#me : my mental health has taken a CLEAR nose dive

[loneheir]

*this lives in my head rent free i cannot nor will i ever get enough of this scene - i just (!!!!!!)

#. ooc ; selena says #the camp #the insanity #the ridiuclousness #the oc i want to create #just time #and i don't have enough with three blogs hdsufjdsfds #me : my mental health has taken a CLEAR nose dive

[pizzaboat]

Eda Clawthorne and BPD

Eda is a character I never really associated with something like BPD(Borderline Personality Disorder) until I’d done more research on the disorder myself. Initially, I’d had a one size fits all idea in my mind for what a manifestation of BPD could look like.

But after finishing the Owl House in its entirety, and dispelling some of my ignorance around the topic I’ve come to the headcanon that Eda has BPD.

So to start, what I understand about BPD(Borderline Personality Disorder) is that it’s a personality disorder belonging to the cluster B section in the DSM-5.

It’s generally described that people living with it, might engage in risky/self harming behaviour, have an intense fear of abandonment, struggle with addiction, and have unstable/turbulent relationships with others. People with BPD also struggle with an intense feeling of internalised shame and numbness.

BPD usually manifests after some sort of prolonged mental abuse/physical abuse/sexual abuse/ psychological abuse or trauma, and that usually happens in childhood.

Well, what does any of that have to do with Eda? How does her character link in any way to what I've described? Let’s go through it;

(I’m not an expert, this is just a headcanon that I use to look at Eda)

Addiction/Substance Abuse

Eda is implied to be an alcoholic in the show. Apple blood, her infamous favourite drink, is often used as a stand-in or a direct reference to the topic of intoxication or turning to the bottle to cope with big feelings.

Proof of apple blood being an alcohol signal can be when Luz mentions in early S2, that Eda was hard to get off the roof after she drank too much apple blood, implying she became irrational and unreasonable after drinking too much.

Another example is when Eda was seen in a tavern in Eda’s Requiem, she canonically has a large and unpaid tab in that tavern, and was drinking apple blood (from a juice box) while lamenting about the current events of her life.

A scene like that is a heavy reference to the trope of getting drunk and venting to your local bartender that can be seen in a lot of movies and tv-shows.

Eda is also potentially implied to have Depression during the show and is typically grumpy/unapproachable before her first drink, early in the morning.

I’ve headcanons before that Eda uses Apple Blood to self medicate her mood after the implications in season 2 that she is drinking more heavily (the joke about the roof, her chasing free appleblood, drinking in the tavern when she’s sad), and after season1, and during all of season 2 her mental health had taken a clear nose dive after traumatic events and perceived abandonments.

I also mentioned that people with BPD struggle with a feeling of emptiness and numbness, and Eda’s low and irritable mood could be interpreted as coming from a place of feeling hollow. (That’s my headcanon).

Addiction is also considered a risky/self harming behaviour, which leads me to my next point.

Risky/Self Harming behaviours

Eda is an impulsive and risk taking person, that usually contributes to a pretty popular ADHD headcanon for her character, but I’d also like to argue that her risk taking behaviour could also be a sign of BPD, as it typically leads her to dangerous or life threatening situations, often on purpose.

A small example of this is when searching for titan blood, she pushes herself in front of a laser beam and urges King to shoot her with it to trigger her harpy powers. In that episode she was struggling to go harpy mode;

And the episode before that, Knock Knock Knockin’ on Hooty’s Door, she was shown depriving herself of sleep and worrying about not being ready for the day of unity. Eda had proved she was anxious to be ready and willing to hurt herself to be so, stemming from an internal feeling of frustration and worthlessness because she didn’t have what she needed to be ready.

In the cave, I think her action to jump in front of the laser, disguising her actions as a childish and silly request of bone-headedness was her hiding her self-destructive instincts and inner frustration in plain sight.

Her risky behaviours are driven by a deep self hatred and that leads me to her most risky action of all…

Fear of Abandonment

When Eda overhears the kids talking about telling her something, she spirals and assumes the worst. She spends that episode devaluing herself, trying to self-soothe with apple blood, and distancing herself from the kids in response to her assumption that they only have the worst news for her.

Luz is leaving and King wants to live with his dad.

She spends the day living out what appears to be a fantasy with Raine, where she is ‘Mama Eda’ to the younger BATTs members and she and Raine are playfully dancing around each other with some not so subtle flirting. It resembles a family life, where her and Raine are married, or atleast happily together, and the BATTs are like her very own kids that need her.

(it’s key to point out that Raine did most of the heavy flirting and was active, while Eda just bathed herself in the situation. Likely because while it was what she wanted, she’d also expressed earlier in the episode that she felt everyone left her in the end and all good things ended).

When this fanasy/substition falls through and the rebellion is busted, her and Raine play a murder-suicide duet attempt together, where Raine then learns that there’s more to the story than Eda is letting on, and that she isn’t just being motivated to do the heroic thing because she has nothing to lose.

Raine clearly realises Eda is trying to die because she has something to lose, and she assumes she is losing it. Dying to Eda is less painful and scary than being abandoned again.

I mentioned that childhood trauma/abuse can cause BPD to develop, and I’d argue that having a curse that caused the people she loved to leave her because she pushed them away, or because it seemed like her curse made her too monstrous to love, is pretty traumatising.

And that fear of abandonment predates even the curse, as it was revealed in the flashback episode where her and Raine met, that Eda had no friends, was ostracised by her teachers/principle and that she was terrified of being separate from Lilith; her only friend. Eda didn't know what an expulsion would mean for their relationship, if Lilith would still be her best friend, or if Lilith progressed onwards without her, would she abandon Eda?

Well, that worry was validated when it was revealed their sister relationship fell apart sometime between their late teens and mid-forties, when Lilith is introduced as Eda’s rival and Eda’s expression is stormy when she first sees Lilith on screen, it’s laos important to note that Lilith attacked first at the convention with her words, and Eda, having some very stormy feelings about her sister, responds to the greeting by cutting Lilith down in front of young fans in a way she knows will rile up her sister.

She basically attacks Lilith’s mask by mentioning that Lilith peed herself at a convention as a kid, and then proceeds to act childish in Lilith’s presence to wind her up and prove to Lilith that she is no better than Eda and that she’s not changed a bit since they were kids where it counts, according to Lilith.

We don’t know what caused Eda and Lilith to feud like this, but it can be assumed that LIlith joining a coven that allows only two days off a year made Eda feel like she was abandoned by her sister in some of the worst years of her life, by the person she once called her best friend.

The breakdown of such an important relationship would be upsetting to anyone, but to Eda, in the situation she was in, that would have to be further traumatising.

To add to the familial issues, Eda has issues with Gwen.

The entirety of keeping up a-fear-ances was about how gwen had failed both her daughters, but for this post, it’s that Gwen treated the curse, something so integral to Eda and her life at this point, something that Eda cannot change or separate herself from, like something her mom needed to cure her of.

To eradicate. So much so that she disregarded Eda’s bodily autonomy and safety at multiple points in just one episode and caused Eda to snap. She scared Eda into running away as a teenager, and she had to apologise to Eda in that episode for making her daughter feel like she didn’t love her. “I love every part of you.” - to paraphrase what Gwen said.

It’s not hard to imagine that feeling like your own mother would rather risk your health and happiness, disregard your wishes and try to remove an unremovable part of your person, would make you feel more unlovable and broken than you already feel.

I’m sure that this contributed to Eda’s fear of abandonment and would help cultivate the already existing internal shame she feels just for existing next to her loved ones and feeling like she’s not good enough to be in their lives because all she does is hurt them.

Yup, this is setting up my next point…

Shame/Low Sense of Self-Worth

Proof that Eda’s self-worth is low and her inner shame is high comes from how she treats her kids and her father. Eda struggles to look at people she feels she’s let down. While some individuals with BPD might do everything to avoid abandonment, Eda tends to abandon people first and devalues herself in the process, convincing herself she doesn’t deserve to fight for them or be in their company.

Her inner shame mostly stems from how she handles her curse, its impact on her life, and her past relationships. With Luz and King, she initially keeps up a protective wall and avoids physical affection. When she believes they are leaving her, she justifies her suicidal thoughts to Raine by denying her role as their "mother," revealing her deep-seated belief that she's unworthy of such a title.

Despite considering them her children, Eda questions her ability to be a suitable mother figure, expressing doubts about her worthiness. It takes reassurance from Raine for Eda to begin to accept that she is needed and, consequently, good enough.

Her relationship with Dell, though mentioned sparingly, has left lasting scars. Eda blames herself for hurting him and struggles to forgive herself, even when her father asks her to move on from the past.

In Knock Knock-Knocking on Hooty’s Door, Eda implies that she is haunted by nightmares of her breakup with Raine, blaming herself entirely for their breakup. This implied consistent rumination suggests that she feels responsible for every abandonment and rejection she has experienced, exacerbating her inner shame.

Raine was likely the last stable influence in Eda’s life, and her breakup further solidified Eda’s belief that she is the cause of her own abandonment. This cycle of self-blame and perceived rejection has left lasting mental scars, reinforcing Eda’s sense of brokenness and perpetuating her feelings of endless abandonment.

By examining Eda’s behaviour and internal struggles, it becomes evident that her shame and low sense of self-worth are deeply ingrained, shaping her relationships and interactions throughout the series.

Splitting

I can’t really talk about a BPD headcanon without mentioning its most famous feature. Splitting, from what I understand, is when a person's mood, sense of self, or perception of others shifts dramatically in the other direction in response to a threat, stressor, or trigger.

It might not just look like, “I like this person.” “Now I hate this person.” It can manifest as more dynamic, extreme black-and-white thinking, where something is either all or nothing:

“She always does this.”

“He never does that.”

“Things always go wrong.”

“This always goes right.”

The black-and-white thinking can be either positive or negative and can even be about a person's own self. And this is where my headcanon goes a bit shaky, because all I really have to go off of is Eda’s initial attitude of “We weirdos stick together,” and then how she switches those ideals up when she’s devaluing herself and her importance within the relationships she has with friends and family.

This is particularly evident with the kids and her extreme and impulsive suicide attempt, where I get this feeling of “I’m not good enough, and I will never be good enough.” off of her.

She also changes her mood with Lilith very quickly during the season 1 finale. A few minutes ago, she was ready to kill her sister and saw her as the most vile person she’d ever met. The next minute, she is letting her sister back into her house and wanting a relationship with her again after she split the curse.

There is this kind of emotional impermanence where she forgives Lilith and goes straight back to wanting to be friends with her at a speed and level that isn’t common at all. No matter what is done to Eda, she seems to bounce back quickly, no matter how badly she’s hurt in the end.

That's all I've really got for that, to be honest. If I find more that explores this idea better, I will probably make a post about it.

