#one day i'm hoping to actually write down all the similarities between them as teenagers

[witchmd13]

Heyyy so i encountered or rather reencountered a Dutch song by comedian Claudia de Breij (went to a show of hers today! Was great) and it most of it made me think of jess? And his like father-y relationship with Luke?? If they were both less emotionally constipated, that is. I translated it, was wondering what you thought <3

Hide could also mean in this instance "take shelter"

And i dont know how accurate of an English sentence 'could i come to you' is, but its basically the same thing as 'could i come over [to Your house]'

When the war comes

And i have to hide

Could i come to you?

If there comes a club

That i dont (want to) belong to

Could i come to you?

If there comes a rule

That i cant fulfill

Could i come to you?

And if i have to be something,

That ive never been

Could i come to you?

(chorus)

Could i hide with you?

When i cant anywhere else

And if i have to cry

Will you dry my tears?

Cause if i could come to you

You can always come to me

Come whenever you want

Ill keep a room free for you

When the storm comes

And i am afraid

Could i come to you?

When the night falls

And its too dark for me

Could i come to you?

When the spring comes

And im in love

Could i come to you

If the love comes

And i know for sure

Could i come to you?

(chorus x2)

When the end comes

And i am afraid

Could i come to you?

(x2)

Reading this actually made me tear up. it fits them so well. I've been reading and re-reading the lyrics for the past 5 minutes and every time I get tears in my eyes.

thank you so much for sending this to me. Jess and Luke's relationship is very dear to me. it's one of the primary reasons why s3 is my favorite season. even at his most destructive, luke loved jess so much and jess did too, even if he didn't realize it until he grew up. like that scene when jess wouldn't comes back to stars hollow for liz's wedding but only agrees later because luke asks him to? and when jess almost freezes in his car because he's a stubborn idiot? and luke waits in his truck until he made sure jess got into the dinner safely? it makes me tear up every time. they're both too emotionally stunted but they care so much about each other.

"when the war comes, and I have to take shelter, could I come to you?"

"you're hoping for reciprocation? You got it. I'm here, Jess. I'm always here."

(I hope you had fun at the show btw! 💙)

[sixofcrowdaydreams]

There's a handful of reasons I relate to Wylan so strongly, but one of them has to be the unique experience of being an illiterate adult.

A few years ago, right before the pandemic, I moved across the world to work in a country where I didn't speak the main language. None of the languages commonly spoken in my new home uses the Latin alphabet so attempting to read and pronounce any letters/words in an unfamiliar writing system has been difficult.

Just don't be ignorant, you might think. Learn the language! For the record, I did. Well, I started to, but then the pandemic hit. My language class stopped and strict quarantines limited opportunities to practice. Two years and two babies later the world opened back up. Work and my tiny dictators, I mean, toddlers have kept me too busy to throw myself into learning the language with the gusto I once had. But over the years I've learned enough to get by with basic pleasantries: hello, goodbye, thank you, yes, no. Numbers 1-10. And how to order food at a restaurant. "How are you?" "Good." Unfortunately, that’s the limited extent of my conversational abilities.

The alphabet still trips me up and I often feel like a kindergartner slowly stringing syllables together and incorrectly sounding out words. Plus, there's the bonus of pronouncing the words but still not knowing they actually mean.

So I relate to Wylan a little bit in having to navigate the world at a disadvantage, one he cannot fully understand. Luckily for Wylan he can speak even though he can’t read, which gives him more coping strategies than are available to me. But you don’t realize just how much is written, especially in the modern world, until you are unable to read it.

Being an illiterate adult is a humbling experience. I cannot emphasize that enough. Book Wylan is a teenager, but was thrown into the “real world” and left to fend for himself as if he were an adult. Show Wylan is an illiterate adult who was also more or less thrown into the wild world. And I’d like to imagine that he shares similar illiterate adult encounters and experiences with me.

There isn’t a moment that I forget that I can’t read the language around me. However, it’s very easy to tune out the writing. To be blind to it and not see signs or labels because my brain stops looking for them, unable to to understand them.

Getting lost. Knowing the name of the place, a building, an address, the street that I'm searching for, but not being able to locate it by sight even though it is right there.

Walking past shops and stores unable to read their name and wondering what’s inside. What do they sell? What business do they hold? There’s no way of knowing unless I go inside myself.

Shopping and buying items based on the image on the packaging. Trying to figure out if there’s any difference between two items. Occasionally guessing wrong, buying the wrong thing.

Need instructions? Written directions (like for cooking)? Lol, Guess I'm going to wing it and hope for the best.

Being unable to read a written menu and ordering something generic because the restaurant probably serves it.

Putting off chores that require using the skill I don't have.

Having to act overly polite to everyone (regardless of how I feel) because I am the inconvenience when everyone else is just living their normal life.

Being treated like a child because, in my inability to read, I have the skills of a child so people will treat me the same way they would a child. And worse, all the while still having to act so polite about it because again, I am the inconvenience, even though I am being spoken down to like a child.

Accidentally, unintentionally being rude because I can't follow the sign's directions.

Pretending that I can read (or speak). Sometimes nodding along and agreeing with without any context is easier than a admitting I don't have a clue what's happening.

And in the modern day... I rely heavily on my cell phone to translate the way Wylan would use speech to text features. And there are times when there's no cell service, the phone or app stop working correctly. The translations/transcriptions are imperfect and confusing. It's scary when those safety nets stop working.

So yeah, being an illiterate adult is quite the experience. It can be exhausting. I am incredibly lucky that in my case it's due to living in a multicultural world and that given the time and patience, I could became literate and fluent in another language. The entire experience gives quite the insight on the hurdles and experiences Wylan might face.

[semper-legens]

40. The Time Traveler's Wife, by Audrey Niffenegger

Owned: No, library Page count: 518 My summary: Henry met Clare when he was twenty eight, and she was twenty. Clare met Henry when she was six, and he was thirty six. Henry travels through time, a strange genetic quirk which sees him rocketing around his personal timeline at apparent random. But how can they live a normal life out of sync? When Henry disappears for days at a time into the past or future? When Clare is left waiting, hoping for his return? They cannot control time, after all. And they cannot fight fate... My rating: 2/5 My commentary:

A little while ago, my friend Megan and I were in London, looking for last-minute tickets to a show to fill our time between the shows that we'd booked. With few affordable options, we found ourselves settling down into the cheap seats of The Time Traveler's Wife to see what was what. Now, we'd never read the book before, nor had we seen the film or the more recent TV series, so this was our first engagement with the story. And it was...odd! Naturally, I became intensely curious about whether the strangeness of the plot was an adaptational problem or if it was inherent to the story in general. One reservation at the library later, I had a copy of this doorstop in my hand. Now, a lot of people love this story...but I couldn't really see much in there, I'm afraid. Let's get into it!

One of my biggest problems with this story is that, despite being titled after Clare, it isn't Clare's story, it's Henry's. It's really just The Time Traveler Who Has A Wife. Clare is such a static character. She doesn't really do anything proactive other than introduce herself to Henry at the allotted time, and as a teenager attempt to pressure Henry into having sex with her. Once she's in a relationship with Henry, she becomes less and less relevant. At first, she's in university, then presumably she graduates, though it's never mentioned, then she becomes a paper artist. We don't really get to see why she wanted to be an artist, who she is, what she likes and dislikes outside of Henry...her whole life revolves around Henry. She's compared to Penelope from the Odyssey early on, and that's pretty much her whole character. She waits for Henry. She waits for her life to catch up with Henry's, then she marries Henry, then she loses Henry and waits until she can see him one more time. Henry is everything to her and that's all she has. I wound up internally comparing her to the main character of Outlander as I was reading, because these are very similar stories in terms of genre and audience (and protagonist's name, come to think of it), but at least I have a sense of who Claire from Outlander is. She's compassionate, she's caring, she's spunky, she's seen some shit in the war but is determined to make the best of her life. This Clare? Just...doesn't have much of a character.

And this is where I divert to the thorny topic of class, because hoo boy. I don't know anything about Niffenegger as a person, but if you told me she grew up rich I would not be surprised. Henry's mother was a famous opera singer, his father a gifted violinist, and he's a librarian at the Newberry Library in Chicago - like, an actual studied-library-science librarian, not a library assistant like me. Clare's family is lives-in-a-mansion rich, her family has servants, and she lives on her trust fund. Now, writing about rich people is not a bad thing. But this book does not see itself along the lines of class and wealth at all. It takes a long time for us to see how Clare and Henry are living (his salary, her trust fund), and they are mentioned to struggle for money until Henry does some time travel lottery winning. But like...we never see them struggle. Henry keeps his job, despite randomly time travelling away every so often and being caught naked at work and being pulled up for that once. It takes ages for Clare to offhandedly mention she's living on trust fund interest, and she drops that so casually, like that's just a normal thing that everyone does. They have season tickets to the opera! Their lifestyle doesn't change when they become millionaires outside of buying a house! They live in this world of wealth and privilege that is so, so alien to me (and I'm pretty middle class!) and it was so hard to connect to them because of that. These people don't have problems. They just have money.

While we're on the subject of thorny topics, however, let's talk about race! Remember Clare's family servants? One of them is the cook, a stereotypical black woman cook who acts like a mammy stereotype from a 1930s film. Clare has this 'friend' (they interact like twice) who is a black lesbian and she's weird and vaguely antagonistic. And while Henry's family doesn't have servants, they have this family friend, Kimy, a Korean woman who is basically a second mother to Henry, spends her entire time on-page caring for Henry and his father, and speaks in a stereotypical broken English. These are also the only characters of colour I noticed in the book. There's this...joke?...about Clare's friend Gomez being nicknamed Gomez, but he's actually of Polish descent. So two of the three non-white characters here are subservient to the white characters, and that is their entire purpose and characterisation. It's that much more glaring for never being commented on! For Henry and Clare, this is normal.

Anyway. I struggle to understand what the point of this book was. Like, it's not the romance between Henry and Clare, because there's nothing there. We never see Henry and Clare getting to know each other or interacting as adults outside of the status quo of them being hopelessly in love. They already are soulmates when we meet them, and there's not a lot of development there. Is it their ongoing love story? Not really, there's no tension there. They struggle for money for like five minutes. There's the whole baby subplot, but we learn from a future Henry in the middle of it that they end up having a kid, so that gets deflated. The tragedy that Henry's inevitably going to die in his mid forties and leave Clare alone? But I haven't connected at all with either of these characters because they're both paper-thin. Henry gets more development, but it's still not enough. The whole middle of the book is just an exercise in nothing happening until the narrative decides 'we need an ending, time to kill Henry'. And I just do not care about it.

Aaaaaaaaaand I suppose I should end here with talking about the very squicky fact of the age gap in Clare and Henry's relationship, and how Fate plays a part in it. Clare first meets Henry age six; Henry is in his thirties. Clare spends a lot of time coming onto Henry as a teenager, and they wind up first having sex when she is just-turned eighteen, and he is in his forties. Henry kisses Clare when she's thirteen and he's an adult! Not to mention that we see Henry and Clare really getting to know each other when she's a kid - and a little kid, at that - but never as adults. Hell, one of the first things Clare says to Henry is that the last time she saw him he was sucking her toes in their meadow and that she was pressuring him for sex for years. And it's all meant to be okay, because they're fated to be together, I guess. Like, that's the reason we're not meant to find that weird. The time travel works on stable time loops, Henry cannot change the future no matter what he does (we're meant to take that as read, pretty much) and he and Clare are married in the future, so they're always meant to be. Clare has had no other partners, outside of sleeping with Gomez once, which she feels awful about. Henry is implied to have slept around a lot before meeting Clare, and his ex is obsessed with him to the point where it's implied that learning they aren't gonna be together forever is a reason for her suicide, but that's fine and he doesn't feel like apologising for that. Their whole relationship dynamic is fucked! But the book wants it to be romantic, so it's romantic. Just don't think about it, okay? Just don't think about it.

Next up, some fact, and a look at how Indigenous people discovered Europe.

[a-moth-to-the-light]

Songs of the Summer, 2023: Intro & Rules

check out #my fave songs for my (admittedly inconsistent) past best-of lists! consistency is NOT my strength, but i have so much fun writing these & i want to practice finishing what i start, so i hope you'll have fun along with me :)

Intro: A Summer-y (haha)

My listening this summer has been embarrassingly chill. It’s not that I normally dislike really soft tracks—I’m a BOL4 fan, after all—but I definitely wasn’t expecting this many of them on my favorites list, and certainly not in the top spots. I like melodrama; I like shimmery, glitzy things; I like to dance. But this list’s color palette is beige, like a day where the sun is so bright, the heat so heavy, that it just kind of washes everything out. Even most of the dance tracks here are pretty toned-down—the kind you can leave on repeat while studying. 

So, I don’t know, it just feels kind of weird. It’s not that there weren’t any big, exciting statement-songs this summer: Stray Kids and Ateez and Itzy had big, noisy releases, and I just… I don’t know, I couldn’t make myself care about them? My favorite song from the Itzy album isn’t even the cool, fast-paced rock track, which is what I usually like from them—it’s the muted, simple, repetitive “None of My Business”.  And Dreamcatcher’s album, which I think is absolutely stellar, didn’t consume my listening nearly as much as it should have this summer. Instead, I found myself drawn to sleepy indie and end-of-album ballads. Do you see why it’s kind of embarrassing?

And I don’t think it’s that I didn’t have any fun this summer. This summer was actually pretty great, especially considering my how past few summers went. Comparatively, oh my GOD this summer was absolute heaven. Hell, maybe that’s why this list is less angsty. Maybe I’m sick of the angst, and I just wanted a nice, sleepy summer to balance out the others.

Or maybe it’s NewJeans fever. I still can’t stand “Attention” (I'm SORRY), but their laid-back style did finally get to me with “Ditto”, and so my obsession with barely-there, TikTok-ready music this summer might just be a reflection of the NewJeans trend hitting me a bit late. And anyway, strange as my list turned out, I like the songs I chose a whole lot, so I do stand by it!

There was another defining trend of this summer’s music for me: Barbie movie anthems. And not just songs from the Barbie soundtrack—the movie’s super-popular, super-iconic advertising seemed to kick off a trend of unapologetically mean-girl music, arrogantly teenage in a way that I find quite fun (& good for my confidence, too, as an obnoxious, girly teenage being-thing). I loved these releases, from Aespa’s “Spicy” in the spring, to G-IDLE’s “Queencard”, to Kiss of Life’s “Shhh” (though none of these are on the list, the mean-girl vibes will definitely show up). I’ve always loved when Flo Milli took on this kind of aesthetic, so it’s really fun to see 2023 become the year of hot pink, both inside and outside of kpop. Still haven’t seen the movie, but thanks, Barbie! 

Rules

Songs on this list are from singles or albums released between May 12, my last day of spring semester, and August 21, my first day of fall semester. I hope to work in education for the rest of my life, so I figure it makes sense to let the school year determine my list! Though, because it takes so long for songs to grow on me, I’m willing to fudge the rules a bit to encompass some songs that, despite being released a bit before ‘summer’ started, were truly my Songs of the Summer anyway. 

In keeping with my tradition, I’m allowing myself 14 list entries this year (plus some honorable mentions), one for every year of school I’ve completed since kindergarten! 

Blame it on the creative writing class I’m taking this semester, but I decided to, alongside my usual description of why each entry made my list, write a little poem-thing trying to capture what each song feels like to me—not similarity in subject, but instead in atmosphere and sound, was what I was going for. So hopefully you’ll enjoy those as much as I enjoyed writing them, and hopefully they’ll be a good intro to the songs you haven’t heard of before! 

