#but like … full on feel like imposter syndrome over my own hearing

[beckiboos]

At games night tonight with my family and my mum had asked me to try and be less shriek as I was close to her and my sister pipes up

Sister “yeah you are loud and squeaky”

Me “I’m deaf?!?”

Sister “yeah that doesn’t count though or you would have hearing aids”

Me “I have overall hearing loss and mostly high pitch hearing loss which I was told hearing aids won’t do anything for so I have trouble hearing high pitch notes in talking and conversa-“

Sister “Yeah I’ve already stopped listening to you, so this games rules are..”

Me “Oh good so you won’t hear me call you a ableist dickhead then”

She didn’t either

#need to rant #cuz she’s always calling me loud and squeaky but like #like im doing it just to annoy her #and I literally don’t know im doing it #I don’t do it on purpose #but she talks over me and shouts at me ALL THE TIME #and she then shouts at me if I try not to let her interrupt me #anyway yeah doctor said cuz I would have to buy hearing aids myself #said it wouldn’t really help #like I don’t remind reminders now and again if im being loud #but she literally just goes shut up and dunno #feels like she just doesn’t want me to talk ever #I know I’m only hard of hearing not fully deaf #but like … full on feel like imposter syndrome over my own hearing #not deaf enough and not hearing enough I guess

[moldspace]

new year new news

hey everyone! wow! 2022 is over! what a year! i made a lot of art, had some cool opportunities (painting a mural!!!) and some challenging transitions (quitting my job, switching academic programs!) but i think, overall, i’m glad to put this one in the rear view mirror. 

now, to get out of the rear view mirror and look forwards into the metaphorical windshield - my resolution this year is to MAKE MORE ART and to GET OUTSIDE OF MY COMFORT ZONE and with that in mind, my first actionable goal for 2023 was...

to start a patreon!

not gonna lie, i’ve been just as nervous as i’ve been busy setting this up the past few weeks (and the imposter syndrome has kicked in HARD), but hey, doing new things is always scary and awkward. and i really wanted a good excuse to put some time and energy into behind-the-scenes stories, progress shots, sketchbook pages that aren’t pretty enough to post on their own, and rambling talks about the winding path my own art tends to follow. so maybe check it out and throw some money my way, if you’ve got extra and are curious!

currently i’ve just got one $3 tier up, but i’m sure that will change and evolve as i figure out what i’m doing. but what can i access with three dollars, i hear you ask? well...

full digital copies of all of my zines! with transcripts, and personal commentary!

polls! maybe i'm making new stickers and don't know which design to go with, maybe i'm amassing work for an update and don't know if i should make some more selkies or some more sphinxes - these polls will help ME decide what to make more of, and help YOU ALL see more of what you want from me. win-win!

behind the scenes posts and videos! i have to admit that i harbor a secret love for video editing, but I have so far had no real outlet for it (aside from the AMVs that i occasionally make in a fugue state and NO i’m never showing them to a soul) - but i've just filmed and edited the first full start-to-finish process video for patreon! watch me make a ceramic beasty from sketch to glaze firing, with full voiceover commentary (my voice was once described by a child as “why do you sound like that? you sound like you’re going to cry” so look forward to that!) i have plans in the future for tutorial posts and videos, more process timelapses, and full behind the scenes zine-making retrospectives, from writing to illustrating to binding.

this month (january 2023) only, sign up as a patron and i will personally send a little doodle to your house! yes, like in the mail. feel free to send me a prompt with your pledge, otherwise it’ll probably be some sort of creature with a human face and stars on it. maybe it will still be that, even if you give me a prompt.

finally, you will get my eternal gratitude! i truly cannot thank you all enough for the support and love over the years. it's been such an amazing honor to find other people who like the wacky little critters i make, and whether you've purchased art from me, follow me, or are even just someone who's seen and liked a piece of mine, i am forever grateful to be able to connect across space and time, with you, over art. 

whether or not you decide to pledge, from the bottom of my heart, thank you! i am so lucky to have this space on tumblr to share my work - every kind comment means the world to me, and i just hope my work can be enriching to your worlds in some small way, too! i know making it enriches mine :^)

[fourstarsoutofnine]

May I request some Hyrule fluff where he accidentally confessed to someone in the chain about his raging crush on the reader and then that someone told the reader? Hyrule's all sad abt it and wants to disappear bc he thinks "what business would they want with a loser like me?" so reader has to reassure him that's not the case at all

A/n:if there’s one thing I’m an advocate for, it’s making Rulie feel better about himself. Y’all know my favs are Rulie, four and legend🩷I wrote this in one go while taking breaks to slap box my cat, he kept biting me.

Warnings:only the abuse of italics used for emphasis. When you’re reading, read the italicized words like you’re stressing it. Y’all know that tho ofc. Also, this ain’t proofread

Reassurance.

Hyrule x Reader

The traveler is an incredible person all around. Kind, fun, adventurous, thoughtful—and don’t even get me started on what an incredible hero he is… but he doesn’t see it that way. Imposter syndrome is one heck of a mindset, and boy is it something he’s got.. imposter syndrome is something that makes you downplay your abilities and accomplishments, and if you ever asked the traveler if he lived up to the hero name, or his friends’ heroic abilities—or even the spirit of courage he’d tell you he didn’t. He’d negate the idea and change the subject before you even had the chance to refute him on it. Such was the exact reason he hadn’t confessed to a soul his feelings for you—especially not to you. You were incredible in his eyes, a sight to behold and an even bigger honor to be friends with. Although, he figured next to someone like the captain, the champion or even the smith he figured he couldn’t compete. In his mind he wasn’t even in the competition, let alone a contender in this race. He was just a traveler, someone who’s heroics were that of a happenstance. Right place right time kind of thing. Though, this longing and hearing for you was making him sick, keeping it to himself, he felt like a grocery bag with too many heavy items in it—ready to break and spill out all the contents. The contents, of course, being the way he thought of you, the dreams he had at night of laying by you watching the stars and making up your own constellations, whispering and giggling at what one another said. He’d kill and die for you, if only for a fraction of your time in return. He had to tell someone.

And oh, poor unsuspecting Sky. Sweet thing, he only wanted to help.

“Sky can i talk to you?” The traveler asked as he walked up to the hero, who was whittling down some wood to make into a little figurine for the ever bored sailor, who’d spent far too long at camp without something to do(the vet was going to strangle him had someone not suggested the boy go out and find a lake to play in while sky made a toy for him).

Sky looked up with a soft smile and baby blues the traveler was sure you’d prefer to his own dark brown eyes; they didn’t shine like sky’s did. “Sure! What’s up?” He sat down his project(which would be much to the vet’s dismay when the sailor returned and it wasn’t finished) to give the traveler his full attention.

“I have a confession to make. It’s nothing bad but-…..actually yes it is.” He started, already feeling defeated as his shoulders slumped, not wanting to admit it but also wanting to get it off his chest at the very same time. “I’m afraid I’ve caught feelings for y/n—which normally wouldn’t be a problem—only, they’re y/n, and I’m unfortunately nobody they’d like..”

“Are you kidding??? Of course they like you!!! They’d be thrilled to know!!!” Sky got up and the traveler panicked.

“Sky, where are you going—“

“To tell y/n! It’s nonsense you think they won’t like you! Like I said they’ll be thrilled!”

“Sky, no, please that—please don’t…” he stopped following the young man, looking like a sad wet cat with how defeated he felt. He was sure this was the end of your friendship. Farore, strike him down now. It’s over for him. He could’ve swore he saw the events of his life flash before his eyes as he watched Sky make his way over to you. He said something the traveler couldn’t hear, but he assumed it was the song of his death March. His eulogy. ‘There lies Link, our dear sweet traveler, who despite everything he went through, who saved his Hyrule from true doom and despair, despite the efforts of everything that tried to stop him from doing so, died of a broken heart—‘

In his lamenting, you had made your way over to him with soft eyes and the saddest smile. “—Link.” Your voice broke through his thoughts and you were glad it had finally not fallen on deaf ears. His eyes widened when he noticed you standing in front of him and he suddenly felt his breakfast pushing at the top of his throat, wanting to escape the twisting and turning of the nervous butterflies the rushed the home it had made in his stomach.

“Hi.” You said exasperatedly in a laugh. “What’s this about you saying you’re ‘nobody I’d like’? Of course I like you?”

“But why?” He finally broke. “Why would you? I’m not—I’m not a real hero—and I’m not strong like the rancher or skilled and talented like the smith or suave like the captain and Hylia knows I can’t cook like the champion, and—“

You put a hand on his cheek and kissed him. His words died in his throat and he melted, every bit of tension, every single thought—it all melted away the moment your lips touched his. You pulled away with a smile, wiping away the tear caught on the edge of his eyelashes.

“You don’t have to be. Link I don’t care if you’re not strong or skilled and talented or suave or can cook—I wouldn’t care if you were. I wouldn’t even care if you weren’t a hero—because that’s not why I like you. Din—I love you, Link. I love you because you’re sweet, and thoughtful, and caring and you put yourself before others—granted it’s sometimes—heck, oftentimes to your own detriment but regardless! You’re amazing, and I love you…”

The traveler couldn’t speak. He was at a total loss for words.

“…Link..?”

“…thank you…” he pulled you into a tight hug and you smiled sadly, hugging him back.

“Of course…” you said and let him take his time and break away on his own. Once he did, you smiled sadly again as you watched him wipe his tears.

“So-…are-… are we…”

“Yes. We are.” You said definitively and smiled when he lit up. He pulled you in again and gave you a kiss that was broken shortly after when the veteran yelled at the sailor for following him around and asking him questions about his magical items. You then looked over to see sky, frantically whittling down the toy that was meant to be finished by the time the boy returned to camp.

“..whoops.” The traveler laughed nervously. “..we’re gonna not tell the vet I pulled sky away from his work… he’s not the best to be around when he’s mad…” he said and you covered your mouth to keep you from laughing. Though, even if the vet did come to drag your boyfriend away and tell him off, the both of you were sure it wouldn’t ruin your day. Not after the moment you two shared.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu hyrule #lu hyrule x reader #hyrule linked universe #hyrule x reader

[onedaughterofman]

Writing sessions #2 (Papa Emeritus III angst)

Summary: There's someone in the mirror Terzo doesn't recognize.

Tags: angst, emotional hurt, depersonalization, imposter syndrome, self doubt, self hate, self esteem issues. Around 700 words.

A/N: I wrote this short ficlet based on @turbodrawn amazing Terzo fanart. (I hope you don't mind!). Terzo never wanting to be Papa, being terribly insecure and over-performing in an attempt to hide it is my favorite type of Terzo.

There’s someone in the mirror Terzo doesn’t recognize.

He should. That person is him, people say, while their fingers wrap around his arms and hands push on his back. The same ones who control him like a puppet, those who make him sing and dance round and round, they are the ones that clap and cheer for him while he's performing.

He's loved, they say. People love him so much. He shines bright like a star, like the whole night sky.

And yet, Terzo can't believe the person that smiles in the mirror is him.

Behind a dense coat of paint and silky, fancy fabric, there is a face of his own and a soul that belongs to him. Or so, it should. He’s free, as free as he could desire. He’s a son, to an eternal unholy father. A leader, to the masses. An icon, to so many inside the Ministry.

It doesn't matter. To himself, he’s a fool. A slave, tied down, chained to a microphone and a stage, devoted to everybody but himself.

When did he choose this life? When did he accept this?

Did he, ever?

“Stay still, your Eminence.”

Terzo’s head moves to the side, making the paint brush stain part of the white on his cheeks. The hand gripping his jaw presses tighter, long nails digging in his skin. It hurts, but he can’t complain. They won’t listen. They never do.

“Papa Emeritus III needs to be on the stage in 30 minutes.”

The voice is faint, merely an echo in his ears. Terzo’s face twitches again, and this time a hand falls on the top of his head, fingers wrapping around a few black strands of hair. Blood rushes in his veins and arteries, fighting to follow the distraught rhythm of his heart.

He’s panicking, experiencing everything and nothing at once, but the person in the mirror only smiles. Terzo's mouth widens too, raspy, painful chuckles escaping from it. Oh, fuck. He’s thirsty, so thirsty, but his throat is closed.

Terzo wants to scream, to punch the mirror and shake away from the hands that touch him and restrain him in place. He regrets this, hates this title and this greasy paint, hates the way it makes him look like Him.

Fucking Nihil.

He loathes it. It makes him sick.

“Well, Papa Emeritus III is not here,” he affirms, instead. There is nothing behind his eyes, at least nothing he recognizes. It feels like staring into the void, and discovering the void is staring right back at him.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” someone says. The nails poke deeper, leaving behind red marks as he is forced closer to the mirror. “He’s right there.”

The whisper of his voice, full of air, is fearful. It sounds like a secret, a confession no one should ever hear. “I don’t see him,” he murmurs, lowering his gaze. It’s practically impossible when the fingers on his hair pull him even closer. “Please, don’t make me. I can’t.”

Shrinking on the chair, he's frozen. Terzo is not ready to go out and face thousands of people. He can't sing and dance in front of them. What if he makes a mistake? What if they hate him? All these people want to see a charismatic leader, someone with raw sexual energy and power, not poor old him, a teary-eyed, trembling mess covered in paint and silk.

“Papa Emeritus will be on the stage in 20 minutes.”

“I can’t be him right now, please.”

The air fills his lungs fast, but it’s not enough. It lacks oxygen, consistency. Terzo desires to hide, to run away, remove all the makeup and take off this stupid suit, but there are so many hands touching him, so many ghouls incarcerating him… He can't move, can’t breath, can’t hide from them or himself.

No, Terzo can merely stare in the mirror, at a person that looks like him but it’s not him. He has become a monster of his own creation, a hungry creature that devours him to the very core. Papa Emeritus III tilts his head to the side, sultry gaze setting upon him, and Terzo wishes he could look elsewhere.

It disgusts him.

“Who else are you, if not Papa?”

A wide smile appears on the mirror. Face obscured by the shadows, Papa Emeritus grins at him. Terzo’s mouth is agape, air frozen in his ribcage. The pupils are tiny inside his irises, trembling with fear and realization.

Who is he? Who was he, before everything?

No one.

No one.

The last stroke of the brush draws a thin black line on his upper lip. His head nods once, silently, and the fingers finally release him. A tall mitre is placed on him, golden embroidery shining so beautifully. Under the dazzling lights of the vanity table, Papa Emeritus III laughs a hollow laugh.

Ps: I wish I could explore this idea a bit more, but this is all I managed to write. What can I say, this is totally self indulging 'cause I love sad old men.

#papa emeritus iii #ghost band fanfic #ghost band #papa terzo #ghost band angst #character analysis #ghost band headcanons #short ficlet

[cantsaythetword]

TickleTober Day 25: Magic

~A/N  - More avengers contenttttt! This one is a reader fic (HEAR THAT? READER FIC EVERYBODY 🚨🚨) though and is one I've been wanting to do for a little bit. Fingers crossed it works out.

Also kinda feeling the vibe of this cause I TOTALLY get bad imposter syndrome all the time and this I think would just be such a cute solution lmao.

- Enoy! ~

Tag List:

Masterpost Link || TickleTober 2022 Masterpost Link

There are few people in this world who get to teach superheroes. Even fewer whose job it is to teach them combat tactics. For some reason, Tony Stark himself had asked you to come and run a few workshops with some of the Avengers to help with close range combat.

Though you were fully confident you knew what you were talking about, there was still something that felt wrong - almost condescending - about coming and and telling earth's mightiest heroes how to do their job.

It had been a few weeks now, and despite the fact that you were getting more and more comfortable joking around with Steve, Thor, and Tony, you still couldn't shake that feeling that you weren't good enough to teach them.

Little did you know, they were picking up on your little insecurities. And hatching a plan to help you out.

------------

"Thanks again for the session!" Steve nodded to you as you packed away the equipment. "Those elbow strikes are bound to come in handy."

Every time they gave you even the slightest acknowledgement that something you taught them might help you got a buzz of serotonin.

"As long as you guys get something out of these, I'm happy." You said truthfully. "You're not exactly my usual demographic."

Tony turned around as you let out a nervous laugh at your last sentence. He gave you a quizzical look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Even though his question seemed to be genuine curiosity mixed with a tad of concern, you couldn't help but feel like you had fucked up by saying that. "Uh... Well..." You decided to diffuse the tension (that only you were feeling) with a soft joke. "Superheroes are a little hard to come by these days... I usually would advertise to a more common group."

Steve chuckled, and you internally thanked whatever deity was listening. As long as they were laughing, they didn't hate you.

Speaking of deities, Thor came up behind you and put his hands on your shoulders. "Well, even if you aren't used to it, you teach us well Y/N."

You couldn't help but flash a face of doubt at his words, covering it with a pleasant smile and thanking him.

The three gave no hints whether or not they had seen your little drop in the confident façade, and in a few moments you were left alone in the gym to lock up.

-----------

It was the last class of your term, and so you decided to have a little fun towards the end. After an intense class of practicing different escapes, holds, and attacks from the ground, you had come up with a little game to let off some steam while still practicing some skills.

"Grab a tag each." You grinned, gesturing to the bag of fabric strips you were holding. "Tie it round your ankle and then hop on your knees."

You had played this game many times, and knew each rule off by heart. You explained to the heroes that the goal was to remove the strip from your partner before they got yours, and no striking was allowed.

With Thor and Tony partnering together, that left you with Steve Rogers. You had battled many guys bigger than you in this game (and won quite a few times), but never someone who had been pumped full of some steroid buff serum.

This would be interesting.

You circled each other, waiting for the right moment to slide in for a take down. Steve moved towards you with a jump and without thinking you grabbed his arm and threw him over your hips onto the ground. He let out a sharp groan as you moved on top of him, weighing his chest down with your own. Being mindful of where your tag was, you adjusted your position until you were half hanging off the captain but could easily begin taking off his strip.

Little did you know, Captain America was more than willing to play a little dirty.

A hand squeezed at your waist and you let out a squawk, rolling off your opponent. As you made eye contact, you could see the evil little cogs turning in Steve's head.

"And what was that, Y/N?" Steve grinned, shuffling towards you on his knees and pulling you into him.

"N-Nothing!" You struggled nervously, your mind now completely distracted from the original goal of the game.

Now it was about survival - and not allowing three of the world's strongest Avengers know about your little sensitivity. But that would be easier said than done, as Steve's hands were now freely roaming down your sides like little tickle bugs.

And by god were they tickly.

"Steheheve wait!" You tried to stop yourself from laughing, but your mouth was already breaking into a wide smile of betrayal.

"A little ticklish, are we?" He asked with a smirk, hands closing in on your hips and squeezing a few times. "Interesting... This is legal in combat, right?"

"NOHOHO!" You shrieked, your arms pushing against his - completely forgetting any ounce of training you had undertaken to escape basic holds. "STOHOP IHIT!"

You didn't have to look to know that Thor and Tony were watching this whole thing unfold, and that just made it all worse. Yet for some reason, the heat of embarrassment you were feeling didn't feel awful. In fact, there was something childishly playful about it, and it almost felt like it was bringing you closer to your three training partners.

But for the moment, you needed to find a way out. Fast. Steve was getting bored of this spot, and while it still drove you crazy you knew there were much worse places he could be.