Conclusion

I think that turbulent relationships, a massive fear of abandonment, risky and impulsive behaviours and high shame/low self esteem are key parts of Eda’s character and that’s why I headcanon her to have BPD(borderline personality disorder.)

#the owl house #toh #eda clawthorne #toh eda #edalyn clawthorne #raine whispers #toh raine #luz noceda #lilith clawthorne #toh luz #king clawthorne #gwendolyn clawthorne #toh gwen #dell clawthorne #bpd headcanon #I said I'd write it and i got around to it about 10 months later #toh headcanon

[xbaebsae]

(Unfortunate) Update

Hey everyone,

I will get straight to the point: I'm cancelling my commissions and any other stuff I took on over the years here. Believe me or don't, but this was not an easy decision for me because I pretty much feel like a failure. But my mental health has taken such a nose dive lately that my doc forwarded me to an emergency appointment at a psychiatrist where I had a few sessions now and got medication to help me. I'm feeling better, but she said I have to minimize my stress input and unfortunately comms and requests are one of the few stress factors I have control over atm (unlike university and family problems).

I'll understand any disappointment over this. If you want to unfollow, block, complain at your friends about me do it I really understand and I'm sorry it has come so far. Life hasn't been easy for me lately and I lost a lot of motivation and passion for my hobbies once again. I feel coming clear about this is more honest than keeping everyone waiting indefinitely even if it sucks. Going to reach out to the two people where I have already started working on the commission and speak with them to sort this out.

Again, I apologize and still would like to thank everyone who wanted to commission art from me and help me. It means a lot to me regardless of this shitty situation ><

#txt

[iron-mum]

I wish you would write a fic where Tony and kid Peter are being adorable father and son as retribution for the angst you’ve made me suffer through in the past hah! (JK I love you and your angst! 💛)

Well, well, well. What do we have here, eh? A request for adorable? I'm not sure, I'm very good at that 😌

Here's SIMTony who would stop at nothing to help his unwell son, Peter get better. Even if it meant using Extremis.

P.S. ILY3000 💕

In the final throes of the graveyard shift at the hospital floor, the elevator pinged for its frequent lone visitor. The front desk staff, whilst tense and sitting up suddenly straighter, knew not to actually engage. No ID was needed for their boss, one of them barely suppressing a gulp as his determined strides headed for the private room that had been deliberately placed near to the room equipped for every possible kind of emergency. Once inside, he carefully shut the door silently and took a seat at the bedside.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Sharp blue eyes shifted from the persistent buzzing of the most technologically advanced medical equipment anyone, anywhere could offer before looking back down to something far more invaluable and precious. Tony’s entire world. His purpose in life. The little boy on the bed lay motionless, breathing slowly and evenly, nose occasionally scrunching up at the discomfort of the oxygen mask upon him. He should have been cocooned in a hug from his father but instead his son, Peter, was littered with wires attaching him to the very best modern medicine had to offer.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Pale, soft skin with the daintiest of freckles stood out against the dark curls spread across the far too big pillow. The small fingers of his left hand had loosely closed around the calloused thumb of his father, letting him know that whilst he had been rendered weak from illness, he was still aware of his comforting presence. Tony’s index finger gently glided across the small knuckles, willing himself to see a tiny curve of the lips on his son’s face.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

This had been the Avengers fault. Peter’s current critical condition. The young boy had been on a school trip when a battle had broken out and the wannabe heroes managed to cause more destruction than lives saved. A chemical explosion had landed most of the class in hospital and many of them had ended up becoming very unwell. Unfortunately for Peter, he already suffered many ailments so even under the wing of Stark’s finest medical personnel, the struggle had taken a toll. The genius shook his head as thoughts of revenge started to sprout from the many seeds that had been planted since the catastrophic incident. He shelved the many ideas he had that would lead to the demise of the reckless group once his kid was better.

It had been hours when the sound of a nurse's footsteps acted as the catalyst that would remove Tony from the room so he could head back to his lab. As he reluctantly moved his hand away, there was no reaction. Not even a twitch from the slender child. Bending down, he tentatively stroked a small amount of the exposed skin that was available on the boy’s face before planting a light kiss on his forehead. By the time the nurse was opening the door to the room to complete the routine checks, any sign of a visitor would be long gone.

The moment Tony was back in his workshop, he strode towards his desk. Music started to reverberate from the ceiling, the sound greatly appreciated compared to the low hum and incessant beeping from the emotionless devices that were currently keeping his son alive.

Tony didn’t believe in a higher power other than himself. So in no way, shape or form was he ever going to accept that he couldn’t save Peter from the incurable illness now ravaging his frail body. Feeling powerless was simply not an option.

Rolling up the sleeve to his top, the genius opened a drawer and pulled out a device meant for extracting blood as painlessly as possible. Not that pain meant much to him these days. No pain would ever compete with a parent having to watch their child deteriorate every single second of every single day.

Satisfied with the draw, Tony placed it into a diagnostic machine of his own making. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass of his workshop, eyeing it like he was in the most intense staring contest of his life. Jaw clenching, his arm shot out allowing liquid metal to glide across his skin before firing a repulsor at the glass and shattering it. There was an element of irony to everyone loving his face except himself in the minimal but intrusive “what if” moments that surrounded his current situation. With a crack of his neck, his arm remained outstretched so the Endo-Sym armour could return to it’s housing tank.

“Boss, the results are back,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed as the music lessened in volume. “No adverse reactions detected still. The chemical composition indicates that the Extremis is unchanged in it’s integration with you on a genetic level and continues to remain stable.”

“And the sample from Peter?” Tony asked, confident that he knew what the answer would be.

“Also remaining stable.”

“Alert the staff intending to see Peter following tonight's shift that their presence will not be needed,” the genius demanded as he mentally reiterated the next steps of his plan in his head. Lips curled into devilishly handsome grin at his victory, eyes crinkling at the sides. The smile only softened when his eyes drifted to a framed picture Peter had drawn of the both of them. He’d done it.

“Certainly, boss,” the AI had responded without any acknowledgement. Tony was too busy in thought. Not only was the Extremis flowing through his own veins, leaving him feeling at perfect health. But soon, it would be doing the same for Peter too. Pain free, peak performance and at complete and optimal health.

“Have there been any sightings of the Avengers in the last hour? I feel a splash of revenge is in order for this special occasion?” The holo-screens in front of him started to flicker as social media sites were searched and hashtags refreshed repeatedly. Hulk had been trending within the hour and Hawkeye in the last eleven minutes.

"Well, how about that?" he grinned gleefully. "I really am being spoiled for choice."

Whilst the genius had been certain F.R.I.D.A.Y. had relayed the message to the morning staff, Tony still found himself exhaling sharply at the sight of someone sat by Peter’s side reading his file. The thin bag of Extremis in his hand was shifted into his back pocket as quickly as humanly possible. The good feeling from beating the shit out of one of the Avengers, plus the buzz of providing Peter with a cure that no meagre doctor had been able to, shifted into a tension as tried to work out who it was.

Their face was narrow with sharp features and glasz eyes remarkably penetrating when they met his perusing stare. His black hair had been combed back neatly, the sides of his temples a distinct light grey. The well fitted suit looked designer even for Tony’s impeccable standards.

“Your services are no longer required,” he affirmed with a dismissive flourish of the hands before the man could even introduce himself.

“I’m sorry?” the other man replied without hesitation, closing the file and rising from the chair. Tony’s chair. If he’d been expecting any pleasantries or introductions, he was thoroughly mistaken. Tony was already locked onto Peter, the gentle rise of his chest a welcoming sight as always. He refused to allow his attention to be divided, ignoring the piercing stare boring into him now. “I have an oath to this patient. He critically needs help from the best in all fields. He needs my help.”

The genius turned at that, an eyebrow raised as he looked the doctor up and down. He certainly held himself strongly for someone who had that much audacity in addressing the owner of everything within his current vicinity.

“Are you new around here… Doctor Strange?” He asked disingenuously, eyes narrowing as he scrutinised the name badge. The letters ‘VISITOR - Dr Stephen Strange’ jotted on the bottom, likely the reason he hadn’t got his AI’s memo. The receptionist who let him in would be fired whether it was her fault or not.

“Unlike everyone else in this building, no, I don’t work for you” the doctor shot back tersely. “However, you were so insistent on my consultation that, somehow, I found my diary completely cleared of all surgeries that were booked in.”

“Well, you can now stick them back in your diary. We’re done here.”

“I know this is difficult,” the doctor started, tone suddenly softer as if he were hoping a change of tact would get through. “You brought me in for my expertise, so use them.”

“I’m the most intelligent, capable person on the planet. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”

“Your arrogance surpasses all the rumours and expectations I had of you,” Strange snapped back incredulously. Apparently nothing was going to get through. “Your child is-”

“You know, it would be a real shame if you were to lose your medical licence, wouldn't it, doctor?” Tony sneered dangerously low. This ungrateful little shit was going to get it for not only wasting his time and energy, but also his son’s. An insignificant speck like the rest of the world.

“Are you threatening me?” the doctor replied doing his best to keep his tone cool and unflinching when the other man removed all personal space between them. The lack of intimidation he was feeling only pissed Tony off more.

“Let’s not test my resolve, doctor.” Despite feeling completely wrong about leaving considering Peter’s condition, Dr Stephen Strange tucked the file he’d been reading under his arm and left the room in just a few strides. Tony had spotted the hand diving for a phone as the door shut behind him and clenched his fists in disdain.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., be a darling and ensure Doctor Douchebag doesn’t make it back home,” Tony demanded followed by a nonchalant sniff.

“Yes, boss. His phone has also unexpectedly lost all signal so will not be usable anytime soon.”

Satisfied with the course of action his AI had taken, Tony locked the door to his son’s room for good measure. He eyed the current equipment before making his move. One of the drips currently providing Peter with much needed medicine was switched to make way for a sample of the Extremis that Tony had meticulously created and tested on himself. He peered at his son, swallowing thickly that this would all be worth it.

Bag secured, the first few drops started instantly, the older man watching as they flowed along the thin tubes before entering the cannula imposed on Peter’s hand. The skin began to glow orange, the lava looking trail gliding all the way up the arm’s before entering the chest. Daring a glance at the monitors, Tony noted an instant improvement in the readouts. A smile spread across his face as sheet-white, sickly skin started to immediately brighten.

Peter’s big, brown doe eyes suddenly shot open as he took a huge gulp of air, eyes landing on his father who was remarkably in focus for the first time in his life without the aid of glasses. Tony removed the oxygen mask so he could take his son’s face in fully for the first time in well over a month.

“Dad?” the young boy croaked, clearly a little disoriented from the abrupt wake up.

“Hey, buddy,” Tony whispered, voice cracking with emotion as he closed the distance between them.

