#this isn't going well for me what if i'm in a lecture then my brain just starts going ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[obviouslacking]

medication titration is such a bonkers concept they're like here *throws prescription at your forehead* fuck around with your brain until something sticks, and so you basically have to treat yourself like a weird little science experiment for months

[fuck-i-like-too-much-stuff]

Small addition to the Professor Peem and Professor Q tag because I seriously need to focus on my studies but We Are knaws at my brain.

"You may know that since Professor Q has taken a sabbatical for the rest of semester and since his half of the syllabus is complete, your doubts can be taken up by me. Please feel free to approach me anytime, I'll be in my office." Peem ended the lecture and dismissed the class. Yet no one moved. He looked up with confusion to the lack of commotion, to see eyes of concern.

"What's wrong?" He asks, no answer.

"Guys, I said you were dismissed. Don't you have more classes today?"

"Professor Peem, are you okay?"

Peem doesn't know what his students are talking about. He looks to his feet, trying to observe what is wrong with his appearance. Yeah, his shirt is a little untucked and his tie isn't as proper as it should've been. Yeah, maybe he could've done a better job with his hair today morning. But that shouldn't be enough to warant concern from his students, to let them know that he is, in fact, very much not okay.

It was a month ago that Phum had to leave for Singapore for two months. It was a month ago that he had started to tell himself that this was not that big of a deal. It was a month ago that he was sure these two months would go by in a blink of an eye and his Phum would be back in his arms even before he could complete the blink. It wasn't until two days back, when Q and Toey left for their Europe trip did he realise that this blink felt more like an endless and painful coma.

Yet, what he doesnt realise that this syncing of his breakdown has, once again, fed the rumors of his and Q's apparent relationship.

When his students refuse to leave the hall, despite Peem's reassurances, he does so himself. The moment he does, the murmurs begin.

"Did they break up? Is that why Professor Q took a sabbatical?"

"He takes one every year, that can't be it."

"Didn't someone say that he was going on a Europe trip? Who goes on such a romantic trip without their boyfriend?"

"Maybe Professor Peem was supposed to go but they broke up so he didn't."

"That seems a little too cruel, even for Professor Q."

"Guys, you might want to look at this-"

Toey's instagram handle open on the mobile screen, it shows a photo of him and Q looking over the sunset at the Saimes River.

"A water body. Wow, maybe Professor Q is that cruel."

The next day rolls around and now that Peem has understood that his breakdowns have to be very strictly reserved for his house and Phum's daily videocalls only, he looks just as he did always. But what doesn't change still is the sympathetic looks he catches in class.

Is he still looking pathetic?

In the staff room, he catches a hold of Fai who tells him he certainly doesn't look like he spent the last night crying. Helpful.

His phone automatically calls Fang when it comes to advice regarding puffy eyes and dark circles, not because Fang cries a lot but because between the architecture firm and being in love with Tan, he does not sleep a lot.

"I told you, you need a break. Your routine is not healthy right now, and I'm sure the college will allow you a few days off."

"I have a lot of classes, Fang. And I've to take up any doubts regarding Q's half too. This is not the time for me to take a break. Now will you tell me what to do about my eyes, or should I tell Tan that you ate the donuts I brought for him?"

Ice packs after crying, eye cream and if need be so, a little bit of concealer. Concealer that he will have to buy since Fang is not sharing his, or even Tan's. "Infections, much? Plus you're not my shade nor Tan's."

He is at the department store that is supposed to have everything. Which includes his needs for today, ice cream, rose scent candles, eye cream, and his shade of concealer, and the cologne that Phum wears because he misses his boyfriend and at least the house can smell a little like him. It also includes everything one of his students had on their list as well, because he finds her trying to sneakily click a photo of Peem trying to find the cologne.

"Guys, he's buying the cologne Q wears. He misses him so much. I also saw him buy eye cream."

Actually Q does wear the same brand of cologne as Phum, mostly because Phum is the one who introduced it to him, but its not the same cologne itself. That's not a detail the fine arts student care about as much as the wrinkle count of Peem's forehead as he tries to figure out the reason behind his student's behavior before walking over to where she is.

"Can I help you Reem?"

He then watches as his student fumbles her phone to the ground, apologise repeatedly, pick up her phone which he is sure has a broken screen now, and run away.

He reiterates the whole tale to Phum when he reaches home, a long ten minute podcast of an audio. Exactly eleven minutes after, he recieves a call from the same person, the person he needs the most.

"Hey. Long day, huh?" The soft voice speaks and if Peem hadn't kept his ice cream in the fridge, it would've also melted with him.

After an hour, Phum agrees with Fang about Peem needing a break but he also knows better than to suggest it because he knows Peem couldn't bring himself to abandon his class a month before their exams. So he says, "I'll be back very, very soon. And then your students will see just how happy you can be. Okay?"

And Peem hangs on to that okay for the next month, hangs on as if for dear life. And in this month, unbeknownst to Toey himself because he really does not care for Instagram notifications when he has his P'Q in the most romantic setting of the century, Toey's instagram account gains about fifty new followers who all have the same goal- plot revenge on Q.

[coopigeoncoo]

Meat Cute, Chapter 8

Chapter Links: First, Previous <- Chapter 8 ->Next

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature (rating may change)

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Cannibalism, Reader is a cannibal, Fake/pretend relationship, Puns, Raccoon Reader, Tags may change, Swearing

---

In a bid to appear more approachable to the denizens of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor enlists the help of his favorite butcher to step into the roll of an (after)lifetime: pretending to be his paramour!

---

“You can't deny we have so much in common,” Alastor's grinned, his smile somehow, impossibly, widening even farther as he leaned down on the counter on a single elbow; his nose nearly touching yours as you stood frozen in place. “I'm somewhat of a Butcher myself, you know.”

–--

A story where one thing is certain: the steaks are never bigger than when love is on the line.

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to A03!

Alastor led you back towards the hotel proper, where the immaculately dressed masses were milling about; nibbling on hors d'oeuvres and politely clapping when the imps in the string quartet would finish playing yet another unidentifiable classical number.  

Lucifer himself stood at the center of it all, holding court and seemingly in his element as he laughed politely at whatever the stiff-looking socialite next to him had said.  In an unexpected show of mercy, Alastor pivoted you both away from the King and towards the fringes of the party, where Princess Charlotte was gesturing frantically at a group of women whose shoulders were quaking with barely suppressed laughter.  

“Pardon my intrusion,” Alastor said, slipping next to Charlie with a bow.  “I wanted to make sure I had the opportunity to properly introduce the two of you.”

“Oh!” Charlie exclaimed, having been so wrapped up in her spiel that she had failed to notice you and Alastor's approach.  “I remember you!  You work at the butcher shop, right?”

“That's me,” you confirmed brightly, watching the women Charlie had previously been lecturing slip away out of the corner of your eye; giggling with one and other behind their hands.  

“I hardly recognized you without all the, y'know, blood,” Charlie laughed, adjusting her hold on a large stack of pamphlets in her arms.  

“I get that a lot.”

“Me, too!” Alastor laughed, tugging you closer to his side. “We really are quite the matching pair, aren't we?”

“Like rats and the plague,” you agree with an indulgent tilt of your head, fluttering your eyelashes in a way you hope appeared demure in the face of Charlie's disbelief.  

“Such a charmer!” Alastor cooed, extending one of his wickedly sharp claws and drawing it slowly towards your face.  Breathlessly, you watched as the talon drew closer and closer; eyes eventually crossing when Alastor used his claw to tap you playfully on the nose.  

“Oh- huh,” Charlie murmured, obviously shocked by the familiar way Alastor was treating you.  “This is…unexpected- but good!  Very good!   You seem to have grown close, uh, pretty quickly-”

“Charlie, my dear, are you implying that my companion is fast ?” Alastor inquired, his head ticking to the side menacingly. “Wanton?  A woman of ill repute?”

“Oh, dear,” you tsked worryingly, patting down the front of your dress.  “I seem to have misplaced my scarlet letter!”

“You must have left it in the gutter you crawled out of this morning,” Alastor sighed, shaking his head fondly.  “You're such a forgetful little thing.”

“Wha- NO!” Charlie belted out loudly, her free hand flapping about in front of her in a placating manner.  “That isn't what I meant at all!”

“Oh?” Alastor intoned doubtfully.  “Do go on, then.”

“It's just- you're…not easy to get to know, Alastor.  So to see someone be so close to you, it's- well,” Charlie sighed, racking her brain for the best way to explain herself.  “I guess there's really no timeline for these sorts of things, huh?  When you know, you know.”

You were suddenly acutely aware of the lies poised to tumble from your mouth at Alastor's behest; the deception on your tongue a bitter contrast to the Princess’ sweet sincerity.  

“I really appreciate you coming out and supporting the hotel today,” Charlie beamed, leading you closer to the buffet table where Angel Dust and a rag-tag looking group, likely the other hotel residents, had gathered.    

“Once Alastor extended the invitation I simply had to come!” You replied honestly, hating the way that outright lying about your situation made you feel and doing your best to talk around it.  Thankfully, Alastor seemed to enjoy your duplicity, a pleased chuckle rumbling from his chest when he thought you were being especially clever.   

“I'm pleased with the turnout,” Charlie continued on.  “Fingers crossed that the big crowds translate to big donations!”

“Donations?” you inquire, confused about why the daughter of the most powerful man in Hell would need to crowdsource her funding.  

“Yep!  This is supposed to be a fundraising event to increase community involvement,” Charlie explained.  “We could just fund things ourselves, but we thought that people might be more invested in our efforts if they, well- invested!”

“And what are they investing in, exactly?  The hotel?”

“Oh, no!  We're branching out into the surrounding neighborhoods, trying to build local ties, you know?” Charlie chirped excitedly, passing you one of the pamphlets she'd been carrying all day.  “So we're looking to start a grant program for sinners looking to open up businesses that would benefit the entire Pride Ring.  Methadone clinics, detox centers, restaurants willing to work with us to provide meals to the destitute- that sort of stuff!” 

“You’ll be needing this,” Alastor said, sliding a long stemmed glass smoothly into your hand. You accept it without complaint, aware of the many eyes upon you, anxiously darting between you and the drink Alastor had passed your way.  Without hesitating you brought the glass up to your lips and took a long sip, displaying a level of trust in Alastor that you didn't actually possess.  

If Alastor wanted you dead, there wasn't really anything you could do about it anyway.  And honestly, if poison was how he'd chosen to go about murdering you then you'd count yourself beyond lucky.  It would be an unprecedented show of compassion on his part to kill you quickly when you'd heard rumors of him disemboweling sinners, using their intestines to trim his Christmas tree, and then keeping them alive and in agonizing pain to ring in the New Year with him.   

Charlie had continued talking as you drank, blissfully unaware of the dramatic scene playing out right under her nose.  

“-so we've been trying to recruit donors for the Sir Pentious Entrepreneurial Resource Management fund!”

You took another sip of your blood wine, savoring the rich metallic tang, and made the mistake of looking down at the pamphlet in your hand.  Seeing the words printed out in bold text at top of the brochure made everything in your brain suddenly click.

With a loud snort, you spat your mouthful of wine back into your glass, helplessly coughing into your hand in an attempt to clear your airway.  A handkerchief appeared in front of your face and you readily accepted it, dabbing at the wet spots you felt on your lips and chin.

“Princess -,” you finally manage to sputter out.

“Call me Charlie!”