Luckily, in your mad thrashing from side to side you had managed to rub against the knot of the tied fabric on Steve's leg. In a moment of pure perfect timing, you slid down Steve's chest like a slip-n-slide and fully escaped his tickly clutches. Desperately you launched at his ankle and begin pulling at the knotted tag.

"What the-?" You heard him begin, and swiftly after came his hands clawing into your ribs.

Normally that would be enough to have you curled up in a ball of giggles, but the adrenaline of victory kept you somewhat upright. You tugged one final time at the fabric, and at last it came loose.

"YEHES!" You squealed, allowing your body to fold in on itself as the tickling continued into your moment of triumph.

"Damn..." Steve laughed. "Though, looking at you now it seems like a case of lost the battle but won the war, don't you think?"

You shrugged playfully. "Still got the tag!"

"Alright, new partners?" Tony asked from behind you, already red faced and sweaty from wrestling with Thor. "You ready, Rogers?"

Steve nodded confidently, moving over to Tony and the pair began their match. Thor, on the other hand, wasn't looking to play the same game again.

No, one look and you knew exactly what he was planning. And he didn't hesitate to confirm your theory. With a swift motion, he pulled you onto your back and pinned you down (with one of the pins you had taught him earlier, look at that!). With his head trapping one arm, and legs trapping the other, you were basically in a crucifixion pose.

Well shit.

Both of your arms trapped gave him the perfect opportunity to use his free hand to wriggle into your ribs.

"NONONONO THOHOR PLEHEHEASE!" You screeched, head flinging back onto his chest in laughter. "THIS IHIHISN'T THE GAHAHAME!"

"Oh I'm having such a good time though, aren't you?" He chuckled. "I'd definitely say this is a strong victory for me."

You weren't one to give in so easily, and though you were being tickled out of your mind (and had little chance of escaping) you weren't going to surrender that quickly. You managed to focus all your strength on moving the one arm trapped between Thor's legs towards his tag, and gave it a quick tug.

Thankfully, Thor released his hold in fear of losing the match. Feeling even the smallest pull against the fabric strip had spooked him into giving up his position. Perfect.

You were about to enter into an attack when Tony called time.

"Alright, there's only a few minutes left until we have to go." He said. "And I still haven't had a turn with you yet Y/N."

Something about the way he said your name made you shiver in nervous anticipation. But, of course, you agreed. Moving to your new partner, you were so pent up on nervous energy you didn't see a very obvious tackle coming from a mile away.

Immediately, Tony had you on your back and was skittering his blunt fingernails down your stomach. Though he had caught you off guard, you weren't going to give him the satisfaction of making you laugh. That doesn't mean it was easy.

"I'm not quite sure how you guys managed to crack them so quickly!" Tony teased, knowing full well you were about to burst.

Steve and Thor paused their tumble, giving each other a knowing glance.

"Allow me to show you how I managed to make them laugh." Thor grinned, grabbing both of your hands in his one and worming a few fingers into one of your armpits. "This is rather effective."

Indeed it was.

You screamed with laughter. "NAHAHA THOHOHOR PLEHEHEASE!" Willing each and every muscle in your body to help you escape but your relief never came.

"Oh but this spot worked really well for me!" Cap smirked, drilling his thumbs into your hip bones.

With the three conflicting sensations, your brain practically short circuited. You couldn't get a word out, could barely laugh cohesively. After a few moments of wondering whether you'd survive this attack, the three heroes finally gave you a reprieve.

"I'd say that was a perfectly successful final training." Thor chuckled. "It's a shame we won't have any more to investigate our skills further."

Steve and Tony laughed as your cheeks flooded with embarrassment and a little bit of sadness. You would miss this, especially now that the guys had shown you a whole new side to them. And even though you could barely think straight, and were still lying on the floor. You would be keen to do this all over again with the three who were quickly becoming some of your favourite people...

... Perhaps you'll try to stay for a few more classes...

#fic #mine #tickletober2022 #tickletober day 25

[misssakuramochi]

Hi hi, do you mind doing a Persona 5 matchup with one of the boys please?

Pronouns: She/Her

MBTI: INTP-T

Personality: Bestie I gotta be honest and say I sometimes feel like I don't have like. A solid personality going for me? Because there are definitely some days where imposter syndrome hits and I feel more like a copycat or mirror than anything. But I think, at my core, I like exaggerating my emotions (mostly anger) for the Funny Bit(tm) around people I'm comfortable with! Think Brennan Lee Mulligan levels kind of anger. It's pretty funny since I'm really short--and by short I mean short enough to be mistaken for a child multiple times (having a babyface does NOT help)--so most people equate me to a tiny angry dog. Or cat! Either or honestly. I just like making the people I love laugh, you know? But there are times where I just want to sit back and listen to people speak, like an audience member instead of the actor. If you start talking about something I'm really passionate in, though? Get ready for me to bring in a whole entire powerpoint presentation detailing every. Single. Thing.

When it comes to taking care of the people I love, you can absolutely bet that I can go full-on mom mode. Friends don't tease me for being mom-like without a reason, you know! If I hear you didn't drink water? You're hydrating. No questions. Haven't eaten? We are going to a restaurant and EATING. Haven't slept? Here's your threat offer to get knocked out (gently). Literally, if worrying and fretting over someone counts as a love language, then that's mine for sure. Don't ask those questions to me though, because there are times where I uh. Actually forget to do any of those things due to procrastination and hyperfocusing shh

Speaking of love languages, I think mine are acts of service, quality time, gifts, and physical affection when it comes to giving? I'm not sure yet about receiving, but it's... definitely going to take a while for me to become comfortable about receiving physical affection from someone. It's not that I don't like it, I actually do enjoy getting physical affection once I've spent enough time with someone! But it can bring up some bad memories if you're not careful, and if it's really bad, I might even dissociate.

At my worst, I can be cowardly and give up rather easily. Perfectionism and anxiety are a horrid cocktail that I struggle with even now, where I fret over tiny details and 'what-if' scenarios so much that it actually causes procrastination. This can apply to how I love at first, too: I tend to love someone romantically at a distance, to not expect much of anything happening and merely wish the best for them. It's safe that way, even if it doesn't amount to much happening. At my best, however? Once someone gets past those barriers? I'm incredibly loyal to them, no questions asked. You can expect to have my full support and encouragement in whatever you do, kinda like your own personal cheerleader!

Hobbies: Writing, acting out scenes when alone, drawing, imagining fantasy-like worlds and characters, playing video games with an engaging story and/or characters, talking about said video game or story, sleeping if that counts, bathing in the sun in the morning in my room, taking note of every cat or dog I see when outside, making up unlikely stories about the people I see in my head, and baking.

Dislikes: Creepy crawly bugs, last minute changes, clubs, drinking, bathing suits, and sudden, unexpected loud noises.

Fun facts: I tend to walk around on my tip toes and pretend I'm like a cat sometimes! It spooks people how quiet I can be when doing that though. Also, puns are my jam, and I can absolutely be a drama queen if the situation allows it (aka for fun).

I match you with...

RYUJI

○ Did you say making people laugh? Because even if he doesn't fully realize it, funny girls are 100% Ryuji's biggest thing. Though it takes him some time to be able to tell if you're seriously angry or not, he loves a good bit. Besides, your more aggressive(?) Or at least spicier front is definitely a point of attraction.

○ RYUJI IS HERE FOR THE POWERPOINT HE IS SITTING. Seriously though, Ryuji loves when your passionate side comes out. He does more of the talking usually, but he's happy to shut up and listen when you're on a passion fuled rant about something. He swears he's never loved you more than when you do that.

○ Petsonal cheerleader? Mom friend? Ryuji needs both. He can get down and insecure more easily than he'd like to admit, and he needs someone there to support him through whatever hell may come next. He also frequently neglects himself for the sake of others and it takes your stubbornness to her him to... well, not do that. All that being said, Ryuji matches your energy. All the love and care you put in, you get out.

○ Ryuji knows what it's like to feel small. He knows what it is to be discouraged and scared. He's the best support you could ever ask for in your weakest moments and he does it without a second of judgement. He's not delicate about it per say, and will tell you like it is, but Ryuji is always there for an honest pep talk and a shoulder to lean on.

HEADCANONS

○ Enemies to lovers anyone? At first, your tendency to mirror energy and be a little firey leads to a little butting heads between you and Ryuji. As you get to know each other though, likely through a mutual connection Akira, thr passion of your irritation somehow turns into infatuation.

○ Ryuji is the one that breaks. He pursues you so hard and it takes encouragement from all of your friends for him to understand your distance isn't a sign of you not reciprocating, and for you to take the plunge and give into his advances. He's so shy and tries to be so gentlemanly, even if he's really clumsy and doesn't always get it right

○ Pun wars. Everyone ends up snapping at you but you guys could go on for hours just making pun after pun. It's a funny little bit you guys do to see how long you can get away with it.

○ Because you're both kind of angry-seeming dogs tbh you have a reputation for being a bit of a delinquent couple. Which is sort of badass.

#matchups #headcanon #persona 5 #ryuji sakamoto

[online-thoughts]

I suck at journaling

It's almost been a full year since I wrote the last entry. SO much has happened since then that I think my hands would cramp up before I could finish typing it all. Short overview: I graduated college :3, passed my NCLEX 1st try, started my first official nursing job in Philly, and made my first big adult purchase and bought a car. Now I don't really know how to journal, for me I feel like I just kinda word vomit until I'm satisfied with it and then I forget about it for months on end. I don't know if i'm supposed to be following a promt or just freeballing it but yk what its my journal so i'm just going to do whatever I want.

Let's start with the job. I know imposter syndrome is normal and hearing everyone in residency talk about how they're also feeling lsot gives me a sense of community but I still can't get out of my own head. Obviously i'm just starting this job and I'm surrounded by people who have been through the training and have been perfecting their skills for a while but I still feel so beneath them. Every time i have to ask for help with a skill, or clarification i just feel so stupid like I should know it already. I'm sure that most of it is in my head and that there is little judgment from them, but I still can't help but telling myself that they also think I am dumb and get annoyed when I go to them for help. I tried some AI journaling thing called rosebud and it was nice but i am not paying for a subscription. But it helped me to verbalize that I can't treat this job as a race but rather I need to be seeing it as a learning process. Nobody is expected to know everything about everything when you start your first job. Heaven knows college doesn't prepare you for the real world, and orientation is so hit or miss with what you can see that some things truly just come with time and practice. I need to remember to just take it one shift at a time, and that everyone was once where I was. Even if I ask a thousand questions, I shouldn't feel badly because in the end I am doing it for both mine and the patients' benefits. Anxiety is normal but I cannot let it take over my life.

I'm proud of myself so far for continuing to try and maintain a healthy work-life balance. It's not always easy, especially considering I am not always a social person and night shift absolutely drains me and take up 2 days with its scheduling. But Eliyah I am proud of you for making efforts to hang out with friends and family. For reconnecting with old friends, and trying to make the most of your 20s instead of making work your whole entire life. It's not always going to be easy but try to make that and your mental, emotional, and physical well being a priority.

Financials. Just thinking about having to start paying my loans, insurance, car, and other payments freaks me out. Factor in the part where I don't even have an apartment yet. I know I cannot keep doing the drive forever and need to move closer eventually but i don't know how to swing it. I know everything will all work itself out, and by budgeting and actually sitting down with soemone to tell me how to manage my financials i can do it but MAN is it scary being an adult.

Okay now all the anxiety ridden word vomit is done. I actually am happy with life right now (at least while I'm not thinking about all of that ^) I have a great support system, good friends, i'm happy and sufficient being single, I'm in good health, i have a car that I dont have to worry will break down on me every second, and I have hopes of a good future for myself. I think I just need to try and tell myself how proud I am of me more instead of tearing me down for perfectly normal human experiences. But then again, rome wasn't built in a day. My mental health will get to where I need it to be eventually, but for now I am proud of myself and she deserves to be happy and prosper in life.

I genuinely do think verbalizing my emotions will be good for me and I want to try and do it more, so until next time.

xo

[grislyintentions]

Came across one of your ic posts of Ei talking about Furina and had a thought post Fontaine AQ I just felt like sharing: Traveler recommending a list of places all over Teyvat for Furina to visit if she ever decides to go on a little trip, or even travel.

And in Inazuma, like you said, Ei and Furina bonding over sweets and imposter syndrome.

But also: Furina immediately standing up for Ei when she overhears some people whispering / talking shit about Ei (most likely some angry Watatsumi folks but also probs some dissatisfied Narukami peeps).

And yeah she gets scared when those people challenge her on that topic bc she's not much of a fighter, but she's angry enough to actually stand her ground because they! Have NO idea what it takes!!! What being an Archon TOOK for them!!!!!! What it took FROM them!!!!!!!!! They have NO RIGHT to judge!!!!!!!!!!!!

But if Ei tried the same when encountering an angry Fontainian traveling Furina might try to talk her down because they don't know so their anger is understandable, and it's for the best that they don't know because Furina's deception was the whole point.

I just had a lot of thoughts for these two. 8')

That is a lovely thought post, thank you for sharing! ^^

Full disclosure, I haven’t gotten that far into the recent archon quest at the moment but based on my own perspective of the characters so far, I definitely think Furina and Ei can get along with each other quite well. 

If there is someone out there who can understand what it’s like to live in the shadows and weather through pain on their own, it would be Ei. If there is someone who can know what it’s like to be surrounded by people and yet feel so terribly alone, it is Furina. They may not yet know each other’s circumstances or reasons, but those experiences/feelings are ones they can understand regardless. 

I have always maintained that people who are compassionate, genuine, enduring and bold (like Ayaka, Yoimiya, Traveler and Thoma together) would stand the most chances of getting through to Ei (understanding and/or even befriending her). And that very much applies to Furina too.  

Even if Ei thinks the people have grounds to harbour resentment and criticise her in some aspect/is willing to take what is constructive out of their dissatisfaction, the very fact that Furina would try and stand up for her despite how scared she is would mean a lot to her. 

I don’t think she has opened up towards the other archons about her sister’s death (granted I’m pretty sure they all have their hunches) or if she will ever be ready to, but if/when she is, I like to imagine that Furina would be the first/among the first who would hear about it. She’d know that she is Beelzebub. Not Baal. 

As for Ei doing the same, she respects that Furina does not wish for her to try and defend her to the Fontainians. However, that does not mean Ei has no other ways of making a point: Inazuma is her domain after all and Furina is her guest. To go out of one’s way to antagonise the guest of the nation’s Archon is to disrespect said Archon: Can the Fontainians responsible for offending/angering the Almighty Shogun bear the consequences of causing a diplomatic incident? 

The same question can also be extended in Fontaine: Should Ei send in a formal request/write in to appoint Lady Furina specifically as her guide in the nation during her visit.

[biglisbonnews]

Dove Cameron Is Re-Introducing Herself It’s not uncommon for a former Disney star to successfully navigate pop stardom on their own terms as an adult, but Dove Cameron has spent the last year determined to take the artistic reins back with a vengeance. After coming to prominence on Disney Channel show Liv and Maddie and releasing music of her own as far back as 2019, Cameron made the decision to remove her prior solo output from streaming and pivot to something that felt more true to her — a set of bolder, biting singles clued into the current pop music landscape. In February 2022, the multi-hyphenate released the first of these singles: the dark, alt-pop-influenced swing of “Boyfriend,” which put a boastful (and unabashedly queer spin) on a tale of fatal attraction. Following the track’s success — it’s been certified platinum and has accumulated over 1 billion global streams — she shared singles “Breakfast,” “Bad Idea” and a gender-flipped cover of Edwyn Collins’ 1994 hit “A Girl Like You,” retitled “Girl Like Me,” all of which will appear on her debut solo album Celestial Bodies (which she estimates will be finished and out in the world by “late fall”).Related | Dove Cameron Reimagines a Post-Roe World With 'Breakfast'Now, she’s sharing the video for the album’s fifth single, “We Go Down Together,” a pulsing torch ballad and duet with Khalid. While it exists in the same sonic universe as other recent material, it unveils a more emotional side of the new Dove Cameron, serving as an eerie ode to a battle-tested love. The accompanying video sees Cameron and Khalid performing on a spare, monochromatic set, leaving Cameron’s pale blue gown as the one burst of color against their otherwise muted backdrop. It’s a shadowy, striking visual companion to the actress and singer’s most vulnerable release yet.To mark the video’s release, PAPER caught up with Cameron to chat about the creative process behind the song and video, dealing with imposter syndrome and what people can expect from her forthcoming full-length debut.Take us through the creative process of “We Go Down Together” as a song. It feels like a departure from what we’ve heard from you before, like we’re seeing a more emotional facet of you as an artist. How did the collaboration with Khalid come about? The song was written by my collaborators, Connor [McDonough] and Riley [McDonough], who I work with quite a lot and who I have a bunch of stuff coming out with soon. As we were beginning to work on my album together, they played this for me and they were like, “We've had this for ages and we really want to hear your voice on it.” They were singing on the recording I heard, so I was like, “It sounds beautiful as it is! It's so stunning, I would never want to take this from you.” We just did it on a whim one night, and it was so obvious that we were having a magical experience recording the song.We were imagining who we would want the male vocalist to be, and Khalid was obviously the first person to come to mind. We were so lucky, because we sent it to Khalid’s team and he felt the same way. There’s something about this song to me that feels so otherworldly. It sounds dramatic, but when I listen to it and close my eyes, I feel like I'm tumbling off the face of the earth with the love of my life. It's so rich, and almost spooky and eerie. So, I was really excited to get our boy Khalid, who’s a really wonderful guy, and I was really lucky that Connor and Riley gave me the song. It feels like such a big moment for me, because I’ve never released a ballad.After that magical recording process, what were the conversations like surrounding the video? What was it like coming up with a concept that complemented the specific atmosphere of the song? We knew that we wanted a video that was just going to be all about the visuals. I'm really big on doing narrative videos, as people probably have come to see. I try to make short films that last three minutes because I think that's really fun. I love getting a story across, but for this one, it just felt like we wanted to focus on the emotion of the song. We wanted to focus on creating a haunting atmosphere where you could feel the dissonance between all of these clashing elements. It’s definitely got this postmodern thing where it feels like you’re on another planet. It's definitely a strange combination of elements that our director Audrey just came to us with. She had this idea of sand falling from the sky and making it feel near-apocalyptic, like this “last night ever” kind of romance. I think she was really able to bring that off-putting element out while maintaining the beauty of it. It's really dreamy and I think it fits the song and the narrative perfectly.Do you think you’re attracted to things that have that dissonant quality when you’re creating?This is gonna sound funny, but as someone who’s like, a highly traumatized human [laughs]... I think that everything that I respond to has to feel like we're making something emotionally resonant in secret, small ways. Anything that is too straightforward in its execution just doesn't really bump me in any way that sticks with me. As much as possible, we should be communicating emotionally with each other. Otherwise, what's the point in making music or movies or anything? It's not like anybody’s doing cartwheels in the video, and we're not, you know, rewriting the Declaration of Independence, it's not complex [laughs]. But I wanted there to be space, because the story of the song is actually more complex than a normal love song.There are these lyrics, like, “Sometimes we fly, sometimes we fall/ Sometimes I feel like we're nothing at all.” How I hear that is that the love that these two people share is so intense that it's all-consuming. Sometimes, that's not always a positive thing in a relationship. A lot of people have been there, to the point where it almost knocks your life off course. It’s asking, Is love so multifaceted that it can’t be contained? I've definitely experienced all kinds of different loves, and some of them have brought me great joy and some of them have brought great complexity. Some of them have brought my issues to the surface, and some of them have done all three. I definitely think we were able to show that in this music video because of the simpler concept. There was a lot more pain in the eyes that we were able to exhibit, which is really important to me, because if you’re not showing that human experience, even in small ways, then it’s just a fucking music video, you know?Do you feel like your experience as an actor plays into expressing those emotions in your videos? Does that skill set transfer from one medium to the other?I’ve never actually thought of it as linearly as this, but the songs do fit into my own story, so the line between acting and purely existing and emoting as the character that is me is pretty blurred. We are telling a story, but I'm not pretending to relate to these lyrics as a character. I really am relating to these lyrics because, often, they're my words. It’s a funny thing that I think about a lot. It’s like, what's the line between a musical artist who's telling their own story and allowing people to see that experience played emotionally for them on camera, and then an actor who is able to play the role of the music artist for the music video? It's kind of both. Luckily, I’m so naturally an actor that it feels like the same thing for me.Has your comfort level changed over time in terms of how vulnerable you’re willing to get in your work?Yeah, definitely. For years, I had a high level of imposter syndrome. What a lot of people don't know about impostor syndrome is it can have absolutely nothing to do with your actual career, and it has more to do with your identity and your experience of your own life. I read about this a lot, and a lot of people with complex PTSD have an inherent, ridiculous amount of imposter syndrome. Obviously, it can exist for a multitude of reasons, but that's been something that has plagued my life to no end. I can intellectually understand and dismantle those feelings every day, but my brain is always on a setting that says, You don’t know what you’re doing. One day, everybody's gonna find out that you're a full-blown freak and everything's gonna burn to the ground.But, I definitely feel that since “Boyfriend,” because it wasn’t premeditated and I couldn’t have reverse-engineered the kind of success that record had, it’s been good for me to realize, Oh, this thing was completely out of your control. That was actually a huge stroke of luck, because it helped me with just like a piece of evidence that maybe I actually can write music. Maybe it's only me who's telling me that I can't do it. So now, I’ve definitely gotten out of my own way, which is nice, because at the end of the day, we're all doing what we're doing for some form of self-actualization and to feel more connected to people around us. That's really what this music has been doing for me and that's really exciting.Now that you’re in the middle of writing and recording the album, what about it do you think will surprise people about it when they finally hear it? Well, I definitely still have a romance with big sound. “Boyfriend” was a great first hit for me to have, because it gave me permission to do singer-songwriter stuff. It gave me permission to do romantic music, sexy music, big sound, pop, jazz or even slightly dubstep-influenced stuff. It kind of touched on so many genres that there aren't too many things that I could follow it up with where people would be like, “What the fuck is that?” [laughs] It didn’t pigeonhole me. You can definitely still expect that kind of sound from me, but maybe less than you would think. I think the thing that’s going to surprise people most is that a lot of what I’ve been working on has been influenced by Daft Punk, Justice and a lot of French pop artists. I wouldn’t say that the album’s going to lean that electronic, because that would be misleading, but I would say there going to be more of that French funk with this huge sound and distorted horns and all that.Then, on the other hand, there’s going to be this very hard left turn into, genuinely, my first time ever talking about like my trauma, my mental health, my depression, my anxiety, my eating disorder... I'm going to be openly speaking about things that in the past I've been afraid to speak about. People think that trauma is something that you talk about in therapy, and then you go to sleep and you maybe have a nightmare, but the rest of it is fairly normal, and that's just not true. Trauma permeates absolutely everything. It's in every small decision. I didn't give myself permission to talk about that because I was like, Who am I to talk about this? I live such an incredible life now and I'm living my dreams. But if I don't talk about it, there's 70% of me that people just don't have access to. My label has been really supportive and has been like, “You gotta learn to put this shit down and trust people with it and give it to the audience because it's who you are. Until you do that, you won't feel honest as an artist.” I think that's really true, so some of the tracks will be very dark and honest, and for people who don’t know me, that will probably seem like a big departure.I’m grateful that everyone has been so generous with me in this big second half of my career where I’m constantly just trying to play catch-up. [Laughs] I'm learning fast and I'm trying to sort of get to the juiciest part of myself as a human. I want to be able to develop the craft of putting myself into the music as honestly as possible and I’ve had to really retrain myself to not apologize for speaking about my life experience. It’s been like learning how to walk in heels backwards or ride a bike up a hill. [Laughs] I'm really, really grateful that everybody has been so kind to me about it all, and right now, I'm excited for everybody to hear this song and see the video. Photography by Ashley Osborn https://www.papermag.com/dove-cameron-we-go-down-2659397174.html

