#some say i should go to therapy but i say writing does the job almost as well :)

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! So I’m writing a non-verbal autistic toddler. I wanted to ask about large stereotypes I should avoid? Part of my writing him is making him have some of my experiences (such as the “gifted kid”) but also some of the experiences of other autistic individuals such as being put into therapy as children and being raised by parents who were given terrible coping skills or just adults with terrible coping mechanisms for the child )such as restraining them when they have a meltdown). I’m not sure if there’s anything I should be avoiding but I don’t want to make a mistake and end up never writing an autistic or disabled child in general

Hi asker,

I want to start off with a note about stereotypes about autism, specifically. Some people will tell you to avoid 'stereotypical' portrayals of autism, like intellectually disabled autistic people, or ones who can't have jobs, or ones who stand 'weird,' or ones who are very obviously visibly disabled, or ones who need caregivers, or ones with no empathy. What I want to say about this is that there are autistic people who are these things, maybe all of them even. And that's fine. It's one thing to say "don't write every autistic character this way, which is true – the experiences of people with autism are very, very varied, and not a monolith. But it is another to say "Never write an autistic character who [insert common characteristic of autism here]," because that's harmful and disingenuous, and often just done as a way to distance oneself from those more affected by their disability.

Now that I'm off my soapbox, onto your actual question.

One stereotype I would urge you to avoid is "Everyone around them sees their autism as negative and no one supports this kid how they are." Does this happen in real life? Unfortunately, yes. Do we already have enough of this in stories? Also yes. The kid's parents can have bad coping skills. They can put them into various therapies to try and help or maybe even to try and make them more typical, not just to help them gain skills and get support, because that happens. But I would urge you to include at least one or two aspects of their autism that their parents appreciate and support. Maybe they stim with the kid, or maybe they really truly find it endearing how much their kid likes lining things up, or maybe they're really determined to get their kid an AAC device because they're okay with their kid being nonverbal and just want them to be able to communicate in the best way possible.

Another thing I would ask you to consider is: when it comes to referencing terrible coping mechanisms that are actually harmful, like dangerous modes of restraints, it's important that if you are going to be depicting them in the first place, you make sure it's not posed as a good idea – this is the kind of thing that can kill people. When Sia's Music came out, the character gets put in a dangerous restraint and within the movie it's posed as the right thing to do when it is actually potentially deadly. No one in the making of the movie condemned it outside of the movie's canon, either. That's dangerous.

Also, how old is your toddler character? Were they diagnosed recently, or is it more like the character is almost 5 and they were diagnosed at 18 months? Parents will deal with a diagnosis a little differently when they just get it as opposed to when they have had a little more experience with it, and have gotten to know more about why their kid does what they do.

Lastly, something I'd ask you to avoid as well is for the autistic character to be nothing more than a plot device to make others look good (or bad). Now of course I don't know your story, but even if the toddler character is a minor character, they should have a little to do in the story that isn't just be there for others to look like better or worse people. They can have scenes with other characters that help progress the story forward, even if it's just a scene or two. This really depends on your story and plot, though, so you have a lot of leeway.

Hope this helps!

– mod sparrow

[frownyalfred]

*busts down your doors* HEY! Long ask for ya

okay so I was rereading your fic where EMS showed up because Dick couldn’t flip on the trampoline (rip) and it got me thinking about routine trauma.

So here’s the thing: I am not EMS. I know three people who are EMS, but my extent of EMS experience comes from one (1) ride along and lurking on EMS subreddits. Those guys are a hoot. Great memes. Anyways.

A comment stuck out to me: “You haven’t truly lived the job until you’re eating a gas station burrito next to a dead body”. I’ve seen a bunch like that. Nonchalance and dark humor because well, that’s their job. Gore is the norm. Sure, depending on the area, your usual calls might just be lift assists, but other areas are neck deep in gang violence and violent crime.

A pretty common post on that subreddit is also, sadly, “I just got a call that’s never bothered me before but all of a sudden I’m broken” or “I’ve never had a problem running this type of call before but all of a sudden it just hit me.” Delayed trauma is a bitch. Someone pointed out that if a civilian saw a fatal car accident with multiple corpses, they’d be in therapy and given support and it’d be a huge deal. With EMS, they’re just expected to deal with it. (EMS mental health is getting better- there are helplines and resources and first responder focused therapies- but it’s still a developing field)

ANYWAYS, now that I’ve given you a crash course on the EMS mental health crisis (someone should really write a feature on EMS in Gotham those fuckers would be crazy and I love them already), my point is, how would this apply to the bats? Seeing bodies is treated as very much the norm to them, but do you think it ever just… catches up? The impact of seeing corpses day after day? Do you think they have to fake being fine and tough during those times because well, “everybody else in the family is fine with it, I’m not going to be a liability/burden/weak/etc”

Do you think Bruce, the goddamn batman, who shouldn’t be ruffled by anything, ever just feels something crack inside when he looks at a little boy who could have grown up healthy and strong like his Jason, had (Bruce) someone been there for him? and then he can’t work cases with kids for a week?

This is such an excellent ask, thank you so much for gracing my inbox with it!

It's a very good question. I'm also on a lot of those subreddits (needed to do some research for that fic) and the discussion in those forums and on TikTok is like you described, a kind of practiced desensitization to all gore and suffering in order to survive in their job.

What I've seen from those discussions (and my EMT friend) is an almost sub-conscious trend where they allow themselves the "thing" that breaks them, and they push a lot of that trauma and emotion onto that thing. Like an EMT saying they don't do kids, or they don't do gunshots to the eye, etc. And they'll sob like a baby on those calls, while remaining stone-faced and level-headed through the triple homicide.

I'm just theorizing here, but I imagine the Batfamily uses similar coping skills -- pushing all that trauma and suffering into a box which cracks only under limited, defined circumstances. And they break or snap only under those conditions, because, subconsciously, they allowed themselves to.

So yes, Bruce might be 99% fine with most of the bodies he sees, but there might be a little boy who has a detail (like Jason's dark hair) that just slams into him out of nowhere.

PTSD and trauma literally change the structure of the brain. Individuals react differently to trauma after that, but there does appear to be a "desensitizing" effect with repeated trauma, as the body tries to compensate.

I agree that the Gotham EMTs must be some crazy motherfuckers. They probably deal with 6x the normal shit EMTs deal with in other cities. They probably take on a lot more trauma and burn out quicker than other EMTs, too.

Anyone else have thoughts on this? I admit I don't cover PTSD explicitly in a lot of my fics.

[canonicallyobserving911]

WIP Wednesday

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

FANON FanFic: Buddie Multi-Chapter - Hiatus Reading: “I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Chapter 31 will be posted soon!

This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

Currently 30 chapters completed: 1.331M Words; Rated: Mature

{Previous snippet #1}; {Previous snippet #2}

__________

I'm excited to finish writing Chapter 31 because at the end of Chapter 30, after having a conversation with Captain Mehta and being asked to join another fire station, Buck decided he didn't want to accept the captain's job to run A-shift at the new #115 firehouse. Also, he was preparing to contact Bobby so they can talk about his future as a captain or lack thereof at the 118 even though Frank hasn't released him from trauma therapy yet. Eddie's back at work and he's more than 30% done with his Advanced Care Paramedic Certification while Chris' working on his 3rd video game presentation with his classmates that's due on Monday, March 4th.

The chapter ended with Buck and Chris being approached by a person from Buck's past and after he sent Chris to get help so he'd be safe, a second person who'd threatened him in the past appeared and they injected him with a drug but will help arrive before Buck's unable to be revived?

__________

Here’s another snippet. It's a little more from Chapter 31 and it starts at the end of snippet #2 (listed above). It's more of the conversation Eddie's having with the 118, Maddie, Athena and Detective Romero.

__________

“It looks like she just injected him with something because as soon as she moves her hand, you can see Buck say, “Ow” then he leans over a little and puts his hand on his shoulder.”  Eddie loudly exclaims.

“But what did she inject him with?”  Chimney asks.

Ravi replies, “I don’t know but from the looks of it, whatever it was… Buck collapsed not long afterwards.  It’s easy to see he was fighting to stay awake and alert.”

Hen looks at Chimney and their eyebrows go up at the same time and they have a quick silent conversation.  After a few seconds, Chimney asks, “Could she have dosed him with Adenosine?”

“Why do you think it was Adenosine?”  Eddie asks.

“Because the night Jonah took us, he injected it twice into Chimney’s IV.  He used it to stop his heart.”  Hen replies a little louder than she intends to because memories of that night still haunt both of them.

They've discussed it numerous times but it's usually when they're riding in the ambulance together.  Even though it’s been almost two years since it happened and they returned to work not long after they were both discharged from the hospital, when a person does something like that to someone, she knows it sticks with them.  She still has the occasional nightmare about it and she knows she needs to schedule an appointment with Frank so she can discuss it but she’s been too busy to deal with it.

“Since Adenosine was designed to slow a tachycardic heart rate down and it can stop the heart of someone whose heart is beating normally, like it did with Chim, it can’t be just that because all of Buck’s organs are failing.”  Eddie admits, then he sighs and stops talking for a moment.  When he looks at them again, he asks, “Hen and Chim… I know it might be difficult to discuss but do you remember if he used any other drugs on you while he held you captive?”

“Yes, he stuck a syringe in my neck filled with Propofol and he gave Chimney some Epinephrine in addition to the Adenosine.”

“And we know those drugs don’t cause your organs to shut down either.”  Maddie replies.

Eddie, Maddie, Chimney and Hen look back and forth at each other as they consider the medicines and drugs they’re aware of.  Since the four of them have a combined total of more than 40 years of medical experience between them, they have looks on their faces that illustrate how they believe they should be able to figure this out. 

After a few moments of deafening silence, Bobby interjects, "I wonder if she knows Buck's allergic to Naproxen."

“That’s a good thought but I don't see how she would know that unless she was able to get a hold of his medical records.  But since me and Chim were able to get access to Jonah's records, maybe she did but injecting him with Naproxen won't shut down all of his organs… he would probably just have an allergic reaction to it."  Hen says.

Chimney asks, “What drug could cause all of someone’s organs to shut down?”

“With all the new drug studies and protocols that have been put in place, I can’t think of one.”  Maddie replies.

Once Eddie hears this, he rubs his hand over his face and like a movie, he starts seeing the men who were Buck’s height and weight they’ve treated over the last few days.  He looks up at Athena and Detective Romero and says, “Whatever drug she injected into Buck, I think they tested it out on other unsuspecting victims first.”

Detective Romero asks, “Why do you think that?”

Why does Eddie think Buck's not the first man with similar weight and height as Buck that's been attacked by Lucy and Jonah? 👀 (foreshadowing was included in Chapter 30.)

Is he right? 🙃

Are his Advanced Care Paramedic studies helping him figure out what happened to his husband? 🤷🏽‍♀️

__________

Fic Summary: Months after Buck and Eddie were hit by the same lightning strike; they’re still struggling with the aftermath of it.  But before they make their love confessions, they’ll spend time getting to know themselves as individuals first. Eddie learns to enjoy the simple things in life as he participates in activities on his own and with new friends while Buck learns the rest of the 31-year-old deep dark family secret about his conception and birth. Their journey to forever is still a work in progress but once they finally admit they’re in love with each other, everything that follows their love confessions will be cataclysmic.

__________

Chapter Summaries

Chapter 1 - Eddie makes a new friend while Buck receives devastating news regarding the sperm donation he made for Connor and Kameron.

Chapter 2 - Buck does a lot of research to learn more about the abnormalities found in his red blood cells and Eddie starts a new therapy journey that’s all about him and not the traumas he’s experienced.

Chapter 3 - After more than a month, Buck and Eddie finally spend time together outside of work but it doesn’t end well and they part with a lot of uncertainty regarding their places in each other’s lives.

Chapter 4 - Eddie has a few realizations about his life which causes him to consider moving back to El Paso, TX while Buck continues to be reminded of his past which causes him to take an impromptu road trip across America.

Chapter 5 - Both Buck and Eddie have difficult conversations with their parents and Buck finally learns the truth behind the reason why his mother despised him while Eddie finally tells his mother about the way she tries to control him.

Chapter 6 - More than two weeks after Buck pushed Eddie away after suggesting they needed a break; Eddie decides to try again. Eddie’s there for Buck when he’s at his worst just like Buck was there for him when he was at his worst and he won’t let Buck give up.

Chapter 7 - After Buck’s mental breakdown, Eddie has his back the same way Buck had his when he had his own breakdown more than a year ago.  They share several vulnerable and emotionally intimate moments with one another and they begin to realize their small, sweet and caring gestures matter just as much if not more than any grand gesture ever could because these are the foundations of a long-lasting love relationship.

Chapter 8 - Buck, Eddie and Chris all have their own therapists and during their sessions, they reflect on their pasts while they’re in the present so they can prepare for their future together as a family.

Chapter 9 - Buck and Eddie are there for each other when Buck has to testify as a witness during the trial.  But by the end of it, they’ll both realize their individual and shared traumas are going to keep resurfacing until they talk about them, deal with the fact that they’re in love with one another and face the fact that they can’t live without each other.

Chapter 10 - As Buck and Eddie finally begin to confront their past traumas, they realize how much they need each other to fill in the gaps of their memories.  Additionally, the universe screams at them for what appears to be the one hundredth time so Buck can realize he doesn’t have to ‘find it’ because he already ‘made it’ and Eddie’s reminded tomorrow isn’t promised and he doesn’t have to die alone if he doesn’t want to.

Chapter 11 - A “virga” or dry thunderstorm is in the forecast but once the rain starts, the thunderstorm happening outside won’t be able to match the storm brewing inside between Buck and Eddie.  It’s the universe’s final scream and when the tumultuous winds begin to blow, they’ll have one last chance to hold onto everything they’ve built over the last six years or they’ll lose it all forever.

Chapter 12 - Buck and Eddie have always shared a deep physical attraction and an emotional intimacy that’s unmatched but now that they’re in a relationship, they’re learning how to navigate the romantic intimacy they’ve been waiting for six years to explore. The love they have for each other is a once in a lifetime, soulmate, love of their lives type of love that transcends space and time.

Chapter 13 - While navigating the newness of their romantic relationship, Buck and Eddie take advantage of every moment they spend together. As their individual lives, people from their pasts, time constraints and the possibility of losing each other again make attempts to interrupt and interfere with their journey to forever, they love, care for, support and hold onto each other even tighter to withstand it all.

Chapter 14 - Buck and Eddie can see the lights at the end of the tunnels regarding the results of Buck’s Cancer Screening along with everything else they’re dealing with. But are the lights they see exits to the tunnels or are they headlights on different runaway trains that are speeding towards them in an effort to interrupt their forever?

Chapter 15 - Buck and Eddie have known they were exactly who the other one wanted in a partner since they met six years ago when they agreed to have each other’s backs. They’re in a romantic relationship, they’re both preparing to ask the other one to spend forever with them and by the end of the seventh week into their relationship, together they will plan their most important and greatest adventure for their future.

