#to pick things up from the people you care about... i still tie my shoes the way my grandma taught me!

[chitter17]

I'm thinking about making another sideblog hmm ^-^ like a diary, or just a place to talk about whatever... i talk a lot on my twitter but i like tumblr a lot too so i think it would be fun! :) you might be asking: Valerie why not just talk on THIS Blog.... well i dunno! i dont talk on here often, so what if my followers dont like it? but then again, it is my blog... i'll just do what i want!!! ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ i want to post more on here, not just reblogging stuff!!! And i hope you'll all stay with me!!!

[your-averagewriter]

"I thought they killed you."

Summary: (y/n) is isolated after the disaster on the beach but luckily she's found just in time but just the right people. (Rick Flag x reader)

Word count: 1.0K

Warnings: Blood, injury, violence, weapons, swearing, (usual Suicide Squad things)

-

-

I stumble through the forest patting the fire out on my arm, the burnt cloth scratching against my wounds. The mission wasn’t meant to go like this - I can’t believe Blackguard sold us out. Actually I can believe it because I don’t know him, barely any of us know each other which is one of our problems, you can’t just trust strangers on a suicide mission.

So far, I imagine most of the squad is dead and those that aren’t are isolated waiting to be picked off by the soldiers hunting us through the forest.

But I keep going in the hopes that someone is alive or finding anyone at this rate would be good, friend or enemy.

Holding onto the branch above I steady myself as I try to make my way down a hill but I trip falling. I can feel my stomach reeling and despite my head feeling heavier than ever I pull myself up off the ground and continue, desperately, not knowing what’s ahead. It would be nice if next time (if there is a next time) Waller would come up with a plan B or an evacuation tactic but she doesn’t care about what happens to us so I doubt she will.

Soon after I realize that I’m bleeding from my arm, a cut, not deep but not shallow either so I rip off some cloth from my dirtied trousers and tie it around the wound, making sure there’s adequate pressure. At this rate I could bleed out from my wounds before I even get anywhere.

I hear footsteps and voices, although my head is pounding so badly that I can’t hear properly and can’t bring myself to care. Maybe if it’s some soldiers they can finish me off.

Turning the corner I can barely hold myself up but I see a familiar face I certainly didn’t expect to see.

“DuBois?” I question quietly, wondering whether I’ve lost enough blood to start hallucinating. But before I can even take another step I feel my body go limp and I collapse on myself, falling to the ground. All I hear is DuBois saying my name, worriedly before I feel my consciousness leave me.

I feel my eyelids flutter open as I’m met with a pale canopy roof. My head is killing me and my mind is fogged over with confusion and questions. I look down at my body and see all my wounds have been properly dressed and some stitched up. My skin is still dirty along with my clothes but all traces of my blood have been removed. I question why I’m here but that’s when I remember what happened before I must have passed out.

“DuBois?” I say again, quietly as I sit up. I instantly regret it as all the blood rushes to my head and I feel myself becoming faint again but it passes after a few moments.

Looking around the room, there are a couple of wooden chairs and the floor is planked - I can see through the slither of the entrance to the canopy that we’re still in a forest.

Suddenly I hear footsteps from outside the canopy and I instantly reach for my weapons but they’ve been removed so I look for the closest, best option which ends up being a syringe - it hasn’t got any liquid in it but any object in my hand becomes a weapon. I realize my shoes have been removed as I place my bare feet onto the planks, it takes me a second to stand up but after, I manage to limp quietly to the entrance.

My back is pressed up against the fabric of the canopy as I await the impending footsteps, ready with the syringe in hand.

Someone pushes the fabric aside and walks in but as soon as they do I throw my arm around their neck, effectively choking them and placing the needle so it presses against the skin of their neck, not quite piercing it but could easily be if needed.

They don’t struggle and I notice by their uniform that they’re not a civilian but whether they’re friend or foe remains unknown.

Another figure walks in behind the uniformed stranger.

Rick Flag.

My face is a painting of confusion as I look at him and then to the stranger. He walks slowly towards me.

“(y/n).” He says gently. “Put the needle down.” He says again in a soft tone as he walks towards me, hands reaching for mine. “You’re okay.”

“Rick?” I question, not entirely sure he’s there or why. “What are you-What are you doing here? I thought you…” Tears start to brim my eyes as I look at him. “I thought they killed you.” I say, my voice wavering, unable to stop the trembling.

“Put the needle down.” He’commands’ but it’s still gentle. I lower the needle slowly and release the person from my grip. Dropping the needle to the ground, Rick immediately wraps me in his arms.

“You’re okay, you’re safe here.” He reassures me, his hand stroking the back of my head as I bury my face in his chest.

“I don’t understand, I saw them, they had you!” I say. “I saw it with my own eyes!” I exclaim, tears flowing from my eyes now. “I tried to help you but they- they.”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter now. I escaped, you escaped. That’s all that matters.”

“And DuBois? I saw him! I swear.” 

“He brought you back here, he said you fainted just after he saw you. You were hurt pretty badly.”

“Why is DuBois here?” I ask and all the confusion is only making my head hurt more.

“Waller went behind our backs and set up a second team. We were a distraction.”

“A distraction? Fucking brilliant.” I mumble, shocked but not surprised at Waller’s actions. “We were sent to die?” He sighs but nods.

“I’m just glad you’re alive.”

“Waller can’t get rid of me that easily.” I say with a small smirk and I can tell that he’s glad I’ve kept my humour throughout this shit show.

-

AN: First piece of writing I've done in a while!

I've been doing exams and working so I haven't posted much but I've finished my exams now so you can expect me to post more (hopefully more Suicide Squad content because I LOVE the movies).

Hope you enjoyed reading and requests are open!

[leejungchans]

rich girl — l.mh

word count | 3.2k

pairing | lee minho (skz) x female reader

warning(s) / includes | food mentions, a lil swearing, reader has icky friends

genre | fluff, angst if you squint, high school au, ???-to-friends/implied lovers au, lino’s a bit of a tsundere

note | i imagined this whole thing as a kdrama scene while writing which is why it’s kinda cliche and dramatic at parts 😭 not proofread but i will when i wake up

summary | of all the places to run into you, lee minho never expected it to be at a convenience store.

a/n | happy new year everyone 💖 i’m so sorry i haven’t posted anything in a bit, had a bit of writer’s block which is why this took months to finish but i’m slowly getting back into the groove!! to everyone who requested in my 1k event, i promise i’ll get to every single one of them so dw!! i hope you enjoy!!

“Thanks for today,” Yang Jeongin murmurs shyly, bowing his head as Minho pockets the money. “I hope I didn’t take up too much of your time.”

Even now, Minho still remembers the look on his friends’ faces when he told them he wanted to try tutoring the younger kids at school. He doesn’t particularly enjoy it, but it’s not the worst way to earn some extra money.

“It’s fine,” he says with a casual shrug. “Lemme know how the test goes and text me anytime if you have more questions.” He doesn’t really mean the latter part—responding to texts outside his self-scheduled working hours is hardly appealing—but it feels customary to say.

Jeongin nods, his arms hanging at his sides as he walks Minho to the front door. “Okay, thanks again. Have a good rest of your night.”

If the older boy had noticed how tense he is, he doesn’t point it out. It’s no secret that Lee Minho has a reputation at school for being intimidating, and while he was surprisingly patient for the entirety of those two hours, Jeongin still finds it hard to shake off that feeling of being scrutinised when his sharp, cat-like eyes constantly feel like they’re probing right into his soul.

“You too. I’ll see you around,” Minho says, hardly bothered by the awkward energy of the empty apartment as he slips on his shoes. He wonders for a brief moment where Jeongin’s parents are, but doesn’t entertain the thought for long because he cares more about going home to his cats. Going to a private school comes with a hefty price tag, so he wouldn’t be surprised if Jeongin’s parents are still at work much like his own. 

The sun has long set by now, draping a blanket of dark indigo over the bustling streets as people rush to get home. Up ahead, Minho sees the glowing sign of a convenience store, and as though being reminded his stomach rumbles, a reminder that he hasn’t eaten since lunch.

He could go for some ramen, and this way he wouldn’t have to cook and do the dishes.

From the stocked shelves, he picks out his dinner—a bowl of Shin Ramyun, a tuna triangle kimbap and a bottle of green tea. Simple, yet so satisfying; his go-to no matter how many times Hyunjin teases him for getting the same thing time and time again.

Hyunjin makes fun of him, he lovingly threatens to shove tissue down his throat. Minho wouldn’t have it any other way.

A fond scoff falls from his lips as he waits for his ramen to cook. His eyes scan the store, flitting from the bored cashier picking at his nails to the girl sitting at the table just several feet away from him. It takes a few seconds for him to realise she’s wearing his school’s uniform, and another few to notice the polished shoes with the dainty gold buckles that look all too familiar.

It’s not just anyone from school—it’s you.

The realisation has him turning on his heel immediately. Surely, his back profile isn’t too recognisable? His heart skips a beat in his chest and only one thought consumes his mind as he hastily straightens his tie and redoes the first button on his shirt—what the hell are you of all people doing in a convenience store?

“You know, most people eat their noodles before they get soggy.”

Minho resists the urge to let a few colourful words slip. He doesn’t think your parents would appreciate learning that the student-guide assigned to their precious daughter was the one who taught her her first swear word.

Huh, that was a little mean. Distantly, Chan’s disapproving voice rings out from the back of his mind.

“Give her a chance, Minho. Just because she’s from a rich family doesn’t mean she’s a spoiled brat. I’ve talked to her a few times, she’s really nice.”

His feet move slowly as he turns to face you, finding your eyes still trained on him as you await his reaction, glossy lips curled up amusedly. He wants to flee, wants to curse the gods for making him run into you at such a time and place. But he’s already made the ramen, it’s too late to leave.

Reluctantly, he grabs his dinner and makes his way over to the table, making sure you’re separated by a seat as he plops himself down on the squeaky bar stool. You don’t seem bothered, the little grin still ever-present on your face before you turn back to your dinner.

Minho watches from the corner of his eyes as you pick up your half-eaten kimbap, dunking the corner into the spicy broth before taking a bite. Maybe he’s a little impressed, he didn’t expect you to know the only correct way to eat kimbap and ramen—at least, the only correct way in his eyes.

“Don’t seem so surprised,” you quip lightly without looking up, “rich people eat ramen too.”

His cheeks grow warm from being caught staring. “Just didn’t expect you to hang around somewhere like this.”

“Are you kidding? I love convenience store food. They didn’t have the stuff here when I was at boarding school, I had to order everything I wanted online.”

“Must’ve taken a long time to get them shipped to you,” he muses. It’s strange, he thought he couldn’t care less about what went on in the fancy boarding school you attended before transferring here, but it’s refreshing hearing you talk about mundane things like bulk-buying instant ramen as though a squirrel stashing food away for the winter.

“Oh, it felt like forever each time! I felt like I was going to die craving all the snacks I couldn’t get there.” For a second there you sounded just like Hyunjin during his dramatic moments, like that time when Minho refused to pay for his ice cream and he acted like he was left to fend for himself in the wilderness.

He finds it oddly endearing.

“That’s not the worst part,” you continue, “the worst part was dealing with thieves in the dorms. I can’t count how many packs of ramen I had stolen from me.”

“Oh, the tragedy!”

You roll your eyes at the exaggerated gasp he lets out, though the action hardly holds any genuine annoyance. “I can’t tell if you’re still being serious.”

A small grunt leaves Minho as he twists open the bottle cap of his bottled tea. “I mean, I’d be pretty pissed if people stole food from me.” The worst Jisung’s done to him is snagging a few gummy bears, and that already feels like a criminal offence in his book.

“I guess that’s the second thing we have in common.”

“What’s the first? Having good taste in convenience store dinner?”

“I knew you were smart, Lee.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he scoffs, yet his the corners of his lips can’t help but quirk up at the devious, teasing grin you flash him.