Peter lunged at his father, his small arms wrapping tightly around the genius’ neck and face burying into his chest. It had been far too long since either had been able to enjoy the tender, heart-bursting feeling of overwhelming, unconditional love from one another.

“I love you, kiddo.” Tony gushed as one of his hand’s lovingly cupped the back of Peter's head holding him as close as possible. The other enveloped around his back, his thumb slowly stroking up and down. When the older man's hand started to trail through Peter's hair, the boy somehow managed to burrow even closer. Tony soothingly lifted curls between his fingers and then let them ping back as new life continued to circle through his son’s body.

“I love you too, dad,” Peter whispered, a strain evident in his voice that Tony hadn’t been expecting. When he leant back, he saw the likely cause. Now unnecessary wires were tugging at his child’s skin.

“Let’s get these off you, bud. You don’t need them anymore,” he promised softly as he carefully went to work at removing the monitoring equipment clips and stickers. Peter’s curious eyes followed every step of the way, surprisingly not wincing even when some of the tougher stickers were peeled away. Although he was too young to even begin comprehending what had happened, he knew from vague memories he’d been hurt and that he’d slept a lot. Often he had been unsure if he was dreaming or awake when he’d hear his father read him stories, express his love and let him know how brave he was being. A slight tug on his hand drew him from his recollection as he looked down.

"I’m scared," Peter timidly admitted as he eyed up the last piece of medical equipment attached to him. The cannula in his hand.

“Here’s what we're gonna do, bud. We’re going to put on our brave faces and before you know it, it’ll be all done and over with. Can you show me your bravest, fiercest face?” Tony gently challenged, as part of his upper lip curled and he playfully growled.

The child’s dinky nose scrunched up and his lips pushed out into the biggest pout he could form. He shook his head a little and hummed in a way that likely felt fierce to him but could only be described as adorable to his dad.

"Wowzer. That was super mean, you nearly scared me!” Tony gasped dramatically, as he gestured for the boy to look down and see that the only thing on the top of his hand was a small cotton wool ball and a light pressure from his dad. Using his free hand to fish into his pocket, Tony revealed a green Paw Patrol sticker with Peter’s favourite character, Rocky, on it.

It had been a distant memory since the young boy had handed it to him, having spotted the numerous nicks and cuts that littered his hard working hands after a long day in the workshop. Extremis meant Peter wouldn’t even need it, but the placebo effect would make it worth it.

“Am I all better, daddy?” Peter asked as Tony eyed him up once more. The overwhelmed father cupped his kid’s face and planted another kiss on his forehead, relief washing over him that he was now free from the concatenation of medical instrumentation.

“You most certainly are. And that means we get to skedaddle out of here.”

Before his son could anticipate his next move, his father had scooped him up into his arms and they were making their way not only out of the room, but off of the floor for good.

They’d had a chance to change into matching casual wear and feasted on a huge breakfast before snuggling up on the sofa. Peter had selected an Octonauts movie to watch as he tucked into his father’s side and enjoyed the sound of his steady heartbeat.

It would be a couple of hours when Tony’s phone pinged with a notification he knew was F.R.I.D.A.Y. when she was being discreet. His son huffed at the movement as he shuffled to get the phone out of his pocket, muttering an apology to his kid before opening the message.

[Unfortunate accident on the Hawk’s Nest, Route 97. Vehicle crossed the barrier and rolled multiple times down the cliff’s edge before landing in the Delaware River. Initial scan from one of the Iron Sight Bot #364 shows one survivor.]

Tony’s smirk widened into a full blown smile. Peter’s heart-of-gold eyes suddenly on him, looking up from his position. It was likely a silent protest at the lack of head strokes he was suddenly receiving so the genius replied swiftly.

[Call off any emergency services and get him med-evaced here.]

“You know what I think we need. Celebratory cheeseburgers for lunch,” he announced as Peter let out a squee of joy.

#writer prompt game #thank you for sending this one in! #ill be working on the next over the weekend! 🐸

[prettyyoungandbored]

Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight] Four

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x OC

Summary: Demetria Gallagher knew her cozy life would change the second she became engaged to Bruce Wayne. But what she doesn’t know is she’s getting more than what she agreed to. (I am trash at summaries.)

Warning: None

Taglist: @dragonballluver (Let me know if you want to be tagged in this!)

Previous

“27 down is ‘falafel.” 

Alfred looked up, shooting a glare at Demetria. Her lips curved into a childish grin. 

“The bloody hell is a falafel?” he asked, unamused at the word. 

“It’s a fried ball made up of chickpeas and beans. It’s actually delicious.” 

He shook his head. “You Americans and your fried food.” He returned his gaze back down to the Gotham City crossword. Demetria snuck another glance at the crosswords, looking for another one she knew right off the bat. 

“14 across is ‘David Cassidy.’” 

The old man shot her another dirty look. She shrugged her shoulders, desperately trying to hold in her laugh. “I’m sorry.” 

Across the yacht, Bruce shifted his attention from the newspaper he was reading and watched the two with an amused smile on his lips. None of the girls he ever brought home acknowledged Alfred (with the obvious exception of Rachel) and if they did it was to ask for something. Demetria had made an effort to get to know and befriend the old man, knowing how much Alfred meant to Bruce. Their friendship and playful banter was something Bruce could get used to for years and years to come. 

Demetria made eyes with Bruce and walked over to him, her white babydoll dress blowing with the wind. She pat his legs, motioning him to scooch over. He obliged and she curled up against him, propped up on his lap.

“You looked a little lonely over here,” she said. 

He smirked. “You pushed Alfred to his breaking point, didn’t you?”

“I forget how seriously that man takes his crossword puzzles.” 

The couple chuckled as Demetria played with Bruce’ slick back hair. The salty aroma filled her nose as the noise of waves crashing against the yacht filled her ears. 

“Feels so good out here,” she sighed. “Definitely one of your better ideas.”

“My better ideas? Since when did I ever have an idea that wasn’t good?”

“The one time you took me to that new restaurant and I got food poisoning.” 

He laughed, the memory coming back to him. She refused to let him see her in such a state, but he came over anyway to make sure she was hydrated and functioning. 

Needless to say, they never went back there and he owed her big time.

Bruce lifted the newspaper up and continued reading, Demetria reading along with him. 

“Anything interesting going on back home?” she asked. 

“Nothing but the usual mobster activity and an editorial piece about the overwhelming amount of Batman copycats.” 

She hummed. “I can’t help but wonder if Batman feels bad about the copycats.”

“I’m sure it gets annoying after awhile.”

“Do you think he feels responsible for them?”

There are times he wants to tell her he’s Batman, but he wants to keep her away from that part of him. He’s been successful so far, why bother bringing her into it now?

Then she changed the subject.

“What’s this?” She pointed at a section of the paper. “‘Witnesses say clown robbed downtown city bank?’”

Bruce took a quick glance at it. “Must be about that bank robbery downtown from yesterday.” He looked over at her to find a disgusted look on her face. “What?”

“I just...clowns...ugh.” She shivered. “Doesn’t sit well with me.”

“You’re afraid of clowns?”

“How could you not be? They’re creepy. Didn’t you ever see ‘It’ or ‘Poltergeist’?”

He chuckled. “They’re not that bad.”

“Well they scare the shit out of me.”

“So I should cancel the clown I hired for our wedding?”

She slapped his arm. “You’re an ass.”

Bruce set down the newspaper. “Speaking of the wedding, I was wondering if you had any ideas or preferences in terms of location?”

She shook her head. “Zero. You?”

He cleared his throat. “I was thinking Wayne Manor.”

Her eyes lit up, a huge smile slapped across her face. “I would love that!”

“Really?” He cocked his head back.

“Yeah! I mean the property is beautiful, plus it’s something that would be comfortable and simple for us.” 

“You’re sure you want to do it at Wayne Manor?” Bruce asked. 

She ran her fingers through his hair. “Babe, we could go to city hall and get it done and I would still be the happiest woman alive. I don’t care how we get married, I just want to be with you.”

While he never needed a reminder of why he loved her, it was times like these that did. He’d never come out and say it, but underneath the wealth and the vanity he used to mask an protect his true self, he valued the simple things that money could never buy. Demetria shared those same values. Both longed for a quiet and intimate life together which was more than enough. 

“I only ask two things,” Demetria said. 

“Anything.” 

“One, we plan this together. This our day, not just mine and not just yours. It’s ours.” 

“Not an issue at all.” 

“Two, this wedding is as small as possible.” 

He wrapped his arms around her. “It’s done deal.” 

As they leaned in for a kiss, the sounds of the helicopter landing drew their attention from each other. They watched as it made a graceful landing. 

“The plan has arrived for you sir!” Alfred called out. 

Demetria pat Bruce’s knee as she got up. “Have fun breaking off this deal in China.” 

Bruce threw off his white shirt, handing it to her.  He grabbed the duffle bag and threw it overboard. 

“Please be careful, Bruce.” 

“For you, I will.”

He gave her a quick kiss before diving into the water. She watched as he swam over to the helicopter before climbing aboard.

She watched as the helicopter flew away before turning to Alfred. 

“What number are we on, Alfred?” 

“Eighteen across. The clue is ‘Get your own bloody crossword.’” 

_____________________________________________________________

A couple days later, Demetria found herself at the entrance to St. Swithin’s Home For Boys. She was grateful the orphanage had taken her call and allowed her to come visit. 

She made her way to front desk area, smoothing out her pants. She smiled at the elderly nun at the desk. 

“Hi, I’m Demetria Gallagher,” she greeted. 

The nun smiled back. “Hello there! We’ve been expecting you! My name is Sister Agatha. You’re here for the tour, correct?” 

“Yes! I was hoping to speak with the Mother Superior or Monsignor O’Malley.” 

“Unfortunately both were unable to make it due to prior commitments; however, they asked that Sister Mary Ellen give you the tour.” 

“Sounds great!”

“Please a seat while I phone her.” 

Demetria sat in the bench across from the desk, eyeing around the orphanage. It’s old age was definitely showing. She made mental notes of the broken down wood, the cracks in the wall, and the lingering dust. Her mother would love a project like this. 

“Miss Gallagher?” 

Demetria looked up to find a nun in her late thirties with kind brown eyes and a welcoming smile. “My name is Sister Mary Ellen. How do you do?” 

“Pleasure to meet you,” Demetria said reaching out her hand. 

Sister Mary Ellen shook it. “A pleasure to meet you as well. We’re so excited you’ve taken an interest in the orphanage.” 

“Bruce has told me so much about this place and I’ve always wanted to come see it for myself.” 

“The Wayne Family is such a big part of the orphanage’s history. Bruce has been so generous to us in the past.” 