Chapter 16 - As Buck and Eddie begin to prepare for their marriage ceremony that will take place in Rome, Italy in December 2023, they start planning their first international adventure as a romantic couple. Even though Chris is still the only person they’ve told about their relationship, several people who know them have already witnessed the love they share and as the days continue, others will witness it too.

Chapter 17 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to departing Los Angeles for their international adventure, a moment in time will remind them; life is fragile, tomorrow isn’t promised and every second of everyday should be cherished because everything can change in an instant. The result of that realization will cause them to hold onto each other even more.

Chapter 18 - As Buck, Eddie and Chris prepare for family gatherings before and during the Thanksgiving holiday, the “Santa Ana Winds” start to blow and all sorts of expected and unexpected familial drama ensues.

Chapter 19 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to their wedding day, the universe begins to align everything so that some of their parent and children's relationships are strengthened while others come to an abrupt end.

Chapter 20 - With only 14 days remaining until Buck, Eddie and Chris depart Los Angeles, CA traveling to Rome, Italy, for their first family adventure, an early morning conversation about “tying up loose ends” helps Buck and Eddie realize there are still several things left unfinished on their ‘To Do’ lists. The question is will there be enough time to complete all of them?

Chapter 21 - Buck, Eddie and Chris are finalizing their ‘To Do’ Lists, double checking their itineraries and packing their suitcases in preparation for their trip to Europe so they can board their flight that departs Los Angeles, CA on Friday, December 15, 2023 at 3:25PM.

Chapter 22 - While Buck, Eddie and Chris spend the first 8 days of their European family adventure in Italy, their primary reason for going will be fulfilled as well as several others they hadn’t considered or anticipated.

Chapter 23 - As the Diaz Family continues their Italian family adventure, they’ll say, “Ciao” or hello and goodbye to a lot of things almost immediately after they become an official and legal family.

Chapter 24 - After Buck, Eddie and Chris arrive in London, England on December 24th; the Diazes immediately start preparing to spend their first family Christmas together. During their stay, each of them will hear a few choice words that will be the life raft to get them home to complete their searches to be seen and to be found.

Chapter 25 - After spending more than two weeks in Europe, Eddie, Buck and Chris are back in Los Angeles and they’re getting ready to attend Maddie and Chimney’s New Year’s Eve party. During the event, they have plans to make two surprise announcements but the question is, who’s really going to be surprised, the Diaz family or their found family at the 118?

Chapter 26 - Buck and Eddie are once again faced with their greatest fear of losing each other but this time it could be permanent and if it is, then they won’t be able to spend the rest of their lives together.

Chapter 27 - After Buck resumes therapy, he’ll continue to face the fact that he “DIED” in March 2023 and during those sessions, he’ll learn about the 7 stages of grief. As he continues his healing journey, Eddie will be right by his side just like he promised and the Diaz family will start to deal with their three minutes and seventeen seconds loss as a family.

Chapter 28 - Two years ago, Eddie was asked, “What are you afraid of?”; twice, once by Frank and once by Buck but he only answered one of them without deflecting. Since that time, he’s been to therapy and him and Buck got married but the question resurfaces when Frank asks Buck the same question and Buck asks it of Eddie for the second time. However, when Buck asks, his reasoning will be about something else entirely.

Chapter 29 - After Buck and Eddie have an emotionally intimate conversation regarding their dreams, they make several decisions that will affect their future. When everything falls into place, they’ll realize one of those decisions will result in them no longer being work partners.

Chapter 30 - In 2018, Buck and Eddie met at the 118 and after some initial apprehensions on Buck’s part, they became work partners and they agreed to have each other’s backs. It’s been more than 6 ½ years, a lot’s happened, they got married in December 2023 and they have the family they both chose. With Eddie leaving the 118 in 3 months and Buck getting closer to moving past his grief, what will him losing his work partner mean for him?

Chapter 31 - Will be posted soon.

__________

Read chapters 1-30 are available on AO3.

Continue reading on AO3

[itsawritblr]

Things I Can Say About MFA Writing Programs Now That I No Longer Teach in One.

by Ryan Boudinot.

I recently left a teaching position in a master of fine arts creative-writing program. I had a handful of students whose work changed my life. The vast majority of my students were hardworking, thoughtful people devoted to improving their craft despite having nothing interesting to express and no interesting way to express it. My hope for them was that they would become better readers. And then there were students whose work was so awful that it literally put me to sleep. Here are some things I learned from these experiences.

Writers are born with talent.

Either you have a propensity for creative expression or you don't. Some people have more talent than others. That's not to say that someone with minimal talent can't work her ass off and maximize it and write something great, or that a writer born with great talent can't squander it. It's simply that writers are not all born equal. The MFA student who is the Real Deal is exceedingly rare, and nothing excites a faculty adviser more than discovering one. I can count my Real Deal students on one hand, with fingers to spare.

If you didn't decide to take writing seriously by the time you were a teenager, you're probably not going to make it.

There are notable exceptions to this rule, Haruki Murakami being one. But for most people, deciding to begin pursuing creative writing in one's 30s or 40s is probably too late. Being a writer means developing a lifelong intimacy with language. You have to be crazy about books as a kid to establish the neural architecture required to write one.

If you complain about not having time to write, please do us both a favor and drop out.

I went to a low-residency MFA program and, years later, taught at a low-residency MFA program. "Low-residency" basically means I met with my students two weeks out of the year and spent the rest of the semester critiquing their work by mail. My experience tells me this: Students who ask a lot of questions about time management, blow deadlines, and whine about how complicated their lives are should just give up and do something else. Their complaints are an insult to the writers who managed to produce great work under far more difficult conditions than the 21st-century MFA student. On a related note: Students who ask if they're "real writers," simply by asking that question, prove that they are not.

If you aren't a serious reader, don't expect anyone to read what you write.

Without exception, my best students were the ones who read the hardest books I could assign and asked for more. One student, having finished his assigned books early, asked me to assign him three big novels for the period between semesters. Infinite Jest, 2666, and Gravity's Rainbow, I told him, almost as a joke. He read all three and submitted an extra-credit essay, too. That guy was the Real Deal.

Conversely, I've had students ask if I could assign shorter books, or—without a trace of embarrassment—say they weren't into "the classics" as if "the classics" was some single, aesthetically consistent genre. Students who claimed to enjoy "all sorts" of books were invariably the ones with the most limited taste. One student, upon reading The Great Gatsby (for the first time! Yes, a graduate student!), told me she preferred to read books "that don't make me work so hard to understand the words." I almost quit my job on the spot.

No one cares about your problems if you're a shitty writer.

I worked with a number of students writing memoirs. One of my Real Deal students wrote a memoir that actually made me cry. He was a rare exception. For the most part, MFA students who choose to write memoirs are narcissists using the genre as therapy. They want someone to feel sorry for them, and they believe that the supposed candor of their reflective essay excuses its technical faults. Just because you were abused as a child does not make your inability to stick with the same verb tense for more than two sentences any more bearable. In fact, having to slog through 500 pages of your error-riddled student memoir makes me wish you had suffered more.

You don't need my help to get published.

When I was working on my MFA between 1997 and 1999, I understood that if I wanted any of the work I was doing to ever be published, I'd better listen to my faculty advisers. MFA programs of that era were useful from a professional development standpoint—I still think about a lecture the poet Jason Shinder gave at Bennington College that was full of tremendously helpful career advice I use to this day. But in today's Kindle/e-book/self-publishing environment, with New York publishing sliding into cultural irrelevance, I find questions about working with agents and editors increasingly old-fashioned. Anyone who claims to have useful information about the publishing industry is lying to you, because nobody knows what the hell is happening. My advice is for writers to reject the old models and take over the production of their own and each other's work as much as possible.

It's not important that people think you're smart.

After eight years of teaching at the graduate level, I grew increasingly intolerant of writing designed to make the writer look smart, clever, or edgy. I know this work when I see it; I've written a fair amount of it myself. But writing that's motivated by the desire to give the reader a pleasurable experience really is best. I told a few students over the years that their only job was to keep me entertained, and the ones who got it started to enjoy themselves, and the work got better. Those who didn't get it were stuck on the notion that their writing was a tool designed to procure my validation. The funny thing is, if you can put your ego on the back burner and focus on giving someone a wonderful reading experience, that's the cleverest writing.

It's important to woodshed.

Occasionally my students asked me about how I got published after I got my MFA, and the answer usually disappointed them. After I received my degree in 1999, I spent seven years writing work that no one has ever read—two novels and a book's worth of stories totaling about 1,500 final draft pages. These unread pages are my most important work because they're where I applied what I'd learned from my workshops and the books I read, one sentence at a time. Those seven years spent in obscurity, with no attempt to share my work with anyone, were my training, and they are what allowed me to eventually write books that got published.

Ryan Boudinot is executive director of Seattle City of Literature.

*~*~*~*~*

I agree with all he says except concerning publishing.

This was originally written when it was a strongly held belief that ebooks would replace paper books. Seriously, in 2009-2012 even Barnes & Noble was telling employees they'd better learn how to sell Nooks, because paper books were going to "disappear" within the next 4 years.

Didn't happen, obviously.

Traditional publishing is as it ever was; I've personally never had a problem with it, though I've known people who have (mostly due to shitty editors in smaller presses). As for Kindle/e-book/self-publishing, I don't do that, so I can't tell you anything about it (except negative stuff from people I know who've done it and regret it).

But I will add, and this is important:

YOU DON'T NEED AN MFA TO BE A TRADITIONALLY PUBLISHED WRITER.

IN FACT, YOU'RE WASTING YOUR FUCKING MONEY IF YOU DO GET AN MFA.

You can learn all you need to know about writing well without a degree. Shit, I don't even have a high school diploma (dropped out at 16).

MFA teachers promise you'll learn to write so well you'll be published faster than people without a degree. *BUZZER* Wrong!

An MFA is NO guarantee that you'll be published. Publishers are looking for work that will sell -- they're a for-profit business -- not necessarily work that's well written by a literary POV. If your book is pretty well written but publishers don't think anyone will like it enough to lay out money for it, they won't be interested.

And an MFA doesn't mean you have talent. Colleges and universities who have MFAs in Writing are looking for your $$$. They're not about to turn you down. And professors aren't keen on actually flunking anyone. As Ryan Boudinot says, as a teacher he wouldn't tell you that you don't have a lick of talent. I mean, they want more students coughing up thousands of dollars to get an MFA, and that can't happen if students bad-mouth the degree and teachers for telling them the truth that they should become attorneys or retail managers or baristas. (I'm looking at you, Hamline, Carleton.)

Another nugget they don't tell you is, on average a professional writer earns, after taxes, $3000 to $6000 a year. If you want an MFA because you're convinced you're gonna be the next bestselling NYT author,

Even if you do become a pro, it will take years and years to pay off your MFA student debt. Which means you'll need a day job, just like 99% of all pros.

So instead of going into debt for most of your life, don't get an MFA. Have a day job you like and meanwhile learn to write well the way people have done since before anyone ever heard of an MFA.

[jamcannibal]

analyzing/screaming about 101 chapter 79

fic: 101 reasons to live (and keep living after that)

by @cyrenescreams on ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41426469

So I was in a silly goofy mood one day and decided to just go trhough every paragraph and write soemthing about it. (It was supposed to be like an analysis but I don't think it turned out to be an analysis)

here you ahve the ctrl + c, ctrl + v of my google docs

I'm bored and slightly delirious from pain so it's time to reread the chapter and overanalyze it

(one part of this was written while experiencing atrocious period pain and the rest was written while absolutely getting fucked over by seasonal allergies)

Charlie feels like shit. More like shit than he has in weeks. He sort of hopes it’s the weather but he’s also aware that it probably isn’t.

Is this because you got to feel joy for the first time in years and now you lost it? Is this because you feel like you're bcak to square one. Like you thought you were finally getting ebtter, but then you feel like you have felt the past few years again? 

The weather here (for me) has actually been getting a lot better, so seasonal depression is slowly ending for everyone, so Charlie hoping it was the weather is almost ironic.

Bad is always talking about how healing is non-linear and comes in dips and raises. But Charlie still feels a bit disappointed that his joy didn’t last. He just wants to feel normal.

Because you hear that shit all the time in therapy, but it's something different to hear it than to live through it. Also reminds me of Fundy's mom, her relapse and her getting better again. 

The yearning to be normal. I don't think he ever tlaked about wanting to be normal. I think he always talked about being too tired, or having to pretend/act. But never wishing he was normal. So that's... soemthing. I might actually have to go over Charlie chapters to figure out if I'm just saying bullshit or not.

He isn’t really sure what normal is, maybe some sort of joy or contentment he felt as a kid. But now he isn’t sure he would know joy if it beat him bloody in a parking lot.

AAAahahahrhahsahaha. This!! 

Earlier I wanted to say he wants to be normal because he finally got a taste of it, he was pretty happy for a while and now he needs more. But no, that's not what normal is, he does not know what nromal is but he still wants it!!! That's crazy man (im internally crying). He doesn't know it! He does not know what norml is! He wants soemthign and he does not even know what it is! (It's an analogy for capitalism. /ref - I'm so sorry I've been hyperfixating on spiderverse again) 

Also him using such a brutal analogy is a bit concerning. Like, 'are you okay Charlie? Why would you say that??? Do you *want to* get beaten up? To feel pain instead of emotions?' (Imagine me asking him that while shaking him vigorously by the shoulders)

And looking around the circle of folding chairs and gloomy faces, Charlie probably isn’t the only one feeling like garbage.

yep, I'm still waiting for the it gets better part, anyways, next paragraph

Bad is eyeing them all up too, like he is waiting to see which one of them will break first. With the anxious way Fundy is picking at his fingers it will probably be him.

Break first. The was Charlie says it is brutal. Bad is just there waiting for one of them to speak up, waiting for them to begin because they've been pretty good at this therapy thing lately. And then Charlie comes in and thinks "ah yes, he's waiting for us to BREAK'. No Charlie, he qwants to fix you. He wants to see you be better. He probably cares more than your parents, which is sad.

And again, Charlie analyzing. He analyzes everyone and everything. 

Or maybe Charlie should cut in, it is his self imposed job to do what he can to help others, through laughing at him, or joining in, or some other strange tactic.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

That’s it, that’s all I have to say about this one.

Nah, actually. CHARLIE! Charlie, you can chill. You can stop pretending. You can just be you and only you. People who matter will love you either way. You don’t have to always pretend or help. You can be yourself and get helped.

Charlie thinks back to last week, he thinks about how nice it felt to just relax and let himself exist, especially just existing quietly with no expectations.

Charlie wants to jump in puddles again so bad. He wants to be like Peppa pig so bad.

Also autism experience, I know what you are Charlie. I know… 

“Okay!” Foolish is, surprisingly, the one who breaks first. Words bursting out of him like an explosion. “What is up with all of us? Why do we all look so shitty this week?”

How’d Charlie react to his analysis being incorrect? What’d he do when he couldn’t predict the situation??

That aside, Fundy speaking up makes sense in a way. I think he likes protecting people and this is kind of like protection, getting them to talk about shit.

