#shes also got a really shitty mom like dam

[doodlebeeberry]

bee , could you talk about your stella / hansen family in general head canons... i saw it in your tags once on ao3 and now im curious

It’s like 3 am so apologies if this isn’t coherent or is just a scattered mess. Also most of these are not very happy sorry

- Stella n Bryce’s relationship with their mom was. Rocky for a long while. She was kinda one of those folks who just wasn’t really cut out to be a parent. She didn’t dislike em, not by a long shot, but it took her a long time to deal w her issues enough to really be a proper parent to them, in a meaningful way.

- the three of them did eventually reach an ok place though. There was still a definitive distance, but when bryce was like a sophomore in high school or so they started reconciling a bit

- I maintain my old headcannons that the extended hansen family is Big. He has like a billion cousins but he hasn’t seen the majority of them in years. I do think he tries to reconnect with some of them at least like wayyy after one is over tho.

- bradley is like. A family friend on stellas side. She was closest with him but eventually he grew into almost a second sibling to bryce after a while

- they lived in the suburbs outside hartford. Can’t be bothered to look up where specifically so just pick the absolute most middle ground neighborhood possible

- stella absolutely taught him how to drive and she did so approximately fifteen minutes before his drivers test

- at some point bryce became the one in the house who cooked, mostly cause he was the only one who was particularly good at it. For a brief period of time, probably when he was like a senior, the three of them would sorta bond over it as he tried to teach stella n his mom how to not suck at it.

- at one point in that process, not long before stella died, his mom gave him a couple of old family recipes, scribbled on napkins and receipt backs and the like. This was the most solid ground they’d ever had up to that point. He still has them. He refuses to make any of them.

- stella died like three days after he graduated high school, give or take. If I wanna get really specific, and also kinda mean, she died durning a graduation party someone was throwing for him and a couple other kids on the block who’d also graduated. Total freak accident

- To say it put a damper on his relationship with his mom is putting it mildly. About a week after stellas death, Bryce and his mom has a really really nasty fight, both about her death and just about eachother. Lot of poorly-aired grievances and not-so-nice things were said, resulting in both bryce storming out of his own volition and his mom in effect kicking him out. He went south to crash with Bradley for a while, who was (and still is) living around bridgeport. He and his mom haven’t spoken since.

- he was thinking of going to community college. That didn’t happen.

- probably should’ve mentioned this up too but there’s no dad in the picture really. He vanished for one reason or another before bryce was even born rip

- his mom. Is aware of what happen on the smokestack. And she feels. Some sorta way about it I’m sure.

[writersmorgue]

Day 28 - you're safe now

Day 25 on Ao3

Day 28 on Ao3

word count: 1048

TWs in tags

note: this is a continuation of day 25! I recommend reading that one before this. Thank you for bearing with me this month! Proud to say I completed my second year of Febuwhump <3

╞╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╡

Katsuki awakes to darkness. 

Godsfucking- another escape nightmare. He shifts, adjusting himself in his restraints. 

“Katsuki?”

“Wait, son-”

“No- you promised you wouldn’t touch my parents!” He growls, arms flexing where they’re strapped to the… bed?

Since when did he get a bed?

The blindfold is removed from his face, revealed to be fluffy gauze taped over his eyes. 

He squints, head jerking backward, “Wh-”

A figure comes into view, out of focus and way too close. “Hey, fuckin’ get away, asshole.” 

“Katsuki, you’re in the hospital baby.” The woman, his mother, says softly. Definitely Toga, there’s no way his mom would sound like that. 

The straps holding him down release altogether, and he pops his quirk a few times. 

“Now hold on, they’re going to re-strap you if you do that.” A man says from his side. 

He turns his head, blinking as everything begins to focus, “Dad?”

“Gosh brat, your hair got so long. They stuck you in a fuckin’ ponytail.”

Well the league doesn’t have two Togas which means maybe-

“Katsuki, brat, you’re at UA. You came back two days ago in the middle of the godsdamn night.” His mother sniffs, dabbing a tissue to her eyes. “An’ If you ever bring this up again we’ll fuckin’ bury you again and we’re not undoing it this time.”

She lunges forward, managing to not activate Katsuki’s fight or flight in a way only his mother could. 

Shit, he really is home. 

“Wait,” He frowns as she digs her face into his shoulder, “it’s been two days?”

His dad nods, looking teary-eyed, “Yeah, you slept a long time, bud.”

“Well, after they pumped you full of meds,” His mom snorts, leaning back and wiping Katsuki’s face where she probably got him all gross and snotty. Eugh, emotions. 

“Right,” He mumbles, examining the room for the first time since he woke, “What day is it?”

“Sunday, October 12th. You’ve been gone awhile, Kat.” Masaru smiles sadly, “Izuku was so worried about you he forgot his own birthday.”

Katsuki hums, “Speaking of the nerd, Is everyone ok? I don’t remember much about when they took me, but I know I was out with fr- classmates.”

“Yet another reason why I’m never letting you out of my sight again, Bakugo.” A deep voice comes from the doorway. 

Aizawa’s scruffy face observes him, any emotions carefully hidden under a layer of annoyance, “I’m pretty sure I told you to be safe before you left.”

Katsuki scoffs, “Unlikely.”

“I brought some of your friends if you want to entertain them for a moment.” He gestures to the hallway behind him, where Katsuki can already hear the idiots whispering to each other.

He nods, propping himself onto a pillow. His parents excuse themselves to make room (and probably avoid the noise).

Kirishima flies in first, darting straight to Katsuki’s bed to crush him in a hug. 

“Shitty- Can’t- brEATHE!” He wheezes after a few moments, patting the guy’s back a few times. 

His red eyes are overflowing with emotion when he pulls back, and his sharp teeth are worrying his bottom lip. “Bakugo you have no idea,we thought you were dead man…” The dam breaks and he begins to cry in earnest, “I didn’t know what to do- we didn’t know where you were!”

“BLASTYYYYY!!!!” Another body slams into his side, curly pink hair tickling his cheek when Mina hugs him, “Blasty if you ever do that again I’ll kill you!” She sniffs.

“Awe c’mon, are you all crying?” Katsuki grimaces when Mina grabs his arm, clinging like a small child.

It’s not… unwelcome.

“Sero’s not!” Kaminari chimes, also covered in snot and tears.

Sero nods, waving casually, “I did my crying when you were kidnapped, I’m afraid I can’t get it up anymore.”

Mina nods solemnly, “It’s true, he was a mess.” She stares at him, reaching a manicured hand out to caress his face, “We were really worried, Bakubabe. Kind felt like our fault since we’d been the last to see you, but you said you wanted quiet, and when we went to get you you were gone and-” She sobs, pressing his palm to her forehead. 

“Hey, c’mon horns, I’m here now.”

“Yeah,” She agrees tearily.

Kirishima takes his other hand, staring at the empty space, “Is your hand okay? We knew they sent something, but Aizawa wouldn’t let us see so we assumed it was bad, especially when they said it was pretty likely you were dead.” 

Katsuki shrugs, tugging his hand away softly, “It’s not infected if that’s what you mean. It just feels weird, like it’s still there but it’s not. It’ll take some getting used to, but my quirk still works fine.”

“Are you coming back to class soon?” Sero asks, sitting on the edge of his bed with Kaminari.

“I dunno, probably just for the boring stuff ‘til I gain some weight back. Lost all my progress.” He grumbles, staring at his noodle arm with disdain, “It’ll be back to normal soon, and the next time I see Toga I can punch her fuckin’ teeth in.”

“That’s the spirit!” Mina cheers.

Denki smiles sadly, picking at the ratty hospital blanket, “I’m really glad you’re back, dude, we were- it was really rough.”

The rest of them nod, and Katsuki can only feel so tired before he just collapses. 

“Well, I want a fuckin’ nap.”

“Oh!” Kirishima nods, standing, “Right, we can come back la-”

“So you guys better fuckin’ get comfortable, cuz I ain’t movin’.” He grins, sinking back into his pillow expectantly. 

Mina’s black eyes go wide, “You mean-”

“I ain’t fuckin’ sayin’ it.”

“SQUAD CUDDLE!!!” Denki shouts, leaping onto Katsuki’s legs and curling up like a cat. 

There are only so many people you can fit on a hospital bed, but somehow they make it work. 

Mina curls up to his side, Kirishima on his chest, Sero on his other side, and Kaminari by his legs. He’s completely surrounded by the people he cares about most. 

He doesn’t even care if it’s a dream anymore, this is the happiest he’s been. 

Kirishima nuzzles into his chest, grunting sleepily. Katsuki lets his eyes slip shut, and he doesn’t even bother yelling when his parents sneak in to take pictures.

Yeah, he's finally safe.

[hazelolive]

I found a really good comic on lezhin called secret alliance and I need to be able to comment like you can on webtoons. There so much I wanna say because its suchhhhhh a good story but i dont have the option to 😭

Have any of you guys read it? Because it's a super good comic about this girl who is scared of men. She has a lot of female and male admirers but noone is really able to get close to her because of her phobia. So this one dude (who is a yandere by the way and aperntly a childhood friend.) Decides to dress up as a girl so he can be close to her.

It also introduces a blond guy that's a player and a womanizer so naturally hes a asshole (well apears to be but is actually not that bad at all like marshall lee ^_^) that through a big set of circumstances is helping are main charecter get over her phobia of men but like actually trying to help her. Not what you'd first think after hearing hes a womanizer

There basically the two love interests for her and you kind of want to route for both. Even though one of them really is a terrible choice realistically. Ugh this author is sooooooo talented and I have no more chapters left to read intill more is put out. So I really want to talk to people about it.

So please comment if you have read it because I really want people to talk about it with 😅

I'm including a link to the trailer on youtube if you havent seen it and want to read it.

[clusterbuck]

how about 4 from the prompts list? "I'm here, aren't I?"

okay fun fact when i sat down to fill this prompt and turned my spotify on shuffle the first song to come up was i'm here by sweet talk radio so like... that's appropriate lmao

thanks for the prompt!!

"i'm here, aren't i?" buck mutters under his breath. "stop looking at me like that! it's rush hour on a friday, i did the best i could with the traffic conditions i had."

"i know, i know," eddie whispers next to him. "i'm not mad at, you, i just—" he cuts himself off and sighs. "i was going to talk to you about something before we went in."

"why am i here, anyway?" buck asks, looking around at all of the parents and teachers milling around the foyer of christopher's school. "i mean, you know i don't mind, but you made it sound really—"

he's interrupted by the sound of a woman's voice, somewhere on eddie's other side. "mr diaz, there you are! and this must be the husband."

buck whirls to look at eddie, because—if eddie has a husband, this is the first he's hearing of it.

please, eddie's expression seems to say, desperate and cornered and a little hopeful. and buck's never been able to deny him anything.

he's always been quick on the uptake, and even if he wasn't, eddie's arm sliding around his waist would probably make the pieces slip into place. so he schools his features into his best approximation of what a husband probably looks like and turns to face the woman next to eddie.

she's bright and bubbly, the platonic ideal of a suburban california soccer mom. she holds out a hand, and buck grins as he shakes it. "that's me," he confirms.

"and are you mr diaz as well?" she asks, and buck breathes an internal sigh of relief when she doesn't add anything along the lines of i don't really know how it works with you people.

"buckley, actually," he tells her. "buck." then he drops his voice and leans in like he's sharing a secret. "makes it easier at work, you know, so our captain knows who he's talking to."

she laughs, and eddie squeezes his hip. "i've heard a lot about you," she says with a smile. then she inclines her head at eddie. "he won't shut up about you, actually."

buck grins. "is that so?" he asks, turning to look at eddie.

eddie rolls his eyes. "i talk about you a normal amount," he says. "don't go getting an ego about this."

the woman introduces herself as somebody's mother. next to him, eddie falls into an easy conversation about math homework and the upcoming science fair, but buck is only half-listening. he's mostly preoccupied by the fact that eddie, apparently, goes around telling people that they're married. which is definitely news to him.

he's also more than a little preoccupied by the warm weight of eddie's arm resting around his waist, and the casual way eddie's hand curls around his hip like it belongs there. before he can think better of it, buck leans further into eddie's embrace, and eddie adjusts his grip mid-sentence like this is something they do every day and not something out of buck's wildest daydreams.

eventually, the woman excuses herself to go and find some teacher or the other.

"husband, huh?" buck asks. "that's funny, i don't remember you proposing. or, you know, asking me out."

as he speaks, eddie detaches himself from buck. when buck turns to look, eddie is already wearing a guilty expression.

eddie sighs. "i was going to tell you," he says. "that's what i wanted to talk to you about before we came in."

"i mean, yeah, knowing ahead of time that i'm supposed to be acting like your husband would have made life a little easier," buck says. "also, uh, why am i supposed to be acting like your husband, again?"

eddie looks away, squirrely in the way buck knows he only gets when he's embarrassed. "there was a teacher a while back," he says. "she kept, uh, hitting on me? so i panicked and said i was married."

"okay, so, why me?" buck asks, and wonders if eddie can hear the unspoken question. why are you pretending to be married to a man? eddie's never given any indication that he's anything other than straight. it's the biggest reason buck has him firmly mentally labelled as never going to happen, buckley, you might as well stop dreaming about it.

it hasn't worked so far, but repetition is key.

"i guess christopher talks about you a lot," eddie says. "she asked if it was you, and it seemed easier to say yes than to invent some kind of fictional spouse that i'd have to remember details about."

"romantic," buck says, and eddie laughs and elbows him.

"shut up."

"so why didn't you just tell me?" buck asks.

"i was going to, if you'd been here when you said you would!"

