourse in my 6th grade debating class...

2. You aren’t anyone important and not saying novel things, you are using people who have put information that is novel and trying to spin it into your own agenda.

3. Waste of time, fools will be foolish, and if you enjoy the discourse, toastmasters or academic debating would be more productive uses of time

4. You lack self insight

5. You are self aware and doing it due to your own egotistical, sadistic, cunning desires. (Trolls, deep fakes)

Why I never take anyone who loves to argue on menial topics seriously: (spiritually or mentally)

I am high iq and high eq. I am also “attractive by the conventional measures of society” I deal with the most pathetic and malicious idiots who cannot understand a woman who has aesthetic appeal, that can also hold a stimulating and intelligent conversation.

I don’t argue. I problem solve. Arguing online was faded out when I was 14 years old.

But people who are almost 40, ar still out there pretending that they are the most unique and authoritative source of blogging bullshit. When the world media and journalism is where we are today. The academic literature speaks a plethora more than an adult in the hamster wheel, unable to see they are playing checkers in a left vs right, design by social engineering and the think tanks of Tavistock, you play the part they put you to be.

A dialectic of irrational and repetitive arguments is never productive.

It lacks a solution or a higher order of resolution, why are you behaving to destroy when you are claiming to want to create a world better?

So unconscious and unexplained lack of self awareness in adults who are obviously insecure and ignorant becomes old quick.

I comprehend why it’s important but the level of the argument is basic, and been recycled 1000000 times.

Why am I writing this? Free speech is not free. If you can discourse over the same shit and never find a solution you are part of the same fucking problem.

How I know?

Life experience. Learning.

Love of learning and living and devouring the higher level of what if, how can we, let’s move into a better solution.

I have many years of experience that is beyond the understanding of most people and I have gone through things nobody understands.

One time I was a young teen, but was already too smart, too sassy, too aware and that left my life a wreck after I went too far.

I DID get expelled in the 11th grade. I’m no idiot, I am actually genius, by measures of conventional iq.

So I was academically talented without effort, not to boast, because I hated being smart.

But I did get the internet social discourse I needed to say; on things that we should be all knowing are social engineering in a designed dichotomy to divide and conquer.

I was in a program in high school called cum laude. I cannot recall the meaning. But we were advanced academics, not only skilled at learning but sports, extra curricular things like musicals, choir, crusade survivor camps (duke of Edinburgh), debating, tutoring/mentoring younger students & more. I won many awards without trying. Mostly for geography (social science), design tech, visual art & creative writing. I was learning university level things in year 8. And examining and analysis to debate in scholarly discourse about topics that were familiar when I was in 1-2 year of my bachelor degree. An example is philosophy, as this was mandated in the GT program. Smart is my sense of knowing how to balance the logical and the emotional. This is ONE percent of my life but one I did not follow through on and as a result I walk this path now, and I put up with the educated and intelligent “idiots” (like conformity, bullying, bitching kids in the same class) and refuse to stoop to low iq, low eq and low level idiots.

You waste time. I am not saying I am only exclusive to educated or academic professionals, that is not what this is about. This is about me being underestimated and undermined and never taken seriously because I get the most inhuman torment if I do start to speak my truth.

Lucky I found comfort in solitary rebellion. So. Let’s see what I am that is always going to be a work in progress but what my enemies forget all the time.

To remind you:

I am a born, intuitive empath, psychic and ancestral lineages of many esoteric paths play into my natural ability. I used to hate feeling, knowing and perceiving things that I could see happening, in my dreams, visions and “gnosis” before they happened. I felt powerless.

But now I know how to harness it, things change.

And yet still I have to sit back and observe, as I did for years in school, and then in the fucking shithole employment situation that was my consequence of 2 expulsions from schools. (They value conformity over fucking intelligence) I had a gang of kids in my last high school sign a petition to have me expelled and that is one example of how people in my life come to attack, hate, misunderstand and spit venom for no reason.

I never push that energy myself. But I call things as I see them. I am real , and my perception is primed to pierce the veil on those who lack authenticity, who are bullies, cunning, cruel, conformists, deep fakes, fraudulent, following orders for the sake of fear, or just narcissistic or psychopathic “organic portals” who carry out the agenda for the black lodge.

I have no issue if these people want to live a life away from me and what I protect. But when my sphere is crossed into on a repeated basis, I will study the situation in silence. I won’t speak of what I see, without objective and subjective factors weighed in a careful, cautious but not closed minded, way. See you and I are probably not the same because I’m the kind of human who always gives people the benefit of the doubt and believes that people are better, that is my detriment and my strength. I see the good and hope that others carry a genuine heart and soul. But my experience shows me that I am not wrong when I feel off, or intuitive feelings are ignored due to my “dismissal”.

When I find the truth, I always say, I knew I needed to listen to my heart and head.

That’s why I can never be broken, or betrayed, or backstabbed worse than before. It is always a learning lesson I am open to growing from.

I am always open to being wrong, or told how to be better, my flaws are on open display and I am not scared of that. I want to be more helpful to grow and nourish the people and places I interact with.

In my world, arguing online was a dying medium by my 18th birthday. For many reasons. But the enemy is a sucker for this divide and conquer, drama bred social and political bullshit that’s all just opinion and speculation. It creates a negative tone and teaches nothing of novelty or wisdom. It just shows how weak, insecure, paranoid, and self obsessed people who are too old for the high school bullshit, by miles, are. my enemies could even spit out the first longing to follow the death cult of the black lodge, I was already aware of what 95 % of you found out in 2020. I don’t mean to be pretentious or pompous, I’m not. I’m actually the most passionate, loving and open minded human I know. But the people who come into my spaces to play to prey. Imposters and the immoral, A siphoning sickness in a role to ruin, how could anyone do that but someone who is a soul-devoid parasite? That’s real fucking discourse. Let’s talk about morality, moral principles and how they are applied and actualised into the metacogition of your own microcosm.

Suggestions and solutions?

How about discourse on the metaphysics of mystic, magick, the mind and the method to mend the mundane world into a manifestation where a symbiotic system of mutually beneficial prosperity, peace, collaboration, creation & harmony can be lived on a daily basis?

How about solutions and sitting with your own shadow in the darkness to see your flaws.

how they only give me a free pass to watch the shit show. when push comes to shove and patterns that are seen in your behaviour, cyclically, are the key that unlocks the truth of anyone’s hidden motivation.

Why is deception and destruction never noted by the deceived, unless someone like me comes to break the wall of ignorance to say “hey this is the truth and it hurts and looks vile but fucking wake up”. No I don’t like the ripple impact this has but at the same time I am aw woman of strength. I will stand up for the real, authentic and genuine truth and speak my mind.

I don’t sugar coat this bullshit.

Nor will I indulge it.

Let alone be a person who lets it seep it’s tendrils into my life and what I love.

Not ever. Never.

As someone wise once said “despair ends, tactics begin”

You cannot claim any authentic path without putting your soul, blood and spirit to the test of facing your demons, slaying the darkness. I am not sure that comes with what I and others see these action and behaviour presenting to be.

I rarely write things like this, and only want to address this because i walk on a path of “rose and thorn”. My thorn will eventually slay whatever is a threat, a charlatan or a sheep in wolves clothing. By accident. Because what you are lacking is always looking to attack, I am always having to protect and defend my life from the evil.

I see you. I know the hidden hand x64. I am always open to forgiving people if they are sincere but will play reflection of the adverse if passive people are coming to what to me, is a beautiful and amazing thing, and to be acting as agents of sabotage? Shame on your lack of soul, and it’s lack of seeking to steal, stain and shit all over the things of substance, spirituality and sincerity will always be seen when I am the seer seeing the undertones.

So where is the moral compass?

Find yourself, and then you can find something real that is yours to be into and love. Maybe even this. But to fuck with what is real, while being fake, and following orders, is by far, fence sitting and fraudulent, insidious & infantile activity. Why not spend time looking inside to see why you are following this order from who for what? What is your genuine purpose? Soul mission? Higher self ? Or are you all still stuck in the love is the law is the law love under the will of the guy who wrote a book last century.

Fucking even Crowley lived his great work, and he has flaws and did things many would dispute to be “evil”. But he didn’t copy another clone from 100 years prior, following the mantra that someone else made up. That’s the stupid thing, the whole “do what thou wilt” was not do what you want but that is not a strong point for the sheep of the worst. I know as I see both sides, and as a child in the 90s I saw the dark, evil and insidious. To see that again, here, 3 decades later, playing coy but really carrying rancid intent.. is my call to commune what many will never see, because you all are complicit, and tell these fucking lies and divert productive progress by your stupid discourse. These people LOVE senseless debating. Semantics. Solutions, self awareness or seek a soul inside the empty cavern that the black lodge will set inside your sadistic serpentine, slimy soul.

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sickhumor · 4 years

Text

Jokes for the more mature reader (dated humor)

On the ﬁrst day of school, the college dean addressed the freshman class to explain some of the campus rules. “The women’s dormitory is off-limits to male students and the men’s dormitory is off-limits to female students,” he intoned. “Anybody caught breaking this rule will be fined $20 the ﬁrst time, $60 the second time and $180 the third time. Does anyone have any questions?”

A male student raised his hand. “How much for a season pass?”

_______________________________

A ﬂea had oiled up his little ﬂea legs and his little flea arms and was soaking up the Miami sun when an old ﬂea friend of his walked by. “Oscar, what happened to you?" asked the first ﬂea when he saw how terrible his friend looked——runny nose, red eyes, teeth chattering.

“I got a ride down here in some biker’s mustache and nearly froze my nuts off,” wheezed Oscar.

“Let me give you a tip, old pal,” said the ﬁrst ﬂea. "Go to the stewardess lounge at the airport, get up on the toilet seat and when a stewardess comes in, hop on for a nice warm ride. Got it?”

A month later, while stretched out on the beach, the ﬂea saw Oscar again, looking more chilled and miserable than before. “I did everything you said,” Oscar explained. “I went to the stewardess lounge, made a perfect landing and got so warm and cozy that I dozed off.”

“And so?” asked the first ﬂea.

“And so the next thing I know, I’m on this guy’s mustache again!”

________________________________

When does Michael Jackson’s kid know that it’s time to go to bed?

The big hand touches the little hand.

_________________________________

An old lady—a spinster and a virgin, and proud of it—lived in a tiny village. She knew her last days were approaching, so she told the local undertaker that she wanted the following inscription on her tombstone: BORN A VIRGIN, LIVED A VIRGIN, DIED A VIRGIN.

Not long after she had made her wish known, the old maid died peacefully in her sleep. The undertaker told the stonecutters of the lady’s request. The men, practical to a fault, thought about the inscription and concluded that it was unnecessarily long. They wrote simply: RETURNED UNOPENED.

__________________________

RECORDED MESSAGE OF THE MONTH!

“Hello, welcome to the psychiatric hotline.

“If you are obsessive-compulsive, please press one repeatedly.

“If you are codependent, please ask someone to press two.

“If you have multiple personalities, please press three, four, five and six.

“If you are paranoid-delusional, we know who you are and what you want. Stay on the line until we can trace your call.

“If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and a little voice will tell you which number to press.

"If you are manic-depressive, it doesn’t matter which number you press. No one will answer.”

_________________________________

What’s a female bisexual?

A lesbian with car trouble.

