#my delight when i achieved an age at which my dad could finally tell me this joke in its uncensored form was notable i have to admit

[stellerssong]

Tell us the sex stone joke

so this joke requires the light setup of, as the Resident Geologist, on any given hike my dad will have been subjected to a light barrage of Hey What's This Rock I Just Picked Up Off The Trail, answers ranging from "that's clearly serpentinite, the state rock of California—note the distinctive gray-green color and soapy texture" to "that's probably a local mudstone" to "that is a piece of concrete" to "that is tanbark."

the joke typically runs as follows:

you, presenting an interesting pebble for identification: hey, what's this rock i just picked up off the trail? my dad, after a few seconds of thoughtful examination: ah, interesting. what you have there is what's known as a "sex stone." you, slightly shocked by the apparent erotic provenance of what you thought was a random rock: oh! okay. i see. thanks. my dad, slyly: would you like to know why they call it that? you: um. yes? my dad: BECAUSE IT'S JUST A FUCKING ROCK.

#chatter #asks #my delight when i achieved an age at which my dad could finally tell me this joke in its uncensored form was notable i have to admit #imagine being the Designated Rock Identifier in a family with curious and scientifically-minded youthes and having this joke in pocket #and knowing if you say the fuck word to them you will immediately be executed by all of your in-laws. so tragic.

[mefiman]

Hamato Family’s First Visit to the Hidden City

Story request by @rottmntrulesall. Hope you enjoy the story, bud! ^^

"C'mon, everyone! Hurry up!" Michelangelo's impatience was obvious in his excitement. He and his siblings were finally going to show their dad's relatives for the first time to the Hidden City for two reasons; one: to view the many wonders of the other world and two: to have a formal, proper meeting with Draxum's parents. The latter part had instilled some unease into the Hamato siblings, especially Saki who was wary about stepping foot into a mysterious world and was about to see for himself the father and mother of the "monster" who altered his younger brother many years ago.

"Are you sure this place is safe?" Hamato Kenji asked. Raphael glanced at his uncle, understanding his uncle's concerns. "We've been there a lot, Uncle Kenji! We did encounter a few dangers there before but other than that, the people there don't usually attack humans unless provoked." Raph assured his uncle.

"There are a lot of places to visit like the many resorts and spas if you want to have a massage and ooh, Señor Hueso's Run of the Mill Pizza where they make one of the best pizzas! I know the manager of that place, we're amigos~" Leonardo took the chance to quip in.

"I can't wait to see Grandpa Mons again! Wait till you guys meet him yourselves, he's the nicest, sweetest grandpa you'll ever meet! He's still as strong as he's gentle!" Mikey said happily.

"I wonder if Grandma Chemia has some wicked new inventions to show me!" Donatello exclaimed.

"This would be my first time seeing my grandparents, Arachne..." Ariadne whispered to her best friend, Arachne.

"You've never seen them before?" Her friend asked.

"Once when I was a baby... I haven't seen them for years." The yokai femme told Arachne.

"Alright, kids, you've shown us all that you're excited to bring us to visit the Hidden City, Mikey, can you open the portal now?" Splinter asked.

"Sure, Dad!" Mikey got to work quickly.

Draxum felt a tinge of anxiety inside himself. He could not recall the last time he visited his creators ever since he moved out of home to pursue his alchemy researching, away from his parents' constant arguments, half of which is about their preferred methods of raising him. It was a surprise how those two still manage to live under the same roof despite their obvious clashing personalities. He guessed that they tolerated each other just for his sake. His parents had never produced any more offspring after him and one of Arachne’s parents...

"Hey, are you okay, Dad?" A female voice asked him. Draxum jolted from his pondering to find that his daughter, Poison Ivy asking him out of concern. He just gave a small smile as he ran his clawed hands over her helmet. "Am fine, just thinking about your grandparents." He assured her. He marveled how Ivy much had grown from the last time he scientifically created her with his and Lou Jitsu's DNAs; she being so tiny as a developed newborn infant growing in a liquid chamber to a young lady around the boys' ages. From what he knew later on, Splinter raised her along with the Turtles. Ivy had lived her life at first as a normal human teenager until her yokai genes started appearing. The initial discovery of her origins did shake her world but over time, she had learnt to accept and use them to assist her brothers in their adventures. She was intelligent like Draxum and his mother with his father's gentle, mature nature as well as Splinter/Lou's sassiness. She loved to study on botany and coincidently, her powers involved using vines and summoning plant like monsters at will. She recently revealed her sexuality preference as a lesbian and had a girlfriend who is a fellow classmate and witch trainee/apprentice in disguise. Both her creators and siblings were happy for her. As of now, she was cradling her younger sister, Venus de Milo was giggling and squealing as April, Ariadne and Arachne cooed and tickled her belly.

The group watched Mikey draw a symbol on the wall at an alley. Once the symbol was drawn, an open portal revealed. The Hamato siblings' mouths went ajar, not believing what they just saw. "if you think that's mind blowing, you haven't seen nothing yet!" Mikey grinned. His three other brothers and the three girls each took hold of one of their Hamato uncles and aunts's hands. The moment they all jumped into that portal, they found themselves staring at a massive part of a what seemed to be a huge city. The sky above was unlike Earth's skies; instead it was orange with some brown. The architecture of the buildings there were monster shaped with some tall, castle like structures far away from the city. There were a lot of people of all shapes, sizes, colors and appearances walking, running, passing by each other, buying their needs or doing their usual business trades. The Turtle family allowed their Hamato relatives to take in their first view around them. Saki's eyes were bulging out of his sockets, he could not believe for his life what he was seeing. Anthropomorphic, mostly consisting of animal, everyday objects, monstrous and supernatural like individuals roamed every part of the streets around him, he felt as if he was having a strange dream that defied logic! Nori on the other hand, looked right and left, taking in interesting sights that captured her attention. Underneath a calm façade, Kenji was freaking out internally at the new, foreign view. Hiroki was squealing in delight similar to a child had just discovered a world made of toys and sweets. Her twin, Hikari was a bit calmer than his sister, feeling a thrill of danger running through his veins. Last but not least, the youngest Hamato sibling, Mei's stance looked poker face yet she looked around to see if there were any Gothic like people that she can interact with. The Turtles and the girls grinned, seeing the reactions of the others.

"What do you think? Surreal, huh?" They ask.

"Amazing.."

"Fascinating..."

"I can't believe what I'm seeing..."

"Someone please tell me that I'm dreaming..." Saki mumbled, still not believing.

"No, you're not," Draxum replied, going straight to the point with an indifferent expression. "May we please hurry to my parents' house, I bet they're waiting for our arrival..."

"Oh yeah!" Mikey clapped both his hands once. "Lead the way, Draxy!"

Draxum sighed as he took the lead of the group. Along the way, there were a few whispers around and behind Draxum coming from the city people but Splinter and Ivy took hold of both his hands and gave a comforting, assuring squeeze, making him feel better. Ariadne gave her uncle a comforting hand on to his shoulder. They were soon out of the main city square to a further distance into the woods. They had to climb up a hill for a while until they reached a big mansion residing there.

"We are here at last. My childhood home..." Draxum said, looking at the grassy, serene valley below, reminiscing the times where he as a little one ran galloping around the field, cartwheeling with glee among the flowers and his sire teaching him the basics on how to defend himself the predator way. Both father and son spend their days in the early years, sparring with each other...

"Draxum, my son!" The former alchemist warrior villain snapped out of his memories to find himself being engulfed into the arms of none other than his dear, loving old father, Monsrage who brought his only son into a crushing bear hug which knocked the wind out of his lungs. "How have you been, my little baby boy? It's rare that you visit us but it's so wonderful to see you bring your family along! How delightful!" the older yokai gushed, his bushy tail wagging with unlimited enthusiasm like an excited puppy. Monsrage was rather huge and muscular with perked up, pointy ears, silky straight black hair unchanged through time and a fairly long beard to match. Like Draxum before, he wore a battle mask. He had a significant dark upperlip. His body had different shades of blue just like his son, Draxum when he was armored. Monsrage's eyes were the same like Draxum's. His feet in particular, was a noticeable difference. Unlike his wife and son, his feet were shaped like a lion's paws, fitting for him coming from a predator species.

"Father, it's great to see you... but can you please let go now? I can't breathe..." Draxum choked out, being smothered by his sire's busty chest. Monsrage immediately loosened his grip, apologizing profusely while checking to see if he had accidently broken any of his son's bones. Draxum shook his head, smiling a little. His sire had never changed all these years, still a concerned worrywart. And he bet his mother had not either...

Chemia on the other hand, was greeting the rest of the visitors with feverish energy. She was a redhead with shades of pink for her skin colour and her ears, long and drooped. Her eyes had a little twinkle in them, a part of her eccentric personality and plump, red lips. Like her husband, she wore a mask. Donnie, April, Arachne and Ivy were given a whirlwind hug the moment they came in front of her. Monsrage went back to the mansion with his son to give the new visitors, the Hamatos, April, and Arachne a warm greeting as well as welcome his beloved grandchildren with his signature bear hug and proceed to pepper their faces with smooches which they were delighted to have especially Mikey, Ariadne, Ivy and Venus. Monsrage and Chemia ushered them all into their humble abode. The Hamatos were initially skeptical about meeting Draxum's family but they were soon warmed up to them. Later on, the mansion was filled with guffaws of laughter as Monsrage showed them all baby pictures of his son which embarrased the poor warrior scientist. Donnie, April and Ivy were treated to Grandma Chemia's latest creations. Monsrage himself had a blast, playing with Venus and sparring with the Turtles and the girls. Arachne was delighted to meet her grandparents as a young adolescent, telling them about her achievements, adventures and that her own parents are doing well. The Hamatos became comfortable talking with Draxum's parents over some snack delicacies. Overall, everyone had a wonderful time at the Hidden City.

I had fun writing this! Was tiring but oh so worth it.

The Hamato siblings (minus Lou/Splinter) and Venus de Milo belong to @rottmntrulesall while Ariadne and Arachne are the OCs of @mikeykawaii/@mikey-ho. Monsrage, Chemia and Poison Ivy along with the mention of the witch girlfriend belong to me, @mefiman. I hope you don’t mind me incorporating your girls into this story, @mikeykawaii but I’ve been dying to add them in, especially Ari meeting her grandparents! ^^ 

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #tmnt #my art #ocs #baronjitsu #a teeny bit mentioned

[dork-empress]

Singing in the Dead of Night Pt 3

Lucy and Damian visit Metropolis.

Past chapters are under my tag 'lucy quinzel' and the whole fic is on my AO3 (url in my description). Please reblog and leave comments.

Flock of Robins

Timtiminey:Guys. Guys. Guess what???

Jason: I thought I deleted this chat.

Timtiminey: Ha funny you think I’d allow you to do that

Timtiminey: And you didn’t guess.

Dickbutt: Tim I’m on a mission.

Dickbutt:.....

Dickbutt: TIM CHANGE MY NAME

Timtiminey: You’re still not guessing.

Dick Grayson’s name was changed to DickiestButtiest

Stephaluffagus: Whatever Is It, Tim?

Jason: Why is Stephanie even on here?

Stephaluffagus: I was a Robin!

Timtiminey: And she asks the questions. Well, you SEE

Timtiminey: DAMIAN GOT A GIRLFRIEND

Stephaluffagus: WHAAAA?!:?HSLHFADSKLJFKL?????

Dick Grayson’s name was changed to DatAssTho

DatAssTho: Awwwww, that’s so cute!!!

DatAssTho: Our little hellion is growing up

DatAssTho: It’s like it was just yesterday he was threatening to stab us all

Jason: That was last week at dinner.

Jason: Who the hell said yes to go out with him?

Timtiminey: That’s the best part! The old man set them up.

Stephaluffagus: ALKSDAN LFKSNDAFLKNDASKLF

DatAssTho: Well thats just not fair. He never set up me on a date.

Jason: He put you on the Titans.

DatAssTho: Watch it, Todd

DatAssTho: Also, you type like an old man

Jason: With proper punctuation?

Stephaluffagus: Guys, we’re straying from the topic: Who is it??

Timtiminey: Harley’s niece, she’s got some like, clown ballerina thing going

Jason: QUINN?!?!?!

Jason: LIKE JOKER’S GIRLFRIEND????

DatAssTho: Dude, they broke up ages ago

Stephaluffagus: Yeah, she’s basically more hero than you are

Jason: You really want to go down THAT route Brown?

Timtiminey: OOOOHKAYYY

Timtiminey: Rest assured, the old man vetted the girl. She’s…..unique? I’ve only seen her file, or part of it anyway

DatAssTho: Bruce has secret files doesn’t he

Timtiminey: I think I made it through the first encryption, but I’m working on the next between other cases.

Timtiminey: After all, we have to make sure she’s alright for our little Dami-kins

Stephaluffagus: Isn’t he on this chat?

Timtiminey: He’s had this muted for ages

Jason: YOU CAN DO THAT?!

Timtiminey: I mean, YOU can’t. I will turn it off for you

Jason: …….

Jason: Well you know it’d be a shame if I

Jason: @DamianWayne

Timtiminey: WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!

Damian: You’re dead Drake

DatAssTho: RIP

Stephaluffagus: He will be remembered

Jason: Prick.

“Get on already,” Damian said, exuding as much disinterested and grumpy energy as his body could manage.

Lucy skipped over to him, and looked at the seating arrangement on the Robin Cycle. “Hmm”, she said, “I don’t know if I’ll fit.” She climbed up to the back of the cycle only for her tutu to spring her backwards.

“What the hell is in that thing?” Damian asked, scowling. whatever had hit him was way more solid than fabric.

“Oh all sorts of things!” she said, “It’s my utilitutu!”

Damian really should have been used to this by now. “Your what.”

“Utility Tutu. I’ve got my balloon animals, my gas bouquet, my tamborine…”

“Well get rid of it or something,” Damian said, and was somehow surprised she did as was asked. Left in just a leotard, she hooked the tutu around her arm and jumped up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Luckily, he was wearing his helmet, so no one could see him blush.

He revved up the motorcycle to try and drown out his thoughts. They’d been particularly loud ever since Tim said what he said...and, maybe since Lucy said what she said.

Were they dating? Is that what was happening? Lucy had called it a date, but Lucy was weird. It wasn’t like Damian understood how these things were supposed to work. This was super not in the training regime for the League of Assassins.

Did he...want it to be a date? He was even less sure. Lucy was...odd, but she had grown on him. She was the exact opposite of him, cheery where he was brooding, she was peaceful, he was violent. She was...kind and funny and playful. He was super not. they were both smart, but that seemed to be where the similarities ended.

And yet, it kinda worked. She was pretty, in a girly way, or at least thats what he could tell from under her makeup. He’d never been...really interested in girls or anyone. He didn’t know what it was supposed to feel like. If this was how it was supposed to feel like.

Well, he wasn’t going to be forced to be in a relationship with anyone. If she tried anything, he would tell her no, in no uncertain terms. Then he could get Tim and the others to shut up.

Once the decision was made, of course, he was left to ruminate for the remainder of the ride. He might have welcomed some of Lucy’s chatter, just to get his mind off things. Damn Bruce, not letting him use the batmobile…

Finally, a blur appeared beside him. “Need a lift?” Jon asked, rushing along beside him. Damian couldn’t help a smirk as he followed him through the city.

They came to a stop in an alleyway, though it didn’t hide much. “Whoa,” Jon said, eyebrows raised, “Hello, who’s this?”

Lucy stood on the top of the motorcycle, slipping her tutu back on and giving a deep curtsy, “Greetings! I am Commedia, The Dancing Delight, Columbina of Gotham and--”

“She’s Harley Quinn’s niece,” Damian said, cutting her off, “Lucy, Superboy, Superboy, Lucy.”

Lucy jumped down, eyebrow raised, “Now, come on. Surely you boys know how hard it is being defined by those who came before you.”

“Yeah, Robin,” Superboy said, holding out his hand for her to shake, “Honestly, no manners. Nice to meet you, Comme...Colum..um.”

“Lucy’s fine,” she said, “Aunt Harley said it’d be good for me to go and see some of Metropolis, maybe get some shopping done.”

Jon smiled, “Well, there’s plenty to do around here, and you picked the perfect tour guide! Come on, Mom and Dad are working today. I’ll show you around.”

Damian followed the pair of them around at a pace where you could just barely tell he was part of the same group. He was in his black outfit again, with sunglasses so that Lucy couldn’t tell who he was, and all of Metropolis wouldn’t know Robin wasn’t in Gotham.

Jon took them on the full tourist tour, going to see the many wonders of Metropolis. Though, a few stops Damian was pretty sure weren’t on the main route, like when they went to the top of the Daily Planet building. Other than that, though, it was a lot of pretty buildings, old buildings, the Superman memorial/dedication (they just left it up when Superman came back) and other sites that were considered important.

Damian sulked, having seen all these before and not finding them any more impressive than the first time or any time after that. What did surprise him was that Lucy didn’t seem any more impressed than him. He would have thought she’d go Gaga over the tourist trappings, considering she react to abandoned (allegedly) mines like a family at Disney World.

But she looked at each one, nodded in appreciation, and went onto the next thing.

Jon was kinda weirded out by it too, Damian could tell, not that Jon was ever subtle. He kept looking to Damian as if to try and explain her behavior, not that he was ever going to be doing that.

“Ok,” Jon said, as they sat outside the capitol, “Is there anything you WANT to see?”

Lucy shrugged, “To be honest, buildings don’t really interest me that much. But I’m glad to have gone with you, of course.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Damian said, “What’s the point of going around like this if you don’t even like it? We went around all damn day for YOU!”

Lucy tilted her head, “We went so that Superboy could show us things and we could get to know him.” She smiled at him, “You clearly admire Superman a lot, and you’re clearly like him. I��m glad you get along with your dad so well.”

Jon smiled, confused, but appreciative, “Thanks?” Damian grumbled. “But, I’d like to get to know YOU better as well. So if there’s something you like, the city has everything.”

Lucy hummed, “I honestly mostly just like to people watch in my free time.”

Jon beamed, “Oh man, I have the perfect place then.”

With a hop, skip, and a kryptonian-powered jump, the three of them were in the rafters of the Metropolis Subway station, looking down at everything and everyone as they went by. Damian was just glad they were inside, and being underground had him feeling a bit more at home.

Lucy practically sparkled, leaning way too far over to look at everyone. “What are they saying? Can you hear them?”

“Uh, which ones?” Jon said. She pointed aggressively. “Well, that one’s a family on vacation, the dad there is going over the itinerary, he’s got it printed out. The daughter there is trying to get him to skip the museums so they can get to the aquarium faster.”

“Ohh, what’s at the aquarium?” Lucy asked, kicking her feet like a child.

“Some fish, jelly fish are cool...Oh, they got a new shark there, I think.”

Damian groaned again, “Ugh, who CARES? If you wanted to go to the aquarium, then lets go to the aquarium! Instead of just watching someone TALK about it! These are all just normal people!”

“Robin, dude,” Jon said, “If it’s what she wants, why not? We are here for HER after all.”

That in of itself would have been enough to shame Damian, but Lucy was staring at him. She stared unblinking, and unsmiling. It was actually creepy. Like she was staring through him.

“Nobody’s normal.” She said, very seriously, her voice no longer taking on the cheery affectation. “Not a single one that I’ve ever met. Many of them TRY to be normal, but it is an illusion. A moving target, an ideal that doesn’t exist and people are shamed for not attempting to achieve.”

Damian could feel himself resist leaning away from her. “Uh, Lucy?” Jon said, “Something you want to talk about?”

Lucy blinked like she was remembering she was supposed to. “I suppose it is personal to me,” she said, “My…mother was always a little scared of Aunt Harley. First scared of her success, then scared of her villainous career. She always wanted to be normal. She wanted…me to be normal. She was scared of what I’d be. Who I’d be like.” She smiled, an echo of her previous smile, “It’s not quite the same as being a disciple for a great hero like Superman or Batman.”

Jon was suddenly looking very awkward. “Well,” He said, “I mean, having Harley Quinn as your aunt isn’t that bad. And you’re good anyway! So, no need to worry.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lucy said, “It doesn’t matter if I was good or bad. It just matters that I was strange.” She tilts her head, looking down at the mass of people rushing back and forth. “Ever since I was little, people didn’t feel…real. They’re just. Stories. I couldn’t relate to my peers, as my teachers would say. I don’t know how to explain it. The only time I tried, my mom was so scared she sent me to a camp. One of those meant for bad kids to help them behave.” She tilted her head, “But they weren’t bad. They all had different stories. I realized there were no normal people. Just people with stories.”

Damian couldn’t have spoken if it was to yell for help. He stared at Lucy, trying to decide if he should be concerned or sympathetic.

Jon cleared his throat. “Well, I think you’re nice. And that’s what’s important. No problem with learning more about people and helping them.”

Lucy smiled, “Thank you.”

Jon’s head whipped to the side. “Ah, shoot, Dad’s calling me. I’ll be right back.” Lucy’s cheery attitude was back and she nodded, as Jon took off.

Lucy looked over at Damian for a moment. Damian felt he should say something. Apologize, maybe? He wasn’t sure what would be appropriate, and if it was appropriate, would Lucy want it. She worked on a whole other level, that was clear.

Lucy went back to watching people below her.

“My mom,” Damian started, not sure where he was going to end his sentence. Rule one of being in his family was to not reveal details about himself. But it was Lucy and she…she was his friend. “She was a…she’s a villain. I was supposed to be too. Maybe would have been if I didn’t go to live with Batman.”

Lucy nodded, “That sounds like a very interesting story,” Lucy said, “Thank you for telling me.” She tilted her head towards him. “Hey Robin, there’s this comedy place here in Metropolis I looked up. I was hoping maybe we could go tonight? I’m kind of a comedy nerd, and it’s always good to support people at an open mic. Maybe you’d even laugh once.”

Damian braced himself. This was a date. She was asking him on a date. He had prepared himself for this. “I can’t,” Damian said, the words practiced, “I don’t think of you that way. We can hang out and…be friends, but no.” There. No question about it.

Lucy looked at him, and tilted her head, thinking. “Ok,” She said, simply. Didn’t seem too heartbroken. It was a relief. “Hey Superboy,” She said, voice raise just slightly on the sounds of trains, “Do you want to go on a date to a comedy club tonight with me?”

