#these tags really got away from me i should take them to therapy

[haloslips]

i was not expecting anyone to reblog that post about my poem which is making me wish i could make my tumblr private the way you can with twitter or insta. i always get really anxious about things escaping my circle. it feels nice, like, i have friends who are proud of me, and i do want people to read and hopefully enjoy my poetry. but oh my goooood the mortifying idea of being known!!!!!!

[8aji]

Two in love can make it, take my heart and please dont break it. // f.t.

pairing: husband!toji fushiguro x reader, ft. megumi

wc: 1.3k

synopsis: sure, one could think of all those poor parents trying to deal with their kids' attempts at 'parent trapping' them back together, but what about the parents that have the burden of sharing a healthy, happy marriage?

tags/cw: fluff, dad + husband!toji bc best trope to ever exist <3 ooc!toji, mentions of divorce, megumi being very naive, implied insecurity.

a/n: a very very late valentine's gift from me to ya'll <3 i present you this 'parent trap' but not really drabble with toji bc he deserves all the love in the world and im willing to lose sleep if it means he gets it. // quick disclaimer! this was beta read by my best friend grammarly !! so if yall find any mistakes its one them :)

m.list ˖ tags ˖ byi/dni

"What did you say 'Gumi?" You asked, picking up the wooden spoon you had dropped to the floor. You had heard him loud and clear; louder and clearer than usual you would. But just in case your ears were failing you, you felt compelled to ask again, still stunned at the words that had slipped through your son's lips.

The spiky-haired child next to you pouted in dismay, rolling his tired eyes and dramatically sighing in dismay like a tired old man. He let his cheek fall on top of the marble countertop and looked up at you while blowing a raspberry. He wasn't asking anything out of this world; to him, it was a pretty reasonable request that could be easily arranged if only the two of you talked it out like the adults you were.

"I said," he dragged out, huffing once again and letting his arms sprawl in front of him, "If you and daddy can get a divorce."

"Why do you want us to get a divorce–"

"Who's getting a divorce!" Almost like he weighed nothing, Toji had pulled Megumi up into his arms, rephrasing your question into a lighthearted statement before he carefully spun him around, making the pouty kid break into a fit of giggles.

"You two!" Megumi exclaimed back, throwing his arms up in the air when he felt secure enough in his dad's arms.

"I'm sorry, what?" You almost ran to the other side of the counter the minute Toji's face fell in confusion, almost dropping the child he was oh-so securely holding in his arms. "Are we?"

"'Are we' what?"

"Are we getting a divorce?"

"Yes!" 

"No." You cut off an excited Megumi, making him frown again once your husband sat him back down on the counter. He refused to look at you, crossing his arms and moving his face in every direction possible just to avoid your gaze. 

Toji shot you a questioning look, trying to telepathically communicate with you at the sight of your seemingly defeated son, the one who had previously been bouncing up and down as he ran towards you once he got back home from Yuuji's house. 

You shrugged in return, not having even a clue as to why he was acting like he was denied his lifelong wish. You'd have to admit Megumi could be a very dramatic child when he wanted, but with the subject matter at hand? Your marriage with Toji was as healthy as any marriage could be. The two of you even made the bare minimum of going to therapy before raising a child, so what exactly had prompted your son to ask about a possible divorce? You had no clue; maybe you should call Kaori, and ask her what exactly had gone down at the Itadori household. 

"Megs," Toji sat on one of the stools right in front of Megumi, who looked away from his dad just like he had done to you, "why do you want us to get a divorce?"

His question prompted you to follow suit, standing next to him and leaning against his shoulder. Megumi's eyebrows fell into an even deeper frown, hugging his legs close to his chest. He looked straight at his feet, moving them from side to side as if to distract himself from the perfect display of a happy marriage in front of him.

"If you get a divorce." He mulled over the terms of his bargain, tapping his index finger cutely over his chin. "I will learn to tie my shoes on my own, pinky promise."

"'Gumi," you drawled at the evident attempt to avoid the question. You ran your hands through his messy hair, reaching out slowly to see how he would react and almost cooing once he melted against your touch, letting out a yawn in the process. "Aren't you going to answer daddy?"

"Fine," he pouted, making grabby hands towards you; you hadn't realised it was already a little bit past his bedtime. "I want you to get a divorce so me and my friends can get you back together…" He trailed off with a yawn once he was secure in your arms, nuzzling his cheek against the crook of your neck, the last bits of energy wearing off. 

"And, uh, how exactly did you come up with this idea?" You patted his back before signalling to Toji with your eyes, silently telling him to help you put Megumi to bed. You had to admit that even if you were caught off guard by his paradoxical master plan, it still made you chuckle in amusement.

"We had a Lindsay Loohan marathon today."

"'You mean Lindsay Lohan sweetheart?" Toji intervened, trying his best to contain his own laughter as he opened the sticker-covered door, letting you walk inside before leaving it ajar.

"Yes, she." he hummed through a sleepy haze, rubbing his tired eyes with the back of his hand. "Princess Diana and the puppy from Air bud were also on the movie as well."

"In the movie." You corrected, a warm smile overtaking your lips as you laid him down in his bed, motioning Toji to grab his doggy pyjamas. 

"'m sorry," he mumbled, not bothering to hide the big yawn he let out while he stretched, "Princess Diana and the puppy from Air bud were also in the movie."

"'The parent trap'?" Toji asked, brushing away Megumi's fringe before he began to change him, the hint of a smile clear through his words. It was a comically endearing sight; the humongous man kneeling on the floor in front of a tiny race car bed, making his son laugh by tickling his cheeks. 

"'t's one of Yuu's favourite films…"

"Hm, I see." You chuckled, confusion finally melting  into a mild amusement as your kid finally left  his cryptic questions behind. "And did you like it?"

He hummed again, the sound almost down to an imperceptible whisper; he crawled under his blankets while blindly looking for his black and white dog plushies. "Can we watch it tomorrow with pancakes?"

"Chocolate chip or blueberry pancakes?" Copying Toji's previous antics, you brushed your fingers through his tresses while you waited for a response.

"Both please?"

"That can be arranged," Toji adds, fondly looking at the way Megumi pulled his plushies closer to his chest, curling into a little ball as he hogged the blanket. 

You'd do anything in your power to keep the three of you like this; all huddled in your son's bedroom, the only thing illuminating the walls being the small night light next to his bed, with Toji as relaxed as he could be and Megumi all warm and cuddly. 

"For the record," your husband whispered next to you, never tearing his eyes from Megumi's sleeping form, "we're not getting a divorce, right?"

Despite his intimidating over 6ft figure, he was the most precious man to ever exist, with so much love to give even if he didn't know how to express it all that well. He had grown so much from how he had been when the two of you first met, slowly opening up to you and the rest of the world in spite of his fears and insecurities. You knew a lot of it was still deeply buried in the depths of his mind; sooner or later it was bound to arise, even if the trigger was one of Megumi's innocent, though mildly out of pocket, jokes.

Careful not to wake up the sleeping toddler, you scooted closer to him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. A small smile etched on his lips at your touch, moving your interlocked hangs back and forth as gently as possible. No language in the world could describe the love you held for the man sitting in front of you. But you could still try. Not with the overtly cheesy words he was still getting used to, or with the thousand paged essay you could write just describing the beauty within his eyes. But with something else, more simple and genuine even if to others the true meaning could get lost in its simplicity.

"I couldn't even dream of it."

© 2023 SHINACHIRO ; Do not repost my work. Do not recommend my work outside of tumblr. Do not translate my work. affiliated with @tokyometronetwork

[fangirltothefullest]

"I read some of the reblogs/tags from the proshipping post and one has got me thinking especially about the fictional minors, and certain restrictions like US not allow depictions of it. I get why this is a heated topic; but the moral responsibility should not be placed on the creators and the other people who enjoy in a fictional setting. I know that there will be really sick people who will use media as an excuse to do to certain heinous actions (like Fight Club) but i do think that is on those members of thr audience and not on the creator and those who are sensible enough not to that. There are so many things i wish i can articulate this better but i do hope that my words are enough. Let me know if you are alright discussing this with them or if you want me to stop."

i just get so tired because like.... i personally don't like that there are people who feel the need to write certain things or draw certain things and sometimes I wonder if the people who do write it need to go to therapy because maybe there's something that they could get help with.

But it sucks because like.... the moment you start policing what people write about it becomes an easy slope of "well EVERYTHING should be puritanical and censored to spare this group and that group" and suddenly it's an excuse to censor everything people consider even mildly "wrong". It's how "degenerates" are made out of homosexual and transgender people, how books are banned for talking about science, how even the most mundane of things we take for granted can so easily be labelled as "taboo" and banned.

There's so much bad that comes from censoring. If we just learned to be like you know what? There are more important things to think about than what random people online are writing about with fictional characters.

There's a reason this topic is heated and it makes sense but the whole point of the post was just to get people to think about the idea that instead of spending all day going "hey this person ships incest block them! Hate them! Send them hateful messages! Tell everyone you know to shun the beast!" it would save you so much energy and time to just.... walk away from this fictional thing you don't have to partake in. literally that's all.

But as usual it always devolves into whether people should get to draw fictional kids fucking or whatever because for some reason it's all or nothing for people.

I think the question for that post shouldn't be whether it's ok but whether we should not be dicks to the people who are like "dude if you wanna write about something I'm uncomfortable with, I'm just gonna hit da bricks"

[ghost-whump]

For Your Own Good

Second part to my first post!

CW: Institutionalized whump, (mental) hospital setting, vaguely creepy whumper, doctor whumper/patient whumpee, [discussed] shock therapy/ECT, restraints, implied future electricity/shock whump. (Let me know if I need to tag anything else!)

Whumpee didn’t struggle. Couldn’t struggle.

“Come on,” Whumper held on tight to the front of the straitjacket, hand wrapped around the belt, “We shouldn’t waste time, should we?” A vicious smile tugged their lips.

Whumpee remained silent, biting at the skin of their lip. Their feet dragged slowly forward, a death march into the dark, dark room. The fear that shot down their spine at every step couldn’t hold a candle to the fire that lit under their heels, pressing them forward still.

Then, kck! shhhh… whoomph. Door closed.

No more escape. Even without the jacket, even if Whumper couldn’t catch them, the air-locked door wouldn’t budge for anything. Only illuminated by the glow of the various screens and panels and buttons and keypads, the room is a void.

A single cold slab of a “bed” stands menacingly in the center. Adorned with worn leather straps that rubbed skin raw, scuff marks from banging and scratching at the surface, all topped off with a tasteful spatter of blood near the middle.

Though, large hands undid each buckle on their person, leaving the jacket to fall to the floor. Whumpee immediately wrapped their arms around their torso, trying to cover as much bare skin as possible. Not that it would help, but it made them feel better.

“Well?” Whumper, who had pulled away by now, “You know what to do.” They gesture vaguely to the table and turn around to play with the buttons and screens.