_________________________

While at the fairgrounds, a woman wanted to take a ride on the Ferris wheel before heading home. Her husband waited while she took a spin. The wheel went round and round and suddenly the woman was thrown out. She landed in a heap at her husband’s feet. He gasped and bent down. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

“Of course I’m hurt!” she replied. “Three times around and you didn’t wave once.”

____________________________

A little boy walked in on his parents in the heat of their lovemaking. “Mommy, what are you doing?”

“Um,” she stammered, “well, Daddy is so fat that I’m bouncing all the air out of him.”

“I don’t know what good it’s going to do," the boy replied. “The lady next door is just going to blow him up again!”

__________________________

The young woman complained to her friend about her boyfriend's extraordinary sex drive, “I barely have the strength to go to work in the morning." she said. “Now that he's off on holiday. things will only get worse."

“How long is he off?" the friend asked.

“It varies," she replied, “but usually, time for one cigarette."

______________________________

One morning, a Texan walked up to his savings-and-loan branch office and found it closed. After several minutes of pounding on the door, the manager appeared. "We’re closed!" he shouted through the glass.

“But your sign says you’re open nine to ﬁve," the customer replied.

“Those aren’t our hours. Those are the odds we'll he open tomorrow."

_____________________________

As soon as the famous movie director passed through the pearly gates, Saint Peter told him they had a ﬁlm they wanted him to direct. The director tried to beg off, pleading exhaustion, but Saint Peter explained that this was a very special ﬁlm—the script was by Shakespeare.

The director was tempted for a moment but declined. Then Saint Peter said the art direction would be by Da Vinci. The ﬁlni maker warmed considerably to the project but again decided against it,

“The music will be by Beethoven," Saint Peter added.

“Screenplay by Shakespeare! Production design by Da Vinci! Original score by Beethoven!" the director exclaimed. “I'll do it!"

“There's just one thing." Saint Peter said. “God has this girlfriend who sings. . . ."’

_____________________________

An archaeologist was digging in the Negev Desert in Israel and came upon a casket containing a mummy After examining it, he called the curator Ola prestigious natural-history museum. “I’ve just discovered a three-thousand-year-old mummy of a man who died of heart failure!" the excited scientist exclaimed.

"You can’t know all that from looking at ‘him," the curator replied. “Bring him in. Well see."

A week later, the amazed curator called the archaeologist. "You were right about the mummy’s age and cause of death. How in the world did you know?”

“Easy. There was a piece of paper in his hand that said, “10,000 SHEKELS ON GOLIATH.”

_______________________________

What's the difference between a terrorist and your wife?

You can negotiate with a terrorist.

_________________________

A geneticist believed he had discovered a method for putting the theory oi human cloning into practice. He decided to clone himself ﬁrst. Everything went perfectly except that, through some minor miscalculation. his clone was rude, vulgar and foulmouthed. When he was unable to correct the problem, he threw the offensive clone out his laboratory window. The following day, the scientist was arrested for making an obscene clone fall.

___________________________

A man walked into a Porsche dealership, opened the door of a Boxster, took a seat behind the wheel and smiled. A salesman approached and asked, “Are you thinking about buying this car?”

“Oh, I’m deﬁnitely going to buy this car,” he said, “but I’m thinking about pussy.”

____________________________

Dave arrived in hell and was told he had a decision to make. He could go to capitalist hell or to communist hell. Naturally, Dave wanted to compare the two, so he wandered over to capitalist hell. He asked the ﬁrst man he met, “What’s it like in there?"

“Well, in capitalist hell,” the man replied, “they ﬂay you, boil you in oil, chain you to a rock and slash you with sharp knives.”

“That’s terrible!” gasped Dave. “I’m going to check out communist hell.” There he discovered a huge line of people waiting to get in. He pushed his way through to the head of the line, where he found Karl Marx busily signing in people. Dave asked what communist hell was like.

“In communist hell,” Marx said, “they ﬂay you, boil you in oil, chain you to a rock and slash you with sharp knives.”

“But that’s exactly the same as capitalist hell!" protested Dave.

“True,” sighed Marx, “but sometimes we don’t have oil, and sometimes we don’t have knives.”

_______________________________

What’s the difference between an onion and an accordion?

No one cries when you cut an accordion in half.

_________________________

Billy Bob parked his rig in Florida for a few days before driving back home. He was about to dive into the surf but ﬁgured he’d better check out the alligator situation with the townsfolk. “Nope, no gators here,” a local assured him.

Billy Bob had swum out 50 feet before his brain kicked in again. “Hey, how come there ain’t no gators in here?” he yelled back to the guy onshore.

“Because they’re afraid of the sharks,” came the reply.

_____________________________

The high school student spent most of his afternoons in the basement mixing chemicals. One day his father went down to ﬁnd his son surrounded by racks of test tubes and pounding something into the wall. “Danny, don’t put nails in the wall,” his father admonished.

“It’s not a nail, Dad,” the young man explained. “It’s a worm. I found a formula that turns things as hard as a rock.”

“Tell you what, son,” the man said with sudden interest. “You give me the special formula and I’ll buy you a car.”

The next day when Danny got home from school, he saw two brand-new cars in the driveway. “Dad, what are these?” he asked.

“Oh, they’re for you, son,” his dad said, smiling. “The Toyota’s from me. The Mercedes is from your mother.”

_____________________________

What’s the difference between a dentist and a sadist?

A sadist has newer magazines.

__________________________

The couple had broken up but remained friends as well as neighbors in the same apartment building. Some months after their split, the two met in the elevator. The woman’s ex had his arm in a cast. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked sympathetically.

“Well, if it’s not too much trouble, would you help me take a bath?”

She agreed, and back at his apartment, she eased him into the tub and began to wash his back. As she lathered his chest she noticed his growing erection. “Now isn’t that sweet,” she cooed. “It still recognizes me.”

___________________________

A lady walked into a tattoo parlor and said, “Can you do a tattoo of a turkey on my right inner thigh and one of a Christmas tree on my left inner thigh?"

“Sure,” the tattoo artist said. “But if you don’t mind me asking, why did you choose those two designs?”

The lady smiled. “My husband,” she explained. “He says there’s never anything to eat between Thanksgiving and Christmas!”

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drshojo · 4 years

Text

The World, My Childhood And My Hero Academia: Vigilantes

Hello friends!

Its Dr. Shojo coming at you with a post that will be divided into three parts!

Part One: The world as we know it!

The world has changed a lot since we last connected. For starters, TOILET BOUND HANAKO KUN HAS NOT ONLY A PHYSICAL RELEASE BUT A GORGEOUS ANIME! And not only that, but MY NEXT LIFE AS A VILLAINESS: ALL ROUTES LEAD TO DOOM! IS GETTING AN ANIME AS WELL! The last time I wrote about Katerina there wasn’t even an official English translation of that long-ass light-novel-title. And now?

A WHOLE ANIME. A BISEXUAL HAREM AWAITS! I am JAZZED!

Do you think it’s my fault? No matter, I’ll take all the credit. All the manga I talk about are getting anime adaptations. I’LL DO MY DUTY AND TALK ABOUT SOME MORE!

But first. Let us address the Covid-19 shaped elephant in the room

I deeply regret that it took a whole-ass pandemic to get me back to writing. In my defense, I bought an iPad and started drawing like 900 kokichi oumas. I was really busy with that. And then I started reading fanfiction. Then that got me thinking about how fanfiction such an interesting look into how people interpret fandom, use it for wish fulfillment and escapism, and good god is everyone OK cause that bulimia fan fic was super detailed....and I am officially on a tangent. Off track. Ahem.

We are all staying inside a whole lot more which means y’all probably need some reading material and Dr. Shojo has your back! Go read “Horimiya”! It’s amazing! Ahhhh, my work here is done! I'm serious, if you’re here for a Shojo rec, that’s it! There's also like 8 million more Otome Isekais to check out now. It’s like they’re multiplying like rabbits..............

As a Doctor, I must advise you to stay inside and read some manga and practice social distancing. Embrace your inner hikikomori.

Allright? All good? Okay now one final disclaimer:

This post is going to be talking about something a little different than usual and I want to start by giving you some context about who Dr. Shojo is in real life.

Part Two: Dr. Shojo Exposed

You see, when I was little I was obsessed with Japanese media. This doesn't surprise you at all I can tell. Probably because I walk around calling myself Dr. Shojo and shout about manga that you should read.

Anyways, the reason why I was obsessed wasn’t because of the big eyes or the spikey hair or the interesting new culture. It was because it tended to have more character development and overarching plotlines than the media I was used to in Canada. Dexter’s Lab, Magic School Bus, pretty much everything I saw on TV was episodic in nature, so imagine how much my mind was blown when I saw Naruto and Card Captor Sakura, heck, even Pokémon had the Indigo Plateau! Here were kids that were learning more and more each day and got to see enemies become friends and vice versa. They lived and grew older just like me. Except they were cooler than me. And had more interesting lives than me. I gotta tell you, I was so sad when I was 12 and Kero didn’t tell me I had latent magical powers. But there was magic in my life and it was the magic of a complex narrative story. And not only that, it had a sense of movement and had cool costumes. I was hooked immediately.

Also, fun fact, at that age I happened to be a complete and utter tomboy! I loved pretending to fight my friends in the playground and was really worried that puberty would ruin my life because being a girl sounded so CUMBERSOME.

Which leads me up to my confession. Before I became Dr. Shojo, I was in fact......Dr. Shonen.

Bleach? Naruto? One Piece? I've read every single chapter there is.

Hundreds of hours of watching fight sequences. Another fun fact, I only got into shojo because my aunt bought me volume 7 and 8 of Fruits Basket thinking “all mangas like the same right? Kids love comics?” It’s a tribute to how episodic western media was back then that she thought buying volume SEVEN and EIGHT was a REASONABLE PLACE TO START READING.

Now you might also say, Hey! Dr Shojo! Cardcaptors was a shojo! And you are right! but back then the anime was marketed to boys over here in the west and they actualy like, edited out episodes that they thought wouldn't interest boys?! Second fun fact, Once when I was in Grade 3 I was told I was not allowed to join a club under the stairs cause I was a girl and it was BOYS ONLY. The point of the club? To talk about how great Cardcaptors was! I Kid you not!

So anyways, your pall Dr. Shojo loves Shonen manga to this day!

The only reason I made this Dr. Shojo blog specifically about shojo is because, being a tomboy with no female friends, reading shojo manga was the first time I really thought about what it meant to be a girl and fall in love. And y i k e s. Shojo manga, like most media, fails miserably most of the time in displaying real world relationships. Or at least, it doesn't prepare you for how disappointing everything can be. When I had my first kiss, I was thinking about how it didn’t feel at all like how I felt reading Zen and Shirayukis kiss in Akagame No Shirayuki Hime. Those were formative years, and shojo was one of the only places I saw romance being talked about for younger audiences. I liked reading romances where no one had any sexual experiences and were figuring out what love meant to them. But let’s shelve this topic for now.

The point is that gender roles are dumb and if you have an open mind there's a world of stories out there for you. Take this time inside to read something you wouldn’t normally. Critically think about the ways that the worlds you see in stories and how you experience the world differ. What are the messages a story is trying to tell you? And why do you like the stories you do? Reflect on how the stories you tell yourself color your view of the world. Even mindless entertainment leaves an impression on us. Anyways.

