#a personal rant because i need to vent about this and i just recalled i have a blog where i can indeed do so lol

[coffeenonsense]

I usually try to stay in my lane most of the time (mostly bc I am far too old for fandom drama) but what the hell, it's friday, let's put that lit degree to use:

the way people are playing morality politics with fiction is really starting to genuinely irk me and I think some of the responses to ascended astarion are a perfect example of why this type of thinking is actually hugely detrimental to one's ability to meaningfully engage with fiction and also to the future of art.

astarion is one of the most well-written complex characters I've seen in recent years bar none (and I'm clearly not alone given the explosion of his personal fandom lol) and he has a truly compelling, emotionally resonant character arc whether you ascend him or not

If you keep him a spawn, you get a deeply touching, realistic character's journey to healing and personal growth where he learns who he is after the experience of his trauma and depending on the player's choice, explores his relationship to sex, romance and intimacy

If you ascend astarion, you get an equally emotional and well-rounded character arc where he chooses the power that allows him to have the desperate freedom and safety he's wanted, but in the process eschews any hope of real healing or personal development, and again, depending on the player's choices, restarts the cycle of abuse by taking cazador's place.

These options offer vastly different paths for the character and experiences for the player, but while yes, ascended astarion is the evil ending, and yes, ascending astarion is a tragedy, and a fucking incredible one (not only do you have astarion reigniting a circle of abuse but you have the narrative weight of KNOWING he could have actually overcome his trauma...hats off to the bg3 team tbh) but that does not mean ascending astarion MAKES YOU AS THE PLAYER EVIL

Ascend astarion because you love tragic story arcs, ascend him because you want to indulge in a master/slave vampire fantasy, don't ascend him because you want a healing character journey, don't ascend him because you want a sweet romance; all of these choices carry the same moral weight for the player, which is to say, none, because they are an exploration of fiction.

I know I'm saying this to the villain fucker website but it bears repeating; just because someone wants to engage with evil, fucked up characters or content does not mean they support evil acts in their real life, and furthermore, exploring dark, taboo or tragic concepts safely is part of what fiction is for. It enables us to look at those things from a distance, work through difficult feelings and develop greater understanding of what makes our fellow humans tick — and before you get it twisted there's also no moral issue with exploring fucked up media bc you're horny or just, because. You can take it as seriously (or as sexily) as you want.

It's starting to really concern me how many people not only do not get, but are violently opposed to this concept, because equating what someone likes in fiction with their real life moral code and actions is an incredibly dangerous and let's be honest, immature way of thinking that not only stunts your ability to engage with fiction but ironically, hampers your ability to deal with complicated issues and emotions in real life.

I don't know what's driving this trend (though purity culture is certainly playing a role) but it's definitely something that's not just impacting individuals but contributing to the commercialization of art, where we get games and stories and tv shows and books that regurgitate the same safe, mass marketable plotlines and character archetypes over and over and over again so corporations can squeeze out as much profit as possible.

Anyway, remember kids: There's no such thing as thought crime, reaching for morally pure unproblematic media is directly contributing to the death of art, and this is why funding the humanities is important.

#so...yeah #idk man i have thoughts and feelings #and i love astarion so much lol #astarion #ascended astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #fandom analysis #media analysis #fiction #a personal rant because i need to vent about this and i just recalled i have a blog where i can indeed do so lol #astarion ancunin

[arklayraven]

Making this personally for myself. Just to not lose track of these damn silly posts, when I have to look back on them later on.

Here's currently all my related rant and analyses posts involving Solomon since the release of Nightbringer. lol

Other characters included/mentioned in these posts are Asmodeus, Leviathan, Lucifer, Mammon, etc...