And the doctor isn’t wrong. Whumpee does know what to do. Lay down, head forward, legs together, stare up and up and up at the ceiling.

“You’re getting quite good at this, Whumpee.” Whumper’s face came into light above them, a wicked grin twisting their face into one even scarier than usual.

Whumpee closed their eyes. They couldn’t look anymore. If they didn’t look, maybe it would stop. Maybe they’d wake up in their cell (…or their home, if they dared dream that far) and would behave this time. Never have to—

“Ah!” A thick strip of leather tightened suddenly around their wrist. Whumpee yelped and their eyes flew open.

Whumper shook their head, “Tsk, Whumpee. You were doing so well,” They buckled the strap, far too fast and tight than anytime before. They tilted Whumpee’s head, doing the same to their other wrist. “You know, I was even considering letting you off easy with some solitary. Yet you had to go and look away from me. You’re usually so good at eye contact.”

“That—agh, that hurts!” Whumpee pulled at the restraints, though they knew it was futile. “P-Please, I’m sorry, I—mmpf!”

The final strap of leather struck their face, its specialised rubber gag worming between their teeth. Protests now barely audible, Whumper smiled and pulled away. “There you go, Whumpee. That’s better now.”

Phantom pains shot through their veins, preparing for what’s to come. Each sticky node placed under their shirt wracked another sob from their chest. No matter how much it happened, it never got easier. Feeling their body seize with each passing second, flashing colors and lights that didn’t really come, nightmarish terror that never stopped.

“It’s alright,” Whumper flashed their teeth, placing the final two nodes on Whumpee’s temples, “The ECT is for your own good. Don’t you feel better after it’s done?”

They tried to shake their head, No! It feels bad! Bad bad bad! It hurt! But it didn’t stop Whumper. The doctor turned around, taking their time in approaching the large lever on the wall.

Whumper’s hand gripped the lever tight, throwing one last glance to their writhing patient. Readjusting their grip, they get ready to finally pull down. “Don’t worry, Whumpee, you’ll feel much better after we’re done.”

really not sure how happy i am with this one, but i figured it be best to post it! enjoy :]

[prodbyblush]

hi omg I loved the drama student fic so much for chishiya, and I was wondering if you could make an artstudent one? I feel like he'll be on mc's ass all the time for their posture or them inhaling so much paint fumes for their finals sksksj I love your works so much !!

blue - chishiya shuntaro

ｎｏｗ ｌｏａｄｉｎｇ …

▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 100%

ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

・❥・ requested

→ gn!reader

A medical student and art student both have demanding time frames but despite the packed schedule, Chishiya always sees to it that he makes time for you.

He knows that you don't have a fixed time, that you'll work whenever inspiration has befallen into you or if not; you'll mope and wander around the apartment looking for it hence the mood swings kicking in.

And whenever this happens, he'll be by your side. He opens his ears and listens to every problem you're carrying.

"Just so you know" Chishiya would say, sitting right beside you in front of an empty canvas. "You don't have to bear it alone. I'll carry it with you."

"Don't you find it difficult dating them?" A block mate of his once asked while they took a break at the pantry of the hospital. "They have a lot of mood swings, they don't like compromising and on top of that, don't you worry that they're meeting someone that could potentially replace you?"

Hearing this question amused Chishiya, placing the cup of coffee down on top of the table.

"I've got nothing to worry about." He'll reply, lifting his head up to face them. "Sure they may not want to have me around them all the time or I'm their second priority or they stand firm with their opinions, but that's exactly what I love them."

"I don't take it personally when my partner wants to have alone time. I'm not immature to think of it as they don't love me anymore. Me being a second priority is not a problem too. They pour their life into art so it could come to life as well. And that's admirable because they're serving a higher purpose. And last but not the least, their passion for art is remarkable. They speak with their minds or their heart." Chishiya adds, giving his block mate a wry smile.

"My ideal type is someone who has unwavering personality." He says, getting up from his chair and walking away. "No wonder I'm down bad for them."

Dates are very spontaneous - going to see various museum exhibits to visiting art galleries together to just playing around in the studio, dates aren't just stagnant.

"Maybe I should take physical therapy elections." He'd say, followed by a sigh as he moves to kneel behind you; hands on your shoulders as he applies pressure on his fingertips.

"Sit up straight, Y/N. I've always told you that you should maintain a good posture while sitting."

"But I feel comfortable like this!"

"Your back and shoulder muscles will thank me if you sit up straight."

"Hey Chishiya" a block mate of his called for his attention. "I just passed by the art building and saw Y/N covered in paint. The paint fumes really smelled strong over there."

"It's finals week." Chishiya responded, sorting the files of the patients. "Did you see them wearing a mask?"

"Nope." The innocent block mate responded along with a shake of their head.

Chishiya sighs, halting from his actions as he takes a face mask from the box.

"You won't be able to know if you passed or failed the semester if you keep inhaling these paint fumes." He nags, putting on the strings of the face mask around your ears.

"But were in an open area!"

"Sure, but that doesn't stop you from getting potential irritations with your eyes, throat and skin."

Though you're an emotional and egotistical partner, Chishiya loves how your gentle and honest nature. Though the relationship isn't dreamlike as others would fantasize, it's the every day he spends with you is like an art process already.

TAGS: @retrospacealien @chishiya-of-diamonds @boowoomuu @ang3liclov3ly @kenqki @shadowheads-shitshow @lunoxxy @supercoffeeblogs @laylasbunbunny

[antimony-medusa]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers.

I was tagged by @regicidal-optimism

In no particular order:

A World Away (A Step Apart), (14,531 words) my OW superhero/supervillain romance with identity shenanigans, a dystopian world, and in-world supervillain RPF social media posts. This one was so fun to write. I've spent a lot of time on various social medias over the years and I delved into it for the fake discourse, and some of those social media jokes are some of my favourite things I've written. Plus I got to make up two guys that I love, OW is so fun.

A Hundred Things You Have Not Dreamed Of, (27,743 words), a DSMP emduo au in a vaguely superhero au about coming back from dehumanization. This fic was the one where I had to go holy shit I really do keep writing about food as healing I need to start tagging that on my fic, but also I just had a great deal of fun delving into, on the one hand, the hurt/comfort of expecting pain and not getting it, and on the other hand, the actual legitimate joys you can find in the small good things of a life you're choosing to live, even if baldly speaking it's not a great life. Like these guys don't know how to cook, and they live in a shitty apartment, and they have minimum wage food service jobs and don't have internet, but they also have friendship and community and 3 meals a day, and a laptop that can play videos, and that can also be something to appreciate. Plus it was a really fun challenge to take characters who basically don't act like the characters at all, because of trauma, and show them gradually growing into themselves. I still love this one a lot.

three deaths, no burials, one sunrise, (804 words). Oh boy. This one. DSMP, and c!wilbur focused, and second person, and inspired by a richard silken poem and a ursula vernon speech and a post about how wilbur didn't get a grave. At this point I don't even know if that's true canon, but I love this fic for how completely it took over my brain, I sat down and wrote it in one setting. Fuckin' pulled out of me like unspooling rope hand over hand. Having complicated feelings about your death and how it was marked or unmarked by the people around you, and exploring that through video game statistics, is something that can be so personal.

The Totem Of Undying Job, (62,696 words), DSMP, the syndicate heist Las Nevadas. So oh man, this was written in the era of the prison arc and you can probably tell, but I am still proud of how much I went into existing lore for the characterizations, not to mention proud of pulling off a long-fic. I keep thinking of it and going "man I should write more prey duo", or "I should write more tntduo", or "dang, beeduo slaps", or what have you. The first full and complete novel-length thing I had written in almost a decade, and I still think it hangs together, concepted and written entirely just me with myself in a google doc. The way I approach writing is very different nowdays, but I still love this one and I'm proud of pulling it off.

And honestly there's a lot of fics jockeying for this final spot, but I will give it to Soothing Natural Energies by Rebalancing External Wealth, Today, At Rekindled Flames Marriage Therapy Conference, (4,482 words), my origins sneegza marriage fraud shenanigans heist. I wrote this one in 24 hours for an exchange, and I was absolutely digesting my own stomach with anxiety the whole time, but I got it done, and then I posted and people said it was funny! And it had good worldbuilding! They liked it! And I drank some coffee and sat down to read it and went what do you know, I also like this, I think it's funny. Sometimes when I go oh god can I actually write comedy I go back to this one and I remind myself that yes, I can feel out how punchlines work. Also that I should write more origins, it's delightful.

tagging: @chrysalizzm, @imperialkatwala, @creetchure, @lennjamin-o7, @droidofmay

(don't feel obligated, any of you, I was just mentally paging through the people I follow trying to find people who hadn't already been tagged.)

[obsessedtomone]

Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 4 - Mistakes▸Shigaraki x femReader

Chapter Summary:

◤ Honestly, what the fuck were you thinking?!

All alarms are going off in your useless excuse of a brain and you start feeling an immense amount of dread seeping into your bones. You need to take this back, right fucking now, or who knows what he’s going to—◢ Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ??? Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning.

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three • Four • Five

Chapter 4 - Mistakes

It was ninety-three MILLION fucking miles away, and somehow, the sun still manages to shine through the blinds and right into your fucking face.

You squint at your phone and then sigh.

150 missed messages from the computer science project group chat, and another eight from Taylor, making you feel more than overwhelmed.  The past one and a half weeks were pretty uneventful. 

You slept, climbed ranks in the holy trinity of Riot Games, worked at your part time job and showed up to your classes for at least half of the time. Despite trying to convince yourself it wasn’t for any reason in particular. You were especially prone to dodging your CS classes, most of them all. 

In short, you’re doing fine. The ‘free’ time you have feels boring and seemingly peaceful. And you couldn’t complain when boring was exactly what you needed—especially since most of your life was anything but. 

That being said, it’s hard to ignore that broken part of your monkey brain that craves the instability and stress you got used to growing up. You feel uncomfortable feeling comfortable, like bugs crawling under your skin and waiting, wanting for the storm to brew, so that you can fuck yourself over, the cycle of self-sabotage going strong as always. Having insane academic goals and working hard towards them helped that aspect of yourself quite a bit, but it still feels like something’s missing.

Something only years of therapy and healthy relationships with people would be able to change.

As the deadline is quickly approaching, it’s finally time to check what the project is about and do your part before your presentation on Wednesday. You glance at the unsaved numbers of three other people you’ve never previously heard of—or cared enough to learn about—being displayed on top of the chat. So you go ahead and save them, knowing you’ll remove them as soon as the presentation is over.

Scrolling down, you notice your group mates freaking out about two of the members—one being you—not sending their part in yet, despite the deadline being around two and a half days away.