There was a brief pause, then with a burst of wind, Jon jumped up back to the rafters. “Yeah, that sounds good,” and they shared smiles, “Robin, I can get her back to Gotham if you want to head home.”

Damian blinked, trying to process what exactly was happening. “I–,” technically, he wasn’t supposed to leave Lucy, for reasons Batman hadn’t been overly clear about. But if something was going to happen, she’d be plenty safe with Jon. Still, he wanted to argue this, even though he had nothing, and he knew he had nothing. “Sure, that sounds fine.”

Jon held out his hand to help him down, but he could easily get out by himself. And so, alone, he went home. And he didn’t understand the strange feeling in his gut.

Bruce stretched his neck coming down to the batcave, seeing Tim on the computer. “Commissioner Gordon has kindly invited Batman and Robin to the Wayne charity Christmas Party on my behalf,” he said, “I’ve got Dick coming down to wear the Batsuit for me. I’m going to work to have Damian as Robin, but would you and Steph take on patrols that night? At least some of us should actually be doing work.”

Tim didn’t answer. He stared blankly into the computer. Bruce sighed, most likely he didn’t hear him. “How long have you been down here? You’re going to ruin your–”

“Are you planning on telling Damian?” Tim asked.

Bruce paused and looked at what Tim was staring at. It was medical records of Delia Quinzel, specifically of her pregnancy.

Specifically the fake pregnancy records that Bruce had made. “What are you talking about?” Bruce asked.

“Please don’t insult me,” Tim said, face stoic, “You really think I can’t recognize your digital fingerprint all over these files?”

Bruce took a few deep breaths. “Have you told anyone?”

“Hell no,” Tim said, finally looking up, “And I cleaned up your mess. But I don’t know if anyone else has looked into this before now.” Tim glared at Bruce, “So I ask again, are you planning on telling Damian that you’ve put him in charge of protecting Joker’s biological daughter from her own father?”

Bruce came over and looked at the corrected records. They were, in fact, cleaner. Bruce’s were too normal. Tim added in complications that could have happened, just enough to make people think they’d already found what was wrong. “We don’t know what Joker knows.”

“Oh, and he just happened to escape Arkham and disappear at around the same time a teen starts hanging around his ex-girlfriend.” Tim said, dryly.

“If he does know,” Bruce said, “Then its our job to stop him. If he doesn’t, then we still stop him. But Lucy has a target on her back one way or another.”

“Which is why you put Damian in front of it?” Tim said.

“I trust Damien,” Bruce said, “To protect her. But I don’t want him to be biased against her because of her parents.”

“So, you’re putting him at risk, so that he can make friends?” Tim demanded, arms crossed.

Bruce took a deep sigh. “One day,” he said, “Lucy is going to have to confront where she’s come from. And the rest of us are too. I’m trying to give us all the best chance.” Bruce said, “Besides, Damian needs more friends other than Jon.”

Tim screwed up his face, then snorted. “Alright, old man,” he said, “I’ll go with your plan for now. But if something goes belly up, I reserve the right to at least one ‘I told you so.’”

“A fair compromise,” Bruce said, “What have you found about Joker’s movements?”

“He’s going quiet right now, which isn’t much like him,” Tim said, “But I think I’ve tied him to this fancy surgical robot that’s gone missing from Gotham Hospital.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s nothing mind-breakingly awful he can do with that,” Bruce said, sarcastically. “Let’s take it to the streets.”

Tim jumped up and followed him to the batmobile.

#lucy quinzel #damian wayne #bruce wayne #jon kent #DC comics fanfic #dc comics fanfiction

[yespleasefandomtrash]

adora contemplating that it’s okay to have wants as well as thinking about how much she loves catra, culminating in an extremely unorthodox proposal (but nonetheless one very fitting for the two of them)

~*~

Adora knew she had problems with… accepting things, as it were. On her first birthday - or what they’d decided was her birthday - as a part of the Rebellion, Glimmer and Bow had refurbished her entire wardrobe. With the help of Angella. She’d be so overwhelmed that not only was it still a struggle for her to wear most of those outfits but she’d also tried to make gifts for each one of them in return. They’d informed her, gently, that birthdays did not operate as exchanges. Their presents to her were tokens of appreciation for her existence, no strings attached and nothing required in response. 

She hadn’t believed them at the time. Or at least hadn’t understood them. How could someone appreciate her solely because she existed? In the Horde, a person had to work to prove their worth. They had to constantly show that they’d earned their positions. They had to justify that they deserved to live, because no one inherently deserved anything when there was no guarantee they’d all make it to see the next day. Then, as She-Ra, every day Adora felt like she had to prove her loyalties to the Rebellion as well as demonstrate her capabilities as a leader. She couldn’t let them down, no matter what the cost. As they learned to trust her, She-Ra’s responsibility shifted to being the savior. There was no one else in the universe who could do what She-Ra could, who held the power that She-Ra held, which meant She-Ra - Adora - had to be ready to do anything for the sake of those who could do nothing.

It was a mantra. A lifestyle drilled into Adora’s mind. Don’t ask, don’t want, and there will be nothing to lose. She should only take what she needed because anything more was unnecessary and would only be a sign of weakness. In the Horde, Shadow Weaver made sure Adora was never weak. In turn, as part of the Rebellion, Adora did the same for She-Ra. She clung to those basics, forcing herself to be content with working towards a greater purpose. Once, to be Force Captain. Then, or perhaps even now, to be She-Ra, and to do whatever it took to save all of Etheria.

You deserve love, too. Mara’s words often echoed in her mind, as if she’d only heard them yesterday and not months ago. Adora had struggled to take that advice to heart. ‘Deserve’ was too fickle of a term - maybe she did deserve love, but the rest of Etheria deserved to live and didn’t that outweigh her own selfish wants?

But she was gradually starting to understand that such concepts did not have to be mutually exclusive. She’d saved Etheria while the love of her life had saved her at the same time. She didn’t have to choose. Or maybe she had chosen, and she’d chosen both.

Adora, much like her girlfriend, had taken to meeting with Perfuma. To help her process… well, everything. She kept this fact private - not because she was embarrassed or anything of the like, but because she simply didn’t want any of her friends to worry. Glimmer was having to iron out the details of co-ruling with King Micah, Bow was helping his dads rebuild and restore their library, and Catra was working harder than anyone just to become accustomed to Bright Moon and to improve her relations with the people she’d hurt during her time at the Horde.

Perfuma’s response to these concerns had been that her problems were not lesser just because she’d convinced herself they were of smaller magnitude, because a person drowning in five feet of water and a person drowning in twenty feet of water were still both drowning, regardless of the difference in depth. They both needed to be saved, and both would need treatment afterwards to survive. In other words, it was okay if her friends worried on her behalf because her problems were as important as anyone else’s. Concern and empathy, Perfuma believed, were the core components of a strong bond between individuals.

Perfuma was undoubtedly right, but Adora kept her talks with the princess to herself all the same.

Another common topic at her sessions was her supposed ‘self-sacrificial’ tendencies. Those tendencies were connected to her difficulty in accepting her inner wants and desires, Perfuma had explained, and her obsessive need to be someone for everyone at any time. If she kept that up, she would eventually stretch herself too thin, hurting herself and perhaps even those around her.

So, with Perfuma’s help, Adora had created a new mantra to live by. She did not have to be everything for everyone. It was okay to want, to be selfish, to love and be loved. Perfuma was delighted to note her progress over the past several months, and Adora couldn’t help but feel pleased with herself, too. Which was also okay. There was no shame in pride and self-love.

In other words… Adora wouldn’t have traded the world she was in for a million new universes to explore.

“So how do you tell the difference between a star and a planet?” Catra asked, frowning up at the sky. “They all look like bright circles to me.”

Adora chuckled at her girlfriend’s blunt question. “I think stars twinkle and planets shine is how most people do it. But I can just… feel it. The difference.”

They were lying on one of the flatter rooftops of Bright Moon’s palace, resting side by side and staring up at the stars together. Catra liked being up high to get away from people, and Adora was more than happy to accompany her in being alone. They tried to climb up and stargaze every week, and while they were not always successful, it made the times they did manage to get away together even more special.

“I guess that’s She-Ra’s influence,” Catra mused. “Feeling the difference without knowing anything about stars.”

Adora laughed. “Probably so. I’ve never studied astronomy in my life, so…”

Catra snorted. “Except for the one time you fell asleep when George was trying to explain constellations to you. So yeah, definitely She-Ra.”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” The conversation had actually been incredibly interesting - she’d just been exhausted from helping Glimmer with Bright Moon business all day.

George had recently provided them with a copy of a book about stars, as most of Etheria had been ecstatic about their reappearance in the sky. Adora and Catra had spent the past few nights spotting constellations amongst the stars, something Adora - or She-Ra, perhaps - apparently had a knack for. Catra preferred to make up her own, each story she invented for them more ridiculous than the next.

“Hey, is that a constellation?” Catra asked, pointing upwards and to her right at a cluster of stars that formed a vaguely humanoid shape. “Or is it coincidentally a weird pattern that looks like a person?”

Adora had to physically tear her gaze from her girlfriend, turning her head to look up at the sky. Not that the stars weren’t beautiful, but their light didn’t hold a candle to Catra, who in her opinion was a thousand times more stunning. Although she was probably biased on that front. “Yes,” she said after examining the stars Catra had pointed out to her. She actually remembered this particular constellation from George’s book, admittedly only because it was exactly on page 100. “It’s the Huntress constellation. The daughter of a Titan - the Titans were a race of people after the First Ones - sacrificed her life at her father’s hand to save her friends travelling with her. Her father intended to kill them all, and she was willing to do anything to stop him. She was able to trick her father into returning to his prison where he held up the sky, as the First Ones had condemned his fate to be, but in doing so he managed to strike a final blow across her body that ended up being fatal.”

“Parents hurting their children, huh?” Catra murmured. “I guess that’s not something new.”

Adora had been so excited that she’d remembered the story behind a constellation of her own accord that she’d forgotten how tragic this one happened to be. “The girl was actually one of She-Ra’s most loyal lieutenants.” Her own voice had dropped almost to a whisper. “When she died to save everyone, She-Ra immortalized her sacrifice in the stars.” She reached up, tracing the outstretched arm of the girl. “She’s drawing her bow - fighting to protect her friends even in death.”

Adora heard Catra’s claws scrape against the rooftop. “Why are so many of these stories so depressing?” she grumbled. “Someone is always dying to save other people. Why - why can’t a person do good things and just… die of old age or something? Can’t they still be remembered for their achievements without the sacrifice play?”

Adora knew she should have been listening more tentatively to her girlfriend’s words, as there was undoubtedly a lesson there she herself needed to take to heart, but Catra’s profile in the light of the moon was simply too mesmerizing. She couldn’t focus on anything else.

“Stop looking at me like that.” Even in the low silver light of the moon, the deep blush on Catra’s face was clear.

Adora had to bite back her laughter. “Like what?”

“Like… I’m everything.”

But she was everything. “You’re telling me I’m not allowed to admire my beautiful girlfriend?” Adora teased, rolling onto her side to better face Catra. “That’s not fair.”

“Shut up,” Catra muttered, but there was no acidity in her voice.

Adora leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Catra’s forehead. “I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.”

“Yeah, you have this terrible tendency of always telling the truth. The only person worse than you at lying is Scorpia,” Catra grumbled. But she didn’t seem to mind the kiss. “And if you’re going to kiss me, don’t you dare miss my lips on purpose.”

Mm. So Catra definitely didn’t mind the kiss. And Adora was more than happy to oblige with her girlfriend’s requests, though maybe ‘demands’ was a more accurate term. She lifted herself onto her elbows for a better vantage point before leaning down to capture Catra’s lips with her own, humming in satisfaction as her girlfriend began to purr. Maybe it was a silly conclusion to come to but kissing Catra, no, being with Catra was everything Adora wanted and more. She’d give up a thousand lifetimes just for the moment she was living.

No. No. She didn’t need to give anything up. She had what she wanted, there and now. No sacrifice needed to be made because Catra was with her, and no one could take that away from them.

Least of all herself.

“Hey,” Catra said, brow furrowing in concern. She carefully moved the both of them up into sitting positions. “Are you okay? What’s wrong? Wait, are you crying?!” Her voice got more frantic with each question, and she took one of Adora’s hands in her own. “Talk to me.”

Adora reached up with her free hand to touch her face, surprised to find it streaked with tears. She didn’t remember starting to cry. “‘Talk to me’,” she found herself repeating, warmth blossoming in her chest. “You and Perfuma have been working on healthy communication strategies, haven’t you?”

Catra flushed. “I - yeah, maybe” She shook her head. “Dammit, Adora, stop deflecting! I asked about you.”

“I…” Adora hesitated, her free hand dropping to rest on the rooftop. She sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on,” Catra scoffed. “You think I’m buying that?”

“I don’t know,” Adora insisted, pushing the hair that had fallen free from her ponytail behind her ear. “I’m just” - she silently cursed as she felt herself getting choked up - “so happy, because I love you and I want you to always be with me and now - now there’s no war that can take us away from each other. I’m… I’m allowed to want you, and to want to be with you. Although that probably makes no sense.” She swallowed the lump in her throat, wiping her tears away with her sleeve. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to kill the mood.”

Catra’s pupils had gone wide, and after a long pause she responded by pressing a fiery kiss to her lips, an unexpected reaction but certainly not an unpleasant one. Adora wasn’t complaining. “Say that again,” Catra mumbled against Adora’s lips. “Say that you want me.”

Adora almost had to fight to break away from the kiss, panting slightly from the intensity. “I want you,” she whispered, pushing her girlfriend’s bangs out of her face. The sincerity in her voice would have normally been terrifying but with Catra she wanted nothing more than to be completely honest. “I want you to be with me for the rest of my life. I want to be selfish. I want to be the only one who gets to call you mine.” She pressed a kiss to Catra’s face between each wish, moving from her nose to her cheek to back to her lips.

Catra’s confidence had long since been replaced by a crimson blush, which Adora did not mind, as flustered was a look she always loved to see on her girlfriend. “You know,” she muttered, leaning in to press their foreheads together, “I didn’t mean for you to start reciting wedding vows to me.”

Adora couldn’t help but laugh. “You know what a wedding is?”

“Mostly. Spinnerella explained it to me.”

“I bet that was an entertaining conversation.”

“Ugh. Netossa seemed to think so.”

Adora absentmindedly stroked Catra’s hair. She’d be lying if she hadn’t thought about marriage. Not much, obviously, because she’d been fighting a war her entire life, but the idea had crossed her mind once or twice. In some ways, a ceremony felt superficial, but being able to share such a blissful moment with friends and the immortalization of a relationship that came with it…

“We should get married,” she decided.

Catra sat bolt upright, pupils wide in surprise and face red in shock. “We should what?”

“Get married,” she repeated. “I want to be with you, you want to be with me. It would be a nice way to make things official, wouldn’t it?”

“Adora, we’re like - we’re not even 20,” Catra sputtered, her ears going flat to her head as her blush deepened. “I mean, I love you more than anything, but aren’t we - aren’t we kind of young?”

Adora could feel her own face turning pink in response as her brain finally caught up with the words that had been leaving her lips. “I - I didn’t mean now!” she stammered, desperately trying to figure out how to rephrase her thoughts. “I just meant, like, eventually, when we’re way older and after we’ve travelled around the entire universe restoring magic and… stuff…” She trailed off, and for a moment they just stared at each other, both too embarrassed to speak.

Catra was the first to break, losing herself in a fit of giggles as she leaned forward to press their foreheads together again. “Of course I’ll marry you one day, dummy. Then no one will ever doubt how much you want me.”

Adora flushed, but she couldn’t stop a happy smile from dancing on her lips. “Sorry that was such a weird proposal.”

“Everything you do is weird. I’m used to it.”

Adora laughed, pressing a light kiss to the top of her girlfriend’s nose. “Good.” Then an idea occurred. A brilliant idea, if she said so herself. Which she did. “So, until then…” She unpinned the golden wing from her belt before carefully attaching it to the left side of Catra’s shirt. “Just so everyone knows how much I love you.”

“More like how possessive you are,” Catra scoffed, though she was smiling as her hand brushed over the pin. “But I guess I’m in no place to say anything about that.”

Adora pressed a chaste kiss to her girlfriend’s lips. “You definitely are not.” She kissed her again, this time catching only the corner of her mouth. “But I love you anyways. I want you. And I’ll make sure you never forget it.”

Catra began purring happily, the deep vibration only intensifying as Adora continued to pepper her face with kisses. “If this is your way of reminding me, I don’t see how I ever could.”

Adora started to laugh, but was soon cut off by Catra’s lips crashing against her own, her girlfriend pushing her down against the rooftop.

You deserve love, too.

Adora knew she would continue to struggle with Mara’s words. She knew she would continue to have difficulty grasping how love was freely given and required no sacrifice in return. But she also knew she was getting there. One day at a time.

And the best part?

Catra would always be at her side. Every step of the way.

~*~

#catradora #spop spoilers #spop adora #spop catra #spop catradora #she ra #my writing #spop #adora #catra #fanfiction #proposal #catradora fluff #this was DELIGHTFUL to write

[emospritelet]

Desperation - chapter 12

34: “Remember when we used to leave the house? Fun times”

Apparently I can only write fluff at the moment. Must be a reaction to the shitty timeline we’re in :/

[AO3]

x

As lockdown entered its second week, Belle found that she was settling into her new life quite comfortably. Bae had improved each day, and was restless and energetic. She had him helping her with baking and pulling weeds in the garden to burn off some of the excess energy. A call from Mary Margaret Nolan, Neal’s mother and Bae’s teacher, announced that lessons would be resuming over Zoom, and Belle cleared a space at the kitchen table for Bae to participate on his father's laptop.

“I’m hoping this works,” confessed Mary Margaret, having explained her idea for the format of the lessons. “Redesigning the lessons for remote delivery and trying to think of ways to keep them engaged has been driving me nuts.”

“If you need a break, I’d be happy to do a story hour with them,” offered Belle. “Maybe we could collaborate on something; a story hour on a book you want them to read, followed by some sort of art project based on that.”

Mary Margaret beamed.

“That’s a great idea!” she said. “We could continue once lockdown ends, too.”

“I’m trying to recall what life was like before lockdown,” said Belle, with a wry grin. “Remember when we used to leave the house? Fun times.”

“Yeah.” Mary Margaret chuckled. “I guess I’m better off than most. The farm still needs work, the animals still have to be fed. I feel for those going stir-crazy in their apartments.”

“That would have been me, if I hadn’t ended up staying here,” said Belle, and Mary Margaret looked curious.

“How did that happen?” she asked. “I was wondering.”

“Completely by chance,” admitted Belle. “Rum and I kind of had a spat over the last packet of paracetamol at the store, and somehow I ended up moving in.”

“Huh." Mary Margaret pursed her lips. “Not your average meet-cute, but these are unusual times.”

Belle gave her a level look.

“He was sick, and I wanted to help.”

“Oh, ignore me,” Mary Margaret assured her. “I’m a hopeless romantic, and Storybrooke needs more happy endings.”

“Hard to be romantic when you literally can’t touch one another.”

“Then you’ll have to be very inventive.”

“Speaking of inventive,” said Belle, feeling herself blush and wanting to change the subject. “Let’s talk more about working together. I was intending to set up some after-school clubs for different age groups at the library. Any input you and the other teachers could give would be great.”

“I’ll email the staff and ask them for their thoughts,” said Mary Margaret. “Sounds like the kind of integrated program we’ve been wanting to introduce in Storybrooke. If we can get the Mayor’s approval we should be able to get more funding.”

“Does the Mayor have kids?” asked Belle, and Mary Margaret gave her a knowing smile.

“She has a ten-year-old son. Something tells me this town will be very supportive of more activities for kids after trying to entertain their own for three weeks.”

x

The Zoom lessons started well, with only a few technological teething problems, which meant that Bae spent much of his days learning and chatting with his friends, leaving Belle free to do chores and read. The first story hour was due to take place that Friday, and Belle and Mary Margaret had already discussed ideas for complementary lesson-planning. It made Belle feel as though she was achieving something in her new position, despite not having set foot in the library in almost two weeks.

Gold, alas, was still in bed.

Belle had not tried to hide how much he was worrying her, with his rattling cough and the high fever that came and went. Already thin, he was now almost gaunt, and she and Bae tried their best to tempt him with homemade cookies and cakes, along with more substantial meals from the freezer. She told herself repeatedly that at least he didn’t seem to be getting any worse, and that his quietly stubborn nature would surely help him pull through. 

On Wednesday evening she took him some tea and found him sitting on the edge of his bed with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.

“Hey,” she said.

Her voice made him look up. His eyes and cheeks were hollow, his cheeks and chin covered with almost two weeks of stubble, but there was a determined glint in his eyes. She put her head to the side. 

“You okay?”

“I’m getting up,” he said decidedly, gesturing with a finger. “I’m getting my arse up, and I’m going down the bloody stairs.”

Belle hurried to set down the cup of tea on his nightstand.

“Let me help you.”

“No no, it’s fine, I can do it.” He waved her away. “I have to do it. Bloody sick of being a dead weight around this place.”

“You’re sick!”

“And I won’t get better if I let this fucking thing keep me horizontal,” he said shortly, and sighed, running his hands over his face. “Sorry. I’m not angry with you, just this virus.”

“Anger is good in this instance,” she said, and took a step back from him. “Okay, up you get.”

Gold nodded, reaching to the side for his cane and using it to push himself upright. His legs wobbled, and he leaned hard on the cane, but after a moment he seemed to relax a little, although his smile was more of a grimace.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I’m taking a shower, and I’ll see you and Bae downstairs in ten minutes.”

“In that case, I’ll take your tea down with me,” she said. “We can all sit around the table and eat some of the fruit loaf Bae and I made.”

Gold nodded, his knuckles tight around the cane handle.

“Sounds perfect.”

x

He made it downstairs, much to Bae’s delight, and sat quietly at the table while Bae drank his suppertime warm milk and told him all about the lessons he had done that day. Belle warmed some soup through on the stove, setting it in front of Gold with bread and butter from the supplies that had been delivered.

“That’s fantastic, Belle, thank you,” he said, picking up a spoon. “I think perhaps my appetite’s coming back.”

