#look i don't know how to tag some of this shit so pay real close attention to the book of warnings above the cut :')

[radio-writes]

I Don't Know if I'm Real Without You

— Part 2 of 2 (Read Part 1 here: What is Left of Me Without You)

Synopsis: He didn't love you, but he needed you—that's what he said, at least. He needed you to show him just how deep your devotion to him really was.

Warnings: abusive relationships, power imbalance, some misogyny, heavy manipulation, gaslighting, murder and violence, physical injury to reader, major character death(s), angst

Tags: married, one sided romantic love, Alastor x Reader, female!reader

MDNI

"Why, just the other day a green fuzzy caught sight of another stiff by the river! Poor green egg went green in the face!" A laugh track followed the voice on the radio.

Alastor sat on the couch as he riffled through his briefcase, making sure he had everything he needed today.

"What poor taste," You commented absentmindedly from behind him. "Is that really any way to start off a Sunday morning?" 

Alastor let out a distracted hum at your words. He hadn't really been paying you much mind. A lazy smile simply played on his face.

Just one body? Seems they missed the other two friends it had in there.

"Well, it takes talent to entertain, my dear. Something these hacks clearly lack," He said casually, waving a hand at the radio's direction. 

"And speaking of stiffs! We've got a fresh one today, folks—" The host's voice was chipper as it came from the radio.

Alastor sat a little straighter, as if on instinct.

"Darling, do you mind fetching my script?" Your husband spoke over the hack radio host. "Seems I might have forgotten it in our bedroom." 

"Not a problem, dear," You replied almost instantaneously. Your hand landed on his shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze before you left the room. 

Alastor stood up, cooly making his way towards the radio as he turned the volume down slowly. 

"Glue stuffed in his mouth, chilled off, and absolutely tattered by nails, people! Brutal new body found behind the local—not so secret—juice joint!" The radio continued, but Alastor's smile remained calm despite the gruesome news.

His eyes stayed at the doorway you left through, making sure you had actually gone.

There was no need to sully your little ears with useless chatter like this. You were much more use to him all oblivious and naive, so he'd prefer to keep you that way. 

When the radio host finally finished talking about his the most latest victim, Alastor turned the volume back up to how it was. He made his way back to the couch, hands gathering his script neatly into his hands from the top of his briefcase.

He chuckled to himself before calling out to you. "Never mind, dear! The little bugger was at the bottom of my case this entire time!" 

He wasn't the type to forget these things. He was always so organized, sometimes to a fault.

And you knew that.

And Alastor knew that you knew that.

But he wasn't worried. You'd never doubt him. Whatever pesky little thought you had related to him, you'll just brush off easily.

He'd made sure of that.

Alastor heard you playfully scold him, your soft laughter rung through his home.

"—I guess you can say he really nailed that Chicago overcoat!" The annoying little shit on the radio joked just as you entered the room.

Alastor spared it one quick glare before his sight fell on you once more. You didn't seem to care for the joke much, but your eyes did linger on the dials of the radio for a second too long Alastor thought.

"Does the radio seem a bit louder to you, Al?" You asked him.

Ah, he must have turned it back a tad bit too far.

He looked at you with faux confusion. "'fraid I don't know what you mean, dear. Why would it be louder?" He stood up, closing the briefcase in front of him and straightening out his collar. "But I do have to split now, darling, or the ol' big cheese would have my head."

Your eyes met his warm chestnut ones. Alastor could practically see the way you brushed away your silly concerns in your head, a soft smile once again gracing your lips. 

He knew you were confused as to why his boss supposedly needed him at work on a Sunday.

He knew you wanted to ask why.

He knew that, at least some part of you, didn't fully believe that he was headed off to the radio station. 

If you were smart you'd have listened to it.

But you were his wife. 

So you simply nodded in understanding, moving closer to where Alastor stood. You made to grab for the suit jacket that still hung on his arm but the tall man was quick to pull it high above your reach.

"Not so fast there, darling." He teased, smiling down at you.

"It's cold out, dear. I'll help you put your coat on," You insisted, small, delicate hands reached up for the jacket.

Alastor stepped back from you, briefly tapping his fingertip against your nose. "And who said I was in any hurry to cover up this lovely new shirt my wife got for me?" He teased, snapping the suspenders he wore against the crisp white shirt.

He simply adored it when he made heat color your soft cheeks. He loved seeing proof of his effect on you.

His eyes drifted to the clock behind you, his smile straining just a tiny bit when he realized what time it was.

He'd miss his mark if he wasted any more time here.

"In any case, darling, I really do have to dash," He smiled back at you, already heading towards the door before you could say anything else. "But do keep yourself free, baby. I'll be back before you know it." He shot a wink at you.

He grabbed his hat from the coat rack and plopped it neatly on his head, then he was out the door in a second. 

Alastor let out a short, tired breath.

Sometimes, he did find your love to be a bit tiring. But he supposed, at the moment, it was still worth much more than the hassle it caused him.

He hurriedly strolled down the street, smiling and greeting everyone that passed by him politely. His ego stroked just a little bit with every flustered dame.

He didn't care for any of them, but he never grew tired of knowing the charming effect he had on people.

Alastor tried to clear his head of you as he hopped into a taxi. He laughed as the cabby recognized him almost immediately, but he didn't pay the man any mind as he yapped about how much of a fan he was.

Instead, he found that his thoughts have annoyingly strayed back to you. He's found that you've been so persistently present in his mind lately.

One would think that sounded so romantic, that he was a cold man finally falling for a sweet little thing.

But in reality he was weighing his options.

You've always been so behaved, so meek.

He found you endearing, that much was true.

You were great company, after all. You loved the same music he did, kept up with his dancing, and sang so beautifully along whenever he tickled the ivory keys.

You dressed up to compliment his style, even if it wasn't to your comfort. Smiled at all the wretched people, even as they gossiped behind your back. Perfectly prepared and happily ate every dish he liked, even stranger ones you found hard to stomach.

Because you shaped yourself to be his partner. You did everything and anything that you could to gain his approval.

And that was indeed endearing. The lengths you went to, just to hear a simple praise from him.

Alastor used to wonder if there was ever a limit to it, but as the times flew by he realized you were just too happy to rewrite even your own logic just to stay by his side.

And it was also true that you were a brilliant cover.

As a taken man, there were much less people prying into his life as opposed to when he was an eligible bachelor. And no odd rumors ever spread about him thanks to how behaved you were.

People saw him as soft, gentle, caring. Because a violent, murderous, psycho could never keep a delicate little thing like you as his wife, could he?

Yes, you definitely had your perks. That much he already knew.

But you've been so restless lately. So oddly, insistent on being by his side more. 

He'd tried to talk it out of you. Whispered how he was so lucky that you weren't like other wives. How you trusted him and respected his space. How you didn't nag him like a terrible partner would.

And it worked...for a while.

Until you've been fixated on getting the darn basement door open, at least. Somehow, you had it stuck in your brain that opening that stupid lock would have proved your worth to him.

You've been visiting that mug of a shopkeep at the locksmiths so often that Alastor just simply had to get rid of him already. He returned the useless tools he sold you last time too of course. He didn't quite like others making a fool out of what was his.

Only he could do that.

The cab stopped by a rather classy bar, the driver letting out a low whistle, going on about how they also wished that they could live up the big life.

Alastor tipped him generously, bidding him a great day as he stepped out.

He tossed his jacket on quickly before he adjusted his bowtie in the reflective glass window of the building. This was, he thought, his second favorite part of it all.

For such a detached man, Alastor loved many things.

He loved meeting his victims for the first time in person. The thrill of so many eyes on him as he clasped their clammy palms in greeting.

He loved talking to them, watching their eyes light up as he mentioned what they wanted the most. That moment where he knew he had hit the nail on the head and found out exactly what made these scum tick.

He loved using it against them, luring them to a false sense of security.

And, his absolute favorite part, he loved dragging the sharp edge of his knife against the skin of their necks. The lovely shade of red bleeding down their stiffening bodies.

He just can't help but love—

"My darling?" A voice—your voice—rung out in the dark alley. 

There wasn't time. There was no time to hide the body, toss the knife, flee from the scene.

There was no time to come up a with a story, a lie, a cover.

Because you were right there, standing in the alley with him. His blood stained hands and the corpse by his feet plainly in your view.

Even with the blood smudged on the lenses of his glasses, he could see the fear in your eyes, the gears turning in your head as you tried to process the scene in front of you.

It's a real shame. Earlier today he had decided that you still had more purpose to serve him. That he could still put up with you. That he would still be able to stomp out whatever stubborn will riled you up lately.

Clearly that wasn't the case anymore.

"Now, now, dearest," He started, hand reaching out to you as he held the knife still in his hand.

Your feet moved, but to Alastor's shock you ran to him.

Your panicked eyes took in the violent red that stained the pristine white shirt as you took his outstretched hand in both of yours.

"We should go," You hurriedly whispered, fearful eyes met his confused ones. "You can't be seen here."

You tugged him along the streets, careful to keep yourself in front of him as you tried to hide most parts of him stained with red.

Alastor's eyes were wide, his long legs working on their own as he tried to understand what exactly was happening.

"Dearest?" He whispered to catch your attention. "I just chopped off a man, you know that, right?" 

Your steps didn't falter as you hurried along, but you didn't turn your head to look at him either.

"Yes," You responded. The tight knot against your throat kept you from saying anything more.

"I sliced his throat open," Alastor continued to prod more. "His blood is all over me, in fact."

You whip your head around in urgency. You meant to shut him up. You meant to warn him not to talk so loud, that you couldn't be too sure who could be around to overhear.

But when your fearful eyes met his calm, warm, sweet, ones you ended up swallowing against your dry throat. Adorning a shaky smile instead.

"And I'm sure you did it to keep yourself safe, dear." You said, although it seemed as though you were trying to convince yourself of that.

It was as if a light bulb lit up in Alastor's head. He finally understood what was happening. He fought against his own body to keep himself from smiling as he stared into your uncertain eyes.

"I knew you'd understand," He feigned a sigh. His hand, that was previously unresponsive in yours, curled its fingers to hold onto you. "I knew I would be safe with you, my darling wife."

Alastor noted the way your stiff shoulders slacked at his words. As if you were waiting for his praise; as if you were waiting for that little bit of confirmation to fully push away all those pesky, silly, little doubts you held.

As if you were begging to have the slightest bit of reason to cling onto, to prove that there was no cause to leave your spot beside him.

"If anyone asks," You said softly, your hand reached out to wipe away the little bit of blood on his cheek. "I'll tell them you came home early to me. You did promise that you would come back quickly, anyway."

Alastor smiled down at you, letting himself lean into your touch as you seemed to love it when he does. "I am so lucky that you love me, doll."

You continued to lead him down the streets, sticking to less lit areas as you did so.

Alastor couldn't stop the grin from spreading widely across his face.

Because you did love him. You loved Alastor with all your sanity it seemed, but he was, unfortunately, far too happy to take advantage of that.

It was a huge weight off his shoulders really. 

Alastor enjoyed the hunt, the kill, but the clean up? Not so much.

While yes, he did enjoy tricking people into eating up his stories, misdirecting them this way and that, silently mocking how clueless they were. It was still such a pain to have to constantly make sure his stories were air tight. 

He didn't have to do that anymore, though. Not when all his darling wife had to do was smile shyly at people and hint that he was back home all night busy with more usual pleasures.

It wasn't even that hard to convince you to let him stay out late, hunt to his heart's content.

It was all just bad, terrible people. Scum of the earth. Dangers that could hurt you, or others. And Alastor, the dashing, selfless, secret knight in shinning armor was willing to dirty his hands if it meant keeping people safe. He'd taken on the burden so everyone else didn't have to.

Your husband, a great, tragic hero.

And besides, it's not like he asked you to kill someone. All you had to do was lie a little. Nothing grand, nothing elaborate—he wasn't so sure you'd be able to handle it after all—just smile, and hint, and spread a few insignificant white lies. 

It was easy enough, wasn't it?

And your little love for him did everything else. Your own lovesick mind fought your instincts without Alastor even doing much of anything else.

You convinced yourself so quickly that all this blood, all this violence, all this murder, just made your husband an even greater man.

Ah, he truly did love the way you loved him.

You were with him now down in the basement—Alastor conveniently finally figured out how to open the stubborn padlock—and if he was being honest, he never really imagined you joining him here.

Well, not alive anyway.

You watched him as he neatly packed the most latest body into a bag and burn the gloves he used during the act. Going through his simple routine to make sure he could continue to get away scot-free.

Alastor noticed how your eyes always averted from the corpses, insistent on staying on his form instead. He didn't really mind it, but oh did he enjoy that little spark of fear you worked hard to stomp down whenever your glance landed on a limb or two. 

He heaved the bag over his shoulder, before finally fully turning to you. "Well, let's get a move on, shall we, darling?" He smiled cheerfully, motioning with his arm for you to head up the stairs first.

You were glad to do so it seemed, you always were. You didn't have to watch your husband dispose of bodies, but Alastor found it rather cathartic how you've now started to cringe away from the basement door, after weeks of pestering him over opening it.

A little lesson, he thought. Well deserved. 

And look how behaved you were now again.

The walk to the nearby woods was uneventful. Silent. Routine.

Unlike the first time around he dragged you along. You kept wondering and wondering until you finally asked out loud how Alastor knew the streets so well. How he knew where to go where no one would see him. The man you saw him kill was the first one, wasn't he?

He laughed at your unsure smile, brushing your worries off with the flimsiest excuses. How he'd been home late so many times already because of work. How he just preferred to take the quieter roads so as to decompress from all his adoring fans—fans who weren't you.

And it was enough.

Because you foolishly trusted him. You wanted to believe him, and so you did.

Alastor hummed cheerfully as he continued to shovel dirt over his most recent victim. He was certainly far enough into the woods not to care too much about being overheard, anyway.

A sudden soft beeping noise joined his melody, and he looked down at his—rather expensive—watch.

"Would you look at the time! I hadn't realized it was already so late. Time surely flies when you're saving the world, right, darling?" He looked over his shoulder at your unsure form.

You stood hunched over, your back against a tree, and your arms wrapped around yourself, a fair distance from the man burying a body.

Your eyes avoided the hole in the dirt as you painted a strained smile on your face. 

Saving the world.

Alastor could practically see the way you tried to remind yourself that that is what your husband was doing.

"It's hard to keep track when you've got a lot do," You vaguely answer, choosing your words carefully.

It's not that you worried Alastor would do anything to you. But you were, unknowingly, cautious of any single thing that could trigger any more silly concerns within yourself.

Alastor hummed in response, his eyes staring at the mangled corpse he threw in the ditch. "They'll be looking for me at work if I don't show up soon, though." He thought out loud. "But I can't exactly leave this rotten stiff like this, can I?"

He sounded troubled. He looked troubled, with that wrinkle between his brow.

A good wife would soothe him.

A good wife wouldn't stand around watching her spouse do all the hard work.

He didn't need to say it though, not that he had any mind to. You heard his voice in your head regardless. 

Your timid, unsure voice spoke up. "I...I could stay behind and continue burying it?" It sounded like a question.

One that it seemed like you hoped the answer was no. 

Except you'd be a horrible wife for thinking that. You should be praying that he'd say yes.

After all, a good wife would do anything to help her husband.

Alastor froze for a second, his eyes catching yours from above his glasses before he adjusted them up his nose. 

Then you were rewarded with a smile.

"My darling wife, always so helpful," He cooed, walking towards you. He dropped the shovel to the ground and wrapped his arms around your waist, almost lovingly.

Alastor could feel how fast your heart beat in your chest, almost fighting to get out. "But I could never ask a lovely doll like you to do such a dirty job like this." He tsked as he looked down at you.

"I can handle it, my dear," You responded, eyes bright with stars at his praises. It was almost as if you'd forgotten what exactly it was you were agreeing to.

Alastor pretended to think for a moment, but his eyes caught sight of the watch on his wrist and decided he didn't exactly have time to enjoy playing with you more.

"Only if you promise not to get caught, my darling." He smiled down at you, and you quickly nodded, promising you'll do a good job and meet him at home.

He pressed his cold lips chastely against your forehead, and left you with a corpse in the woods to bury.

But it's just that, anyway. Nothing too much to ask for.

It's not like you killed him.

And he was probably a horrible person to begin with.

Right?

You brushed away the heavy, gnawing feeling, as you met the glassy unseeing eyes of the corpse in the ground.

Alastor surely knew what he was doing. And you loved him enough to do this simple thing to help with that.

Just as you shoveled in one patch of dirt to cover the man's eyes, you heard a loud gun shot echo through the early morning woods.

You jumped out of your skin, cold hands gripping the shovel as the sound rung out.

Your heart was at your throat as goosebumps littered your skin. 

Alastor.

You ran. You barely registered your own body moving until you felt the cold air whipping against your face as your legs carried you to where your husband went.

Worry. It all but consumed you, as your blood rushed loudly in your ears and your heart pounded.

Please be okay. Please be okay.

Please—

You didn't know what you were doing. You didn't recall it. You didn't feel any of it.

You remembered seeing your husband's body collapsed and bloodied on the forest floor.

You remembered seeing someone with a gun standing panicked over him. 

But no, you didn't remember when you ran at the culprit.

You didn't remember the feeling of stabbing the shovel into their side, nor the warmth of their blood as it splashed on your cold skin.

You didn't remember bashing the steel against their skull with all your might; the metal dented and morphed as it disfigured the man's face.

You didn't remember screaming until your throat was raw. You didn't remember the tears scrolling down your bloodied cheeks. You didn't remember the horrible, unbearably cold, ache in your chest.

You didn't remember staring down the barrel of a shaky gun.

You didn't remember dying.

All you remembered, was the feeling of Alastor's warm arms embracing you as he pressed his welcoming lips to your forehead. 

And how you knew you'd never feel it again.

At least, you didn't think you would.

You blinked in confusion as you stared up the man—thing?—that caught you in their arms like a bride.

"I guess someone ought to rewrite those wedding vows because death didn't seem to do us part!" It laughed. Its voice sounded as if you were merely listening to it from a radio.

No, wait. Sure the thing that caught you also laughed, but you could have sworn you heard a whole crowd do so as well. Strangely, almost like a laugh track.

It's sharp yellow teeth showed proudly as it grinned down on you, and you couldn't help but cringe away a tiny bit from fear.

What are you? You wanted to ask, but you knew better than to be blunt.

You wouldn't want those nasty paper folk to catch wind of Alastor's little wife being rude—

Except. Were you still his wife? Where was he anyway? Where were you?

The thing that held you laughed cheerfully as it gently set you down onto your own feet. "Darling, I will never get enough of how easy you are to read," The thing said, twirling it's cane—microphone?—in it's hand before it leaned on it to study you. 

You got a strangely familiar heavy feeling in your gut, but before you could think much of it, your arm was looped through its as it pulled you along to a shop window.

"It seems you're a tiny bit confused, my darling," It said with a bright smile. "It's alright, you weren't always the brightest bulb in the room, but you certainly made up for it with your passion." It chuckled, once again a laugh track following its words from seemingly nowhere.

You felt the tip of its microphone at your chin, tilting it so that you'd turn your gaze from him to the shop window.