Yui(I think?) — What do we do about the others, Ojiro…? :( Guys pls, I seriously don’t wanna do everything by myself.  [Sent 9:13 AM]

Mashirao(jock blondie) — Don’t worry, I’ll call them later today. If they don’t reply by then, we’re on our own I guess. We’ll have to let the professor know. They should know better than to ghost us, honestly. Honors student or not, they’re both dickheads.  [Sent 9:17 AM]

Yui(I think?) — Ahh! Stop! 💀 They can read this too!!!  [Sent 9:25 AM]

Mashirao(jock blondie) — Let them. I’m not afraid of either of them and they should feel ashamed for making us do all the work.  [Sent 10:05 AM]

You can’t help but roll your eyes at their childish hostility.

Wow, first of all, they have absolutely no faith in you. Second of all, are they like, three years old? They’re openly discussing fucking you over in a group chat that you’re literally part of. At least do that shit in your DMs, not in the open where both targets can read them.

And maybe, maybe, if you really thought about it, you know it was sort of fair. You probably are the world’s laziest, biggest procrastinator, but if they knew about your name enough to diss you, they should also know you’d never compromise your grades because you really fucking need this scholarship. 

Besides, you’re not bad at farming credits. Two days of work is more than enough for you to do your part and then some. Deeply flawed individual that you are, but a highly functioning one with a brain good enough to power up whenever you need it to. 

If anything, it’s you who couldn’t understand how these losers needed so much time to figure out their shit, when the material has always been always pretty straight forward (except when the fucking professor is too tired of his life to do his fucking job).

Yui(I think?) — Yeah so… I finally added my part to the shared cloud! If by some miracle the other two see this, you guys have access to the project too! Please please please send it in time, I don’t wanna fail CS this year again maaan ;_; We still have to prepare the talking points together! [Sent 10:30 AM]

You — ill get everything done before the deadline, assholes [Sent 2:14 PM]

You — also pro tip, if you tap the back button on the chat window, look for someone’s name and then open it, you can actually talk shit privately ;)  [Sent 2:14 PM]

Before you close the chat window, you see two rows of angry dot animations ready to cuss you out, no doubt. Too bad you can’t be bothered with irrelevant idiots.

And so you stand up, take a shower—the first one in a couple of days—and mentally prepare yourself for two weeks worth of work, squeezed into a one all-nighter and a half.

After all, in stress, you thrive.

─────────

Thud –

After dropping your bag next to your desk, you slide in your seat. You’re petty as fuck when you do, because of course you have to pick the seat that is right beside him. 

Your favorite neighbor’s white haired head is buried in his arms, laying against his desk and probably taking a goddamn nap.

This motherfucker.

The two week creep-detox did fucking nothing for you, because you notice your disdain for him is still as fresh as it was the night at the convenience store—if not stronger. 

Not only did this asshole not fucking reply to your group in time (like you fucking did), but he also didn’t contribute to your project whatso-fucking-ever. In fact, he’d never even read any of the chat messages. 

God are you fucking pissed at him. Beyond pissed, you’re fuming—because who else would’ve done his fucking part if it wasn’t for you? Not even! You’ve done your part, his part and then on top of everything, you had to fucking fix everyone else’s too!

Incompetent fuckers! All of them!

It bothers you so much because you really do feel like you were getting walked all over, but at least it shut those two clowns up and that was enough motivation for you to get the job done. That, and the ridiculous grades you need to get for you to keep your stupid fucking scholarship rolling every year.

You sigh, staring at the mop of white hair next to you, wishing you had superpowers so you could burn a hole through his head and melt his brain off. 

That being said, there’s two ‘interesting’ things you've found out about him during this annoying ass group project, first one being that the asshole’s name was Shigaraki fucking Tomura.

The Shigaraki Tomura.

You’d heard about his infamy over the years—never being able to put a face to the name—but nothing came even close to the stories Taylor began telling you about him. ‘Like girl, do you live under a fucking rock?!’ is what your friend asked in an extremely dramatic tone before setting off on spilling the ‘tea’ for your ‘uncultured ass’—whatever the fuck that means.

The second interesting thing you’ve found out is, that the mystery white-haired slacker isn’t just a random incel loser, who gets off on paying for strangers’ energy drinks, but also seems to be a serious anti-social, borderline criminal individual.

According to the stories, he’s now been in court more times than you can count, charged with various offenses that range from physical violence, assault, theft, vandalism, drug-related charges, to more minor ones such as trespassing and public disturbances—all of ‘em either involving students or straight up gang members. Shit you’d normally hear about from the news or in movies.

He’s friends with a bunch of other convicted criminal misfits, seems to have spent—like you—a few months in juvie and people swear he’s not all talk when he threatens to beat the shit out of you, never discriminating between genders. You’re pretty sure that this wasn’t what women fought for when they said feminism.

That alone begged the question if he was really gonna make good on the promise to fuck you up, last time you bothered him. What if you kept pestering him further? 

Thinking about it leaves your mouth dry.

There’s a reason as to why he’d managed to get out of every court case with nothing more than misdemeanors. That reason came in the shape of his daddy’s wealth and connections, a convenient ‘get out of jail free’ card and something normal people (you) could never afford. Which is why your criminal record was now forever tainted. 

A true show of society’s totally unbiased conduct towards the mighty upper class, you suppose.

But it doesn’t fucking matter what his past was like, you quickly decide, if for your own sanity. It also doesn’t matter if you can relate to the shitty overblown rumors that are circulating around. Or the fact that the two of you share so many similarities. 

What really matters now, is that he’s actively trying to jeopardize your perfect score sheet—and by extension, your scholarship—by not stepping up and contributing to the project. And you couldn’t let that slide.

Shigaraki continues resting on his desk, occasionally scratching the top of his head and yawning while not paying you any mind.

You bite the skin off of your lip anxiously, unable to wait and teach this entitled little asshole a fucking lesson for messing with you.

─────────

Time passes and it’s finally your group’s turn. 

All of you gather in front of the lecture hall—well, all of you, save for Mr. Creep in the back corner of the room, who’s still hunched over and scrolling his phone.

If the rare upturned corners of your lips is something to go by, you’re in for some serious mischief today.

The professor opens up with a brief introduction to your project in front of the many bored students, and your group finally starts presenting. It all goes well except for the fact that, despite your age, you have this incredible stage fright. 

On paper, nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone has their weaknesses, right? But in reality, your hands are shaking uncontrollably, your voice is trembling involuntarily and you mess up most of your speaking turn, feeling like a complete fucking idiot. 

It gets worse the moment you realize that somewhere along the presentation, a pair of piercing red eyes began studying you incessantly. His sudden attention on you makes your body sweat about three times the amount everyone else’s would combined. It’s insanely jarring, in the worst fucking sense. You scoff, thinking that he might as well have pinned you to the wall. 

It’s like he knows you’re up to some bullshit. Like he could smell it. There’s no way he actually could, but the tiny guilty part of your lizard brain isn’t able to comprehend that right now, not when it feels like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Fuck him.

You steel your flimsy resolve and you try to recover your composure as much as you can, doing your best to make-believe you’re in a nice, quiet place where you could feel at peace (maybe at his funeral) and you somehow make it to the end of your stupid speaking part.

It’s easy to tell how utterly embarrassed your group mates are with your awful presentation, as their parts are much more animated, smoother and definitely confident in comparison—no students snorting or snickering at their desk neighbors during the time they presented. 

But it doesn’t particularly bother you aside from a slight hit to your ego, because you know this professor will read the documentation and ultimately see the amount of work you’d put into the written part of the project. Your shitty teammates could glare at you all they wanted, but you did more than half of the fucking project on your own and that would lead to one thing only—a great fucking score. 

Who needs social skills—not that you were blessed with any—when your future job will probably only require you to sit behind a screen most of the day? That’s something you’re already really fucking good at, to a detrimental point. It’s a real miracle that you made it so far in life without your vision getting much worse than it already is.

“Very good,” the professor says simply.

He begins praising the sturdiness of the project, mentioning your name and making you cringe when he inevitably points out the bumpy part—your bumpy part—of the presentation. Overall, he seems quite impressed with the quality and the execution and promises to email everyone their scores once he’s done correcting them.

“However,” you hear him talk again, his following sentence filling you with unbridled giddiness, “I seem to notice you’re missing a member of your group?” The professor trails off with a furrowed brow as he stares at his notes. “I’m positive I’ve assigned everyone four people, except for the previous group who was the only exception in this class. Your project however, only mentions the three of you. Why is that?” 

He flips through the papers and checks on his barely-working laptop as well, checking for something akin to an error on his part.

“No, you are correct, sir,” you chime in mischievously, “Mr. Shigaraki over there—” you speak up and your eyes meet his unexpectedly focused ones.

His expression seems to turn into one of intrigue, maybe at the prospect of your little scheme. He’s definitely sitting a little straighter than before. Listening. As if this class finally became interesting to him, opposed to almost falling asleep in his chair earlier.

You clear your throat after feeling it contract with a pang of anxiety and continue, “—decided that we weren’t worth his precious time, and sadly did not contribute to our project whatsoever.” You finish your sentence while glancing at your fingernails before completely throwing him under the bus. “In fact he dumped all of his work on us and decided to not communicate. I—um, we thought it was for the best that he shouldn’t take credit over all of our weeks of hard work, sir.”

You almost slipped up, but managed to recover—and then you notice how the other two NPCs in your group stare at you in horror.

Despite tactically lumping them in with you, to save you from getting in potential trouble, they did in fact not know or have any say in your decision to leave Shigaraki out—not that you cared to ask for their worthless opinions anyway. They should be happy for the free full marks that you’re confident they wouldn’t have gotten without your help.

A sly smile begins spreading on your face. 

This was it. Fuck him, his stupid mug and his shitty attitude.

Checkmate, Shigaraki, you muse to yourself, smirking and gauging the reaction of the professor who seems to be deep in thought for a moment.

When you look back at Shigaraki to check how he’s faring—

You feel literal chills running down your spine.

He’s simply… smiling at you.

A wide, creepy and weirdly calculating smile.

A smile that tells you, you’re in trouble.

Like a bucket of ice dropping over your head, you just grasp the weight of your mistake. The reason your classmates stared at you in disbelief. The reason the whole room of people stared at you in disbelief.

He is a rich trust fund kid who, according to the rumors, has a background consisting of only unpunished violence and very fucking little to lose. You are a lower class student, who fucked with him knowing the horrible stories that circled around him.

So why was it again that you decided to not believe he was capable of retaliating, even when you’d found out most students avoided him like the plague? Did you think he would be as pathetic and powerless as you were? Are you projecting again?

Honestly, what the fuck were you thinking?!

All alarms are going off in your useless excuse of a brain and you start feeling an immense amount of dread seeping into your bones. You need to take this back, right fucking now, or who knows what he’s going to—

“I see,” the professor interrupts your train of thought, scratching the stubble on his chin thoughtfully before speaking again, “To be honest with you, I’m considering disqualifying your group’s entire project, for the simple fact that the bunch of you made such a hasty decision, and did not think of consulting with me first to find a solution.”