He’d rather do Hyunjin’s PE laundry for a month than admit it, but you’re kind of cute.

“What’re you doing in this area so late, anyways?”

You offer a smile in thanks as Minho holds the door open and gestures for you to go first. The two of you step out of the store, the frostiness of the winter night penetrating through the layers you’re wearing and settling deep into your bones.

“I was with Hyebin and the others.” He doesn’t miss the way your smile falters, the twinkle in your eyes dimming like a fallen star. He’s never liked the friend group you’ve found yourself in ever since you transferred over to the school. They’ve always given him the impression that they were more interested in your money and brains than anything. “They needed help with their homework.”

“Of course they did,” Minho scoffs.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

“You need to be more careful with this stuff. The teachers aren’t as stupid as you think, just because you’re not the one doing the copying doesn’t mean you won’t get into trouble.”

“Gosh, what’s with the lecture? Why do you care who I hang out with?”

He freezes, pursing his lips together as he thinks of a counter. You’re right, why does he care? Perhaps your earlier conversation in the store changed his admittedly biased perception of you. Or perhaps despite everything he's ever thought about you, he thinks you still deserve better than Hyebin and her goons.

“W-Well, I was assigned to be your guide to the school,” Minho splutters, “sorry for taking my job seriously!” It’s a horrible excuse, so he’s not the slightest bit surprised when you don’t buy it at all.

“That’s funny, because you’ve made it pretty clear from the day we met that you couldn’t care less about a spoiled brat like me!” He hates that he still finds you cute even as you’re fuming and ranting at him. “Everyone at school is exactly like you, always making your own assumptions without even bothering to get to know me! Well, I’m telling you right now that I don’t need you to—”

“Watch out!”

Your foot gets caught on a raised ledge that you hadn’t noticed in your moment of frustration. You trip with a loud shriek, knees scraping painfully against the pavement as you break your fall with your hands. A burning sensation spreads across your face, and you’re utterly mortified that you just embarrassed yourself in front of someone the likes of Lee Minho while you were giving him a piece of your mind.

“Are you okay?” You feel his hand wrap around your arm as he helps you up, refusing to meet his eyes out of sheer embarrassment. “You need to watch where you’re going.”

You tug your arm out of Minho’s grasp with an aggravated huff. “I’m fine!” you snap, but the pained hiss that whistles through your clenched teeth says otherwise as you attempt to stand without his support. Your left ankle throbs with a sharp pain, causing you to lose balance and stumble.

“Seems like you’re not,” he observes without his usual snark as he reaches out to hold you steady again. This time, you don’t shake him off. “You should get that checked out soon, it’s probably a sprained ankle.”

“Great,” you mutter under your breath. Scraped knees and a sprained ankle? You dread the earful you know you’ll be getting from your overprotective parents. Thankfully, your family’s driver is only parked a few blocks away from where you are, so you shouldn’t have to hobble too far—

“—get on.”

“H-Huh?”

Minho rolls his eyes at your dumbfounded expression, his knees bent as he gestures to his back with a tilt of his head, signalling you to climb on. “You said your driver is waiting for you nearby, right?” You nod. “I’ll carry you there.”

“You better not tell your friends that I forced you to do this,” you mutter sulkily.

“Jesus, Y/N. I don’t stoop that low. I’m the one who offered, okay?” At your hesitation, the sharp angles of his face soften ever so slightly. “I swear. I’m not gonna stand here and watch you walk three blocks on a twisted ankle.”

The sincerity in his eyes has knots forming in your stomach out of guilt, embarrassed that you’ve been so harsh on him for his intentions when all he’s done was offer help. Murmuring a thank you, you gingerly wrap your arms around his neck as his arms hook around your thighs. With a soft grunt, he draws to his full height and begins heading down the street.

The proximity between the two of you floods your cheeks with warmth. You’re certain you harbour absolutely zero romantic feelings for Lee Minho, your less-than-enthusiastic guide to the school who cares more about the stray cats lingering outside the gates than ninety percent of the student population—at least, that’s what you tell yourself. You suppose he can be charming, especially when he smiles; it’s a sight you’re hardly privy to seeing, but sometimes you catch a glimpse of his toothy grin when he’s talking to Chan or play-wrestling with the tall kid who’s on the soccer team.

And you suppose he’s pretty charming now too, not an indication of annoyance towards your current predicament as he piggybacks you the rest of the way to your car. A faint jasmine scent greets your senses, and it takes all your willpower to resist leaning in closer. Ugh, of course his shampoo just so happens to be your favourite scent too.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you back there,” you say quietly after a while. “I was frustrated with people at school but took it out on you, which was really unfair of me.”

For a brief moment, Minho doesn’t respond, leading you to believe he’s still upset. It’s understandable, but it leaves you with a sinking pit in your stomach and you’ve never wanted the earth to swallow you whole so badly until now.

“It’s okay.” You perk up a little at his unexpected response. “I get it, really. I’m sorry too, for letting all those stereotypes and assumptions get the best of my judgement. I was a pretty shitty guide, huh?” he jokes with a soft chuckle.

A smile slowly appears on your face at his attempt at lightening the mood. “I’ve seen worse, and in a way you did kinda help me learn my way around campus.”

“By avoiding you like my life depended on it while you searched high and low for me?”

“Questionable execution, successful outcome.”

His head tilts back as he lets out a genuine laugh, the bright sound only increasing the palpitations of your heart. “That’s how I roll. Leaves an impression.”

He certainly has. Never would you have guessed that you’d be seeing this side of Lee Minho tonight, or ever, and you don’t doubt that you’ll be thinking about this moment for the next week even if he goes back to being all ‘bad-boy’ with you tomorrow. It feels like you’re witnessing something you’re not supposed to, and it’s exhilarating.

His gentle voice brings you out of your thoughts. “I was serious about Hyebin. They’re using you, both her and her friends,” he says, spitting the last word out like it’s venomous.

“I know.”

“You know?”

You hum sadly. “My family runs a conglomerate and I’ve attended more of their functions than I can count. I learnt very early on what it looks like when someone’s only being nice to you because they want something.”

Minho nods in understanding, yet your response only begs the next question. “Then why do you still hang out with them? What do they have that you don’t?”

“Nothing, but… who else do I have at school? Almost everyone else is either no different from them, or are too intimidated to approach me even when I’ve done everything I can to prove I’m anything but.”

Something about how you don’t bother hiding the defeat in your voice makes his heart twinge with sympathy. He knows you’re right—hell, he considers himself unbelievably lucky that he managed to find people he genuinely sees as his close friends in a sea of snobbish, self-centred students.

“Hang out with us. Really,” he adds when you fall eerily silent. “I know we’re probably the furthest thing away from the people you’re used to associating yourself with, and I guess we can be a little weird sometimes—” admittedly, maybe a lot weird—“but we’re good people, especially my friends.”

Minho stops himself upon realising he’s already begun rambling, but the quiet giggle that reaches his ears relaxes him a little.

“I like weird.” Despite currently looking ahead, he can still hear the smile in your voice. “Wouldn’t I make things awkward, though? I don’t wanna intrude on anything.”

“Are you kidding? Once you're friends with Chan, he’ll find a way to make you feel comfortable no matter what. Do you like anime, by any chance?”

“Actually, yeah. I do.”

He chuckles, “Then you’ll have no problem getting along with my other friends too.”

“And what about you?” you ask softly. “Are you okay with it?”

“I’m the one who offered, of course I am.”

You’re unsure if you can consider Lee Minho your friend yet—or rather, if he’d want that or not—but one thing’s for certain: his authenticity is both admirable and appreciated. You don’t question his kindness now because he wasn’t afraid to show his genuine indifference in your encounters prior to today.

“Thank you, Minho. I don’t know what else to say other than… thanks, really.”

Spying your family’s car just down the street, he turns to grin at you, eyes curved and smile reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat. “Feel free to also comment on how unfairly handsome and strong I am.”

You respond with a fond roll of your eyes. He’s not wrong, but you don’t need to tell him that either. “Very funny, but yes, thank you for this too. I’m sorry you had to carry me all the way here.”

Now it’s Minho’s turn to roll his eyes. “Stop apologising, Y/N, I wanted to. Hopefully your ankle isn’t too seriously sprained.”

“My parents are going to make such a big fuss if I need a cast.”

He snickers. “Don’t worry, I’ll be the first one to sign it.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you mumble sulkily, though it only makes him laugh harder. It’s beyond him how it’s possible for someone to sound this adorable even while swearing.

Carefully, he lets you down upon reaching the car, still holding you steady by your arms as the door slides open to reveal luxurious leather seats. He helps you into the backseat, offering a shy nod in greeting when your driver looks back to give you a questioning look.

“I’ll explain later,” you tell him before turning back to Minho, “let us give you a ride home.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he reassures, tucking his hands into his pockets, “I live really close by.”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “You better not be lying to me.”

Dramatically, he places a hand over his heart. “I swear.”

“I’m gonna ask Chan first thing when I see him.”

“You do that,” he replies smoothly, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Relenting, you nod and return the smile he gives you. “Okay, get home safe. Good night, Minho.”

“Good night.”

Your eyes never leave his as the door shuts between you two. You look back at Minho through the tinted windows, finding him still standing at the same spot as he watches your car take off down the road. Even as you make a left turn, causing him to disappear from your line of sight, you don’t turn back until your driver feigns a cough, a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

“That boy,” he begins, eyes briefly flickering to meet yours in the rear-view mirror, “is he your classmate, Miss L/N?”

You nod.

“You two looked close.” He must’ve seen the look on your face because he lets out a hearty laugh, one you’ve grown accustomed to over all his years of service to your family. “Don’t worry, miss. I won’t tell your parents,” he reassures, “I just wanted to say that he seems to like you a lot.”

“Huh, is that so?” is all you say, yet you can’t fight the smile that appears on your face the second no one’s looking.

༉‧₊˚✧ thank you so much for reading <3 please reblog if you enjoyed my writing, and any form of feedback is greatly appreciated ! support the creators and content you wish to continue seeing <3

[lauri-rosehearts]

Its taken me way too long to get to this but months ago when I asked for questions and post promps about EAH, one of the things I was asked about were my thoughts on Crystal Winter (shout out to @birdbombs714 for giving me an excuse to rant about this). I had to organize my thoughts but its taken me long enough so here it is.

Honestly, my thoughts on her as a character are far from unpopular. I wouldn’t say I HATE her but I definitely don’t care about her. Before I get into that, I’ll put in a positive note and say I do love her design. Granted, I still don’t understand how she’s literally grayish lavender when her parents have regular human skin tones…maybe its a recessive gene but I digress.

That being said, I think she’s very poorly written and it frustrates me because even though she has the protagonistic role in Epic Winter, she’s literally surrounded by characters with infinitely more depth and character growth than her. Even with characters like Rosabella, whose character doesn’t really quite go anywhere aside from aiding Daring in his own arc, I still genuinely like her because there’s alot of things they could’ve done with her without having to rewrite the entire base of her character (as in, had the series continued). But since Crystal is introduced in this movie without any previous establishment, you practically have to rewrite her character to make it interesting.

I think in concept, the whole “sheltered princess who learns to be self-reliant” thing is a solid enough idea for a character arc… and then it felt like they had no idea where to take the execution. Listen, I know this has been memed to death, but it really is true that them deciding to make her learning how to tie her shoes the central symbolism for her “growth” was laughably ridiculous. The writers seem to cherry pick when they want her to be smart. Like in the movie, when the team comes across a bump in the road, Crystal always manages to solve the problem with the first solution she can think of (lowkey sacrificing the other characters’ previously established intelligence in the process, since for most of the movie, they rely on her for answers ), but it takes her nearly an hour into the movie to figure out that the rose of winter is the same rose she was given at the beginning of the movie. I already ranted about that in a very recent post but it lacks all common sense given what we learn about the roses of the seasons.