You almost jumped away, like an animal not recognizing itself in the mirror.

It took you a minute to realize that you looked at your own reflection.

You even waved your hands around and tilted your head to make sure it followed your movements. To make sure this was real.

You looked nothing like yourself. Hell, you looked nothing human.

"Truthfully, I'm a little offended, dear." The thing beside you spoke up, now turning to his own reflection as he adjusted his bowtie and dusted off his red pinstriped suit. Something oddly familiar.

"It took me less than a second to recognize you, and you still seem to not even know who I am." It said, glancing at you from the corner of its bright red eyes.

Your gaze trailed up to the top of its red hair, seeing two small horns—at least that's what you thought they were. 

"The devil?" You asked cautiously, still confused. "Am I in Hell?"

It let out a hum at your response. "One of two. I suppose it's one of your better shots, my dear." It said.

It turned to face you, suddenly leaning down close, so as to have it's mouth right by your ear. Your body freezes on instinct as it spoke.

"Must I really bed you again for you to remember me, darling? Or would watching me bury another body be enough to jog your memory?"

You leaned back, only enough to catch a look at the thing's face. The knowing eyes that seemed so warm, so inviting, so charming, despite how monstrous they looked. The smile that seemed incapable of falling.

The familiar feeling that brewed in your gut.

"Alastor?" You asked, your now clawed hands reached up to caress his cheeks, and the thing—your husband—leaned into it. His eyes briefly closed.

"Took you long enough, really." He said, a joking exasperation in his tone. 

The thing—your husband, you had to remind yourself again—abruptly pulled away, his tone bright and cheery as he began to drag you along the streets with a heavy clawed hand on the small of your back. "Now enough of that! Time for more important business, darling!"

"Wait, Alastor? How? What?" You stammered, attempting to pull away to take a second to breathe and clear your head.

The hand that guided you slid to the side of your waist, pulling you tightly against it's Alastor's side. "Ah, my darling thing. Always so slow on the uptake." He shook his head as if he found it adorable. "We're in Hell, dear!"

The words rang loudly in your ears, your heart sinking to your stomach.

"And we have important business to take care of, yes indeed!" Alastor continued, not letting you process a single thought. "And for this, I'll need a partner I can trust! I'll need a partner who I can rely on! I'll need someone absolutely devoted to me." His eyes met yours but he saw how the alarm still outweighed his words.

His eyes narrowed, lowering his face abruptly to yours, to the point where you could feel his breath on your skin. He wanted your attention, all of it, and didn't really care all that much about what else you had to think about.

"Hellooo? Anybody home?" He joked, tilting his head as he saw your eyes come back to focus on him. "Ah, there you are, dear. Thought I lost you for a moment."

You supposed you could think things through later. Even if Alastor looked terribly different now, this was still your caring husband after all. And he needed something.

A devoted parter? Was that what he said?

"Well, you know I'm always here for you, Al. Whatever this plan of yours is." You tried to paint a smile on your lips as you always have.

"Oh, but how exactly do I know that?" Alastor stood back up to his full height, his head tilting as he smiled down at you.

Your brows furrow. You don't quite know how to tell him that. You swore you've done so much for this man, and yet when trying to think of an example, none came to mind.

You cooked and cleaned and looked pretty for him? Spent time with him? Loved him? Lie for him? Hide a body for him? That's just what a good wife would do.

But you supposed—you think—you killed for him.

"I avenged you?" It came out more of a question than an answer. "I killed for you."

Alastor didn't blink as he responded. "Then do it again."

Your mouth ran dry.

Had you heard him correctly? Was it a joke?

You waited for the laugh track to play but none came.

"What do you mean...exactly?" You asked with a nervous laugh, your lips straining to keep the smile.

"Kill for me again," Alastor casually said. He turned, eyes locking onto a random demon further down the street you walked along on. He raised his microphone to point at them, turning his head—unnaturally—to face you again.

"Like that one. I suppose he'll do." His tone was still as cheerful as ever.

You follow to where he pointed, eyes hesitantly looking at the creature. 

You quickly looked back up to meet your husband's gaze. That feeling was there again.

And you weren't sure if it was the fact that you just died, or the sheer lunacy of the request, but you finally realized what it was.

Doubt.

You doubted Alastor.

"Why?" Your voice was small. "Is he a bad person too?"

Alastor rolled his eyes. "Hell, if I know dear. I've only just seen him now. But we are in Hell, you know?" His shoulders casually shrugged as if he didn't really care. "So, maybe?"

You tried to hide the tremble in your voice. Tried to hide how you doubted him. "But I already killed for you. Why do I need to prove my devotion even more?"

"You killed out of passion, darling. It hardly counts." He laughed, as if you were being so silly.

You're left with even more questions when Alastor grabbed your wrist, and you melted into shadows before re-appearing right in front of your supposed victim.

"What the fuck?" They exclaimed, jumping back.

"Good day, good fellow! The name's Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, quite the pleasure!" Your darling husband stepped in front and forcibly shook the confused sinner's hand.

Alastor waved a hand in your direction to showcase you. "This right here is the Mrs., and she'll be killing you now."

You flinched as Alastor's voice further distorted.

Black tentacles wrapped around the now thrashing demon. And to your horror, you realized they came from your still-grinning husband's back.

His red eyes now consumed by black as he looked down at you expectantly.

"I...I don't have a knife." You avoided his eyes and looked away.

Alastor's head tilted. "You have claws now, dear."

You felt bile raise to your throat at the idea of ripping some stranger apart with your own hands.

"It'd be terribly difficult if these clothes get stained. Who knows where I could get new ones in...Hell." You had to spit the word out. "A-and, we're out in the open. Anyone can see us, there might be police here o-or their friends and family."

"You won't do it." Alastor cut off your rambling, more of a statement than a question.

You didn't meet his eyes.

You heard him sigh in dismay. "Well, it's alright, my dear. I suppose I knew your love for me had its limits."

Your eyes widen in shock, head whipping to look at him in panic. There was disappointment in his gaze as he looked away from you. Even as his smile remained painted on his lips, you could see how he seemed to shrink away from you.

"That's not true!" You half yelled, ignoring the struggling demon still held off the ground. "I'd go to the ends of the earth for you. I'd give up my life for you. I followed you to Hell, even! How could you even think that my love for you isn't boundless, Alastor?"

"Because it isn't." He sighed, his clawed hand gripped his microphone tight as he started to walk around you. "You say you'd do anything for me, that you'd give everything up for me. But I'm asking you for something so simple, and you couldn't even do that."

Your shoulders stiffen, you try to turn your head to follow him around. "This is not simple, Alastor." You said, a tinge of hysteria creeping into your voice. "You're asking me to kill someone for you, again."

"Wrong." Your husband said in a rather, sing-song manner. A jarring buzzer effect played at his words.

"I'm asking you to kill someone who is already dead." Alastor explained, barely paying mind to the sinner who now just looked very uncomfortable. "And you're already in Hell."

He looked at you as if you were stupid not to have put this together yourself. "He won't lose anything. You won't lose anything. There is nothing to give up with this tiny request of mine."

He stopped walking in front of you, but a greater deal of distance away now than when he started.

"And yet you can't even do that, my love."

You glanced down at your hands—your claws—in uncertainty.

That persistent feeling—doubt—swallowed you whole as you stood there willing your body not to move.

You should stop.

Run.

Never look back.

But instead your body moved toward the sinner; sharp, shaking, hands hesitatingly sinking into their flesh.

Once. Twice. Thrice. You couldn't be useless to your husband.

Their muffled screams sounded so far away from you, even as they yelled right by your ears.

You felt it.

Their skin giving way and the blood dampening your clothes each and every time you sank your soft, delicate, clawed hands into him.

The feeling of your long claws coming into contact and tearing through whatever bone or muscle stood in their way.

The awful, gut wrenching, guilt that swallowed your chest.

You hated it.

Alastor's hand clasps affectionately at your shoulder as he watched you cheerfully. Enjoying the conflict in your eyes as your heart died with every drop of blood that spilled from your hands.

"I think I may have just fallen so deeply in love with you, my dear wife." He cooed into your ear.

And your chest didn't flutter, or grow, or skip a beat like you had thought it would at those words.

But it's probably just the guilt, right?

It's just because so much has happened that you couldn't process anything.

Because you still loved Alastor, didn't you?

You loved him with your very soul, but he was a liar, and you may have finally started to see it.

Taglist @lil-bexie / @mizukikyong / @amurtan / @fokrilove / @fairyv-ice 

[wordstome]

now that we don't talk

I cannot be your friend, so I pay the price of what I lost And what it cost Now that we don't talk

alpha colonel König x beta ex-lover reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, reader's callsign is Eden, reader speaks French, omegaverse, exes to lovers, fraternization

2.2k words

tw: none

I swear to God one day I'll write something that doesn't involve that big hooded freak. But today is not that day.

Shoutout to loganlermanstanaccount here on Tumblr, who I won't tag. The bullet point headcanons with written parts interspersed format is from their excellent college roommate Miguel O'Hara post, which became their fic Rigor Mortis. I highly recommend both!

Also, excuse the absolutely butchered military content. I'm sure none of this is how it works in real life, but alas, this is fanfiction, not a research paper. Reader serves a Laswell-like role, but I refrained from labeling her as CIA even though I do call her a station chief. For the purposes of this fic, she's the voice in the operatives' ear during ops. We're playing a bit fast and loose with the terminology here.

You’re a highly skilled intelligence agent and operative handler.

You’ve spent most of your life dedicated to your career: moving through the ranks, proving yourself, refusing to let anything stand in the way of your ambitions.

You’ve done some things you aren’t proud of, but always for the right reason. Or the reason that made the most cold, logical sense. Even when your heart tells you otherwise. Nobody in this line of work has clean hands, after all.

You’ve always done what needs to be done. For everyone’s best interest.

Today marks the first day of your collaboration with a PMC called KorTac. You’re hunting down a homegrown cult turned out-of-control terrorist cell.

You haven’t had much experience working with mercenaries, but in terms of hardened war criminals, KorTac’s people are quite well mannered.

Not that you had expected them to be rude and discourteous, but, well. You are an outsider. They haven’t necessarily embraced you, but their reception was nice enough.

You’ve got a meeting with their commander, but you can’t quite find the room you’re supposed to be meeting in. Not a great first impression to make, but luckily, someone takes pity on you.

He introduces himself. Korean. Callsign Horangi.

“You’ll get used to the layout of the base,” he says as you follow him through winding hallways.

“I hope so,” you reply. “I’ll be here for a while." You study the walls, the signs and numbers on the doors, trying your best to memorize everything.

"Do you know your commander well?" you ask. You're not the world's biggest fan of small talk, but you may as well know what you're walking into.

"König? Yeah, we've been close ever since he joined up." Horangi says, leading you into a long hallway. "He's a good guy. A little intense, but don't let that get to you. He's just getting the job done."

"We'll get along if he's competent." You can respect a man who forgoes pleasantries for making sure the shit gets shoveled.

"You don't have to worry about that." Horangi stops and holds the door open for you. "After you."

You study him for just a moment before entering the room. He's curt and to the point. Not bad-looking, either. Hopefully you'll get more chances to—

Your heart nearly stops.

KorTac's commander is facing away from the doorway, shuffling through some papers by the looks of it. But you would know him from any angle. The set of his shoulders, the way his stance is at ease but never truly relaxed, the way his hair curls at the nape of his neck.

You have to force yourself to step into the room. And when you do, he turns around.

You're vaguely aware of Horangi stepping around you to get into the room, but that's happening somewhere far away from the headspace you occupy right now. By the way König's eyes widen as they meet yours, he's in the same place too.

He hasn't aged so much as he's gotten more tired. He never did sleep enough, but now he looks like he hasn't gotten a sound night's rest in a long time. He's put-together, but there's a haggardness to him that probably wouldn't be noticeable to anybody but you. Someone who knew him when he was younger, and in the prime of his life. Someone who used to know every scar on his body, every crease of his brow, and now hasn't seen him in more than a decade.

The man who broke your heart stands on the other end of the room, staring at you as if he's seen a ghost.

The two of you stand there for a while before Horangi's voice shakes you back to reality. "Brought the station chief, sir."

"I...see." König—you suppose that's what he calls himself nowadays, the arrogant prick—clears his throat. "Thank you, Hong-jin."

"No problem." Horangi takes a seat. "The others will be in soon."

Horangi seems like a perceptive enough guy. Can he tell that the room feels several degrees colder? You pull a chair out, the furthest one from König's position possible, and ignore the hurt that briefly flashes across his face as you sit down.

The meeting goes well. It's just an opportunity for you to formally introduce yourself to the KorTac operators you'll primarily be working with for the next few months.

You can tell they're a close knit group by the easy way they interact with each other: they've worked together for a while.

König, too, is part of them, which must be how they pick up on the chilly dynamic between the two of you. Some of them are just puzzled. For most of them, it raises their hackles.

It doesn't matter to you. You can barely focus on getting through the meeting without feeling like you're going to faint.

It's absurd. You're not some delicate Regency-era lady. You're a hardened military officer. But it makes no difference.

It doesn't matter how long it's been, it seems. He's still the only one who can make you feel like this.

You can't get out of there fast enough after the meeting has concluded. Not only are the others shooting you suspicious looks, but you've spent too long in his presence. Any longer, and you don't know how you're going to keep your composure.

But you can't escape him. Of course not. Why did you ever think otherwise? You hear him call for you, and you walk faster. But it's futile.

This hallway is smaller, narrower, less open. Nobody's around to watch when he slams you against the wall to stop your hasty retreat. Nobody's around to see the way you sway in his hold, overwhelmed by the smell of him all around you. You're bathed in it, the overpowering presence of him.

"We need to talk." he demands.

"We just did. Meeting's over," you shoot back, making a paltry attempt to wriggle out of his grasp. He loosens his hold on you, but you're still trapped between him and the wall. No exit.

"I didn't plan this, in case you're wondering."

"That much was obvious." He's let his hair grow out longer, you notice at the most inopportune time possible. It suits him, you think.

He sighs in frustration. "If we're going to work together, we have to be civil."

"Don't worry. I wouldn't expose how much of a scoundrel you are in front of your precious squad," you bite.

You feel a twinge of smug satisfaction as regret settles into his expression. Too little, too late.

"I don't want it to be like this, either," he murmurs. "Ignoring and avoiding each other."

"You don't get to tell me how to act."

"You're right. But it's been a long time. Can't we try to get along? Not for my sake, but...yours."

"Well that's not condescending at all."

"That's not what I meant. I know my team. If you're walking around resenting me openly like that, they won't trust you. And they need to, if you're working with us."

He's right, and you know it. But there's that deep instinct inside you, older than your bloodline, waking up after a long slumber. It wants him, snapping at the bit to give into him and do whatever he asks of you. The urge will consume you if you don't fight it every step of the way.

You glare up at him, hoping you come off as brimming with resentment instead of desire. "As long as you and your team stay professional, I can too."

He's not satisfied with that answer, but it's all you're going to give him.

"Fine." He steps away from you, and you pour all your willpower into commanding your body to stay still. To not chase after his closeness. You sway on the spot, dizzy with his scent after having gone so long without it.

"This hallway is a dead end, by the way."

You try, you really do. But it's hard to be around him without feeling the urge to touch him, to press yourself against him and inhale him like the most destructive drug possible.

Your only recourse is to stay as physically far away from him as possible.

You do your best to ingratiate yourself with the other operators. You and Calisto are fast friends: she's got a breezy confidence to her that's quite refreshing. It also doesn't hurt that you speak French, as well. There's a bit of kinship felt whenever the two of you are holding a conversation none of the others can understand.

Horangi's a different story, though. The initial courtesy he showed you is a bit more clipped, now that it's clear something is up between you and König.

You can't believe you missed it the first time, the way König's smell is all over him. It really has been too long.

The two of them must be pretty close. You give up trying not to fixate on the idea.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop on them, but you were curious. Even more curious when you hear your name mentioned.

"It's pretty clear you and Eden know each other. None of us are stupid."

You freeze in your tracks. The door is closed, but you can hear Horangi's voice, loud and clear in the room behind it.

"It's not relevant. She's just here to do a job."

"I think it's pretty relevant that she gets up and leaves whenever you enter a room, regardless of what she's doing. She can't get away from you fast enough."

You give a surreptitious look at your surroundings, then lean down slightly, pressing your ear to the door.

"You're not going to give this up, are you?"

"Hell fucking no."

You hear König sigh. "Fine. We knew each other before I joined KorTac. Back when I was in the Jagdkommando."

Do you want to hear this? Your painful history, relayed to a near stranger? Horangi's not a stranger to him, that's for sure.

"And?"

"We were...involved."

"You and a beta? Never took you for the type."

"Well, neither did I. But she was...special. Smart, pretty, deadeye with a knife. Wouldn't give me the time of day, of course. I was obsessed with her."

"Naturally."

"Give me a fucking break, okay?"

"Can't wait to hear how this ended."

"Not...great. I was a total dick."

You can say that again, you think.

"I was young. Real dumbass who thought he was hot shit."

"You still aren't."

"Shut the fuck up." Something twinges inside you at the hearty laughter the two of them share. You missed that laugh.

"Despite everything, it was the most stable relationship I've ever been in. We looked out for each other. She knew me better than some of my family does."

"How did you fuck that up, then?"

"I got too comfortable. Started thinking I could do better. God, what a fucking idiot I was. I loved her like crazy, but I didn't realize how good I had it until it was gone."

"She left you?"

"No. I was the one who ended things. In the worst way possible, too. I told her the relationship wasn't going to go anywhere, that we were never going to be a serious thing."

"Ouch. Why not?"

You squeeze your eyes shut. You remember that night, like a shard of glass buried in your chest. As hard as you tried to forget, you'll never forget the way you felt. Like the world was ending.

You'll never forget the decision you had to make.

"I told her I couldn't see myself with a beta long-term."

"...that's fucked up."

"I know. I know. I was too caught up in that shitty macho alpha mindset. I was fucking ravenous back then, and I thought only an omega could give me what I needed."

"I get it now. If I were her, I would have quit on the spot seeing you in that meeting room."

"Yeah. She's a better person than I can ever imagine being."

Well. It's nice to know he regrets it, you think. Not that it does you much good now. Quiet as a mouse, you make a quick exit before you can get caught.

You make it back to the the room you've been assigned to. They were nice enough to give you your own private quarters, something you deeply appreciate when you need to be alone with your own thoughts. Like right now.

It's a strange feeling, to sort of get closure like this. Not at the end, but at the beginning of something new. You still have to see each other. Does it help that you know how he feels? Maybe, but it doesn't ease your own guilt. In fact, it makes it worse.

You're not mad at him for telling Horangi. You're glad he did, actually. There are some secrets that cause more harm to keep than not.

You open a drawer and pull out the pill bottle, hidden underneath your other possessions, and stare at the label.

WARNING - SUPPRESSANTS. NOT TO BE USED BY ALPHAS. ONLY CONSUME UNDER PHYSICIAN SUPERVISION.

You would know.

BOOM! There you have it. (In case it wasn't clear, the suppressants are for omegas.)