Whilst you're doing that, I'm going to absolutely lose my hecking mind over the Shonen Jump series MY HERO ACADEMIA: Vigilantes!

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD!

Part Three: I downloaded the one month free trial of the Shonen Jump app and made you read all that, so I can tell you that today Dr. Shojo is going to rant about a spin-off of a shonen manga

THAT’S RIGHT, OF COURSE I READ HERO ACA AND YES I DID PICK UP THE SPIN OFF SERIES. SHONEN JUMP LETS YOU READ ALL THE NEW CHAPTERS FOR FREE ON THEIR APP. KIDS, IF YOU LIKE SHONEN AND YOU’RE PIRATING ON A SCANLATION SITE STILL GET OUT BECAUSE YOU DON’T NEED TO SEE THOSE WEIRD PLASTIC SURGERY AND DENTISTRY ADDS ANY MORE.

SHONEN IS HERE AND ITS LEGAL AND ITS FREE FOR YOU. GET OFF MANGA FOX OR MANGA ROCK OR WHATEVER THE KIDS ARE USING THESE DAYS.

OK, so by this point in the article you have learned two very important things about me: 1) I love Shonen manga and 2) I read a lot of fanfiction.

Specifically, I read an absolutely biblical amount of My Hero Academia fan fiction and let me tell you, A solid chunk of it is vigilante/ Deadpool / criminal with a heart of gold themed.

So when I saw Hero Aca had a spin off, and it was about vigilantes, I was NOT SURPRISED IN THE SLIGHTEST. Ao3 sure is powerful.

Now, if you will permit me a tangent in a post full of tangents—HOLY CRAP, THERE ARE TOO MANY VIGILANTE AUS. I CAN'T KEEP TRACK OF EM. IT’S THE ISEKAI PROBLEM ALL OVER AGAIN. I GET AN EMAIL A FIC HAS UPDATED AND I’M LIKE IS THIS THE FIC WHERE DEKU HAS AN ABUSIVE MOM OR THE ONE WHERE HE HAS SPLIT PERSONALITY DISORDER OR THE ONE WHERE HE’S VIGILANTES WITH HITOSHI. OH WAIT, nvm, it’s the one where deku has a healing quirk.

OH WAIT WHICH OF THE 6 DEKU WITH HEALING QUIRK VIGILATE AU FICS IS THIS ONE?! ARGH WHY DIDN’T I WRITE A DESCRIPTION IN THE BOOKMARK FOR THIS!

My gripes aside, there's a reason why there's such an abundance of vigilante story telling—

Deadpool made like an absolute buttload of money and people love sass and memes.

People have a desire for a story in which they see themselves. Or, how they think of themselves.They like a story about someone who maybe came from nothing. Someone who has less money, maybe someone who is unlucky and had some bad breaks. Someone who never learned they had magic, never got their Hogwarts letter, never saw Kero, someone who never got that God-level quirk from All Might. And if your on Ao3 They want someone who also has seen a lot of memes and kind of wants taco bell and is also questioning their sexuality a bit?

Enter our new hero VIGILANTE DEKU.

But the cannon can't do this, cause hey, Deku is the chosen one. Albeit, chosen by All Might, He’s got his own thing to do. But how can we still cash in on a vigilante story?

And thus enter our New-New hero KOICHI HAIMAWARI—code name Nice Guy and then later The Crawler. True to his relatable roots. He’s just a dude in an hoodie who can go about as fast as a bike.

First off, I love Koichi. He wants to be a hero and fight crime, but most of the time he has to run away because at the end of the day he's just a dude.

He’s cute but not wildly good-looking, A bit of a nerd but not like an extreme okaku. He’s got a part time job and hates violence.

And this is where Koichi really shines—in every day stuff. He helps out wherever he can. Often, that just means listening to people complain and maybe helping his friends out with whatever they’re going through. He’s the kind of guy who smiles, not because he's especially brave, but because he just takes things one at a time and doesn't sweat the past. I think it’s really telling that he missed getting into hero high-school because he skipped the entrance exam to help someone. He’s the kind of person who lets us experience the superpower of human decency and empathy. And you know what? That’s something the world need desperately.

This theme of human decency is really the driving force of Vigilantes—it’s a manga about how the laws are there for a reason but sometimes they unfairly impact the poor and vulnerable. It's about how a lot of criminals are just people who fell into bad social circles or on bad times. People have the capacity for cruelty and violence but that’s never all they are.

Now, speaking of crime, the entirety of Hero Aca falls into some murky water when it comes to its evil doers. Much of the fandom has a huuuuuge problem with how much the franchise is willing to sweep under the rug in the name of redeeming their baddies. RE: people getting mad about forgiving Endeavor’s child abuse, or Bakugo’s suicide baiting. Or Mineta’s blatant sexual harassment.

But this theme is in Vigilantes even more than it ever was in the main series. To start off with, there’s this guy who tries to rape Pop Step early on, and the later he later winds up befriending everybody. It becomes a running gag that each new villain winds up befriending the other villain guys and then they all open a cat café together.

Using jobs as a way to lift people out of lives of crime is great and all but in the story there is no nuance or consequences for past wrong and well.....it feels very weird. It's like Vigilantes plays at having an opinion about moral ambiguity and the complexity of human existence and then just.......lets everyone get along because who has time to get into all that. Make of that what you will but it sits weird for me personally.

Anyway, let's move on and talk about POP STEP our main girl!

I love pop stars and I love vigilantes and a guerrilla performer is defiantly a character I could get behind. And I think they do a good job with Pop. She is actually kind of shy, but has this secret edgy persona she puts on when she performs. She is every girl on tumbler in the early 2000s. I also looooove that they make her not that great a singer. SHE’S GOT PASSION AND CHARISMA and maybe not born talent but like why should that stop you! Talent can be earned through practice and this is a great lesson to show people.

Unfortunately, Pop is also a great example of everything wrong with romance in Shonen.

It’s established early on that Pop loves Koichi because she is the girl he rescued all those years ago and yada yada yikes we’ve heard this one before. Many times before.

Sure, it's fine that they’ve met before, but gosh am I sick of damsels in distress. It's like she can't love him just because she respects what a great guy he is in her life and in the community at large, no no, she just needs to be rescued on top of that. And LOLOLOL isn't it funny he never noticed she was a girl because she was a child with short hair?! Once he realizes she has boobs now they will for sure fall in love! That’s how love works!

She's just with him all the time—nothing romantic ever happens she just gets a little tsundere.

I am never ever going to believe Koichi likes Pop because he spends like sooooo much time with her and they never have like, a moment. The first time he considers her is when Makoto is like, ‘hey I would love to get together with you, but have you thought about if you are crushing on Pop’. (Also this entire plot point is suspect—she's arbitrarily falling for Koichi cause he.......is the protagonist?)

Say what you will about shojo, they give you the emotional conversations, the moments where you think.....ahhh I can see why she is falling for him. They give you context! Shonen likes to just say HERE’S A GIRL YOUR AGE. YOU CAN DATE LATER WHEN THE ADVENTURE IS DONE.

Just when they might get together, Pop suddenly turns evilllllll. The evilllll beeeees made her eeeevilllll (and more sexy).

*Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh*

Because why on earth would they get together if Koichi didn’t get to rescue Pop one more time?

I’m tired. These troupes are tired. I’m sure you are too. HOWEVER! If your still with me, Let’s move into why I'm really writing this post. Let’s get to the part that got me screaming to my friends, who by the way, don’t even care bout Hero Aca….but listened anyways. May you all find nakama like these my friends.

Anyways,

HOLY FUCK ERASERHEAD’S ENTIRE BACK STORY IS IN THIS AROUND CHAPTER 60 AND IT IS WONDERFUL AND ABSOLUTLY HEARTBREAKING AND IS ONE OF THE BEST CHARACTER BACKSTORIES I HAVE EVER SEEN AND IS THE REASON WHY THIS SERIES IS A MUST-READ FOR MAIN SERIES FANS.

AND BY ALMIGHT.

WHY. IS. IT HERE.

I present to you my late night text messages to my friends

ALSO, AIZAWAS TEACHER IS PRINCE?!?!?!

AHEM, so as you can see, I kinda lost my shit.

And now, I would like to formally defend my claim that DESPITE HOW AMAZING IT WAS, ERASERHEAD’S BACKSTORY HAD NO BUISSNESS BEING IN THE VIGILANTES SPIN-OFF MANGA.

Eraserhead, aka Aizawa Shouta, is a side character who is working with the police on some crime stuff. He is not a main cast member in this spin off. He’s a guest character that fans of the main series will be like OH COOL. GRUMPY CAT MAN LIKES CATS ON HIS OFF HOURS TOO. LOVE THAT FOR HIM.

So, my imagine my absolute surprise when Aizawa runs into Koichi and the following happens:

It starts to rain, so, like in any good manga, this means some great FORCED BONDING TIME

Except no. It doesn't because rather than start talking, Aizawa JUST STARTS REMEMBERING—ABSOLUTLY SILENTLY TO HIS OWN PRIVETE SELF—HIS ENTIRE TRAGIC BACKSTORY.

AND THIS GOES ON FOR CHAPTERS.

THIS GOES ON LONGER THEN ARC ONE IT FEELS LIKE.

I LOVE IT, BUT KOICHI IS ABOUT TO JOIN ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA IN THE DUBIOUS CATEGORY OF “PROTAGONISTS THE SERIES FORGOT ABOUT IN LIEU OF COOLER SIDE CHARACTERS”.

AND LO IT HAS NO BEARING ON THE REST OF THE PLOT, CHARACTERS, OR STORY

What the ever-loving-just WHY?

WHY?

WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?

SURE, IT’S A COOL TIE-IN.

YES, OF COURSE I LOVED IT. I SHIP ERASER MIC, I DREW THIS FOR HECK’S SAKE:

AND YET I AM ANGRY.

I AM ANGRY BECAUSE MY FRIDAY WAS RUINED BECAUSE VIGILATES SUCKER PUNCHED ME WITH AN AMAZING STORY THAT REALLY WASN’T PLOT RELEVANT AND PROBABLY SHOULDN’T HAVE BEEN THERE.

IS THIS WHY THEY TOOK LIKE NEXT-TO-NO CARE WITH POPS ARC?!?

I mean its ongoing, so it’s too early to say but—

In conclusion—

Excuse me one more,

AIZAWA WAS TAUGHT BY PRINCE!?!??!?!?!?!? PURPLE RAIN PRINCE!?!??!?!?!? WHAT!??!?!?!

It’s so ABSURD that I HAD TO WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT IT. I HAD TO WRITE PARAGRAPHS TO JUSTIFY YELLING ABOUT THIS ONE THING. WHAT THE ABSOLUTE—

Ahem,

Anyways, I hope you liked this weird rant/personal-story/random-diatribe in three parts.

If you’re reading this, thank you, stay safe, and I’ll be back with more shojo manga next time.

Ciao!

Dr. Shojo

(aka Dr. Shonen)

#my hero academia vigilantes #koichi haimawari #pop step #my hero academia #erasermic #Cardcaptors #Shojo manga #Shonen Manga #Dr Shojo #read Horimiya

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nickburn · 4 years

Text

Things I Enjoyed in 2020 Despite Everything

Seasons Greetings! This year has felt like an eternity for so many reasons, and before it’s over, I’d like to take a look back on the distractions that got me through it. Along the way, I’ll occasionally point out where I was emotionally at the time and whether I got into a particular thing before or after the pandemic hit in mid March. I hope you enjoy this little retrospective of some of my experience during one of the worst years of human history!