Will update this whenever needed in the future.(But I sure hope I don't have to. Solomon leave my mind. lol)

Information from devilgram card: Expose The True Solomon:

Details from both Solomon's and Asmo's personal views over the night they made their pact together:

Other posts of me ranting/talking long about details/events involving Solomon:

Talking about Solomon from lesson 13 in NB:

Another in depth talk over how Asmo and Solomon made their first pact, and to help people understand why some of us don't like Solomon:

Talking about Solomon from lesson 17 in NB:

#;little raven speaks #;little raven plays nightbringer #obey me nightbringer #obey me nightbringer spoilers #obey me spoilers

[ascuteascherryblossom]

I really wanna know if any long term ED sufferers feel the same way as me.

I developed my ED 7 years ago at just 12 years old and am now 19 and still here. I have barely any recollection of life before 12 so it really feels like my life is only my ED as it's all I've really known tbh... my whole puberty and all of time I can remember. Because of this, I cannot even imagine my life without an ED. I cannot imagine myself any other way than how I am at this moment.

I feel envy for those who've had EDs for shorter periods or from older ages and can recall a life without this disorder and imagine what a life without it in the future could be like even if they don't want to make the move towards it.

I don't fear my ED, I'm not scared of it nor is it something I dislike. It doesn't feel like hell because it's all my life has ever been. It's just normal... I feel weird when I have my small faux recovery periods of time and even uncomfortable, not in a 'cant let go of my ED' way but in a wtf is this way of living and why am I supposed to be this way?

Doesn't help that my faux recovery months are always because my depression hits new extremes and my suicidal, self loathing, world hating feelings become so overwhelming I become bed ridden, mindlessly scrolling tiktok AITA videos just to pass time because everything is tiresome and I hate everyone and everything. But I eat fine as food is the only positive thing cause it tastes good (don't cook though).

But ED periods I shower, brush my teeth, dress nicely, put an effort into myself and I actually do things, I can finally enjoy dancing again without it being exhausting to stand. It's like bringing life back into me so I love it...

Plus I love how I look physically when I'm thinner no matter my mindset over my current weight at the time. So it all combines to feeling good plus it's my usual, I've spent more days like this than that faux recovery crap and I feel like an actual human.

I'm always happier when I'm actively participating in my ED, it's better than the other state I feel. It's one or the other. I can't imagine a third.

And honestly... I don't want to. I'm comfortable here. I'm in therapy but I haven't even spoken to her for over a month because I don't feel the need. In my depression eras I NEED therapy just to vent and function, have a person I can say just how badly I wish I could punch s hole in my chest and rip my besting heart out until it stops beating and everything can be over...

But when I'm like I am now I don't feel that. I don't feel I wanna live long either, never have done, even as a kid. But I do feel like I have a goal in life.

My goal is to step on that scale and see that number that traumatised little 12 year old me until now. Finally reach 39.7kg and tell my inner child 'see, you made it, you didn't become fat and die from obesity at 30, you didn't become unattractive and unloveable. You made it just as you said you would. And now we can die, or live in peace, a chapter closed forever. You made it'

And before u say anything about that weight being 172cm, I have no plans to maintain it, I want to maintain between 43-48kgs, om the way down I'll see what I look like at all them weights and choose the range I prefer and go back up and stick there. I look way better at 50kgs than 55 anyways so like I know I'll look amazing then too.

Anyways I needed this rant and wanted to know if I'm the only one who feels like their ED is basically a part of them now especially after so long.

I'm mentally prepared to become that one older lady with an ED people look at with sad eyes on the street as their old and skeletal figures walk to the store. I've seen them, I know how people react and I'm not afraid to become her. Even if I'm not THAT skeletal. It doesn't scare me...

And if it kills me before then well whatever, I could die tomorrow anyways from a fatal accident anyways. I don't care for life nor death anymore, whatever happens, happens idgaf. Life's good but crap at the same time so staying is good and crap and leaving is good and equally crap so who gives a shit.