“Language.” Bad says. “Though I’m glad you’ve taken charge of your conversation Foolish. Group really is all bout you all connecting with one another and feeling seen. So I think I’ll take a step back this week and see what you all can do.”

Bad when he can actually do his job instead of trying to get a group of teenagers to at least TRY talking about their feelings: :D

He’s trusting them to do therapy since they’ve been doing so well <3.

“No activity then?” Quackity asks with a foolish, no pun intended, hope in his voice.

Is there really no pun intended, author? Are you sure you did not intend that pun?

Quackity wants to ignore therapy so bad, he wants it to not exist, like it’s the worst thing ever. It’s funny he’s more hopeful about them not doing an activity than he is about his love life-

“I didn’t say that.” Bad says, “but maybe we can count this as this week’s activity so you guys can get out earlier.”

He’s really trying to make this work. He wants to do his job so bad.

I bet Bad loves his job.

“Why are you so upset then Foolish.” Fundy challenges.

Sure Fundy, get defensive. Is that the only way you know how to react? Do you feel attacked by Foolish for starting the conversation? Do you feel betrayed that he started it instead of letting abd do it? Don you wish you didn’t have to sit there that bad that you’re gonna lash out onto your friend? Sure, go ahead…

“Are we being honest?” Foolish counters.

I LOVE WHEN THEY DO THERAPY RIGTH. They’re so <3<3333

“Fuck it why not. We already know way too much about one another.” Quackity grumbles.

Quackity is so real for this tbh. But also him being the one to agree to be honest is so new and surprising and he’s healing and I’m so happy for him.

“You know,” Sam starts, “you can really see our growth considering Quackity didn’t add on that we know too much considering we aren’t friends.”

COME ON SAM, DONT RUIN THE MOMENT. /lh

But he is right

“Even he can’t deny it anymore.” Charlie says with a grin. Joining in on the conversation with the others doesn’t feel as hard as conversation sometimes does. It feels easy to talk with them.

AAAAAAAAA, is he not masking around them??? Is he actually being himself? Is he comfortable enough around them to do that? That’s soooo… aaaaa.

“Anyways!” Quackity interrupts loudly.

Is Quackity uncomfortable with having friends? Aw, come on, it’s fine, you can have friends and care about them, it’s not a bad thing.

“I feel selfish for not writing my mom back.” Foolish says bluntly, completely abandoning their usual format. “I know so many kids like me, and even me, myself, wished for this type of shit and suddenly I don’t want it and I feel terrible.”

Alright, we’re jumping straight into it. Like jumping into a freezing river or ripping off a bandaid.

I guess it kind of is like ripping off a bandaid (plaster??, bro iunno which terms are american english and which ones are UK english). Let me think of a poetic metaphor. A bandaid covers an injury, it protects it from infections, but if you leave it on for way too long it can give you blood poisoning. It’s like hiding your problems, it can help for a little while the injury closes up. But you have to talk about them or a small cut will become blood poisoning.

“You aren’t selfish. You aren’t selfish and you don’t owe her or anyone else anything.” Sam says firmly.

Yes! He’s so right!!

(Supportive boyfriend but also, just like a good friend. Your partner being your best friend>>)

“I just want to be happy now.” Foolish sighs. “On a lighter note I’m definitely going to be on varsity next year so that is fun.”

I think all of them just want to be happy. Or healthy. Or normal. Whatever label they put on it they just want to be able to live without the baggage. 

“Weren’t you on varsity this year?” Charlie asks because his understanding of Football ends at touchdowns and field goals.

Same Charlie. But I also know a quarterback is important, who knows why it is, but it’s important.

“I was, but still, it’s nice to know for sure.” Foolish shrugs. “Alright, your turn Fundy.”

Is this revenge for him making you go first? Is Foolish this petty?

“I saw my mom again today and she asked if I wanted to go back to splitting my time. I think I do but I don’t want something bad to happen again.” Fundy said referencing whatever, secret, vague, bad thing lead to his conflict with his mom.

I really hope she asked in a nonforcefull way. In a way rthat Fundy didn’t feel pressured, in a way that made it clear it’s his decision and she will still be his mom and still try her best no matter which decision he makes.

I hope it goes better this time. I hope she won’t relapse again, for both hers and Fundy’s sake.

“Once burned twice shy.” Quackity says. The quieter and more genuine, “I think you should try and let her in again. You’re going to regret not doing it if you don’t.”

I’m just so AAA… Quackity is acting different! He’s being honest, he’d admitting they are hsi friends, he gives helpful advice instead of being snarky.

And I’m so happy, but mildly worried. I really hope this change isn’t a hint on a big issue happening with Quackity at the moment.

“You know about this?” Fundy asks, suspicious.

Fundyyy, it’s Quackity’s job to be distrusful and snarky and passive aggressive. Go back to liking foxes, minecraft and the color orange.

Don’t become like early 101 reasons Quackity, it’s not healthy.

“My mom has always been…” Quackity waves his hand around to indicate at everything. “I don’t know. Far away, not there. I doubt if she hadn’t found me mid death-failure she never would have been able to tell you my middle name.”

Bone chilling honesty. I know Quackity has been honest before, but I feel like this is different, because the other things have always been things that have happened to him around the time he was talking about them.

But he’s like… going for it. Talking about hsi childhood in a way.

“Oh.” Fundy says taking in this new information.

IT IS NEW INFORMATION TO THEM. Because Quackity doesn’t talk about this shit and he should or his blood’s gonna rot. He can take the bandaid off slowly, he doesn’t have to rip it off. He can do it slowly, he cna be careful about it to not cause any damage, any pain. Because I know he’s terrified of taking that bandage off.

Metaphors aside, I think Quackity in this work is definitely the kind of person who REFUSES to rip off a bandaid because it hurts too much.

“See I have problems that aren’t guys.” Quackity grins, stealing Charlie’s job at lighting the mood.

Charlie! It’s not your job to do anything! You don’t have to do that! Of course everyone appreciates it, btu you don’t have to.

YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE THE COMEDIC RELIEF ALL THE TIME

“Tell us something good Fundy, please.” Sam cuts in.

Is Sam worried? Is Sam hoping that at least something good happened to Fundy??

Charlie thinks they definitely need it, especially if the frantic sound of Bad scribbling notes on his clipboard are any indication.

Bad is so happy to be able to do his job for once, isn’t he? He’s practically beaming while writing his notes, isn’t he????

But Charlie’s right, they need it.

Your therapist writing stuff you say down is not a sign that those things are normal and you are okay and nothing wrong ever happened in your life.

“I’m passing with all As this quarter.” Fundy says. “Which is shocking, considering literally everything.”

WOOOOO, good job Fundy!!

“That is crazy.” Charlie says. “I’m definitely not. I’m also feeling sad and tired and so fucking unmotivated. And it sucks because I was feeling better, I was doing better. I want to do better.”Refer to what I said at the beginning.

He wants to be happy. He got a taste of it and now he’s hungry, even if he didn’t realize it before. He’s hungry for happiness.

“Wanting is the important part, isn’t it?” Fundy says. “My mom really wants to get better and that’s why I trust her.”

Again, refer to what I said earlier.

(The process of healing isn’t linear and it applies for both Charlie and Fundy’s mom.)

“I guess. I’ve never really thought of it like that though. I always needed something more quantifiable.” Charlie shrugs.

Me! Autism, that’s autism. I’m saying it’s autism so it is autism.

“What if They never tell you they want to get better? What if they just do and they never apologize.” Quackity says suddenly.

NOOOOO. That’s so sad. So fucking sad. Schlatt. I just… aght, I hope Quackity can get closure. I hope they get to talk about what happened and even if Quackity won't forgive, he will be better if they have a talk. I trust it

I know it.

“Did Sapnap or Karl do something? Or your mom?” Sam asks, seemingly, worried.

Hah. Imagine not knowing about Schlatt, couldn’t relate.

But what did Charlie think? Did he analyze what Quackity had said, did he connect the dots or did he not dwell on the sentence, letting it slip his mind?

“No. Well yes, they are still being weird and they keep brushing me off when I bring it up.”

Imagine talking about your therapist’s son in therapy, that's gotta be awkward…

Quackity doesn’t say that being brushed off is making him worry but Charlie can see it on his face.

HAHAHHA, Charlie, stop for a minute and analyze yourself, would ya? It’ll help you, it’s called introspection. I learned all about it in my psychology class.

“It’s someone else. I guess it doesn’t matter, I’ve been avoiding them for months and I don’t really plan on stopping.” Quackity says trying to remove their focus. “Anyways my good thing is that I plan on rewatching into the spider-verse tonight, so that is fun.”

Charlie, for the love of god pick up on this. You know Quackity and Schaltt you can, I don't know, arrange for them to talk? But I also don’t want to pressure Chalrie intot his?? But I feel like that’s something he would be willing to do.

SPIDER-VERSE! My favorite franchise! I’m so normal about the animation and characters/character design!

“Oh!” Charlie jumps in. “My good thing is that my dad is on a work trip so that house has been really quiet because my mom is just avoiding me.”“How is it still sad?” Quackity asks.

Exactly as Quackity says, he is very correct here. Couldn’t've said it better.

“I’m not still pressuring you on all of what you said.” Charlie points out.

Hahahaha, he did notice. He deffo noticed, but i don’t think he’s gonna scheme, or is he??

“Point taken. I will shut up.” Quackity says, unwilling to continue to tempt fate.

Take that, bitch! /pos

Imagine ebing scared of being vulnerable, what a loser.

“Quackity, shutting up? That is definitely a first.” Fundy says with a grin.Fundy, stop taking Quackity’s job. Firstly, that’s Quackity’s job, secondly you don’t want to be like Quackity.

“I’m going to fuck your dad.”That’s a bit gay, isn’t it Quackity? DO you have something to share perhaps?

“Good luck finding him.” Fundy says sweetly.HHAHAHAHA, I love jokes like this honestly. Ok, Fundy, you can be snappy, it’s fun.

Something about Fundy’s blunt but happy tone shocks them all into laughing.Friends!!!! They’re experiencing the true meaning of friendship: laughing at each other’s trauma jokes instead of being concerned.

Bad scribbles a bit more frantically, which while fair, seems a bit harsh. They had definitely made these jokes before anyways.Bad’s killing the mood, shaking my head. Shaking my head. And shaking my head one last time. They did make these kinds of jokes before, but this is different, because it’s honest.

“Alright! Last one in our honesty hair braiding friendship circle.” Quackity says. “Sam.”Quackity would love hair braiding circle, he would fucking love it! /lh

No, but like, him being like this is just. Like it was concerning before, but now it’s fully just a facade and it’s kind of funny. but still sad, like why do you put on that facade? Are you still scared of getting hurt? Do you think that once this gorup therapy thing ends you won’t speak to these people again, are you afraid you will lose them when you don’ have anything in common anymore?

“You and Sam are the only ones with hair long enough to braid.” Charlie points out.You can braid any length of hair if you put oyur mind to it, Charlie, you just have to try really hard. 

“It’s a metaphor.” Quackity explains.Ah yes, of course, so smart, so innovative to use a metaphor. Nerd.

“Not a simile?” Fundy tilts his head.NERD! 

“I didn’t use like or as.”I think we both know what I have to say about that… nerd.

(all nerd is slash pos)

“Gay people love English class.” Charlie nods.You would know, wouldn’t you Chalrie?

(I actually don’t like english class, the teacher is a bitch, but my friends who haev a different (very gay) teacher love it)

“As the straightest one here, that’s almost homophobic Charlie.” Foolish jokes.The fact you’re right doesn’t mean you have to say it outloud, some thoughts are ebay to keep to yourself.

“What a low bar.” Fundy grins.He’s so right.

“Sam?” Foolish asks, moving all of their attention to the topic at hand.Ew, people in relationships worrying about their partners, I hate that. /j

Charlie is a little surprised at how worried Foolish sounds. Foolish would be the one Charlie thought would know what is up with Sam.Well, jokes on you Charlie, your deduction skills failed you, Sam doesn’t talk to fucking anyone because he is a loser- (I need to stop claling them losers and nerds)

Sam taps a rhythm on his leg. “Sorry, I was thinking.”Oh no, don’t do that! That’s dangerous! You might hurt yourself. Stimming, stimming, stimming… why are you nervous Sam? (I know why, seeing that I am a god and reading ahead.)

“About?” Charlie prompts.I’m starting to think Charlie should go into psychology, he could make a good therapist.

“Nothing important.” Sam dismisses.No one is gonna believe that. I wonder why he feels the need to say that knowing he will explain it and the others will see that it is indeed important. Why did you feel the need to make it out to be nothing Sam? Why is that?

I genuinely am not sure. He’s not one of my favs so it sucks for him but I have not overnalyzed him enough to deduce this. (Yes I am biased, at least I admit it.)

“We’re being honest.” Quackity points out.Heheh, it would be kind of funny if Sam was the only one not being honest.

Also Quackity being the one to point that out is so ironic and shows his character growth. 

“I’m trying to figure out how to word this without sounding like a total hypocrite.” Sam admits.ME. No, but sometimes you say something that just comes out absolutely wrong and like there are things you don’t want to come out like that and you have to think about it.

“Maybe you’re being a hypocrite, then?” Foolish suggests. “I’d also love to know.”hahah. I feel like that's a terrible thing to say, but given the nature of their relationship it probably is the right thing to say.

Sam looks a bit ashamed at that, and apparently that is all it takes for him to crack. “Well, there been a girl at my father’s place. A woman, I guess. And she cornered me last Thursday to tell me she’s pregnant. So… there’s that.”ME, that happened to me. Well not exactly, but the sentiment is there. AHHAHA.

He’s like “yeah it’s not big deal, just something that happened, not really important, but it has to do”

Sam needs to stop keeping things to himself. He keeps things to himself to protect others while Quacktiy keeps things to himself to protect himself from others.

“Your absent father?” Fundy asks.Ah, he still has not told the group about the split custody, did he? Fun.

“Asked the pot to the kettle” Charlie says, attempting to lighten the mood.YOU DON’T ALWAYS HAVE TO BE THE COMIC RELIEF! You can be a person, you won’t be any less valuable to your friends if you don’t try to make everything better all the time, you can just take a moment, Charlie, please, know you’re loved for you and not for being a comic relief.

“Yeah so now I’m worried for this kid who I absolutely do not want to know, because I know what’s going to happen and that’s shitty and I won’t do anything to stop it because I’m selfish and I want nothing to do with the kid.” Sam complains.Yeah, I get that. I’m not gonna try to not be too personal, but I have not met my half sibling but I want to, but ti’s really hard. I get Sam’s sentiment tho, like if my situation was even slightly different I would probably share that sentiment.

“You do sound like a hypocrite.” Foolish says, with feeling.I honestly don’t get what about that sounds hypocritical. I think Sam’s being reasonable.

But that’s maybe bcs I’m very biased when it comes to this situation.

“Ugh.” Sam says with equal feeling.Ught, stop being in love or something, I don’t want to catch gay. /j

No, I honestly don’t get why that’s wrong? 

“What if he stays?” Quackity asks.Very important question, but I don’t think Quackity gets it.