Another thing about her is the fact that she doesn’t seem to have any major flaws aside from being too carefree and childish. I swear Jackie complains about the royal family like their tyrants who impose high taxes on the peasants. But thats clearly not the case cause everyone else loves them and Crystal genuinely seems enthusiastic to be queen for all the right reasons. Yeah she likes to have fun and too much of that could lead to a lack of responsibility for others, but with her compassion, I genuinely have a hard time thinking she would rule a kingdom failing to think about others. If they made Crystal more actively selfish and flawed, then I think Jackie’s motivation would make a lot more sense. And selfishness is a core theme of a lot of the characters in ever after high so it’s not like this would be totally off-base.

Given the fact that she has such laughably minor flaws, along with the fact that she ends up effortlessly solving half of the problems in the movie despite the narrative trying to feed you the idea that she needs to go through a character arc, it’s no wonder so many people feel like she’s a Mary Sue. Her character is the farthest thing from compelling, especially when you take into account that her best friends are Ashlyn and Briar, who, in my opinion have some of the most compelling character arcs in the show. But in this movie, they get lowkey sidelined for their childhood friend who’s character arc boils down to “I learned how to tie my shoes”. I don’t think epic winter is as bad as a movie as some people think, but I admittedly mainly come back to it for every other character aside from Crystal.

It’s very clear Crystal’s character could benefit from a rewrite, but even I’m not sure how I would rewrite her. I personally wouldn’t make her downright villainous the way some people have, mainly cause in the original fairytale, the Snow Queen while antagonistic is a neutral force if anything. She’s not as villainous as some people claim she is in my opinion. The only true genuine, pure evil in this story is the devil responsible for making the cursed mirror at the beginning. He’s the one who kickstarts the main conflict. The snow queen is more just an embodiment of the harshness of winter, rather than a pure force of evil like the Evil Queen or the Dark Fairy. Yeah, the Snow queen kidnaps and nearly freezes Kay, but that’s more of a symbolic representation of how deadly winter can be sometimes. Its in her nature. Especially given when Kay and Gerda manage to escape, she doesn’t even show up to try to stop them. So I think if we were to go the fairytale accurate route for Crystal, making her morally ambiguous/gray would help. Not exactly sure where we would take it from there, but it would make it more interesting at least.

I apologize is this went kinda off the rails but I realized even after months my thoughts aren’t as organized as I thought. 😭

[bitchinbarzal]

It just wasn’t our time | Q.Hughes | Bug’s World

when you decide to have another baby.

warning: this has mature themes to it of child loss.

-

You had four kids, everyone of them came easy. You never experienced the struggle of conceiving.

So when you held a positive test in hand not a month after you’d decided to start trying you weren’t surprised.

You’d had a miscarriage scare once. You were twenty and scared. Quinn had flown back home from Seattle quicker than ever and his mom had been there too.

You weren’t a parent then, things were different. You only had yourself to think about, now you had four tiny little people to care for.

Quinn was in New York playing a week long roadie.

It started with cramping, you ignored it.

Then it was a sharp pain in your abdomen.

Then your jeans had red stains running down your leg.

You sighed, eyes scrunching together trying to hold off the tears you knew would come.

You stopped for a moment, leaning on the dining room table and held your right hand over your small hardly noticeable bump

“I promise you, we already love you. why’d you want to leave us so soon, eh?”

After a deep breath you walked ever so slowly up the stairs, into the shower to clean yourself.

You changed into something comfortable, sweatpants and a top not forgetting to put on a pad you had from your last birth.

You could hear the kids playing down the hallway together. You followed the noise to the play room and watched them for a moment before you said

“Hey my little loves, mommy’s gotta go do something so how about we get in the car so mom can take you to aunty Zara’s?”

Elias and Zara’s house was their favourite place, it was an easy persuasion.

You helped them out their coat and shoes on, sitting on the bench next to the door. No rush, not trying to scare the kids at all.

Bug observed your facial expressions, the little tweaks of pain in your face.

When you went to tie her shoes her two hands landed on your cheeks and pulled you up to look at her

“Mama okay?”

You smiled “I’m good, pretty girl. I love you baby”

“I love you mommy!” Her words caused the other 3 to announce similar things, your eyes watering at them all.

God, you loved your kids.

When you arrived at Zara’s, she opened the door with a quirked brow clearly not expecting you.

You urged the kids into before you looked at her and said in a hushed voice “I think I’m having a miscarriage right now, can you please watch them while I go to the hospital and then I’ll get my-“

“What? Of course, no go! go! Don’t you dare do anything else just go I’ve got this”

You smiled lightly and said “Please just don’t scare them, this is a normal day okay? I haven’t let on that somethings wrong” and turned to the car once again.

You don’t remember the drive to the hospital or the front desk woman putting you in a wheelchair. You instead woke up in the bed with a nurse checking on you.

“Hey, you’re up!”

“How long was i asleep?”

“only two hours, you lost a lot of blood we think that’s why” you nodded, shifting up the bed.

“Did i loose the baby?” The nurse paused and turned to you “I’m going to send in a doctor to discuss everything with you in a moment Mrs Hughes”

The doctor appeared soon after explaining a lot of medical terms you only heard

“I’m sorry, there’s no longer a heartbeat”

You picked the kids up just after midnight.

Zara didn’t speak to you, only hugging you tight and giving a reassuring smile.

When the kids were all in their beds, tucked in and mumbling their goodnights and I love you’s you got to work in tiding up the house as you would when the kids were in bed.

It was after one when you sat down in the darkness of your bedroom on the bed holding your phone in your shaky hand, taking a deep breath before you pressed call on your husbands number.

it went to voicemail, assuming he was still at the rink or had gone out post game you decided to leave a message.

“quinn… I lost the baby”

for the first time all day you allowed yourself to breakdown, to sob and cry. all of your emotions came spilling out at once you could hardly breathe.

“I, um I went to the hospital and I’m okay so you don’t have to come home I just- just thought you should know before you come back”

You hung up and plugged your phone in, wrapping the covers around you then snuggling further into the bedsheets.

It was then you saw a sliver of light appear from the doorway and a head poked in

“Mama sad?”

Bear’s eyes filled with worry as he entered the room followed by his big sister who looked equally as worried.

“No baby I’m okay, promise” you sniffed, moving over as the two climbed up onto your bed. They shuffled in under the duvet and cuddled into your arms.

You slept a little better knowing your babies were right there by your side.

When the morning came you weren’t woken by your alarm. Instead, you were woken by your husband pushing into the bed behind you.

He shushed you as you went to speak, pressing a single kiss behind your ear and whispering

“It just wasn’t our time, it’s gonna be okay. I love you”

it just wasn’t your time

[neptunes-sol-angel]

Hiiiiii I love love love your blog 🫶🏽🎀✨ I would love to join your core theme gameeee

Tell me something about T’Asia core pleaseeee and thank you

Xoxo

-teo

Hey hun! I LOVE your blog too, your readings are always intriguing, sooooo detailed, and accurate. You be doing your thing. I hope you are well, thank you for patiently waiting, now lemme tell you something about T'Asia core

T'ASIA CORE

Dopamine - The Patriot

Your energy, to me, gives "You don't have to do this" or "You're not supposed to do this...but this is how I do it". Your style, the way that you express yourself, and your personality is very affluent and carries a strong binary theme. Maybe you like to alternate between a combination of baggy and minimalist pieces of clothing with either graphics or accessories, especially jewelry, or maybe even your nails, that make a big a statement. It could be cargo pants with tie around blouse or quirky tshirts. Bomber jackets with velour pants, jersey shirts, or other tops that could be really nostalgic, or simply over sized hoodies with pants that you feel are comfortable and not tight. Chains could be your thing, bamboo earrings, or large earrings in general that stand out, chokers, or name plated necklaces and bracelets, or something that represents you that you can't help but wear often, like something that has your initials/name, zodiac sign, someone you worship, or a reference to a song/artist/movie that you love. I'm getting a lot of pisces mars energy. People could love your shoe game, or shoes are a big way of how you choose to express yourself through clothing. There is a lot here about dancing and music, your clothes could largely revolve around it, but it works because you seem to have fluid taste. People could like the way that you walk, they pay attention to your rhythm, your legs, and your feet. Maybe you paint your toe nails, or maybe you do actually dance in the public, or people could like to visualize you dancing. Your style could also pay a lot of homage to the earlier Tumblr days, or people think that you represent the dreamier side of Tumblr that made it trendy and famous. An India Westbrooks type of vibe. I keep thinking of silly bandz lol, maybe you had the reputation of having a cool collection of them, or this could be another sign about how well your jewelry makes you appeal to others.

I'm picking up that some people could view you as loud and full of energy, while others could view you as soft spoken and "zen". But this could also be a combination of both sides that people get from you that could be contradicting, but still somehow work. In whichever way you carry yourself, it's soothing to a person's mind, like I got this feeling on my head that's like wearing carmex on your lips? That tingle! LMAO. This could mean you're mentally stimulating or you just give people a break from something in their lives that could have been exhausting them. You're a good influence to be around, you aren't draining at all, it is the opposite, which you sometimes need to be careful about, because some people overdo what they get from you when it comes to your interactions with them or in some cases, they start heavily identifying with your energy. Like stealing your swag, or stealing your mannerisms once you're done with them in life as a way to still have some attachment to you.

[chill-vibes-but-rainbow-panic]

I am mega late, but

HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY (AGAIN) TO MY FIRST EVER TUMBLR MUTUAL @labratgurlz :D

I was going to draw smth, but slow-dancing was a bit too ambitious, so I decided to do, what I always do, when I can't draw something

~Write~

So here's a short-ish Plargos fic

cw: some murderous/violent intentions/thoughts

If you had Mr. Plant write a list of things he'd rather be doing right now, he would finally have something to pass the time, and you could expect it in your mailbox by sunrise. It's hard for him to even imagine whose bright idea it was to hold an auction on a Wednesday night. The only reason he even knew the event was happening, was because no news broadcast in this part of the void would shut up about it, no matter how many times he switched the channel.

…And, because Argos very excitedly brought one of the flyers back home with him… Apparently, they were going to auction a particularly interesting plant; one that is not easy to come by, because it only grows out of a freshly buried lung. He had been saving up for months just to go and compete in the auction, and, of course, asked Mr. Plant to accompany him. So now - despite his hatred of social gatherings - he is sitting in this high school gym looking big room, while his boyfriend is yelling over the rest of the bidders.

Most of the people around him are dressed very proper, pearl necklaces, waxed leather shoes, and all that goes with them. When Mr. Plant turns his annoyed face out of his hand for a moment, he can see that even Argos' outfit fits; though the blazer-pants-combo is almost identical in colour to the outfit he usually wears anyway. It suits him. Mr. Plant himself put on the usual. Well, he threw on a tie that he still had in the back of his closet somewhere, but he couldn't have been asked for anything else. It's either uncomfortable situation or uncomfortable clothes, you can't have both.

"YESSS!" He is almost jostled out of his seat, his petals fully unfurling as any exhaustion or boredom runs out of his body, like a wild boar. The room around erupts into applause for the first time Mr. Plant has cared enough to pay attention in the last few hours. And when he looks up at Argos, he sees a delighted shine in every single one of his eyes, as he has stood up from his chair and is stretching his arms beyond the heavens. "WE DID IT, MR. PLANT!", he jumps up at down, a smile on his face so big it almost splits it in half.

The auction-leader brings down her gavel a few times, causing the audience to steadily quiet down. "Thank you, for your attendance, everyone! All of our winners will have their objects handed out to them before you leave.", a bell-headed lady speaks from the stage, a quiet gong heard with every small movement.

Mr. Plant does not like the sound of that at all. Are they not leaving now? "I hope you will all be having fun at the party we have organized for you. The staff will be leading you to the event-hall." …Ah.