“There’s plenty more, if you need it,” she said. “And more bread.”

“The bread tastes weird, Papa,” said Bae, wrinkling his nose. “It’s the same one they have at the school cafeteria. Paige says it’s made of polystyrene and fluff from the inside of the teachers’ pockets.”

Belle chuckled.

“I have to admit that I’ve thought that myself,” she said. “It certainly doesn’t come close to any of the delicious bread I’ve eaten since I came to this house. But it was free, which counts for a lot.”

“Quite right,” said Gold, dipping a piece of the bread in his soup. “We have to appreciate the kindness of those that gave it, Bae. Whether or not you think it tastes good.”

“Okay.” Bae looked a little despondent. “I was just kidding.”

“I know that.” Gold put down his spoon and pulled Bae close for a hug. “You’re a good lad. And a thoughtful one.”

“Belle and I didn’t make bread, though,” said Bae. “Maybe we should have, and then we could use this for something else.”

“We were concentrating on making your dad some treats, right?” said Belle, stroking his hair. “Making him feel better was very important work.”

“And something you both did excellently,” said Gold, turning back to his soup. “See? I’m already up and eating dinner again.” 

Bae grinned, flopping back into his seat, and Gold blew on his soup to cool it.

“Go on, then,” he said. “Tell me more of what you learned about birds today.”

x

Something woke Belle.

She yawned, snuggling in her blankets on the couch, her body warm and comfortable. Something had disturbed her sleep: a soft, distant thumping noise that she couldn’t place. Her eyes fluttered and opened, and the noise came again. Glancing at her watch, Belle groaned to herself and sat up, swinging her legs out of the blankets and getting up to head for the kitchen. She could hear the low sound of Gold humming, and assumed it was he that was making the noise. If he was already up and about at just after six in the morning, perhaps he was feeling better.

Her sock-clad feet made no sound as she padded across the floor, and she entered the kitchen silently, hands curling around the door frame. Gold was standing at the counter in T-shirt and jeans with his cane leaning beside him and a dish towel tucked into his belt, his forearms covered in flour. He was kneading dough, one hand grasping, folding and turning before pushing down with the heels of his hands. Two bowls sat on the table with towels draped over them, with a third standing empty at his side. He hummed as he worked, the rhythmic slap and thump of his hands against the dough in time with the beat, and Belle smiled a little as she watched him.

“Couldn’t face the polystyrene and pocket lint bread again, huh?” she asked, and Gold started, turning to face her with the dough ball in his hands.

“Ah,” he said, looking down. “Well. You both said you liked my bread better, so I thought it was probably time to make some.”

“You didn’t have to get up at six in the morning to make it,” she said, and he shrugged, turning back to his kneading.

“That was always my usual habit, before I came down with the virus,” he said. “I usually set the loaves aside for first rise, then do the rest of my chores. I bet the garden’s just choked with weeds.”

“I hope not, Bae and I have been working on it,” she said, coming into the kitchen properly. “Tea?”

“I’ll make it. You’ve done more than enough this past ten days.”

“Don’t burn yourself out,” she warned, crossing to the sink to fill the kettle. “I can make the tea. The last thing we need is you falling over again. Take it slow.”

Gold gave her a slanting grin, and bowed his head.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He gave the dough a final press, then worked it into a ball with swift passes of his hands and dropped it in the empty bowl. Going to the sink to wash his hands, he flourished the dish towel to dry them off, and draped it over the bowl before wiping down the work surface.

“Wholemeal, mixed seed, oat and honey, and black olive,” he explained, as Belle looked questioningly at the bowls. “We’ll eat some and freeze the rest. Just in case.”

“You’re very well prepared.”

“I try to be.”

He grasped his cane, almost falling into one of the kitchen chairs with a sigh, and Belle shook her head.

“You’re still not well,” she said, and he opened his eyes, a tired smile back on his face.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re stubborn, is what you are,” she said severely.

“One of my few redeeming qualities.”

“Stubborn and self-effacing,” she remarked. “It’s almost adorable.”

Gold’s smile grew.

“‘Almost’?”

Belle put her hands on her hips, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. For an awkward moment she found herself recalling what he looked like with a small towel around his waist, and told herself to concentrate.

“I very much doubt the virus cares how adorable it is,” she said loftily. “If it knocks you on your ass again and you end up spending another week in bed, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He was grinning now.

“A good thing I have such a competent housemate,” he said. “I’ll miss you when this is over, Belle. Bae and I will miss you, I mean. Both of us.”

She was definitely blushing now, and that image would not leave her mind, but she couldn’t help grinning back.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ll miss you guys too.”

#fic: desperation #rumbelle fic #my fic #rumbelle #sprite's pandemic promptathon #goldenspinner

[obscure-sentimentalist]

Prompt from @absentlyabbie, for the “lighthearted” prompt list: Old enough Boys, 18 (”Thank you for being in my life”)

[I’m just going to remind you, Abbie, that you originally threw the hurt in this one at me. But there’s at least still some comfort in here. <3]

Old enough ‘verse; direct continuation of this 

January 2013

“You know,” Tommy yawns, just as Connor is beginning to drift back off to sleep. “I think I dreamt about something like this, back then.”

The only response Connor is able to muster is an incoherent mumble that’s half-muffled by having his face smooshed into the recliner’s leather covering. Not for lack of trying for something clearer, but with his eyelids fluttering and much too heavy to hold open for any length of time, any sort of audible noise is an achievement.

Tommy lets out a little laugh at that, though it’s more sheepish than amused. “Never mind,” he says, prelude to the faint shuffling of couch cushions and blanket. “Kept you up long enough already.”

Connor isn’t so far gone that his bullshit sensors are in idle mode, and he makes that fact incredibly clear with a jab of his finger in the general direction of the couch. “Nuh-uh,” he snaps out around his own yawn as he separates cheek from chair with a delicacy and precision typically reserved for the OR. “You stop that.”

The demand is met with a moment of surprised silence, before it’s broken by a pillow whistling through the air and smacking Connor full in the face.

“It’s the couch thing, isn’t it?” Tommy asks wryly as Connor flails back into an upright position and tries to keep the recliner from tipping over. “Have you thought about getting a guest room at some point, so I’m not mistaken for a therapy patient with my usual overnight accommodations?”

Connor flips his brother off with one hand before lobbing the pillow none-too-gently back with the other. Tommy just catches it and casually tucks it back behind his head.

“It’s not ‘the couch thing’,” Connor asserts, running a hand through his mussed hair as he turns his full attention back to Tommy. “It’s the ‘my brother is an asshole who still changes the subject even when he actually wants to talk about his feelings’ thing.”

“Oh, right, that thing,” Tommy gasps in understanding, eagerly snapping his fingers and glancing over at Connor with wide eyes. “See, I’m only used to the first half of that in practice. You never want to talk about your feelings, or what’s up, doc.”

“Cute.”

“So I’ve been told.” Tommy offers up a cheeky grin at that comment.

It must be infectious, as Connor finds himself shaking his head as the corner of his mouth twitches. He allows himself a breath of a laugh, before sobering and trying again. “Really, though—what were you getting at, about dreaming something like this?”

Tommy goes quiet again at the rebound of his words and looks away from Connor, but the slight hunch of his shoulders is telling. The avoidance is not to ignore the question, but because Tommy isn’t ready to stare his brother in the face while unraveling another vulnerability.

“I just meant… this,” he says, settling back on the couch and flapping a hand in the air between the two of them. “The late-night talking. The witty repartee. The… the whole brothers thing, you know?”

Connor furrows his brow, not entirely certain of where this is going, but still hums in acknowledgement and encouragement for Tommy to continue. Whatever his twin is getting at, it’s entirely deserving of Connor’s full attention.

Still, Tommy must sense his confusion, as he glances back at Connor out of the corner of his eye and offers up a wobbly smile. “Sorry, that’s not the most coherent way of putting it, and kind of the middle of the story. Could backtrack a bit.” He puffs his cheeks and blows out an exaggerated breath as he gazes back up to the ceiling. “I told you, way back at the beginning, that I already knew I was a twin.”

It’s not a question, but Connor still casts his mind back nearly five years and south of the border, to a bar table and an identical face (half-concealed by a towel full of ice) on the opposite side of it. To the memory of jokes cracked about evil twins and concussions, before the gravity of the situation was taken into full account and… was not met with much surprise.

“Thomas” means “twin.” I’ve always found that kind of… morbid.

“I already knew,” Tommy repeats, interrupting his past self as the words echo in Connor’s mind. “For a long time, actually. But I didn’t always know.

“I was, oh,” Tommy lets out another deep sigh (if it wobbles a bit at the end, Connor doesn’t say anything) and sags deeper into the couch cushions, “five or six when I got bold enough to ask for a brother or sister. I mean, I had something close to it with Oliver, and it was still a few years before Thea came around, but I guess some other kid in class must have gotten a baby sibling and it got me thinking. So I, uh… I went to Mom.”

Connor’s breath catches quietly at the admission, both in surprise over the turn of events and the mention of Rebecca Merlyn. The few times Tommy has brought her up—both before and after the twins visited her grave—it’s always struck Connor how easily his brother drops any sort of possessive. Granted, mentions of Malcolm are given the same treatment (though much less respectfully), but it’s harder-hitting that Tommy doesn’t simply differentiate with a “my mom” when Rebecca hardly had and would never again have a chance to be their mom.

It’s the solid and calm knitting of Connor into the Merlyn family while he remains officially outside it and has another family that he still, complicatedly, thinks of as his own.

“She was… I mean, I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for her, getting pestered one day by her chatty, hyperactive kid about how much he wants a sibling of his own, and being hit head-on by the memory that there should be another little boy with his face.” Tommy pauses a moment to rub a hand over his face, before it lowers back to rest over his chest. “But she still told me everything, as best and kindly as she could for me to process it at that age. How I did have a brother, an identical twin, who grew with me before we were born and would have been just my age—an automatic best friend. And how, for one reason or another, he couldn’t stay with us or the world in general for very long at all.”

Connor tries his best to swallow the lump in his throat that slowly formed over the course of Tommy’s explanation, but his entire mouth feels dry. He can’t even fathom how he’d take it if he were in Tommy’s shoes even a few years ago, if he’d discovered that he had a blood sibling who’d passed before they’d had a chance to meet; knowing that Tommy had been given that heartbreak—as true as it was still presumed to be—at such a young age is a winding blow.

Tommy wrings his hands in the blanket, still staring up at the ceiling. “I think I understood in some abstract sense at that point—I knew I was supposed to have a brother and I was upset that I didn’t in the end, but there wasn’t really anything I could do about that. It was what it was.” He shrugs on that note and catches his bottom lip between his teeth in thought before quietly continuing, “So I didn’t actually process the enormity of the loss until just after Mom died and Dad left.”

“The nightmares,” Connor finally manages as his throat tightens even more, curling an arm around his abdomen as he shifts in the recliner. It almost physically hurts now, hearing his brother’s past pain unravel and knowing that part of it was due to the mix-up that landed Connor with the Rhodeses.

“More like the events that caused the nightmares, years later,” Tommy corrects, finally turning back to face Connor. “Just this big, empty house, and then me, this eight-year-old who doesn’t understand why everyone is gone.” He lets out a sigh, before shooting Connor a melancholy half-smile. “It figured that I tried to get through by reaching for the first person who left.”

And just like that, the penny drops.

“I dreamt up so many versions of an imaginary twin in those two years,” Tommy confirms before Connor can even attempt to say anything. “Can’t remember the specifics of any of them, but I get the impression that they were a bit less… stick-in-the-mud-y, to say the least.”

Connor doesn’t need his voice to greet that comment with a grumpy pout and withering glare, which only serves to delight Tommy.

He allows himself that moment of fun at Connor’s expense, before swallowing thickly and trying again. “Really, it didn’t even matter what they were like. All that did was that—at least in my head and my dreams, for just a little while—I had a brother to laugh and play and talk with, which meant I wasn’t alone.”

This time, when Tommy wipes a hand over his face, it’s accompanied by a small, smothered sniffle. Connor wouldn’t comment on it even if he could, given the haziness of his own vision.

The somber moment doesn’t last long, though, as Tommy whips the hand away from his face a moment later and claps, startling them both back to attention.

“And that concludes this year’s unpacking of emotional baggage,” he quips, though the amusement is noticeably forced. “That’s going to tide me over for a good long while, so I hope it’s satisfied any interest you may have had in dabbling in medical disciplines beyond your own.” Tommy rolls onto his side and tugs the blanket over his head before hitting the switch to the floor lamp again, plunging the living room back into darkness.

The abruptness of the dismissal leaves Connor gaping at the couch, but after a moment he lets out a lovingly exasperated sigh and pushes himself out of the recliner to stand. He should have expected that even though Tommy opened up after Connor’s nudging twice tonight, his brother is not content to let him take the win in full.

“Goodnight, asshole,” Connor tosses over his shoulder in a sleepy mumble as he makes his way down the hall to his room, intending to get at least a few hours of sleep in his own bed tonight. Comfy as that recliner might be short-term, he would prefer to avoid ending up at the chiropractor.

Connor has already crossed the threshold into his bedroom and out of hearing range by the time the couch cushions shuffle again and a hand nudges the blanket away a bit.

“Thank you for being in my life, Connie,” Tommy murmurs into the dark, as he at long last lets go of the chain of paper cut-out imaginary twins that carried him through a lonely childhood.

Not even the most carefully-crafted of the would-be brothers is worth trading the real one down the hall.

#obscure-sentimentalist writes sometimes #merlyn boys #tommy merlyn #connor rhodes

[heathered-beinn]

BTS American Hustle Life Ep4

Ep 3 recap: BTS are in LA to learn about hip hop. During that episode they met their dance teacher, Jenny Kita. She set them a few challenges including a solo demonstration, a dance battle against professional dancers, and the task of choreographing a dance routine in small groups. J-Hope’s dance skills shone the brightest throughout which was both a surprise and a delight! Jin, despite being the least proficient dancer in the band, tried really hard and it paid off in the final challenge – he and J-Hope were deserving winners.

We also started to see the friendships between the band members more, which was quite lovely. I really hope this continues in the series.

 On to Episode 4!

Holy cow, that dorm is an absolute pigsty. Ewwww! The amount of water bottles alone makes me want to cry.

Lol, I wonder how RM and Jimin ended up having to clean the dorm up?

They did a good job with it though and somehow managed to find some fun in between. The bathroom scene was hilarious!

Like last episode Jimin appears to have dropped some of his mask. Maybe I’m just seeing things but in this ep he just seems a little softer around the edges - more playful rather than loud and over-the-top. I think RM is good company for him. I’m not sure how to word it without accidentally making it look like I think the other lads treat him poorly (which I don’t believe they do!!) but I think RM is quite respectful to Jimin? As the leader RM’s attention will be pulled in many directions and when he can give spare undivided attention he probably spends it more on his elder bandmates as they are closer to his own age. However, I get the sense that when he does focus on Jimin he does it with the kind of patience and gentleness that the others are maybe not quite so liberal with? That’s not to say he won’t tease Jimin or joke around with him (he does) but so far it comes across as a little warmer than the others perhaps because he’s naturally gentler in nature? I’m probably talking out my **** here but that’s just what I’ve sensed.

One final thing: Jimin’s English is really improving!

So while Jimin and RM are cleaning the dorm, Suga, V, and Jungkook are on laundry duty. LMAO how is that fair? I was thinking that the “chores” were punishment for losing the challenge in Ep3 but Jimin and RM were so close to winning and yet seem to have been given the worst chore?

LOL, how can those three lads make laundry seem so complicated??

They really are big kids – I’m glad they can find ways to have fun though. But ewwwwwwwwww Jungkook, the 3/5/7/10 second rule is a myth, don’t eat things off the ground – particularly in a foreign country!!

Woah!!! they licked each other’s ice creams without hesitation!

To be honest I think it is more of a reflection on my own culture rather than theirs that this seemed so surprising to me. Generally sharing food without the ‘ew that’s got your spit on’ and other hang-ups – particularly between boys - ends around 8-10 years old here.

Jungkook sweetie, I really doubt you’ve put on much weight – are you sure you haven’t just grown another few inches? It certainly looks like you’ve grown. At this point you might end up towering over Suga and Jimin.

Ah so Jin and J-Hope are food shopping. So maybe these chores are not punishments for losing the challenge. I’d still like to know how Jimin and RM got the short straw to clean the dorm lol.

Oh good grief, BTS cooking – after their challenge in the first series I dread to think what poor concoction they’re going to come up with.

OK so J-Hope’s cheese sticks verdict… V = X, RM = XX, Jimin (so cute as he bounded over like an excited puppy) = too polite to use his new English word “disgusting”

Jin’s ham on toast concoction: LMAO at Jin blowing on the forkful before feeding Jimin. No comment on Jimin’s tongue action though…

It seemed to taste okay judging by Jimin’s reaction. RM does not agree lol. It was cute how Jin was feeding the rest of the toast to Jimin and Jungkook like a parent feeding infants.

After what I wrote earlier about RM it’s nice to see the other lads interacting with Jimin more. I wonder if some of the impatience that occasionally comes across is simply down to the editing?

So we move on to a new day and the whole group are heading to Long Beach by foot. Crikey, Jungkook looks like he’s grown another inch over night!! Why on earth is he wearing two layers in the LA heat???!!

It’s great to see that BTS are still ‘star struck’ by celebrities. I guess, back then, the band were not that well known – at least not like they are now. They certainly did not cross my radar – not like 1D did.

LMAO – V randomly saying he drooled when he saw Warren G. What?????!!!!

Warren G seems a great guy; very chill and calm with the band. *Again I’m going to say it but I love how BTS have the confidence to say another man looks handsome like they did when admiring the photo in the record store*

Yeah Warren G is a really decent guy.

There’s something fundamentally poetic in the way that Jimin said of Warren G, Snoop Dogg, Nate, (in a tone of amazement and disbelief) “They were just elementary kids but became legends”. I mean, BTS were once ‘elementary school’ kids and while, in that moment, Jimin did not know how big the band would get, the same sentiment applies to BTS.

So their new challenge is to write lyrics based on their own lives to Regulate.

Good boys; slapping on the sunscreen – thumbs up for skin care!

Oh good grief Jin, if the American dorm is slowly becoming like your Korean dorm then I shudder to think what state your Korean dorm is in!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oooh so the band are opening up a little about their lives in order to make lyrics for their rap.

After a bit of travelling by bus and making friends with the locals, Jin and J-Hope settle down in a park to talk. We learn Jin started off acting and not singing? Now that’s interesting! Not all of BTS had joining a band or even BTS’ music style in mind from the beginning. Jin also has a brother and he was into hip hop so Jin had some knowledge of it before joining the band.

J-Hope’s turn and he admitted when he first joined the band everyone was a rapper and he was the only dancer which made him feel remote.

This, again, is really interesting to learn as this was the scenario I was pinning on Jimin – unless there were different BTS members back when J-Hope joined? I really don’t know how the band was formed so I hope at some point they talk about this. I liked how Jin admitted he was surprised to hear about J-Hope feelings. They should talk like that more often.

RM and Jimin travel to another part of town – near the school/college that some of the most famous rappers in the music industry attended. I really like the motto of the building “Enter to learn go forth to serve”. I’m not American so I don’t know it’s true connotations but to me it’s simple and strangely compelling. Like; ‘We don’t care who you are either come in and learn and repay by using it to serve the community - or travel forth on down the street and sign up for the army and serve that way. There’s a purpose for everyone.”

RM and Jimin talking <3

Jimin’s answer to what he found difficult when he joined the band is fascinating. While the translation felt a little off, it reads as he cares a lot about what others think of him and doesn’t want to let anyone down or let any of his (self-perceived) shortcomings hold others back. In order to achieve this he spent a lot of time trying to catch up or improve so that no one could easily spot his weaknesses. Ultimately, he wants to care less what others think of him so he can lose some of the pressure? I really think there is a lot more to this “want to care less about what others think” than the vague answer he gave (or was edited in). His starting phrase “I should live quietly for the sake of my team” was quite a loaded sentiment and didn’t quite follow what he said next – definitely some careful editing there.

RM’s sentiment echoes this. He talked about seeing a very over-weight man walking around LA topless and admired the man’s confidence to not care what other people thought. RM wants some of that confidence to stop constantly watching out for what others thought about him. This is the type of pressure many celebrities talk about a lot. In my opinion, any one remotely “famous” are seen as role models (rightly or wrongly) and society holds them to ridiculous standards. Make one mistake and that’s you cancelled like you are some item in a shop that can be returned for a refund. I personally think people have a very skewed idea about what makes a ‘role model’. For me, a role model shouldn’t be perfect but when they do make mistakes they should own up to it, apologise, and attempt to fix or make up for any hurt caused. We, as their fans, need to relearn how to accept an apology, forgive human errors, allow people to learn, and move on. Min rant over.

Moving on: Suga, V, and Jungkook are down near the beach front discussing their lyrics. The way V instantly thought of his Dad tells me he’s quite family orientated. It was touching the way he said he made him the person he was today.

Jungkook’s thoughts where based more on his internal thoughts of himself as a person and a musician. It was very honest of him to admit that back home he’d been pretty confident of his talent but once he joined (BigHit?) he quickly realised there was a lot of people with as much, if not more, talent than him and it knocked his confidence. I wish Suga had spoke more about his own thoughts rather than just write the lyrics.

 Challenge Day:

To be fair, all three groups rose to the challenge and not only had some great lyrics but sounded polished and rehearsed. We only got snippets of the songs but from what we did hear I would struggle to pick a winner. I guess, for me, it would feel like picking one’s persons’ struggles over another’s. Hard to judge.

Lol at Suga oversharing about being in the toilet when he was writing *crying with laughter face*

Awww, Suga, V, and Jungkook won. They definitely tried harder with this challenge than the one in ep 3 so I felt it was deserved.

Final musings:

Another interesting episode. I think the band learned a lot more about hip hop this episode and Warren G was a real gent. We also learned more about each band member in terms of their thoughts and experiences when joining the band. We (I) also learned more about their personalities which hadn’t been so clear in previous eps and series. I think the editing can misconstrue some moments so I’m probably going to re-evaluate my musings on each band member from time to time – this is a good thing though!

Looking forward to ep 5!