"hey, it's not my fault the 146 didn't manage their pile-up scene properly and traffic backed up!" buck says. "besides, you could also have told me at any other point in time between now and—how long have you been telling people this?"

"uh... six months, give or take," eddie says. "that's why it was so important you come tonight—i've been making excuses for you at school events, but the other parents have started to question it and i don't want them thinking my imaginary husband is a shitty person."

"clearly you have better taste than that," buck agrees.

eddie sighs again, but it's good-natured. "god, i should have known you'd be insufferable about this."

"and yet you picked me anyway," buck beams. "so why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"i was worried you'd think it's weird," eddie says. "and i really needed you to be here."

"mm, being addressed as your husband out of the blue was definitely less weird," buck says.

"so it didn't go exactly to plan," eddie says. "thanks for just rolling with it, by the way."

"of course," buck says. "i've got your back, remember?"

"somehow, i don't think this is what either of us envisioned back in that hospital parking lot," eddie laughs.

and it's true—buck had envisioned doing a lot of things with eddie, back in those first few days before he'd realised he didn't have a chance, but fake marriage was never one of them.

"so is there anything specific you need me to do?" buck asks, in an effort to distract himself from thoughts of the things he did envision.

"just—sell it, i guess?" eddie says. "i'm pretty sure i've only told people things about you that are true anyway, so there's no elaborate cover story or anything."

"except that we're married," buck says.

"except that we're married," eddie agrees. "for—about a year now, i think i've said?"

"a year, okay," buck repeats. "cool, i'm on it." then he steps closer to eddie again and slips his hand into eddie's back pocket.

"buck," eddie hisses. "what are you doing?"

"selling it," buck replies.

"where? in high school in the year 1987?" eddie asks, but he relaxes into buck's side.

"hey, no judging," buck says. "maybe this is my signature move."

"i mean, you do you," eddie says. buck doesn't argue, because he doesn't want to have to tell eddie that he's mostly doing it because this might be the only opportunity he ever gets to touch eddie's ass.

it's only as they set off to meet with the first of christopher's teachers that buck realises he might have miscalculated. because now his hand is on eddie's ass, and he's suddenly hyperaware of even the smallest twitch of his fingers. how much of it can eddie feel? is eddie going to think he's trying to make a move if he accidentally flexes his fingers a little?

it's not that he doesn't want to make a move. it's just that he doesn't think that eddie would be very receptive to it.

except eddie turns out to be a very affectionate fake husband. if buck's hand isn't in eddie's pocket then eddie is holding it. when they sit side-by-side listening to teachers talk about how smart christopher is, eddie's foot is hooked around buck's ankle. in the hallway between meetings, eddie turns to drop a kiss on buck's cheek, and a shiver radiates through him.

buck doesn't know what to make of it. he's used to a certain amount of physical contact from eddie—shoulders brushing together as they walk next to each other, working together so seamlessly their limbs might as well be extensions of each other on calls—but this feels different. it's not just that the touches are different—there's an ease to eddie's actions that makes buck wonder for the first time in years if maybe his mental label for eddie isn't quite as accurate after all.

he doesn't know how else to explain the fact that eddie keeps touching him. it's more than enough to sell their ruse—bordering on excessive, even, especially for a middle school parent-teacher conference.

and buck isn't exactly innocent himself, either. he wonders if a year into a fictional marriage is too far to claim honeymoon period, because that's the closest he can come to describing the feeling—like now that he has permission to touch eddie, the dam has broken and he can't keep his hands off.

they're still holding hands when they spill out of the school doors and into the dark warmth of the september evening. eddie makes no move to let go, and so neither does buck.

buck's jeep is clear across the other side of the parking lot, but he follows eddie to his truck anyway. they reach the car, and eddie brushes his lips against the corner of buck's mouth, closer than he has all night. buck freezes.

eddie pulls back, horror clear across his face. "i'm sorry," he says. "i didn't—i just—i forgot. that we're not inside anymore."

there's just enough wistfulness in his voice that buck makes a split-second decision. he takes a step forwards and takes eddie's face in his hands, stands still for two heartbeats just in case he's reading everything extremely wrong and eddie wants to protest, and then he's kissing eddie.

eddie kisses the way he does everything else, with a steadiness that keeps buck tethered to reality and a quiet intensity that bubbles just under the surface. it's a combination that's uniquely eddie, one that makes buck feel like he could take on the world and win and like he's coming home.

"i don't want it to be just inside," buck says, just in case eddie didn't get the message. "i don't want it to be fake. i mean, it might be a little soon to get married, but—"

"someday, though," eddie says, and buck laughs.

"someday, yeah."

eddie grins at him. "in the meantime, do you want to come home with me tonight?"

"yeah, i really do."

send me a starter line from this list and i'll write a ficlet for it!

[pumpkinpiejack]

A couple days ago I sent this ask to @lobotomycastiel and actually ended up writing it. It’s mainly about Dean, Claire, and baby Jack dealing with some of the pain of losing Cas.

You can also read it on AO3.

Three days.

Three days, Dean had been in charge of Jack. Three days since they found him smoldering the blankets on Kelly’s bed, sheets stained with blood. Three days since Dean had picked him up and refused to put him down.

Three days since Dean put Cas’s body on that pyre and watched it burn to nothing but ash and dust.

It stains everything he touches, streaks against Jack's baby pale skin, fingerprints on Sam’s clothes. The taste coating the back of his tongue. He can't escape it, can't drive fast enough to get rid of it. It lingers in the air around him and mocks him for his loss, but he still can’t seem to bring himself to wash it off.

Jack hasn't stopped crying since they lit the pyre. Dean prepared the body himself. He owed this to Cas after everything, to prepare his body right, to make sure his hands were gentle. He carried him out to the pyre too, a baby strapped to his chest, unnaturally quiet in the fading light of the sun.

Dean hadn't been able to finish it. His entire body stood curled around Jack, his face buried in the baby's soft hair as his hands shook so hard he couldn't light the match. He couldn't pour the salt, he couldn't hold the gas can.

His skin felt too tight for his body, like something was trying to escape, an animal in his chest scratching and clawing at the inside of his ribs and everything hurt.

Jack cries and he cries and he cries and Dean is thrown back into every shitty night on the road with Sam as a baby and he can't breathe. He remembers waking up at night to the same sound and curling up in a playpen that was far too small for both him and Sam. He wanted to make it better. He wanted to be able to help and make the crying stop.

But, the only time Jack stops is when Dean holds him and only when it's in a specific way. His tiny cheek needs to be pressed into Dean’s shoulder, just over Cas’s handprint and doesn't that just fucking hurt.

It aches in a whole new way, like he somehow senses Cas there.

The handprint itself has faded over the years. All the times he’s been healed and rebuilt from the inside out, and it is the only thing that remains. A discolored and slightly raised patch of skin that means more to him than any physical object on earth (besides his baby of course).

Three days. Two days to drive home and one day to prepare himself.

Sam made the call. Dean couldn't get Jack to stop crying long enough to do it himself, not without risking waking him up. Even with a day to prepare himself, it still wasn't nearly enough.

When Claire walks in it's like the floor falls out from underneath Dean’s feet. She’s a mess. Her eyes rimmed red, mascara and eyeliner streaking down her face and she looks like she drove straight through the night. Her hands shake, just like his as he hands Jack to Sam.

He holds him awkwardly, his hands too big, too unaccustomed to holding something so fragile. Dean could count the number of times Sam had held Jack on one hand. He couldn't be away from Dean for long or he would start crying, shrill shrieks that shake the very ground they stood on. Cries that cause the glass to rattle in its pane and nearly makes Dean’s ears bleed on more than one occasion.

“You look like a mess.”

“Says you.”

Touché. Dean hasn't slept either, hasn't showered, hasn't eaten. He drove 1,700 miles in two days, a crying baby strapped into his backseat the entire way. He knows he looks like shit. He still has ash smeared across his face, he can't seem to bring himself to wipe it away.

He can't bring himself to be far from Jack, can't stand him crying. He can't look at Jack, his eyes repeatedly drawn to the blue that is so familiar and so foreign all at once. He can't light a match. He can't think about his mom. He can't admit Cas is….

There's a lot he can't do right now.

Claire’s voice is quiet. It’s calm in all the ways that Dean knows that she isn't. He can see the rage boiling under the surface. The sadness, the grief all tangled into a little ball, locked away so deep inside of her that the only place it was visible was her eyes.

She tries to stay strong, but she still looks around as if she’s missing something, because the truth is, she is. She looks around the room searching for the same figure that he does every time he enters a room and they’ll never find it. Not now and never again.

He turns to tell Cas a joke, and he’s not there. He’ll see a blurry image of tan and black out of the corner of his eye and reach out with Jack, a mumbled thank god under his breath, but there’s never anyone there.

He’s just alone as she is, even with three other people in the room.

And then the dam breaks.

“How could you?” Dean keeps looking at her. He owes her that. He looks her in the eye and listens, because he owes her that. He watches as they fill with tears and, god, hers are the same as Jack’s. So similar but not quite right. Almost everything he could ever want and his chest burns.

Cas never cried, even when he was dying on the floor of that barn, black ooze streaming out of his mouth, skin rotting and flaking up the side of his neck, he didn't cry. He just looked at Dean with those blue eyes and told him he loved him, that he loved all of them.

They never got to talk about it.

“You were supposed to keep him safe!” Her voice breaks as she launches herself at him, her fists smacking against his chest, but he can't really feel it. Over and over and over she drives the side of her fist into his chest. Like a little kid throwing a tantrum. He makes no move to stop her, to grab her hands and still them. He just lets her. I owe her this, I deserve this. “You promised me you would keep him safe,” and all at once her anger is gone, washed away with her tears as she leans her head against his chest and she sobs. “How could you?”

Finally, Dean moves. He places a hand on the back of her head, careful of any indication that she didn't want to be touched, but she just leans in farther, collapses into his chest and sobs harder.

She’s so small, so young despite her fiery disposition, he could tuck her perfectly under his chin. Dean remembers feeling on top of the world at her age. Twenty years old and suddenly he could rule the world, tear it all down from the ground up and rebuild it in his own image if he wanted. But here she is, a perfect mirror of him and all he sees is a scared little kid.

He can hear Jack crying in the background, having reached his limit of being away from Dean.

Eventually, she pulls away, shoving him and turning to where Sam is holding Jack uncomfortably. Claire smears her makeup farther down her face. There is still anger in her eyes and part of it scares him. It was the same anger he had held the first time he laid eyes on Jack.

Part of him wanted to leave him there. Part of him wanted to do what he originally planned when he walked into that house gun in hand, but he knows he never would. Jack wasn't a monster. He wasn't anything more than a baby. He cried and screamed and had the tiniest hands and the bluest eyes and even just looking at him made Dean’s heart soften.

Something like that couldn't be a monster anymore than Sam could, or little Bobby John.

So, instead, he scooped Jack up, the baby's skin burning his own, a tiny handprint searing itself onto the skin of his left forearm.

“He looks like Cas.” Claire laughs, but it sounds more like a sob than anything. Jack seems to quiet as she draws closer, his blue eyes widening as he takes her in. He’s so small in Sam's arms, blinking and whimpering as his crying petered down to nothing.

“Yeah he does.” Dean’s voice is rough as he reaches out to take Jack from Sam’s arms.

Sam is looking at the two of them, his eyes flickering between them as if it was a tennis match, a furrow between his brows. He is probably just as confused as Dean is.

Jack doesn't just stop crying. He either cries so much that he passes out or Dean spends hours with him pressed against the last fading remnants of the handprint, humming and rocking him. To see him just fade off while still awake was damn near a miracle.

Claire collapses in one of the chairs around the radar and holds out her arms expectantly.

“Come on, then.” Dean lets out a huff of laughter, or something as close to it as he's gotten since everything. He moves closer with Jack in his arms and slides him into Claire’s. Jack coos and waves his hands around. It's the uncontrolled movements of a newborn, more of a muscle spasm than anything, and Claire snorts out another little laugh as he accidentally smacks her collarbone.

“He’s so calm.” Sam's voice is awed.

Dean is right there with him, Jack isn't crying, he isn't uncomfortable. For the first time, he seems almost happy. He curls closer to her and lets out the tiniest yawn, his eyes crunching closed. Claire looks mesmerized. She gives Jack her fingers and he wraps his whole hand around them.

“I'm staying.” Claire says suddenly, eyes still locked with Jack’s. She can't seem to look away and neither can he.

“Okay.” And it’s as simple as that.

-

Three days. 84 hours, with no more sleep than a cat nap here and there and yet he still couldn’t seem to fall asleep. Every time he tries, he manages to get five steps away from Jack’s bassinet before he starts to scream and he couldn't exactly sleep with the baby on him, not when he could wake up from a nightmare fighting.

So he wanders the bunker. Up and down through the levels, crisscrossing through the hallways. Jack is tucked up against his shoulder like always. The thumb of the handprint brushes against his cheek in the mockery of a caress. He’s whimpering slightly, but at the very least he hasn’t completely started crying yet.

Dean reaches the kitchen only to find it already occupied. Claire is perched on the counter, a beer in one hand and the other wiping away another round of tears. Dean debates leaving her there, but finds that he can’t.

He’s been there more than a handful of times and during each one he was constantly torn between wanting to be left the fuck alone and wanting someone to notice. He wanted someone to realize that he wasn’t doing okay, to sit there with him as he broke apart. He never wanted to talk, didn’t want to cry in front of them, but realizing that someone cared enough to notice his downward spiral always seemed to help in its own fucked up way.