Despite the crowd immediately forming a wave to sweep both in the direction of the party, Argos has no problems picking up on his boyfriend's mood, as soon as his initial excitement calms down just a little bit. He gently takes the flower's hand, redirection his attention back to a stable point. "Hey, this could be fun, right? After all, I'm here with you.", he gently squeezes his hand, his voice piercing through the noisy crowd, to Mr. Plant. He squeezes his hand back, letting himself be whisked away.

The party-hall appears to be a second, even larger gym, only now making Mr. Plant realize how much smaller this place looked from outside. The crowd quickly disperses around the room; mostly towards the buffet, like ants might a spilled soda. However, Argos only pulls Mr. Plant into the room just enough to not block the door, before he suddenly stops and stares into the air.

Mr. Plant tries to wave to him a couple of times, but he stays stiff as a statue, starstruck. "Hm?", he only turns towards his boyfriend, when he taps him on the shoulder. "Oh! Sorry.", he chuckles. "I was just kinda caught by the music. Has a nice ambience, don't you think?" Immediately, Argos starts tapping the beat of the music with his foot, one finger also tapping rhythmically onto Mr. Plant's hand. It is slow, deep, but predictable, like a still beating heart letting life and blood flow through the room.

He is surprised to see an entire small orchestra performing on the stage at the far end of the room. The frog behind the cello appears to be building the foundation of this piece, clearly audible, despite how many violins, clarinets, and flutes outnumber him. Each musician is dressed to the nines; a bow tie adorning their necks, and lovingly decorated flute lyres wrapped around one arm of each flute player, and most of the clarinets.

"Do you want to dance, Mr. Plant?" Before he can even think clearly, he pulls his hand out of Argos' grasp. His heart beats suddenly painful inside of his chest. He looks back to the stage - still as tranquil as before - wishing he could dissect that musician with his own stick, like a biology teacher.

"We don't have to! Of course.", Argos backtracks, pulling his hands up to his chest and smiling. He knows how Mr. Plant can get with these sorts of things; and he would never want to make him uncomfortable. Instead, he starts looking towards the table with the food, though it's hard to see anything with all of the people standing around.

Still, Mr. Plant can see it. The atmosphere is perfect. A perfectly silent room, except for its almost whimsical music; people already gathered to dance around them. He might pretend to not look at it, but Mr. Plant can see the chandeliers glisten in the eyes on Argos' checks, gazing up at them. Argos, that godforsaken, irritating, beautiful, perfect, hopeless romantic would never let an opportunity like this pass him up.

So Mr. Plant sighs, a barely visible smirk in his heart, and reaches one hand out to his boyfriend. He lights up at the sight. "Are you sure?", he double-checks, but as soon as the flower gives so much as a hint of a nod, Argos pulls hims further onto the dance floor.

Mr. Plant towers over Argos, or, any other guest present, yet he lets himself be manhandled by the other, who definitely has more experience in these things than him. He gently lays the arm underneath the green sweater on top of his own, with Mr. Plant laying the other onto - and almost around - Argos' back. "Don't worry", Argos prepares for the first steps, "I promise it is much easier than it looks."

He takes a step forward. Mr. Plant takes a step backwards, though more out of surprise. Then they both take a step to the side. Now Argos steps back and Mr. Plant goes forwards. Then another step to the side.

Hm. This…is actually much easier than he had thought. The first few attempts are not perfect by any means, but it doesn't take Mr. Plant long to get into the rhythm of the dance, not even having to think about each individual step anymore. He looks down at his feet, seemingly moving on their own, smiling a little proudly at himself.

Something thumps against his chest. His sight is obstructed by Argos' head resting on his chest , one petal softly grazing the side of his face. Mr. Plant has to move the arm he held on his back, closing the two of them further together, until he can feel every breath in Argos' chest lifting against him. Both of them keep dancing like nothing happened, perfect harmony between their steps.

Mr. Plant feels like there are a thousand eyes staring down at him, as if a massive spotlight had caused the crowd around to focus on him; the light causing his body to heat up rapidly. He wants to make them disappear. Maybe their sticky blood covering the floor could help stabilize his ever so slightly shaky legs. Maybe he could force all of them to look away, burying their eyes somewhere in the back garden of the event-hall he's trapped in.

Or; maybe it's just his boyfriend's face.

Mr. Plant doesn't think much, before he lays his head on top of Argo's hair, briefly tickling him in the face and causing a barely suppressed chuckle to come up from under him. The flower jokingly scoffs, lightly swinging side to side.

The music seems to be playing forever. The room becomes more and more empty, before everyone but them leaves his mind. Mr. Plant closes his eyes; and it is dark and warm, like a beautiful summer night.

Perhaps, his list of things he'd rather be doing just got a little shorter. Just a bit.

[din-jarhead]

Speechless (Pedrostories Secret Santa 2022)

A/N: @softpedropascal Happy Holidays! I’m your secret Santa! I loved your prompt and I had lots of fun writing this so I hope you like it!

Pairing: Frankie x f!reader 

Rating: M (still 18+ only!)

Word Count: 1.1k 

Warnings/tags: fluffff, mild spiciness

Frankie has been complaining for weeks about having to make an appearance at your company Christmas party. Of course he wants to make you happy, which means accepting the fact that he has to go, but he isn’t one for small talk with people he doesn’t know, or getting too much attention as the rarely-seen boyfriend. 

You’ve been told that the dress code is “Christmas formal” so you’re currently at the mall searching for the perfect dress. Not only do you want to match the dress code, you also want to find something that will distract Frankie from the fact that he doesn’t want to be there. 

Eventually, you find it— a red dress that accentuates the parts of your body you know Frankie loves most, but still appropriate enough for a work party. Plus, you already have a pair of shoes that will go with it perfectly. 

You make your way back home and hang the dress in the bathroom while you start on your hair and makeup. 

As you’re putting the final touches on your eyeshadow, you hear Frankie’s familiar footfalls climbing the stairs, signaling his return home from work. He calls your name as he enters the bedroom, and you quickly respond to keep him from spoiling your surprise. 

“I’m in here, love, but don’t come in! I don’t want you to see me until I’m all ready! I laid out your outfit on the bed so you can get dressed.” 

You’d picked out Frankie’s outfit for him— a gray button-down and black slacks along with a subtle-yet-festive tie— knowing he doesn’t particularly care about what he wears and he trusts you to choose wisely. 

“Thank you, querida. I’ll do my best to be patient” Frankie answers, as you hear him starting to shed his work clothes. 

Now even more excited to get into your new dress, you quicken your pace with your makeup, trying not to get too particular about your eyebrows before moving onto the finishing touch of red lipstick. Satisfied, you shrug off the comfortable robe you’d been wearing and remove your dress from its place hanging on the shower rod. 

You don’t want Frankie to see you but you had still missed him all day, so you ask him to tell you about his day through the closed bathroom door while you pull on the dress. 

It slips over your hips easily, and though you briefly struggle getting the zipper all the way up— normally you’d ask Frankie for help but that would compromise your big reveal— you look in the mirror and know you made the perfect selection. 

By now Frankie has finished putting on his own outfit, his retelling of the day’s events sounding clearer now that he’s standing still.

“One funny thing happened today, some of the guys were coming back from lunch and I—”

Frankie’s story comes to an abrupt halt as you finally open the door and step out into the bedroom, putting your arms out to the side to give him a full view of your dress.  

Frankie remains frozen, mouth still slightly open mid-sentence, as he processes the sight before him. 

You see his wide eyes scanning your body, and eventually he closes his mouth, bringing his hand up over his mouth and down to his chin, fingers stroking his short beard as if in contemplation. 

You feel heat rising in your cheeks as you wait, feeling a bit strange just standing there for so long, but you also want to let Frankie have his moment to take it in. 

He clearly likes what he sees, though. 

“Shit, baby,” Frankie exhales, clearly having forgotten to breathe the last few moments as well, “you look— damn, you look— I don’t know what to…” his words trail out with a small laugh, unable to actually formulate a thought. 

You grin at him, briefly realizing you both probably look a bit silly right now, just staring at each other across a room looking at each other with goofy expressions but you don’t care, his reaction is even better than you hoped. 

You move to him, placing your hands on either side of his face to bring him into a kiss, and though he can’t find words he shows you exactly what he thinks of your appearance with his lips. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly close to him like he’s trying to imprint you on himself. 

You eventually break the kiss, moving your hands down to his broad shoulders and admiring his outfit, as well. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Morales. You know what it does to me when you have your sleeves rolled up like that.” 

Frankie smirks at you, proving he certainly does know what it does to you, and moves one hand down from its place on your waist to playfully squeeze your ass.

“That dress is so unbelievably beautiful, I don’t think I’m gonna make it through this party.” Frankie practically growls, the way he’s pushing himself against you revealing his growing need. He places a few kisses along your neck, breathing in your perfume. 

You giggle but gently push him away, looking at the clock on your bedside table. 

“You promised to go to this party, on time, Francisco. No getting out of it even for that.” 

His hands reach for you even as you move further away to get your shoes and purse. You see him trying to hide the pout on his face, but eventually admitting defeat and moving toward the door. 

“I’m not just trying to get out of going, you just look so fucking sexy right now I’m losing my mind,” Frankie says as he watches you struggle with the strap of your heel. You let out a huff of frustration and he moves back to you, kneeling in front of you at the end of the bed to help. 

You run your fingers through his hair, thanking him for the assistance. 

“I know baby, part of me wants to ditch the whole thing now, too,” Frankie looks up at you hopefully— 

“But,” his face falls again. 

“I’m excited to show this dress off to everyone else, too, and I have to make an appearance or everyone will judge me once we’re back at work.” 

Frankie nods in understanding as he stands again, holding his hand out to help you rise as well. 

The two of you eventually make it out the front door, sliding into Frankie’s truck. 

When you get to the party, you’re greeted with enough praise of how you look to last you at least a few weeks, but as you start to mingle with your coworkers you realize there’s something (or rather someone) else you’d much prefer to be doing tonight. 

You put on your best disappointed face and turn to your friends, watching Frankie from the corner of your eye. 

“I actually feel a headache coming on, we might only be able to stay for a few minutes after all.” 

[amazingmsme]

A Strange Thing To Miss

AN: I know this is late, but damnit I’m gonna finish this! Midterms & homework set things back, but I hope to get the next 2 fics out real soon. Here’s everyone’s favorite ghost bro being cheeky & facing the consequences. Enjoy! 

When Klaus turned around to grab the butter from the fridge, he wasn't expecting to see Diego standing right there. He jumped, clutching his chest with one hand, spatula gripped tight in the other.

"Goodness, Diego! I swear, we need to tie bells on your shoes, you can't just sneak up on people like that!" he mildly scolded, retrieving the butter from the fridge for his grilled cheese.

"Sorry. I need to ask you something," he explained, crossing his arms. Klaus looked at him expectantly, excitement in his eyes.

"You need to ask me something? This ought to be good," he scoffed in amusement. Diego rolled his eyes.

"Shut up man, I'm serious."

Klaus schooled his features and gave him his attention. "Okay, I'm listening."

Diego looked at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Is uh, is Ben messing with me? Be honest."

The question completely caught him off guard, causing him to flip the grilled cheese out of the pan. "Oh shit, one sec," he mumbled, picking it up by a corner and dropping it back in the pan. He looked at Diego, who was studying him intently now. "Funny you should ask."

"It's a yes or no question Klaus."

"Yes, okay? He said he's bored. He misses messing with you guys."

Diego didn't know what to think. The idea of a ghost, any ghost even if it was his brother, unsettled him. For the longest time he didn't want to believe Klaus. He didn't want Ben to be stuck here, wandering lost in the afterlife. He didn't want that for his brother. But he was here, and Klaus was taking care of him in a way. And he was still their Ben. A smirk found it's way onto his face.

"Heh, figures."

"Why, what'd he do?" Klaus asked, amusement clear in his voice.