You feel your gut twist even harder and your two classmates are now rightfully glaring daggers at you.

“I will however opt to only cut your score by twenty percent, because it really is an outstanding project, but I expect this to serve as a reminder that I—do not—tolerate insubordination, and this instance is not to be repeated by any of you.” The professor looks at your group, then at Shigaraki himself. “Have I made myself properly understood?”

You feel shame burn your cheeks red as you nod before the figure of authority, but the boy in the back wasn’t listening anymore.

It was as if the rest of the world—save for the two of you—ceased to exist at that moment.

[kookieswan]

Red Light - Further

Nightmare!Hoseok x Psychologist!Reader

Word Count: 500+

Genre: Horror AU, Monster AU, Psychological horror, Angsty???

Warnings: Mentions of self inflicted bodily harm, mentions of violence and blood. It should be noted that this story will contain themes of horror/psychological horror and also explore obsessive behaviors and codependency. Many characters are morally gray. Please be warned!

Summary: Further into the madness.

Notes: A fun little snippet from the point of view of our special winged Nightmare. It’s a little different, but also insightful!

This a snippet from the Red Light series. Find the Masterlist here ♥️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sink in, further, further…

-hurts and yet I can’t bring myself to care. If I ripped away my skin, would I care then? Would I be able to panic or would I just sit there… Small injuries don’t matter but what if-

“Don’t.”

“You know it’s not nice to dig around in my head Hoseok. Don’t you find it rude? I certainly do.”

“Not really considering that you’re thinking about tearing your skin off like paper as a pastime. Quit it.”

Further.

-kookie looks sad today, I don’t like that no no no. Once I find out who’s been bothering him I’ll erase them from his world. Take their disgusting existence and turn it into a pretty picture for him to hang on his wall as a trophy. Such a pretty trophy.

Very dependent. His downfall… My downfall? No, perhaps not…

-uch a sap, can’t believe I have to listen to him complain. He acts like a hardass but he’s got to be madly in love with that man. I suppose I shouldn’t judge though, I know the feel-

Mmmh, feel bad for them, we would all thrive out there.. Further.

-gly fucks thinking they can touch me. They’ll fucking regret it, just wait till I shred them to pieces in the middle of my act. Tear every limb off slowly, rip their throats out with my teeth, crush their fucking-

Touchy. Angry. Insightful… Need to learn more. Further.

-1313 initially showed major signs of hostility, but has since calmed quite a bit. It’s a wonder… Something must have changed. Perhaps something _____ said to him? She may be annoying but she gets results.

Ungrateful waste of space.

-useless. She helps the freaks but does nothing else to contribute to the environment down here. No helping with tests, questioning our ethics at every corner. Someone needs to do something about-

It would be easy to end his miserable life.

-fire her. Maybe I could set her up… Who would believe such a silly woman over me anyway? She dresses like a skank and probably fucks around with some of the higher ups to keep her jo-

Killhimkillhimkill-…. _____?

-mmh, I should shake things up a little bit with the sessions… So far things have been great but maybe more interactions would be beneficial to the boys… More food? Pie this time? Or something else super sweet for the-

Don’t let it fester. Breath. Breath. Listen.

-should meet with Hoseok again soon… I miss him, but being obvious about it isn’t the greatest idea. I’ll think of an excuse, I always do. Those assholes don’t even know left from right half the time… Group therapy?

Inhale, inhale… Exhale, exhale…

… Hoseok, are you listening in? I’m never sure if you are, if you can, what the limits are… Maybe I’m just taking to myself. But I’m going to do my best to protect all of you, even if you think you should be protecting me. Trust in me like I’ve trusted in you, okay?

… Okay, my dearest heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: @parkdatjimin @sugarflywme @pamzn @mizz-kraziii @hiii-priestess @winkii @noonas-magicshop @xuxibelle @lookhere-2seok @m1sss1mp

If you wanna be tagged leave a comment or ask! My only rule is that you have your age (18+!) displayed somewhere on your blog! ♥️

[ripeteeth]

Writing Patterns

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern! Tagged by @perverse-idyll, thanks for tagging me! This is really interesting, especially as I’ve been playing with my writing style and changing it up lately.

1. “A long cloak of night has fallen across the bed.” [Milk Teeth, MDZS, Jiang Yanli/Jiang Cheng. If I’m ENTIRELY honest, this is an inside joke with myself, as an old livejournal friend once described Snape by saying “pick up your long cloak of darkness and get to therapy”, which is a statement I think describes Jiang Cheng quite well.

2. “The trouble with stories is that they don’t always line up quite right.” [Over My Dead Body, MDZS, Wangxian, WIP. I like to bullshit about storytelling and story structure. There’s something fascinating about the interplay of author and reader, and of reminding the reader that they are sitting down to a story. There’s a special charm when the author editorializes and goes off on tangents - such as Victor Hugo in Les Mis - and while I am no Victor Hugo, it IS extremely fun to do.]

3. “‘Please,’ you say, and he likes it when you say it.” [empty, save you and i, Good Omens, Aziraphale/Crowley. I just love the cadence of this and the way it establishes the close, confessional second person POV.]

4. “Naked, wrapped in silk, and turned away on his side.” [say it like you mean it (with your fists for once), Kinnporsche, Gun/Vegas. Does the lyric “why is the bedroom so cold / you’ve turned away on your side” from Joy Division’s Love Will Tear Us Apart haunt you like it does me? I like how this established the feeling of isolation and loneliness.]

5. “This is how it goes.” [Zoetrope, MDZS, songxuexiao. Again with the storytelling.]

6. “The day he meets them is a red-sky day.” [blood, bones, and butter, MDZS, songxuexiao. Red sky at warning, sailors take warning! How else should you introduce my babygirl Xue Yang? I’m realizing a lot of my lines have tucked-in references, allusions, and inside jokes with myself.]

7. “Spring is pale in Revachol.” [Revachol Calling, Disco Elysium, Harry/Kim, WIP. Honestly, I don’t like this line and if I ever rewrite it, I hope to have something that fits better. This doesn’t grab in the way a DE fic should grab the reader. God, this WIP haunts me. Someday I WILL finish it, but it’s been three years since I’ve played the game and I absolutely need to play it again to get a feel for the voices.]

8. “The walk home is lonely.” [long slow love song, TGCF, fengqing, WIP. I really like short first sentences, huh? I suppose this is just brief scene-setting. Mu Qing seems like a guy who takes a lot to open up, so a short opening line suits him.]

9. “He wonders how he’ll die.” [impact, Beyond Evil, lee dongsik/han juwon. I’m proud of this one. I feel like this sets the tone and grabs attention. It’s just a short fic inspired by J.G. Ballard’s Crash, so I can’t think of a better way to begin.]

10. “When Kinn had been a boy, he’d had an old tomcat that liked to sleep in his bed.” [shotgunning, Kinnporsche, vegas/kinn/porsche, WIP. Introduces this as a Kinn character piece.]

Bonus from unposted Frankensmut: “One should not travel these woods alone; the Wild Hunt is strong here, and all are prey.” [Introduction to Natural Philosophy, Frankenstein, The Creature/Victor Frankenstein, WIP. An opening line that promises you that the hunter WILL get his prey. I promise you this.]

What I’m really learning here is that 1. I need to work on finishing my goddamn wips, and 2. wow I really rely on passive voice to open. Huh. Are there any other patterns? Maybe some authorial direction to remind the reader of the story structure. I’ve also got a bit of a penchant for short opening sentences followed by paragraphs that either elaborate on it or negate it, usually heavier in length and description as a counterbalance. Like adding acid to balance fat or sugar. Truthfully, I’ve kinda grown bored with my typical writing style, which is partly why I haven’t posted much fic lately. Art is all about pushing yourself and trying new things and innovating. I’m dead sick of writing present-tense third person limited and am vibing with first and second-person POV, which aren’t fan favorites for fic. I’d also LOVE to try something much more zoomed out, like omniscient third-person.

This was fun! Tagging @brawlite-archive, @iodhadh, @jaggededges123, @rcmclachlan, @weatheredlaw, and @darcylindbergh if you’re vibing, and anyone else who’s interested!

[malaierba]

Well since I'm slerpdeprived and thinking about "what's worse than two parents with issues? THREE parents with issues"

The interesting thing about the "Cain/Abel are Lucifer's child" theories is that genetically speaking it doesn't even matter. The children are made of Eve's egg and Lucifer's sperm. Eve was made from Adam's rib (assuming that the show will follow that canon?), she's made from him DNA, she's genetically his clone.

So Cain/Abel COULD be tested for the parenthood test thing and chances are they'll always match with Adam since they'll match with Eve.

So if it were to be used as a type of "gotcha, not my real dad" Adam probably wouldn't acknowledge it because not only did he raise them in life, the DNA test matches with him too.

Nevermind that he only knew his kids (who either died and went to hell, or were cursed to wander and lived for centuries, had nomad kids etc, THEN died and went to hell, assuming that that's where Cain is ofc) for like 0.05% of their existence.

Which btw, thinking about the weight and realistic importance of familial bonds forged in earth is very interesting in the context of the afterlife, especially when it comes to ancient souls. I would care who my mom/dad was in 50 years, 150 years, perhaps 500 years, but would I care in 1000 years? I suppose I would acknowledge them in title but after centuries of being an independent adult, wouldn't that change the perceived hierarchy in pretty much any relationship?

That was a tangent but it does go back to what I was originally saying:

Really it's in Cain and/or Abel's best interest that such a test is never taken. ALL it would accomplish is earn them another adult with baggage in their lives and who wants that when you're essentially as old as your human parents (give it take 5 to 20 years depending on how you think the whole Eden thing played out), as old as agriculture, older than civilization etc.

(that's of course grounds for conflict which could be interesting... You're one half of the oldest pair of tragic twins in the history of humanity, you've been a soul for longer than you were human, you kind of have other things going on... Why are your earthly parents still beefing with the devil? In true "I'm an adult and it's made me very judgemental of my parents' unaddressed immaturity", they should be like. Literally who cares. Dude I mean Dad (Adam) are you SURE you don't want to try therapy?)

Like really their only motivation may be to have a claim to the throne of hell or something but assuming that hell laws work as they do in human culture, Eve's kids would be "bastards" so they wouldn't be next in line.

If not political power, there's always the possibility of fucking up spectacularly with a series of bad deals and now they really need to have access to the Morningstar funds or be in the will or something, but hm idk. On the fence about this idea. I suppose it could be executed in an interesting way.

I'm so tired I feel like this post got away from me. No conclusion! Just more aimless rambling in the tags

[heytheredelulu]

✨WIP Wednesday✨

I was tagged by @flowersforbucky to post a snippet from my current WIP. I’m actually on a break from writing FF so here’s a snippet from a chapter in my book I’m hoping to self publish next year. We are currently in a very rough draft stage. 😅

“Damn, Jay got you good this time.”