#Music #Khalid #Interview #Disney #Disney channel #Mental health #Dove cameron #Elise Soutar #PAPER

[emmythespacecowgirl]

Hello!

I’d love a Pacitic/BoB ship, if you don’t mind! 

I am a 5’7”, brown haired, green eyed woman that prefers men or women. As an ENTJ Taurus, I tend to take on a protective and driven leadership role. My persona is one of loyalty, strength, (occasionally) a hotheaded, full of odd wisdom, devil may care attitude, playfulness, silliness, and blots of professionalism, with unexpected success. For sure the friend who will keep things maybe a little too light. I always strive to be the best I can be, and do have a competitive streak. Def a poor loser.  Secretly, I’m deeply insecure (imposter syndrome, anyone?), emotional, riddled with anxiety. I cannot stand people who come off fake, over emotional (ironic, right?), or those who aim to hurt others for their own gain. I have an almost naive and altruistic ideal of justice and how the world works. When I love, or care for someone, it’s a deep emotional bond - I’ll do anything to protect my friends. 

My love language is acts of service, and I always appreciate my partner thinking of me or places to take me. 

A Gryffindor with Slytherin in HOT second. 

Hobbies tend to center around fashion, music, and the occasional painting. 

Either a BoB and/or Pacific ship would be much appreciated! 

Hi Doll 👋 woohoo! You’re first in line for a ship😁

I ship you with:

George Luz from Band of Brothers!

Honestly, the first time George met you, he could not STOP looking at you

The man practically basks in your presence

He thinks your eyes are captivating!

For me, it was between George and one other BoB guy

But ultimately you guys would balance each other out so well

George can relate to your silliness and enjoys sharing inside jokes with you

It drives someone like Lieb crazy because the two of you are always cackling about something

And Lieb is always paranoid that you both are laughing about him behind his back

I think your take-charge attitude is something that will be really good for George

He needs some type of leadership in his life and someone to tell him to snap out of it when there’s work to be done

“Stop dancing around the dishwasher, George, before you break another one of my grandma’s dishes”

You both know how to have fun though!

You can both keep the group laughing with your ability to lighten up any conversation

George is so attracted to your hotheaded, devil-may-care attitude

Honestly this man would be such a simp for you

(And also a sub ;))

He’ll be able to remind you that it’s more about having fun then winning all the time

He’ll take you out for ice cream after your favorite baseball team loses

He also recognizes your insecurities and is great about hearing you out and reminding you that you’re perfect the way you are

George also comes with his own insecurities too

What if nobody likes him if he’s not funny?

Why does he sometimes feel so lonely even in a room full of friends?

So he definitely understands what it’s like to have imposter syndrome and deal with it

He is able to counter your idealistic viewpoints of the world with a more realistic stance

But in a respectful way

#gryffindorcouple

George is super handy around the house and knows how to fix anything from a washing machine to a microwave

So he can fulfill that acts of service that you need in your life

He’s also so happy that you both share a lot of hobbies

You both reenact movie scenes for your friends

You play your instrument while George sings

Just a really sweet, silly couple!

A favorite among all your shared friends❤️

#<3 #bob ships #the pacific ships #my work #george luz

[saabbi]

Regret part 9

Light in darkness

Genshin Impact Adeptus! reader

warnings: self-deprecation, imposter syndrome

word count: ~1.7k

notes: please remember that you are loved, and not just in the fic itself.

[previous] [next]

No words are needed to exchange. Zhongli must surely be curious, worried even, to find out what happened in Snezhnaya. But he remained quiet, pushing away the rampant thoughts running across his mind.

What’s most important isn’t digging out what happened, but that you’re alright and safe.

Zhongli doesn’t miss the pale complexion on you, making sure to swing by Bubu Pharmacy to ask Baizhu for some antiseptic cream and aspirin just in case you’re still feeling unwell.

He brought you to his residency, which is unsurprisingly close to the funeral parlour. A few sprouting flowers in the interior caught your eye, the blue distinguish colour resembles that of a jewel. It must be a good season for glazed lilies to grow and bloom.

“Would you like tea?” Zhongli turns his head to you, holding up a few cups.

“Yes, please.” He also takes out some cakes, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you’re way too full for some tea snacks.

Zhongli is definitely inquisitive, his occasional glances and slight frown shows that he has much more to say apart from asking if you want tea and snacks.

But he didn’t ask you any questions, never pressuring you into telling him. He decided to wait until you feel ready to talk about it. For you, he can always wait.

You hold the cup in your palms, the warmth gradually spreading to your whole body.

“Zhongli,” you take a sip of the refreshing tea, making up your mind. “Can you ask Ganyu and Xiao to come? I… have something to tell you all.”

Zhongyi nervously nods with his heart thumping, not sure if he’s ready to hear what you have to tell them.

.

.

Silence fills the room, then your sharp inhales, the unsteady voice and shaking pupils as you begin to speak.

Your shaking voice, your spilling emotions, your trembling hands. The suffocating feeling in your heart and the bitterness in your throat. You keep on going, you can’t think straight, you feel light headed and exhausted, but you want to keep going. You want to tell them, the things you saw, the things you felt, the worthlessness eating you away.

Ganyu tugs your arm and hugs them tightly, Zhongli and Xiao each resting a hand on yours to remind you that they’re here. They let you keep going, even if you look like you’re in pain.

They listen in silence, allowing you to spill everything in the safe space. You stop for a second, hearing sniffles from the horned girl next to you.

Ganyu shakes her head, telling you that she’s okay, and that you can go on.

With trembling eyes and hoarse voice, you tell them, how you thought you would be okay even if the Tsarista didn’t need you anymore, thought it would be okay even if she throws you away. But you weren’t, your heart sunk to the bottom when she implied that you’re no longer needed, as if all the time you spent by her side as a faithful subordinate meant nothing to her.

You mentioned that you know the Tsarista is only interested in the power you possess, you repeatedly told yourself that if it’s what the Tsarista desires, you shall comply without any hard feelings, for you are her harbinger, her title-less twelfth harbinger.

So why did it hurt so much? Why did you feel something worse than physical pain? Like you were stabbed with thousand swords, mercilessly piercing you without a break, making you lose your breath and vision cloudy.

It felt like the world crumbled, blood rushing to your head and the sudden heaviness taking over your body.

Oh. In the midst of talking your own feelings out, you realised- you felt angry, desperate, hurt, betrayed.

You realised, that over the years, loyalty is not the only thing that sprouted. You always brushed it off, pretending like it never existed, but deep down, you felt angry.

Angry at the Tsarista for pulling you away from Liyue, angry at her for letting you go through terrible things, even if you can’t remember clearly what happened.

The mixture of admiration, loyalty, desperation and anger has always stuck within you whenever you see her cold yet graceful figure.

But you had nothing except her, so you clung onto your loyalty towards her and repressed other thoughts of her, ignoring the tingling senses and blindly telling yourself that you’re always loyal to the Tsarista.

Every single word that comes out, Zhongli takes them in all, even if it pricks his heart like thorns. He takes a deep breath and shuts shis eyes, he wants it to stop. But he knows he has to listen and share your burden.

He wants to listen, even if it hurts, lamenting for the times he couldn’t be there for you. But now, he could. And the least he could do is to listen to you.

In the past, Zhongli failed miserably as a guardian, but now he has the chance to be with the three of his beloved adepti once again. He’s the listener, he’ll always be willing to listen to you if you confide in him.

Zhongli takes one last gulp of his tea. He embraces the crushing pain in his heart and clasp your hand tightly.

You stutter and choke out some incomplete sentences in the process, words tying into knots, but it’s okay. There’s no need for you to rush, they have all the time and undivided attention for you to tell them whatever you want.

Your right hand feels like it’s about to be crushed, somehow. You glance over to the side and is met with another pair of amber eyes.

Glossy eyes filled with uncertainty, concern and shock. His mouth gaped open, unable to find words, so he chooses to hear instead of responding.

The way you described your journey in Snezhnaya feels lonely to him. Xiao is no stranger to the feeling of solitude, but your gaze feels far, far more lonelier than what Xiao has ever been through. He watched as unfathomable emotions swirl in your eyes, your gaze shifting every so often in trying to find the right words.

A part of him thinks that, perhaps he should’ve sought for you, or even just send a single letter millennia ago instead of pathetically dreaming in the Wangshu inn, then perhaps you wouldn’t have to always feel like you're all alone without anyone to rely on.

Xiao holds your other hand tightly. He doesn’t know how to show affection, but he hopes that this reassures you that you’re no longer alone.

Your lone narrative went on for minutes, then hours, until you lost track of time. You then mutter the last few sentences.

“I lost my powers, I don’t feel qualified to be an adeptus anymore, I-“ this part is harder to say than anything else. “I don’t know why I’m here, or anywhere anymore.”

“I feel like I…lost my purpose.” First was your abandonment from Zhongli, the bane of your misfortune. Then was the Tsarista, the one who broke you more than anything else. You feel lost in life, wandering without a purpose.

“I’m just a… nobody.”

Slam. The sudden impact on the table made you jump. You look up at Xiao who suddenly stood up and slammed his fists on the table with brute force.

His frown is deep, eyes burning with fury and looking at you with disbelief. He is livid.

“Don’t you dare say that one more time.”

Confused, you furrowed your eyebrows and tilt your head a bit. At first you thought he’s mad at the fact that you willingly let your powers be taken away from you, but that doesn’t seem to what he’s mad at.

“You are not worthless, not a nobody. I won’t forgive you even if you say that one more time, even if you said it yourself.”

Xiao clenches his fist tightly, glaring at you. He rarely gets mad at you, it makes you feel a bit guilty.

“Xiao’s right.” Ganyu joins in, her palms squeezing your arms with force making you turn to her. “Please do not say that, ever again. You mean everything to us, how could you- how could you say you’re worth nothing?”

Ganyu has a sorrowful look instead. You don’t know how to respond to them, you can’t figure out whether the present incompetent you means everything to them, or the you they once knew and adored.

You think of the latter one. After all, there’s nothing much on you that is actually worth something.

Zhongli seems to know what you’re thinking, as he slowly opens his mouth. “My child.”

“Nothing changes the fact that you’re an adeptus, one of us, with or without your adeptal powers.”

“No matter the past, present or future you, will always be the one we love.” His gaze firm and solemn, trying hard to convey his feelings to you.

“You don’t have to be perfect, it’s okay to be incomplete.” Zhongli stands up and treads towards you.

He stops next to you, bending down a bit before enveloping you into a tight hug. You stiffen up.

“Because no matter what, you are you, and nothing will ever change that. And the fact that we love you will always be true.”

Hic. You let out ugly voices from your throat, breaking into a ugly sob and staggered breathing.

The warmth warping you increases, with Ganyu and Xiao joining.

Zhongli soothes you by brushing your back softly, Ganyu patting your head and lightly ruffles your hair. Xiao appears to be quite awkward at first, but decides to rest your head on his chest and warp his arms around your head as you sob.

It’s so warm, so warm that it feels unreal. Words of affirmation and love is such a stranger to you, the words and actions they display makes your chest hurts.

Your heart tugs at you, but you know it’s not because you’re sad, it’s because you feel relieved, happy, and thankful.

You are loved. Even if you don’t realise it.

Love is not determined by how much one spends time with each other, nor will it diminish with time or distance.

Forgive does not mean forgetting. The past cannot be reverted. The resentful decisions Zhongli has made in the past remain embedded in history and cannot be undone.

However, it does not mean that relationships cannot be rebuilt. A step at a time, as long as you’re willing to, as long as you are here and with them, things can start over.

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[straighttohellbuddy]

how the light gets in {Corpse Husband}

2. you’ve gone way too fast for way too long.

Summary: Supernatural Creatures AU. Them/Them Reader. After the success of your first stream, you find yourself wanting to get back to your YouTube roots, and what better way to do that than with a cover by one of the bands who holds a special place in your heart? And maybe you’re using it to distract yourself from thinking about how coming back to YouTube means coming back to the things - the people - you’d left behind. 

Maybe it’s selfish, but Corpse kind of wishes you hadn’t come back to YouTube; honestly, if anyone else had taken the world by storm, he wouldn’t complain half as much, except it’s you and he’s still mostly convinced that you might be an angel like him... Except better. Because of course you would be a better angel, you’re talented and driven and personable and essentially everything an angel should be, and - bar the talented bit, Corpse at least knows some of his worth - you’re everything he’s pretty sure he’s not. Except it seems like everyone loves you, and he doesn’t exactly have a good enough reason to be bothered by you the way he is, so he has to act like he isn’t. Which is a lot easier said than done, when you barely say a word to him and it feels like all of his suspicions are confirmed. 

A/N: 8471 words. Reader in the fic is stated to be 24. THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH SUPERNATURAL THE TV SERIES. me, trying to walk the line between 3rd person omniscient narrator and trying to make the narration feel like its somewhat coming from the POV character?? it’s more likely than you think! as always, i really appreciate feedback.

{ m a s t e r l i s t }

Taglist: @nanasort @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @theboywhocriedlupin @taikalinna @jaychirps @bingusmode @divine-artemis @realmejay @lovemelikepercy @balla-deer @miniritzcrackers @loraleiix @ppopty @easygoingtheatre @insanedeathwish @siriuslystupid @losvertown @janiathecat @wineandionysus @moonlightsimp @allylyew @chokingonflxwers @sicnesa @xxniksxx @mishisamess @preciousskye @yashinosakura @meleekabenjamin @whatamievendoinghere01 @lxurxn-02 @liljennyx3 @the-fusionist @benjaminka @lilysdaydreams @a-lonely-bic @letsloveimagines @melmachh @tama-chan-suneater @shio-yuki @fairywriter-oracle @easygoingtheatre @pixelbxtch @dreammoutlouddd @abysshaven @mediocrearistophanes @tsukishimawh0re @inkbyajm @jordiee95 @honkcorpse @kaiihaan @takenbyheartstrings @mrtony-stank1 @dangeroustreebread @xibrokensunriseix @corpseglider @artsyally @ellsbells2143 @machine-gun-casie @marvelsmurphy @bigmac-papi @danielle143 @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @starstruckllamapuppy @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @fee-btheweeb @parkerpeanuts @fanfictionenthusiast @evans-dejong @pancakebinnie @minbunbun @sabrinarahaman @thefangirl05 @jades-bullshit @fo-love @roses-and-grasses @thirstyfangirl @lovelysmp @325575 @wrongcielo @lukathecrime @lunariasilver @delicrieux @rebloogggs @kookiesandtae7 @mizxkii @effielumiere @happyyyandcrazyyy @teenageguitarist @prettylittlealiengirl @aroyalharknessblr @kylie-writes-stuff @annshit @haunteddeputymugpersona 

taglist is always open! message me if you’d like to be added xx

----

The day after your song drops, it’s on Spotify’s Top 50 Viral playlist, it’s charting on iTunes, it’s splattered across the internet, according to your manager, who sees fit to text you, congratulating you on what she assumed to be a masterful marketing tactic; releasing the song and immediately streaming alongside huge YouTube creators who have a wide and diverse fanbase, all plugging your music. She thinks it was a carefully calculated move, which makes you feel all kinds of scummy, like you were using your new friends. Thankfully, when you fire a somewhat defensive response about how you had no ulterior motive, that all you wanted to do was have fun and make friends, your tone apparently reads loud and clear, as you receive an apology a few moments later. Backtracking, she simply mentions that, even unintentionally, you had great timing, and she’s glad you had a good time, which is better, and you try not to dwell on your initial assumption. Years of your life had been spent worrying that the people you were close to just thought you were using them for views or fame; her words did little to quell that worry, so instead you tried to distract yourself, or at the very least, focus on the good that yesterday had brought about.

