#(but literally nobody I know is willing to do that so Ive just given up asking but do you see how this is a circle shaped problem)

[kudzushadow]

There for You | Part 1 of 3 | A Harlivy Fanfiction

Summary: After Harley finds Ivy in tears on the floor of the bathroom, realization dawns on her about how hard the past year had been on Ivy, from literally dying (1x12) to mind control. (2x12) They have a heartfelt conversation about the events leading up to the moment, and learn that sometimes it's ok to confide in the ones you care for. (Based on the scene from Eat Bang! Kill Tour: Issue #1)

Hurt/Comfort | TW: Past trauma mentions, slight hints of past abuse. | Spoilers for Harley Quinn: The Animated Series & Eat Bang! Kill Tour: Issue #1

See bottom for extra notes!

-

"...Ive?" Harley's eyes widened as she rounded a corner and was greeted with a sight that made her heart ache.

Ivy sat on the bathroom floor, head buried in her hands as her whole body shook with sobs. 

Harley was immediately kneeling by her side, arms wrapping protectively around her girlfriend without a second of hesitation. "Shh. It's alright, Ive. Everything's going to be ok…" Ivy had been acting strange since the wedding, but she hadn't been willing to open up to Harley. Now Harley was beyond worried, it was clearly more serious than the redhead had been letting on.

Ivy immediately relaxed into the blonde, tucking her face into Harley's chest. Eventually her sobs quieted down, but Harley could feel her trembling as she held her. While she tried to figure out what to say, she rubbed Ivy’s back comfortingly. 

After a couple moments of silence, after holding Ivy, feeling her tremble, listening to her uneven breathing… seeing her tear stained cheeks… realization began to dawn on Harley. God, she was so stupid and oblivious! She’d been so focused on her own feelings, she hadn’t even begun to consider Ivy’s… and how hard it must’ve been, being stuck in the middle of everything. 

“Ivy… I'm sorry. I’m so sorry… I’ve been so caught up in my own feelings, I hadn’t given any thought to how heavy all of this must weigh on you…” She brushed a strand of hair from Ivy’s face before continuing. “You’ve been through so much this past year, and I’ve been a pretty shitty friend. I should’ve been there for you, I should’ve helped you, should’ve protected you… and if I could go back in time and do it all differently, I would. A thousand times over.”

“...but I can’t, and that’s something I’ll regret as long as I live. Yet you’ve always been there for me, even when I created huge messes… when I joined the Legion of Doom, when I went back to Joker, when I released an army of parademons, when the Injustice League froze me… god, that last one sucked. Yet you rescued me. You always rescue me, Ive. Always help me. Always take care of me, even though I’m not sure I deserve it most of the time…” Harley looked away, shutting her eyes for a moment before forcing herself to continue. “...Ivy, you don’t have to pretend to be strong in front of me. You’re hurting… and that’s ok. We all hurt sometimes, but that doesn’t make us weak… or… or less human. I’m here now though. I want to share that burden with you, if you’ll let me.” Harley looked back at Ivy, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I love you, Ive. I love you so much… and if you ever… yknow, want to talk about… well, anything at all, really… I just want you to know I’m here.” 

Ivy turned her head away, and the next few minutes passed slowly in silence. Harley held Ivy, didn’t once let go, but with each passing second she became increasingly worried she’d done something wrong. Was it something she’d said? Oh god, had she made it worse? 

“Ive, I didn’t mean-”

“Harley.” Ivy pulled away slightly, raising her head so she could meet Harley’s wide blue eyes. “I-” She paused, choking back a sob. “I hurt you, I hurt Chuck… I hurt so many people… all because I didn’t know what I wanted then… and to be honest, I’m not sure what I want now, either…”

Harley’s heart dropped, and she opened her mouth to respond before Ivy cut her off.

“-...but Harley… so much has happened. You’ve made mistakes, I’ve made mistakes… and you’re trying to change… that’s good, and I’m proud of you… but you're right, we can’t change the past, no matter how hard we try.” Ivy shut her eyes, letting out a shaky exhale before continuing. “Opening up… relationships… hell, just being around other people is… is hard for me… but you showed me the good in humanity. That not all humans are… are monsters. My life before I met you… was… lonely. Even with all my plants, I had nobody to talk to. Nobody to confide in… but I liked it that way. It was safe. Nobody was going to judge me, or… or abandon me... and I guess that’s why I… why I chose Chuck… because he was the safer option.”

I trust you, with my life… but I don’t trust you with my heart.

Harley winced inwardly, but she understood where Ivy was coming from. Harley definitely didn’t have the best track record with… well, anything really. 

So I… I’m marrying Kiteman.

“I was… I was scared. Scared that if I… if I went with what my heart was telling me, it was just going to get broken… and after everything, I just… I couldn’t stand the idea of that happening. Of losing you again…” Ivy trailed off, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

You were my one friend, and I asked you for one favor, but instead you ditched me for the Joker, who treats you like shit! 

“Ivy… I had no idea you felt that way.” Harley spoke softly, using her free hand to lift Ivy’s chin so she could look into those beautiful green eyes… eyes whose depths she often found herself lost in. “I… didn’t know what I really wanted then. It was like… like I was trying to fill a hole inside me… like part of me was missing… and then, that night at the pit…” She smiled, using her thumb to brush a tear from Ivy’s cheek. “That was one of the most amazing nights of my life. I hadn’t realized… I hadn’t realized what it felt like to have someone else care about you. To have someone love you. Joker definitely never cared about me… not in the way you do… and... y'know, maybe I didn’t deserve it. Like I said, I haven’t always been the most reliable… but that changes today… if you’ll give me a shot, that is…”

Ivy looked up at Harley as she brushed the tear away, and smiled sadly. “...You’re trying to change… and that’s what matters. Harls, I do love you. A lot…. More than I care to admit… and… this whole relationship thing is new to me, but… I’m… I’m willing to give it a shot. To give you a shot… and today… today was proof of how much you’ve changed. How much you’re willing to sacrifice for others…” Ivy rested her head on Harley’s shoulder, but her mind was clearly wandering.

“...but that’s not all that’s troubling you, is it?”

“...perceptive as always.” Ivy chuckled halfheartedly, then looked away again. “It’s… it’s fine. It’s nothing important…”

“Well, I am a psychiatrist… but seriously Ive, you can tell me anything.” Harley stroked her cheek. “You know that.” 

“Harley, I really don’t want to talk about it… can we just… can you help me out of this dress?”

“...yeah. Sure thing.” Harley stood up before reaching out a hand to help Ivy up. She definitely wasn’t going to let this drop that easily, but Ivy clearly didn’t want to talk anymore right now… so instead Harley busied herself with the zipper of Ivy’s wedding dress and the sights underneath.

- End of part 1 -

I think all of it copied and pasted? If it looks like anything is missing please lmk!

This... this is what quarantine, lack of sleep, and having covid does to you. Helps you get over writers block. This is my first work I've gone public with, and originally I wasn't going to post it but a friend gave me the confidence to share it! So... here it is, I guess?

I was going to post it on Archives of Our Own too, but I have to wait till the 14th to get an account. 😐

Comments mean the world, even if it's just a couple words. I'll even take criticism to heart! By commenting you all can let me know what you think, and if you want to see the other parts...

Any interaction is appreciated, and my inbox and dms are always open! Thank you, and have a great day! (Or night!)

#harlivy #harley quinn #poison ivy #harleen quinzel #pamela isley #harley quinn animated series #eat bang kill tour #harlivy fanfiction

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

to the anon that sent me an essay, this is for you

to everyone else, idk what this is

from anon:

here are a few things ive thought of to an obsessive level but these are completely non-bts related so u can choose to skip it. hell, you knew u that already.

1. before becoming parents or after emerging into adulthood everyone should be sent to therapy. sometimes i question if it is to fill the gaps their childhood has blown wide open that adults have children. or is it to fulfill some moral responsibility they have to simply reproduce. if its the first, to think about it, is kind of fucked up. you are depriving your child a stable future, creating replicas of exactly what you suffered, if u are not stable yourself.

You know, probably. People have kids for a number of reasons, not all if them good. I am a product of such a cycle, generations that used physical and emotional punishment on their own children to lash out their frustrations in life. The easiest one to bully is the offspring you made, because they don't know any better. They think that's how life is, because that's how life always was. I suffer for it, all the time. But, you know, therapy does nothing if you don't want it. You have to be willing to listen to be helped.

Most people are not willing to listen or change. That's the big problem.

2. its sad how the whole ' one in a million ' concept is staring at me. haruki murakami said mediocrity is constant. that thought haunts me everyday becuase of how many people are just a sea of faceless creatures as the world decides which one is the outlier. its the scariest thing i have ever felt, but it is inevitable. mediocrity should be normalized. there is an exorbitant amount of pressure in youth to produce and create and every other teenager is doing mun and every other adult is in the medical field, but at the cost of what? sure, you just saved the world, but did you save yourself?

Everyone is in outlier which makes nobody special. Society has slowly but surely created the idea that people need to be better than others, the idea that "better" must exist. To want more. And why is that?

Money.

Why is everyone pressured to make a product? To monetize their hobbies? To "do work you love"? Why is this the ideal? Because someone wants to profit from you. Someone is always greeding for more, more, so they make you feel this need as well, feeding off your futile attempts to be the "prefect you" but the perfect you doesn't exist. Why is it that every outlier put on a pedestal feels disillusioned / pressured or greedy / selfish? Because you've been tricked, feeling sad and deflated that you can't achieve something that isn't real.

3. middle class. im part of it. we're probably the most entitled section of society there is. it is so amusing to me how we have basically everything we need to survive but always want more. its weird how the poorer sections dont have time to think about their lives at the stake of capitalist countries, while we're here thinking about everything in our day that has harmed us, complaining about shit that isnt even required to survive. my mind is bursting because im literally fucking typing / this / because i have the privilege to and im STILL . doing . it .

Entitled? Everyone feels entitled. Not just middle class. You think rich people don't want more? Pfft. Everyone wants more, simply because that's what were trained to think. Everything around us is always asking you to want more, tying your worth to what you have instead of what you are. Your worth equating to material possessions has been taught to you all your life from the media, all for the sake of profit. The worst is when they turn your own morals and ethics on you to monetize that as well.

4. i hope i dont forget everything that has ever happened to me. not because i'd want to hold it over peoples head. but because i really dont want to grow ignorant. i dont want to have hollow opinions and i dont want to live a life where its easy to be just as. i dont want to be in a herd of sheep.

You will forget. Neurons die all the time. It's a known fact memories get disorganized, remade, and blended with fantasy. You are organic, an imperfect machine. Even your memories are imperfect, only focusing on specific things and not the whole picture because human brains focus on what's important and not what is. This is a survival tactic and it's what causes you to polarize one way or another. Even you, telling me this right now, you are declaring "I want things to only be this way".

But, you know.

"Polarization is the ugliest flower in the world."

Your past and memory is not the only thing that shapes opinions. Agreeing with others is not being a sheep. Are you a sheep because you agree killing an innocent as a police officer is not okay? Sometimes ignorance is okay. You don't have to know everything. Sometimes it's better not to.

5. im really jealous of bts sometimes. its fucking insane. theyre so successful but they have and continue to endure so much shit from the world. passion. passion is the word i want to chop up and throw into a blender and smother in a fire. they have it. and i dont. they are so hardworking. its something ill never be.

They don't have to do anything. They can quit at any time. They choose not to for many reasons. You choose how much you can take and how much is too much. You chose who you are. There are many hardworking, passionate people you don't know, because they don't want to be known. Passion, hard work, these things exist in many forms, and not all of it is so exposed like it is with BTS.

And let's face it, not all of those things can be good. They said so themselves.

6. i think we should really stop saying 'well if u were in their place what would u have done'. we cant do what we havent been given the chance to experience. we cant think about what we wouldve done because we have lived our lives NOT doing it. i am living my life only one which way and there is no other way i can know yet.

We say this to help others realize that prespective is importamt. It is not about actually living it, but having the empathy to understand and see from another person's eyes. No one is asking you to be Dr. Strange and live all 5 million possibilities. You can think someone's actions / words are wrong but, in that moment, they didn't think that, either because they grew up a certain way or because certain things happened to them. You don't have to live the experience to have some level of understanding, even if imperfect.

im sorry for this brain dump , i dont really have anyone else im willing to talk to and i completly understand if u skip this. hope ur fine tho and taking care. love ur works !

I'm an INTJ. My brain never turns off. It's a curse. But thank you for enjoying my writing! Hope you liked this too LOL

[peachy-inserts]

kirishima falling for someone/relationship hcs

request: Hawks, kirishima and bakugo falling for someone/relationship headcanons pwetty pwease? *pleading bird eyes"🐓 warnings: none a/n: holy cow these are CRAZY late. i am so very sorry!! i hope these are long enough, it’s been over a month since ive written anything

Kirishima for starters is a hopeless romantic; just like his manly persona, it’s something he’s passionate about and romanticizes to great extent, meaning he’s able to go into a relationship with high hopes and just as high expectations

So when he falls for someone, he spends a great deal of time contemplating whether or not he cares deeply enough to dive straight in the way that he does. Often times though, he’s sure of his own feelings and willing to give it a chance

When he first begins a relationship with you, he definitely wants to be the one to make the first move; it’s manly! There’s a lot of pining on his end, but for the most part if would be difficult for you to even tell there had been a shift in emotions

That being said, it’s really a bit of a shock when he asks you out like it’s nothing, as if you had seen it coming and it was something casual. Although, while his tone is confident something about his expression says otherwise. He may be bold and have thought it through, but that doesn’t make him immune to doubt

One thing to get straight is that Kirishima only goes into relationships that he thinks will be long term. No phone numbers at the coffee shop, no puppy love crushes with him. If he doesn’t already get along with you, then there’s no chance of him ever picturing himself with you

By the time he finally accepts his own feelings and confesses to you, he’s already planned your wedding; he’s an absolute sucker and a big old softie, but it can come off as clingy at times

Although he feels crazy awkward in the beginning of your actual relationship, he does his best at putting on a show. If it’s uncomfortable, then he’ll find something else to do, something to bring up, something to show you. Sometimes distractions are the best ways to bond. Besides, if you won’t share experiences together then how will you ever make memories?

Dates with Kirishima are spontaneous and adventurous. As soon as he thinks of or sees somewhere that piques his interest in the slightest, he’s pulling up your contact to ask if you’re free

They’re really just all over the place. Sometimes you’ll go to dive bars, pop up exhibits, go karting, or just for a walk in the park. Hell, he’ll even try to convince you to go bungee jumping over the weekend

This man also happens to be a giant teddy bear who will always end up giving you your way just to see a small smile or the way your eyes light up, even if it’s just for a second

He is in CONSTANT need of love and affection and if it’s not being given to him then he will seek it out. Expect to never be alone from now on; even when you’re gone for a few minutes he gets ‘bored’ and tracks you down, always attached at the hip

It’s like having a toddler honestly

Everything he does is with great consideration though, as spontaneous as he can be, and it really makes you question just how his mind works or is able to even comprehend his own thoughts. If you’re someone who needs their space, he’s more than happy to distance himself so that you’re comfortable

He also happens to be the biggest showboat, in several ways

Kirishima is the type of boyfriend who has an entire folder filled with pictures of their s/o and frequently shows them to people, often unwilling. Expect to be pulling him out of establishments by the arm because he’s so caught up in telling the cashier about how much he adores you

He also likes to show off to you, oftentimes by literally flexing. Yeah, he’s that guy (although I’m sure you don’t mind)

He’ll also randomly toss you over his shoulder, pick you up bridal style, or grab you buy your feet just to piss you off/tease you

As for jealousy, we all know that deep down he feels a bit inferior, which is part of why he’s so bent on improving his own self. He’s confident that you’d never do anything behind his back or anything that would hurt him, but can’t help but feel a little bit insecure when someone is making you laugh a little too much, smile a bit 

more than he had been able to elicit from you today, and so on and so forth. He’s likely not to act on it since nobody’s really done anything wrong, but if caught could use some reassurance

Kiri would bring you around his friends a lot, wanting them to be just as important to you as they are to him and you just as important to them as he is. While he loves them, he’s the type of person that would put you first and judge others based on their views on you. Feel free to lecture him for it.

I can’t say this enough but he, despite his flaws, is literally the sweetest ever. Always coming up with new nicknames, trying to make you giggle, doing anything and everything in his power to see to your emotional wellbeing and out of everyone I’ve done these hc’s so far is by far the most protective, even to a fault

»»————-　♡　————-««

Like these hcs? Find the same prompt for:

hawks.

bakugou.

todoroki.

aizawa.

#kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima #kirishima hcs #kirishima imagine #bnha insert #mod josie #kirishima #hcs #headcanons

[bandomslayed]

I’m not saying you should focus more on racism, I’m just saying that that’s something that the community as a whole needs to focus on and try to repair, I’m sure they all already know that people don’t like their ships. If that’s an issue, then groups can have a strict age limit. Easy solve. The other things are things that can be taught and learned but with hostility all that’s going to happen is a deeper divide. You said you wanted to argue with people about the things you don’t like that they do in this community. I’m paraphrasing, but why not instead want to educate them. No one will ever react well to feeling like they’re being ridiculed or patronized. People worth spending your time on are the ones you can talk to without it being a shitshow. We’re having a dialogue. I’ve felt this entire time like everything I say, someone is going to search for one thing to deliberately misinterpret or magnify unnecessarily when, if there’s something that they have an issue with, it could be a perfect opportunity to educate me instead of people being hostile. I’m college educated and can think critically, I’m moderately well spoken, I’m open to instructive criticisms and discussing things that aren’t agreed upon so I’m just sort of confused by the fact that what I’m saying is being picked apart by other anons and to a degree, you. You all want to change my mind about age gaps, despite me being with someone older irl and feeling safe and genuinely valued for the first time in a relationship in my life so why do you think that calling my dead grandpa names, redirecting the conversation and then kinda mocking me when I attempt to understand wholly and agree with some of the things you’re saying? That’s not going to convince me or anyone else. It just makes people feel defensive. Reiterating here that I’m not saying YOU specifically need to talk about racism more, and I’m not trying to diminish your experience or anything like that In just saying that those topics (discrimination of any kind, abuse of any kind) in the community are things we should be discussing instead of ships we think aren’t comfortable. I feel uncomfortable with relationships in real life and in rp all the time but that isn’t up to me to say it’s wrong or bad. It’s no ones right to tell any two consenting adults that what they’re doing is wrong. But it is a human right to tell someone when they’re being insensitive, and that’s a flaw in the community that people can be educated on and learn to handle with more sensitivity and knowledge but we’re never going to reach that point if we’re all just hostile and cruel to one another. Also reiterating that I’m not using personal examples to get cred, I just like examples because I think using them shows where I’m coming from so that any person who wants to have a dialogue can have a frame of reference for why my opinions are what they are on any topic. If I’m wrong, or insensitive, or just kinda dumb I want to know that but simply telling me I’m wrong or insensitive or dumb doesn’t teach me how not to me. And this doesn’t just mean me, I mean the whole community. It will never improve if we all just talk about the things we don’t like and give no feasible solutions.

alright i see what you want so let me switch to my white pleaser voice and deliver since you're so keen on being patronizing and in the same breath, acting like me taking what you say "the wrong way" is the problem. in bullet points so next time u come back to keep going at it u can pinpoint exactly what it is i misconstrued because u will do it anyway.

you're asking the community as a whole to care more about racism but you're talking to me who's leading the conversation in the first place. i understand you didn't imply i specifically should care more about it, but you're still using racism to discredit my point of view on age gap relationships being an important topic to discuss as well, and watering it down to just me not liking people's plots when that is not the message.

nobody is telling anyone how to live their lives. im bringing awareness to the fact that this culture is not okay. it's dangerous to our young. it NEEDS to be uncomfortable to you (you, plural) to invite to this so called critical thinking.

im not saying your partner doesn't have a right to be loving or grandpa and grandma had abuse masked as a good relationship. im saying, since it needs to be spelled out with no room for misinterpretation; the culture behind someone 10+ years older finding it completely okay to pursue someone that much younger — especially when we're talking 18 - 30 age range — needs to be looked at more closely. it's not safe in general. do exceptions exist? absolutely, but the whole two consenting adults point is a terrible one to make when at 18, you're considered that when you're still essentially just a child.