[nightfayre]

Hello!!! switched au anon here! it's been months and the recent chapters really got my brain spinning cause i left off asking the he tian Qs of your au! I hope you don't mind my continued haunting lol

so, like we saw in chapter 383, earning money comes naturally to he tian, so i don't think he'd have much trouble in that regard in your au[?] so what would his struggle be? getting away from his father? needing Cheng in his life but too bratty and arrogant to accept his help[teenage hormones]? stirring up trouble just to fill the void his mother created in him when she left? your original drabble posted on tumblr had mentioned characters mad enough at he tian to want to kill him! what is this boy up to in your story???

also since you mentioned that she li would have more to do with he tian in your au, i wonder what their relationship would be? half brothers? rivals since middle school? they both approached mo guanshan at the same time? the curiosity is killing me!

please do rant away about this au of yours! your answers are pure dopamine >﹏< and maybe if you don't mind, just 50 words about he tian's and mo guanshan's first encounter in your au? pretty please? 🥺

have a good day! <3

hi there!! omg it's been SO long (and that's entirely my fault!)

tysm for your patience and, as always, my response is below the cut!

ohhh, i definitely missed talking about this AU :') thank you for keeping me accountable LOL, seriously!

i love love love that you mentioned how He Tian is a money magnet (especially in customer service roles) because i also thought about that when i was first drafting this AU. however, i quickly came to the conclusion that while He Tian might be an efficient worker whenever he opts to help out for short periods of time - usually to get brownie points with Guan Shan - there is no way in HELL that that boy would last more than a week in customer service. not at his age and with his current immaturity, at least. i'm sure you understand where i'm coming from if you've ever worked a customer service job yourself... especially food service. He Tian is a great charmer, but we've seen him lose his cool relatively quickly and explosively (!!!) after his patience runs out (like when he smashed that man's car??? hello?????? he did not think that through at all, jfc). and since customer service jobs are usually the only positions hiring middle/high school students, it'd be a recipe for disaster. so basically, He Tian is too volatile to work your typical part-time job, so he finds different means of making money.

as for why he's still troubled in this AU? well, I don't think I could narrow the answer down to only one or two things. that'd be like trying to define your own life by a single prevailing issue you face! impossible! so unfortunately, i'll have to leave you to your imagination for this question :)

as for She Li, i'm still very interested to see what OX does with him in the canon storyline. even though they do look eerily similar, i don't think he and He Tian are related (nor are they in this AU), but i do think that there's some kind of connection between She Li and the He family that hasn't been thoroughly revealed yet. using that logic, i intend to explore that same uncertainty in this AU! i have a good idea of what role She Li will play in this fic, but it's not entirely fleshed out yet. honestly, i'll probably spend the rest of tonight doing just that! i hope you don't mind waiting just a bit longer for my answer!

you are such a sweetheart - thank you so much for this ask and all the others you've sent! <33 at this point, i might as well start finalizing the outline and actually start writing instead of daydreaming! instead of a rant or snippet, i'll give you my honest word that i'll hop back into this AU for the rest of this week! i want to see it written just as bad as you do :') and if there are any post-worthy snapshots along the way, i'll be sure to post them ASAP! so keep an eye out! <3

thank you so, so much again dear, and talk to you soon! <3

[moonlitdiane]

Hello! I moved from my old blog, @dianethus​ to here, you can probably call this a re-intro!

Diane | 18 | Filipino-Chinese | She/They | Pansexual | Scorpio | xNTP | Neurodivergent | Psychology Major | Graphic Designer | Practicing Wiccan

I’ve been trying to write since I was around 12 years old with silly little k-pop and percy jackson fanfics. Even though I cringe now whenever I think about the things I wrote, I still believe it was a necessary phase that all writers have to go through to become better.

I mainly write for the #OwnVoice movement that focuses on the South East Asian experience and especially the experience of being queer in an Asian environment. I aim to give the queers of Asian history whose stories never got to be told a voice. I write to expose the world to Philippine Mythology and the stories passed down from ancestor to ancestor. I also aim to conjure up nostalgic imagery in the readers' minds.

low fantasy. I'm not that really good at world building but I'm in love with the idea of everyday magic.

supernatural.

historical.

angst. I'm SORRY but writing and describing pain is a different kind of joy for me.

found family. I'm gay.

cosmic motifs.

enemies to lovers. oh for someone to see all my worst parts and still fall in love with me. also consider: childhood friends to enemies to lovers.

religious trauma & guilt. I went to a catholic school what did you expect?

The Revolution Will Not Be Vilified.

Evil Is Sexy.

Trapped In Another World. I want to be Isekai-d so bad.

Song Fic. Most of my titles are actually song lyrics or my basic outlines follow the structure of a song.

“Slender Aphrodite has overcome me with longing for a girl,”

Somewhere In Limasawa Street is a queer historical fiction story set in 1898 when the Philippine-American war is just beyond the horizons and 19 year old mestiza, Lucena Candella is in the middle of a war with herself. Sheltered and painfully aloof, she meets brave but brash, Urduja Kalangitan, who is as emotionally aware as a rock and who happens to be the Revolutionary Army's best gunman—maybe that's what pulled quiet Lucena to her.

Between paper planes, porcelains, and battle scars, Lucena slowly learns to love, and that scared her. It scared her because she wasn't allowed to love that woman with the scarred smile and wild hair.

This is my main WIP and my passion project. I really wanted to write something that I can dedicate to the queers of history, the indigenous and people of color whose queerness is never told.

The title is a reference to Limasawa Street by folk pop band, Ben&Ben, I actually used the album and a few singles as inspiration for the plot. 

WIP Playlist. This story will be unapologetically Filipino.

“Be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not make room for the devil,”

The Devil’s Choir is a low fantasy story following the adventures of seven unlikely friends who just want to go apeshit and run away from their shitty town. That is until they’re thrown into a you-need-to-save-the-whole-world mess without their written consent. Lucifer and Dionysus show up at their door step, dragging them head first into an abyss that even the Gods refuse to fall into. A war between the golden age and the future, it’s now up to this peculiar gang to save the world from the real threat.

The seven deadly sins but make them moody teenagers. this story has gone through so much revising for years! Found family, enemies to lovers, and unwilling heroes? check.

Unintentionally a copy of American Gods. It was too late until I realized the plot was kind of similar to American Gods. Help. 

WIP Playlist. I smell chaos, don’t you?

“It is true, we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that account we shall be more attached to one another.”

Manila Encounters is a paranormal urban fantasy story unfolding right in the pearl of the orient seas. When the clock strikes 3 AM and the lights of the skyscrapers turn dark—when the city sleeps, the monsters roam free. Deep between the alley ways of Manila city, look out for kids with a certain glow and bite behind their smiles. Look for the ones with sunkissed tans who speak in tongues. Look for the ones whose feet barely dip into murky bay waters and fingertips grazing moonlight. 

A dummy’s guide to Filipino folklore. Manila Encounters was inspired by a hashtag on Twitter of the same name where people wrote their own twist to Filipino urban legends and folk stories.

Oh great, another Percy Jackson rip-off. the main characters are demi-gods or descendants of Gods. Original, I know.

WIP Playlist. driving at midnight sort of vibe.

"You may forget but let me tell you this: someone in some future time will think of us."

And I Love her is a queer romance story about a girl who just recently moved into an old but well maintained cottage in some seaside town in Europe—and she finds in the middle of dusty furniture and underneath cobwebs, a rotary telephone sitting there unused for decades. It rings unexpectedly one day and what greets her is a soft voice belonging to someone who lived 60 years ago.

a dreamnotfound fanfic inspired this. and the South Korean horror film, The Call. 

gay yearning agenda. so much yearning. so much. I’m projecting.

WIP Playlist. My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand, taking mine, but it's been promised to another

A selected list of fics from my AO3 account. It’s gay.

I drowned a long time ago. Sakusa Kiyoomi isn’t in love. He’s devoted. Serial Killer AU.

Maaaring bang magkunwaring akin ka pa? A Tagalog Haikyuu fic based on the movie, Camp Sawi.

Marupok na puso ko. A Tagalog Haikyuu fic where they do the Filipino thing and get drunk.

My good puppy. My first try at writing smut. Jesus Christ.

Be my mistake. Where Kuroo Tetsurou calls up Tsukishima Kei one last time.

Make it hurt. The two times Atsumu Miya saw the entire universe behind Sakusa Kiyoomi’s eyes.

I still have a lot of stories that I hope to finish, I find it hard to discard or erase story ideas. So I hope one day, you can all watch me finish this list.

We Don’t Belong Here / Viva La Filipinas / Luna De Sangre Conspiracy / Lilith and Lysander’s Guide To Immortal Godparents / Lonely Hearts Club / A Lady’s Guide to Princes and Principles / Attack Block / Empty Thrones /  A Double Take / Stupid Cupid / Idle Town / Alice? / The 30 Day Deal / Lost Stars / The Apocalypse Program / Heartstrings  / Disastrously Danae

[shoutocakie]

Hi! I’m a big fan of your work and i follow both Teenage Love and Calm before the Storm. Both stories are actually outside what i usually read but I am greatly satisfied that I started to read them because both stories are amazing in that it both tackles issues that are more or less taboo in society. For teenage love, i wouldn’t say its romanticized because they clearly know the repercussions of their relationship and forgive me but i love how scandalous and fun and pure their feelings are for each other. Whereas for Calm Before the Storm, its focuses on the relationship of mental health and the relationships we form outside ourselves - i get why one comment mentioned about it being reminiscent of Murakami, i think its the raw sadness in both murakami and your story that points to the similarities. Moreover, i love your charaterization of Shouto, its a perfect balance of what the fandom has conceptualized - there is the smart, strong yet ever oblivious and socially awkward Shouto and on one side there is the calm, broody, but also teasing and playful Shouto- and you add on something more to his character that makes it your own. I wish i can tell you exactly what that “something” is but its more of a feeling like when i read work i know its yours because your Shouto has your own vibe in it. And it just makes him more alive? If there ever will be a time where you might take requests, i hope to know more about your Shouto Headcanons. Thank you so much for all the goodness you bring!

T____T Thank you Anon! Now I know why other artists add those crazy gifs to show their indescribable feelings when they get beautiful comments!!! Literally, I printed this and put it in my journal because I'm so touched and I want to remember ten years from now that this is what I was doing and someone else was enjoying the experience with me! I'm really glad to hear that Teenage Love doesn't come off as creepy(?) because when the idea first crossed my mind it made me realllllly uncomfortable until I put myself in that position and was like "...oh, nevermind. He's just a sweetheart and age gaps are social constructs... huh....." And omg there's nothing to forgive! I wrote it a little scandalous to MAKE it fun. I hope their affection for each other balances it all out though~~~ >__< God he's so cute I just can't even anymore... I also really hope I can bring some balance in the later chapters of Calm Before the Storm between the pain and the healing. I think the hardest part of writing that story has been that I'm writing a lot of it from experience, and knowing that trauma begets trauma and how over time it compiles to break you down just makes me feel really worried for Shou... Like I know we don't have canon of him as an adult, and I know he's trying to recover and things are looking better, but all it takes is the perfect storm of bad conditions to throw someone with a history back into the abyss... ALSO OMG THANK YOU KYAAAAAA HE'S SUCH A COMPLEX CHARACTER AND I'M SO HAPPY TO HEAR A READER THINKS I'M DOING HIM JUSTICE T_____T "you add on something more to his character that makes it your own. I wish i can tell you exactly what that “something” is but its more of a feeling like when i read work i know its yours because your Shouto has your own vibe in it. And it just makes him more alive?" I don't think there could ever be a more heartwarming, deeply gratifying comment than this T_______________________________T Thank you so much <3 Maybe one day I'll manage head canons hehe. Currently I have like 7 fics of him on the go, each focusing on a different side of his personality, so pinning headcanons down sounds harder than writing all those fics combined!!! heheheheh Thanks again!! You really made my whole week brighter! (And I've really been struggling lately, so you can't imagine the courage it's giving me!)

[ofherlionheart]

hi!!! two things:

1. I love your writing so much. So. Much. It's everything I aspire to be as a writer, and also just brings me SO much joy and so many feelings to read. I've only read/commented on ch1&2 of the boo chronicles so far, but I'm absolutely blown away. (And you bet I'm coming for the rest of what you've written imminently.) seriously, thank you so much for creating this art and sharing it with us <3 <3 <3

2. I just saw your wip game tag, and am so curious what the other 2.5 WIPs in zsweek are that you mentioned in the tags! :)

okay that's all for now, but I hope you're having a lovely evening(/whatever time of day it is when you get this!) <3

1. hello!! thank you so much for your kind words, you’re truly sending my heart a-flutter 💞

2. lol, the 2.5 is some wonky WIP math on my part. zsweek2021 contains 

(1) the three completed parts of the boo chronicles 

(2) the title/summary/tags/notes of a HSM2 AU (the actual WIP, maybe 70% done, is one part of the ‘renaissance indulgence but make it reasonable’ doc)—this was for the “Secretly Dating” prompt of zukka week

(3) the WIP of part four of the boo chronicles, also maybe 70% done

(4) the rough ideas/thought dumps for days 6 and 7 of zukka week, which are also parts five and six of the boo chronicles.

here’s an excerpt from the HSM2 AU!

Sokka’s minding his own business in the kitchen, chugging orange juice straight from the carton (only because he’s finishing the carton right now, thank you), when Katara sprints through the doorway and hip-checks Sokka into the fridge. He chokes and then shrieks, pulp splattering down his front and his socks instantly getting soaked with juice. “What the hell, Katara?” he shouts.

She grins broadly at him, steamrolling right over his irritation. “I’m the best sister in the world.”

“Based on what?”

“I got you a summer job!”

Sokka blinks, the image of the pre-owned motorcycle that’s been sitting in Piandao’s window for two months now shimmering in his mind’s eye. “What? How?”

“I got a call from Lava Springs—I guess they got a copy of my resume, somehow? The woman on the phone told me they have a summer employment program with our school, and when she offered me a job, I told her I knew a few other model students who’d make great staffers.”

Sokka bank-shots the OJ carton into the sink and throws his arms around Katara, who starts screeching like a banshee. “We’re employed!” he yells over her.

“You’re getting pulp in my hair—”

“I’m going to own a fucking motorcycle!”

She starts jabbing an elbow into him, and he only tightens his hug. “Motherfucker—”

“What’s going on here?”

The siblings freeze and turn to Bato, who’s standing in the doorway with an unimpressed, resigned look on his face. His pale blue eyes take in the tangled teenagers, the orange juice splattered on the floor and wall, Katara’s frazzled bush of hair.

“Katara and I got summer jobs,” Sokka says with a nervous smile.

“Sokka was drinking from the carton again.”

“I only do that when I’m going to finish it!”

“It’s still gross on principle—”

Bato sighs, and they both shut up. “Please clean up before your father gets home,” he says. “He just mopped the floors yesterday.”

“We will.”

When Bato leaves again, probably going back to mend skates in the garage, Sokka gives his sister a gentle squeeze and a kiss on the head. “Thank you,” he tells her. “The universe is already turning summer in our favor.”

———————

He spoke too soon, apparently.

The twin old women are droning on and on about staff expectations and rules, sounding eerily similar to horror movie ghouls as they do so, and he leans over to furiously whisper at Katara, “Are you seriously telling me you didn’t know—”

“Of course I didn’t,” she cuts him off. “I would’ve said no to the job if I’d known—”

“You could’ve looked up their website—”

“If only you hadn’t downloaded a virus from that porn site—”

Yue shushes them, taking Katara’s hand as she does so. Katara instantly eases, eyes going soft as she smiles at her girlfriend, and Sokka sinks in his seat, grumbling under his breath.

They hadn’t known Lava Springs Country Club was owned by the uncle of Drama Queen and her hench-brother until they arrived this morning and Azula was immediately peacocking, alternating between smirking at Katara and glaring at the rest of them: Sokka, the other East High first-liners, Teo, and Yue.