“Shut the fuck up, Michael.” I growl at my cell mate, falling backwards onto my cot. Once the comment slips from my mouth I immediately feel remorse for it. Mike’s a good guy, he’s had my back since I transferred in from juvenile detention and he shouldn’t have to take the brunt of my anger just because he happens to be the closest available person to take it out on. I scrub a hand down my face before offering my hands up in apology. “Sorry, Mike. That wasn’t-”

“Nah, I get it, it’s cool.” He replies, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. His expression softens and gives away the impression he really isn’t offended, despite his body language.

Mike flashes me a sympathetic smile, flipping his dark, overgrown hair back off his face. I can’t help but shake my head every time he does that goddamn hair flip. His entire physical appearance screamed ‘punk’, from his hair to his stretched earlobes that hung oblong without plugs since they were confiscated in processing. If I had ever run into Mike on the outside we definitely wouldn’t have been friends. Then again, I probably would have never run into him in the first place, since he likely spent his time hanging out at the docks of a shitty midwest mall, smoking trash marijuana in a Green Day t-shirt and dirty Chucks while drinking Four Lokos that he lifted from a Circle K.

But as I learned on the inside, you take your friends when you can get them. I stopped making assumptions based on appearance from pretty much my first day here, as I learned relatively quickly that people don’t fit the stereotypical build for their crimes; especially the particularly fucked up crimes. Those guys look so normal that it’s a daily reminder that monsters really do walk among us as men.

“I scored some smokes, I’m happy to share.” He offers as if that’s supposed to make me feel better and it was all a part of his master plan to cheer me up after having my eyebrow split in half. “I don’t smoke.” I reply, staring up at the ceiling.

“Maybe you should start.”

“And maybe you should stop.” I counter and he barks out a laugh, raking a hand through his hair. “We all got our vices, man. At least mine’s harmless.”

“It’ll kill you.”

“I’m already dead inside.”

Okay, he’s not punk, he’s a goddamn emo.

“I really am, you know.” He says quietly in my lack of reply and I close my eyes so he can’t see me roll them. I’m really not in the mood for an unsolicited therapy session. I know Mike’s torn up from his crime but does he have to lay it on so fucking thick?

Oh woe is me, to have seen what I have seen, to see what I see!

There’s some irony in the fact that I of all people would immediately think up a Hamlet quote in response to Mike’s recurring self-pity.

I’d like to think it’s because it’s fresh in my mind due to the lack of variety in reading materials in prison and not some strange parallel my brain is trying to establish. I certainly hope that as the son who carried out a revenge murder I don’t create a domino effect that causes myself and those around me to descend into madness.

I am but mad north-north-west. When the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.

Jesus Christ, Jay must’ve hit me harder than I’d thought.

💋 Sj

No pressure tags: @lokisgoodgirl @drabblesandsnippets @targaryenvampireslayer @mrs-illyrian-baby @thezombieprostitute @sarahowritesostucky @longlivedelusion

[laundrybiscuits]

(Hanahaki AU tag : Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3)

(CONTENT NOTE: equivalent of conversion therapy discussed at the end of this one. just stop reading after the ——— if that's going to be bad for you.)

Eddie twists away from the yellow light of the van, trying to get his body under control. “Sorry,” he wheezes. “Not a singer. Shouldn’tve smoked before trying to belt metal shit.” He hunches over and picks the last jaundiced petals from his mouth, crushing them in his fist before dropping them as casually as he can into a clump of grass. 

His mouth is clean when he turns back around. He climbs back into the van and slumps against the wall, strumming something mindless, more to feel the comfortingly solid corners of his guitar tucked up close to his body than anything else. 

“If you don’t warm up first, with those kinds of vocals, it’ll fuck up your throat,” he says. 

“Never knew that.” Steve hands Eddie a water bottle. “Sounds dangerous.”

Eddie takes a sip, willing the water to drown out whatever’s growing in his guts. He pictures it like a punishing rain. “I live on the edge,” he says.

“Uh-huh,” says Steve. “Drink your water, Evel Knievel.”

Eddie takes another gulp, knowing it won’t do a damn thing. He sits back and starts picking out some chords that resolve into a Springsteen song. It sounds sweeter on a solo acoustic like this and he rolls with it, fingerpicking the melody and humming along, giving it a folky strum to fill it out. 

Steve sings along with the chorus, going da da da when he doesn’t know the words. His voice isn’t too bad; a little unpracticed, but smooth and warm. It feels right for the small space they’re inhabiting, the dim warm van on one side and the rolling shadows of Illinois prairie on the other.

“You’re pretty good at that,” says Steve when the song’s done.

“Don’t sound so shocked, Harrington.” Eddie gets up to tuck the guitar back into its bag. “We should probably turn in. Get an early start tomorrow.”

He’s been pretty carefully not thinking about sleeping arrangements. He doesn’t think Steve’s likely to pitch a fit over sharing a mattress with another guy, but at least he’s got the moral high ground here as the person who didn’t initiate this little buddy-comedy storyline. 

Steve puts up some token bitching, but shucks his jeans and gets under the blanket readily enough.

“Figured you would’ve brought along some silk pyjamas or something,” says Eddie, when the silence makes him feel too fidgety.

“I didn’t have a lot of time to pack, okay?” Steve huffs, throwing an arm over his eyes. “When Henderson told me you’d canceled all your stupid wizard games, I drove over right away. I guess you didn’t see me ‘cause you were just starting to load up the van. Figured I had about a half-hour before you disappeared, so I just raced home and grabbed whatever I could in five minutes.”

“Right,” says Eddie. “And then you decided to launch an ambush.”

“Yeah, yeah, how else was I gonna get you to talk to me?” 

“Well, you’ve got me now, Steve. I’m an open book, what d’you want to know?”

“Why are we on this roadtrip, Eddie?”

I’m here to get away from you, thinks Eddie. You’re here because…I don’t know why you’re here. 

“Freedom,” he says instead. “Adventure. The American Dream.”

———

There are places, Eddie knows, that specialize in cutting out the bloom for very specific cases. Except it’s not really the bloom they’re trying to cut out. 

There are places, Eddie knows, that will drag you away and put you in a room and tell you that the person you loved will never love you back. They’ll do it again and again, until you believe it, and if you start coughing up flowers, they know they’ve won. They’ll cut it out of you and send you home and tell you that you’re cured. They do it to people, to kids, who fall in the kind of love that needs curing. 

They did it to Wayne. 

Wayne doesn’t like to talk about it, but it’s why Eddie lives with him now: his uncle, the black sheep in a family of jailbirds and junkies. The only one so unforgivable that his parents, Eddie’s grandparents, paid good money to get him sent to a place in Ohio back in ‘46. 

As far as Eddie’s aware, Wayne’s never relapsed. Even had a girl for a while, before Eddie came to live with him. Eddie’s old man wasn’t gonna shell out the cash to send him to any kind of doctors who’d get him fixed, and anyway he’d been too young to have a chance at blooming when they caught him messing with Ollie Peterson from down the way. They don’t talk about it, him and Wayne, but they both know why it’s been the two of them in a trailer in the middle of nowhere, Indiana.

So Eddie thinks Wayne’ll get it, afterwards. Wayne’s never tried to change a single thing about Eddie, just made space for him to be the way he is. Wayne’ll respect that this is how it has to be.

He’ll send a postcard once they’re a few states away. There's still time.

[lordofthenerds97]

Wasting Away: Chapter 6

Rating: M for eventual chapters, mild cursing, and nonexplicit sexual content Pairing: Eddie x Reader, Past Billy x Reader, and onesided Steve x Reader if you squint Summary: You were broken. Falling apart. Trying to put yourself back together. Whatever the hell they wanted to call it. All you knew was you were hurting. The Upside Down had been the bane of your existence for a long time. But now you had a reason to hate it. Will your hatred be enough to help take down the latest in a long line of monsters? TW FOR THIS CHAPTER: • Mild Panic Attack • Survivor's Guilt • Mentions of Therapy Masterlist

The bell dinged above you as you walked into the small mechanic’s shop. You paused for a moment, the smell of motor oil, grease, and fumes hitting your nose. 

“Hold on!”

You barely registered the voice calling out to you as you looked around. Things had changed since the last time you’d been in there. The shelves had been moved around, other racks had been added, and there were even displays set up. The small and miscellaneous parts had been organized and were hanging in their proper places with the price tags displayed neatly above them. “Damn,” you muttered. Before Mack’s wife, Helen, had retired, the place was more well kept than what Mack himself would do. But you hadn’t ever seen it like this. 

The last time you’d been in there with Billy, you had to help him dig through multiple bins to find the right wrenches and screws he needed.

Mack’s small shop had definitely gotten an upgrade. 

“Hey sweetheart,”

You looked up from the shelf at the sound of the familiar voice. “Eddie?”

He had poked his head through the door leading to the actual shop, grinning at you. “What’s up?”

“I didn’t know you worked here,” you said dumbly. You were pretty sure the expression on your face matched the tone of your voice.  

He chuckled. “What, do you think Mack managed to do all this himself?” he asked as he stepped behind the counter. His hair was tied into a messy bun at the base of his neck to keep it out of his face as he worked. He looked at the oil filter you were holding. “That all you need, doll?”

You smiled. That explained all the upgrades. But then his question registered, and you pursed your lips. “Actually, no…”

He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms as he leaned against the old counter beside the register. “I’m at your service.”

Taking a breath, you looked at him hopefully. “I need to see about ordering some specialty parts, and how much it’s going to cost.”

That caught his interest. “Really? What are you working on?”

You sighed. “A pet project…one that’s going to take a long time to finish.”

Hearing the tone of your voice, Eddie softened. “Alrighty. Whatcha need?”

Realizing he wasn’t going to push you for more information, your eyes lit up and you smiled at him. You wanted to tell him about the “surprise” that Dustin and Steve had set up for you. But if you were being honest with yourself, you were still trying to wrap your head around what they had done. “A few things. Let’s start with a four barrel Holley carburetor.” 

Eddie grabbed a notepad from the opposite side of the register and began writing. “Uh huh,”

“Rear drum brakes for a ‘78 Chevy,”

“Mhm.”

“Probably a new vacuum modulator.”

He continued to scribble as you listed off a few more parts. He listened patiently as you went down the list. You couldn’t help but wince as you continued telling him what you needed. It was a long list. And it was going to be expensive. 

“That should be it.”

He looked at the list and let out a low whistle. “Damn, sweetheart. Looks like you’ve got a hell of a project going on.”

You let out a snort. “Bit of an understatement,” you muttered. In actuality, you were pretty much rebuilding the entire thing from scratch. And at the moment, you were thanking God above that Billy had taught you so much about his car. “Gonna take me a while.” 

Eddie pursed his lips and read over the list. “Well, I think I might have a spare modulator laying around. Just changed a few out and we ordered some extras. ‘78, you said, right?”