Games & Mods

Might & Magic VI: The Mandate of Heaven

When I was making my 2020 resolutions list late last year, one of my goals was to play more old games in my backlog and not buy many new games this year. That goal largely went on hold, because, well, I sought out enjoyment wherever I could find it instead of forcing myself to play one thing or another. But before Covid, I was really enjoying my new playthrough of M&M6. I’d made attempts at it before, but it was really GrayFace’s mod that made the game click for me. Modern features like quick saves and mouselook make the game much more accessible, and I’d recommend it to anyone who wants to try an old-school RPG. It’s a great stepping stone into a mostly-dead genre. I’m hoping to get back to it soon. I just jumped ship to simpler ventures like Doom Eternal after the pandemic hit and haven’t looked back since.

Pathologic 2

I learned about the Pathologic series late last year and have since become a little obsessed with it. Hbomberguy’s lengthy video essay on the original game really intrigued me and lead me to trying the sequel/remake in April via Xbox Game Pass. In a weird way, it was cathartic to be a doctor in an even more dire situation than our current one and still see signs of the townsfolk trying to help each other deal with a supernatural plague and little help from their local government. The game helped me express a lot of what I was feeling at the time, when I was still getting used to working from home and wondering just how long this could go on for. I’ve gone back to it recently, and I’m hoping to finish it someday, if I can find a way to stop dying. Above all, Pathologic 2 teaches you how to make choices in no-win scenarios with little information or resources and still persevere, despite the world going to Hell around you. And that’s maybe the most important thing to practice at the moment.

Overwatch

I’ve continued to look forward to weekly Overwatch nights with my friends every Thursday, and it’s really important to have something like that right now. Even if it’s just a new episode of a show airing, a new video from a favorite YouTuber, or a regular Zoom call with coworkers, it helps so much to have something to anticipate from week to week and month to month. Otherwise, it’s really easy to feel like nothing’s going on besides the entropic deterioration of the universe. Overwatch itself helps with this, because it’s such a positive, bright, and optimistic game, as only Blizzard can create. And it’s improved a ton in the past couple of years, in a lot of ways. If you haven’t played in a while, hop in and check out all the new content with your friends; I think you’ll have a great time. It’s looking more and more like Overwatch 2 is right around the corner, and I’m very much looking forward to it.

I learned how to play Go after watching a documentary released this year about AlphaGo, the computer that beat the Go world champion, and I have a huge appreciation for the game now. I think it’s even more beautiful than chess, though even more insidious to learn. If you haven’t played before, start with a 9x9 board, teach yourself the basics, and try playing with another beginner friend. I guarantee you’ll be amazed at the amount of strategy and imagination that a game ostensibly about placing black and white stones on a grid can inspire. Go’s one of several new hobbies I’ve picked up this year, and those new hobbies have really helped me pass the time in a way that feels productive as well as take my mind off whatever depressing news just got blasted across Twitter.

Doom 64

Doom Eternal was fine, but Doom 64′s where my heart lies. The PC port on Steam is great, allowing everyone to easily play the game with mouse and keyboard. Its levels are tight and colorful, often asking the player to backtrack multiple times through the same areas to unlock new ones and take on whatever new twists await down each darkened corridor. It’s a surprisingly fresh experience. Unlike many modern Doom mods that strive to be sprawling marathons, 64′s levels are short but memorable, and the game is a great entry point to the series for newcomers because of that. Retro FPS’s continue to inspire and entertain me, and Doom 64 is one of my new favorites.

Golf With Your Friends

I’m not usually that into party games, but Golf With Your Friends strikes the right balance between casual tone and skill-based gameplay. The maps are vibrant and devious, the different modes are creative and often hilarious, and the pacing is near-perfect. If you’ve got a squad itching to play something together for a few nights, I guarantee you’ll have a lot of laughs trying to knock an opponent off the course or turning them into an acorn just as they’re about to attempt a nasty jump.

Quake 1 Mods

I probably sound like a broken record by now to a lot of you, but I won’t rest until I get more people into retro FPS’s. The outdated graphics and simple gameplay can be off-putting at first, but it doesn’t take long at all to get hooked after you’ve played the likes of excellent mods like Ancient Aliens for Doom 2 or Arcane Dimensions for Quake 1. And it’s only getting better, with this year marking probably the best year for Quake releases ever. The industry even seems to be taking notice again, with many talented mappers getting picked up for highly-anticipated, professional indie projects like Graven and Prodeus. And while the marketing around the retro FPS renaissance as the second coming of “boomer shooters” should be much maligned, the actual craft involved in making mods and brand new games in the genre has never been stronger. I even contributed four levels to the cause this year, but you’ll have to play them yourself to decide if they’re any good: https://www.quaddicted.com/reviews/?filtered=burnham.

Streets of Rage 4

I had not tried Steam Remote Play before this year, but it works surprisingly well if you have a decent internet connection. Because of Remote Play, I was able to complete Streets of Rage 4 with my friends, and it was very close to the experiences I had as a kid playing brawlers like Turtles in Time on the Super Nintendo. The game is just hard enough to make you sweat during the boss fights but just easy enough that the average group of gamers can complete it in a night or two, which is ideal for adults with not a lot of free time.

Hard Lads

Hard Lads is a pure delight of a game by Robert Yang about the beauty of a viral video from 2015 called “British lads hit each other with chair,” which is even more ridiculous than it sounds. It made me smile and laugh for a good half hour, and I think it’ll do the same for you.

Commander MtG

The Commander format for Magic: the Gathering is one of my favorite things, and in 2020, I dug into it more than any other year. More so even than playing or watching it being played, I created decklists for hours and hours, dreaming up new, creative strategies for winning games or just surprising my imaginary opponents. I sincerely believe this little ritual of finding a new legendary creature to build around and spending a few days crafting a brew for it got me through the majority of this summer. I didn’t have a lot of creative energy this year, but I was able to channel the little I did have into this hobby. Especially during the longer, more frustrating or depressing days at work when I had nothing else to do or just needed a break, I could often dive back into card databases and lose myself in the process of picking exactly the cards that best expressed what I wanted to do for any given deck. And it’s nice to know I can always fall back on that.

Yu-Gi-Oh!

I played a lot of Yu-Gi-Oh! growing up but never had the cards or the skill to be particularly good at it. I just knew I enjoyed the game and the 4Kids show, but I quickly them behind when I got to high school. Fast forward to 2020, and the game and franchise have evolved substantially, not always for the better. But I do find it so intriguing, with a skeptical kind of adoration. It’s not nearly as well-supported as Magic, but what it does have are gigantic anime monsters on tiny cards with enough lines of text to make your head spin. And it’s so interesting to me that a franchise like that can continue to thrive alongside more elegant games like the Pokemon TCG and Hearthstone. And the further I’ve delved into how the game has changed since I stopped playing, the more invested I’ve become, going so far as to start buying cards again and looking into possible decks I might enjoy playing. An unequivocal win for Yu-Gi-Oh! is Speed Duel, which seeks to bring old players back to the game with a watered-down, nostalgia-laden format with fewer mechanics and a much smaller card pool. So if all you want to do is pit a Blue Eyes White Dragon against a Dark Magician, that’s 100% still there for you, but the competitive scene is still alive, well, and astoundingly complicated. And I think that’s kind of beautiful.

Black Mesa

I wasn’t expecting to have the tech to play Half Life: Alyx this year, so Black Mesa seemed like the next best thing. And it really is a love letter to the first game, even if it’s far from perfect. I even prefer the original, but I did very much enjoy my time with this modern reimagining. If you’ve never played a Half Life game before, I think it’s a great place to start.

VR via the Oculus Quest

Around halfway through this year, I started to get really stir crazy and yeah, pretty depressed. It seemed like I’d be stuck in the same boring cycle forever, and I know for a lot of people, it still feels like that. So VR seemed like the perfect escape from this dubious reality where you can’t even take a safe vacation trip anymore. And you know, I think it works really well for that purpose. The Oculus Quest is especially effective, doing away with cords or cables so you have as much freedom as you have free real estate in your home. I don’t have a lot of space in my studio apartment, but I have enough to see the potential of the medium, which is completely worth it. Next gen consoles are neat and all, but I’ve got my heart set on picking up the Quest 2 as soon as possible.

* Beat Saber

I was most looking forward to trying Beat Saber on the Quest, and I was not disappointed. You’d think rhythm games had reached their peak with Rock Band and DDR, but the genre keeps on giving with gems like this. It’s hard to convey if you’ve never tried it, but the game succeeds so well in getting your entire body into the rhythm of whatever song you’re slashing through.

* Half Life: Alyx

Again, I really did not expect to be able to experience this game as intended this year, and I still don’t think I really have. The Oculus Link for the Quest is admittedly a little janky, and my PC barely meets the minimum specs to even run the game. And yet, despite that, Alyx is one of my top three games of 2020 and maybe one of my all-time favorites. Even as I was losing frames and feeling the game struggle to keep up with all the AI Combine soldiers running around, I was still having a blast. For me, it is one of the best reasons to seek out and own VR and a pinnacle of game design in its own right.

Hades

For me, Hades has mostly been similar to every other Supergiant Game that I’ve played: fun and well-polished but ultimately not engaging enough to play for very long. And there’s always this sheen of trying to be too clever with their dialogue, narration, and music that rubs me the wrong way. But Hades is certainly their best game, and I can’t deny the effect it’s had on people, much like Bastion’s reception back in 2011. And I’m really hoping Hades gets more people into roguelikes, as a more accessible and story-driven approach to the genre. Timing-wise, I wish it hadn’t come out around the same time as Spelunky, because I think it did make some people choose one over the other, when the best choice is to play both and realize they’re going for very different experiences. The precise, unforgiving, arcade-like style of Spelunky isn’t fun for everyone, though, and Hades is thankfully there to fill in that gap. I’m really glad I found more time to play it this year at least to succeed on one escape attempt; it’s a fun game to think about in a game design context. And I do think the game has a lot of merit and is doing some clever things with difficulty that the studio likely could not have honed nearly so well without the help of Early Access. The most impressive part of the game to me is not the story or the music or the combat but the massive amount of contextual dialogue they somehow found time to program, write, and record at a consistently high level. All of this is just to say, Hades is obviously one of the best games of the year, and you should play it if you have any interest in it at all.

Spelunky 2

I’ve spoken a lot about this game on Twitter, so I’m not going to rehash much of that here. For me, it’s been a journey of over 1,000 attempts to learn the intricacies and secrets of a deep and demanding game that’s been as frustrating as it’s been rewarding. But it remains a constant source of learning and discovery as well as mastery and pride for me, and I still have hopes of reaching the Cosmic Ocean and getting all the trophies someday. It’s been a joy to watch other Spelunky players too, even as some fair worse than me and others fair far better. And the Daily challenge keeps me coming back, because seeing my name high up on the leaderboard just makes me feel so damn good (or at least I’ll get a good laugh out of a hilarious death). At its heart, Spelunky is a community endeavor, and I think it succeeds at that better than almost any other game this side of Dark Souls. I think it is my Game of the Year or at least tied with Alyx, I really can’t decide. If you don’t think you’d enjoy it, all I’ll say is, the frustration and difficulty are integral to the experience of discovery and surprise, and your brain is better at video games than you think.