a strict age limit, which most groups adopt now, does little to actually prevent age gap relationships within roleplays. moreso, uneven power dynamics within plots being glamorized. my boss is not over 5 years older than me, but he is my boss. kpop boybands don't have age gaps of 10+ years in groups, usually, but there is a leader most times acting like a father figure, not to mention korean culture is heavy on emphasizing age-related hierarchical order, so a literal still wet behind the ears child establishing a romantic connection with someone who is not their equal? dangerous.

now let's halt. i already told you, i don't give a shit about respectability politics. it is not my job to be nice and educate anyone. and i don't mean just on this blog... most of you whites have come to assume and expect, even, that poc will be subservient, docile, and always willing to switch and nicely explain to you why the very core of the way you think about the world because you grew up sheltered w/e is not the whole picture for everyone. the worst part? most of them do. most of them do put their thinking caps on and write these novel worthy, intelligent, respectful, calculated think pieces only for the white in question to turn around and still deem it aggressive, etc. i don't do that. that is labor that most of you do not deserve.

the implication that there are feasible solutions for these problems that don't require for people to literally rework their entire mindset is naive at best. what am i supposed to do? be like nooo don't be racist, racism is bad BECAUSE it hurts people. i think all of you are old enough to know that by now. you definitely have enough internet exposure to know that, even if you grew up in all white sundown town america.

i explain my points. i actually explain my points more than the average person, yet here we are still saying im not doing enough to educate those around me as if it was my responsibility to change the way people think with sugar spice and everything nice so they feel their hand is held and it's safe to make a mistake that will consequently hurt other people as many times as they need to make it to finally grasp the reality of it and be able to just... not do that in the future. when no. no. when you hurt me, im allowed to react emotionally, not intellectually. when im angry and upset and still explaining why, its YOUR job to swallow it down and listen to what im saying, because YOU hurt me. i don't owe you civility (again; you, plural). i especially don't owe you civility when ive given you nothing but in the past and the end result is still me being an aggro freak who doesn't care for your precious feelings.

you're also assuming things. for example, assuming that im mocking you specifically when i really have not done that. if im going to mock you, im going to reply to your anon and say "okay stupid", then yeah, im mocking you. otherwise? don't assume im directing anything at you.

we're having a dialogue and this whole time all you've done is tell me to stop talking. your messages have all, in essence, said, if people want to date other people who have a shitton of years on them, that is not a problem and you look prettier talking about something else. yes, that's also paraphrased. you didn't say that, of course, but why are we still here if not because you feel personally scrutinized over the reaction to the life examples that you willingly provided?

nobody is trying to change YOUR mind, you're just not willing to consider that your age gap relationships that have been beautiful and loving and safe coexist within a culture that is wicked. a person who's 10+ older than me, 24, has no business seeing me as a potential partner. it's not appropriate. yet if they do, and i also see them as a potential partner, there's nothing inherently evil about that specific instance. it is the circumstances (past), that lead to this kind of thinking in the first place what im asking everyone to analize and understand. and it does matter. it matters as much as racism, abuse, ooc mistreatment of rp partners. again, issues do not queue and wait for something to end so they can begin anew. every conversation i choose to have i consider worth having. you're free to stay out if you don't deem it important.

you're exhausting me thinking by turning my inbox into ap debate we're achieving grand things sooo hope this helps 🖤

[angeltrapz]

for the “give me a character” meme! Eric, Adam, William, Mallick, Strahm, Rigg!!!!

YESS thank u!!!!

Eric:

How I feel about this character: That's my boy!!! <33

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Uuuu okay. Adam, obviously, but concerning the SAW polycule: Adam, Art, Lawrence, William, & Mallick!!

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Him & Rigg!!! That's his best friend!!! + he and Gibson in the Eric Lives AU!! (Gibson IS dating his best friend + recognizes that he's made the effort to change <3)

My unpopular opinion about this character: You Understand This but the idea that he's irredeemable/deserved to die is complete and utter bullshit. This post that you made perfectly describes my feelings on that!!

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: Firstly that he. Y'know. Didn't die. But I would have loved to see any of his interactions with Hoffman? Obviously they knew each other + I like to think they have since they were in academy together, so there's gotta be some sort of history there, y'know?? I feel like he definitely cared about Eric so I would've been very interested to see more regarding that relationship! + one more big one: I wish he knew/was at least made aware of the fact that Daniel was ALIVE and okay. It kills me thinking abt how this man died not knowing if his child made it out.

Adam:

How I feel about this character: I loooove him he deserved better. I relate pretty heavily to him.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Hehe. Lawrence obviously!! Chainshipping is a HUGE comfort ship for me. BUT! Regarding the SAW polycule: Lawrence, Eric, William, Gibson, & Mallick!! + when concerning that alternative canon continuity we've been talking abt, Strahm. But only in that circumstance lol,,

My non-romantic OTP for this character: MANDY!!! In any AU where she's either not a disciple or abandoned her apprenticeship, I firmly believe that he and Amanda would be best friends. Mean gay/lesbian solidarity siblings who would fight tooth and nail for each other + who get each other on a level that not many others can. Pamela also!! Along w Mandy I like to think they talk about their experiences being trans a lot + just bitching w each other lol.

My unpopular opinion about this character: IDK how unpopular this actually is but I 100% believe that Adam would never become a disciple in any capacity, ESP not of his own accord. I genuinely think he'd rather die. That's just not something I can see him doing in any circumstance.

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: I wish someone had gotten him out of the bathroom :( And in an AU where he lives I hope someone tells him what a bastard Zep was!! No one made that dude hold a gun to Diana's head and listen to her heartbeat what the FUCK was that!!

William:

How I feel about this character: He's such a sweetheart I love him,, <33

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Lawrence & Adam <3 in the polycule though this includes Eric & Mallick!!

My non-romantic OTP for this character: He and Pamela obviously!! His sister is his best friend and they're there for each other 100%.

My unpopular opinion about this character: Much like Eric I don't think he deserved to die/that he's completely irredeemable... he fights so hard to save everyone and is utterly devastated when he can't. He's willing to hurt himself to save others (nearly dislocating his shoulders trying to keep both Addy and Allen, burning himself with the steam for Debbie, etc.) and it's like. John is always talking about how it can't be personal but it seems pretty fucking personal here!

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: The fact that nobody saw how hard he fought for his coworkers + the sacrifices he made for them upsets me to no end. That was intentional. John didn't want Tara + Brent (or Pamela for that matter!) to see him as human and that fucking bothers me!! So basically I just wish that they could've seen it via camera like literally almost every trap victim gets in some capacity!!

Mallick:

How I feel about this character: Yet another character I relate to wayyy too much <33 I love him...

All the people I ship romantically with this character: BRIT!!! + concerning the SAW polycule: Adam, Eric, William, & Lawrence!! (Art maybe too,,)

My non-romantic OTP for this character: I like to think he and Laura would've gotten along actually? I feel like that would be a good, healthy friendship. And I do like the idea of he and Brit like this too!! Other than that maybe Mandy? I feel like they could relate to each other a little bit, help each other when they're feeling brainweird,, (Mallick n Mandy: havers of Symptoms Disorder <3)

My unpopular opinion about this character: Again I don't know if it's unpopular, persay, but uh. I don't think the Mallick we meet in V would willingly sit and listen to Bobby Dagen in 3D. He'd hate that dude. My take on it is that Brit didn't survive V (although I think read somewhere that the crew confirmed she survived?) and that's why he was there: because he'd lost the one true connection he'd made in god knows how long. That's rlly the only way I see him sitting thru Dagen's bullshit lmao.

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: I wanted him to see Brit again,, and I just wanted to see him more in general tbh, esp because he makes a reappearance where so many prior Jigsaw survivors do not. I would've liked to see him interact with Simone given that they both lost a limb/nearly a limb (in Mallick's case). This is related to that, but I also wish the evidence of the 10 Pints trap wasn't just. A tiny scar? I HC that it took his whole hand, so.

Strahm:

How I feel about this character: Ohhh my beloved. Why didn't they give you a better narrative it would've been SO interesting. I love you though <3

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Honestly? Still super fond of Gibson/Strahm in a scenario where things are different,, I've written quite a bit abt them and kinda want to again but if I do it'll probably be. Not for a while + VASTLY different. but recent additions have been Hoffman (I used to. not understand Stroffman whatsoever. now I Get It) and Adam!!

My non-romantic OTP for this character: PEREZ!!! I've always thought of them as best friends since I first saw IV, and I do think he genuinely cared about her - quite a lot, actually, esp given how devastated he was when she was injured. They hang out at each other's apartments all the time + get coffee regularly. I love them.

My unpopular opinion about this character: I don't think he's a dumbass?? I don't know if that's unpopular. I think that he's IMPULSIVE and that it gets him into trouble, but Strahm has always struck me as incredibly intelligent + has a good moral compass for the most part?? I mean, he figured out there was a second apprentice (second as far as he knows, anyway) helping with traps just by examining Kerry's crime scene. I think he's VERY smart. He just acts quickly + sometimes that means there's not much planning for if things go south. (I DO agree that showing up to the packing plant w/out backup was dumb though,, doesn't mean he DESERVED the Water Cube but y'know)

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: It's not really mentioned if he does in canon, but I wish he'd been made aware of the fact that Perez was alive,, it bothers me that he might've died not knowing she was okay. The other thing is that I wish he'd survived V!!! I think it would've been WAY more narratively satisfying for him to kinda follow in Tapp's footsteps as a vigilante Jigsaw hunter. (That's why I love yr takes on him so much!!)

Rigg:

How I feel about this character: He has such a big heart. He cares so so much. I wish ppl talked about him more :(

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Gibson!!! And uhh Hoffman, but they're exes,, but! In a scenario I'm kind of going over in my head, maaaybe Adam... the basics though is that he searches the Nerve Gas House independently and somehow finds the Bathroom following II, and He is the one to rescue Adam. Very tentative abt that one though bc I'm still working it out lol. (Possibly Eric/Adam/Rigg???)

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Eric!!! His best friend <3 I think he's also pretty close with Kerry, though I think he hangs out w her independent of Eric given,, the messy ex situation. I think he probably got along well with Fisk too!! OH and I think he and Sing would've been good friends as well. The chaos of a Rigg/Gibson/Sing friend trio...

My unpopular opinion about this character: Mmm I don't know that I have one? Other than maybe like. I understood why he went through the door. He knew Eric was on the other side; he just didn't know the circumstances or what would happen if he went through. All he knew was that he was that much closer to someone he's been trying to find/rescue for MONTHS + someone he cares for deeply. Of COURSE he went through. He breaks my heart ugh,,,

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: I wish he hadn't even been tested!!!! His one flaw was that he cared about ppl and somehow John saw that as something he needed to fix!!! Like yes I do agree that it was eating away at him and the obsession might've been unhealthy, but that's two of his closest friends dude!! I don't think he deserved to be tested for that. I don't. He just wanted to help ppl and keep them safe. I absolutely despise how Rigg was treated dkjflkdf!!!!

#saw #eric #adam #william #mallick #strahm #rigg #asks #long post #THANK U I loved getting 2 answer this!!! #+ if anyone else wants 2 send more for different SAW characters I'm still open to these!! #dude I have So Many Feelings abt rigg lately goddd #also I just realized tht this is all my f/os. rigg is a platonic one But Still!!!

[belovedrival]

“It’s Jonas.”

It’s been almost six months but I did say I would talk about my experience, so here goes...

(It’s really long, I started this draft when Jonas was three months old)

I was told that I would be induced on March 10, a Wednesday. My due date was the 17th but baby had been measuring large for months so my doctor just wanted to go ahead with it. I agreed. We’d made it to 39 weeks and that was good. Plus, I felt huge and just...done with being pregnant. 

I worked (from home) on the 10th. It felt sort of surreal, knowing that we’d be at the hospital at 5 pm that evening, but I knew I needed to work to keep my mind off what was coming. For a while, at least. 

We’d started packing the hospital bags for weeks before. I’d left my suitcase open next to the bed and I’d throw things in there whenever I’d do laundry or think of something else I wanted to take. I sort of knew then that I was majorly overpacking (and in hindsight it’s laughable how much stuff I never wore/used) but at least we were prepared, right?

Yeah, about that...

Mister drove to the hospital. Since I was being induced, it wasn’t any frenetic, movie scene type, panicked dad experience. We just put our things in the car and drove there. On the way we talked about how strange it was, knowing that when we came home (God willing), there would be a baby in the car seat. Of course at that time we still didn’t know if our baby was a girl or boy.

(Mister told me later that he was almost certain baby was a boy. He said he’d heard too many nurses/medical personnel ‘slip’ while we were having ultrasounds and whatnot.)

People can choose to find out or not, but it puts a whole other dimension on the experience when you don’t know in advance. Just my two cents.

As we turned into the hospital parking lot, Mister told me to open the glove box. “There’s something for you in there,” he said. I opened it, trying to swallow the bowling ball that had lodged itself in my throat.

“Oh!” I said. “What I always wanted - an owner’s manual!”

When I’m nervous, I often joke.

There was a small white box next to the owner’s manual. In it was a necklace with an aquamarine pendant; one of the birthstones for March. Of course I cried.

We took an obligatory selfie before going inside the hospital. After getting checked in, we went to our room. I remember thinking that we’d only be in that room probably a day, and that 24 hours later, we’d be upstairs post delivery.

Ha. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!

I was given a drug to start labor (not pitocin). I’ve always hated needles and so getting an IV was not part of my top 100,000 Things I Love to Do List. Thankfully, the nurse who put it in was really good, so I barely felt anything. 

The one major memory of this whole experience (other than Jonas, of course) was how good the nurses were. I am forever grateful to them. 

Other than the IV and monitors, Mister having to sleep on the sofa, and me laying on a hospital bed, we could almost trick ourselves into imagining we were staying at some sort of hotel. Almost. For a few hours, anyway.

Wednesday night into Thursday morning was okay. I was feeling persistent pain. It wasn’t terrible, just uncomfortable, and I knew that it was part of the process. I didn’t sleep great but I was able to get some rest.

Around six o’clock there was a shift change, and my nurse for the day came in. Liz had a kind of cheerleader vibe about her, very positive, and in some other circumstances I might’ve found her annoying. But I liked her.

My doctor came in a little after seven and broke my water. That experience was...weird. I mean, it was a new experience for me, so it’s hard to describe. Uh, water is wet, so it was wet? Honestly, the thing I remember the most is that there was some meconium after Doc broke my water, which worried me a little. Baby was doing fine and no one seemed super worried, so I set it aside. I DID think it meant I was guaranteed to have the baby that day. How wrong I was, and not for the first time...

They gave me pitocin after my water was broken. So my contractions increased. It felt more like strong period cramps to me. I should say at this point that I have a high pain tolerance. I don’t know what the same level of contractions would feel like to someone else. Sometimes I was only mildly aware that I was having them. 

Probably one of the most annoying things about my entire experience Wednesday/Thursday/into Friday was not being allowed to eat anything. I had ice chips, and water, and Liz managed to get me some Jello. This was actually something of an issue, because I had gestational diabetes, so at first nobody wanted to give me anything except for sugar-free Jello. I did have some of that, but as the day wore on and there wasn’t much progress, Liz talked to somebody and got me some regular Jello. I would’ve preferred something else, but Jello was what I was allowed, so Jello I got.

I...don’t really like Jello. Seriously, like if it’s the only thing, I’ll eat it, but...yeah.

The hours ticked by. Progress was slow. At first I looked forward to Liz and the other nurses coming in and checking me, but by late afternoon, it was clear that things were slooooooow. The best part of Thursday was sometime in the afternoon Liz suggested bouncing on the ball. I was really happy to get out of bed and bounce for a while. After doing that, I decided it was time for the epidural.

I’d decided beforehand I wanted an epidural. As I said, I absolutely hate needles, but I also didn’t want my body to be so stressed that labor couldn’t progress. In the back of my mind, I also thought that if the situation changed, and a c-section became necessary, the epidural would already be in place. 

After the epidural was put in, I started shaking on the edge of the bed, tears rolling down my face. Liz was still holding on to me, and Mister was there, and they both asked what was wrong. I couldn’t speak for a minute. It felt a little like I was five years old, still terrified of that darn needle, and all the tension I’d suppressed had to get out somehow.

“It’s okay,” Liz said, giving me a hug. Sometimes that’s all that’s needed. I was sorry to see her go when her shift ended. She said she was working again on Saturday and that she’d stop by to see us after the baby was born, to see what we were having. (She did stop by.)

This was a constant refrain from most of the nurses: upon first coming into the room, and looking at the white board that had my information and seeing next to “Baby” was written “Surprise!!” we inevitably got the question, “You don’t know what you’re having? That’s awesome!” 

Getting the epidural made the pain diminish, but it also made things more complicated for me because I couldn’t move. Overnight, a tag team of nurses turned me one way and the other, and checked me. 

(I should also mention that all of the staff at the hospital had already been vaccinated, and they all wore masks into the rooms. We did not have to wear masks in the room, but if we went outside it, they were required.)

By Thursday night, both Mister and I were feeling rather discouraged. All day Thursday we’d been told that baby would come “by the afternoon”, then “by the evening”, and then late Thursday, “by Friday morning”. Bear in mind that I’d been on an IV/ induced since roughly six pm on Wednesday. 

Maybe this sounds laughable to people who’ve had 72 hour long labors, but I’d been mentally prepared for around 24 hours of labor. My twin sister had been induced with her first, and her labor had gone about that long. Around midnight on Thursday I was feeling pretty discouraged. Mister wasn’t angry but he said (when we were alone) that he felt like the staff had been overly optimistic. I just don’t think either of us had thought about the implications of me being induced without any sign of active labor. In hindsight, I was glad it was done then, but...yeah. Not being mentally prepared for that long of a labor was hard. I felt bad for everyone who was waiting on updates; it felt like literally nothing happened for about thirty hours. Like I think was dilated to five by Friday morning. And effaced? Practically nothing. My cervix wasn’t getting thinner at all.

Early Friday morning, a new nurse started her shift. My first impressions of Diana were...well, I thought, “she’s definitely not as friendly as Liz.” She was more brusque. As I hadn’t slept much Thursday night, and having been in the same situation for over a day, I didn’t care nearly as much about making friends. By that point I was tired - physically, mentally, emotionally.

But Diana was awesome. She got me turned onto my hands and knees, and had me start doing some vigorous exercises, to really move labor along. I was fine with doing whatever she said because I was REALLY ready to be done. So it felt a little like my cross country days in high school, at the finish of a difficult race. I was tired, I wasn’t sure how much I could do physically, but we had a GOAL and dammit, we were going to do everything to get there!

By late morning, even after the exercises, I was still dilated at a five. Hardly effaced at all. After checking me again, Diana left the room. The option of a c-section had been discussed, especially since it was over 24 hours since my water had been broken.

“I think I’m done,” I said to Mister. Even though I’d never really been 100% ‘I want a natural birth experience’, it felt a little like giving up. I started crying again. “I just don’t think this [natural labor] is going to work. I’m done.”

“If you’re done, that’s it,” Mister said. “Tell Diana you want a c-section.”

I have to say something here about Mister. Even though he kept saying he didn’t know what he was doing or how he should support me, he was AWESOME. He supported every decision, and listened to me talk about the different options. For as hard as labor was for me, I think he had a different hard time. All he could do was literally sit there and watch me go through pain and doubt and fear, and comfort me as best he could. He was a great comfort.

(This is why even if thoughtful partners don’t think they’re doing a good job at supporting laboring moms, they most likely are. Their presence is invaluable. For anyone who doesn’t have a supportive partner with them, or an absent one, my profound condolences.)

When Diana came back in, I told her I wanted a c-section. This was around 11 o’clock Friday morning, March 12th. “I agree,” she said right away, patting me on the shoulder. “You’ve done everything you possibly can to get this baby delivered naturally. I trust mom’s instincts on this.”

Her support meant so much. Really, when a veteran nurse says they trust your instinct, how can you not feel better about your decision?