[thatpinkbetch]

I'm going to answer it this way, because I'm actually not a fan of some of those, and I've heard this is the way to do it if you don't want it ending up in the tag or the search I think? If i censor any of the ship names it's not out of malice! I simply don't want any of this to end up in front of eyes that just want to enjoy their ships 💖💖💖 if there is anyone who doesn't want to see opinions against t*d*d*ku, k*r*b*ku, or even iz**ch*ka, please don't read any further! Oh my goodness i hope this is all legible...

Anyways, hello!! Thank you so much for the ask!! I love talking about my opinion avkvmsocnaocjsoxks it also makes me really happy you like my blog 🥺🥺🥺 (I hope this answer doesn't ruin that avskvneognsocjs)

I'll start out by confirming that I'm not a multishipper. It makes me excited to see how the act of shipping itself can make others happy, but it's just not that way for me. I actually never read fanfic until I got into bnha (bkdk is just that powerful 😁😁) I'm actually...a little serious when i ship, or when i enjoy media, i analyze pretty heavily, so also, if that doesn't sound like anyone's cup of tea, i would once again recommend to stop reading and enjoy your day please!

I love analyzing characters and storylines and dynamics, but i will admit, I'm not a fan of most of the ships - not romantically. I think all the characters have interesting relationships to each other, all of the kids are great friends, and I love bonds and friendships so much 🥺🥺🥺

Those first two are perhaps the biggest, at least they definitely were the biggest when I first entered. Once i caught up, I didn't really understand the enthusiasm, but people have fun shipping, so that's nice! I think of those two as easy ships, if that makes sense? They're pretty simple, and easy to digest.

I personally am not a fan of romantic t*d*d*ku for a very specific reason; it feels weird to me for Todo to immediately fall in love with the first person who's ever shown him kindness (since his mother of course). Todo had never had any friends, nor any want for friends, obviously because of the abuse he faced as a child. Mido was his first exploration at a life outside of his father, a life he got to make for himself, it just doesn't feel right to me that he should immediately think "oh, is this romantic love? Is this the one and only for me?" Well, perhaps a teenager might think that way, but i don't think that's actually how he feels deep down, and I'm sure that's something a lot of us have to learn as we grow (I've definitely struggled with my own understanding of romance for the past 8 years). I think he still is trying to learn how to socialize and to make friends and to be a friend (and he's doing SUCH a good job!) But to immediately plunge into romance, which can be complicated, i don't think that would be right for him. I hope that makes sense! I know they're a very cute ship, which makes for fun! But again, I can be a little serious when i ship...

K*r*b*ku kind of falls into similar territory for me? Baku definitely had friends growing up, but he's seemed to always have trouble understanding his feelings and where he stands with others, causing trust issues. Kiri is really the first person he knew where he stood with, a person for him to be comfortable with and feel on equal ground, which i think is such a huge and positive role in his life, and i don't necessarily think that it needs to be romantic - for both of these, i think these relationships are incredibly important, to everyone involved, and making them romantic doesn't make them any more important!! In fact, i feel like them as friends actually can offer a more complex, interesting, and human dynamic between these characters, as sometimes people simply default to romance and then end up pushing for the same old tropes and ignore all the intricacies Horikoshi includes in his writing.

Again, I love Mido's friendship with Todo, and I love Baku's friendship with Kiri. I think these relationships are incredibly important, and friends are incredibly important. People who ship them are having fun, which is so lovely, and i hope they continue to have fun! I hope you personally find more fics about them that make you smile and brighten your day 💖💖💖

Iz**ch*ka is a little difficult, because they certainly are cute, separately and together. I thought they were cutest before Ura was told about her potential crush on Mido, when she was simply a source of bubbly energy and positivity that helped Mido open up and feel comfortable around other people. I feel though that, romantically, it's extraordinarily one-sided, and at this point, i have to wonder if they really are "end goal." End goal for shounen, of course, is hardly ever explicit ahzovndlfjsoxo but i feel like a better storyline for Horikoshi to take would be for Ura to realize that she's been confused, and these feelings haven't really been a positive experience for her. I've definitely gone through things like that as a teenager. Now, the ship can be very cute! They're basically the same person, and they're cute and bubbly! But again, it simply isn't for me.

I think Momjirou is very cute!! Of course, as a lesbian, i sense strong lesbian vibes from Momo, and strong bi vibes from Jirou, and I also saw the ship potential ever since the USJ attack - which i think, so did everyone else ahaovndofjsojfsk they're best friends without a doubt, though i have to say, i really like Kamijirou. She just makes him so soft, and he's so in awe of her, and she thinks he's so funny, I love how supportive he is of her, especially since she can be really insecure 🥺🥺🥺

I also think Ura and Tsu are very cute but another easy ship, and i kind of really like Ochamina 🥺 they're both pink and space themed, they're bubbly and energetic and kick ass, and i think they'd be super cute...

I saved todobaku for last, because, you know what they say, best for last! 😇😇😇

I've said it before, but if there was no Mido (impossible obviously, and i would never want that) then todobaku is where my heart would lie. Baku has never really been shown chasing after anyone except for Mido...and Todo, which really gets at my heart. There's a grudging respect there - very, very grudging ahakckdkfjskdk which i find very appealing! Todo is very important to Baku and he has also been able to show Baku some things about himself that he needed to question and reevaluate. Meanwhile, Todo puts up with exactly 0% of Baku's shit, which i find absolutely hilarious. It's funny to me how Baku wishes to intimidate Todo as he does everyone else, and Todo simply does not care. And Baku wants to be mad, and ends up mad that he can't be mad since Todo is a strong and worthy opponent. They just have such an interesting chemistry, there's so much friction, so much tension, and I enjoy it, particularly since they clearly should be friends, would be great friends, want to be friends, but Baku simply won't get over it 😂😂 I do prefer them as friends, but friends that are incredibly close, two people that understand each other on almost a telepathic level, two people that give each other shit while also refusing to take the other's shit.

I do agree that many people in this fandom seem to think their ship stands on some moral high ground? It could be a disconnect from the previous generations of fandom, or it could also be the growing mentality on this site that everything needs to be a battle of moral superiority, and also that what you like is part of your personality, and if someone doesn't like what you like, then they don't like you or that they think you're factually incorrect. I personally have stopped going into the bn/ha tag simply because I don't enjoy, well, many things i find there, and I'm happy with those that i follow. I've definitely seen hatred and invalidation for both LGBT ships and m|w ships, neither of which I'm comfortable with. I definitely don't go off tumblr for fandom stuff because there's practically no acceptance for any same gender ships, or any queer headcanoning, which, I'll be honest, makes me scared, as i am a very anxious person avdkvndkfje i do think it should be noted that we should be as accepting of cishet ships as we are of queer ships - no debate on this one - but again, you are right when you say that many cishet headcanons have been used to invalidate LGBT voices, and any and all allies must always be aware of this! It is much more often that queer voices are silenced, that queer ships are ridiculed, that queer shippers aren't allowed to enjoy or see themselves. And to anybody that doesn't want to be an ally... Whelp ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ what are you doing here ajxkvmdogjdicjsicjsodj I'm gay

I haven't really read much of anything recently, let alone other ships, platonic or otherwise, because energy has been low for me for a long time. I wish i could participate more and support all my friends and other fans, but it's been a bit of a struggle 😣😣😣 I'm so sorry! Something that I can do is make posts and analyses and metas, as those are quick and make me excited, so I'm always happy to respond to asks like these! (I say as i take two hours to write this response...)

I hope people have been taking care of themselves and remember that tumblr is really good at letting you cater to your own interests! I hope if you've made it to the end of this response that you enjoyed it, and you're not mad at me ahsovjekgjsocjwodkso if you are, that's fine, I'm sorry, I probably am really bad at social/internet etiquette and such that help you filter 😣😣

To any who are curious, you cannot change my mind ahdogmdocjdidk thank you to whoever sent this ask!!! A lot of this is a bunch of rambling I've always wanted to talk about but was frankly too scared to post! I hope I made sense and answered everything you were asking!! Please have a good day/night/life!!! 💖💖💖💖💖

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Is it okay if you write a fanfic about Peter living with Tony and with a high fever. This leads him to be delirious and attacks Tony because he thinks he a villain that is trying to kill him. I'm sorry if it's too much to ask, it's just hard to find a good fanfic with a similar plot to that.

This took me a few days, but I’ve got you!  

Fever Terror -happyaspie (also on AO3)

Warnings: None    Rated: T    Wordcount: 4290

Tags: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Sickfic, Fever Dreams, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parkers Parental Figure ...  ....

The morning light was just starting to peek through Peter's cracked curtains when the alarm on his phone rang out pulling him from sleep.  Without ever lifting his head that was still faceplanted into his pillow, he haphazardly felt around on his bedside table in an attempt to get ahold of the device so that he could quiet the annoyingly disruptive noise.  After knocking several papers to the floor and tipping over a thankfully empty cup he managed to get a hold of the phone only to drop it instantly into the space between his bed and the nightstand.  "Fantastic," he grumbled to himself while reaching his arm into the tight space to fish out the offending item and finally shut off the alarm.

Once the room had grown silent again, Peter's eyes began to drift closed again.  The peace only lasted for a handful of minutes before May was knocking on his door.

"I'm up, Aunt May" he mumbled and then forced himself to sit up, scrubbing his hands up and down his face as he did so.  Soon after, he realized that he was more than a little groggy from a lack of sleep, he was sore from his head to his toes and there was a dull ache settling behind his eyes.  He vaguely wondered if he was coming down with something and wondered if he should stay home from school.  A glance at the date on the cracked screen on his phone made his decision for him.  It was Friday.  Not just any Friday, it was an 'internship' Friday and that meant spending the weekend with Tony.   On top of that, it was the day his class was meant to be taking a fitness test in gym.  He couldn't miss class.  His gym grade was iffy already.  He'd gone a little overboard in his attempts to hide his enhancements.  He was only a handful of points away from failing the class and really, who fails gym?

 "You could have scheduled a retake on the fitness test, you know," Ned unhelpfully stated as they slowly exited the boy's locker room.  

Peter sighed and nodded his head.  "Yeah but I'd rather get it over with and if I'd stayed home then May wouldn't let me stay with Mr. Stark.  Besides, I have a healing factor and super strength, I'm sure I'll be fine.  I just need a nap or something," he said, thankful that the coach started issuing instructions before his friend could say anything else.

As it were, taking the fitness test while not feeling well was both a blessing and a curse.  He ended up not having to do a whole lot of faking it when it came to downplaying his abilities.  After easily finishing the mile run at a leisurely human pace, intentionally letting go of the rope before making it to the top and jumping just slightly higher than Ned, he found himself unexpectedly sweating and struggling to complete the required fifty sit-ups in the allotted time frame.  

"What's the matter, Penis?" Flash snarked from beside him.  "You can't finish fifty measly sit-ups?  Even Ned managed to do more than that. Might need to change your name to Puny Parker."

"Knock it off, Flash.  We all know you lied on your exam card.  There's no way you did ninety-eight sit-ups in five minutes," Ned defended and Peter was grateful, he still needed to do at least seven more sit-ups and he wasn't sure he could do that, deal with Flash and breathe at the same time at the moment.  As such, he continued to only focus on getting his abdominal muscles to cooperate with him, missing whatever Flash had sneered in return.

The remainder of the exam was blessedly easy.  A few stretches and a BMI measurement were manageable.  Even so, the moment they were released to change clothes again, Peter thought he might actually cry.  He was just glad that gym was the last class of the day.  Once he was rinsed off and in his regular clothes, he sat down on the bench, closed his eyes, and drained the water bottle he'd just refilled.

"Dude, you look like crap,"  Ned observed as he plopped himself down beside his friend on the bench.

"Thanks, man.  You're the best," Peter grumbled in response.  When he looked beside him and saw the worry on his friend's face, he sighed.  "I'm fine.  I just tired.  I'll sleep in the car on the way to Mr. Stark's and feel better by the time I get there," he said with a wave of his hand.  Ned gave a dubious look but dropped the subject and soon enough the bell was ringing, signaling the end of the day.

The nap in the car did nothing for Peter's aching body.  It also did nothing for the pain behind his eyes or the mild nausea that had been building since the beginning of the car ride.  That didn't stop him from putting on a happy face and bouncing into the lab, though.  "Hey, Mr. Stark!  What are we going to be doing this weekend?  Do you think we'll have time to look at the web-settings in the suit?  I think I might have an idea for a new combination that would-" he rattled off while dropping his backpack and crossing the distance between himself and his mentor.

"-Are you sick?" Tony interjected before Peter could finish his rambled request, "Because you look like crap."

Peter stopped dead in his tracks.  He wasn't sure why he thought he would be able to hide anything from Tony.  The man noticed every detail of every little thing but that didn't stop him from making excuses.  "I had gym and we did this really stupid fitness test.   Maybe I need a shower before we start," he stuttered, then turned on his heels and rushed out of the room before Tony could comment.

Looking into the bathroom mirror, Peter finally understood Ned, Tony, and surprisingly, Happy's concerned inquiries.  His hair was still damp with sweat, his cheeks were both bright red and pale at the same time and his eyes looked glossy.  He really did look like crap.  He hoped the shower would help with that or at minimum, ease the soreness in his joints.  However, neither of those things happened.  He stepped out of the shower looking just as miserable as he had when he'd stepped in.  Maybe even worse.

As Peter walked out of the bedroom he spotted Tony sitting on the couch and was slightly taken aback.  He'd assumed the man would stay in the lab and wait for him.   "Mr. Stark?" he asked as he rounded the corner.

"Hey, kiddo.  You-" Tony began with the intention of asking the kid if he was sure he was feeling okay but he paused mid-sentence when the teenager flopped down beside him and leaned into his side already proclaiming that 'he didn't feel good.'

"Yeah.  I thought not," Tony replied with a soft smile as he allowed the boy to burrow into him.  "That's why I came back up here to check on you."

As much as Peter wanted to tell the man that checking on him hadn't been necessary, he didn't.  Now that he was sitting beside him, he was actually really glad his mentor was there and he didn't have to trek all the way back down to the lab.   He wasn't sure why he felt so terrible but for some reason, having Tony's arm wrapped protectively around his body made him feel a little batter.  He sat there quietly, soaking up the comfort for several minutes before sitting up with a sigh.    "Can I have some juice or something please?"

"You know you don't have to ask, Buddy.  Just go get what you want," Tony returned with a laugh.  He found it amusing that the kid had been coming over for months and still asked permission to get anything out of the kitchen.  Every time.  

When Peter returned moments later and curled right back up on the couch beside him, Tony sighed.  Clearly he wasn't going to be getting any more work done in the lab.  "I guess I'll start up some movies, we can work in the lab tomorrow if you're feeling up to it, alright?" he siad more than questioned and it was no shock to him when Peter nodded his head and requested Star Wars.

Two movies, another glass of juice, and a bowl of soup later, Peter was more than ready to go to bed.  The problem was it was Friday and going to bed at ten on a Friday was practically unheard of.  Usually, he took advantage of the weekends and stayed up entirely too late.  Especially when he was with Tony.  It was rare for them to go anywhere near a bed before one or two in the morning but when he could no longer keep his eyes open he finally gave. "Is it okay if I go to bed now?" he asked.   "I'm sorry, I'm-"

"You're sick, kid.  If you're tired you should sleep," Tony replied before Peter could finish his unnecessary apology.   "Let's check your temperature again before you head off, though," he added before sticking the digital thermometer under the kid's tongue for what was probably the eightieth time in the last several hours.  "That's not too bad," he said with a half-smile as he read the numbers to himself.  "Here, take your fever reducers and I'll wake you up so we can check your temperature again before I go to sleep, deal?"