"He uh, he messed with my knives."

"Uh oh," Klaus ooed childishly, earning a smack to the back of his head.

"I'm serious man, it wasn't funny. I went to the bathroom and came back literally a minute later. All my knives were balancing on each other with the tips pointed at me. Freaked me the hell out, and I just wanted to make sure it wasn't something to worry about."

Klaus was impressed by his brother's apparent ability to manipulate the material world, especially since he made a fuss any time Klaus asked him to do something. He chuckled, a wide grin firmly in place. "Wow, he's getting creative."

"Well tell him to knock it off? I'd rather just see him or feel a hand on my shoulder to know he's there. Not- that."

"Why not tell him yourself?" he asked, sliding the sandwich from skillet to plate. The question caught Diego off guard and he shifted uncomfortably.

"W-well I don't really know where he is, or if he's listening, and besides, you said he's bored. I uh, shouldn't ruin his fun, y'know?"

"I'm a little shocked. You're going soft," Klaus mused, taking a large bite of the grilled cheese. His eyes rolled back and he hummed in delight.

"Excuse me?"

"The Diego I know would never let Benny boy get away with messing with your knives, even if he is dead." He spoke in a deadpan, resting a hand on Diego's shoulder. He brushed him off.

"The hell are you talking about?" he snapped, not sure what Klaus was getting at.

"Do you really not remember the brutal punishments you'd dish out to anyone who dared touch your precious knives?" he asked. Diego rolled his eyes.

"Brutal is a bit, dramatic, don't you think?"

"But you agree I have a point." Diego had to give him that one.

"Yeah yeah, whatever."

"Would you like to get him back?"

Now that got his attention.

When Klaus and Diego walked into the library, Ben didn't spare a second glance. He couldn't fathom why either of them would be there, but he currently couldn't care less, nose stuck in a book.

Only when Diego waltzed right up to the table in the corner he was sat at, did he think something was amiss. Even though he couldn't see him, Ben shifted in his seat and eyed him carefully. Diego shot Klaus a look, earning a nod of confirmation.

"Hey Ben. I know you're here, or at least Klaus says you are."

Ben immediately looked at him, hanging on his every word. It'd been far too long since his other siblings addressed him directly. He realized it was a strange thing to miss.

"Your knife trick was pretty good. You got me man," Diego said, a proud smirk tugging at his lips. He held his hand up for a fist bump. Ben let out a surprised chuckle, reaching out to bump their fists together. He didn't expect his hand to actually make contact, and he looked over at Klaus, his own hands glowing blue.

"Thanks man."

"Don't thank me yet," Klaus said cheekily. Ben was about to ask what he meant, but Diego snatched him by the wrist and pulled him into his lap. Ben blinked in surprise; it all happened so fast he barely knew what had happened.

Diego grinned evilly at his brother. "You seem to have forgotten the consequences for messing with my shit," he growled, wasting no time and dug his wiggling fingers into Ben's tummy.

He was rewarded with a surprised squeal, followed by loud, carefree laughter.

"Diegohoho nohoho! W-why?" he choked out between growing hysterics. He'd always been fairly sensitive, but the lack of this particular sensation over the years meant a major shock to his system when he finally felt it. It was just as maddening and torturous as he remembered. And just as fun.

"Because I don't want you thinking you can fuck with my knives whenever you want. And, honestly, because this is fun as hell," he teased, vibrating a clawed hand on his stomach. Ben thrashed in his lap, shrill giggles and snorts filling the air. He reached up, hiding his face in his hands.

"Oh no you don't," Diego mused, drilling his thumbs in his armpits to make his arms come crashing down.

As Ben was sent into further hysterics, he realized just how much he missed this. How much they all had missed this. And what a strange thing to miss.

[bjfinn]

POPCHAT

"Foul Play"/"Deadbeat" crossover

"I'm sorry, Jimmy," Herb Weinberg said. "After the ... incident with Alex, you're just not marketable. Nobody wants to take a chance on you -- they're worried about a repeat performance."

"Of course," Jimmy said. "I understand. But I was in Bellevue for several months, and I'm doing much better -- Dr Bartholomew says that I'm well on the road to recovery, and part of that recovery will be getting back to work."

Weinberg sighed. "I know," he said.

"During my ... stay at the hospital, I lost my apartment -- I've had to find another. It wasn't easy, but I managed to get one much cheaper. In Flatbush."

"Flatbush? That's quite a comedown from the Upper East Side."

Jimmy nodded. "It is -- but it's a nice neighbourhood. The people are friendly -- I ... I think living there will be good for me. That said, I need to be able to pay my rent. Isn't there anything for me? Anything at all -- I'll take it, whatever it is. I'm ... I'm desperate -- I need to find something." He paused, looking his agent in the eye for the first time. "Please."

"Well, there's a new community station starting up -- it's in Brooklyn. And they are looking for talent. But they can't pay much."

"I'll take it."

Weinberg furrowed his brows. "Don't you want to at least think about it first?"

"I don't have the time," Jimmy replied, shaking his head.

*****

"Jimmy! May I call you Jimmy? Have a seat, please!"

Jimmy smiled and nodded, and sat down in the armchair opposite Mr Feinstein's desk. He crossed his legs with feigned casualness, his hands interlaced at his belt.

"I understand that you're looking for a talk-show host?" he asked.

Arnold Feinstein nodded. "We need someone for a daytime talk show."

"Daytime?" Jimmy said. "I --"

"I know it's a comedown from late night, but it'd be great to have someone with your experience in the driver's seat -- and we don't have the budget yet for a late night show." He looked at Jimmy intently. "Are you interested?"

Jimmy looked down and picked an imaginary piece of lint from his tie. "You know that I was recently ... released from Bellevue," he said. "I had a ... psychotic break on-set. On camera."

"Water under the bridge, Jimmy!" Feinstein told him. "You're still going to therapy, right? And you're on medication?"

Jimmy nodded.

"That's all I need to know." He leaned back in his chair and looked at Jimmy over his glasses. "You have the experience, Jimmy boy -- you know how to conduct an interview that'll engage the viewers. You were kind of a big deal before your, uh ... well, you know. And you can help put this station on the map." He took a pen from his shirt pocket and held it out to Jimmy. "What do you say? Do we have a deal?"

*****

Jimmy Pop sat on his bed and carefully untied the laces of his shoes. He removed them and set them down on the floor, and then he sat there for a moment, a slight smile on his face.

He had a job again -- one in front of the camera, where he belonged. True, it was only a daytime talk show at a small station, but it was something.

It felt strange, though -- he'd been in Bellevue for nine months. Almost a year since he'd been on the outside. Almost a year since he'd had to take care of himself. He wondered if this was how prisoners felt after being released -- this strange mix of anticipation and trepidation.

Of course, he wasn't entirely on his own -- he still had to return three times a week for therapy. He was looking forward to seeing Dr Bartholomew again -- she'd be pleased that he'd managed to secure employment so quickly.

He got to his feet and headed into the bathroom. He regarded his reflection in the mirror appraisingly. As a TV personality, he'd always taken pride in his appearance, and one of the first things he'd done when he left Bellevue had been to visit his barber. He'd gotten the full treatment -- hair cut, beard trimmed, manicure. "Nice to see you again, Jimmy," he said softly. "It's been a long time.

"It has been a long time, hasn't it?" he replied to himself. "How have you been?

"I've had some ... difficulties, but things are getting better, thanks.

"I hear you have a new job.

"Yes, at a local station -- I'll be hosting their daytime talk show, "PopChat". Tomorrow I'll be meeting with the production team to discuss everyone's ideas."

"That's wonderful news, Jimmy -- it'll be great to see you back on television.

"I'm really looking forward to it -- I think the show will do very well in the ratings.

"Well, we're all pulling for you, Jimmy.

"Thank you, Jimmy."

He smiled wistfully at his reflection, chuckling softly. He was fully aware that he was alone -- that wasn't one of his problems. But he'd never really had any actual friends, so as a child he'd developed the habit of talking to himself.

The smile faded, and he padded out of the bathroom. Sitting on the bed again, he let out a quiet sigh. It would be nice to have a friend, he thought. I wonder what it's like?

He didn't notice the single tear that trickled down his cheek.

*****

The next few days were a whirlwind of meetings as the details for "PopChat" were worked out. It was to be a live, half-hour daily talk show, and Jimmy would be interviewing a local Brooklynite of note, the tone light-hearted and casual. The set design was minimal, just a desk and an armchair with a small stage for performances -- the station didn't have the budget for anything more elaborate.

On Sundays, Jimmy would be sent the guest list for the coming week, along with research notes and any video footage of performances, so that he could prepare for the interviews -- it wasn't likely that he'd be familiar with every guest, after all.

It would be good to be back in front of the camera again. It would be good to be again.

*****

"And now I'd like to introduce my very first guest," Jimmy said. "He's a medium who's made quite a name for himself in the past few years ... Kevin Pacalioglu!"

Pac walked on stage and shook hands with Jimmy, and then he sat in the armchair as Jimmy returned to his seat behind the desk.

"So, Kevin --"

"Call me Pac," Kevin said. "And good job with my last name -- most people butcher it."

Jimmy smiled warmly. "Very well -- Pac. You're a medium? That means that you can talk to ghosts? How long have you been able to do that?"

"Ever since I can remember," came the reply. "My parents died when I was very young, and I think that's when it began."

"I'm very sorry to hear about your parents -- it couldn't have been easy."

"It wasn't," Pac agreed. "I was placed in an orphanage, but I was never adopted. Because of my ... gift, I was a 'weird kid', and people want normal children."

"Of course -- I think we can all sympathise," Jimmy nodded. "And this gift of yours -- how does it work?"

"Well, it just happens," Pac explained. "If there's a ghost around, I can see them the same as I can see you. I can tell the difference, though -- ghosts are transparent. And I try to help them move on.

"Ghosts have unfinished business -- that's why they're stuck. I help them with their unfinished business so that they can continue their journey."

"To Heaven," Jimmy said.

"Heaven, Hell, their next life ... I don't know," Pac replied. "I don't have any answers about what happens next."

"I suppose it will always be the biggest mystery," Jimmy said, smiling.

"Do you see any other kinds of spirits? Angels, perhaps? Or demons?"

"I haven't seen any angels, but ... I did encounter a demon once."

"Really? That must have been quite frightening."

Pac shook his head, chuckling. "You'd think so, but it wasn't. He was squatting in the old Gardner Hotel -- the new owner had been renovating, and there'd been several unexplainable, uh ... incidents, so he called me to investigate.

"When I got there, I saw someone who I thought was a homeless guy. He said he was a demon, and at first I thought he was just cr-- delusional, but then he made his hair catch fire -- that's when I realised that he was telling me the truth."

"What happened?"

"I tried to get him to leave, but he refused. So ... we fought."

"You fought a demon?"

"Yeah -- it was wild. He agreed to fight like a human, so we had a fistfight. He knocked me out -- sucker-punched me -- and when I came to, he was gone. I guess he realised that he wasn't safe there any more."

"That's amazing!" Jimmy exclaimed with genuine astonishment. "Have you had any other encounters with him since then?"

Kevin nodded. "A teenage girl came asking for my help a while back -- she came all the way from Connecticut hoping I'd be able to help her see her deceased mother. As it turns out, she's friends with this demon. And he's also friends with a buddy of mine." He chuckled. "Turns out Beej -- that's the demon's name -- isn't really such a bad guy after all, just a huge pain in the ass."

*****

"Hey, man, thanks for having me on," Pac said after the show. "It was fun. And it's great to see that you're doing good -- I really enjoyed "Pop Goes the Night" before ..."

"Before I had my psychotic break," Jimmy finished. "It's all right -- you can say it."

"So ... what happened, dude? Why did you attack Alex Brightman like that?"