“-alright, Charlie,” you capitulated easily, recognizing that there were far more important matters immediately at hand. “Just to, ah- clarify the situation, here.  You do realize you spent an entire day encouraging people to become SPERM Donors, right?”

“I- No!” Charlie screeched, aghast at your accusation.  “It's the Sir Pentious Entrepreneurial Resource Management fund!”

“Yes, and SPERM is the acronym, ” you grimaced, body flooding with second hand embarrassment for the poor woman.  Charlie stared down at the pamphlets in her arms in disbelief before throwing her head back and releasing a pitiful wail towards Heaven.

“It all makes so much sense now,” she groaned, letting the pamphlets fall from her arms and scatter to the floor as she clutched her head in misery.  “All the laughing , that one woman saying that she ‘wasn't equipped’ to make a donation, Angel wanting to call the event ‘Hoeing Weeds and Sowing Seeds'- ”

Charlie abruptly paused, spinning to face Angel Dust.  

“You knew!” Charlie bellowed, pointing an accusatory finger at him.  “You knew and you didn't tell me!”

“Hey now,” Angel Dust called out, raising all of his arms into the air defensively.  “Don't go puttin’ all the blame on my supple shoulders!  Everyone else here knew about it, too!”

“Everything was just happening so fast,” a dour-faced woman said, placing her gray hands on Charlie's shoulders comfortingly.  “By the time we noticed the, uh- typo, you'd already made handouts and put flyers up around the city.”

Things only devolved into further chaos from there, with accusations flying about who knew what and when.  Cautiously, you withdrew from the fray, placing yourself back at Alastor's side.  

“Are they always so…,” you paused, searching for the right word as Angel Dust reached onto the bar, grabbed a cocktail glass in each hand, and spiked them onto the ground in frustration.  “Spirited? ”

“Goodness, no!” Alastor chuckled, pulling you to the side and out of the way of the scattering glass shards.  “This is a rather subdued bit of bedlam, all things considered.  It barely even registers on the scale of exciting events that have happened this week! ”

Tag List:

@wendds @matpatsstuff @qardasngan @polytheatrix @sirens-and-moonflowers  @venusdandy

[untaemedqueen]

At Your Service

Escort!Jeongguk x CEO!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 23.

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Angst, Fluff, Cold Heartedness, Emotional Trauma, Healing, Smut, Dark Humor

Warnings For This Chapter: TEA

To step on campus again feels like stepping into a past reality that Guk isn't so sure he's comfortable with.

The month that Joon was supposed to be gone turned into two and Jeongguk found a niceness in having a regular schedule… until he ended up coming back, of course.

The annoyance of seeing the blonde man started to creep up once again once he came back. Joon seemed like he was coping well until he wasn't. His personality and his actions reverted right back to how he was before he went on vacation. You attested it to Namjoon breaking up with his vacation fling but Jeongguk couldn't forgive him for acting in such a way.

So when you bought him a car and you told him to enroll once more to Stanford, he was relieved in a way. But now as he steps onto the green for his first classes of the semester, he's having scary flashbacks to when he was last here.

Leaning against one of the big trees, he takes a deep calming breath. The last time he was here, it was a distressing mess.

Moving out of his dorm room, saying goodbye to all of the girls that used to pay him… it hurts his soul to think about.

Guk is excited for his classes though, to think about experiencing learning his favorite things once more without having the struggle of escorting excites him.

Taking a deep breath and looking over to the science building, he can only smile to himself. "Okay, let's go."

The walk isn't long, it's nice to take in the fresh fall air as the wind whips around him soothingly. The sounds of excited college students talking all around him fills him with determination.

"Excuse me?"

His head turns slowly, having to look down at the girl who has tapped his shoulder.

He gives her a small friendly smile, unsure what he can do to help her or why she's called him but she seems incredibly confident in her pink and white houndstooth dress. There's something elite about her in a way, maybe it's her confident smile or maybe it's how she crosses her arms.

"Do you need help finding your building?" she inquires.

There's a heavy bit of flirting on her end, smoothness curling off of her tongue to no avail. Just behind her are two other girls, people that the father of your child assumes are something of a posse for this girl.

"Oh no, thanks. I got it," he breathes, once again giving a smile to be off.

When he goes to turn around, she stops him by pressing her perfectly manicured hand to his bicep. "That was my way of asking you if you wanted to hang out."

He hums knowingly, fixing his shoulder bag. "Oh, I know. I'm just not interested. Thanks though."

"Excuse me?" she grumbles, blinking at his words.

College will forever and always be the same, Guk guesses.

"Have a good day," your fiance says curtly, taking off towards the science building.

"Are you kidding me?!" she gasps, laughing aloud.

"I'm married," he calls back to her, not even turning around.

"Girl, you didn't see him in the tabloids? His fiance is like mega rich or something," one of the posse guffaws, earning a smile on the father of your child's face.

Some things never change. Only people do.

Jeongguk has missed this so much. The satisfaction of learning his favorite subject is simply awe-inspiring. As soon as he sat down in his first lecture of the day, he realized just how much he needed this. He needs to learn, he needs to use his brain and more than anything he needs to have like minds around him.

How could he ever have gone so long without using his mind like this? How could he ever have been an escort when his calling is physics? And the only reason he could do all this is you.

He has been getting weird looks all day, not because he's new (he doesn't think so anyway) but because both him and yourself have been slapped over news articles for the past two months.

Once he started working at your company, once you started really showing off his baby, the media began to eat it up. He can still remember tabloid headlines now, the quick witted words stuck in his brain like gum on a shoe.

The Queen Of Wine Wraps Her Vines Around The Perfect Man.

Self Made Millionaire Grabs Handsome Man As Prize For Her Own.

Aloof Millionaire Finally Finds It In Her Heart To Settle Down.

Wine Owner Comes Down From Her Tower, Pregnant And Barefoot For The World To See.

You seemed to only mind that they were talking about Guk without his permission but he didn't care. He has you and his son, he has happiness and love, who is he to care?

Putting his laptop back into his shoulder bag, he takes a look around the lecture hall he sat in so many years ago. Everything is the same, the wall paint, the large podium, the projector screen with the thinnest crack in it -- everything.

His professor is not the same but he finds comfort in that. He wouldn't want his old professor to see him once again and be weary of his dedication to learning.

As the rest of the students depart, his professor calls his name without looking away from his binder. "Jeongguk Jeon?"

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he tilts his head. "Yes, Professor Haleford?"

He descends the long set of stairs, minding a few other students who give him curious glances on their way out.

When the room is empty, Haleford looks up. "I see here that you've taken this class previously for a year before dropping out, not just of physics but the whole college."

Guk chuckles awkwardly, running his hand over the back of his neck. So much for comfort and no awkwardness.

"Yeah, I…I couldn't afford it back then. But now that I can, I want to dedicate myself to this subject and everything it has to offer. This is my passion," your fiance breathes, looking down at his shoes.

"Interesting. Y'know, the professor before me, Professor Albastone, he wasn't so much of a forward thinker. He had his ways about him and his strict thinking, always wanting to be the next Hawking, but y'know… this is theoretical physics! You can't be set in your ways, your mind has to always be expanding! You have to always keep your mind open!"

Jeongguk nods, immediately entranced by the man's words and yet confused on what else there is to say.

"I did end up coming across the mandatory papers Albastone made you all right during your first term. And I remembered your name almost immediately because your paper got me thinking. The words you wrote, the theories of why sand is so fluid, why certain elements transform into sound, already known structures and yet sand is a mass unlike others, got me thinking. And to be quite honest, I like that. I like your outlook and your ability to question even the most simple of things. It takes an expansive mind to do so."

Widening his eyes, the father of your child smiles. This professor is complimenting him when he himself proved that quantum geometry is sound and concrete.

"Oh," Guk breathes airily, "Wow! Thank you so much."

Haleford gives him a small smile, nodding to himself almost as if he's determining something right then and there.

"I look forward to working and learning with you, Jeongguk."

"Yes! Me as well, Professor! Thank you!"

They shake hands, Guk's being maybe just the slightest bit too sweaty and over excited but his face is beaming with a large smile.

"I'll see you tomorrow, maybe sure you bring that brain with you. Hmm?" Haleford grins, grabbing his briefcase.

Your fiance nods enthusiastically, reaching for the strap of his shoulder bag and looking around the lecture hall once more.

As the door slams shut and as he sighs brightly, his phone begins to ring. The vibrating in his pocket is endless and he raises an eyebrow. You're probably on your way home from work by now. Hopefully you're alright.

When he pulls out his cell, At Your Service is easily readable and he simply blinks at it. Maybe Jimin or Taehyung are calling to ask him how his first class of the year went?

"Hello?" he answers, making his way out of the room.

"Big dog!"

Guk tilts his head confused, eyebrows pinching at the voice.

"Hey Tony? How can I help you?"

Why on Earth would Tony be calling him?

"Hey dude! I just have a quick question for you, if that's cool. I know you're all shacked up with your pregnant mama bear and what not."

Guk immediately cringes at his words, face scrunching up like he has just smelt the worst shit of all time.

"Uh," he breathes awkwardly, "Yeah, sure. What do you want -- What do you need? Sorry."

The laugh his former boss and college mate gives signifies he has absolutely no idea what kind of person he is and in a way Jeongguk finds that hilarious.

Rolling his eyes, he exits the science building.

"So, you know that we do questionnaires and wait lists to become a client for At Your Service, right?"

"Yeah, sure. That's why we were always so reputable," Guk agrees, heading to his car.

"Right! Exactly! Oh man! I fuckin' miss you, dude… Anyway, a lot of the time, rich cronies will often add in a reference client that they know to help quicken the process. As you know, Applehyme only got in as fast as she did because she had Ada Steinberg's reference."

Your fiance nods, placing the phone between his shoulder and ear to dig through his bag to find his car keys. "Uh huh."

"So I was going through the applications this morning and I found one that has your name as a reference!"

Guk immediately stops moving, blinking at Tony's words curiously. "What?!"

"I know, right?! I was like, 'Damn, I'm never gonna get away from this handsome kid!' So that's why I'm calling, for your reference."

"Hold on," Guk breathes, opening up the driver's side door and throwing his shoulder bag onto the seat beside him. He puts the phone on speaker and leans back into his seat, folding his arms.

Who the fuck would use him as a reference? He doesn't even know anybody!

"Okay. Sorry, I was getting in my car."

"Niiiiice, big dog! What're you driving these days?"

Oh God, please… not small talk with Tony. Anything but this.

"A Ferrari F60 America," he mumbles, turning on the engine.

"Oh damn! Pregnant mama bear has some coin! You lucky son of a bitch!"

"I am lucky, yes… Who was the person who put me down as a reference?" Guk asks, taking a sip of his water.

"Oh! Right! Some kid named Jasper… Hyde?"

The words make the water come flying out of his mouth at high speed and he coughs loudly, throwing his head back.

"It's weird too. The guy works for Albion Motors, it's not like he's a businessman or anything. He has no assets and nothing to get in but your name."

Your fiance still continues to cough, wiping at his dashboard with a weak hand.

"O-Oh my God!" he croaks out, lowering his window for fresh air.

"So… Should I process his form?"

Guk takes in a large breath of air before settling. "I gotta tell Y/-- Hold off, I have to speak to someone about it first. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Yeah, no problem, dude. It's not like I'm going anywhere. And neither is he."

"Great! I gotta get on the road, Tony. I'll call you back."