@sprout-fics's omegaverse 141 headcanons series inspired me to write something based off the idea of an omega disguising themselves as a beta in the military. Please check out her series, it's great.

I was really into exploring how omegaverse dynamics can make complicated relationships even messier. I did consider writing this story without the omegaverse, but I think now it's kind of an essential element. (I also just. Want them to have crazy nasty omegaverse sex. Sue me) I can't picture König ever breaking up with someone he deeply loved and was obsessed with, unless he had a reason like that. Still not a great reason, but a little bit understandable. Eden being a disguised omega also adds a bit of spice to the exes-to-lovers arc, too: she could have just come out and told him she's not actually a beta, but she chose not to for the sake of her career. Oof. Ruthless judgement calls were made on both sides.

I put this out because this idea had me in a STRANGLEHOLD, and I just had to get it out before I burst. Hopefully my writing's still up to par 😅 As for Kingdom Come, part iii may take a little while longer because a lot is going to happen in it, so I hope this can tide you guys over until then.

As usual, comments and feedback are always appreciated! I would love to talk about this au more. And again, if you'd like to be tagged, drop a reply. And if you're in the taglist and would like to be removed/only tagged for Kingdom Come, please let me know!

@crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria

[huckleberrykai]

choi beomgyu ~ call it what you want

pairing: beomgyu x soobin's sister!reader summary: when you and beomgyu start dating, you aren't sure how to tell your brother. genre: brothers best friend, kinda friends to lovers warnings: fem!reader, pet names, this is the first time i tried fake texts lol, some swearing word count: 1.9k click here for my masterlist!

you didn't mean to fall in love with him. you really didn't.

after spending some time abroad, you decided to go back to korea since you missed your family, and the safe nostalgia of your hometown. you hadn't seen your brother since he debuted, and you were so excited to meet his friends and crash at their dorm for a week before you went to stay with your parents.

and then beomgyu happened.

he knew you were off limits and vice versa, but neither of you were ever one for following the rules. it's like you were magnets, wherever one of you went the other couldn't help but follow.

you got close pretty quickly, as you did with all of the boys - they just loved your laidback personality, unlike your leader brother soobin.

you spent the week playing video games, board games, cooking together, and even helping them clean up around the dorm ~ they were boys after all.

and when your week was over, they begged you to stay.

beomgyu's heart started breaking as soon as you started packing your suitcase, and he begged you for your phone number before you left - and that's where it all began.

you did leave that day, but you spent your entire train journey texting beomgyu, sending each other memes and silly selfies to fill your time.

you couldn't help but giggle at your phone as you got to your parent's house. you usually wouldn't be so bold but beomgyu was just so funny and so so sweet - you weren't gonna let him get away just because your brother would be mad. what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him <3

when wednesday rolled around, beomgyu made some dumb excuse about going to a game store with heesung. kai tried to tag along - spurting something about a pokémon game he really wanted to buy. "they don't.. they don't sell pokémon there!"

"huh? what game store doesn't have pokemon?" kai was puzzled.

"uh, this one! and it's a private event... sorry hyuka!"

smooth gyu. real smooth.

after a few more excuses and fixing his hair for the 5th time, he put on a mask so he wouldn't be recognised and plodded over to the cafe, just a few blocks away. when he got there he noticed he was about 10 minutes early, so he sat at a table and sent you a text to let you know he was there.

his heart nearly fell out of his ass when his vision went black, your cold hands covering his eyes. "guess who!"

"holy shit Y/N you scared the shit out of me!!" you giggled at his dramatics as he clutched a hand over his chest. you grabbed his other hand and dragged him over to order with you.

you bought the drinks for the two of you, much to his dismay. "Y/Nieeee i wanted to pay for you," he pouted cutely. "it's okay beomie, you can pay next time ~" you cooed. his cheeks flamed red at how cute you were, but mostly at you insinuating you wanted to hang out with him again already.

"next time huh? what makes you think i wanna hang out with you again?" he couldn't miss the opportunity to tease you. "well, there's your blushy little face... and your stubbornness to pay me back, i'd say there's gonna be at least one more date." he felt even warmer at that comment.

"date?"

"well duh." you giggled. at his silence you suddenly got nervous, "unless you don't want it to be! that's okay too! like a friend date!" you frantically tried to cover for yourself while beomgyu was still processing you assuming it was a date. "no no no i want it to be a date! i really want it to be."

his voice became small and he had a shy little smile on his face, looking at you with big sparkly eyes. you were about to respond when the barista called your names to collect your drinks.

your date went really well! so well in fact that you went on another one only two days later. beomgyu finished his schedules early, so while the others decided to go out shopping and to see a movie together, he politely declined. they didn't ask what he was doing instead and he was definitely grateful - his excuse game was a tad... lacking.

he met you at the river, he'd planned to take a cute walk with you along the riverside and visit his favourite ice cream shop. he knew he was whipped the second you ordered mint choc chip and he didn't even care, didn't even bat an eyelid. he even paid for it. you did promise to let him pay after all ~

beomgyu thought the date was going well, so his confidence spiked a little when he looked over to see the smile that hadn't left your face all afternoon. as you walked, he switched his ice cream over to his left hand and used his now free one to lace your fingers with his gently.

your hand felt warm in contrast to his cold one, and he gave it a little squeeze.

when you squeezed him back he felt his heart soar and gave you a look of complete adoration. yeah, he was whipped ~

a few weeks of little dates, sneaky meetings and a whole lot of texting led to him thinking about you 24/7. the members had started to notice something was up, but beomgyu just stuck to his excuses - and he was sick of it. he wanted you to be his, and to be able to tell the whole world how much he liked you.

by the world he meant just his friends and family - he wasn't going to subject you to more idol hate or stalking than you already got just for being soobin's sister, but that didn't make him want you any less. you understood him - you understood his job, his wildest dreams, his insecurities, his childish moments, all of him - and he appreciated you beyond words.

he didn't want to text you so late when he knew you'd be busy tomorrow - you finally got an apartment in the city and you were moving a few things early tomorrow morning - but he knew if he didn't use this rush of confidence and adrenaline now, he didn't know when he'd be able to do it.

his brain was running at 100 miles an hour, he just wanted to shove his face in a pillow and scream. he'd just bagged the girl of his dreams over text like a loser, but he succeeded!! and the only catch was the fact she was soobin's sister. yeah maybe he broke the one rule regarding his sister that he gave him, but he'd get over it, right?

he'd break as many rules as he had to if it got you to call him gyubear again.

it was d-day. it had been about a week and a half since you made it official, and now that you had your own apartment you could spend more time with your silly boyfriend in the comfort of your own home, but he could only make so many excuses for sneaking off - and so you devised a plan.

you'd convinced soobin to let you come over to hang out, and when the others caught wind of the idea they jumped at the chance to hang out with you again ~ so saturday night, you'd spill the beans.

when you arrived, your boyfriend and brother were still huddled on the couch eating ice cream, and you couldn't help but giggle at them. "hey lovebirds, am i interrupting?" you joked. beomgyu went wide eyed and soobin just gave you his iconic stink eye.

"Y/N! welcome back!" taehyun greeted you, walking past on his way to the kitchen.

it was nice being in the company of the boys again, but keeping your flirty remarks with beomgyu at bay until after dinner proved to be more difficult than you thought. he'd find himself stopping halfway through his sentences when he realised he was about to slip up and just stop talking.

you bought everyone takeout for dinner, and you all sat around the kitchen table talking about things that had happened recently. "yeah so we found this HUGE rat in the dorm and-" "oh yeah! beomgyu told me about that, that must have been terrifying!" you cut into yeonjun's story without thought.

"huh? since when do you talk to beomgyu?"

oopsies.

"uh, last time we were here she gave me her number! so we could uh... play fortnite!" beomgyu tried to cover for you - but failed miserably.

"Y/N hates fortnite... what's going on?" soobin wondered.

"do we just say it?" beomgyu asked you as if everyone else weren't literally sat at the same table. "well now you've said that we'll have to." you dropped your fork giving him an angry look. he knew there was no bite behind it, but he still felt bad for fucking up - although, you fucked up too.

"say what?" yeonjun asked the obvious, shoving another forkful of salad in his mouth.

"we're dating." you clarified. yeonjun stopped chewing and just looked at you with his jaw hung open. soobin looked mortified, letting out a meek "w-what?"

"before you get mad, it didn't happen on purpose! well it did, but we just wanted to keep in touch and then... i don't know we started spending more time together and... yeah."

"if you're gonna be mad at anyone be mad at me, i asked for her number anyway," beomgyu added. "it was me you told not to try anything, not her."

it was a rare moment where beomgyu was genuinely serious. you meant a whole lot to him and he'd be damned if he let your brother be mad just because he was in love with you.

"i'm not mad."

both of you let out a sigh of relief before soobin began again. "how long?" he asked. "we've only been official for like, 10 days? but we've been talking since i came here last time."

soobin nodded in thought. "it's okay, i know you can't choose who you love and i'm not gonna police you just because you're my baby sister. i'm trusting you beomgyu." although his words were accepting, gyu still felt threatened. "thank you soobin. i promise to take care of her." noticing his discomfort, you held his hand under the table. "i'm just sad you didn't tell me sooner. i mean, i guess i didn't make it seem like i'd be happy for you so i get it, but congratulations."

"see, that wasn't so bad? thank you for your blessing soobin." you smiled at your older brother, who gave you a nod in return before going back to his food. the table was silent for a few seconds, until it was broken by a flabbergasted kai who still hadn't quite processed what just happened.

"so is nobody else gonna acknowledge the fact that BEOMGYU is the least bitchless person at this table?"

[punkeropercyjackson]

Making this post moreso for mutuals so they don't tag me in Batfam x Atsv posts that have Jason with Hobie as eachother's counterparts and then feel bad when i say i hate that concept but i really need to get it off my chest that i find it REALLY annoying and basic when superhero fans assume they'd be the duo.Yeah,obviously they'd be close friends,but sorry not sorry,if y'all bothered to read Jason's comics or pay any mind to Hobie as a whole instead of just the 'he's a punk dude' bits,you'd know that A)Hobie would think Jason's an absolute cringelord,not look up to him or immediately respect him and Jason'd have to proof himself to him and that B)Jason's Spiderfam bestie wouldn't be anyone other than Miles and same goes for Miles' Batfam bestie not being anyone other than Jason LMFAO.He's literally him when he was Robin so that'd be enough of a reason to instantly like him but on Miles' end Jason's basically Itsv!Peter B Parker with Aaron Davis' alignment so same logic but there's also how Jason's canonically a classical literature nerd and gamer,Miles' an artist and anime fan,they have the same taste in fast/junk food and flirting tactics and their lives both went to shit because the universe said so when they were 15.Also,Talia Al-Ghul and Rio Morales have the same vibe and you can quote me on that and i think if the comics had given Jason a 56 Gwen-adjacent love interest who was afrolatina then a lot of the problems in his writing would be fixed

Speaking of which-Have you guys not noticed how Miles is so good at making people better without even really trying and thus not at the cost of his own arcs or real personality and is instead just an aspect of him?Or how he's been shown as enjoying hanging out with older people,with even Gwen having a year on him?Or how Miles G literally has the Red Hood Era storyline(Sunshine softboy as a kid but turned into a goth asshole to cope with trauma and additional an anti-villain/vigilante/morally gray)?To throw some shade i know for a fact he makes a more fitting best friend and younger sibling for Jason than Roy Harper,Marinette Dupain-Cheng AND Danny Fenton do,the first for reasons i've said already,the last two because he'd never fuck with Bruce Wayne in his life and just knows him as that fakeout furry rich guy his older brother figure roasts sometimes and cons money out of to buy him gifts

And Jason would have someone he can geek out with and relate to for once and have legit reasons to want to turn good again because Miles made him see the good in the world again and at the same time Miles got taught to stop feeling for failing at things he tried his best at and that he can always just try again in different ways but always his own thing and Miles makes Jason feel like a kid again and Jason treats Miles like he's still a kid since HE IS and-Man,you see what i mean?They'd have the most interesting dynamic ever and frankly i think we all deserve to see it instead of 'He was a punk,he was also a punk,can i make it anymore obvious?'BLEHGH!!!!

Also,just cause i want to be able to tag this as Punkflower:

Hobie:Your guy's really hot

Jason:WHAT?!Bruh,Miles' like my brother!

Hobie:Your brother's really hot.And now i got a scooby doo on how there's no blood relation

[fangirleaconmigo]

Guys. I'm gonna be very real with you here. And I'm sure it will piss off a few people. So I'm not tagging it. You can rb if you want, but I'm not tagging it. This is for you to do with as you please.

Ok. Here it is. We don't know what happened behind the scenes. We don't. We truly don't. And please be real.

HCav (not using the full name because I don't want to put it in the search results) is a massive global superstar, gorgeous, rich, beloved, AND incredibly incredibly incredibly good at pr. He has legions of fans and more access to media than almost any other celebrity.

All he has to do is very tactfully, in a few interviews, refuse to compliment the writers and instead steer the conversation to his love of the books, and voila. When he leaves this show, everyone blames someone else. Like. I've seen like two people mad at him. That's it. And that is what he did. He is very very smart.

This is the man who managed to convince millions of nerdy fanboys that he is 'just like them' that he is 'one of them'. Do you know how hard that is for someone who looks like him? lol

It used to be that when Hcav was cast in something nerdy, they'd bitch. "He's too pretty" (they want to project hard onto the hero, and their ideal is a rugged man which they associate more closely with old fashion masculinity. They also always complain the opposite of the female lead...she's never pretty or hot enough. But that's a different convo.) But despite that, HCav has painstakingly convinced them over the course of several years, that he is 'just like them'. It's like...the miracle that he has pulled off is THEE pr accomplishment of this century.

I am not saying that HCav is not a nerd. I'm not saying that he doesn't work hard or take the material seriously. I'm saying that it is far too easy for everyone watching this unfold, to just call him Jesus, and vilify everyone else, all while have zero fucking idea of what happened behind the scenes.

"Yes but Des, we know it's the writers' fault, because the show writing does suck, and the showrunner herself says that Cav was always the one who tried to fit in passages from the books."

Yes. Ok. But the problem I have with the writing is never the details. It's the overarching plotlines. HCav knew her vision when he signed on. When he fought for that role. They had so many meetings. Netflix told her to carry out her own vision, that's what she said she'd do, and he knew that.

All I'm saying is, no matter what you think of the writing, he is not a passive victim here. He was not betrayed. It's just grown folks having differences. That's it! And he couldn't write that show. Him adding lines here and there is the easiest thing. Would he be able to write an entire season's worth of scripts? (It's harder than it looks. It takes years of honing that craft.) No. He wouldn't, nor would he want to. The pay cut alone would be so staggering I'm sure he would have to sell several ocean front properties.

"Yes, but Des, the former writer said that people on the show hate the books. Surely that drove him away."

Babes. The guy who said that is the one who wrote S2E2 AND Nightmare of the Wolf. lmaoooosob. I would rather have a writer on the show who critiques some elements of the books (THEY ARE NOT ABOVE CRITIQUE) but actually understands what a witcher is and what that means in context of class, and who understands their oppressions, than someone who thinks the books are perfect, but took from those books that witcher are....THAT. That Vesemir is THAT.

Secondly, again, we don't know what happened. Another staff writer implied on twitter that there was ego and abuse issues. So WE DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED.

The point is, it is sooooooooooo fucking easy when you've left to blame everyone else. That's petty as shit what that departing writer did, and like...it works! It is guaranteed to work and he knew it.

Which leads us to the most uncomfortable truth here, and that is that what that writer did and to a lesser extent what HCav did, is weaponize a multitude of these racist cishet white nerdboys who harass and loathe Anna and Anya and Mimi and all these woc. These people live in a constant abusive rage online, and the root of their rage is that the witcher is diverse and 'woke'. If you haven't been on twitter or reddit or youtube and seen the relentless vile open racism in the most organized and loudest elements that attack the writers and Lauren, then I envy you. It is a cesspool.

When that departing writer threw them under the bus, he knew exactly what would happen and who he would rile up.

"Are you implying that if you hate the writing, you're misogynistic and racist."

No. Obviously not. I have criticized the writing and I will probably continue to do so on occasion.

I've been accused of being a 'book purist' but I assure you I'm not. Just give me good writing. Just give me a good story. And keep the characters true to their spirits. And if that isn't what is delivered, I might write a post with critique in it.

But what I won't do is publicly pile on people, on human beings, for business decisions and deals that happen behind the scenes, people who have no control over this, no fame, and no way to defend themselves.

This is how it works.

The showrunner decides the plot of the season. The staff writers are assigned episodes. They write what they're told to write. A lot of these staff writers and writer assistants make near poverty wages (for people living in L.A. Dear god. The cost to live there is staggering).

What I'm not gonna do is publicly blame them for driving away 'poor little hcav' lmao this incredibly incredibly powerful, wealthy global superstar who makes his own fucking decisions and whose race and gender protects him if his money and fame didn't.

Were there creative differences? Probably.

Did he also walk out on a show instead of working it out because he got a better offer? Definitely.

And was he INCREDIBLY INCREDIBLY savvy about very gently and subtly throwing them under the bus in every interview in order to preserve his fanboy following and his reputation going forward?

YES

Because these studios know that if they adapt existing properties of these past comic books and novels and then they put a foot wrong, they will have legions of these toxic racist cishet white nerdboy fuckers review bombing, harrassing, stalking, making rape and death threats to actors, and if they get HCav they know that's not going to happen. The fanboys worship the ground he walks on. The fact that he delivers that to them is a HUGE plus in his favor. And then he also delivers the straight women. (and the bis, we won't leave us out, I did think he looked great grimy in a bathtub)

The issue is, back in the day, when these adapted properties (in the broader sense) novels and comic books were being published, 99% of English language publishing was run by white men and everyone else was excluded. If we are going to adapt them today, we can choose to uphold that white supremacy by continuing to exclude every other race from participating in the projects, thereby extending that white supremacy, and becoming agents of it, or we can cast the best actor for the role, regardless of race. And when that happens the backlash is swift. Because white people think only white people can be ethereal beauties (elves) they think only white people can be seductive, smoking hot sorceresses, they think only white people pilot space ships in the future and kiss heroic leading men.

It happened with Rings of Power, in Wheel of Time, in Star Wars, and more! Legions of racists and misogynists organize and make life a living hell for everyone else. They do not want to share their toys.

Yes, there is room for critique and dislike of these properties without being racist. I'm not talking about people who have real critique. (I have critique! I'm a mouthy, wordy bitch!) I'm talking about people who complain about 'woke' properties and who spew racial epithets at these beautiful talented actresses.

HCav never once that I saw stood up for the diverse casting of his female costars (Please prove me wrong and send me some interview where he did) and he could have. Again, I'm not demonizing him. He is focused and ambitious and stays in his lane and looks out for his career. But he does not go the extra mile for them. And he sure as shit doesn't need one more person (me) deifying him, trying to suck him off, and in the other breath, throwing all these women and poc under the bus for him.

Look, for example, the difference with other properties. Like The Walking Dead. Andrew Lincoln literally never shuts up about how much he loves Danai being his 'leading lady'. And look at how Ewan McGregor took up for Moses Ingram. (not his leading lady, but his colleague) Just saying. It is possible. So.