"I ... I was delusional," Jimmy told him. "I wanted to ... to kiss him. And I thought I was him. It's ... complicated. But I'm getting better, thanks to Dr Bartholomew and the team at Bellevue. I know I have a long road ahead, and a lot of work to do, but ... I'm getting there."

"Well, that's great to hear," Pac said, grinning. He shook Jimmy's hand, placing his left hand on the other man's shoulder. "All the best. It was great meeting you."

"It was great meeting you, too, Pac," Jimmy replied. As Kevin turned to leave, Jimmy called his name.

Kevin turned back to him, and Jimmy felt a momentary panic at the thought of what he was about to ask, but the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "Would ... would you like to ... perhaps ... go for a beer sometime? With me?"

Pac grinned broadly. "Yeah, man -- that'd be cool! Lemme give you my number -- call me anytime."

He scribbled his phone number on the back of an old receipt he'd pulled from his wallet, and handed it to Jimmy. "I mean it, man -- call me anytime!"

Jimmy looked at the piece of paper and smiled. Maybe he'd finally found a friend.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Titans Academy

Fandom: DC Comics, Titans, Arrowfam

Summary: Grant struggles to accept his new reality when Roy takes him in and enrolls him in Titans Academy. He must adjust to life at a boarding school and life with his new foster family (Roy and Lian). Can he learn to trust the people who claim to care about him? Or will he shut himself off from love altogether?

Chapters: 8/?

Characters: Grant Emerson, Roy Harper, Bart Allen, Toni Monetti, Cody Driscoll, Lian Harper, Jade Nguyen, Audrey Spears, Tommy Blake Jr.

Additional Tags: Father-Son Relationship, Boarding School AU, No Powers AU, Found Family, Second Chances, Roy Harper is a Legal Guardian, Roy Harper is a Father, POV First Person, Grant Emerson POV, Autistic Bart Allen

Chapter Eight: School Breakfast

I woke at four and dressed for school when I was well enough. I helped Lian tie her shoes and did chores with Roy. So, all the tasks students had were assigned by the week. If I had the stables one week, I had kitchen duty the next week, trash duty, and classroom cleaning, and then we would start over. Kitchen duty was intense. I started at five in the morning with Roy and Donna. They wanted me to help make breakfast. I had to make waffle batter for over a hundred kids. Four different ways. Roy sat Tommy in a high chair, and Lian refilled the napkins. "Thank you, Lian," Roy smiled. Lian nodded and stood beside me on a stool.

"You're doing a good job," Lian reassured me. I relaxed my shoulders and smiled. "Daddy's gonna be so proud of you."

"Thanks, Lian. That makes me feel good," I replied honestly.

"That's how you deserve to feel," Lian grinned. My throat went dry, and I teared up. It was the first time I'd wanted to cry since I was a kid. I hadn't cried in so long, but that did something to me. Roy picked up on it immediately.

"Hey, Grant, can you help me with one of the sign-in charts for the lunchroom?" Roy asked. I nodded and followed him to the lunchroom entrance while Donna finished making the waffles. "You alright?"

I shut my eyes until they stopped watering. "Uh-huh... Yeah... I felt weird for a second, but I'm okay now," I replied.

"What happened?" Roy asked. His voice was painfully gentle.

"Nothing... I mean... I'm not used to feeling special," I replied, "I don't know... What she said back there-. I got choked up for a second."

"Thanks for sharing that with me. I think I understand. Are you really okay, though?" Roy questioned. I nodded. "Kitchen duty kicking your backside yet?"

"I never had to cook back home. I had-. They were traditional," I replied, "So this is all new to me..."

Roy named the kids that came in, and I checked their names on the clipboard list. Bart ran straight into me, and he stopped in his tracks. "What's the matter?" Roy asked.

"I couldn't sleep. My uncle didn't call last night," Bart replied, "And I still don't know who's picking me up for the family week."

Roy looked Bart in the eye and took the clipboard from me. He flipped to the last page and wrote something down before handing the piece of paper to Bart. "But I can-."

"It's okay, Bart. If anyone needs a soft day, it's you," Roy replied, "I'll bring you your breakfast."

Bart nodded and left the cafeteria. "What's a soft day?" I asked.

"It's basically a mental health day. We all take them sometimes," Roy answered, "This school is here to build you guys up, not force you to put on smiles and pretend things are fine when they're not."

"No kiddin'... You really care about kids, don't you?" I whispered. I didn't mean to say that out loud, but I'm a dork like that.

"I care about everybody," Roy replied, "Cody, what are you doing here?"

"Got switched back to kitchen duty because some kid lost their kitchen privileges," Cody replied, "Are you supervising here today?"

"Mhm, know what that means? Wanna turn on the radio and show Grant how to set the table?" Roy asked.

"Waffles today?" Cody asked.

"Yup," Roy replied.

Cody led me back to the kitchen and turned on the radio. "So, you live with Roy and not in the dorms?" Cody asked. I nodded. "You're gonna fill the shakers for the tables with cinnamon sugar. The little kids like sprinkles, so we fill shakers with sprinkles too. I'll do the sprinkles."

Cody set out the shakers and the cinnamon sugar. "What are the dorms like?" Grant asked.

"It sucks when your roommate moves out, especially if you get along with them. I got a new roommate, but we don't talk much. People say I'm hard to get along with because I can be a jerk sometimes," Cody replied. I shrugged it off and filled the shakers. "Sorry about the other day."

"It's nothin'," I replied.

"You like living with Roy?" Cody asked. He filled the sprinkles jars so fast it made my head spin. "You'll catch up."

"It's okay... Everybody likes him here, or they're acting like it-."

"Oh no, he's as cool as everyone says," Cody replied, "He cares... I got here the same week as two other kids. Then another girl showed up a little while after. He treated us like we were his kids. He still checks in with all of us."

"And you've been here how long?" I asked.

Cody loaded all the full shakers onto two trays. "A couple of months before you. We're gonna put two of each on the table. Let me get the first table to show you," Cody explained. I followed him around and set the shakers out. Once we finished setting them out, Cody gestured for me to follow him. "We're front of the line for breakfast." I stood in line behind him, and we got the same stuff. Waffles, strawberries, sausage, and syrup. The bell rang, and kids started pouring in from all directions. A girl sat next to Cody, and she whispered something to him. He grinned.

"What?" I asked.

"She wanted to know if you were cool," Cody replied, "Audrey, this is Grant. Grant, this is Audrey... Audrey, where's Toni?"

"Caught up cleaning one of the classrooms probably... I bet you they stuck her in Health again," Audrey replied. Audrey. What a babe! But I think she had her sights set on Cody. I could tell by the way she looked at him. I don't think he saw her that way, though. I could tell by the way he looked through her when she talked. Still, I thought she was cute. "Hi, Grant. Nice to meet you," Audrey smiled as she reached to shake my hand.

"Wayyy nicer to meet you, Audrey," I grinned. Hey. Don't blame a guy for trying. Audrey dumped her container of whipped cream on her waffles and covered them in sprinkles.

"Are you staying here during family week?" Audrey asked. I nodded. "Me too. Donna's my dorm parent. It's not so bad staying here during family week. The school's like family anyway."

Cody picked over his waffles. "I said you could come home with my mom and me," Cody muttered.

"Wouldn't that be weird?" Audrey asked.

"My mom knows about you. She said it'd be okay... If it's too short notice, though, you can still come to stay with us, Driscolls, for winter break," Cody offered. Audrey smiled and nodded.

Yeah, there was no way I had a chance with her. Cody had somewhere to go. Lian put a cushion down and sat next to me. Roy put her tray down and asked me to help her while he checked in with some of the kids. "Morning, Lian," Audrey smiled.

"Good morning! Hi, Cody," Lian greeted them. I opened her butter and syrup, and she ate her fruit while I cut up her waffles into bite-sized pieces.

"How's your mom, Lian?" Cody asked.

"She went to D.C.," Lian replied, "Mommy has a big test to take."

"I hope she passes," Cody smiled.

Lian thanked him and ate her breakfast. I liked the meals. It was probably my favorite thing about the school. It wasn't quite family, but it felt pretty close.

[alienducky]

I DEMAND THAT YOU TELL ME ABOUT YOUR BLORBOS (if you want)

So I had to double check what Blorbo means, and apparently it means your favourite character? In which case may I present a good % of the FE3H cast? ;P

I just... I love most of the students in different ways for different things?

Claude is just... Claude. He has so many layers to him, being both incredibly simple (in terms of what he ultimately wants) and also stupidly complex (in how he goes about getting those things)? He wants to make connections, make friends, bring everyone together, but has been burned too many times while growing up to ever really trust anyone. He's always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for that knife to land in his back. His closest friend is Hilda who openly shits on Almyra because she's a casual racist, and that has to kill him on some level, wondering what she'd say about him if she knew, and yet she's still his best friend who he openly mourns when she goes down fighting for him? Who he can't stand the thought of losing in Hopes? He has to be in charge, of everything. Has to know all the details, make all the plans. And then makes plans for in case the first ones fail. He never stops thinking, calculating, digging up all the information available, because knowledge is power. Not just for blackmail, but because understanding your opponent means you can predict them.

Claude's just great, and I could pick him apart for hours.

Also? He has a wyvern. So, ya know. I'm very simple and predictable, ok?

I also love Leonie. She's solid, very open and honest. Kinda stubborn, but open to learning and can admit when she's wrong. Puts Lorenz in his place which is always a bonus. I want her to be my friend!

Same with Raphael and Caspar to some degree. Caspar is a little less willing to the whole learning thing, but with enough rope to tie him to the chair so he can't run away I think he'd eventually listen? Raph sees the good in everyone and everything, always willing to help, and stands up for his beliefs. They're muscle heads, but fundamentally kind people who deserve way more love than they get

Marianne is a peach who straight up talks to animals! Hilda is a riot when she pulls her head out her racist ass who has way more depth than she lets on, with the whole loyalty till death thing, and her creative side with the jewellery. I want to tease Lysithea like Claude does and feed her cake and sweets while we discuss magic. Ignatz is doing his best and the flashes of backbone he shows in early supports are amazing

Annette and Ashe are wonderful and deserve all the best things in life. Two little cinnamon rolls trying to make the best of their monuments of childhood trauma

Sylvain is.... Um. Ok, he's kinda an ass sometimes, and if he were real I'd probably hate him, but the snippets of who he could have been without all that Miklan and crest trauma? That version of him I love. The one who goes all out for his friends, who is a self sacrificing moron who hurts himself over and over because he somehow thinks it'll make things better? The one who cares so, so deeply when he lets himself, despite trying to push everyone away and keep them at arm's reach so they can't hurt him first. The version of him who is loyal to a fault, through thick and thin, and who is forever torn and on some level broken in non Blue Lion routes.

That Sylvain I love. The one behind the smiling playboy mask he shows the world.

Petra is a Bean. A Very Good Bean. She deserves all the love and kindness and all the help she wants tracking down the bastards who dragged her from her home and then made fun of her being dumped in a completely alien society. She is so damn strong, both physically (srsly she's been a crit machine in every playthrough it's insane) and mentally, I don't have the words

Thea is great in every way. She's kind and compassionate and is lethal with her snark. I want her to adopt me as her little sister and teach me her ways

Bernie needs a hug. And also all the help she wants disposing of her father because I know she's creative herself but I have some ideas if she wants them? Despite how much she wants to hide, and complains about being made to go out, she does go out to help her friends when they need her

Cyril is amazing. I love him to bits. Absolutely no fucks left to give for Hilda's bullshit. Slowly learning how to have friends. Learning to rely on people other than Rhea. He's wonderful and adorable and he'd hate me for it but I want to ruffle his hair and help him with his chores and make sure he's not getting blisters and feed him tasty Almyran food coz I bet he misses it, even if he won't admit it.