She left to contact my doctor and several other people, and Mister let people know what was going on. At that point I was more relieved that soon it would be over. I wanted to see our baby.

Mister said later that he learned that hospitals have two speeds: 1) we’re in no rush; and 2) something is going to happen NOW. While my c-section wasn’t an emergency, once the decision was made, things did happen fast. Diana brought the anesthesiologist into the room so he could numb me up. As I already had the epidural, this didn’t take very long. After a few minutes of letting the medication work, Bryce asked if I could feel my toes.

“No,” I said. It was weird. I knew I shouldn’t feel them, but I couldn’t help saying, “I’m trying to wiggle them!”

“No, no, it’s good you can’t feel them,” both Bryce and Mister said. I was wheeled out of the labor room a few minutes after that (I was not sorry to leave it) and taken to the OR. Mister went with someone else to take our stuff to the recovery room.

I’ve been in operating rooms before. They aren’t places that make me want to stay there. Bright lights, metal everywhere, many thoughts of what could go wrong...although I will say that all the staff in the OR made me feel confident. I was glad to see my doctor. 

I felt better once I was in the OR (the only time in my life I’ve ever felt that way) but it felt like a long time until Mister arrived in there. He’d gone with a member of staff as they took all our stuff to a recovery room, then been taken to the OR. Once he was in place, everything started.

Doctor M had asked me before Mister arrived if he wanted to ‘announce’ was the baby was. I told her that he most likely would, but to ask him. She did, and he said yes, he’d love to do that.

There was a blue sheet in front of me so I really couldn’t see anything that went on - which was PERFECTLY FINE with me.

Obviously, I was flat on my back, and everything below my chest was numb. The doctor and others asked me at various times if I felt anything, and I didn’t (other than tugging and pulling). At one point, I suddenly smelled the unmistakable scent of something burning. “What is that? That burning smell?” I asked, glancing above me (really, behind me) at Bryce, who stood there.

“I’ll tell you later,” he said.

Which immediately told me I didn’t want to know what it was. 

Yeah, it was me burning, while the medical staff cauterized me, keeping me from bleeding to death.

(The fact that cesarean sections are major surgery, and regularly happen every day in the United States, is, frankly, a miracle. Everyone hears about the horror stories when something goes wrong, but considering the number of women who go through them without incident, we as a society completely take them for granted.)

As the tugging and pulling continued, and Doctor M said things like, “there’s the head”, the sense of anticipation increased. I’ve never felt anything like it before. Both Mister and I knew any moment we would meet our baby, and after waiting 39 weeks (and eight years before that), it was almost unbearable.

Doctor M said, “Here’s the baby!”

I heard a slight cry, and I looked up at Mister, who sat on my right, holding my hand. He looked down at me and said, “It’s Jonas.”

Even thinking about that moment now brings tears to my eyes. In knowing Mister almost eleven years, I’ve only seen him cry maybe five times. Including this year, on March 12th. We both were bawling, and laughing at the same time, as Jonas VERY loudly screamed his disapproval at being evicted from his warm, cozy space. At one point, Mister, laughing as he cried said, “One of the ---s (our last name) needs to stop crying in here!”

He has a rather husky cry, Jonas does. I loved his cry from the moment I first heard it (though I don’t actually like to hear him cry, if that makes any sense).

As I was sewn up, Mister moved his chair over to where our baby was, under a heat lamp. Then he brought Jonas over to me. My first thought was, he’s HUGE. My second thought was, he was the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen.

He weighed nine pounds, five ounces at birth, and had a fifteen inch head circumference. After I heard that, I knew a natural birth was never going to happen. He was born on Friday the 12th of March, at 1:14 pm. The digital clock on the wall said 13:14, which I thought was cool. And it made it a bit easier to remember the time :)

He had lots of dark hair, which I loved. My sister’s had bald babies, so it was nice to have a different-looking kid. Over the last few months, his hair almost entirely disappeared due to cradle cap, and is coming back in...blond. Genetics!

I can say now that it’s past, that I was more afraid during pregnancy than I could admit to anyone, even Mister. I have always been a worrier, and finally being pregnant after so many years, and being high risk due to my age (and my shunt, and the gestational diabetes...) I was in almost constant worry of something going wrong. First of miscarriage (no one needed to tell me of the statistics regarding older mothers), then of stillbirth, like the cord getting wrapped around baby’s neck, and death happening before delivery could happen. I have heard of at least two different stories of that happening to pregnant women in the ninth month - friends of friends of mine - and the fear of that, or something else equally catastrophic happening was, at times, almost crippling. I would’ve preferred to have never been pregnant at all rather than suffer a miscarriage or stillbirth. 

Perhaps it sounds childish, but mentally I didn’t think I was strong enough to have the dream of motherhood dashed, when every day of pregnancy brought that dream closer. I was (and still am) too much of a realist to ignore the statistics; I couldn’t pretend I was 22 and have a blissfully ignorant uneventful pregnancy. To this day, even after giving birth to a healthy baby, one of the biggest things that will set me off is the assumption that way too many people have. “We’re planning on getting pregnant soon.” “Just have kids, you’ll understand.” “I can take you out and make one just like you.” [a redneck phrase I’ve heard being said to a misbehaving child]

Not many of us can “plan” on getting pregnant exactly when we want to - or even within a year’s time. Not all of us can “just have kids” - they’re not like going to the store and getting a gallon of milk. (I recognize the privilege of living in a society where going to the store and expecting fresh milk can also sound arrogant to those who don’t live in one.) ‘Take out’ a kid (even said in jest), and ‘make another one’? I MIGHT have another child in the next couple years. More likely, I won’t. Not all of us can just get pregnant at the drop of a hat. (That’s assuming the one wanting to get pregnant even has a male partner or sperm donor at the ready...some never find that person to have a child with. And adoption can be a great thing, but not everyone is cut out for it. Shaming infertile and childless people for not wanting to adopt is disgusting.)

I was open with my OB-GYN about my fears during pregnancy and she referred me to several resources, and monitored me for PPD. My best friend’s son died in March 2020, a year before Jonas was born (though Billy had severe disabilities which made his death a certain thing), and my sister had had a stillborn son in August 2019 (my nephew Christian). So Jonas being born healthy was a huge relief for me. I can’t really describe the relief, except to say that as much physical weight I gained during pregnancy, letting go of the weight of the worry was felt even more deeply than losing the pounds since his birth (and I’ve haven’t lost all of that).

I will probably always worry about *something*, when it comes to Jonas. He gave me a scare earlier this week, rolling off the couch before I could catch him. He’s fine...and the incident scared me more than it scared him. But every day since he was born is a reminder of the gift he is, and I hope I never lose sight of that, even on the frustrating days (and there have been those over the last almost six months, and there will be more to come).

If you ever wanted children, and are fortunate enough to have them, cherish them. Be grateful for them, even when they drive you up the wall. Even when you only want three minutes’ peace, and they won’t give it to you. Love them anyway. I try to.  

#this was heavier than i thought it would be #don't get me wrong #i had a good experience overall #nurses are awesome #nurses #hospital #birth #birthday #march 12 #jonas #2021 #life #real life #family #me and mister #mister #he's great #pregnancy #parenthood

[cheshiresense]

For the headcanon thing if I'm not too late. Headcanons for FemIchigo/Kisuke ship?

Lol you didn’t give me an AU? Guess I could throw them in the canon verse but the events wouldn’t be much dif imo. But let’s see how this goes.

Edit: Welp. This got long.

1. Ichigo keeps her hair long because of her mom. Masaki had long hair, and even if it’s not the exact same colour, Ichigo grows her own hair out in her honour, as a reminder of the one time she failed to protect her precious people and just because she’s never met anyone with hair as pretty as her mom’s.

The first time she gets into a serious fight with Shinigami, that dick Renji uses it against her. He grabs her hair, and taunts her with it, and in the end, she kicks his ass, but then his dick boss shows up and just about kills her. When she wakes up at the Shouten, she’s half-naked, wrapped in bandages, and her hair’s been sliced ragged, left in uneven strands around her shoulders where before it had reached her waist. Urahara is nice enough to cut and style it for her. He tells her he only knows how to cut it one way because a good friend of his used to wear her hair short. It’s cute enough, and at the end of the day, Ichigo would much rather keep her life than her hair, but she also locks herself in the bathroom later that night and has a good cry about it. It’s stupid, it’s just hair, it’ll grow back, but it still feels a little like losing her mother all over again. She gives herself twenty minutes, and then she gets her shit together because she has to go save Rukia, and Urahara promised to make her strong enough so she needs to get some sleep more than anything else right now. When she gets back to her room though, the rest of the Shouten is still silent but there’s a tray of tea by her futon, still hot, and too sweet to have been made by Tessai. Ichigo doesn’t even like tea, but it’s a surprisingly kind, amusingly awkward gesture from a man who knows too much and tells her too little. She drinks it all, making a face at the taste but appreciating the warmth that spreads all the way to her fingertips, and when she lies back down and closes her eyes, sleep comes easier this time.

2. Kisuke’s the one who carries her back to the Shouten after she defeats Aizen and subsequently collapses in the aftermath. He thinks it would’ve been easier if she’d been born a boy. She’s tall for her age and gender, but she feels more fragile like this, her shoulders narrower than her usual larger-than-life personality would suggest, her frame less sturdy. Even her bones feel more delicate. Then again, she’s still only sixteen and she’s already lost half her soul in a war she should never have had to fight in the first place, and a good chunk of that blame can be laid squarely at Kisuke’s feet, so maybe boy or girl, it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway. She’s light enough that Kisuke can carry her without difficulty, but her weight still feels like shackles around his wrists, tied to an anchor at the bottom of the ocean, like the worst of his sins given life, and Kisuke hadn’t ever thought that would be something he’d have trouble bearing until now. But the least he can do is carry her home, so that’s what he does. He takes her back to the Shouten and cleans her up and heals her– it’s a routine he’s uncomfortably familiar with these days. He doesn’t know if she’s ever consciously realized it, but he’s seen her naked enough times to feel like a pervert. He was Onmitsukidou, and he’s seen Yoruichi change in front of him enough times that the female body doesn’t make him blink, but Ichigo’s young - old enough to have developed curves, young enough that his hands shouldn’t be anywhere near her (figuratively or literally) - but there’s nobody else to do it, Yoruichi is always inconveniently away, so Kisuke keeps his eyes and hands well within professional range, runs a bath for her that takes care of most of the dirt and sweat and blood so he only has to make sure she doesn’t drown, and then whisks her off back to bed where he can bandage up what his Kidou can’t heal before settling down to monitor her reiatsu levels.

She remains in a coma for a month. Kisuke is the one who takes care of her, from fresh bedding to sponge baths to IV-fed fluids, even trimming her hair when it starts looking too shaggy (she’s growing it out again, so he doesn’t cut more than what he has to). By the time she opens her eyes, Kisuke’s just relieved she wakes at all, and it doesn’t seem like she’s (physically) much worse for wear so at least his caretaking skills aren’t terrible. All the discomfort in the world can be tolerated if it means Ichigo remains as healthy as she can possibly be.

3. Ichigo doesn’t see or hear from Urahara or any other Shinigami for the next seventeen months, and she tries not to let it get to her. She still sees her human friends at school, even if she’s no longer welcome in a large part of their daily lives, and Shinigami probably don’t think a year and a half is all that long. Besides, at the end of the day, she knew most of her Shinigami acquaintances for a handful of months tops; that’s hardly grounds for eternal friendship. She’s hurt by their absence, but she keeps herself busy with school, with homework, with the part-time job she finds just to fill the hours in-between. She gets good at ignoring the fact that she knows where her friends go after school, knows where her sisters go, and that she can no longer follow them. Urahara doesn’t wear a gigai after all, and it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to. He probably has better things to do too now that the war is over and Ichigo has done her duty.

So it’s been seventeen months of mind-numbing (soul-wrenching) monotony, and then she gains a stalker. She would never have chased that thief down if she had known Ginjou Kuugou was so… greasy. She doesn’t just mean his hair either; everything about him oozes an oily sort of charm that sets off every alarm bell her mom drilled into her head about Stranger Danger, Female Edition, and it becomes clear very quickly that Ginjou is exactly the sort of man who just won’t take no for an answer. He follows her around, flirts like he thinks she finds him attractive, keeps inviting her out for a meal, even tracks her down at work, and Ichigo’s just about had it with him after he “bumps” into her while she’s walking home from doing the grocery-shopping, because she may not be a Shinigami anymore but she sure as hell still knows how to defend herself and kick a creep in the balls when he dares to sling a too-proprietary arm around her waist, as if he has any right.

As it turns out though, she doesn’t have to. Ginjou gets about half a second to touch her, still blathering on about having something interesting to show her if she lets him treat her to some ramen, and then he’s being ripped away from her, abruptly enough to tear a shout from him, and Ichigo spins around just in time to see Urahara twist Ginjou’s arm behind him at a painful-looking angle before slamming him face-first into a nearby wall.

Ichigo doesn’t think she’s ever seen Urahara so… openly violent before. She can’t stop staring for a long moment, because that casual, effortless strength is… not something Ichigo would mind seeing again. If nothing else, it’s clearly effective (and pointedly ignores the voice that says she isn’t staring because it’s effective). The look on his face though is positively serene, if you don’t count the ominous shadow that his hat is somehow casting over his eyes.

“I do believe Kurosaki-san has asked you to stop harassing her,” the shopkeeper says in tones so airily cheerful only an idiot would buy the act. Ginjou doesn’t reply anyway. He can’t. Urahara’s yanked his arm up high enough to let him simultaneously choke the life out of the guy, his hand about as movable as stone as it pins Ginjou’s wrist to the back of his neck and his neck to the brick wall.

“Hey,” Ichigo says, and then stops, because on one hand, this guy probably doesn’t deserve to be straight-up murdered, but also if anyone in Ichigo’s life can kill a human and make the corpse disappear, it would be Urahara.

But Urahara glances at her, then shrugs a little and releases Ginjou, only to knock him over the head with his cane, hard enough to send him crumpling to the ground in an unconscious heap. There’s a moment of silence after that, and then Ichigo remembers to be irritated because she’s no one’s damsel in distress. “I could’ve handled him, you know.”

It comes out sharper than even she intends, but the sight of him reminds her of how long she hasn’t seen him or any of her other Shinigami friends, and it’s hard to remain mature about it when one of them is suddenly right in front of her again. Urahara, because he’s Urahara, just rakes a too-discerning eye over her like he can see right through her annoyance to the root of it. His expression tightens with something Ichigo can’t name, but all he does is incline his head in acknowledgement even as he smiles in a way that makes her want to punch him. “Of course, Kurosaki-san, but what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t interfere?”

Ichigo gives him the flat unimpressed look that deserves, Urahara’s smile twitches into something more genuinely amused, and for a second, it almost feels as if no time at all has passed since the last time they’d shared an actual conversation. Then Ginjou groans, Ichigo bristles irritably, and Urahara’s smile fades.

“Kurosaki-san,” He calls out before Ichigo can do more than turn away. “There are some things you need to know. But perhaps we can take this off the streets first? Come back to my Shouten; I will explain everything there.”

Ichigo turns back, scowling suspiciously at the blond, then down at greasy stalker. Great. She should’ve known; of course it would be Shinigami business that actually dragged Urahara out of his shop and into his first interaction with Ichigo after seventeen months of radio silence. But… if Urahara is willing to explain just what greasy stalker wanted to drag her into, Ichigo would be an idiot to turn him down.

“Fine,” She grumbles. “I’m using your fridge though. I’ve got ice-cream in here and it’s gonna melt before I get home at this rate.”

Urahara beams at her and hefts greasy stalker over his shoulder before ushering her to the Shouten. True to his word, he tells her about the Fullbringers who’ve invaded Karakura, and he tells her that the Shinigami have been monitoring the situation, and then he tells her he has a way to return her powers and soul-spirits to her. He shows her the sword, engraved with a bunch of intricate symbols she can’t even begin to decipher, and it thrums with so much power even she can feel it. She has a sudden epiphany that it must’ve taken even a genius like Urahara quite a while to make something like this, because she’d asked around, before she’d lost the ability to see Shinigami, and she knows for a fact that fixing her soul should’ve been impossible. The realization that Urahara must’ve been working on this for the past seventeen months goes a long way to soothing any fair or unfair feelings she had towards him, even if she also thinks he could’ve just told her. But she thinks that, and then she thinks that Urahara probably didn’t because he hadn’t wanted to get her hopes up for nothing. It’s stupid, but so is the way he eases the sword through her chest as gently as possible, as if it makes a difference at all when that first jolt of foreign reiatsu to her system still hurts like a bitch. She thinks she can forgive stupidity though if it’s coming from him. Not that she’ll ever tell him that.

In the aftermath, the Fullbringers disappear one by one, and nobody says anything but an increasingly manically cheerful Urahara gets a lot of wary side-eyes from the Shinigami trooping through Karakura over the next couple of weeks. It’s Rukia (Rukia who never so much as passed on a how-are-you, and Ichigo doesn’t blame her, but she’s never going to forget it either) who tells her later about Urahara kneeling in front of all the Gotei’s captains and lieutenants and begging them to help, who bowed his head through the Captain-Commander’s orders to keep the sword back until a powerless Ichigo has drawn out all the Fullbringers, only to immediately disobey as soon as he got the reiatsu he needed from them.

Ichigo asks, of course, just once, why. True to form, Urahara doesn’t give her a straight answer, he shrugs and lies instead, “Well it isn’t as if there’s anything else they can do to little old me in exile, is there?” But for just a moment, he also looks directly at Ichigo, his gaze steady and calm and unyielding, like there was never anything else he could’ve done, like choosing Ichigo over the Gotei was a decision made as easily as he breathed.

Much, much later, looking back, Ichigo thinks maybe that was the moment she first fell just a little bit in love.

4. Somewhere between the Quincy War and Yoruichi and Tessai moving back to Soul Society and the kids deciding they want to experience high school and normal life at the Kurosaki household, Kisuke wakes up one morning to Ichigo cooking breakfast in his kitchen and realizes he’s sharing a house with a twenty-year-old college student whose Gargantas make for the easiest commute to and from school in the history of public transportation. He stands in the doorway for a long minute, just watching her go through the motions that have become routine at the Shouten for… months now. Ever since he survived the war by the skin of his teeth and ended up half-blind because Benihime is only a quick, crude fix when Kisuke doesn’t know the exact makeup of whatever he’s restructuring. He’d had to study that, and then get some hands-on practice, before finally re-restructuring his eyes one more time. Ichigo had been a big help. Kisuke had had difficulties reading, along with dizzy spells and crippling headaches, so even though she didn’t understand everything, she also spent long hours with him, reading out loud and taking down notes for him, cooking for him and keeping his house clean and even manning the shopfront for him when Tessai was busy with the Kidou Corps. And then, once he was better… well, apparently she’d just never moved back out, and Kisuke had liked the company (has always liked her company) that he’d obliviously taken her presence here for granted.

She turns around now, probably sensing him. Her hair’s almost as long as it used to be back when they’d first met, but she’s tied it up into a messy bun. She’s still in pajama pants and one of his shirts because she likes the larger size and she keeps stealing them and Kisuke doesn’t mind, he has more than enough.

Maybe he should’ve minded.

“Hey,” Ichigo greets around a stifled yawn. “Food’s almost done. Could you set the table?”

Kisuke makes an agreeable noise and starts pulling down tableware from the cupboards. The coffee’s also done so he pours a mug, and then prepares the tea with the water that’s just finished boiling. Five minutes later, they’re seated around the table, Ichigo grumbling memorized literature quotes into her coffee because she has finals next week, and Kisuke just… watches her. They’ve thrown the porch doors open because it’s summer and the morning breeze is nice. Ichigo has her back to it, and the sunrise that frames her head like a halo gilds her bright hair gold. When she finally sets her coffee down, she looks up and catches his eye, and even as her eyebrows go up in an unspoken question, the smile that blooms across her face at the same time is as much a reflex as it is genuine, like the mere sight of him is something to be happy about, and Kisuke is helpless to do anything but smile back.

Shit, he thinks, far too late. I’m definitely going to hell.