This recast is weird.

It sucks.

But.

It's no one's fault.

It just is.

And we move on.

I got Joey Batey out of this. I got The Amazing Devil out of this. I got Madeleine Hyland out of this. I got the witcher book saga out of this. (I had only vaguely heard the names here and there but would have never read them otherwise) I got an amazing fandom community out of this that I will continue to write for and be a part of.

And I am not going to start screaming at working people in the streets for something they had little to no control over.

And lastly, "but you said Lauren has control over it, and surely she does get paid a ton of money. So surely this rich white lady isn't blameless in this. Surely she deserve the criticism she gets."

My guess is they are both grown ass adults who are fallible and are equally to blame. It doesn't help infantilizing or deifying him. And I can critique her work without vilifying her.

I can go write the Milva post I've been drafting for months being absolutely livid about her tweet saying Milva "embodies unrequited romance" without harrassing her. Please look at the difference here. IT IS ABOUT THE WORK. IT IS ABOUT THE STORY.

It is never personal. I would never make it personal. It's just different visions about fiction. And I would never pretend to know what happens in real life with real people behind the scenes.

And I know that no one who follows me on here is the kind of person who would harass her. At least I hope. I'm almost positive. So I'm not accusing anyone of anything. And if you hate the writing and the direction of the show you are entitled to that. I have done my own critical posts.

But again, I do not know what happened behind the scenes. So I'm staying in my lane. I've lived long enough now to see people get blamed and harassed for things and then we get documentaries twenty years later showing that people were totally in the wrong and just didn't know what happened behind the scenes.

So I will not be doing that.

And I will keep supporting Joey and Anya and Myanna and Mimi and all the people acting their little hearts out on the show. And I will keep talking about the books and writing my lil fics.

And when the show is over, I will probably follow Joey to whatever other projects he goes to. But I won't ever stop being a witcher fan or a TAD fan. That's a 'for life' thing at this point.

[pheita]

Snippet Sunday

I am playing around a little with changing "Blood Night" from single POV into dual POV, even if it will stay close 3rd person.

So this is the first time we will have Lyran's POV now. Tagging @ashen-crest @cometkov @tabswrites @cljordan-imperium @writingamongther0ses

Never in his life had Lyran enjoyed a hot bath as much as he did that evening. Even though he wasn't that old, after more than a day trapped in the cold and this miserable fog, he realized that he was getting older and his bones definitely didn't like it. The liberating feeling of being able to move properly again accompanied him as he sat in the dining room with Elaven beside him and Sojan across from him, watching him more or less amused as he shoveled soup into himself. “Thanks again for the help,” Lyran raised his tankard in a silent toast. “That's our job,” Sojan reminded him with a grin. “Sure, but it's still proper to say thank you,” Lyran raised the tankard to drink.

“You should drink less ale, after your involuntary overnight stay in the forest it will go to your head faster.” Elaven had spoken without looking over, always keeping an eye on the guest room. “Then I'll sleep all the more soundly tonight.” A slight sigh escaped him as Lyran remembered that the nights he couldn't remember his nightmares were good nights and maybe it wasn't wrong to get drunk so far. It certainly wouldn't take much, and it kept him from thinking further about Sojan, who was frowning at him as if trying to analyze him. “That's quite a good reason, but tomorrow will be all the harder.” “Nothing that will kill me, other than the tree spirits.” Again, Lyran took a deep sip. Yes, distracting himself from Sojan was a good idea, lest he do something stupid. “He's right about that,” Elaven turned to Sojan. Grateful for the distraction, Lyran gave Elaven an amused glare. “Elaven understands me!” “So do I, but I'm worried about how strong your hangover will be. You've just had your first real meal in over a day.” Sojan swiped a piece of bread from Lyran's plate, who slapped his hand and protested loudly. “Go get your own.” Grinning, Sojan shoved the bread into his mouth and chewed while he thought. For a moment, Lyran could only stare at him before he turned his attention back to his soup. By the Five, what had he gotten himself into? “I'm thinking of checking out the water terrors tomorrow. With any luck, we won't have any fog.” Elaven narrowed his eyes. After a sip of tea, he hummed in agreement. “Yes, we should get one so we can examine it.” “What do these misshapen tadpoles with arms have to do with anything?” Lyran blinked in confusion. His mind needed some time to come back from his thoughts about Sojan to the topic at the table. “They're three times the size they should be. Even we'd be swept into the water by them without a problem.” “Holy shit, by the Five, what's going on?”

Sojan's relief was evident, and Lyran thought he had sighed, but wasn't sure from the volume in the room.

“That's what we need to know. That reminds me, why hasn't anyone come looking for you? You have a room here, don't you?” “I did…” Lyran began to ponder this. He should have thought that an innkeeper would be worried about paying customers. In the unobtrusive hunter way, Elaven looked around, as Lyran noticed in passing. Sojan's gaze went to the counter, so Lyran's gaze followed as unobtrusively as possible and found a tall, broad-shouldered figure talking to the innkeeper, Easton. The innkeeper seemed to be in a trance. Something was handed over that immediately disappeared under the figure's cloak. The moment the figure was through the door, Easton blinked a few times as if he had been daydreaming and went back to work. Sojan made an astonished noise “Interesting, isn't it?” Elaven leaned forward questioningly. “Indeed,” Sojan straightened up again with a glance at Lyran. “Tell me, how many days did you rent the room for?” “Huh? Wait… Until noon tomorrow.” “Then pack your things later. We have guest rooms at the guild house and you'll need another day or two to recover.” Lyran's eyes grew wide and a broad grin spread. “Oh all the stories of the hunters! I'll have so much material for new songs. I'll be there, of course.” The excitement could hardly be contained. Rarely did bards get the chance to spend more time with hunters and this was turning into a gold mine. It also meant he got to spend more time with Sojan, which was a big bonus. “And the bed is more comfortable than here,” Sojan added with a laugh. “And what does a little bard like me have to do to get into your bed?” Lyran had leaned forward a little over the table. His gaze bored into Sojan's steel-blue eyes, which seemed to have witnessed so much and attracted him like light attracts moths, and smiled at him. So much for not doing anything stupid, but he couldn't help it. “First and foremost, sober up,” Sojan replied seriously to Elaven's laughter. “What?” “I have yet to meet a man who is steadfast under alcohol.” “Oh…yes, that's true.”

The blush clearly rose to Lyran's face. Incredulous that Sojan had even gone into it in part, Lyran buried himself in his tankard. By the Five, he wasn't usually like that “Sojan, my friend!” a deep female voice sounded from the doorway. Sojan leaned to the side and stood up laughing to greet a muscular, tall, bluish woman hunter-style with a grip around the forearm. It was immediately obvious she had to have orc blood by the look of her, even if Lyran didn't see any tusks. “Neeshah, my friend. You come right on cue.” “Mari told me I'd find you here in company. And who are your new friends?” Curious, she stretched towards the table. Sojan turned around and invited her to join him at the table. “These are Elaven, also a hunter, and Lyran, the bard.” “That sounds like fun. Easton, please bring me some tea and whatever is hanging in the fire. I need to get this chill out of my bones.” She called over her shoulder to the innkeeper, who just laughed and gestured that he had heard. Neeshah took the other seat next to Lyran, which Sojan could only note with amusement. “So, friends, what were you talking about?” Her gaze passed briefly over Elaven and Sojan. “We want to get a water terrors tomorrow,” Sojan explained briefly. “Ah, Mari said the creatures are bigger?” “Three times bigger than usual.��� “Filthy crap, that's a problem.” She slapped the table with the flat of her hand, making everything shake. Lyran tilted his head and blinked at her. “Those embroideries are exquisite. That was someone with talent.” Neesha immediately grew a foot taller. “Thank you, that was me. My mother didn't raise anyone who despised beautiful things.” “Truly, I have rarely seen embroidery so delicate and intricate. Let me guess, your weapon is the bow?” With a gentle gesture, Lyran stroked from the hem of her shirt to Neeshah's finger.

“That is true. You're a good observer.” He also left it unsaid that he had already noticed of how good friends the two were. “As a bard I have to be, how else can I sing the stories of the heroes if I don't see and hear everything?” “I like him,” Neeshah looked at Sojan, ”And as for the water terrors, you have my bow.” “That's what I was hoping for. If we take one of the recruits with us, we should make it, even if the weather doesn't want to cooperate.” Easton came in with the order for Neeshah. Sojan stopped him short. “Easton, would you send our bard's bill to the guild? After his encounter with tree spirits, I'd rather keep an eye on him for a few days.” Easton made a sign against evil and nodded. “Of course, you never know what it'll do to you. Should I have Frik bring the things over right away?” Sojan looked questioningly at Lyran, who thought for a moment. There was nothing among the things of value and if the few Renval he just had were to be stolen from him by the Five, then the boy should have them.

“Yes, send the boy. I'm afraid Sojan was right about the beer.” He looked at Sojan, who looked worried. It had to look like he was really drunk by now, not that he was at odds with himself over his reaction to Sojan. “Don't worry, dear bard. We'll take care of everything.” “Tree spirits, huh?” Neeshah's eyes went briefly to Lyran and then to Sojan with a question in them. “We'll tell you tomorrow.” “Do you mind if I join you tomorrow?” asked Lyran excitedly and hopefully. “To the water terrors?” Elaven wondered aloud. “Yes, I suspect it's just the start of something bigger and I want to be part of it.” Actually, he first of all wanted to see for himself what was going on here. The three hunters exchanged glances and then nodded. “All right, but I hope you have something other than these clothes,” Sojan pointed to Lyran's fine suit. “Don't worry, when I travel I definitely wear more comfortable and robust clothes. Do you know what an ordeal it is to ride in such tight pants? That's the best way to keep someone chaste.”

Sojan was not the only one to grimace in remembrance of a moment when he was forced to do so. Neeshah choked on her tea when she saw the men's faces. “All right, then, it's settled. Stay behind us and when we say run, you run like there's a horde of monsters after you.” Sojan looked urgently at Lyran, who nodded gravely. Yohrir had to be joking with him that this hunter had such an effect on him that it made him hot and cold. “I'm hanging on for dear life, even if it didn't look like it today at noon.” “That's what I was hoping for,” Elaven teased him, “Then we'll have to see if any of the recruits want to take this chance to gain practical experience.” Lyran could understand the collective grim sigh of the hunters. The stories of overconfident beginners who overestimated their abilities had always served as a deterrent to anyone wanting to join the guild. The worried look on Sojan's face drew him in again without Lyran being able to tell why. He hastily finished the tankard and ordered the next one with a sign, hoping that the beer would really give him a dreamless night in which he would not be confronted with what had befallen him with Sojan.

[brainmaniaman]

I have been scouring this fucking app for Julian fics, never really occurred to I can just request some lol.

So yeah, if you're up for it I've got a little plot/trope set up that'd id love to see. Outsider(fem)reader/julian.

Something along the lines of a reader moving into the park from the southern us, new to Canada and parks in general. As an outsider, Julian expected you to be trouble or judgemental, so he acts like a dick to you at first. Later on, he starts to see instead how kind you are to everyone, understanding and totally up for doing ppl favors even when there's nothing for you in the end. This makes him feel real guilty for bein an ass to you, and also makes him start to feel other things towards u.. Take the fic in whatever direction you'd I wanna see u work ur magic

( + no pressure 2 write it ofc!!)

pairing: julian/fem!reader fandom: trailer park boys tags: smut (cis man/cis woman), fluff, a bit of angst, idk this is one of my more normal ones, heavy plot some porn (i kind of felt more plot focused with this one), julian is kind of hung (he gives me big dick energy)  author's note: i'm much more of a ricky kinda guy myself but when i got this request, i got really fucking excited. i loved the idea. i will say, this fic isn't structured traditionally. it's very dialogue heavy and kind of leaves some things up to the imagination. i wanted to establish relationships between the reader and other people in the park as well as share some of julian's private conversations about her. i'm really proud of the way this has turned out, though i'm sorry if it's not the interpretation you might have been hoping for (i'm a little insecure about the way i interpret storylines). i hope you like it, though. i worked hard on it and i'm pretty sure it's the longest julian/reader fic currently on the internet so i'm going to take that fucking win rn. also, i actually live in the southern united states. (fun fact: i'm looking to move because i'm a trans man and life here is kind of ass if you're trans), so i gave the reader a backstory that's kind of unique to what a woman in 1999-2000 would have gone through. i'm not satisfied with the ending though, i'm sorry if this fic is a little lackluster, but we can only go up from here i guess. text blocking this shit was a fucking BITCH. word count: 6,442

everything i've ever let go of has claw marks on it.

The cultural climate of Sunnyvale Trailer Park wasn't exactly the most inviting. There were people who lived in the park and then there was everyone else. For the most part, newcomers never lasted more than a few weeks. The bottle kids drove away the weakest among them, but if those kids weren't effective usually Ricky's antics drove away the remaining lot. Sure, there were a few people here and there who moved in quietly, but those were usually the kind of people that minded their own business because lot rent was low enough for them to just ignore Lahey.

But in general, new people were not welcome. Especially know-it-all hipsters trying to live the simple life by casting away their possessions in an expensive storage unit and downsizing to a more humble trailer. Those were the kinds of guys that gave up quickly. Plus, new people threatened the balance of park politics. For the most part, Julian was well-liked and well-respected among the others due to his caring nature and dedication to his loved ones. He protected his own. And if there was one thing Julian didn't like, it was newcomers coming into the park without already knowing someone in it.

"Barb, I really think you should reconsider letting this girl in. I mean, you don't even know who she is." 

"Julian, this is a business, not a family estate. Her credit was just below decent, she has an okay-paying job, and paid three months of rent in advance. From a business perspective, she seems like she'll be a reliable tenant. It's a good thing you've grown close with your community, but you have to remember at the end of the day, this trailer park is here to make money. Whatever fit of paranoia you're suffering through, deal with it on your own time. Next time you come here with a complaint, make sure it's a business one." 

And just like that, Barb had shooed Julian off. What more could he say to that? Well, he had a lot more to say to that but she didn't want to listen. Every time he opened his mouth to speak, she only guided him further to the door. If Julian thought he was the one who ran this trailer park, he had another thing coming for him that's what. This dump needed more reliable tenants - normal folks who didn't like to get into trouble. Barb was trying to turn the park's image around.

"Julian, I just don't understand why you're so against this lady stayin' here. You know I'm no fan of newcomers myself, but she's been mindin' her own. She actually keeps her yard clean, which is pretty fuckin' nice if you ask me. It's nice to pass a yard that doesn't have a million fuckin' pieces of trash thrown all over the front. She even has one of those pink fuckin' yard flamingos in her yard. It's so bright and colorful. There ain't nothin' wrong with a little bit of color, Julian. Ain't nothin' wrong with a little bit of change." 

"Are you even listening to yourself talk Bubbles? Can you hear what you're saying? You're saying change for this park is good. Who knows what she believes in. She might hate dope growers, she may be workin' with Lahey, she could get nosy and bust us for dope and you know Ricky and I are growin' a lot of dope -" 

"- I know, I've seen that big fuckin' setup you got in that fuckin' trailer in that shitty little lot -" 

"- so then Bubbles you should know that new people aren't good. We can't trust new people, especially not now. Especially not when we're so close to selling them to those prison guards and retiring. A stranger could compromise the whole thing. Remember those bible scammers that came through here? I've learned my lesson since then and I'm not tryna repeat old mistakes." 

"Jesus Murphy Julian, you need to calm down. Those fuckin' assholes were obviously scammers, it's not like this lady is goin' door to door scammin' people." 

"Sure maybe she's not taking advanced orders on bibles Bubbles, but she is goin' in and out of everyone's house doin' favors for them. Why does she need to see the inside of everyone's house? Do you think she's lookin' for something?" 

"Have you ever stopped to think that maybe she's just a nice person doin' a nice thing? Nice people exist. You've been dealin' with dope and crime and jail so much that it's like you forgot how to trust someone. All you think about is dope and how you're going to protect it from everyone else." 

"You're only defendin' her because she brings you boxes of canned cat foods for your cats. She's buyin' you off and you don't even know it." 

"So what if she's helpin' me take care of my kitties? My kitties are the most important things to me and unlike you, she fuckin' knows that. If someone's offering to help take care of my precious little kitties, who the fuck am I to say no?" 

"Bubbles, look -" 

"No, no, nevermind." Bubbles tucks a gray cat further into his arms, his posture becoming more rigid. It's clear that he's done with the conversation, no longer interested in trying to hammer commonsense into Julian's brain. He couldn't see past his own paranoia and it was infuriating. In Julian's mind, everyone in the world was out to get him - even the nice lady across the street who helped his friend support his kitties. "You just don't get it, Julian. I'm goin' back home, come talk to me when you get it." 

Julian was still convinced he was right about this girl. If the bottle kids didn't run you out, he'd just take matters into his own hands. He didn't care whether or not Bubbles helped. Julian was a man of many connections, and even if he couldn't find someone else to get the job done he had no qualms with taking care of the situation himself.

"I mean, if you think that lady's dangerous then you know I'm gonna follow you Julian 'cause you got the brains and stuff behind the projector, but I just gotta let you know I'm still workin' on my grade ten so whatever idea you have you got to make sure it's not illegal 'cause I can't go back to jail, not right before Trinity's birthday. That means we can't do any property damage or breaking and entering or any shit like that." 

"I promise you Ricky we're not gonna go back to jail, we're just gonna annoy the shit out of her until she leaves. I was thinkin' maybe you and Cory and Trevor could host like a really loud party across the street tomorrow night, you know - something to keep her awake. If we get a noise complaint, we'll just shut it down, but then once the cops leave we'll start it back up again. We'll do this for a few nights until she finally decides to move out." 

"That's a pretty fucking good idea, that's smart. Plus, since it's a party we can get drunk and high."

It's 2 a.m. and that fucking party is still going. There were several times you considered calling in a noise complaint but you decided that it was a better idea to just wait it out. It had to end at some point and overall, it was never a good idea to get involved with parties like that because sometimes they got out of a hand, and you were too smart to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Though when you stepped outside to 'check your mailbox' - spy on the party still going on into the early hours of the morning - you find yourself tripping over something. You stumble onto your hands and knees and it's only when you pull yourself up do you really get a good look at the man passed out by your mailbox. It's Ricky, and he's mumbling things almost incoherently. He mutters something about dope, bitches, Trinity, more bitches, Lucy, and good booze. It's a pathetic way to be, but you can't help but feel bad for you.

You use the toe of your shoe to rock his face awake. Ricky sputters before waking up in a drunk panic. He's angry and yelling incoherently, but your promise of a hot shower and a hot sandwich satiates his anger. He struggles his way through a shower, though almost slips a few times. He eats hand to mouth, chewing loudly, and drunk conversation ensues. He shares a lot with you - stuff he probably wouldn't have shared sober. He eventually passes out, not remembering much in the morning. That morning you share breakfast and a little bit about each other. He tried to hate you, he really did, but you were charismatic in a friendly way. There weren't any ulterior motives, you just enjoyed conversation.