So, Dean pulls the bottle from her loose fingertips and puts on a pot of coffee. Claire makes grabby-hands at him until he relents, handing over Jack who just coos and twines his hands into her leather jacket. Well, Dean’s leather jacket. The same one she had snagged from his closet not too long ago, as if he wouldn’t notice. Jack immediately falls more silent than he’s been all day, his eyes sliding shut with another yawn that is far too big for his tiny body.

She’s so good with him already, her hands gentle as they shush him.

Claire thinks her hands are made for violence, for torture, for killing, for hunting. She thinks that’s all they’ll ever really be good for. She’s a predator, a soldier, made for a war that she didn’t know existed until it ruined her life. But those hands are also for protecting, for comforting, for saving.

She is good, at her core. Gentle and loving and all of Dean and Cas and Sam and Jody and Donna’s good traits all mixed into one girl who stands before him. A better person than he’ll ever be.

She’s stolen his bad traits too, the same way she stole that jacket. Put it on as a layer of protection against the world. It’s too big for her, doesn’t fit quite right, because it’s not hers and it’s not Dean’s either. It was too big for Dean too when he first put it on 20 years ago and he doesn’t know if he ever actually grew into it, or just thinks he did.

Together, they sit, shoulder to shoulder and don't say anything and that’s enough for the both of them. They drink their coffee until they can blame their shaking hands on that and listen to Jack’s even breathing.

Dean doesn’t move, even as Claire rests her head against his shoulder, the same shoulder Jack does, and he feels the tears soak in.

Four days. 96 hours and Jack finally manages to fall asleep without crying.

-

Nine days.

Nine days and he’s barely surviving. He can’t move, he can’t breathe, he can’t exist without something tearing at him from the inside out. But, he continues on anyway.

So many things he can’t do. So many contradictions that have slowly become his life.

Claire and him have a system. They work like a machine, two parts of the same person. They don’t look at each other, they can’t. Dean sees all the ways she looks like Cas, all the ways she looks like him, and she sees all the ways he’s failed her.

But they work together, anyway, for Jack.

And that scares him too.

It’s hard to see her with him and not see himself reflected back. He was a lot younger when he first had to learn how to change a diaper or make a bottle but she’s still too young to have that responsibility thrown onto her.

Claire takes to it like she takes to everything else: a fake grin that he can spot from a mile away and a sly joke.

She pours formula into the bottle and he gets his bath ready and at night they sit together on the counter and they watch over Jack. On the nights they manage to sleep he can hear her sneak into his room and pass out in the chair closest to Jack’s bassinet. Four hours later, he guides her into the bed and takes up her spot.

It never fails to make him feel like shit when she steals Jack’s from his hands. Makes him feel like John.

Dean doesn’t tell Sam this, but he somehow knows, the same way he always does.

Sam looks at him as he looks at Claire and marches up to him with a furrow in his brow and Dean knows that he’s not going to like whatever comes out of Sam’s mouth next.

“Can we talk?”

“No.” Sam gives him a harsh look and grabs his arm, dragging him out of the room anyway, down the hall and around the corner so their voices won’t travel.

“Sam, I said no.” Dean doesn’t even have the strength to pull his arm out of Sam’s grip, he’s just so tired.

“Yeah, well, I don’t care.” Sam leans against the wall across from him, his hands open by his side, his shoulders slouched. “Look at me, Dean, you need to let Claire help you.”

“I have.”

“No you haven’t.” Sam sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Dean really wants to take a pair of clippers to it. “She helps you, but you don’t let her.”

“Well, maybe it’s because it’s not her responsibility.” Dean crosses his arms, feet squared, even as he sways slightly.

“And it’s somehow yours? Dean, we were all friends with Cas.”

Were, were, were. Past tense, always past tense because Cas is gone. He’s not coming back, he’s ash and bone on a beach 20 hours away, and Dean took a shower but he can still somehow taste it on the back of his throat. His burns sting when he moves his hands. The handprint of his forearm reminds him of the one on his shoulder and he can’t breathe.

“Yes.” Dean chokes out. “Yes. He’s my responsibility and I’m not going to push that onto someone else just because I want to drink or sleep or go on a hunt.”

Dean watches as Sam’s entire face goes blank. He shuts down for a moment before coming back to life all at once, like a computer rebooting itself after it’s been overloaded.

“Dean.” It’s Sam’s turn to choke out the word. “Dean you're not dad.” Dean bolts upright and suddenly wants to punch something. He wants to scream and yell and feel the crunch of wood and bone under his feet.

He doesn’t even have the excuse of the Mark of Cain this time. Just his own shitty emotions getting the better of him.

“I’m not talking about this.”

“Yes we are.” Sam catches Dean's sleeve and Dean nearly socks him on principle. “Dean letting people help you isn't bad, that’s what new parents do. Claire isn’t four, she can choose whether she wants to help or not and right now she wants to help. So let her.”

Dean knows. He knows for as much as Claire acts like him, she isn’t him, but it’s hard to divorce the two ideas when he looks at her everyday and sees a mirror.

She’s been getting more frustrated over the week because Dean won’t let her help. She has to push her way through him in order to do anything useful. Dean can’t stop her from staying awake but he can make sure that he gets everything done before she does so she doesn’t have to.

Dean doesn’t want Claire to feel like she needs to help just because she can calm Jack down. She deserves to have her own life. To go out and hunt and have fun if she wants to and not have to take care of a newborn that is needier than most. But no matter what he does, she’s still right there next to him, trying to help in any way she can.

Dean rips his arm out of Sam’s grip and marches back to where Claire is holding a whimpering Jack. His eyes glow gold ever so often, but she just shushes him with a kiss on the forehead.

Claire already loves that kid. Loves him enough that she would put his life before hers. And you know what? Dean can’t even bring himself to blame her when he made the same choice at four.

Dean collapses into the chair next to her and reaches out to grab him.

“Do you want to go get his bottle ready while I try to keep him settled?” The smile she sends his way is worth more than anything.

-

“So I’ve been trying to find out why you two, in particular, calm Jack down so much.” Sam’s voice echoed through the bunker, breaking the suffocating silence they’ve been in for so long. He stares at the two perched in their usual spot on the counter, a single mug of coffee teetering between them, lipstick smears on one side.

They look like shit.

In sync they give him a raised eyebrow. Claire passes Jack over to Dean, the baby snuffling in his sleep, and snatches the coffee cup from his hand. She makes sure to twist it before taking a drink, lining up with the lipstick mark already there.

“Well back when that whole thing happened like four years back, we found out that angels leave a bit of grace behind.”

No.

“And that handprint was a direct tie from soul to grace.”

No.

“I think he’s reacting to Cas’s grace that remains inside of you. He obviously bonded with Cas before he was even born you remember the park as well as I do. It must calm him down, since Cas isn’t-”

Claire bolts up and Dean sees the coffee cup tip in slow motion, spilling down to the floor with a crash. She’s angry.

She’s so fucking angry it’s like looking in a mirror.

Dean can’t even blame her when she leaves. Walks right out of the kitchen and he can hear the front door slam echoing throughout the entire bunker. He’s just as mad. He wants to rage, he wants to throw the mug against the wall, he wants to scream because Cas left.

He left them with a kid and a piece of himself embedded underneath Dean’s skin that he can never get out. And he left.

He’s gone, turned to ash and dust on the wind and never coming back. No begging and pleading and praying will help them this time. It won’t get him back, it won’t get this piece of Cas under his skin out.

All he gets is the shitty consolation prize of a piece of his best friend's soul under his skin and the grief that keeps him on the teetering edge of insanity. All he gets is his family more broken than before and apparently a connection to a twenty year old who would sooner wish him dead than help her.

All he gets is flashes of something familiar out of the corner of his eye that disappears as soon as he turns and a lingering figure standing behind him in the mirror. Dean has stopped reacting to it. He’s stopped spinning wildly at the sight only to find no one there, he finds he can’t take the disappointment, the heartbreak.

But instead, he chases Claire out the front door, because honestly he can’t take another loss. Not right now.

Jack is still in his arms, working himself up into crying as Claire gets further away.

They catch up to her halfway down the road, her shoulders shaking with the force of holding back her sobs.

“Claire, stop.” Dean calls out and she stops walking but doesn’t turn. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” She nearly shouts it, somehow curling in on herself farther. “It’s not okay. It’s always something new and I can’t.”

“Claire-”

“Don’t look at me.” Claire begs and Dean gets it. He does want anyone to see him cry either so he turns around and presses his lips into Jack’s hair.

“I just-” Claire starts and stops like a car sputtering to life and he can hear her growing more frustrated with every breath. “I keep-” Finally she breaks and lunges forward. Dean thinks she’s going to start hitting him again, like the first day she showed up, but she just rests her forehead between his shoulder blades.

“I keep losing everything.” Claire starts. “I lost my dad for a year and then he comes back and I lose him again and this time it’s my fault.” Dean doesn’t interrupt but he wants to tell her it’s okay. That none of this is her fault. That it was his, and Sam’s, and Cas’s but not hers. Never hers. “My dad wanted to protect me so he let Cas in again and now he’s dead and my mom couldn’t even look at me. She blamed me, I could tell. If I had just said no- but, she left too and now she’s dead. And Randy is dead and now Cas is dead too and I keep losing.” She’s sobbing now, her arms tucked up between her chest and Dean’s back. He’s tempted to turn around, but she doesn’t seem to be done.

“Every time I have Jack it’s like suddenly I’m okay, like I’m whole again. I feel like he’s not actually gone, like I’ll turn around and he’ll be there, the stupid look on his face.” She presses closer, and gently knocks her head into his back over and over again. “And now I know it’s not even because of me, I’m not getting better. It’s just this piece of grace still in me that’s making me think that way and I can’t. I just ca-”

“I know.” Dean finally spins and tucks her under his chin. Jack is squished between them, his eyes glowing gold in the fading light of the sun. They’d have to get back inside soon or he’d get cold. But for now, he just holds the two of them close. She tucks herself impossibly closer, her hands gripping the back of his shirt like a lifeline. “Trust me I know. My dad made a deal to protect me and I still haven’t forgiven him to this day, even though I’ve done the same for Sammy more times than I’d like to admit.”

“That guilt never goes away.” He admits, and presses a kiss to the crown of her head. He wishes Charlie where here. She always seemed to know what to do. “You’ll never forget the people who have sacrificed themselves for you. You’ll love them and hate them and want them back and never want to see them again and it’ll always be confusing.”

“Are you trying to make me feel better.” She laughs and it’s one of the best sounds in the world. It makes the knot in Dean’s chest unclench just a fraction so he can laugh back.

“Yeah I am, because we’ll figure it out together. You have us now and if anyone knows about survivors guilt it me and Sam.” Claire let’s out another laugh and Dean presses another kiss to her head before pulling away. “Come on we have to get back inside before it gets too cold for him.” Claire nods and wipes away the majority of her tear tracks before making the same grabby hands she always does.

Dean slides Jack into her arms and pulls her in for another hug.

“Together?” He makes a sweeping gesture back to the bunker and she snorts.

“Together.”

[inthestars011]

sweetener album songs- check moon/venus pt 1!

*moon sign is important to check as emotions feelings needs and deep desires are almost always displayed thru music so you’re probably gonna relate to ur moon signs song on a deeper soul level. venus is all about style, tastes and aesthetics which is displayed with music for sure so u could maybe also check ur venus sign for more of like your vibe, beauty romance style displayed thru music, but in my opinion moon matters most as it gets right to the emotional nitty gritty. (sorry i am terrible at explaining hope that made sense), also don’t be offended or take it too seriously if it’s not ur fAVE song because yes i have a knowledge of the moon signs but it is still at the end of the day my interpretation and is not a factual thing.* ALSO SOME SIGNS MAY HAVE MORE THAN ONE SONG SINCE i think sometimes venus’s moons and venus’s manifest pretty differently, and other times they pretty similar.

ARIES moon and venus - BETTER OFF

ok ok ok, so i know this song talks abt a lack of commitment and i aint tryna be stereotypical because i know ppl with this placement in highly committed relationships just hear me out. i think these natives are not at all cold hearted or wild cards that think commitment is gross. i think they love passion fun and romance, but they unfortunately sometimes settle for superficial relationships because they love all the wonderful parts of commitment but don’t wanna deal with the fighting, the vulnerability, the fear and the feelings of inferiority that a relationship will bring. “steering clear of any headaches to start” is just about unfortunately not even giving the relationship a chance because they don’t want it to fall apart. but this also comes with a torn empty feeling since these signs really do feel love and want commitment so a lot of times they just vocalize that they r “better off being a wild one” when really, sure, maybe they wanna be wild, but they don’t�� always wanna be these wild lonewolfs, they want a companion beside them in their wild adventures, so, internally,  there is a deep regret.

TAURUS MOON/ VENUS - SWEETENER

k first of all this song is loaded with tastes,smell,touch, and a taurus is all abt the senses. it’s got a very sweet earthy vibe. and is practical in the fact that it says life can be shitty but there’s always gonna be something that comes around and sweetens it up. this isn’t overly positive nor negative, it’s realistic as a taurus usually is. There is something abt this song that is sexy, but not overly sexually charged, it’s like also angelic and sweet, and i think taurus moons AND venus’s all can tap into that beautiful balance quite well. When she talks sweetly about a memory with the boys mom, there is something so cute, real, loving, CoMfOrTiNg and down to earth abt it which JUST SCREAMS TAURUS energy oml. i know this is a random observation but like taurus moons n suns especially (idk many taurus venuses i fuckin wish oml) all seem really traditional and family oriented to me and i just love that. anyways, the overall vibe of this song gives me feeling of comfort and warmth, which taurus moon and venus are queens of.