5. “I’m definitely going to hell,” he moans into the table. Yoruichi, because she is first and foremost a terrible best friend, is too busy laughing at him to console him. At least she came prepared with the sake when he called her in a panic once Ichigo had left for class.

“Took you long enough,” Yoruichi chortles, like this isn’t a Big Problem. “Tessai thought for sure you’d realize she’s practically your wife-” Kisuke winces. “-when she went off to college and still went back to the Shouten every night. But I’ve known you longer so I figured it would take you a while before it clicked.”

“We are roommates,” He hisses vehemently, downing another cup of alcohol before pouring himself some more. “I’ve never- Yoruichi-san, I would never- I wouldn’t-”

“Well that was obvious too,” Yoruichi snorts, but her gold eyes are suddenly a lot less amused a lot more focused, acute and unblinking on his face. “But you know, if she’s old enough to kill for you, then she’s old enough to fuck.”

Kisuke freezes, and then straightens, and he has never looked at Yoruichi the way he does now, but there’s ice in his veins and a knot of flash-fire rage and black-fanged guilt clawing up his gut, and he couldn’t stop the crass words if he wanted to, “She was old enough to kill for me at fifteen; was she old enough to fuck then too?”

Yoruichi doesn’t even flinch, just pins him with a burning look sharp enough to cut. “Well you didn’t wanna fuck her then, did you? But she’s an adult now, and she can make her own choices, and I know you suck at human-ing so I’m gonna go ahead and give you a piece of advice in advance and hopefully save everyone a lot of needless drama - in general, people don’t like it when you make decisions for them because you think you know better. So before you panic even more and start pushing her away ‘for her own good’ but really actually because you freaked out about having feelings, maybe, just maybe, ask her what she wants.” She grins like a tiger that has its prey cornered. “Ichigo’s not stupid. Even I don’t know if she knows about your gigantic crush yet, she’s surprisingly closed off about personal issues, but let me just remind you, Kisuke - she didn’t sit at my bedside, or Shinji’s, or even Rukia’s, after the war, and you know full we were all laid out for days, if not from injuries then exhaustion.” She leans forward and snags the front of his Shihakushou to give him a hard shake. “Are you listening to me, Kisuke? She cares about you, and you care about her, and I have not seen you this happy in a very, very long time.” She glares at him, daring him to argue. “Even if nothing comes from this, even if you just stay friends, don’t you dare fuck this up for yourself. You’ve got a good thing here. She’s good for you, and she makes you happy. And it’s not a crime to be happy, Kisuke.”

She lets him go. Kisuke doesn’t move for a long minute, and this time, Yoruichi waits him out. “…What if I’m not good for her though?”

Yoruichi clicks her tongue and reaches for her own sake again, limbs going feline-languid once more. “That’s for her to decide. She’s got a decent head on her shoulders, Kisuke; if you really were poison for her like you seem to think you are every damn turn of the moon, she would’ve dropped you a long time ago.” She pauses to take a swig, and then she kicks him under the table hard enough to make him yelp. “Now quit being a coward, drink your damn sake, and then go home and be disgustingly domestic with your roommate when she gets back. And if after all this crap you put me through, you still end up hurting her, I’m gonna tell Kuukaku, and she’ll make you wish you were just dead.”

Kisuke thinks about that for a moment, remembers some of the antics Kuukaku used to get up to with Yoruichi, and internally cringes. “Right,” he sighs. Yoruichi rolls her eyes at him, and he sighs again. Well, he supposes he should’ve known better than to get any sympathy from Yoruichi. He also mulls over what she’s said though, and… well. If nothing else, Ichigo’s choices are her own. Kisuke’s manipulated her into a war once already. He can’t - he won’t - do it to her again, for anything.

He downs the last of his alcohol and this time dares to hope.

6. They never actually sit down and lay all their cards on the table and talk about it. It’s not in either of their natures; Ichigo prefers actions, and ninety percent of Kisuke’s words have always been used to deflect and manipulate. But, for Ichigo, the Shouten becomes home. She never moves out (and yes, she knew what she was doing when she packed up most of her belongings and carted them over to the shop), and at first, it was just to help because Kisuke was so badly injured from the war, but the longer she stayed, the harder it was to think about leaving again for good. When Kisuke hadn’t said anything even after he’d fully recovered, she took it as permission to stay, and of course that didn’t do anything to make her like him less. She enjoys his company, likes reading in his labs while he fiddles with his experiments, likes surprising him with new recipes, likes being surprised when he modifies or creates yet another Kidou spell for her monstrous levels of reiatsu so that it won’t blow up when she tries it. She likes that he always tucks her into bed if she falls asleep at her desk studying, and she likes that he trusts her enough to walk around without wearing his hat all the time. She likes that between her strength and adaptability and his creativity and cunning, they’re more or less evenly matched in a spar, and the harder she pushes him, the more thrilled he gets at having to work for his victories. She likes that he comes home one day with something both new and still familiar in his eyes when he looks at her, and a month later, on her birthday, he takes her halfway across the world to a rare book convention with a focus on Shakespeare, and halfway through that, his hand swings out to tangle her fingers with his own.

They never really talk about it, but Ichigo migrates into his bedroom one night and never sleeps in her own room again. They take things slow, honestly more for Kisuke’s benefit than her own, but she doesn’t mind because mostly, she just likes having Kisuke there, with her. He still treats her like glass sometimes, like something priceless he’s afraid to smudge just by touching it. Those days, Ichigo sprawls across him with all her weight and stays there until he wraps himself more firmly around her, usually dozing off while Ichigo works on a draft of her first book.

They don’t talk about it. But they don’t have to, to know what they mean to each other.

#headcanon meme: answered #bleach #uraichi #urahara kisuke #kurosaki ichigo #fem ichigo #fandommaniac2401 #headcanon

[regrettablewritings]

I, u, y for bodhi rook please!

As the words process in my mind, a tear rolls upon my cheek . . .

Could it be? I dare wonder. An lo: It is.

He has returned, after so far away in time . . .

I = Impression (What was their first impression?):

Well, he certainly wasn’t what you had expected, that was for sure. Defecting from the Empire was no easy feat, even for somebody as unassuming as a delivery pilot. To the enemy, every literal body counted — even if only to assure complete dominance over the individual. So when you had learned that one of their own had not only detected, but potentially played key in helping to locate Galen Erso?

You couldn’t help it: Your imagination went wild. You imagined someone big and strong, teeth gritting from years of pent up anger towards the unjust causes of the tyranny spreading across the galaxy.

What you got was a scrawny, sheepish, possibly traumatized (thanks, Saw, you absolute nerf-herder) slip of a man who seemed to be afraid of taking up any space he happened to exist in. It was...disappointing to say the least. But you had to commend him regardless for defecting and even surviving Saw, and there was no gain in looking down on him.  

And then came the Scarif mission.

Nobody had expected him to go -- well, nobody was excpected to go, given that the Alliance Council turned down Erso’s idea, but least of all you expected him to be willing to go and do it. You expected the blind guy to go sailing off to a certified death mission before you did this guy! And honestly, that had you worried for him. Unfulfilled expectations or not, he wasn’t someone who had incurred your ire or even your indifference; you may not have gotten the chance to actually know him beyond a few words exchanged during the very brief time he’d been on base (“Welcome to the right side.” “Uh, y-yes . . . Thank you . . .”), but he certainly didn’t strike you as someone who needed to go on this type of outing. Enough people died unnecessarily in this damned war . . .

To learn, eventually, that he wasn’t one of them was therefore all the more shocking to you.

While the mission to steal the Death Star blueprints had been successful, it clearly didn’t come easy. Everyone who had survived had been wounded to some degree, with Captain Andor appearing to receive the worst of it as he was carted off to the infirmary. Bodhi, to your relief, wasn’t especially harmed. Roughed up, certainly, and clearly shaken from the experience, but that didn’t change what you now knew for certain: Bodhi Rook, this timid bean pole of a defector, was one of the bravest men you had the pleasure of knowing existed.

Even though he apparently was intimidated by you when you two first met. Granted, everyone intimidated him: He had just went AWOL with the government he’d been employed by, he was “taken in” by people whom he’d been taught by propaganda to fear and be distrustful in, he was still trying to regain his frazzled sanity after being interrogated by that . . . that thing, and he’d just witnessed his home get bombed. Needless to say, the anxious-by-nature man was simply not in an especially welcoming mood.

Still, he tried to be civilized (maybe because he feared getting beat up if he didn’t). He wasn’t sure what to say in response to your, er, “greeting” when you hustled up war-battered clothes besides an awkward thank you. He really wasn’t sure what to make of you that would separate you from his overall feelings towards nearly everyone in this whole operation: You were strong, you had been through enough and were surely hardened by it, and you could probably snap his spine over your knew if you particularly cared to.

Of course, he’d spent next to no time with you when he thought these things of everyone involved in the Rebellion. He had no time to: He had to fly around the Maker’s galaxy and back! It actually wasn’t until after the Scarif mission that he was given ample time to readily wipe his impressions and assumptions clean. He felt he needed to, given what dedication he’d seen on those beaches.

Besides, you approaching him afterward certainly helped. You picked up that he wasn’t fond of crowds during evening mess when he quietly slinked away from the group gathering to hear retellings of the infiltration on Scarif. You figured perhaps a one-on-one situation might’ve sufficed. Better yet, inquiring about his current state might’ve been preferable to reliving the experience.

He appreciated the gesture on your part. Maybe . . . you weren’t nearly as ice-cold as he’d thought you were. At the very least, definitely not as bad as Cassian.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?):

Bodhi is a naturally anxious person, and the hardships and experiences he’s encountered haven’t exactly made that any better. Sure, he’s a lot braver now and more willing to act, but he’s still nowhere near as gung-ho or fiery as his companions.

He’s had some methods in the past that clearly didn’t work out in his favor (fun fact: he’s got a record for gambling), but one of the best tried and trues is simply going somewhere quiet. His thoughts are in a constant buzz, he benefits from a lack of outside stimuli when he feels overwhelmed. The problem is . . . quiet is so very hard to find when you’re in the middle of a war. As an Imperial cargo pilot, you could just plain forget about the idea of having time to yourself: You belong to the Empire, your time is the Empire’s time and you are in no position to use it up.

Being a part of the Rebellion is better by legions, but the base on Yavin IV leaves much to be desired in terms of privacy and quiet. Luckily, the planet is lush and forested: If Bodhi is on base and feels the need to sit in the quiet and gather his thoughts and calm down, he need only walk in any given direction, find a tree to sit under, and just stay there for a while. The places he chooses are far enough to where he can relax and not have his thoughts and heartbeat disturbed by the banging of machinery or the hollers of drill sergeants, but never so far as to be unable to get help should he need it.

It wasn’t long before he began to incorporate you into these relaxation methods, however. As it turns out, as much as he may enjoy being able to sit by himself in the brush, he very much likes being able to sit with you anywhere. You’re almost like a walking calming center for him, especially when you touch him: Hold his hand, rub his back, let him lay his head on your lap so you can play with his hair . . . It’s like a missing link he never knew he’d been missing to begin with! They’re seemingly small things, but they make a big difference. You can always feel him losing his tension beneath your touch, often announced by quiet sighs or tiny shudders. It’s truly the cutest thing and you’re so glad to be the cause of it and help him calm down. Just not nearly as glad as he is to have you there to calm him.

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?):

The thought of marriage has switched on and off throughout Bodhi’s life; really, it depends on the exact moment. As a child, he certainly thought about it more, if only because children are want to do such things. But as an adult, it begins to falter. By the time the events of the story show up, he can go long stretches without even once thinking about his stance on whether or not he should get married. Because really, it’s more based on the exact moment: If he’s in a surprisingly good way or even in a moment where he must think about how short life can be, the certainly he gives it some thought.

But in his usual misery and anxiety while serving the Empire, such silly concerns are the furthest thing from his mind; they’re so far on the back burner that they may as well have fallen behind the stove, forgotten, dusty, and moldy!

Even when he meets you, the thought surprisingly doesn’t come up for a while. It’s not that you don’t make him happy or inspire any intention of long-term romance -- far from it, actually! You make him feel the happiest and most comfortable than he’s felt in literal years! In fact, that’s honestly probably why the subject of marriage doesn’t pop up to him so immediately: His life as of late has become a bit of a balancing act, what with him now being a part of a rebellion he hadn’t planned on joining and, consequentially, trying not to get him or his new comrades killed. Normally, this sort of thing would’ve sent him into a panic-induced coma. But with you present in his life, giving him a sense of calm and someone to fight hard enough to come back to, you actually make him start to enjoy the present. (Well, the calmer ones, at least.)

He’s not as caught up about the past or afraid of the future as he used to be; he’s actually enjoying the moment with you as is. Sure, every now and again, if he does (or doesn’t) mean to think about it, his mind does slip and he finds himself thinking, “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind being with them after all this . . .” He even dares to dream about the two of you sharing a life together on a nice, simple planet with lots of trees and greenery. Maybe somewhere quiet. A farm might be nice: He can so some gardening there and you two can build a house together, all big and roomy like you’d always wanted instead of cramped and stuffy like the living quarters you always complained about . . .

But then his attention would be dragged elsewhere (to a meeting, to training, to you calling him to join you for dinner). He doesn’t mind. He’s not brushing aside the possibilities of proposing to you and marrying you, but the dreams can wait: All in all, you’re here right now and he’s perfectly content being there with you. For now.

Thank you for asking and for being patient!

#bodhi rook x reader #bodhi rook #bodhi x reader #rogue one x reader #rogue one imagines #rogue one imagine #fluff alphabet #fluff headcanons #regrettablewritings

[myherogroundzero]

happier (dabi x reader)

A/N: this is like OOC but for a reason! it’s like, he wouldnt be OOC with other characters but you grew up with him so it was different, dont question it. i worksd really hard on this and im proud of it. i hope you all enjoy and YES i am all for that Touya/Dabi theory. it makes perfect sense (edit: i literally forgot to mention that i totally changed his backstory LMAO but i felt like this fit my story better sorry 🥺)

word count: 1.8k

warnings: i mean, heated kissing? angst, parental abuse (verbal, but not really mentioned)

•••••

I.

you held onto his hands, dancing around the playground while your parents fought and his mom just watched. that’s what the two of you did every time your parents argued the way they did. he helped you escape from the hatred you listened to everyday so you could feel that glimmer of hope that they always tried to take from you.

“feeling better, y/n?” his voice was kind and soft and his smile made your fears disappear.

“yes, Touya, thank you.”

you grinned at him before you stopped moving and gave him the biggest hug you’d ever given. he giggled as he hugged you back. even though the two of you were only four, him wrapping his arms around you made you feel safer. what could go wrong when you were in the arms of your best friend?

“of course. you look better when you’re happier!”

II.

“you’re always at work, you never spend time with us!”

“maybe that’s because i’m trying to earn money to take care of this family!”

a 10 year old should never have to endure this. tears welled up in your red, puffy eyes as you remember the latest fight your parents had. you couldn’t take the screams and abhorrence so you ran. you didn’t know where your feet were taking you until you stood, shaking and sobbing in front of the Todoroki household. you wiped at your eyes before hesitantly knocking on the door. you stared at your feet and played with the hem of your shirt as you waited for the door to open.

when you heard creaking, you looked up immediately. your watery eyes met with the soft grey ones of Touya’s mother, Rei. she bent over to wipe off your tear-stained cheeks, the gentleness of her touch making you melt.

“are they fighting again, love?”

when you opened your mouth to respond, the only thing that came out was the quiet, pained sobs that you’d been holding back. that had been answer enough for her, and she quickly ushered you into the house.

you sat in the kitchen with her, your legs crossed as you sipped the tea that she’d made specially for you. the two of you just talked until you calmed down a little bit. soft footsteps brought you away from your current conversation and to the entrance of the kitchen, where you were met with a tired looking Touya.

“y/n? is everything okay?” he yawned and rubbed his eyes as he spoke, his voice mellow despite his exhaustion. you got up and walked to him, giving him a hug without uttering a word. he, of course, hugged back.

“dance with me, Touya?”

he smiled softly before taking your hands and dancing with you, his mother as your audience. the two of you spun around as though you were the only people in the world. nothing else existed in that moment, just you and Touya and your dancing. a smile had replaced the heart wrenching look on your face. dancing with your best friend made things better, even when life seemed to have been falling apart before your very eyes.

“you know, you should smile more often. you look prettier when you’re happier.”

III.

15 was not your favourite age, to say the least. your parents never stopped arguing and it’d become even harder to deal with. when they spoke to you, it was always short and harsh. they made sure you knew they didn’t want you, and they didn’t want each other either. you sat upstairs in your room holding a pillow over your head to block out the incessant screams from the voices that once soothed you.

you were at your breaking point and you knew that. nothing seemed to make you happy anymore. you kept headphones in your ears turned up at max volume to tune out the fighting every single day. it was the only thing that made you feel anything anymore. the romanticisation of life in songs gave you spurious hope.

you supposed it was easy to idealise life when you were living, but you were only existing. you vividly remembered the day the life had left your eyes, even though you weren’t dead. you were no longer who you once were. you felt like you were overreacting with your emotions. your parents never hit you or anything. sure, they fought nonstop, but you had a roof over your head and food to eat and clothes to wear. what right did you have to be upset with your life?

you sighed quietly before getting your phone out and sending a text to Touya, asking if he’d be willing to come over. he always knew what to do and say when you got like this. your phone buzzed in your hand and you smiled at his speedy reply before reading that he’d be right over.

☆☆☆☆☆

you walked to your window after receiving Touya’s text that he was there. you opened it and smiled down at him.

“there’s a ladder on the side of the house,”

he gave you a thumbs up before going to retrieve the ladder. you giggled softly, turning to go sit on your bed while you awaited his return.

minutes later, you saw disheveled red hair crawling through your window. he looked at you and grinned, going over to sit next to you when he’d made it through. you wrapped your arms around his neck while his were secured around your waist. the warmth of the hug made a funny feeling erupt in your stomach. likewise, Touya’s heart was fluttering at your touch.

“Touya, will you dance with me?”

he stood up, pulling you close to his chest. your arms rested around his neck like they had when you were sitting. the two of you swayed slowly, a comfortable silence taking over as you just enjoyed each other’s presence. you relished the protectiveness of his embrace. he rested his head gently on top of yours, making your heart pound.

he stopped moving abruptly before pulling away slightly to look at your face. his eyes scanned over every perfect imperfection that made up your beautiful appearance. his brows furrowed and he bit his lip, deep in thought. his eyes stared directly into yours, making you squirm. you got nervous under his unwavering gaze, so you shifted your head and looked to the side.

he gently held your chin and moved your head back to its previous position before placing a loving kiss to your lips. you kissed back with more force, the neediness exposing how deprived of love the two of you really were. his grasp on your waist tightened and your hands found their way into his hair, pulling gently. his tongue slid over your lip and you opened your mouth to allow him access. you pressed into him as much as you possibly could, a soft moan escaping your lips.

in that moment, nothing and nobody else mattered. it was only the two of you pouring your hearts out to one another, holding onto each other tightly out of fear that you might never see each other again if you let go.

when you pulled away to breathe, Touya took the second to look you over again. when he looked at you he saw his whole life in your eyes. he fell in love with you when you two were kids, and that love has only grown stronger since then.

“y/n, i want to make you happier.”

IV.

you were now 19 years old and you hadn’t seen Touya in two years. he disappeared when he was 17, leaving you confused and brokenhearted. you’ve felt this emptiness ever since he left, like you were missing one half of your already damaged heart. you missed him. his smile, his laugh. you missed his lips and his hugs but most of all, you missed dancing with him.

you didn’t think you’d ever see him again, but you remained hopeful that maybe your paths would cross once again. at first everyone thought he’d been kidnapped. however, as you thought more and more about it, you had come to the conclusion that maybe he ran away. you knew how his father treated him and his siblings, even Rei. you wouldn’t blame him if running way was his only option, but why didn’t he tell you? or better yet, why didn’t he take you?

you laid on your bed, still trapped within the hate and anger of your parent’s house. all you could do was wonder if things would get better. you wish, above all things, that you could go back to when things were better, when you were happier.