"I don't know Julian, she seems fine to me. I mean, she's not all that bad. Her yard is pretty clean and you know, she has that pink little flamingo in her yard and honestly it's pretty fuckin' cute. I mean yeah she's kinda annoying and I hate that fuckin' southern fuckin' cowboy accent she fucking has but whatever. I think you're gettin' worked up over nothin'. You've been so busy tryna push out this lady who hasn't done nothin' wrong to you while I'm over here slavin' away watchin' after these fuckin' dope plants and tryin' to study for my grade ten all while play peepin' tom spy guy on some poor fuckin' lady." 

"You're just saying that 'cause she let you spend the night and made you breakfast."

"You know what I sure as fuck I am! She made me breakfast and kept me from sleepin' on the fuckin' ground drunk as piss and let me use her shower and shit and I didn't even have to put out! It's not like I trust her or anything like that - I didn't talk about dope or nothin' like that at all." That was the truth. "It's just at this point anything is better than fucking Cory and Trevor. I'm not sayin' you gotta like her or trust her, but she's not all that bad Julian. Maybe if you actually got to fuckin' know her like I have you'd see that you're just being a paranoid dickbag." 

"You know what Ricky, you don't anything about her. You're just seeing what she wants you to see. But I'm smart, so I see right through it -" 

"Come on Julian don't be like that -" 

"- and since nobody is going to take care of this fucking situation then I guess I'll have to." 

Julian felt like everyone around him was failing him. Nobody else seemed to feel the same way he did about your existence in the trailer park. As each day passed, Julian grew more overtly snide. When approaching Ricky and Bubbles, Julian never took the time to acknowledge you. It was obvious that he was just being an ass, so you opted to ignore it, preferring not to fight. Silence was Julian's strongest weapon. But as the days ticked by, the tension between you and Julian only seemed to mount itself higher.

It's not like you inherently disliked Julian. In fact, you liked to believe that there was good in everyone and you prided yourself in your ability to be able to pull even the toughest people out of their shell. However, Julian was no easy project. Every time you tried to approach him, he simply brushed you off. You weren't even sure that the two of you had even exchanged any greetings. He hadn't even said hello. So when trying to talk to him didn't work, you simply tried to stay out of his way. This was frustrating for Julian because what he wanted you to do was to blow up and make it a big ordeal. But you didn't. You simply kept to yourself and resumed helping others around the park without complaints. 

There were times where Julian thought about approaching you in the way Julian thinks about approaching any pretty thing in a summer dress that talks to him. But he remains strong in the face of adversity. Gone were the days of chasing anything in a dress. He had a dope business to worry about.

But sometimes the thought would creep up onto Julian ever so slowly. Sometimes, he'd get this kind of fantasy in his head - especially on the Sunday afternoons you'd spend gently pushing yourself back and forth in your rocking chair, enjoying the summer sunlight. He could think of a million ways you two could enjoy the afternoon together, but he often pushed the thought out of his head. He had a park to protect. Friends to protect.

"You know, you have some real nerve comin' up here in this trailer park and putting on a show like you're doing." 

You look up from the rocking chair you were gently pushing yourself back and forth in and offer Julian a small smile.

"So you're Julian?"

Julian can't help but be a bit enamored with your slight southern drawl. It sounds like you're somewhere from the deep southern United States - one of those more rural provinces like Texas or Alabama. He can't quite pinpoint the accent, but he secretly finds it endearing.

"And how do you know that?" 

"I mean, with how much you do for the people here it's kind of hard not to know who you are. Plus, Ricky and Lucy both never seem to shut up about you. You know, if I didn't know any better I'd say they're both in love with you or something. Also, yesterday you came to pick up Ricky and he pointed right at you and said well, there's Julian, see ya later. I just put two and two together." 

"I'm not here to make small talk, (name)." 

"Then what are you here to do, Julian?" 

There's silence. What is he here to do. There wasn't anything that he could reasonably do and he wasn't the terrorizing type if he didn't have to be. Fuck, he had even promised that his greasy trouble-causing days were over. But here he was, standing at the edge of the patio stairs, contemplating whether or not he should threaten a woman.

"I'm just here to ask you about your intentions with Ricky, that's all." 

You can't help but laugh out loud at the comment. "Oh, please. There's nothing going on between us." 

Julian knows that because if there was something going on between you and Ricky, Ricky wouldn't shut up about it and the whole park would know. But he's trying to be covert about his intent to interrogate you.

"Yeah, well . . . there better not be . . . Ricky's a good guy and I'd really hate to see him get hurt . . ." 

"Why are you really here, Julian?" 

Julian stands in silence, thoughtfully cradling his glass in his hand as he tries to come up with a clever lie - but it's hard to think when he catches a glimpse of your thighs pressed together underneath your thin summer dress. He squints and then looks away briefly.

"I just wanted to stop by and tell you more about the culture of Sunnyvale. You know, we're really tight-knit. Like family."

"I know." 

"And you know, family protects family." 

"I know." 

"And you know, I'd do anything for my family." 

"I know." 

"Anything." 

"What are you getting at?" 

"I'm not getting at anything, (name). I'm just givin' you a little more info about our park, just trying to get acquainted with you." 

"Oh, you're trying to get acquainted with me? This is the first time I've spoken to you in the month I've been living here." 

"Well, you know, I was busy with the business I'm running -" 

"- that lawn mowing business you and Ricky got?" 

Is that what Ricky is calling it? "Yeah, we've had a lot of customers so I've been having to do a lot of bookwork to keep up with the business you know. But it's been busy, so I haven't had time to talk, but now I do and I want to get to know you." 

"You want to get to know me?" 

"That's what I just said isn't it?" 

"Well I'll tell you what Julian," You push the chair backwards in thought, looking up at the bright summer sky. The sun shines in your face, warming your skin. It's a nice feeling. "If you really want to get to know me, you'll come over for dinner tonight." 

Julian wasn't going to admit it but he was excited at the prospect of dinner. The last time he shared time - much less a meal - with a woman, she ended up stealing his dope plants and lying to him about being in love. In all fairness, most people would have been wary of someone saying I love you within the first week of getting to know them, but Julian (for the most part) was a hopeless romantic. He liked the idea of a life with someone else. 

Julian told himself that this was strictly business - that he was here to set the record straight. This wasn't get-to-know-you dinner, this wasn't a date. He was just here to let you know that he wasn't going to tolerate funny business. He just happened to be wearing his nicest clean black shirt and he just happened to be wearing one of his nicer pair of jeans - the ones that didn't have the holes in them. Julian knocks on your door. The two minutes he waits for you to answer feels like an eternity but when you open the door, he's glad he's waited. 

"You got a hot date you're going to after this?" 

"What, this?" You look down at the pink summer dress you're wearing, "This is casual." You had always been the more feminine type, enjoying softer clothes and pretty dresses. Plus, unlike jeans dresses were more comfortable. You usher him inside and he obliges, being careful to not spill his drink when he steps in. 

"Dinner is served." Dinner being a massive fucking bowl of macaroni and cheese with cheap ass hot dogs. "Sorry it's not exactly the best, but -"

"It's fine, don't worry about it." Julian sets his glass down. He's actually ecstatic. Macaroni and cheese and fucking hotdogs? "You know, I don't know where you're from but around here this is a five-star meal." 

You give a dry laugh. as Julian picks up his fork to eat. "You'll have to forgive me, I'm kind of new to the whole trailer park life and the whole being poor thing." 

"Oh yeah? Where are you from?" 

"Southern United States." 

"What state?" 

"Texas." 

"That's a long way from here, basically on the other side of the continent. Why'd you come up this way?" Julian tells himself that he's not trying to get to know you because he's interested in you - he's trying to get to know you to get dirt on you, to know what he's up against. 

"I needed an abortion." You answer dryly, "And even though it's been legal for some years now, no physician was wiling to perform one on me." 

"Why come to Nova Scotia? Why not just go to another state?" 

"Well, I figured things were just better here than they were there. Don't get me wrong, it's not perfect by any means but it's better than where I was from. At least here I know if I need the service again, it's a little more reliably accessible. Plus, it's not like I had anywhere or anyone I could turn to. So I just kind of . . . stayed." 

"Heavy stuff." Julian sets down his fork, "Didn't have any family to turn to?" 

"No, and even if I did they're not the kind of people I'd want to be around." 

Julian could relate to that.

"So you just came to Canada for an abortion and then decided to stay? You know, when Americans come to Canada they want to go to Quebec. Nova Scotia isn't exactly on the top of the list, let alone Dartmouth. Let alone fucking Sunnyvale Trailer Park. Nobody just moves in here. Come on, (name) . . . what's the real reason why you're staying here?" 

Your mouth runs dry as you consider answering him honestly. "Well, uh . . . you know . . ." You twiddle your thumbs a bit, "I came to Canada with my passport and got my abortion and then . . . I just uh . . ." There's a long pause as your appetite disappears completely. "I didn't have anywhere to go to so I just . . . never left . . . this place was the only place that'd rent to an illegal resident . . ." 

"Holy fuck you don't have your papers?" Julian wasn't sure what kind of story he was expecting but it wasn't that. Now he feels like an asshole. "How did you get a job? How did you even afford this place?" 

"Well, I had some savings so that was a good cushion, but when that ran out I was able to find a job working as a waitress at that little restaurant just out of town. I'm not technically on the payroll, they just don't make me report my tips, and any extra money is kind of . . . earned under the table." You respond sheepishly.

God, Julian feels like such a fucking jackass for being a raging asshole to you. 

"That's . . . hard." Julian doesn't really know what else to say.

"Yeah." 

"Well, I've shared my deepest darkest secret with you. Do you want to share anything with me?" 

You and Julian talk well into the early hours of the morning, swapping life stories, funny anecdotes, and talking about all of the small things in between. Honestly, he feels at ease with you in a way he hasn't felt at ease before. The conversation flows naturally and even the silence you occasionally fall into feels comfortable. It's nearly two in the morning when you both look at the small clock hanging on your wall and realize the time.

". . . well, it's a little late . . ." You stretch in your chair, still sitting across the table from Julian. You don't really want him to go, but you've both run out of things to talk about and you still have some errands you have to run before work tomorrow. "You know, I have some things I gotta do tomorrow . . . but if you're feeling nice, maybe you can pay me back for dinner by making some for me. I'm usually too tired to cook when I get home . . . you know, only if you want to." 

It's hard for Julian to say no to that face.

"What time do you get off work?"

. . .

Julian continues to insist that he doesn't feel some kind of way, that he's just taking the opportunity to really get to know you - you know, in case you ever pose a threat - but the nightly dinner-dates seem to differ. 

"Why is it so hard to admit that you have a hard-on for (name)? It's so fucking obvious." 

"It's not like that Ricky. You know, I have somewhere to be so why don't you just fuck off and give me some fucking space?" 

"Oh yeah I know exactly where you want to be, all up in -" 

The truth of the matter was that even though Julian fantasized about it at night, truly nothing had happened. You were sweet, kind, intelligent, patient, compassionate - a truly wonderful person. And that was the problem. Normally, Julian found himself happy to jump into a relationship, but he found himself afraid of making a fool of himself. Guys like him didn't get with girls like you. Simple as that. Besides, love just wasn't in the cards for Julian. It just never worked out like that.

Tonight was yet another night of disappointment. You had lingered on Julian's doorstep after dinner, hoping that maybe he'd make a move and at least give you a kiss goodnight - but the two of you simply stood there awkwardly until he nodded, saying he was probably going to go off to bed now. It was frustrating because you thought you were sending all of the right signals. Light touches, flirtatious giggles, risque comments - the works. But yet again, you find yourself leaving empty-handed. It wasn't that you weren't satisfied with the friendship, you really liked the dynamic the two of you had. You liked that Julian showed you ways to save money, ways to spruce up the trailer home so it felt more roomy, showed you around town a bit - but it left you feeling a bit stupid because you could have sworn the two of you had something more. You could just feel it. But he never addressed it and it drove you crazy. 

You knock on the door nervously, your hands shaking.

Julian answers the door again. "What's going on?" 

"I don't want to go home just yet. This is about the time J-Roc films his adult films. Can I just sit here for thirty more minutes? He usually finishes up around one in the morning or so." 

"Uh, yeah, sure, come on in. You can hang out here. I have to shower because, you know, I got somewhere to be in the morning -" Tomorrow was the day he was supposed to drop off the product with the prison guards, "- normally I'd wait up but I got some important stuff I gotta take care of tomorrow. I'm about to get ready for bed, so you can just leave whenever you're ready."

"Alright." 

You find yourself sitting awkwardly on the couch as Julian disappears into the bathroom. The trailer shakes a bit when he turns on the water and you can hear the pipes rush before the water falls like rain into the tub. You sit in silence and contemplate. You couldn't keep going back and forth like this, it'd get nowhere. He had hinted a few times at maybe having feelings. Sometimes his hand would linger on the small of your back too long when he was moving past you, or he'd stand too close to you - so close your shoulders would touch - whenever he got the chance. But nothing would ever come of it, and you were tired of it. You think about maybe joining him in the shower but that's too ballsy of a move, so you simply sit there and listen to the shower run until it's turned off. There's more shuffling and you can hear him go into his room. The hallway light turns off and the door clicks close. You should probably get going by now, but you can't bring yourself to just leave.

. . .

You feel like a psychopath drifting down the hallway. You only came down here to use the bathroom, but now you were standing at his bedroom door - contemplating whether or not you should knock on the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Ricky, is that you? I told you to stop picking my fucking lock -" 

"No," You answer meekly, "It's me. I uh, wanted to take that book back I lent you before I went home. I didn't see it in your living room so I figured you might be keeping it in here." 

Julian stares up at the ceiling in thought. Julian is pretty book-smart and it doesn't take a genius to know the game you're running. He's been down this road a thousand times. He wants to say yes, but there's still the lingering fear of ruining the good friendship that's already there.

Julian turns his head to look at his nightstand, the small paperback book sat there. Shit, maybe you weren't playing any games.

"Yeah, give me a moment, I'll come bring it to you." 

"You don't have to go through that trouble, I'll just come get it real quick . . . if that's alright with you." 

". . . that's alright with me." 

You gently push the door open, slipping through before gently closing the door behind you. You can only see the outline of Julian's body in the dark, a few shadows illuminated by the moonlight that drifts in through the blinds. 

"It's right over here." You see the shadow of Julian's hand reach over and grab the thick book. Infinite Jest.

"I'll come get it." You pull yourself up onto the bed, you're knees on either side of his feet. Gently, you shimmy your way up, crawling over him on your hands and knees. Julian shifts a bit. Both of your breaths are heavy and as you sit yourself comfortably on his waist, you watch his chest rise and fall with heavy breaths. Gently, you pluck the book from his hand. "Thank you." 

"You're welcome." Julian's voice is barely over a whisper.

You thumb through the thick book, landing on a page barely illuminated by the moonlight, reading the page you've thumbed to. "Everything I've ever let go of has claw marks on it." Truer words have never been spoken. Like everything in life, Julian has sunk his fingernails so deep into it he's drawn blood. He likes to pretend he can let things go, but he can't. 

Julian's hands gently grip at your hips, squeezing them softly - almost like he's afraid that if he squeezes too tight he'll hurt you. His fingers grip at your waist, gently pushing your hips backwards, guiding them in a gentle rocking motion against him. Your hips follow the movement of his hands, rocking against him with a pleased hum.

"Is that right?" Julian asks in a whisper.

"That's right." You respond gently.

"Me included?" He can't hope that you want him so bad that you'd sink your nails so deep into him that he'd never be able to leave you, even if he wanted to. And even if you wanted to leave him, he'd probably stay around and beg for you to take him back anyway.

"If you'll let me." 

If he wasn't rock hard before he's rock fucking hard now. "I want you." Julian's voice is hoarse, completely contradicting his typically firm and masculine present. He melts under you. Whether he wanted to believe it or not, Julian was a romantic and the touch of a woman he really valued meant a lot to him. His breath is labored as he guides your hips against him, "Please, I want you." 

If this were someone else in the park, it'd be a different story. Sleeping around with people in the park for Julian wasn't about emotions, it was about releasing a physical need, and when you can't keep a boyfriend sometimes you have to turn to your neighbors for some help. Everyone slept with everyone. But you're not them, this isn't just casual for Julian - he doesn't want to fuck it up. He shudders when your fingertips drag across his chest, tracing patterns and circles into his shirt as you rock against him, grinding your hips downwards to create more friction. You're a tease, you take your time, and he hates it but he loves it. Two large hands reach up to cup your breasts over your shirt gently, His hands trail downwards, over your abdomen, grabbing gently at your stomach for a short moment before finding themselves at the hem of your shirt. 

"What are you waiting for?" You ask him between small breaths, still making rhytmic riding motions. It's a softly-asked question but also a plea for action. "Please, Julian. I've wanted this since the moment I saw you." 

"God, fuck you're so fucking hot." It's like a flip switched in his head and he can't hold himself back anymore. Strong hands placed firmly on your hips flip you onto your back. Now he's on top of you, every part of him everywhere. His lips touch yours in a kiss, teeth pull at the skin of your neck, and tongue sooths the freshly bruised areas by rubbing itself on it in small circles. Like always, he can't help himself, and unlike recently, he stops wasting time.

Your shirt is the first thing to come off - Julian helps shimmy it off of you, throwing it to the side. The next thing to come off is your pajama pants, which he also tosses to the side after helping shimmy it off of you. He has half a mind to compliment the pretty color of your underwear and tell you it looks good on you, but he doesn't pay it any mind since it's about to come off anyways. His hands lift you up by the small of your back just long enough for him to unclasp your bra, letting you fall back down onto the bed. His hands hook underneath your knees, lifting them up and pushing your legs up so he can help slide your underwear easily off of your body. You're left naked under him while he remains fully clothed, lowering himself onto you before you can complain that he hasn't undressed yet.

His thumbs roll against your nipples, gently pinching and pulling at them before taking them into his mouth. Julian has never been the most gentle lover, especially when he gets excited, always eager to take matters into his own hands - but that's part of his appeal.

Kisses trail down your stomach, followed by him dragging his tongue along the skin, pushing your legs apart. He takes his time adorning your inner thighs with kisses, sucking on the skin and taking it between his teeth. He likes the way he makes you whimper and moan, it's intoxicating. But eventually the teasing becomes too much even for him, he's growing impatient, so he lends his tongue to you, circling it around your clit, strong nose pressed into sensitive skin.

Your body writhes as you feel a familiar pressure build in your abdomen, thighs tightening around his head so tight he thought he might suffocate. What a way to go that would be. Your fingers curl into his short hair, gripping and pulling at his hair while your toes curl. You whimper but that only encourages him to slowly push his thick index finger into you, followed by a second after you properly adjusted. His mouth and fingers work in tandem, his fingers curling and pressing inside of you in a come hither motion while his tongue continues to stroke your clit.

"Fuck, Julian, god, fuck -" But before you can climax, he's gone - pulling away. If Julian enjoys anything, it's edging. There's just something about bringing a woman to climax and leaving them nearly in tears that turns him on. 