GEMINI MOON-GET WELL SOON GEMINI VENUS- GOODNIGHT N GO

k gemini moons, don’t know a lot of them, but whenever i hear gemini moon i think major anxiety and overthinking, a scattered mind. and obviously this perfectly fits the emotion of that song. I also don’t know how to explain it but there’s something abt even the rythym/ music/ singing in the song that just sounds scattered and kind of just like everywhere? idk my cancer moon always feel uncomfy when i listen to it but also thinks its a real good song. but yeah i just think racing thoughts and feels of anxiety perfectly depicts the gemini moon. NOW GEMINI VENUS.... ik a few of these and my soul always says goodnight n go. theres something so cute and fun and flirty abt the energy which all gemini venus’s have omg. like dam it just reminds me of someone who has a way with words which is alwayyyys a gemini venus. also the whole part abt her teasing him O M G that is how they flirt, like literally all they do is tease and joke arnd with u in the most charming and hot way, it’s the most adorable thing ever.

[sojuu]

i woke up crying.

it was such a weird dream but i can’t help but believe that any dream i’m experiencing is truly reality and i end up facing it with the entirety of my existence, not a part of me knowing or even considering the fact that it’s all in my head. i hate it so much. i woke up crying and as it slowly sunk in that i was really just dreaming, i felt such a huge wave of relief like i used up the last of my shitty luck and somehow escaped into an alternate reality. anyone would think i had just dreamed of someone dying or something exceptionally terrible. but it wasn’t anything like that. just heartbreak. so familiar, yet it hurt, stung, and burned like the first time.

it’s been happening for a few days now and it’s something i’ve experienced before. i think somehow it’s a coping mechanism for my brain, which is always ( why do you do this ) thinking of the worst possible scenario for my heart and is trying to run through these enactments of heartbreak in the worst possible manner like some sick therapy or training that would somehow harden my heart and prepare me for the worst...or the inevitable. i’m not sure. i can’t say it’s ever worked though. i am still as vulnerable and fragile and prone to break down.

______________________________

in my first relationship, as i was saying goodbye to him before getting ready to return home from school before my summer internship, i asked him if this was a break or a break-up. his answer?

“whatever makes it easier.”

he looked sad but smiled anyway, the most gentlest i’d ever seen him throughout the entirety of our relationship, which was, in short, abusive. i ran to my friends’ apartment across the street and cried into their arms. they supported me and we watched moana to help me feel a bit better. i returned to my apartment later with puffy eyes, my heart a bit lightened. but i could slowly feel it sinking back into this bottomless sadness as i realized i wouldn’t see them for a bit. i felt alone and helpless, not knowing how i would deal with this emotional burden. i wanted it gone but i didn’t know how to get rid of it. i’m impatient. “it gets better with time” i didn’t want to hear it.

i went off to my summer internship in a new city. travelling and living alone in a new city is incredibly exciting but nerve-wracking. but i can’t deny that it helped to focus on something other than my broken heart. i arrived a bit earlier to move in and settle down, giving me some time to explore at my leisure. my room was small but the bed was set right up against the window, giving me tons of sunlight and an alright view of the city. i would watch the sun rise from the window many times as i either failed to sleep or woke up crying. for months.

_______________________________

it was the same feeling as back then. i had dreams that i thought were real until i woke up and saw the sun of a new city flood the room and greet me, assuring me it wasn’t real. except...it eventually did become real. i dreamed that he left me for another girl, someone i knew and was acquainted with. they were always close friends but it never bothered me because, well, i liked her too. and i trusted him. or wanted to believe i could. towards the end of the year though, i had suspected something was up because he told me to leave him alone so he could focus on his finals and applying to grad school. so i did, because your future and your career are important. i stopped messaging him and didn’t talk to him or see him for a week. the next time i did see him, he was watching netflix and laughing with her. i was furious. am i the crazy girlfriend? he hadn’t talked to me at all that week and yet, here i found him enjoying himself with someone else. ( wow typing this out, i really do sound like the crazy girlfriend lol. but dam, he was so shitty to me i ain’t about to discredit myself and give him anything rn. sorry but 2017 and 2018 me were wasted on u. i deserved better u misogynistic asshole with anger management issues who can’t even take care of yourself. i didn’t deserve being told to break up with you from your mom, being told racist things, how she didn’t like koreans coupled with him telling me his mom just wanted him to have a nice chinese girlfriend. fuck you. o shit i just got so angry so fast lmao. repressed much lol )

they eventually started dating the following school year. he had apparently sought after her throughout the summer and when the new semester began. and to think he had the audacity to ask me to be friends again after ghosting me the entire

different story. different time.

i can’t say my dreams were realistic in the slightest. they were over-dramatic and honestly would never play out in real life like they do in my head. but nevertheless, i had my heart broken tons of times that summer just from my own imagination. and just now, too.

he’s my second one. we’re in a bit of a weird spot but basically, we’re chillin. we did actually date for like a month at the beginning of the school year but...things happened. he’s been working the same job and living in this city for years and i’m about to graduate. basically, if we end up in the same city, we’ll start dating again. but if not, it’s over.

i’ve been feeling really shaky about all this because i hate not knowing exactly where i stand in his life and where he stands in mine. we’re not dating but we’re not just friends, either. and i truly thought i could have a future with this guy. i still do, to some degree. but i feel like it’s too early to be thinking about stuff like that. i gotta graduate and get a job first lol. and i guess you could say the easiest solution to all this is to just find jobs in the same cities, which is basically what we’re doing right now. but i’m kinda having a mental breakdown about my career, what i actually want to do, my chance of even getting a job with all this shit happening, etc...

wow the more i write the more ridiculous i sound to myself. i think since it’s been like an hour since i woke up, my sad feelings have like dissipated or something lmao. idk. i feel better but also like...disappointed in myself? i think i just need a therapist to be honest. i thought i was over all the shit that happened in my previous relationship but clearly not. my brain is sabotaging itself with this weird dreaming heartbreak training again because that’s just the shitty way it works. but that doesn’t mean those two people in my life are the same. am i exhibiting the same behavior because i see similarities between them or because i just don’t know any other way to cope? because they are definitely very different people. it’s just...they both broke my trust. i guess that’s one similarity. did it involve other people? yeah. another similarity. hmm, maybe i’m not that crazy after all. i always feel like i overthink and overreact. and i do. i honestly do and i can acknowledge that. but typing this out, i can see why my brain would return to the same coping mechanism.

i should just end it. if i’m having thoughts about him like this, if my trust in him isn’t what it used to be, then maybe this just ain’t it...is what i’ve been thinking at the back of my head for a while. but am i giving up on something that could be? relationships are hard to make work, even good ones. they require trust and work both ways, i know that. communication, understanding, sympathy, vulnerability...all those things and even more. and yet, i can’t really ask for any of that right now since we’re not even at that point. we’re not dating. we’re just chillin. friends with benefits? maybe. but there are definitely strings attached since we, uh, did actually date at some point. idk. i can still see a future with this guy but maybe not now maybe in like...a few years? when i figure out a better way of handling myself? when i get a therapist? when the rest of my life is a bit more figured out? when this virus isn’t wrecking my motivation, mental state, grades, productivity, etc.?

idk man

i just wanted to write down what i dreamed but it ended up being a rant anyway.

i dreamed that he showed me a song. it was kinda like a love song? and we sang it together. and then he told me was gonna sing it to another girl and had all these things prepared to confess to her. i was confused. i thought we were dating. i thought we were together? was this a different timeline? we had a hangout place. it was shaped like a huge glass bottle but twisted towards the top. i cried and ran into the glass bottle building and up the twirling staircase and sang the song. he followed me and gave me a hug while i was crying. there’s an abandoned shopping cart outside of the building. i don’t know why. he goes back downstairs and leaves. i am devastated and crying and singing the song. and then i wake up.

i don’t even remember what the song sounded like.

i feel more normal now. i really need to take a shit tho.

[the-gay-cryptid]

On Religion

As some of you know, I attend a catholic school and have done so since I was the tender, gullible, impressionable age of 5. I was also, of course, raised catholic. Which, for those of you spared the experience, should know means “I grew up catholic but hated it and I’m still not comfortable outright saying I’m not anymore because I feel guilty.”

I don’t often talk about religion here, but I’ve been rereading The Poison Wood Bible for school (fantastic book by the way, easily one of my favorites I’ve ever read) and it’s really stirs up my emotions surrounding my own religious upbringing, so here we go.

Until I was in the fifth grade, I had no idea religions outside of Christian, Jewish, and Muslim existed. I was also taught that Muslims were savage, oppressive, violent people and the all Muslims wanted to kill everyone who wasn’t Muslim. So. Just to give you perspective. I was also led to believe that Jewish people weren’t as bad, but they were just misguided and stuck in the past.

Around seventh grade, I began to suspect I was gay. Thankfully I’d become somewhat desensitized to that good old catholic guilt by having it beat into my very being since before I comprehended object permanence. But I didn’t want God to hate me, so I decided I had a crush on this boy. He was nice to me and we liked the same shows and he had a smart ass sort of attitude towards the less mature boys that I appreciated. So obviously since I enjoyed this boy’s company I must’ve liked him.

But I was still curious about my sexuality in relation to my religion. So I took every opportunity to ask about it in “religion” class. Despite the name, we only talked about The One True Religion. I got different answers depending on which teacher I asked.

Senora Baskin, our Spanish teacher who spoke shitty Spanish and was obsessed with Mexican culture and said it saved her from getting an abortion, told me that the pope said being gay wasn’t a sin, just being in a gay relationship. So I could be gay, but I could never date, get married, or even kiss a girl.

Mrs. Shaver said that gays go to hell. She also told a kid whose dog had died that all dogs go to hell because animals don’t have souls. She also told me I’d go to hell for listening to music with cuss words in it. Imagine that: a class of kids going through their edgy phase, listening to MCR and other punk bands of varying quality being told they were going to hell. I didn’t much value Mrs. Shaver’s opinions anyway.

Mr. Miller sort of stuttered a moment, then told me that he wasn’t actually allowed to talk about that. That’s when I learned catholic schools usually don’t talk about the shit the church is against. We don’t get to debate gay marriage, abortions, or the death penalty. We are not supposed to think critically or form our own opinions, because the opinions of a higher organization should replace our own feelings.

I eventually asked my mom. She told me about a gay couple she was friends with. They were married, but not in the eyes of the church. So any time they had sex, they had to go to confession and apologize for sex outside of wedlock. I didn’t like that solution either.

In eighth grade i sort of just shrugged and said “well. Guess I’m gay then.” I made an effort to bring it up in class more. Gay rights, not being gay. I’d never tell anyone, that would be horrible! I did come out to a few of my close friends, mainly because i realized I really wanted to kiss my best friend.

Freshman year, my religion problem amped itself up. The rhetoric was all the same. I was hearing the same lessons over and over and over again. I’d heard the same things since I was five, just in increasingly complex terms. I finally admitted my serious issues with my religion. My mom told me I didn’t have to be Catholic. I could be Baptist, Presbyterian, Episcopalian, Jewish, even Muslim. I just couldn’t be polytheistic or Mormon. I decided that it wasn’t worth fighting about and didn’t bother telling her I wasn’t sure I believed in an anything. The only thing that would hurt her more than me not being christian, would be me being an atheist.

Religion had been important to her when she was little. She’d been bullied mercilessly, abused by her older brother, had a rocky relationship with her step father. On church retreats, she found camaraderie and comfort. It’s where she met her best friend. They’re still friends, and seeing them together they might as well still be stupid teenagers who don’t need anything but each other.

Sophomore year, I came out to my whole family as gay. It was good. I also met the best religion teacher ever: Mrs. Khouzam. She is, to this day, one of my favorite teachers I’ve ever had. There was Mrs. Rae, who lent me more mature books and encouraged my love of writing, and Mrs. Fava, who taught me that I was allowed to have any opinion I wanted, but it had to be backed by facts rather than a person’s skin or the opinions of my parents. Mrs. Khouzam loved God unconditionally. And she loved us.

She was the Mother Mary incarnate, and I loved her with my whole heart. She reminded me of the paintings of women who cradled ragged men like their children. She just exudes mother. Because of her, I began to love my religion again.

Then junior year that was ruined.

Mrs. Langomez was a short, stout woman from the Philippines who spoke too softly and disregarded our opinions with a quiet reminder of Jesus. We wrote journal reflections in her class, and I’d long since abandoned giving the vague “I love Jesus” shit for opinion questions on my work. I told her out right that I had serious issues with Catholicism and that I was gay. She only wrote on my paper that she glad my family accepted me.

Then it went to absolute shit. I sat in my desk on the front row and watched this woman I had only rolled my eyes at and joked about with my classmates give a 40 minute power point presentation on why homosexuality was a sin. She described how god designed men and women to love each other, and since gays couldn’t procreate in the normal way, they were incapable of real love. Being gay damaged one’s soul and relationship with god. She said there were special religious retreats for gay people to strengthen their relationship with god and overcome their gay urges. 

I was..horrified. Humiliated. Furious. Hurt. I just sat there, staring at the board with my fists and jaw clenched. I glared at her. I ignored her as I left. My classmates snickered at how stupid she was. I joked that I wanted to punch her and we laughed. It was their quiet way of saying they didn’t agree with her.

I shook the whole way to lunch and explained what had happened to the lower class men I ate with. And like a dam breaking, I felt that horrible weight in my chest. I grabbed a friend’s water bottle, trying to drown my crying before it could rise. I shook and shuddered and bit my lip and tried everything I could to stay steady. A few classmates sat with me and held my shoulders and told me Langomez was stupid. I admitted it was the first time I’d ever faced someone who so clearly hated me on the basis of my sexuality.

I couldn’t stand to stay there, so I left for the office with my backpack and told them I needed to go home. I’d already texted my dad. The principal saw me crying and asked if something had happened. Mrs. Langomez stood at the printer, half watching this. I told the principal I was fine and just needed to go.