"Mhmm" Peter agreed even though he felt like the constant temperature checks were ridiculous.  His fever hadn't changed since he'd taken the first dose of medication after his shower. He wasn't going to argue though.  He simply took the pills, said good night, and laid down in his bed, where he fell into what to become a restless and uneasy sleep.

__________

Peter was sitting on the edge of a highrise casually eating a hotdog while looking over the familiar Burrough.  It was cold outside and after some time he was starting to wonder why the heater in his suit wasn't working.  He could feel the chill starting to crawl up his spine, making him shiver.  He threw the mask back over his head so that he could contact Tony and let him know it needed to be repaired when out of nowhere, someone grabbed him by the legs and tied him up.  He tried to shoot his webs at the unseen assailant but they weren't' working either.  He began to flail leading him to unwittingly fall right off the edge of the building.  With no way to catch himself, he landed on the cement, sending shockwaves of pain through his body.

He lay there for several seconds, spitting out the blood that was pooling in his mouth from where he'd bit his tongue,  before realizing that there was a shadow looming over him.  The person was back-lit and he couldn't see their features but he assumed it was the same person who had tried to capture him up on the roof, so he rapidly sat up and started to scramble backward as best he could but his legs were still bound.  Once he'd hit a wall, he whimpered as the shadowed figure kneeled in front of him and reached towards his face.

He knew that without functioning web-shooters he was going to have to rely on his strength and immediately started swinging.  Within seconds he was able to strike the person's face and for the first time ever, the sound of his balled-up fist making contact with the other person's skin made his stomach clench and vomited without warning.  

As he continued to gag into his own lap he could hear voices but he was able to look up to see where they were or what they were doing.   All he was able to determine was that one was male and one was female.  When his stomach had finished contracting he sat there and squeezed his eyes shut waiting for someone to grab ahold of him as he tried to catch his breath.  Just as he was sure that the anticipation was going to kill him, he heard the sound of Iron Man's thrusters approaching.

Mere seconds later he felt the cool metal of the armor grab his shoulder and opened his eyes.  Relief washed over him and he was just about to fall into Tony's arms when the faceplate lifted.  Though rather than seeing the welcome face of his mentor, he was met with the piercingly green eyes of the Vulture and he panicked.  Somehow The Vulture had stolen Tony's suit and was going to use it against him.  He began to kick his legs and throw punches but the grip on his shoulder didn't loosen.  Instead, it held tighter than ever and he quickly realized that he was being lifted up and practically dragged to a new location.  

He frantically looked around himself trying to figure out where they were going and how he was going to get away.   Knowing that he couldn't let the Vulture take flight, he went limp, dropping his full weight to make himself harder to transport,  all the while grasping at anything he could get his hands on in order to anchor himself.  Expect everything he grabbed slipped through his fingers.  He resorted to squeezing and kicking the armor instead.  None of that worked and the next thing he knew he was being thrust under an outpouring of freezing cold water.  

The icy water came as such a shock that he pulled a gasped breath in and was unable to release it for several seconds.  He was drowning.  He couldn't breathe, the Vulture was using Tony's suit to hold him under the relentless spray and no matter how much he fought and thrashed he couldn't get free.  It took a while but the second he felt like he could take a breath, he started to scream.   "Tony!  Help me!  Please!  Mr. Stark!" he shouted over and over again until he no longer had the strength to get the words out and was forced to fall silent.  At that point, he stopped struggling.  He had nothing left to give.

As his body fell lax against the stolen Iron Man suit Peter closed his eyes and whimpered.  Normally the armor made him feel safe and comforted but know who was inside left him feeling lost and afraid.  He tried to pretend that it was Tony in the suit and mumbled his name.  He was surprised when he heard the man's voice calling back to him saying 'You're safe, Pete.  I've got you.  Mr. Stark has you.'  

__________

Tony had been in his bed casually propped up on the headboard, reading through a few proposals when FRIDAY alerted him that Peter was in distress.  Without further clarification, he bolted out of his own room and down the hall towards the kids.   He opened the boy's door just in time to see him tumble out of the bed and onto the floor.  Noticing the sheet wound around Peter's legs and the blood trailing past his lips, he kneeled down to untangled him and inspect his mouth for injury but before he could get close enough to make contact the teenager's breath quickened and he backed himself up against the bedside table.  

"It's just me, Buddy," Tony said before pulling the sheet away and reaching out to take hold of Peter's chin.  Only before he could make contact the frightened teenager began to thrash and one of his haphazardly thrown punched ended up hitting him solidly in the eye, sending him toppling onto his back.  "I should have expected that," he said to himself, knowing full well that he shouldn't have tried to touch the kid while he was panicking without some sort of acknowledgment.  He took a second to reach up and touch where his eye was starting to throb and hissed through his teeth.  While he knew the teenager had enhanced strength, he'd never been on the receiving end of it before.  He wasn't convinced that his eye socket wasn't fractured.  There wasn't much time to consider it before he heard kid wretching and he managed to look up just in time to see the boy vomiting down his shirt.

"Shit," Tony said to himself.  He'd come into the room, he'd seen that the kid's eyes were open and had assumed that he'd fallen out of bed while having a nightmare and was still trying to recover.  The fact that he'd gone to bed sick hadn't crossed his mind until that very second and at that point, it was all starting to click.  "FRIDAY?  What's his temperature?" he requested despite the fact that he would have preferred to use a thermometer even though he had an advanced AI that was capable of making a similar assessment.  He liked to think that sometimes, the best tool for the job was the simplest.

It only took a few seconds for FRIDAY to read off a number that had Tony cringing with concern.  It seemed that the kid's manageable fever had spiked as he slept.  Knowing that the boy wasn't likely to be cooperative in the state that he was in and not particularly wanting to end up with a second black eye, he opted to call for a suit.  With the servo assistance, he figured he could get them into the shower and cool him down enough to get him back to his senses.

With the armor in place, Tony reached down and grabbed Peter by his shoulder.  He was taken slightly by surprise when the boy's breath slowed at the contact.  Then thinking the worst of it was over he lifted the faceplate only to be met by the kid turning as white as a sheet screaming as though he'd seen a ghost.  "Hey, hey, hey.  Easy, kiddo.  It's just me.  I'm going to pick you up," he announced before hoisting the teenager up onto his feet.

As Tony began to walk Peter became more and more aggressive.  He'd already stopped bearing any of his own weight and had knocked over several things, including a bookshelf in an attempt to get away from his grasp.  The kid had already gone so far as to grab ahold of his armored arm and squeezed so tightly that the suit has warped under the pressure.  He was sure it would bruise and was glad that hadn't been his bare arm.  

"In we go, kiddo," Tony said before firmly grasping the kid around the waist and pinning him down under the spray of the shower that FRIDAY had started for him.  At first, the water was pelting them in the face but after a few struggled adjustments, he was able to readjust their position so that it was landing on their legs and chests instead.  At that point, Peter seemed to find his voice again and began to shout, 'Tony!  Help me!  Please!  Mr. Stark!' repetitively at the top of his lungs while trying to free himself.

Tony offered constant reassurances.  The kid's frantic pleas were causing his heart to ache.  He didn't know what else he could do to help ease the terror that had taken over the boy's consciousness.  That's how they spent the next ten minutes.  Peter screaming for Tony and Tony trying to convince him that he was already there. Though the most heartbreaking part of the whole ordeal was when the boy had finally run out of steam and fell limp onto his chest, still whimpering his name.  "You're safe, Pete.  I've got you," he whispered into the kid's ear.  "Mr. Stark has you."

__________

The moment Peter heard Tony's familiar voice saying 'Mr. Stark has you,' his eyes snapped open and all at once things started to clear up.  Gone was the dark alley and the spout of ice water that had been pouring from a pipe.  Instead, as he looked around, he realized he was in the bathroom that was attached to his bedroom in Tony's penthouse.   He was suddenly unsure of what was real and what wasn't.  When he looked down, he wasn't in his suit, he was in a pair of stained sweatpants.  He tentatively looked behind him, bracing himself for the worst.  He could feel someone holding him and was still unsure of who it was.  His breath quickened for the only moment when he saw the Iron Man armor but relaxed instantly the second he laid eyes on his mentor's face.

"Hey there, Buddy.  You with me now?" Tony asked, not loosening his grasp even after Peter had nodded back at him.  "FRIDAY? Is his temperature back down out of the rafters?" he asked next and when the AI relayed that the kid's temperature was still elevated but no longer dangerously so, he released his hold.  

"What happened?" Peter asked as he shifted his body so that he was laying chest to chest with Tony and curling up in an attempt to avoid the tepid water that was still falling against his back.

"Fever dream," Tony said wishing that he could retract the armor without having to force the kid to get off of him.  "Well, fever terror in this case, I think."

"Am I going to die?" Peter asked with a shudder.  Despite the lowered fever, he still hurt all over and was so exhausted that he could hardly breathe without effort.

"No, Buddy," Tony chuckled before reaching down to push the dripping curls off of the kid's forehead.   "I think we should probably get out of this shower and get you into some dry clothes, though," he said and Peter nodded, though he made no effort to move.   "You've gotta let me up, kiddo," he quietly spoke before helping the listless boy rise to his feet and step out onto the bathroom rug.

After being wrapped up in the giant towel, Peter got his first good look at Tony's swollen eye and bruised arm causing him to panic all over again.  "Did I do that?  Did I hurt you?" he asked, his eyes having gone wide and his lip quivering with feverish emotion.  

"It was my own fault, Kid," Tony said with a half-hearted smile.  "You were panicking and I should have known better than to try to touch you right then."

"I'm so sorry.  I don't- I didn't know it was you.  It was like I was somewhere else and the Vulture was in your suit instead of you and it felt so real," Peer said in an attempt to explain to the man why he'd lased out.  "I thought he'd stole your suit and was trying to drown me."

Tony just nodded his head and wordlessly helped the boy into some pajamas and because Peter's room still reeked of sweat and vomit, he guided his past the mess and down the hallway.  He could feel the boy stiffen under his hand as the entered the master bedroom but he assured him that a bed would be more comfortable than the couch.  When the boy relaxed he helped him under the blankets and handed him a bottle of water and some more medication.  Then after some minor debate, he decided to got find himself an ice pack and lay down on the opposite side of the bed.  He couldn't stop himself from smiling when the kid instantly pressed up against him. "Comfy?"

"Mhmm.  'M tired and you're warm," Peter replied, snuggling in a bit closer.  He was still chilled not only from the prolonged cool shower but the lingering low-grade fever as well.  

Tony chuckled and wrapped his arm around the boy to offer a little bit more warmth and comfort.  "Is that all I am to you?  A warm body?" he quipped but when Peter struggled to answer he had mercy on him and gave him a gentle squeeze.  "I was teasing, Pete.  It's fine.  Go to sleep."

Rather than going to sleep as asked, Peter lay still for several minutes.  He couldn't get past the fact that he'd hurt his mentor.  The man's assurances that he'd been out of his mind when he'd done it were of no help and the guilt was eating at him.  "Hey, Mr. Stark?" he asked, knowing he would be unable to fitfully sleep until he managed to quell the nagging remorse.

"Hmm?", Tony asked, caught slightly off guard.  He'd thought the kid was already asleep and had been on his way there himself.

Peter hesitated for a second and then sighed.  "I'm still really sorry I hit you," he said, turning his head just slightly so that he could see Tony's face.  Though, all that did was cause more guilt to wash over him when he saw the half-melted ice pack still resting on the side of the man's face.

"Yeah well, you can replay me by going to sleep," Tony replied with a smile, "-and not waking up until at least ten.  Preferably fever-free."

"I'll do my best," Peter promised before closing his eyes again.  He still felt awful about the entire incident but Tony was smiling at him and for the time being, that was enough.  He decided he could make it up to him properly when he was feeling more like himself.  Maybe by repairing the armor he was sure he's ruined.  Maybe by swearing to stay home from school the next time he felt like crap.  Maybe both.  He wasn't sure yet.  His thoughts had been cut off by a hand gently threading through his hair, soothing him into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

[miojodetomatin]

♡

hello! so, this is my first time writing some content for Tumblr and my first time writing imagine content for the rami malek tag, and i'm kinda nervous hehehe, since i'm a non-english speaker (i'm from Brazil) and i'm not that fluent in english. also, i've never watched The Pacific (guess who can't find it online for free? hehe), so all the character and the trait of Merriel here were based on other imagines i've read about him

so, i think... good lecture, i guess. aaa somebody help my i'm so nervous

word count: almost 2400 words ;

nothing here belongs to me, except the writing and the story, also the video credits goes to l0user (YouTube) ;

Mr. Shelter

《 Snafu Imagine 》

1945

Nobody was waiting for him at the train station. Even thought it hurted to think about, he knew it would be like this since he entered that goddamn ship that sealed to the Second Great War.

It was past 6PM in the afternoon when the train stopped at New Orleans and let some soldiers get down of it and go back to their family. But Merriel didn't have a family waiting for him, not even Jade was there for him, but he couldn't judge her, he knew it was his fault that she was given to a foster home and didn't even knew he went to war. He didn't even said goodbye to Eugene, because he didn't want to wake the poor boy up. So he get off the train like he appeared, quickly and in complete silence.

He couldn't stop thinking about that situation while he started to walk through the station, passing throught the bunch of couples and families receiving their boys and mans alive from that monstrous war. They at least had someone or a home of their own. But Merriel had nothing and nobody.

Well, he had actually one person, a girl to be more specific, but he was trying hard to not think about that girl. It was just a moony teenage romance, nothing that passed from it. She was probably married to some asshole right now and having to take care of at least 5 naughty children. He didn't liked to think that she was married to another guy, but he knew she wouldn't have waited for him for like... 5 years? God, that's a long time. She didn't even send him a letter. During those 5 years, he haven't received anything, not even a letter. It was hard to see the other boys cheering to some picture or letter that they've receive from their girlfriends and he had to pretend he didn't care.

The day was being consumed slowly by one of those starry nights in New Orleans. The train station looked so dark that Merriel had one hundred percent sure that it was dawn or even dusk, or maybe it was just his mind trying to convince him that being in the battleground was better than coming back "home".

He bumped into something; he was distracted, thinking about the whole thing about coming back home and walking at the same that he didn't even noticed that little kid crying in the middle of the street. With the shock, he let his bag fall and hit the ground, almost making him and the kid fall together. His fast movement allowed him to equilibrate and hold the kid at the same time, before both hit the ground.

"Ay kiddo! Careful. Whatcha doin' in the middle of the street like this? You're goin' to get hurt." Scolded the boy, but as soon as he heard the silent cry and sobs, he regreted being so hard with the kid. "Ay boy, are you okay?" The boy just sobbed louder. "Can you tell me what happened?"

The boy turned and looked at him; his appearance was something else. The curly hair, that blue greenish eyes and thin reddish lips. Merriel felt like he was looking at some kind of mirror or something. Even the olive skin was similar to his. Even shocked with his vision, he felt the necessity of making sure the boy was okay. "What happened, kiddo?"

The kid sniffed and showed what he was holding in both of his hands, a teddy bear without an arm in the left hand and an arm without a teddy bear in the right one. The boy sobbed again. "I, I ripped off it's arm accidentally. Mo-momma is going to be angry at me, i-it's her teddy bear a-and I took him out without permission!" The boy started crying and sobbing hard again. Merriel was shocked due the boy's confession.

"Ay, ay, ay. Kiddo, calm down, okay? Lemme see the teddy bear." He asked, while cowering in front of the boy.

The boy gave him the teddy bear, and sobbing, murmured. "Shelter, sir."

"What?"

"His name is Shelter, momma calls him like this."