Chess

Okay, yes, I watched and enjoyed The Queen’s Gambit, but I think 2020 had already primed people to get into chess this year regardless. Like Yu-Gi-Oh!, chess was a childhood pastime of mine that I really enjoyed and then quickly left behind as I discovered things like music and the internet. If I had to assign a theme to my 2020, it would be rediscovering old hobbies to remind myself how good life actually is. And now I’m more committed to chess than I ever was before. I’m watching international masters and grand masters on YouTube (as well as the incomparable Northernlion), I’m playing regularly on Chess.com, and I’m even paying for lessons and probably my own theory books soon. Like most fighting games, chess is a complicated form of dueling a single opponent with zero randomness, so mistakes are always on you. And modern chess platforms offer extremely good analysis tools, showing you exactly how, when, and why you screwed up so you can do better next time. Like Hearthstone, it’s a quick, addicting, tense, and rewarding way to train your brain and have fun. And it seems more popular now than ever, in part due to a certain Netflix original TV show...

The Queen’s Gambit

I think a lot of people want to be Beth Harmon, even if they know they shouldn’t. It must feel so good to be the best at something and know you’re the best, even while under the influence of certain substances. It’s what makes characters like Dr. Gregory House so fun to watch, though you’d never want to work with the guy. For me, anyway, I always wanted to be a prodigy at something, and what little success I’ve had made The Queen’s Gambit very relatable to me. More so, it’s easy to relate to growing up in a conservative environment with few real friends and fewer outlets of expression, only to realize you’ve finally found your thing, and that no one can take it from you. That’s mostly what I’m going to take from The Queen’s Gambit anyway, more than chess or the Cold War commentary or the problematic relationships Beth has with her cadre of rivals/boyfriends. The show gets a strong recommendation from me for fans of chess as well as lovers of optimistic coming-of-age stories.

March Comes in Like a Lion

Similarly, March Comes in Like a Lion features a protagonist who is scarily close to a version of myself from like eight years ago. My best friend has been urging me to watch this show for years, and I’m still only a few episodes in. But I love how it portrays a young person who’s moved to a big city away from home for the first time, with nothing more than some meager possessions and the hopes of becoming the best in the world at something. And Rei is not confident in himself or outgoing at all, he’s extremely depressed despite pursuing his dreams and trying to distance himself from his somewhat toxic family. It’s a great reminder that the smallest kindnesses can often change our entire perspective on the world, and that even the people that seem the most well-equipped to handle life often still need help. I’ve been very fortunate to have people like that despite mistakes I’ve made, and I hope to be that person for others too.

Umbrella Academy

I’m pretty burnt out on superheroes, but UA put a good enough spin on them that they felt brand new. The show is rough in places, but it’s surprising in some really clever ways. And the comics are some of the wildest stories I’ve ever read, like Hitchhiker’s Guide meets Watchmen.

HunterXHunter

I binged about 100 of the 148 episodes of HxH this year, which I recognize is not a significant number in the wider world of long-running shounen anime, but it’s quite an undertaking for me to finish a show of this length. The series goes places I never expected and made me care so strongly for characters I thought I’d hate at first. It’s the smartest and most endearing show about a band of misfits going on crazy adventures and punching people for the good of the world that you’re likely to find.

Hannibal

This is the rare show that’s simultaneously comforting and nightmare-inducing if watched for extended periods. I can remember nights after binging a few episodes where I couldn’t get many of the disturbing images out of my head. Fair to say, Hannibal is not for the faint of heart, nor is it without some low points. But for those who enjoy gory thrillers or gritty detective dramas, it’s a must-watch.

Yu-Gi-Oh! Original Series, English Sub

You can probably imagine my surprise as I discovered this year that the Japanese version of the Yu-Gi-Oh! anime is not only much better than the 4Kids version we got in the States, but it’s actually a decent show. The plot makes much more sense, it’s more interesting, the stakes are higher, the voices are better, and overall it’s just more enjoyable to watch. I don’t know if I’ll stick with it long enough to finish it this time, but this is definitely the way I’d do it and would recommend to others.

Fargo Season 4

It’s a miracle we even got another season of Fargo this year, let alone on time and of the same high quality as the first two seasons. It has a great setting, cast, and conflict. I love Chris Rock, and it was so cool to see him act so well in such a serious role. There’s a Wizard of Oz homage episode that is nearly flawless. And the post-credits scene at the end of the season is just the cherry on top. If you haven’t checked out Fargo by now, you are really missing out on some of the most interesting stuff happening in TV. I can’t wait to see what Noah Hawley does with the Alien franchise.

Movies

Cats

I had to include this one because it was the last full movie I saw in theaters before the pandemic hit. I technically went to Sonic too, but my friends and I walked out after about 30 minutes. The less said about that movie, the better. Cats, though, is a strange and curious beast (pun intended), adapting an already unruly animal (pun intended) to the big screen and yowling to be recognized (pun intended). But for every awkward or embarrassing scene, there’s one of pure joy and magic, like the extended ballet sequence or Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat. The film knows exactly what it is and leans into it hard, like a familiar yet slightly insane feline begging to be stroked, which I imagine is exactly what fans of the musical wanted.

Children of Men

There’s not much I can say about this film that probably hasn’t been said better elsewhere. I was intrigued to watch it when I learned it was one of my friend’s favorite movies. And I have to say, it’s really profound in a prescient way. Clive Owen gives one of the best performances I’ve ever seen. You should watch it, but only when you feel like taking a severe hit to the feels.

Basic Instinct

Vertigo is probably still my favorite film, so when I learned this year that Paul Verhoeven made a bloody, sex romp homage film to it in the 90s with Michael Douglas starring, I simply had to watch it. And you know, it’s not bad. It’s nowhere near as good as Vertigo, and you can see the ending coming a mile away. But what it does have is the immaculate Sharon Stone, who you cannot take your eyes off for the entire movie. And the movie knows it, making her look as alluring and suggestive as her character is to the detective investigating her. You could do worse than to watch it, just don’t expect any of Hitchcock’s subtlety or looming dread to seep into the final product.

Books

Dune

I finally finished Dune this year, and I can genuinely say it lives up to the hype. It’s not the easiest book to get through, but it’s by no means one of the most difficult either. I’m still bummed that the new film was delayed, but it might give me time to read the rest of the original book series.

The Fifth Season

Another fantastic piece of fiction, I cannot recommend this book enough. N.K. Jemisin is one of the best living authors of our time. If you want an original setting with a brilliant magic system and complex, compelling characters, look no further.

Video Content

Northernlion

I’ve been a fan of NL for years, though I’ve never been that into The Binding of Isaac. He just has a charismatic intelligence to him that sets him apart from most “Let’s Play” YouTubers to me, and he’s very funny to boot. I guess I’d say he seems a lot like me or the person I could picture myself being if I were a professional video content creator. So I was really excited for NL’s series of Spelunky 2 videos, and I still watch them every day, months later. And now he’s teaching me how to get better at chess, being a good 600 ELO higher than myself at the moment. His sarcastic and improv-laden banter have withstood the test of years and gave me some much-needed comfort and laughter in 2020. Somehow, the man even found a way to keep up his prolific output this year while raising his firstborn child. There are those who said it couldn’t be done...

The Command Zone - Game Knights

Josh Lee Kwai and the rest of the crew at The Command Zone continue to put out some of the most well-produced tabletop gameplay videos on the internet. It’s perhaps no surprise, seeing as how Lee Kwai created trailers for such blockbuster films as Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World and Jimmy Wong had a supporting role in the live action remake of Disney’s Mulan. But the crew around the two hosts are just as important and talented, and it’s clear that they all share the same singular vision for the channel’s future. They’ve carefully crafted a team of expert editors, animators, cosplayers, and voice actors to deliver one delightful video after the next at a consistently high level. If you’re into Magic: the Gathering at all, you simply need to watch Game Knights.

Cimoooooooo

I found Alex Cimo’s channel shortly after the algorithm learned I was interested in Yu-Gi-Oh! again, and at first, I was less than impressed with him. But it’s clear to me now that he not only loves what he does, he’s an expert Yu-Gi-Oh! player and analyst. Plus, he’s very good at explaining some of the more complex concepts in the game in a way that newcomers can understand. I’ve watched every new episode of The Progression Series and The History of Yu-Gi-Oh! so far, and they’re the best way I’ve found to learn how the game developed and changed over the last 20 years.

Team APS

This is another great Yu-Gi-Oh! channel, focusing more on skits, gimmick videos, and casual games rather than analytical or theoretical content. Mostly, they seem like a really great group of friends that just have a blast playing Yu-Gi-Oh! together, and their love for the game makes me want to play more too.

Tolarian Community College

Somehow, a community college English professor’s channel went from a quirky little deckbox review platform to the most popular Magic: the Gathering channel on YouTube in only a few years. But it’s easy to see why when Brian clearly loves what he’s doing more than most people ever will. He’s not only a fantastic reviewer and MtG scholar, he’s one of the most outspoken voices for positive change in the community and the game. Is he too hard on the Magic team at Wizards of the Coast? Perhaps, but without his measured and well-reasoned takes on all things Magic, I think we’d be much worse off.

IRL

Cooking

Even I get tired of eating the same things every day, so I’ve taken it upon myself to learn how to make more dishes, mostly out of sheer boredom. And I know I’m not alone in that, but I have to say it’s been a rewarding and fun adventure. It’s really surprising what you can throw together with a decent recipe and a little creativity in a modest kitchen when you decide to break away from the microwave for once.

Chinchillin’

Like many people, I felt that I needed a pet to survive this year, and I’ve always wanted a chinchilla. So I took a risk and bought one from a seller on KSL a few months ago, and my life has definitely changed for the better. No longer simply alone with my thoughts all day, I have a furry little companion to commune and bond with. And it’s more difficult to find time to feel sorry for myself when a basically helpless tiny creature depends on me for almost everything. Not to say it’s been a perfect experience however, people don’t say chins are difficult to care for for nothing. And I have learned more about them than perhaps I ever cared to know before, but that’s only made them more interesting to me as a result. Overall, I would recommend them as pets, just be prepared to give them a lot more time and attention than you would to say, a fish or a hamster. I’ve seen the commitment compared to that of a large dog, and I think that’s fair, though chins seem far more difficult to train and are far less cuddly. Basically, imagine a fluffy, super fast squirrel that can jump half your height, shed its fur at will if grabbed too tightly, that sleeps all day and bathes in dust, and that cannot get wet or too hot or eat 99% of human foods without serious complications. And they get lonely, and they all have their own surprisingly distinct personalities, some shy and mischievous, others bright and social, and everything in between. But I’m glad to be part of my little buddy’s life and hope to make it a long and enjoyable one for him. Part of why I wanted a chinchilla so badly is they typically live between 10-20 years, much longer than the average rodent or even many cats and dogs. And they’re sadly endangered in the wild, poached for their incredibly soft fur, which is why I believe it’s critical that we care for and learn more about them now. And above all, I adore my chinchilla’s antics, even when he continually tries to dig up and eat the paper bedding below his cage when I’ve provided perfectly edible hay and pellets for him in much easier to reach locations.