Like I would explain it to him probably like: “Imagine your mom started being present, like a real person. Would you believe that it would stay that way? Like no matter how long it stays that way you would still think she’s gonna go back to being her dissociated self any day.”

“What if the sky turns green? It’s not like I’ll be able to see it either way.” Sam shrugs. “I won’t believe it.”Metaphors. Gay people and English smh.

“Now that is a good metaphor for someone colorblind.” Fundy says.He’s a bit quirky. I mean, he’s probably red-green colorblind so technically the sky would go from being the only nice color to being the same boring yellowish gray as everything else.

“Whatever.” Quackity rolls his eyes.Is that ableism towards colorblind people? YOu’re on thin ice, Quackity. /j

“Oh and as for good stuff my week has gone by pretty fast which is nice because I’m fucking tired and want to sleep in so bad.” Sam says.I think that’s a sign of depression… maybe you shouldn’t have a sign of depression as a good thing that happened to you that week, jsut saying.

Bad scribes for another minute before stopping. “I think today was very productive all around.” He says looking up at them.Bad’s noticed too! Of course he did, he’s a therapist smh.

“I think I want to eat my feelings in the form of some absolutely soggy and mediocre diner French fries.” Fundy says.Me too, Fundy, me too. Unfortunately we don’t have diners here and I think American food would actually kill me. 

“Well you guys are free to go and do that. I have some notes to look over.” Bad smiles.NERD

“I’m sure you do.” Quackity huffs, standing up.How the tables have turned. He was a nerd before in the chapter and now he’s a bully.