"No problem, big dog. We'll talk tomorrow. Take it easy. Say hi to the pregnant mama bear for me."

When the line goes dead, Jeongguk starts to voraciously laugh aloud, eyes practically watering as he replays the conversation in his mind.

"I gotta get home," he chuckles, putting on his seatbelt.

As soon as your fiance opens up the front door to the mansion, Hawking is there to greet him with big paws and an open excited mouth.

"Hey, buddy!" he hisses softly, the sound getting swallowed by the opera music in the background.

The scent of chicken and spices sings through the air, alerting him of your cooking and he simply smiles at the thought.

Pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen, probably burning something.

He sets down his shoulder bag on the entryway table and sets out towards the kitchen with his Great Dane in tow.

When he sees you, leaning over the pot curiously with your face practically shoved into the hot metal, he smirks. Leaning against the wall, he folds his arms to take in this moment.

You have your hand wrapped protectively over your seven month bump and you're in a black one shoulder dress that screams expensive.

Goddamn. He's lucky as fuck.

"Hey beautiful," he calls out, hoping not to scare you.

You still screech, grabbing the metal spoon beside you as a weapon and he simply snorts at the sight.

"Very menacing," he teases, striding over and planting a gentle kiss to your lips.

You giggle softly, setting down the spoon and leaning back against the counter so he can rub your belly like always.

"How's my boy?" he inquires, looking down into the large pot. "Jesus Christ, what the hell are you trying to make? A bomb?"

You guffaw, folding your arms. "Chicken Cacciatore. Your son would probably like it."

"Doubt it," he murmurs, pulling the pot off the flame and into the sink, "I told you I was going to cook for you when I got home."

"Well, I wanted to surprise you on your first day of classes!"

"That's very sweet of you, baby. And I appreciate the gesture but let me take care of things like this. You worry about my boy. Go sit down, your ankles must be swollen," he orders, kissing your temple and grabbing a side towel to sling over his shoulder.

"Fine," you grumble, making your way around the open marble kitchen to sit at the bar in front of him.

Guk opens the fridge, expertly grabbing ingredients without hesitation.

"How was your first day?" you inquire happily, rubbing your belly in soothing motions.

Once Guk grabs the sharp kitchen knife, he widens his eyes and slams it down. "You're never gonna believe what happened!"

You tilt your head curiously, leaning forward on your elbows already enthralled by his words. "Tell me, tell me!"

"Well, one, I'm brilliant. So Professor Haleford immediately recognized it. He read one of my previous reports on why sand flows through objects like water. He said I have a very expansive mind."

You remember his excitement all those months ago before you got together. You can remember how inquisitive and bright he looked, so you simply nod. "You are brilliant."

He leans across the bar to sweetly boop your nose before going back to his story.

"Then… When I was leaving… I got a call," he hisses, grabbing one of the onions and slamming it down onto the cutting board.

You're hanging onto his every word, the pauses for dramatic effect making you lean closer and closer.

"From who?!" you gasp, putting your fist beneath your chin.

"Tony," he breathes, widening his eyes.

"That asshole from the escort agency?" you ask, tilting your head.

"Yes! The asshole from the agency… he said hi, by the way," he replies, grabbing the knife.

"Hello, asshole," you murmur, leaning closer, "What did he want?"

"At the agency, people need to have applications to become a member. And most of the clients that get in have references from other people. Like your application had Namjoon as a reference, remember?"

You nod once more, back into the enthralling mood like a fly to shit.

"So Tony calls me and tells me that I'm somebody's reference on their application!"

"What?!" you hiss, seeming confused.

"I know! I felt the same way! I was like who the fuck is using me as a reference?! I don't even know anybody!"

When he suddenly slams down the knife again, you widen your eyes curiously.

"Guess who it fucking was," he hisses, looking up at you.

"Uhhh," you breathe, looking around the kitchen and trying to pull a guess out of your ass in hope that you're right.

Guk simply smiles, watching how badly you want to get this right but he knows that it's a long shot for you to guess this. You don't even think about him anymore.

"I-I don't know," you reply sullenly.

"Do you wanna know? Do you want me to tell you?" Guk chuckles, cursing his hand over your cheek.

"Yes! Tell me! I'm literally dying to know!" you whine, stomping your feet against the bottom of the bar stool.

"You're never gonna believe it," he guffaws, waiting an extra moment for dramatic value, "Jasper Hyde."

"WHAT?!" you yell, widening your eyes.

"Mhm," he replies sassily, grabbing the knife again.

"Oh my God, why would he want that? Adi is whore. She'd let him piss on her chest if that's what he wanted."

Your fiance breaks out into a loud laugh, steadying himself on the marble countertop.

"So what did you say?"

"Nothing," he breathes, chopping up the onion.

"Why not?!" you inquire, now placing both closed fists beneath your chin.

"Because, one, I wanted to tell you first. And, two, I am going over the choice."

"There are choices?" you ask, watching his majestic knife work.

"Oh yeah. I'm still not over what he said about you at his wedding. It's like one of those things that I think about right before I go to sleep at night. I always think, 'Damn, I should have punched him in the fucking mouth for even talking about you like that.' Rumination is a pain in my fucking ass sometimes. So I'm thinking about telling Tony to let Jasper in."

You hum in agreement, watching him scrape the onion into a new pot.

"The first escorting gig a client goes to gets photographed, y'know. It didn't happen to us because you ended up not being my client. But someone follows you on your first 'date' as a precaution so that the escort is safe. So if I could get pictures of Jasper and whichever escort he chooses. That'd be premium content right there."

"Diabolical," you chirp, earning his eyes on you.

The wicked smile he gives you makes you snort and you simply lay your head down on the cool marble beneath you.

"Man, I really turned you inside out. That's some shit I would do," you announce with a laugh.

"First I think I'll have Tony call him for an interview. I wanna know what's going on in their little sad marriage."

"Man, we are so fucking nosy," you hiss, looking at your nails.

Jeongguk simply shrugs, grabbing a bell pepper. "It's called research, baby. I'm a college student again. I have to do my due diligence and see my expansive mind's theories to the very best of my ability."

You simply laugh, shaking your head at his ridiculousness.

But then again, you're incredibly curious yourself.

[lisa972kdlz]

(Il y a une version française juste en dessous: Bonne lecture !)

UNDERVERSE THEORY:

Have you noticed it too?

That soul, there...

TheeeeeEEEEre !

Have you ever wondered who it might belong to?

When I was listening to the song "Broken Truce", my eyes glided over this soul without lingering on it. I told myself it was just a slightly strange heart like so many others you find with the different OC's the Creators come up with... But the day my brain finally twiged that it wasn't normal, it made me wonder...

Huh, that's strange... A weird soul covered in black in an image illustrating a song in a web series that has a habit of playing on words and images to imply clues... shown directly in the foreground, blurred what's more, interesting, isn't it? I've checked the series and I've never found in Error's cables any souls other than the normal ones; monster souls and red Determination souls. Not even human souls like Kindness, Patience, Justice, etc. Jakei is a person who pays attention to detail. Given that she animates her series on her own and that it's a mammoth task, she's got into the habit of not cluttering up her plans with unnecessary details. So why would she stick a random soul in there?

That's when I said to myself: no. This soul has a meaning. But whose could it be? And why would it be in Error's possession?

There are lots of characters whose souls are gloomy and a bit odd... Error, X-Gaster, Fatal Error, Fresh, Nightmare...

Firstly, even if it looks like one, it can't be Nightmare's because his soul is an apple. Anyway, Error's cables have no effect on him, and then, well... It simply wouldn't make any sense or be of any interest to the story.

Error's then? After all, he's a corrupt being in a way, and we're talking about an appearance in a song about his relationship with Ink. But even if he had one... It would be glitchy and certainly not that different from basic monster souls. Same goes for Fatal.

Gaster has his soul in his possession and it doesn't look like that anyway...

Fresh, his soul is directly the parasite...

Gee, who could that be?

Ink 🤔?

No, I'm such an idiot! It can't be Ink's soul because Ink has no soul ^^ !

...

Wait...

INK HAS NO SOUL (⁠┛⁠◉⁠Д⁠◉⁠)⁠┛⁠彡⁠┻⁠━⁠┻ !!!!!!

Here's my theory: the soul in Error's threads is Ink's soul. Let's look at it: it's covered in a kind of blackish liquid with bluish tints. Black liquid is often associated with hatred or suffering. And if not, it's simply covered with ink. And blue, whether in general or in Underverse 0.7's context, is associated with sadness. So: sadness and suffering, in a concentration so strong that it had an impact on the very appearance of the soul... The emotions Ink must have been feeling when he was stripped of his essence! Ink suffers from severe denial in relation to the emotion represented by the blue, since it's the only one that's always full, so it coincides. And whose soul would it be otherwise? Why would Jakei have drawn it in THIS video specifically? A song about Ink and Error? Why in the foreground, showing that it's important, and blurred, showing that it's a hidden element that will be revealed in the near future?

And why would the soul have ended up in Error's threads? It's not hard to imagine, Error has a whole gallery of souls in his Anti-Void. He'd clearly be able to wander into an empty AU at random and find it on the floor, going, "Oh, that's a pretty one, why don't I add it to my collection?"

But what I like most about this theory is everything it would involve:

It would mean that Ink could get his soul back at the end of Underverse, bringing to a close his character development. See him finally come to terms with his feelings and get his soul back so that he can feel for himself, freely, accepting what that involve and facing once and for all the suffering he has ostensibly been running away from...

It would mean that finally, there's a reason why Ink live even without a soul in his body, because well, that's something I've always wondered about his character! His soul has been extracted from his body, but his body is still moving, and lives only on the emotions provided by the ink in his vials, like Kris in Deltarune when he rips out his soul.

It would mean that, come on, he might be able to recover a viable memory?

And above all... It would mean that Error had the opprtunity to kill Ink for good FROM THE BEGINNING and that he was incapable of doing it just because he didn't know it was his 🤣 !!!! And THAT is handsome!

Error at this moment:

An hilarious polt twist–

Unless he'd simply forgotten he had it, which is... Clearly possible coming from Error.

The only problem with this theory is that, in Ink's comic, he doesn't just rip it off his body... He's tearing it apart. The soul completely crumbles to dust. So canonically speaking, it's impossible.

That said, it's a detail that can easily be overlooked if you're keen to incorporate the idea into a story, especially as Underverse never set out to make complete canon.

So why not?

In any case, if this theory is wrong in Underverse, I think it's still a great Headcanon ^^

__________________

THÉORIE UNDERVERSE :

Vous aussi vous l'avez remarquée ?

Cette âme, là...

LÀ !

Vous ne vous êtes jamais demandé a qui elle pouvait appartenir ?

Quand j'écoutais la chanson "Broken Truce" mon regard avait glissé sur cette âme sans m'y attarder. Je me disais que c'était juste un cœur un peu bizarre comme tant d'autres qu'on trouve avec les différents OC's qu'imaginent les Créateurs... Mais le jour où mon cerveau à enfin tilté que c'était pas normal, elle m'a beaucoup interrogée...

Primo : tiens, c'est bizarre... Une âme étrange recouverte de noir dans une image illustrant une chanson dans une websérie qui a l'habitude de jouer sur les mots et les images pour sous-entendre des indices... montrée direct au premier plan, floue qui plus est, intéressant, non ?

Segundo : j'ai vérifié dans la série et je n'ai jamais trouvé dans les fils d'Error d'autres âmes que les normales, des âmes de monstres et des âmes rouge de Détermination. Même pas des âmes d'humain comme Gentillesse, Patience, Justice, etc.