And that’s all, folks...

If you’ve read this far, know that I really appreciate it and hope you learned something new about yourself, art, or the world. And please do let me know what’s kept you going the most this year too, as I suspect I’ll still be searching for new distractions next year, even after I’m able to get a Covid vaccine injection. As Red Green would say, we’re all in this together, and I’m pullin’ for ya. <3

#2020 #hobbies #art #youtube #reviews #entertainment #games #books #film #tv #netflix

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theastrophilearchitect · 4 years

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March TBR/W.

Every book, audiobook, tv show and movie I want to consume in March 2021.

-Hence ‘TBR/W’ - to-be-read/watched.

I’m not usually a fan of pre-planning my media for the month - I plan out all my media obsessively, but doing it by month seems a little too much like setting deadlines for my taste, and I’m sure I’ll somehow manage to turn watching tv into a chore. Regardless, it’s worth a shot, so this is going to be a rough guide - I’m going to pick four of each category, one per week, because I’d rather underestimate and surpass than overestimate and have to defer things to the next month. So let’s go.

Books

1. Skyward and 2. Starsight by Brandon Sanderson

Skyward is set in a future where the human race is on the verge of extinction, trapped on a planet constantly attacked by alien warriors. Spensa, a teenage girl stuck on the planet, wants to be a pilot, but it seems far-off. Then, she finds the wreckage of a ship that appears to have a soul, and she must figure out how to repair it, and persuade it to help her navigate flight school.

In truth, I mainly want to read this because of how highly it’s been praised by Hailey in Bookland on YouTube. I actually tried reading Sanderson’s Mistborn series a couple years ago, and just didn’t click with it. I love fantasy, but I can pretty confidently say epic fantasy just isn’t for me. However, Sanderson’s work is adored by many, and Skyward and its sequel Starsight appeal so much more to me, and I can’t wait to get to them.

3. House of Earth and Blood by Sarah J Maas

This is Maas’s first technically-adult book; Throne of Glass is young adult, ACOTAR being classed either as young or new adult. I’ve been a fan of Maas for a long time, and, though I enjoy her books less now than I have in the past due to how seriously they tend to take themselves, I’d still love to read this one. Where her previous series were both fantasies, this sits somewhere between that and a sci-fi, but I can’t say as-of-yet what I think, because I haven’t read it yet.

Bryce Quinlan finds herself investigating her friends’ deaths in an attempt to avenge them after they were taken from her by a demon. Hunt Athalar is a Fallen angel, enslaved by Archangels, forced to assassinate their enemies, when he’s offered a deal to assist Bryce in exchange for his freedom.

4. Scythe by Neal Shusterman

I listened to this as an audiobook in 2019 as part of BookTuber Book Roast’s Magical Readathon, and didn’t hugely get along with it in truth. The audiobook was excellent as an audiobook, but the story Ian’s I just didn’t really vibe. I think I just want to like this book, so I think it’s worth a reread to see if my opinion changes.

This follows Citra and Rowan, a reluctant pair of apprentice Scythes - in a utopian future where humanity has the means to live forever, it is the job of the Scythes to control the population by essentially reaping the souls of those they choose to die. Neither Citra or Rowan want it, but I don’t remember enough about this book to say any more.

Audiobooks

1. Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins

This is the last book in the Hunger Games trilogy, and you either already know what this series is about, or you’ve been living under a rock for the last thirteen years. I read this book for the first time nearly seven years ago, and it’s stuck with me. It sent me into a phase of only reading dystopian books (The Darkest Minds by Alexandra Bracken was part of this, and was the series that really got me into reading), but this was the main one that stuck with me.

It contains a powerful message about capitalism and discrimination, and this is the second time I’ve listened to the audiobooks, though the god-only-knows-what time I’ve read the series. I listened to The Hunger Games and Catching Fire in February, which automatically puts this on my to-listen for March.

2. Ghosts of the Shadow Market by Cassandra Clare, Sarah Rees Brennan, Maureen Johnson, Kelly Link and Robin Wasserman

This is a novella bind-up set in the Shadowhunters world, that I would imagine has quite a bit to do with the Shadow Market, an aspect of the Downworld introduced in The Dark Artifices, which I finished in January.

In truth, I’m mainly planning to listen to this audiobook because it’s the only Shadowhunters novella bind-up with an audiobook, and I’d just rather read additions to the main Shadowhunters series in this format rather than physically.

3. The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes by Suzanne Collins

This is a Hunger Games prequel that was released early last year, and I just wasn’t going to read it. I heard several reviews, the general consensus of which was basically that it’s not as good as the trilogy and is somewhat unnecessary, but, in truth, my curiosity’s got the better of me, especially since I started listening to the trilogy’s audiobooks again.

This prequel follows Coriolanus Snow as a mentor in the Games before he became President of Panem and the wonderful villain of the original trilogy.

4. Eliza and Her Monsters by Francesca Zappia

I mentioned this in my physical TBR post a couple weeks ago, but have decided to listen to the audiobook instead. A few weeks ago, I’d started to run out of audiobooks I wanted to listen to, and didn’t want to read anything on my regular TBR in this format, including this book. But, I went through a load of audiobook recommendations, and this was one of them, so it joined my to-listen.

I’m not hugely into contemporary books, but I’ve wanted to get more into the genre for a while, and this was the first one to join my TBR.

This novel follows Eliza Mirk, your typical high school outcast, who publishes a hugely popular web comic under the pseudonym LadyConstellation. Then Wallace Warland, the biggest fanfic writer of her comic transfers to her school and begins to draw her out of her shell.

TV Shows

Before I go into my list, I’d like to mention that I am currently watching WandaVision and am definitely planning to watch Falcon and the Winter Soldier on Disney+, but both come out on a weekly basis, so aren’t being included on this list. Also, I’ve been watching way too much YouTube recently, so I’m not sure I’ll get through all of these this month, especially since I’m watching the Arrowverse shows, which have such long seasons.

1. Love, Victor Season 1

This Love, Simon spin-off follows a character named Victor at Creekwood (I think that’s the name?) High School. I saw Love, Simon twice in cinemas when it was released, and, miraculously, it made me cry. I love that movie.

This series was released last year on Hulu, which is only available in the US, but as of February 23rd, it’s one of the shows that came to Disney+ as part of Star.

2. The Flash Season 1

As mentioned, I’ve started watching the DC Arrowverse shows. I watch tv shows through alternating seasons - as in, I watch season 1 of show A, then season 1 of show B, then 2 of A, etc., then when I finish one, I start watching show C - but I’m treating the Arrowverse as one show (even though it isn’t) so it’s not the only thing I’m watching. So this is technically Arrowverse S3, preceded by Arrow S1+2 (though I haven’t actually started S2 as of writing this because of how much YouTube I’ve been watching, so I’ll be finishing that first).

I genuinely don’t know that much about most DC superheroes, Flash included, but I’m going into this having been assured it takes itself less goddamn seriously than Arrow. It’s my sister’s favourite Arrowverse show, and I can’t wait.

3. Dare Me Season 1

I added this Netflix show to my watchlist when it came out, and my basic understanding is that it focuses on the cheerleaders at a high school, and begins when a new coach arrives. It focuses on the psychological damage behind competitive cheerleading, and I’m not convinced I’m going to love it, but I think it’s worth a shot.

4. Arrow Season 3

I’m so confused by this poster. This is specifically the season 3 poster, and I’m so confused, but I’m sure it’ll make more sense when I watch the season.

I explained the weird way I’m watching Arrowverse (named as such because Arrow was the first show in it) already, but Arrow follows Oliver Queen, the son of one of the billionaires of Starling City upon his return after being stuck for five years on an island when a cruise ship carrying him and his father sunk. His father left him with a list of names of the people ‘corrupting’ the city, and Oliver takes it upon himself to assume a vigilante identity and take them down.

Movies

I’m not a huge movie-watcher, but I end up compiling so many to watch that, to ensure I get round to them, I watch a movie every time I finish a tv show season. I’m also currently re-watching the MCU movies in chronological order.

1. Instant Family

This is just something that came onto Netflix recently and I thought might be entertaining, and so it joined my list.

This follows a couple who decide to adopt a teenager, only to find out she has two more siblings.

2. Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2

This is just a continuation of my MCU re-watch - I love this movie. I love Guardians of the Galaxy, full stop (on another note, I just generally don’t understand why British people call it a full stop and Americans call it a period. Neither name makes particular sense).

3. Avengers: Age of Ultron

And here we have another continuation of my MCU rewatch. I honestly think this is my favourite Avengers movie, because the whole teams actually together, and Wanda, Scarlet Witch, is introduced - I love her. I really didn’t like Vision until WandaVision came out, though.

4. Behind The Try: A Try Guys Documentary

Not technically a movie, but still. (Are documentaries movies? I tend to think of them as separate categories, but I guess they’re both movies. Hm.) I’ve been watching the Try Guys for years, which means I need to convince my sister to give me her Google password so I don’t have to pay for this.

I’m probably not going to stick to this list, and even if I do, I’m either going to also consume things not on it, or just not finish it. But, you’ll have to wait for my March wrap-up to find out.

#tbr #book #books #reading #reader #bookblr #marchtbr #tv shows #movies #review #films #movie #tv show #writerblr #march tbr

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selfignitingimagines · 5 years

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Stiles- Obsessed

A/N: Okay, I attempted to edit the original and accidentally deleted it *facepalm* so here is the reuploaded version of Obsessed! Let me know if you guys want a part two (with less mistakes).

“You really think the mountain ash will work?” Stiles asked, reaching forward to cut off the radio.

“Hey,” you complained from the backseat of the Jeep. “I like that song.”

Scott shot you a look from where he sat in the passenger seat. “You’re the one who wanted to be a part of this.”

You narrowed your eyes at your older brother. It had only been a few months since you found out Scott was a werewolf, but you were picking things up fairly quickly. Scott had never intended for you to know the truth and he wasn’t thrilled that you had gotten involved.

“And how exactly were you supposed to explain away the fact that Stiles was chaining you to the radiator?”

Stiles glanced over at Scott. “She’s got a point. I’m a good liar, but I’m not sure I’m that good.”

“You know, the werewolves actually make sense,” you commented. “But a murderous lizard person? I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“Neither would I,” Stiles agreed. “Which brings me back to the thought that maybe the magic fairy dust can’t trap it.”

“Deaton did say you have to believe, Stiles,” you pointed out.

“And,” Scott added. “We don’t have many options right now. Everyone is going to be at the Underground Show and that’s our best chance to catch whoever’s controlling Jackson.”

Stiles let out a discontented sigh. “I just...I don’t get why it has to be me.”

“You’re the only other human besides Y/n. And you know we can’t ask Allison.”

He snorted. “Like I’m not reminded of that every day of my life.”

“I can try to sneak off and come help you,” you suggested.

Stiles shot you a longing glance over his shoulder, but Scott shook his head. “You’re supposed to be keeping Matt distracted. He’s been asking too many questions and he’s way too involved now.”

“It’s actually kinda perfect that he’s asking you out,” your brother continued.

“If that’s how you define perfect,” Stiles said. There was an uneasy edge to his voice. “I still don’t trust him.”