Sister Mary Ellen first took her to the library, named in memory of Martha, Bruce’s mother. Despite it’s broken state, the walls were covered in old books stacked in the shelves. 

“Not a lot of boys spend time in here,” Sister Mary Ellen said. “We’ve been trying to get them to, but some are harder to persuade than others.” 

“Understandable,” Demetria assured.

Next was the kitchen, then the chapel, and then some of the dorms. While the building was historic, its structure and the components inside were out of date and almost out of function. 

There were a a good amount of kids staying in and they deserved a better home. 

“May I ask you something?” Sister Mary Ellen questioned. 

“Of course.” 

“There’s been a lot of talk amongst the nuns about what it is you plan to do and I just...well...what is your intention exactly?” 

Demetria chuckled. “It’s ok. I can completely understand the curiosity.” She sighed. “Bruce has always told me how much this place has meant to him, especially after the death of his parents. I know it’s hard for Bruce to give attention to this place and so I wanted to step in and make sure you’re getting not only what you and the boys need, but what you deserve. You all deserve to be living in better conditions and I can guarantee you Bruce agrees with me.” 

“What is it you can do for us?” Sister Mary Ellen asked. 

“My mother works as an interior designer and would be more than happy to help redecorate. I also know a lot of people who can help make sure this place is functioning properly and is up to all health code standards. I want to make sure you all are taken care of and are given the attention you all deserve.” 

Sister Mary Ellen couldn’t help but smile. “What about finances? I know the monsignor and Mother Superior would ask to be kept apprised.” 

“They would be. That’s something I’m currently working on, but I want to know what I’m at least working with here.” She smiled. “Although, my mother would do this for free. I know that for certain.” 

Sister Mary Ellen chuckled. “Let me take you outside.” 

She led Demetria to playground where Demetria noticed four boys playing basketball. She couldn’t help but notice that no matter how hard they tried to dunk the ball in the chain basket, they kept missing. 

“May I?” Demetria asked. 

“By all means.” 

Demetria made her way over to the boys. One boy had black hair with blue eyes, another was African-American with glasses, another boy had blonde hair and freckles, and one with brown hair with glasses.   

“Hey guys!” Demetria greeted.

The boys stopped and looked at her. “You guys playing basketball?” 

They looked at each other, confused and unsure what to say. She cleared her throat. “My name’s Demetria.” 

“I’m Travis,” the boy with black hair said. 

“I’m Jonathan,” the African-American boy said. 

“I’m Reid,” the boy with blonde hair said. 

“I’m Harry,” the boy with brown hair said. 

“Nice to meet you all,” Demetria said. “So what are we playing here? One-on-one or Horse?”

“Just some one-on-one,” Reid answered with a shrug. 

“You know how to play?” Harry asked. 

“A little. My dad was a high school basketball coach so he taught me a few things. Can I see the ball?” 

Travis passed her the ball. She dribbled it for a bit before shooting the ball into the basket. The boys stared in amazement, letting out some “whoa”s. 

“Alright, so who wants to be able to dunk a ball?” she asked. 

They all raised their hands. “That’s exactly what I thought. Ok so watch my hands.” 

She picked up the ball and demonstrated the throw with her hand. “See the way my hand curves, like I’m flicking my wrist? Try that.” 

Reid took the ball first. He dribbled the ball before throwing it up. The ball went through the basket. The boys cheered. 

“See? That was awesome!” Demetria said. She held up her hand for a high five which he reciprocated. “Alright, who’s next?” 

Harry went up and threw the ball, making it into the basket. 

“Way to go dude!” Demetria cheered, the two high diving. ���Who’s next?” 

Jonathan went up and threw the ball, the ball circling the basket before falling off. Demetria caught it and threw it back to him, seeing the dejected look on his face. 

“You almost got it. Try again.” She smiled at him. 

He gave her a nod. He tossed the ball up, this time the ball landing into the basket. The boys and Demetria cheered. 

“See! You got it!” she said. 

They high fived and Jonathan passed the ball to Travis. Travis dribbled before the ball hit the back of the basket. The ball came back toward him as he caught it, tossed it again and then tossed the ball inside the basket. 

The other boys and Demetria cheered. 

“Ok, ok,” Demetria said. “Now you guys trying playing.” 

The boys then began playing one-on-one, Demetria coaching them and cheering them on. She couldn't help but feel her dad would be proud of her. Sure, she wasn’t an athlete, but she learned a lot from watching him coach from the sidelines all these years. 

She then saw Reid pass the ball to her. “Your turn,” he told her. 

She smiled. “Alright.” 

She dribbled the ball before tossing it into the basket. She grabbed the ball and said, “Who’s next?”

“What’s going on here?” 

Demetria turned around to see Bruce walking over. Her smile grew. “Just playing some basketball.” 

She watched as the boys’ eyes stayed on Bruce, wide in amazement and wonder. He acknowledged them with a warm smile before gazing at Demetria. 

“Tell me, boys, how she doing?” he asked. 

The responded, each voice overlapping the other. 

“She’s pretty good.” 

“She’s good.” 

“Pretty good.”

“Good.”

Demetria tossed the ball to Bruce as he caught it in his hands. “Let’s see you’ve got, Wayne,” she challenged playfully. 

“Those are fighting words,” he responded, dribbling the ball a bit. 

He turned his back to her and tossed the ball as it went into the basket. The boys cheered and clapped as Bruce turned to her, throwing his hands up. 

She folded her arms across her chest. “It was just a lucky shot.” 

Bruce looked over to one of the boys. “Can I have the ball, please?” They tossed him the ball. He showed it to Demetria. “Why don’t you try and steal it, Gallagher?” 

Demetria went over to him as he lifted the ball from her. She jumped, spiking it from his hands. Jonathan caught it and tossed it back to her. She went to shoot it into the basket when Bruce spiked it out of her her hand and picked her up swinging her around. 

“Are you kidding me?! I almost had it!” Demetria screamed. 

It was then something caught her eye. A figure watching them from across the street. 

“Hold on, hold on,” she told Bruce. 

He stopped, eyebrows furrowed. “What’s wrong?” 

“Give me a sec. I think I see something.” 

She walked toward the gate, getting a closer look at the figure. It was a caucasian male with a black baseball cap that said ‘Gotham Times’ on it and a tee and jeans with a bulky vest. Across his neck, a camera. 

“What the hell are you doing?” she called out to him. “There’s kids here!” 

The man reached up to his camera as she continued to get closer. 

“Stop it!” she growled. “Stop!

Bruce rushed over to her, pulling her away. “Demetria, don’t.”

She turned to him. “He’s photographing the kids! He can’t be doing that!” 

“Listen, we’ll take care of this when we get home,” he told her. “Right now, just ignore him. The more you go after him, the worse it’s going to be.” 

She ran a hand through her hair. “There has to be a line drawn, Bruce.” 

“We’ll take care of it home, alright?” 

She nodded her head. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” He kissed her forehead. “You were protecting the kids. It’s gonna be ok. We’ll fix this.” 

He rubbed her arms. “Let’s go back, ok?” 

“Ok.” 

She took one more look at the photographer before walking away. Bruce had a point, they were going to take care of it. 

She was going to take care of it. 

#bruce wayne x oc #bruce wayne imagine #batman #batman imagine #batman fanfic #the dark knight #the dark knight fanfiction #the joker #christian bale

[gramjams]

My mental health has taken a nose dive over the past couple of weeks, and I've felt myself on the verge of having panic attacks on a fair few occasions. I'm not concerned about catching the virus, but have anxiety about the uncertainty of what's to come and the impact it's going to have on all our lives. I wanted to share some advice about how I've coped in the past through long periods of unemployment, being stuck at home, and depression which might help some of you (and remind me what I need to start doing myself!) I’d like to caveat this by saying that some days you won’t feel like doing any of these things, and that is more than OK. Don’t beat yourself up for wanting to do fuck all! 1) Stick to a routine – I’m a creature of habit and really struggle when my routine is disrupted. Set an alarm in the morning and make yourself get up at the same time each day, preferably no later than 9am cos laying around in bed for too long will lower your motivation to move. Jump in the shower and get dressed so you’re not lounging around in your PJs for ages. 2) Practice mindfulness – As part of your daily routine try meditating as soon as you’re out of bed, even if it’s for as little as 10mins. This will help clear your mind and make you feel more relaxed at the start of the day. Yoga nidra is also very affective and is something I like to do before bed if I’ve been having trouble sleeping. There’s a great free app called ‘Insight Timer’ that gives you access to guided meditations and yoga nidra sessions if you’ve never done it before. 3) Get some fresh air – Try and go outside every day, even if it’s just for a walk round the block and even if it’s pishing down! It’s also a really good way of getting some exercise, especially as gyms are a no go for the foreseeable. 4) Create a to do list – No matter how small the task seems, add it to the list. Ticking things off can feel really satisfying and give you as wee boost. 5) Exercise - Exercise at home or outdoors where possible. Even if it’s just a 10-15min workout, it’s better than nothing and the endorphins will give you a boost. 6) Create – Music, art, knitting, silly memes for the internet…..it doesn’t matter what it is, just do something that gives you a creative outlet. 7) Digital detox – Try and limit how much time each day you spend on social media. I struggle with this one, especially at the moment as I want to stay informed, but this is probably one of the most important things you can do to help your mental health. Read a book, watch a film/TV show, facetime your pals, call yer maw, actually do the work your supposed to be doing whilst ‘working from home’!....just try and resist social media. 8) Help others – If you’re healthy and able, consider offering assistance to people in your area who aren’t able to get to the shops etc. Facebook has lots of local community groups where you can offer to help elderly or immunocompromised people get supplies. 9) Talk about how you’re feeling – Speak to your friends and family if you’re struggling with your mental health. One thing you can be assured of is that you’re NOT alone. If you don’t feel like you have anyone in your life that you can speak to then please call the Samaritans on 116 123. 10) Do something that makes you happy – This may seem impossible when you’re feeling really low, but try and do something that brings a bit of joy into your day. It might be as simple as watching cute animal videos on youtube, or watching a show that makes you laugh....anything that will give you a release of Dopamine. Hopefully there are a few things here that might help some of you. Please be kind and look out for each other. If anyone wants to talk I’m here for you.....and don’t forget to wash your hands 😘

#personal #coronavirus #covid 19 #mental health

[milomeepit]

Diamond In The Rough: Chapter Seventeen

Roman has always wanted better. Has always believed that there’s a better life, a better world, just out of reach. Just beyond the veil of shitty teachers who don’t care, angry classmates that scream insults and slurs at each other all day, and drug-hazed parents who are more concerned with their next hit than looking after their ten year old son.

When he runs away after a particularly bad night at home and finds a quiet little cafe/bookstore tucked away in a back alley of the city, the sweet couple who run the joint (an odd pair; a quiet, gloomy man with a wry sense of humour and a cynical gleam in his eye, and a bouncy man who smiles like sunshine and laughs like a storybook king) help show him that maybe- just maybe- he really can have the life he always dreamed of.