#bts #American hustle life #heathered beinn musings #suga #jin #rapmonster #j-hope #jimin #v #jungkook

[paoladamasco]

DV characters as quotes from Community

Alex: When I was 30, people used to wish I was dead to my face; that's called respect.

Alva: I'm the smartest one in the group and all I've been used for is bait and distraction.

Brielle: Pizza, pizza, go in tummy, me so hungee, me so hungee!

Battista: I know the stakes aren't really that high, but somehow that just makes it scarier.

Bellamy: This is definitely the darkest timeline.

Beau: Doing more than the minimum amount of work is my definition of failing.

Bernadette: Umm.. Bitter much?

Castora: A lifetime of disappointment has given me douche-ray vision.

Catherine: I don't have an ego. My Facebook photo is a landscape.

Cyrus: TV's the best dad there is. TV never came home drunk, TV never forgot me at the zoo, TV never abused and insulted me.. unless you count Cop Rock.

Celeste: Oh my god! I'm finally popular enough to be in the yearbook!

Delilah: Let's do what people do. Let's get a house we can't afford and a dog that makes us angry.

Everett: A passing grade? Like a C? Why don't I just get pregnant at a bus station?

Easton: First time I was punched in the face, I was like "Oh no!", but then I was like "this is a story.."

Genevieve: Alright! You got me, Gubi. I'm a bad mother. But at least I let my kids be kids.

Henry: A little trick for achieving the proper competitive mindset: I always envision my opponent having aggressive sex with my mother.

Halcyon: These people don't want me to say what I'll do, they want me to do what I'll say!

Ivan: The funny thing about being smart, is that you can get through most of life without ever having to do any work.

Isabelle: It's not a pen, it's a principle!

Juliana: Disappointed? Did you expect me to stay the same forever? Because that's not what Drugs does baby! I'm gonna deep fry your dog and eat your momma's face. And I'm going to wear your little brother's skin like pajamas! I control your lives, and there's nothing you can do.

Katarina: That was a game. This is paintball.

Lucien: Look at me. It's clear to you that I am awesome, but I can never admit that, because that would make me an ass.

Lucrezia: Girls are supposed to dance. That's why God gave them parts that jiggle.

Lillian: I give this year a “D”, for delightful!

Mikael: I'm going to eat spaceman paninis with black Hitler and there's nothing you can do about it!

Matthias: Never change, or do. I'm not your boss.

Marcelo: If I come over there, there are gonna be two sounds. Me hitting you.. twice.

Maeve: He was horny, so he dropped him. Man is evil!

Nikolai: Fire can't go through doors, stupid. It's not a ghost.

Odessa: Your last blow-off class taught me to live in the moment which I will always regret and never do again.

Orion: Don't talk to me about romance. I had a three way in a hot air balloon.

Odin: I was never one to hold a grudge. My father held grudges, I'll always hate him for that.

Priam: You're also, quite frankly, a very weird-looking man. I don't know you, but I just don't trust you. And I don't think I could grow to like you.

Paola: Sometimes I think I lost something really important to me, and then it turns out I already ate it.

Pandora: To me, religion is like Paul Rudd. I see the appeal, and I would never take it away from anyone, but I would also never stand in line for it.

Ramona: This is why the English never win any sports, because everyone else cheats!

Rafaella: Tell me how to get this laid back, or I'll kill your families!

Regina: I looked inside Nicolas Cage and I found a secret: People are random and pointless.

Ronan: I discovered at a very early age that if I talked long enough, I could make anything right or wrong. So either I'm god, or thruth is relative. Either way: Booyah.

Roman: It's called chemistry, I have it with everybody!

Theodora: I quit doing blow, not being rad.

Tomas: When you really know who you are and what you like about yourself, changing for other people isn't such a big deal.

Trinity: I need help reacting to something.

Valentina: Sorry I'm late. The sidewalk is more comfortable than it looks.

Vivianne: Accidents don't just happen over and over and over again, okay? This isn't budget daycare.

#diveronatalk #i got inspired by kay

[randomfandomimagine]

Not Enough (Eleventh Doctor Oneshot)

Character: Eleventh Doctor Fandom: Doctor Who Categories: Female Reader, Daughter Reader, Time Lady Reader Warnings: Sligth angst, especially at the end Word Count: 2,8k words Request by anon: Could u do an imagine with reader being the 11th doctors daughter so he's overprotective with her? Tysm :)) Hi, for the 11th doctor request maybe they're both going on an adventure and it's pretty dangerous so he's keeping her in his sight at all times and she's kind of annoyed but he still does it anyway, idk lol // Requested by undercover_Fangirl97 on Wattpad: Since I met the 11 Doctor my life gets better. I always travel with him and love it. As he travel with me and Clara it feels, like I am the third wheel.  Notes: I was inspired to write this by the short book ‘The Sontaran Games’, but I still may have made some mistakes. So sorry if something in this imagine doesn’t fit in with the Doctor Who lore. Hope you enjoy it anyway! :)

Remember that requests for oneshots are currently closed!!

I smiled and put my hair behind my ear, flirtatiously looking at him through my eyelashes.

“Thanks for walking me home” I said, stopping before my doorstep.

“My pleasure” My date replied, smiling back in a timid pause. “I had a great time”

“Yeah, me too!” I felt awkward, wishing that I was better at these kind of things.

Normal everyday things were never my forte, but that was precisely what I was trying to achieve. I was done being an expert on strange things, on time travel and space. So I was making an effort to have a normal life.

Dating happened to be the first way I thought of doing so. But this being my fifth date, I wasn’t sure I was doing all that well. I never quite connected with anyone, and when I did, it went wrong anyway because I was so out of touch.

“Well…” He said with a shy chuckle, casually leaning closer to me.

“Yeah” I awkwardly replied, even if closing the distance a bit too.

He showed me a sweet smile before he closed his eyes and made to kiss me. I felt my hearts starting to race as I closed my eyes and prepared for the exchange.

A vaguely familiar sound made me gasp and I hurriedly took a step back on an instinct. My companion squeezed my arm, startled by my reaction.

“Everything okay?” He kindly asked me, even if my dazed brain took a few seconds to comprehend his words.

“Y-Yeah!” I told him, trying to forget about it. It was probably my imagination. “Sorry, I’m a bit nervous”

“That’s fine” Honestly, he was the sweetest. “I am too”

I chuckled, endeared by his lovely manners, and made a second attempt to kiss him. I could already feel his lips brushing against mine when a second interruption avoided the kiss.

“Oi, hang on a minute!” A male voice exclaimed. “What’s happening here?”

“I cannot believe it” I muttered under my breath, reluctantly stepping away from my date knowing that the moment was completely ruined.

“What…?” The aforementioned uttered in confusion. “Who… is he?”

I looked over my shoulder to a man rushing to arrive by our side. A man that I knew far too well. The so called ‘Doctor’.

“That’s…” I heaved a resigned sigh. “My father”

“Is he now?” The young man watched the Doctor as he ran to us like a mad man. “He looks… um… young?”

“You’d be surprised by his age” I sarcastically told him.

“Y/N!” My father gasped for air because of the dash once he finally stood by us.

“Is something wrong?” The other man watched in concern, probably thinking that there was some sort of family emergency.

“Not at all” I rolled my eyes, forcing a smile. “He was just leaving”

“Actually” The Doctor paused, firstly dedicating my date a glance and a polite head nod. “I need your help, dear”

“Do you now?” I was so frustrated that I couldn’t help myself, even in front of my lovely date. “I thought you had help already”

“I’m terribly sorry” My father ignored me, instead talking to my date. “I’m afraid Y/N needs to come with me”

When he took ahold of my arm and dragged me with him and away from my date, I reluctantly waved goodbye at him, knowing how pigheaded my father was.

“Perfect timing, dad” I bitterly said, tearing my arm away from hsi grasp. “Just when I found a lovely man who was willing to go out with me”

“Sorry, darling” He was still upbeat as usual as we walked through the streets. “I truly need your help”

“What is it?”

“I’m… a bit overwhelmed”

“You, overwhelmed? That’s a first”

“Oi” My father finally stopped, and I noticed the blue police box before us. “If you could drop the attitude and be helpful, that would be delightful”

“Why do you need me?” To show my reluctance, I crossed my arms over my chest. He smirked, already holding on to the door handle.

“Because I need another Time Lord” His smirk widened. “And I only know one”

“Time Lady” I begrudgingly corrected him, hating to use my title.

“Geronimo!” He exclaimed, excited as a child, opening the door.

“Who is with you, the redhead and her…?” I came in, noticing a figure inside the TARDIS. “Boyfriend…”

However, the couple I had known during our previous travels wasn’t there. I didn’t know how long it was since I refused to accompany my father anymore, but he was travelling with someone else now.

“Hello!” A friendly looking girl jumped from her seat and walked over to me, holding her hand out. “You must be Y/N, pleasure to meet you!”

“The one and only…” I shook her hand, even if eyeing my father with the corner of my eye.

“I’m Clara” The young woman introduced herself. “The Doctor has told me all about you”

“Has he?” I repressed the urge to say he didn’t know that much about me.

He glared at me, silently telling me to tone down the sarcasm and behave.

“Of course!” She cheerfully replied, not bothered by my aptitude.

“Well” I muttered, turning back to my father with my hands on my hips. “What’s the mission, Doctor?”

“You see, I wanted to take Clara here to this lovely little planet” He replied, focusing on the TARDIS controls. “There’s a itsy bitsy tiny problem, though”

“Which is…?” I tiredly replied, sticking my hip out now.

“There may be Sontaran on it, that’s why I need backup” When he looked at me, he noticed I was about to speak and interrupted me. “Don’t worry, though, might only be rumors, probably are”

I scowled and crossed my arms over my chest. I wondered if after all this time my father didn’t realize that, out of all the creatures we had encountered during our travels, the Sontaran were the ones I was most terrified of.

-

It seemed like my travelling companions weren’t as cautious as I was. The three of us exited the TARDIS, but my eyes carefully studied every centimeter around me. 

“Ah” My father sighed in delight. “Beautiful, is it not?” 

Clara grinned, excitedly walking around. She hung on to his arm, and I rolled my eyes. It made no sense. Why would he need me? He had her. 

Certainly, my presence could be useful in the case that Sontaran were indeed there. Perhaps during one of their... disagreements with the Rutan. But if there was a slight chance that this was true, why not choose another planet, a safer one? There were many options. If he really wanted to impress her, I was not needed there. I might be his daughter, but that meant nothing. He was always more interested in the humans. Always the humans, even before this new face of his. 

“See, Y/N?” He said with a big grin. It felt almost like he read my thoughts and was gloating over it. “It’s alright, nothing to worry ab-” 

I hadn’t been paying attention to him, but when he interrupted himself so abruptly, I did. My eyes fell over him to see what happened. A gun had been pointed at his head before he could react. My father’s hand quickly moved to wrap around my wrist, softly shoving me behind him.

“Identify yourselves” The Sontaran said, firmly holding the gun.

“I’m The Doctor” He said calmly.

“Who are they?” The Sontaran asked, pointing to Clara and me.

“Them two? Oh, no one” His voice sounded far too carefree to be genuine. “Just humans, they’re of no interest to you” 

The creature’s eyes, however, were focused on us. I felt my father tensing up in front of me.

“I’m the Time Lord, I’m the one you should worry about” His words gathered the Sontaran’s attention back.

“Gallifreyan” Came its deep voice. “What is your purpose on this planet?” 

“Oh, well, you know” His hand, which had been around my wrist now rested outside of his pocket. “The usual, a bit of exploring here and there” 

I noticed his hand tapped his pocket, and I immediately knew what was on his mind. I looked at Clara, who was oblivious to all this. Her brown eyes were focused on the menacing Sontaran instead. 

I took a small step forward, positioning myself next to my father. The creature didn’t seem to notice the change, eyeing The Doctor as carefully as it was.

“How about you, are you alone?” My father continued speaking, surely to distract it. “We’ll leave you right to it then, of course. Don’t mind us, we’ll walk right back where we came from” 

The Sontaran growled in disagreement. I took advantage of his focus on my father and slowly shoved my hand in the pocket of the Doctor’s jacket. My fingers soon found the sonic screwdriver. 

“Sure!” Clara’s sudden voice made me jump, nearly dropping the sonic as I was about to grab it. “We wouldn’t want to bother” 

Assuming she must have noticed my endeavor, I continued. Tightly holding on to the sonic screwdriver, I took my hand out of the pocket. Then, moving quickly, I shoved both my hands behind my back in what I hoped was a casual gesture. 

“Come forth, humans” The Sontaran waved its gun so we would obey. “You first, Time Lord”

I mentally cursed my father for going to a random planet on a whim. Especially if he had reasons to believe it was currently occupied by Sontaran. I prayed that it was only one and prepared for the attack. 

The three of us took one step after another, distancing ourselves further from the TARDIS. I wished the Sontaran faced its back to us, but it didn’t want to be vulnerable. Instead, he walked beside us, gun in hand.

I suddenly felt glad that I had accompanied them. Clara wouldn’t have known what to do in this situation, lacking the knowledge I possessed. And my father could trully use my help as he made himself the target.

‘Go for the neck’ I told myself as I had countless times before. Like when I woke from a nightmare involving these very creatures. Like when I went through various scenarious in my head to remind myself that I wasn’t completely defenseless.

And I certainly wasn’t. I clung on to the sonic screwdriver like it was a dagger. I knew where their weak spot was. I just had to be accurate on my aim.

In what seemed like a nonchalant gesture, the Doctor linked his arm with Clara’s. I knew it was the signal I needed. I took action.

My hearts were already racing, but I moved. Shoving all his weight against the big mass that was the Sontaran, my father momentarily threw it slightly off balance. The gun went off into the distance, away from us. Knowing he would look after Clara, I went for my target. 

“Run!” I yelled as I stabbed the sonic screwdriver against the Sontaran’s neck.

Before I could determinte if the hit on the probic vent was well-aimed, I made for my own escape. Even if that one was taken care of, there might be others.

Running at top speed, we headed back to the safety of the spaceship.

-

The three of us rushed into the TARDIS, as my father slammed the door behind us. I on turn moved to the controls and quickly pressed buttons to bring us back. I pulled the required lever, causing the time machine to make its characteristic noise, while I turned to the Doctor.

“That was a close one, wasn’t it?” He grinned in spite of it all, making me roll my eyes at him.

“We made it, though!” Clara smiled back, though I ignored her when her kind brown eyes fell on me.

I averted my gaze, noticing myself shaking from head to toe. I still clutched the sonic screwdriver so tightly that my knuckles turned white and my fingers hutrt.

As the TARDIS slightly moved, its owner approached me and rested a hand on my arm. I tried to hide the fact that I was breathing heavily.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” His eyes briefly moved to the other girl, then returning to me when he confirmed that Clara was unharmed.

“Am I alright?” I shook him off me and sighed to calm myself. “You know nothing about me, do you, dad?”

I could feel the tension that arose in the tight space, and I could fell all eyes on me as well. However, I ignored Clara’s presence and defiantly held the Doctor’s glance.

“What’s the problem, Y/N?”

“What’s the problem?” I repeated in outrage. “Are you taking the piss?”

He glared at me with the disapproving glance of a father. I was honestly surprised he didn’t lecture me for my language.

“I’m going to get some fresh air” Clara awkwardly muttered as she left the TARDIS once we were back home.

“The problem is that nothing has changed!” I replied, not paying attention to the girl leaving. “How could it?”

“Honestly, I don’t understand…” My father seemed utterly oblivious.

“Why am I here? You’re doing fine on your own with all these human companions!”

“While I enjoy their company, I’m with them because you left!”

“I left because you didn’t want me here, dad!!”

“That’s not true! You didn’t enjoy travelling with me!”

“No, I wasn’t good enough for you! I wasn’t as brave or smart as you, I never was!” I lowered my loud voice until it was barely a whisper. “I just was not… enough”

“Why would you ever think that?” My dad frowned sadly, his voice dripping with regret.

“Because… why else would you push me away like that? Every time I tried to help, to do anything…” I was honestly surprised that he had allowed me to attack that Sontaran. Even if he didn’t really have much of a choice.

“I… I thought it was obvious, Y/N…” His hands fell on my arms, but this time I didn’t push him away since I was too busy trying not to cry. “Because I care about you!”

“What?” I let out a sarcastic chuckle, averting my gaze. “That doesn’t make any sense, genius…”

“I never thought you weren’t enough! I was scared that I might lose you” To ensure I was listening, he gently shook me.

“But you were always telling me off, stepping in and…” I frowned, shaking my head as I tried to wrap my head around it.

“I only ever wanted to protect you, darling… The thought of any harm coming to you broke my heart” My father let out a soft chuckle. “Well, hearts”

He grinned, quite possibly in a peace offering. The corners of my lips twitched, but I didn’t allow myself to smile. 

“Then why take me with you?” I thought back to all those times we had travelled together when I was younger, where I had learned everything that I knew. Because he taught me. “Why not leave me on Earth, where I would be safe?” 

“I couldn’t simply abandon you, dear” Although hesitantly, his hand held my own. “And to be honest, I couldn’t stay away from you” 

I sniffed when tears gathered in my eyes. The look of utter love he dedicated me moved me to my core. His eyes were drenched in concern, protectiveness and fondness. And of the pride a father felt for a daughter. 

“Dad...” I uttered, even if my voice sounded hoarse. 

“I must confess, I did not go to that planet for Clara” He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “I was just looking for an excuse to see you and bring you along” 

I suddenly chuckled myself, earnign a confused look from him.

“That sounds like you” I rubbed my eye to wipe my tears. “Go on a little adventure, while you’re at it?” 

“Well, yeah...” My father smiled saddly. “Perhaps that too” 

I suddenly felt a pang of pain in my chest. But how was I to know what was on his complicated mind? How could I see on my own that he was always trying to protect me? That he missed me despite my bitterness? 

“I’m sorry...” It didn’t fix all the years I refused to talk to him, but I supposed it was a start. “I didn’t know, I just...” 

“I know” His arms wrapped around me, and I let him. “I’m sorry too” 

We hugged each other, feeling like, for the first time in years, we understood one another. He had just been scared, but wasn’t good at saying it. And I was enough, I just didn’t realize. In fact, I had been more than enough for him all along.

Tag list: @ace-cream-in-a-cone / @of-stardust-and-dreams / @agent-prophecy / @snowfire71 / @fortheloveofbenyandtom / @wherearethedemons / @dragonprincesswitchtribute / @wherearethedemons / @timeladygallifrey // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, let me know!!

#imagine #oneshot #text imagine #doctor who #doctor who imagine #doctor who oneshot #dw #dw imagine #dw oneshot #eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor imagine #eleventh doctor oneshot #reader insert #requested

[daily-capaldi]

The Big Read – Lewis Capaldi: “I make jokes because I’m comfortable with who I am”

The breakout star of 2019, Lewis Capaldi has the midas touch and the world at his feet – but he still likes talking about his pubes and dreams of meeting a girl who'll break his heart for real. NME Deputy Editor Dan Stubbs meets the cocksure 23-year-old in Dublin for a Buckfast sesh and quickly discovers a legitimately hilarious talent who's far from the “big fucking annoying cunt” he thinks he is.

Lewis Capaldi is miming a range of sporting activities. He bounces an invisible basketball around the stage. He boots an imaginary football into the crowd. And after some minutes of this, he poses with an imaginary dart in his hand. Every time he mimes pulling back to throw it, he changes his mind and walks over to take a sip of Guinness instead – to the delight of the crowd. When he finally throws the thing, they roar with approval, before goading him into downing the rest of his pint. And of course: he does. 

It’s November 21 at the Olympia Theatre, Dublin. So far Capaldi has spent 10 minutes playing three songs and 15 minutes doing what, in the most affectionate terms, can only be described as dicking about. It shouldn’t be this funny to watch, but it really is. And the price of witnessing this spectacle? Depends when you got your tickets. A tout offered to take NME’s off our hands for €500 outside the venue. 

A year ago this may have sounded like madness, a sign that the world was heading to hell in a handcart and we’d be closing out the decade in a post-apocalyptic new reality, eating boot leather and watching jesters for entertainment. But in 2019, Lewis Capaldi has proved, conclusively, that what the world was waiting for was a pasty-faced, pasty-loving, 23-year-old Scot with an act that’s 50 percent heartbroken balladry and 50 percent improv comedy. And it is a worldwide thing – Capaldi is a global hit, a bona fide phenomenon. A superstar whose first encounter with NME is backstage, hurtling along the corridor clutching a handful of items. “Got my passport, my acid reflux tablets and my water – and that’s all I need!” he says, whizzing past. “And now, I’m off for a small pish.”

When listing Capaldi’s many 2019 achievements, they start to lose meaning, like contemplating distances in space, or making sense of the costings in the Labour manifesto. But here are a few: The Brits’ Critics Choice award. A Number One album with ‘Divinely Uninspired To A Hellish Extent’. A Number One single with ‘Someone You Loved’ in much of Europe, the US and the UK, where it spent seven weeks at the top. The hardest touring artist of the year, playing over 250 shows. A scene-stealing Glastonbury appearance.

If you’re to believe the stories in the Scottish tabloid press, Capaldi’s music can practically cure leprosy. He’s even had a beef with Noel Gallagher, once a mark of honour, but now a tussle with adversary so easily shot down it’s a bit like watching the moment someone first beats their dad in an arm wrestle. 

Yesterday brought news that Capaldi been nominated for Best Song at The Grammys, which in early career terms is the equivalent of being up for the Best Actor Oscar for your school production of Macbeth. “I’m up against Billie Eilish, Lady Gaga, Lizzo, H.E.R., Lana Del Rey, Taylor Swift…” he says. So he’s in there representing the men? “Yes, at long last!” he jokes. “At long last, straight white men finally have representation.”

“If I’m being honest, I did think ‘Old Town Road’ would be nominated,” he says, being serious now. “Maybe if I win I’ll Kanye myself. ‘This should have gone to ‘Old Town Road’! (But I am going to keep it)…’”

Capaldi is an expert at shrugging off his achievements. His unfaltering humility is a huge part of his appeal but even he concedes it’s starting to seem a bit forced. “When I read my interviews back, I always think if I wasn’t me I’d think: ‘you’re full of shite’,” he says. “Like, stop saying you can’t believe it. You can believe it! But it is so surreal and it seems like almost quarterly it kicks up a notch. Like, yesterday with the Grammys, yet again all this shit’s getting more and more mental, more beyond belief.”