V.

by 21, your parents had kicked you out and with no job or house, you had nowhere to go. so you sat on a bench near the very park you used to play at with Touya. the darkness of the night sky was making you drowsy. your eyes were fluttering closed when the shadow of a tall man blocked the moon from illuminating your figure. your eyes shot open and you looked up, your eyes being met with familiar blue ones on an unfamiliar face. there were stitches and burns all over him, his hair completely black.

he stared at you, not knowing what to do or say. you felt in your heart that you knew him, but you didn’t recognise him.

“Touya?”

his eyes welled up with tears for the first time in a long time.

“y/n.”

you covered your mouth to muffle the sound of your quiet cries before you stood up and hugged him. he hugged back tighter than he ever had before.

“Touya, what happened to you? why did you leave? you didn’t say a thing to me, you just left!”

“i know—“

“you could’ve at least told me!”

“i’m sorry—“

“i felt so lost, Touya, you left me alone.”

“y/n, please. i didn’t mean to hurt you.”

tears spilled like a waterfall, your gasps for air breaking his heart. he really had no intentions of hurting you.

“y/n, i truly am sor—“

you cut him off be smashing your lips against his. he stumbled back slightly before regaining his posture and kissing you back.

“i missed you so much, Touya.”

“i missed you too, love.”

you held onto him like you’d lose him again if you let go. he held you with just as much protectiveness and love. the two of you swayed slightly, the moon shining, illuminating your tear stained cheeks. finally, for the first time in five years, your life didn’t feel like it was slowly crumbling before you. you wouldn’t say you were happy per se. but the two of you dancing in the light of the gleaming moon brought you back to when you were younger.

as crazy as it sounds, you missed who you were back then, when the two of you were dancing through the angry voices of your parents. when you were dancing through the mess you called your lives. he brought you back to those times, though. he brought you back to when you were happier.

#dabi #dabi x reader #touya x reader #touya todoroki #todoroki #villain #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #x reader #x you #reader insert #anime

[marshmallowprotection]

Well, hey, if youre willing to write for it im delighted to request it! If you dont already have an idea in mind, how about snapshots of each rfa member with the rfas unofficially/officially adopted child? Or what each would do if they needed to pick them up from school cause they got sick? I kind of love this whole idea so ive already thought up way too many ways to use it haha, but id be happy with literally anything related to the rfa communally raising a kid

I've written some little blurbs for you, nothing long but something just enough to get a taste of what it might be like. I couldn't decide on a specific kid to use so I'm just going to swap between a boy and a girl for whichever it feels right for. 

Yoosung 

"Sungie, do you always get to see so many animals?" 

"Mmm. Yeah, it's part of my studies. If I wanna be a great Vet someday, I have to learn about all kinds of animals and meet them." 

"Really cool! I wouldn't mind if I got to hang out with puppies all day." 

"Well… It's not always like that." 

"Oh, right, there must be kitties and bunnies too!" 

They always chatted like this. 

Yoosung spent the time that he did have free with everybody's favorite son. He was often one of the least busy members of the group but only during the afternoons while the others were working. They would waste a lot of time playing games that he enjoyed or LOLOL, which Yoosung liked. 

They got along really well. Yoosung had taken to him like a big brother, and while he wasn't entirely sure if he was doing it right, he enjoyed the time they spent together. 

He wasn't ever really that close with his big sister, so to have a little buddy to hang out with like this was so different!  

He wasn't the youngest person now, so a lot of the words directed towards him were now thrown to the wayside. It made him feel like he was pretty mature! 

That wasn't always the case, though. 

Video games were an easy way for them to interact and because of that he got a little too invested in them. Of course, just because he was older didn't mean that he always won those games. 

The kid took it ten times more seriously than he ever did and he had to actually try to win what they were on. He never really had that issue before without having many people to play against. But, it was like Seven had been tutoring him on how to destroy others. 

Today was no different. 

"I WIN!" he shrieked as he jumped off of the couch and thrust his hands in the air as Yoosung hung his head in defeat. 

"Looks like you win again," he laughed, though still a little embarrassed. 

Zen

She was a star, a bright shining star. 

All she wanted to do was be the one who made all the sad stuff go away, far, far away from here! It was a dream of hers to be as cool as her family was, and she thought the best way to do that would be to practice for the next party! 

She got the idea from Jaehee, cause she always said that Zen could shine so brightly that it made her feel better. 

So, who else to ask for tips then Zen? 

So, she put on her little show as best as she could for him. 

"You're doing great, keep it up out there, princess!" Zen cheered her on as she spun around in circles and circles on end, pretending to perform for the little crowd of plush toys and Zen.

He clapped as she finished up her little routine a few minutes later, with her arms stretched out wide and little chest heaving from all the little motions. 

Her eyes twinkle with such joy. It was a blessing to see her look so happy and all she ever wanted to hear was that she was getting better at this. 

She puffs out her cheeks when he doesn't say much more, "D'ya like it, Zenny? I can't show everybody else less you think s'good!" 

This little girl was an absolute darling to everybody that she came into contact with and it was no surprise given her parent, who had been the kindest soul ever to walk the face of the planet. She never caused any trouble and all she wanted to do was have a little fun every now and again. 

Zen wasn't all that great with kids, at least, he never felt like he was. He didn't exactly do a perfect job all the time, but he did try his best when he could. 

She had insisted that he sit down and watch her perform this time around. She wanted to show that she could be as dazzling as Zen was, and he would stand to agree that this little girl had a future in talent if she wanted to pursue it. 

Even if she was a little bit pitchy with her own rendition of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. 

Zen let out a little laugh. He pressed his hand against the top of her head and ruffled her hair. "It was very good. You'll blow everybody away at the next party for sure, okay? I need to watch out. You're going to give me a run for my money." 

Jaehee

The little boy clutched at his locks, clearly frustrated with the paper of homework in front of himself. It just wasn't making any sense to him and he really wanted to just give up and quit it. 

He had been trying so hard to do it all on his own so nobody would get worried.  

That hadn't worked because Jaehee caught him looking so dejected in the corner of the café. 

There was no hiding anything from that woman. She just knew when something was wrong and wouldn't let the subject go when she started talking. 

She always got onto him. It wasn't rude or mean though! 

She was just looking out for him, he knew. It didn't change the fact it was a little embarrassing. 

Jaehee looked over his notes and instead of scolding him for the bad marks, she merely hummed and nodded her head. She pointed out some of the troubling areas for him and tapped the spots. 

"So you see, you'll need to do this first before you start doing this part of the question. You're getting ahead of yourself when you're working on these types of problems." 

He stared at the paper for a moment with pursed lips, "...Oh. I guess I didn't think about that." 

"Why don't we try some together and see where it's confusing, okay?" Jaehee smiled. 

He may have felt unsure of himself but he knew that he could trust her judgment at times like this. 

Jumin 

"You look lovely today… I see you and Elizabeth the 3rd are wearing matching bows." 

"Oh, you noticed? I tied them all by myself too!" 

"Did you? That's very crafty of you to do so, princess. Elizabeth seems positively pleasant about it. Why, may I ask, did you do it?" 

"Oh! Elizabeth and I are having a tea party today. We can't have one without looking cute n' stuff. You think my Mommy would like these?" 

"She would. That's her favorite color."

Jumin had never been sure how to act around children. He had never really been a normal child himself, and by the time he figured it out, he was already well grown into an adult. Now, he was really learning how to interact with children. 

This little girl had stolen not only his heart but the hearts of everybody she came into contact with over the past few months.

She was bubbly and sweet, never out of line, she had a penchant for cute toys and little accessories, and she liked to make her own things and play pretend. 

Most importantly, she was the only person in this world who could get CEO Jumin Han to sit in a small chair and pretend to drink tea. 

That's what he was doing right now. 

Elizabeth the 3rd was sitting on her own chair as the girl pretended to pour out some tea into her cup with a smile, "You want some more, Elizabeth? Really? Okay, more tea for the lady!"

Once she set it down she glanced over at Jumin with a big grin, "I'm glad you like it too, I tried really hard. I made some for everybody to wear! I made you a purple one!"

And if anybody thought he wouldn't wear a bow in his hair for this kid, they were wrong. 

Seven

“I did it! I think I put it together, it works, it really works!“

She always looked at the world with stars in her eyes. 

Every new experience was something great to watch happen and it didn’t matter what it was that she was doing or trying out. She always smiled and laughed. It was a great sound, and it had been such a long time since Seven had even heard anything like that. 

This little girl was equal parts smart and sweet. 

If Seven handed her something to work on, she would devour it and figure out what was wrong or what needed to be fixed within a couple of minutes. Seven let her tinker with some of his old robots. Granted, he didn’t give her anything really complex, but still, she learned fast. 

It didn’t always work out, but she never lost her big grin. 

He beamed. “Oh? So you did!  That’s impressive. Good job! Meowy 2.0 here is looking much more lively, huh?” 

She gripped onto the little bot and nodded her head. “Mhm! I wasn’t sure if I was gonna be able to figure it out, but thanks to your help, I got it.”

He couldn’t have been more proud. 

Seven didn’t know what it was like to have many older people in your life care for you like this in a way that was more domestic and typical. He never thought that he would ever have to chance to be around kids like this, but it was something that he always wanted to do. 

She had stolen his heart, though. He would do anything for the kid. 

“That’s right,” Seven nodded. ”You don’t have to do everything alone to figure stuff out. It’s actually better to ask for help when you don’t know what to do next time.” 

She was quiet for a moment and grinned. “...Yeah, about that. I was wondering, how hard would it be to add a flamethrower?” 

Nobody tell the others about that though. 

V

"Does it matter if I make my sky a different color then blue? Why does it always have to be blue? Is it wrong to do something like that? Can it only be blue…? I don't understand." 

"Well, the sky isn't just blue, you know. It can be almost any color you want it to be, it's your drawing to paint so it's your choice what it looks like. Why do you ask?" 

He hung his head, not wanting to look V in the eyes. "... Some kids told me I was stupid and wrong. I guess... I’m just not as good as you thought I was."

V frowned. He got to the boy’s level and pressed his hands against his shoulders, "Hey… that's not true at all. I love your sky, that's why we put it up on the fridge." 

He had really low self-esteem. It wasn’t something that was always remedied by the fact that he had a support system behind him. For some children, it was hard to connect with others in some capacity. 

This boy was always radiant and smiling when he was with the RFA. But, when he was alone or by himself, there were those times when the unease shined through. It wasn’t for a lack of love. Those feelings could affect anyone no matter their life or background. 

V hated to see that. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, quietly. “I would understand if you didn’t.” 

Because he was special, not only to him and the rest of the RFA but to himself as well.

“I’m sure. I would never lie to you. Now, let’s see what we can do about this problem of yours at school, okay?” 

Saeran 

Saeran was always wary of children. 

He always thought of his parents and how badly they had screwed him over as a kid, and his first fear was that he was going to do something as bad as what they did to him to somebody else. That was the last thing that he wanted to do to anyone. 

It wasn’t easy for him to build a bond with MC’s little girl, but he did try every now and again. For some reason, the girl really liked him and stuck to him like glue at every chance that she got. It was kind of hilarious to see somebody so bright and cheery reaching out for somebody as dark looking like him. 

There were times when she would talk somebody’s ear off, but she would never do that to anyone apart from the people in the RFA. She was often quite shy and anxious. With Saeran, though... she was quiet and didn’t often press him for talk and chats. 

She seemed to understand that he really wasn’t much of a guy for chatting, and they both could just hang out without worrying about anything. Today was a little different though. 

He had walked in the room that she was sitting in, and noticed that she was crying. His body stiffened, and he felt rather uncomfortable. He knew that he could have directed somebody else to the situation but at the same time, he didn’t think he could make himself do that. 

He had been in that position too many times as a kid and nobody was there for him. Against the dread in his gut, he sat down next to her and didn’t say anything at first. She was clearly looking over at him. 

“S-Saeran?” 

“...Mmm.” 

“I wasn’t... cryin’... just got dust in my eyes.” 

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want too,” he said, quietly. “I just figured you would feel better if you had some company.“

“...Thank you.” 

#anon #ask #mod kait #prompt #mystic messenger #mysme #saeran choi #saeyoung choi #jumin han #hyun ryu #jaehee kang #yoosung kim #jihyun kim

[resetmypatientviolence]

Labor & Delivery [TRH LI Headcanons]

Pairing: Liam x MC, Drake x MC, Hana x MC, Maxwell x MC

Word Count: 3,787

Rating: PG

Warnings: Language

Description: A glance into some head canons of TRH LI’s during labor and delivery for their bundle of joy. 

Author Note: Fluff! All fluff! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy a look into all four LI’s during labor and delivery. Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/drakewalkerwhipped Masterlist is found on my blog bio.

You should have known it would happen like this: water breaking in the middle of a ball. This child has already given you a run for your money, after all. The cramps throughout the day were nothing of concern, just something you could brush off while getting ready, your one and only watching you move around with equal bits worry and excitement.

Earlier, you laughed and twirled in your gown—one that finally didn’t feel too tight and uncomfortable. You were in a great mood, really, ready for the evening to unfold. “We have a week to go!” You said in your bedroom, gliding over to your expectant partner. “Stop being such a worrywart—let’s enjoy our last ball as a couple, and not parents, shall we?”

And of course, they swept you up into a kiss, their hands sliding along the very slightly cramping round of your stomach, and said, “As you wish.”

But they were right to be worried, for now you’re in the middle of the ballroom with a ruined dress because somebody couldn’t wait.

Well, you think, locking eyes with the only other person in the world who matters right now, it’s now or never, isn’t it?

Liam

Immediately, upon the realization that this child was coming, Liam calls upon the guards and holds your hand while you laugh at the situation. He finds it no laughing matter, however. “Are you in pain, my Queen?” When you give an answer he accepts (that isn’t any variation of no, but he will accept, “It doesn’t hurt much”), you’re whisked off to the hospital surrounded by a horde of guards. On your way there, you tighten your grip on Liam’s hand when the contractions make their appearance. Liam gives you a tight smile and glances at his watch, keeping time.

At first, he’s perfect. How can he not be? Liam packed the hospital bag a month ago. He had the birth plan memorized forwards and backwards. All you need to do was play on your phone, groan when the contractions strike, and sneak food from Liam’s snack stash while he handles the handpicked team of nurses, doctors, hospital staff, and constant media requests for an update on the baby. It’s bliss. Your labor couldn’t be more… relaxing, if that’s a thing.

Liam paces an inhumane amount while you wait, labor taking its sweet time. It’s cute to watch how scrunched up his face gets when he’s worried about something. You smile for the first few hours about that.

When you take laps around the hospital halls to urge this little royal heir along, Liam holds your hand when he doesn’t have a hand on your lower back, helping you waddle. “Are you hanging in there, love?” You throw your head back and laugh. “I’m hanging is as much as this stubborn baby is, dear. You worry too much. Be excited!” He kisses your temple, creases disappearing from his forehead for the meanwhile.

He refuses to leave. Even if your legs are up in the air for all to see as the doctors make sure things are progressing as they should be. You’ve had more flattering angles and days. “Liam, you can nap, go to the palace for a few hours, they said--” But he shakes his head and kisses your forehead. You wince at the cool metal against you. “I’m not leaving your side. I’m not missing a minute of this.” And you smile, kissing him back. “You’re lucky you’re so sweet.”

Liam’s never been one to nap. A king doesn’t have time to nap, he reasons. And there’s no exception here, jolting awake every minute or so while sitting next to you, waiting. Hell, even when you manage some sleep, he’s there by your side, eyes darting between the monitor, belly, and face, the creases back.

Once active labor (finally) kicks in... you’ve only seen Liam rare form like this a few times.  This is one of those times. Gone is his kingly composure and before you— or behind you, rubbing your back as you moan in pain— is Liam, stripped of everything except for himself. His hands are a comfort when you beg for a massage, fingers gently feeding your ice chips, replacing the washcloth on your forehead or rubbing the cool cloth on your face and neck and chest as the pain is all you feel.

Why did you agree to a natural birth? It sounded so nice on paper. The doctors can’t talk sense into you while you demand for an epidural, but somehow, Liam does. You look into his eyes as he says. “Love, it’s too late. Our baby will be here any minute—all you need to do is push. Push a little bit and it’ll be over, I promise.” His words soothe and you calm, gripping the bedside bars with a renewed energy to get this out.

Liam’s perfect. Almost… too perfect. So perfect in fact, you’re annoyed. You shouldn’t be annoyed. He’s just telling you everything the birthing classes discussed, holds your hand (even when you’re sure you’re going to break it), but dear god, if you hear, “Count with me, breathe,” “Push down and they’ll be here,” “You’re almost there,” (When you’re decidedly… not almost there), you’ll lose it. He’s done nothing wrong but yet—“Liam, I love you, but I need you to be quiet until this baby is born otherwise I’m going to step down as Queen.” You don’t mean it, of course, and he raises an eyebrow but holds out an ice chip. You take it, grumbling thanks.

Liam didn’t plan to leave your side while you push, but when the doctor asks if he wants to help deliver his child, well, there’s no doubt what Liam does next as you give the final pushes. Sleeves rolled up, you meet your husbands’ eyes and he smiles, looking more sure than ever, as if he was always ready for this. But of course he was, you think, then give one final yell and push.

And despite the beautiful cry that bursts forth, you’ll ever—ever—forget the look on Liam’s face: a joy like no other, and one that can never be seen again.

Drake

You’ve never seen Drake turn that pale. And you should have expected that he’d drop his glass of whiskey and rush over to you, other nobles grumbles about the whiskey staining their clothing. “It’s time? Is it really time?” He says, breathless, taking your hands. You smile and nod, squeezing his hands in time to the contraction. “Mmhmm. Are you ready?” He shakes his head. “Is anybody every ready?” And Drake shoos away the crowd as you leave, well wishes to be had, but none of that matters as you hold tight onto him, ready to venture into the unknown.

“Drake, you can’t tell the media to fuck off and ignore them.” He huffs, handing you his phone. You roll your eyes—this isn’t unexpected. You type out a quick message for Madeleine to send to the press and hand it back. “Though… it would be satisfying,” you add. There’s no denying that.“But we’re literally having the heir to Cordonia… so we can’t have things completely private as we want.” Drake says nothing, but he walks over and rubs your back, eyeing the IV in your hand.

He has an odd habit of peeking out the window. At first it’s cute but then it’s annoying hearing the blinds chatter together. You’re trying to read while waiting for this baby to appear. “Drake…” You groan. He instantly turns to you, blinds making that godawful sound. “Why are you looking out the window like we’re on a spaceship?” His answer is no surprise. “There’s more and more media outside…” “You do realize that we are in a very private wing of the hospital where nobody can access us, correct?” He takes a long while to answer. “…Yes.” You nod, motioning to the blinds. “Good. Because the next time you touch those blinds, I will request that you be thrown out the window. Got it?” Needless to say, he doesn’t look outside again.

Drake turns out to be an amazing ice chip getter. In fact, he knows to get them before you even know you need more. You’re always about to ask for more, but he has a full cup with a smile and a brightness in his eyes that you haven’t seen before.

There’s a period of time while you’re dozing that Drake leaves. You told him to, anyways, because despite the water breaking making a dramatic display for all of Cordonia to see, this child is as stubborn as their father. You expected he’d get some breakfast, maybe a nap, but what you didn’t expect was to wake up to a full bouquet of flowers and a new stuffed animal for whenever this baby arrives. You also didn’t expect to cry so hard.

Good god, his foot rubs are to simply die for. And all you need to do for one is to point your foot and give a little whimper. Score.

His hair is an utter mess as the labor goes on… and gets more intense. You’ve never seen him run his hand through it so many times. He mostly does it when the doctor provides an update, when he paces in boredom, or when you’re in the middle of a contraction. One hand holding yours and urging you to squeeze his and the other in his hair, watching on with concern. It would be funny if you weren’t in so much pain.

There’s a shock when you want to walk around yourself and Drake almost doesn’t let you. However, the glare you give him shuts up his worries and he follows you around like a lost puppy, ready to catch you if you fell. He’s jumpy, too, the squeak of a gurney making him jump and stumble into a nurse’s station. The laughter that follows is what makes you realize— “Shit, it’s actually time.”