Masterpost (to be added soon!)

Word Count: 1814

Chapter Warnings: homophobia, transphobia, emotional abuse, abusive parents, violence, fake crying, real crying, yelling, cursing, lawyers, CPS, court, paperwork, tree branch used as a blunt weapon

Hours later, Emile and Logan had taken Roman outside to get some fresh air after lunch. He walked along the edge of a garden bed in the courtyard of the large building, his arms held out for balance.

The snow was a brilliant white, blanketing the trees and pathways that filled the courtyard. It felt good, like a fresh start. Roman hopped off the edge of the garden bed and made his way back across to where Emile and Logan sat, carefully stepping in the footprints already tracked through the snow, retracing someone else’s steps.

Logan glanced up as Roman approached them and raised an eyebrow. “What do you have there?” He asked, nodding towards him.

Roman shifted his grip on the prize he had found. “A stick,” He said simply, waving it through the air. It was a good stick, sturdy and smooth, and not too long. It fit nicely in his hand. He liked this stick. “I wanna keep it.”

“I’m not sure you’d be allowed to take that back inside,” Logan frowned.

Emile hummed. “Well, it’s not made of metal or anything, so the detectors wouldn’t pick it up. He could probably put it in his bag.” He winked at Roman, who beamed back at him.

Logan rolled his eyes fondly. “Alright, alright. But it’s on your head if he gets in trouble for it,” He agreed.

Roman giggled, practically bouncing up and down. “Thank you!” He threw his arms around Logan, who caught him and squeezed him gently before releasing him.

Emile laughed as he stood, rolling his neck to stretch it. “We should probably head back inside. Awfully chilly out here, don’t you think?” He suggested, rubbing his arms.

“That’s what you get for not wearing a proper winter coat,” Logan bumped his shoulder against Emile’s lightly and smirked. “Let’s go, then.”

Roman shoved the stick in his bag and followed them back into the building. The warm air hit his face and he let out a contented sigh. It definitely was more cozy in here, he thought. Even if there wasn’t pretty snow or cool sticks to be found.

“Can we go say hi to Patton and Virgil?” He asked as they stepped into the elevator to head back upstairs.

Emile and Logan exchanged a look, and Emile shrugged. Logan looked back down to him and nodded. “Of course. You and Emile wait in one of the interview rooms, and I’ll go find them.”

Roman took his hand and squeezed it. “Thanks, Logan.”

When they reached the hallway again, though, it was clear something was wrong. Patton was clinging to Virgil, his eyes red and puffy, and Virgil looked angrier than Roman had ever seen him. He ignored Emile’s exclamation as he dived out of the elevator, already making a beeline towards them.

“It’s okay, really,” Patton was saying. “It’s nothing to get all worked up about.”

“Like hell it isn’t! She doesn’t even make any sense!” Virgil growled. His arms were wrapped tightly around Patton in a protective embrace. “Seriously, she can’t have it both ways with that crap. Besides, I don’t care who she is, she upset you, and I’m not putting up with that!”

“Are you guys okay?” Roman asked, worried. “What happened?”

“Oh, it’s okay, sweetheart!” Patton reached out for him, and Roman met him halfway, practically throwing himself into the man’s arms. “Just... met somebody who wasn’t very nice, is all.”

Roman frowned. Whoever was upsetting Patton and Logan, he decided immediately that he very much wasn’t a fan of them. Not if they had Virgil looking like he was about to rip out someone’s throat, and Patton shaky and tearful.

“Roman, don’t run off like tha- what’s wrong?” Emile cut himself off, stopping a few feet from them and eyeing over the trio.

“So, we met Vivienne,” Virgil spat, venom dripping from his words.

Emile practically flinched at the name, and Roman stared at him. “Oh. I see. Is she...?” He gestured across the room, and Virgil nodded. “That is... unfortunate.” He clicked his tongue, staring down the hallway, and then sighed. “Heck, she’s coming over, hang on.”

Roman turned to watch Emile as he jogged up to a slim woman with straight dark hair. Her light orange blouse practically seemed to glow compared to the black material of her suit. Her face seemed set in a permanent scowl, and Roman shivered slightly. This was not a nice woman. She brushed Emile off and marched over to them.

Virgil stepped in front Patton, crossing his arms and staring at her evenly. Roman’s heart swelled with love at his protective nature.

“I see Duck still hasn’t come back from lunch,” She began as she adjusted her narrow glasses. “I’m assuming that means neither of you have your ID checks and documentation on you.”

“And I’m assuming you still don’t have an actual reason to see them, anyway.” Virgil snapped.

Vivienne glared at him. “As a lawyer working in these proceedings, I have every right to request information on those involved. Especially with such...” Her gaze flickered to Patton for a moment. “Risky individuals.”

“Risky?” Virgil’s voice jumped an octave. “What does that mean?”

“Well, there are several studies that have shown that many children under the guardianship of... non-standard parents have a higher rate of mental health issues, not to mention the whole... gender thing,” She responded primly.

Oh, wow, Roman hated her.

Emile looked like a deer in the headlights, and Roman couldn’t blame him. She seemed like a lot to have to talk to, let alone work with.

“Listen.” Virgil’s voice was low and heavy, like the air crackling right before a bolt of lightning during a storm, and Roman felt Patton shift away from him a little, his grip on Roman tightening. "You can either call us gay men and respect my husband's identity, or you can call us a cishet couple and stop whining about gays adopting kids. Make up your fucking mind."

Vivienne gaped for a moment, stunned but clearly furious. She started to reply, but Duck appeared seemingly out of thin air next to Virgil, smoothly inserting himself between them. “Please move away from my clients, Vivienne.” He requested.

“Absolutely not! This man just verbally abused me, I should call security-!”

“And they could very well call security for you harassing them over documentation when they have no obligation to even speak with you.” Duck interrupted. “I’ll be over to speak with you shortly.”

Vivienne sputtered, then turned on her heel and stalked away, fuming.

Emile was the first to break the silence between them. “Gosh, I can’t believe you just told her off,” He commented to Duck. “Or that she listened.”

“Yeah,” Duck replied, sounding a little dazed. He turned to Virgil, who was still standing stock-still, glaring after her. “I am... so sorry about her. She’s...” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Yeah. She is.” Virgil huffed. “Somebody ought to kick her a-”

Patton reached out and put a hand on Virgil’s arm. “Darling,” He said, so softly even Roman could barely hear it.

Virgil paused and took a deep breath. He let it out in a rush, then bit his lip. “Does she have a leg to stand on? With... all that?” He asked Duck and Emile.

Emile practically bristled. “Most certainly not!” He exclaimed. “That sort of thing is... completely unacceptable. I’m shocked that she dared to say anything of that regard while in the building, let alone to your faces!”

Duck nodded. “We’ll make sure that gets followed up, but it’s hardly a point she can use in her favour for this case.”

Virgil sighed. “Okay, then. Okay.” He repeated. “This is... fine.”

Roman’s opinion of Vivienne didn’t raise any over the rest of the afternoon. She was a haughty, mean person, and he loathed the way she made Patton flinch whenever she walked past. This, of course, didn’t help how he felt when Emile told him that they needed to talk to his parents in one of the interview rooms.

“But why?” He whined, dragging his feet as Emile led him down the hallway.

“It’s just... we need to...” Emile just sighed. “I’m sorry, but I promise, this is all you’ll have to do with them today.”

Roman shuffled in and sat as far away from Mom and Dad and Vivienne as he could manage- which unfortunately, wasn’t very far in the small room. This room, at least, had couches instead of a table, so they were across the room rather than nose-to-nose with him. Emile sat next to him and nudged him encouragingly.

It was a boring conversation, mostly Mom crying- fake tears, he was pretty sure- and Dad making empty promises. They apologised and offered half-hearted explanations for their terrible behaviour. Roman sat silently, waiting for the pair of them to finish their song and dance before he responded.

“I don’t want anything to do with you two.” He said simply.

Mom made a sound like a kicked puppy, and Dad glared at him. For once, though, he didn’t feel scared. Not with Emile beside him and a bright future so close.

Vivienne, who stood next to the couch where Mom and Dad sat, rolled her eyes. “So, would you rather live with Mr and Mrs Sande-”

“Mr.”

“Excuse me?”

“Mr and Mr Sanders.” Roman got to his feet and crossed his arms. “Patton’s a man. You can’t change that.”

“I think you’ll find, actually, that she’s a female. That’s what’s on her birth certificate, so that would be her gender.” Vivienne looked down her nose at him.

“That’s not how that works. Patton was born a girl, because sometimes nature messes up and gives people the wrong parts.” Roman reached into his bag, digging around for Arwen. Vivienne sucked, and he really wanted to just cuddle Arwen and leave.

“It really is.” Her voice grated on his nerves, and he tried to stay calm.  He pushed his water bottle to the side, digging deeper into the bag. Calm for Emile. He moved his lunchbox, slipping his hand beneath it. Calm for Patton. Oh, hey, there was the stick again. Calm for Logan. Still no Arwen, though. Did he leave her in the car? “And her name is Pip-”

Everything burst into chaos.

Roman lunged forward without thinking about it, swinging the stick at Vivienne’s legs. She shrieked, trying to step back out of his reach. Mom screamed and grabbed on to Dad, who made a swipe to grab at Roman. Roman ducked away from him and suddenly found himself wrapped tightly in Emile’s arms. Emile plucked him off the ground and scurried out of the room, shouting an apology over his shoulder.

Roman stuck his tongue out at Vivienne as Emile carried him away. Stay calm for the others, he thought to himself. But be fierce for Virgil.

#TS-Storytime 2019 Submission #milo writes #ditr #gemstone tales #roman sanders #logan sanders #emile picani #patton sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #cartoon therapy

[coreytravelogue]

December 20, 2020 - Burnaby, BC

Normally around this time I would be in Newfoundland with my parents and family doing all sorts of stuff. However this being 2020 that isn’t the case. Instead of staying in the basement of my parents house in Bay Roberts both me and my girlfriend have spent the weekend at the Hilton that is only a 15 minute walk from the please we live in.

A staycation mainly for my girlfriend but in some ways for me too. I know how much my girlfriend hates where we live and I can’t blame her I have carried a deep seeded dislike for where I have lived for some time too but I have always sort of buried it in my subconscious because I felt like this was only temporary or it was just something I could deal with for now even though every year the house was just seemingly getting in worse and worse condition, never getting better. However as something int he house would seemingly get worse that would always bring up my dislike for the house. Not counting one of my room mates whom has lived there before even my current landlord and seemingly thinks it is his house. Both me and my girlfriend share a deep seeding hatred for the man child which we know is returned from him. With that said I am not wasting thoughts and words on that piece of shit.