Capaldi watched the Grammy nominations on his laptop, which was resting on his chest with the screen close to his face – a set-up he describes as his “home cinema” – and he admits he did get properly excited at the news. Mostly, though, he tends to find himself reacting to things how he thinks he should. 

“I’ve got a very bad way of being like, So you’re supposed to feel this way in this moment,” he says. Like when someone passes away? “Exactly, yeah. Like, four months after my grandma passed away, I’m like, ‘Fuck, my grandma’s died,’ and I’m in Somerfield or something. I mean, not in Somerfield, because it’s not been open for fucking years.”

Capaldi even plays down the success of ‘Someone You Loved’, the song that scored him the Grammy nod. In his eyes, it’s just “one of my songs that’s doing a little bit better than the rest”, but it’s already become a popular standard to sit alongside Robbie Williams’s ‘Angels’ or Adele’s ‘Someone Like You’, one of those tracks that will be soundtracking marriages and burials for years to come. Which of those would he prefer it be used for? “Burials,” he says, with no hesitation. “Don’t start falling in love to my fucking music, right? See if I see people kissing at my shows, fucking stop that! These are sad songs, you bastards.”

Like Lewis himself, a large part of the charm of ‘Someone You Loved’ is its absolute universality, which is not to say it’s banal, more that everyone who has lost someone at some point in their lives – which is most of us – can identify with it. For Lewis, it was the aforementioned loss of his grandmother that proved the catalyst for the song, but he made it more open to romantic interpretation because it felt “too morbid” to write explicitly about. 

And it didn’t come easily. Where other songwriters boast about dashing off huge hits in barely the time it takes to play them, Capaldi admits to labouring over his compositions. Writing songs, he says, is “a massive pain in the fucking arse sometimes”.

“Growing up I read interviews with people like Paul Weller, Paul McCartney – all the Pauls – and they’d say the best songs just sort of fall in your lap,” he says. “After six months at the piano writing ‘Someone You Loved’ I’m like, ‘You fucking lying bastards, that’s taken me fucking ages.’”

Many of Capaldi’s songs, which he endearingly describes as ranging from “big piano ballads to bigger piano ballads” draw on his first major relationship which – you may have guessed – is no longer a going concern. But it wasn’t a dramatic event. “Adele wrote her album about a relationship breaking up in a bad way, being jilted I think,” he says. “I wrote mine about a relationship that just ended, just fizzled out. I’d love to be jilted by someone, then I could be as successful as Adele.”

I ask if he worries that – at 23 – he doesn’t have a great deal of life experience to draw on. “I spent my entire life writing this first album,” he says, “but the stuff I’ve experienced in the last year has been much more of a growing experience than living in my mum and dad’s house in fucking West Lothian.”

How about the fact that his next girlfriend, whoever she may be, will be on different terms, it being impossible for her not to know she’s dating Lewis Capaldi the world famous pop star? “Well, I don’t know. It’s not like I’m Justin Bieber,” he says. “Today was the first time I’ve ever got out of the car at a venue and someone screamed. Normally people just shout something at me that I’ve said on Instagram about my pubes. I guess, at worst, my next partner would think I’m one way because they’ll hear the songs and think I seem very nice and level headed, but then find out I’m not.”

What’s the reality?

“Big fucking annoying cunt.”

It’s slightly unfair to question the depth of Capaldi’s life experience, because at the age most of us were familiarising ourselves with yo-yos, pogs or fidget spinners (delete as appropriate), Lewis was embarking on his music career. He began performing at 11, largely in pubs and clubs in the conurbation between Glasgow and Edinburgh where he grew up. The experience of having to hold his own in intimidating spaces at such a young age probably explains much about his easiness around people. 

“I found that at 11 it was, ‘Oh he’s quite cute, he came and stood up here and he’s doing very well.’ When I got to 14, 15 and my voice changed and I lost any remnants of cuteness – which as you can tell have not returned to me – that’s when I started to pick up a bit of the patter. You get to know your way about how to speak to people.” 

Around that time, Capaldi actively worked on changing his vocal style to something more like the wolfy howl we hear today. What was once a ”high and smooth” voice had broken. Inspired by Paolo Nutini and Joe Cocker, Capaldi added some gravel. “I thought it would be a good idea to put a bit of rasp in, to make it sound even more terrible,” he says.

For years we’ve been force-fed sensitive young men-next-door with beanie hats, beards or lumberjack shirts singing to us about their problems. In a quest for authenticity, they’ve presented themselves as troubled, serious souls. Capaldi, meanwhile, has given us the sensitive songs with a side order of toilet humour and the kind of prolific, creative swearing worthy of The Thick Of It‘s Malcolm Tucker, as played by his distant cousin Peter Capaldi. 

Stand-up comedians often make a point of referring to the most funny-looking thing about themselves as an icebreaker with the audience, a way of getting them on side. Capaldi has the same trick – there’s not a single thing about his looks or his music you could say that he hasn’t beaten you to. Try and come up something better than saying he looks like “a melting hippo”, we dare you. 

He has zero pretence – he’s a guy who can literally piss himself on stage and laugh it off. “That only happened once,” he says. “And I’ve always been like that, even back in school. If I was meeting someone for the first time I’d be like, ‘Hello, how are you? I’ve got diarrhoea and I could spew or I could blow at any moment. It puts me at ease, being honest.’”

“People think I make jokes because I’m uncomfortable,” he adds. “Actually, it’s the opposite – I make jokes because I’m comfortable with who I am. I say that I’m a chubby bastard because I am a chubby bastard.”

I put it to him that, possibly, he may be the first body-positive male icon – an important thing given Capaldi is part of a generation of young men who feel under enormous pressure to have an Insta-chiselled body. “I don’t know if I can accept that, because I probably don’t use the correct vernacular,” he says. “It’s probably not good to call yourself a chubby cunt, but it’s never been something that’s bothered me. I’ve been a very slim man, I’ve been a man who’s gone to the gym, but even when I’ve done that someone calls you fat anyway, whether it’s your ma, your da, your best pal.”

Capaldi hasn’t, as of yet, had any sort of pop star makeover. He still looks like a kid who’s moved out of home for the first time and is stacking up the washing to take to mum’s. He does, however, have a personal trainer on tour and has been exercising every day. “It’s more of a mental health thing,” he says. “It gives me energy and keeps me happy. I mean, when I’m actually doing it I fucking hate it so much, but it feels better after.”

I ask how his mental health is bearing up to his new everyday reality, an extraordinary experience for anyone to process. “That’s what I think about taking the piss out of things,” he says. “I take the piss out of doing things on stage and how mental it is because you have to, because it stops you getting caught up in it. Summer last year I started having massive panic attacks. I was supposed to do Austin City Limits but I had to cancel because I was just having panic attack after panic attack, and I thought I had something seriously wrong with me, because I’m a bit of a hypochondriac. And I went and got a fucking MRI scan. But they said I was just anxious, just recalibrating to this new fucking lifestyle. So I said, right, cancel everything for three weeks, and no one gave me any shit for it.”

At showtime, the atmosphere at tonight’s gig offers a glimpse of the bubble Capaldi is living in these days. The Olympia is a grand old theatre and Capaldi could probably have sold it out 50 times over; the reaction from the crowd is something like Lewmania. 

Afterwards, we head backstage again, where I’m ushered into a room containing about a dozen members of Capaldi’s family. I’m plonked on a chair right in the middle, handed a massive wine glass full of Buckfast by his cousin and grilled by his dad, a fishmonger and the very driest of wits, about my intentions for this article. He’s seriously proud of his boy, having supported him since the very beginning, even playing the supportive parent role when Lewis auditioned for Britain’s Got Talent aged 12. 

The afterparty moves to a private room at a nearby pub. Lewis’s hulking great cousin – the one who brought the Buckfast – is getting the shots in. His auntie is looking on, concerned, as two girls chat him up at the same time. “He’s only a wee one,” she mutters. While his friends and family enjoy the party and a certain NME journalist accidentally smashes the first of a series of glasses, feeling the effects of downing that Buckfast in an ill-advised attempt to curry favour with the family, Lewis makes his final rounds then politely excuses himself, looking a bit hangdog about it. He has another big show tomorrow. Sad to leave your own party, you imagine.

At points in the interview, Capaldi had been making a short, forced coughing noise, which he shrugged off as nothing. But the next week, he cancels a number of shows on health grounds, having been warned by his doctor that he risks losing his voice altogether if he doesn’t take action. In the end, he plays just four more gigs of the UK leg of the tour – in London, Edinburgh and twice in Glasgow for the homecoming finale. All further activities are cancelled by management, including a follow-up NME interview, but he is sent to complete the year’s touring commitments in the States before heading home for a well-earned few days celebrating Christmas with his family, which he says typically involves plenty of booze and lots of piss-taking. If you think you’re feeling ready for the break today, spare a thought for Lewis.

Next year looks to be just as busy as this one. He is, right now, just about the most in-demand young man in the world. At some point, he’ll have to start thinking about his next album too. “I don’t know what the fuck it’s going to sound like, I don’t know what the fuck it’s going to be,” he says. “Ballads, havin’-it tunes, I don’t know. I’ve got voice notes, melodies, stuff like that, but that’s just me and an acoustic guitar.” 

Considering what he said about his hypochondria, it’s likely the idea of losing his voice is weighing heavily on Capaldi’s mind. But he’s already decided there’s a backlash coming anyway. “You do get warned, as you’re coming up: ‘By the way, everyone’s gonna turn on you pretty soon’,” he says. “I guess I’m always just kind of waiting for it. I’m very doomsday. Like, if it’s not happened yet, it’s gonna come. And I can’t wait for the downfall!”

He might be surprised. People have plenty of different reactions to Capaldi’s music, but it’s pretty much impossible to find someone who doesn’t think he seems like a bloody great bloke.

And besides – if he ever finds he can’t sing, he’d make a killing at The Fringe as a physical comic. 

The extended edition of ‘Divinely Uninspired To A Hellish Extent’ is out now

#nme #long post #interview #lewis capaldi

[memento-mariii]

That last post I reblogged reminds me of the first time I ever experienced misogyny. Or as I like to call it, ~Baby's First Taste of Misogyny~

You see, until then, I was really lucky. I was never catcalled or sexually harassed, and my parents never made me feel that the most important thing about me was my looks. In fact, since I was one of those kids with ADD whose neurodivergence manifested as something that could be miscontrued as brilliance, I think they were convinced that I was going to up to find the Cure for Cancer(TM), or become a SuperLawyer(TM), or something. (Sorry for being a disappointment, Mom & Dad! Love ya!)

I was so successfully shielded from sexism until then, to the point that I used to be one of those girls who think that feminism is a little silly. After all, haven't we already achieved equality? Isn't sexism a thing in the past? (Spoiler alert: no we haven't and no it isn't. Sadly.)

Fast forward to first year of high school. Or maybe it was third year of middle school? As a teen, I have been to a lot of science programs, to the point I can't exactly remember which was which, so I can't pinpoint the exact time. But I do remember hating Twilight back then-I vividly remember reading a twihate blog on livejournal on the bus to the SNU-so it must be when Twilight was still popular, or at least when it was still relevant.

So, late middle school or early high school: since I was something of a teacher's pet, and a straight-up-A student to boot(this is not a humblebrag; me being excellent at high school has zero bearing on the clusterfuck that is my life now; I guess I peaked at high school), my science teacher offered me a chance to go to Seoul National University's science outreach program. I use the term "outreach program" loosely- the program taught us nothing about science, it was more of a "come and get to know our school, so more of you'll enroll and we'd have more tuition to build more unnecessary buildings with" kind of deal. (I'm sure there's a word for that in English, but I'm not a native speaker and nothing comes to mind, so I'll keep on referring it as an outreach program)

Nevertheless, I was STOKED. In case you don't know, Seoul National University is one of the best, if not the best school in South Korea. It also happened to be my dream college.

So, on that fateful day, I, accompanied by handful of other students from our school's science club, show up to SNU and are joined by similar students from other schools. They lead us to a boring white room with a beam projector in it. Then a guy, in his late-thirties or so, comes in and talks about the school, what kind of stuff they teach, how natural sciences are awesome and you shouldn't ever think about going to engineering school(if it wasn't obvious, the outreach program was directed by SNU's natural sciences department and not the whole school, har har), et cetra. I'll call this guy the Speaker, because to this day I have no idea if that dude was supposed to be a professor, a tutor, a faculty member, or some rando that happened to work in the department.

Soon, the Speaker guy is done with his speaking, and he asks if anyone has any questions. Two or so dudes raise their hands, and he picks one and answers his question. Then he says that this time, he'll take a question from one of the girls. None of us raise our hands-I don't know why, maybe they were busy taking notes? I, for one, had tons of questions I was dying to ask, but was to shy to actually raise my hands, so maybe they too were shy?-whatever it was, it wasn't because of plain disinterest, because remember: those girls wanted to come. They were handpicked by their teachers as students most likely to be interested in the outreach program. All of them were members of their school's science clubs. And remember!!! the guys weren't that different either!!! only two of the guys had raised their hands, so that's only two people less!!!

So imagine my surprise, when out of the blue, OUT OF FUCKING NOWHERE, this idiot opens his gapehole and says---

"솔직히 여학생들은 이런것보다 솥뚜껑 운전이 더 편하죠, 안그래요?"

What he said is a misogynistic Korean slang, so it's hard for me to translate exactly, but the gist of it goes like this.

"Honestly girls would be better off staying in the kitchen and making and sandwiches than doing something like this(as in, studying STEM) am I right?"

I am shocked. I am flabbergasted. Remember, this guy's job is to leave a good impression of the school to the students so that they'd want to return there when they graduate. But this idiot, this absolute buffoon, comes up and invokes the Korean equivalent of the tired phrase, "make me a sandwich"! This is such a monumentally stupid move on his part, to this day I have no idea what he was thinking. Again, his job was to leave a good impression of the school! What was he trying to achieve with such a jab? Doesn't the school have any sort of sensitivity program? I'd assume he could get in huge trouble if any of the students reported his behaviour to the administration! He had nothing to gain, and everything to lose from saying such a thing! What was he thinking? It makes no logistical sense. If it wasn't my first-hand experience, and I heard this from somebody else, I'd think they were bullshitting me. Sometimes even I wonder if it was just a fever dream. It's that stupid! It makes! no! sense!

The students aren't exactly enraged, but we're not laughing along either. If anything, we're confusedly sharing awkward glances with each other. And because men like this are astronomically bad at getting a clue, the idiot prattles on:

"I feel bad for you girls. You don't actually want to be here, but your parents are forcing you to do it because they are too conceited."

Conceited for what? Supporting and encouraging their daughter's passion for science? For thinking that their daughters were good enough to be equal to their male colleagues in STEM? For thinking that their daughters could ever achieve anything more than "staying in the kitchen and making sandwiches"? Who is the one that's being conceited here? And motherfucker, how dare you insult my parents like that?

The atmosphere is getting tangibly awkard now. The discomfort is real. And the speaker, fool that he is, finally catches on. He abruptly and clumsily changes the subject, and luckily for everyone, it's time for restroom breaks not long after that.

I didn't need to go to the bathroom, not really, but I go anyway to lock myself in the stalls and gather my thoughts for a bit. After the bathroom break is over, it's time for another speaker to speak, so that awful speaker has already left the room(thank God!). The rest of the day goes by in a blur, and I don't have much memory of it.

A disclaimer: after that incident, I was invited to a lot of different science outreach programs, some of it manned by the Seoul National University, and all of them were really educational and all around delightful. I have nothing but fond memories of them. In fact, I can only think of one instant when a university-led science program wasn't fun, and that's the incident I have detailed above. So I won't call SNU itself misogynistic, just that the first of their outreach program I went to was....weird. They didn't even teach science(all of the other outreach programs I went to taught ar least some science), it didn't look like it was sanctioned by the whole school, only the natural sciences department, and there were like kids from only a handful of schools(all the other outreach programs I went to had kids from at least tens of schools). So.... I don't really know what happened, behind the scenes.

Despite all that, SNU continued to be my dream university.

Even though I now had a newfound anxiety about never being seen as an equal by my male peers, I continued to love science and ended up majoring in Chemical Engineering. (I didn't end up going to the SNU though, but not for lack of trying. The school I go to is pretty rad too, but not as rad as SNU.)

I wish I could tell you what happened to the sexist speaker, but I honestly have no idea. But I hope he got fired. I can say only one kind thing about that guy, and it's that he made me realize that sexism and misogyny are alive and well in this day and age, which led to me becoming a feminist.

So, thank you for that, Mr. Speaker from my memories. Let's not meet again.

#long post #mmari rambles #rant #women in stem #misogyny #feminism #tw sexism #tw swearing #honestly I said SNU but it's been so long ago I'm not sure if it was that or KAIST #either way it had a huge impact on my worldview #a rude (but much needed) wake-up call

[taexual]

GOT7 / Mafia AU - They lose their child

REQUEST: Can I request a GOT7 mafia au where they lose their child in a park or something and get worried. Something fluffy with a little angst. ☺

I made this a little less specific and also accidentally added more angst but I hope you like this, love!!

OTHER MAFIA AUS: BTS / EXO / GOT7 / MONSTA X

ALSO, DISCLAIMER: this is not related to my GOT7 Mafia AU Arranged Marriage series!

WARNING: strong language, mentions of violence, themes of exaggerated protectiveness

Mark

It was the first time Mark was the one taking your daughter to the closest playground. Usually, it was you, since he insisted he was too busy – but, really, you had a feeling he only refused to take her to the playgrounds because he was afraid it’d make him look less masculine – but this time, you were stuck at home, fighting allergies and your little girl would not leave you and Mark alone, insisting that one of you had to take her outside.

Mark was, of course, completely whipped for his daughter and he did not want to see her cry – seriously, the sight of tears welling up in her eyes was what made him drop everything and follow her orders – so, cancelling all of his plans for the day, he packed up the essentials – which included half of his impressive collection of Browning pistols because you never know which elementary-school boy might dare talk to his princess – and headed to his daughter’s favorite playground.

He ended up being impressed by how nice it was outside and how much his daughter warmed his heart by calling out, “daddy, look!” when she wanted him to watch her jump off the swing or climb the monkey bars.

The mood darkened a little when Mark received a phone call he had to take immediately. He felt like he only turned around for one second to answer the call, but when he looked back at the swing to check on his daughter, she suddenly wasn’t there.

“So, as I was saying, this guy just got on my last nerve. You need to get your damn—”

“Shh, shut up,” Mark exclaimed into the phone, interrupting his friend that had to update him on one of the jobs Mark had left him in charge of. “My child is missing.”

“Missing?!” his friend asked. “You lost your daughter? Why didn’t you say so? Is that why you took a free day?”

“No, we were at a playground and she—listen, just take care of everything. I’ll call you back,” he said quickly.

Putting the phone back into his pocket, Mark took one hard look around the playground before calling out his daughter’s name so loudly, the nearby children all flinched. He paid no attention to any of them, however. He needed to find his daughter and then he was going to make sure to never let her out of his sight again.

JB

It was a busy time for you and Jaebum both. You managed to get Jaebum to understand that, although you weren’t shooting people for a living, your job was still important, and yet, despite that, when you came across problems about who’d watch over your son, Jaebum always insisted you do it. This lead to lots of arguments and, eventually, not feeling like fighting about this again today, Jaebum gave you a call to let you know that he’d pick his son up from school that day.

He got there just as a few kids were running down the stairs after walking through the front door. They greeted their parents and began to tell them about the day they’ve had at school. Jaebum found himself smiling, as he anticipated hearing what his own son would tell him.

However, Jaebum’s son was nowhere to be seen no matter how much Jaebum looked. It just didn’t seem like the little boy left the building.

Panicking and yet still choosing to wait another few moments, Jaebum watched the other parents leave with their kids in the car and then got his gun out, absolutely certain that the only reason why his son did not come out of the school was because someone took him.

Not really looking for any other explanations for his son’s absence – because every second was important – he walked into the school with his gun drawn and was greeted immediately by shocked and scared gasps of the teachers.

“I’m looking for my son,” he said. “I’m Im Jaebum.”

The teachers exchanged glances, scanning through lists of children inside their heads. Finally, one of them elicited a sound of acknowledgment.

“Mr. Im,” she said a little awkwardly. “Your son was absent from classes the whole day today.”

Cold sweat ran through Jaebum’s body as he heard this.

“W-what?” he stuttered – probably for the first time in his life. “But my wife had to drop him off here. She did drop him off before leaving for work.”

The teachers looked at each other again, not quite sure what was going on or what to do next. Jaebum was still holding a gun in a building full of children – even if the majority of classes were over for the day –  so the situation was, at the very least, sensitive.

“Perhaps it’d be best if we talked about this in my classroom,” said the teacher who was talking to Jaebum before.

“No,” he said firmly, right as she was turning around in hopes of him following her. “If he wasn’t here, I have to go. I have to find where the fuck my son is, and the sooner that happens, the better it’ll be for everyone.”

Jackson

Jackson was proud to admit that his mother, his daughter, and you were his favorite girls. In fact, if anyone asked him, he was more than glad to talk about you three endlessly – which is why no one ever asked. That didn’t stop Jackson from bragging, though. Once, he had truly ended up distracting the enemy Mafia family by starting an in-depth discussion about which kindergarten his daughter should go to. After getting the opinions of the enemy men, he shot them, of course. But now he had a list of new kindergartens.

His three-year-old daughter was delighted to go to one and meet other kids her age – Jackson might have loved her with his whole being, but he was easily the most protective dad on the block. Which is why he was always the one dropping his daughter off at the kindergarten in the morning, and picking her up in the evening.

You told him you could do it and actually insisted you do because sometimes, Jackson arrived to pick his daughter up with blood still visible on his shirt, and you didn’t want your daughter to see him like that. Jackson disagreed, though. His little girl just sighed whenever she saw his white shirt stained with blood and said to him, “mommy will be sad.”

One time, however, as Jackson arrived to pick his bright, too-smart-for-her-own-age daughter up, he ended up waiting for her to arrive longer than usually. Twenty minutes later, he was overwhelmed with concern and ended up exiting his car to talk to the staff.