The best, of course, was Sykkuno, the hellhound who’d endeared himself to you almost immediately. Something about him makes you feel safe, though perhaps it’s that you’re unused to someone feeling so familiar; you like to think you’re a good judge of character, so for now, you’re trusting in your instincts, trusting in Sykkuno. The next best thing was a tie, between friends and freedom. Yesterday you’d been doing what you wanted to do, not what you thought you should be doing, not what was on brand, or carefully scripted; you were messy, stumbled over your words, and you laughed and deceived your friends as was the aim of the game, it was so freeing to be unfiltered. People kept saying it was nice to see you smile, to hear you laugh again. Huh. Part of you really doesn’t like that you know exactly what they mean, and more importantly, why people are saying that at all. But things are different now, are freer now; your brand was built on you, it’s nice to get back to that.

By mid-morning, you’d been sprawled out on your sofa for almost an hour, glad to be alone, to not have to worry about being seen, as you’ve phased your tail back into reality, and have it holding up your phone as you scroll through Twitter with one hand and fidget idly with the other. More and more you’re seeing supportive comments from people gushing about the few bars you’d sung of 5 Seconds of Summer’s Youngblood on stream yesterday. First your chat had loved it, now it seems the general consensus was that people would love for you to cover more than a few bars. While you tried not to listen too much to what other people wanted, you couldn’t help but admit that it was something you definitely wanted too.    

When you text your manager, new idea already taking hold of your focus, your earlier unsavoury text conversation seemingly forgotten, your manager reminds you that you should be working on your new album, putting together the tracklist for your EP. Ugh. 

It’s not that you didn’t have ideas, quite the opposite; you’re exploding with ideas, brimming, overflowing with them, for songs you wants to write and feelings you can’t express any other way, but the songs and collaborations you’ve already completed, their mp4 files sitting neatly on your desktop, you wanted to save them for the full album, like it was some sort of penance for getting to collaborate, getting to become friends with people you looked up to, people who inspired you. To you, their contribution was worthy of your full album. 

Well, that was part of the reason, the other part was that the songs you had designated for the album had a different vibe to your EP songs; albumtouralbumtour and imposter syndrome had both been written in lockdown, about very specific concerns you were having at the time. The EP was shaping up to capture a very specific moment in time, while the album was so much more than that. You couldn’t put read at five am on the EP, the collaboration you’d done with Troye, a lyrical-lament with a dissonant, upbeat melody, an apology for when you’re the one who cuts off contact with someone you’re close to and don’t know how to say why, and don’t know how to come back; yes, the fact that you and Ethan are talking again means that the song is technically relevant to this period of time, but it’s three years of regret and indirect apology compressed into in three minutes. It’s going on the album. 

But being stuck at home all day for months had made you all nostalgic for your roots, for when you’d started uploading all the way back in 2012, at 16, with no idea what a few videos would lead to. You missed covering songs you loved, the songs other people had written and that you had still connected with, the songs that made you want to write your own. Yes, you loved your own content, obviously, but from idea to video publishing, you knew a low-effort cover would take you maximum a day and a half if you were particularly inspired, which you clearly were. By now, you’d been doing this for so long that you knew the legality of it all like the back of your hand, and were in a stable enough place to be more than happy to pay royalties to the band you’d co-headlined alongside for your first international tour.

“What if I call the boys and ask them?” You decided to just call your manager directly, tail curled securely around your phone where you’d put her on speaker, pottering around your kitchen trying to find something to eat. Alison, on the other end of the line, sighed deeply, having been fielding these sorts of calls from you about once a fortnight since lockdown had started.

“Have you finished moment before impact yet?” She countered, and you wrinkle your nose; its as if she can hear the expression through the phone with the way she continues on, not giving you a moment to cut in, “listen, I won’t tell you what to do, but you need to make a decision about your EP tracklist soon, okay? The label’s breathing down my neck, you know you have more than enough songs for it.”

“Alison, the vibes -”

“The vibes, Y/N, I know,” she sighed deeply, but you could hear the faintest smile in her voice.

“I promise I’m working on my own stuff; I think moment before impact is gonna be a collab, but I’m not sure who with yet, but if it makes you happy, once I record this 5SOS thing, I’ll work on a demo of moment for the EP,” you concede, and you hear her hum in approval, “I promise I have all the songs in my head, I just gotta make sense of which ones are the right ones for now, you know?”

“I really don’t,” you could hear her actually smiling now, so you let yourself relax for a moment, hands braced on your kitchen counter as you looked to your phone, “but I suppose that’s why you’re the musical one and I’m the manager.”

“My favourite manager,” you told her sweetly, and her answering laugh is more of a snort. 

"Call the band, maybe they can work something out for you regarding royalties, if you plan to monetise it," she suggested, and you hummed, "keep me updated, okay? Make sure you're still working on your own stuff though."

"Alison you're a national treasure," you tell her feelingly; you don't even have to see her to know she's rolling her eyes.

But you take her advice, sending 'what if I covered Youngblood and posted it to YT? I'll pay you royalties' to the mostly dormant WhatsApp group you have with 5 Seconds of Summer, despite it being about six in the morning in Australia. Callum sends back a thumbs up almost immediately. Its all the confirmation you need to get started.

As you’re hunting through your house for a pick, turning over cushions, looking through junk drawers, you hear your phone go off, and you take a moment to check, surprised by what you see. A message from Sean. Huh.

[I see you’ve finally decided to join us in the gaming community, took you long enough 😊 If you ever wanna play something, just gimme a yell, you know Id be glad to have ya on my team.]

Considering the fact that it had been three years since you and Sean had properly been in contact, you find the message both surprising, and strangely heartwarming. There were a few people you’d purposefully fallen out of contact with, plagued by your own fears and self doubts. The people who you’d seen in person almost daily were the ones who you’d felt the absence of the most, but Sean, just by his close association with those people, along with a few other international friends, had been regretfully left behind also. Here and now, you can feel just how much you’ve missed him, how guilty you feel for giving in to your own anxieties and the negativity spewed by others. 

But you know you can’t dwell on the past, on your mistakes, all you can do is be grateful for the opportunity to reconnect, and take it.

[ID: A tweet and reply conversation between @yourtwitter and @goldeny/n, followed by a single tweet by @ZeRoyalViking, and a tweet and reply conversation between @yourtwitter, and @5SOS.

@yourtwitter: someone yell at me for doing another cover instead of my original stuff. quarantine got me feeling 17 again. might do the cinnamon challenge next. or finally do that Roast Yourself trend 4 years too late. | @golden_y/n: BRUH YOU BEST NOT BE PULLING OUR LEGS | @golden_y/n: I would empty my bank account to see you roast yourself. | @yourtwitter: Please Don't Do That YouTube Is Free | @golden_y/n: 😳💀💖

@ZeRoyalViking: stream today with some familiar and not so familiar faces!!

@yourtwitter posted an image of Griffin McElroy from the My Brother My Brother & Me TV show. Griffin is a Caucasian man wearing glasses and a blue checked shirt. He is visible from the chest up and is sitting behind a desk with one arm in front of him, with his thumb out, as if counting. The image’s subtitles have been edited, now reading ‘My friends are very much into the following: Bullying me on TikTok.’ | @yourtwitter: @luke5SOS is just mad im gonna sing his song better than him. he doesn’t use twitter anymore so i have the upper hand here. | @5SOS replies with a gif of Jason Momoa, who is incredibly muscular, with dark hair down to his shoulders, a black tank top, and sunglasses on, holding a microphone, standing in a confrontational manner, captioned ‘No, no, no. By all means, speak your mind. You got a problem with my boy?’ | @yourtwitter: HE WENT LIVE UNPROMPTED TO TELL PEOPLE ABOUT HOW I WROTE NOTIMETOSLEEP IN THREE DAYS WITH NO ACTUAL SLEEP, OPENED FOR THEM IN ARIZONA, AND IMMEDIATELY PASSED OUT FOR 16 HOURS AFTER WALKING OFF STAGE | @5SOS: we just miss you tho... and it is kind of funny. | @yourtwitter: the minute im allowed to safely leave lockdown im coming to australia to german supplex the lot of you. ❤️

End ID.]

Corpse’s whole ‘not thinking about you’ plan goes down a lot smoother when you’re not actively stealing his friends- what kind of Angel goes around stealing another person - another Angel’s, no less - friends?! Except, right, he doesn't actually have proof that you're an angel, just a hunch he’s apparently committed to... and, okay, you don't know you're stealing them... Sykkuno and Rae are allowed to have more than one friend. Obviously.

"Honestly, I'm still kind of riding the high from yesterday's stream," Sykkuno’s all kinds of elated in the voice chat, and Rae's quick to chime in, matching his tone, his energy, as she agrees.

"I cannot believe Y/N played with us! I’m sorry you missed it, Corpse, I think you'd love them," Rae is adamant, to which Corpse, from behind the safety of his monitor, makes a face.

"What makes you say that?” Even as he says it, as he tries to keep the negativity from his voice, his nose wrinkles, the expression shifting his eyepatch just a little.

“I don’t know, just something about...” Rae’s voice turns thoughtful as she considers, though Sykkuno takes the chance to pipe up, voice brimming with his trademark sincerity.

“You guys have weirdly similar vibes, like kind of a similar energy?” He tries to explain before a faintly embarrassed laugh escaping him, even with Rae humming in agreement, “not the exact same, obviously, but like, I don’t know, I think you’d really like them.” The problem with having Sykkuno for a friend is that he’s almost always trying to be genuinely kind or helpful. The problem is that Corpse can tell he believes what he’s saying. 

An angelic ability that often goes overlooked, even by angels themselves, is the innate ability to tell whether or not someone’s lying. It’s like a faint buzzing, low grade tinnitus, at the sound of a lie, something that can actually be pretty effectively ignored and forgotten, but right now, the lack of buzzing with Sykkuno’s words is frankly irritating. Not that Corpse can say that, he has no real reason to be jealous of your fast forming friendships with his friends, well, not any reason he can admit to on stream.

"You know what,” Sean muses, finally joining the conversation, “It’s been a while since I properly spoke to them, but I totally get what you mean,” fucking great; of course he agrees, “did anyone invite them to play; would love to have them here if they’re up for it.” 

"I think they're working on a thing today, but I can message and ask?" It’s Sykkuno who speaks up, the barest hesitation in his voice, and to that Rae makes a proud little noise in the back of her throat. 

"You met yesterday on the stream that I organised, and suddenly you're all best buddies? Gonna be honest, I’m a little jealous,” she admits, to which Sykkuno huffs a soft laugh, uncertain of what to say, though Rae’s tone is fond and she continues on, “seriously though, good for you, dude, finally getting the recognition you deserve -"

And on the one hand, yes, Corpse would agree that Sykkuno deserved infinitely more recognition and praise than he currently received, but on the other, the speed at which you two had aparently become close - a day! It had been a day! - sets Corpse’s teeth on edge. It was all he could do to keep quiet as the others chimed in, all their sentiments mirroring Rae’s.

All this frustration and resentment was almost definitely unhealthy, he was more than aware, but something about you had fixed in his mind; if it had been anyone else, anyone less talented or personable or productive, he could have probably handled it, but you...

All he gets is two games worth of peace before Sykkuno announces that he’s gotten a reply. Aparently you’re in the middle of recording a cover. Something about knowing that fills Corpse with discomfort, with envy, like he should be working on his music instead of being here. 

"But they say they're gonna take a break in an hour or say, so they might join us for a few games," Sykkuno’s tone betrayed his bright smile, and suddenly the voice chat was flooded with excitement from almost all in attendance. 

"Wait, really? Just like that, we'll be playing with Y/N?" Leslie sounds disbelievingly hopeful, but thankfully it’s only a few moments until the next game beings. While none of the others had picked up on Corpse’s silence, his chat seemed confused. Purposefully ignoring their questions and comments on the matter, he instead gives a few comments on the game, trying to come off lighter than he was feeling. 

He’s not quite sure what he’s going to do if you join the stream, he’d never actually considered that he might one day talk to you, have to confront the person whose very existence got under his skin, who might very well be the only other person like him on this side of the world. Unsurprisingly, his head’s not in the game.

"Did you get enough sleep last night?” Rae feels the need to ask when whatever response he’d given in a meeting had just come out as an incoherent mumble. Of course he straight up laughs at her question, which is answer enough, and she clicks her tongue disapprovingly, “you’re impossible.”

“Have you drunk any water today -?”

“Sykkuno you’re dead,” Sean interrupts Sykkuno, who had broken one of the main rules of the game simply to question Corpse about his health; he’s far too caring for his own good, but moments like this make for good entertainment, “dead people can’t talk,” Corpse is grateful for all of five seconds before Sean turns on him, reiterating Sykkuno’s question like a traitor; “Corpse, have you drunk water today?” In lieu of a proper response, Corpse groans, playing at being annoyed.

“I say we vote him out because if he is the imposter, we win, and if he isn’t, he has time to go drink a glass of water,” Rae proposes matter-of-factly, which just leaves Corpse spluttering with disbelief.

“That’s fucking stupid; I’m not the imposter, you’re basically throwing the game -” but the votes are already popping up, and unfortunately, for the first time all stream, everyone seems to be in agreement.

“Drink water, Corpse,” Rae, clearly the leader of this mutiny, orders, as Corpse watches his character get flung into lava, and very begrudgingly heeds her words. He takes his sweet time drinking a full glass of water and refilling it to take back with him, intermittently glaring from his kitchen at his computer, despite the game still going on; he’s got several tasks left, if they don’t catch the imposters, they’re doomed, and honestly he doesn’t care. Once the game ends, with the crewmates’ loss, as he’d suspected, they all find themselves back in the lobby. Maybe they’re waiting for him. They can wait longer.

As he settles himself back into his office chair, he pulls on his headphones in time to hear -

“- earlier than I thought because of a whole thing on TikTok and then Twitter, and then my manager texted me telling me-” It’s like he’s turned twenty again at the sound of your voice; you, bright, earnest, rambling to probably Sykkuno or Sean or Rae, probably not even aware of him, but he’s never been more aware of you. Not that he’d ever admit it to anyone, but your second EP, hyperfocus, had been in heavy rotation on his Spotify since he’d discovered it, since he’d listened to the crack in your voice, the exhaustion with which you spoke on i’m going through some stuff when Lofi had just been taking off as a genre. He’s... conflicted, going through an internal crisis while you keep talking, blissfully unaware, “- anyways, I think she’s just worried that I’ll end up threatening to German Supplex Harry Styles, or the late, great, Prince, and I’ll end up cancelled.”

“Y/N,” your name sounds equal parts amused and concerned as Sykkuno says it, with the air of someone who’s been privy to you and your antics far longer than just one day. The response you give is just as bright and cheery as your rambling had been, assuring him that you wouldn’t threaten to German Supplex Prince.

“You sure about that?” Sean was obviously grinning, judging by his fond tone, “sounds like something you’d try -”

“I’ve changed, Jack- Sean- fuck,” your muttered swear undercuts your attempt at earnestness after you correct yourself, clearly not used to calling him by his actual name. To that, Sean gives a fond chuckle, before going right back to ribbing you.

“I’m pretty sure there’s still video evidence of you trying to square up with Mark in person,” Sean points out, to which you grow huffy and defensive, playing up your frustration. 

“Well, that was for a completely reasonable reason!”

“Which was?”

“I thought it would be funny,” tone flipping completely, the words come out so sincere and bright it’s almost tooth rotting; if he didn’t know any better, Corpse would probably find himself being endeared by it, “and it was! Plus,” though here you give pause, and something about the tone of the conversation shifts as you chew on the words you’d almost said without thinking, “it was funny,” you said, softer this time. Sean, sensing the shift, does his best to pick the mood back up, reminding you that both you and Mark lost the competition you’d been taking part in anyways, and asking if you really had changed.

Before you had time to answer, however, Rae spots Corpse’s avatar moving ever so slightly, and immediately jumps on him.

“Corpse! Did you drink water?” She asks. He unmutes so they can all hear his deep, beleaguered sigh. “I can and will bully you into taking care of yourself,” her heart’s in the right place, and it is mostly a bit, so he can’t be too put out by the fact that she cares.

“I can’t believe you all voted me out because of it,” he chooses to respond instead, and Rae’s cackle echoes through the voice call.

“She also was the imposter, so...” Ze trailed off, a little sheepishly, to which Corpse rolled his eyes, not that anyone can see. Of course she was. But he’s not even given a moments before -

“You must be Corpse!” The moment the words leave your lips, every single goddamn nerve in Corpse’s body feels like it’s alight; everything overwhelming, unfamiliar,. white-hot, he’s suddenly desperately trying to keep his various abilities in check, since he really doesn’t want to short out his whole system, end the stream early, and probably cause his building to go into a blackout, just because of whatever this is. The whole world has changed with four words; better and worse and more more than anything. It’s... it’s a confirmation of some kind, and he tries to hold onto that vindictive feeling in his chest. You are familiar, you are something he recognises like no-one else he’s ever met before; you are like him. Is it better or worse now he knows it’s the truth?

“Must I be?” He manages to respond, keeping his voice as level as he’s able, shooting for vaguely amused and trying not to let any of the past few seconds sudden overwhelming panic and triumph bleed into his voice. But the moment you hear him, there’s a sharp gasp; that same something, understanding, recognition he’d felt, you feel it too.

“Y/N, you okay?” Ze had asked, and you made a vaguely muffled noise of unconvincing confirmation. Out of sheer, idle curiosity, Corpse opened a new tab and searched up your YouTube channel where you were streaming.

“Maybe we should have warned ya’,” Sean offers with a light laugh, before lowering his voice, immitating and announcer as best as he could, “warning! Corpse is about to speak!” Which at the very least got Corpse to laugh, though he refused to give anything away as your stream loaded, and the banter continued in his ears.

“Har har,” you muttered sarcastically into the voice chat, right as the stream finished loading, and - you. Well dressed, face in your hands, heels of your palms pressed against your closed eyes; honestly, he doesn’t exactly have any prominent initial thoughts about you, watching you scrunch your face up in your hands, dealing with the same thing he had to, though your face was live to thousands. Beside you, the text chat for your stream was going almost too fast to read, but he managed to follow a few threads of thought here and there.