You nodded. 

“Cool. Drum brakes were going to be on our next order, we just ran out. That Holley is probably gonna not take the prettiest penny.” 

You nodded. That wasn’t a surprise. 

“All in all sweetheart…you’re looking at about $2,500, give or take.”

That was actually a little less than you had been expecting, considering the amount of parts you needed to get. “Not bad,” you said. 

Eddie looked at you. “Are you gonna want to order now or wait a bit?”

You paused for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip as you thought. “I’ll get the modulator, the filter, and preorder the brakes for now.”

He nodded. “Gotcha. Both sets?”

“Yep.”

“Cool. I’ll make sure we order those today. They should be here the end of the week.” 

“Nice.”

He grabbed a binder from under the counter and flipped through it, looking for what you assumed was the part numbers. He mumbled to himself as he scanned the laminated pages and tapped a few things into the register. “Three hundred twenty five and thirty-two cents.” he said, looking up at you. “That okay?”

You nodded, setting your small bag onto the counter to dig through and find your wallet. “How long have you worked here?” you asked.

He shrugged. “A year or so. Mack liked to keep me in the back for a while. He needed an extra set of hands in the shop. Said he couldn’t find any mechanics worth a shit.”

You snorted. “Sounds like Mack.”

“Not to sound like a stereotype,” he said, looking up at you as you handed him four hundred. “But where’d you learn to work on cars?”

Your throat tightened momentarily. You cleared it before you spoke. “Billy,” you said. “He was determined to teach me everything he could. Said he wanted me to know what was going on and to make sure that I wouldn’t get swindled. It helped that he was always working on his car. I learned a lot.” 

He nodded. “Good. Thankfully Mack isn’t like a lot of other mechanics, but I’ve seen plenty of assholes in my time try and take advantage of a woman who doesn’t know shit about her car. I’m glad you know what you’re doing.” 

You laughed. “I don’t think I know exactly what I’m doing, but I think I can wing it for the most part.”

Eddie chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Sweetheart, I don’t think this pet project is something you should wing. Sounds important. And expensive.” 

“Eh, we’ll see.”  you said with a smile. “Thanks Eddie.” 

“No problem.” He grinned at you. “Aside from working on your special project, what else are you up to on this fine afternoon?”

You sighed and took the bag that he offered you. “Trying to catch up on homework. I managed most of what Dusty brought me when I missed a few days last week. Now I just have to try and stomach the assignments I have tonight.”

Eddie snorted. “I understand. Seems to me like teachers should spend more time teaching us what will actually get us by in this world instead of the infinite numbers of pi.”

“Seriously,” you said. “I’m trying to keep up with what I have, plus trying to keep my grades up while I look at different colleges.”

He raised an eyebrow and resumed his casual stance leaning against the counter. “College? I didn’t think that was an aspiration of yours.”

You shrugged. “Honestly, it’s more to keep my parents happy than anything. I don’t particularly want to go to college, but hey, there’s always something to learn.” 

“Any idea on what you’d want to study?”

A sigh escaped your lips. “I don’t know…I love science though. If I did actually go, I’d probably pick something in that area.” You laughed before adding on, “Honestly, you’d probably think I’m crazy if I told you the type of reading I do for fun.”

His expression turned serious. “Sweetheart, I’ve seen and heard a lot out of you, and I haven’t ever thought you’re crazy. I doubt there’s anything you could say that would make me think that.”

What if I told you there was an alternate dimension that has portals in Hawkins and has repeatedly split the fabric of the universe apart? What if I told you that it wasn’t an explosion that killed Billy, it was a telepathic monster made of the flesh and bones of the humans it had him lure to it’s lair?

You fought back the intrusive thoughts and tried to laugh. “You really wanna know?” you asked. 

He nodded enthusiastically. “If you’re interested in it, then its got to be something worth knowing about.” 

You snorted and laughed. “Fine. I like reading about nuclear physics and quantum mechanics.”

His expression was more than a little shocked. “You wanna run that by me again, sweetheart? Just to make sure I heard you right?”

“Um…nuclear physics and quantum mechanics?”

Eddie shook his head. “How the hell did you get into that?”

The Upside Down. Finding a way to stop it.

You shrugged. “There’s a lot in this world we don’t understand. But one day I’d like to be able to. Plus, when you actually read and research, it’s not that hard to understand.”

He nodded. “I think if someone sets their mind to something, then nothing is impossible.”

“Exactly!” You grinned at him. Then an idea popped into your head. “Hey, what’re you doing Saturday night?”

He shrugged. “Not a lot. Coffin has a gig at 12, but before that I’m probably just going to be sitting at home. Why? What’s up?”

“My parents are having some old friends over. I don’t really want to be there, but I promised my mom I would try. She said I could have a friend over too. Would you…would you want to come?”

“Are you asking me on a date, sweetheart? And meeting your parents already?” he teased. 

You laughed. “Talk about moving fast.” you said with a chuckle. “Honestly, I need someone that’s not going to make me feel like jumping off the roof instead of socializing.” 

He nodded. “I understand. Getting yourself back out there after being isolated for so long can be hard.”

“Yeah…and right now I want nothing to do with anyone.” 

Eddie laughed. “I understand that too. What time?”

“You’ll come?” you asked hopefully. 

“Yeah sweetheart, I’ll come. But you gotta let me know what I’m walking into.” he said with a chuckle. “I’m not exactly everyone’s favorite person.” 

Reaching beside him, you grabbed the notebook and pencil he’d been using earlier. “Really nice couple. Known my parents for a long time. They have a kid, but she’s actually pretty cool. Kind of reminds me of Dustin.” After writing down your address, you slid the paper back to him. “They’re gonna love you.”

He raised an eyebrow when he saw the street name, realizing you lived in one of the more upscale areas of Hawkins. “Sounds like fun.” 

You beamed at him and he couldn’t help but smile back. “They’re supposed to come at six. But if you want to come a little earlier, I can introduce you to my parents.”

“Sure. I’ll be there.” 

~*~*~*~

“Honey? You home?”

“Yeah mom!” you called as you shut the front door behind you. You slipped out of your converse and put them on the rack. “I just went by Mack’s.” 

She came around the corner to meet you, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Did you get what you needed?” Her expression was hopeful and you smiled. 

“Not all of it, but I got a good start! Eddie was really helpful. Shocked at how much it was gonna cost, but helpful.” 

“Oh, the mechanic? He changed the oil in the Jeep for me last week. Seems to be a nice kid.” 

You nodded. “I go to school with him.” you said. “Actually…I think I might be making friends?” 

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” 

“Yeah…funny story, actually.” 

Your mom grinned and took the bag from your hands. “Come on. Tell me about it.” 

You chuckled and followed her into the kitchen. She grabbed two cans of coke from the fridge and handed you one before settling in her chair and looking at you expectantly. 

“So you know the Hellfire Club? The DnD club Dustin and the guys joined?” 

She nodded before rolling her eyes. “You wouldn’t believe the rumors circulating about it.” 

You snorted. “I’m sure they’re al saying that it’s a cult and they’re worshipping the devil.” 

Your mom laughed. “Pretty much.” 

“Doesn’t surprise me.” 

“Me either. Anyways, continue.” 

You cracked open the soda and took a sip. “Eddie is the Dungeon Master. I’ve heard Dustin rant and rave about him. He and Mike have been trying to get me to join a campaign soon, which is happened next weekend by the way. Dustin was hanging around with me during lunch last week and out of nowhere Eddie drops down at our table being all loud ‘n shit. Scares the bejesus out of me and sends me into an attack.” 

The concern on her face warmed your cheeks. 

“Dustin kind of blanked…it was actually Eddie that coached me through. Surprised me, really. And he even checked on me after school to make sure I was okay.” 

She nodded. “I don’t know much about him, just some small talk after he changed the oil, but he seems like a good kid.” 

You nodded. “Dustin has nothing but good to say about him. People at school? Not so much. But he’s actually really great.” You bit your lip, not knowing how much you should divulge. “He lost some family…that’s why he’s with his uncle. Someone he was close to used to have panic attacks…he was the only one who could get them through.” 

Your mom hummed quietly. “I’m glad he’s helped you.” 

“Me too.” You smiled slightly. “He’s brought me breakfast at school to make sure I’m eating. I guess Dustin was a little tattle tale.” 

She chuckled. “He’s just watching out for you, honey. I for one, am glad he is.” 

You rolled your eyes. “With how many people are ‘watching out for me’, I feel like I’m under a microscope.” 

She snorted. “You’re too pretty to be a specimen.” 

That actually made you laugh. “Thanks.” 

“Oh, did you get a chance to talk to Steve about Saturday? I saw him in the store earlier, he was asking about you.”

“Actually…I thought about asking Eddie to come?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying that as a statement or a question?”

You shrugged. “Well, what do you think? I feel pretty comfortable around him, and I know he can help me through a panic attack.”

She hummed again. “I’d say I want you to think about it.” she said honestly.

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she started, “You’ve been pretty private since the accident. You barely talk to Steve, and I know Nancy and Robin don’t come around as much as they used to. Dustin has pretty much been the only one who can talk you into doing something.”

Your frown only deepened. 

Sensing that she was dancing around the point, your mom sighed. “Do you want me to put it bluntly?”

You nodded. 

“Honey, you haven’t been social with anyone since Billy died. Do you think you’re trying to put something on Eddie that he doesn’t need to carry?”

Then it hit you. Your immediate reaction was to get angry. You were pretty sure the expression on your face reflected that. But you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “Mom.” you said. “Billy isn’t replaceable. I loved him.” You held up your left hand, “I was going to marry him after I graduated. If I was ever going to think about dating someone again, it wouldn’t be this soon, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be anyone from this shitty town.” 

Tears were flowing freely at this point and you didn’t bother to hold them back. You didn’t think you’d be able to even if you tried. “I know I’ve been a terrible friend for everyone, Max most of all, but I’ve been trying. And since I’ve started trying, I’ve been having more and more panic attacks. I’m putting myself out there again. Sure, I know them, but that doesn’t make a difference. I love all of them, and I would lose my goddamn mind if anything happened to them. Especially after the accident. I can’t lose anyone else. That’s why I was trying to keep my distance. That’s why I closed myself off to them.” 

She could tell that you were starting to hyperventilate. She reached for your hand, which you latched onto. Your chest tightened as you continued pushing the words out. “Eddie definitely reminds me of Billy, which is why its hard to be around him sometimes. But he’s his own person. No one can ever take Billy’s place.” You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself down. If you kept going at this pace, you knew it would end in another panic attack. And that was something you were desperately trying to avoid. 

“Eddie didn’t judge me when I fell apart in front of him. Instead, he helped me get myself together and made sure I was okay afterwards. I don’t feel like I have to hide my feelings around him. He’s had a similar loss and understands what’s going on up in my head. I’m not okay more than half the time. But Eddie has gone out of his way to make sure that I’m okay around him.”