Tertio : Jakei est une personne qui fait attention aux détails. Étant donnée qu'elle anime toute seule sa série et que c'est un travail de titan, elle a pris l'habitude de ne pas encombrer ses plans de détails inutiles. Alors pourquoi elle fouterait une âme bizarre LÀ ?

C'est là que je me suis dit : non. Cette âme a un sens. Mais à qui pourrait-elle être ? Et pourquoi serait-elle en possession d'Error ?

Il existe plein de personnages dont l'âme est sombre et un peu bizarre... Error, X-Gaster, Fatal!Error, Fresh, Nightmare...

Premièrement, même si elle y ressemble, ça ne peut pas être celle de Nightmare vu que son âme est une pomme. De toute manière les câbles d'Error n'ont aucun effet sur lui, et puis surtout bah... Ça n'aurait aucun sens ni aucun intérêt scénaristique qu'elle serait là.

L'âme d'Error alors ? Après tout c'est un être corrompu d'un certain côté, et puis on parle tout de même d'une apparition dans une chanson parlant de sa relation avec Ink. Mais en admettant qu'il en aie une... Elle serait glitchée et très certainement pas si différente des âmes de monstres basique. Pareil pour Fatal.

X-Gaster a son âme en sa possession et de toute manière elle ne ressemble pas à ça...

Fresh, son âme est directement le parasite...

Mince, qui ça peut être ?

Ink 🤔?

Bah nan, qu'elle idiote je fais ! Ça peut pas être l'âme de Ink vu que Ink n'a pas d'âme ^^ !

...

Wait...

INK N'A PAS D'ÂME (⁠┛⁠◉⁠Д⁠◉⁠)⁠┛⁠彡⁠┻⁠━⁠┻ !!!!

Voilà ma théorie : l'âme qui est dans les fils d'Error est celle de Ink. Observons la : elle est couverte d'une sorte de liquide noirâtre aux reflets bleuté. Le liquide noir est très souvent associé à la haine, ou la souffrance. Et sinon, à l'encre tout simplement. Tandis que le bleu, que ce soit de manière générale ou dans Underverse 0.7, est plutôt associé à la tristesse. Tristesse et souffrance, en un concentré tellement fort que ça a eu un impact sur l'apparence même de l'âme. À savoir les émotions que devait ressentir Ink au moment où il s'est destitué de son essence... Ink qui souffre d'un gros déni par rapport à cette émotion représentée par le bleu vu que c'est la seule qui est toujours pleine, donc ça coïncide. Et à qui serait cette âme sinon ? Pourquoi Jakei l'aurait-elle dessinée dans CETTE vidéo spécifiquement ? Une chanson qui parle justement de Ink et d'Error ? Pourquoi en premier plan, montrant que cela a de l'importance, et floutée, montrant que c'est un élément caché qui sera révélé dans un futur proche ?

Pourquoi l'âme se serait retrouvée dans les fils d'Error ? Pas compliqué à imaginer, Error possède une galerie entière d'âmes dans son Anti-Void. Il serait clairement capable de se balader dans un AU vide au hasard et la trouver par terre en mode : «Oh, tiens, elle est jolie celle-là, et si je l'ajoutais à ma collection ?»

Mais ce qui me plaît le plus avec cette théorie, c'est tout ce que cela impliquerait :

Ça voudrait dire que Ink pourrait récupérer son âme à la fin de la série, concluant en beauté son développement de personnage qui le poussait à assumer enfin ses sentiments et récupérer son âme pour ressentir par lui-même, librement, en acceptant ce que ça implique et en affrontant une bonne fois pour toute la souffrance qu'il a ostensiblement fuie...

Ça voudrait dire que finalement, il y a une raison pour laquelle Ink est encore vivant même sans âme dans son enveloppe corporelle, parce que bon, c'est quand même quelque chose que je me suis toujours demandée sur son personnage ! Il a son âme extraite de son corps mais son corps est encore en mouvement, et ne vit que par les émotions procurées par l'encre de ses fioles. Ça s'est déjà vu dans des éléments canons, quand Kris de Deltarune il s'arrache l'âme.

Ça voudrait dire que, allez, si ça se trouve, il pourrait récupérer une mémoire viable ?

Et surtout... Ça voudrait dire qu'Error avait DEPUIS LE DÉBUT l'occasion de tuer Ink pour de bon et qu'il était pas fichu de le faire parce qu'il était pas au courant que c'était la sienne 🤣 !!! Et ÇA, c'est trop fort !

Error :

Un retournement de situation hilarant xD

À moins qu'il aurait tout simplement oublié qu'il l'avait en sa possession, ce qui est clairement possible venant d'Error.

Le seul problème qui vient à l'encontre de cette théorie, c'est que dans le Comic de Ink, il ne fait pas que se l'arracher à son corps... Il se la déchire. L'âme tombe complètement en poussière. Donc canoniquement parlant, c'est impossible.

Cela dit, c'est un détail qui peut être facilement négligé si on a envie d'intégrer cette idée à une histoire, surtout qu'Underverse n'a jamais eu la prétention de faire du canon complet.

Donc après tout pourquoi pas ?

Dans tous les cas, si cette théorie est fausse dans Underverse, je trouve que ça reste un super Headcanon ^^

Ink belongs to @comyet

Error!Sans belongs to @loverofpiggies

Underverse belongs to @jakei95

"Broken Truce" belongs to @nyxtheshield

[weirdmorefics]

Unmasked Chpt 1- The Call

Word Count- 1,461

Morning came slowly I stayed up most of the night with nightmares. The nightmares are usually worse this time of year, I think it is my mind's way of reminding me of the anniversary of the first Ghostface murders. My brain is wrong though I need no reminder. The only thing keeping me at all sane during the night is the fact that Spencer is not lecturing today and I will get to see him in the morning at work.

I walk into the BAU with a box of donuts for the team since we are all stuck doing boring paperwork today.

"Morning kid, you look like shit. Long night?" Rossi says full of humor.

I roll my eyes and open the box of donuts, "Hey, don't bite the hand that feeds you."

Rossi puts his hands up in surrender then grabs a donut, "Thanks, kid."

As he walks away I shout "Could you stop calling me kid too because that would be great!"

I set the donuts down in the breakroom and picked out one of Spencer's favorites to set on his desk.

I approach Spencer's desk and set the napkin-wrapped donut down on his desk. "Morning Reid,"

"Thank you, Y/n morning to you too. Did you know Americans consume ten billion donuts every year?"

I smile "Well let's make that ten billion and one." My phone cuts off the conversation and I see my sister's contact photo, "Excuse me I have to take this..." I hope he didn't notice my face shift to an anxious one.

Sidney never calls only texts and she still barely does that. She thinks I am an idiot for chasing after the crazy people who kill when enough killers already come after us.

"Do not come to Woodsboro," Sidney states in a serious tone as soon as I pick up my cell.

"Wow, what a lovely way to begin a call! No, hey sis how are you?" I bite back sarcastically.

"Did you hear me Y/n? Do not come to Woodsboro!" She repeats.

" I wasn't planning on going to that hell town anytime soon. What's going on with you? Shouldn't you be busy with your book tour or something?" I respond trying not to sound concerned.

"He's back Y/n," she whines out.

I swallow deeply and walk away from the desks and towards Penelope's office she is never here this early anyway. "This isn't funny Sidney."

"I am in Woodsboro and my rental car has a murder weapon in it and ripped-up pictures of my face and yours. Oh and did I forget to mention two kids were murdered in the same exact way as the original ones... so yeah I'd say he's back." She responds quickly in an angry panic.

I slam open Penelope's door and proceed to vomit my guts out in her trash can. I hear the wheels of her chair squeak as Penelope looks at me with concern as I dry heave in her trashcan. I definitely should have checked if anyone was in here first.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" Penelope asks softly.

"Sidney, I got to let you go," I breathe out and hang up on her.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead. Why does no one ever mention how exhausting dry heaving is?

"I'm fine Garcia," I try to sound detached. I can't be here. One thing that makes the Ghostface all the same is they want to kill the Prescotts and everyone they love.

"You really don't look fine," she says full of concern.

I try to exit without a word but Penelope is quick to follow to make sure I am okay. It must be an odd scene as Penelope chases me and I speed walk away. Especially since we are always attached at the hip.

I ignore everyone's gaze and walk into Prentiss's office without a word.

Prentiss was doing paperwork of her own and did not even look up, " I need a leave of absence as soon as possible... preferably today"

That statement made her head quickly whip away from her mess of papers, "This is awfully unlike you Y/n... has something happened."

The stress of the anniversary, Ghostface, and the worry of losing Spencer Reid after we just got him back from prison seem to boil all over at once. "I JUST NEED A LEAVE OF ABSENCE IS THAT SO HARD TO DO EMILY!" I shout so loud and instantly regret as I see all my team members' eyes on me from Emily's office window.

"I am sorry Prentiss," I put my hand to my forehead fighting back the anger and fear-induced tears. I have seen so many murders I should be used to it at this point but Ghostface will always be different he always comes back as someone new.

Emily stands up shutting the blinds to her office to halt the onlookers. "L/N you need to tell me what this is about, right now! I have never once seen you act like this."

I pace back and forth the last name I made up did nothing to protect me I will always be a Prescott. I just need to get out of here before they find that out. I take a deep breath, "I am really sorry I can't, I just can't tell you. It will just get you hurt. It will get the whole team hurt and I can't do that! Spencer just got back, Scratch is gone, and the team is almost back to normal I will not ruin it. I am going to leave either way I just needed you to know."

I turn to leave but Emily grabs my arm, "Agent, if you are in danger I need to know. One more thing you also seem to be forgetting is this team won't be normal without you."

A knock follows her statement, "Is everything okay? Garcia told me Y/n was sick. Does she need a drive home?" It's Spencer's voice I can tell immediately. The question makes this even harder. Why must he be so kind? Why can't I stand to leave him?"

Emily's gaze meets mine, "I recognize that look."

"Prentiss I don't have time for your profile," I whisper shout to prevent Spencer from hearing me.

"I know all too well what it's like to be undercover Y/n," Emily states compassionately.

"I have no idea what you mean?"

"Your file is suspiciously blank and sealed of all past background and Strauss assured me it's for the better. It is similar to what my file used to look like." Emily unfortunately continues to profile me.

I feel trapped I can't go to the door Spencer is there and there is no escaping Emily's questions.

Spencer proceeds to knock again, "Everything alright in there?"

I sigh, "Emily I will tell you everything if you leave the team out of this."

"Y/n you know I can't promise that," she frowns.

I grab her hands tightly, "You have to because I know how to deal with this but every time he comes back someone around me dies!"

"Who comes back Y/n?" Emily's tone changes to a demanding one like the one she uses in the interrogation room.

"Promise me you won't tell the team! Promise me you won't let Reid get involved." Tears prick my eyes I don't care that I am being blatant about my feelings for Reid nothing can happen because I am cursed to repeat the same horrors for the rest of my life.

Emily sighs, "I promise."

"Ghostface is back... and my last name isn't L/N... it's- it's Prescott," I stutter as the words come out like saying them would make this more real than it already is.

"As in the Woodsboro killings?" Emily asks in utter disbelief.

"Unfortunately... and I have to go back there, for my sister," I state. "You can not convince me not to, I can't lose her."

"Y/n we solve cases just like this we can do this as a team," She soothes.