“You don’t have to,” you told him with a shrug. “I’ll distract him, drop him off at the end of the night, and hopefully this will all blow over once we find whoever’s controlling Jackson.”

“See?” Scott asked. “You’ll both be fine.”

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek as he drove toward the high school. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and took a breath.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “We’ll be fine. Even if we don’t make it into the show, which is still a big problem, since we don’t actually have tickets.”

He glanced back at you in the rearview mirror, and you flashed him a small smile as the Jeep pulled into the school parking lot. He immediately looked away, and desperately hoped that you hadn’t seen him blushing.

Stiles had been friends with your brother since they were eight years old and you had spent the majority of their friendship running along after them. While Scott incessantly complained about you needing to find your own best friend, Stiles never did. The minute you entered high school, a year after they did, the three of you became inseparable.

Lately though, things had been different between you and Stiles. While Scott was off sneaking around with Allison, the two of you were often on your own. Maybe you didn’t know what it meant yet, but you and Stiles had grown closer.

He glanced back at you in the rearview mirror, and you flashed him a small smile as the Jeep pulled into the school parking lot. Stiles killed the engine and hopped out, holding the door open for you as you crawled out of the backseat. As you tossed your bag over your shoulder, you noticed that Matt was standing on the sidewalk nearby.

“Oh great,” Stiles muttered under his breath.

“There’s gotta be some other way to get tickets, right?” Scott asked as he shut the passenger door.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “It’s a secret show. There’s only one way, and it’s a secret.”

You smirked, and Scott rolled his eyes at the two of you. Before you could bite out a sarcastic comment, Matt called out to you.

“Hey,” he said, jogging up to the three of you. “Any of you guys know why no one got suspended after what happened the other day at school?”

“Just forget about it,” Stiles said, waving him off. “No one got hurt.”

Matt tilted his head. You could tell he was annoyed. “I had a concussion”

“Well, nobody got seriously hurt.”

“I was in the E.R. for six hours,” Matt told him.

Stiles huffed. “Hey, do you wanna know the truth Matt? Your little bump on the head is about this high-” Stiles crouched down and held his hand inches from the sidewalk. “-on our list of problems right now.”

Scott placed a hand on his shoulder, and you stepped forward. “Are you okay?”

Matt smiled at you, brushing off Stiles’ without a second glance. “Yeah, I’m fine now.” He looked over at Scott. “So you didn’t get tickets last night either.”

“Are they still selling?” Scott asked hopefully.

“Uh, no, but I managed to find two online.” Matt shot you a wink, and you blushed. “You should keep trying. Sounds like everyone’s going to be there. I’ll see you tonight, right, Y/n?”

You smiled. “Yeah. I’ll pick you up at eight?”

He nodded. “Sounds good. See you later.”

Stiles watched Matt saunter away, looking pleased with himself. He shook his head and then glanced toward you. “I don’t like him. Are you sure about this, Scott?”

Your older brother pursed his lips. “Last time, whoever’s controlling Jackson had to kill someone because he didn’t finish the job. What do you think he’s going to do this time?”

Stiles sighed, and looked ruefully between the two of you. “Be there to make sure it happens.”

-----

“Do you want to move closer to the DJ?” Matt asked you.

He was gripping your hand tightly, almost as if he was afraid you were going to slip away. That might have been a valid fear, considering the place was crowded with sweaty, glowing bodies, and you couldn’t go three inches without brushing up against one.

Your phone had been going off in the pocket of your jean skirt since you got to the rave, and you could feel it buzz against your thigh. Matt saw you glance down at it, peeking out of your pocket, and he tilted his head.

“Should I be jealous?” he asked jokingly.

You let out a nervous laugh. “Of course not.”

“Check it,” he told you. “I don’t mind.”

He was watching you carefully, and for a few seconds you noticed his light attitude had disappeared. There was something in his deep blue eyes that you couldn’t decipher. You cautiously reached for your phone.

“It’s just Stiles,” you said, tucking it back into your pocket.

You didn’t exactly want to read the message in front of Matt, but you caught a few alarming words flashing across the screen before you locked it again. Stiles had definitely been asking for help.

“What’s up with the two of you anyway?” Matt asked.

He was trying to be casual, but you knew he was asking a loaded question. Between trying to answer and forming a plan to sneak away and help Stiles, your mind was spinning.

“He’s my brother’s best friend,” you told him with a shrug. “He’s been around since I was little. I guess I’ve just gotten used to him being my friend too.”

“You sure there’s not anything between you guys?”

“Oh god no,” you swore. “I’m his best friend’s little sister. There’s no way he’d...no way.”

A part of you had always wondered about Stiles. He was hilarious, incredibly smart, and you knew he would do anything for you, but you were pretty sure that came with the territory of being Scott’s best friend. Stiles was practically family. Of course you would be special to him too.

Despite occasional fantasies of what could happen between the two of you, that was a topic you had forbidden yourself to think about.

“So there’s no one else I have to worry about?” Matt asked softly.

“Hm?” You had been lost in your own thoughts until Matt’s voice had shaken you out of them. “Oh, no. Of course not.”

Apparently, Matt took that as an invitation to make a move. His hand was suddenly on your waist, and he leaned in to press his lips fiercely against yours.

You had kissed one boy before, during a game of spin the bottle at a party in seventh grade. It had been wet and uncomfortable, and you were pretty sure Garrett Meyer’s tongue was not supposed to be in your mouth. This was nothing like that, yet something about it still felt wrong.

Matt’s lips were soft and forceful, but not rough. He obviously knew what he was doing, but for some reason your stomach turned at the feeling of the kiss.

You placed your hands on his shoulders and pushed him away. He looked genuinely hurt as you apologized profusely and mumbled something about needing to use the bathroom. You left him there, standing on the edge of the crowd as you disappeared into the throng of dancers.

-----

Stiles was panicking by the time you rushed out of the warehouse. Relief washed over him in waves as he saw you step outside.

“What happened?” you demanded. “I thought Deaton gave you two bags.”

“He did!” Stiles cried, holding up the handful of mountain ash. “This is all I have left.”

You swore softly, glancing at the ground surrounding the building. On the concrete were two lines of ash wrapping around the warehouse, separated by about forty feet.

“Did you call Scott?” you asked, panic creeping into your voice.

“Three times,” he told you. “He didn’t pick up.”

You sighed. “Okay...okay, look. Deaton said you have to believe, right? So just believe you have more mountain ash.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s the plan?!”

“It was the plan to begin with,” you pointed out.

“To run out of mountain ash?”

“No, to believe you could do it,” you reminded him. “If you’re giving it the spark of power like Deaton said, then maybe you’re powerful enough to make it work.”

“So, what happens when we run out? Wing it?”

“Stiles, all you do is wing it! You’re seriously telling me you can’t just close your eyes and hope for once?”

He took a breath. “Okay, fine. We’ll wing it.”

He held his empty hand out for you to take and you raised your eyebrows. Stiles swallowed audibly. “Please.”

You grabbed his hand, casting a worried glance toward the line of mountain ash. He squeezed your hand, and you closed your eyes as he walked forward, letting the ash slip through his fingers.

Then he stopped. “Y/n, look.”

When you opened your eyes, Stiles was looking incredulously at the pavement. The two lines of mountain ash were now connected, completing the barrier that would trap the kanima and its master inside the warehouse.

You and Stiles looked at each other and erupted into joyful shrieks. Elated, he wrapped his arms around your waist and spun you in a circle, nearly tripping into a nearby car.

“I did it!” he cried. “Oh my god I did something!”

You laughed as he placed you on top of the trunk of the car, only to have it’s alarm blare out across the warehouse parking lot. He yelped and pulled you down, but his face was still flush with excitement.

“You were right,” he breathed. “I’m gonna have to listen to you more often.”

“That was amazing,” you whispered.

Stiles’ cheeks were warm with pride, and as he gazed down at you, it occurred to him that you might have as much admiration for him as he did for you. His hands were still resting on your hips, and before he could talk himself out of it, he pulled you closer and kissed you.

For a split second you were frozen in shock, but then you quickly melted into the kiss. Your life had changed so much in the past few months. It was like your entire world was turning upside down, uprooting you and everything you thought you knew. Maybe it made sense that your relationship with Stiles would be shifting too.

When you parted, you stared at each other silently, not quite sure what to say. Then several things happened at once.

A distant popping filled the air, and you recognized the sound of gunshots almost immediately. The funny thing about constantly dodging werewolf hunters was that you had learned how to recognize the sound of their bullets. At the same time, your phone also began to chime relentlessly.

When you checked it, you found that it was Matt, apologizing profusely and asking where you were. Stiles swallowed as you looked down at your phone. “You should probably go find him.”

“Yeah,” you said. “But I don’t really want to.”

Stiles smiled softly. “I don’t want you to...but the hunters are close. You need to find Matt and stay out of trouble.”

“Matt isn’t trouble?” you wondered.

Stiles grimaced. “I don’t trust the guy. You know that.”

“I do,” you agreed. “But I can take care of myself, Stiles.”

“I know. But if you need anything call me, okay?”

“Okay.”

You smiled and turned away, heading back into the warehouse. Stiles watched you go as dread churned his stomach. Everything inside him was screaming for him to call out to you, to pull you back and wrap you up in his arms, just to keep you safe. With everything going on, he knew that was a fantasy. No one was safe in Beacon Hills. Not anymore.

-----

It took you about thirty five minutes to find Matt. He wasn’t where you had left him, but you eventually spotted him leaning against the wall in a tucked-away corner of the building.

“Hey, sorry,” you breathed. “I just...I needed some air.”

“I get it,” he told you, smiling. “I’m just glad you found your way back. I think they’re wrapping it u-”

He was interrupted by the noise of a disgruntled crowd.. The music had stopped thumping suddenly, and the warehouse was filled with grumbling teens and twenty-somethings, wondering why the party had stalled.

“Looks like the party’s over,” he commented, reaching for your hand. “Let’s go.”

You swallowed nervously as you watched the crowd filter through the various doors of the warehouse. If Scott’s plan succeeded, Jackson and the person controlling him should be trapped inside the building.

As you headed out though, you glimpsed Jackson walking out the door farther up in the crowd. You held your breath until you crossed through the door, but Jackson was nowhere to be found. He had crossed the mountain ash barrier.

You felt your heart sink as you realized the plan hadn’t worked. You wondered what happened, and briefly panicked at the thought that something might have happened to Stiles.

You and Matt stumbled out of the building and toward you car. You wanted to reach for your phone and call Stiles, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to sneak away from Matt again. If you even texted him, he might get suspicious, and the whole point of you going out with him was to stop him from asking too many questions.

As he tugged you toward the parking lot, you couldn’t help but feel a sinking in your chest. Somehow you just knew there had been another murder. You knew the entire plan had failed.

-----

“Do you ever feel like no matter what you do, you just can’t win?” you wondered, as you turned down Matt’s street.

You had been quiet for almost the entire ride, and relief flashed across his face when you finally spoke.

“No,” he said smoothly. “Unlike the rest of humanity, I’m perfect.”

That made you smile. “Thanks. I guess things have just been really crazy lately. It’s been stressing me out.”

Matt looked down at his feet when you pulled to a stop in front of his house. “Yeah, and that...incredibly bad idea probably didn’t help things either.”

He looked like he was about to burn up with embarrassment when he talked about the kiss.