We are checking out in 4 hours and I can’t help but be depressed, we were only stayed here for 3 nights but I can’t help but already miss what it feels like to actually live somewhere decent.

A clean floor that isn’t sinking, comfortable bed, room to move around, furniture one could lay or lounge on that wasn’t your bed, no mould, no room mates and a clean and functional bathroom all to ourselves. It is probably my white male privilege but I remember a time where I had all of these things and I miss them dearly. With that said I know I have it ok where so many others either don't even have a warm and soft place to sleep in, even less room and so on. I know I am just being a whiny white male brat but it is what it is I am over privileged.

This makes me miss living in my bachelor apartment even more than ever. Its funny yet irritating at the same time; I moved out of that apartment apartment around 2012 because the rent was just way too high for me to afford. Mind you I was making less than half the amount I am making now. I wish I had the job I have now back then because even if they jumped the rent up 20 bucks every year it would still be less than the rent I pay right now. My girlfriend would be able to have baths anytime she wants, we would have privacy, we may not have quite as much room but enough room and we may have to pay through the nose for internet and laundry (though I would push to wash and dry our clothes inside our apartment versus paying 2.50 per shot in their machines) but we would at least have our privacy and feel we are living in a decent place.

While I miss being with my parents the most this time of the year being able to live in a decent place is also something I miss about being in Newfoundland right now as well, something I always take for granted right up until I leave back for Vancouver. Having my own basement/place where I can just lay on on the couch and watch movies, play video games, hang with friends and family. Instead I stay in place where there is one room with just enough room to walk in and out of where we can sleep and when not that watch TV and let the laundry dry, then there is the other room where either of us can sleep but also work on tasks or just work in general. We share a third of the fridge with two other people with barely enough room for ourselves, even buying a mini fridge is not enough for us. We have to be mindful of when we are using the kitchen and bathroom because god forbid we are using it while jack off man child wants to use it because he will do nothing but pout and give stink eyes when we are using it. Fuck I hate that bastard.

I know I have said it before but these exemplifies the reasons as to why I need to move out of this city sooner rather than later, unless rent suddenly nose dives into reasonable levels again which is extremely doubtful there is no scenario I can see where I can afford to live here and live in a place of privacy and higher luxury than the mould dish we live in unless there were two incomes paying for it. Only way I could really live here on my own and with a semblance of luxury and privacy at this point is if I was paid 30 bucks an hour and that is not happening anytime soon. It shouldn’t have to be like this, nearly anywhere else outside of BC, Toronto and Halifax my income is a living wage for me to be able to afford live and still have a comfortable life. Here nearly impossible, one of my friends keeps telling me to move out and just deal with he high rent but I don't think she understands, I can’t blame her. I know she sort of understands but she is willing to pay more even if it is outrageous just to have privacy and luxury while me I have always been more concerned with he long game at least from the financial side of things.

I have talked about all of this way too much and I am sick of talking about it as well but at the end of the day it is nearly all I think about. 2021 has to be about figuring out how to get out of Vancouver. Where I thought I could go anywhere it is becoming abundantly clear that I only really have one option in a place to go and that is Newfoundland though I would like to go to Alberta, Edmonton in particular.

Can’t help but feel I am taking so much for granted and not being thankful for what I do have. At least I have a roof over my head I can afford, at least I have a well paying job in a work place that is not toxic, I live in a country with stable healthcare in a province that isn’t full of right wing nuts, I have a girlfriend who loves me who I know cares for me. All things considered even though I could not travel this year or see my family this year this year wasn’t all that bad.

2020 for the most part has just been a different challenge for me but filled with many challenges. The first being kept in Newfoundland for an extra week which looking back now was a blessing in disguise given that I won’t be able to see my parents at all this year.

The next challenge was dealing with Vancouver’s “snowmageddon” which is a joke because the snow the city got would be nothing compared to other parts of Canada but since it is Vancouver and it’s inability and refusal to deal with it it is a big problem to deal with.

What followed that was the obvious pandemic where within the first two weeks of March we went form living life as though everything was normal even though we knew a pandemic was looming outside our boarders to full on lock down for a month and a half where it was looked down upon to leave your house even with a mask on.

My travel plans were Ottawa, Portland, Fort McMurray, Australia, Quebec City and of course Newfoundland but instead it became none of it. Any and all money spent was on records and knick knacks inside the house as we just decided to stay at home most if not all of the time.

During this time my drinking has gone up to levels that I feel are getting out of control nd my mental health has taken a hit because the one thing that relieves my mental health issues is something I can do. I feel like I haven’t been able to do much to relieve myself of my stress. But it is what it is.

2021 remains a cloud to me, I know there is a vaccine but I doubt any travel will occur during this time or anything really. With that said the main goal of 2021 is simply to find a way out of Vancouver and back to Newfoundland, it is as simple as that. 2021 will have its own challenges but ones I have faced before. If anything it will provide me with a true test to see if the new mental health supports I built in my subconscious really do work or if they don’t.

COVID has been a challenge for all of us and  have no right to complain but this is my blog and I will complain here all I can do right now is just be thankful of what I have and just try to make the most of it. Just like being in this hotel, I only have 3 more hours left in it before we have to go back to the shit hole. May as well make the most of it.

Happy holidays everyone, stay safe, shazbot nanu nanu.

[shamelessly4shameless-blog]

Nickovich (pt. 11)

Ian wakes to find blue eyes fixed on him and a hand lightly cupping his cheek.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

He turns to kiss the inside of Mickey’s wrist and smiles slightly. Sunlight is filtering in between the cracks in the curtains and the sounds of the city waking up echo softly through the walls.

There is a flash of something that casts a momentary shadow behind Mickey’s eyes, but then it is gone and his lips are pressing against Ian’s with an urgent intimacy. Ian sweeps his tongue over Mickey’s and pulls him in tight against his body. His hands feel too rough against the soft skin of Mickey’s ribs and Ian slows his movements down. He is trying to consume too much of Mickey at once, he needs to take his time.

The sex is gentler, slower than the night before and the orgasms that leave them shaking in each other’s arms are silent save for a couple of deep sighing breaths. Ian kisses Mickey’s jaw, his temple, his upper lip. He traces the swell of pectoral muscles with this thumb and memorises the colour of his morning stubble, slightly shy of black but not by much. Mickey smiles under Ian’s gaze and nudges his hips lightly against Ian’s.

“Missed waking up like this.”

“Me too.”

Ian nods and then regretfully glances at his watch.

“I have to go.”

“Will I see you again?”

Mickey asks quietly, sitting up and trying to cover up the ache those words cause him by the fumbling open of a cigarette packet.

Ian nods and nudges his forehead lightly against Mickey’s, stilling his hands. They share another kiss and then Ian is rolling out of bed, stopping only to place the filter of a smoke lightly between his lover’s lips.

“I’ll call you.”

Ian promises, taking a few notes out of his wallet and leaving them on the table.

“Get yourself some decent breakfast.”

He winks at Mickey, trying to lighten the heavy mood that has settled around them. Ian is pretty sure Mickey is trying not to cry, he’s got that glassy eyed look and his nostrils are flared wide and the sight makes Ian’s gut clench. He thinks of all those years he would give Mickey those same pleading looks, begging him silently not to go and knowing that he would anyway. It gives Ian a new appreciation of what the other side of those early days must have felt like.

“I’ll call you, Mick.”

He repeats more firmly and the Mickey nods curtly, clears his throat and says

“Okay. I gotta collect a couple things, I’ll be leaving town this afternoon. This evening at latest.”

Ian knew this was likely but actually hearing it leaves him feeling a little light headed.

“Fine. Cool. Okay.”

He turns to the door. He needs to go but suddenly it is all too much. Arriving, leaving, coming, going, hello, and of course, good-bye. Ian wants to say that he’ll definitely be going with Mickey but in truth he still isn’t sure. A teenage love affair is not meant to be like this. It is meant to either run its course, like flames flicking along a linear trail of gasoline and then burn out, or it is meant to shape into a partnership and a life built. What has happened between he and Mickey has been too much of one thing to ever really be the other. It has been a constant battle for every single moment of happiness and now, running away together with the law on their tail … Jesus. It would be hard enough on someone without Ian’s fluctuating mental health issues, but with them it feels like a disaster waiting to happen.

He stares at the door handle in the agony of indecision. As he hesitates, a strong arm wraps around Ian’s waist and he feels Mickey’s cheek press into his shoulder. Ian turns just enough to wrap himself around the shorter man and they stay like that, just holding each other.

“I’m going to call. I promise.”

Ian mumbles into Mickey’s hair and feels a nod against him.

“You take care of yourself, okay?”

Mickey says finally, pulling back, eyes red rimmed but dry. Ian nods and smooths his hands over Mickey’s shoulders and down his arms, memorising as much of his face as he can, drinking in the tiny details and the feel of his skin.

“I love you.”

“I know.”

Mickey gives Ian a small smile and with more strength than he knew he had, he lets him go.

*

Mickey presses his forehead against the cool gloss painted door as it closes behind Ian and squeezes his eyes shut tight, willing himself to stay in control.

There is a small sound of blankets being shifted and Mickey pinches the bridge of his nose firmly, setting his shoulders, inhaling deeply and pulling it together.

“You okay?”

Nicky asks quietly and Mickey nods, wiping a hand across his upper lip before turning to face her.

“Yeah, I’m fine. He’ll do what he has to do. Always has.”

Nicky wraps a blanket around her shoulders like a cape and settles herself cross legged on the bed giving him a sympathetic smile.

“You look like you need a drink.”

Mickey puffs out his cheeks with an awkward grimace. He desperately wants to dive into a bottle and not surface until he knows what Ian is going to do but he’s taken too many risks already and he knows he’s a sloppy drunk, especially when he’s upset.

“Nah. I got shit to do. Can’t do it if I can’t think straight.”

“How about we go out for coffee then? This room smells like stale beer, rough sex, and repressed anger.”

“Yeah … well … You spilled the fuckin’ beer!”

Nicky lets out one of her deep throaty laughs and grins at him

“The beer is actually not the worst thing out of those three. C’mon. Let’s go get decent coffee.”

“You suggest that weird glittery coffee place I’m gonna fuck you up.”

“Ian goes there. Don’t you wanna see it?”

“No.”

Mickey runs a hand over his jaw, grimacing at the stubble.

“I’m gonna shower. Order coffee to the room or something.”

“Hey! I like this new side of you. Room service and personal hygiene? You’re a winner, Abe.”

“Not my fuckin’ name.”

Mickey grouches but he’s actually feeling a little better already. Nicky teasing him is a pain in the ass but it’s just really good to have someone around. Anyone really. A distraction from the disturbance that is occurring in his mind.