Sam and Foolish hover behind a bit so Charlie rushes ahead towards Fundy and Quackity to give them some privacy. They all have each other but Charlie thinks maybe they need one another more right now.Charlie <3 I love him so much, my little analyzer. No, he would be a good therapist, he can read people well and that’s a good quality in a therapist.

~~~

 Do I want to do the end part of the chapter or would I rather go to sleep?

I would rather finish this apparently.

Charlie feels drained as he watches the others eat and converse. It’s not like he has done all that much today, just zoned out in class and forced himself to laugh with his friends.Yeah, I mean, it’s definitely not like masking every day and like forcing yourself would drain your energy.

Fun fact autistic people need more sugar to function. Because brain. Like you use more brain so you need more brain food and sugar is brain food, feed your brain kids.

But for some reason after group he is just drained, maybe it’s the honesty, sucking away at his life force and proving that he should just lie more.Maybe it’s the fact you feel like you can’t be yourself around anyone and you put on a facade of being an outgoing cheery lil guy.

And when you lie it’s easier to put on a facade than when you’re being vulnerable. It’s harder to pretend you’re cheery when you have to talk about why you’re not okay.

Or just like depression in general, that makes you tired too.

You can pick.

The weight in his chest is gone though, and it has been gone since he started trying to open up so maybe he shouldn’t stop.Heheh, is that unmasking? Is that getting rid of some of that burden? Getting some of that weight off of your chest?

Oh, yeah, that makes sense. Forgot you say that in english for a second. Oops.

Yeah, imagine getting the weight off of your chest makes the weight in your chest be smaller. Imagine.

“I’m just saying, we’re seniors next year then we go to college so maybe it’s better for me to cut my losses. Besides long distance never works.” Quackity says, in response to Fundy’s encouragement that he should just try communicating for once.Loser, biggest loser to exist.

But no, I get it. It feels pointless to try when you think you know it will end soon no matter if it succeeds or not.

But that doesn’t mean he should give up.

“Hey!” Ponk interrupts frowning. “Long distance can work.”She’s protecting their relationship, it’s like what Quackity said brings up some insecurities, isn’t it?

“Four hours isn’t even that long I’d a distance it’s fine.” Sam says, trying to calm Ponk down.

Boyfriend behavior.

“Technically two, if me and Sam just both go to you.” Foolish adds.No, but their relationship is so healthy and it’s amazing to see.

“Maybe you won’t even be that long distance.” Fundy points out. “I mean, have you even started thinking about college.”Voice of reason, Fundy, is here. Everyone clap.

“Yes.” Quackity says, certainly.

Nerd. 

“I haven’t.” Fundy, shrugs.Loser.

I said it before, but this is surprising to me. Like in retrospect it makes sense, but I fully expected Quackit not to think about that yet and Fundy to have already picked it out.

Like me seeing Quackity vs Fundy I was like, yes, Fundy the naturally smart guy will apply to colleges early and everything. But Quackity is the one who is an actual nerd he is the one who tries ins school and he is fucking smart. He might not be “naturally” smart like Fundy, but he is very smart. The “naturally” smart is something I reflect from my own life. I mean it as: being told you’re really smart and math coming easy to you without studying etc.

“Better to do that sooner rather than later.” Charlie says thinking about his own rush to write essays and find scholarships. His bad grades hadn’t left him with many options but plenty of small schools had at least looked at his applications.Aw. No but that’s a bit sad. I hope he gets a scholarship, american colleges/universities fucking suck, I can’t imagine getting into debt to get education.

But I guess it’s good he’s thinking about it so early.

Thankfully though one far enough away with a good enough reputation had accepted him. Not that his parents were happy about, Charlie doubts they would have been happy with anything short of an Ivy League school.Something something, they deffo want him to either be a doctor or a lawyer.

He should move across the world to a different country for university: less debt, more distance from family.

“Can we not talk about college.” Foolish begs. “I don’t want to think about all the debt I’m getting myself into.”Something something America, punchline. It’s too easy.

Like I am getting my university education basically for free. And not because of scholarships but because my country isn’t stupid.

“You have a perfectly mediocre football scholarship to give yourself concussions at that school.” Ponk grins.Americans and sports smh. (Sorry for hating on the US so much, I feel very sick and can’t physically restrain myself.)

Little bullying your partner never hurt anybody <3.

“We can’t all be nerds Ponk.” Sam says, but his tone makes Quackity pretend to gag.Me too, Quackity, me too. (I fr go “ew gay” every time my friends in relationships act romantic. I don't rlly know any straight couples tbh)

In response Sam kicks Quackity under the table, only to mistake Fundy’s legs for Quackity’s and end up kicking him. “Sorry Fundy.”HAH. That’s what you get for trying to be violent. Sam is very protective of the people he loves, it’s adorable. Unless is at the expense of himself.

“The other day you told me in vivid detail about sorting algorithms.” Ponk says. “Don’t start.”Hahaha, they are ALL nerds. Also that’s so autistic.

“Oh speaking of not starting.” Fundy cuts in. “Testing is coming up!”I’m unironically this person. Our leaving exams are coming up really soon and I keep reminding my school friends bcs of the stress I am under while constantly thinking about it. And I stress them out by mentioning it.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up.” Quackity chants moving a hand to cover Fundy’s mouth.This is pretty close to my friends’ reaction when I bring it up.

“Sucks to suck.” Foolish grins.So wise, I want to be old and wise like Foolish (I’m pretty sure I’m older than Foolish in this fic.)

“You still have to take your AP tests Foolish.” Charlie cuts in.“Shhh. This isn’t about me.”That’s so silly of him. I love ignoring my problems to feel superior to other people in a joking way.

“Hey at least after testing you guys more or less just coast until exams.” Sam says, helpfully.Yeah, actually, talking to people who went throug the leaving exams is so good to elevate anxiety.

Because the teachers always make them out to be so serious and hard to pass and all you hear about is people who failed not people who did good on them.

But people who did them will be like “Yeah, it doesn’t matter, you only need like 4 days to prepare. What do you mean you’re reading the books? Just read what they’re about online.”

“Yeah, I never did anything after testing honestly.” Ponk agrees.No, but it’s great that the people who went through it are there to give advice and like lessen the stress about the testing.

“I don’t do much period.” Charlie points out.

Me neither, but it’s fine, don’t worry Charlie.

“You’re gonna lock in.” Quackity says, pointing an accusing finger at Charlie. “We’re studying for chemistry together.”FRIENDS

Friendship

oh my god, Quacktiy is like a great fucking friend wtf

FRIENDSHIP!!!!

<333

this is so wholesome

Charlie, who usually finds himself feeling like he is staring at an impossible to climb cliff face, when testing starts, suddenly doesn’t feel as worried as he should. Maybe he can actually do this.YAAAY, that’s optimism! He’s getting a bit of that happiness back, he’s able to eat it again in little pieces. A little nibble of joy.

[mossyscavern]

Younger than he should be.

______________________

It’s been almost 9 years since the incident.

I had to stop myself and others from going to that area cause of that incident. I stopped the website too and did community service for Edwards cause of how much of a dick I was as a kid.

I even went to therapy most of the time to deal with the trauma I had gone through. It was tiring but it’s worth it in the end.

Then I heard a knock on my front door.

At first I thought it was the Jehovah’s witness coming from door to door so I didn’t bother… then the knocks became more frequent. I groaned and stood up. “Alright! Alright! Jesus Christ.” I shouted, getting up from my couch.

To be honest, I didn’t know what I expected… but I wasn’t expecting Sam to show up on my front door step.

“Duncan.”

“… Sam.”

“You’ve changed.” He says, eyes just as worried when we first met. “… you haven’t.” I said stupidly.

To be fair I thought he’d probably change the most. Probably get a job as a chef, or become an art therapist with how good his drawing are back in high school. But no, he’s exactly how I had met him.

“H-how..?”

“I don’t know myself.” Sam says, shrugging his shoulders before looking down. “At first I didn’t notice… until I saw my friends got jobs and graduate.” Sam says sadly, leaning on the support beam of my house.

“So you came to me cause it might be supernatural related?”

By confirmation he nodded his head. “Do you mind if I sleepover? My dad’s not going to be home for a while.” Still getting over the shock, I just let him in.

When I finally am over it I just… do what I’d normally do with a guest/friend who visits, although technically it’s a sleepover…

But I am very serious when I say this…

Why the hell does Sam look 15?!

______________________

… thought I’d bring this Au to light.

This is a concept au I’m working on where Sam not only survived but also has some side effects from being in mount Todd for too long, there were many that I wanted to try but I thought i’d start of with a simpler approach.

Cause… I wanna write it and share it with you guys.

[sharkneto]

5 Rob 1234... These exist?!? How MUCH do they exist??? What are the odds that we will eventually see them someday?

(for WIP ask game)

I've shared a few snips of them before (found HERE), and god... hopefully? I've got so many goddamn WIPs and so much less time to write than I used to during covid times, I can't promise anything and especially can't promise anything being soon.

It's a concept I love a lot - I love Five and Rob's relationship, I love Rob constantly tricking Five into cooperating with therapy until he starts doing it willingly on his own. I like the idea of Five trying to keep everything tight to his chest and aggressively keeping it there until Rob can get him to understand that he doesn't have to do that, that he doesn't have to live like that.

But it's a rarely worked on WIP (partly hence why there's multiple files of different Rob and Five conversations rather than One Set WIP), around JT and the apocalypse fic and Number vs Apocalypse Week fic and random odds and ends I play around with.

So, would I like to share it? Absolutely. Will it be any time soon? Absolutely not.

Long snip for your time, though. This is 5 Rob 3

(cw: some discussion of the implications of Five's physical vs actual age in terms of his brain and cognition, mostly from the angle of Rob being excited about brains and Five unimpressed by it)

“What are you thinking about?” Five asks after Rob doesn’t start off their session in the first minute of their meeting starting.

Rob keeps considering Five through the screen. “Your brain.”

Five blinks. “You do that to everyone?”

“More or less. When they’re my patients, definitely. And if there might be something interesting going on. Yours definitely has a lot going on.”

“Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.”

The sit and stare at each other through the screen some more. Five leans back in his seat, eyes narrowed slightly. “If I ask for specifics for what you’re thinking about in regards to my brain, will it be a long winded way of talking about something I don’t want to talk about or is this genuinely a tangent about my brain?”

Rob hums. “If I’m clever enough maybe I can loop it back to your problems but currently I’m just thinking about your brain.”

“This a hobby of yours?”

“A little bit, I guess,” he says with a laugh. “Also my job, but it is why I went psychiatrist route instead of psychologist route. If you go to medical school they let you look at more brain scans.”

“I’m sure that’s super normal,” Five deadpans.

“How would you know, with your fifty-eight-year-old consciousness in a thirteen-year-old brain?”

Five crosses his arms. “It’s almost fourteen,” he defends.

Rob thinks about that for a second. They’ve sort of talked around this before, and maybe with the birthdate coming up they should talk about it some more. He’ll poke. “Aren’t we technically still six months or so away from your physical birthday?”

That gets an exasperated huff from Five. “October 1, 1989 is my actual birthdate and I’m keeping that, it’s a constant that’s never going to change short of me fucking up so badly I’m not born, in which case I’ve got bigger problems – although not ones I’ll care about because I won’t exist.” Rob keeps a straight face. He actually loves it when Five gets on these little time-travel-insane-consequence rambles. Feels like a sci-fi movie and Sarah can’t poke holes in it like she does when they watch time-travel movies. Five also really likes to get on these tangents, so they’re really good for getting him talking on days he doesn’t want to talk – not that seems to be a problem today.

Five pauses but Rob waits. He’s not done. The pause stretches for a couple seconds before Five huffs again. “I’m not moving my birthday because I arbitrarily and accidentally changed my linear position in time. October first isn’t my actual birthday anymore, either, but the amount of effort to figure out the new date is completely not worth the effort. I could do the much easier-to-calculate physical birthday in February—” he cuts himself off with a suddenly blank expression.

Rob frowns. “Five?”

“The day’s not February tenth anymore,” he says, brow lightly furrowed.

“Why not?”

He blinks again, obviously doing math. Rob doesn’t know what it is about Five’s expression that tells him that he’s doing math, but there’s a specific sort of blankness he gets when he’s running numbers. “February tenth was my physical birthday in the apocalypse,” Five says slowly, still a bit distant. Rob subtly slides his notebook over and grabs a pen, even though Five can’t see it with how Rob has his camera angled. “It was February tenth. Now, though, assuming this body is the body I originally jumped from 2002 in…. oh, it’s still just February second. That was dumb.”

“Did you want it to be more different?”

Five shakes his head, a small frown on his lips. “No. I don’t know why I thought that was going to be a significantly different date. April 2, 2019 versus March 24, 2019 are only a week apart. I could have done that math much smarter. Christ, I’m getting stupid in my old age.”

Rob smiles. They’ve looped back to what he’d originally been thinking about. “Or your brain is thirteen. And a half,” he adds when Five gives him a flat look.

“What does my brain’s age have to do with anything?”

“A lot, actually. Maybe. What do you know about brain development?”

Five stares at him for a long moment. “Nothing.”

“Ah, lucky for us I know a lot about it. The cliff notes version of it is that there are set developmental phases for brains from ages zero to around twenty-five. Twenty-five is when science and medicine generally agree that everything is up and functioning, it hangs out there for a few years before it starts going in the other direction. Before that point, it’s building up pieces and pruning connections that allow for better logic and more complex thinking.”

“You’re saying I’m half developed. And you’re declining,” Five says dryly.

Rob shakes his head, ignoring the easy insult. “No. Maybe. See, you’re a really interesting case of the physical versus consciousness. A really fascinating case study that could be a missing key in understanding where what makes us us sits. You, yourself, are fifty-eight, assuming you haven’t been messing with me and your whole family this entire time—”

“What would the point be of doing that?”

“—which I don’t think you are, which is why I accepted you as a patient. I don’t know how you’d even go about trying to parse it out, because it’s such a messy knot. It’s why we’ve been wondering about consciousness and the self for centuries, millennia. But you have such an extreme difference between the two that we might just be able to get a hint.”

It’s quiet as Rob finishes. Five sits considering that, expression slightly pinched. Rob waits.

As Five continues to not say anything, Rob’s gut sinks a little. Maybe he got a little too excited about this, misjudged how interested Five would be about it. He did just pretty blatantly say that this man, who is already stuck looking like a thirteen-year-old, might actually be stuck in a much more real way as a thirteen-year-old.

“Five—”

“You know,” Five interrupts, “you and Sarah make a bit more sense now.”

It isn’t clear if that’s supposed to be a compliment or an insult. Maybe it’s neither. Five usually likes to rub in insults. “How do you mean?”

 “You both like puzzles. You just hide your intensity better than she does.”

Rob might have gotten a little too enthusiastic about how interesting a case Five is. “I’m sorry, Five, I—”

Five waves a hand, tone still low. “Don’t apologize. You know I appreciate candor. Was this the point?”

They haven’t been here in a little bit – Five directing with questions. Rob did miscalculate this. He can let Five keep the control. “Was what my point?”

“To talk about how shit it is to be a fully grown man who looks like a child?”

“No. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about and thought you might find it interesting, too. I had planned on today being a bit lighter on Big Things after last week.”

Five nods slowly. He’s not looking at Rob. “Wow,” he says after another moment. “Bad job of doing that.”

“I’m seeing that now, yeah.”

Five forces them to sit in that. Rob glances at the clock. He has forty minutes to salvage unless Five ends the session early.

“I get the appeal,” Five says after another long minute. “I’m an enigma on a lot of levels. Most of my life doesn’t exist anymore and what it was is so statistically improbable it should be impossible and unbelievable. This isn’t what all this has been about, right?”

He slips that question in as if it’s just an unimportant end to his statement. That’s how Rob knows it’s important. Five likes to bluster, likes to misdirect to avoid feelings and hard topics. The exception is when he needs real, important information. He’s not good at direct lies and it’s obvious the tactic he figured out for learning information he needed while trying to stay under the radar is to be as casual and nonplussed as possible. If Five doesn’t seem to care about the answer, maybe the person giving it won’t care about giving it either.

“No, Five,” Rob says without hesitation. Waiting until Five looks back up at the screen, he continues, “I agreed to be your psychiatrist because I think you need the help to sort through the everything of your life and also think I’m a good fit for helping you do that. You seem to agree, since we’ve been doing this for three months now. My own, side interest of what might be going on in your head isn’t a part of it, outside of my thoughts on non-psychotherapy approaches that might help you should you ever decide you want to try some drugs or physical treatments. Today’s tangent is just that, a tangent that I think is interesting but is non-defining of you or the work we do here.”

Five nods at that with a small frown. “To help you along on that tangent, then, so we don’t have to do it again – it’s wrong.”

“Okay?”

“Your little theory has me half-developed and stupid, of which I am neither.” He waves off Rob as he opens his mouth to apologize and explain. “It’s fine, as you just explained to me your brain function is also declining due to your advancing age. It is interesting, though, that your go-to direction for me doing a simple math calculation in an indirect way was to blame it on a possibly under-developed brain rather than the fact that I’m thirteen years older than you are and am farther along on my brain slipping into mush.”

Rob swallows and waits.

“But how I know you’re wrong about my brain is because, while I don’t remember much from being thirteen, I do remember some decisions I made when I was that age. One very big, very dumb decision. With absolutely no concern for the consequences and no back-up plan. That’s the sort of thinking thirteen-year-old brains do. It was a childish and very poorly calculated mistake. And I’m not that stupid now.”

“Understood,” Rob says. That sits between them, a bit heavy which was not Rob’s goal for the day so he adds, “You’re dumb because you’re old, not because you’re young.”

A smile ghosts at the edge of Five’s mouth. “Exactly.”

“Glad we cleared this up. I’m sorry I pushed us here, I misjudged. We’re good?”

Five nods. “We’re good.”

[the-boy-meets-evil]

some habits are hard to break | jjk (teaser)

pairing: jungkook x f!reader genre: non-idol!au, angst, smut, unhealthy relationships rating: explicit, minors dni length: teaser - 870 words summary: you know better than to text jungkook because he's always going to answer and you're always going to end up in the same place again. you're just hoping that this time, despite how it started, things might be different. warnings (for the finished product): swearing, drinking, toxic relationships (they know it's toxic), kissing, unprotected sex (vaginal), oral sex (m, f receiving), semi-public sex, fingering, hand jobs, cheating, mentions of therapy, mentions of past trauma (nothing explicitly stated, just general), fighting teaser notes: i haven't finished writing this yet, so it's subject to change. and fair warning, it's smutty and a very bumpy ride along the way.

Every single thought is the same. You know better than to send the text sitting on your phone. You know precisely why it’s wrong. You know that nothing is ever going to change.