But there was no staff. The kindergarten had just closed two minutes ago.

Kicking the door down was not a difficult task to Jackson; he’d already lost count how many doors he kicked down in his life. Looking around the premises in complete darkness with his favorite Glock out was not overly difficult, either.

The difficult part was the realization that his daughter wasn’t here. And he had no idea where else she could have been.

“Y/n,” he said to you, once you picked up his call. “I’m going to be home late. There’s some stuff to do.”

“Did you pick our daughter up?” you asked right away. “Is she okay?”

“She’s… safe and sound,” Jackson replied, closing his eyes momentarily. “I’ll make sure she is.”

Jinyoung

Before he had his own children, Jinyoung always despised the men who bragged about their children’s achievements. He just groaned and rolled his eyes whenever one of his men kissed a picture of their child before pulling their pistol out to start the attack. He could never understand it.

But then he met you and had a daughter, and all of his priorities switched. He was absolutely whipped for his little girl and you ended up having to remind him on more than one occasion that if he didn’t learn how to tell her no, she’d grow up spoiled.

“Good,” was Jinyoung’s response, however. “That means I did my job as her father well.”

You couldn’t quite understand his logic but, before you could stop Jinyoung, your five-year-old daughter was suddenly gifted the puppy she had so desperately asked her father for a few days ago.

“You’re walking it,” you warned Jinyoung. “And I won’t care if you have important business to take care of. I love the dog but—”

“I’ll do it, you have nothing to worry about, babe,” he replied, never allowing himself to lose the confidence. “Sweetheart!”

His daughter – reacting to the only name Jinyoung ever called her – was by his side immediately, the small puppy peacefully snoring in her arms. Eager to see how excited his little girl would be to play with the puppy outside, Jinyoung took both of them took a park, giving you a few moments of peace and quiet.

And yes. Literal moments. Because exactly eight minutes after they had left the house, Jinyoung was calling you. As soon as you answered, you could hear squeaky yelping in the background of the call and it took you a second to realize that it must have been the puppy.

“Jinyoung?” you asked, sensing that something was wrong. He wouldn’t have called so soon otherwise. “What happened?”

“Uh, see… there’s a bit of a situation here,” Jinyoung said, his voice nervous. “It’s my fault entirely, but you can yell at me later.”

“What happened?” you asked again, stricter this time now that your heart started to beat wildly in your chest.

“So, a gun went off somewhere in the distance. Presumably aimed at me,” Jinyoung started to explain and you heard shuffling in the background. He must have been walking. “The dog got scared and it ran. Our daughter, the sweet thing, ran after him, of course. Well, while I got my gun out and eliminated the threat – oh, by the way, there’s a dead body in the park; you think that’ll be problematic? Anyway. So, right after I did that, I saw that the dog is back. B-but, um… our daughter… well, she isn’t.”

“What do you mean she isn’t?” you asked, standing up. “You lost our daughter?”

“I’ll find her! She couldn’t have run very far!” Jinyoug said. “I just need you to get here and take the puppy. Oh, and, I love you.”

“I will kill you, Jinyoung.”

“Everything will be okay! I promise,” he said as he heard you loudly slam the door of your house shut. “At least let me find our daughter before you blow my head off, okay?”

Youngjae

Youngjae did not give his son any air to breathe. He was constantly around him, constantly worrying that something would happen to him. He was your and Youngjae’s only child so you could understand Youngjae’s fear but you also thought that your boy would suffer a lot if he grew up smothered and didn’t learn how to do anything himself.

Youngjae’s inability to find a proper balance between completely distancing himself from his child and suffocating him with his attention eventually resulted in Youngjae losing his mind outside of the ice cream shop where he had allowed his son to go in, so he’d get himself a vanilla cone. It has now been a little over twenty minutes but his son still hadn’t come out.

“Hello, sir, is there anything I can do to help?” the waitress asked kindly as soon as Youngjae threw the door of the shop open and ran inside, his stomach sinking at the anxious realization that something went wrong.

“A small boy,” Youngjae said, struggling to explain properly because he kept looking around the small shop, unable to understand that aside from him and the waitress, simply no one else was here. “Dark hair. Big eyes. Not very tall. Came to buy ice cream. I’m the dad. Outside. Waiting.”

Youngjae seemed to forget how to form coherent sentences as he proceeded to freak out, while the waitress watched him, confused and slightly alarmed.

“Sir, is your son missing? Maybe you should call the—”

Missing.

As soon as the waitress said the word, it sunk in. His son wasn’t here. Youngjae didn’t know where he was. His son truly was missing.

“There’s no need,” Youngjae said, swallowing as he located his trustworthy gun in the back of his jeans, where it always was. “But I’m going to ask you to leave. I’ll do anything it takes to find my son. You won’t want to get in my way.”

BamBam

The thing BamBam was most excited about was teaching his son everything he knew. BamBam had a chance to create a legacy with his son, but sometimes he felt like he loved the boy a little too much to get him involved in the danger of this life.

You trusted BamBam 100%, so you didn’t tell him that you’d have preferred him not to ruin your son’s childhood by teaching him how to fire a rifle instead of teaching him how to ride a bike. You knew your husband would make the right decision about your son’s future.

Naturally, after noticing how happy you looked every time he and his son did something normal, BamBam decided that his Mafia training could wait. Your son had plenty of time to learn how to defend himself from potential attackers. He could be just a kid right now.

And BamBam would come to regret this decision exactly three days after making it, when he left his child in the children’s section of the bookstore for one minute and did not find him there when he returned. It was like his son wasn’t even in the store anymore, because BamBam looked everywhere and he didn’t find him. On top of that, no one he asked seemed to have seen his son, either.

“Sir,” one man said to him as gently as he could, given the sensitive nature of the situation. “Perhaps you should calm down and call the police.”

“With all due respect,” BamBam replied dryly, the fire in his eyes indicating that he had no plans to calm down anytime soon. “When it comes to my son, I’m the police. And if there’s anyone to blame for the fact that my son is fuck knows where right now – I will fucking find that person.”

Yugyeom

Yugyeom was really eager to spend as much time with his son as he was physically able to, and not just because his son was also his heir, but simply because Yugyeom now had a best friend for life. Sometimes, he tended to forget that his five-year-old was not his peer, however. But the little boy never told on his dad when he swore next to him by accident.

Their bond was really one-of-a-kind and Yugyeom couldn’t imagine losing his child even in his absolute worst nightmares.

And yet, that was exactly what happened, when he took his little boy to the park since it was a sunny day and you weren’t feeling well enough to take your son there yourself. Yugyeom had volunteered to do it – “I am his dad, after all” – but only after making sure you were really okay to be left alone.

Somehow, as he gave you a call to check up on your health, he had lost himself inside his thoughts – granted, that always happened when Yugyeom was talking to you, so he really should have seen something like this coming, but who ever does? – and didn’t notice his son disappear from his field of vision.

Frantic, Yugyeom began calling his son’s name out loud. He pushed every child off from the swings as if his son had suddenly morphed into someone else. Crying, the kids ran away, while their parents cursed at Yugyeom and threatened to call the police.

One brave mother even dared to grab his hand to get him to stop scaring the other kids, but Yugyeom pulled his hand out of her grip so feverishly, she stumbled backwards a little.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Yugyeom snarled at her, not a touch of his usually cool posture in sight. “Unless you’ve seen where my son had gone, don’t you fucking dare interrupt me.”

The woman forgot whatever she wanted to say immediately. Turning around with a huff, she left Yugyeom alone as he continued his search for his son, quietly cussing everyone out – especially himself, for not looking after his child well enough – under his breath.

masterlist / ask (requests are closed)

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[bonbonswirl-blog]

Proud dad

NO ONE BELONG TO ME THEY ALL BELONG TO ONLY @brueklynn I OWN NOTHING.

anyway i was not satisfied with the last fanfic I worte at ALL, it was very bad and I wont blame you if you think that too im sorry it went like this. I decided to write this one since I got the idea. Mason is always a sweetheart btw guys! I just may have changed him a little by accident in this one. Bc im not too skilled, reminder none of this happened and not canon, all these just from my mind with some little "headcanons" from me thx.

It was just a normal day. The golden rays of sunshine caressing everyone faces, shining up the bright blue sky that gives a feeling of comfort and ease, faint chirping of birds can be heard near the trees. Mason was sitting on a bench in a park, with a little smile on his warm face, which is being tickled by the gentle gold beams. his eyes were slowly scanning the small letter in his hands, re-reading it once more after numerous of time, his fingers touched the writing of pen on the white piece of paper, as if checking if this is a true thing, And it is. His eyes drifted from the paper in his hands to the playground in front of him, The sounds of children playing echoed from the park, stomping, running and laughing. None of the worries of adults crossed their minds, only how to elude capture by their friends. The rhythmic creaking of swings went back and forth, and some kids tried to time their jumps from the swings to the rhythm. The colors of the playground equipment were still fresh and bright, despite the years of wear and the endless use. his eyes trying to search between this crowd of kids for a certain one of his own, a few years old one with messy brown hair wearing a flatcap similar to his own one, it was something he gave his child on his previous birthday, mason tried to consider it as a gift to his son as an attempt to bring some joy to his little heart, it was the only thing that was in his pocket right now. He hoped that in the next birthday he will find a better present to give for his little boy that can truly make him happy. Moments later mason had found him, merrily playing on a slide with the other kids, which made his dad smile get bigger. For a last time he looked at the letter, he was so happy that someone had finally toke notice of him and invited him for a job intrview tomorrow morning, he practiced a lot for hopes in getting that job, if he gets it, he will no longer be dependent on those small live making things that doesnt help a lot and will have enough money to provide a good life for him and his son. Looking at the sky, he noticed that the sun is going to set soon, and it will get late to walk for home, they dont live near this park. He smelled the letter as it was some fresh air then folded it to put it in his pocket, giving more five minutes for his son to play until he is going to pick him up to go home.

It was night. As the colors of the day rest the dark was covering every part of the sky. all the kids have already went to their home with their parents, the air was silent, maybe an owl or some cricket can be heard from here and there, the streets were empty, no one was walking on them, expect for a single man holding his little son hand, mason looked at his child and smiled "how was your day at the park wallaby? Did you enjoy it? " He asked wallaby, making sure his son had a good time playing and laughing with all the kids, that he was happy with where his dad brought him today. " Yes dad! I founda buncha fweinds today! We pwayed a game cawed tag your it! Ya pway it by runnin after someone and ya ne....." but mason didnt hear the rest of the talk of how wallaby is teaching him to play tag your it, because his mind was in another place, filled with thoughts of how the interview will go tomorrow, will he get the job? Will he fail? What will he do if he failed? He doesnt want that...What if he gets it? But it was harder than he expected? Will he leave it? Will he push himself to continue? Will he...

" Dad?!?!?DAd?!??! DAD?!? " His son voice distracted him of his deep thought. He guessed that he was inside his mind for too long that he couldnt hear his child. " Yes my dear? " "Ma legs huwt :<" mason smiled again and giggled at wallaby cute little pout, it could make anyone fall for him so fast, his dad knows that there is still a bit of a way for them to get to their home yet, and that wallaby had already walked long enough with his small foot, not to mention he must be tired from all the running today. " Do you want me to carry you for the rest of the way? " " YA YA YA! " Wallaby said excited at that suggestion, reaching both his short arms up in the air for mason hold him, which made mason laugh a little and lean down to hold his small baby in his arms. " Who is my little good boy? " "ME ME!! " " Yes You Are!! " Mason tickled wallaby a bit which made the small kid laugh childishly, his laugh fuel his dad heart with delight. He hugged his son gently while keeping to walk along the road. " Dad? " " Yes! my sunshine? " "I saw some of ma fweinds today tawk about who is better at studying in school! dad, what is school? " ....Mason smile went away and he was silent for a while.... he remembered that wallaby was already old enough for his age to start going to school...but he couldnt afford the money to give this child the chance to go the kindergarten like all the other kids...when will he give him the chance to start learning?... " School is a place where you go to get education dear! Kids go to there everyday to learn new things! " He tried to smile as an attempt to comfort himself and answer the child question softly. " Will I one day go to school dad?" Wallaby innocent smile wasnt enough to sweep away the little sadness that mason felt at that question, he wanted so much for wallaby to get education like all the other people, and he was ready to do whatever it costed to do so, but he know he cant... he cant find the chance. " Maybe one day you will do dear... " that even gave the dad a bigger ambition to pass the intreview tomorrow, he will work as hard as he can to give anything that is needed to his son. Wallaby was silent for a little time in his dad arms while mason just kept walking, the small one looked at his dad again to shot another question at him. " Dad im hungwy :< " that reminded mason that they both didnt really eat enough since the last two days, he is trying to save up for more important things. He wished he have the ability to give him something good to eat right now, he used a lot of energy playing today anyway. " I know my dear...how about I give you an apple when we come back home? " " But I always ate apples dad! How about some candy? " Mason laughed a little "aww my dear! You need to eat lots of vegetables and fruits to grow up! " "awwwww :< " wallaby pout never fail to make mason grin, wallaby didnt eat lots of sweets anyway...maybe in the near future he will have enough money to feed wallaby and him in a right way. They both went silent for another minutes, Out of topics to discuss. Wallaby was thinking about something, he looked at his dad once more to ask a new question, a lot More serious this time... " dad?.." " yes wallaby? " "I....today when we were leavin the pawk.....I saw lotta kids standing next to a....woman....evewy kid have their own woman! The women were holdin their childwen hands just wike ya do to me...and the kids all tawk about their day with them just like I do now...the women seems to be with them...evewyday and evewywhere...like they are with them evewy second!...dad do I....do I.....do I have a woman who take cawe of me wike all those kids do?....."

Mason stopped walking.

He felt his chest starting to ache.

He didnt expect that one day wallaby will wonder why he have no mother like the other kids.

That he will start missing her....

he have no idea what to tell his son now.....he cant just tell him that he doesnt have one....what is he going to do now.....how can he tell his son the cold bitter truth....he cant...he is even so young to know about it...what is he going to do...

" Dad?...." ...wallaby was scared about his dad sudden hush...did he make him mad? he started to get worried now.... "...wallaby........I......" mason was out of words....he moved his head to the side... avoiding eye contacts with his son, looking at the ground shamfully...his eyes no longer have any shine or bright when he hears the gladness in his son voice whenever he talks about about a joyful thing he tried, or when he achieved any small victory. Mason finally gave up, he couldnt ignore his son like this any longer, he need to say something to wallaby.... mason toke a deep sigh...returning his head to look at his little boy who is laying in his arms, wallaby didnt look cheerful as he was a minute ago...he was looking to his side, with a frown in his little mouth, the dirt blush on his cheeks wasnt as red as when he is talking gaily with his adorable puffy cheeks, but they werent puffy anymore...the boy flatcap was going to fall down from his head soon, funny how he can keep it still on his head while running and jumping everywhere all day, wallaby didnt feel really ok at this point...

Mason looked with a grievous look at him before beggining to speak..... "wallaby...listen to me... " his voice was heavy with shame, the same way his guilt wheighed down upon his shoulders, that made his son look at him in the face again, but the expressions still the same. " my little sunshine......you do....you do have a woman like them too...this woman is called...a mother...the mom is the person who brought the life to her children...toke care of them from childhood until adulthood, she is always there to share with her children the laughs, smiles and their happiest moments, always there to comfort them in the sorrow, fear and their hardest moments, she is always the shelter from every harm, the guardian from every enemy, the key for every solution, she will always support her kids no matter what happen in any time and any place....every mom love is always with her kids forever wallaby... all the moms are great! And you should know wallaby that...you have a mom...like them all...but you wont be lonely because im here with you..."

Mason voice was soft, almost fragile, as if it and his heart would break any minute. Perhaps his heart was already broken...broken to bits from the harsh cruel world....mason was never really good with coping with the loss... The sadness flowed through his veins like a flowing river, cold and unending, deadened his mind. It was a poison to his spirit, dulling him, killing off the other emotions he felt when talking to his precious son until it was the only one that remained. He learned that anyone can be a pareng...but not anyone can be a family...He wanted very badly to tell wallaby that lucy still loves him, she still love her family...love them...love them a lot to the point that she left them.....he have no idea where she is now after she dissapeared, its been a long time, but for some reason, he cant fully let her go, she left a hole in his heart that can not be fixed, wallaby is now the only thing that still bring some life in mason dead core, he promised from the day he was left alone with the kid, that he will do everything to make sure he is living safe and sound..

The small wallaby face began to draw a pure smile again, his flatcap back in place, his hued eyes are back to their bright, he got up a bit from his dad arms. "I knew it! I knew I had one too wike them! Dad? Will I eva meet her?!" "Maybe one day sunshine....maybe one day...." mason couldnt bring himself to say no to this one...he doesnt know if wallaby will ever meet her...he may not ever find her, He hugged wallaby more tightly and began taking faster steps, this chat already broke his heart enough and he wants to get home to rest for a busy day tomorrow...good thing wallaby slept on their way home.

The next morning came as usuall, the sun rised, sent its woven strands, free and united, to flow into the sky for revealing and solidifying a new day. Mason used to wake up late, but this time he was early, today is the day, his plan is simple, go the inreview, success, and go to the job. He wasnt very content, he felt nervous, looking after every way that this can go wrong with. Last night wasnt the best for him, it made him re-think about his life with wallaby and how he is going to raise him. he was standing at the door, preparing himself to bring his legs to work straight to the place of that job, but before he can move the handle, he heard a voice behind him

" Dad?.. "

He turned around to see that his son had already woke up, standing confused there with a large jacket around him, it was so large that the jacket ends were on the floor, wiping it wherever the boy go, he looked like a child who have jacket that should be wore by only adults wrapped around him, which is the truth, wallaby always wear it to bed, using it insted of a blanket. " wallaby...uh why are you up so early dear? " " Dad whewe are ya goin? we gonna go to work now? " Mason smiled and kneeled down to put his hands on wallaby shoulders " did you know I got an intrview today? Im going to try to get a job! If i got it! We gonna have enough money to eat properly and go to school to learn! " Wallaby was happy hearing this, it made him almost jump " reawy? Yaaaaay! Wait! But dad! Ya will need ma help! " Mason smiled and ruffled wallaby messy hair " aww my little one, when you grow up you will have your own job to take care of! " When mason turned around to open the door again, wallaby voice stopped him. " but dad! Ya cawt go! " Mason looked behind once more " but why dear? " "Becawse....im gonna be so lonely without ya! " Mason was surprised a bit, wallaby stayed home by himself a lot of times, why is he going to feel lonely staying today? " But sunshine...you always stay home alone by yourself, why are you going to feel lonely today?" " Becawse...I awways hewped ya in your work...this time I wont be there to hewp ya! Ya will awways go to work without me! ya will feel alone! and i will stay more time at home and feel alone! Ya cant leave me dad! Pwease stay here with me.. " after hearing this, mason felt sad, again. He didnt know that wallaby actually felt happy working with him and that he felt so lonely when he all alond without, but he cant do anything about it. "dear...im sorry...but...I cant do anything to help that...please im doing that for you...just stay here and you will find me soon at home..." " but dad! I cant let ya go! Pwease stay! Arent ya my mama? " Whenever someone mention the word 'mom' mason never feel so good. "what?.... " " arent ya my mama? Ya awways pway with me and take cawe of me like all the mamas do! " Mason didnt know his opinion about this kind of thought. " Uh, my little boy, im not your mother...im your father.. " " but ya stiw take care of me! Like any mama! I wont let ya go dad...why dont ya stay hewe and tell me more stories about my mama! " Mason now REALLY didnt feel so good about this one...reminding him of lucy by any chance can make him lose it all...worst idea to think about..." ....wallaby...I need...to go......maybe at night... " " but dad! Pwease! " " goodbye wallaby " "Stay with me! " " Im coming back at night " "dad come on!" Mason tried to get out the house but wallaby was still following him, he cant go anywhere, he stayed standing there, listening to his son conmplains, he already know he made him late enough, almost all of wallaby suggestions was to talk about lucy, lucy lucy and only lucy, that name bring a chill to him whenever he hears it, that made him re-think about last night. A bad memory for him... no. more, About the past, oh..why did she left them? He knows the reason, but was he already the full reason? Or....did wallaby have anything to do with this? Every thought made him dig deeper and deeper in the...unwanted memeories, he cant get himself to get out of his mind and go to the inreview, all he think about now was who fault it was.

" Wallaby...I think you really need to stop now!! "

And that was the first time that mason rised his voice a little at wallaby, and honsetly, wallaby was very surprised, his dad never rised his tone like that at him before, he always talk too soft and gentle with him, so excited yo hear about his day. But now he didnt look to be in the mood to do that.

" Dad.... " " wallaby you must stay here! " " But da- " "im already late for this i need to go! " "pwease da-" "bye. "and with that mason closed the door behind him completely. leaving the house, and leaving the young child to spend another day at his home on his own. Mason was on the streets running, he felt like a lot of pressure and stress on him have been realesed when he got angry, now there is no more complaining about lucy and her absence.....but...he didnt feel alright yet...he felt.....regret....it was so heavy...he felt his heart carrying a heavy weigh...or that there are rocks in his chest...that didnt make him feel well by any chance, he tried to ignore it but it was a lot not to feel something...he felt so alone...he started getting cold...a feeling he didnt sense long ago...cause his body and heart always felt warm whenever he used to be alongside his son..but now he feels like he left him...he did...he feel like he did a mistake..he didnt mean it...he didnt mean to do that at all....he was just pressured and sad to rememeber a doleful memory...he didnt meant to hurt anyone...he wished he could go back and change something of what just happened..but now he cant, all he can do now is pass this intreview.

The night had fallen upon the land, the sky left with only a matt black canvas with no stars to be looked upon. The darkness was thick, mason path was hardly lit, if a normal person cant see good in this dark then this only made mason sight worse.  The interview went..........fine..........it wasnt what he was really looking for...and that was dissatisfied....but all what mason could care about is returning to his home and check something, rather someone....Other than the darkness and himself all that seemed to exist was the chilly wind thats harsh bite could be felt through the man skin. He could feel the hairs on his arms rise and the bite of the wind had left its mark in the form of small bumps that were tingling on his arms, but its bite was more than flesh deep. His blood ran cold through his veins and his bones were chilled. but the heat of what he was wearing did not reach his skin at all, mason know why, after what he done today he knew that today will not be a pretty day at all. The cold wind could be felt that its his inner repent, after what felt like days he saw his home, he may not see a lot good but it he could recognize his house, he stayed in the chilly wind for a few minutes, what is he going to do and say when gef back home?....