"Tell that to the last agent who tried to help my sister and nearly died," my stress getting the better of me causing me to shout and not notice Spencer opening Prentiss's office door.

I felt the eyes on me once again, I doubt I can talk myself out of this one. The chance of a silent escape gone stuck in a room of profiles who could sense I am on the urge to bolt out the door. Then my phone starts to ring in my pocket, none of the team seems to notice when Emily gives me a knowing look. She clearly knows the Ghostface cases well they all start with a phone call.

Taglist- @bunbunbl0gs

[tartarduck]

words about tot chapter 9

Gave myself a solid day to stew in my thoughts about ch9 and I just want to say that mihoyo is EVIL for timing it right before the anniversary. I don't know if I can be happy knowing Luke is suffering all alone in every conceivable universe other than his personal story/card timeline.

Point 1: How the chapter explored Luke's feelings of guilt for... Existing I guess?

I've been eagerly awaiting the reveal of Luke's survivor's guilt. The whole [wanting spirits to exist so he can at least apologise, or do SOMETHING, but knowing they don't] is such exquisite angst. I'm very happy they took the effort to write it in (though fortune tellers actually scare me in real life).

And now onto the related Point 2: Luke's feelings of guilt for literally everything else

I was reading through Luke's birthday greetings, and realised how often he calls himself greedy for literally wanting anything. God damn, SHE IS YOUR GIRLFRIEND IT'S NOT GREEDY OF YOU TO WANT TO SPEND TIME WITH HER --

That aside, it comes back to the theme of Luke Pearce's thought process, which in my brain goes a little something like this:

Good thing happens -> I do not deserve this

Bad thing happens -> It is completely my fault and no one else's

Which, might I add, vaguely reminded me of something from a lecture I forgot from my psych undergrad years. I'm worried for you, Luke. Please, Dr Yishmir, refer him to one of your colleagues for mental health.

In his personal 'route', he finally starts to come around with the idea that sometimes bad things... just happen and it's no one's fault (thank you, strategically placed rainbow in iridescent heartbeat). But in the main story? He's been feeling guilty ever since he saw MC after avoiding her for YEARS. There's no Aaron meddling with the two of them, or MC helping him clean his mess of a house to kick-start a card story. This is the man who hid in the attic after sending his confession after a YEAR of dates with MC -- the main story doesn't even give him a chance to start forgiving himself.

Basically, Luke Pearce is a mess in the main story, because everything that makes him un-messy happens by pure chance.

Point 3: Luke's black and white thinking of good and bad

One of the highlights of this chapter for me was Luke's anecdote about him faking a cold so MC would go out with her other friends and forget about him. Now, that's all well and good until he compares himself to the mum with Munchausen's syndrome, who is the closest thing we get to a 'villain' in this chapter. On top of his guilt, this whole I'm either a good or completely bad person mindset is really not doing favours for his mental health.

His anecdote also happens to be an interesting parallel to shape of you, because I remember Luke specifically wished to be forgotten in that card. He wants what's best for MC (because he thinks that he's taking everyone's love from her) but he also wants something for himself. And because he doesn't believe he's able to do both, but also because he isn't able to let go of his 'selfishness' sometimes, he thinks he's an awful person.

And now, to the last to do in my rant agenda.

Point 4: what happens in chapter 12. (Spoilers for CN server, but only about the Luke scene)

1. Ohmygod. He's going to run away. I can't see main story Luke NOT blaming himself for nearly hurting the MC. In whichever timeline, his priority is to keep her safe, and god, if he thinks he's a danger to her, the only way to keep her safe would be by disappearing again.

2. I'm going to read too much into this but MC trying to get Luke to recognise her while she's being pinned to the ground is such delectable angst. He's always worried that she'd forget about him -- whether it was the 8 years or literally just hanging out with other kids at school. But here she is, in a situation where he's essentially forgotten about her. The voice that my brain concocted up for MC was extra desperate in that scene.

Anyway, that's all I had to say about the recent main story developments in ToT. Keep the angst coming, writing staff. What a power move to send this out right before anniversary on BOTH servers. If there's anything I've taken away from this, it's that Luke stans are absolutely unhinged. Twitter circle people, I see you requesting more angst. How can we get even angstier than Luke nearly hurting MC while he's dressed in the outfit that he wears for his proposal card ??

[tearsofcalamity]

wriofucker's fine by me lol unless u have another nickname that'd be both as accurate & funny!

i wasn't too clear earlier; i think our mandatory education goes up to 9th grade, and then it's like a minimum of 4(ish) years for a uni degree. so it's not all that different lol

nahh im telling you i had one macroeconomics class once and it fried my fuckin brain. only reason i could stand it was because the professor was too right-brained for his own good (he'd start his lectures with a song he liked. i wrote a bunch of barely-relevant shit abt environmental pollution on the exam—he was super passionate abt it—and he just let me pass<3 loved that guy). ik i said it before but good luck on ur studies!! im sure you'll absolutely kill it out there. and, thank sm! i actually finished the short story assignment last night but im too scared to submit it jdhdj

im so glad you've got more kaveh brewing omg he's so<33 bit of a shame you're not into kavetham (they make me bite & scream) but that's just fine; more kaveh/reader for the world! except the world is me and nobody else<3 can u imagine teasing kaveh in public, maybe he's even all nice & plugged up, and you're warning him not to let a single person figure out what's going on bc he's for your eyes only<3 but it's so difficult and you're relentless and it feels so, so good... he doesn't even care about people finding out anymore, but he wants to be a good boy for you... phew. lord have mercy

HAHA WRIOFUCKER IT IS THEN!! happy to have a named anon :D

ohhhh I see I see! okay yeah so it's pretty similar just a few differences! I think the only reason I'm surviving my business/econ work is cause I've got a math-wired brain lmfao. I've got autism ("high functioning" but I don't really like that term for it, I think the more acceptable one is "low support needs") and I got the "math autism" as my friends put it so that's probably a bigger part of it. I like making spreadsheets and working out equations HAHA, also thank you for the well wishes I actually just found out I passed calc 2 with an 82% so I'm very happy about that!! I'm glad to hear you got your short story done as well, sounds like you're moving through it all good <3!!

HONESTLY I don't hate the ships (like either kavetham or haikaveh I think they're different? like some shippers put the top's name first or something?? I'm not 100% sure) like I TOTALLY see the chemistry don't get me wrong, I think it's mainly just that I get so sad seeing like nearly 0 kaveh content without alhaitham included. I love both of them but kaveh's got such a unique and deep story too, yet people often just kinda treat him like an accessory to alhaitham likely cause he's 4 star and haitham is 5 star so it turns me off of the ships a bit </3 still though that's so true MORE KAVEH/READER!!!!

oh don't even get me started on teasing kaveh in public there's so many ways you could do it and each one would make him squirm more than the last... shove a nice little vibrator deep inside of him, remote controlled of course, and enjoy watching his knees practically buckle every time you up the intensity. ooh, maybe he's giving a one-time academic seminar for some kshahrewar students and you just stand in the corner, grinning at him all the while while he shakes and tries his best to keep his voice level, praying his face isn't as red as it feels...

or play around with him in the tavern, sit right next to him and brush your hand along his inner thigh while he squirms, not sure whether he wants to move closer or further way from you... this one's easier to hide since his flushed cheeks could easily be attributed to a bit too much to drink, but once he's grabbing at your wrist to push your hand into his bulge at last, he knows by your stare that he's messed up. I mean, he hadn't kept his promise to be good, had he? guess you'll just have to rail him over his workbench back at home when he least expects it! (totally ignore his needs/pretend he's not acting super horny when you get back at first, though, he'll be so good for you when you finally do bend him over)

[frostgears]

We Who Are Far From Home, ch. 6: Bree 4

Bree found herself staring over another railing. Instead of a frigid ocean, this one kept her from a two-kilometer drop. But oh, the view…

The sun rose behind her, glinting gold off a chain of mountain lakes and glowing through snowpack, leaving shadowed forested valleys alone with a promise of deeper greens later in the day. Worth protecting, she thought, and then, is this bit even mine? Nobody had yet gone to the trouble of painting red lines on the ground visible from airships. She couldn't tell Pact from Kingdom from unaligned from wilderness up here.

"Can't believe you used to be a little bratty underclasswoman," Emmerline said from behind her.

Bree turned, arranged her face in an approximation of an actual smile instead of an unsettling grin. "I was never a brat," she responded. "Best behavior at all times. Scholarship to maintain."

"Sure you were. Always got the last word in lecture and the first move on the dance floor. I was just thinking that you look so fucking dignified now."

"Hah. You want to know something horrifying that I picked up from the Fist?"

"You had me at 'horrifying'," Emmerline said.

"Ghoul."

Emmerline grinned, warmly, invitingly, a grin sculpted by a dozen generations of posh ancestry to produce one dangerously handsome woman. "Spill it," she said.

"You know they're calling me 'Bree the Blessed' now?"

"Get out. The Fist is?"

"They are. I'm sure they didn't invent it. The Fist idiot reading off the charges said 'commonly known as Bree the Blessed' right before they announced they were there to kill me."

"Well, that's a step up from 'Bree the Bodiless'. Which was never true anyway! You have a body."

"Mmm, yeah," Bree said, "that's what's got me brooding off the port bow of the Eternal Blue, as it happens. It's… I'm… I don't know. I think I'm starting to like it."

"We should all be so lucky,"

"I'm serious!"

"So am I. I don't get the problem."

"The body comes with certain habits. Or thoughts. You said 'dignified', right?"

"Yes, and I also said you used to be a huge brat. Couldn't go five minutes without starting something. Now you seem, I don't know, calmer. You've been hanging out at the bow for hours now, doing what, watching the clouds and thinking deep thoughts? Plus you look like you were born to have that cloak flap dramatically in the breeze. Well. Not born, I suppose. But it suits you either way."

"Em, this isn't me! I'm not sure what is me and what's the doll body and what's from the compulsions and constraints and bindings it was crafted with."

"You sure you didn't just grow up a bit?"

Bree tensed all of her frame actuators in frustration.

"I'd be more sure if I hadn't helped Coda build a few dozen like it with the same service compulsions. Mostly in the parts I can't swap out."

"Ah."

"I can practically feel the need to be a good helpful little… servant," she said, stopping "maid" just before it escaped her voice box. "And I don't know how far it extends! None of the dolls would ever have serious magic, power, allies, all the things I have, so I have no idea what'd happen if one got them! Am I only running around protecting the Kingdom because a bunch of control spells are woven into the pretty little reliquary where my brain should be? Or because that damned archon laid something even worse on it?"

Emmerline tilted her head, appraising.

"Bree. Darling. Two things. One: I'm under no such compulsions. I tracked you down, remember, after you saved my life? I'm here of my own free will." Emmerline held up a finger, then held up another. "So's Nost."

"Please. The way she looks at me. The things I've done to her—"

"It's a small airship. I've heard them. Has one of them been talking? Because I've had more than a few chats with her while waiting for your return. As obviously submissive as she is, Bree, as unassuming and as self-effacing as she can be, it's easy to forget that she's older and more experienced than either of us. She's been with good and bad partners, she's completely capable of choosing for herself. Oh, she also wants your body, but that's just her being an artificer."

"What about Zai?"