“When you said it’s time…” He trails off while you glare daggers, throwing him the finger. The nurses chuckle. “Would you sincerely like to trade places, Walker? I can assure you I’m more than willing.” He glances to the stirrups and the group of doctors and nurses observing you as you wait for the next command to push. “… I’m good. Here,” he says, taking your hand. “You can break my hand if you want to for that. I deserve it for that comment.” Despite the anger, you only smile and squeeze lightly until you push.

If you thought Drake losing all color when your water broke was funny, you didn’t expect to see him literally turn green as you push, bearing down to urge this miracle into existence. Actually, the nurses seem concerned that he’s about to pass out, but he shakes his head and looks again, greener than ever, but eyes shining with tears as you push one final time.

And despite the beautiful cry that bursts forth, you’ll ever—ever—forget the look on Drake’s face: a joy like no other, and one that can never be seen again.

Hana

She’s like an angel, gliding over to you in the middle of a crowded ballroom. She plants a kiss on your nose, a smile breaking out on her face. But… you know she’s nervous. It’s in her eyes. There’s no doubt. But, like throughout all of this pregnancy, Hana is a picture of peace and serenity. It’s a balancing act for you, her calm the perfect offset to the stress of carrying the heir to Cordonia. “Are you ready to do this?” she asks, folding your hands in hers. You nod and offer a shaky smile. Hana touches her forehead to yours, a soft smile on her lips. “Don’t worry… I’m nervous too. But… I think we’re more than ready. Don’t you?” You nod and let her guide you away from the chaos of the ballroom. She’s right, after all. You are.

As planned, the hospital room is a cozy and calm. After you’re hooked up to machines left and right, Hana hums while she sets up twinkle lights. When the doctors don’t need to check anything, she flips off the light and the room goes from cold, stark, and sterile to warm, cozy, and peaceful, Hana’s face shining in the low and familiar light. “This was a perfect idea,” you whisper, looking around like a child on Christmas morning. Hana grins and gently sets a hand on your stomach, looking at it fondly. “I saw it on one of those birthing tips lists.” You smirk, touching her hand. “And how many of those did you read?” “… I stopped counting after fifteen.”

Hana’s more prepared than you for this. No, it’s the truth. It makes sense to you, as you observe the questions she asks your midwife and doula, or the suggestions she offers you to make your labor more comfortable, helping you get into a position… that does actually alleviate the pain. From the moment you started IVF, Hana was preparing. Reading everything, taking notes, and offering any help she could to make morning sickness go away or to ease your back pain. She packed and repacked the hospital bag at least a dozen times, finding something new that offered other suggestions and tips. You’re grateful for it, really. Easiest pregnancy ever with a wife like her.

Hana refuses—utterly refuses—to leave your side. Maxwell turns out to be her errand boy… at least until you’re unable to speak. Then it’s only you, Hana, and the women who are going to help bring this baby into the world.

“I’ve been practicing this,” Hana says, dabbing your forehead with a washcloth. You raise an eyebrow. “And I think it might help this baby come by focusing on your body.” You touch Hana’s warm cheek, smiling slightly. “Hana, I love you, but I don’t think meditation while in labor will make this baby come, nor distract me from the pain.” Hana laughs, touching your hand on her cheek. “I know. But… it’s worth a shot, right? What else do we have to do?” You blink. “You brought cards though…” Turns out, the meditation was helpful. Calming, even through a contraction. But you still preferred playing cards with her over meditation. Something about how ruthlessly she made you draw four even if you’re the one in labor made you grin and forget about your worries.

She knows how far apart your contractions are before the doctors say it. Also, you don’t have to speak as to how you’re doing for you give Hana one look and she knows, relaying everything to whoever needs to know that yes, it hurts, and when will it be over.

She snaps a picture when you’re not looking, standing up and pondering what’s about to happen. Hana comes up and shows you. The past few weeks you’ve refused pictures because… well, look at you… but this moment is somehow beautiful under the low light and cradling your stomach, looking out the window. “You have never been more beautiful to me,” Hana says, chin in your shoulder. Your face gets warm. “Even if I’m a giant beach ball?” She chuckles, bringing her arms around your waist. “The miracle of birth is one of the most beautiful things in life… and the strongest, most visceral thing a human can do.” You can’t help but notice the twinge of sadness there. You grip her hands, nuzzling your cheek against her head. “Therefore, you are the most beautiful thing in the world right now to me…. Oh no! Don’t cry!”

There’s only one time when Hana leaves the room. It’s when—somehow—a rouge paparazzi got into the hospital wing. You could hear her yelling from down the hall. Your doula snickers. “Never let me get on her bad side.” You snort and nod. “You’d never survive.”

Hana gets in the water with you as you moan low, leaning on your arms. You both agreed on a waterbirth, and you have to admit that the water is a relief to sink into as the final parts of labor pick up and delivery is near. She wastes no time shedding her clothes and jumps in in only her underwear to rub your back and to pull your hair back and out of your face. “Hana…” You mumble, almost in a meditative state. “Is the baby here yet?” Her hands feel so, so good on your back. “Soon,” she whispers, chatter picking up around you. “Very, very soon. Just a little bit more and I promise they’ll be here and in our arms.”

The only time Hana breaks her composure is when you’re pushing. She’s out of the water, but she’s right behind you in the tub. You hold her hands as you yell, and she yells alongside you, tears streaming down her cheeks as she—and the midwives and doula and doctor—watch your long awaited child be born and you bring them to your arms and out of the water, Hana’s happy sob in your ear.   

And despite the beautiful cry that bursts forth, you’ll ever—ever—forget the look on Hana’s face: a joy like no other, and one that can never be seen again.

Maxwell

There’s only a moment of panic before Maxwell smiles and dances his way over to you. “Alright! I told you dramatic entrances were part of the Beaumont genes! Let’s have a baby!” You’re taken aback by his enthusiasm… and apparently, so are others, everybody staring at him. Maxwell looks around, the wraps his arm around your waist. “Why the long faces? The heir to Cordonia is about to grace the world!” “…They’re not coming now….” “Well, then why stop the party because we’ve got to leave? DJ, play something good!” And you exit to Apple Bottom Jeans, bopping your head. 

“Andddddddd smile!” You flash Maxwell a grin and a thumbs up. He looks at the photo and shows you. “Even more beautiful than earlier.” You laugh and lay back in the bed. “I’m not wearing make-up and my hair is a mess.” Maxwell tucks his phone away—for now—and kisses your cheek. “I said what I said. And besides, what’s more beautiful than my wife having a baby?” You arch an eyebrow. “Many things.” “You just aren’t looking hard enough.”

It’s not very comfortable having a handful of people inspect you, but Maxwell’s the perfect distraction. He’s currently doing a magic trick that he just learned and you laugh so hard you sneeze.

“Maxwell… are you… are you livetweeting this?!” The answer is there in your hand: yes. Yes he is. 5 centimeters down, 5 more to go!Maxwell shrugs. “The people want to know. Why have Madeleine give a stuffy statement when we can make birth… fun.” You consider this… and he has a point. “Well… when you put it that way, even I don’t think birth is fun… it makes sense.” And livetweeting is still a go! Stay tuned for my world record ice chip run.

You both agreed that you wanted some footage of the labor for the baby. Though, you didn’t expect Maxwell to walk around and point out everything in the room for them… you do appreciate it, oddly enough, watching him explain everything in detail. Though he has a smile on his face, you know that this is his nervousness rearing its head. It’s endearing, honestly, and when you’re not grimacing in pain when another contraction comes, you watch him with a smile. “And know, even if your Mom yells really awful things at me, we love each other but most importantly, we love you.”

You’re pretty sure Liam, Hana, and probably Drake would be appalled at the state of your hospital bag. Even the doctors look judgey but… whatever. You don’t care. You have mostly everything you need. Maybe Maxwell could have done without the yo-yo… but, to be fair, the baby is making a surprise appearance. “Maxwell… did we agree on a take home outfit?” You ask between increasingly close contractions. “And did we pack it?” “Um…” He walks over to the bag and rifles through it. He doesn’t answer for a minute, then taps his phone and slowly brings it to his ear. “Hey, Bertrand… I need you to do me a big, big favor. I promise the next bash won’t have peacocks this time.”

How many selfies can one man take throwing up an open mouthed smile while you glare in the background in half of them? The limit does not exist, apparently.

Maxwell keeps a smile on your face the entire time—only when he doesn’t, the damn phone up in your face while you start pushing. Oh, and he’s narrating the entire moment for the baby. “And now, your Mom is trying to get you out so we can meet you. As you can see, it’s great—” “Maxwell, I will shove that phone up your—” “Andddddd the next time you see us on the screen, you’ll be in our arms. We love you!” He doesn’t touch it again, but to be fair—he doesn’t have time to.

Maxwell clings to you, his smile slowly fading with each push, eyes wide as can be, watching this process… from your view. He hasn’t dared peek at what’s happening below. You hold tight onto his hands but he doesn’t wince once, only watching with his jaw dropped at your effort. “You’re doing amazing,” he breathes. “Almost there… right? Is she almost…?” The doctor glances up. “Do you want to see for yourself?” He grins and Maxwell pales. “I… I…” “See—see for me,” you huff and nudge him forward. “Please?” Maxwell gulps and squeezes back. “Okay…. I’m about to see my baby be born… totally normal thing to see….” When he gets in place, jaw dropping, you give one final push--

And despite the beautiful cry that bursts forth, you’ll ever—ever—forget the look on Maxwell’s face: a joy like no other, and one that can never be seen again.

That, and the fact that Maxwell faints a second later.

You jolt awake, heart pounding, looking around. Where were you and what—

But then you remember… and your eyes settle on the sight next to you. You smile at the moonlight falling on your sleeping partner with a perfect little bundle in their arms, sound asleep too. You brush a tear away in the quiet, in the peace. Life’s perfect, no matter how long or hard it took to get here. And they’re perfect.

The both of them.

Disclaimer: All characters and rights belong to Pixelberry Studios.

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#trh #the royal heir #playchoices #choices #Liam x mc #drake x mc #hana x mc #Maxwell x mc #playchoices fic #playchoices fanfic #trh fic #the royal heir fanfic #long post #read more #drakewalkerwhipped fic #the royal heir fic #pregnancy

[reylorabbittrail]

Long, Barely Coherent Thoughts about The Rise of Skywalker

Since some of you wanted to hear my thoughts about “The Rise of Skywalker”, I’ve taken some time to write them up and provide context for why I responded the way I did.

A small preamble: I didn’t hate it. Hate is a strong word. And there were moments that I liked. Some that I even loved. However, the aggregate feeling for the movie overall was disappointment. For certain elements, it went beyond that into something genuinely painful and I don’t think that will make sense unless I also go into why I loved the previous two installments of this trilogy.

Also, if you loved this movie, I’m very happy for you. This is about my personal response to a piece of media and I make no judgements on those who enjoyed what you saw. I wish I could join you.

Finally, I will be talking about some sensitive subjects, including child loss and abuse. Please be aware of that before reading further.

Okay, so what was my overall impression of The Rise of Skywalker?

Soulless. Cowardly. Incoherent. Badly paced.

I spent large portions of the movie unable to get into the action because the pacing was so breakneck. There was no time to breathe. Consequently, there was never enough time to recover from one rush before another started. If everything is exciting, nothing is.

I think that this was a deliberate choice to cover up the lack of sense behind the exposition. Oscar Isaac’s Poe Dameron looks dead inside as he temporarily takes up the mantle of Basil Exposition to explain that somehow or other, Emperor Palpatine has returned and there’s a hard time limit on destroying his fleet.

This is a fine example of a running problem throughout the movie. Whereas both The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi used visual storytelling to move the story forward, things in TROS were explained through dialogue time and again. And the dialogue was incredibly clunky.

But back to the story. We are given a paper thin explanation of the Emperor’s return, and immediately are thrown into a fetch quest to find the Big Bad. I’m sure it will make an exciting video game adaptation.

The thing though is that the fetch quest makes no sense. One of the wayfinders is found in the first two minutes of the movie. Yes, it’s in the hands of the bad guys. But does the audience not remember that our heroine is bound to the villain? Why couldn’t she try to use that bond to get at the directions? Why does the Resistance not try to use that bond? Has she hidden from them her connection to Kylo Ren? Either she’s built up a wall of mistrust between her found family and herself by keeping the bond a secret, or she’s revealed all and no one thinks to try to use that bond to their advantage. It’s just conveniently overlooked.

Oh, a sidenote. Wayfinder. Why? There is an in-universe word for such objects already. It’s a holocron. Why not use holocron? We throw Star Wars-isms at the audience all the time. It would be an Easter Egg to the diehards while not bothering the general audience one iota.

Back to our fetch quest. We head to the desert planet of Pasaana. There’s a festival going on. A festival about family. Rey looks longingly at children and infants. A child gives her a fertility necklace. And then suddenly she’s connected by her bondmate through the force.

Now it’s no secret that the Rey and Kylo dynamic is one of the reasons I loved the first two movies in the trilogy. The actors have great chemistry. More importantly, the characters have interesting conflict. And yet that conflict seems off in this movie. TLJ left them complicated enemies. But they feel out of character. I don’t understand what each is trying to get out of their encounters. I have to do massive amounts of work to understand their actions and the dialogue doesn’t help. Because it doesn’t ring true.

Setting such details aside, Kylo rips off the necklace in a moment worthy of the Phantom of the Opera and for once it’s an action that makes sense, having both the subtext of obsessive love and jealousy, and the text of offering a clue for analysis to Rey’s location. Bravo. The writers did something right.

Meanwhile, we get a clunky reintroduction of Lando Calrissian. Has he been stuck on this desert for over 7 years? Longer? We just don’t know and he doesn’t tell us. Our heroes hitch a ride and then we get a fun speeder chase.

Okay, a couple more questions. There’s some good stuff here. The omnipresence of the First Order helps convey how thorough their control is. But why doesn’t Rey hotwire the speeder? It was established two movies ago that she’s a good mechanic. And on Jakku that kind of skill makes sense. Why hand that off to Poe? And why this Trio stuff. It’s fanon. We have just been assuming that Finn’s best friends would form the new Han, Luke, and Leia. Because reasons. None of them textual. It was a failure of TFA to not establish this dynamic if this was an essential element of Star Wars that had to be there from the start.

Which gets to the heart the problem in fandom which is that Star Wars is different  for every fan. What is essential to the series is subjective. For me, Star Wars is light sabers, hyperspace, the Force, epic battles, strange world with one biome only per world. So I’ve never felt like something was missing. But if an essential element was a very particular character dynamic (like a good guy Trio), then I can see why some fans felt let down. As if all the pieces were there but never got put together.

Back to Pasaana. We have a brief descent into the underworld in which Rey has a moment of true Jedi compassion and is rewarded when her compassion for the monster leads to an exit from said underworld. Nice. Mythically coherent. And hey, we also get one of the MacGuffins we’ve been searching for, so, bonus.

 Now we get the arrival of Kylo and his backup band. What was the point of these dudes? I mean, they look cool and I can’t wait to edit videos of them to classic NKOTB. But narratively, why are they there? Why did Kylo reforge the mask? Why all these questions in the third act when we should be in the process of tying up loose ends.

Rey, in a moment reminiscent of bull leaping from Crete, goes out to stall them? I guess? And then ends up in a battle of wills with Kylo that leads to her inadvertent use of Force Lightning.

Okay, another side trip. Are they trying to make out that Dark Side Powers are genetic? Because that’s all I can figure. Really, it’s kind of gross because it suggests that darkness isn’t a human trait that we all carry and must confront, but rather that Rey’s specific problem is a dark legacy. Which, that’s Kylo’s story. He’s the one grappling with the legacy of Vader and how that led his family to fear his darkness rather than aid him in confronting it.

Anyway, we have Rey briefly thinking she’s killed Chewie and that sets our heroes off to our next quest location and another set of problems: Why did we make the Latino man a drug runner and car thief? No, this isn’t just putting an unneeded real world spin on the universe. This is about narrative consistency. Because in a bid to make Poe Dameron an ersatz Han Solo, they broke his actual in-universe back story that had been established in comics and novels. That Poe Dameron was a pilot in the New Republic Navy, the child of war heroes Kes Dameron and Shara Bey. He grew up on Yavin IV. When did he have time to be a smuggler? He’s only a few years older that Ben Solo.

See Lucasfilm has a Story Group that is supposed to help keep narrative consistency between the various media released. And I can’t help shake the feeling that the Story Group was ignored or stonewalled. To please who? The fans? Which fans? Because I would be under the impression that the fans who read the novels and the comics, who dig the trivia aspects of the universe, would be the first to desire the universe to remain coherent.

The Kijimi stuff is fun. Babu Frik is adorable. C3PO is touching. There’s good moments. There really are.

We now go to the infiltration of the Star Destroyer (Does it have a name? Nerds, help me out here. Usually I know this sort of thing.) Again, good moments. I like the implication that Rey’s Force Powers disturb Poe, but it’s never brought up again. One of dozens of Chekhov’s guns left unfired. This is incredibly sloppy in the plotting. Hux is the mole!?! Fun. Yet, again, wasted. And out of character, but I’m sure that’s not going to bother the general audience. Rey gets caught sneaking around in Kylo’s bedroom? Priceless, and some good imagery (smashing the altar to Vader) combined with incredibly clunky dialogue and some more serious questions that never get answered.

The whole time Kylo thought Vader was talking to him it was Palpatine? Why the hell does he still have that mask on a pedestal? He just couldn’t bear to get rid of a collectible? He hadn’t had time to konmari yet? And just what does smashing the pedestal symbolize? Is this the start of Kylo breaking free? We’ll probably never know.

Rey escapes on the Falcon. After getting the worst character reveal in the Saga. I’m sorry. Rey Palapatine is just dumb. I liked that she was a nobody. It allowed her to be the Forces solution to the manipulation and abuse heaped upon the Skywalkers. She was brought into the story and bound to the last scion of House Skywalker as a corrective. She wasn’t overpowered. (No really. She executed a few very basic Jedi skills in the first two movies, none of them exceptional.) And her skill level makes sense the moment you understand that she is bound to Ben Solo. She is literally downloading his training. She can do what he can do. Even her fighting style mirrors his. Fun fact: if you watch the scene in The Last Jedi where she’s practicing sword forms on Ach-to, and compare them to Kylo in his duel with Luke, they’re identical. To a move. Rey is powerful because the Force chooses its vessels. No one was asking who Mace Windu’s parents were. Or Ki-Adi Mundi’s. But Rey is skilled because a very clear in universe device means she has access to Ben Solo’s mind and that included every skill he ever learned.

Alrighty, so now our team is on to the next step in the quest, the ocean moon of Kef Bir, one of the many moons in the Endor system. (No, it’s not the Forest or Sanctuary Moon with the Ewoks.) We meet Jannah, another wasted character. She is pretty and could have been cool. But she exists for us to realize that Finn is probably Force Sensitive and that he broke conditioning not due to innate morality but because he’s not a Muggle.

Which brings me to my gripe with how Finn’s character was treated. He spent the whole movie running around shouting Rey. That’s it. That’s his arc. I don’t mind that he can feel the Force. But I feel like his development was regressed. He had a clear character arc in the first two movies. From a man running away from responsibility to one willing to fight for a friend, to a man willing to commit to cause. This movie should have had him building on that, and perhaps like Moses returning to free the rest of the Stormtroopers who are canonically child soldiers brainwashed into fighting for the bad guys.

Back to the plot. Rey takes off for the Death Star, searches the haunted house and yet again has her moment in the cave, this time confronting a dark vision of herself. Dang that was cool. Would have liked to see more of that. Anyway, she confronts Kylo and he smashes the holocron. Emphasizing for us how pointless this fetch quest has been. Girl could have hopped a ride in his TIE at any point and dealt with the fallout after they dealt with the emperor.

They fight. It wasn’t a bad fight. Just not my favorite. It did emphasize though that Kylo is never ever fighting on the offensive with her. Never in three movies has he ever taken an advantage of an opening for a killing blow, and never was it more obvious than in this fight. Kylo gets distracted, Rey stabs him mortally, and this act seems to wake her up from whatever possessed her in the throne room. She heals him and runs away.