I cried the whole way home. My mom called the principal and told her why I’d been so upset. I sent her an email later that night, explaining in better words than I’d be able to say, that it had been gut wrenching to sit somewhere I’d thought was safe, and be told in textbook language that I was a sinner and a perversion and incapable of love. I was promised an apology from Langomez that I never got.

It’s true that there are Catholics like Mrs. Khouzam. People who love unconditionally. But there are Langomez too. Hateful people. And they don’t all yell and scream. Sometimes they’re quiet and passive aggressive and pity you for being gay. And I couldn’t let that go. I was tired of the conflicting rhetoric. I was exhausted of grappling with god.

So senior year came. Langomez had moved to Japan with her husband in the military. My current teacher is a young woman who graduated from my high school in 2013. I don’t ever hide my sexuality. The whole school knows. We don’t talk about homosexuality in her class, because senior year theology is about vocations.

But I stopped taking communion. It felt horrible to cross my arms over my chest after so many years of cupping them in front of me. I nearly had an anxiety attack as I walked down the aisle. I imagined god striking me down then and there.

I only tell people I was raised catholic now. I once told my current theology teacher that my relationship with Catholicism felt like an abusive one. I was dragged up and down. I was shamed and ridiculed. I was dismissed and ignored. I don’t give a damn if not all Catholics are like that. I’m done having to take that gamble every time I meet one.

I’m not an atheist at least, which makes my mom happy. I believe in a Something. Maybe a polytheistic Something. I’ll figure it out when I’m somewhere I can learn it outside the context of catholic propaganda.

[snowembrace]

You know, I feel like whatever route CRWBY takes with the BB/Blacksun ship, we can't deny that it's pretty shitty stringing shippers along. If Blacksun ends up canon, which I know it will, that's so shitty to the Bb shippers and they can claim queerbaiting because it is. And if Bb ends up canon, yikes, that's so fucked up for Blacksun shippers. There is no win-win scenario here.

i agree with everything here except one thing you said, which is

they can claim queerbaiting because it is

at the end of the day, when you look at the show itself, queerbaiting is nowhere to be found. but allow me to explain.

so far everything we’ve been shown concerning b/lake and y/ang has been platonic at best. think about it. blushing? none. kissing? none. almost kissing? none. they’ve danced for literally one second on-screen before y/ang allowed sun to step in and spend the entire evening/night with b/lake.

so my question is: if you didn’t actually ever get into the fandom, if you watched the show without knowing about the b/b vs bs controversy, would you honestly say that rt has queerbaited anyone, specifically with b/b?

all the stress that our blacksun fandom is currently going through is only caused by the rabid shippers and the rabid shippers only. not the show. we are all here now saying that “we most likely lost, next week we better turn our anons off and stay away from social media” only because y/ang and b/lake might team up against a/dam.

like, that was going to happen. sooner or later, it just had to happen. b/lake and y/ang need to get back to be on good terms for the sake of the whole team. they might not be as close as they used to be, but they have to AT LEAST be able to stand each other. y/ang is finally starting to appreciate b/lake’s efforts, she realized that b/lake wasn’t a selfish asshole who left only for her own good. seeing that a member of her family (albeit not related by blood) came back to her, unlike her mom did, obviously made her happy. her own team, her family, came back to her, and that’s all that matters to her.

plus, i also don’t find it realistic to think that she could be ready to face a/dam yet, but that’s another story. the point is, that people are romanticizing two girls working to fix their broken friendship. even cas/ey said that sometimes friendships that end badly can be even worse than romantic relationships ending badly, specifically referring to b/b. 

so the only reason we get scared is because we are so influenced by the fandom that we too tend to view many moments as romantic when they actually are not. i do however think that rt has done some pretty questionable things so far, but they’ve always tried to fix them… somehow. so do they really count as queerbaiting? like

- b/mblb? not canon

- the manga? not canon

- the anthologies? not canon

- chibi? not canon, also stopped having b/b skits after the first season

- the vas can’t really be blamed since they are people and can do whatever they want. although they should sometimes refrain from saying certain things, they are just shippers that behave like some. hell the vol/tron fandom got it even worse - some storyboard artist actually drew k/lance pics once! lol

so all this to say that at the end of the day, only rabid shippers would actually go after rt. those who are so blinded by their own hypocrisy and shipping goggles that they deny the evidence. now the writers are people too and because of that they might switch from one idea to the other at any moment, but so far i still don’t feel like giving up yet.

sorry this came out so long! i just try to reassure my fellow blacksun shippers as best as i can!

[courierdusters-a]

// i don’t think i’ve talked about it much here, but after the second battle is concluded, about a month or so after, elle’s last living adopted relative finally tracks her down

and it’s because of kath that elle finally gets to learn things about her childhood, details about her life that ulysses could never tell her. what her birthday is (how old she is), the family she couldn’t remember, growing up on a brahmin ranch with the beach not too far away. that she traveled with someone for a time, someone that seemed important to her. that her father’s name had been micah (and this is why that’d be especially significant to elle) — but not what he had been like, because kath was too young when he died to have really known him

kathleen carlyle was the middle child of the carlyle family, and where leland remembered their father and took it upon himself to try and fill the role of Being The Man Of The Family at a young age, kath actually didn’t remember him at all. but she really admired their mother, emma, and tried her best to emulate her. she was ultimately closest to her younger sister, mary, but all four of them were good friends

the carlyle family took elle in when she was six, after raiders hit their town and her father didn’t survive it. the carlyles lived on the neighboring farm, and emma didn’t hesitate to adopt another into her gaggle. because on top of her own three kids, they also had a couple of best friends who came around all the time, isaac (lee’s age) and avery (closer to mary -- and elle’s -- age)

but lee, isaac, avery, and elle all left (when elle was fourteen) to join up with a fledgling caravan company to strike out and see the world. there were a lot of scary situations with mary, because she was sickly and kept falling ill in ways that threatened her life. and then isaac returned to town with the news that lee and avery had died on the road, and elle had refused to come home. isaac and kath had never been close to begin with, and isaac had come home to take care of his family’s ranch with his sister, so he didn’t have much time to spend with her, anyway

in a fell swoop of a couple of years, kath lost almost her entire family structure. part of her wanted to get out, but the rest of her couldn’t stand to leave her mom behind. but that would change after elle actually came home ... extremely briefly. she brought a traveling companion she’d met, eli bishop, and because of him it seemed as though she was on the way to recovering from lee and avery’s deaths. kath and mary were delighted to see elle again, and as they spent time together, things almost felt normal again. but isaac reacted badly to bishop’s presence, and cornered elle and accused her of replacing lee and avery and said some other shitty things to her, and elle — in what no one yet realized was True Elle Fashion at that point — ran away. she fled with bishop that very night, and kath didn’t get a chance to say good-bye

mary didn’t survive another illness not long after. and it was after this that kath decided she... had to get out. she felt hemmed in, stranded, abandoned. (and she chewed isaac a bloody new one. but at least elle had gotten to see mary one last time...) so, after talking to emma about it, she decided to sign up with the ncr army, and finally left her hometown to go into training

kath was still stationed in california by the time the first battle of hoover dam happened, and she considered herself lucky for it. but she was shipped to the mojave afterwards, and while she was traveling, she got the news that her mother had passed away

luckily, though, kath found purpose in the ncr, and connection. she made two new best friends among her fellow infantrymen, neal brooks and loren bryant, and they were happy enough together they fell into a polyamorous relationship during the events of fallout: new vegas

... but also, during the events of fnv, news of the courier started to spread. and then the courier had a name put to her: elle days. and kath’s entire world grinded to a halt. at first she thought there was just no way, until she started hearing descriptions, not just deeds. but as much as kath wanted to make a mad run for the lucky 38, she couldn’t break from orders. and whenever she did have the time off and managed to get onto the strip, elle never seemed to be around

the second battle of hoover dam came and went. kath survived, but not without injury — a legion spear had struck her arm, which would cause her to partially lose sensation in that hand. by this time, kath had achieved the rank of corporal... but she resigned. she wasn’t willing to pull out of the mojave with the ncr. she needed to stay and find her sister, and the last remaining member of her family

during the month between the second battle and when kath finally manages to track elle down, kath, neal, and loren signed on with the followers of the apocalypse, kath as a kind of nurse practitioner and neal and loren as guards. and it’s this station that finally allowed kath a chance to find elle, because she’s on good terms with the followers

[i-write-about-anything]

Little Beta(s) Chapter 40

Prompt: Liam get’s turned at an early age and he looks at you as his guardian/parent. Plus you’re dating Scott who’s always trying to look after him. (10 year gap between Liam and reader)

Pairing: Liam Dunbar x Reader (platonic) Scott McCall x Reader, Derek Hale (younger and platonic) x Reader

Chapters:

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20- 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 -25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30 - 31 - 32 - 33 - 34 - 35 - 36 - 37 - 38 - 39

Reader’s POV

“Well tell him to leave.” I crossed my arms and sighed as I got up and paced around the living room.

“(Y/N), come on, let me in.” I heard his voice and I felt the small ping in my chest. 

“Tell him to leave.” I looked at both Derek and Liam before walking passed them into my room where I had gotten rid of all of Scott’s belongings and his pictures. I didn’t want anything to do with him and I sure as hell wasn’t ready to talk to him, not now, not ever. A knock on my opened door had me nervous to turn around, I didn’t want it to be Scott and I sure as hell didn’t want to start yet another fight. 

“Liam’s talking to him.” Derek’s voice spoke and I sighed before turning around. “He feels really bad mom, he’s apologized multiple times, to me and to Liam.” I shook my head. 

“I don’t care, he shouldn’t have said those things and I know it’s stupid of me to say this but he should’ve never gotten bit by Peter.” I grabbed my stomach and sighed, tomorrow was the day I was finding out what gender the baby was and although I knew Scott would eventually want to know I didn’t think it was a good idea to have him in the same room as me. 

“You can't hold that against him though, it’s not his fault he’s a werewolf. You’ve never held that against Liam or me.” I sighed and sat on my bed. 

“Look Derek, I know you miss him but trust me on this please. I'm doing what’s best for us, and this baby.” I looked down at my hands. “I’ve come close to dying ten times already and it wasn’t that big of a deal to me, I was ready to die for Scott, for our friends, but now I have you and Liam and this baby, I can’t be selfless anymore. You almost died Derek, don’t you get that? I spent most of my life taking care of Liam and even though he’s not physically mine I would die multiple deaths before I see him hurt, or you for that matter. I love you both so much which is why with Scott out of the way there will be no one to come after us, he’s an alpha, someone is always going to be after him and I can’t put anyone in that risk anymore.” He sighed and bit his lip. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” He looked down at his feet and I sighed before patting the spot next to me. 

“Hey come here.” He quickly moved towards the spot sitting next to me and I smiled. “I know you miss him and I know there’s no way you’re going to admit it but it’s okay to call him if you want, I just want us to be normal sweetie and if you want to hate me for taking Scott away from this family then you have every right to, but I'd be dammed if I let you live a life where you’re scared to do something because they’re something after you.” He sighed before putting his head on my shoulder. 

“I could never hate you, I know what you’re doing is best for us and I won't metal in between it, I trust you mom.” I smiled at his words and I kissed his head. 

___________________

Scott’s POV

“This plan sucks.” Liam spoke and I sighed, truth was, it did suck but I had no other way of getting her to listen to me, she had changed her number in the past week and she wasn’t taking the small notes I'd tell Liam to give her. 

“Yeah well do you have a better one?” I spoke and he rolled his eyes. 

“Look, I miss you dad, I do. But you really hurt her by telling me all those things, and quite frankly I'm still hurt by them.” He frowned and I sighed. 

“I’m sorry kid, I really am. I can’t believe I let that thing get to me. I love you just as much as I'm going to love that baby, you know that right?” He bit his lip and I knew this conversation had to come sooner or later. “You changed my life Liam, hell I was scared to take care of you and I know your mom never told you but I did leave because of you. I wasn't ready to do what she did at an early age but when I saw her walk into that school with you wrapped around her leg, I knew, I just knew that this was what I wanted, what I needed. And yeah, she’s always made everything about you which kind of hurt me at the beginning but the more you grew on me the more I understood. You’re my son Liam and I'm sorry that I told you that you ruined everything because you don't, I do.” He looked at me and I could tell he was on the verge of crying. “Please don’t cry.” I took him into my arms and he sobbed almost immediately. “I told you I was going to take care of you and that’s what I'm going to do, okay.” I kissed his head and for a moment I had forgotten all about the stupid fight I had been having with (y/n). “I’m so sorry Liam, I can’t tell you enough. I know it hurts and I know that you might not want to forgive me right now and I totally understand but you’re always going to be my son, even if you decide that you don’t want me as a father, I raised you and I'd like to think I did half as a good job that your mom did.” 

“I forgive you, I do.” He sniffed before he pulled away. “Mom means a lot to me and I know you know this but I don’t think you understand. She was there for me when my own mother wasn't. She went to my school plays, she helped me with homework, with bullies. She’s the only one that can calm me down and I'm sorry that I did kind of force you into this life at an early age. She knows me better than anyone else and I don’t know where I'd be without her and I know I was small and I hardly remember anything from the beginning but I know she was the one that got me out of the shitty place I had been living in. I’m thankful that she took me in and I'm thankful that you did as well. I was scared of you for the longest and I was scared that she’d replace me with you but not once did she ever do that. She made time for the both of us and even though I hated you at the beginning you’re the father I always wanted, you helped me through my shift when I knew mom couldn’t be close to me, you helped me with lacrosse, you kept all of the supernatural shit hidden until recently. I don't know where I'd be without you dad, and I know mom is mad at you right now but I read in one of those books you gave me that hormones can do that do her.” I smiled and wiped the unnoticed tears out of my eyes. 