"Hmm, yes, Zai," Emmerline put up a third finger, furrowed her brow. "I have no idea. Is she here because she believes in you enough to go rogue, or is she the king's loyal servant, ready to stab us in our backs the instant we try something that Royal Intelligence wouldn't like? Sorry. Can't illuminate the bottom of that swamp," she said cheerily. "But that brings me to my second point: Zai's here and making herself useful because you started a fight with one of the great powers of the world, and by some measures, you are winning. How many of your dolls went and did that?"

Bree laughed, and turned from the rail. "Okay. Okay. Just me, so far. You might have a point."

"And you might still be a dramatic brat. Just a successful one. Stop questioning why everything, focus on how and when and where and what next and keeping the demon-fuckers in the Pact busy. Keep doing that and I'll back you up with all I've got."

"I'm not your underclasswoman any more, Em, I didn't even graduate. And we're a long way from the Academy now."

"Eh. Close enough. We Academy girls gotta stick together."

She offered a hand. Bree took it. Em pulled her, with some effort, into a hug.

"Did Zai put you up to this?" Bree said softly into Emmerline's ear.

"She only said you were moping near the bow."

"Not moping. Just… being. Promise."

"She did, however, have a suggestion for our next port of call."

---

"So you were able to get something out of those letters!" Bree cheered. "Nice. Thought our last excursion before I went north had been a bust."

"She helped," Zai said, jerking her head in Emmerline's direction.

"I recognized a phrase, that's all. Our pet spook had the first few words of the key worked out, and I just happened to remember the epigraph of 'Four Flowers on the Wind'. Funny that they used a Kingdom novel to key their code."

"You saved me at least a week, on that letter alone. And the reason they used a Kingdom novel is because it'd look strange to be caught with Pact literature. Now, the letter named a target for the squad you took it off two months ago, and Bree, you left them unable to exfiltrate and report?"

Bree nodded. "I did ask. Same as always. One chance, put your weapons down, walk away. No takers."

"I envy your ability to make the offer," Zai said suddenly. "You're strong, you can give them that one chance, knowing they'll almost certainly not take it. I'm weak, I fear giving my enemies anything, and I'll kill them before I offer them the chance to kill me." The spy had a pained expression.

"You wouldn't want to be a doll, Zai," Bree said. "Or would you? I'm not sure I'd recommend it."

The spy shook her head, her hair-bun wobbling side to side. "I think not. I've honed my own body; it does what I need." She pursed her lips briefly. "For now. Anyway, the letter: they're meant to converge three heavy squads at the Turquoise flower show, and the Pact noble Marchioness Miriya of Rostalpan is to be executed by the Fist, for the crime of collaboration with the Kingdom, in front of all the mingling aristos from both sides. Apparently Miriya loves flowers. She'd be an example for any other aspiring collaborators: don't even think about the other side of the fence."

"Is she a collaborator?"

"Not sure. Doesn't matter. We have the means and opportunity to visit Turquoise, and look like we're meant to be there right up until we counter-ambush the Fist."

"Miriya. Miriya," Bree said. "Heard that name before, I think. What do you know about her, Zai? Em?"

"Rostalpan is a poor march and house by the standards of human Pact nobility. No demonic patronage. That's all the Service knew when I left," the spy said, "a two-line entry in the Big Book. Didn't rate anything in the Little Book."

"Artist," Emmerline chimed in. "Landscapes. Competent, not brilliant, unless she's evolved spectacularly."

"You know her?" Bree asked. "Would she recognize you?"

"Not likely, since this was way back during the last peace treaty. My father took me to the cultural exchange. Said the peace would be no doubt over soon, but that I should learn what I could."

"And that was what you took away?" Zai asked.

"I was thirteen. What fine points of international politics do you remember from when you were thirteen?"

"At thirteen? I was in His Majesty's Reformatory for Wayward Youths for the crime of frightening a dauphin's horse with my screams after he ran me down in the street, maimed my brother, and broke my leg."

"Gods, you never said! And you're on our side?"

"What side?" Zai shrugged. "That dauphin will get his someday. Preferably slowly. The rest of you parasites will give up their riches or die. Meanwhile, I don't want to see my neighbors die to war and then demons than you, or the doll. So we work together, yes?"

Emmerline stared. She winced. She opened her mouth, closed it again. Then, "Yes," she said, and stuck out a hand.

"Right." Zai clasped it briefly, let go. "Bree, do you need help reconfiguring yourself? Should we go fetch Nost?"

"Oh good, you haven't forgotten about 'the doll'. Yes, please," Bree said, "it's much faster that way. But full briefing first. I don't think she's going to like it."

---

"So, Zai, you're serious about this? You want to have Em make an appearance at this resort town? To do what?"

"Turquoise is at a triple boundary between the Kingdom, the Pact, and the Gulf of Pearls. Neutral. Full of aristos from both sides, on vacation and behaving badly. We're going to visit to catch the famous yearly flower show and cozy up to this Marchioness before the Crimson Fist does. Em is once again Lady Emmerline Dupree, second daughter of House Dupree, still on her increasingly lengthy gap year between Academy graduation and royal service. Bree and I are her servants."

"This is going to burn Em," Nost said.

"Had to happen sometime," Emmerline snorted. "Last chance to clean out the family coffers, raid the closets, and steal the silverware. Least it's for a good cause."

"All right. What about me?"

"You're known to too many Pact security elements. You stay with the ship, as backup."

"And Bree isn't known?" Nost asked. "They have a whole list of epithets for her."

"Not… in my old body," Bree said, looking to Zai, who nodded.

"Her old body?" Nost blanched. "As in… no, you said the archon took that one. Which means… No. No no no. Bree, you can't. Everything we've built together, you won't have it!"

Bree grinned. Her grin left some humanity to be desired. Someone had told her that it never reached her eyes, given that even her current face didn't have the fine articulation she'd need to match human skin. It also displayed far too many teeth, which she'd added an extra row of, just because. Pity the teeth would need to stay with this head.

"Hey," she said, "Originally? I was literally 'maid' for the job. Get it?"

---

prev: We Who Are Far From Home, ch. 5: Bree 3

next: We Who Are Far From Home, ch. 7: Bree 5

[darthstitch]

Fic Snippet: Uncle Meowpheus

In her defense, Rose was very new to this fame business.

She hadn't expected her first book to do so well, let alone the sequel.  It helped that she had the actual Prince of Stories challenging her when she felt stuck or tempted to tapdance past a particularly difficult scene or plot point.  That imperiously raised eyebrow was like a challenge she couldn't resist.  And then, she found herself writing the next few scenes without any issue.  

And of course, King Somnio was a joy of a character to write and if she indulged in a few in-jokes at her Uncle Dream's expense, then that was just a bonus?  In fact, Calliope herself blessed those efforts and laughed loudest at the "wet of cat" line, to the point of tears.

Today, Rose was on her way to class - Professor Gadling's lecture today promised to be very interesting - when she was joined by a magnificent-looking black cat. She reacted as any sensible person would.

"Awww! Hello, meow! Where'd you come from?"

"The Dreaming, although if one must be perfectly truthful, I did walk all the way here from the New Inn. It's a rather lovely day, isn't it?"

Rose was very proud that she did not scream. It was a near thing, though. Coherence was, unfortunately, not something she could manage at the moment. "Uncle Dream?!!! Cat?!! You?!! OMG?"

"Calm yourself, my dear Rose. Yes, it is I. And yes, sometimes, I am a Cat. The King of Cats, to be precise."

"How?!! Why?!!" Rose was rather glad that they seemed to be alone at the moment because she really needed to sit down. There was a nearby bench that she thankfully sank into. Her ridiculous feline Uncle gracefully leapt on the bench to sit beside her, fluffy tail curling elegantly about his legs. Naturally, he treated that bench like it was his throne.

"I must confess that everyone's daydreams seem to be a little... loud these days, especially when I walk amongst them in my human form." If it was possible for a cat to sigh, then Uncle Dream certainly managed it. "It is a trifle disconcerting, to attract so much attention."

Rose blinked. "Attention? What do you mean by that?"

"It is no concern - it will pass, as these things tend to do, eventually. I would much rather follow the daydreams of the one dearest to me." Mischief glinted in those unearthly blue eyes, that now held the slightest bit of feline gold. "They are far more... interesting."

Rose snorted. "I'm gonna stop you right there, Uncle Dream, before you go into TMI territory. Does Professor G know that you can turn into a cat?"

"No." That was a very definite feline smirk. "This should prove most amusing."

"Great, good to know your husband has charge of the brain cell today. Please try not to break our professor, Uncle Dream, we still need him to teach us, y'know?"

"I shall send Matthew your regards as he is indeed with Hob right now. And alas, I make no promises about breakages. But I shall wait after his class for that." Dream hopped off the bench. "Shall we?"

Rose shook her head and groaned. "How is this my life?"

On the bright side, Rose was glad that Dream had graciously allowed everyone's favorite history Professor to complete his lectures for the day in peace. It must be noted, however, that Robert Gadling did emerge from his office at the end of the day looking very rumpled and quite dazed. His husband, "Thomas Murphy," was wearing an expression that could only be called "cat-that-got-the cream."

Rose absolutely refused to think about this any further.

[electricopolis-net]

S03E02: Sparker Reborn (Part 2)

2. The Electric Festival

"It'll be great," Bob gushed, his eyes sparkling. "I really appreciate all your help, you guys."

"Aw, it's no problem!" Margie laughed. The three of them--Bob, Margie and Jam--were sitting in Jam's studio, sharing some celebratory drinks. "I'm just glad you don't hate me anymore."

"I never hated you," Bob sighed. "I was just...hating myself, mostly. I just feel terrible for everything I've done..."

"You apologized enough, you don't have to do it again," Jam said, smiling a rare smile. "But I'm with Margie here. It's good to see you back to your old self, Bob."

"In more ways than one." Margie closed her notebook, sighing. "To be honest, I'm glad you're gonna leave the company. It feels more and more like Dad is...I'm not sure. But something seems to be making him really testy, lately. I have the feeling something bad is going to happen."

"I'm just lucky he gave me permission to put on the Electric Festival in the first place. I really thought he wasn't going to." Bob took a sip from a glass he was holding, then placed it back on the nearby coffee table. "He didn't seem all that happy to see me."

"Well, you did kind of...cause a headache for him," Jam said through nervously gritted teeth. "With the whole attempted murder thing."

"Gee, you know, I feel just awful about that," Bob lamented, shaking his head. "That's part of why I wanna do this. Pay my debts, you know. This city's been good to me. Better than it has any right to be. So I wanna give something back, instead of just taking."

Jam tilted his head. "You know, I'm kind of impressed," he remarked. "I didn't think you'd ever be so...introspective about this."

"Well, it's the start of a whole new me!" Bob exclaimed, putting a hand over his heart. "No more exploitation. From now on, I'm going to do the best I can to change Electricopolis!"

"Well, you might have a hard time with that," Margie offered. "The city's been around a long time, and so has Top Tier. I'd be surprised if you were able to make a dent in the television network market share in your first year."

"I know. But it's better than just sitting around feeling sorry for myself. And besides," Bob said, "isn't it better to try than not to try?"

Margie lifted up her drink. "Hear, hear."

Jam nodded. "Well, you know we've got your back. To be honest, I'm surprised I didn't come up with the idea myself," he remarked. "A festival for the arts and crafts scene in Electricopolis is a really cool idea."

"I'd be lying if I said I weren't thinking of you when I came up with it," Bob laughed. "I was like, 'What would Jam do in this kind of situation?'"

"Really?" Jam blinked behind his glasses. "I'm surprised. I guess all my lecturing really did get through your skull."