Here’s the thing. You’re in a healthy, stable relationship with someone who’s good to you and for you. He’s honest and caring, funny and sweet. Despite all of your baggage, he never makes you feel less than, never makes you feel broken. This is the first time in your life that you’ve been able to lay all your shit on the table and have someone accept it unconditionally. And he always does what he says he’s going to. You’re never up waiting at 2 in the morning, wondering where he is because he hasn’t called or texted. 

So, yeah, things with him are good, great even. 

But…

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? As soon as there’s a but, it’s like you can’t see all of the good. It’s all just a placeholder before what may be the worst three-letter word in the English language. You wonder if it means there’s just something fundamentally wrong with you. Who looks for the “buts” of every situation? Why can’t you just appreciate all the truly wonderful things in your relationship?

Because you’ve had the one thing you’re missing. You know it exists and it’s hard to forget.

Your boyfriend is great, perfect, even, in almost every way that matters. It’s just, you’re not exactly…satisfied. And you know that you could guide him to be better for you in that way. He just seems a bit sensitive about it at times and you don’t want to make him feel less than since he never does that to you. 

This is exactly why you’re staring at your phone. Paralyzed because you both want to send the text and know you really can’t. Your body remembers his, remembers the way the slightest touch sent your heart racing. You try to also remember every word he’s ever uttered to you, too, because he’s always been very clear about who he is. 

It’s fucked up that you’re even considering it, beyond wrong that you typed those 5 words out in an empty conversation thread. (Even though you usually keep everything, you deleted that after you got serious about your boyfriend. You say it’s to keep the temptation away, but really, how well is that working now?)

You: what are you up to?

Just like that, your need to fill your desires wins out against every other rational thought you have. Part of you hopes that he doesn’t respond. It’s been months since you last spoke and you know he’s got a short attention span. Maybe he’ll spare you having to make a final decision.

Jungkook: out getting some drinks with friends

He doesn’t. His answer comes in far quicker than you expect it to and you get that same feeling in your stomach. Like anticipation mixes with desire. You’re so fucked.

Jungkook: what are you up to?

Tomorrow you’ll look back and realize this is a chance to bow out, to realize that this is a mistake and you can still walk away. 

You don’t.

You: nothing, just at home alone

Jungkook: what about the boyfriend?

You: away for work

You know that you should feel bad now. A normal person might realize that this was destructive behavior, that you’re purposefully sabotaging your own long-term happiness for instant gratification. At least, that’s what your therapist tells you. 

Jungkook: I can be home in 15 minutes, I’m just around the corner

The message is really your last chance, whether you consciously think it or not. There was no preamble with Jungkook. He assumes you’re texting him so you can come over. And he’s right, isn’t he? You weren’t exactly texting to catch up with someone you weren’t ever friends with anyway. No, you’re both adults and you know what this is. Just like you’ve always known.

You: give me 30 and I’ll be over

Was there really any other outcome? From the moment you opened Jungkook’s contact to start a text, this was the inevitable end. You can pretend that you have control and you were on the fence. But, you know the truth, and so does Jungkook. He knows it from the moment your name appears on his lock screen. This only ends one way, the same way it’s ended countless times before. 

Thirty minutes later, after cleaning up and getting dressed, you stand on Jungkook’s doorstep. There’s a moment where you genuinely question if this is smart. Smart is the wrong word, you think. Of course, this is fucking stupid. You could ask 100 people and every single one of them would probably tell you to turn around. So no, this isn’t smart.  The real question is if you’re going to do it anyway.

Jungkook opens the door before you even knock and the question dies. There he is, in baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt, like the true fuckboy you know he is, and your body remembers. It remembers every kiss, every touch, every tremble. It starts to react without your permission.  By the smirk he’s wearing, you can tell Jungkook remembers too.

[eraserisms]

Shota + Middle Child Syndrome/Traits

While a lot of people who give Shota a family they headcanon him as the oldest child. I write Shota as being the oldest son, however Shota is still the middle child for a few reasons.

Easygoing

Shota doesn't really seem to care about much of anything. Almost always we see him, relaxed and casual, whether its him relaxing in his sleeping bag or slouching somewhere. Or even when he is just displaying general apathy. He is laid back and doesn't seem to get too worked up about chaotic situations, his classroom alone is a testament to that.

Competitiveness

For someone who is so aloof, Shota is pretty competitive. Shota might not care about a lot of things but when he does care, he is in it to win it. We briefly see this competitive behavior during the sports festival when Hizashi teases Shota and says “Isn’t it difficult to stand out in the sports festival when you don’t have flashy powers.” and we see that Shota becomes visibly annoyed. Shota cares more about doing well than what he vocalizes. It's also probably why he understands Bakugo's motivations intimately.

Mediator/Peacemaker & Fairness/Balance

Shota plays the role of arbitrator in all aspects of his life. He grew up as a mediator for his siblings, even if he was on his sister's side a majority of the time. Shota taking on the job of being a homeroom teacher inherently puts him in a is a mediator position. We see him intervene when Midoriya and Bakugo get into a fight and a handful of other times we see Shota settling other disputes. One of the first things that Shota says to his students is that life is full of unfairness. He also goes on to say that a hero's job is to combat that unfairness and that thought process goes beyond his pro-hero status. Yes, it would be irrational to think that life is fair, but that doesn't mean that Shota doesn't seek some sort of balance, even in his personal life. The world is unfair but it's up to him to change that.

Independence

Shota is fiercely independent and always has been since he was a child. Shota was the one who was always eager to go to the convenience store by himself whenever Mio wasn't around to do the task. A lot of the time, Shota and her would go together if they were both home, but Shota relished the moments when he had solo journeys. Shota is so independent that his parents didn't really see how badly Oboro's death had affected him. Shota's parents are at the end of the day, really good parents for the most part, but that doesn't mean that they are flawless. They had done all the right things that someone would need after experiencing something so traumatic. They put him into therapy. They looked into other psychiatric treatments like anti-depressants. They checked in on him here and there. But they didn't check on him as much as they should have. This leads me to Shota's last middle child trait, but and most well known/common trait.

The Forgotten

As I said, Shota's parents didn't realize how deep the PTSD and trauma of losing Shirakumo went. This however, wasn't entirely their fault. Shota often reassured them that he was okay when he really wasn't. As independent as Shota was, his parents were a little inclined to believe that Shota was doing better than what he was. In reality, Shota was doing a lot of reckless behavior like drinking and sleeping around as a means to try to distract himself and numb his pain. Upon realizing that Shota wasn't doing as well as they thought, they were plagued with guilt for not having pushed him more about it. In addition to Shota being dishonest about his recovery, during this time in the Aizawa household there was a lot of chaos going on with his siblings that served as a distraction from Shota. His older sister got pregnant with the child of an older boy who had no interest in helping her. And his younger brother, Akio still had occasional dips in his physical health. Childhood traumas aside, Shota often is quiet, in the corner or in the back of a room. He is usually forgotten by people around him, just his family, and he prefers it that way. He likes being able to slip into the shadows unnoticed. It works out especially given his career path because Shota is often over-looked and underestimated and ignored.

[allwaswell16]

I was tagged by @magicalrocketships thank youu! ily!

Name: Anitra

Sign: Libra

Time: 1:47

Last movie: Oof I hardly ever watch movies. I think the last one I saw was Spider-Man: Across the Spiderverse. I took my kids to see it and I actually really loved it. Do documentaries count as movies? If they do, then I just watched Class Action Park a few days ago.

Last show: The last one I watched was Barry. Still midway through Season 2 of that one.

When I created this blog: 2014

Other blogs: fades into the bushes like Homer Simpson, listen I'm always doing 50 things at once, okay?

@hlficlibrary - my Louis/Harry fic rec blog

@letsdocuboutit - my newest one! for my new podcast!

@1dmonthlyficroundup - where I roundup all the current 1d fics each month!

@louisrarepairfest - for the currently posting Louis rare pair fest I run

@soulmatesabroad - for a past fic fest I ran for 3 years and might run again

@1dbreakupfest - ran this fest once and might run it again someday

@podfic-pals - member of this one where we post 1d podfics!

whispers should I talk about the other ones? lol FINE

@louli5ever - dedicated to Oli and the Louli friendship, is it fairly extensive for something that's kind of a joke? maybe.

@hotguyluke - dedicated to Louis' hot friend Luke. Is this also fairly extensive for someone we rarely see? also yes. I don't do things half way, okay?

Let's pretend there aren't any more, okay? Those were the sort of active ones.

Do I get asks/may you ask me something: Yep! Mostly I get asks about fics, but sometimes I write silly things in the tags, feeling like I'm talking to myself and then someone will send me an ask about them and I'm like oh yeah you can all see these

Average hours of sleep: Sighhhhhhhhhhh. I try to sleep from 11-7. Do I sleep from 11-7? No. I probably get to sleep closer to midnight. And since June I have had nightmares almost every single night. Yay. They wake me up multiple times and then I go back to sleep to endure more nightmares before I wake up at 7. So much fun. Yes, I've gone back to therapy.

Instruments: I wish! My son takes drum lessons so I'm living vicariously for now.

What I’m wearing: I wear Louis merch almost every single day, but you've caught me on an off day. I have a pink sweatshirt on that's from my local zoo and some navy blue pants with a white graphic pattern on them and pink Care Bear socks. I have 3 types of hoodies...Louis, Chicago Cubs, and my local zoo. I do not know why I have decided these three things are my entire personality, but oh well.

Dream job: I used to say writer. But I don't know if I want to do that professionally anymore. Or at least I don't think I want to be a fiction writer as a job. And the reason for that is that I love it too much. I love writing so much and it has always been such a huge part of who I am. Do I want to make it into something else? Do I want it to be a job that I "have" to do? Will it still be fun? Will it turn into a chore? I can't stand the thought that I could lose that joy. This is going to maybe piss some writers off lol, but I've never experienced writer's block. I've never sat down and been unable to write something. I'm always writing the exact thing that I want to write in that moment. It's one of the luckiest best things about me. What I've kind of turned to now is podcasting because it is something that I enjoy that I think I'm kind of good at and that I could potentially monetize one day. And it does involve writing because I have to write up notes and talk about something. But that's not really the same as writing a story. blah blah blah sorry this was so long.

I'll tag: @dearlou @noellehenry-original @gaycousinlarry @fallinglikethis @ohharold @joliepetitelou @statementlou and anyone else who wants to do this just say I tagged you!

[storiesofsvu]

Alright, happy Thursday hoes, lets get to this.

Mothership first

Okay… interesting open…

Omg…how many times are they gonna use the trope of “don’t touch that!” “who the hell are you?” surprise it’s the new laywer…

Not surprised its another old white dude, but at least he’s not as old as mccoy

Okay seriously…. If they get rid of Samantha I will not be watching this show anymore..

I wonder if they’re going to bring this staff change up on svu too considering this guy is also now carisi’s boss… but the writers seem to have forgotten that these shows all exist together until they want to do a crossover.

If this was svu the ada would be storming into the squad room yelling at the detectives for making a mistake that’s gonna cost them their case. Why don’t we get to see that on mothership? I want more crossing over between departments, cops never show up in the gallery either, just to testify if they’re needed.

Oooo yesss that maroon suit. I see you ma’am!

Man they’re just right fucked with this case aren’t they?

This defence attorney is super crusty

How come these videos are coming up NOW and not before things went to trial??

This judges office is barba’s office. They really only have so many sets, hey? (also the continuity of that office on this show/universe drives me fucking insane).

My subtitles keep cutting in and out and that is also driving me insane

Toronto time.

Will I pay attention? Likely no

JESUS FUCK talk about a cold fucking opening wow.

Big surprise I stopped paying attention halfway through the ep. Like, it’s fully muted right now and I’m working on writing LOL

SVU time

BRUH is this maria stuff ive been seeing all over twitter legit?! I thought people were fucking clowning LOL

Olivia in uniform just fucking makes me so fucking weak every single time

Clearly the other captain hasn’t been in the field a lot if that was her immediate reaction to that crime scene

Okay… hear me out… olivia literally saved maria’s life and stayed on the phone with her ALL night. We all know she has a habit of taking in strays… there’s no doubt maria became a cop because of liv… maria would have reached out TO HER about her graduation, not the other way around…

Velasco getting actual screen time finally. I do have to say, im back on my Velasco bullshit…

LOL. I know it was unintentional but the harshness of velasco’s knock on the door killed me.

4 hours of law and order is too much. Im getting bored and this is the show I actually like. I think imma start skipping Toronto cause mothership does hit some days

If this girl has a good enough lawyer she could easily get off on an insanity type plea… tbh this episode would’ve been way better on criminal minds. That would’ve been bad ass.

This episode is almost over and we got absolutely NO closure on the maria thing AND we didn’t get to go to court. Im OVER this fucking show man lol

Liv being back in her bac nail polish era is bomb though

Fin doesn’t strike me as a scotch guy… this is weird..

Okay… liv is really not okay. Like this girl needs support, she needs proper and regular therapy, she needs a break from work. Go home and spend time with your son instead of drinking cheap wine alone in a bar? Also while we’re talking about drinking alone after work being all sad, can we touch on the fact that her mother was an alcoholic, and that was what *killed* her… this is incredibly worrisome and I doubt we’re ever going to touch on it/get it fleshed out like we should…

Okay we at least got some maria closure. Thank you.

OC time!

Jet *attempting* to control stabler, woof. At least someone’s trying loooll

This bitch is so dead

Part of me feels like its bullshit that se wouldn’t know any of this about her own brother, but also I never talk to my family so…. LOL.

Fuck he’s creepy as shit

There is NO WAY THAT TINY MAN IS THE SAME SIZE AS ELLIOT

The fact that it took THIS long for someone higher up to question his anger/trauma/etc affecting his job is wild.

THE BARTENDER IN ME IS FUCKING DYING. I had a PHYSICAL reaction to that conversation.

“you’ve never had a long island ice tea?!” “I don’t like ice tea it’s too bleh” guy promptly orders two to prove that theyre good? THERE IS NO ICED TEA IN LONG ISLANDS

Cragen’s really just gonna be in the last second of this episode isn’t he?

Everyone: proper ear pieces

Jet: nah. Air pod.

I really thought that stabler was gonna be missing for a like, a good chunk of time with no one knowing.

OHHHH right! The foil he found in the bathroom garbage and immediately licked… right… I forgot about that. Now the question is who it belongs to…..

[ocd-kenobi]

What is your job and how would an Obikin AU work in that context

I am a massage therapist! This question was so exciting and inspiring that I came up with two brilliant ideas. And if anyone wants to write them I would happily be a consultant :)

Idea One:

Massage School AU. Obi-Wan is a massage therapy instructor at a fairly new school. He hasn't even been a massage therapist very long, and he's still in his 20s which is younger than some of his students, but he did so well on the licensing exam that the school was very eager to hire someone who could effectively teach the textbook licensing material. He's a little ambivalent about the job, but he needed to get out of working in a spa environment, because his brain would obsess over the fact that his coworkers used hand sanitizer (instead of soap and hot water) in between clients and it started to drive him crazy. His coworkers also said inappropriate sexual comments in the break room about their clients' bodies, which is Against The Rules of massage therapy ethics, but he couldn't do anything to change that. So he escaped by becoming a teacher.

His last class just graduated with a 100% retention rate and his new class comes in for his four-month accelerated course. Anakin is one of his new students. Straight out of high school, picked massage therapy as a trade because it seemed lucrative, and so easily attractive that Obi-Wan assumes he's going to be a flirt and a problem with all the female students in the class. Anakin is especially quick in learning muscle anatomy, memorizing origin and insertions and functions instantly. (It's just like building a droid, he says oddly one day as if everyone should know what he's talking about.)

He is, however, very clearly and painfully touch-starved. The whole first week, every time the students exchange massages, Anakin gets a terribly obvious erection every time he receives. He acts really embarrassed about it and tries to hide it, which makes Obi-Wan feel uncomfortably bad for him. Obi-Wan subtly slides in a lesson during the lecture part of class about how involuntary erections can happen to clients during a massage and that it doesn't necessarily mean that the therapist is in danger or that there is any sexual intent at all, but that if any therapist feels uncomfortable for any reason they should just terminate the session and walk out of the room. Anakin blushes during this lecture, knowing he's basically being talked about.

Anyways Obi-Wan doesn't want his other students to feel uncomfortable by making them massage this touch-starved boy with slightly off-putting energy, but he doesn't want Anakin to fail (and ruin his perfect retention record as a teacher.) So he decides the best course of action is to massage Anakin after class time is over and the other students leave. Lol. Because it's impossible to learn how to massage well unless you understand what it feels like to receive. And because massage is physically demanding work and receiving bodywork is necessary for preventing injury.

So once or twice a week, Obi-Wan stays late so he can massage his only male, much-younger student. Who gets hard every time, but that's fine, because Obi-Wan's not threatened or weirded out by erections; in fact he can objectively appreciate one, even under a blanket. He doesn't have time to make it out to the gay club much anymore, so it's almost nice and nostalgic just to be around a guy with an erection, even if it's just a physiological response to massage. LOL.

This goes on for a while. He does not notice Anakin growing increasingly obsessed with him. He does not notice Anakin reading special meaning into their after-hours time together. He does not notice Anakin manipulating him into more and more time--not just for massage, but for talking as well. He also assumes that Anakin is not into energy work, because he vocally hates the meditation part of their classes and doesn't even close his eyes. But one day, Obi-Wan guides the students through an exercise of feeling qi flowing from the palms of their hands, and he goes around to each of them to sense what they're doing and balance them out, and when he gets to Anakin, it's like being hit by a strong undertow, and he tries to reach out to steady Anakin's qi but he's not actually powerful enough to do so. And Anakin, eyes closed, smirks a little and says something like, "I can feel you behind me, Obi-Wan." And Obi-Wan's like, wow, this boy really is something special. I'm probably not fit to teach him, but I'll do my best.