By the time he finishes his shower and shave there is coffee, fruit and bagels waiting for him. There is also the faint tang of marijuana in the air and he frowns at Nicky accusingly.

“Would you believe me if I told you that a couple of high-school guys with leather bombers and bad attitudes broke in and smoked all your pot while you washed up?”

Nicky grins at him, a lopsided, half-awake smile that makes Mickey roll his eyes but he isn’t actually that fussed about the pot. He needs to keep sharp today, way too much shit riding on him to risk fucking it up because he can’t stop laughing.

“You’re an asshole is what I’d believe.”

“Junkie asshole. Can’t leave me around drugs, Abe.”

Mickey pauses in towelling his hair and cocks his head in her direction

“Really?”

“Yeah really. Shit. You left me alone for five minutes and I smoked the one joint we have. Didn’t even save you any.”

She looks anxious now and Mickey knows that one of her monologue confessions is about to spring forth and as he hasn’t even had coffee yet, he figures it’s best to cut that one off before it begins.

“I don’t care that you smoked it so just …”

“Are we gonna be dealing a lot of drugs in Mexico?”

“Huh?”

Mickey bites into an apple and picks up his drink, trying not to show the rush of hopeful excitement that sprang from her use of the word ‘we’.

“Drugs? In Mexico? Cause I figure if we are then you should probably leave me behind.”

“You bailing on me too?”

The hopeful excitement wobbles and his words come out a lot needier than Mickey intended. He fills his mouth with more fruit to stop any other whiny crap coming out.

“I’m not bailing on you but I can’t be around high volumes of narcotics. I will do all the drugs we have and get our fingers cut off or whatever the Cartel do …”

“Cartel…?”

“And also, Ian hasn’t bailed on you. Personally I think he’ll come with you – maybe not the whole way, I don’t know how much of a pussy he is, but he’ll at least get in the van.”

“He’s not a pussy. And I’m not taking the van! Things a piece of crap.”

Mickey snaps, then chokes on his apple and Nicky waits patiently for him to decide whether or not he is about to die before continuing as he gulps down a glass of water and pounds his chest.

“Whatever, the point is … shit … what was my point?”

“How the hell should I know?”

Mickey quips, voice harsh from his near death experience. Nicky stands up and walks over to him, resting her hands lightly on his shoulders.

“You are a really great kid, really great. I don’t even know how I know that but I just do. I want you to make it outta here, Abe. I really want that.”

“Okay.”

Mickey nods, his eyes darting away from her intense brown gaze because that sort of eye contact with anyone but Ian makes him feel a little claustrophobic and he doesn’t know what to do with her emotion.

“So I can’t be the one who fucks it up for you. Me and drugs … we’re like that shitty couple who hate each other but keep going because the sex is amazing. I can’t help it and I can’t control it.”

“Yeah I know that feeling.”

Mickey quirks his eyebrow in teasing irony and Nicky acknowledges it fondly

“Right. So I have to be honest with you and say that I am the shittiest person when it comes to narcotics and I want to go with you, but ...”

“You do?”

Mickey’s eyes snap back to hers and Nicky gives him another one of those sweetly lopsided smiles

“I do, fresh start could be good for me and Chicago is fucking freezing.”

“Not even winter yet.”

Mickey smirks and then softens into a genuine smile as Nicky hands over around a third of a blunt.

“I lied, I did save you some but I wanted you to know that I have a problem and I don’t want to make it your problem too. Did I make my point?”

Nicky watches as Mickey lights it, looks pointedly at her and after a long inhale that makes his chest rattle, steps into the bathroom and drops the rest in the toilet bowl, exhaling through the little window.

“Yeah you did. Fuckin’ long winded and dramatic way to make it, but we got there.”

He rolls his shoulders and thinks for a moment.

“You okay with guns? I can run those instead, probably less hassle to be honest. And there is always beat down work too. Wherever you go, someone always wants to pay to fuck someone else up.”

“I was more thinking coffee shop on the beach front, serving espressos to tourists.”

Nicky sighs happily at the thought but Mickey wrinkles his nose in distate

“Fuck that. I want to make some cash and then buy the damn coffee store. I ain’t bein’ some assholes waiter”

“Sweet! Okay you buy it, then you can make me manager.”

“More like fire your ass and get someone who don’t give me shit every day.”

Mickey throws over his shoulder as he begins styling his hair.

“Oh fuck off. You know you find me delightful.”

“Sure as shit wouldn’t be serving any glittery crap.”

Nicky rolls her eyes as she leans against the door jamb watching him.

“For someone who hated it, you sure bring it up a lot.”

Mickey raises his middle finger in the mirror and declines to answer. Nicky winks at him and smiles

“I’m gonna make a special latte. It’ll be milk, coffee …”

“Sounds like a real game changer …”

“Shut up. Milk, coffee, a shot of vodka and … get this, some dark rum on top and I’m gonna call it ‘Abe’s Revenge’”

“Revenge for what?”

“Everything.”

Nicky opens her eyes wide and nods sagely and after thinking about his life for a moment, Mickey snorts and turns back from the mirror.

“Why the fuck not? Abe’s Revenge.”

“Or ‘Mickey’s’ if you like?”

Nicky offers, arching one eyebrow.

“Abe’s is fine.”

Mickey sniffs dismissively, as if he hasn’t bitched about the nickname incessantly and strides past her.

“Of course it fucking is.”

Nicky laughs to herself.

*

#shameless #shameless us #shameless fanfiction #nicky nichols #mickey milkovich #Milkovich #Milkovich and Nichols #nickovich

[munjade]

Sudden Semi-Hiatus PSA

Hello all! So unfortunately life has finally gotten so crazy I think I need to step away for a bit. I usually don’t do these bc as soon as I do things tend to clear up but that doesn’t seem to be the case this time.

I’ll be lurking most likely and y'all can contact me on my disc or line (darkheartqueen#2439 and darkheartqueen respectively) if you really want to contact me. I may respond to things, I may not. I really don’t know. ALSO! IF YOU’RE GOING TO FANIME CON HMU MY DUDES LETS MEET UP.

Safe date’s start of next month. Details abt hiatus below.

SOOOOOO basically uh finals are a hassle but I am having car and employment issues. Exposed wire keeps grounding itself and fucking everything over and I am not fucking sure what my managers even want or what I can do and I’m just fucking up more than usual lately. Mental health has taken a fucking nose dive too. I also have that con at the end of the month. Super stressful actually… I also promised to watch Voltron before then and honestly I don’t know if I’ll be able to manage even that. Family is a mess. Car is a mess. Finances are a mess work is a mess school is a mess and I’m not functioning enough to do replies right now.

#hiatus notice

[daizyhead-blog1]

top plastic surgery in beverly hills

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[little-red-and-his-wolves]

Hey I'm sorry you're feeling down. ❤ I'd love to submit a prompt. AU mermaid Stiles that's curious and mischievous and Derek the poor gruff that Stiles wins over with his charms. Either like pirates or seaworld type exhibit or anything!! I really hope whatever's got you down goes away soon. ❤

Hey, thank you for the prompt! It was really fun to write. And thank you for your kind words. Unfortunately part of what has me down isn’t likely to go away for the next few weeks but the rest should, hopefully, be temporary. Regardless your prompt was a blast to fill and I hope you like it!

(It got a bit long so I also posted it on AO3 if you like to read it there.)

Don’t go to thesurface, he’d said.

It’s dangerous,he’d said.

There’s nothingworth seeing, he’d said.

I swear to God,Stiles, if you don’t listen to me, he’d said.

Joke was onFather then. Stiles never listened and there was definitely something worthseeing. Specifically six feet of something tall, dark, and gorgeous.

Stiles dippedbeneath the water again so he was mostly submerged, letting the current carryhim towards shore a little more. He took shelter behind a rock, clinging easilyto its slick edges as the waves beat against him, the water lapping in and outof the shallow alcove rhythmically.

The man, whoStiles had taken to calling Beasty, grumbled to himself as he tuggedfruitlessly at his tangled net before throwing it away with a huff and kickinga bucket for good measure. Stiles laughed quickly ducking fully beneath thewater when Beasty spun around at the sound.

Slipping easilythrough the water Stiles resurfaced on the other side of the pier grasping thewood to pull himself up far enough to grab the net before diving back into thewater prize in hand. He heard a shout echo muffled from the surface fading awayas he swam deeper pausing about part way down to examine the net. It really washopelessly tangled. He settled at the edge of the shelf, staring absently outinto the deep blue while he let his fingers work at the knots. Eventually heworked them all free and had the net untangled. He cast it out to make sure itwas completely free of knots before carefully bundling it up and securing itwith a strand of seaweed.

Beasty wasn’ton the pier when Stiles returned. Instead he had his back turned to Stiles ashe fought with one of the lines on his adorable little boat that wouldn’t lasta day out beyond the harbor. Stiles smiled hauling himself up to rest hisforearms on the pier as he watched Beasty trip over a bucket and promptly loseall the tautness he’d managed to gain in the line.

Stifling downhis laughter Stiles glanced over the pier taking note of a small leather objectresting beside a metal bucket full of chum and a metal ring full of keys. Heset the net aside and stretched across the pier to snag the edge of themysterious object. When he flipped it open Beasty’s face greeted him, gloweringup from a small square covered in the odd symbols of the landwalker’s languageStiles had never bothered to learn how to read. He spoke it well enoughlearning from those merfolk who had walked among the landdwellers and fromlurking along the shore, but he’d never seen much point in learning the writtenwords. Now though, he wished he knew what the lines meant.

He stroked afinger over Beasty’s picture before cocking his head to the side to look at theother picture. It wasn’t the same material as Beasty’s, far more flimsy andworn, but it was devoid of words. Stiles picked Beasty out amongst the otherfaced easily, settled in-between two girls and smiling. It was odd seeing suchan expression on Beasty’s face, but Stiles had to admit he had a nice smile.Nice enough that Stiles kind of wanted to see it for himself in reality.

Somethingclattered against wood and Stiles jerked back, glancing over to the boat andshocked to find Beasty staring at him slack-jawed. Stiles just stared back amoment, some part of his brain urging him to flee while another tried toconvince him to stay. Several long moments ticked by and then Beasty moved.Stiles’ hand darted forward almost on its own volition, snagging the keysbefore he pushed off the pier and dove back into the water. He swam straightfor the shelf and then beyond it out into open water keeping his hands clutchedtightly around his spoils.

*

“The…mermaidstole your wallet,” Laura said slowly looking like she was about three secondsfrom suggesting they take a ride to the county hospital. Not for the first timeDerek questioned his decision to tell her the truth rather than continue lyinglike he’d been doing for the past few months.