"You look disappointed." Julian catches a glimpse of your lopsided frown illuminated in the moonlight, "Don't worry, I'll take care of it." His shirt is pulled over his head, exposing his bare chest. When you touch the muscle, it's firm from years of consistent working-out. You trace a tattoos that look like they were done with a sewing needle and ink - probably stick and poke tattoos - but Julian frowns. He doesn't like those tattoos, he's not proud of them and he's not proud of his time spent in jail. But you only offer him an encouraging smile and place your palm over the tattoo before dragging your hand down to his belt, pulling at the buckle. Julian offers you a half-hearted smile. "Can't wait?"

Julian pushes your hand out of the way gently, taking his time to unfasten his belt and slowly pulling it through the loops. The belt is tossed to the side, along with his pants and underwear, leaving you both equals. Two hands hook themselves underneath your knees, placing your ankles on his shoulders while he uses his right hand to stroke his cock a bit, helping to harden himself up more. Sometimes the nerves just get to you.

"Holy fuck Julian you're big, you gotta be careful with that thing you're carrying a whole fucking concealed weapon -" 

Julian chuckles a bit at the comment but presses a gentle kiss to your ankles. "I'll be careful with you if that's what you're trying to say." 

The tip is pushed in slowly with great discomfort, pushing himself in. There's a stiff moment of silence as you let out a labored breath. 

"You good?" he asks.

You nod, dragging your teeth over your bottom lip. Julian takes his thumb against your bottom lip, peeling it out from underneath your teeth. His thumb drags your bottom lip down, exposing the inside of it before pushing his thumb into your mouth. Your lips wrap around his thumb, letting your tongue slide against the skin, sucking on the appendage as he pulls out just a bit, repositioning himself before he thrusts back in. Your body pushes upwards with the motion, head pressing against the headboard slightly. His thumb is still pressed in your mouth while his free hand keeps hooked underneath your knee, pushing it backwards so he can angle himself better - each thrust pushing itself deeper inside of you. Sweat coats his chest and runs down the side of his face, abdomen flexing the closer he gets to coming, but he restrains himself - wanting to ride it out for as long as he could. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." 

"Oh, God, Julian -" 

"Fuck, (name)." 

"Julian -" 

"(Name), (Name), (Name)." 

"I heard you did a real good job of running that girl out of the trailer park last night, Julian." 

"Hey, Barbara, why don't you fuck off?" 

[birdofmay]

Hi, op of the original "severe autism bad" post here (which yes, I'm anon, I already deleted the og post so I would like to stay as anon please)

Hope you dont mind me sending the ask to u cause since you left the reply, it got me confused yet curious. So I tried to do some looking to see why people use "severe autism", and what I found was that:

From my perspective, it reminded me of how sometimes people think autism is a sliding scale, where it's moreso like a wheel chart. It's a gut instinct because I didn't know what else to interpret the phrase as, so I was offended because in my mind, i thought "how dare people think calling someone's autism severe is okay!!"

But it makes a lot more sense to see it as a self-identify specific autistics use because it's about a bunch of combining factors. Its still a wheel chart, just a specific part of said wheel.

And on the other hand, it's hypocritical of me to judge people using it for themselves when I myself say joking things like "lots of autism today" or something

So yeah. I apologize for jumping to conclusions and I'm glad to see it sparked a discussion about it

Oh shit this sounds like someone got angry at you after reading your post - I hope it didn't happen and only sounds like it 😱

I once made a post about the sliding-scale-wheelchart-analogy to explain severity to people who don't know many higher support needs autistics (because it's difficult to understand otherwise), and then later reposted it with some good tags someone added (please read the linked post first and then the tags):

Many autistic self-advocates who don't "have the whole wheel on maximum" think that "severe autism" is a made up construct to deny agency. That's understandable.

But actually the "severe" is there to tell others "Hey, you need to pay extra attention to certain things when interacting with us, even more than with other autistics. You closely have to follow certain strictly defined rules so that we're not overwhelmed and so that interaction even is possible, if you don't follow these rules, interaction in real life isn't possible!" - so it's there to help us, not to deny agency.

But of course people don't know that unless they're somehow directly involved in higher support needs autism circles, so I get why they think that.

[enniewritesathing]

discussion post #2 (i think?)

This may have been a small update but More Things happened and we gotta talk about it. (Or, I'm gonna talk about it.) More like a ramble, really.

Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Speculation? Let's talk about it. 🤔

Behind the Scenes stuff:

first off, I wouldn't have the ability to even remotely do ANY of this part without @anothersimsstory's CC conversions and I'm glad I had the foresight of downloading it when I did. (they didn't delete their shit or anything but you know how it is sometimes) and the monitor by Theraven (I don't think they have a tumblr? they have a forum tho), and the EKG leads by @jellypawss. It really pays to make niche CC!!

I had to make swatches for the monitor since it is an important visual thing... but it was wholly contingent on me finding something that's close to actual vital signs and I looked everywhere but they were all stock images and obviously didn't work for what I needed. I then had to search high and low for for it, but I found it. For real!! I had to use TWO laptops (one for settings and the other for the actual monitor) and I screenshotted it, slapped it into paint to save it, make it a swatch, rinse/repeat for I think 15? idk how many

you may think, Ennie, that's a bit much, and I say, my attention to detail game is insane when it doesn't need to be but dammit, the visuals have to make sense from a glance. That and the offchance of someone who knows read the monitor would point something out about it. That said! I tried parcing out what EtCo2 is but all I got from it is was "high number bad".

seriously, I spent... a Stupid amount of time setting that up. 🅱️lease clap for me -- I can safely say that I don't think anyone else would go that far.

I told myself after finishing The Incident I was not gonna be doing 5/6 rigs all in one shot again. (🤡)

The lighting situation drove me up the damn wall and after a point, I just said fuck it. What I didn't anticipate was the stark contrast of John and The Werewolf talking and the memory in terms of setting. It's really cool, I think.

I fretted over this part the whole time because I didn't know what order I wanted and what I was going for, but I think I escalated it properly.

For The Werewolf's veins, I had to do the ol' S4S shuffle, but they are a combination of 3, maybe 4 and ofc had to make outfits for the progression, which is why he's still rocking the half-sleeve look (and from an age/timeline stand point makes him 21/22ish). You know what, let's look at them again!

it's a good look

Speaking of... I had to make a lot of The Werewolf solo poses and I found out that uh, it's all in the brows; they can completely change the meaning. It's bad enough with the angles and the general body language. (Or maybe not? Eh.)

Another visual thing -- The Big Scene... that one, I had going back and forth with it until I decided going all white for The Werewolf's eyes (or lack of pupils). It was far more striking and way scarier than the 'blank' eyes I tend to go with.

seriously, I contemplated on tagging it as a jump scare.

Oh! and the shaking of 3 pics, that was spur of the moment because I really kept going back into the post and something was just missing. I have a (cracked) PhotoMosh and I played with the setting a bit and bingo.

It is probably my favorite post so far. I had to settle with the fact that it's not gonna be the one to be spread around. Or any of it really.

Story Stuff:

There's so many crumbs in this! So. Many. There's even a loaf of bread or two. If you tell me what you're picking up on and you're on some kind of track, you get a cookie (🍪). (I'm serious, btw)

John's clearly shook. This may be the first time we've really seen him like this. And The Werewolf is nonchalant... (I will admit John looks very pretty when he's like this lol)

...or is he? I think there are more cracks in the dam than you'd think. A while back in a post that's somewhere on this blog, but John has a tendency to play with his hands when he's anxious.

Another thing that I just noticed is that they didn't really look at each other; I wonder what that's all about?

I've said it once and I'll say it again; even though they share the same body, John and The Werewolf look very different from one another, and I think that's neat.

Jordan being real about taking advantage of the fact that they're getting paid $$$ and they'd be dumb to not take up the offer.

I had to remember that Brian did not know John was a werewolf at this point in time, or even begin to really put 2+2 together. I call it a bit of genre blindness, helped by the fact that this didn't happen all the time. He just rolled with it. Also, wow he looks very young without his tats; ofc this was the college years and he was beginning to fill out/eating good.

Mark is the smartest dude in the whole story. He said, nope, nuh uh, I'm OUT. IYKYK.

There were so many pics I wanted to take of Daniel punching The Werewolf right in the solar plexus (or thereabouts it might've been slightly lower than that). As they say in the FGC, he failed to block that overhead.

I'm glad I decided to leave in the fact that The Werewolf couldn't see too well.

The Werewolf blew his vocal cords out screaming. He said that shit with his soul. Rarely do I go with the funky text with him since that's his "big scary werewolf" voice (that and he rarely speaks like that). My man said "I'll make you suffer my pain." Beautiful. Can't wait to see how that plays out.

That said, The Werewolf did work himself up to the point of nearly killing himself on accident. But as Charles predicted, his body hit the emergency button and shut that shit down.

I spent the most time worried about this part because it needed to get the point across without it being so... cheesy?

also, I have to say? The Werewolf is a Swearwolf. *rimshot*

The Fucking Around part has ended... The Finding Out part is really going to be fun to watch. (I mean, you can already do this if you haven't but now you have way more context.)

There's something about The Werewolf that's becoming apparent (to us). He's still holding back on his actual feelings. Not only that... he hasn't gotten to John himself and I think that's where it's really gonna go down. John knows this; he's not naive to think that he didn't have a role in all of this too. Something to think about.

Charles is a flat out Nasty Man (very derogatory) and yet, I kinda enjoy writing it.

I do love how he is formal with names, "dear ____" and referring to John's formal name Johnathan.

which I always forget this mfer is named Johnathan. Nobody calls him that.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

A Voice Through the Nothingness Part 6

Series Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Contains: Angst, fluff, death of a child, hurt/comfort, still a slow burn but I'm teasing you with flirting.

4.5 K words

Comment if you want to be tagged or follow #a voice through the nothingness.

“Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome.”- Isaac Asimov.

"These fucking stitches won't stop itching." Thomas had recovered in leaps and bounds since Billy started working with him. He was in online school four days a week, making strides in rehab and his videos had drawn in five high paying clients after their kids saw his videos online.

"Well don't itch them unless you want Hazel to appear from nowhere and yell at you." Billy loved his daily rehab session, not just because he got to work on getting better but because he got to watch Hazel in action.

"Dude just ask her out, you're clearly into each other." Billy hoped it wasn't that obvious, he was doing his best to hide it.

"We're just friends, plus, she's basically my nurse, it would be weird." Dr Charles had brought it up in passing that sometimes patients develop feelings for their caretakers but Billy dismissed it, giving him some line about only dating models.

"I have some news." Thomas sounded conflicted.

"Your parents told me, you'll still have your job once you're discharged." The one thing that was getting hard was watching people leave, sure Billy could do the basics but he couldn't live on his own yet and living in the hospital was getting old.

"I'm going to apply for college classes through the online school, I was wondering if I could use an office at Anvil to study while the house is being built?" The job had paid so well that Thomas' parents had been able to buy a derelict lot where they were going to build a house.

"Hell yeah. I'll get it set up for when so it's ready when you leave." As the disappointment at his limitations came over him Billy put all his energy into his next goal. In truth, he didn't have to do much more before he could finally go home, it was just that those few more steps felt like he was walking across the world.

****

"That place was so fancy. Shit if we had that at the VA life would be easy." Curtis had come to Billy's rehab session that day and had spent his whole time swapping stories with the staff.

"Why doesn't someone bring it up to one of those congressmen you guys protect? I'm sure there'll be something in it for them." Billy had to give it to Hazel, she was always coming up with solutions.

"Why not? Politicians love a good comeback story." Billy was ready to get back out there and all this talk about Anvil was making him itch but right now, Hazel and Lizzy were enjoying their break while he and Curt waited for the football game to come on.

"Can you pass me more fries please?" Billy reached across the table and passed her a handful before she dipped them in sauce and tucked in.

"Real classy, Hazel. You know it's rude to eat so fast?" Billy felt she chest swell with affection for Lizzy, he could tell how close her and Hazel were.

Hazel gasped in mock offence, "Hey, I'm super classy."

Lizzy huffed, "I once watched you eat a jumbo burrito in six bites while hunched over a sink."

Hasel tossed a balled up napkin at her "hey, what happens on a double stays on a double."

Curtis chuckled, "Don't worry Hazel, we've all been there."

Billy smiled and stole a fry off her plate, "yeah, Frank once opened an MRE pouched and down it in one swallow."

Hazel's eyes went wide and she laughed as the vision took over her brain, "wow, I don't know how he managed that but I'm impressed."

Before Billy could reply, a beeping pulled Hazel's attention away, "well looks like I'm needed back on the ward. I'll see you guys tomorrow?"

Billy nodded, "yep, I can't wait."

Hazel huffed and gave him that half smile he had learned meant something unpleasant was coming, "you say that now but you have another capacity test tomorrow and I'm not letting the doc go easy on you."

Billy was hit with a mix of emotions, anxiety, apprehension and excitement. "Well then, I better prepare myself."

"Yeah, you better."

****

Billy was awash with nerves as he slowly walked to the occupational therapist's office for his capacity test. It was only four days ago that Thomas was talking about getting ready to leave and now it seemed Billy was in the same place.

"Where's Hazel?" She told Billy she would be there and she was nowhere to be seen.

Lizzy swallowed, "something's happened with one of her patients, I don't think she'll be coming but I'm sure she'll do her best."

Billy rubbed his face as his anger grew, logical he knew she couldn't always be there and there were plenty of times in the past when she was busy working and couldn't spend time with him but as he was leaning in therapy, emotions weren't logical.

"Then were's the fucking doctor?" Billy just wanted this over so he could go back to his room and work on his program.

Lizzy pointed down the hall with a sigh, "just there. Try not to Hulk out, please. If you get through this you've got six more tests to go and then you can go home but if you take a step back emotionally they won't let you leave."

Billy took a deep breath, remembered what Dr Charles had taught him and centred himself as the doctor approached, "alright, we better get this over and done with."

"That's just what I like to hear Mr Russo. Step into my office and we'll start." The doctor opened the door and Billy stepped through, the room was filled with household furniture and exercise equipment. There was a bathtub, steps of various sizes, short balance beams and a handful of things that Billy didn't recognise.

"We'll start over there at the steps, I'll get you to place the ball of your left foot of the edge and try and balance without holding onto the rails." Billy focused on what he had been learning in rehab and tensed his core as he followed the doctor's instructions. It took some doing but he managed to balance without wobbling and the doctor smiled, "good, swap feet please."

The right foot was easier and Billy felt his confidence grow, "good job, now you're going to walk up the steps backwards, do your best to not hold on." Billy turned on his heel and focused on the wall in front of him as he took the first step, then the next, and the next.

"A little bit faster please." Billy felt the frustration rear its head again, he was trying his best but he still did what he was told, "good. See that bathtub over there?" Billy nodded, "You're going to stand next to it and we're going to practice stepping over the edge and getting inside. Once you have that down, I'm going to spread some water on the inside and we'll see how you do on slippery surfaces."

Billy was done, he couldn't stop the rage he felt come over him, "Fucking hell, I'm not some old fuck in my nineties with a broken hip. I've been showering alone for months if you'd taken any time to look at my chart. And who the fuck walks upstairs backwards anyway?" He wanted this over so he could go back to his room, if he thought he was going to waste his time doing this shit, he wouldn't have bothered.

Billy wasn't going to hit the doctor but he wanted to, "Where's Hazel? You can't explain anything for shit and I'm getting sick of it." The look on Lizabeth's face only spurred Billy on, "how the fuck is anyone meant to get better when you don't tell them anything. You clearly don't…"

Lizabeth stepped closer with her hands raised, "Billy, you're right, the doctor should be explaining everything but what's done is done. How about we all sit down and go through what you have left to do and the doctor can explain why, how does that sound?"

Billy took a deep breath and willed himself to calm down, "yeah that sounds good."

Lizzy glared at the doctor one last time before waving towards the desk, "you ask him any questions you have and I'm sure we'll be back to the ward before you can blink."

****

Billy couldn't stop looking at the clock, Hazel was late for her visit and she was never late, "where is she?" His fingers tapped like he was trying to drill a hole in the bed.

"I don't know man, maybe she's busy. There was a huge pile up yesterday, she might have extra kids to take care of." Frank was worried, Billy should be happy he passed his test and was one step closer to going home but all he could focus on was that Hazel wasn't there to celebrate with him.

"Her shift it over, she should be here." A part of Billy's mind knew he was being stupid, she might have had to pick up another shift but she always dropped by to let him know when she had done that before.

"Dude, calm down. Hazel doesn't need to be here every time you do something, being without her isn't going to kill you." Frank understood why Billy was acting this way but it didn't make him worry any less. "I'll go see with Liz knows what's going on, maybe she'll tell you why Hazel isn't here."

Frank left Billy the stew in his feelings, the realisation of their absurdity coming over him as he sat in the quiet. At least Dr Charles was coming later so he could talk to him about how he was feeling.

When Lizzy walked in, he knew something was wrong, "I'm sorry Billy, I really thought Hazel would be here. I shouldn't be telling you this but maybe you can offer her a shoulder once she comes. A kid was hurt badly in the pile up yesterday, it's been touch and go all night but he took a turn this morning. She's sitting with him until he passes."

Billy was hit with a wave of shame, he had no reason to complain, "where's his family?"

Liz shook her head, "he's a foster kid, he doesn't have anyone. She paged me about half an hour ago to let me know it won't be long. She should be here in a little bit."

Billy swallowed, "maybe she should go home a rest, it's not like I have to see her today."

Liz gave Billy a soft smile, "nah, I'm sure she wants to stop in and say hello. Dr Charles will be here in ten anyway so you'll have something to occupy you before she arrives."

"Thanks Lizzy, I'm sorry I was an asshole today." Billy knew he shouldn't have yelled at the doctor but he couldn't help it.

"It's fine, but I expect you to talk to your shrink about it." She didn't sound upset at him but she did sound sad.

"I will, don't worry."

****

Dr Charles arrived right on time and Billy was grateful he could read people so well because he looked sad too, "Have you seen Hazel today?"

Dr Charles nodded, "I did. I'm sure Lizzy let you know why she hasn't stopped by."

Billy nodded, "yeah, is she ok? I know you can't me a lot but doing that can't be easy."

He gave Billy a soft smile as he sat down, "No I can't tell you much but she's how you would expect. It is the healer's paradox, to be good at your job you have to get attached, but if you get too attached, then you can't do your job effectivity. I hear you passed another test today, you must be proud of yourself?"

"I don't know doc, I thought I would be but I'm just pissed off." Billy knew this was normal, he had good days and bad days.

"Well has something upset you or are you just upset?" This was a common question in their session, the answer was always mixed.

"I want to go home and I'm sick of being treated like I can't do anything for myself. There's no point in talking about what I was before the explosion I know that but I want to move on." Billy didn't know what he was trying to say but he learned that's ok too.

"You're allowed to be angry that you feel stuck, most people would in your situation. How have the nightmares been?" Billy had been coming off the meds slowly, Hazel was right, the dreams are weird.

"Not terrible, I'm still sleeping at least five hours and I can remember them when I wake up. I've been dreaming about my mother a lot more." He took a breath, "I hate her sometimes."

"Who wouldn't, she left you all alone in the world. What happens in these dreams?" Dr Charles was always so kind, it was easy for Billy to answer.