The three of them laughed, together.

---

"We'll aim for the end of the year, okay?" Bob suggested. "That should give us more than enough time to get the word out about the Festival and the Electric Park."

"Sounds good," Margie said. "I'll fund it and arrange the spaces for the artists' booths."

"I'll liaison with the artists and help spread the word," Jam offered. "I think you're gonna have a hell of a turnout."

"And I'll present!" Bob said. "And manage. And I have a few designs for some of the floats already," he continued, "and I have a few artists I'm reaching out to for the rest..."

"Careful," Jam said gently yet sternly. "You don't want to spread yourself too thin. You gotta learn to moderate yourself, instead of doing an all-or-nothing kind of thing."

Bob sighed. "You're right. I'm just feeling so..." He shook his hands out, as if drying them. "So energized! Honestly, I never imagined I could get this kind of jolt from anything other than frying my brains out!"

The morning news--well, what passed for morning in Electricopolis--interviewed Bob near the end of the year. Wrapped up in a scarf and hat, Bob gestured to some of the artisans' booths as he talked into the microphone.

"We have folks from every corner of the city," he said loudly, talking over the din of the crowd. "Over here are some carpenters from down on 1-2, best work you've ever seen! And of course, we have goldsmiths from right here in the top tier, too. I wanted to arrange it so that it wasn't just folks from their own parts of the town clumped up together. This way, everyone can mingle and maybe learn something new about each other."

"That's very ambitious," said the anchor. "So when can we attend the Electric Festival?"

"It'll be held right before the New Year!" Bob explained. "From December 29th to the 31st. We're going to kick it off with a pop-up light show with all kinds of floats and machines!"

"Wow!" said the other presenter, oohing and aahing. "An Electric Park, is that right?"

"That's right," Bob responded, nodding and grinning. "It'll be a spectacle like nobody in Electricopolis has ever seen!"

---

The Electric Festival was shaping up to be a roaring success. Bob, Margie and Jam worked around the clock to process and set up every artisan and craftsperson who wanted a space, and the sheer breadth and depth of the works provided was stunning, especially to Bob, who, until he met Alice Lang, never met a piece of art he felt he actually understood. Paintings, embroidery, sculptures, even seemingly ordinary pieces like ironwork chairs and tables seemed to contain a startling new form of life. It was as if he had never actually thought about the way the world worked before. In turn, that seemed to ignite some creative part of his brain, something he hadn't truly exercised since he had been a young performer on the streets of the top tier.

He took a meticulous, almost obsessive interest in the design and operation of the Electric Park. And, Bob Sparker still being Bob Sparker, too much was never enough: more bulbs, more neon, more moving joints and multicolored lights began to take shape on the floats, bit by bit by bit.

"I dunno if the dragon is going to work out," Margie said, squinting up at the still-in-progress machine. "That whole ‘breathing sparks' thing might be kind of, you know, a fire hazard?"

"A fire hazard? I guess you're right," Bob sighed. "I guess we could go with something else. Maybe an arrangement of bulbs that change color?"

"We're already using over 500,000 bulbs," Jam pointed out. "How about you go in a different direction? We have a ton of leftover fabric. Why not use some of the reds and yellows, cut ‘em up, put a fan in the head of the dragon."

"Hey, that's great!" Bob exclaimed, looping an arm around Jam's shoulders and giving him an enthusiastic side-hug. "See, this is going to be incredible!"

"Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Jam stammered, adjusting his glasses. "There's still something we haven't decided on yet."

"What's that?"

"How are we actually going to power all these machines?"

"Oh, Mr. King signed off on all that a while ago," Bob said, waving a hand. "I figured we would just plug ‘em in. I warned him it would be a little heavy on the power bill."

Margie looked over at him. Her brow seemed to furrow for a moment, and then she shrugged. "Well, if Dad says it's okay, I guess it's okay."

Bob looked in the mirror, turning his face this way and that. There were a few new lines there, a few new wrinkles that brought a slightly craggy quality to his face; but more than that, there was a glow, a warmth that bloomed underneath the skin. He smiled.

There was a polite knock at his door. "Hey, Margie just called," Jam said politely. "She's been called away by her dad for some reason or another. She says she'll meet up with us once it's taken care of. You wanna get going?"

"Sure, sure." Bob turned away from the mirror and finished tying his necktie. It was a muted green satin tie, bought for him by his mother when he had first signed on with Zap! Entertainment. He always wore it when he was nervous--he considered it a good luck charm. "I'll be done in just a second."

He smoothed it down against his chest, admiring himself in the mirror. "All right," he whispered to his reflection. "It's showtime."

---

"Ladies and gentlemen," Bob pronounced, "thank you for coming out in this cold weather! Before we start, I just want to say a couple words about the Electric Festival..."

He nodded over to his companion. "It wouldn't have been possible without this guy! Jam arranged contact with almost all the vendors and artisans here at the Festival. A big round of applause, ladies and gents!"

The crowd applauded vigorously. Jam bowed his head down, trying to hide a smile.

"I'd also like to thank Margaret King for funding to put on the Festival in the first place," Bob continued. "She couldn't be here right away, sadly, but I'm sure she'll turn up. And now, without further ado, let's kick this thing off!"

Bob tucked the microphone under his arm and knelt down to grab the two large electrical plugs--one male, one female--that lay on the ground in front of him. "Enjoy the Electric Festival!" he exclaimed, and shoved the plugs together.

The Electric Park lit up in a million different lights, drawing a gasp and astonished applause from the crowd. The floats began to move back and forth, the colored fabric waving. Bob and Jam exchanged relieved grins.

"I guess that's that," Jam sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "A job well done, right?"

"That's right," Bob agreed, clapping him on the shoulder with his free hand. "A job well--"

The lights flickered, and then there was a vmmm sound as the floats powered down and dimmed completely. There was a startled silence among the crowd.

Bob pulled the plugs apart. He pushed them back together. Again. Nothing. He fumbled with the microphone, bringing it back up to his face. "One second, folks," he stammered. "I'm just as confused as you are."

Jam tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned. "My cell phone's got no reception,"he said. "I think the cell towers went dark too."

"The cell towers? Then the whole city must have lost power," Bob replied. Sure enough, in the distance, the bright lights of the storefronts were going black.

There was a loud murmur that rippled through the crowd. "What is this?"asked someone near the front. "Is this part of the festival?"

Bob motioned for them to settle down. "It looks like there's been a power outage," he explained. "It's not just us. I'm sure if we all stay calm--"

He was cut off by the wail of sirens. A crowd of police cars pulled up to the entrance to the park. A megaphone crackled. "Bob Sparker?" announced one of the cops through the megaphone. "We'd like you to come with us."

[thegittelbug]

Father in law went home last week after a mostly delightful visit. He clearly loves his granddaughter and enjoyed spending time with her. He got to have some good quality time with my husband, which is especially important given that it's been so long since we've seen him in person. We talk every week (or more), but with COVID and the insanely long flight it's just been embarrassingly long. He also ate a ton while he was here, which is good, but he claims to not need much food so I'm just laughing internally. The man had seconds and sometimes thirds of everything. I think he ate an entire cheesecake by himself in like a day. Again, not a problem, I'm just chuckling at the incongruity of what he thinks he eats versus what he actually ate with us.

Some things that made me almost lose my cool though:

1) he lectured me and my husband on how cluttered our house is and how we'd grow to appreciate a more simple lifestyle when we're older, and need fewer things like him. Well firstly, we have a 5 month old so my priorities lie there. And second of all. We have so many things :) Because you sent them to us :) Without so much as telling us what you were sending :) But promised to only send "what we asked for" :) Thus allowing you to have fewer things :) And offloading the work of decluttering to your son and daughter in law :) guys I swear I saw RED and would not have been responsible for my actions. But I just kinda... walked away LOL. He probably thought it was really strange in the moment but strange is better than whatever my angry brain would've come up with.

2) We saw another baby in shul one day who was 3 days older than ours but just like a really big boy. And on the walk home, father in law gave this whole speech about how "fat" that other baby was and how he was glad our daughter was "not going to be a fatty". Omg dude. Where do I even start. Husband and I both were shocked/horrified and just said we'll do our best to ensure she's HEALTHY. I can't even fully write out all of my feelings about this, he's just starting from a WRONG assumption and getting weird body image things into it, like no. Father in law isn't really worth correcting on things like this, and thank goodness the baby isn't old enough to hear and internalize those sorts of comments. But we definitely need to keep an eye on it.

Anyway. I'm doing my best to focus on the positive things from the trip. I can't change the above, but I am not gonna let it drive me crazy or negatively impact my daughter.

[possiblyunhinged]

Being autistic, mentally ill and poor is very not ideal right now when lefties on the internet turn into raging dickheads during an election campaign... And I am a lefty.

I don't think I've ever felt this negative about everything... and I was diagnosed with clinical depression when I was 6.

I AM A FUN LITTLE GUY, OKAY?!

I've been in a four-day funk where I literally can't cope with external stimuli. I'm a boring person. I spend far too much of my life reading up on stuff, and usually, I'd be all over the election coverage, but I'm just done with everything...

Not in a 2008 emo way, in an I'm autistic, and my brain feels like it's on fire right now kind of way.

There are many threads of injustice weaving through everything right now, that my silly little ND can't cope anymore. Which I know sounds deeply petulant. I am a BABY... but I think for me, if a problem isn't solvable in my brain, then it just kind of sets fire to it on the way out.

It's been in England right now when you're working class, especially over the past three or four years. I'm not talking about losing your annual holiday, the last time I went abroad was when I was 10 years old. I have never been able to justify a holiday nor save because just keeping my head above water financially has been a fucking ballache.

Knowing that over 4 million families are living in poverty right now and having the lived experience of how that experience obliterated my childhood and indoctrinated my brain with a shame that has never left me absolutely breaks my heart.

I don't even have a quip to follow that.

I can't cope with those in power's complete lack of regard for what they have done. And when these children need help, whether that's psychological or otherwise, the likelihood is they'll just be stuck on a fucking waiting list.

I don't have space for rhetoric that generally only exists in University lectures for a reason... because it doesn't translate into real life with all of its complexities.

Unless it's a tactical vote, you can shove your Green Party where the sun doesn't shine. A blessing is that Labour will push for proportional voting and before the LaBoUr HaVe BaCkPeDaLlEd On EvErYtHiNg... wait and see, hey?

Let people feel a modicum of fucking hope for one second, because guess what... being someone who deals with suicidal ideation in a world so desperate to destroy people's hope is sehr stressig.

Beyond being a wretched bitch, I've pretty much been sick most of my life. And I have never found it more difficult to live with my brain.

I've existed in poverty since the age of 8. I'm 28 now. I don't have savings. I haven't worked for years because I had a nervous breakdown when I was 24 after being sexually assaulted. I tried CBT, beta-blockers, and a myriad of anti-depressants, guzzling on mushroom powders, but ultimately, I very much became a homebound agoraphobic once more.

I was diagnosed first with agoraphobia when I was 14.

I swear, I'm not an absolutely miserable cunt...

Well, not fully anyway.

Being reliant on the NHS for help my whole life has been nothing but a fucking nightmare. CAHMS was a joke, and it's only in recent years I started looking into the amount of people who were abused in that system. People didn't know what to do with a hyper anxious girl who could not simply slot in to a system of which worked for the majority. I next exceeded 20% attendance in a school year, despite the very helpful threats from social services.