 You let out a choked sob and began to curl in on yourself. 

Stop, you scolded yourself. This isn’t helping anyone. Take a deep breath and shove those feelings back into their box.

You’d had inklings of feelings similar to your mother’s. You needed your own verbal assurance that Eddie wasn’t taking Billy’s place in your life. His death had left a massive hole. In your heart, in your head, in your life. There wasn’t anything that anyone could do or say that would ever fill it. You knew that. 

She got up from her seat across from you and walked around the island, kneeling down and grabbing your other hand. “Look at me, baby girl. It’s okay.”

You focused on her for a moment before taking a deep breath and struggling to pull your mind out of the dark pit it was trying to crawl into. It sent a shiver down your spine as you fought it, but you managed to haul yourself back to reality. 

You sniffled and took one of your hands out of your mom’s to grab a napkin from the island. “Sorry,” you mumbled.” 

She shook her head. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

You looked back at her, eyes wide as you searched her face. You knew she had a valid point in her thoughts about Eddie. From an outsider’s perspective, you couldn’t blame her for having that suspicion. “Do you understand what I’m trying to say?” you asked cautiously. 

She was quiet for a moment before she nodded. “I think I do.” While she wasn’t completely in your shoes, she could understand the need to be around someone who had experienced something similar in the past and made it through. “I do. And honestly, I’m glad you feel okay with him. I never really understood why you were pushing everyone away instead of leaning on them for support. But now I do. And I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to help you with that sooner.”

You shrugged slowly. “It wasn’t something I really talked about…not even with Allie.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I think that’s something you need to talk about in your next session. I’m not a specialist, but this definitely sounds like something that’s hindering you.”

She was right, of course, which made you sigh. “Okay.” you agreed. You looked up at your mom, exhaustion seeping through you. “But for now can we make some popcorn and watch a movie?”and pressed a kiss to the side of your head, holding you as sobs racked your body. As you slowly calmed down, your head began to clear. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly. 

Your mom shook her head. “Nothing to be sorry about, honey. I’m the one who should apologize. I know it hasn’t been easy for you at all. But I’m so happy you’re finding a friend in Eddie. And if he understands, then I’m even happier.” 

You gave her a soft smile and wiped your eyes again. “Thanks mom.” 

Taglist: @yourdailymemedelivery@1-fuzzy-squirrels@shiggay@chrisevansmarvelmcu@mrsyixingunicorn10@rebelcthulhu @ethen-often @liv-raines@inthemindofaweirdo@mystrangerfics@mattysheelies@hargrovesprincess@ssstutteringbbbill@fuchsia-knight@gooddoggodrogo @jaaxely@sebastiansloserclub@acthenerd@dollface-80 @prettyboyhargrove@uncle-keery@sydneyisnotawriter

[spurious]

Fic Writer 20 Questions

Thank you for the tag, @wonkyelk & @sga-owns-my-soul!

How many works do you have on AO3?

103, a number which recently shot up due to me posting all of my random tumblr ficlets to my AO3 account lmao. Previously it was, like, 70.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

267,356

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently it's pretty much all SGA all the time over here. I am enjoying dabbling in Genshin when the mood strikes though, love the yuripeans <3

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Twenty Questions

Ink and Wings

Five Times Rodney (and John) Visit the Millers

Solitary in a Wide Flat Space

Abercrombie & Rodney

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! I try to, at least, though sometimes my responses are painfully delayed. I like hearing what people think about a story, I want them to know their comments are loved and appreciated, and sometimes you end up getting into a discussion like back in the Good Old Days on LJ.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Man I really do not write a ton of stuff that doesn’t end happily /just went through all my fics

Angstiest ending of things I've posted is probably either the Kanjani superheroes AU or the apocalypse akame fic? Has my tolerance for writing lengthy angst lessened with age?

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

As I said above, most of my stuff seems to have relatively happy endings. If I were to pick I might say O I Think We Should Be Brethren, because it takes the longest and hardest journey to the ending, which makes it feel more impactful to me.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I got one "hate" comment on the Kanjani cannibalism fic from someone who thought I was sick and needed therapy, or something to that effect. Otherwise, nope.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yes. I would say my smut wheelhouse is kinky porn with feelings, I guess?

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I do not.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I believe one or two of my fics in Johnny's fandom were translated into Russian and/or Chinese?

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Not to completion!

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

how dare you make me choose between my children

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Story I started for a fic exchange in, like, god...2014 or so? In which Yoko kisses Hina, then hits his head and wakes up in a world that's just a shamelessly silly amalgam of J-drama tropes. Sometimes I read through the doc and go "man i wish the author would update"

16. What are your writing strengths?

Sensory description, wanky poetic bullshit, smut, scenes with no more than two people in them, banter-y dialogue

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Endings, complex plots, ensemble casts, scenes with three or more people in them, transitions, being a complete baby about taking criticism, endings, endings

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I don't see a reason for it? You either need to add a gloss with a translation (if your POV character and audience are intended to understand it), at which point you may as well just write "Screw you, McKay," Zelenka said in Czech; or you want it to be incomprensible to the reader, at which point you may as well just write Zelenka muttered something in Czech as he stomped away. If your reader happens to understand the language you've written in and you're not confident in it, they'll be annoyed by the weird grammar you've gotten from google translating it, and even if you are, you're losing the effect of someone having said something that your POV character shouldn't understand.

......................apparently I have an Opinion on this? who knew.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Cardcaptor Sakura, when I was like 13? I may have posted it on FF.net but if there's a god it's been lost to the sands of time. I do not think it was very good.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Shouldn't be surprising at this point for me to pick O I Think We Should Be Brethren for this, right? I just think it's neat.

Tagging (I've seen this one circulate a fair bit so apologies if you've been multiple-tagged): @audioletter @sparrowsarus @texasdreamer01 @luredin @alienfuckeronmain

[streetkid-named-desire]

I've also been tagged in some wip whenevers but have had some morale issues lately

First is the collab smut fic between me and @luvwich

Who wants to beta 5,219 words of Bea/VG smut

Finally, he was free. Bea tilted her head to admire: V truly had a beautiful cock. It curved up to rest, heavy with blood and longing, on his lower stomach, still glossy with her spit and begging for more of it. She ran her hands up his torso, moving her body further up his, until her breasts settled on either side of his shaft. With a serene sigh, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his stomach. He was warm and soft, his muscles firm but not too firm: the perfect pillow. Eyes slipping closed, she might have nearly dozed off until she felt his cock twitch against her.

And then I wrote that lil sugar daddy thing about VG that is smutty and that I might actually turn into a longer origin thing also as more exposure therapy to writing butt stuff

Charles called to V when he entered the room to join him in the shower. V stripped on his way to the bathroom and as soon as he slid the shower door open, Charles grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him in. He attacked V's mouth, desperate for connection, for joining. V pushed him away, "Missed me?" Charles grinned and nodded. He turned V around and slammed him against the shower wall and trailed kisses down his spine. V spread his legs as Charles kneaded his firm asscheeks. He teased V, kissing his supple flesh but not quite digging in just yet. V reached his hand between his legs and stroked himself, sighing contentedly.

@merge-conflict gave me good feedback (like really good I deeply appreciate it) on chapter 3 but my brain keeps seeing it as A Whole Thing because there are some major holes I have to fill and I'm kinda just at a standstill. Tbh I'm debating fixing what I feel my brain can fix and then just publishing and moving on. I can fix those other parts later.

Anyway it did force me to resolve the whole V cheating on Panam thing

"Really? A fucking mine?" V stared at the fading blue architecture blueprint for an abandoned mine shaft currently being used by some Raffen. He folded his arms and read the notes in Panam's handwriting where she had annotated various points of egress and speculation around where they were keeping the captives. It was the most thoroughly documented plan he'd ever seen come from Panam.

"What, afraid of the dark?" Panam teased. V looked up at her smiling face, her eyes glinting with the familiar glee she got before gigs. After Saul had convinced her to let V stay with them, she took him aside and yelled at him. A lot. He stood there and agreed with everything she said, every name she called him. She didn’t forgive him–and never would–but she never forgot all that he did for the family, and that mattered. The more time he spent in camp, the closer they got to rekindling their friendship.

Otherwise I've just been playing DAO and taking VP. Been doing some roleplaying with @totentnz of the early years of our Vs friendships

V shifts uncomfortably in his chair and slips his phone back in his pocket. "Did you know you can get unlimited balls for Skee-ball by playing a specific frequency from your phone by the machines?" V looks around at the other games. "Okay, that motorcycle racing game and the snowboarding one? Shove a penny in a specific spot beneath the seat or board and you can lean farther to the side than you should be able to. Just...don't fall off." He stands up to get a better view at the other machines. "Air hockey? Actually, I'm just really good at that one, nevermind." V pulls out his phone again to reply, turned away from V, <got a working shower with hot water?>

My birthday is next month. Gonna get myself a fancy cake. Probably ask it to be decorated in the blorbo colors.

Just got the summer blues or something idk existing is hard

[taliah-tezel]

Location: Taliah's Home. Mentions/Tags: Kaan (her father), Ayda ( her mom), Lousie (her father's girlfriend), Serkan (her Uncle), @colemonroe, @emiri-tezel, the club in general. Triggers: talks about death, grief, trauma. Summary: Taliah's father finally returns 'home' from business after months. He hasn't been home in almost an entire year and so, they have a lot to catch up on. Fatherly concern, decade-old confessions, emotional speeches and hope for the future.

"Well, better late than never." Taliah shrugs from her seat on the couch, staring at the presents now placed on the coffee table. They were supposed to be exchanged at Christmas, but at the last minute, her father had cancelled his trip and had only just gotten around to visiting. Still, it was a happy occasion, she loved to catch up whenever he came back and this time, she felt as though she had so much that was positive to tell him.

At least half an hour had gone by, she'd told him all about how her new role at the fire station was going, everything about July 4th, right down to running in and saving her friend's child. That earned a solid look of concern that was completely warranted, but she wouldn't let it take away from the fact she got lucky and actually saved a child's life. Taliah spared her father the details of her breakdown and chose to only tell him that she had been attending therapy sessions for a while now. She wasn't ashamed by it, why should she be? It takes strength to admit when you need help. That much she knew was true.

"That's all wonderful, kızım," [my daughter,] "I can see the difference in you. You look happier." Kaan nods, smiling warmly over at her. "I am happier." Taliah agrees, able to feel the difference in how she was just a few months ago. She hadn't got around to talking to him about Cole yet, saving that for last only because she knew she'd talk the most about that topic. "How long are you staying? I have the day off on Thursday. I can cook dinner, you me and Cole? It'll be nice." At least, it sounded nice in her imagination. "And Louise?" He says, causing Taliah to shuffle her shoulders in mild discomfort. "I didn't know you brought her with you." An honest comment and one that actually tracked because when he did come back here, she usually stayed in whatever luxurious all inclusive resort they'd been residing in. "She's my partner, Tali, I'd really like you two to share more than a couple of words. So, sure, I think dinner together sounds like a wonderful idea, give us all a chance to chat. You'd like her if you just give her a real chance." He speaks convincingly, and all Taliah can do is respond with a tight smile and enough grace to say "okay." Even if she didn't believe it for a second.