"I dream about how I found her but this time she's dead and her eyes shoot open and she's screaming at me, blaming me for everything. I would have given her the world, I would have given her everything she ever wanted if she had just wanted me." His breath caught in his throat.

Dr Charles paused so Billy could compose himself, "But you still took her in. You got her to one of the best care homes in the city and you visited her every week before you got hurt so you do care for her. If she could answer your questions, what would be the first thing you would ask?"

"Why she didn't love me enough to keep me? I've seen the parents in rehab, they would do anything for their kids but my mother abandoned me. I want to ask her if she ever thought of me, I know she never checked on me, she could have taken me out of that group home but she didn't." Deep down, Billy knew why, she was a drug addict most of her life, the only time she was sober was when she was carrying him and the moment he was out, she was using again, she couldn't be a mother.

Dr Charles nodded, "I think her giving you up was a sign that she loved you and I'm sure that if she could have kept you she would have. You're very likely leaving here in the next month, how do you feel about being able to see her again?"

"I don't know. Frank's been keeping an eye on her so I know she's doing ok. It would have been nice to have her here." Billy was feeling better by the moment but he always felt that was during his therapy sessions.

"You're allowed to not know, that's what we're here to sort out. We have some more time, how about we pick up where we left of yesterday and walk through the explosion again?" Billy could remember most of it now, he could even remember parts of the ambulance ride but there were still blanks and he hated it.

"Sure doc, I'd like that."

****

Knock knock

Billy was expecting the dinner cart but when he looked up he was greeted by Hazel with a little while box in her hand, "hello." 

Billy smiled, "hello, what do you have there?" 

"I made some cupcakes yesterday, I brought you one to celebrate your success in your assessment today." Despite her smile, she sounded so sad. 

"Wow, cupcakes from home. You must have a lot of faith in me if you brought it in without knowing it I'd pass." Frank had gone on and on about how great her food was, he only wished he could try for food under happier circumstances. 

She sat next to him at the table and slid the box across, "I do. The cupcake is triple chocolate with chocolate icing." 

Billy opened the box, the icing was beautifully piped, and little chocolate shavings were dotted around the icing peaks, "shit this looks good." 

Hazel smiled, "please wait till you have dinner, I don't want to ruin your meal." 

Billy chuckled, "sure." She still seemed sad, even if she was doing her best to hide it, "Liz told me what happened today, are you doing alright?" 

Hazel shrugged, "no but I'll be fine. It's not the first time I've had to do something like that and it won't be the last. I'm sure you've been there before too, comforting someone in their last moments is easier than you think it's going to be." 

Billy nodded, "I've been there more times that I like to count, but you're right, it's strange how easy it is." 

"His name was Harry, I didn't get to talk to him but he was wearing truck socks. The end was peaceful." Hazel's eyes were stuck on a stain on the table. 

"You did the right thing staying with him, it happened a few times when I was a kid. The nurses always made things better." He reached across the table and took her hand in his, it feel like too long since he had touched her. 

"No one should be alone at the end, I don't understand why he didn't matter like everyone else." Hazel's effort to take a deep breath and compose herself failed and her chest heaved. Billy slid around and wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her head in his neck as she started to cry. 

Something about it felt right, like this was what Billy was supposed to be doing. He could see himself being there for Hazel after a long day at work, sitting with her on the couch while she talked about her day. Her arms slid around his body and he hugged her tighter as she calmed down, "You're getting so strong." 

Billy chuckled, "yeah, like you said, you're kinda mean. I'm worried if I don't lift enough weights, you'll hit me with them." Her laugh filled his chest with warmth. 

Hazel pulled away and wiped her face with a sniff, "I'm sorry, that wasn't really appropriate." 

Billy waved his hand, "no, it's fine, we all need a hug sometimes. Maybe you should stay here for a while? You can get dinner from the cafe and we can watch some MMA reruns, you know, end the day on a good note." 

Hazel smiled, "that actually sounds really good." They shifted around and Hazel settled next to him while Billy turned on the TV, "you wanna get something from the cafe too? We can use my discount." 

Billy smiled, "sure, what's good?" 

Hazel thought for a moment, "only four things, the fries, the cheese melt, the greek salad and the ice cream sundaes." 

"The cheese melt sounds good, maybe we can get two of those and two salads?" Billy was happy that Hazel didn't sound sad anymore. 

"Good idea, we can order when the meal cart comes along." Hazel shifted closer and their knees touched but she made move to shift away. 

"Can I share my cupcake with you?" I'll feel bad if I'm the only one enjoying it." Billy wasn't going to lie, he was trying to charm her. 

"I'm not going to say no to that." The way she looked at him made Billy think it was working, "I have some good news, Thomas' last day is on Friday, we're going to have a little party for him and it would make everyone really happy if you were there." 

Billy smiled, "I wouldn't miss it for the world." 

****

Friday came in a rush of more time with the occupational therapist and Billy running himself ragged to make his next milestone so he could leave. He was happy to go to Thomas' party, he even got Frank to bring him a nice pair of jeans and a dress shirt.

When he walked into rehab, Hazel was already there in a set of light blue scrubs covered in sunflowers and a party hat. The smile she gave Billy when she saw him lit up the room and she waved him over with a flurry. He smiled at her as he took in the details of her scrubs, "you look nice."

"So do you, I love the shirt." For the first time in his adult life, a compliment from a beautiful woman had him feeling shy.

"Are these your party clothes?" Billy wondered what Hazel looked like in a dress, he imagined she could look good in anything.

"Yep, I only own scrubs so I have this set when I have to go somewhere fancy. I have a lacy set for dates." Billy took a deep breath, she was flirting with him and he was going to give it right back.

"Ooo, red or black?" He had no idea what had changed but he liked it.

"Green, it suits me." He could see she was holding back a giggle but she didn't do a very good job and with a smile from him her face was breaking out into a grin.

"When you two are done with the foreplay, you wanna come and celebrate?" Lizabeth had been looking at Billy strangely since the night Hazel showed up in his room and he wondered if Hazel had told her something.

"Sorry Lizzy, we'll be right there." Hazel turned back to Billy with a smile, "no funny business now, we got to keep room for Jesus when we dance."

Billy shook his head, "I wouldn't dream of it."

****

This was the most fun party Billy had been to in a long time, over the course of his stay, Hazel had taught him that children had much richer lives than he thought and he found himself listening to them go on and on with genuine interest.

Right now, he was chatting with one of Thomas' friends from the ward about how New York had the best Pizza because of its water. Hazel was looking at him every now and then with a smile on her face and Billy found himself wondering what it would be his life would be like if she was in it in different circumstances.

Hazel came wandering over with two cups in her hand, handing Billy one and giving the other one to the boy he was sitting with, "are you telling Billy all about the superiority of New York water?"

Billy smiled, "yeah, I'm mean, now that I have all this information, I'm definitely going to win the debate every time this comes at up work."

"New York Pizza is the best miss, there's no question." Billy could see how comfortable her patients felt with her, it was like magic.

"Well, Mr Doran, maybe Hannah would like to hear your theory." The boy followed her eye line then popped up with a smile, gave Billy a quick goodbye and raced off.

"Are you allowed to do that?" Billy could see clear as day that the boy had a crush on the girl Hazel had just pointed to.

Hazel nodded, "Of course, they've talked every day since she checked in. I'm just helping him out, her favourite food is Pizza."

Billy chuckled, "is there anything you can't do? You're the best nurse on the ward, killer in rehab, an amazing cook, a matchmaker, hell, you're even a good shoot. What's your secret?"

Hazel smiled and reached out her hand as the music grew overhead, "I don't know, maybe I'll tell you after a dance."

Billy took her hand with a smile as everyone moved to the middle of the room and placed the other hand on her waist. They kept a respectful distance but that didn't stop Billy from trying to take in every detail of her face, the realisation that she was a foot shorter than him hitting him like a ton of bricks, "you're kinda short, you know that?"

She giggled, "I work with kids so it doesn't matter. You got something against short people?"

Billy's chest filled with lightness, "no, I'm just making an observation."

"Ahh, an observation. You make a lot of those." Billy wasn't going to lie, he enjoyed flirting with the nurses and doctors on the ward but Hazel was something different.

"Are you telling me I have a reputation?" He couldn't if she was boosting his ego or giving him shit but he liked it either way.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure if you weren't a patient you'd a very busy man." Something about the nurses talking about him behind his back emboldened him even more.

"Hey, I'm a romantic, who says I wouldn't find a winner and settle down?" Hazel knew that was bullshit, Frank saw to that every time he had the chance.

"I'll believe that when I see it Russo." There was a pause and he got caught in her gaze, he couldn't remember the last time a woman looked at him the way Hazel was. His eyes drifted to her lips but before he collapsed under the overwhelming urge to kiss her, Thomas' parents called everyone over.

She blinked like she was yanked out of a trace and smiled at him, "are you ready to day goodbye?"

Billy smiled back, "it's not really goodbye, he's going to be working for me."

Hazel let out a single laugh, "yeah, you're right. Come on, we better go get us some cake."

Billy's fingers itched to pull her back in but he stopped himself, "good idea."

****

"You know he's not technically your patient?" With the party over and everyone back in their rooms, it fell the Hazel and Lizzy to start the clean up.

"Yes he is, I was instrumental in his recovery. I don't know what you're getting at Liz but you need to drop it." Liz could see Hazel's feelings from a mile off.

"But he wasn't, other than helping in rehab, you gave him no medical care and need I remind you, his friends helped him in that area too." Lizabeth knew that it wasn't unusual for patients to devolvement feelings for their careers but she could see this went deeper than that.

"And you know that no matter what, there's no way to tell what feelings are real and what's been caused by him being hurt. He was there for me at one of the worst times in my life for half an hour and then I didn't see him for two years. Nothing good can come from pursuing that." Hazel might have had feelings for Billy, but there was no way she was going to act on them.

"So give it a few months and then try again. You know the hospital won't care. I know you might be blinder than a bat when it comes to this stuff but this isn't what you think it is." Liz knew her friend, she knew Hazel would never take advantage of a patient.

"I'm just saying, maybe you shouldn't treat Billy like a child by thinking that his feelings are only transference. He might have a head injury but he's not stupid." Liz knew that was a low blow but she knew that's where Hazel was going to go.

Hazel sighed and put the broom down before turning to her friend, "please don't. Just let this go. In a few months he will forget about me, he needs to leave all this behind him."

Liz huffed, "you don't know him very well at all."

Part 7

[daisymae-12]

Bold All That Apply

Thank you for the tag @cha-melodius I had a fun time !! 🌞 includes ramblings because, as usual, I cannot shut the fuck up and I'm an over sharer, sorry in advance 💀

APPEARANCE: i’m under 5’5” // i wear glasses/contacts // i have blonde hair // i prefer loose clothing to tight clothing // i have one or more piercings // i have at least one tattoo // i have blue eyes // i have dyed or highlighted my hair // i have gotten plastic surgery // i have or had braces // i sunburn easily // i have freckles // i paint my nails // i typically wear make-up // i don’t often smile // i am pleased with how i look // i prefer nike to adidas // i wear baseball hats backwards

Ramblings: I used to need glasses 24/7 but I hated them so this year I was over it and just went fuck it and got night contacts so now I need nothing during the day !!! Absolutely LIFE CHANGING. Also I've never dyed my hair but I get a lot of people assuming I have. A friends mum refuses to believe me and straight up accuses me of lying?!?! The other week my SIL asked me where I went to get my hair dyed and I'm like bruh this is my natural colour you've known me for 11 years 💀

HOBBIES AND TALENTS: i play a sport // i can play an instrument // i am artistic // i know more than one language // i have won a trophy in some sort of competition // i can cook or bake without a recipe // i know how to swim // i enjoy writing // i can do origami // i prefer movies to tv shows // i can execute a perfect somersault // i enjoy singing // i could survive in the wild on my own // i have read a new book series this year // i enjoy spending time with friends // i travel during school or work breaks (if i can afford it) // i can do a handstand

Ramblings: I quit my architecture job 5 years ago to be a full time artist/illustrator ✌🏻 (haven't actually been working these last two years because reasons but I'm going to art/create/work again next year woooo 🤪) You know in hindsight maybe turning my hobby into my job isn't all that great 😂

RELATIONSHIP: i am in a relationship // i have been single for over a year // i have a crush // i have a best friend i have known for (more than) ten years // my parents are together // i have dated my best friend // i am adopted // my crush has confessed to me // i have a long distance relationship // i am an only child // i give advice to my friends // i have made an online friend // i met up with someone i have met online

Ramblings: Can't believe I'm saying this but my husband and I only started talking in high school because a mutual friend needed the two of us to FAKE DATE to play a prank on another friend and then we started dating for real 💀 I cannot make this shit up. brb writing a fanfic based on my life 😂

AESTHETICS: i have heard the ocean in a conch shell // i have watched the sun rise // i enjoy rainy days // i have slept under the stars // i meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me // i enjoy the smell of the beach // i know what snow tastes like // i listen to music to fall asleep // i enjoy thunderstorms // i enjoy cloud watching // i have attended a bonfire // i pay close attention to colours // i find mystery in the ocean // i enjoy hiking on nature paths // autumn is my favourite season 🍂

Ramblings: Surprise surprise I have nothing to say!

MISCELLANEOUS: i can fall asleep in a moving vehicle // i am the mom friend// i live by a certain quote // i like the smell of sharpies // i am involved in extracurricular activities // i enjoy mexican food // i can drive a stick-shift // i believe in true love // i make up scenarios to fall asleep // i sing in the shower // i wish i lived in a video game // i have a canopy above my bed // i am multiracial // i am a redhead // i own at least three dogs

Ramblings: These are really random?? I don't have three dogs but I would like a life-like groundhog statue to put in my garden. My extracurricular activities involve doing whatever my friend is into at the moment. Lately it's been tennis but I've made a lot of excuses so I've managed to escape that so far. (I do have my tennis racquet ready though! so maybe one day!) Now he's into lawn bowls which I'm actually intrigued by so I'm going to go do that next week 🤔

No pressure tags (also fyi you don't need to do the ramblings, i just added that 😂 but if you do I will 100% read it) @myheartalivewrites @heybuddy-drabbles @suseagull04 @cultofsappho @celeritas2997 @14carrotghoul @read-and-write- @gwiazdziarka @purgingmyemotions + anyone else who wants to do this really random tag game LOL

[krsive-writes]

Speedrun

Title: Speedrun

Author: krsive

Rating: T

Tags: Empty Calories, Fluff

They called him Super Rick Fan, which Morty had to admit was a fair assessment. He just couldn’t help it. Ricks were just so cool. They were tall and handsome, with those sapphire eyes and cocky grins. And Ricks could do anything, anything in the world. They made portal guns and drove space ships and captured teams of Mortys to grace them with their godly presence. Super Rick Fan would have been the best Morty a Rick could ever have if only he got the chance, but for some reason they always fled him. Even his own grandpa had pronounced him crazy and dumped him on the Citadel one day, never to return.

On a normal Sunday afternoon, Morty sat in his claustrophobic living room working on his new hat. He had designed it himself, and now he was lovingly rendering the peaks of a classic Rick hairdo in blue felt. In wandered his roommate, Mixologist Morty, late rising after a closing shift at the bar. Morty barely looked up until Mixy came to hover over him, casually holding a bowl and spoon.

"Ok, d-don't start," Morty said, watching Mixy chew on a bite of his cereal.

"This is so cringe," Mixy replied, his mouth full.

"M-Maybe I'm cringe but at least I know what I want."

"There's no 'maybe' about it.” Mixy sat on the other end of the couch.

"I can't help it. Every time I think about a big strong Rick h-holding me close, I just..." He sighed, feeling sappy.

"You're a h-hopeless case," Mixy agreed.

"I want my own Rick so bad. Is that too much to ask? I-I'd be a good Morty. No, the best Morty if a Rick would just give me a chance."

The corner of Mixy's mouth twitched upwards. "Bet you'd do anything to get a date with a Rick."

"To have a Rick pay attention to me a-a-and kiss me and..." He trailed off into private, erotic thoughts, face warming.

"So, say I had a Rick's number right here," said Mixy, holding up a folded piece of paper between his fingers.

"Gimme!" said Morty, making a lunge.

Mixy snatched the paper away. "Ah, ah, ah! What's it worth to you?"

"Anything."

"Like cleaning the food trap in the dishwasher?"

Morty's stomach soured just thinking about it. "The one we haven't cleaned in two years?"

"The one and only."

"Is it a real Rick's real number? And d-don't lie."

"It really is. Last night this guy came to the bar, and..."

The previous night...

"He was such a cute li’l shit, look," Rick slurred, waving the wallet-sized photo in the bartender's face. In it, a 6 year old Morty smiled expansively at the camera, his face smeared with blue from his melting popsicle.

"Uh huh." The bartender spared the picture a glance, which Rick appreciated. He was already planning to tip big because the 'tender was a Morty—probably exploited, poor thing—but he mentally added to the total for the kind gesture. "Tell him I said cute pic."

"He's dead." Rick's melancholy was mellowed by the haze of alcohol.

"Geez. I'm sorry. Another?" The bartender held up the bottle of run he'd been serving Rick from.

Rick nodded and nudged his empty glass towards the boy, who mixed him a new rum and coke. "I never got to meet him in person. He was 8. Car accident."

"That sucks."

"I just want my very own Morty to love." Rick gazed despondently at the photo before putting it away.

"Aren't there tons of Mortys up for adoption?"

"The agencies, uh..." Embarrassed, Rick bought himself a moment by taking a drink. "They all rejected me. Too ‘enthusiastic.’"

"How about catching one?"

"I couldn't do that to a sweet little Morty! Those manipulator chips are barbaric.” He sighed. "I would never hurt a Morty. I just want to hold one close and count his tiny fingers and smell his hair..."

"You're a real Super Fan, aren't you?"

"I'm the number one Morty fan of all time," Rick agreed

"So, actually, I kind of know a guy you m-might like."

"A Morty?" Rick couldn't hide his excitement.

"Yeah. He's really into Ricks. I can give him your number if—“

Rick was already scribbling it down on his receipt.

And now back to the present...

Morty was shaking in his shoes, pacing while the phone rang. What if Rick didn't answer? What if he didn't want to go out? So many things could go wrong. Maybe he should just hang—

''Hello?" a Rickish voice said, flattened a bit by the phone line.

"Rick?"

"Morty?"

"Is this the Rick who wants to go on a date with Mixy's—th-th-the bartender's roommate?''

"You’re the bartender's roommate?"

"Yeah. I'm..." Morty's mouth felt so dry. "I’m F-68—“

"Can I just call you Morty?"

Morty's smile was so big it made his cheeks hurt. "Yeah! I mean y-yeah. I'd like that. What's your—“

"I'd like it if you just call me Rick, too."

"I'd really like that."

"I know it's super fast, but..." Rick took a shaky breath. "Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

"Nope! I-I'm all free," said Morty, now planning to tell his manager he was sick. This was far more important.

''The Gaflorpian cherry trees are blooming. We could have a picnic.”

"I'll pack it! I-I'm a good cook," said Morty, though he had never really tried before. How hard could it be?

"We could meet at the 12th Residential District City Park at noon.”

"Sounds great, Rick."