He sighed and gently opened the door, waiting to see someone in front of him when he do, to his surprise, there wasnt anyone....the house felt so quiet.....

so empty....

" Wallaby? " He called for his son, waiting for a reply, but none came. "Wallaby? " He called again. began walking around the house, maybe his son just didnt hear him..but he began to sweat.. " wallaby...?... " he searched everywhere in the house, the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom, he couldnt find him! There was only one place left...the bedroom, he ran to there, seriously hoping that wallaby is here insode the house. He entered the bedroom and turned on the lights panicking.........then sighed.......wallaby was there...sleeping on the bed that they both together share....wearing the same jacket he woke up with around him...mason smiled a little at the view. With the corner of his eyes he toke a glance of some small crayons and a drawing white paper on the ground, he went to that drawing and picked it up to see what did wallaby draw while he was out, he slowly looked into it.

It was drawn in a chidish way, with simple colors of crayons...if mason not wrong, one of the two people in it was him, having a smile on his face, next to him a smaller figure, he wasnt sure at first if thats wallaby, that figure had a colorfull hair, and a red dot to where seemed to be the nose, that figure short arms were stretched and some different colored dots where around him. Was that a clown? Why would wallaby draw his dad with a short clown next to him playing with some balls?! But suddenly it hit him..he remembered...

Wallaby previous birthday....at that day, mason only concern was to give his child a little happy party...but he couldnt even afford a cake...let alone a present...when he came back home that day all what he brought was just a red ballon, but he didnt want the birthday to just go by like that, he wanted to try and give wallaby any kind of gift, the only idea in his head was to dress as a clown and try to impress wallaby or make him laugh. He made wallaby sit on the ground and just got some random things to try and throw in the air and catch them again, which was a fail, wallaby didnt do anything, other than sitting there with a stare, when mason thought about giving up he slipped on something and fell down, that did hurt a bit, but wallaby laughed a lot! Which made mason not regret this at all and laughed with his kid "Hahahha! That was so funny dad! Why ya dressin like that? :D " " Haha...i was trying to be like a clown son! " "a clown? Oooh! So today is dressin as diffwent people day? " " Heh..I guess? " " Yaaay! Imma dress like ya dad! " Wallaby looked right and left to find something that can make him look like his dad, luckily he noticed his dad flatcap and grapped it to put it on his head " look dad! Im ya! I love my son a lot! We both get books and stare at them together! " Mason laughed because that was actually funny and true, they both cant read correctly which lead them to just stare at any book they try to read. Mason got up and put a hand on the flatcap that was on wallaby head " and this, my dear son...is my birthday gift to you...happy birthday! " Wallaby eyes looked like they were starry and he touched his dad flatcap with both his hands " wooooow!! Rewwy! Thanks dad!! " wallaby jumped on his dad giving him a tight hug, to which mason gladly gave back.

Mason now got what the drawing is talking about, in wallaby birthday party he tried to make him laugh so he can feel better...now..wallaby saw his dad was angry..and wanted him to laugh again...so he dressed as a clown and tried to make his dad smile again...just like he did to him...mason looked up the two figures to see a childish writing, its may not be written right but he tried as hard as he can to read it.

' Am srry dad u ar angre, i wont u 2 smail plz, i lov u '

Mason felt he is going to cry.

He learned it, nothing in this world can ever be above his only family. He put the drawing on a table, turned off the lights, and layed down next to wallaby, though his small son was sleeping to his side, mason hugged him from behing carefully and whispered softly.

" Im so sorry I neglected you today my precious sunshine...I wont do it again...the words wont describe how much I love you, I will be your mama and dada...and will take care of you for every moment...I am a proud dad to have you...no matter what wallaby....you will always make me proud. "

#brueklynn #wallaby wallstone #mason wallstone

[possibilistfanfiction]

stardust brought to life (we have only just begun)

[museum au part 1/2—lexa works at the museum of natural history & clarke works at the hayden planetarium. lexa’s seen some shit but yknow they get to fall in love, all that jazz. v hap, v gay]

//

stardust brought to life (we have only just begun)

.

what we do know, and what we can assert without further hesitation, is that the universe had a beginning. the universe continues to evolve. and yes, every one of our body’s atoms is traceable to the big bang and to the thermonuclear furnaces within high-mass stars that exploded more than five billion years ago.

– neil degrasse tyson, astrophysics for people in a hurry

//

your shoulder still aches.

you try not to think about that, though, especially right now, because it’s the first snow of the year and it’s beautiful, and clarke waves to you, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold. it almost knocks you off your feet, how pretty she is, so you casually lean against the railing so you don’t fall down the stairs.

‘hey lex,’ she says, settling next to you, seemingly happy to stand on the stairs instead of heading to the planetarium where she’s supposed to be.

‘good morning, clarke.’

‘always so formal,’ she says, then tugs on your arm lightly before starting up the stairs. ‘octavia is in the café today, let’s get coffee for free before kane is here and can tell us not to.’

‘clarke—’

she rolls her eyes, tugs on your hand. ‘you can get hot chocolate or tea or whatever if you’re still on your insane kick to give up caffeine.’

‘that’s not—’

she stops and turns toward you, glaring. it’s soft, though, made softer by her tone: ‘it’s the first snow, lexa. live a little.’

you sigh and scuff your boot on the marble stairs once, then nod. ‘whatever. fine.’

clarke laughs and takes off again.

your stomach hurts sometimes too, aches all the way into your chest, into your shoulder, but you try not to think about that either. you think about the size of the universe instead, about how last year there were 23,237 recorded live trees in maine.

clarke doesn’t let go of your hand all the way to the fourth floor, and it maybe hurts a little less.

//

you’re trying to eat your pizza slowly, but you’re sweaty and starving and your hands are barely warming up from the cold but you don’t really care. anya had convinced you to join this stupid intermural hockey league this year—‘you can’t keep making excuses, alexandria, for the things you still love,’ and for a moment you were sure you weren’t talking about hockey’—and you’d wanted to get in a fight right then and there earlier when you’d seen clarke and raven and octavia cheering on the bleachers.

anya had laughed when you’d checked her into the boards, especially because you were on the same team, but the game is over now and you’re at a pizza place near the park that clarke had suggested, and she’s drinking wine and laughing and she’d convinced you to have some too.

you all walk to the subway together, and clarke doesn’t hesitate for a moment before giving you a long, warm hug, the same as always, even though you’re sweaty and probably smell terrible.

you have the impulse to kiss her cheek but you don’t, and when you’re icing your shoulder later that evening with anya, passing a bottle of bourbon back and forth while you watch reruns of game of thrones, she laughs a little when you smile at your phone.

‘is that clarke?’

you debate lying, but you’re really bad at it and you’re also drunk, so there’s no point. ‘yeah.’

‘she’s hot.’

you sigh and anya grins.

‘keep showing her those big hockey muscles,’ anya says, and you roll your eyes when she flexes, ‘and i’m sure she’ll reciprocate.’

‘fuck off.’

‘unbutton that polo every once in a while, lex.’

‘suck my dick, anya.’

she takes a swig of the bourbon and then hands it to you. ‘just take your shirt off during one of those sleepovers you chaperone.’

you cough on your mouthful of alcohol, and it burns all the way down your throat. ‘there are children there.’

anya just laughs, delighted, while you sulk, trying not to cough more.

‘you have abs, lexa, children or not.’

your cheeks burn and you try not to smile. you don’t let her have any more of your bourbon that night.

//

raven invites you to a post-finals party. you think it could either be the best or worst idea you’ve ever had, willfully allowing yourself to get drunk around clarke, who will also be getting drunk, but you really do try to act your age every now and again.

apparently, you’re having this party at clarke’s parents’ apartment, because they’re out of town for a conference her dad is presenting at. as you walk with raven, she tells you all about his work in robotics, because they’re friends, you guess? she keeps rubbing at her hip as you walk and you fish around in your backpack and find your trusty bottle of advil, offer her two without a word. she takes them without pausing, throws them back and swallows them without any water or anything, and then just keeps talking about stem cells and nanorobotics and she’s let you talk her ear off about endemic plant species in south africa, so you smile into your scarf all the way down park avenue.

//

clarke’s parents’ apartment is huge, as far as you’re concerned. you grew up in a little house in a little town on the coast of maine, and you didn’t want for anything—you’d had your tide pools and hockey skates and books, a pretty girl you loved and your uncle who would let you walk to the top of the light house with him at night.

but this is something altogether entirely, and you feel a little out of place in your sweater that has a hole in the sleeve and the same boots you wear everyday to work in the winter. raven doesn’t seem to care at all, though, and clarke skids in from the kitchen wearing a t-shirt (a very tight, lowcut t-shirt that leaves very little to the imagination) and jeans, wool socks with little penguins on them, and she hugs you both at the same time, groaning when octavia changes the music blaring to bodak yellow because ‘i love this song too, guys, but it’s not even 9 and this is the sixth time they’ve put this on.’

clarke takes one look at the little bundt cake you’d brought—you’d made it in your dorm kitchen, it’s full of quinoa and pumpkin and you’d bought real powdered sugar over the top—and seems to kind of melt.

raven laughs. ‘griffin, how drunk are you already?’

clarke shrugs, tugging you both with her to the kitchen where lincoln smiles, so handsome, as he mixes drinks while octavia sits on the counter, swinging their legs and rapping every word to bodak yellow.

‘my parents took me to brunch before they flew out,’ clarke starts to explain.

‘and then we just kept goin,’ octavia says, turning to you with a grin. lincoln seems far more sober, but you think he might just be better at faking it.

‘well i guess we better catch up,’ raven says, and clarke and octavia cheer, handing you both a shot.

it feels like a bad idea, but it also feels like a really good one.

//

clarke’s parents’ apartment has a rooftop garden, and it affords you an entire view of central park and the rest of the city, which you discover because clarke takes you there later, when the place is packed and you’re pretty sure you’ve heard bodak at least twelve times. you know you could call anya if you wanted to go home, but clarke is smiling and you should be cold, because it’s supposed to snow and it’s windy, but you’re warm.

‘anyway, okay, so like, yes, i want to be a surgeon,’ she explains, ‘but also we’re so young, you know, and i want to spend time with my friends and not have my mother breathing down my neck before residency in a billion years, because she’ll probably rig it so that i get matched with her program.’

‘it is one of the best in the country,’ you say, taking a sip of your beer. ‘you said so yourself.’

clarke leans close with a fond huff. ‘you’re supposed to be on my side, lexa.’

you laugh, and the motion brings you close to clarke, closer than you’d really meant to be. you swallow, suddenly far colder and more sober than you’d been seconds ago.

clarke’s eyes dart to your lips, and then your eyes, and then your lips again.

the wind whips your hair around your faces and you credit that for the tears in your eyes as you lean forward and kiss her.

you know that the moon is 1/4000th the size of the sun, but that the moon is 4000 times closer to the earth than the sun, which allows everyone on earth to see them as relatively the same size. it’s the only place in our solar system that this happens, and you think about this as you kiss clarke in the dead of winter, the stars pulled down into streetlamps and headlights.

the city, usually so loud, quiets.

//

you kiss her for a long time, until one of your sniffles snot from being so cold and the other laughs and she leads you back into her parents’ apartment. the party is winding down and you’re getting sleepy and when people start to leave and she invites you to stay the night, you want to say no but then you think of how tired you are and how much you want to be held.

she leads you to her old room, which is full of paintings and sketches and polariods, certificates of awards for a variety of academic achievements, a letterman jacket from her highschool still slung over her desk chair.

you run your fingers over it as she goes shuffles through her drawer for pajamas for you. ‘what’d you letter in?’

she laughs. ‘chess. i was nationally ranked, actually.’

‘wow,’ you say, delighted. ‘that’s—‘

‘—nerdy, i know.’

‘no,’ you say. ‘i was going to say impressive.’

‘sure, sure,’ she says, laughing. she turns and hands you pajamas and you want to ask, maybe, how she can sense you don’t want to have sex, because you’d just kissed her for at least twenty minutes on a rooftop in manhattan and most people would probably get some mixed messages from that.

you’re so drunk you don’t really care about going into a bathroom or whatever at this point to change, because you’re pretty sure clarke doesn’t care at all, so you start to take your pants off while clarke changes too. ‘did you letter in anything?’

‘hockey,’ you say.

‘right,’ clarke says, slightly muffled by her shirt. ‘makes sense.’

‘do not tell anyone this, but i also lettered in jazz band.’

clarke lets out a laugh. and you turn to her as you slip into some of her worn, soft boxers. they’re a little big so you roll them up and she takes a deep breath and then lets it out through her nose. you smile—you’re a little pleased and a little apologetic—and then she starts to ask another question, something about a saxophone or a trumpet, as you pull your sweater over your head. you’re drunk so you’d forgotten, for the first time in years, but when you go to deposit your sweater in a pile on top of your socks and jeans, clarke is quiet and fighting between staring at you and the corner of her room.

‘you’re my same age and you’re from maine,’ she says, things seemingly clicking into place.

you take your sweater and pull it over your head again, and your hands start shaking and your eyes press with tears.

‘lexa,’ she says, stepping toward you quickly, which only makes your heart race more. you’re drunk, you’re drunk, and you know you’re safe but your ears are ringing. ‘i’m sorry i just—i didn’t—god,’ she says. maybe she notices you trembling, maybe she notices the way you’ve seemingly forgot how to button your pants, but she straightens up and says, ‘lexa,’ just firmly enough of your to meet her eyes.

they’re so blue. you want to find comfort in them, and maybe you will, but everything is too loud right now.

‘i have to go,’ you get out, barely, all gritted teeth and you remember what it was like to choke on your own blood.

‘lexa,’ she says again, differently this time, pleading. ‘i’m sorry.’

you shake your head. ‘i’m not mad,’ you say, and you’re surprised you were able to express a thought as coherent as that. ‘it’s not—i have to go.’

she very gently helps you button your pants and then nods. ‘okay.’

you breathe a sigh of relief because clarke is kind, because clarke is fun and young and wild but she’s gentle, and your brain is trying to convince your body that it’s about to die again, but later you’ll remember this moment with such tenderness.

‘let me get your coat. i’ll get you a car too.’

you follow her out, nodding, maybe, and she helps you into your coat, walks you down and makes sure you get into a black towncar, makes sure her driver knows your address.

when you get to your dorm, you knock on anya’s door and she lets you in, mostly asleep, without a word.

‘you’re here,’ she tells you, helping you out of your clothes and into her bed, while she sets up a little nest of blankets on the floor. ‘you’re in new york and it’s winter and—‘ she pauses for a moment, then lets out a laugh— ‘you have a hickey on your neck, for sure.’

it shocks you just enough, happily, that your heart slows down a bit. ‘from clarke,’ you say, and her name feels solid on your tongue, quiet and present.

‘i never would’ve guessed,’ anya drawls from the floor.

it takes you a while to fall asleep and you have nightmares, but you do have a hickey from a very pretty girl when you wake up the next day, so.

there’s that.

//

it’s all very confusing: one minute you’re holding your piece of pizza, walking to the table you always sit at, every day, with your girlfriend and your friends. you’re tired and your hip is sore from hockey, your eyes hurt from reading the same history primary sources over and over again on the shitty library computers. costia is beautiful, though, and the pizza today looked less burnt than usual, and your uncle had promised to take you fishing this weekend.

one minute you’re holding your piece of pizza, and you’re sixteen, and then there’s a very distinct series of pops, a single click, and your pizza is on the floor because you can’t feel your hand. your arm is on fire and it takes you a few moments, but then everyone is screaming and there are so many pops, and it’s loud.

it occurs to you that you were shot, that this is a school shooting, that all of your classmates—your friends—are dying. Dead.

costia is rushing to you and then there’s another pop and you’re doubled over, because you can’t breathe and you can’t see because pain is shooting up from your abdomen and everyone is screaming, everyone won’t stop screaming, and costia is brushing hair out of your eyes but you can’t breathe, and it hurts.

‘lexa,’ costia is saying, ‘lexa.’

you swallow and you nod and costia is crying, and she presses down on your shoulder and then on your stomach, and you think you might pass out from the pain.

‘don’t go to sleep,’ she says, and her tears are falling onto your face. ‘don’t fall asleep, lexa, please,’ she says, chokes out on the edge of a sob.

‘it’s okay,’ you say, taste the copper and iodine of your own blood. you don’t know what drives you to say it, because there are so many gunshots and you know there are so many bodies but you can’t look away from costia’s perfect skin, her dark eyes, her pretty mouth. you don’t know where your friends are, and it registers somewhere that you might die, that you were shot and you have to have massive internal bleeding because you’re coughing up blood and you can’t feel your left hand.

but costia is saying your name and trying to keep your blood in your body. she’s saying your name, over and over again, her hands pressing hard into your skin, your gut. she’s saying your name until she’s not, until she’s slumped over you in a single instant.

you want to scream, and you hadn’t been scared until now. you want to scream but you can’t, and her breathing is ragged and she coughs up blood into the crook of your neck.

‘it’s okay,’ you say again, as clearly as you can, as best as you can, and you feel her nod, just slightly.

one minute ago you were sixteen years old, thinking about pizza and calculus and the federalist papers, walking to a table where you were going to sit with your friends and kiss your girlfriend, tuck your hands into the pockets of your letterman as you walked home.

costia’s breathing stops, you feel it stop, and it’s so loud, but you hear her heart stop. maybe you don’t, maybe that’s not possible, but you’re sure you’re going to die, and costia already has. it makes you feel sick, but she’s on top of you and you can’t move anyway, you can’t feel your hands or your legs and you can’t breathe.

one minute ago you were a child. you think you are going to die.

you will never be a child again.

//

anya tells you that you were asleep for four days. when you wake up in the hospital—in boston, with your shoulder shattered, your arm in a sling, two of your fingers still numb, your stomach cut open and stitched back together, from three different surgeries—when you wake up in the hospital you don’t think you’ll ever breathe again.

anya tells you, solemnly but without crying, that 27 people died. your friends, your classmates, people who have annoyed you since kindergarten.

you don’t have to ask if costia died because you know she died, but you ask anyway. your uncle is slumped over silently on the other side of your bed and you’re shocked you have tears left in you but you do, and the sob that works its way through your body burns.

they send a therapist in to talk to you, and you know you have ptsd and you tell her that you don’t know if you’ll ever feel real again, that you don’t really want to try to fall in love again. that you used to care about calculus and hockey ap us history, that all you wanted to do after school was make out with a very pretty girl in the back of your jeep. that you were excited about pizza.

she sits down and she sighs and she tells you that those things might never go away. but you tell her, a few weeks later, while you’re squeezing a stress ball as hard as you can, even though your hand isn’t working quite right, and your entire abdomen still aches when you try to stand up straight—you tell her that you still love trees. the ocean. your tidepools and all the words that have gone along with them.

you get to go home. it’s not the same—it’s hollow and it’s empty and gustus offers to move so you don’t have to go back to the same school. but you’re better enough now to wander along the craggy cliffs with your arm tucked around his study one. you have to pause a few times climbing to the top of his lighthouse, but you make it.

there’s a meteor shower, and you should’ve died.

you will never be a child again but there are shooting stars. you watch them above your head, and you watch them fall silently into the water below.

//

clarke finds you on sunday morning, far before the museum is open. she has flowers and two coffees and you’re blushing already.

‘first of all, i don’t want to trigger anything,’ she says, in a rush, and it makes you smile, ‘so i just wanted to say i think you’re beautiful and maybe some time you could stay and i promise not to ruin it.’

she kind of thrusts the bouquet in your face and you grin. you’re thrilled, because clarke is usually so confident and sure, and maybe she likes you just as much as you like her.

‘someone shot me and half of my school,’ is what comes out of your mouth, even though you hadn’t intended for it to at all. you hurry to keep talking after that one. ‘you didn’t ruin anything.’

she sighs in relief. ‘okay,’ she says. ‘i’m still—you know.’

‘yeah.’

she waits a beat for you to say anything else, and when she senses that that’s it, she smiles gently and wraps her hand around your arm. you’re holding a bouquet of chrysanthemums in the dinosaur room and a pretty girl is laughing about the compsognathus, and you correct her because they lived during the jurrasic era, not the triassic, and when you’re kissing her again, beside the triceratops skeleton, it doesn’t feel nearly as terrifying as the end of your world, as the end of anything at all.

#possibilist #possibilistfanfiction #museum au #here u go #clexa #read me

[ardynium]

What is this? Can it be? A new part of Three’s Company? (<this way to AO3) Still full of Dad!Cor, mad Uncle Ardyn and little Prom-Prom? Still by @bluespikycreature and little old me? Oh yessss.

This time Ardyn meets up with another one of the merry bunch. One who is all but delighted to see him, even if he might come up with a new recipeh in the end.

This part is called...

The cake is a lie

Ignis was early, as he always was, even though he knew that Noctis would very likely be fashionably late, as he often was. They were meeting in a small café halfway between the school and the charity event the prince was supposed to show his face at, to go through a few of the more important points of the night. Neither of them minded. The coffee was good, and there was no salad on the chicken sandwiches.

“Would you mind helping me with a decision?“ The hobo - no, not a homeless person, too much mohair and silk and finely spun cotton among the layers he wore, an eccentric - smiled at him. “It is of some importance to me, but rather easy for you to make, since it is of none to you, and you seem a man of good taste.“

"Not at all. How may I help you?" There certainly was no harm in doing this, and Ignis had some time to pass.

“Do we feel like classical chocolate today or like the rather promising strawberry tarte? Or something completely different?“ He managed to sound more serious about this question than Regis in some political things.

Ignis kept a perfectly straight face. "I'd say that it's not quite the right time of the year for strawberries yet. I doubt they will taste as good as they look."

“Which one would you choose if you'd had to choose?“ A little nod to the local selection of cakes.

"It's on the simple side, but the chiffon cake here is excellent."