[an eye thing! they’ve got an eye thing!] [someone @ y/n_creature_spec on twt!!] [who has an eye thing??] [lmao love that they were so shocked hearing corpse that it set off their eye thing] [hello!! vampire here!! we have eye things!!] [u cant be a vampire it’s the middle of the day] [THERE ARE COUNTRIES OTHER THAN AMERICA YOU KNOW] [i am willing to put MONEY on the idea of them being fae of some kind.] [^^yeah they just didnt want us to see their eyes sparkling like an anime character.] [that feels like smthn corpse could bring out in people]

And then you’re blinking back to reality, bringing him from his thoughts as for one terrifying moment, it’s as if his gaze locks with yours. Expression so bright and inviting, despite the way your eyes were watering just a little, you hold eye contact with your camera for a moment before looking at your screen, mumbling something about an eyelash in your eye; Corpse lets out a shaky breath. Chat seems unconvinced, but at least the other streams take you on your word. For a few more moments, he quietly watches you, watches the way your eyes roam your screen as you order your thoughts, and for all that he’s thought of you, he’s never properly looked at you. It’s taken him until now to acknowledge that there was definitely a reason for your success beyond just your talent; certainly you could have become successful from your music alone, but your career certainly wasn’t hindered by the fact that you’re actually quite- suddenly, Corpse is overcome by the sense that he’s intruding, exiting out of the window immediately, even going so far as to push back from his desk, fingers spread wide, braced against the edge, trying not to think too hard about... any of it. If he thought too hard about what it meant to have another angel in LA, he would drive himself mad.

“Well, Corpse, it’s good to meet ya, been told great things,” to him and him alone it’s so clear you’re trying so hard to play it cool, though Corpse couldn’t fault you for that, doing the exact same thing; again, when you speak to him, it’s like his whole being is hit with a rush of warmth; it’s less overwhelming this time, somehow scalding but bearable now.

“I see Sykkuno’s been spreading lies about me,” Corpse fires off instinctually, to which Sykkuno splutters protests at the implication, despite your bright laughter, and Sean’s shout to the contrary.

“Don’t be mean, Corpse, Sykkuno would never lie about you,” Sean is adamant, and Corpse can tell he’s being honest, just as the tell-tale ringing in his ears knows the next words from Sean’s mouth are utter lies; “me on the other hand? Y/N whatever you do, do not listen to Corpse’s music, it’s just the worst.” Before the implication, the reality of what he’s saying sinks in, for just a moment, Corpse feels a rush of affection for Sean, so clearly and earnestly plugging his music, right before your voice re-joins the chat and Corpse remembers exactly who Sean is plugging his music to.

“Fuck you, J- Sean, I do what I want,” while you played along, amused and light, Corpse himself was at a loss for words. You ask him - him specifically, he knows, he knows with absolute certainty you’re asking him - if he’s a musician, and everyone else chimes in before he can even think about finding his voice.

“Don’t search him on Spotify! Don’t do it!” Sean, on the verge of laughter, seems delighted by the turn this conversation has taken as the sound of aggressive typing fills the chat from your end. What the fuck. What the fuck?! No matter his thoughts and opinions about you and your possible supernatural origins, you were still Y/N, literal Grammy winner and Golden Child from the Golden Age of YouTube, playing along as Sean used the world’s worst reverse psychology on you to get you to listen to his music. Oh fuck, this is not how today was meant to go.

“I don’t wanna hold up the game, I’ll listen as I play,” you tell them, almost painfully polite, though Ze agrees to start the next game. If Corpse’s mind wasn’t in the game before, there’s no way in hell it was now.

Three minutes into the first round and he’s failing miserably at card swipe when he chances a look at his chat; people were spamming lyrics from Miss YOU! and Cat Girls Are Ruining My Life! which was sweet but nerve wracking, since he’s pretty sure it means you’ve already listened to one and moved on to the next. If you’re an angel, and you know he’s an angel, what in the hell would you think of his music? Honestly, even if you weren’t an angel, you’re still you, and his music was... well...

When the first meeting is called, and it’s discovered that you’ve been murdered, there’s a strange sense of relief that comes with it, even as he’s being accused of your murder. He’s got a solid alibi, so they end up voting out Sean, and the game continues. Despite the brief reprieve from your possible judgement, his heart still feels as though it’s skittering erratically around his ribcage. 

Rae comes along when he’s doing Simon Says, and shoots his little avatar. The moment he becomes a ghost, he lets out a long breath, giving himself a moment to relax, to collect his thoughts, catching back up with some questions with chat  he hadn’t quite realised he’d been holding, and chances a look at his chat again.

“Of course I’m tense,” he finds himself musing quietly to his chat while the remaining players were arguing over the top of each other in a meeting, “pretty sure most of hyperfocus has been in my Spotify wrapped every year since it was released,” for a few moments, it doesn’t even occur to him what he’s said, or that he’s said it out loud, but when it hits him- oh, oh no, it feels like too much to admit, and he has no idea what to say next, how to backtrack, how to at least pretend like he doesn’t think about you or your music any more than any other person would. However much he may resent certain aspects of it, he still knows he has a reputation to uphold, and panic and denial have never been a part of his reputation.

So he keeps his mouth shut, bites down on the half-hearted excuses and explanations that keep springing to mind, keep pressing against his teeth. He does his tasks quietly, thanks the people donating, and pretend it never happened until the round ends, heart in his throat. He knows, the same way a human survivor in a zombie apocalypse movie knows, that he’s just putting off the inevitable, and that someone’s definitely already clipped it and is probably uploading it to Twitter or Tumblr faster than he could protest.

“Y/N I’m so sorry!” Sean’s the first one to talk when they’re back in the lobby, which leads to your laughter filling the voice chat, telling him it’s okay.

“I didn’t even care, honestly I was just vibing,” the smile in your voice is almost enough to distract from the strained edge to your words, something not quite right, but so faint Corpse isn’t sure if it was really there, and he’s not quite sure anyone else heard it either. Except -

“Y/N?” Sykkuno says your name like it means something that no-one but you and him can decipher, something concerned, almost a question, checking in without being too obvious. 

“Yeah?” There’s that strained tone, just a little more audible this time, before you process who’s talking, how he’d said your name, and - “yeah,” firmer, calmer, a reassurance. 

“Vibing?” And he says it like that was his question all along, like the two of you hadn’t had a full conversation in three words. When the others started asking about what you thought of the music, it’s clear none of them have picked up on the hint of strangeness that had been in your tone, and you deliberate before answering.

“Am I- is it- it’s weird if I quote it, isn’t it -?”

“Jacksepdicy how I whip that!” Sean practically yells into his microphone, cutting you off and somehow making the line sounding even more Irish than he himself did naturally, which startles a laugh from Corpse, “it’s my name in a song, I think about it daily,” he announces, voice oozing pride, and despite the situation and headspace he found himself in, Corpse feels his heart grow warm knowing that even a line like that had brought Sean joy.

“I thought,” you pause for a moment, presumably to double check which song you were about to reference, “I thought Miss YOU was a whole mood,” you admit, the faintest smile in your voice, and something tightens in Corpse’s chest at that.

“You not gonna quote it?” Rae teased.

“Too nervous to follow Sean,” you fired back.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get there one day, Y/N,” Sean laughs fondly, and you all joke around, playing up the bit, while Corpse’s mind is stuck on the fact that you never once addressed him when talking about his music. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, it meant he didn’t have to deal with the sudden, fiery sensation your voice brought with it, so not bothered, persay, if anything he’s glad to know you liked it... But it’s weird that he knows so acutely -

“Hey,” and you don’t even say his name, but there’s that feeling again. Each time it grows less intense, like he’s been inoculated, and no instead of his nerves being ablaze, it’s as if he’s suddenly sitting beside a bonfire, each and every time you speak to him. The others voice their confusion at your sudden vaguness, but Corpse answers without even thinking, because of course he knows.

“Yeah?” 

A few moments pass, while the others carry on amongst themselves for the moment. The two of you sit in this one moment together, neither quite sure how to feel about it.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” you point out, though there was only the barest him of the earlier strangeness in your voice, now overpowered by something that made it almost sound like you were pleased. At this, however, even more confusion arises when the others figure out that Corpse had ‘guessed’ correctly, that you’d been talking to him. But he can’t really hear them, or, well, he finds himself tuning them out, swallowing hard before he pushes to talk.

“Am I not allowed to enjoy the moment?” He asked, trying to ignore the weirdness of it all, keeping his tone light.

“I’m just surprised; it’s your music after all.” 

“You like hearing my voice?” Despite the surprisingly cocky way with which he speaks, he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, wincing internally. Of all the people he could have said that to...  

“I never said that,” and though your own tone matched his, something teasing, something that could almost be misconstrued as flirty in the right circumstances, he’d heard the faint thread of discomfort, feeling it all too much himself. But your words, and thankfully your tone, was overshadowed by both Sykkuno and Sean jumping in to assure Corpse that they enjoyed hearing his voice.

“If you and Y/N ever collaborated, you know it’d break the internet, right?” Rae interjects, all kinds of smug and knowing, followed by a chorus of approving voices all broke out in unison as the rest of the lobby considered the possibility.

“Rae, you know our Twitter mentions are going to be going off for the next month now, don’t you?” You groaned.

“Maybe it’s a sign!” Rae exclaimed, delighted, before her tone turns teasing and fond, “and besides, aren’t your mentions always going off?”

[ID: The first four posts on Y/N’s Tumblr dashboard.

blueheart-anon hearing y/n and sean interact again after like 3 years unlocked memories like im a fucking sleeper agent. having war flashbacks to 2017′s ‘y/n is septiplier’s kid’ phase. how do i lock the memories up again im going to die of embarrassment why were we like that [tagged: #y/n #y/n y/l/n #jacksepticeye #sean mcloughlin #i WILL NOT add the ship tag i mentioned #blue talks] [7 notes] [▶️🗩↪️🖤]

fangloriousbastard  ↪️fangloriousbastard fangloriousbastard Rae: Y/N & Corpse Collab When? Y/N: 🔪 - fangloriousbastard Y/N IMMEDIATELY MURDERING RAE AND THEN CORPSE I- - fangloriousbastard Y/N MUTTERING THE JACKSEPDICY LYRIC WHILE MURDERING HIM WTF IS HAPPENING?? - fangloriousbastard SYKKUNO NO BBY IM SO WORRIED - fangloriousbastard Y/N IM BEGGING U TO STOP SAYING CORPSE LYRICS BEFORE U KILL UR FRIENDS - fangloriousbastard WAIT WHAT Y/N AND SYKKUNO BOTH VOTING FOR THEMSELVES INSTEAD OF EACH OTHER - fangloriousbastard “ride or die guess im gonna die” y/N PLEASE U MET HIM YESTERDAY - fangloriousbastard y/n’s still listening to corpse’s music we love to see it - fangloriousbastard WAIT NO ZE KILLED SYKKUNO IN FRONT OF THEM AND THEY WON OMG SO MUCH IS HAPPENING DID THESE MOTHERFUCKERS QUOTE AN ACTUAL THE OFFICE MEME AT EACH OTHER - fangloriousbastard Y/N: YOU KILLED MY BOY Ze: you’ve known him A Day! Y/N: you don’t have all the facts Ze: which are? Y/N: I love him. Y/N: Not in a weird, shippy way tho, but like, come on, man, look at him! Sykkuno’s avatar: 🌱                          👁👄👁 Sykkuno irl: 🥰 - fangloriousbastard ahem anyways corpse & y/n collab when? - y/n 🔪❤️ - fangloriousbastard 👁👄👁 - fangloriousbastard aren’t you supposed to be streaming?? [tagged: #HEWWO??? #among us lb #why do i only remember they’re following me when i post outrageously stupid content #btw y/n if u kill sean again i’ll cry] [43 notes] [▶️🗩↪️❤️]

fyahproof-y/n  ↪️ selkiey/n selkiey/n y/n’s explicit ‘i love him but not in a weird shippy way’ is the LOUDEST fandom vague i’ve ever heard in my life [286 notes] [▶️🗩↪️❤️]

crpshsbnd  ↪️ 221b-theres-a-bee crpshsbnd hope corpse is feeling okay he’s been kinda quiet this stream - 221b-theres-a-bee if someone suggested i make music with a grammy award winning artist i might be kind of quiet too - crpshsbnd asjdskldfjkdsf u right, still, hope that’s the reason. [tagged: #how do i always forget they won a grammy #actually i know why i keep forgetting #because every time i remember they won a grammy i remember the video where they jousted corndogs with joe sugg #and the winner had to deepthroat theirs for the camera #and y/n won but felt like an asshole for making joe deepthroat his corndog alone #and they ended up almost throwing up because they went too far with it #so hot #so talented #so very stupid sometimes] [3 notes] [▶️🗩↪️🖤]

Twitter is kind of a hellscape, Corpse decides, scrolling through his notifications as the stream’s winding down, seeing about a thousand different people tagging both you and him, asking for a collab, or seeing fit to show you both every single time one of you had mentioned the other in stream. Or had simply interacted. He’s not quite sure how to feel about hearing you mutter ‘make it rain, leave her wet, like a snowflake’. Unsurprisingly, a considerable few people had thought to clip the interaction where he’d apparently instinctively known you were talking to him, which he thoroughly regrets. There’s enough speculation about him online already, he doesn’t need people cluing into the fact that he might not be entirely human as well.

So now, he’s sitting idle in the lobby of the game as everyone’s thanking each other, discussing when they might get together to stream again; he’s quiet, disconnected from it all even though he knows he’s still live, he can’t help but stare at his phone, frown at your Twitter profile. You’re not following each other. A lot of his friends follow you, are mutuals with you, but you and he are not following each other, and he’s not sure if he’d like to change that. But it would make sense, right? It’s what’s expected.

Your pinned tweet is the single you released yesterday, which he still hasn’t listened to. The cover is cute; you’re - fuck. He refreshes the page. In the few moments since he’d clicked on your profile and now, you’d tweeted, thanking everyone for joining the stream, while you’re still in his ear, alongside everyone else, distinctly not addressing him. Maybe he should DM you, be upfront, ask about what you are, if his suspicions are true.

He hits the back button and goes back to scrolling through his mentions. 

“Hey.” Your voice, soft and earnest despite that warmth that crackles through him; he’s half distracted, hand moving instinctively to push-to-talk, and -

“Yeah?” God fucking damn it. Not again. He’s really gotta stop answering on instinct just because he knows you’re talking to him. He hates that he knows.

“Good to meet you, Corpse,” and there was a strange sincerity in your voice, and he responds in kind, but his heart’s not in it. There’s too much on his mind, too conflicted in his heart to tell the truth; his own words makes his ears ring. He can’t even lie to himself.

So he says his goodbyes, waits for the lobby to clear out and chatters away to his stream about when he might be on next. Upon ending the stream, he immediately opens the latest email from his producer, his latest project glaring back at him from the screen. 

Yes, his various ailments have his body aching, but the interactions he’s had with you are giving him a headache when he thinks too hard about them, and he feels woefully unproductive. Never Satisfied stares back at him, so close to being finished, mocking him. Scowling harder, he listens to what he has so far, making tweaks and notes, glad for the distraction, glad that his producer had as chaotic of a sleep schedule as he did. This was the home stretch; one more all-nighter and it would finally be done.

He texts Heartful that he’s getting to work.

It’s four in the morning when he finally stops for a break, his good eye starting to itch from staring at a screen for so long. With a yawn, he leans forward, out of his chair, groaning as he straightens up to a mostly standing position. Hands braced against the edge of his desk, he lets out a resigned sigh and wills his wings into existence. The weight of them curled up tight against his back, as was customary for them to be when non-corporeal, has him leaning a little further forward. Another yawn and he lets them uncurl, lets them stretch out behind him, knocking over an empty microphone stand as they went. He’d get that later. A grateful groan escapes him, it’s been far too long since he’d even had a half-assed stretch like this, wings helping to stretch all the aching muscles in his back that were simply impossible to stretch otherwise, no matter how much he’d twist. Even so, his studio wasn’t big enough to properly stretch them, and he really didn’t feel like laying on his living room floor right now; he’s kind of concerned he’d just fall asleep there. Instead, he kicks his chair to the side and hits shuffle on one of his Spotify playlists, doing what he can for himself in the limited space, and finally going to forage through his cupboards for something resembling a meal. Maybe drink water, Rae’s damn voice in his head.

At least with his wings around he didn’t need to bother turning on any lights; he’s gotta find joy in the little things.

Today, or well, the past twenty-four hours, was a series of cruel jokes, he decides, all leading to the moment he curls up his wings and sits back down at his desk. The moment he puts his headphones back on, he’s greeted by your voice, and he almost jumps a foot in the air, concerned that you’d called him.

"- who I became, dreading when the music stops, what if I just fade away?” In the split second he’s realised that it was just a song, just your voice, crooning, gentle and sad against a soft beat and the sound of rain, as i’m going through some stuff playing in his ears, it’s too late. Already his aura had gone off, and his computer cuts out, as his monitor cuts to darkness, so suddenly all he can see is his own, exhausted reflection in the monitor, backlit by his own wings... Not exactly flattering. 

Thankfully, it was only his computer that was affected, as he can still hear his refrigerator humming in the other room, so he wedges himself beneath his desk to reset the breaker for the power board that his whole system was connected to, grumbling to himself the whole time. 

If he was being honest, however, he was glad he didn’t have to hear more than a few seconds of your song. For a long time it had been one of his favourites, though at this point he’d rather die than admit that. Yes, it’s a good song, but it’s the last thing he needs to hear right now. If he listened to you voice half the fears he still tried to ignore, well right now it may kill him, and he was so close to being finished with Never Satisfied. So close.

Instead, he gives himself the moment in which his system is rebooting to scroll through Twitter and Instagram on his phone, checking his mentions for good fanart to appreciate, only to stumble across one of your stan accounts tagging both you and him in a clip that he hadn’t seen earlier. He’s not sure what possesses him to click it.

“Don’t follow me baby, swear I’m going to hell,” Corpse’s own words leave your lips as you’re focused on the game, on being imposter, leading Sykkuno into electrical to fix lights, and something about it sounds wrong and he can’t quite put his finger on it. He’d heard other lines of his leave your mouth, clips from the stream he’d been tagged in, and it always manages to surprise him. When you sing his songs, even just a little bit, something in the back of his mind, something that had appreciated you as an artist all this time, it’s grateful, it’s excited, it’s overwhelmed. He wouldn’t deny that part of himself, he couldn’t, it didn’t feel right, but upon hearing this line, that grateful part was overshadowed by a visceral bitterness.

The line had been a moment of self deprecation, the only Angel he knew of who, granted it was by some of his own choices, was almost certainly going to Hell, if you believe in that sort of thing of course. But you? Every single part of you seemed to be the exact antithesis to him; you’re what an Angel should be, and him? Well, the line said it all really. It’s just... it feels like you’re mocking him at every turn now that he knows, or well, strongly suspects. With evidence. Which you’re probably not; if you’re an Angel, you wouldn’t go out of your way to mock another angel, so now he’s all in his head, frustrated at himself for being frustrated at you for just... liking his song? 

He really should message you about earlier, clear things up, get out of his own mind and stop jumping to conclusions. Finding another angel was big, no matter his personal reservations, he should try and take this opportunity, right? Except that you hadn’t reached out to him either.

Damn it; he knows he needs to stop thinking about you and focus on his own shit. He turns off his phone and gently tosses it to the floor, out of sight out of mind. 

Maybe he’ll feel better when he finishes his song, feel more productive, feel... complete for just a few moments. Maybe he’d stop comparing himself to you. Maybe.