“My keys too,”he added. “And my watch. And my water bottle. And a couple pieces ofsilverware. And my shoes. And one of my coats. And my cell phone.”

Laura blinked.“You told me you accidently dropped your phone off that stupid boat.”

“Yes. Because Ifigured you’d call me crazy if I said I thought a mythical sea creature tookit,” Derek said dryly.

“I wouldnever,” Laura protested pausing when Derek arched a single eyebrow to sighdramatically. “Fine, okay, maybe I would have been concerned about your mentalhealth. But, really, Derek, can you blame me? You’re out here for weeks on endall by yourself with this stupid fishing boat. What are you even doing?”

“Hey,” Dereksaid mildly offended even if he also thought the boat was stupid though likelyfor much different reasons. “You’re the one who said I should get a hobby.”

Laura rolledher eyes. “Yes, like yoga or krav maga or even crocheting. Not…fishing orwhatever it is you do out here.”

“Not a lot ofactual fishing to be honest.”

“And that’s mypoint, Derek. What are you doing? Like, what even is that?” she asked pointing at the small bucket Derek had forgotten toclean out earlier. “It smells awful.”

Derek frownednudging it with his foot. “It’s chum. Supposed to lure fish in.”

Laura wrinkledher nose. “Does it work?”

“Not really inmy experience, no,” Derek admitted a bit forlorn. Nearly ten weeks and he stillhad yet to actually successfully catch anything. “But I think I’m doing itwrong.”

“Okay,regardless, what made you change your mind now?” Laura said turning a little onthe pier to face Derek fully. “Why tell me about your mermaid?”

“I think he’sactually a merman,” Derek corrected squinting against the sunlight glinting offthe water. “And because I actually saw him. Stared at him for a full coupleseconds really. I’d always just caught him out of the corner of my eye before.But this time…I literally watched him steal my keys. He just dove across thepier and snatched them before diving off.”

“Okay,” Laurasaid again pausing before continuing. She kicked her feet in the water,drumming her fingers against the wood. “For the record I still think there’s apossibility that smelling that fish chum all day has rotted your brain andyou’ve lost your mind. But on the off chance that you haven’t…do you thinkhe’ll come back?”

“I don’t know,”Derek replied honestly, but a small part of him certainly hoped.

Derek spent thenext few weeks keeping an almost obsessive eye out for any not-so-mythical seacreatures peeking up from the water but the surface remained frustratinglyundisturbed. Derek took to leaving odds and ends scattered about the pierhoping that one morning he’d come out to find something missing. By the end ofthe third week he had a collection of a couple shot glasses, a small wolffigurine Cora had given him years ago, a keychain with a fork bent into a peacesign, several pens, a screw driver, a big mug shaped like Darth Vader, an oldcell phone that hadn’t worked in years, and several coins scattered over thepier.

He’d prettymuch given up any hope of the sea creature coming back, and started seriouslyquestioning exactly why he found that thought so disappointing, when it finallyhappened. Derek was once again swearing at the stupid boat for not justcooperating for him when the hair on the back of his neck stood up and hecaught a slight disturbance in the water out of the corner of his eye. He frozefor a second, surreptitiously glancing over his shoulder at the face justbarely peeking up from the water by the pier, large eyes trained Derek’sdirection. After a moment Derek forced himself back into motion all butignoring the merman’s presence. The head dipped back beneath the water andDerek felt a pang of disappointment before the merman resurfaced on the otherside of the pier.

He hovered justvisible for several long minutes before slowly rising more, one webbed handclutching the edge of the pier as the other carefully plucked one of the shotglasses up for inspection. One long finger stroked over the glittered lettersas his lips moved silently almost like he was trying to puzzle out the words.

“It says‘fucking magnificent’,” Derek said, not raising his voice too much and keepinghis tone purposefully calm.

As expected themerman pushed off the pier, backing away several feet but not diving beneaththe surface. Derek kept himself focused on the ropes in front of him onlyglancing over every once in awhile.

“A gift from mysister,” he explained. “She thought it was hysterical. Something about theunicorn really spoke to her.”

Derek paused,kept his fingers twined in the rope as he glanced over his shoulder pleased tosee the merman still bobbing in the water even if he looked a bit suspicious.He raised the glass again to look at it, running his finger over the image. “Ithought this was a horse?” he said and Derek almost dropped rope in shock.

The merman’svoice carried easily and was surprisingly clear though accented. It held athroaty, almost guttural undertone and Derek wondered if it was from notspeaking often or from not speaking above the water.

“It is,” hefinally replied. “But the horn on its forehead turns from just a horse into aspecial horse. A unicorn.”

“A unicorn,”the merman repeated staring at the glass contemplatively. “And these words,what did you say they were?”

“Uh, fuckingmagnificent,” Derek said.

“Very special.I see. Because it is a unicorn.”

“Right,” Dereksaid weakly watching at the merman swam closer again to peer at the otherglasses. Derek swallowed easing off the boat and onto the pier.

“What aboutthis one?” he asked pointing at one that Derek wasn’t even sure how it came tobe in his possession. It was just one of those things that showed up in hisboxes between one of his many moves, and he’d kept it because the quote kind ofspoke to him.

“It says ‘theregoes the last fuck I gave.’”

The mermanfrowned, smooth brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s a fuck?”

“Uh, in thiscontext its…an element of caring. It means you don’t care anymore. At all.”

“I see,” themerman said plucking it up from the pier. “I like your things.”

“I noticedsince you’ve taken a lot.”

The mermansmiled at him, sharp teeth peeking out from behind pale lips. “You shouldn’tleave it laying about then,” he said. “If you don’t want it taken.”

And beforeDerek could reply he slid a shot glass between his teeth, snatched an objectoff the pier, and dove back into the water slapping the surface with his tailas he did so to send a wave up over the pier leaving Derek drenched andsputtering.

*

Father would beso disappointed, Stiles thought as his head broke the surface of the harbor.Beasty wasn’t on his boat today and there wasn’t a collection of odd itemscluttering the pier. In fact, the only thing on the pier was Beasty with hisshoes off, pants rolled up to his knees, and feet kicking gently back in thewater as he stared out across the horizon.

Stiles had keptaway as long as he could after Beasty had first seen him and their secondinteraction had left him craving more. He crept over to the pier, surfacingagain behind Beasty and hoisting himself up lifting his tail out of the watercarefully. He tried to do it quietly but, well, water and fins.

Beasty nearlyfell of the pier as he spun around just barely managing to keep his balance onthe edge. Stiles grinned and thumped his tail against the pier causing itbounce erratically and dump poor Beasty right into the water with a squawk andflailing limbs. He resurfaced a few seconds later sputtering and spitting waterout of his mouth as he glared up at Stiles.

“What thehell?” he snapped scrambling back onto the pier and looking quite ridiculous.Stiles didn’t know why exactly, but unlike merfolk landdwellers looked patheticwhen they were soaked. “Do you enjoy ruining my stuff?”

Stiles cockedhis head to the side. “I haven’t ruined any of your stuff,” he argued. Surehe’d taken a lot of stuff, like, a lot but he could bring it all back if hewanted. He didn’t.  

“Really? Whatabout my wallet or my keys or my phone?” Beasty said shaking his head so waterdroplets rained down on Stiles.  

“Phone?” heechoed confused.

Beasty pausedthen held his hands out about six inches apart. “Little rectangle with a smoothside wrapped in red plastic. Has a round button the bottom. You might have seenme holding it to my ear and yelling in it.”

“Ah, of course.The magic brick,” Stiles said remembering the most interesting of objects he’dtaken. It was the only one he and no one else had recognized. “You know itstopped working once I took it.”

“Yes,” Beastysaid dryly sounding amused again. “Probably because it’s not made to workunderwater.”

“Then it wasn’tvery well made,” Stiles replied with a sharp grin because seriously why wouldsomething be made to purposefully not function under water. “Now was it?”

Beasty sighed,running a hand through his wet hair and settling down nearer to Stiles on thepier. He stuck his feet back in the water without bothering to fix the one pantleg that had fallen down. “My name is Derek,” he said after a moment. “Ifigured that even though you stole my wallet you couldn’t read my license.”

Derek, Stilesthought mulling the name over. Derek. It was a nice name. Strong. It suited theman. He had no idea what a license was, wished suddenly that he’d broughtBeasty’s wallet along so he could have the name pointed out to him.

“Here,” Beastysaid jogging Stiles from his thoughts. Stiles looked down surprised to see aninteresting object in Beasty’s hand. It was small sitting nestled in Beasty’spalm. There was a clear sphere with a fish inside attached to a base with morelandwalker lettering on it. Stiles picked it up turning it around forinspection as he tried to figure it out.

“What is it?”

“It’s a snowglobe.”

Stiles noddedcommitting the name to memory as he shook it and watched the little whiteflakes flutter around the orange and white striped fish. “And this fish inside?I know the name in my language but what do you call it?”

Beasty clearedhis throat. “Uh, it’s a clown fish.”

“You know thisisn’t as much fun if you just hand things to me,” Stiles said even as hewrapped his fingers around the item.

Beasty just shrugged.

“Derek,” hesaid trying the name out for the first but hopefully not the last time, “thisis the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

*

The water wasfreezing as it beat against him, choppy as waves rolled around the two of them.It was the dead of night but the moon and stars were bright making it all tooeasy to make out Stiles’ features. The smooth expanse of his skin glisteningwet with ocean water and illuminated by starlight. Once again Derek foundhimself breathless as he stared at the beautiful creature before him. The firsttime Derek had seen Stiles he wouldn’t have used those words.

Intriguing.Sleek. Captivating.

But notbeautiful. No, that had come later.

“Do you trust me, Derek?”

Derek spit outmore water, kicking his feet to keep treading water with some difficulty as thewaves rolled around them. “Not at all,” he replied and Stiles laughed, thesound just as musical to Derek’s ears now as the first time he’d heard it allthose months ago.

“Remember,”Stiles said bracketing his hands on either side of Derek’s face. Stiles’ skinwas cool, fingers long enough to nearly wrap entirely around his head, andDerek shivered as Stiles stroked his thumbs along Derek’s cheekbones. “Don’thold your breath. And don’t let go.”

Derek pulledStiles closer, wrapping his arms around Stiles’ waist and letting the powerfulmotions of his tail keep them both afloat as he whispered, “I won’t.”

Stiles grinnedat him, eyes bright and mischievous, near mesmerizing as they reflected thestars from the sky and water all around them. “Are you ready?”

Throat too tightto reply with anticipation, Derek simply nodded, heart beating double time inhis chest as Stiles’ impish grin softened into something fond and sweet as heleaned in. His lips sealed over Derek’s, cool and exhilarating, echoed momentslater by the water that closed over their heads.

#ask #katsa-the-graceling #prompt #teen wolf #thank you! #fic