When the class gets to the deep tissue module, Anakin starts being more of a problem, because he has every muscle memorized, can palpate trigger points and adhesions easily, uses energy work without even realizing he's doing it, and is also big and strong enough to apply a lot of pressure. And, worst of all, by this point, he's realized he's more gifted than his classmates and thus believes that he knows best. So he hurts his classmates, not believing them when they say they want less pressure. He wants to fix their bodies, which is not the same as providing them a good massage. Obi-Wan tries to tell him this, but he's stubborn. Obi-Wan knows Anakin's approach of ignoring boundaries is unethical, but he also knows several other male massage therapists who have cult-level fanbases and make tons of money in tips by using this same approach, because society is weird that way. If Anakin could just figure out a charming, approachable bedside manner about it, he would actually be very successful.

So instead of making Anakin hurt more classmates trying to learn how to give people what they want instead of what they need, Obi-Wan starts letting Anakin practice on him.

Which, of course, leads to Anakin digging his elbow into Obi-Wan's gluteal muscles until his teacher is squirming (and it's been too long since Obi-Wan has gotten a massage AND since he's gone to the gay club AND since he's thought about pain and pleasure being linked, because it's causing him some issues.) Anakin's all, "This one's the piriformis, right? And this is the obturator? And this is the gluteus medius insertion..." And Obi-Wan, sweating, scrapes out a "yes." Anakin tells him to turn over onto his back and Obi-Wan says that's enough for the day. They can do more next time :)

And then Obi-Wan begins realizing he's plagued with sexual thoughts about his student. Which is bad, unethical, and inconvenient. But Anakin is unfortunately really hot, and every new thing Obi-Wan learns about him makes it increasingly easy to imagine the way in which Anakin is his type: openly emotional, demanding, willing to call Obi-Wan out on his bullshit, family-oriented, honest, passionate... It's fine. He can separate the confused lonely daydream version of Anakin from his student.

But a particularly vivid daydream strikes him in the middle of a meditation one day and he looks over and sees Anakin staring at him from across the room, waves of energy radiating off of him, completely missed by all the other students meditating with closed eyes.

Anakin picks up on how badly this flusters Obi-Wan and starts messing with him more. This is alarming for Obi-Wan, who has been bullied for being gay plenty of times before and who doesn't want to lose his job for having inappropriate feelings for a daydream-version of one of his students. But it also arouses him :( Especially when Anakin keeps pushing him to resume their massage trade sessions (which Obi-Wan abruptly ended) and follows him to his car in the parking lot to tell him how much he misses their time together. Obi-Wan lies in bed at night wondering if Anakin could have followed him home and is about to demand entrance into his apartment and body. He hates himself for coming to that thought.

And then, when the classroom part of the course is almost over and the clinic portion (where they massage strangers for free) is soon to begin, Anakin passes the licensing exam before any of his classmates and begs Obi-Wan to be his first client at his home studio, as a thank you. "You never did let me get very deep with you lying on your back," he says, because Obi-Wan had never let their deep tissue sessions continue to that point. "I promise I'll make it good," Anakin says, smirking lips, fluttering eyes, shinning teeth. Obi-Wan agrees, not even knowing really if he's agreeing to a massage or sex, and a little too aroused to care about the ethics of that uncertainty.

Anakin drives them to his apartment, where he has a battered old massage table with stained sheets set up in the middle of a living room that is clearly shared with other college-aged young men who live off of takeout pizza. Anakin gives an amazing deep tissue massage from scalp to toes, then asks, quietly, for Obi-Wan to turn over. And Obi-Wan does, carefully, feeling the thin sheet drape over his semi-hard cock, the faint pressure making him harder, and the smell of Anakin's sweat and breath over him. Obi-Wan keeps his eyes closed, makes his hands relax against the table. And Anakin continues to massage him. Feet, legs, all the way to the tops of his thighs, with the sheet carefully and professionally draped, just like he'd been taught. Obi-Wan can't tell if he's disappointed or not by Anakin not saying anything about his state of arousal. His mind is too full of bliss and static to think about anything, even as Anakin re-covers his leg and moves onto his arms. Obi-Wan can't even be bothered to say anything when Anakin's fine, big hands, which have recently touched his feet, move up to massage his neck without washing first. Anakin has decided that Obi-Wan can have foot germs on his neck skin, and that's just the way it's going to be. Obi-Wan can deal with that. He can take anything. Massage is about trust.

And then right at the very end, after tractioning Obi-Wan's compressed neck for a full ecstatic minute, Anakin asks, "How did I do?" and Obi-Wan says, "Very good," and then Anakin's lips are on his, upside-down, soft, wet, demanding, and searching. Obi-Wan's heart starts pounding and he opens his mouth wide open to give Anakin more.

And then, eventually, Anakin gets in very deep with Obi-Wan on his back :) And Obi-Wan doesn't even remember to care about the foot germs.

Okay that was idea #1 and it went on for so long lol! Someone send another ask if you want to hear about the (more fucked up) idea #2!

[not-really-a-guest]

someone exactly like you

“Eddie says he likes me. Like likes me. Just as I am.”

Ravi, bless him, does not laugh. Instead, he scrunches his forehead and tilts his head to the side.

“And this is….new information?”

If Buck wasn’t confused before, he sure as hell was now.

1,500 words, getting together, featuring Ravi who just wants to work a shift in peace. (one line borrowed from Bridget Jones’ Diary)

Read on AO3 or below the cut !

It’s past eleven in the firehouse and most of the shift has gone to bed to catch whatever sleep they can before the inevitable bell ring. The lights are dim, and the loft is quiet. Buck sits at the table with a pen and a yellow legal pad.

Buck is on bullet point number seven when he feels Eddie over his shoulder.

“I already made the grocery list,” Eddie starts but his voice breaks off when he reads what Buck has been writing. Buck groans because he knows what it looks like and it’s not what it looks like, but he also knows any explanation is going to sound stupid.

“It’s a list of personality traits that need some work.” Eddie gives him an unimpressed look. “For me.”

“Did Dr. Copeland tell you to do this?” Eddie asks hesitantly and takes the seat to his right. Buck puts down the pen and tries to explain.

“No, I saw it on TikTok and, look, I know it sounds all sad but it’s actually really good to be self-aware! Like, it’s when healing can really happen.”

“There’s self-aware and then there’s self-deprecating. And you don’t need healing from,” Eddie looks at the list. “Talking too much.”

Buck supports Eddie in therapy but Therapy Eddie was kind of a pain in the ass sometimes. Mostly because he was usually right.

“I like lists. You know that.” Eddie nods. “So, it makes sense, I list the things I want to work on and then when I do, I become a better Buck. And then…” he trails off.

“And then?” Eddie asks.

“And then when I meet someone…The Someone, I can be a person they really like.” Buck tries to smile but he doesn’t make it very far when he watches a complicated mix of emotions dance across Eddie’s face. Buck feels a pit in his stomach, he really didn’t want this to be a big deal and the last thing he wants is Eddie to worry.

He goes into (what Eddie calls) ‘fix-it mode.’ Which usually involves a long-winded ramble.

“Eddie, it’s okay, these aren’t even bad things to fix! Abby thought I was too young; I can’t really do anything about that. Allie thought I was too risky, and I’ve really gotten better but the job isn’t going to change. And Taylor-“ Buck doesn’t miss the look of disdain that crosses Eddie’s face at her name. Buck shrugs. “Well Taylor thought I was needy and clingy which are things I should change anyway-“

“You don’t need to change.” Eddie usually doesn’t cut Buck off when he is talking, even if it is a long ramble. Bucks’ eyebrows raise in surprise, but Eddie’s face has gone from worried to serious and he’s got that look in his eyes and his shoulders are squared. Normally this expression would mean he’s gearing up for a fight, but there’s something else in his tone Buck can’t quite place.

“I’m really glad you think that Eds, but I just…I want to be the best guy I can be so someone can like me-“

“I like you.” Buck stops. He’s about to say he means in the romantic way, but Eddie’s eyes are shimmering and a faint flush is inexplicably spreading across his cheekbones. Eddie takes a deep breath and holds Buck’s gaze. “Buck, I like you. Just as you are.”

The shrill ring of the bell cuts through the loft and they both jump up, and apart.

—

It’s a messy car pile-up on the freeway and Buck and Eddie work together getting people free of their cars and transported to the paramedics. It’s good to be busy, it keeps the focus on the patients and Buck is almost too occupied to think about what Eddie said.

Almost.

Just as you are. Not calmer or wiser or stronger. Not more cautious on rescues, not more level-headed when it comes to his personal life. Not a better gift giver or even a better ping pong player…. just…him. Just Buck.

The call takes them to the end of their shift and as they pack up the fire truck, Buck stays behind.

“Promised Carlton I’d work the first two hours of his shift so he could see his daughter’s school Halloween parade.” He tells his team. Chimney yawns while he nods, and Hen rubs her temples.

“You’ll be okay?” Bobby gives him a once over. Buck purposely doesn’t look over at Eddie, but he can feel him doing the same.

“Always.” Buck gives the team a general wave.  Eddie gives Buck a look he can’t decipher and the strange flush starts spreading again before he turns around and climbs back into the truck.

Buck is paired with Ravi for the clean-up, and he really tries to pay attention to the story Ravi is telling him about his roommates, but his mind keeps circling around Eddie’s words and the more debris he clears the more confused he gets.

“Buck? Are you okay?” Ravi asks hesitantly and Buck belatedly realizes he’s been calling his name for a full minute.

“Shit, sorry. Just thinking.” Ravi nods and they work a few minutes more in silence, but Eddie words keep ringing in his ears and it’s going to drive him crazy, and he can’t keep it inside anymore, so he turns to Ravi. “Eddie says he likes me. Like likes me. Just as I am.”

Ravi, bless him, does not laugh. Instead, he scrunches his forehead and tilts his head to the side.

“And this is….new information?”

If Buck wasn’t confused before, he sure as hell was now.

“Well yeah? He said it like he likes me. The romantic like.” But Ravi’s expression does not turn to shock like Buck expected, instead he looks to the sky and lets out a sigh.

“I thought being moved to the B shift saved me from this.” Ravi takes a deep breath and looks back at him. “Buck, literally everyone thinks you and Eddie are together. The only thing people can’t agree on is how long it has been going on.”

“Really?” Buck is still mostly surprised and a bit confused but he’s also starting to feel something else. Something warm.

“Really. Can you think of why?”

And Buck pauses and thinks.

He thinks first of a seven-year-old kid with glasses sliding down a fire pole, two strong pairs of hands leading him down. He thinks of a Christmas party, of hanging a banner, of Mario kart and pool and building a house of cards and throwing popcorn. He thinks of a collapsing mud tunnel, of red splattering on a white shirt, of the crunch of metal as a car met a bicycle. Carpools and betting pools and emergency contacts. Shared grocery lists and lockers.

They weren’t a ready-made family. They made their family. Built on trust and hard times and forgiveness and hope and love.

God, there was so much love, wasn’t there?

“Oh.” Buck nearly drops the hubcap he’s holding. He feels a bit dazed but also incredibly steady. “Oh.”

“Can I please make a tik tok series about this? I feel like I deserve to.” Buck absentmindedly nods.

“Yeah sure, hey do you know what time it is?” Eddie is the one with a watch, so Buck never bothers to wear his. They’ve really done this backwards haven’t they?

Buck isn’t wasting any more time.

—

Usually after their shift, they go home, take Christopher to school, grocery shop while the store is empty, unload and make brunch and decaf coffee, and then pass out for a few hours. Buck knows their routine well and knew he would beat Eddie home. He sits on the front step and waits, his right leg bouncing up and down and his left hand running through his hair. He showered in a rush after his shift ended and didn’t have time to style it like usual, but none of it matters. What matters is the man driving the truck slowly down the street. The man who has the power to break Buck’s heart completely, but for the first time in his life Buck feels sure it won’t happen.

Eddie parks and makes eye contact with Buck through the windshield. Buck gives him a wave that probably is the opposite of smooth, but he can’t dwell on it because Eddie is walking towards him. He stops a foot in front of him and gives Buck a tentative smile.

It’s all Buck needs.

“You like me just as I am.” Buck states and he is powerless to stop a smile from overtaking his face. Eddie nods.

“Well, if we’re being honest…” Eddie looks at the ground and kicks a stray rock. He takes a deep breath and looks back at Buck. His eyes are shimmering again, but Buck realizes it’s not because he’s getting ready for a fight. He’s getting ready to be brave.

“I don’t just like you, Buck. I love you. All of you.”

Tears prick at the corner of Buck’s eyes, and he knows this is it. This is his great love story; this is his happily ever after.

“Eddie, I think I’ve loved you this whole time.” Eddie smiles and Buck realizes he isn’t the only one with watery eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I love you, Eddie. So damn much.” He takes a step closer and nearly closes the gap between them. “And I’m going to kiss you now if that’s okay.”

And Eddie let’s out a laugh and Buck takes that as a yes and he cups the side of Eddie’s face and brings him in for their last first kiss.

They stand in a driveway on a Tuesday morning and Buck wouldn’t change a thing. He loves them just as they are.

[thelifeofnosilla]

Saturday, October 22nd

Hello there,

So I noticed that it has been exactly one month since I have posted on here. Is this why my mind is lingering and the urge to write fell upon me at 11pm at night? To be honest I cannot sleep, but I mean it is early for someone who lives in NYC. My partner has a new job and so he is already sleeping by this time. I mean that was my plan to right? To be on this entire routine? WELL, here we go again. That routine no longer exists, I lost 10 pounds to begin to gain it all over again. I do not even need to get on the scale, I can feel it in my body. Plus I have been eating so bad that I just feel terrible in general. I clearly have something mentally wrong with my brain, which I have always known but I keep falling back into the same habits. I need to really find some control over myself and get in together. I scroll on Instagram all day and I do not understand how I am even ok with looking how I look, knowing how unhappy I am.

Ugh, I feel like writing this post today seems so dark but that is just how I feel. I am back in a bad place that I only put myself into. I need to bounce back and get it together. This is why I wanted to be in a routine and I wanted to write everyday, even if it was to say I am ok because holding up for a month with my thoughts just is not the way to go. The good thing is that when I am on here, I just let myself write everything that I am feeling. I was watching The Luckiest Girl Alive on Netflix today and the best advice I ever heard was to write as if no one you know was reading it, that is when you do your best writing. I guess having this blog was the best thing I ever did for myself. I just need to take more advantage of it.

I do not really know what is going on with me but I guess I am in a weird place in life and instead of going after what makes me happy of controlling what I can control, I seem to do the opposite. I told my partner that everything would change once I got our own place and now we have been here for almost 4 years and nothing has really changed for me, other than the fact that I feel the freedom of being in my own space. I mean let me rewind here, honestly a lot has clearly changed in my life, I have a good job, we have our own space, I am more at peace with myself and can have time to myself to just think BUT I did not do anything about my weight or taking care of myself. The self sabotaging does not stop and I do not think it matters where I am. I wanted to move into this new apartment because it mostly had a gym in the building and I told myself it would push me to work out, but would it? I lock myself in this apartment and sometimes I do not even want to go up and down the stairs. Should I do therapy? Maybe but I do not feel like I am ready for that, maybe I am scared or maybe I just do not want to talk about the traumas in my life. One thing I do know is that I am 30 years old and I want better in life.

Everything I write, I always say that my mind starts to linger and it is right now. Thinking about my relationship and if my partner is even happy with me. Sometimes I feel like I am worried about everyone else and never myself. He has even said it himself. I think that if he saw me worried about myself, he would honestly be happier. Happier to be with someone who actually cares about themselves. I have been saying this out loud lately to some friends that I feel like I pulled him back from having a better life than the one he has now and knowing that I have not even tried. So many times he has told me, just save, please just save your money and I cannot even do that. I know that I need to be better and I am going to be. I am going to work on it. I know that I can be better but I have to put in the work. That is the other thing, I do not put in work into anything. Doing something for 1-2 weeks is not putting in work, it is about being consistent. Either way I know that I can be better and I need to make sure I do that.

I should definitely go to sleep soon and take in that tomorrow is a new day to work towards a better me. I hope that as I come on here and write, that I find growth in myself.

I should hopefully find myself back on here tomorrow, if not, definitely Monday for sure as I hop back into my weekly routine. I want to start moving with intention and doing things intentionally in my life.

Goodnight you beautiful people. 🥰

[falcons-wings]

an easy mission

sam wilson x reader

summary: the reader gets hurt on a mission where they received bad intel (this is a terrible summary but we move)

warnings: fighting, injuries, blood, swearing, guns, knives (i think that’s it?? pls tell me if there’s anything else)

wc: 1.5k+

masterlist

a/n: i’ve written for quite a few different fandoms but never marvel for some reason idk, but i love this man with all my heart and he does not nearly get the love he deserves so i thought i’d write this little work for him - also i havent written in a while so im rusty so apologies in advance - hope you enjoy :)

This was meant to be an easy mission. A nice break from all the stress, fighting and pain you had been experiencing recently since you started working with Sam and Bucky. You had even been sent in on your own to where the target was supposed to be whilst the boys kept watch because it was, as Sam so incorrectly said, “a simple in and out job”.

You had decided it was not a simple in and out job.

The target you had to extract was only meant to have two of his men guarding him, hence the easy part of the job, but the twelve guys who were now all either pointing guns at you or in fighting stances, proved that information very wrong.

It didn’t take long for all hell to break loose - there were gunshots flying everywhere as you began taking out some of the men closest to you. You threw a couple of knives from your harness at two of the men who had guns, not even looking to see if they had hit the mark (but you knew they did - you never missed) before running at the guy closest to you. A swift kick to his stomach followed by an elbow to the face was all it took to for him to go down, allowing you to focus on the other guys now approaching you - and a couple more knives were thrown in succession, getting rid of all but one of the shooters before you engaged in hand to hand combat with two of the assailants.

“Y/n? Is everything alright in there?” Sam’s voice spoke through the comm.

“Oh, everything’s just peachy Sam, I just want to say-“ You felt a sharp pain in your abdomen, interrupting your train of thought and speech, but your momentary pause cost you when one of the guys you were fighting got lucky with a hit to your face. Annoyed that you had let down your guard and most likely had a broken nose now, you kicked your leg out towards his shin and as he tripped slightly, you elbowed him in the gut and pulled his arm down as you rolled towards the floor, flipping him over so his front collided with the ground hard enough to knock him unconscious.

You turned your attention back to the remaining assailants when you registered Sam shouting your name over the comms.

“What Sam? I’m a little busy.”

“You stopped mid sentence I thought something had happened, we were about to come and see if you needed help.” You could hear the worry in his voice but the stubborn part of you still refused to ask for help from them even though they were your friends and you knew they wouldn’t think any less of you.

“No it’s all good here, I was just going to say that we’re never listening to your informant ever again and if we do, you’re getting sent into the hideout.”

“What? Why?”

“Well it turns out the two guys guarding the target,” you tackled the last armed guy to the ground, stabbing him in the chest in the process before getting back up and approaching the last couple of people left, “was actually twelve so I’ve not been having the best time here.”