[ID: Two tweets, one from @sp00kybihh, and one from @yourtwitter, followed by a retweet and reply conversation between @ashton5sos, @yourtwitter, and @y/nirwin.

@sp00kybihh: why did y/n’s smile every time corpse just knew they were talking to him without them having to say anythign make me feel things?? u no we love day 1 ride-or-die y/nkunno, but corpse & y/n just seem to get each other wtf 🥺🥺

@yourtwitter: australians are asleep post forbidden youngblood cover

(Thumbnail of Y/N sitting in front of the camera, dressed casually, visible from the chest up. There is a black microphone on a stand in front of them that they’re holding. Their mouth is open, as if halfway through singing, their eyes are closed, their background is a simple, white wall. Above Y/N, in black, VCR font, is the word ‘youngblood’. There is a large play button in blue and white in the middle of the thumbnail, to indicate that it is a link to a video.

Link: youngblood - 5 seconds of summer | y/n y/l/n cover i miss my boys. i miss people. thank you 5sos for being cool about me covering this <3</i> twitter: @yourtwitter 🔗youtube.com)

@ashton5sos retweeted the link and commented: Y/N you said it was gonna be low effort, this is killer! All it’s missing is some drums. Reminds me, I’m still sad we never got to record that thing we wrote in New York. | @yourtwitter: ASHTON IT IS 8AM I HAVE HAD NO SLEEP AND WAS NOT EXPECTING SUCH A QUICK RESPONSE I WOULD DIE FOR YOU | @yourtwitter: also lmfao i forgot about that ny thing that was good, from what i remember. do u still have that recording of us?? i may or may not have forgotten everything about that night apart from it being a blast #bringbacknewyork | @ashton5sos: Calum has it but also its 2am and he’s asleep, which you should also do. You know the boys are gonna love this... #bringbacknewyork | @y/nirwin: thank u both i have decided to pass away effective immediately #bringbacknewyork

End ID.]

#corpse #corpse husband #corpse husband imagine #corpse imagine #corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #sykkuno #jacksepticeye #valkyrae #how the light gets in #shut ur pretty mouth #cyltlanp

[reidecorating]

L'amore Vero È Così (True Love is Like This)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader  

A/N: Woke up with a killer headache after celebrating the end of 2020 and thought writing something loosely based off events that took place on NYE would be a good cure. Hope this year’s been treating you all well!

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: Summer nights and Spencer Reid make it hard for anyone to keep their hands to themselves. Add David Rossi’s holiday mansion and wine to the mix, and watch a dangerously hot fuse ignite

Warnings: Language (as in cursing AND me just completely butchering Italian), unprotected sex, penetrative sex

Masterlist

Maybe it was the Sauternes. Like a spark igniting along the fuse of dynamite, the sweet sting of white grape travelled down her throat, every sip exploding in kaleidoscopic vision and unfiltered words. Even so, it wasn’t the alcohol she was drunk on. No, not drunk - she wasn’t drunk - she was absolutely intoxicated. Not by anything of substance, but by an overwhelming desire for the man she had arrived with. 

Spencer Reid often felt out of place standing in any absurdly large entranceway, belonging to the old Italian with new money, recurrently settling for shifting from shoe to shoe, before taking a deep breath and pressing the doorbell with the hand unoccupied by a bottle he wouldn’t be drinking from. However, his sobriety was far from the cause of his imposter syndrome. Rather, it was the way he always arrived alone, while, what felt like, the rest of the team trickled in with their spouses or significant others. Whilst pairs would dance to vinyl sounds of Bowie, leaving little room for him and the odd number his presence formed in the abacus of the group, he would loiter in a corner, or, on occasion, entertain his godson with a pack of cards. More frequently, he would rattle off excuses about needing the restroom, only to spend his time exploring the corridors of a rather impressive house. A get together at David Rossi’s holiday home was uncommon, and the last time Spencer had wound up here, he found himself inspecting the tiny forgotten library the man housed, attempting to decipher the various foreign books residing on its mahogany shelves as he heard his friends stumbling their way through the Salsa downstairs. L'isola di Arturo, with sterling lettering on its ageing spine showing a familiar pen name, had quickly become his favourite. When he’d first translated the pages, he had chuckled at the parallels between himself and its disconsolate protagonist. However, after years of his ongoing solitude, and lonely arrivals to a castle full of people, he finally had someone on his arm. 

“Wait, what does this mean? I can make out the ‘amore’ but not much else,” That someone now squinted at the words his index finger underlined as he read her the words of that very book, aloud. “Hm?” He was visibly distracted by the Patchouli blend of orange and jasmine emanating from her skin as she leaned against his shoulder to read the page herself. “L'amore vero è così,” she whispered, unsure of the correct pronunciation but attempting it anyway. “Non ha nessuno scopo e nessuna ragione, e non si sottomette a nessun potere fuorché alla grazia umana,” she finished in a whisper, affecting Spencer in a way he hadn’t anticipated. Through fluttering eyelashes, she looked up at him, awaiting his rendition, and suddenly the temperature felt as if it had risen. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been here almost as many times as him; she knew her way around Rossi’s holiday home, but Spencer had insisted on showing her his favourite room, claiming she hadn’t seen it yet. Diverting her attention from Emily’s anecdotes, “I kind of want you all to myself for a little bit,” he whispered in a kiss on her shoulder, proceeding to take her hand and pull her away from chatter over a jug of Cuban rum and homemade pizza - making sure to dissect, in explanation, nearly every painting adorning the maze of hallways on their short trek. He cleared his throat, prying his gaze away from the skin her little black dress revealed, unabashedly scanning her lips before using his own to form words. “True love is like this,” he subtly eyed her reaction to his words as he tried hard to not transliterate the European language. “It has no purpose and no reason, and it does not submit to any power except human grace.” Spencer’s voice was a newly inked quill, ebbing and flowing through the hot air of the dimly lit room. The dark winged butterflies that had been floating around her stomach all evening fluttered in a frenzy at his words, and the way the chartreuse of his eyes had been absorbed by black as they laid on her. “For such a dark story, it’s so beautiful,” she exhaled in a hushed tone, stare not leaving his as he slowly slid the book into the hollow slot where it had previously inhabited, too occupied by reading her demeanour to pay the book any more attention. “You think so? The author, Morante, Elsa Morante, was actually considered the greatest writer of Italy’s postwar generation, at one point.” Spencer began to rest his weight against the wall as they conversed. “I feel as if we always hear about Bassani or Parise, and all the unorthodox things Landolfi wrote in the fifties. It’s very refreshing to hear of a woman getting some well deserved recognition in such a male dominated niche,” she remarked. A dimple appeared on Spencer’s cheek as he grinned at the way she sounded a lot like him. “Agreed. In fact, Morante actually claimed she wished she’d been born a boy, so that she could have all of these heroic adventures. Once, when she was asked about the hero of that book,” he pointed towards the worn copy of L'isola di Arturo, “she commented: ‘Arturo, c’est moi!’,” 

“Living vicariously through him? Interesting,” she tilted her head slightly, “I also think its remarkable how beauty can emerge from so much pain,” she mulled aloud. His eyebrows raised at her words and the flux in her tone of voice. Slowly, she stepped towards him, forearms resting on his shoulders, entangling behind him. 

Earlier, she’d had the privilege of styling him as he stood in front of their shared mirror, muttering complaints of how he had 'nothing to wear’. Now, she repeated maledictions to herself regarding the clothing she had chosen, in her head, as she admired the way his black shirt was rolled up at the sleeves - displaying intricate nerves shadowing his fingers and arms - and simultaneously unbuttoned temptingly low on his chest, exposing the silver chain presenting a small initial, hers. The summer night had made sure a thin veil of sweat coated his collarbones, glistening with his movements under the lamp light. “It’s not a surprising process though - I mean, after the year you’ve had, just look at how pretty you are,”

“Did you just-” he gulped, chuckling, “use the copious amounts of semi-resolved trauma I harbour to romance me?”

“I may have,” she whispered into the skin below his ear, both hands now tangled in his hair as he remained pressed up against the wall, grateful that every wound, fight and flaw had led them here. And she never ceased to make her gratitude known. Tonight, though, ever since she’d caught sight of his hand gripping a cold glass, the strong concoction presumably belonging to Luke, she hadn’t been able to stop envisioning his body on top of hers. Unbeknownst to her, his thoughts had been very similar from the second she’d chosen to wear the satin fabric, claiming it matched his shirt, while leaving very little to the imagination. “Y/N,” he spoke, his body involuntarily leaning into hers. “We can’t- Not now.” His body language betrayed his words. “I don’t study behaviour for a living, unlike everyone else here, but Spencer, right now, yours tells me we can,” she brought down a hand to squeeze his wrist, which was resting against her lower back. He couldn’t breathe. Tongue in cheek, he shook his head at her, a smirk breaking way. “You, my pretty lady, are something else,” he caved, switching their position in a more urgent manoeuvre than either of them anticipated. Spencer’s hands grasped her jaw, his breath fanning over her before his lips collided with hers, messily. A hand cradled the back of her head, heeding any impact with the wooden blockade behind her, fingers and hair tangling together. Her hands travelled along his body, pinky tugging on his necklace in pursuit of closeness, while her lips roamed around his bobbing Adam’s apple, eliciting an exquisite string of moans. Spencer’s leg wedged itself between hers, slowly grazing his thigh against her, using a firm grip to guide her hips downwards, her soft sighs and tugs at his roots only encouraging him. 

The euphoria was short lived. A rapping on the library door tore them apart, its hinges creaking and giving way to an astounded looking Penelope Garcia. “Naughty!” she factitiously gasped. “I didn’t think the good doctor and his fine missus had it in them, but I was very, very wrong,”

“We were just-“ Y/N began, only to be cut off by the tipsy agent. “Save the excuses, beautiful lady. I was simply quested to find you two, and let you know that the rest of us are off to take a dip in the spa. Bring your boy toy, and scrumptious self, and join us ASAP - oh! And no funny business! There are children here,” Penelope gestured her two fingers away from her spectacles and towards each of them as a silent threat of ‘I’m watching you’. Y/N and Spencer exchanged a look, both flushed in different shades of red, on their way to creating a colour wheel. As Penelope spun on her heels and rushed to shut the door behind her, “Thank you, Penelope!” Y/N squeaked, Spencer exclaiming a timid “And sorry!” The two of them broke out into a fit of laughter, still frazzled. “I think I’m getting a little too comfortable with your team,” she grimaced, earning a laugh from the doctor. Later, as Spencer led her towards a bathroom, her arms occupied by a stack of towels, his hand on the small of her back, he dreaded the amount of self control he would need to invoke when the two of them would undress to change. 

What she had said wasn’t entirely untrue. She was indeed very comfortable with his team. If Spencer could have met himself, a year ago, anxious to introduce who he was sure was the love of his life to his dearest friends, he would flick himself in the head. She, not alarmingly, managed to get along with everyone, almost better than he did. Somehow managing to find common ground, even with Aaron Hotchner. He recalls, one night, months ago, listening to her and the usually stoic man debate about which broadway production was better: The Producers or The Phantom of the Opera. Spencer also recalls exactly how riled up he became as he watched her put the ex-theatric-gone-lawyer in his place after calling upon Spencer for some Tony Award statistics. Admittedly, he actively needed to combat the green eyed monster on his back whenever she would go jogging with Luke - but the way she kissed him before leaving, on her tiptoes in her running shoes, whispering ‘I love you’, and ‘I’m really only going for Roxy’, helped. She had become family, the invisible stamp of approval having been silently awarded when they all saw the looks the two of them shared, the three subtle squeezes in their woven hands, and the way Spencer now smiled with his teeth - the way they way they would move the moon and the earth for one another. 

Packed into the watery sauna, words exchanged between the group travelled into the atmosphere, a waxing gibbous eavesdropping overhead. She watched as Spencer squirmed across from her at the nearness to so many sweaty bodies, shoulders, elbows, knees and toes, belonging to anybody and everybody, poking him. Her eyes trailed along the dips and swells at the base of his neck, decorated in its usual, dainty, shimmering pendant, the bones there protruding as he slouched forward. Spencer’s hair was matted, condensation ironing chestnut ringlets to his forehead, complimenting his heated crimson cheeks. The butterflies returned, her stomach flipping as he ran his hand through the mop of curls to ease his discomfort. More of him - that was what she wanted. She hadn’t noticed, but she had been biting her lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. Pulling her back from her thoughts, a heavy exhale travelled past her left ear, changing the course of the steam emerging from the water - a stream of air enough to deflate a person, she noticed. “I can’t remember the last time I felt this relaxed.” The blonde rested her head against the barrier of the tub, seeing bright patterns on her eyelids as they shut over her eyes momentarily. Y/N reached over and grasped one of her shoulders in a clinical manner. “Who are you, and what have you done with Jennifer and the gruelling tension in her neck and jaw?” She interrogated, lightheartedly. “What can I say? Stress is my middle name,” she chuckled. “While we’re on the topic, though... Maybe you could give me one of those trigger-point massages,” she opened one eye, an iris burning sapphire, the blue only rival to that of the one from The Tell Tale Heart, finding Y/N’s face. Retreating her hand, having made her point, she let out a laugh at JJ’s words, “I’m afraid that’ll cost y-” Y/N’s eyes widened at the familiar dialect of the words, a charlatan on JJ’s tongue. “Wait a minute, can you repeat what you just said, but slowly?” 

“Oh, I know you heard me perfectly clear,” JJ smirked at her, eyebrows raising as her eyes shifted between the flustered woman and Spencer. 

They had a friendship of unfamiliar closeness, which JJ cherished. After nights of babysitting turning into wining with Merlot and dining on flaming dreaded cheese puffs, stashed away in an airtight container, upon JJ’s arrival home, the two had grown close. The agent was grateful for conversation veering away from work, and for someone seeing her from a different lens; one through which she wasn’t fizzled down to a petrie dish of a mother through a workaholic microscope. Y/N was curious to know how her famous mandatory-Spencer-de-stressing-trigger-point massages had come up in conversation between JJ and her, now guilty looking, boyfriend. She crossed her fingers in hopes that he’d spared the details of the events that usually took place following the neck rubs - another kind of de-stressing altogether. “Do you guys hear that? I think Will’s calling me- and I should go put Henry to bed… It’s quite late…” she exaggerated, wearing a redolent expression as she slunk away with a towel around her cold frame. “We’ll talk later, Jareau,” she looked up at JJ, after the shivering woman squeezed her shoulders in a bid goodnight, waving to the small crowd. Swiftly, Y/N’s gaze met Spencer’s, her figure not having left his vision once. 

The yard and small pool was clearing out, save for Luke and Tara bickering in the corner, so, through the bubbling water, she waded in Spencer’s direction, noticing the way he was evidently mentally undressing her. As if by his telepathy, a thin strap of her bathing suit slipped from its place, causing the gears in Spencer’s head to stop turning as he swallowed thickly. “Hey handsome, long time no speak.” A soft smile graced his lips, adoration for her evident, in place of his muted response. Wordlessly, he slipped a finger beneath the strap, tentatively putting it back in place, refusing to break eye contact in some unspoken play for power. “What’re you up to?” She squinted, wondering exactly what his motives were. “Nothing much,” he pulled her closer by the waist, whispering in a gravelly voice only she could hear, “I’m just thinking about how you didn’t get the chance to finish what you started, earlier,”

“Are you implying that you want me to…” she floated onto his lap, hands draping around his neck to steady herself, “pick up where we left off?” The question left her mouth in a breathy whisper, straight into his ear. He turned to look at her, unblinking. “I’m implying, that I’ve had those pretty noises you make replaying in my head all night, and that I’d like to hear them again,”

“Remind me, doctor, which one of us said ‘we can’t’?,” she mocked his whine, rolling her eyes back. “I have a better suggestion, how about you remind me which one of us struggled to stand the last time we played this game?” The calmness of his voice was the antithesis of the fire she was feeling inside her. Satisfied with her speechlessness, his eyes drifted down her body as she pried herself off him, settling in the plastic indent of a hot tub seat to his side. The attention of the pair of lovers were drawn to Tara’s laughter as she stepped into a robe, calling it a night. “What’d we miss?” Spencer’s clueless innocence returned, as if the words he’d spoken before were now out of mind. Devilishly, Tara responded, “Oh, you know, just me completely destroying this man’s ego,”

“Doesn’t take much does it?” Y/N offered Tara her fist in solidarity. “No it does not,” Tara chuckled, bumping it with her own. “You guys do realise that I’m right here?” Luke scoffed, also drying himself off. “I think that adds to their point?” Spencer offered, pursing his lips, amused. “Well, I’m going to go and catch some sleep, and maybe even shed a few tears over what’s been said about me,” he playfully scowled at Tara walking away, throwing a middle finger at him through the air without looking back. “Trust me, they are very professional,” Spencer promised, turning towards his only remaining company in laughter. “I’m sure they are,” she joked returning a smile. 

The two of them talked beneath an ink sky, stars like pinpricks in a blanket twinkling through their conversation, until she found herself on Spencer’s lap, once again, the ambience shifting to something far more carnal. Throughout the night, like a band of elastic stretching between two fingers, the tension between them had heightened. Now, they both tested the limits, anticipating its snap. His chlorine skin tasted electric on her tongue as she painted his neck and chest with a lilac rendition of the silver initial dangling there, letting his sighs catch in the shells of her ears. Allowing her tongue to explore his mouth, his hands tightened around her waist. “Mhm, no, Y/N,” he spoke, regaining his fleeting conscience. “This,” — kiss — “is a bad,” — kiss — “idea,”

“Spencer, look,” she glanced over at the house, and his eyes followed suite, craning his neck slightly. “What do you see?” She asked. “Aside from a house bigger than my entire apartment complex?” Her face was a deadpan. “All the lights are out, Spencer,” she gave him a look that said, come on, profiler, figure it out. Not a single connection formed in his head as he stared at the way the luminous blue of the night time water cast ripples on her skin - skin which was all over his. “All the lights are out… It’s late… and everyone’s asleep,” he reasoned, more to himself than in response to her insinuation. “We have no real chance of getting caught, plus…” her dark eyes were obscured by the eyelashes sheltering them as she tilted her head. “Would it be so bad if we did?” Two of her fingers danced along his chest, walking towards the damp hair at the nape of his neck, using the strands to pull him closer. “Everyone knowing exactly how good you make me feel?” She purred the last part in his ear, tugging at the cartilage with her teeth. Spencer partially whimpered. “Don’t hold back, gorgeous boy. You sound as good as you taste.” His eyes shut as his head hit the rim of the spa - only briefly losing himself once her mouth was on him again. “Someone’s talking like they’re in charge,” he tilted her chin up towards him, forcing her eyes onto his own. “I seem to be the one doing all the work here,” she teased. He kissed each of her collarbones, eyes still trained on hers. “You shouldn’t speak so soon.” With that, he undid the top of her swim suit, exposing her chest to the frigid night air, compelling a gasp. “Truthfully, I’ve been thinking about doing this a majority of the night.” The bass in his voice reached her core. “For someone who is so fastidious about cleanliness, you sure have a dirty, dirty mind, doct-” She never had the chance to finish the honorific, his lips moulding around a hardening nipple, allowing his fingers to toy with the other. Rolling his tongue around the bud, he smiled to himself as he heard her call out his name, over and over, as if her voice was coming through a scratched vinyl. “Where’s all the talk from before?”