"Oh." Agreed, looking again to the teddy bear, with a sad mien. "There's anythin' I can do for the poor Mr. Shelter, the teddy bear, maybe a needlewoman can fix, but I'm just a soldier, I can't do anythin' kiddo. Sorry." The boy started sobbing again. "Ay, calm down. The best you can do now is tell your mother what you've done and hope that she forgives you. Ok pal?" The kid calmed down and nodded, while rubbing his eyes full with tears with his hands. "So, here's Shelter." Gave to the kid the stuffed animal back and stand up, ready to start walking to nowhere when little hands grabbed his own big hands.

Merriel was a little surprised with the boy's propose on taking him back home to tell his mother about what he have done to the poor bear Shelter, and even more surprise when, without hesitation, he accepted the propose. The whole way back wasn't made in complete silence, because after Merriel said yes to that crazy propose, the little boy didn't stopped talking and making the 23 years old man speak and answear his questions; he talked a lot, and Merriel realized that their appearance wasn't the only similar thing between them both.

"You know, momma had Shelter even before I was born! It was a gift from her boyfriend, I think."

"A gift?"

"Yeah, she gained it from her boyfriend one week before he was gone. I think he won Shelter for her on some kind of game, she said it was on a 'county fair', and that it was one of the best gifts of her life!" The boy chuckled and keep telling the strange man about his life with his momma, but Merriel stopped listening. It couldn't be. He couldn't help thinking about the girl again; he remembered when he shot those stupid cans and won the skinny brown teddy bear that looked like the poor boy Shelter just to impress her. She was so happy and excited, looking like a child, when Merriel gave her the teddy bear that she even kissed his nose accidentally. He smiled with the memory of her soft lips at the same time the little boy stopped abruptly.

Merriel looked up and saw the house. It was really pretty, actually; two floors, pastel yellow with some white details on some parts of the roof and the delicatef fences of the porch, where some plants and a wooden bench were part of the decoration, and in front of the pretty house, there was the prettiest garden Merriel has ever seen in his entire life.

"Sir?" The boy called Merriel, who immediately stopped admiring the house. "Come with me and tell my momma what happened to Mr. Shelter? Please?"

Merriel sighed. "I can go with ya, but ya have to tell ya ma what you've done."

The boy agreed and they started walking in direction of the pastel yellow house. When the little boy opened the door, a feminine voice echoed from the kitchen. "Alle, is that you?"

Allesandro looked to Merriel, who signed to him to go talk to his momma. Allesandro agreed and entered the kitchen, letting the marine admiring the inside of the pastel yellow house; so clean and organised, full of books and delicate porcelain objects.

"Allesandro!" The feminine voice screaming from the kitchen got Merriel attention back. "What have I told you about taking my things without permission?"

Allesandro sobbed in the distance. "I-I'm sorry momma!"

"And how am I going to fix it now?" Merriel started walkung slowly in direction of the kitchen. The smell of meat and potato patties was the most attractive smell he have smelled in those five years.

Allesandro noticed when he entered the kitchen. "Bu-but he said he knows someone who can h-help!" And one hiccup escaped his mouth. Merriel was shocked when the mother turned to him. It was her, the girl he had been dreaming all over those five years.

He murmured with a whisper. "Y-Y/N?"

"Merriel?" You murmured the same tone as him. Oh God, you've been waiting for that moment for the past 5 years and now he was there, in front of you. You didn't even knew if he was alive, your father didn't let you have any contact with him after he was gone; and now he was there.

"W-why didn't you...?" He whispered, so low that nobody though himself could hear, but you heard. And it hurted. That sad look in his eyes broke your heart, you wanted so much to hug him and said that you were sorry for not writing him any letter even though you didn't have any idea where he was. "You...?"

"Merriel, I-..." You walked 'til him, putting Shelter, the bear, and his ripped arm over the table and totally forgetting about the meat and the potato patties in the oven. You stopped in front of him, wanting so bad to touch him, to kiss that thin lips that are so delicious and vicious again. "... you're back...!" And then you hugged him, feeling the yerning tears coming out of your eyes in abundance. You could feel that he wasn't expecting you to hug him, shocked by the fact that you still remembered him and even though you didn't send him any letter. "I'm so, so sorry! I-I thought of you every night ans wrote you a lot of letters, but my father, h-he..." Merriel hugged you tight, he kinda understood for a moment. Your father was always a little piece of shit with him, but he couldn't judge the old man; if Merriel's daughter started going out and spending time with some guy that was knew for being a troublemaker and a big trashmouth like him he would be pissed too.

"Momma." Allesandro said suddenly, interrupting the moment between you two. "Do you know him?"

You noticed when Merriel became tense looking at your son. He finally realised and you needed to act fast. "Allesandro, sweetheart, could you go to the living room watch some TV? Momma needs to talk with this man in particular."

Even though Allesandro wanted so bad to hear the conversation, he obeyed your order and went to the living room, turning on the TV on some random show. You supposed it was The World in Your Home.

It was weird to look at Merriel after all those years and having to have that conversation in the most inappropriated way. The smell of meat and potatoes patties suddenly remebered you from the dinner you were preparing before he came. When you approximated from the oven, you finally decided to speak. "I'm sorry, I didn't... I didn't knew you were coming back today, so the meal I prepared for dinner isn't the beast one for your homecoming." You joked, and he kinda gave you a quiet laugh.

He grabbed the chair from the dinner table. "So, Allesandro?" He looked in direction of the living room, where your son was watching TV. "You're now a mother, Y/N."

You could feel the pain in his voice. "I'm a mother." You could only say this.

"And his name is Allesandro. How old is he? Five?"

"Four, he'll be five next weekend." You sighted. It was now or never. "He was named like his father."

"Really?" You turned off the oven, finishing the dinner, and turned to him. He looked like he was about to cry, you didn't want this.

"Yes, Merriel Allesandro Shelton." Merriel looked at you surprised; you smiled, holding back your tears. "You're his father, Merriel."

Merriel chin trembled, and some tears were forming in his eyes. The prettiest and happiest smallest smile formed in his lips.

[ • ]

Allesandro was grounded in his bedroom. After the dinner (the meat and the potato patties were delicious), while you were washing the dishes you suddenly realized how weird that situation was. He brought Merriel to your house, even though Allesandro didn't even know him! Merriel, who was listening to his childish stories and trying to find the most passive way of telling Allesandro that he was the father of your son the same time he was trying to fix Mr. Shelter, realized that after you told Allesandro to go to his bedroom.

Allesandro, grounded in his bedroom, was quietly playing with a wooden car toy he has won from his grandpa in his birthday last year, when he heard in the distance the radio from the living room playing a song.

He was curious about what that radio was doing playing songs so late at the night, so, quietly like a robber, he went out of his room, walked through the corridor and went downstairs silently, like he didn't even existed. Allesandro walked tiptoe in direction to the living room, finally spying inside.

He saw you and Merriel dancing to the melodic voice of Kitty Kallen.

❝Never thought that you would be

standing here so close to me

There's so much I feel that I should say,

but words can wait until some other day❞

Allesandro admired you, his mother, dancing to that strange man so serenely, and smiled.

❝Kiss me once, then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It's been a long, long time

Haven't felt like this, my dear

Since I can't remember when

It's been a long, long time❞

He hated when he was playing in his room and heard you crying above Mr. Shelter teddy bear calling Merriel's name; he planned it for weeks, making sure to find that man you loved so much just to see you happy. And now he realised: he did a good job bringing his daddy back home, even though he got grounded in the end and costed to the poor Mr. Shelter an arm. But making you happy while you're dancing with Merriel made those things look meaningless.

❝You'll never know how many dreams

I've dreamed about you

Or just how empty they all seemed without you

So kiss me once, then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It's been a long... long time...❞

[rockysavannah]

Videl vs. Pan! A Bored Burp-Off!

Description:

WARNING THIS STORY CONTAINS: Female Burping.

If you’re not into any of the above things, please do not read!

============

This could be considered a distant sequel to 'Bulma vs Chi-Chi! A Baby Shower Burping Contest!'.

Pan and Videl are sitting at home one day, bored out of their minds. After a couple of accidental eructations from the pair, they decide to have a burping contest, with a wager set in place to make it more interesting. Will Videl achieve victory, or will her daughter dominate? There’s only one way to find out.

I hope you like it. Any constructive criticism in the comments section is welcome.

============

Originally uploaded back on March 7th, 2017 on Writing.com.

This story was co-written with Jokermask18/JWAPPEL in my interactive.

Since Writing.com basically requires people to need a paid membership in order to do anything on their website, it’s practically impossible for many people to write and read there. Therefore, I’ve decided to post some of the chapters from my interactives onto my other accounts as full-fledged stories so that they can reach a wider audience.

============

The Art of the Thumbnail is a blend of two images. (Since no one had drawn this concept...).

Videl by Seiya-Dbz-Fan.

Pan by Krizart-DA.

Text by me and Jokermask18/JWAPPEL.

============

Son Videl, Son Pan, and Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, Dragon Ball GT, and Dragon Ball Super © Funimation, Toei Animation, Shueisha and Akira Toriyama

(A/N: This is a collaboration with Jokermask18 A.K.A. JWAPPEL.)

Content Advisory! This story contains:

Female Hyper Belching

Taunting

Series: Dragon Ball

Characters: Son Videl, Son Pan

Synopsis: Videl and Pan try to alleviate their boredom by having some gassy fun.

If you’re not into any of the above things, please do not read!

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

It was a quiet Saturday afternoon for the family of Son Gohan. The man of the house was out on business, leaving his wonderful wife and daughter to fend off the onslaught of boredom by themselves. The duo engaged in a multitude of recreational activities—watching television shows and movies, playing video and board games, even training—but nothing could keep their interests for more than a few minutes at best. Both were currently lounging around in the living room, Pan lied half-asleep on the couch and Videl was playing with a paddleball. Videl checked the clock and her eyes widened at the time.

“Oh no, it’s almost dinner time!” she exclaimed, loudly enough to capture the attention of her daughter, “I better get cooking!”

“…Huh?” Pan muttered groggily, until the weight of those words truly hit her, “Wait, dinner?! That sounds great! I’m starving!”

The eleven-year-old girl’s sudden burst of energy got a small chuckle out of her mother, “Well, you’ll have to ‘starve’ for a little longer, because it’ll take awhile to make enough food to satisfy your appetite.”

Pan’s lips curled downward, “Can I at least get a soda to hold me over.”

With an approving nod from her mother, Pan moved faster than a normal human could track, seemingly vanishing into thin air for a split second, before returning to the same spot, only with a root beer in hand. While Videl was getting up from her chair and heading for the kitchen, Pan began chugging the contents of her can. The carbonated beverage cascaded down her esophagus before landing in the pits of her stomach, mixing with the boiling green acids that were already dwelling there, and forming large bubbles of gas from the chemical reaction. Pan put her right hand on her belly when she heard a low rumbling deep inside. She felt pockets of air shift around within her tummy, before some of it was dislodged and evicted up a valve at the top of the stomach. Pan barely had time to register what happened before a juicy belch blasted past her lips, catching her by surprise. Videl stopped in the kitchen and turned to look at her daughter, who just sported a look of content on her face.

“That felt good,” Pan commented with a giggle.

“Pan, you should show better manners than that,” Videl reprimanded with a stereotypical parental finger pointing.

Pan scoffed internally, wishing that her mom would loosen up once in a while, like what her dad said she was like as a teenager. Alas, Videl’s acceptance of her role as a housewife had meant that she sacrificed much of her cooler (in Pan’s opinion), tomboyish personality, so it was unlikely to happen anytime soon.

Videl was about to get the ingredients and kitchen ware needed to make a meal fit for a demi- and quarter-Saiyan, but was stricken with a sudden pang of thirst. Wanting to quickly quench it before getting to work, she fished through the fridge and picked out a can of Jetap, before popping it open and spraying some of the alcoholic liquid on her cheeks. Pan snickered at this, while Videl took a large swig of her drink, draining the can in a matter of seconds. Once the intoxicated fluid splashed into her gut, a similar reaction that happened in Pan’s abdominal area occurred here too. As soon as Videl removed the can from her mouth, a beery burp rippled out of it, having the length, volume, and smell to be comparable to her daughter. When the three-second-long eructation ended, Videl’s cheeks lit up in a scarlet flash.

“Ooohhh my goodness! Excuse me!” she apologized with her left hand clasped over her mouth.

There was a period of silence in the house before the juvenile giggling of the youngest Son member promptly shattered it. “Nice one, Mom! I didn’t think… that you had… it in you!” her compliments were intersped by fits of laughter.

Videl’s level of embarrassment continued to grow, “T-that was just an accident, sweetie. I didn’t mean to.”

Pan rolled her eyes and gave her an unconvinced smirk, “Not buying it, Mom. Dad told me how much of a tomboy you were back in the day and I bet that you miss that time.”

Videl widened her light blue irises, baffled at how her adolescent daughter managed to back her into a corner like this. Then, she started to think about Pan’s words; about how her ‘tough girl’ days were when she was at her coolest. But that was just a persona, right? An act that she didn’t need to keep up when she met her high school sweetheart. Without that, she felt comfortable sporting a more feminine appearance, like her wedding gown when she married Gohan, or the red dress and black leggings when she attended Bulma’s ‘39th’ birthday party. On the other hand, her feistier attitude did earn her some respect from her former classmates at Orange Star High School, and she still found some amusement when she thought back to the times that she beat various members of the student body in burping contests. Perhaps it would not hurt to relive some of that glory one more time.

“Maybe… you have a point,” Videl admitted.

Pan’s grin grew wider, “Great, because I’ve got an idea for curing our boredom: a burping contest!”

If possible, the Son matriarch’s eyes grew wider still, “Really? Well, what are the stakes?”

Pan tapped a finger on her chin in thought, “If I win, you order as much food as I want, when I want, for the next three months; If you win, I’ll do all of yours and dad’s chores on top of my own for the same time.”

Videl pondered Pan’s proposition. The risk was great, but so was the reward. After a few moments, she reached her decision, “Game on, young lady,” Videl answered with a smirk that matched her daughter’s, finally regaining her uncouth appreciation for the immature art of burping.

“Cool!” Pan’s eyes shone in anticipation, thinking that this would make for a gross, but fun, bonding experience.

Videl pulled out at least eight more cans of soda from the fridge and divided them between herself and Pan. After all, one needed the right ammunition for this kind of thing. Pan reached for her first one and chugged the whole thing in less than a minute! With a smirk, she then thumped her chest and let out a nasty sounding burp that sounded like it came from a hardened trucker. Videl was actually a little proud of her for that. That is, until she remembered she was looking at her competitor. The daughter of Mister Satan figured her turn was up and attempted to copy her daughter's opening move. Unfortunately, she ended up choking on most of the soda and launched into a coughing fit.

“You're losing Mommy,” Pan taunted in a sing-song voice before belching again. This one was ever bigger than the last, being five seconds long!

Videl's eyes narrowed as her competitive fire was beginning to reignite, ���I'm not finished yet!” She began chugging her second soda, this time nearly matching her daughter's former pace. Pan was on her second soda as well, though sipping it in a leisurely fashion. It was clear she wasn't worried and this made Videl all the more angry.

Thumping her chest, the daughter of Mr. Satan unleashed her first real belch in the contest. It was decent, though only half as big as Pan's first attempt. Videl scowled, knowing she'd once been able to do much better. Pan responded with another huge belch that won her the bout and began opening her third can. Videl did the same and managed to start off with a belch that surpassed her daughter's previous attempt! The good feeling that came with that was quickly destroyed when Pan unleashed a belch that blew her mother's hair back! Once again, the daughter of Mister Satan felt oddly proud even as she began opening her fourth can. This truly was a bonding experience.

The contest continued on in this way. Videl had actually started to regain some of her old skill but it didn't seem to help. Pan dominated each bout and only grew cockier over time. “Get ready to order Mama, cause I am hungry!” The daughter of Mister Satan only scowled more deeply at this taunt. She refused to let her daughter win. It wasn't just about what losing would cost her either. Now, it was about pride.