"Yeah. Sounds great." Morty could hear the sappy smile in Rick's voice.

Cooking went very, very poorly, so Morty waited the next day at the park gate with a backpack stuffed with cheese, fruit, and crackers instead. He was wearing his new Rick-hair hat despite Mixy's efforts to make him leave it behind. It was only ll:41, but he was already crying from the stress, fearing that he would be stood up.

Then a special Rick rounded the corner, headed for the park. He was wearing a homemade felt hat shaped like a Morty's hair, As soon as they saw each other, something sparked between them. The air was electric, fizzing like champagne with barely contained energy as they made introductions. But they were both shy and relatively quiet on their way to a private spot beneath the trees.

Petals fell like rosy snow every time the wind shifted. They made bashful small talk and nibbled the charcuterie (it turned out that Morty wasn't a fan of most of the fancy cheeses, but he pretended anyway), both blushing and giggly. Soon their shoulders began to relax and their words flowed more smoothly.

"Ok, ok. Me next. favorite." color. One, two, three—“

Both answered at the same time.

"Blue!" shouted Morty.

"Yellow!" shouted Rick.

Morty fell into a fit of giggles. "We should both start liking green, then." His eyes flicked up to Rick's. The warmth he saw there gave him palpitations.

"We could live in a little green house," said Rick, though then he seemed to catch himself. "I mean if we—“

"We should!" Morty put his fingers to his lips. "I-I mean..."

Rick reached out, silent, taking Morty's hand tenderly. Morty's eyes welled with tears. This felt like a dream come true. He gazed longingly at Rick, hoping against hope.

"If you let me love you, I'll love you forever," said Rick. Morty could hear a tremble in his voice.

''Oh, Rick..."

"I feel like I've waited for you for so long. I..."

"Me, too. I love you already." Morty moved forward on his knees, and Rick held him close. "Will you be m-my Rick?"

"Of course I will, Morty. And I’ll protect you, I’ll make you smile. I'll be so good to you, Morty. And we'll run around all over the place doing Rick and Morty things, just every day, Rick and Morty stuff. Forever and ever, Rick and Morty, in the green house Rick and—“

Morty couldn't wait any longer. He threw his arms around Rick and crashed their mouths together in an inelegant kiss. Rick pushed his hat off to tangle his fingers in Morty's curls, pulling him in to deepen the kiss. Rick's tongue was so nice against his own, warm and strong and assertive. Morty let himself be kissed, let himself be lowered to the grass on his back. Rick's strong body held him down. Morty's nerves stood on end, and when Rick asked his permission to touch him all he had to say was yes, yes, yes!

Two months later, after the honeymoon, Rick and Morty sat together in a slowly cooling bath in their little green house. Rick's magical fingers were kneading the ache out of Morty's back. They had never been so happy before, neither of them.

"My Morty," Rick sighed, as he sometimes did. It was like he couldn't believe how lucky he was.

"You make me feel s-so special."

"You are special." Rick kissed the tip of his ear. "You're my Morty. The best Morty."

"My Rick. The best Rick." Morty craned around to catch Rick’s lips. They kissed, lingering, heat beginning to build.

"'You’re all..." Rick whispered.

"…I've ever wanted," Morty finished.

[mjparkerwriting]

15 Questions 15 Mutuals

Thanks to @squarebracket-trick for tagging me!

Rules: Answer the questions as yourself or as an OC of your choice. Some people have done both which is cool.

Gently tagging (I'm sorry if you've been tagged in this already): @sarahlizziewrites @distinguishedgentlemanswritings @ryns-ramblings @btranscrolls @harps-for-days @nightlylaments @alnaperera @kckramer @thewardenofwinter @karolinarodrigueswrites @kaiarchives @the-stray-storyteller @maiwritesbooks @inkspellangel @cabaretofwords

Using Seth, one of the main POV characters in my WIP.

Are you named after anyone?

Not that I know of. I've never thought to ask and no one has said anything about it.

[Both of my parents' grandmothers had the same name so mine is just a version of that. My middle name is a combination of my parents' mothers' middle names.]

2. When was the last time you cried?

I'm not gonna pretend like I'm some macho man dripping with bravado. I cried in that swamp. Before that, I cried in my bed because...well, for reasons. It happens.

[LMAO just cried like two days ago. It will happen again.]

3. Do you have kids?

I'm literally 20 years old. A child would ruin everything for me.

[I am a 24-year-old teenage girl. One day I'd love to, but today is not that day.]

4. Do you use sarcasm?

No. (Note: That was sarcasm)

[I can't not use sarcasm. It's a problem.]

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Their hair. How it's styled. How clean it is. How neat it is. Hair is important in my culture. Mine probably looks like shit now, but usually, I take good care of it.

[Clothes and shoes. I'm big on fashion. I love collecting shoes and trying new styles. I'm always curious about other people's styles.]

6. What's your eye color?

Brown. Dark, dark brown.

[Also dark, dark brown.]

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

I love movies. I make movies. I don't think you can compare the two, though. Scary movies are a different form of art that not everyone gets. It's more than just the scare. It's the tropes. The characters. The score. I will say that I don't always like a happy ending, so I guess my answer is scary movies.

[I love scary movies. BUT, I'm a sap and I cry at almost everything, so a good happy ending is always nice, too.]

8. Any special talents?

Can it truly be considered special, if I'm good at everything I do?

[I don't know. I like to bake cookies lol. Not to be that person, but I don't know if I have a special talent. I've done a lot of different things, so maybe just a Jack of All (a few) Trades.]

9. Where were you born?

Oklahoma. In a hospital close to the rez.

[I'm from the US.]

10. What are your hobbies?

Watching movies. Making movies. Reading.

[Besides reading and writing, I like collecting things and watching movies and TV. I don't know if this is a hobby, but I like trying new foods.]

11. Have you any pets?

I mean, there's the rez dogs. That's about it.

[I have a cat <3]

12. What sports do you play/have played?

I played basketball in high school.

[I played basketball for about 4-5 years. I used to fence and I was in marching band (it's a sport. don't start).]

13. How tall are you?

Are you trying to be funny? Haha, we get it. I'm not tall.

[5'6, but I wish I was just a few inches taller. Just 2 inches would be nice.]

14. Favorite subject in school?

Debate, of course. After that, probably Psychology.

[English. Creative Writing. History.]

15. Dream job?

Movie director and/or producer would be a dream, but we have to be realistic here. I'm getting a degree in PoliSci so I can have a real job that'll pay real bills.

[I've wanted to be a teacher since I was like 16 and I'm doing that now, but of course, a writer. I think I can do both, so I'm kinda living the dream?]

[jennawynn]

Chronotrek: TNG S1 Part 1

For those who are seeing this in their tags for the first time- before this, I'd only seen the Abrams movies and a handful of episodes across the various Trek serieseseses. I've been doing as close to a blind, chronological viewing as possible, only shifting between shows at the ends of seasons (not jumping around if there's time travel involved.) So far, I've gotten through Enterprise, S 1 Discovery, Short Trek/TOS Pilot, Disco 2, Short Treks, Strange New Worlds, TOS, TAS, and the 6 TOS movies. I'm now venturing into The Next Generation.

The first 6/7 episodes have given me the following observations:

1- I hate how leaned back the chairs in the front are. Reminds me of my person's car and how I always have to pull up the seat because it feels like I'm laying down and can't drive.

Hey, I've heard of Q. Why would Picard assume that Q knows 1) what a phaser is and 2) what setting it is on?

I'm kind of glad that they immediately went to having a musketeer beam aboard lest someone think this is a serious show lol

Was that engineer in shorts? Oh... some of the men wear _skirts_? Let me look something up... Skants. I feel like this needs that Will Smith gif about he's a little confused but has the spirit lmao. That's a terrible name, though (as is skort tbh and that one's real).

There's a _battle bridge_? And you can separate the saucer? I guess that's how they get away with this being a ship with families on it, though I'm not really clear on WHY they have families aboard. Is it intended to be away from spacedock for years on end? Or a generational ship?

Why would they do such a risky maneuver (separation at speed) just because they don't know what Q is?

Riker looks so silly clean-shaven. My mental image of him certainly includes the beard.

Fun fact: I have a cousin named Ryker after Riker.

3- Why did everyone hate Wesley so much? That's basically all I know about the character- that fans hated him. And that it's Wil Wheaton.

silly!Picard is ridiculous. Such a contrast to the mental image I have of him.

5- Still pulling everyone off the bridge (away from their consoles) to chat, huh? What if something were to happen that required quick response?

Four eps in and Picard has basically surrendered twice?

Riker is... comically oversized compared to the rest of the crew.

6- I really don't understand why Wesley was so hated. I mean he's pretty obviously someone's self-insert (or supposed to be the relatable figure for the younger viewers) akin to the teen heroes of dystopian fic. He's basically just Trek's version of Anakin or Luke. But usually male fans eat that shit up. Was it mostly the older TOS fans who didn't like him because he's young and 'obnoxious' and not 'paying his dues' etc etc bc the older fans saw him (and young fans) as a threat to their egos and their perceived superiority in trekdom?

8- Oh so they actually leave the captain on the bridge now? Reminds me of our houseboat trips on the lake in ROTC- I much preferred being XO to CO- I got to be hands on instead of just giving orders. The CO wasn't allowed to _do_ practically anything.

[leasthaunted]

Ghost Business. 

In 1990 The Ohio State Reformatory in Mansfield Ohio ceased operation as a state prison. The imposing structure had housed around 155,000 inmates between the time it was built in 1896, and when it closed almost 100 years later.

It was due to be demolished, despite having been declared a historical landmark in 1983, but then two things saved it; first a little film called The Shawshank Redemption chose it as the setting for the titular prison, and second: Ghosts.

"Red, you ever think this place is haunted?" "What the shit Andy?"

A local historical society was able to purchase the old prison from the state for reportedly, $1.00. (Which is insane!) But despite the cheap price tag, the costs of maintaining a former prison and keeping it from falling over soon mounted up. Perhaps the kids were going to lose the recreation center after all?

But then, the Mansfield Reformatory Preservation Society came up with a bold and interesting plan. What if we charge people to come look for ghosts?

Look at this magnificent haunted son of a bitch!

They began running ghost tours and renting the space out to paranormal investigators, as well as hosting spooky events. The money raised through this was then used to maintain the building and keep it standing as a historical landmark. Good for them!

But then, the rest of Mansfield wanted a cut of that sweet sweet spectral spendola! Local business people started asking The Mansfield Reformatory Preservation Society about how they could get in on the action? After all, they had haunted shit too!

By 2009 there were six other haunted attractions in the town, and Mansfield was appealing to tourists as a world premier paranormal location.

Which brings up the main point I want to talk about. The Paranormal Economy, and Exploitation of Supernatural Entities.

In the case of Mansfield, the utilization of people's paranormal beliefs for financial gains had an altruistic origin: Preserve a historic building. But maybe, just maybe, we don't need to keep an ancient monument to incarceration and industrial prison complexes? Maybe, the prison could have been demolished and the land made into a park? A Nature preserve? Low Income housing even?

This is of course easy for me to say. I wasn't there, and I don't know all of the intricacies of the situation. But let's assume you are a ghost, and therefore, that ghosts are real...

In life you were sentenced to serve a term at The Ohio State Reformatory. It just so happens that the crime you were convicted of is one that is disproportionately charged against people of lower income, people of color, and the easily exploited. Fact is, you were there for bullshit reasons. Sure, there are actual monsters in the prison with you, but a lot of the prisoners really don't need to be there.

Where was I? Oh yeah! So, due to atrocious conditions in the prison and inhumane treatment of inmates in the early 20th century, you got sick and died. You were only supposed to get 3-5, but instead you got death from indifferent bureaucracy.

So you died, and it turns out, Oh No! You're a ghost and are now stuck in this fucking prison until at the very least it gets demolished or destroyed. At which time, who knows what happens? You move on? I don't know.

But you never get to find out! Because the prison continues to stand. And it stands because people want to come pester you in your eternal prison, like a ghost zoo, and they pay for the privilege of doing so!

Then the entire town gets in on the action as well. The town that definitely once based some of its economy on the presence of a state prison and all of the accompanying industry that comes with, is now basing part of its economy on that same institutional building. Time is a flat fucking circle.

Look, The paranormal entertainment industry is huge! Just do a quick search of "Ghost Shows" or "Ghost Detecting Equipment". A lot of money is generated off of something as immaterial and unverifiable as ghosts and spirits... Which actually isn't that different from the entire concept of money in general....

It's all a fiction based on make believe and pretend!

The ghost tourism industry is just one spooky arm of the issue. For over a decade one of the most popular ghost hunting shows, Ghost Adventures, has aired on The Travel Channel.

This show has "25 seasons" and has spawned over 8 spinoffs and related shows... On THE FUCKING TRAVEL CHANNEL!

Advertisers make money off of it, travel channel makes money off of it, the "Ghost Adventures Crew" makes money off of it (although Zack definitely makes more than Aaron), makers of paranormal hunting equipment featured on the show make money off of it, the haunted locations and the economies around them make money off of it, and so on, and so on.

And that is just with the one show! History Channel has tapped into the UFO and Monster side of paranormal television and have several shows of their own. And I'm not a believer, but, it still just feels really gross? You know?

Like remember how in Ghostbusters, our heroes find irrefutable proof of an afterlife and their first instinct is:

$$$$$KA-MOTHERFUCKING-CHING$$$$$

Like, never mind the fact that these are apparently human souls they are trapping and imprisoning. What gives them the right? Apparently, "the free market" does. You know that other faceless, formless, demonic god that controls everyone's lives? It's super fucked up is what it is.

It is always good to think about who or what is being exploited to bring us our entertainment, goods, and other shit. We boycott certain brands of non dairy milk alternatives because they enslave monkeys to harvest coconuts, OR we stop going to certain fast food places because their corporate overlords donate to causes we disagree with. We avoid using certain online mega retailers that exploit their workers. We try to use our pitiful spending power in a futile attempt to change the world around us for the better... Or at least we do until doing so becomes too inconvenient, or we just can't fight it anymore...

I mean, the deals are JUST too good! Join the PRIME COLLECTIVE

I guess all of this is just me trying to grapple with the inescapable hell of end stage capitalism and a world that is dying due to corporate and marketing greed. And I at least had the sliver of hope that after I died, I could at least be free from the specter of capitalism.

But as it turns out, that even if there is a second ghostly existence, there is no peace. Obnoxious asshats that look like the unholy love child of Hollister and Hot Topic will come to your home and stick blinking lights in your face, throw broken radios at you, and scream that they "JUST WANT TO TALK!" Which is all bad enough, but then add to that that someone somewhere is making money off of it?

Not even in death can we escape Capitalism. FUCK.

[nathank77]

5/28/24

2:25 a.m

I mean idk if I'm going to respond to the only not fat white girl that messaged me first bc of her no kinks, Jesus christ my lord and savior, no kids/no desire to have kids or adopt, and of course her no car... being in New York, like I have the money to drive to her and then she wants vanilla sex and she doesn't even want children. I want kids.

I mean if I wanted to drop all my money on a girl I would have pursued Jenny harder. She was gorgeous. She had a car. We shared interests and I mean I stood a chance but I knew she wasn't going to marry me and I would have wasted a lot of gas and time driving to her (she had her own place) and I would have wasted a ton of money I didn't have. She wasn't the type of girl who would pay for a guy and I get it, most girl arent but being on disability I need a girl who isn't closed minded on this. Out of state doesn't work unless she comes to me. And being real, the economy is shit- I need a girl in state less than 40 miles away so I can pull my weight too.... cause everything is expensive.

One of the major reasons me and Katie didn't work was bc I wanted kids and she didnt. It was a big conflict for us. We didn't want the same things.

I mean the state and lack of car is enough. It's too bad she's cute. I could, "respect" her religion and just not engage but I'm not adding hundreds of my miles to my car driving to new York and spending hundreds on gas as well as hitting up car repairs from traveling to see her. She's got too many deal breakers..

Maybe I should just take it like this- she's cute and thin and sent the first message. Maybe a girl in ct who is cute and thin will send the first message soon. Someone who isn't a Bible thumper. Someone with a car. Someone who won't kink shame.. someone who wants kids.

I already stopped talking to the no body shots girl.. I mean I sent one message and she responded but I don't want to waste her time. She'll be like I'm "talking" to a guy, no you're being friend zoned. I mean why waste her time?

I would say my new pictures are working but only cause of the cute thin girl. I don't think I would have caught her eye if I hadn't changed my pictures up.. maybe a no glasses profile is in order. I was looking at this hot guy on fb and it's like when he isn't wearing glasses 😍 once he puts them on I'm like ehhh I can't see his beautiful blue eyes. I like to look at people. He is cis. I'm not interested nor is he, I met him through a friend nonetheless he is nice to look at.

Anyways:

This is my only other option:

I bet she didn't even click my link and if she did she didn't even give me 7 seconds. Lol

DESPERATE to leave Africa. She thinks I'm stupid in two ways- I'll give her, her green card and YouTube has analytics... I can see how people get to my channel and how long they watch. What they watch. When they watch. My gaming channel is dead as a door knob.. and it's weird, YouTube advertising stopped all of a sudden, it didn't show up on my analytics much but I haven't seen it in a while. Idk why YouTube was advertising me to begin with I thought Maybe it was her. But idk how anyone could pay for someone else's channel to get advertised anyways. So who knows?

YouTube had a questionnaire a while ago and asked basically if you're a minority and I put trans bc I am... and maybe that led them to advertise it? Idk

All I know is my channel is dead. My trans channel isn't popping like it was but it's still popping.

I don't get why my gaming channel doesn't get more love. When I look up let's say- silent hill 1 good plus alternate ending hard mode. I see like 5 minute videos of the actual ending playing. Or fan made videos commenting on it. It's hard to find complete playthroughs and guides. I have all the same tags and somehow all my videos get put into invisible land and I don't get it bc when I look up these tags I don't have competition. Not really. I have some. But not really especially on Playstation. Hdcp is hard to bypass.... and my content is special bc of that. I get full game guides up of the original games... and somehow I am in invisible land. Also my movement on silent hill is disgusting in a good way... it's too bad no one sees it

I could become the next big guy on YouTube if anyone could find my videos- beyond that I advertise my stuff the best I can between, Facebook (I can't spam obv), reddit, tumblr (I made a silent hill one and posted my video with tags) and then true achievements... I do try to put it out there.

All I know is my tags are good. And my content mostly silent hill is special compared to my competition.. like far cry anyone could post.. but not silent hill Playstation.. the games are rare and bypassing hdcp is hard.

I don't get why I get put into invisible land. Yea my camera is big but that's my watermark I got to protect my gameplay.

Most people can't make James move the way I can..I'd never post a silent hill game or any game without my camera at this point. The stuff I post is good and I can't let people steal my content. Even though no one is seeing it.

Beyond that I posted stellar far cry 2 content without my camera and I'm pretty sure someone stole it. Idk for sure all I know is it's possible and my tags are good... with my camera in the corner you can't steal my gameplay... steal my bo4 stuff idc cause you didn't do it and I'm not trying to be a professional cod multiplayer guy but that's all I'll post without my face in it and only cause I got my try hard face on lol