This brings up another thing that bothers me. I know the filmmakers were working with some severe challenges with their footage of Carrie. I don’t think it was badly used for the most part. But I was left baffled at what exactly was going on here.

I was not baffled at Kylo/Ben’s confrontation with Han. This was the high point of the movie for me. It was pitch perfect in tone, and touched on the one an only sin Ben ever committed that wasn’t connected to a war objective, the murder of his father. And it made clear that the prodigal was loved and wanted and it wasn’t too late to come home. The heart of Ben’s problem has been the conviction that he has done too much wrong to come home, and while it is only a memory, it is a true memory of the man who loved Ben enough to walk straight into Hell though he knew it would probably be the death of him. I can forgive this scene for throwing the lightsaber  into the ocean. I realize that most of the audience doesn’t know that you can heal kyber crystals. Yes, the saber was a metaphor for Ben’s damaged and unstable soul, and yes, it would have been poetic (and badass) for him to show up later with a healed lightsaber, stable and blue and looking like something an angel would fight with. But I’ll forgive that for the poetry of what happens on Exegol.

And then we go to my low point. I’ll set my costumer’s beef with Luke Skywalker’s wig aside. It looked cheap and that’s all I’ll say. It was more the deliberate middle finger to TLJ in the lines while ignoring that Luke’s most iconic and Jedi-like moment in the original trilogy was casting aside his lightsaber in an act of compassion. Yes, Rey was burning her ship and throwing away her weapon for the wrong reason.  And it was a deliberate echo of Luke who also was appalled when his fear was twisted by the Dark into an attack on his nephew. She is overcome with the same shame and fear of self. Luke can speak to this in a real way. With better dialogue, it might have worked for me. Alas, it didn’t. Instead we got more exposition to provide us with an extra lightsaber. And more questions about why everyone in this family gave up on Ben Solo.

Here’s the thing. If Leia remains untrained, lots of things make sense: her instinctive but infrequent use of the Force; her fear for her son and sense of inadequacy in dealing with he struggles with darkness, her unresolved issues with her father which lead her to hide her parentage not only from the galaxy but also from her own son. All of this is undone by the training reveal and makes us wonder why everyone was willing to help a descendent of Palpatine but not their own flesh and blood. And in a movie that used dialogue to explain nearly everything, these lacunae stand out more than they would in a film that trusted the audience more. See you could have had Luke say “We messed up. We gave in to fear. And we didn’t want to make the same mistake with you. Rey. I’m the son of Darth Vader. I know more than any man that we are more than our bloodline. And forgetting that with Ben was the worst mistake of my life.” But  he didn’t. Which in a movie which tells as much as or more than it shows seems like a deliberate choice.

Have you noticed that I’m ignoring the space battles? That’s because they’re forgettable. I just didn’t care about them. Especially since the galactic conflict remained essentially unresolved. Back to the Force Plot, the only plot that matters.

Rey confronts Palpatine. Yawn. At this point I just don’t care. For most of the movie, she hasn’t seemed like my Rey. I couldn’t relate and by this point I’ve lost interest so I’m more wondering where did all these people come from. Are there concessions? How much does a hot dog and Coke cost on Exegol? Does this stadium have bathrooms? Nice to see that it’s built like the AT&T one down the street with the sliding roof panels. And then my boy Ben Solo arrives and the film is good again. Without a word of dialogue (besides “ow”) Adam Driver delivers the best performance of the movie, showing that the Han Solo of the trilogy was there the whole time in his son. Was there ever a more Han Solo thing than running into a Dark Side temple in your pajamas, armed only with a blaster? And then Rey passes him Anakin’s saber. OMG. Brilliance. The best part of the movie. For a moment I thought that they would at least wrap it up well. And for a moment they’re side by side and all is right in the world. And then Palpatine throws Ben in a pit.

I hate this. I don’t hate this movie but I hate this moment. For three movies we’ve set up that Rey and Ben (He’s Ben now; don’t’ @ me.) are equals in the Force. They have a Yin/Yang dynamic that made this work. The natural conclusion here should have been that they take out Palpatine together. Because both have a beef with him. This is the man responsible for ruining the lives of four generations of Skywalkers. And while Ben is at the bottom of a pit, Rey stands alone, calling on the Jedi to help her.

The Jedi that are ignoring the Skywalker at the bottom of the pit.

Including Ben’s grandfather that he’s been begging for years to help him.

Including his uncle who promised to always be with him. (We were robbed of Ghost Luke trolling Kylo. Robbed I tell you. Mark Hamill would have nailed that.)

Ben is at the bottom of a pit being ignored while the Jedi transform Rey into their sacrificial lamb for Girl Power points.

So, yeah, I hated how Rey defeated Palpatine. It was wrong. It wasn’t in union with her bondmate. It wasn’t through the power of love and compassion. It was Space Wonder Woman meets Harry Potter. And then she dies. Because the Jedi only ever viewed people as tools in their grand battle with the Sith.

But Ben. Oh, Ben loves Rey for who she is. And he climbs out of the pit without a lick of help from anyone and cradles her lifeless form in the most heartbreaking Pieta, and you can see on his face the moment he make his decision and gives everything of himself to bring her back. It was beautiful, and they share the most pure, the most perfect kiss.

And then he dies.

And that’s where the movie breaks me. Because he didn’t have to die. It doesn’t make sense. Why does Leia hold on until this moment? Why does Maz seem satisfied? Where did Ben go? Why does he go unmourned? Where is his Force ghost? This movie just leaves us with more questions.

And the very end kills me. Rey is on Tatooine. A dead world that holds no importance to her (or Leia, I might add). She buries the Skywalker sabers. A funeral. She sees the ghosts of Luke and Leia bless her as she takes on the Skywalker name. A name that she could have taken in a life-affirming way through marriage, but that appears as scavenged from the dead that she has surrounded herself with as she ends the movie an eternal child, side by side with a stolen droid.

It makes no sense.

But whence my nerd rage? Why do I care? Why have I devoted over 3K words to this?

Because the first two movies in this trilogy made me care about these characters.

When I first saw The Force Awakens, I connected immediately with her loneliness. Loneliness is something I get viscerally. I have always been socially awkward and had difficulty making friends. I rarely felt known or understood and I understood that deep longing to belong. When Rey was being interrogated by Kylo Ren, that was what struck me. He notices her loneliness.

And you realize that Kylo is projecting. That he is seeing in her a kindred spirit. He too is lonely, and trapped by fear into being stuck in a place that he knows in his heart of hearts is a dead world. He too is trapped by relics of the past.

So, you see, Rey and Kylo were both me. I had lived that loneliness. I had experienced profound isolation and the sense that no one truly understood me. I desperately wanted them to find their belonging and heal their wounds. And that’s certainly the story that TLJ picked up on and continued.

But there was more. I became fascinated with the question of how the son of Han and Leia fell, and I could see the possibilities in the pattern of their characters: Leia, the woman driven by duty, trying to build the New Republic to make a better galaxy for her son, and leaving her son vulnerable to predation in the process; Han, a man who had only just stopped running from responsibility, and who’s own lack of father figures left him feeling inadequate as a father. Throw in a villain who can groom and psychically abuse their son and you have the ingredients for a tragedy.

And because I identified with Leia, Ben became, in a way, an additional child. A parent’s greatest fear is that in trying to do the right thing for your child you inadvertently make things worse. Poor Leia. She needed a mother to tell her child mattered more than a bill in the Senate. That the galaxy could wait. But Palpatine killed her mother. Both her mothers, because he was as complicit in the death of Breha Organa as he was in the death of Padme Amidala Naberrie.

So when Ben Solo died, it was like losing a child. And anyone who knows me personally knows that I do not choose that phrasing lightly. And being a mother, there is always a sense of survivor’s guilt. The sense that if you had done the right thing, it wouldn’t have happened. It doesn’t matter if that isn’t the truth. It’s how it feels.

I have met so many people online who identify with Ben Solo because they were abused as children. Who like him processed their trauma in unhealthy ways. It’s not where I come from, but I have the capacity to empathize and hear the message they’re inadvertently being told: that if you do bad things because you’ve been groomed and manipulated and brainwashed, you can’t come back. Even if you turn your life around, it won’t matter. You’ll only find peace in death and you will die unremembered as punishment for your sins. And your family will replace you with someone nicer and easier to live with.

But I can hear you saying: It’s not that deep. It’s fake and in space. It’s just a story.

Well, here’s the problem:

1)    The brain does not distinguish real people from fictional characters. The part of the brain that produces serotonin and dopamine can’t distinguish fact from fiction. This is actually why art has the power to heal. The catharsis experienced in a work of art can help us process trauma because we relate to the characters in the story. But the flip side is that stories can cause genuine trauma. If we related to characters in a story and they are treated unjustly, we feel that injustice and it hurts as badly as if it were real.

2)    Ben Solo was written to be sympathetic. He is the child of beloved characters. His backstory is one filled with pain. He was failed by every family member who should have protected him. He was abused physically and mentally for years. Recently published materials exonerate him from the destruction of the Jedi temple. It was all part of a plot to push him to the Dark. All Ben ever wanted was to be loved for who he was. And that was snatched away from him.

3)    I can’t turn off my brain. I can’t stop asking questions and trying to make sense of things. I can help but see the Chekhov’s guns and the symbols and the messages, however inadvertent.

4)    It is a grand failure of a movie if it only works on a surface level and not when you start digging deeper. Every other Star Wars movie, including The Phantom Menace, rewards the person who can’t turn off their brain. This was the first one that falls apart so completely the second you start asking questions.

I wish I could like this movie. I was prepared to like it if not love it. And while I got Ben’s redemption and the Rey and Kylo romance that I wanted, I feel like I got nothing. Like they don’t matter at all.

I am planning to start new hobbies in the new year. I got some war gaming miniatures painting sets for Christmas and I’m glad I have a new special interest to pour myself into. I have enjoyed sharing my love of Star Wars trivia with my kids but it just hurts too much at the moment to spend time thinking about a franchise that has been so  badly mangled. I’m probably in the bargaining stage of grief at the moment. I wholly buy the theory that there was happy ending filmed and someone blinked in the game of chicken, leaving us the mess that we were handed.

I’m also planning to get back to writing. If even Disney can’t tell a fairy tale properly anymore, it’s time for a new batch of writers to get out there and tell the stories I want to hear. I am sick of grimdark fantasies and cynicism masquerading as sophistication. I may write a fanfic or two to fix the story in my mind, but I think that ultimately I need to be creating original works. I know that there are children eager to believe in happy endings, plenty of women who believe that Byronic heroes can be redeemed, and not a few men who will buy both if the story is well told.

#tros spoilers #negativity #cw:child loss #cw: abuse

[sharkmobster]

spider verse coffee shop au??

Anon im sorry i wanted to draw the coffeeshop au but ive been so tired lately so imma just overshare about what goes down bc this au is just (thick tombstone voice) : “everybody’s traumatized bitch lets get you a latte”

 • this au is incredibly villain centric bc uhhhhh all i do is think about villains

 • its also very aaron davis centric bc time to project my anxiety onto a grown ass man babey!!

 • anyway this takes place in a normal world where there’s no superheros or avengers or what have you, everyone’s super average 

• like i said this is more or less aaron centric and focuses on him readjusting to society and making connections with other people, and just healing in general. Aaron’s whole deal is that he was wrongfully arrested for defending himself against an off duty cop who was harassing him and ended up with a 10 year sentence  (but was let off a year earlier for good behaviour). He’s got a lot of guilt bc of this if only for the fact that he feels like he let down his brother and Miles (who was a small lad at the time).

 • Fun Fact! Jefferson was the one that picked up Aaron at the jail when he served out his sentence! The ride back to brooklyn was awkward! but also jefferson loves his brother and even tho they’ve had their falling outs he never once stopped believing that his brother was innocent. Jefferson also made sure to pull some strings and ended up getting an apartment set up for Aaron (even though jefferson and rio were 100% down to open their home to him for as long as it took him to get back onto his feet but of course aaron denied them bc he didnt want to be a burden) Aaron’s grateful but he tends to avoid his own family…a lot….

• it’s ridiculously hard to find a job bc nobody wants to hire an ex convict no matter the circumstances and Aaron’s legitimately about to lose hope when he spots an expensive looking shop nestled in between an old arcade and a knick knack shop

 • ‘Vanessa’s Cafe’ is neatly printed above the door in fancy gold lettering. it’s obvious that the owner has serious cash bc the shop looks too damn good and too well maintained to be a regular mom and pop shop. there’s a help wanted sign hastily scribbled on a piece of notebook paper in the middle of the window which is odd since it off sets the professional vibe of the place. But hey it’s worth a shot so Aaron walks in ready to be denied another job only to find the weirdest looking group of people he’s ever seen.

 • The first guy that catches his attention is the very large albino man who looks way too stressed out and manic to be working in a coffeeshop, but the job must pay well because he’s very well dressed.

 • “Liv, for fuck’s sake! Clean your goddamn station!” he’s whisper shouting? Is that even a thing? oh look at that he’s got a full set of razor sharp teeth. huh. that’s a hell of an aesthetic he’s going for.

 • The lady in question isn’t even giving him the time of day, just enthralled by her phone with a smile that looks too peaceful given what’s happening around her. She’s got wild hair tied up messily in a knitted bandana, weird glasses (custom made??) and when she glances up at aaron, her eyes widen in interest like he’s some anomaly to be cracked open. aaron looks anywhere that isnt the wild eyed lady at the counter.

• Theres another big guy that’s hanging around the back, heavily tattooed and lifting stacks of heavy boxes. Aaron takes notice of his prosthetic hand and the tattoo guy takes notice of Aaron. 

• “Lonnie. Customer.” The Tattoo guy seems nonplussed about Aaron and walks into the back. aaron assumes that he’s offended him by staring at his prosthetic for longer than necessary which yeah….yeah he’s probably not happy about the staring. 

 • lonnie’s got a bad case of resting bitch face so he’s glaring at aaron without actually glaring and he’s just rough around ALL the edges so his tones got that nice bite to it as he shouts from across the counter (which is not something you do to a customer but it’s lonnie…..)  "Hey! Ya looking for a job, skinny jeans?!“

 • Aaron blanches at the idea of working with these people but he is absolutely desperate for a job at this point.

 •"Yeah. I just got out of-”

 •"Great, you’re hired! We’re speed running this whole introduction thing, string bean.“

 •and that’s all i got other than like small details like:

 •Peter B Parker owns a ”“’'cafe”“” across from Vanessa’s and its literally just a burger joint that h a p p e n s to sell coffee and Parker will fight you if you call his place a deli ahdhdj

 •Liv and May are dating (big shock) and peter b has to constantly deal with seeing his competition over at his place all the time and it’s yikes

 • Tombstone and Noir will 100% throw hands on contact. They don’t hate each other tho??? Its weird they just like to fight. gives them a chance to work on their banter i guess. Noir works the coffee machine at Peter’s “'cafe”’ so i guess he’s the “”barista”” of the joint but he drinks the coffee more than the customers do

 • Miles and the rest of the spider kids “”“”“"intern”“”“” at the cafe which basically translates to free labor

 •  spider ham works there but he isnt a pig he’s just john mulaney. i know its weird. nobody actually sees him tho so he’s a complete mystery as to what he looks like so he could be john mulaney you never know. the only person who’s seen him is noir and that’s only bc they’re  a thing???

 •oh speaking of everyone being gay:  everyone’s gay

 • Lonnie and Gargan (tombstone and scorpion) are 100% dating but everyone legitimately thinks that the both of them are straight old men despite the fact that they live together, go to work together, hang out afterwards together, and they’re just always together

 • lonnie’s  daughter (janice)  visits every other week (def the product of a divorce he went through years ago) she’s alright with gargan but she’s very distant towards her dad and def has that teen angst phase that she’s going through

 • (lonnie can and will talk to you for hours about how much he loves and supports his daughter despite the fact that their relationship is very estranged)

 • you can find janice hanging out with the cute blond punk girl at that weird burger/coffee place across the street

 • oh gargan’s big and strong despite the fact that he’s missing three limbs, liv works in robotics on the side and constantly tweaks and repairs his prosthetics when they start acting up which leads to them having this weird friendship where they both borrow each other when they need something and dont really expect anything in return (like gargan’s good for getting her supplies and doing heavy lifting when she needs it and liv’s always down to run check ups on gargan)

 • oh yeah liv used to be a scientist but immediately lost her license and phd when she started going above some board members heads to buy less than legal things through super illegal sources

.• that’s another thing, kingpin tends to just hire ex cons and criminals to work in his cafe just bc he believes that a person willing to work hard to better themselves deserves a chance to re enter society again.

 • like they’ve all done bad things but still ended up with a job at the cafe. aaron fought a cop, liv did some shady deals for an illegal experiment, gargan used to run a drug ring years ago due to personal reasons but once he was free from jail he never dealt with the stuff again, and lonnie killed a dude (allegedly. he never went to jail bc they couldn’t prove anything but hey word spread around quick and everyone knew not to go anywhere near this guy)

 ��� kingpin is in this au btw he’s just……a very depressed man who’s still grieving over his wife and son dying in a car accident

.• he rarely shows up to run the cafe bc its too much for him being in the place that his wife loved and built up from the ground. he used to be the manager after she died but couldn’t handle it and mostly left lonnie to take care of it

• which holy fuck lonnie is trying his best to keep this cafe alive and well and there’s only two other people working there so like its enough to have him scrambling all over the place trying to find more help (thanks aaron)

 •miles doesn’t know aaron’s working at the cafe across the street and aaron def wants it that way bc even tho he’s out of jail he hasn’t actually……visited miles yet….. it’s the shame that’s keeping aaron from reaching out to him which is….sad bc miles doesn’t care what happened he just wants his uncle back.

 • oh oh one more thing RIPeter used to run the deli across the street but had to leave brooklyn to go volunteer at homeless shelters across the states indefinitely so theres no telling when he’ll be back, so he left the cafe under the guidance of pb parker (peter b parker voice: my cafe now)

 •and uhhh thats all i got, like i said this au is just found family trope + the healing we all want + bad people getting redemption which is all the tropes that i love all compacted together in the most cliche au you can imagine!

#itsv #aaron davis #the prowler #liv octavius #doctor octopus #lonnie lincoln #mac gargan #hi i work at a starbucks and it's hell so this is how i cope babey!! #spider verse #spiderman #the life and times of a robot prince

[otterandterrierwrites]

{Hungry hearts} IX. Star fritters (pt. 1)

A/N: We’re back with more Hungry Hearts!! I was excited to write this just because the food this chapter is focused on was inspired by a traditional dish from my country (and other parts of LatAm): pastelitos! Since it’s popularly agreed upon that Alderaan is Latinamerican-coded, I thought it would be a nice way to have Leia finally bringing something to the table---literally. Pastelitos are filled with quince cheese, but since I don’t like that name and in Spanish it’s membrillo, I decided to call it membrill cheese (although, much like Han, I’m like “wtf, this ain’t cheese”). I didn’t manage to finish the whole thing today, so enjoy this first part for now!

Supply runs for the Alliance didn’t require a formal debriefing unless things had gone unexpectedly (which often meant really badly). Apart from accounting for the required goods, however, the mission’s captain was required to attend a reunion with the person at the head of the operation. The purpose of these conversations was mostly to assess the continued viability of their route, their supply source, and any difficulties that might have arisen.

One of Leia’s many assets to the rebellion was her catalogue of connections, of allies or possible collaborators, through the galaxy, what they had to offer, and the ways in which they could be persuaded to offer it. This regularly put her in charge of coming up with and planning said supply runs, and given his undeniable skills as a smuggler, Han had become her most demanded executor.

It was because of this alignment of their respective aptitudes that they often found themselves sitting at opposite sides of a desk in the tiny cubicle she used for an office whenever she wasn’t covering a workstation in the command center, holed up in High Command meetings or off-planet.

‘Don't see why we can’t do this over some whiskey back at the Falcon, Your Worship,’ Han usually joked, or variations of it.