But honestly, Videl was getting flustered. She had to admit that her kid was good. Scratch that, Pan was very, very good. As they went through what was now the seventh can for both of them, mother and daughter soon realized that it was almost over. There were only two cans left and one of them would belong to the victor. It was clear from her grin that Pan believed she knew which one it would be. “Ready to give up?”

But Videl refused. If there was anything left over from the Videl of old, it was that. She wondered, not for the first time, just what had happened to that girl? The tomboy who had dominated boy and girl alike in belching contests since she was seven! She even remembered winning a few farting contests in her time. Looking at Pan, she realized that she missed those times. She wanted them back. It was time for her to start thinking like the old Videl again, but how?

After the duo each finished their seventh can, Pan effortlessly belted out another first class burp. Though it was comparatively less powerful than her previous ones, it compensated with an odor that made the matriarch of the Son household go green in the gills. While Videl, with watery eyes, was coughing and trying to fan away the foul fumes, Pan was looking bored. Sure, she was certain that she would be able to pig out on as much food as she wanted to when this was over, which definitely appealed to her Saiyan nature, but there was another thing that her alien instincts craved: a good fight. Her father had gone on about how unladylike and badass her mother was as a youth, so Pan expected at least something resembling a challenge, just to make her victory feel more earned.

However, right now Videl was not proving those stories true at all. In fact, her burps were barely able to get much reaction out of Pan aside from condescending amusement. Either the stories were lies or Videl had simply lost her edge. In any case, Pan found it disappointing, not simply because of the aforementioned lack of challenge, but because she had a lot of respect for mommy dearest. All of the tomboyish tales about Videl, not just of how she shattered gender stereotypes by utterly decimating sexist boys in belching contests, but also of her beating up bullies and leaping into danger to stop criminals. It helped influence Pan into shaping her personality to mimic the mother that she idolized, both as a tomboy and as a hero.

Meanwhile, Videl’s mind raced to find a way to gain an edge over her daughter. Maybe she could use the Dragon Balls to wish for her old personality back. No, that would seem like a waste to use something so powerful to win such a juvenile event. Besides, what would Gohan say about it when he returned home? Nevertheless, if she cannot do that, then how will the daughter of Mister Satan triumph over the gaseous greatness of Pan? Suddenly, she thought back to what her husband said when he taught her how to fly all those years ago.

He said that you have to focus your energy from your stomach, she recalled in her head. Then, she also flashed back to when she heard Gohan say that his mentor, Piccolo, could fire ki blasts from his mouth, Wait a minute. That’s it! Videl breathed deeply and concentrated hard, gulping down air to fuel her belch. She soon felt a spark of ki in her belly and smiled, Alright, she thought, silently thanking Gohan and Piccolo for not teaching Pan telepathy, I’m on the right track, but I should try to limit how much ki I use. Otherwise, Pan will know what I’m up to and just copy me, then, I’ll be screwed.

And so, the metaphysical energy continued to manifest in her stomach, acting like fire boiling water to produce steam as it stirred up more gas than any normal human ever could. When she felt enough build up, Videl proudly forced out the gas using her ki creating a shockwave that blew away Pan’s orange bandana. When it finished, Videl sighed in relief and giggled at the befuddled face of her daughter.

“Wh-what was that?!” Pan exclaimed.

“Well, Honey, I guess I was just a little rusty,” Videl replied, lips curled up into a smirk.

Pan narrowed her eyes in suspicion. She may be somewhat naïve, but she was not stupid. The daughter of Son Gohan found it weird that her mom could just pull out a totally awesome eructation at the eleventh hour after a series of mediocre burps. In addition, Pan could have sworn that she felt a minuscule ember of ki coming from her mother, specifically in her tummy.

Maybe… The quasi-Saiyan pondered for a moment, before dismissing the idea entirely, There’s no way. That’s just ridiculous. She probably just got lucky, that’s all.

Putting the notion aside, Pan opted to pop open her eighth can of soda and began chugging it. Videl soon joined her and in a matter of seconds, both had completely drained their aluminum canisters of their sugary liquid contents. Pan patted her packed paunch playfully, feeling it press up against and peek out under her shirt. It was an expected result given that eight cans worth of delicious carbonated goodness filled that gut of hers, not including the can that she had taken a swig of before the contest officially began. Videl rubbed her own bulging belly, starting to wonder how this competition would affect her figure afterward. However, she pushed that thought out for the moment, instead focusing on the here and now.

“Well, do you want to start the final bout, little lady?” Videl inquired with a smirk.

“Sure, but you’ll regret it, trust me,” Pan replied, matching her mom’s smirk.

Pan proceeded to gobble down as much precious oxygen as possible, making her abdominal area inflate even more so. She held her breath, and after a while, she was starting to become blue in the face, which made Videl frown in worry. The mother was about to ask if her daughter was all right when Pan decided to unleash her outright abominable eructation right in her face. It was by far her greatest/grossest one in the whole competition. Pan’s oral expulsion of air lasted an astounding ten seconds, actually shattering some of the windows, which Pan had a feeling would come out of her allowance even if she won. However, the smell was again in a category of its own, as the guttural belch blast carried a sickly green cloud of gas out of Pan’s mouth. Said gas cloud was composed of an amalgamation of every food and drink that the Pan had devoured over the past week, which to a full blooded human would have been a month’s worth of nourishment.

“How was that, Mom?” Pan giggled smugly after finishing.

“Ohhh…” Videl moaned, wholly discombobulated, “That was so nasty! I think that I’m going to hurl!” she slapped both hands over her mouth to keep herself from doing so.

Pan giggled even louder, savoring her mother’s disgusted demeanor. Eventually, Videl regained her bearings and threw a piercing glare at her daughter, at which Pan only snickered, “I take it that you didn’t like my magnum opus.”

That straw broke the camel’s back, Screw it, Videl thought, I don’t know if it’s the lingering nausea or seething anger, but I’m going to put this brat in her place, no matter what! That’ll knock her arrogance ass down a peg.

Then, she got into a battle stance, her legs spreading out two feet apart and bending at a 90° angle, and closed her eyes. The quarter-Sayian cocked her left eyebrow, confused. “Uh, mom, what are you doing?”

However, Videl closed her eyes, tuned her  daughter out, and took deep breaths. Pan frowned at the silence, but widened her eyes as she felt something weird happen in her mother. Once again, the daughter of Mister Satan manifested her ki in her stomach, though now it was much larger, to the point that Pan could clearly sense it.

Huh? Why is there so much ki in her stomach? Unless… Pan thought, until her eyes widened in realization, It’s true! She did do it before and she’s doing it now!

As Pan was trying to process the current situation, Videl pressurized the gas in her stomach by charging up ki in order to increase the power of her burp. Meanwhile, a glow formed in her stomach, the heat of her ki causing her to sweat profusely. After a while, she felt a huge burst of energy finish building up pressure in her belly. This feeling made her smile in anticipation.

“Oh, boy, here it comes,” Videl exclaimed excitedly.

“Here what comes?” her offspring questioned.

Videl ignored Pan and used her energy to channel the gas out of her belly. The glow intensified as it, the ki and the gas traveled up her body before entering her mouth, causing her cheeks to bulge outward and filling Videl’s mouth with a light bright enough to make her puffed out cheeks translucent. Then, she raised her head slightly away from Pan to avoid possibly hurting her and became the first person in history to burp out a blast of energy.

“*buuuUUUrrrrrrRRUUUuuuuuuuUUUCH!*”

Suddenly, her mouth snapped open and she belched out a large yellow ki beam, which rocketed past Videl's lips and barely missed the top of Pan’s head on its trajectory through one of the broken windows. The burp itself echoed throughout the house, shattering the remaining windows, and knocking down several books, expensive plates, and other belongings. The duo looked to see the blast vaporize some nearby trees, both of them gawking at the trail of burnt grass and destroyed foliage.

“Whoa, even I didn't expect that,” Videl admitted with a blush.

Pan turned back to her mom, “That… was… awesome! Let’s keep going! I want to do that too!”

Videl paused for a moment, but then chuckled at the absurdity of the situation, “Ok, but the loser gets punished for six months in lieu of three.”

“Deal!” Pan shouted, her eyes shining with enthusiasm.

Both remembered their unfinished cans of soda and grabbed them for the true final bout. They were going to need it!

Once the beverages had been consumed, the empty aluminum husk that previously held them were discarded and Pan began the final bout by pausing to focus her ki then:

“*BRRRRrrrRRRRRUUUUUuuuuUOOOOOOOoo-oooooOOOOOOOrrrp!!*”

A big energy blast shot from her mouth, twice the width of her mother's effort, though it only did a little more damage to the house by burning a few extra holes in the walls.

Videl applauded politely, then sucked in and: 

“*beeeeeeEEEEEELLLLllllLLRRRRRrrroooOOOOOaaAAAAARRRRrrrrrRRRRP!!!*”

She not only managed to outdo her daughter, but shot out a stream of ki balls from her mouth in rapid succession. Pan was forced to jump on top of her chair in dodge in a rather comedic fashion. Videl laughed out loud at this when she was finished and an evil gleam suddenly entered her eye. Turning her gaze towards the ceiling, she forced out a small burp that resulted in a single ball of ki knocking some debris onto Pan's head, the quarter-Saiyan scowling in response.

“Okay Mama, you've had it!

*BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIG BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRP AAAAATTTTTTTTAAAAAAAAACCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!!!!*”

Videl's eyes widened as her daughter unleashed a huge belch that contained a variation of one of Vegeta's most powerful moves. It packed enough force to blow her through the wall of her home and leave her smoking on the already slightly scorched lawn. Pan laughed at the sight and began jumping up and down in an absurd little victory dance.

“Yes! I win! HAHAHAHA, I am the best!” This bratty sing-song voice awoke something in Videl and she slowly pulled herself to her feet, her eyes ablaze with fury. Pan watched with a mix of confusion and concern as her mother assumed a basic power-up stance and began speaking in grunts, as though she were on the verge of transforming into some new kind of super form. In fact, it wouldn't have surprised Pan at all if that were the case.

Little did the young girl know that during all this, her mother was reliving her past, watching various images of her rough and tumble self flash and the victories she'd achieved flash before her eyes. Everything from belching contests to looking best in a bikini passed her by. They were soon replaced by new images of Pan besting her younger self in all these same events. Other scenes were also included such as a rice eating contest and a farting contest. Every last one filled the Videl of the present with even more rage.

“No! I… Will… Not… lose… to a… little… girl! Even if she is my own daughter!” Pan watched in amazement as her mother's slightly higher than average power level suddenly skyrocketed, her aura blazing to life around her. Videl then bellowed, “Ka… Me… Ha… Me… 

*HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRP!!!!!*”

The mightiest belch under the heavens, contained within the signature technique of both the Kame House and the overall Son Family, shot from Videl's mouth. It zeroed in on a horrified Pan and created a great explosion that destroyed the entire house! Pan lay amidst the rubble, somehow only dazed, “You win, Mommy.”

“Oh yeah!” Videl cried out in a rather good impression of her father, “I win! I'm number—oh crap!” The daughter of Mister Satan looked upon what was left of her home and decided to let Pan off the hook: she would need all the help she could get in order to collect the Dragon Balls and restore everything before Gohan got back!

[flameontheotherside]

Interview with Autumn Wells

Today I reached out to Autumn for a little interview about her experience with her TF in spirit, Jimi Hendrix. 

Me: Thanks for agreeing to this interview. For my readers, I thought it would be nice for them to get to know you a little bit especially if you are planning to contribute by submitting your input here on this very blog. I think we all appreciate you sharing your story and that it’s exciting to meet yet another “spiritual widow”.  You would be the 4th one I’ve met with a TF inspirit who was a musician! 

This experience can be difficult but of course has its rewards as we learn and grow from this. It’s great and comforting to know you’re not alone. This was something Erik stressed to me all last month while I wasn’t feeling my best. So I really don’t feel you reaching out when you did was in any way a coincidence. There’s no doubt also that Jimi Hendrix is a legend who inspired many and had an amazing talent. 

Autumn: Thank you so much for interviewing me. I really appreciate it. I'm glad you enjoy the blog! It's funny, but when many people describe how it is to hear Jimi Hendrix play for the first time, they're blown away, too! :)

Me: Where are you from? Are you American?

Autumn: I come from the USA, and I'm a young African-American woman in my twenties. I like to create art, stories, and other artistic projects. Jimi is African-American, too. We both come from mixed backgrounds, with Native American and European ancestors in our backgrounds, too, but our African roots are the strongest.

Me: Are you spiritual or religious?

Autumn: I consider myself more spiritual rather than religious. I do learn a lot of wisdom from different religions, but I don't follow any one religion in particular. I believe in God, through Jesus Christ, but I'm open to shamanic wisdom and many other cultures as well.

Me: I think most of us have a level of intuitiveness. Do you have intuitive or psychic gifts?

Autumn: Yes, I have intuitive and psychic gifts. I've always sensed people's emotions ever since I was little, and the psychic gifts grew stronger as I grew older. They became stronger because of my experience with Jimi's spirit, too. I can type down Jimi's thoughts when he wants to talk and share something with the world. I can also communicate with deceased relatives and other loved ones. Sometimes I sense the emotions of people who are alive on the earth, too. I've had moments where I can psychically detect knowledge about people without really knowing them.

Me: What is Jimi like?

Autumn: Jimi is a sweetheart, really. His personality is the same as it was when he was on the earth. Although he was really flashy on the stage, off the stage he was quiet and so shy. That surprised me in the beginning, because I didn't realize how quiet he was as a person, but the way he is to me is the way he was to many people on the earth - gentle, shy, and loving. He is very intelligent, and he still thinks and dreams in visions, as he did on the earth. He can be romantic, but most of all, he's unconditionally loving.

Me: How do you both communicate?

Autumn: I communicate with Jimi through telepathy, and I often see him with my eyes, too. He can affect my physical reality at times, but not always. For instance, he may draw me to him without me doing anything to move closer to him.

Me: How would you describe your relationship? For instance Erik can be in spirit guide mode which is serious and sometimes we can be friends and more.

Autumn: Yes, Jimi is like a spirit guide, and recently, well... he asked me to be his wife. I was so shocked! :) I didn't expect him to do that. In the past, we've spent many different periods where we were sometimes friends, and other times he was more like a guardian angel. There were also times when we developed a romantic relationship, and we would feel like husband and wife, but Jimi also sometimes would withdraw from my life if he felt I needed to have new experiences on the earth. So for us, we've experienced many different kinds of love on our journey, but right now, he asked me to marry him, and I said yes, after nearly fainting, haha.

Me: How does Jimi appear to you?

Autumn: Jimi looks the way he did on the earth, and he usually looks very young. He has beautiful brown eyes and a kind smile, and he's about 5.11. He wears colorful clothes and sometimes brings his guitar with him. He still loves to play in the afterlife. Here's a picture of Jimi, I think there's no copyright on it:

Me: Telling someone about this can be hard. Did you have problems explaining to anyone close to you?

Autumn: I did try to tell my mother about Jimi and the experiences I had with him, but it didn't really turn out well. At first, she seemed to believe me, and she even said I was lucky. But then she started to doubt me because she didn't see Jimi the way I did, so she thought maybe I was making it all up because I was just a teenager. My Dad figured it was just my subconscious mind, although it was harder and harder for me to believe it was my subconscious when I started seeing Jimi while I was awake. My mom and dad's disbelief did make this journey very challenging because I had no one I could really turn to. I was not on the internet at the time, so I couldn't reach out to anyone who had a similar experience. The best I could do was keep it to myself, but I trusted in Jimi, and I read all I could about Native American spirituality, and how the Native Americans believed they had guiding spirits to help them in life. That helped me out a bit.