Shamir is everything I wanted to be growing up. No nonsense, take no shit, super smart, stealthy, and an archer??? She's great. I need that Marge Simpson meme

Seteth is fantastic, because once you get past that straight faced rules lawyer, he has a wicked sense of humour and a playful side and is such a dad. He's kind and caring, and he honestly does care, even if he shows it oddly

Byleth is whatever I want them to be. Blank slate, who nevertheless loves the people they pick in each route. Fierce and loyal and loving and struggling to express barely understood emotions... And putting up with Sothis being a gremlin

And then omg, Shez. Shez Shez Shez. The embodiment of no thoughts head empty. No filter, at all. Jumps off fucking cliffs for funsies. Multiple times!!!!! I just. I love Shez, ok? I am in desperate need of Shez merch, and Etsy is failing me. All I can find is the occasional sticker and I am a very sad Duckie about it

Ahem

Non FE3H is a little difficult... Mostly because 3H is my current obsession, but I guess...

Arlo and Oaks, from My Time at Portia are great? Arlo eats spaghetti, kicks down doors, and gets sweaty in the summer. Oaks is the Best Bear Boy Bean in the world. Shame the Devs dropped the ball on developing him, or giving him a decent backstory (I have so, so many questions about how he was raised)

Also, probably don't count, but the Cotton Llamas and Panbats. They are my Blorbos too. I need to finish making my third Panbat... As soon as I work out where I stashed it <__<;;;

Dys from I Was A Teenage Exocolonist is great! Little rebel baby. Also Sym, who is... Not really someone you can sum up easily? Cal is also great! I need to get back to playing this game, so I can romance him. Or not, because I want him to be happy with Tammy... Nngh

I think that's everyone I'd consider a Blorbo...? I mean, I love a bunch of other characters from different things, but none I've got out of my way to buy merch for like I have Claude (and the other students to some extent. Looking at my sticker covered table).

Sorry that got so long >__<;;;

[grlfailuresworld]

some things'll never change

Your fingers were harsh, calloused from forty-three year’s worth of a life well-lived, but they carefully counted the pennies and nickels you used to pay for our slushies, even though it was cold and almost Hanukkah, so we didn’t really need treats like this anyway. 

“Fill it all the way to the top,” You told me, pointing at the small cup I had in my smaller hands. “Get my money’s worth.” I did. My hands were sticky from the blue-red-brown-white concoction that spilled over the domed lid. But you still patted my back with those large, perpetually roughed up hands, and we walked to the check-out-counter together. 

I remember going to catch crawdaddies in Dede’s backyard with you and brother and releasing them. I was too scared to hold them, even though I was nearly eleven. But you held them, and you let me look at them and timidly pet them before you set them free. It was so easy for you. I was envious. I wanted to catch a crawdaddy, too.

You’re left handed, and whenever you wrote with a pen or the wrong pencil, it always smudged sideways. The flat of your hand would be covered in ink or graphite streaks. 

And the memory I remember most of all about those hands is all the times you’d ask me to grab you a cigarette from the carton. You’d light it and bring it to your lips, puff on it a bit before putting it out.

“Don’t you ever smoke,” You say every single time, the burning stick moving in your mouth with every word. “Worst decision I ever did make.” I don’t know how many times you’ll say you’ll quit. I’ve stopped counting at this point. Who cares anymore? The smell’s become comforting at this point, as bad as it is.

You work in sanitation, a job that has definitely aged you many years, so that I can have new shoes for school or headphones when mine inevitably break. Maybe that’s why your hands are so dry and rough, and always dark with grime that the skin healed over. 

Those same hands held me for the first time, all those years ago, back when nobody knew who I was and I didn’t even really have a name set in stone yet. Those same hands tried to teach me how to ride a bike. There’s a video of me and you, the one where you let go, and I immediately go face-first into an ant hill. Those same hands held mine when you picked me up from preschool, and they held mine again when I cried to you in the early morning hours. I always look at your hands when I can’t look you in the eye. They are familiar, they are steady. They’re comforting, even if half of your fingernails are bruised and they’re overworked. 

Those hands have done a million things, and have spent eighteen years teaching me to do the same. To tie my shoelaces, to play with chalk, to teach me addition, to show me how to draw a dog, to use an inhaler, to clean my first pair of glasses, to give the people on the street with signs whatever money I can, to cut out box tabs for school drives, to do my own hair, to make microwavable meals for when you’re at work, to win at claw machines, to safety pin the Goodwill dress I got for my first school dance, to pluck guitar strings, to light fireworks, to chop wood, to drive, to play basketball, to do chemistry, to fill out job applications, to pick up prescriptions, to find colleges I like. 

Now the only thing I can do is call you. When did I let go of your hand? How do I go back? Can I even go back? I know that there will be a day where you’re going to have to hold my hand. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for that day. I wasn’t even ready for you to cry when I left for college, nor was I ready when you cried when I had to go back after a weekend at home. How will I ever be ready to watch the dad who’s taken care of me my whole life need me to take care of him?

All I can promise is that when that does happen, that I’ll do my best to do right by you, just like you did for me. And I promise that whenever I settle down, I’ll raise whatever children I may have with the same grace and love you did. 

We don’t say ‘I miss you’, or ‘I can’t wait to see you’. But I know we both think about it. We both know that no matter how much time passes, or how far apart we become, I will always be your daughter.

I feel it every time I come back and you hug me and give my hand a squeeze.

[snapshots-of-the-young-egotist]

At the point of transition where I have yet to go back to my old job. I know I need to go back just off of principle and justice. . Even if my return is as brief as a month or two. . But after one big decision, the universe opened all of these other possibilities and too many options is confusing to me. The thing about confusion though, is I’m not actually confused. My confusion comes only when I consider how the equation would look if I were to consider another person in the trajectory of my own life and decisions. Every week I have another business plan come to me and they are stacking up at this point.

in my youth I admired this quote.. “Think and act ten years ahead”

and I still admire it, but it houses a different sentiment these days.

These are all consequences of my accident in August. I think it was an ischemic stroke, but I have yet to determine the distant severity. . I showed up to work several days after my accident, unable to move my fingers, entire left arm paralyzed, unable to form full sentences without stuttering, or lacking terms that should’ve been easy to remember. . Then, are the mental incapacities that did prevent me from actually articulating the words that I could see, but was just completely unable to verbalize. I show up to work and explain what happened, and it induces tears. I know now I was crying because I was kind of devastated by it all.. but it mattered not! Because when you come into work, you check your problems at the door! And if you can’t or it’s going to prove dangerous to yourself or others do so, you should tell someone! So I did. I told all of my bosses at once and the operations manager who could be GM now but idk.. work says, “thanks for letting us know! Our departments slow today, so you will be a runner for this concourse.. also, we’re not going to tell any other leadership about what happened to you! We want you to do alll of the work for us, and for yourself… and then also others!!”

And that was the way of things for ole’ LP.

Also consequences of inactions by others- and the scale of any sort of reasonable accommodations were completely out of question.. both at home, (to a certain existent) but more so ,the most surprising thing to come out my accident is the expectations set at work that I absolutely needed to be somewhat lower.. but at no point did anyone that I’ve spent years working with stop and give me time to recover. No one stopped and said, “Hey, why is this walking liability who doesn’t have the dexterity between her two hands to even tie her shoe or pick up her badge, excuse me, how is she out on the floor instead of fulfilling another role for the company because this is dangerous? Not just dangerous for her, but also dangerous to any child or passenger she comes into contact with and is expected to assist?”

Lol no one ever said anything like that. Not one Soul that I either worked for, under, or around. So, during a personal experience of not knowing if I’d ever regain feeling or mobility in my arms and hands and fingers- I was expected to maintain all of the responsibilities of my job. You guys! I’ve spent the past five years taking care of people of aren’t able to operate their bodies or minds in their fullest capacity without being assisted. . The nicest people were several.. none that I ever really spoke with prior to the accident.. the first was a girl who I actually prayed for as I was getting dressed for work. It was only really after several last minute attempts to force my fingers to suddenly regain dexterity.. instead, all I wound up doing, was hit myself in the face. Repeatedly lol with each try to pull my hair into a ponytail. Each time it happened that morning, it made me laugh at first, because how could I ever forget something so serious! & So quickly too! So, this happened and then it happened again and again- and each time it was funny for a second.. but then that very serious tone of things would come back.

-It was the first morning I’d be returning to work since my accident, when a tsa officer -

And the , at the end of August, I had an accident after dancing one night. I came home after work and was warming up my body from the restrictive positions that part of my work causes the body to be put into. (It’s esssentially like working out for an entire shift, which is absolutely terrible for your body and your muscles and the like hardly have any time to rebuild in a safe, healthy way. . Especially if you are required to work overtime literally every single day and have been for more than 3years at this point.) so yeah. I have watched others try to accept what their body is doing from the work they’ve been putting it through, and I’m not going to be one of those people. All year, prior to this accident at the end of August, I also suffered front what seems most like symptoms of MS. - which restricts your ability to move at all. Even when you want to or really need to because a floor supervisor is still yelling at you after you’ve already explained that you literally can’t move.. but then the HR rep only supports you in a room with your manager in it and at no point does she actually do anything humane to help you- like present you with FMLA paperwork.. but that’s the thing. No one wants to do their job all of the time. Or even some times.

I think I was put in the perfect position to bring things to the attention of others. So at least, in some version of reality, someone has all of the facts from every angle, every department- and as I know myself to be a very thoughtful person, I will take it and apply it in a way where I will still be thoughtful, but the direction of those thoughtful observations is going to deviate from its natural path. The natural path would have been, for me to continue to let observations of others inability to make basic competent decisions stay in the moment. Idk. I’m venting and sorting and determining. Exactly what I want to do with my time and where I’d like to spend it.. and with whom. I have one more email to send my new director and depending on her response, I will have to take everything I’ve already written up, and send it to her boss. The whole thing is very tricky for me. . Especially because her boss told me that he didn’t want certain employees to do other work for different departments- and I’ll never forget the look on his face when I immediately agreed with him and was very excited to hear more about what he said to me. Now, in the moment, we were the midst of negotiating a retroactive payment that the company owed me. Not only owed to me legally, but also would be pertinent to the email at hand present day- because, you see people- when you are patient with good intentions, but still very mindful of others in any given situation, you can play off of what you know .. and as well, what you have personally experienced.

So. If things aren’t negotiated to swing one way in my favor, I swear I will make them swing in another way. It’s the second option. It’s an olive branch, and I already see how things are probably going to go before I have be “all business.” No one I work with or have been working with has ever fully seen me, and they’ve definitely not seen me in my “All business no bullshit” energy.. but that version has always existed.

The thing about jobs, is that we have to reserve parts of our personality to some extent… but then sometimes we stay in that energy. I’m no longer in that energy. I know I’ve been around people who can register my intelligence without needing to see proof hanging around my neck that says, “manager” .

one thing about me that apparently surprises people is what their version of me looks like, compared to the experience of what my energy IS like. Energy can’t lie in person. It rearranges itself to form various pictures for all of the viewers, but it doesn’t lie. So whoever is at the base of the energetic exchange, those two individuals may be more inclined to feel what each others energy IS, rather than what it looks like.

so maybe after I finally send this email, I will not have to send another one… but come on guys, it’s me ✨ I’m never going to do what’s expected of me if there’s some kind of interference within a situation where justice was not offered or even considered. I’m very considerate, and at times my consideration is too thoughtful of others instead of towards myself. That’s why I am where I am now. If I had been considerate enough to point out flaws or basic issues with my bosses or people in positions of authority, I would have fostered immediate change. I’ve supported people in the complete absence of finding their support for me. It’s totally okay. I don’t care to get anyone in trouble- no matter how irresponsible their judgment calls were. That’s a main reason why I would be fine speaking to someone at even corporate, rather than scale the ladder of positions first, as they want employees to do. I considered that, but immediately noted that if I were to do that, I’d have to include how every department failed to communicate between each other. At the end of the day, it’s not up to one or two individuals to communicate. There are resources that could be used for better communication but in the absence of those resources, we just have our own emotions to control or steer the direction; outcome; and point of view of others who are brought Into the picture. On one hand I do not want anyone to get in trouble. But on the other hand, I know how egos are. No one wants to hear from The lowest tiered employee,. Especially how and what issues within multiple departments are observed by such an individual, and how easy it would be to restructure things if the right person was in charge of doing it. All it takes, is one person who is right for the job. Like, truly right- not just “write” on paper- not just right in person because they look mean or unfriendly. (Thus perhaps making them a better negotiator than someone with a more carefree looking temperament.) but idk how this is going to go. I always give people more of an allowance than they ever really need.