I struggle to see how things have changed, frankly.

And I mention all of that to say that I've never felt more shame about my situation. I've never felt more scared about my future, especially when I am so reliant on my Mum, who is ageing like milk that's been left out on a patio in Portugal, and I don't know how I'm going to be able to help her as she gets older. My friend's lives are all falling into place, and mine has never felt so glum.

I was just curious to see if anything had indeed changed from when I was a child, and I saw a statistic of how more children are being submitted to A&E with self-harm injuries. And I can't help but ponder how shoving them on a waiting list for years and offering 6 sessions of CBT is going to help. I mean, two people I love attempted to take their own life and were just told to go back to their GP.

I don't feel all that positive right now.

I don't know why the fuck I think writing this on the internet is a good idea. However, people who play politics for a personality don't get that they make people who are struggling feel like debate fodder.

People are really fucking struggling, and if they get fucking 2% better, I'm sure most would take it. This incessant need to shit on anything that resembles some kind of hope is actually gross. And in fact, I think it's cruel.

Is 2% better the dream? No, obviously fucking not.

But am I going to fucking bite at the next middle-class person who goes on the internet or pops up on a TV panel and tells people who are struggling what to think? Yes.

I'm sharpening my teeth with an emery board as we speak.

Now, while we all sit on NHS waiting lists trying to convince ourselves that life just might one day get better, it'd be nice if more lefties on the internet would stop being such insufferable cunts.

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

i see people care about me and i look at the messages and i feel nothing. i don't care. and whatever you say, however you try and dress it up, that makes me a horrible person. i look at them and feel endless love for that person, for them caring for someone. but myself? i couldn't care less what happens to me. i wanted to kill myself this afternoon. i took time away from the computer and the knitting and everything else i'd usually do, and i went and i cooked soup. good soup, all sorts of things, turned out juicy and thick and real good. and while i was making it i couldn't switch off my brain. i thought it would help. instead everything i cut up made me think about it. well, you know - no need to explain what was going through my head - but i sat down after dinner and barely said anything during the readings and just hugged ransom tight. i see that people care about me, and sometimes i see messages and i don't care a rush about them. even from friends. mostly of course i do - i care about the person even though i don't care about myself. but sometimes i ignore things because in that moment i don't care and i don't care about how the person might feel. and that does make me a terrible person, it really does. i've been thinking seriously about offing myself for days. it would be the easiest thing for everyone. i know precisely how i'd do it. in class on thursday the lecturer was talking about a difference between suicide and self harm - suicide is driven by a desire for death and self harm is driven by a desire for pain or hurt, and hence suicide can be completely free from self harm - and i tell you i wanted to scream right then. you idiot. suicide is the ultimate form of self harm. isn't that obvious? but ultimately no one can stop someone, in the end. they can do everything right but unless somebody is physically restrained until the madness passes, some people will just up and off themselves. i saw something today, someone talking about how they were experiencing ideation, and i swear i've forgotten it's not normal. and it makes me wonder - do i really mean it? - or maybe my mind's just playing tricks and pretending and i don't mean it at all. it's been eight months, on and off, mostly on. surely if i wasn't tricking myself i'd have done something by now. it's all a damn trick and i cannot trust my mind and it's probably just that it's late and i need sleep or something. i don't even know if this makes sense. i should go to bed. i don't think it's cold, but i'm shivering anyway. the heater was just on a few minutes ago. anyway i'm hopping off the computer for the night.

[sunflowercider]

Possibly worse than "making up a guy to get mad at" is getting stuck in a ever increasing anger loop thinking about how you could have spoken better when it really mattered

i just gotta write this out to exorcise it from my brain this morning. Kinda personal and kinda icky so hiding it

I know my extended family isn't exactly a bastion of progressive politics (thankfully my parents were a little slow on some uptakes but generally pretty good) but the sensitive topics never really came up in the few times a year I would see them (christmas. a wedding or funeral). I live closer to them as an adult now. And I see them more often, like every 3-4 months. Generally family parties.

About two years ago, at one party, the topic of child beach safety came up since it was on the news. Okay, safe enough. I'd realized by that point that my family was definitely one of those "conservatives who think theyre very progressive" types (california conservative?), so I'd learned when to put up my shielding. "Beach safety," sure, yeah yeah, "adults these days not watching their kids anymore blah blah." Not sure thats true, but okay, whatever.

"You know, you gotta be careful, theres homeless people by that beach!"

Oh fuck.

I'm sure it's the same in many cities right now, but homelessness in all of SoCal is pretty high lately. I'd managed to wiggle out of potential conversations about it by flat out ignoring family when they scoffed and pointed out homeless people while driving, or by responding quietly by wondering if the person was doing okay in the sun/heat/cold. "Can you believe there's homeless people here now?" Yeah man, it's rough out there, isn't that hard for them? Use your real words and I'll use mine.

The news report came up again. There were some homeless people, gasp, using drugs. What drugs? Doesnt matter; what matters is what happens next.

"...and they found five of them OD'd on the corner!"

"Well, five less to worry about, thank goodness!"

Cue laugh track.

I am fucking frozen.

This cannot be real.

"How could you say something like that?"

It's the best I got. I am a very poor speaker unless it's a planned lecture, and I certainly had not planned to defend the dignity of five homeless people who had passed away today.

The family backpedals fast.

I cant clearly remember how they backpedaled tbh. I was in shock. Something awfully close to like "they deserve what they do to themselves" or something, and how I was too young (im nearly fucking 30 at this point???) to understand.

And it is at that exact moment I look around at the table and realize that one of my 15 year old cousins is sitting at the corner, arms crossed and curled up, looking directly at me.

Oh, fuck, I cannot let her think she's alone here. And fuck this, that was lightyears too far.

So I try to speak up.

I am very bad at it.

I try to explain homeless people are real people. They just can't get back up after a fall. An aunt has the fucking gall to say they could always ask a friend of family to crash on a couch. I try to explain to her that not every family is as fucking huge as ours, and even then maybe they can't talk to them for some reason. I'm waved off. Someone defends that there are homeless shelters they can go to. I try to explain that theyre often full and sometimes arent safe or accommodating. I get pressed for details and my brain shutters, not well-versed enough in the topic to pull real examples out of my hat.

It's a blur at this point, but I am both outnumbered and way too angry and upset to come up with much. It's a loss, clear and loud.

It's a wonder I didn't leave the party that day. I think I stuck to my cousins for most of it, or my very deaf grandma who literally couldn't hear any part of the conversation.

That party keeps fucking haunting me. As it should - I realized my family has a hard line on who they consider people. It sucks it sucks it sucks. But theyre my family, and damned if I'm going to let the adults have the only say when my cousins, all of which are younger than me, are in the damn room.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

For the fanfic requests—this isn't a ship, but if you don't mind kidfics, could you do Michael (pre-distorition) babysitting Jon as a kid? I got that scenario rooted in my brain because I apparently want sadness. The realization that someone else, someone Jon cared about got eaten by another DOOR would have probably wrecked him...and me. Feel free to ignore of this isn't your thing tho.

Michael liked kids, they were chaotic and unpredictable and normally he hated that! He himself was a bit timid and quiet, but he liked the chaos, they pushed him out of his comfort zone. They were funny about it too, and he could usually assume they meant no harm so the chaos could be a refreshing change from his usually rather ordered life. Not always, some kids could be cruel, but he could choose not to go back to those families when they weren't his own.

Baby-sitting had made the obvious choice as a job during university then. It wasn't the highest paying but it could be easily fit in around lectures and studying and it was really the brake he needed to keep him from going mad. He rather thought he found the release his peers found through partying through minding the good natured and frankly adorable chaos of children.

Of course his most common clients were parents looking for a date night away from the kids so he was rather surprised when he got a call from a frazzled sounding older woman. He had barely gotten out a greeting when she started to unload on him talking about her dead son and daughter-in-law and the son they had left behind. She took pains to clarify that he really was a good child, bright as anything! Before she exploded with how much trouble he was!

"He's curious about everything! He never listens about anything! Just the other day I told him not to touch the electrical outlet that broke and I way trying to keep an eye on him, but I only have two and there are other things in the world! I swear I only turned my back for a moment but when I turn back around he's standing there with a burned hand and that boy, he looked and me and said, he said "You're right. That did hurt.

"At least he didn't have the cheek to complain about it when he'd done it to himself! I just need another pair of eyes so I can close mine for a second! It feels like I haven't slept at all since he got here and I'm to old to be raising a child on my own!"

"Alright, that's no trouble at all ma'am. When would you like me to come in? We'll do a few trial nights and if we get along I wouldn't mind having a consistent schedule of nights I watch him so you can have some time off," Michael assured quickly while she was taking a breath.

"Oh thank goodness," She sighed, and Michael found himself helping the boy. This was clearly hard on the woman, but no doubt it was very hard on the child as well, he could use a friend. "Could you come tomorrow?"

"Yes, but lets talk about other things as well first. Does Jon have any allergies? What rate would you find acceptable?"

It took a little haggling to get to a hourly rate they could both agree on but it helped that she could admit Jon wasn't the easiest child. Some parents who thought too highly of their children seemed to think he should be paying them for the privilege of spending time with their children.

So on Wednesday he went to the address the woman provided where he was greeted by a well dressed woman. Some hair had come loose from her bun and there was a stain on her shirt which he got the feeling was as messy as she was willing to let anyone see her. Certainly more then she would have if it weren't for the grave-faced dark haired boy hovering behind her and staring at Michael.

"Hello. I'll give you a tour of the house and show you were everything is and then leave you to it. My number is on the fridge but do try not to call me unless something goes very wrong." She said seriously as she beckoned him in. The tour was brisk, and he just had to follow when he would have at least like to introduced himself to Jon first. He followed behind them, watching and not blinking as often as most children did, slightly unnerving but not unexpected.

"Alright, that's all you need to know I think. Jon try not to scare the nice young man away," She said with a thin smile to indicate it was supposed to be a joke. Inside Michael had to wince because he was rather sure Jon was too young to understand such subtleties of expression.

He watched her leave and then Jon looked back at him, solemn and wary, his eyes to old for his age. The poor kid had been through a lot. "Hello Jon, I'm Michael," he said, extending his hand with a friendly smile. Jon examined him again before reaching out and taking Michael's slim hand giving it a formal shake. Michael hoped that with time he would get to the point of being able to hug the boy and have him acting like a normal child. But not yet.

"Why don't you show me your favourite books?" Michael asked and watched as Jon's face light up even as he tried to suppress it. Michael didn't try to repress his answering smile.

When Mrs. Sims returned Michael was sitting on Jon's floor, long legs folded under him, surrounded by little piles of books as Jon babbled about the next book on the shelf. Michael couldn't possibly remember all of them, but what was important was the unrestrained joy on Jon's face. It hurt to see it shutter again when his grandmother made a comment about it being irritating.

"I don't mind," He promised immediately and firmly reviving a ghost of Jon's previous smile and making the grandmother look slightly chagrined. "I'll be happy to come back."

The grandmother being a non-nonsense sort of woman nodded, said they'd see him again same time next week, and shoved the money they'd agreed on into his hand. He saw himself out, and didn't notice that Jon was following him until he felt a small hand tug on his jacket, turning around obligingly to find a book being shoved into his stomach.

"I want to know what you think," Jon said before skittering back upstairs to get ready for bed. Michael promised himself that no matter how busy his course schedule was he would find time to read the book before he came back to see Jon again.

Part 2: here