Ironically, though, during the accident incident where I had the near-death vision, my Dad was actually present when he saw me speaking to Jimi in the state I was in. I saw Jimi, and felt him so strongly, even though I was malnourished and in very bad shape. I had no clue I was about to go, because I didn't realize how sick I was, but I knew Jimi, so when I saw him, I had this blissful smile on my face and felt I was in heaven. I saw another deceased relative, too, who had just passed away. When my Dad asked me, "Are you in heaven?" I turned to him and said with tears of joy, "I love you so much, Jimi!" My Dad was shocked, and he said, "Now I know you're in heaven," because he always believed Jimi went to heaven after he passed away at 27 (in 1970). But I think even witnessing that moment I had with Jimi might have been too much for my Dad to comprehend.

Me: What can you tell us about your past lives? 

Autumn: Anyway, about past lives, that's an interesting question, because recently I asked Jimi if we shared any lifetimes together. He told me he didn't want to overwhelm me with too much information, but he did say that we shared a past life in England in the 19th century. He said we had several other lifetimes together, too, but he wanted to start with one at the time. It's really intriguing because I didn't know much at all about England in the 19th century, and Jimi told me about a very detailed experience about his life as a music teacher back then. It turns out that everything he told me, when I searched for the historical context, matches up with that time. I'll write about it on my blog eventually, but yes, this is the first past life we are working on. I don't exactly know how many past lives we've had, but I'm sure Jimi will share more when the time is right. (Jimi loved England in his last lifetime, too; that's where he felt really at home.)

I was a skeptic about reincarnation for the longest, but the evidence has led me to believe it's a reality. There is so much pointing to the fact that we've come to this earth before, and I've had that feeling myself.

Me: We have a twin flame (or spirit spouse) who isn’t living. Most of us have never gotten to meet or be with our counterparts while they were alive. So, it can be difficult. What is the hardest thing about having this experience?

Autumn: I'd say the hardest thing about having this experience, as beautiful as it is, is that most of the loved ones and people around me don't really understand it. I tried to open up about it in the past, but it didn't go over well, so I just keep it to myself. I hope that one day, I can integrate this experience into my life more fully, but right now, I just keep most of the details to myself in my everyday life, and try to find a balance.

Another hard thing in the beginning was dealing with the fact that Jimi died young, and tragically. That really hurt my heart, especially as a child. I just couldn't believe it. I kept asking my Dad, "Why? Why?" because I just couldn't understand why Jimi had to pass on when he was only 27. It took me a long time to accept that he was in the afterlife, but it really helped me when he came to me and told me he was at peace, and he came to me because he loved me, not because he felt haunted.

Me: What are some important things you’ve learned being Jimi’s TF?

Autumn: There are many important things I've learned from this experience, though, and the main thing is learning to trust in God, myself, and Jimi. I've had trust issues throughout my life, to the point where I didn't know if I could even trust Jimi or not, but he helped me to love myself, and love him, too. He showed me unconditional love which really helped to heal my heart, and he was there to guide me through some really difficult times in my life. He also brought me closer to God, who I love, too.

Me: How often do you communicate with each other?

Autumn: Jimi and I talk quite a bit, depending on the flow of my life. Sometimes I spend a lot of time studying, so we don't talk as much (I really need to set aside more talking time!) but I can always feel him near me. Early on, we spoke nearly all the time, and I'd write down a lot of our conversations. That helped me connect a lot of dots later on.

Me: What are some funny or good moments you’ve had?

Autumn: I think there were a few funny moments between us sometimes, but mostly Jimi's pretty serious. But he's serious in a light way, if you know what I mean. He's often smiling and telling me stories about his life on the earth, and he helps children a lot in the afterlife.

Me: Like physical twins (I have a twin brother btw), twin flames or twin souls aren’t always alike. In what ways are you alike? Different?

Autumn: I agree that twin souls don't have to be exactly alike. With Jimi and me, we do happen to be amazingly similar, although we have some differences. We both look similar, especially in the eyes, although we don't look exactly the same. We share a deep interest in spirituality, God, and the afterlife, and neither of us believe in organized religion. We love music and the creative arts, although I tend to get more addicted to writing, and Jimi's addiction was music.

We both experienced ESP and psychic phenomena during our lives on the earth; Jimi said in the 1960's that he saw the spirit of Handel while he was living in the composer's home (you can look it up on the internet if you like, it's really interesting!) He also believed his mother, who passed on at a young age, was watching over him in spirit.

We both have the tendency to be nervous perfectionists with our creative arts. I used to feel kind of bad about driving the people crazy around me with my "everything must be perfect" tendencies, until I found Jimi was the same way. :)

We have a ton more things in common, but we also have a few differences. I'm deeper into writing, while Jimi is more into music. But a lot of our differences are more like different sides of the same coin. For instance, we both grew up in blended families, but the blended family for Jimi came later in his life, when his father remarried, whereas I grew up in a blended family (although I didn't always spend time with my older half-siblings).

Considering that Jimi and I never met on the earth, and he lived and passed on before I was born, it's amazing how our lives and personalities parallel each other. Many of the parallels I didn't even know about until I got older and could get on the internet to research.

Me: How do you think you’d be together if he were alive or reincarnated now as your significant other?

Autumn: I think my life would be different in some ways if Jimi were incarnated as someone else. I used to wish I'd meet a guy like Jimi one day, but I knew it was hopeless because no one else is Jimi, unless he came to the earth again, of course. I do think it's good that Jimi is in spirit, though, because the way my family life is, we probably wouldn't spend much time together if he were incarnate. I don't get into the outside world that much.

If Jimi were incarnated with me, I do think it might work out, but he would have to be free from many of the things which led to him passing away so young. Drugs, for instance, were a problem Jimi dealt with, as well as ruthless people in the music business who took advantage of him. I do believe that in spirit, he has much less to worry about, and that has really helped both of us. So although it would be wonderful to have Jimi physically here with me, I also know that it's best that we connected in this way, because he's in the peace and love of the afterlife. I also think that having Jimi as a spirit guide and partner is wonderful because he can be with me wherever I go in the world, and we don't have physical distance separating us. Sometimes I do long to be where he is, though, in the afterlife. One day, I'll be with him for all time, God willing.

Well, that's it for now! Thanks for asking the really good questions.

Me: Thank you for answering and thank you especially for reaching out and sharing us your story! 

If you guys who are following me or stumbling on this, want to know more about Autumn Wells and her amazing story about being Jimi Hendrix’s twin soul, you can find her blog at:

https://jimiheaven.gonevis.com/

She will also be guest posting here as well so watch out for her content. You can see all her submissions with the tag: #Autumn Wells <--Click that link for the goods!

[coconutknightshade]

I'm kinda wondering what would Morgan think of Peter when she grows up. Will she love him like a brother or will she blame him for Tony's death? Sure it's unlikely but think of all the angst!! Probably sth along the lines of" I wish he never picked you over me!!" Btw I'm absolutely in love with your fics ❤❤❤❤

Thank you so much @nightskyblufaith , that makes me very happy to hear! I love that you love them and I hope that you continue to love them

That being said- You come into my house, on the eve of my daughters wedding, and you attempt to break my heart. You come to a girl that is hellbent on never even touching a post-endgame fic where Tony is dead and you have the audacity to ask her if she’ll write one? I just have one question- Why do you hate me? Do you revel in my tears? 

I hope I return the favor. If I’m going to suffer than I’m taking you down with me! 

We’ll perish together! 

In all seriousness, I had instant inspiration upon reading your prompt and I hope I did you justice! I feel like it may have taken a turn you hadn’t been going for, but I hope that you enjoy it nonetheless :) I also want to note- I still have your other prompt and it’s still in the pipeline and I haven’t forgotten about it!

A Good Hero and a Good FatherWord Count: 2,500ish

She's drunk. 

Wasted and swaying far too close to the edge. It has Peter's heard pounding dangerously fast, panic rising as a lump in his throat. 

She's only sixteen- Very much below the drinking age. Bottles are littered at her feet and even as far from her as Peter is, the smell of alcohol clinging to her is painfully strong. He frowns. 

Will he be fast enough if she teeters over the edge? How long has she been drinking? Christ. Is this going to end in an ER visit?

She's also supposed to be in school. It's nearly noon. Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey had been attempting to hunt her down for hours. Pepper was understandably distraught, horrified that with all of the technology at her disposal she couldn't track down her daughter. 

Unsurprising, if Peter is being honest. Much like her father, she operates on her own time and with her own rules. If she doesn't want to be found than she won't be found. 

Fortunately, much like his father figure, Peter is innovative. It should come as no surprise that every person Peter keeps close to him is trackable by no less than three different ways. After the life he's been through, and the loved ones he's lost, Peter isn't taking any chances. Before Pepper had ended her call with ‘please, if you find her let me know’ Peter had already traced down her exact location. In fact, doing so had been nothing but a means of verification- He knew her well enough to know where she would end up. 

The two of them haven't been there in awhile. At least a year now. When she was younger they would spend a day or two a week up on that rooftop. They would curl up and overlook the city, talk about anything and everything. Peter would help her with her homework and she would sit close to him, excitedly and dramatically narrating whatever game he was playing at the time. Together they would watch movies on his laptop and at times he would let her slip on his mask and watching through the old Baby Monitor Protocol any footage he had of Tony. It usually ended in tears, but Peter Parker never could say no to Morgan Stark. 

This time is far different than those of the past. The atmosphere is heavy, unsettling. Immediately upon landing Peter is dodging one empty bottle after another. 

“Fuck your Spidey Sense,” she bites out, throwing another one and in doing so nearly pitches forward on unsteady feet. Morgan scoffs when he catches it without so much as flinching. Her words, however- Her words do make him flinch. 

“Morgan,” he says softly, almost pained. She's already shaking her head. 

“No,” she points a finger at him, swallowing thickly. “You don't get to do that- You don't get to sound sympathetic and concerned. I don't want to fucking hear it.” 

Peter nearly takes a step back, caught off guard by the venom. Morgan Stark is what he imagines a little sister to be. They mess around, he’s taught and helped her with anything she needed. Oftentimes, and much to Pepper's concern and amusement, they prank each other, with each prank growing more and more reckless. She’s his sister and of course they bicker and argue as such, but this is different. It's almost chilling.

“Morgan,” he says again, voice loud and firm. “Step away from the ledge.” 

Morgan laughs, manic almost, and Peter clenches his jaw. He's got a hand stretched out hesitantly as if ready to catch her if she tips over the edge, even though he's too far away to actually do so if she were to tumble over. 

“Do you- Do you really think that I would pull something like that?” Her laughter turns to sobs, emotional regulation fleeting, but she drops down a step or two onto the base of the roof and away from the ledge. Peter takes a step forward and she immediately takes a step backwards. 

“Don't,” she raises her voice angrily before her expression falters and she let's her eyes close over tears. Her voice is softer, nearly a pained whisper when she adds, “Don't. Please just go, Peter. I can't look at you. Not today.” 

Her voice cracks on that last word. 

It's the anniversary of Tony Stark's heroic sacrifice and though he braces himself every year for the inevitable breakdown, he's never prepared himself for something quite like this. In hindsight he thinks he probably should have. Morgan is growing older, she's going through a pivotal time in her life and with sixteen being such a milestone Peter should have anticipated how hitting such a milestone without her father would have a harrowing affect her. While he had anticipated something… a belligerent, drunk teenager dancing along the ledge of a rooftop, far too high to survive a fall, didn't even make the list. Peter remains calm, keeps his voice even. 

“I'll leave you alone when we get you home, Morgan. You and I both know that you can't stay up here. Your mom is worried about you. Rhodey and Happy are worried about you. I'm worried about you.”

Peter dodges another bottle. 

“Fuck you, Peter. I don't need your sympathy. I don't want it. Not when you're the reason he's gone.” She kicks a bottle in his direction and brings an arm up to wipe across her eyes. Peter notices that she's wrapped up in one of Tony's old MIT hoodies. Seeing it makes his own heart hurt. His grief ever present, always there tucked away in the base of his chest. Sometimes when he closes his eyes he still hears Tony's words- And I wanted you to be better. 

Christ. Peter mourns Tony every day. And though fewer, Peter at least has memories of Tony. Morgan, he knows, only has fleeting images and sporadic memories of her father. Peter can empathize. It's similar to the relationship between Peter and his own parents. He was nearly as young as Morgan had been when he'd lost his. The difference being Morgan sees evidence of her father every day- She's confronted every day with the knowledge that her father left such a monumental imprint on this world and she can barely even remember being tucked in at night by the man. Peter can only imagine the struggle.

He tries not to take her words to heart, but when they leave her lips he can't help but to suck in a breath. 

“That's not fair,” he says softly. It hurts. It hurts far deeper than Peter knows how to put into words. Of course he's wondered whether Morgan feels he played any part in her father's death. The world - the media - naturally knows nothing of his relationship with Tony Stark, but Morgan does. She knows that her father viewed Peter as one of his own- That had things been different she would have grown up with and around Peter. Jeez. Even in Tony's absence she still grew up with his close presence. She sees first hand how close he is with every other special person in her life - Pepper, Happy, Rhodey. It only tracks that he would have been even closer to her father. 

Yeah. It's no secret that Tony considered Peter as one of his own, but Peter never could be sure how closely Morgan connected that information to his death. Until now, that is. Peter can't help but hope this is coming from a place of hurt and anger, an emotion in the moment and not something that has weighed silently on her heart for years. He's not sure what he’ll do if that’s the case. Peter's already lost one family member in Tony, he doesn't want to lose another one in Morgan as well. 

“You're right, Peter. It's not fair. And yet here we are,” she spreads her arms out wide and spins in a lazy, very clumsy circle as if to encompass everything around the two of them. 

“And yet here we are,” Peter echoes back, voice clear of emotion, with a firm nod of his head. “Skipping school and drunk off your ass on the ledge of a building. I'm sure your dad would have loved that.” 

Harsh. Intentionally so. 

Morgan turns back towards him dangerously slow and Peter takes a step forward, holding his ground. If taking the heat- Letting himself be the proverbial punching back for her to yell and scream at and god throw more bottles at... Well at least she isn’t drowning her sorrows and emotions in alcohol like her father had once upon a time. 

“I don't know what my dad would love, do I? He isn't here to tell me. And why do you think that is?” While her voice expresses nothing but anger, the tears trailing down her cheeks betray her. Despite her words the sight makes Peter's heart clench. 

“Because he was a hero,” Peter says firmly. “He did what was needed to save the universe, Morgan. To save you.” 

Morgan scoffs, turning her head to look out over the city. 

“He might've been some great hero,” she begins softly, almost to herself, “but he was a terrible father.” 

The last words are choked out with a gut wrenching sob that pulls at each and every one of Peter's heartstrings. He attempts to take another hesitant step towards her and when Morgan doesn't react, doesn't take a receding step backwards, he continues forward. Morgan wraps her arms around her midsection and wobbles dangerously before finally crumpling to her knees. 

“Sometimes I hate him so much, Peter.” Her voice sounds so small, so broken, and in that moment Peter remembers that even at sixteen she's still just a child. A child who has lived through so much pain already. Peter thinks again just how deeply he can relate. Morgan's voice, nearly a whisper now, pulls him from his thoughts. “Why- Why couldn't he be selfish and stay with his family? Why were we not enough?”

Peter kneels before hesitantly reaching towards her and when she doesn't flinch he wraps his arms around her and pulls her tight against his chest. Through her sobs she's nearly hyperventilating. Peter rests a hand on the crown of her head and tilts his face down so that she can hear him gently saying her name over the sound of her cries- Morgan, you're okay. Listen- Listen to the sound of my breathing, focus on the movements of my chest. There it is, there you go. Just breathe.