“Don’t even worry about it.”

“For real?” he asked.

“Definitely.”

“So,” he asked carefully. “What’s going on with you and Stiles? I know you went to look for him at the show, but are you guys...together?”

You started to say no, but then thought better of it. The moment you had shared with Stiles in the parking lot had given you a lot to think about.

“Not really,” you told Matt.

“Not really,” he repeated. “God, I hate ‘not really’. You never know what to do with ‘not really’.”

You pressed your lips together at his bitter tone. “Would you understand if I said it was complicated?”

Matt raised his eyebrows.“Not really.”

You laughed, and he smiled gently at you. “But I can try.”

With one last smile, he opened the door and waved you goodbye. You sat there on the curb for a few seconds, watching him disappear inside his darkened house. When you went to shift the car into drive, you realized Matt’s backpack was still on the floor of your car.

You reached over and grabbed the strap, only to pull on his camera by mistake. It was still on, and you figured he had probably been taking pictures at the rave and just forgotten to turn it off in all the chaos.

Purely out of curiosity, you tapped the bottom to scroll through his photos. Matt had talked about his photography, but he had never really mentioned how good he was.

You smiled when a picture of you flashed across the screen. It was a candid of you, smiling in the stands as you cheered for Scott during one of his lacrosse games. The next picture was of you laughing, and you remembered that Stiles had been making faces at you from where he was benched on the sidelines.

As you scanned the photos, you realized that they were more of you than anything else. Your fascination quickly turned to horror as you saw that Matt had pictures of you walking down the hall, studying in the library, and even sitting in front of your bedroom window.

You were just starting to wonder how long he had been watching you when you were startled by tapping at the window. You quickly powered off the camera and looked up.

Matt was standing next to the car, illuminated eerily by the streetlights outside. He had a smile on his face, but it was wry and twisted. He pulled once on the handle of the passenger side door, and you were suddenly grateful you had locked the car after he got out.

“Open the door,” he mouthed.

You took a deep breath, hoping your expression didn’t betray your fear. You didn’t open the door, but you did roll the window down about halfway.

“Forgot my bag,” Matt told you, gesturing to the backpack on the floor.

You nodded. “Yeah, yeah.”

Your voice came out shaky and uneven, and you were completely still as he reached in, pulling out his bag and the camera. “Some good pictures in there, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yeah,” you agreed enthusiastically. “The lacrosse ones are amazing. You’re really talented. I was-I was really impressed.”

Realizing you were rambling, you quickly pressed your lips together. Matt smiled evenly at you. “There’s a good candid of you in there too.”

“Really?”

“You can see some of the others if you’d like,” Matt offered. “I mean, this tiny little screen doesn’t really do it justice, but, uh, I could show you some on my computer.”

“Oh,” you breathed. “I would totally like that, but...maybe another night.”

“Just for a few minutes?” he pressed.

“It’s getting kind of late,” you told him. “Scott’s probably expecting me home.”

“It’s the weekend.”

“I-I know,” you stammered. “But-”

“And it’s spring break. I mean, you don’t have anything going on tomorrow, do you? I’m sure your brother wouldn’t mind.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest. With the way Matt was watching you, you could have sworn he could hear it. “I should really get going.”

Matt’s lips twitched. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” you said hoarsely.

“Okay,” he said softly, backing away from the car.

He eyed you carefully, but you didn’t look back at him. You peeled away from the curb, terrified to see him still behind you, watching.

When you got home and trudged up the steps, Scott poked his head out of his bedroom door. “Hey. You dropped Matt off?”

You nodded wordlessly. That was when Stiles’ head appeared next to Scott’s. They were both in pajamas, ready to pass out after the exhausting night. It was past one am, but you knew they had waited up to make sure you got home safe.

“Yeah,” you whispered hoarsely. “Just tired.”

“Are you sure?” Scott asked with a frown. “Do you wanna talk about what happened tonight? I know it was intense.”

“Scott,” you snapped. “I just want to sleep. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

Your brother recoiled in shock, and you instantly felt ashamed. Stiles was looking at you in concern, but you didn’t meet his eyes as you headed down the hall. The tension of the kiss from earlier was burning in the air, but after what had happened with Matt, you weren’t in a place to deal with it.

You shoved open the door of you room, stripped off your sweaty clothes, and immediately jumped in the shower. Even as the hot water streamed down your skin, you could feel the tears dripping down your face.

Some of the pictures Matt had taken were from weeks ago. You didn’t remember all of the moments he had captured, but one of them was definitely from the night Allison and Lydia had taken you shopping for the upcoming spring dance.

You had opted for a more casual dress with a bright floral pattern that you were absolutely in love with. Lydia, however, insisted you get something more formal, so you chose another one. She bought you the floral as a gift.

You were so excited that you wore it home from the shopping trip, and judging by the photos you had seen on Matt’s camera, he had been watching you that night as you walked inside. You would never wear that dress again without thinking of him capturing the moment and twisting it in his own perverted way.

Your phone had been buzzing non-stop for the past thirty minutes, so you finally decided to step out of the shower. Nausea bloomed in your stomach, and you wondered if Matt was trying to reach out to you.

As you walked out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, you realized Stiles was the one who had been blowing up your phone.

“Oh shit!”

You jumped when you saw him sitting on the edge of your bed, covering his eyes. His cheeks were a bright red, and he was stammering.

“Oh god, uh, I’m so sorry. I’ll just-”

He tried to get up while his eyes were covered and ended up tripping over your basket of clean laundry. He fell with a thump, and you snorted.

“Stiles,” you told him softly. “It’s fine. It’s not like you saw me naked.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, scrambling to his feet. “I was just worried. I thought that maybe you’d want to talk or something, but…”

You grimaced. “No I...I want to talk. Just let me change.”

He nodded and sat back down on your bed, watching as you hastily yanked some pajamas out of your dresser. You disappeared into your bathroom, and a minute or so later, you came back out fully dressed.

You sat beside him on your rumpled comforter, wondering where to start. Eventually, you and Stiles spoke at the same time.

“So about the kiss-”

“Something happened with Matt-”

He paused, looking at you with concern. “You mean back at the rave? What happened?”

You shook your head. “No. It was when I took him home. He left his bag in my car on accident. I went to pull on the strap, but I grabbed his camera by mistake. It was on, so I just looked at the pictures, and...and he had pictures of me.”

“Pictures? What kind of pictures?”

“Some of them were normal,” you told him. “I saw some of me at the last game, and I know he has to take pictures of the crowd for the yearbook. But then there were others. Like pictures of me at my locker, or...or in my window.”

Stiles jaw dropped. “Your bedroom window?”

You dropped your eyes to the floor and nodded.

Stiles jumped to his feet. “We need to tell Scott right now.”

“No,” you said quickly, reaching up to grab his hand. “Stiles we can’t. He already has so much to worry about with the kanima and Allison’s grandfather.”

“Then we have to at least go the cops. Y/n, that’s stalking. Matt’s been stalking you.”

You took a deep breath and tried to fight the tears forming in your eyes. “What if no one believes me?”

Stiles placed his hands on your shoulders. They were warm and steady, and even though tears were slipping down your face, his stability gave you hope. “I believe you. And everyone at the station will too. Besides, he’s got the proof on his camera.”

You swallowed. “So do we talk to your dad?”

Stiles scratched the back of neck. “Actually, uh, they just put him on a leave of absence.”

“Like they fired him?” you asked incredulously.

“Basically, yeah,” he said softly. “And it’s pretty much my fault.”

“Why would you say that?” you asked him.

“Well, believe it or not, the son of the Sheriff stealing a police van and kidnapping someone didn’t look too good to the town. ”

You grimaced as his shoulders slumped in shame. You reached out to gently touch his shoulder. “Stiles, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. We’ve gotta stop the murders first. Then we can figure out how to get my dad’s job back.”

“You’re still allowed to be upset,” you reminded him. “Stiles, nothing about this is easy.”

“You are.”

You blinked at him. “Wait, what? I’m easy?”

“Woah, no, that came out wrong. I mean, this with you.” He gestured between the two of you. “This is easy.”

“Talking?” you asked.

“Everything,” he admitted. “I know you’ve kinda been stuck with me lately since Scott’s been preoccupied. But when it’s just me and you...I don’t really mind it.”

You smiled at him. “I don’t either.”

“And I was thinking maybe...maybe if you wanted to…”

Stiles took a deep breath. His cheeks were flushed and all of his confidence from earlier seemed to have disappeared. “I totally suck at this.”

“It’s okay,” you told him with a laugh. “I think I know what you’re asking. And the answer is-”

Knock! Knock! Knock! You and Stiles both froze at the sound of a knock on your door.

“Y/n?” Scott was calling softly. “You awake?”

“Uh, hold on, I’m naked!” you yelled.

With wide eyes, you quickly yanked Stiles up from the bed and shoved him into the bathroom. For good measure, you gestured toward the shower. Stiles obliged, and you quickly flipped the light off and shut the door.

You took your discarded towel and wrapped it around your hair, twisting it up. Then you opened the door for Scott.

“Hey,” he said, peering around the room. “Is Stiles in here?”

“He’s not with you?” you asked.

“No. I woke up and he wasn’t in my room. I thought I heard voices in here so I came to check. He’s probably just getting a glass of water or something.”

“Oh,” you said casually. “I was on the phone with Lydia. She’s just nervous about everything going on, so I was trying to distract her with girl talk.”

“Girl talk?” Scott asked.

“Mmhm. You know, dresses, nail polish...waxing.”

Your brother grimaced at the thought. “Okay, I get it. I was just making sure you were okay. You seemed upset earlier.”

“I was,” you admitted. “You were right. Everything at the rave, the last murder...it was getting to me.”

Scott nodded. “I know this is hard. It’s why I didn’t want to get you involved.”

You rolled your eyes slightly. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

“But hey,” he said, reaching out to put his hand on your shoulder. “I’m glad you know now. I’m glad you have my back.”

You pressed your lips together and stared up at him skeptically. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. He reached out to pull you into a tight hug. “I love you. You know that right? And everything I do, I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

“I know. And as annoying as you are, I love you too,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

He rolled his eyes and pushed you away. “Go to bed.”

You watched Scott as he walked down the hall and turned back into his room. Then you quickly shut your own door and locked it.

When you yanked open the shower curtain to let Stiles out, he jumped.

“What?” you asked quizzically.

“I thought you might have been Scott,” he admitted, stepping out of the shower. “I couldn’t hear you guys from here.”

“You should probably leave before he gets suspicious,” you told him.

He looked down at the floor. “Yeah, you’re right...hey, uh, were you going to Lydia’s party tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you told him. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“I’ll see you there, then.” He reached out to grab your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “We’ll figure everything out. Matt’s not going to hurt you.”

You nodded, and squeezed back once, knowing full well that his words from earlier were hanging in the air. Now it seemed that the moment had passed, and Scott was awake down the hall, looking for Stiles.

“Goodnight, Stiles,” you whispered.

“Goodnight.”

He smiled softly at you before silently slipping out of your room and down the hall. You closed your door as quietly as you could, walked over to flick off your light, and crawled into bed.

Despite the chaos of that night, sleep found you easily, and you slipped into unconsciousness, not thinking of Matt, but of Stiles.

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #selfignitingimagines #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagines #Teen Wolf Ships #@derangedangel

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