I have that quote that Sza says in my mind.. and it’s been so highly motivating to me.. and so often during this month of October too.

✨“Not in the dark anymore.. I might forgive it. I won’t forget it.”

[luminenwalker]

Catchup 5

Don't overcomplicate it. //RRH 

A defibrillator. A defibrillator?! They'll never work. //RRH 

Don’t fear failure. Fear not trying. //RRH 

The most dangerous thing you can ever do in a debate is win. //RRH 

Your intuition is always right, but your mind is always wrong. //RRH 

Hey, it's not the end of the world. //RRH 

The streets are littered with bones, entrails, and viscera. The stench of death hangs in the air, oozing from every alleyway and trash-strewn street. Abandoned buildings, once full of life, lay in ruins. The Tower have struck again. //RRH 

Why do they call them painkillers? If they killed pain, I'd only need one. //Shallow 

The only way to lose is to forget, and start playing someone else's game! //RRH 

Today's broadcast is dedicated to Operation Stingray by H.K. Reyes. The video (https://youtube.com/watch?v=K-BOXet4ekM&list=PLkBvWuemCrDabIK-KFIK_Q_UTXOhur96Q&index=24) by @ctfdn_official is narrated by Johnathan West. Welcome back folks. Let's make this next year a better one. //Luminen 

Starved guy in an alley, when everyday's a damn Circus who the hell needs bread? //Enn 

Today's broadcast is dedicated to the Search and Rescue stories. The video (https://youtube.com/watch?v=nhkgXOUDetc&list=PLkBvWuemCrDabIK-KFIK_Q_UTXOhur96Q&index=27) narrated by Corpse Husband. //Luminen 

More missing people. Their posters stretch across the city. What does it mean? What does any of it mean? We're still figuring that out. There really isn't much to go on. What we learn only leads to more questions, worse paths. //Afternoon Ashes 

Murderous dreams and reckless ambitions. The streets know everything. Do you know why you're here. Stumbled onto a fire today, burning building in the midst of Gamble. Burning tents and stalls. Now, it's a fire sale while people pick up their lives. //Afternoon Ashes 

Banshee. Word on the street is about the crazy spike and people are raving about it in secret... Everyone's trying to get a piece of the action... or finding their actions leaving them in pieces. //Lastman 

I kept telling the receptionist at St. Joes its not 'blood loss' I know exactly which bastard walked away covered in it. //Jormungandr 

Chiral Manning is a name in the wind. No one knows what happened to her or why. But, someone's looking for her. Someone cares. Enough to plant posters around the city. A number, an address. Does anyone have the money to offer rewards these days? //Afternoon Ashes 

Broken glass covers the street, another bombing. No warning or explanation. Retribution threatened but no obvious actors. We don't know who did it or why. Only who it drove over the edge. There was a death at the centre of it. Someone's going to pay. //Afternoon Ashes 

Tower seen digging bullets out of their victims to cover up what they're doing. Police turn a blind eye to this. Corporate turns a blind eye to this. Recordings erased and witnesses threatened. But not all of them. What's happening here? //Afternoon Ashes 

The crew went down to the homeless camps in the airport to investigate claims of missing people reappearing. A lot of people with surgical scars and missing memories. They talk about nightmares. It's a nightmare. But nightmares don't leave marks. //Afternoon Ashes 

Trio of old ambulances seen plowing through traffic in Abbotsford. They didn't come from any known hospitals, and there aren't any official comments about the job they came from. Suspects aren't locals. //Afternoon Ashes 

Getting into graff lately. Yellow and red. Veins and connections. Bugs with too many limbs. Seen lots of similar pieces all over the city. It looks unsettling, yet pleasing. If this reclamation work doesn't work out, well, street art does sell. // Tee-J 

Guy in a dress shirt, tie, shoes shined to perfection, rummaging through a garbage can on my way home. Took out a half-eaten hotdog and ate it. I always thought these guys got paid better than I did... // Shallow 

Anyone know if there has been a large shipment of explosives coming into the city lately? You can get tons of good quality stuff dirt cheap right now, no complaints... // Bad Wolf 

Is it fraud to plant bugs in your electronics? Yes. I'm tired of having to go over every piece of technology the station purchases with a fine tooth comb because someone thought it would be funny to spy on us. //Afternoon Ashes 

Zeridine in the water supply? More likely than you think. Why is this important? Have you ever wanted to have an original thought? To feel the pleasures of the flesh? To snuff something out? You will be dulled if they want it. Time to stock up on purifiers. //Afternoon Ashes 

People weren't supposed to live like this. They still aren't. Even with all the tech we pump into our flesh and blood. //Afternoon Ashes 

There's a surplus of medical supplies in Cincinnati. But the value doesn't go down. Is there an implication here? Yes. It's being used. The question remains, for what? //Afternoon Ashes 

I know I'm supposed to do it eventually, it's one of the big milestones for folks like us, but I can't bring myself to aug my face. It's not that I wouldn't be myself anymore, but I feel like I wouldn't understand myself afterwards. //Daydream 

[indefiniteimagines]

Papa Was A Rollin' Stone || Elliot Imagine (Euphoria)

WARNINGS: Teen parents, ELLIOT AND READER ARE BOTH 18 AT THE TIME OF THE BIRTH AND THE STORY, language, fluff, Nate Jacobs

"But Mom! There's no one else! What am I supposed to do? "

"What about Elliot's people?"

"Ugh!" I say frustrated.

"Y/n I'm sorry, but I can't today. I have things to do and being full time nanny is not one of them."

"How can you say that? That's your grandchild."

"Yes, but he's YOUR child. So, YOU need to find somewhere for him to stay until YOU can pick him up after school and cheer. I told you when you got pregnant that he was not mine. He is yours, or y'all's," she says pointing between Elliot and I.

"I hate to be that person, but you both had nine months to prepare. Me and Elliot's cousin helped as much as we could, but he's not ours. You knew. You can't say you didn't." My mom walked out of the kitchen and through the front door. I get up from my seat and join Elliot on the couch,

"What the fuck." I sigh and put my head in my hands. His go to rub circles on my back.

"It's gonna be okay."

"How can you say that? School starts in 20 minutes. Not we have to leave in 20, but the bell will be physically ringing in 20 minutes. I don't know about you, but I can't get another truancy if I want to keep my spot on the squad. Not to mention I'm not ready, Wolfe's still sleep and now I have to wake him up when he should stay asleep and-" I start to spiral before he cuts me off.

“How about this? You go get ready as fast as you can and I’ll take care of Wolfe today. Being late to first period is better than not showing up at all.”

Shit, he had a point. I look at him and clasp his hands in mine. I look him deep in his eyes and kiss them,

“You have no idea how much I love you.”

“I have a pretty good idea,” he says with a cheeky smile, “now go. Before this is all pointless.”

I let out a little squeal and head to my bathroom. Even though I needed to properly wash my hair, this was going to have to be a 2 minute one. At least I’ve mastered those. I hop out and apply leave-in so my hair won’t get dry through the long day. I quickly finish up in there before quietly entering my bedroom. I lean over the crib to check on Wolfe and he’s still asleep. Content, I turn to get dressed. I decide on a band t-shirt of Elliot’s and a pair of jeans. I finally bend down to tie my shoes when I looked at the time. The bell was ringing in 5 minutes, but I was full. I have no time to pump so I gather the rest of my belongings and place them by the bedroom door.

It was 7:38, the bell rings at 7:42, and Wolfe wakes up at 8. I hate to wake him early, but I was not about to leak through another top. I walk over to the crib and gently pick my sleeping baby up into my arms. His eyes slowly open before stirring and starting to whine. I shush him and kiss him on the forehead while sitting down on my bed. I quickly remove my breast and let him latch. I let him have 5 minutes on each side before gathering my things and walking out of the room.

I carry him through the house and find Elliot in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal. “Sorry to interrupt, but he needs to be burped,” I say handing him his son. He puts the spoon down and welcomes him in. I lay the blanket on his shoulder and he starts to pat him on the back.

“Got everything?”

“I think so. Okay, uhhh milk is in the freezer door, you know he goes down for the first time at around 11 and then again at 2.” He nods along and I look around to make sure I didn’t forget anything.

“Are you sure, Elliot? I mean, I can stay.”

“Nahh, you have to finish. We got this,” he says winking at me. “Say ‘it’s okay, Mama. Dada will let me eat all the cleaner in the house’”

“ELLIOT!”

“Go!” I laugh at him and bend down to kiss him. I caress my baby’s head before kissing him too.

I speed walk to the door when I call out a quick, “I love you guys! See you later!”

“Love you, Baby! Drive safe!”

It was finally last period and Elliot had been sending photos of Wolfe periodically throughout the day. I can’t lie, it did ease my nerves. Don’t get me wrong, Elliot is the best father but I’m still Mama and that separation anxiety was strong. The last bell of the day finally rings and I beeline for the locker room.

Maddy and Cassie are already in there changing and I meet up with them.

“Hey, Y’all. ”

“Hey!” Quipped Maddy.

“Hey, Y/n. How are you feeling?”

“I woke up full as hell, but I got to feed him. Other than that, just tired.”

“I fuckin bet, dude. But you know what, you’re here and you’re doing the damn thing. How’s Elliot with it all?”

“Thanks, Maddy. And he’s doing beautifully. He’s so fucking amazing. Like today. He stayed home alone with the baby so I could be here and keep my spot. Like?”

Maddy makes a face places her hand on her chest before turning to her friend,

“And he’s staying clean….?” Cassie asks hesitantly.

“Since my second trimester. Wolfe just hit three months.”

“Wow.”

“Wow, that’s amazing.” Their comments overlap, but the sincerity is loud. We finish changing and head to the gym. We were walking by the football team when Nate eyed me a little too hard.

“Oh yeah. Apparently, he has a thing for MILFS now,” Maddy says leaning into me. I give her a look and we laugh. We enter the gym and start practice. We have a small audience, but that’s nothing new. In that audience though was Brandon. It’s no secret that he's had a crush on me and has ever since we kissed at the end of the year 8th Grade dance.

There was only 6 minutes left when the gym door opens. A few gasps are let out and I turn to look to see Elliot walking in with Wolfe strapped to his chest and the diaper bag looped on his shoulder.

“Coach?”

She gives me a nod of approval and I walk over to my boys.

“Hey! What are you guys doing here?” I kiss them both and Elliot responds,

“Hey…I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I tried to give him the bottle and he just would not take it.” He starts to whisper, “I even held it to my tit but this little fucker is a genius because he did not fall for it.” I laugh lovingly at his efforts and attempts and pull the child from the carrier.

“Ohhhhh did someone miss, Mama? Come on, Sweetheart.” I start to head to the bleachers and sit down. Elliot follows me and notices stares coming from the other side of the room. Surprisingly it wasn’t coming jealous girls, but jealous guys.

I adjust Wolfe in my lap to start breastfeeding. Elliot takes a look around the room before landing on Brandon and Nate who were starring. He moves like a little squirrel, rummaging through the diaper bag when he finds the modesty blanket and covers me before I feed our child. We can hear groans of disappointment and smile at each other.

“You know they want you?”

“And you know you have me,” I shoot back at him. He leans in and kisses me before turning his attention to the last few minutes of practice.

We were going to be just fine.