“Then it will be two slices of chiffon, a cup of black tea for me and one Ebony for my young friend.“

“Of course, Sir.“ The server nodded and went to get his order, and the stranger sat down with him. “You don't mind if I do?“

"Thank you." Ignis nodded. "I am waiting for company, but it will be a while."

"Oh, I know, but the fledgling just sent me a message they will be late." Ardyn was rather proud of himself that he had learned to decipher those rather cryptic texts Prompto sometimes sent. For a whole while, the boy had tried, had really tried, but when he was in a hurry, he started to shorten and scramble things.

"Fledgling? Oh, you mean Prompto?" The nickname had been mentioned here and there. "I take it you are his uncle Ardyn, then?" Ignis had seen a few pictures, but they had been few and far between for him to only now be sure who the other man was.

"And you are Ignis Scientia, the princeling's chaperone. Ah, thank you, love." Cake and drinks were served.

Ignis thanked the waitress and adjusted his glasses. "I'd like to think that my duties go a little beyond that."

"Do they, now? And where do they go? Not on little journeys now and then, even though you could need those, to prevent the inevitable ulcer for a little longer." A friendly little wink as the uncle arranged the things on the table in just the right way.

"I appreciate the concern, but I am quite content with my position as it is." Even though yes, it meant that he had never had a proper vacation. "You are waiting for your nephew?"

"That, too, but I'm trying my best to meet those affected by the prophecy before things get even more serious. Have some cake with them, if it can be managed." A wide smile. Yes, this was perfect. Time to eat.

Other than with Noctis and his father, Ardyn only saw the moment Ignis' jaw became tight and his expression blank. The young man nodded and drank some coffee, used the time between picking up the cup and setting it down again to think and to assess . "Please, go on. You have my attention."

He was ruining his foreplay . How impolite. "I suppose you already have an opinion about the whole affair?"

"Just a cluster of assumptions, concerns, and wishful thinking, as most of us do." A tight smile. "Noctis has been adamant about not telling me what you talked about during his Majesty's visit. He has been a little out of sorts since then. It would be quite interesting to know why."

"He has? Oh my. That was truly not what I intended." Ardyn seemed mildly worried. Tried the cake. Allowed himself to get lost in the cake, at least for a little while.

Ignis let him, and busied himself with his own cake for a few bites. It didn't taste like much today. "I have helped him with some of his research. I am entertaining a few hypotheses that I would have considered absurd a few weeks ago."

“Indulge me, will you? I might be the person with the most, well, first-hand experience there is at the moment.“

"It does seem like it, yes. Especially if you are as old as what we saw indicates. You're him , aren't you?" It looked like Ignis wanted to add more, but he faltered, and finally only asked, quietly, "He's going to die, isn't he? Sooner than he should?"

"And you are going to suffer a fate worse than death. According to prophecy, that is. And yet we are sitting here and having an indeed rather delightful piece of cake. I'm rather sure this wasn't augured anywhere, and I would very much prefer the next, say, sixty years to be like that. More cake, less blood and tears."

The young man being so detached about the whole thing made it easier for Ardyn to talk about it.

"I think we can agree on that, yes." With the color his face had turned, warnings about stress related stomach issues came a little late. "If Noct's reaction is anything to go by, you don't know how to achieve this goal, either."

"It is rather hard to know such things. That's why humans went with praying and hoping for the best for so long. I do have ideas, but alas, not really a plan. Yet. I'm still in the 'meet the other parties'-phase."

"I suppose cooperation is a rather good starting point." Ignis nodded. "Whatever we do next, Noct's safety is my first priority. I'm sure you understand."

“I have heard this before, indeed. From pretty much everyone, as these things are to be expected.“ He dipped a bit of cake into the tea and ate it gracefully. “It is rather frustrating, you know, how much a title changes. Even the fledgling seems to prefer companions his own age, no matter how long we know each other.“ That was only half true and mainly the product of the teenage wasteland that was Prompto's brain, but it hurt a little nonetheless.

"Just to be clear: Noct is my friend. The title is secondary in this. That being said, I would very much prefer it if everyone got out of this mess unharmed."

“Oh, I very much hope he is in your heart, my dear Ignis. It is important to have good people at your side in any position, but especially in his. Those who are lacking them...“ A sad little headshake. It was clear he was thinking of somebody , but wouldn't say until someone asked nicely.

"Are rather unfortunate." Ignis frowned. "Who are you talking about?"

Ardyn pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I would like you to take a guess. You seem wise enough to give an interesting answer."

"I'm fairly sure that you are not talking about yourself, because if you were, I would have to remind you that if anything were to happen Prompto would come to your aid first, and that would put us in a rather awkward situation. Aside from the fact that we are having this conversation specifically so no-one will have to choose."

"And I have Cor. Who does try his best to keep messy ideas out of my head, even though allowing him sometimes needs a certain amount of good will on my part, with him telling me Don't and letting myself fill in the blanks." A slight smile that showed actual fondness.

Ignis returned the smile for a moment. At least something was already working out well. He sobered up quickly, adjusted his glasses. "There are some parties involved in this whose status I honestly don't know. Lady Lunafreya comes to mind, though. I cannot imagine her to be happy with her brother's involvement in the Niflheim forces."

“A wise man, as I thought. Where do you see the problems with little Luna, other than her brother dearest?“

"Her confinement," Ignis replied. He turned the cup in his hands, coffee now cold. "And the constant surveillance that comes with it. Securely communicating with someone who is basically a political prisoner isn't an easy feat."

“Mhm.“ A slow nod for this very human answer. “And you do have suggestions what to do to work around this?“

Ignis frowned. "I would have to think about it for more than a few minutes, to be honest. A misstep could lead to serious consequences on a large scale."

Ardyn briefly wondered if he could provoke a heart attack in a boy his age by just telling him what he already did, but decided against it. That would just be mean.

“Please do.“

A nod. "I will." He took a look at his watch and sighed. "They are running quite late." There was more than just a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“It gives us some more time to speak, which may not be the worst thing. You're the first of them I can speak to without...“ A fork full of cake. Not completely without.

Ignis, too, pulled the plate closer again. Much longer and he would have to go and pick Noct up, but for the moment, he might as well. "Without...?"

“My past stirring too much. It is rare, and I thank you for it.“

Ardyn had a vague idea why. A sense of nostalgia that woke deep within, a half-lost memory of an old familiar.

"I can hardly take credit for that, but I'm glad to hear it." His face relaxed a little, a conscious effort to come across a little less stern . "I certainly don't mean to cause discomfort."

A raised fork waving away his words. “You have every right to cause it, and every right to feel it yourself. You are as much part of this as the boys are, and are supposed to bleed even more. I find it very undeserved.“

Now that his expression was a little less guarded, Ignis’ discomfort was more obvious, drawn lips and evasive eyes. "Usually I would ask for details, and I probably should."

“The prophecy speaks of one wise man who will give the light of his eyes for the King of Light. The illustrations... point to you, and they are rather accurate about the other three.“

"That they are." Those pictures had been the garula in the room between him and the prince for the last two weeks. "And I'm afraid they are correct in assuming that it is something I would give to ensure Noct's well-being. But a wise man?" A wry smile. Ignis shook his head. "Not much wisdom to be found if I already know that it won't save him."

“Why do you think such horrible things if your worst enemy is not willing to think them?“

The boy - and a boy he still was - was better at playing down his emotions than his liege, and far better than the fledgling. One almost couldn't see the shiver running down his spine. "I'm not saying that it is impossible to save him at all. We already established that the prophecy is off the mark, and we are actively working against it as we speak. All I am saying is that there is no point in a sacrifice that I now know is playing into our common enemy's hands."

"The wisdom will come, sooner than later, prophecy or not." Piece of cake into his mouth. Not satisfying. "They might try to make you fulfill the words written by themselves by any means necessary. Oh, how they hate being in the wrong." Ardyn laid down the little silver fork, folded his hands to hold onto himself.

Ignis set his jaw and nodded. His response was tight, and he might as well have been talking about a particularly petulant child. "They will have to deal."

The Accursed’s smile was wide, and Ignis felt the older man's cold hand around his own for a moment, squeezing it in sudden sympathy. " Thank you ."

A short moment of hesitation, and another nod. Once Ardyn let go, Ignis used his free hand to pull something from his jacket pocket. A card. He handed it over like it was a matter of course for a teenager to carry those. "Thank me by keeping me updated. The more I know, the more helpful I can be."

The old man took the calling card with both hands and took a good look at it. "I will thank you for working together when things worked out, until then I will only thank you for your sensibility. It is rather liberating not having to be the most reasonable in this undertaking anymore."

"You may be giving me too much credit. I understand His Majesty is on board as well?"

"I'm giving you the fair share of credit you deserve. Yes, Reggie seems indeed to be rather happy with the idea of ending all this peacefully and without unnecessary deaths. The boy shares his opinion with little Lunafreya in this." There. He said it, as nonchalantly as he managed, just as Ignis had taken a sip of his coffee.

Somehow, Ignis managed to cover his mouth and keep the spitting to a minimum. He still needed a moment to get the coughing under control.

Honey-colored eyes looked at him innocently. “Are you alright?“

"Well," he replied, dabbing the coffee off his shirt as much as possible, "we are not currently under attack, so I suppose I am. Given the circumstances, that is all I can reasonably ask for."

The tiniest pout on Ardyn's lips. Dry as hard tack, that one's humor, and very much not what he had been hoping for. For once, he was proud of himself for doing something actually good , and now the only one who wouldn't pass out from the information had to do something like this. Life was mean.

"Also seeing that we are not, I take it your line of communication with her is impressively secure. Which makes enquiries on my side rather unnecessary." Ignis looked up. "I'm so sorry, did I get coffee on you?"

“You could try to be nosy, you know? Just the tiniest bit.“ Had the boy been born that way? And was he even a real boy? More composure than all of the adults together, this one. Rather scary.

"No need for further enquiries into establishing contact." Still with that calm voice. Also still dabbing away at a stain that was all but dry already, keeping his hands busy and his eyes down. "I was going to ask how you did it, and so quickly."

"As soon as your heart stopped screaming because all of this is way too much, that is." Ardyn's voice was soft. "You don't have to keep up your face, child, not with me. Be strong for the princeling all you want, but I promise I won't tell if you allow yourself to be weak once in a while. It's the same offer I made little Lunafreya, and it's the least I can do for causing all this trouble."

Ignis stopped and looked up. He took a deep breath, and the shudder running through him when he exhaled was obvious. "I--" Another breath like the one before. "I sincerely thank you for the offer. It is, however, not that simple. You should know that better than anyone."

"I know a thing or two about old habits, indeed. Would you fancy a drink instead? It seems the adult thing to do to regain composure." Again, the old man's hand on his, and it was only thanks to the table that he wasn't in a proper hug now.

"I still have to drive." Ignis pulled his hand back, slowly. "I should also be on my way."

Ardyn nodded, equally slowly. “Inappropriate. I'm sorry.“ His hand lay forlorn for a moment, then held onto his cup of tea. “Tell them my best regards and that I just wandered off somewhere, completely forgetting about the meeting. If you would do that for me.“

"I'm sure they will understand." Ignis stood to leave. "Thank you for all of this." His time, his honesty, his offer, Ardyn could take his pick. "It was good to finally meet you."

"That it was. And thanks for your recommendation of cake. It is appreciated."

"You're quite welcome. I hope we can repeat this under less... pressing circumstances."

“Probably never, considering your job. Off you go.“ A regal wave. He still could do that .

#dad!cor #cor leonis #ardyn izunia #prompto argentum #ignis scientia #ongoing #ffxv fanfiction

[maximelebled]

2017

Howdy! Time for the yearly blog post! There's enough depressing stuff that happened this year, so I want to try and not focus too much on that; talk more about the positive and the personal. (I am looking back on this opening paragraph after writing everything else, and I don’t think that ended up true.)

I find it increasingly harder to just straight up talk about things, especially in a direct manner. I think it comes from continuing to realize that so many things are extremely subjective and everything has so much nuance to it that I feel really uncomfortable saying a straight "yes" or a straight "no" to a lot of questions ("Nazis are bad" is not one, though). Or even just a straight answer.

I always end up wanting to go into tangents, and I inevitably run into not being able to phrase that nuance. You know that feeling, when you know something, you have the thought in your head; it is so clear, right there in your head, it is crystal-clear to your soul, yet you have no idea how to word it, let alone doing so in 140/280/500 characters. Frustrating!

I guess I could just put a big disclaimer here, "I am not a paragon of absolute truth and don't start interpreting my words as 'Max thinks he is the authority on XYZ' because you'd be quite foolish to do so"; but that doesn't help that much. Online discourse, let alone presence, can be so tiresome these days; not to be too Captain Obvious, but, there are quite a lot of people that delight in engaging those they see as their "opponents" in bad faith.

As a white man, I don't have it that bad, but still, I'll continue to tell you one thing: the block button is extremely good and you should feel no shame in using it. It drastically improves your online experience. (There are some very clear signs that make me instantly slam the button. I’m sure you know which ones too.)

Anyway, regardless, it's hard to get rid of a habit, especially one you've unwillingly taken on yourself, so I apologize in advance for constantly writing all those "most likely", "probably", "maybe" words, and writing in a style that can come off as annoyingly hesitant sometimes.

I started watching Star Trek this year. My Netflix history tells me: January 29th for TOS/TAS, March 26th for TNG, June 3rd for DS9, November 9th for Voyager.

TOS was really interesting to watch. A lot of things stood out: the (relative) minimalism of the sets and the directing was reminiscent of theater, and even though that was, generally speaking, because that's how TV shows used to be made, it was still striking. From a historical perspective, "fascinating" would still be an ill-suited word to describe it. Seeing that this is where a lot of sci-fi concepts came from, suddenly understanding all the references and nods made everywhere else... it was also soothing to watch a show about mankind having finally united, having exploration and discovery as its sole goal. I feel like it wouldn't have made as big of an impact on me, had I watched it a year prior.

I've always thought of myself as rejecting cynicism, abhorring it, but it's harder and harder to hold on to that as time goes on. I still want to believe in the inner good of mankind, of people in general, but man, it's hard sometimes. I think what really gnaws at me most of the time is how so many of the little bits of good that we can, and are doing, individually, and which do add up... can get struck down or "wasted away" so quickly. The two examples that I have in mind: Bitcoin, this gigantic mess, the least efficient system ever designed by mankind, has already nullified a decade's worth of power savings from the European Union's regulations on energy-efficient light bulbs. And then there's stuff like big prominent YouTubers being, to stay polite, huge irresponsible fools despite the responsibility they have in front of a massive audience of very young people. It can be really depressing to think about the sheer scale of this kind of stuff.

What we can all do on an individual level still matters, of course! I try my best not to use my car, to buy local, reduce my use of plastic, optimize my power usage, etc.; speaking of that, I've often thought about making a small website about teaching the gamer demographic in general quick easy ways to save energy. There is so much misinformation out there, gamers who disable all the power-saving features of their hardware just to get 2 more frames per second in their games, people who overclock so much that they consume 60% more power for 10% more performance, the list goes on. Maybe I'll get around to it some day.

All this stuff going on makes it hard to want to project yourself far ahead in the future. Why plan ahead your retirement in 40 years when it feels like there's a significant chance the world will go to shit by then? It's grim... but it definitely makes me understand the saying "live like there's no tomorrow". Not that I'm gonna become an irresponsible person who burns all their savings on stupid stuff, but for the time being... I don't feel like betting on a better tomorrow, so I might as well save a little bit less for the far future and have a nicer present. You know the stories of American workers who got scammed out of their own 401k? That's, in essence, the kind of stuff I wish to avoid. If that makes sense.

Anyway, going off that long depressing tangent: something I liked a lot across The Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, and Voyager, was how consistent they were. The style of directing, framing, camera movement, etc. was always very similar. Now, you can argue that's just how 80s and 90s TV shows on a budget, a 4:3 aspect ratio, and smaller SD screens worked, yes, but I do believe there is a special consistency that stuck out to me. I jumped into the newest series, Discovery, right after finishing Voyager (I don't plan on watching Enterprise) and the first two episodes were confusing to watch... shaky cam, a lot of traveling shots, shallow depth-of-field, and the tendency to put two characters at the extreme left and right of the frame.It’s a hell of a leap forwards in directing trends. It all gets better after the first two episodes, though.

I remember alluding to the King of Pain project in my last yearly post. I'm glad I managed to finally do it. I'd talk about it here, but why do it when I've made 70 minutes of video about it? (And unlike my previous behind-the-scenes videos, it's a lot more condensed, and hopefully entertaining.) Unfortunately for me, I completed the video in late June, with only a month left to the TI7 Short Film Contest deadline. So I ended up making two videos back-to-back. I had to buy a new laptop in order to finish the video during my yearly pilgrimage to Seattle. It was intense! And thankfully, I managed to pull off the Hat Trick: winning the contest three years in a row. I would like to think it's a pretty good achievement, but you know how us artists are in general; as soon as we achieve something, we start thinking "eh, it wasn't that good anyway" and we raise our bar higher still.

While I do intend to participate in the contest again next year, I know I'll most likely do something more personal, that would probably be less of a safe bet, now that the pressure of winning 3 in a row is gone. I already have a few ideas lined up...

... and I do have a very interesting project going on right now! If it goes through and I don't miserably land flat on my face (which, unfortunately, has a non-zero chance of happening), you'll see it in about a month from now.

I'm pretty happy to have reached a million views on all three of my shorts; a million and a half on the TI7 one, too... it might reach two million within six months if it keeps getting views at the current rate. It surprises me a bit that this might end up being my first "big" video, one that keeps getting put on people's sidebar by the all-mighty YouTube™ Algorithm™. There's often a disconnect between what you consider to be your best work, and what ends up being the most popular.

This reminds me that, a lot of the time, I get people who ask me if I'm a streamer or a "YouTuber". My usual answer is that I'm on YouTube, but I'm not a "YouTuber". I wholeheartedly reject that subculture, the cult of personalities, the attempts at parasocial relationships, and all that stuff. It's just not for me. Now, that said, I do hope to achieve 100k subscribers one day... I'm getting closer and closer every day! The little silver trophy for bragging rights would be neat.

My office was renovated by my dad while I was gone. It's much nicer now, and I finally have a place to put most of my Dota memorabilia. He actually sent me this picture I didn't know he'd taken, behind my back, in 2014; the difference is striking... (I think that game I'm playing is Dragon Age: Inquisition.)

Tinnitus. I first noticed my tinnitus when I was 20. I vividly remember the "hold on a second" moment I had in bed... man, if I'd known back then how worse it'd get. Then again, the game was rigged from the start; as a kid, I had frequent ear infections because my canals are weird and small. What didn't help either was the itching; back then, they thought it was mycosis... and treatment for that didn't help at all. Turns out it was psoriasis! Which I also started getting on my right arm that year. (It's eczema, it's itchy, it's chronic, and the treatment steroid cream. Or steroids.) Both conditions got worse since then, too.

Tinnitus becomes truly horrible when you start the doubt the noises you're hearing. When all you have is the impossible-to-describe high-pitched whine, things are, relatively speaking, fine. You know what the noise is, and you learn, you know not to focus on it. But with my tinnitus evolving, new "frequencies", I have, on occasion, started doubting whether I was hearing an actual noise or if it was just my inner ear and brain working in concert to make it up. So I end up thinking about it, actively, and that makes it come back. I had a truly awful week when, during an inner ear infection, the noise got so shrill, so overwhelming, I lost so much sleep over it. I couldn't tune it out anymore. It was like it was at the center of my head and not in my ears anymore. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. I'm not even sure that I'm in the clear yet regarding that. But, like I said, it's best if I don't dwell on it. Thinking of the noise is no bueno.

Really, the human body is bullshit. Here's another example. A couple months ago, I managed to bite the inside of my mouth three separate times. I hate when it happens, not because of the immediate pain, but because I already dread the mouth ulcer / canker sore (not sure which is the appropriate medical translation; the French word is "apthe"). Well, guess what: none of these three incidents had the bite degenerate into an ulcer... but one appeared out of nowhere, in a different spot, two weeks later. And while mouthwash works in the moment, it feels like it never actually helps... it's like I have to wait for my body to realize, after at least ten days, oh yeah, you know what, maybe I should take care of this wound in my mouth over here. And it always waits until it gets quite big. There's no way to nip these goddamn things in the bud when they're just starting.

But really, I feel like I shouldn't really complain? All in all, it could be much worse, so so so much worse. I could have Crohn's disease. I could have cancer. I could have some other horrible rare disease. Localized psoriasis and tinnitus isn't that bad, as far as the life lottery goes. As far as I'm aware, there's nothing hereditary in my family, besides the psoriasis, and the male pattern baldness. I wonder how I'll deal with that one ten, fifteen years down the line...

Just as I'm finishing writing this, the Meltdown & Spectre security flaws have been revealed... spooky stuff, and it makes me glad I still haven't upgraded my desktop PC after five years. I've been meaning to do it because my i7 4770 (non-K) has started being a bit of a bottleneck, that and my motherboard has been a bit defective the whole time (only two RAM slots working). But thankfully I didn't go for it! I guess I will once they fix the fundamental architectural flaws.

The Y2K bug was 18 years late after all.

Here's a non-exhaustive list (because I’m trying to skip most of the very obvious stuff, but also because I forget stuff) of media I enjoyed this year:

Series & movies:

Star Trek (see above)

Travelers

The Expanse

Predestination (2014)

ARQ

Swiss Army Man

Video games:

Hellblade: Senua's Sacrifice

Horizon: Zero Dawn

What remains of Edith Finch

Uncharted: Lost Legacy

Wolfenstein II

Super Mario Odyssey

Metroid: Samus Returns

OneShot

Prey

Music:

Cheetah EP by James Hunter USA

VESPERS by Thomas Ferkol

Some older stuff from Demis Roussos and Boney M.... and, I'll admit reluctantly, still the same stuff: Solar Fields, the CBS/Sony Sound Image Series, Himiko Kikuchi, jazz fusion, etc. I'm still just as big a sucker for songs that ooze with atmosphere. (I've been meaning to write some sort of essay on Solar Fields... it's there, floating in my head... but it's that thing I wrote earlier: you know the idea, intimately, but you're not sure how to put it into words. Maybe one day!)

I think that's about it this year. I hope to write about 2018 in better terms!

See you next year.

#year in review