“You’ve been reading them?” He nodded and I smiled. 

“Yeah, I'm going to be a big brother after all, plus someone has to take care of you while she hates you.” I lightly punched his shoulder and chuckled. 

“What do you think I should do?” I bit my lip and he sighed. 

“Wait it out, she can’t stay mad at you forever, plus as she progresses in her pregnancy I read she could also start to feel sad and lonely.” I smiles and shook my head. 

“You’re doing a better job at reading those books than I am.” I chuckled and the door opened and I thought it was going to be her but it was only Derek. 

“She’s asleep.” He closed the door behind him and I sighed. 

“So give her, her space?” I looked at Liam who nodded. 

“I think that’s what you're going to have to do.” Derek spoke and I looked at him. 

“I’m sorry about the whole situation.” He put his hand up before I could continue. 

“Hey, it’s fine, I haven’t been here long enough for you to hurt my feelings that bad.” He chuckled before Liam punched his shoulder. 

“Hey, quit it.” I pointed to them and they automatically put their hands up in defense. “Take care of your mother, will you? And call em after you find out what your little sibling is going to be.” I sighed before looking at Liam and giving him a hug. 

“I love you dad.” Liam spoke those words for the first time and it made my heart weak. 

“I love you too kid.” I smiled at him and looked at Derek who smiled at me. 

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes before giving me a hug. “Don't expect me to tell you I love you.” I chuckled. 

“You don’t have to, but just know that I love you, alright? I don’t know when I'll see you both again, hopefully soon, hopefully your mother gets over this quickly so we can be a family again. If you guys need me I'm only a call away, okay?” They both nodded and I sighed before walking away. 

______________

Reader's POV

Waking up the next morning I hadn’t expected to find both of the boys at the end of my bed. Surely I didn’t know what time they had came to bed so I didn’t want to wake them. The clock on my nightstand read eight thirty-five and my appointment was in less than two hours. I sighed and got out of bed careful not to wake the sleeping teenagers on my bed. They had been keeping an eye on me and I knew Scott had put them up to it. They hadn’t been in their own room in days and it had been stressing me out lately. I walked into the kitchen and prepared some eggs for both of them before serving myself a cup of tea. They both walked into the kitchen thirty minutes after I had woken up with they hair a mess. “Morning.” I spoke as they rubbed the back of their heads. 

“Morning.” Liam spoke and I giggled. 

“Okay, let’s try this, go brush your teeth.” I looked at Derek who was already grinning. “Both of you.” They groaned before storming off and I sighed looking at the clock. I knew I had to leave soon if I wanted to get there soon and I knew I had to rush the boys if that was going to be a possibility. “Not to rush you guys but we have to leave in half an hour!” I yelled and I knew they hated when I did that. 

_____________

“I bet it’s a boy.” Liam spoke as we drove to our doctor and I giggled. 

“It’s definitely a boy.” Derek spoke and I shook my head. 

“If it is I don’t want you guys starting any fights with him when he gets old enough, you hear me?” They chuckled and I smiled. Scott had always wanted a baby boy and I shook my head at the thought of him. “How did your dad take the it yesterday?” I bit my lip and I knew I shouldn’t have asked but something in me felt guilty for him not being here. 

“Hard, but we had a heart to heart, kind of the one’s I have with you.” Liam smiled as I parked the car. I looked at him and raised my eyebrows. “He’s really sorry.” I sighed and opened the door to the car and got out and so did they. When we walked into the office they took a seat while I signed in. 

“I see you finally get to know the gender of your baby, are you excited?” The young lady at the front desk spoke and I smiled before nodding, truth was, I wasn't as excited as I was two weeks ago. I quickly signed my name before sitting in the middle of Liam and Derek noticing the young couple in front of us smiling at us. 

“It’s exciting, isn’t it?” The young girl spoke and I smiled. 

“Yeah, it sure is.” I looked at Liam who had been looking down at his phone. 

“Which one’s the father?” She asked and I sighed mentally rolling my eyes. 

“Neither, these are my sons, Liam and Derek.” I place my hand on each of their shoulders and they looked at the clueless girl. 

“Oh, wow, I'm sorry, you look so young.” I nodded and looked at Derek to discontinue to conversation. 

“When’s the next basketball game?” He smiled and I knew asking him about basketball would prompt a long conversation and I needed it because I after a whole hour of waiting in that room listening to both Liam and Derek bickering I had finally been called. 

“Miss. (y/l/n) we’re ready for you.” The lady smiled and I looked at Derek and Liam before getting up. 

“Behave, will you.” They both smiled and I made my way into the room where I was ready to know what the gender of this baby was. 

_______

tags; @leslieandjensen @hirafth @neptuneluek @lydiasbxtch @adellyhatter-blog @nxthing-lasts-fxrever@letmebecomeataboo @cloudchaserr @nerdyowlbookfreak @xcastawayherosx @k-baileyy@scotttstilinskii @therealmrshale @thesuperkpopfan @queen–glitch @my-body-is-not-a-temple@mutifandomgirl @moo0803 @hautedbybieber

[jnishnish]

How It All Happened

My “Sad” Story

I always wonder why people say “you’re just looking for attention” when someone talks about what they’ve been through. Why can’t we speak openly about our stories? That’s what makes us, us isn’t it?

A lot of people I’ve spoken to don’t really believe that depression and other issues like that exist. No wonder people don’t talk about it enough. But, I am, because that’s why I’m here. You shouldn’t be scared or ashamed to open up, it matters.

My parents separated when I was three years old, and I was taken to Moab with my mother and her new boyfriend. I don’t remember much of it, but I was away from my siblings, father, and home. I guess some time went by and my mother decided to go back home to try and “work things out” with pa. Until she met Tom, finalized her divorce, and got married on May 27 when I was four years old. I remember the first time I met Tom. He came walking down his hallway with sunglasses on (Why, when he was inside? I was wondering the same thing). He had LONG kind of curly hair, he was bigger, and had a lot of tattoos. Not the nicest looking man a four year old has ever met, but there he was; my new step-dad. We moved into his house, he had a daughter Kaisha, and that was it. Until I started to grow up and realized more and more just how much I hated this man. He was cold and empty, I’m convinced he hated animals because he used to push and kick my pups down the stairs. There were small triggers and signs I became familiar with so I knew if it was safe to go home and watch tv or run straight to my room. For example, when I would walk home from the bus stop after school, I knew if the garage door was closed I needed to be quiet and hide away when I got home. I know how weird that sounds, but if Tom was in the garage he was either organizing his tools or playing with his motorcycle, which meant he was in a good mood. Anyways, more about Tom later. 

I saw my dad and older brother Dylan on most weekends and holidays until they moved two hours away when I was seven. I remember it being a constant conversation with my mom to let me move to my dads because I couldn’t stand being in their house. But, she always told me no, because I was “her daughter”. I cried a lot, I contemplated running away a lot, and I basically turned myself into a recluse who went to and from school and left everyone else alone. We moved every year, so I never made any real friends. All of this was just a small blanket on the shit show the next ten years of my life would be. There is a lot to tell, but for this post I’ll just skim through. 

Things were tough, Tom was mean, mom stopped caring about things she used to, they drank a lot, and what I was unaware of then was that she was a pill popper. When I was 12 she told me they were getting a divorce and I felt like I was feeling the warm sun for the first time after a long, long winter. My mom, me, and my two oldest brothers rented our own house and we were sort of a family again. Her and Tom never legally divorced, I don’t know why, but they weren’t together. Shortly after moving into our new house she stopped coming home from work at night and we found out she’d met a man named Steve who she was reaalllllly interested in. Let’s face it though, she was really interested in anyone that could give her security and a body to lay next to at night. 

He had a lot of money I guess, he lived in one of the nice houses at the top of town. I knew from the moment I met him, he wasn’t a good dude. Which became very clear, very quickly. Her alcohol problem was out of hand and there were rumors of heavier drug use. None of which I ever spoke to her about, but I did battle with her for months to come home and be with her kids. To no success, I ended moving into is house so my brothers didn’t have to care for me. I didn’t belong there, nor was I wanted there. It was only a short time before there was a big emotional and I almost physical (I prayed he’d hit me) blow out which ended in me staring into my moms lifeless eyes and telling her I was moving away. I was a freshman in High School, and after years of her fighting for me, she just said “okay”. So I did. I left and finished my first year of high school in Logan, hanging out with some weird ass kids, wearing the same three shirts all year, and not speaking to my mom unless she had something to brag about. 

That school year ended and I was still just as empty and restless as I’d always been. Until the beginning of June in 2013 I started to dream about my mom dying, and finally getting a call one night saying she’d disappeared and nobody had heard from her. This was the only time in my life I’d felt the fear of my mom ceasing to exist, in not only my life, but all of life. However, the next morning my dad got a call about her being in the hospital after a suicide attempt, and that’s when I decided to move back home to help her get back on her feet. She didn’t.

She went to a behavioral/suicide watch hospital for a few days, came home, realized there was still a lot of work to do, and put herself in rehab for 60 days. I don’t know the success rate of rehab facilities but hers wasn’t that successful. The day she got out she took a drink of alcohol right in front of me out of her cracked out friends McDonalds cup like I was some fucking idiot. Like, you know alcohol has a pretty strong smell right? You also know this guy pierced my belly button on my counter top while you were “bettering yourself” and has permanently marked your body with tattoos that don’t even look like tattoos anymore, right? He wasn’t the best influence. 

She met another man shortly after this all went down, who was living in his black Nissan with his cat Rascalina, who was named Rascal until he found out it was a girl cat. Anyways, they eventually got an apartment and they are doing really well now. She still isn’t the mom I once wanted, but as I’ve grown into an actual adult, I realized she’s at least the friend I need and that’s okay.

People have shitty stories. People go through shitty things, and sometimes it ruins them. I take medication for bipolar disorder, insomnia, and anxiety and sure a lot of it is genetics and the passing down of shitty genes, but we feel because of what we see. And I saw a lot of shit I didn’t want to. But, at the end of the day, she didn’t die in her car that night at the dam. She didn’t beat me and bruise me (physically). I wasn’t starving and parentless. Some pains are simply bigger than others, and I never want anyone to feel small for feeling things even if they haven’t been through something as big. A well as I don’t want anyone to feel like they have to be really strong when they’ve been through something worse. Feeling are normal and we are alive. I am exactly the person I am right now as I’m typing this because of what my life is. Just as all of you are. I don’t love everything about myself, but I’m learning. And I’m damn happy with the insight I have and the motivation I have to make a better mark on the world. 

All we need to do is progress. And allow ourselves to feel alive enough to live. Even if living sometimes sucks. 

[readyreddie]

Rebel Without a Cause

Here is a fic I wrote to go with my Rebel! Eddie HC. I plan on writing more one shots like this and put them in a collection on here and AO3. Also I am trying to get back into writing and if you have any pointers feel free to message me.

Disclaimer I do not own these characters or the story of It

Eddie paced around the room back and forth, going between states of pure rage and utter despair. After the fight with Pennywise he had told the Losers that his mom had been lying to him his whole life. That his medication were all gazebos (Ben tried to tell him they were called placebos but he was too mad to listen) and that he had never actually been a sickly kid.

“I-I-I JUST CANT BELIEVE SHE WOULD LIE LIKE THAT TO ME!” Eddie screamed in a fit of rage turning toward Beverly and Richie, then went back to pacing. They had gone back to Richie’s house because they knew his parents wouldn’t bother them and Bev wasn’t quite ready to go back to her empty home. “Like, she’s, she’s, my mom ya know.” He turned back towards Richie and Bev, tears starting to roll down his face, clinging tightly together in thick quiet streams. “She is supposed t-t-to love me. To help me gro-grow,” He choked back a sob trying to at least get the words out from the open vent that his mind had turned into. “and help me learn, not lie to me.” At the last word he managed before he fell to his knees, hitting the carpeted ground so hard that Richie was sure he would bruise.

“Eds, come on it’s okay, it’s okay, we’re here for you.” Richie ran over to Eddie and took him in his arms, slowly stroking the back of his head trying to find a way to soothe the pain out of him.

“D-DON’T FUCKING CALL ME T-THAT!” Eddie choked out in between sobs, tears now rolling off his face and onto Richie’s annoyingly bright shirt.

“Eddie.” Bev said in a soft tone, trying to get Eddie to come out of his blinding sadness, and into a more emotionally stable sad. “Eddie, look at me.”

“W-What?” Eddie asked his voice coming back to a normal level but his eyes still acting like a broken dam.

“How about instead of crying we do something that she would hate? Not like a permanent thing but just something to rebel a little?” Beverly knew that doing something stupid always helped her feel a little better and thought it might help in this situation. Based off of Eddie’s head perking up and the river of tears turning into more of a stream of tears it was working.

“Like what?” Eddie’s asked. Voice still sad, but the sobbing has stopped which was a good thing.

“Well, Eddie Spaghetti, you could smoke with us?” Richie smiled at the boy, thinking his suggestion was a good one but Eddie just continued to frown at him.

“How about we start smaller, dumbass? Less lung damage and more change.” Bev already had an idea in mind, and it wasn’t to cause Eddie to have an anxiety attack about smoking. She knew that the sicknesses his mom had told him were fake but those attacks that fucked his breathing were real enough.

“Yea, I don’t think I would do well smoking.” Eddie gave a slight smile, not a big one, and he hadn’t stopped crying, but he had a small smile and that gave Richie hope.