This time he was serious, although he wished he’d brought the whiskey. Their supply providers had come from Espirion: after the battle of Yavin IV, Leia had established an alliance with the planet’s population of Alder-Espirions as part of her efforts to reunite all of Alderaan’s survivors. When her fleet had come under attack from a Star Destroyer in orbit of the planet, Espirion had sent one of their own ships and helped bring down the Impstar. Things had become somewhat dire for Espirion after that, and Han knew that still weighed heavy on Leia. Still, the Empire’s tightening hold on their planet had brought even more allies to the rebels’ cause, some of whom had recently met Han in a distant space station to hand over their contributions.

‘I wish Beon had come with us,’ Leia said with a tired sigh, pressing two fingers to her brow as she thought of the Alder-Espirion chief who had chosen to remain hidden planetside.

‘I dunno about that, Princess. Seems he’s more useful to you there,’ Han reasoned, but Leia waved a hand vaguely.

‘Well, yes, but I don’t want him to get caught. Besides, he’s a good leader; we could use him here.’

Han didn’t say anything to that. Leia wanted what Leia wanted, and it was pointless for him to try and argue with her that other people might have their reasons, too.

‘You okay?’ he asked, as she had an intense, pensive look and her fingers were still digging into her forehead as if to push away a headache. At his words, Leia straightened up, her worries apparently gone.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just been kind of a four-cups-of-coffee-before-9-am kind of day.’

‘Thought that was your regular breakfast order,’ Han teased, drawing a chuckle out of her.

‘You’re free to go, we’re done here,’ she said, scrolling down her datapad and scrawling her signature at the bottom.

Han held up a finger. ‘Just a minute. I have something for you that might improve your day… I think. If you like it.’

Frowning slightly with curiosity, Leia watched as Han removed something from an inside pocket of his jacket. He deposited the square of bright red, thick jelly wrapped in transparent flimsiplast in front of her on the desk.

‘Plenty more where this came from,’ he said with a tilt of his chin. ‘Wasn’t in the list you gave me. Our friends sent it as an extra gift, saying you and the other Alderaanians were gonna enjoy it. You know what it is?’

Leia didn’t answer immediately: her eyes had gone round at the sight, her mouth gaping a little in surprise, and then her expression morphed into one that seemed both joyful and heartbroken—nostalgia, Han realized.

‘Yes,’ she said, clearing her throat a little. ‘That’s membrill cheese.’

Han narrowed his eyes at the confection. ‘This ain’t no cheese.’

‘It’s not. It’s a sweet paste, made of the pulp of the membrill fruit.’ Hesitantly, Leia reached out and touched the package with delicate fingers, as if she was afraid it’d break or vanish at the contact. ‘The tree it comes from grew on Alderaan, but it was spread to other planets, whenever our people settled.’

‘Like on Espirion,’ Han said.

‘Right. We use it to prepare a lot of desserts and snacks, you see—we even eat it just with a slice of actual milk cheese.’

‘Yeah? You like it, then?’

‘I really do.’ She lifted her eyes from the membrill to give him the kind of look she got whenever she had an idea. ‘You’ve never had it before, have you?’

Han shook his head and Leia beamed.

‘Then try it! Wait—I don’t have a knife here…’

‘That’s okay, Princess, this is for you. You don’t have to share it, you know.’

Leia crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back on her chair.

‘This isn’t like the coodler-roe,’ she said, referring to the revolting dish she’d dared him to eat about two years earlier. ‘You can trust me.’

He did; he just didn’t want her to have to give up even a small part of something she clearly enjoyed and had missed. It seemed that what Leia wanted was for him to try this alleged delicacy from her home planet, though.

Drawing the membrill to him, he pulled apart the wrapping and pinched a corner of the pasty block, which he then ate.

‘So?’ Leia asked eagerly as he licked her fingers. It was good but a little too sugary for Han’s taste, and he told her so. ‘I suppose that’s fair. Oh, but you should try them on star fritters!’

‘What’re those?’ he asked.

‘They’re fried pastries, and they only have a small bite of membrill at the center, so the sweetness is balanced out.’ Her eyes were almost glazed over with craving. ‘They’re wonderful.’

‘Well, do you know how to make ‘em?’ Han prompted, an idea forming in his mind.

‘I do.’

Han raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you know how to make ‘em edible?’

Leia glared at him. ‘I also know how to poison food so that nobody will ever know how you died.’

‘Alright then—think I’ve fed you enough for free over the years, you could pay me back by making those star fritters you like so much and sharin’ ‘em,’ Han said, poking a finger into the square of membrill, forgetting that it was unwrapped, and subsequently licking the paste off his index finger.

Leia bit her lip, considering his proposal. The idea seemed to have taken her by surprise, as well as too enticing to say no to, since she had neglected to conceal the way her eyes had followed his membrill-smeared finger into his mouth.

‘I… maybe I could use the mess’s kitchen after-hours.’ She grabbed her datapad again. ‘I’ll check my schedule and see if… Anyway, I’ll just make a few samples and bring them over to the Falcon so Chewie and Luke can try them too—’

‘Nuh-huh,’ Han said, wagging a finger at her. ‘Whaddya mean, you’ll make ‘em? You’re teaching me! You can’t say no, Princess, I reckon you’ll enjoy bossin’ me around.’

‘That I will,’ Leia agreed with a smirk.

Han didn’t care one way or another if he never ate a star fritter, except that Leia liked them and they came from her homeworld, so it was like getting to know another little part of her past life—a part that she was actually willing to share with him. She’d looked so eager, so youthful as she talked about it, the hardships of war seemingly put aside for a few minutes, that what he was really going for with his plan was to get her to feel like that again, distract her from Espirion, from the whole fucking war, even for two hours.

And maybe he was looking forward to spending some time alone with her, too.

#scoundressaturdays #hanleia #han x leia #han solo #leia organa #star wars fanfiction #verse: hungry hearts #2019 #one-shot #series #rated G #period: pre esb

[pr0sciutt0]

just gonna answer some more anons about the plus size reader stuff below the cut so i don’t clog up the dashboards of all of u lovely followers and then regular service will resume!!!!

Anonymous said to pr0sciutt0:Yay!! Im so excited! Thank you for being willing to write for poc! Readers and im excited to read the fic you linked! As a plus size girl myself, Whenever I read fics where the reader is I cant help but feel more confident about the parts of me Im self conscious about. Also im so glad you write with us in mind ❤️❤️ and Ive got even more admiration for your work! That anon must not realize most fics are small figure based 🙄 im sure they can get over it. They were being rude.

representation is important!!! i have life experience of writing for characters with dysphoria and chubby characters and lots of others so seeing them represented makes me feel happy, and i’m glad i can do something for other ppl too!! just pls remember that i am white and i may very well fuck up so pls do not be afraid to call me out!!! <3 

Anonymous said to pr0sciutt0:Oh geez, there's plenty of reader fics I don't read because they don't apply to me (like of a specific gender or sexuality) but I just skip them and move on. There's still plenty of stuff out there! I also don't like going into detail about Reader's physical appearance, unless, like you said it's specifically asked for.

bird meme “i am uncomfortable when we are not about me???”. i like to write vague stuff so as many people can connect to it as possible! that’s why if i get an ask that’s very obviously for someone’s o/c or whatever i prefer not to answer it bc i want my content to be enjoyable for lots of people!!!

Anonymous said to pr0sciutt0:Ive read your terzetto fic about a million times and even though its about a chubby reader you still dont describe the body THAT much like???? Anon just say you're fatphobic and move on

and its like. specifically THAT chapter. the body praise self-conscious chapter. i havent reviewed the others in a while so there might be more bigger readers but like, not all of them?! i try not to over-describe even for plus size reader’s bodies bc people carry their weights and stuff so differently! haz and i wear the same size in clothes but we carry our weight differently in different places so we look different!! i want people to Relate!!

jojotrashcan said to pr0sciutt0:Nat!! I just want to thank you for including a chubby reader in your works! As a certified fat gal (tm) it’s hard to identify with works of fiction, and it’s nice finally having something that reflects my body type! So just like a huge thank you from me! You know this already but I love and appreciate all you do for this community, and it always disappoints me to see someone send hate to some one who works so hard for us! Keep your chin up b/c I appreciate seeing diverse fiction!

i love u!!!! idk if i’ve mentioned before but what i want to do when i eventually Get Better At Not Letting My Mental Illness is work in a publishing house, specifically a YA imprint bc i’d like to make a push for more diverse heroines in ya lit!!! (i also wanna WRITE diverse ya heroines but u feel me, one thing at a time)

Anonymous said to pr0sciutt0:So God forbid someone write for different body types and races I low key just glaze over some fics cause you can tell who it's for even just with little hints of the body or skin type. Can't a girl a plus size girl be loved too by her fictional favorites :(

no . . . fat people . . . MUST BE UNHAPPY. ONLY WAY. 

bubbleu said to pr0sciutt0:Let also include the fact that if in most even kdramas , anime, or any type of tv show or movie if it's a big girl she usually ends up having to lose weight for guys to even like her or even look her way so how dare people be inclusive in fics for fictional people you do you boo I'm happy you're writing for anyone literally fuck that puto

these people are not happy that i’m like a size 18 and my fictional boyfriends still love me. its SO RARE to find a fat gal character where her desire to lose weight isn’t a driving character force. and its always always always framed as a good thing. nobody addresses the original body dislike and just says “WOW IM SO GLAD YOURE NOT FAT ANYMORE” like that isnt gonna leave a lasting scar on the person’s psyche i just

Anonymous said to pr0sciutt0:F the hater, all my big ladies deserve to fantasize about their hot JoJo spouses too!

this is a BODY POSITIVE space. chubby gals and guys and nonbinary pals. skinny gals and guys and nonbinary pals! hyper femme, hyper masc, androgynous, ones with body hair or traditionally ugly features or visible disabilities or scarring or anything - ur jojo spouses love u

Anonymous said to pr0sciutt0:Anon mad that fat people enjoy stuff smh

local anon unhappy that they have found one fic that is not about them

babyybitchhh said to pr0sciutt0:Anon is an entitled ass and I implore you not to let that message get to you. As you said, mentally replacing words to better match your own physical descriptors is super easy but considering that you’re writing these scenarios for free, no one has the right to complain anyway.Like, at the end of the day its still YOUR writing even if your fulfilling a request and the author will always have final say on the finished product. Consider only writing chubby/fat reader from now on tbh ; )

i am pretty much usually imagining a chubby reader or a reader who looks like me. thats why i do it!!!! i honestly just cant imagine going into another writer’s ask and being like “hey you have given me this piece of backstory about this fic you wrote and i HATE IT, IMMEDIATELY DENOUNCE IT???

#nat.txt #fatphobia for ts/// #i promise this is (probably) the last post!

[heysawbones]

Congratulations, Me; You’re Slow

Surprise, me! You’re literally slow. As in, your processing speed - the rate at which your brain takes in stimuli and makes sense of it - is below average. Quantitatively. The average is 100. Yours is 94. 

Three years ago, I was given a cognitive battery. I’ve had an unusually high number of these in my life. Most people will never have even one. I’ve had four; one to assess for the Gifted and Talented program in kindergarten, one to reassess for the same when I changed school districts, one to assess for ADHD, and yet another, the latest, to assess for the same, as the prior records were lost. ADHD runs in my family, but I seem to have been one of those kids who compensated really, really well. Was I organized? Not even a little. Lose things? Constantly. I procrastinated like a motherfucker, too, but it was usually easy to make up the work in class before it was due. I would drive hard to complete the GT project-based assignments at the last minute, and always did fine. Better than fine, even. Sure, I used to obsessively braid yarn or draw in class, but nobody had any reason to suspect I would have issues with things like maintaining attention or executive function later on. If they did, I never heard about it. Even today, it’s not obvious; people associate a certain flightiness with ADHD and that isn’t me. People associate a lot of things with ADHD that aren’t me. This has been so much of an issue, in fact, that despite meeting diagnostic criteria over and over, as admitted by clinicians, people have been hesitant to give me the diagnosis. The argument deployed tends to be: you have all the symptoms, but you also have chronic depression, which has the same symptoms, so we’ll just go with that one. The underlying rationale, the unspoken answer to “why can’t it be both? they often co-occur” seems to be: you are too articulate and self-aware to have ADHD. It boils down to you’re too smart to be slow. 

This is unfair to me, and demonstrably untrue, besides. I recognized this long ago. I am the one who has to figure out some way to compensate for the symptoms. Yes, the symptoms of depression and ADHD overlap (especially if you are depressed for a long time), but the treatment of those symptoms is not the same. I have been in treatment for depression for over ten years. Am I better than I was? Unquestionably so. 

Do I function at a level sustainable for an adult not on disability? Can I get places on time? Can I catch a plane without showing up 14 hours early, lest I show up 14 hours late, or at the wrong airport entirely, instead? Do I remember things people told me yesterday? Can I go to Target without the possibility of getting caught up in a weird cognitive trap where I want bananas, but am too guilty to buy them unless I do the rest of my grocery shopping, which I don’t have the mental energy for? Do I remember enough of my meds when I go on trips? Can I stop persistently putting things in places that make no sense, and then having no idea that I’ve done it 15 seconds later? Can I manage an adult’s schedule? Can I remember to pay bills on time? Can I remember what I’ve spent money on in the last week? Can I remember what I ate this morning? Can I hold down a job that is, honestly, below my abilities in many ways?

The answer is, of course, sometimes yes. Distressingly frequently, it is no. Where travel is concerned, it is always no, and somehow, I have managed to show up at the wrong airport entirely more than once. 

Yes, I recognize that these are problems all people have, to some degree, at some time in their lives. If people are willing to act on the belief that I am too smart to be slow, why is it that when I account for my concerns and attempt to articulate the impact they have on my life, I am suddenly not self-aware anymore, and am only overreacting to what obviously MUST be the same degree of these problems that other reasonable adults experience? Why am I credible in other areas, but not this one? If I am so smart, why is it assumed that I’ve failed to account for my own emotional bias when gauging the difficulty I am experiencing? Why is it more satisfying to assume that I am not trying hard enough, then it is to accept that a smart, self-aware person may, in fact, have some kind of Brain Problem that, really, there is no logical contraindication to, and much evidence, for? When I do the responsible thing and insistently pursue all reasonable options to address my mental and neurological health, with the goal of being a functional contributor to society, why is this so persistently reduced to a fetish specifically for an ADHD diagnosis? I’m smart when it’s convenient for others, but not when it comes to the ability to draw cause and effect relationships from my own behavior, and make comparisons between those and the behavior of others? If I got treatment that worked, I wouldn’t care what the diagnosis was. Come the fuck on. I’m tired of this.

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Anyway. I sat down with the results of that three-year-old cognitive battery. I’ve read the summary before; it’s peppered with lines like

“There is also considerable other evidence in this testing consistent with a diagnosis of ADHD”

“In my experience, some individuals who are very bright are able to compensate for some of their disability”

“this distribution of index scores is very typical of individuals with ADHD”

“Many of the behaviors she describes are certainly typical of individuals who suffer from ADHD. Unfortunately, the coexisting history of chronic major depression and PTSD make that differential diagnosis based on history alone difficult” 

When I first read that last year, I was shocked because the therapist who requested the cognitive battery, only expressed surprise that I was “very smart” and said that my “scores were fine.” When I later confronted him after having read the summary myself, he merely admitted that some of my scores were “lower than others”. He never entertained the possibility that I had ADHD, which in an of itself, wouldn’t have been a problem if he’d been willing to just try the treatments for it, since clearly the two industrial-strength doses of antidepressants I was already on, were not cutting it. Alas, he was not, and it wasn’t until after he retired that the issue was addressed again.

Surprisingly, I was not the person who addressed it. When my therapist-MD retired, I needed at least a primary care provider to manage my medications. Since the appointment was for psych med management, I had to fill out a bunch of related intake forms - you likely know the kind. While looking them over, my new doctor peered up at me and asked, “Has anybody ever suggested that you might have ADHD?” I was taken aback by the question and wasn’t sure where to start. Them? Asking me? if I have ADHD? She asked me? 

I told her that I’d had two full cognitive batteries done, and that both of them concluded roughly the same thing: yes, all the symptoms are there, no, we do not know if it’s ADHD because there’s too much background noise from other psych issues. Without skipping a beat, she said the most amazing thing to me: 

Well, whatever it is, you have the symptoms, so let’s treat them.

God. Why didn’t someone say that years ago? Diagnoses are human constructs; we use them to group symptoms that tend to occur together, when they’re thought to have the same causes. Depression and ADHD have many (but not all) of the same symptoms, but the overlap doesn’t qualify as a diagnosis because the causes are assumed to be different. I think we often forget that diagnoses are containers for commonalities that we use to make talking about medicine easier, not necessarily biological phenomena unto themselves. If you remember that they are containers - a sort of conceptual shorthand - then it follows that if one treatment for a set of symptoms isn’t solving the problem, you ought to try a different treatment often used for the same symptoms, even if the minutiae of diagnosis means you aren’t sure you can apply the diagnosis typically associated with that second treatment*.

I am now on Vyvanse. Does it magically solve my problems? No. Does it help? Yes. I am in a much better position to actually address the bad habits and coping mechanisms someone like me builds up over the years. The notable insomnia should wear off over time, and besides, as a person with an existing sleep disorder, having fucked up sleep isn’t new. It’s a price I’m willing to pay.

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Anyway. So I sat down with the results of that three-year-old cognitive battery, because I had to dig them up for my new therapist. Instead of reading the summary, I dug into the raw numbers: the related tests are the Weschler Adult Intelligence Scale IV (WAIS-IV), and the Weschler Memory Scale III (WMS-III). I couldn’t find sufficient guidance on interpreting the WMS-III, so I’ll stick with the WAIS-IV scores:

At first inspection, these scores do look “fine”. Anything within 10 points of 100 in either direction qualifies as “average”, even if 100 is “the average”. But on further reading, both in the summary and out: 

-Examination of these results reveals considerable significant variability between various functional capacities, with VCI of 141 a full 3 standard deviations above PSI of 94.** Problems with both working memory and processing speed impacted her overall IQ considerably, bringing her Full Scale IQ down to 120 (from 133). 

-A significant difference among subtest scores can suggest a problem in the particular skill being tested; this might underlie a learning disability. A significant difference among standard Index Scores might also indicate a learning disability, ADHD

-when I see a difference in IQ scores such that the verbal and nonverbal scores are far superior to the processing speed score, I try to discern what could be causing the discrepancy.

-LD diagnoses are also reliant on score discrepancies. On the WAIS, a gifted individual with ADHD may look like this.

Verbal comprehension - 132

Perceptual Reasoning - 129

Processing Speed - 97

Working memory - 101

Absolute scores aren’t the only diagnostic tool. Relative scores are also important. For example, average scores across the board wouldn’t be indicative of a working memory or processing speed issue, whereas great discrepancies between those parameters and others, is - even if the working memory and processing speed scores themselves are the same in both examples. What I’m saying is, it’s right there. It’s in the numbers. There’s no wiggle room. My old therapist saw these numbers, and not only did he choose not to act on the information, he pointedly refused to do so. If he hadn’t retired, I’d look into suing for malpractice. It’s in the god damn numbers, my dude. I don’t care what you want to call it, the deficit is right. there.

What did I ever do to him? Did he just... not believe ADHD is real? More to the point, did he think I somehow, without knowing the ins and outs of the WAIS-IV, faked the deficits or something? Really, guy, what the hell?

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Do I feel bad about being slow? Honestly, no. I might have if I found this out 10 years ago, or in circumstances wherein that reality didn’t perfectly explain aspects of my experience that other people have been prone to downplay, or dismiss entirely. Instead, it’s the closest I can get to scientific verification that I’m not just losing my shit over nothing over here; that something has, in fact, gone awry, and may always have been awry. I couldn’t compensate forever (though the ways I’ve done it are many, and in retrospect, interesting) and now I’m on the other end of it, trying to rebuild. I am, as I like to say, building an exoskeleton - something that will hold me up when my brain insists on faceplanting. I’m just grateful there’s someone out there who isn’t too caught up in the semantic navel-gazing of diagnosis, to help.

*There are obvious exceptions here, such as when the two diagnoses have causes whose treatment is contraindicated in the other diagnosis. This is not the case with depression and ADHD.

** You see that Percentile Rank of 34? That means I performed better than 34 percent of people my age, at least according to the test sample. That’s. Not great.

#blah blah blah #twice exceptional #ADHD #depression #mental health