"It's long overdue, and I would like to catch up, especially since I haven't had the chance since you and Cole became an item." Nodding, he tried his best to smile but Taliah knew him well enough to see that something was off. "... Yeah," she mumbled. Before she could ask, he was already making an additional comment that had her mouth popping open. "I lost the bet," sighing, he leans forward to place his cup down. "Serkan and I, outside of the clubs bet, we had a foolish one between the two of us that we shook on maybe 5 or so years ago now. He bet $100 that you and Cole would get together in the next ten years. I bet that you wouldn't, I thought the two of you would just remain friends." Chuckling slightly, Taliah couldn't help but crinkle her nose a little, though she wasn't surprised there was yet another bet that happened in regards to them.

"Um, well yeah, we were friends. You know he's always been my closest friend, that hasn't changed." Even now they were in a relationship, it hadn't changed the fact that Cole was still her best friend, he always would be. "I'm a little surprised, actually, you're the first person to say they didn't see it coming a mile away." She comments, watching curiously as he shakes his head as if to suggest she's wrong. "I could see what everyone else did, I just never thought you'd act on it. The years had gone by and I guess I just assumed you were looking for someone... you know, different." Still with a polite smile, he hadn't meant any offence, but Taliah couldn't help but feel like he wasn't as happy for her as everyone else was.

"Different?" Scratching a little at her head, she shrugs her shoulders. "To be factual, I wasn't looking for anyone, period. If I was, maybe I'd have noticed what everyone else did a lot sooner, but, different?" Frowning, she shakes her head firmly. "No. He's always been everything I needed, you know how he treats me, you have seen how he cares." The way Taliah had always turned to Cole first, above everyone, her father knew the pair of them were bonded from the first time they met. "Oh, I know that, Taliah. I don't mean it the wrong way, Cole is a great man." Kaan nods, knowing it to be true, at least regarding his daughter. How could he ever forget how he sacrificed his freedom to protect her?

"He is a great man. So why is your face doing that thing it does when you're not being honest." Taliah folded her arms, finding herself just a little defensive and confused. "If you have something to say, dad, just say it." Adapting a firmer tone, she couldn't stand people who beat around the bush - whatever he was thinking? She wanted him to spit it out. Kaan sighed, knowing that tone all too well, remembering how his wife, her mother, had the exact same one whenever she got irate. "My sweet girl, I'm not saying I'm not happy for you, I am. But... As a father, I think there's a part of me that hoped that if you found someone to share your life with, it would be someone... Normal." His eyes partially squeezed shut as soon as the words came out, knowing that he hadn't really explained that the way he intended.

"Normal?" Taliah was taken aback by everything he said, but nothing stuck out to her more than that word. "Normal..." she repeated, leaning back in the chair. She knew what he meant by it, he was inadvertently saying that he wasn't thrilled that she'd chosen to share her life with someone belonging to the club. "Normal doesn't equal safe." Tilting her head to the side, a look of distant thought there in her eyes. "I thought Callum was normal. Look where that got me." Brown eyes watch as her father practically grimaces at the spoken name. "I understand why you would have your reservations as a father, but I think you're out of line. Cole, the club as a whole... They took us in like family, you know them. You know what they'd do to protect those they care about."

"I know, I know... It's just a worry, the things they do, the dangers, I can't handle the thought of you getting wrapped up in something because of how they live their lives. That's not me judging any of them, sweetheart, it's just my instinct to be concerned for you." Grappling with his own thoughts, he was trying his best to articulate exactly what he wanted to say, but he could see from the look on her face she was far from impressed. "Bullshit." Taliah scoffs. "I'm a grown woman now, I don't need your concern. Where were these instincts when I was 16? You moved us here to be with Serkan, you knew that meant the club too. You can't...." Pausing, she can't help but blow out a half breath, half laugh of pure disbelief. "You can't decide to be worried now, when that worry wasn't enough then to keep us at home and a world away from them all." Home being Turkey, that was. "What absolute bullshit, honestly." Pressing a thumb and finger over her eyes, she needed to take a minute, a breath. How could her father rain on her parade this way? Why couldn't he just be as happy for her as everyone else who loved her was?

"That's not fair, Taliah." Grumbling at her sees to her hand moving away from her face, eyes widened with surprise. "Oh, it's not fair, well fuck me, guess I didn't realise it wasn't fair. Must run in the family." Biting at him before she could even keep up with what was coming out her mouth, she would be lying if she didn't regret it. Not that it showed on her stubborn features and folded arms. "Meaning?" He asks, and she knew to expect that he would. "Meaning," a pause, a deep breath as she makes some attempt to form the words and do so carefully. Her intention was not to hurt him, but she felt so defensive right now that it was difficult to really articulate. "Was it fair for me when you uprooted us from home and brought us here? You needed your brother, don't think I don't understand that. It was just hard for me, I don't think you ever really thought about that." A slow shrug, she can see the wheels of confusion turning inside his head. "I wanted a new start for us, I..." He stops, not even knowing how to proceed, but luckily, she did. "You wanted to run away from your pain. Like I said, I understand. I never protested, but that doesn't mean I wanted the same. I just kept quiet because I knew it was what you needed, and I thought if it helped you, then it was worth it." Taliah admits. "But I was so... Isolated. We left behind everything. Everyone. All my friends, all the things that I was using to help me, it was gone, and we were here. Strange town, full of people who talked so fast I couldn't keep up. Because maybe you forgot, but I didn't have the world experience you did, nor the ability to be as fluent in this language as you were. Emiri tried her best, Serkan too, and so did Cole, but it didn't change the fact that for a long time, I didn't want to be here, I wanted to go home, and you didn't see me enough to notice."

"You never said..." His voice was quiet and his face, a vision of guilt he had never registered before. "You never asked." Taliah says, pulling in another deep breath. "Me, Serkan, the club, we made sure you kept your head above water because that's what you needed. It was Cole who did that for me, he didn't talk at me, he talked to me, with patience and kindness that helped me feel like I wasn't so alone. That's what helped me see that the entire club was doing their best to invite us into their world, into their family." Sitting forward, Taliah holds his gaze just so she can be sure he's listening. "I'm not trying to make you feel guilty... And I don't blame you, not for any of it. I just don't think you've ever let yourself think about how your decisions impacted me. The club saved your life and they certainly saved mine. So you can take your normal, and shove it. I don't need normal. I need them. I need Cole. They're my family."

"I know they are. Taliah! You've misunderstood what I was trying to say." Frustrated, he drags a hand over his face and lowers his head. Everything she'd just let spill out needed time to process. The fact she was right about it all only made him feel more ashamed than he already did. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I did that to you. I... had no idea you felt so unhappy about the move. I thought it was what we both wanted. I didn't want to be there without..." He stops, even now, finding difficulty in talking about her mom. "And I just assumed you felt the same." His eyes are stung with tears, and Taliah can't help but feel bad about the way this all came tumbling out. "Dad, I don't need you to be sorry, I never did. I'm just trying to explain, because I think you need the reminder that the people you're worried about me being around are the same people you propelled me into as a teenager. The same people who helped us when they didn't have to. The dangers now were the same then, the only difference is I'm an adult now. I can decide for myself whether they're risks I want to take, and much like you, I've chosen to take them, with the knowledge that they're completely worth it. They're built differently, you know they are. Every one of those men would shield you from harm, every one of them, I could leave my drink with and know I'm not going to get spiked. They are good men at their core and I know now that being here, with them, with Cole, it's where I belong. So you can give your blessing or refuse it, your opinion really doesn't influence how I feel." Nodding her head firmly, she has to swallow the lump in her throat that threatens to show how shaken she is by her confessions. She doesn't want to crumble, she needs to be strong because this was the truth; it was her truth.

Her dad was silent for what felt like minutes, in reality, it was probably just a few seconds. "Serkan was the best man I ever knew, and back then, I didn't know what it meant for him to be a Son's founder. I knew a little, and suspected a lot, but what I knew in my heart was that he was a good man. It didn't take me long to see that the people he was surrounded by were just as good. So yes, Taliah, you have my blessing, of course you do. Maybe you forget that I too, have watched Cole grow up. And what he did for you back then, with no thought for his own consequences, it gets my highest respect. Anyone who would give up their freedom to protect my daughter is worthy of my daughter. I don't need you to tell me he's good at his heart, I can see it." Kaan breathes out slowly, keeping his eyes on his intertwined hands. "I've let you down more than I realised... And Cole never has. That's what you're telling me, isn't it?" He glances his eyes up at her with a gentle, sad yet knowing smile. "Not in such a black and white way, but yeah, I guess that's what I'm saying." Taliah whispers, not feeling great about knowing she's basically pushed her father down and gave him a kick for good measure. "You weren't the same after mom, but you did your best. You did what you had to, to survive. That's why I don't need you to be sorry. No regrets now, it worked out. I love this town now and I couldn't see myself anywhere else. The decision you made back then gave me everything I have now." Offering a smile, she feels a lot calmer now, but also incredibly sad.

"I'm still your father, I'll worry about your safety even if you were in an empty room. I really wish I could have been better for you, Tali. I'll be eternally sorry that I wasn't. More sorry for all the misery I caused you without noticing. I'm... glad you had people to help you when I couldn't." He nods, shifting in his seat. "I guess I've never shown it the way you needed me to, but you are my entire world, my child, and I'm so proud of you. I love you, Taliah, and I'm very pleased to hear that you're happier than you've been in a long time. That's all I've ever wanted for you, is for you to be happy." He stands up, gesturing for her to do the same, and she does. "I'm in town for another couple of weeks. I'd like to spend most of it with you, if that's okay? Cole too." Opening his arms out, Taliah nods silently and walks in for a hug, finally choking on the breath she was trying to steady. "I'd like that." She mumbles, for all the raw truth that had been voiced, she also felt like this was something that needed to happen, perhaps now, they could understand each other better. "I'll see when Cole is free for dinner here one night. You... can bring Louise. I don't like her, dad, but I'll be civil, only because you clearly do." Even though Taliah thought Louise only wanted him for his money, she could try to be nice. "Well, don't strain yourself too hard," he jokes, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "I do appreciate the effort to be civil. Now, can I just clarify that you mean you'll be civil in the universal sense, or civil in Taliah sense?" He teases, already to Taliah's huffy annoyance as she gives him a shove. "Be grateful I'm even using the word civil!" Frowning, they held eye contact for a couple of seconds before bursting into a laugh that felt a lot like healing. Maybe, just maybe, they were going to be just fine now.