“Well how about we dye your hair?” Bev thought that with Eddie’s openness to his more feminine side that this would be a good place for him to start rebelling. Plus she knew of Richie’s huge crush on Eddie and thought that this would drive him insane and that she could tease him about it.

“Dye my hair?”

“YEA THAT WOULD BE AWESOME!” Richie’s very minimal filter had slipped, just for a second, but long enough that his crush was showing. And his sudden outburst had caused Eddie to gape at him in confusion. “I-I mean, that so, so, so…”

“It would be awesome, we could dye it whatever color you wanted, and if you don’t wanna dye the whole thing we could just do a strip.” Bev smiled at Richie who was turning a whole new shade of red under his coke bottle glasses. “How about it?”

“I’ve always kinda wanted to have lighter hair, not like bleached, but like dirty blond, maybe? Or, maybe red hair?” Eddie was talking like his normal self again, eyes still puffy and red, nose still running, but his tears had stopped and his tone was normal. He was still in Richie’s arms though and neither would dare to move.

“You would look so cute as a red head Eds. Like a male Molly Ringwald.” Richie smiled at him and squeezed him into a tight hug.

“Ri…chie…ease…up….can’t...breathe.”

“Oh, sorry Eds.” Richie eased the tension in his arms but did not fully let go, not missing Eddie letting the name slip, or telling him to get off.

“Red, got it. I can do that. I have dyed my own hair a few times and like to think I am pretty good at it. I will go buy the dye. I will be back in 20 minutes tops you guys stay right the fuck here. Don’t. Move.” Bev commanded before running out the room to grab her bike and the dye as fast as possible.

Move they did not. In fact, they laid there, Richie holding Eddie, for so long that Eddie was surprised their muscles didn’t atrophy. Eddie began to sink further into Richie’s chest his head feeling heavy from the tears. His eyes were closed and his breathing was steady but Richie couldn’t tell if he was asleep or not. It didn’t really matter either way, but as Richie sat there staring at Eddie he couldn’t help but fall deeper and deeper into the well of love that had been building their whole childhood. Eddie shifted around against Richie nuzzling against Richie with his face, mumbling something under his breath.

“What was that Ed’s?”

“I said, I love you Bitchy.” Richie blinked as his eyes widened.

“Dontcha mean Richie, Eds?” Eddie shifted again this time looking up and planting a kiss on Richie’s cheek.

“Nope.” He smiled then went back to having his head against Richie’s chest. They laid there for a while, eventually moving to the bed where they could be more comfortable, never did they once leave each other’s side though.

When Beverly returned she opened the door to find both boys laying in the bed, their limbs all tangled and Eddie’s head resting on Richie’s chest as it would rise and fall. Both were asleep and they looked so at peace that Bev didn’t want to wake them, but she had spent 20 dollars on two things of this shitty dye and they were going to fucking use it.

“Sorry love birds, but I need ya to get up so we can turn this small sad brunette boy into a small sad red head boy.” Beverly smiled, as she walked over and shook them awake. Richie’s eyes shot open and he glared at Bev giving her the finger for ruining the moment.

“Okay, Bev I am getting up.” Eddie rubbed his eyes which were still red, and probably would be for another hour after all that crying. “How do we do this?”

“You will do nothing, my darling boy. Mama Bev will handle it all for you.” She leaned down to plant a kiss on his cheek and took him by the hand. She dragged him towards the bathroom where they spent the next 45 minutes. Eddie sitting on the toilet seat complaining about all the germs while Bev put the dye in his hair and waited to wash it out.

“Okay times up, Richie take the child’s head and put it under the sink.”

“Yes Madam.” Richie took Eddie by the hand and led him to the sink to wash the dye out.

“Now Eddie, your hair is pretty dark so we probably have to do this twice but lucky for us I love you and bought two box dyes for just this purpose.” Eddie lifted his head from the sink and looked at Bev. His hair still wet and matted from washing the dye out of it.

“Thanks Bev.” Eddie gave her a grin from ear to ear which meant the dye therapy was proving to be effective. “I’m just gonna dry off then we can decide what to do.”

“I can promise you’ll look fucking adorable no matter what color your hair is Eds”

“Don’t call me that Trashmouth.”  Eddie pleaded, but couldn’t turn away fast enough to hide his blush. He grabbed a towel off the rack and ruffled his hair.

“Here let me Spaghetti.” Richie took the towel from him and started rubbing it back and forth on his head.

“Uhhh thanks…” When Richie was done drying off Eddie’s hair for him he couldn’t help but admire the dark red color that was now Eddie’s hair.

“Oh wow! Your hair looks great, Eds!” If Richie hadn’t been in love with Eddie before he certainly was now. The boy’s dark brown hair had turned into a deep shade of auburn red. The hair fell on his face in all the right ways and the red played against his sun kissed skin like tree leaves in autumn breaking up the sunlight.

“Really?!? You think so?” He turned to the mirror styling it back and forth then looked back at Richie and Bev.

“Yea, you look totally adorable. I’m sure that hair will make someone fall for our little Eddie.” Bev smiled at the smaller boy and gave him a hug. Then turned to Richie and gave him a very sly smile of all knowing. “Well I am actually gonna go to Bill’s and…hang out. See ya boys.” She gave them both a kiss on the cheek then turned and walked out the room.

“Well what do you want to do Richie?”

“We could just lay down and watch Tv, I don’t think my parents are coming home till late.” Richie gave a sad smile before taking Eddie’s hand and leading them downstairs. He wanted to tell Eddie how cute he looked with his hair, he wanted to tell him how much he wanted to kiss him, and hold him, but for now he would take the unquestioning cuddling and tell him later.

[alphacrone]

i found this post in my drafts and have ZERO memory of writing it (thank u alcohol) so im gonna put it in my queue lol

ok but imagine 

Bitty comes out to his parents but he doesn't tell them about Jack, thinks it's for the best, maybe to ease his parents into things or maybe to keep the pool of People Who Know as small as possible 

and like yeah Ransom and Holster are super oblivious but Suzanne Bittle is not, not when it comes to her son, because she is a certified Nosy Southern Mother and she can see he's been acting differently, happier but quieter, always on his phone and blushing when she asks about boys

and he talks about the team a LOT 

Jack's one of his best friends and he's just started his NHL career, so of course Bitty’s never gonna shut up about Jack

(Same goes for Shitty and law school. And eventually Ransom and med school. Dicky is proud of his friends and wants everyone to know. He gets that trait from Suzanne, she understands)

but he keeps talking about this one Boy, how sweet he is and how his smile is like a sack of puppies and how bitty's always making this boy do things with him like baking and getting froyo and going shopping and Suzanne is like. Yes. This must be Dicky's secret boyfriend. 

 the next family weekend or whatever, Suzanne demands to meet this Chowder boy who's stolen Bitty's heart

Bitty is both confused and mortified

“No, Mother,” he says. “Chowder is my friend, I mean look at him, that sweet precious baby fawn of a goalie-”

Suzanne is Not Convinced

“Mhmm,” she replies. “Sure, baby. Sure.” 

but bitty can’t disobey his mother, so he drags the Frogs into the kitchen and introduces them all at once

so dex is like “um ok nice to meet you ma’am” and nursey’s all “sup mrs. b” and then Chowder - sweet Chowder - goes over and hugs her and starts rambling on a mile a minute about how much the team loves bitty and gosh it’s so nice to meet you, mrs. bitty’s mom, thank you for the care packages and oh do you watch hockey what team do you root for my team’s the sharks they’re ‘swawesome hey are you coming to our game tonight i think the coaches are gonna start bitty which is So Great because bitty is So Great of course the entire team is So Great but you know we all just love bitty So Much-!

Suzanne is Very Much Convinced

bitty’s gone bright red and none of the Frogs can figure out why

so i think by this point Ransom & Holster have a running joke about Bitty’s Secret Boyfriend bc, even tho they know, they’re Major Shitheads

(”Who’re you texting, Bits?” “Oh, uh, Jack.” “Pshyeah right, look at that blush. Who are you really texting?” “Oh, my God, I swear I’m just texting Jack.” “Bro, it’s gotta be your secret boyfriend.” “Adam Birkholtz, I swear to Jesus-”)

so R&H are messing around in the kitchen as bitty and his mom make a pre-game pie or something and bitty’s texting with jack about how mortifying his day has been when, of course, it gets worse

“Dude, stop texting your Secret Boyfriend,” Ransom says, giving Bitty a shit-eating grin.

bitty goes super pale. 

normally the joke is just kind of annoying but His Mother is Right Here And

Suzanne perks up.

“What was that?” She asks in that slow, sweet, unassuming way that all middle aged southern ladies use when they smell blood in the water

Bitty knows he’s Fucked

“Oh, hahahaha, just an inside joke, Mama, I’m just texting Jack, these boys and their silly little jokes, tell her it’s a joke, Justin”

so now Suzanne is almost certain Bitty’s hiding a boyfriend from her. she gets it, her mama never knew about half the guys she dated and she never had to Come Out to her mama. but Suzanne is not a saint and privacy doesn’t really exist when it’s your flesh and blood

“So, Adam. Justin. Tell me more about that sweet, little Christopher,” she says. “He’s real cute. Don’t you think so, Dicky?” 

to bitty’s delight, though, R&H go straight into Captains mode

“Oh, yeah, Chow’s a great asset to the team.” “One of the best goalies I’ve ever known.” “Real go-getter attitude.” “Hard worker. Weird fear of pucks, though.” “Still. What a guy.” 

Bullet dodged, crisis averted. Bitty breathes easy for a moment. 

so in this time he’s managed to text Chowder and has asked him to AVOID MAMA BITTLE AT ALL COSTS WHICH

chowder is clearly unable to do

“why????!?? did she not like me?!??? did i say something???!!”

so bitty is trying to calm chowder down and suzanne’s all Sugar Bear Sweetpea Fruit of my Loins WHO ARE YOU TEXTING

and chowder barges into the haus, apologizes a mile a minute for literally Anything he can think of

“I’m sorry for not asking you if you wanted a drink! And I’m sorry for not offering you a tour of the Haus- though I guess Bitty’s already done that- oh! Did I not say it’s nice to meet you?! It’s so nice to meet you!!!” 

and r&h have No Idea what’s happening but they love to Stir the Pot so they’re kinda egging chowder on and Mama B is very, very confused but so happy to see Dicky’s boyfriend is so thoughtful, if not a little...excitable...

So of course this is when the Frogs and Lardo wander in, drawn to sounds of a panicked Chowder

now bitty is on the edge of hysterics, trying to calm chowder down, trying to tell his mother that he’s Not dating chowder without saying those exact words, trying to text jack because who Else would be text while losing his shit??

and then she says it

suzanne just fucking says it

“oh, gosh, honey, i don’t know what you’re apologizin for, but it’s nice to know how polite my dicky’s boyfriend is.”

the silence in the kitchen is heavy with pent-up shock and laughter.

now. chowder can be naive, but he’s a smart cookie. it takes him those few, awkward moments, but he manages to put a couple things together - why bitty wanted him away from Mrs. B, why bitty was acting so weird, why suzanne was being so friendly

so chowder, bless his tender lil heart, plays along

“oh! uh!! well, i just want! to impress my...boyfriend?! my boyfriend’s mom!!”

dex and nursey are beyond confused; lardo has to leave the room so she can laugh

this is Not What Bitty Wanted, however

and then

enter Jack Zimmermann

bitty is just about ready to curl up in a corner and die of Shame

so Suzanne does her whole heart-eyes Jack Zimmermann routine, asking after his father and yadda yadda

but jack definitely heard everything with chowder. and as jealous as he is, it was also hilarious. 

and we all know jack l zimmermann is kind of a little shit

“so I see you’ve met bitty’s boyfriend” he says in his best monotone

(now ransom has to leave because he’s about to wet himself holding back laughter)

“oh, yes, jack, i’ve finally gotten dicky to introduce me, you’d think he didn’t want me to meet sweet christopher”

bitty’s done. he’s leaving samwell immediately. already has a new name picked out for himself, is gonna hitchhike west and dye his hair brown and never speak to anyone east of albuquerque again

“oh, i can’t believe he’s being shy about chowder,” jack says, knowing that he’s probably getting himself into Trouble but plowing forward regardless. “they’ve been together almost a year now”

“WHAT.” is the reaction that comes from three different people in three very different inflections 

(now dex and nursey are taking bets; holster is recording the whole thing to send to shitty; ransom and lardo are watching from the hallway)

“oh, yeah,” jack continues on, with what is probably his Funniest and Most Terrible joke ever. “after they both got dumped by their dates at Winter Screw. right, Bittle?” 

bitty has his face buried in his hands. chowder is Beyond Confused as to why jack’s taking it this far. 

suzanne is THRILLED

so Jack is weaving this long, ridiculous story of the Epic BittyChowder romance that never was and chowder’s starting to feel uncomfortable about the way suzanne is staring at him and bitty is going to Murder his boyfriend if the mortification doesn’t kill him first

“...which is why I’m here today. to fight for bitty’s hand.”

yup. jack 110% zimmermann Goes There. 

“you’re in love with my dicky too??” “do i....do i really have to fight jack??!”

and bitty sees the look in jack’s eyes, the imperceptible nod, and the dam finally bursts: “mother, i’m not dating chowder. and i never wanted you to think i was, but chris was just trying to help me out.” 

and suzanne’s face falls and chowder sort of awkwardly...runs away...to stand in the hall with lardo and ransom

“but then why is jack here?” suzanne asks,

and jack wraps his arm around bitty’s shoulder, smiling down at bitty, and bitty finally gets to say to his mama, “because he’s my boyfriend, mother.” 

suzanne Freaks Out and cries a little and calls bob. in that order. 

but before all of that she hugs them both tight and refuses to let go. 