Morgan nearly slumps against him and Peter's grip tightens. He thinks back over her words, how innocent and heartbroken they are and he forces himself not to overthink how her words unintentionally carry a weight of yes you would still be dead but at least my dad would be here with me and honestly, Peter can't even blame her for that. 

“Morgan, he wouldn't have done any of this if he didn't think you would grow up in a better world because of it.” Just when he thinks her tears are starting to slow do they pick back up with fervor. Still, Peter can feel the exhaustion radiate from her. 

“He only did it to bring you back.” Morgan's voice is weak, defeated and tired. Her words slur and she closes her eyes against the fresh tears. Peter shifts, wipes them away with the pad of his thumb and tries to fight through his own tears that threaten to fall. 

“You know that isn't true.”

“Isn't it though?”

“No,” Peter says firmly. “It isn't. And I think you know that.” 

Morgan sighs, knows he's right, and turns to rest her forehead against Peter's chest. Peter runs a hand through her hair, absently working out the tangles while waiting until she gathers herself to speak. 

“Sometimes,” she whispers, “it's easier to just hate him. To hate you. Because at least you're here for me to yell at. I can scream into the sky until my face turns blue, but he'll never know how I feel.” She's sobbing again, face buried in her hands and Peter's heart breaks anew. He can empathize with that- Can empathize in feeling that way periodically when he glances his own reflection. It's easier to hate himself when sometimes he really just wants to punch a wall. He feels to an extent that Morgan is right. Happy has, intentional or no, indicated as such. That Tony wouldn't have done what he did if he hadn't of thought Peter would be there at the end. The sentiment somehow simultaneously makes his heart swells while at the same time breaks it. It’s something of a weight to consider that his return to this plane means he’s ripped apart a family. 

Of course Tony's sacrifice has brought millions of families back together- But all he bears witness to is the family he can't help but feel he broke apart. It's not necessarily logical, but oftentimes the thought is there. 

“He'll never know how you feel in the moment, Morgan. But you know how he wanted you to feel before he died, and he wouldn't want that to change in the event of his death.” Her fist tightens in the front of his shirt and he swallows thickly before blazing on. “He wouldn't want to see this, Morg. He died wanting you to live in a better place- A happier world. Not one forever in mourning. Not one so broken and defeated. He wanted you to smile- To dance and sing even though you have two left feet and are painfully tone deaf.” She snorts. “I can promise you that when he thought of your future he didn't see this. He didn't want this for you. He saw you walking through life happy, with a smile on your face. And I can promise you that he wouldn't have wanted any of that to change, not even in the event of his death. He would only ever want you happy, Morgan. Always.”

A beat.

“I still hate you,” she says quietly, without any real heat. Another similarity with her father... Morgan doesn't do soft. Not like this. Regardless, Peter knows his words have landed and he smiles softly, squeezes her tighter in response and bumps his nose against her head. Quiet laughter bubbles from him when she adds a whined, “My head hurts.”

“Not nearly as much as it will once Pepper gets to you. Assuming Rhodey or Happy doesn't get to you first.” Morgan groans, dropping her face into her hands once again. 

“Maybe- Maybe we just stay up here forever. Problem solved.” Peter huffs in amusement. 

“Yeah, I don't think so. Not gonna fly.” 

“What do I tell her?” she asks quietly. Peter can hear the anxiety - the exhaustion - in her voice and he rubs soothing circles into her back. 

“I'll talk to her.” 

“Are you going to tell her I threw bottles at you?”

“Nah.” Amusement colors Peter's tone as he adds teasingly, “Your aim was terrible, so it's kind of like you weren't even throwing them at all.” Morgan pinches him but Peter doesn't miss the smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth. 

“That's a lie and you know it.” Her smile falls, something more serious pulls at her expression, and she takes a deep breath. “He would be proud of me, I think. At my aim, I mean.” 

“Yeah,” Peter says softly, knowing full well that she isn’t referring to her aim. “He would.”

[thetrashthatsmilesback]

Was I blind and deaf and dumb I didn’t know how bad it had become Or how to save you (because I'm basic and part of me hurt me emotionally)

This is a character study of the relationship between Larry and Connor. Its towards the beginning of Connor's junior year, and is a lead up to what is implied to be his first attempt. This is really dark, so please be safe.

Warnings: f slur suicidal ideation psycho used as a slur sociopath used as a slur referenced abuse drug addiction referenced self harm referenced suicide attempt

This is cross posted to AO3 here x.

This is canon compliant, but since its pre-canon it could be considered a prequel to Connor lives AUs

I also took the idea of Connor's middle name being Lawrence from @Ch-ch-ch-ch-cherrybomb as they are my biggest writing inspiration.

Larry Murphy had never been able to bond with his son. Connor was complicated, and a total mama’s boy through and through. Their interests didn’t coincide, their social lives were complete opposites, and while Larry’s masculinity was hard to doubt, Connor had always been a bit… prissy. Of course Larry cared for and loved his son, he just wasn’t sure how to generally interact with him in any way. After their fight last night he wanted to try and fix the bond that had been lost somewhere along the way.

“Connor, where were you last night?”

“Out.”

“Out where? Your mom’s sleeping meds were also missing. I want to see them now, and I want every pill that should be in the bottle to be in the bottle.” Connor scoffed, shaking his head. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, rimmed with red. There were long fading tear tracks going down his cheeks. His hair had obviously gone at least a week without being washed.

“Yea… I don’t think you’ll be too pleased if you want all of the pills in the bottle. There’s maybe,” he looked at the ceiling in thought, “half? Yeah. Half a bottle left.” He nodded with his lips pursed before speaking again. “Although, I ran into some kid and he made a joke that wasn’t at my expense and I was able to-” Larry finally cut the brunet boy off.

“Half the bottle is left? Did you overdose? How did you not pass out? Where were you?” Connor rolled his eyes, only the blue and brown one visible from behind his curtain of hair.

“Jeez, I didn’t take them all. Like you said, they’re mom’s prescription.” Larry could feel his jaw tensing.

“Well you shouldn’t have taken any. I want the bottle back right now Connor Lawrence Murphy.” The boy pushed his chair out from the table.

“Fine!” He huffed before running up the staircase. About five minutes later he came back down with a small orange bottle with the name Cynthia Murphy written across its label. He handed it to the redheaded woman, and sat back down. His plate had barely been touched.

“Connor, sweetie, you really shouldn’t take anything that isn’t prescribed to you.” She reached out to run her hand over his hair but he jerked away making a strangled noise.

“So, Zoe, how’s school been this week?”  The younger Murphy made a small non-committal sound before looking up.

“My teachers have been trying to cram a lot in before Thanksgiving Break, but for the most part it's okay. I got the solo in the jazz band concert again. You are coming right?” She looked up, hopeful.

“Of course Zoe! We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Zoe’s hair was in a ponytail, fully showing off the vibrant indigo streaks running through it like lightning.

“Well… I mean, you missed it last year.” Suddenly there was an intensity in the air that could be cut with a knife.

The year before, during the Thanksgiving jazz band performance, Connor had been home alone. During it he went out to get high, but ended up passing out and being found by a young mom and her two kids in a park. Cynthia had missed most of the concert due to being in the emergency room with her sobering son.

“That won’t happen again this year dear. I promise, we’ll be there.” Her look was tight, like a wound coil, but she managed to smile at her daughter. It was in moments like these that Larry truly loved his wife. She’d do anything to keep the family together.

“What about you Connor, how’s school been for you?” As soon as the question left his mouth, he knew he had made a mistake. The evening hadn’t been perfect, definitely tense, with fairly terse answers, but asking this question was like cocking a loaded gun. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Zoe pull her legs up to her chest in a defensive pose. Cynthia began, as imperceptible as possible, to move all of the cutlery away from Connor. His son, for the second time this meal, looked up through the curtain of that damn hair.

“I-uh- it’s been… fine?” He could see Connor clenching his fist into his palm, but for some reason decided to push.

“Has it really?” Connor nodded, looking down at the table. Zoe shot a glance in between Larry and Connor, and readied herself to dart from the room. “Because I got an interesting call from your latin teacher. She said you haven’t been to class in two weeks.”

“Not now Larry, Connor has been feeling sick. We can discuss this later.” Cynthia’s tone was soft but commanding. It was obvious she was demanding her husband to not push their son further. The one in question simply lowered his head more, face completely concealed by hair, and muttered a low ‘fucking bitch’ below his breath.

“No Cynthia. I doubt he’s been sick for two weeks. In fact, the only class that i haven’t been informed of your missing has been English. Where are you during the day Connor?”

“I’ve been out.”

“Where?”

“Larry not right now.”

“God does it even fucking matter?” Connor’s head shot up, and Larry could see the tears forming in his son’s eyes. He’s not high then. He would be yelling by now if he were, the red was simply from crying. For some reason he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He was sick of this, this shit that Connor would pull. He’d do anything to get out of class, even fake stomach aches and claim that the people there made him want to throw up. Larry remembered being a teenager, he was similar to Connor - skipping class to go behind the school and smoke cigarettes with the rest of the jocks. He knew Connor wasn’t actually sick, he just wanted to go feed his oxy addiction.

“It does matter. You need to go to class Connor. You can’t live on our couch forever.” Connor stood up abruptly, causing Zoe to finally dart out of the room, slamming her door shut and driving the lock home.

“You sound like my fucking counselor! You can’t keep failing Connor!” he was sneering in a voice that was definitely nothing like his counselor’s. “English isn’t a viable degree Connor! Your math grades are too fucking low Connor! Don’t you want to graduate? Do you really think that your parents want to be stuck with you for the rest of your fucking life? Do you honestly think, that anyone would want to support a fucking piece of shit like you?” He smashed a glass as he said the last one, tears flowing down his angular cheeks, and gasps falling out of his mouth. Cynthia stood up and began to walk towards him, but Connor backed away from her. “God, do you honestly think I don’t fucking know I’m on the verge of dropping out? Do you honestly think that I don’t know I’m throwing everything away? I can’t fucking do this any fucking more! You’re my parents! You’re supposed to hold me and tell me it’ll be okay and help me lay out my fucking options but you don’t fucking care! No one fucking cares! No one fucking listens when I say that I can’t fucking stand that place! I can’t go in without people making school shooter jokes, or cowering, or shoving shit into my locker, or telling me to just fucking kill myself as if I don’t already fucking want to!” He was full out sobbing now, his hand cut up from the broken glass.

“Connor, oh Connor. You don-”

“Yes! I fucking do. I just fucking want to be fucking dead. I can’t fucking take this any fucking more.” Cynthia walked up to their now hyperventilating son and walked him over to the couch where she held him.

Later that night Larry and Cynthia got into a fight about whether Connor meant what he said or not. Larry just couldn’t accept that his son was honestly suicidal - it had to be for attention. A way to get more drugs to get high off of. Cynthia had argued back that he couldn’t be lying. That this isn’t the first time their son has told them that he wants to die.

He came back out of his reverie in front of the banged up door of his sixteen year old son. The door was banged up, covered in dents and scratches from nights when Connor had come home too drunk or high to even open the door. He reached up and knocked softly, calling out “Connor? I want to come in.” He cracked open the door to see his oldest lying on the bed reading. He was totally engrossed, headphones on, knees at his chest, head buried into the pages so deep that only his eyes - visibly alight with excitement - and a light blush across his cheeks were visible.

Larry stood there a moment, staring at the boy. His hair was getting relatively long, reaching to about his mid neck in length. His jacket - something that Cynthia had picked up from the consignment shop that looked like it belonged with a dressier shirt than what Connor usually paired it with - was rolled up to his elbows revealing a scattering of scars. They made Larry sick to his stomach. Connor had self harmed on and off since the end of sixth grade, and although most of the cuts were so faded you couldn’t even see where they were, the newer ones were a dark red. His shirt was disheveled and had rid up to expose a small portion of stomach, also littered with the dark lines.  His legs were bent supporting the relatively thick book resting on them, in black ripped skinny jeans covered in white and blue paint.

Larry cleared his throat and finally Connor looked up, the light clearing from his eyes to be replaced with a blank stare. “Hey, wha-what are you reading?” Connor looked down at his book, back up at his dad, and then at the book again.

“Its-” his voice was hoarse, desperately needing to be cleared, “It’s War and Peace? Like… the book by Leo Tolstoy?” When Larry said nothing, simply moving closer to his son to attempt to talk, he flushed and continued. “There’s, a um, there’s a musical in previews about it. So I uh, decided to read it.” Larry nodded and sat at the edge of the dark bed.

“You like musicals? I always thought you were more into rock bands.”

“I like both.” So far this was going better than expected. Connor had opened up about his book and taste in music without it becoming a screaming match.

“Why don’t you put on a musical for me then?” Connor looked up at him suspiciously. “I’m trying to bond with you Connor. I want you to feel safe here.” Connor simply looked down again, before carefully opening his bedside table’s drawer. Larry paled and felt sick at what was inside. It was lined with various bags of pills, powders, and weed. Some were obviously painkillers, others were sleeping pills, and some he didn’t want to know what they were.

“My drug issues aren’t exactly secret.” Connor murmured while grabbing his phone out from underneath a bag of light blue powder. He probably felt that this was an excuse for blatantly showing it off to Larry. “Can you just… can you not tell mom? I don’t want her to worry. Like, I know I’m a dick, but I’m not that much of a self centered ass.”

“She’s already worried Connor. Every night when you don’t get home until two, three in the morning - if at all, she’s worried. Every time you come home drunk or high, or come to breakfast hungover, she’s worried. When those damn scars are on display, she’s worried. Last night when you said you wanted to kill yourself, you made her worried.” Connor looked up at him, his eyes hard.

“Is that really why you’re in here? To make me feel guilty? Are you going to record this as well? Hahaha,” his sarcastic laugh was cold and bitter, “How fucking funny is this! Connor Lawrence Murphy feels bad! He’s not a total sociopath after fucking all! Lets all laugh at his drug addiction while he has a fucking breakdown!” His face had grown cold, hands clenching at the book.

“Connor, that’s not why I’m here. Why would I want to show off my own son’s tantrums?” Larry’s voice had risen, he felt it himself. This wasn’t what he wanted, he had wanted to try. “Wait, Connor,” He had taken a deep breath while his son curled himself even more into a ball, “I didn’t mean it like that. Why do you think I’d record you?”

“Zoe would.”

“Your sister wouldn’t Connor.”

“Look me in the eye and say that.” At this Connor looked up and made eye contact. Those peculiar eyes with brown speckling the left sea of blue. Neither Cynthia nor Larry knew where the heterochromia came from, both of them being blue eyed. When Connor’s eye first started darkening Larry had assumed that Cynthia had cheated on him. When she denied it, half in tears, he decided to just leave it alone.

“Connor, I don’t want to do this right now.”

“You can’t can you?”

“Connor-”

“Do you know what they call me at school?” Larry looked back at his son again, raising an eyebrow.

“Psycho Connor, Crazy Connor, Connor the School Shooter, bomber, fucking serial killer. They film me and then put it on the internet. They call me fag and sociopath and revolting, they tell me to kill myself before I kill one of them. I just wanted to know that someone could guarantee that they didn’t believe that about me.” Connor looked up through his curtain of hair. “I’m abusive to Zoe. I’m awful to mom, mom who lets me do whatever. And then to you, I egg you on. I’m an ass. You treat me like a criminal, and I give you every reason to.” Connor looked back down at his legs, biting his bottom lip. “Can you go?”

“Connor I-”

“I just want you to go!” His voice raised, eyes full of tears, face flushing a dark red. Larry did leave at that, and he pretended he didn’t hear the broken sobs. He pretended he had never seen the drawer of drugs. He pretended the scars, and paranoia, and slurs weren’t parts of his son.

Larry had never understood his son, but the next morning when they found him in a pool of his own vomit, an empty pill bottle in his hand, he wished more than anything that he had tried harder.