“Shit. We’re coming in.” You could hear him saying something to Bucky but you didn’t care as this was when you noticed the original target was no longer in your sight, only two very angry looking dudes.

“No I’ve got this handled, but I’ve lost the target - he must’ve got away whilst I was distracted. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise y/n, Barnes is going to get the target and I’m coming to you.”

Before you could respond to him, the last two guys came charging at you. You ducked underneath the arm of one, dodging the knife he had trained on you, and kicked him in the back with enough force that he fell to the floor and didn’t get back up. This left only one who swung at your face, which you sidestepped out the way of, but unfortunately failed to see him swing his leg out to kick you in the stomach. You stepped back, doubled over in pain for a moment, but quickly recovered and took out the last knife from your harness, throwing it at his chest with perfect accuracy as he made another approach at you.

The body fell to the floor just as you heard loud footsteps running into the room behind you. Still on high alert you spun to fight this next person but instead relaxed when you saw Sam run into the room and stop in his tracks when he looked at you.

“I did say I had it handled.” You smiled smugly at him, ignoring the stab of pain from your nose at the movement, but the smile quickly faded when he still didn’t say anything, not even one of his normal comebacks.

“What? Is there something wrong?”

He shook his head slightly and began walking slowly towards you, “Y/n, you’re bleeding. We need to get you help.”

“It’s just a broken nose Sam, trust me I’ve survived worse.”

He was right in front of you now, his dark eyes conveying so much worry as he looked you over more closely. “No y/n, we need to get you to a hospital.”

You didn’t get what he was on about until he angled his head at your stomach, where you could now see the bullet wound you must’ve received in the mess of the fight bleeding profusely.

“Oh. Well that’s not ideal.”

You stumbled slightly as you started registering the pain you were in, the adrenaline from the fight beginning to wear off now. Sam was quick to steady you with his arms, and the concern on his face, his concern for you, warmed your heart a little even amidst the pain.

He manoeuvred you to the floor to rest whilst he spoke to Bucky over the comms to update him on the situation, and it might’ve been the blood loss speaking but you couldn’t help but think to yourself that he looked even more attractive than normal. He raised an eyebrow at you when he caught you staring, and quickly shaking the thoughts out of your head you began speaking.

“I’m sorry, I fucked up, I didn’t want to call for back up so you would know I can handle things and then I lost the target and then apparently got injured in the mess. All in all not my best mission, so I’m sorry.”

He shook his head at you, crouching down in front of you, “No y/n, you have absolutely nothing to apologise for. This is 100% on me and I’m so so sorry - I hate to see you get hurt, and that’s exactly what happened here.”

“How’s it on you?”

“It was my informant who gave the wrong information which I believed without confirming it, and then you went in here with no back up. You could’ve died y/n. I- No, we, can’t handle another loss, especially if it was you, you mean too much to Bucky and I now.” He looked down at his hands, avoiding your eyes, “I’ll do better next time.”

You hated how sad and broken he looked as he admitted this to you, and bad injuries or not, you were having none of his wallowing today. “Listen to me here Samuel Wilson - you are not to blame for this, sometimes there is bad intel and that’s just something we have to deal with. And if you will not let me blame myself for anything that’s gone wrong today then I ban you from thinking the same about yourself okay?”

He finally looked up at you to see the sincerity in your eyes and gave a small smile, “Okay.”

“I hate to break up the moment,” you both sat up quickly, ready to fight, to see Bucky approaching the two of you and dragging the target behind him, “but we need to get you to a hospital and this guy to a cell.”

“That might be a good idea as my vision is starting to go a little blurry.”

“Shit, okay, I’m gonna pick you up is that alright?” Sam asked, only needing a nod from you before you were in his arms bridal style and following Bucky out of the building.

As you approached the vehicle you were using, you poked Sam’s cheek to get his attention.

“I don’t want to see you get hurt either by the way, you mean too much to me as well.”

His eyes shined as he looked down at you, but his attention was quickly caught by Bucky muttering under his breath “God, just kiss already, you two make me feel sick.”

You huffed a laugh, ignoring your own blushing cheeks, and instead looked at Sam who had his own red cheeks and was now glaring at Bucky with a look, that if it could, would kill him.

He soon gave up with glaring at his friend, and instead looked down at you with a small, possibly hopeful smile on his face that you readily returned.

[starsinmylatte]

It’s alright. I’m here

Alright, folks, this is the Protective!Silco piece I referenced when I was planning my next set of fics. There are some warnings and general info I need to cover about this fic, so please pay attention to the author's note and trigger warnings. As a general reminder, the Witchy!Reader x Silco fic will be up next.

Trigger warnings: Attempted SA by an unnamed character, canon-typical violence

Pairing: Silco x AFAB!reader

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, attempted SA, this does end with comfort

Summary: You are having an incredibly mundane day, but things take a turn for the worst as a creep attempts to corner you. Thankfully, help is closer than it seems.

Minors DO NOT INTERACT

Author's note: I can't find the post to link, but a few weeks ago, I made a post about wanting to write a Protective!Silco one-shot based on a scary experience I had. This was the experience. I have been assaulted twice, and this piece directly pulls from a combination of those two experiences. I am in therapy and doing fine, but I needed to write it out. This was both extremely cathartic and very painful to write, and I almost didn't share it because it is difficult for me to re-read it. So, I couldn't edit the work as thoroughly as I normally do and it may not be my best work. Fair warning. However, I wanted to share it in the hopes that it can be helpful to another survivor. This should go without saying, but If you leave me a rude or hurtful comment, I will block you immediately.

It had been the most uneventful day. Silco was away on some kind of business, but all the mundane chores at The Last Drop still needed to be taken care of. Inventory needed to be ordered, supplies needed to be stocked, and someone eventually had to make the bar countertop slightly less sticky. Usually, that would be grunt work, but you took some pride in the place; way more pride than some random underling would. 

The relationship you had with Silco was almost an unspoken one. Of course, the two of you had discussed it at great length, but only two other people were privy to the finer details. Jinx, of course, and Sevika because the full extent of her protection had to cover you as well. To anyone else, you were simply the lady Silco trusted to care for the less shady side of the business in his absence. Anything more than that was pure speculation. Some simply thought you were a very devoted assistant, and some had theories so scandalous you and Sevika had to discuss them over drinks. 

The bar countertop was the first chore on your checklist today. The job wasn’t without satisfaction, and every inch of clean countertop only served to spur you on to the final goal. The cloudy haze of sticky syrups and exotic flavored liquors slowly lifted from the bar with each pass of a rag. Even though your fingers began to ache, the wood underneath started to shine, and a hum of contentedness passed your lips. One final pass with a different cloth dipped in a lemon-scented polish finished the job. 

You were so engrossed in your work that you didn’t register a presence beside you until it spoke. 

“Not many people woulda helped with that. Thank you.” Chuck’s familiar voice rang out in the room, startling you out of your concentration. 

“Don’t mention it. I used to bartend, so it’s second nature to me. Besides, I’m not the one who has to be behind here all night.” You dismissed the thanks with a lighthearted wave. 

Chuck hummed in agreement. The job paid well, and tips were great, but the constant flow of rowdy customers always constantly demanding more would wear anyone down. 

You wiped your hands on the cloth tucked into your skirt's waistband and bent down to stow some of the cleaning products back under the bar. When you finally stood back up, Chuck was toying nervously with his hands and staring at you obliviously. The second your gaze met his, his cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment, and he immediately glanced away. “You know, you’re always welcome to work behind the bar with me.” 

You laughed to yourself. Chuck was adorable, but he was one of the more clueless men that you worked with. Besides, he was far from your type. “I’d love to, but that's not what Silco pays me for.”

The syrup bottles still needed to be cleaned, so you continued wiping down the ones you could reach. Chuck picked up his own rag and began to clean a few glasses. You worked quickly and silently. After all, you had a schedule to keep. The silence between the two of you was comfortable, and the time flew by. Eventually, it was time for you to head out and run a few errands. 

You packed up your things and finally broke the silence. 

“Hey, I’m on my way out to run some errands and pick up another thing of bitters. We used way more last night than usual.”  

There was no response. You turned back around to find Chuck lost in deep thought and polishing the glass like he was in a trance. Clearly, he didn’t hear you. You waved to grab his attention as you walked out from behind the bar, and it was his turn to jump slightly. 

Chuck leaned back against the bar and tilted his head as if he was considering something. Then, finally, he found the right phrasing. “If you don’t mind me asking….. What does Silco pay you for?” 

With the most deadpan expression you could muster, you turned to look directly at him as you headed for the door. “I bury the bodies.” 

Chuck’s face instantly paled, and he dropped the glass he was cleaning. You turned around and walked quickly through the door before you lost your composure.

As soon as you shut the door behind you, you instantly doubled over in a fit of laughter. After a few minutes passed, you glanced at your watch as you wiped the tears from your eyes. Shit. I’m off schedule. I only have an hour before the shop closes. 

Would Silco care? No, of course not….. but you would. The world would keep turning, but he worked so hard, and running these mundane errands was the absolute least you could do to help ease his load. Besides, you were only headed to one store to pick up a few extra bottles of cocktail syrup and bitters. 

You rolled your eyes. The homemade syrup was infinitely better, but customers at the bar dropped a pretty penny for the stuff imported from topside, so it found its way into a wide variety of drinks. People paid to feel fancy. 

On the bright side, the shop wasn’t even that far away from The Last Drop, and the walk was rather pleasant. Of course, the undercity had its problems, but it was the only home you’d ever known, and you truly loved it. You waved to some people you recognized on the street, and before you knew it, you had arrived. 

The door to the shop jingled as you pushed it open and an unfamiliar man behind the register waved at you. 

Oh, It looks like they hired someone new. 

It was really not a problem. They should have the usual order stocked and ready to go behind the counter, and all you had to do was grab a few extra things and pay for the additional items. The bell jingled again behind you, and you barely even registered it as you walked around an aisle. You wandered a bit, taking time to look at the new stock and think of new drinks to try. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a man following you through the maze of shelves. He was tall and skinny, and he seemed to be watching you. As soon as you glanced in his direction, he hurriedly turned down a different aisle. 

Weird. Maybe it was someone who was too shy to say hello earlier. 

You didn’t start worrying until he returned. The people of the Lanes were your family, but some of them were undeniably dangerous. Part of growing up on the streets was learning when you were being followed or watched, and the man was undoubtedly doing both. 

The seconds seemed to stretch on for hours and the hair on the back of your neck prickled. Someone following you down one aisle was nothing unusual, two was a coincidence, and three was unnerving. Your heart started to beat a little faster, but thankfully you reached the aisle with the bitters. You grabbed a few bottles and ducked back around the corner. The man seemed to vanish into thin air, and you let out a low sigh of relief. You didn’t even realize you’d been holding your breath. 

He’d have to be stupid to try something in front of the worker. 

Suddenly, you felt someone brush past you. You flinched at the unexpected contact and sharply twisted around to see what happened. The creep who had been following you around the store was leering down at you. He was towering over you and so close you could feel his disgusting breath hit your face. The man was messy and disheveled, but that wasn’t what frightened you. No, the scariest thing was his aggressive body language and the rapacious glint in his otherwise cold eyes.

His piercing eyes trailed over your body as he sneered down at you. His gaze was possessive and dark in a way that terrified you. You felt frozen in place, suddenly too afraid to move. The man grinned lasciviously as his predatory gaze raked over the swell of your hips and breasts. Your breath caught in your throat. You were too scared to breathe. Scattered thoughts flew around your head, and time screeched to a halt.

Leave me alone. 

Why can’t I move? 

I want to get away. 

Help me. 

Time started flowing again, but everything seemed to happen in slow motion. You could only watch in terror as the man reached out to grab your forearm. You desperately turned to the register, hoping to grab the attention of the worker behind it. But, to your horror, he was already looking at you, watching the scene unfold and nervously toying with his hands. His face had an apologetic, anxious look that screamed, “What do you expect me to do?” 

You fucking coward.

The worst possible thoughts flew through your mind. 

He’s going to grab me. Right here in the middle of the store. 

As you flinched away from the man, your feet moved on their own, and you hurriedly looked for a way out. He was backing you into a corner of the store; there was no way to escape. The man directly blocked your path to the door, and you had no hope of overpowering him in your frazzled state. There wasn’t enough time to think, but you couldn’t just act blindly. You looked up at him desperately, prepared to bargain or plead if you had to. Honor was far less important than survival. 

His smile was nothing more than sharp, bared teeth as he stalked toward you. However, the last thing you expected to see when you looked back at his face was a fist colliding with his head. 

But…. there was nobody else in the store.

Your brain hadn’t even registered the jingle of the shop’s door opening again, but there was undoubtedly another person standing directly behind the creep. He stumbled at the sudden blow, but before he could recover, a glint of silvery steel flashed through the air as a knife materialized against the side of his throat. 

Your tunnel vision dropped just enough for you to see light reflect off the gold filigree on the sleeves of the man holding the knife. There was only one person it could be. You scarcely believed your luck as you raised your gaze once again and sucked in a shaky breath. 

Silco stood behind the man and held the pervert in a vice-like grip. One of his slender arms was snaked around the creep’s chest from behind, his hand hooked into his shirt collar and pulling it so hard his knuckles were white. His other arm crossed over the front of the man’s chest, wielding the knife. 

There was no doubt that the kingpin of Zaun had the man pinned against him, stuck completely in place. Almost as an afterthought, a single, thin line of scarlet trailed across the man’s throat in the wake of the knife. The knife was so sharp you could barely see the cut itself, but you could certainly see the thin trickle of blood. Silco’s aquiline nose was almost pressed into the man’s temple as he snarled into his ear, his ruined eye glowing with hatred. “Now…. just what did you think you were doing?” 

Silco was normally an imposing man, it came with the territory of being a kingpin, but you had only heard stories of how terrifying he could be. It was never something you had witnessed in person. His temper was legendary, and few people survived seeing him in his worst moods…. and many times, the ones that did probably wish they didn’t. Now, you very much understood why. 

The man had the good instinct to begin shaking in fear. He couldn’t see who had him, but he didn’t need to. He knew that he was completely and utterly fucked. Silco’s signature deep, drawling voice was as unmistakable as his scarred face and wickedly cruel eye. 

It was almost poetic how the situation had turned around. You had felt absolutely powerless in the situation that perverted bastard had forced upon you. Now, he was the prey, and he was in the claws of a predator more dangerous than he could ever dream of becoming. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly, but no words ever came out.

“Come now. There’s no need to be shy about it. I saw more than enough.”  Silco pressed the knife in harder, and he yelped in pain. The trickle of blood turned into a steady but small stream.

“I…. I t..tried to grab her.”  

“So, he can speak.” Silco’s tone was mocking, but it was as cold and sharp as his blade. 

A tear rolled down the man’s cheek, “Please, please, sir. Let me go. I’d- I’d never have tried- I’d never have touched her if I knew she was yours.” 

“That’s the problem.”

Silco shifted the knife, so the tip rested against the man’s chin and used it to tilt his head to look directly at you. “It doesn’t matter whose she is. She did not want you to touch her, and yet…..” 

His pause was pointed enough for the man to realize his arm was still outstretched in your direction. He tried to lower it slowly, but a low, displeased hiss from Silco immediately stopped his movement. 

“Now, I’m going to tell you exactly what you’re going to do.” 

The man was still shaking pathetically, “Anything, sir, anything. I swear it’ll never happen again.” 

The corner of Silco’s scarred lip twitched like he was about to laugh. A damned bloodthirsty grin flashed across his face, and he practically snarled, “Oh, I know for a fact that you won’t. Sevika.” 

She materialized at his side and looked directly at you. Her eyes flashed with worry as she registered the tears in your eyes and how panicked you looked huddled in the corner. The man let out another pathetic sob, and you saw her eyes frost over and turn cold and hard. Every ounce of Sevika’s concern for you turned into a frigid, biting rage directed at the man beside her. 

She took one look at the man’s outstretched arm and turned back to her boss with a savage smile of her own. Sevika grabbed the man’s wrist and upper arm. In a tandem motion, Silco kicked the man to the ground. The creep barely had time to shout in surprise as Sevika brought her knee up to connect with the middle of his outstretched arm. 

The sickening crunch of bone and an agonized shriek filled the air. You had closed your eyes instinctively, and from the sound of the man’s screaming, it was a good choice. A second later, you heard the sound of his body hitting the floor. 

Silco calmly spoke over the man’s wailing, “No one is going to help you fix that, or they will find out just how creative I can be. You will live with the pain you earned. You should also be very thankful that I don’t have more time to spend with you.”

He snapped his fingers, and the sound of wailing faded into the distance as the man’s body was drug out the door. In the distance, you heard the worker pleading with Sevika, but his words fell on deaf ears. She took poorly to men who abused women, and those who enabled it were no different. 

A familiar set of slow, measured footsteps approached you, but you couldn’t open your eyes. You were afraid that you’d open them and Silco wouldn’t be there. Somehow, you feared that the rescue was a hallucination. Once you opened your eyes, the pervert would still be there… and you’d be all alone. Another tear slowly trailed down your cheek, but a slender hand tenderly wiped it away. 

Instantly, you knew it hadn’t been some fucked up dream, and your eyes flew open. He was there. 

Wordlessly, Silco pulled you into his arms as you sobbed. The ferocious kingpin had melted away, leaving the man who loved you more than life itself. You crumpled in his arms, but he gently caught you and lowered you to the ground. Once again, he pulled you in close and you wrapped your arms around him. 

You sobbed into his chest, listening to his heart's strong, steady beating. His signature scent enveloped you. Cigar smoke and the deep leather and wood of his cologne soothed you. Silco’s long, slender fingers stroked your hair as he murmured comforting words into your ear. 

“Shhh… I’ve got you. It’s alright. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. That sick bastard can’t hurt you anymore. Nobody will ever hurt you again.” 

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