“You’re evil,” she groaned, her hips bucking against his board short clad body. 

Spencers lips travelled along the valley of her breasts, only to hike back up them at a tantalising pace, prehensile fingers covering the ground his mouth couldn’t. Her hands grasped so tight in his hair, he was sure the strands would fall out. A groan of his own left vibrations reverberating through her body, causing her heart to jump. “Alright, you’ve had your fun,” he gnarred, as his hands gripped her wrists, holding them behind her back. With his unoccupied hand, he dipped his fingers into what was left of her apparel. “Is this all for me?” He smirked at the ease with which his fingers slipped over her. “Don’t flatter yourself, we’re in water,”

“You’re so impolite - even when I’m spoiling you,” tutted Spencer. Retroceding his hand, determined to leave her on edge, and her skin a mirror image of his, he continued to pin her fragile hands back against the base of her spine. “S-Spencer, please,” her words struggled to make any sense, “please, I need more,” she panted out, moving purposefully along the growing outline in his shorts. The pleasure was overwhelming. Spencer fiddled with the material still covering her, pulling it aside to make way for himself in between her legs. His eyes softened, silently seeking permission, even as she impatiently pulled down his waistband. When she nodded and eased his ailing with a soft, lingering kiss, he slowly pushed himself into her, never failing to be acutely attentive to her comfort as if it was their first time together. “This was what you were after?” Teased Spencer, his hips speeding up. “So badly,” she uttered out a sigh. “Then take it like you want it.” She craved his adept touch, and she made that known. “S- Spencer, oh god,” she groaned, “you feel so fucking good.” His breathing became heavier, softs grunts and hisses filling her ears with every movement. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, whining in a destitute way at the full feeling. At a slower pace, one of Spencer’s hands guided her hips along himself, while the other traced infinity on her sensitive nerves. “Sweet girl- fuck, you feel like a dream,” he moaned as she tightened around him. Her toes curled, the warm water of the pool splashing her bare skin. Spencer occupied all of her senses, the same way she did his. “I’m so close,” she whimpered, before he used his nose to nudge her face upwards, her momentarily open eyes reflecting constellations. Spencer kissed her once more. Her hands long freed from his grip, she left traces of herself in the form of tiny red sickles on his freckled back as her nails released some frustration. 

Dragging her fingers along his torso, she felt the muscles of his stomach tighten, hers doing the same. Shaky sighs wavered from her lips at the bliss Spencer was providing. “Keep your eyes open for me, angel,” she tried her hardest to focus on his lustfully blown pupils. “That’s it. Just look at what you do to me,” he gasped out, head falling backwards, eye contact broken - only for a second - before he gulped and looked back at her. “You’re breathtaking,” she whispered, hoarsely, stroking his sweaty cheekbone with her thumb.  She could recognise the golden gates of heaven in his eyes as he came undone inside her, warmth spilling over her in every aspect. The knots in her stomach loosened shortly after his, curses spilling from both of them. She rode him through his release, fond of the way he left light kisses on her temple, whispering compliments and confessions of love. Once he was sure she’d caught her breath, and some air had returned to his own lungs, he kissed her, gently, in the summer sauna heat, beneath the stars.

A loud cough startled the two. Stood in the open French doors of the veranda, scotch in hand, and eyes screwed shut, was David Rossi. Their minds were in the same place, wondering why they hadn't listened to Penelope’s drunken advice. “When you two are done, please remember to turn the tub lights off - and put the filter on high.” She hid herself in Spencer’s chest, heartbeat in her ears, contemplating holding her breath for a really, really long time. Spencer was flushed red, his own nose buried in her neck so as to not face the older man. “Or better yet, put some money together to buy me an entirely new spa,” Rossi, laughed, opening one eye to catch sight of Spencer giving him a shameful thumbs up. Even as Rossi wandered away, their embarrassment remained a fresh burn. Spencer groaned as her tired hand fumbled with his disastrous hair, “I don’t even want to begin thinking about how much of that he heard,”

“Or saw,”

“Don’t!”

“I’m never going to be invited here ever again, am I?”

#this got long! #yes there is no tag list i’m so sorry it’s because i still haven’t actually gotten around to doing it #but just know it’s on its way! next time my loves <3 #anyway it’s almost four in the morning and i wanted this out #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #matthew gray gubler #mgg fic #mgg smut #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler imagine #spencer reid imagine #cm fanfic #mgg #mine: writing

[deafaq]

Hi! Different anon from the last one but your answer gave me some comfort too!

I was born HoH on a family with a few other HoH members, but my hearing loss is so small it is barely there. I was raised mainstream on a small town, so my only connection to others hoh and D/deaf people was those family members, most of them younger than me. So on hoh and deaf spaces I always feel like a hearing folk invading a safe space. As you can imagine, my experiences, even tho I struggle to understand people and have to deal with ableism too, difear greatly from other members of the community.

I ve been trying to learn my country sign language for a year or so, and I know quite little (there is very little resources that are approved by the Deaf community that I can access right now) but your answer gave me hope to keep learning and that maybe in the future I will stop doubting my identity as hoh. Maybe someday I will be able to help some of my younger hoh family members with the same issue, too. So thank you so much <3

Hello,

the feeling of "between worlds" and "neither hearing nor deaf" is incredibly common part of hard of hearing experience.

Your struggles and experiences are real. They may be different from some of the issues Deaf people face, but that doesnt make them lesser or invalid.

Actually, interesting note: I do workshops and lectures about deaf issues for hearing folks, often schools but also stuff like libraries, public offfices, etc. Today, we had a workshop at my work with other lecturers to compare our notes, improve our lectures, share experiences, etc.

There were deafened folks who lip-read, hard of hearing who mostly relied on the spoken word, Deaf people who signed and other combos. (we had interpreters and simultaneous captions, so it was accessible to everyone). And we talked about our lectures and it was very enlightening.

And main Deaf lecturer (he is the most experienced of our group who led the workshop) said "its always preferable to have a person with hearing loss there and depending on the type, it always brings a different perspective. Like, I can talk about culture and I can tell you how I am chatting with my Deaf friends from another country and how sign language works. But I got asked about finer workings of Cochlear Implants or how intergration in school works and I have no idea. Well, I do know it because I studied it theoretically, but I have no lived experience, I have no idea how it feels to have a CI or what its like to be the only hard of hearing kid in a school full of hearing kids. I couldnt tell you how it feels to lose hearing because I was born this way, so I have no way to compare. Its always valid to have people with different experiences with hearing loss."

We are all different but are experiences are important and our identity matters.

And another piece of interesting trivia for you. One of my teachers was a Deaf woman, whose parents and grandparents were Deaf, who spoke several sign languages, was expert on Deaf culture, etc. Deaf TM. Yet she still sometimes struggled with her identity and acceptance from Deaf community, despite being Deaf herself.

This info is not to give you "omg if she wasnt accepted how can i be?" because thats not the point. There werent any people with pitchforks trying to chase her out, to my knowledge, it was how she felt inside. Imposter syndrom and hesitance over acceptance from community, being unsure about your own identity is incredibly common.

I am not trying to say that acceptance from Deaf community is given, because well... I have met some Deaf people I would not want to be accepted by and they would not accept me in turn. And I have met those who I bonded with, who accepted me, gave me a name sign and saw me as a valuable addition to community.

I wasn't born Deaf and I only learned sign language during puberty so, yes, I have encountered people who didnt "count" me. But that doesnt mean I don't count or that my deafness is any lesser due to it. And yours isn't either.

Well this turned out too long. Hope my musing helped you a bit.

To sum it up, having identity crisis over your deafness is a like, a staple of hearing loss, lol. (not to say its required, but its... really common, haha)

Mod T

#deaf #deaf community #hard of hearing #mod t

[themuseic]

Only Fools (Chapter 15/15)

Fic Summary: Sent to Boone County, West Virginia on an assignment, you find yourself engulfed your work. How could you possibly find time for anything else? Even if “anything else” includes the tall, kind, and handsome bartender from down the road?

Word Count: 4.9k

Read Chapter 14 here. // Read here on AO3. // Masterlist.

Warnings: Sad Times Again (Sorry), Imposter Syndrome, Implied Alcohol Use.

A/N: Thank you for sticking with me through this story, and as always, for reading. <3 

“I have to leave.” 

~~~

“Oh darlin’,” Clyde’s eyes softened as he folded you in close. You pressed your face into his neck and breathed him in as you attempted to reign back your quickly beating heart. You couldn’t feel the tear tracks racing down your face, but Clyde could feel them start to wet his skin and he squeezed you closer. You, on the other hand, couldn’t feel anything. 

Clyde rubbed your back as he absorbed the news and swallowed thickly. His mind raced, but his mouth couldn’t produce words. 

The cacophonous bustle of eager patrons pushing through the door of the Duck Tape broke your soft silence and you pushed yourself off of Clyde’s chest. You sniffed and rubbed your nose with a sharp inhale, unwilling to look toward the group of locals gathering at the end of the bar. 

Clyde snuck a look over to the group before he looked back at you, his eyes still soft and comforting.

“Why don’t y’ go wait back in my office,” he whispered, just to you. His thumb swiped back and forth over your hip. “Wait for me until I can get Earl to take over.”

“Then we can go home?” you muttered.

Clyde nodded. “Then we can go home.” 

~~~

Clyde’s office was pristine. He was the organized Logan. That was, apart from his books of course, but he had so many he simply could have no rhyme or reason to those. But everything else in his life was a picture of organization, and his office was a testament to that. The documents that detailed the Duck Tape’s business were tucked neatly away in files and even the smallest paperclip was perfectly set in a ceramic bowl on his desk. Everything had a place. Except for, it seemed, you. 

You curled up on the creaky leather couch that Clyde kept tucked in the corner for relaxing - though to be honest, the pair of you had found your own use for it - and gazed around the room. It was impossible to not feel out of place amongst his items. You hadn’t felt that overwhelming insecurity even once since you and Clyde had become official. But yet, here you found yourself, your departure impending, along with the looming reminder that your time in Boone County was temporary. It was never going to be your home.

Desperate to stop yourself from thinking yourself in circles, you closed your eyes and did your very best to quiet your mind.

~~~

Barely an hour had passed before the heavy wooden door squeaked as it pushed open slowly. Clyde slid into the room and his eyes zipped straight to you. The minute your gaze connected, you felt tears beginning to well in your eyes again. “Oh darlin’,” he crooned as he reached for you. “Come here.”

You allowed him to pull you off of the couch and into his chest. It was easy to melt into him as he wrapped his awaiting arms around you and squeezed you once. “Can we go home now?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

~~~

As you crossed the threshold of the trailer, you were hit with a sudden rush of emotions. It was a sort of nostalgia that you didn’t feel was within your rights to have but yet, it flooded your body. This cozy abode had become more to you in the last year than you had ever thought possible. Your heart tightened as you gazed at the books stacked neatly next to the couch, where you and Clyde had last left them. You smiled at the blanket that you and Clyde sat underneath as you read or talked, and you even looked at the cramped kitchen with fondness. You were sure burnt bacon was caked into the walls with how often Clyde cooked it, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Clyde plopped himself down onto the couch with a solid huff of breath and opened his arms to you. Your movements were laden with a sort of pervasive sadness as you sat beside him and flung your legs over his lap to settle back into his chest. His button-up was soft underneath the tips of your fingers as you dragged them across the fabric, searching for comfort in between the threads, but only when you slipped them through the gaps of the shirt buttons to caress the skin of his chest did you find it. 

You sat like that in silence for hours. 

~~~

Late that night, between stolen kisses and lingering touches, that answer became painfully clear, although neither of you wanted to say it out loud. There, tucked up under the covers and in each other's arms, you came to the unspoken agreement. 

“I don’t want to go.”

“I know.”

Silence filled the air.

“I have to go.”

“I know, darlin’.”

“I’ll always love you.”

A breath. 

“I’ll always love you too.”

~~~

.

.

.

.

.

~~~

It would have been impossible for any passerby to miss the sight of the bar that night.

The Duck Tape was full to the brim with the people of the town that you had gotten to know in the year you had been there. Clyde had closed the bar to anyone but them for the night. The air was filled with nothing sort of a dull roar as townsfolk and Logans alike bathed in rousing music, cold drink, and loud conversation. 

Your farewell party was in full swing.

It was a somber event, but you couldn’t have guessed that by scanning the crowd. No one had been clued into the reason for the gathering yet, just how you wanted it to be. You didn’t need some grandiose send-off. No, you were just happy to see everyone another time before you took off on the road the next day, so that bittersweet knowledge was reserved for you and Clyde to bear. Sure, you would tell them as the night ended, but you were perfectly content to revel in the happiness until that happened. 

Mellie sat beside you, chatting away to catch you up on all the town’s latest gossip. One of the many perks of having the town hairdresser as a friend was that you always knew what was happening in any corner of Boone County. 

“And I heard that Tristan, down the road,” Mellie mused, “Well I heard that he’s been thinkin’ ‘bout selling his shop and movin’ out to Charlotte.” She shook her head. “Just to be closer to the speedway.”

You managed a smile back at that. “What, you don’t like that? Not a NASCAR fan anymore?” you teased her. 

Mellie shook her head. “Nope, I haven’t watched since…. Well for a good while.” She winked at you and giggled. 

It was difficult, seeing her so happy and carefree when you knew that you would be leaving the state in less than twelve hours. Your eyes fell to the smooth bar and you forced a laugh at her joke, quickly sipping at your drink to cover your false joy. It didn’t go unnoticed. 

“What’s the matter there?” she asked, her brow furrowed and a frown plastered across her face. “You’ve been pretty quiet for such a fun night.”

A smile forced its way to your lips but didn’t quite reach your eyes. The performative joy just didn’t seem like it would make it that high up your face. 

“Nothing’s the matter! Guess I’m just a bit tired.” You shrugged and flicked your eyes down the bar to see Clyde passing a beer to one of the Bang brothers. As if he could feel your stare boring holes through his back, he looked at you and smiled. You shot him one in return before you looked back at Mellie, who was bouncing her eyes between you and Clyde in suspicion. “Nothing to worry about.” 

Mellie narrowed her eyes at you and opened her mouth to contest your response, but was promptly cut off. 

“What are you two chattin’ about?”

Clyde moseyed his way over to where you were both sat at the bar, and you grabbed the distraction gratefully. “Mel was just catching me up on what she’s been hearing around the salon lately. Just some gossip,” you explained between sips of your drink. 

Mellie nodded in agreement, successfully distracted from her concerns over your mood. “We’ll, I’ll let the two of y’all swoon over each other in peace,” she teased as stood from her seat at the bar. “I’ll catch up with you in a little bit, alright?” You nodded. “Of course Mellie, have fun!” you assured her, and she squeezed your arm in parting once before slipping into the crowd in search of Joe. 

“You alright? I see it in your eyes a bit,” Clyde fussed, his sincere hazel eyes holding you in their gaze. “See that sadness.” 

Not loud enough for your next sentence to fall on unintended ears, you replied, “Well of course I’m upset Clyde. I can’t believe I’m leaving tomorrow.” It was surreal to say out loud. 

Clyde reached forward to take your hand where it rested on the bar, his veins throbbing just slightly as he squeezed you. You ran your thumb over the back of his hand and looked up at him. He smiled at you as he could best manage, and lifted your hand to his mouth to plant a kiss on your knuckles and provide that silent comfort. His lips were soft against your skin, his goatee rough, and you couldn’t help but laugh lightly at the feeling. Oh, how you would miss it.

“Hey, Clyde, there another keg in th’ back?” a voice suddenly called to him across the length of the bar. Clyde sighed as he looked towards the request and hollered back, “Yep, gimme a sec.” His soft gaze returned to you and he insisted, “Try to enjoy yourself, darlin’. You deserve it.” With a pursed smile you nodded your head in a silent promise. “Good.”

Clyde leaned forward to kiss your forehead before he turned to the awaiting gaggle of men clutching empty cups, and he was greeted with a raucous cheer. 

You managed a thin smile at the jubilation that swirled around you and looked down at your drink, stirring it lazily. It wasn’t long before someone new demanded your attention.

You felt a tug on your shirt, accompanied by a very determined shout of “Hey!”

A pair of great big round eyes gazed up at you and you beamed right back. “Hey, Sadie. Are you having fun?” you smiled at her. She nodded back without hesitation. “Yeah! Uncle Clyde makes the most deeeeelicious Shirley Temples.” You laughed as you noticed the signs of her soft drink conquests. Now that you saw them, it was impossible to miss how the corners of her mouth were tinged bright red, the signature hue of the sweet grenadine that gave the soda its color.

You were still giggling when she thrust the twine-bound book she clutched in her grasp up towards your face. 

“D’you wanna see my book?” she squealed, her fingers tapping along the side as she shook it. Her eyes had that signature Logan gleam, the one that tipped you off that they had a thought that just had to be shared. Your eyes widened at the prospect, you pulled the barstool to your side back away from the bar, and patted it swiftly. “Get on up here, let me see it!”

Sadie’s feet shuffled with excitement as she clambered up onto the stool top. “Well perfect, I’d hoped you’d say that,” she crowed. The leather top of the seat hissed as she plopped down on top of it and spread the brown, flecked pages of the book flat against the bar. “See, I’ve gotten into photography,” Sadie glanced up at you with palpable self-assurance, “as you know, and so I made the whole book by myself.” 

You clicked your teeth. “No way!”

“Uuuh, yes way!” she gasped. “I took all the pictures, bound all the pages, and authored this all by myself.” Sadie snapped her mouth shut with conviction. “I bet I could win awards for this book.”

“I don’t think you’re wrong about that, not one bit!” You smiled and patted the cover of the book lightly. “But show me what you’ve done.”

“Oh yeah!” Sadie cracked open the book.

You were greeted with a barrage of photographs. Things you recognized and some you didn’t. There were pictures of the Purple Lady, sat prim and proper in the adjustable chair of Mellie’s salon. A small snapshot of wildflowers on the side of the road. Pictures of every single Logan you could think of.

Her bubbling voice pulled your attention to the next page as she flipped. “This one is from the fall, when my daddy and I raked up all the leaves just so we could jump back in ‘em,” Sadie giggled, her face split by her big, crooked smile. 

Your eyes creased with your grin. “That looks like a fun time Sadie!”

As she flipped through the pages and babbled away, you were surprised by the pang of nostalgia that began to ache in your chest again. The same feeling that had plagued you for the past week. The one that should have been out of reach for you.  

The same rush of questions that you had tried so hard to answer since you had discovered you had to leave Boone County looped through your head for the thousandth time. How could you already be nostalgic for a place you had known for less than a year? Was that fair? You felt like an imposter, inserting yourself into a life you hadn’t earned, and all because you had fallen for a man who lived among them. You felt fake. 

But in all honesty, it didn’t really matter. Regardless of how long you had been in Boone County or in Clyde’s arms, you still felt the sting of saltwater at the corners of your eyes. 

Sadie leafed through the booklet and showed you all different snapshots of the county. It was a special sort of walk down memory lane, through the eyes of a four-foot-nine girl. 

Slowly, the images became dusted with white. It was an ephemeral scene, the one that captures the solid memories and the essence of the season in one. 

“Ohhh,” Sadie drawled. “I just love winter don’t you?” You nodded as you thought back to memories of the winter festival.

Your heart clenched as your gaze caught sight of the picture Sadie had pasted in the center of the next page, surrounded by stickers of cartoon snowflakes and sleds. You looked down at the shiny, flash illuminated faces of you and Clyde. You had a wide grin plastered across your face, your nose was tipped in whipped cream, and Clyde was frozen, caught by the camera just as a laugh bubbled to his lips. His arm was slung around you like a protective shawl, and your head tilted towards his chest as though it chased his comfort. 

It was almost magical, how quickly you were transported back to that moment, happy and blissfully unaware of what the future would hold. 

“I really like this picture,” Sadie babbled, pointing at your smiling face. You bobbed your head in agreement and swallowed the lump in your throat. “It’s a pretty nice photo,” you sniffed in agreement. “Thank you for taking it.”

A gruff voice broke through your conversation. “Whatcha got there lil’ Sadie?”

You looked up to see Clyde stopped in front of you, his hands busy as they wiped down a glass and his head cocked as he tried to gaze at the book laid in front of his niece. 

Sadie slid the book around so that he could get a view of the page. “It’s you two! From the winter festival!” she exclaimed. 

Clyde’s face froze as he stared at the scene before him. You cheered on your lip as you scanned his face for any sign of reaction. 

“It’s beautiful,” he choked out. When his deep eyes met yours, you swallowed thickly again. It was impossible to break eye contact with Clyde as he stared you down. The amber seas of his eyes were easy to get lost in, and you stared at him, unable and unwilling to break that line of sight. He gazed back at you with an equally loving and intense stare. 

The party was far too intimate to allow anyone a moment of peace and quiet, and that was proven true in a split second. 

“Alright,” Jimmy announced his presence with the same subtlety ad a foghorn. He smashed his hands against the bar, pulling you and Clyde out of your bittersweet stare. “What in god’s name is going on with the two of you?” He huffed a breath through his upper lip as he clutched at the edge of the bar top. “You two hooligans invited us here for a party and now what? Y’ mope through the whole thing?”

In unison, almost as if it was planned, you and Clyde sighed through your noses. He cocked his eyebrow at you. “Think it’s time to tell ‘em?” Clyde inquired.

You bit your cheek and sighed lightly. “It’s as good a time as any,” you replied and shifted to look at Jimmy. He looked at you from under his brow expectantly and gestured his hands as if to hurry along the explanation he awaited. 

“I’m leaving. Tomorrow. I just wanted to see everyone again before I did.”

“And you didn’t tell us?” 

Mellie appeared out of thin air behind her brother, her mouth gaped in offense that you had kept that secret hidden away. You grimaced at her sharp inflection. “I’m really sorry Mel. I didn’t want to be a downer.” A nervous laugh escaped you as you tried to reckon with the freshly broken news and shrug it off. 

“Well, you better talk now,” Jimmy demanded, his eyes laced with concern. “What happens next? What’s your plan?”

You gestured your hands widely in surrender. “There’s nothing to do. I have to leave, I can’t lose this job.”

Mellie harrumphed as she shook her head. “What about the two of you?”

“Clyde and I already talked it through. We had a good run while it lasted.” Your face twisted as you tried to hold your emotions at bay. “But it’s time for me to go.” 

Clyde nodded behind you, staring just below his sibling’s eye line as he avoided their intense glares.

“Well, that just won’t do.” Jimmy wouldn’t let the topic go, nor it seemed, let you come to terms with the fact that it was quickly approaching. 

You sighed. “Jimmy, there’s nothing to do. I leave tomorrow.”

Clyde interjected, seeming determined to halt the conversation lest either of you burst into tears that didn’t need to be shed. “It’s done, Jim.”

“Me ‘n Jimmy can look over the bar.” 

Earl’s voice cut through the bar and all of your heads snapped to him. He looked over to Jimmy with a smile that screamed satisfaction, and the eldest Logan nodded right back at him. “Well Earl, that’s a mighty fine idea,” Jimmy mused aloud before he looked back at you. “So then Clyde can go with you.”

“Guys, I don’t know when I’ll be done with the next assignment-,” you started, but Jimmy cut you off with a hand and a definitive voice. “No, that wasn’t a suggestion, it was a statement.”

Clyde shook his head. “That one tall order to ask of you. I know Earl’s always fine bein’ here, but what about you? What about the hardware store?”

“I don’t have to take the seasonal job at Lowe’s again this season, I’m flexible.” Jimmy’s hand clapped against his brother’s broad shoulder. “Anyway Clyde, you haven’t had a break in how long?”

Clyde’s eyebrows pinched together as he pondered his brother’s statement. “Don’t think I ever have.”

“That settles it. You could use a break, and your darlin’ here could use some company on the road.”

Clyde chewed on his lip for a moment, pondering the offer his older brother had laid before him. You could see the gears turning in his head and your heart clenched. That one offer, that one saving grace from his brother could change everything. 

“Sweetheart,” Clyde started hesitantly. “Would you mind a lil’ change of plans?” he asked, choosing each word carefully as he mulled the plan over in his own mind. 

Your eyes widened at him. “Clyde, do you mean that? Would you… I mean would you want to?” You could barely form a single coherent thought, let alone process this sacrifice on your behalf.

Clyde laughed and shook his head. “You know I’d want nothing less.” 

It was impossible to believe the new set of rules before you. Sure, you still had to leave Boone County, but you didn’t have to leave Clyde. You didn’t have to set out by yourself. It seemed impossible that you didn’t swallow a bug with how far your mouth hung open as you tried to process the thought of it all. 

“What’s goin’ through that little head of yours?” Earl called over to you, pulling a laugh from Jimmy. You snapped from your bliss and gawked at the pair of them, each with goofy smiles plastered across their faces. “Jimmy, Earl, I could kiss you both right now.” 

“Hey, watch it,” Clyde growled as he reached forward and pinched your arm lightly. “You best be saving those sweet kisses for me.” You giggled and leaned forward to grab Clyde’s collar and pull him to you. He laughed as he allowed himself to fall forward, and he planted a fat, wet kiss on the corner of your mouth. 

You chuckled and pushed his face back with your free palm. “Are you sure about this? Coming with me, I mean?” Your hands vibrated with pure excitement. 

Clyde smiled wide at that. “More sure about this than I’ve ever been about anything darlin’.”

You beamed and yanked his face forward to kiss him deeply. Hoots and cheers erupted around you as you smiled against his lips, and you heard Clyde’s perfect chuckle as he pushed back into you. The roaring in your ears as you and Clyde got lost in the feeling of each other drowned out the sounds of the Logan’s celebration. Their cheers faded into the background slowly, until it felt like it was just the two of you in the bar, consumed in the bliss of one another. It was perfect. 