(years down the road, they play holster’s camera-phone video of the whole Ordeal at the zimmermann-bittle wedding. chowder literally never lives down the chirps, but hey -- that’s what best men are for.)

[swampgallows]

pride month questionnaire just for my own reference

what is your sexuality? biromantic asexual

what do gender do you identify as? cis woman 

how long have you been aware of your sexuality/gender? around 16-17 i knew there was some shit wrong w me lmao, i had always just assumed i was straight but if we’re being real i knew from a pretty young age that i was broken and an alien. only ever had a few crushes [on guys] in my life but generally felt the same way about both men and women

do you have any preferences? big

share a positive memory about coming out! none

how do you feel about pride month? is good. isnt really “for me” but i will keep the glow i feel about it on the inside, like when i wear a favorite pair of underwear

do you participate in pride related events? any other events? no, though i was invited a few times it was by very sexual people who also drink alcohol so it wasnt really my kinda deal. much as i love sk i didnt really care for ladykiller’s sets

how do you feel about lgbtq roles in media? more, more written by lgbtqia people, less about dying and more about living ffs. let them be alive. let them be professional but also lgbtqia, let them be three-dimensional fully fleshed out characters who are also lgbtqia instead of being one-note cardboard cut-outs erected for Diversity

do you feel pride in who you are? not yet.

who has been your supportive idols in your self discovery? lmao

tell us about your first crush? despite kissing and being in a relationship with and having sex with a girl it didnt occur to me that i might be a lil gay until years later when i had a crush on undyne and she had a crush on a girl who became her girlfriend, and i was like “holy shit, you can do that? undyne likes girls? she likes a girl???? that means???? she could like me???? i could also.... like girls???? girls can be girlfriends???”

what sort of advice to have you lgbtq teens? i have no idea, im 27 and i still feel like a teen, do not ask me things 

have you come out to friends and family? sort of. i tried to tell my siblings and my sister said I just hadnt met the right person yet, to which i asked her “oh well youre bi too, you know, you just havent met the right woman yet” stupid fucking bitch. my brother was silent. so was my mother. my dad doesn’t know, i dont think. he asked me “what does this mean, ‘tracer is gay tracer is gay tracer is gay’?” but the conversation got derailed luckily before i could answer

how do you feel about the term “coming out” ? not really up to me i guess. i only use it because i dont really know another term for it

do you believe there is a “closet” to come out of? sort of, i guess. people dont fucking care about asexuality; they complain that “nobody cares that you’re not having sex, theres no need to talk about it” then when i say something like “well im not really a sexual person” or “i dont like sex” all of a sudden it’s “WHAT WHY ARENT YOU HAVING SEX??? WERE YOU RAPED? YOU SHOULD SEE A THERAPIST. HAVE YOU TRIED SEX TOYS?” - my doctor  So like yeah just saying the word “asexual” gets people really fucking riled up, i have to decide whether or not i want to engage in a fucking hour long debate and reveal my traumas and life story if i feel like even saying my orientation so w/e, that’s the closest kind of a closet i can have i guess. granted im not gonna be gunned down in the street for being asexual but i also dont like being incessantly interrogated and armchair pathologized either

any tips on coming out? no. i never really came out to my parents deliberately, my mom just snooped some shit on my facebook and cornered me w a question about it when i was stuck in the car with her

what’s your biggest pet peeve when it comes to lgbtq characterization in media? stop fucking killing them and making them the butt of jokes

what’s your favorite parts of lgbtq characterization in media? “well at least they’re there, i guess”; alternatively, when done well: “that me”

what did your teachers say about the lgbtqa community in school? i have very little recollection. it was mostly about gay men, i dont recall anything on lesbians, and i remember like one time we had a transgender person (calling themselves transsexual, at the time) come and talk to us, but i didn’t even know it was a thing that could be done or even existed so i had no idea what to make of it. but i remember they were there and spoke to us, even now. i basically just remember it happening lol

do you practice safe sex with the same gender? we didnt use dental dams or whatever, and since we didnt use toys we didnt use condoms. i mean i guess it was pretty safe, we were both monogamous and unsexed to all fuck. we washed our hands i guess?

what’s an absolute turn off for you in the opposite/same gender? this is too weird of a question for me to answer. im pretty demi when it comes to romantic shit, i dont feel attraction to people at all really, though i have felt attraction to people i dont know it’s extremely few and far between. like this year i saw two (2) girls i found attractive, not in a sexual way but i thought they were iridescent beings comprised of pure light and couldnt take my eyes off of them. before that i cant even remember the last time somebody stopped me in my tracks or gave me butterflies. i dunno if i have any real active ‘turn-offs’ aside from basic shit (racism, sexism, general shittiness) other than like... sports, i guess. sports and drugs

what’s an absolute turn on for you in the opposite/same gender? big. soft, hug. hairy boys. hairy girls are fine too but it’s more prominently a thing in guys. cool teeth (if you have cool teeth i will remember you)

how do you feel about lgbtq clubs/apps/websites? not for me

how do you feel about the term “queer” ? use it if you like, but respect those that it hurts

how does your country view the lgbtq community? america a fuck

favorite lgbtq actor/actress? fuck dude i dont even have a favorite straight actor or actress

any tips for heterosexual and/or cisgender people on how to handle lgbtq events/news? 1. it’s not for you 2. be proud for them 3. LISTEN TO THEM. SHUT YOUR MOUTH AND JUST LISTEN

what’s the most annoying question you have ever gotten? literally any time i tell a man im ace and he wants to fuck me, like, anything he says after that point is the worst thing

how do you feel about receiving questions about your sexuality/gender im open to answering but i can only speak from my own individual experience, which is a disclaimer i try to give any time anybody asks me shit. im not the best representative for the bi or ace communities or anything lgbtqia in general. i dont like sex and i barely like people. leave me w my monsters

[steverogersnotebook]

Happy Birthday Ginger

One-shot - Characters: Neighbors, TJ Hammond & Steve Rogers GEN FOLLOWS THE FRIENDSHIP STARTED IN:  LIEBESTRÄUME NO. 3 IN A FLAT AND WAS CONTINUED IN RAISING THE STAKES This one-shot was written in honor of @avenger-nerd-mom‘s birthday today, because she’s amazing, and because she’s been this series’ biggest cheerleader

TJ stood shoulder to shoulder next to Steve, neither one interrupting the occasional birdsong. The spring air was sweet and cool as the sun painted the sky and clouds a soft golden hue. The cherry blossoms on the distant trees appeared to be aflame. He took a deep breath of the soft fragrance before turning back to the modestly decorated living room. He made certain he didn’t bump the canvas on the easel. The aroma inside Steve’s apartment was a warmer, sweeter scent. He looked over at the marble counter top where four, round, golden cakes rested, as well as a dozen cupcakes.

Steve followed TJ inside, “They should be about ready.”

It wasn’t just anyone that could get TJ to set an alarm for early morning to help with a last minute birthday cake. Or much of anything else really. However, when Steve texted him the afternoon before offering to let TJ help decorate the cake, with the promise of cupcakes, he jumped at he chance. It had been a bad week, and he hadn’t felt like bothering anybody, so, he slogged alone through the rain on three consecutive days, to attend an NA meeting, the third day he’d wound up being sprayed with puddle water by a passing car. He spent the rest of his week in the company of his piano, trying to compose something that wasn’t as depressing as his apartment. TJ really needed Steve’s companionship after the week he’d had.

The birthday cake invitation could be a ruse, or it could just be Steve’s way of saying “I’ve seen what you’re trying to do,” while actually creating something sweet for a friend. TJ wouldn’t know how much of each it might be, but he appreciated the effort.

TJ had listened to Steve talk about his week earlier that morning as Steve combined ingredients for the cakes. He sat on the barstool, watching and taking notes as Steve answered his questions “why did you do that?” referring to an ingredient choice, and as Steve talked about how much he enjoyed baking from scratch.

TJ had to admire Steve’s patience, he didn’t ask the question until he was stuffing pastry bags with rich buttercream icing, “I saw you out the other day, you didn’t seem to see me. Is everything ok?”

TJ sighed, “Yeah.” He looked up into Steve’s blue eyes, framed by an arched brow of disbelief, “Ok, no. I’ve had a few rough days.”

“You never called.” Steve held out a bowl filled with fruit compote, “I thought we were supposed to do the “I’m feeling shitty” phone tree thing.”

TJ watched as Steve piped a dam around the edge of three of the cake rounds. He knelt on the barstool and started spooning the fruit filling into the void left. “I know. I also know you were on a grueling mission at the beginning of the week and I wanted to let you recuperate.”

Steve swiped a finger across the inside ledge of the bowl and slipped it into his mouth, tasting the sweet fruit sauce. “I appreciate the sentiment. But think of all the cookies we could have had.”

TJ smiled as Steve promptly washed his hands after the little faux pas, “I don’t come here for the treats, Steve.”

“I know TJ.” Steve said with a gruff seriousness. “I don’t just bake, either.”

“But you do it well when you do.” TJ replied, watching as Steve carefully placed the second layer on top of the first. Once Steve was satisfied with its placement, TJ started filling that well. “I’m much better today, yesterday things were starting to look up, my therapist tells me that it happens.”

“How do you like the new therapist?”

“Well, he’s hot.” TJ smirked. “and gay. Too bad he’s married.”

“TJ?” If his mother had been here saying that, in that tone, it would have rubbed him wrong, but with Steve, it was just funny.

“I’m kidding.” TJ laughed, sitting back on his heels. “He’s really great and no, I am not falling in love with him.”

“I’m glad.” Steve chuckled along with TJ, putting a crumb coat of frosting on the four-layer cake. “Does this look level to you?”

TJ scrutinized the cake, “not too bad, I’m sorry I didn’t call. How was the mission?”

“We got very little information out of the run. I wish I could say they were all clear-cut successes, and I know they’re not all going to be.” Steve smoothed a second coat across the cake quickly, “I’ll have to be happy with what we got.”

“I met a guy. Last weekend at that wedding? I don’t know if it’s related to my week or not.”

“Did you get his number? Give him yours?”

“I don’t know if I should, friend of the ex’s new husband. That could get tricky. I’m trying to keep my nose clean.”

Steve laughed at the double entendre.

“I did not mean that, but yeah, that too.” TJ cringed, “I can’t even apologize, you’re the one who went there.”

“So, you’re friends with your ex, your ex is married and that’s done for you, entirely right?”

“Yeah.”

“This new guy, he’s nice? What do you know about him?”

“His name is Landry. He has the softest brown eyes, and boy, can he dance. He was nice to me.” TJ shrugged.

“That’s a start.”

TJ rolled his eyes, “It always starts there Steve.”

Steve handed TJ a pastry bag filled with icing, “You’re right, I didn’t think. You think you remember how to work one of these?”

“Yeah, I also think I need to practice on one of these, and then eat it. Just to get into the right headspace.”

“Of course.” Steve winked. “If you do decide to pursue this guy,”

“You want to check his credentials?” TJ piped a few test swirls across his cupcake.

“I would just like to meet him.” Steve laughed, “You have me sounding like one of your mom’s security.”

“It’s the first place people go, which is why I never tell anybody when I’m interested in someone. You’re a special circumstance.” TJ piped edge details around the bottom of the cake. “I sure hope your friend realizes what a sweetheart you are for doing this. This cake looks amazing, or it will if I don’t screw it up.”

“I think she’ll appreciate it. You’re better at those swirls than I am. How are you with lettering?”

“Hah! That’s not going to happen. I’ll let you do the fine lines. You remember my gingerbread attempts.”

“Good thing we’re a team then.” Steve grinned.

“So, “She” huh?”

“Yeah, she. Don’t take it there, I said friend.”

“By the way, did you ever make that phone call you weren’t sure you’d make?”

“Nah,” Steve shrugged. “I never was much good with being set up. I think I do ok for myself. When the right girl comes along, I’ll know.”

“Do ok for yourself? Peggy Carter, she was better than ok.”

“She still is.” Steve smiled softly, “Did you ever meet Peggy TJ?”

“No, I was away at school when they had her retirement dinner and probably too young and stupid to realize how important it might be.”

“Would you like to meet her the next time I go?”

“Wow.” TJ stopped piping, looking up at Steve as he piped “Happy Birthday Ginger” across the cake. “Yeah, I really would like that.”

While Steve waited for TJ to finish the details across the bottom of the cake, he pulled some colored pastry bags from the refrigerator. “Let’s see if we can get a couple of decent flowers, I messed up a few the last time I tried, but I think I got the hang of it.”

“Maybe I’ll just watch.” TJ sat back, feeling intimidated by the idea of crafting flowers out of icing.

“Now what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t share knowledge?” Steve handed a floral nail and a purple colored piping bag to TJ, still holding his own (could it be periwinkle?) colored bag. TJ followed along as Steve showed him how to make small five-petal blooms.

“This is not as hard as I thought it would be.” TJ chuckled, genuinely surprised with how the blossom looked.

“Good, we need about a hundred of each color.” Steve watched as TJ’s eyes widened before he broke and laughed, “You’ll be happy to know that I made the majority of them last night.”

“You’re such an ass.” TJ laughed. “So you just wanted to fuck with me?”

“I thought you’d like learning something new.” Steve shrugged. “Will you help me make them look like hyacinths?”

“Yeah, I suppose it’s the least I can do, since you spared me the labor.” TJ climbed down from the barstool and joined Steve on the kitchen side of the island in order to assemble hundreds of blossoms into some of the prettiest spring flowers on earth. “Thanks for everything Steve. I’m really glad we became friends.”

“Me too TJ.” Steve said with a smile.