~~~

Trees zipped by you as you raced down the West Virginia highway, Clyde at the wheel and you prepped and ready to navigate. Music filled the air as it filtered out of the speakers that dotted the dashboard, and you hummed along to the tune as you gazed out of the windows.

The Logans had come to the trailer early that morning to see you off. Mellie had quickly helped her brother pack a suitcase full of everything he might need on your cross-country trip, and Jimmy whipped up a breakfast for the whole lot of you to share before you set off. 

Each of them had left you with a hug, a kiss on the cheek, well wishes, and the promise that they would see you sooner than you’d know, but you’d received two going away presents as well.

The first was from Sylvia. She had passed you a red canvas backpack with a shiny white cross plastered across it. It was stuffed full of first aid supplies “for when you’re out on the trails again,” she had said with a wink. “Can never be too safe.” You had thanked her, knowing you would inevitably come to need it, and she responded with a tight, warm hug.

The second was from little Sadie. You hadn’t wanted to accept them at first, reminding her that she needed them for her portfolio but she, in true Logan fashion, wouldn’t take no for an answer. She had pushed them into your hand and scurried away before you could protest, screaming “Bye, drive safe!” the whole way.

You thumbed the corner of the photographs, flipping in between them as you looked at you and Clyde’s smiling faces. They were both from the festival, from that cherry red booth that Sadie had photographed the two of you in. One had a rough patch of material on the back of it, where Sadie had peeled it from her book. You smiled at her generosity, that she would sacrifice a page of her book just for you to have a keepsake on the road. 

Clyde slowed down ever so slightly as the buildings of the town began to dot the sides of the highway, and you smiled at the business you had come to know and love.

“Nice ‘lil goodbye to the town, huh darlin’?” Clyde pondered as he peered forward out of the windshield. 

You turned towards him to smile and agree when you were suddenly hit square in the chest with just the perfect idea.

“Clyde!!” you exclaimed, your arms flying out in front of you. 

“What, what!” his head whipped to face you, a look of horror plastered across his face. Clyde’s head whipped back and forth between the road and you as you stumbled and blubbered over your words. “Can you… over?” you thrust your arm in front of his face and pointed to the building coming up on the driver’s side of the road. 

“Diner!”

Clyde shot a quizzical look at you and you responded by nodding your head. Without a second thought, Clyde turned across the highway and skidded into the asphalt parking lot. You didn’t hesitate to throw open the door of the car and toss your body out once he was just barely parked. 

You rushed through the glass door of the diner, grabbed a tack from the small dish by the front, and clambered onto the squeaky vinyl seats of the booth near the back, the one you and Clyde had your first date in. The photograph of you and Clyde in the very same booth was still clutched tightly in your hand. You hollered a quick hello to Muriel behind the counter and she responded with a quick laugh and wave. The excitement that radiated from you was palpable eagerness as you bounced up and down on the vinyl cushions. 

The gallery wall before you was packed full of smiling faces and you scanned it quickly, looking for just the perfect spot. 

“Ah hah!” you exclaimed as you spied a clear area in between a collage of photographs. Your tongue stuck out of the side of your mouth as you held up the photograph and tried to line it up as level and as straight as possible. 

The thumbtack made a small thunk as it pushed through the paint coating the wall, and you stepped back on the bench to admire your work, your chest heaving from the sheet excitement of it all.

The tinkle of the bell made you turn back towards the door.

Clyde walked in behind you, grumbling something about how you “never goddamn slow down” before he stopped to stare at you. 

He looked at you quizzically for just a second before he saw what you had done. He whistled low as he sauntered up behind you and hugged you at the waist. “Lookin’ pretty good up there huh?” 

You beamed down at him where his head rested against your hip and ruffled his hair. “Did you think we could leave without adding ourselves up on the wall?”

“Guess you’re right. Looks good with my family up there too.”

“You think your momma would mind?”

Clyde scoffed and tugged you down to kiss you. You laughed against his lips as he smiled and broke from you to look at you from under his long lashes. “Darlin’, I know she’d love seein’ you up there.” 

~~~

You were back on the road right away, and although you were loath to leave, you were also happy to be on the open roads again. You gazed lovingly at Clyde as he drove your car through the West Virginia mountains. It was a daydream - the windows down, music lilting through the speakers, your mountain man beside you. The fresh mountain air streamed over your hand where you dangled it out of the window and you felt the sun as it warmed your body.

It felt weird, the bittersweet twang at your heart as you drove away from Boone County. You still couldn’t believe how much it had come to mean to you in the time you had been there.

But most of all you couldn’t believe what the man sitting beside you meant to you. You turned over in your seat to gaze at Clyde your eyes full of a love you could barely capture in words. As if he could feel you staring at him, he flicked his eyes to you with a raised eyebrow. 

“You alright there darlin’?” 

You hummed as you settled back in the seat and propped your feet on the dashboard. “More than alright Clyde,” you responded. “I feel perfectly at home.” 

And that was the full truth. 

You tapped your toes together on the dashboard as you rolled the taste of that statement around your mouth. “I feel perfectly at home.” It had been years since you had an address to properly call home, but you knew that didn’t matter. 

As long as you had Clyde by your side, you were home.

~~~

Taglist: @mind-p0llution @thedivinemissm @clydesducktape @finn-ray-nal-beads @ladygrey03 @desiraypark @1800-fight-me @hopeamarsu @kkysolo @clumsycopy @mylifeisactuallyamess @daydreamsofren @mariesackler (Comment or message me to be added or removed!)

~~~

A/N: Holy fuck. It’s done. I genuinely don’t even know where to begin to thank people but I guess I have to start somewhere. 

@mind-p0llution - For so much. Without you, I wouldn’t have started writing, let alone posting. Thank you for encouraging me, boosting my confidence, and encouraging me every step of the way. Thank you for beta’ing chapters and for just being the wonderful human you are. This story wouldn’t have seen the light of day had it not been for you and I am eternally grateful. 

@clumsycopy - For creating such gorgeous art for this story and being so kind to it at every turn. AND inspiring me to keep adding to it! You are such a gem. 

@kkysolo - For being you. You have kept me writing this story just by supporting it so much and have helped me through so many writers blocks and story issues. Thank you for helping make the story what it is. 

@mylifeisactuallyamess @the-sacredtexts @daydreamsofren​ - For helping when I don’t know how to use punctuation and when I write sentences that sound funny! And again, for being the supportive angels you are. 

@clydesducktape​ @hopeamarsu​ and treecreeper86 (AO3) - You have been so incredibly kind about this story and I am just? So humbled by it and your more than generous comments. Thank you for just brightening my day all the time. 

And to anyone who has given this story a chance. Thank you so much for reading it, interacting with it, and supporting it in any way. It’s been nothing short of an absolute joy to put this story out there, and I am still in shock that it’s over. If you have left a comment in on the past few chapters I am so sorry that I haven’t gotten to address them yet, but I am so, so grateful for it, and I will be answering those over the weekend. I am so thankful for all of you, and I really really hope you enjoyed. <3 Love you. And thank you. 

#only fools #my writing #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan x you #logan lucky fanfic #cw: implied alcohol

[themollyjay]

I’m Not An Imposter (But I Sure Feel Like One).

CW: Homophobia, Transphobia, Trans-misogyny

Two days ago, I started work on a new novel called ‘The Defective Paragons’.  It took me a little over a day to write the first chapter, because I wanted to get it right.  Actually, I wanted to get it perfect.  I wanted to capture a specific feeling, but I struggled with it a lot and I want to talk about why.

‘The Defective Paragons’ is not the novel I had planned to write after I finished Transistor.  I thought I would finish Transistor, do revisions on The Master of Puppets, circle back around and do revisions on Transistor, and then move on to my first Fantasy novel, The Long Way Home.

Instead, I finished Transistor, did revisions on The Master of Puppets, did revisions on Transistor, then I pulled out an old manuscript I had started back in 2015 called ‘The Caster of Shadows’.  I retitled it ‘The Inevitable Singularity’ because it was a better thematic fit for the story, then I went through, made a bunch of revisions, adjusted some character dynamics, cut a subplot that just didn’t need to be in the book, and banged out the last five chapters or so of the novel.

It’s a good novel, and I’m happy with the way it turned out.  In fact, I’m really proud of it.  I think there are a lot of deep, interesting things said about free will verses determinism, about the primacy of the individual verse the primacy of the state, about the ethics of child soldiers, religious indoctrination, the ways love can become a toxic force in your life and how hanging on to an unhealthy relationship can be a form of self-harm, as well as how religious doctrine can poison family relationships.  I also think the series that the novel will eventually be part of has a lot more to say on some very deep topics, and I am really looking forward to writing the rest of the books.

But there was something missing when I was writing it.  It was a work that was conceived, and mostly created at a very different time in my life, when the things I wanted to examine in my writing were different.  In the books I’ve been writing lately, Mail Order Bride, Scatter, The Master of Puppets, and Transistor, gender has been a theme.  Scatter is more subtle about it than the others, though it is there if you look closely enough.  Coming off of The Inevitable Singularity, I found myself very much wanting to step back into a universe where I could talk about gender and The Long Way Round just wasn’t that book.

Instead, I decided to jump into The Defective Paragons.  I’m not go through the full elevator pitch, but the basic idea is that aliens came in and recruited a bunch of teams of teenagers to be superheroes.  They ran around in costume, drove giant robots, and fought off invading alien pirates and bandits.  Then, when the time came, the aliens who recruited the teenagers used them as an army to annex Earth.  Except one team fought back.  They lost, but the novel picks up ten years later when they get a second chance to fight back.

Now, you’re probably asking how this relates to gender, and that’s a fair question.  The thing is, the team that fought back has been separated for a decade, and during that decade, the team leader transitioned from male to female, so when someone comes looking for the Team Leader, they spend the first chapter of the novel talking to said team leader without realizing who she is until the very end of the chapter.  Through the course of the novel, this woman is going to have to meet up with four other people she used to be incredibly close with before.

I’m not going to lie. I was nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs the whole way through the first chapter, and those nerves haven’t gone away.  But why am I nervous about writing this?  This is literally a part of my life.  This is something I’ve lived through, something I’ve experienced firsthand, more than once.  That experience of meeting someone you knew before, or having to introduce yourself after… That’s my reality, but I still hesitate to write it, because of something that affects a lot of queer people, and trans people I think most of all.

Imposter syndrome. Queer people have our identities invalidated all the time.  “Are you really gay?”, “Why don’t you pick a side already?”, “It’s just a phase.”, “The homosexual lifestyle.”, “Transgender Ideology.”, “Sex not gender”, “Adult human female.”, “Trans trender,”.  It’s hard to keep track of all the ways people question our identity, and when you can’t go a single day without having your identity questioned, you start to doubt yourself.

I doubt myself every day. I was fourteen years old when I figured out I was transgender.  All the signs were there before that, but I didn’t really have that ‘I want to be a girl’ moment until I was fourteen years old.  Why did it take me so long?  You hear about trans kids who seem to know from birth.  Trans girls who want to wear dresses and play with dolls and scream and make a fuss about it from the time they are old enough to talk.  If I’m really trans, why wasn’t I like that?  Is my body dysmorphia really part of my gender dysphoria, or is my gender dysphoria a result of body dysmorphia caused by my weight issues and my eating disorder?

It is so, so easy to get lost inside your head, to doubt who you are, when the whole world is telling you that you’re wrong, that you don’t know yourself, that you can’t be who you claim to be.  Some nights, I lay awake, lost in that place.  Some nights, I lay awake feeling like a fake, a fraud, an imposter.

I know the truth.  I do.  I know that cis gendered men don’t dream about waking up as a woman.  They don’t sit around daydreaming about how if they ever got three wishes, the first wish would be to be a woman.  They don’t have elaborate fantasies about the life they would live if they were a woman.  They don’t cry with joy and relief the first time they see themselves in a dress and makeup. I know I’m a trans woman.  But doubt is a hell of a thing, and so is cis-heteronormativity.

I wrote a chapter, and I felt afraid.  I felt like I was stealing someone else’s story, even though this was my own lived experience.

If you run into the same thing while you’re writing, I wish I could tell you that there’s a magic fix. That the imposter syndrome will eventually go away, and that you’ll get to the point where the voices don’t whisper fear and doubt into your ears, but I can’t.  If there’s a magic fix, I haven’t found it yet.  When I’m writing stuff that deals with being trans, I show it to other trans people, and I sit there, waiting for them to read it, afraid the whole time they’ll tell me I got it wrong.

Someday, I hope we live in a world where no one feels this way, but until then, all I can do is fight through the fear and the doubt, to tell myself that what I feel is real and valid, and to tell the stories I want to tell and hope that people will read them and know that they aren’t alone.

#writing #self promotion #original fiction #the grand ascendancy #the defective paragons #the war of souls #the master of puppets #the hearts of heroes #scatter #transistor #mail order bride #the paladins of the republic #the inevitable singularity #The Long Way Round