Anyways see u bye

take care

#tw ed relapse #tw ed rant #tw ed vent #enduring ed #i wish i was thinner #restrictive ed #tw ana thoughts

[prismatoxic]

i feel like talking about what happened and it's easier to just go on a wild rant here than it is on twitter, so. plus i don't think my ex-qpp will ever use tumblr again so i don't need to worry about them sending me angry messages or something lol

this is very personal and by no means required reading, i just really wanted to write it out somewhere. so... read if you want?

anyway. relationship trauma.

their name is paris. for the sake of this vent i'm going to refer to them in the past tense, but they are still alive and presumably still out there, doing god knows what.

paris and i met in late 2020. we were both in a server for profiction sorts and i talked about how i wanted to roleplay souyo. they were playing p4 for the very first time and were quite interested, so we started to roleplay.

i would quickly find that paris met all of my standards, agreed with all my headcanons, and brought even more things to the table than i was prepared for. i have borderline personality disorder, and they became my "favorite person" very quickly. to be brief, this meant i was devoted to (obsessed with) them. i introduced them to all my friends. i shared everything about myself.

they encouraged these things, and more. i distinctly recall a conversation about how they had bared their soul to me, because i didn't know meaningless things like their age or favorite color, but i did know deeper things like their personality, their interests, their typing quirks.

we got along splendidly. we spent practically every moment of every day together; i neglected a lot of relationships during this time, i know, because i wasn't yet aware of my bpd and didn't realize what i was doing. paris was everything. they loved me just as much--or so they said, i don't know what i believe anymore. regardless, i felt like i had met my platonic soulmate, my queerplatonic partner, my aibou.

we met irl mid-2021. it was about three days, they were in the states for other reasons and just barely squeezed in a trip to see me, but it was a wonderful time. they were so gentle and loving with me and i was as sure as ever that our friendship was meant to be.

a month or two later, they suffered a personal tragedy, which i'm not going to share the details of, but suffice it to say that they were devastated. they needed time. i assured them they could have that time, as much of it as they needed. i sent them messages every day, not to get attention but just so they'd know they were loved--messages affirming my care for them and telling them about my day, things like that, something for them to return to when they were ready. they told me that was fine.

i had their number, as well, and texted them a few times, and i recall them saying "i can't carry you right now, aibou". i assured them i understood, that i wasn't asking that. i told them to take their time. it was hard, without them, yes, but it was about then that i realized i had bpd and even apologized to them about it!

the next seven months are a blur. i know a few things that happened but i can't remember the order. my vent twitter was a wreck, worse and worse by the day. paris was improving, returning to social life... without me.

things that happened:

--they confessed to being triggered by persona 4. the thing that brought us together. they did not explain why, and ended up making a non-persona twitter account. i assume they muted me as well but i'll never know now.

--they got into the game no man's sky. i fought to afford and buy a copy so we could play together. when i finally got it set up, they stopped playing.

--they started writing a novel. they would constantly message a group chat between myself, them, and our friend priam asking priam for advice on french for the novel. it got to a point where i vented to priam that i didn't understand why they didn't just dm priam, because i felt left out every time "we" spoke. it was just them asking priam for help and placating me when i tried to join in.

--they stopped initiating conversations with me. they very quickly ended conversations i started.

this went on for, as i said, 7 months. in all this time they resumed talking regularly to their "original" friends and seemed to be healing.

my fiance told me, in an effort to assure me that maybe paris had never intended to keep me so long, that paris told him something once: they said i would lose interest in them when i moved onto a different hyperfocus.

as you can imagine, this gutted me, but i held onto it for many months because i knew paris would be furious at him for telling me. paris was always so serious about conversations not leaving the spaces where they were from. devot telling me this secret would be a breach of trust (even though paris did not like devot).

in one of many, many, many breakdowns i had over all of this, i finally confessed to it on my vent twitter. i had long since assumed they had me muted on that account; they used to like every post to let me know they saw them, a show of solidarity, but they had stopped a while ago.

my tweet was something to the effect of "you once told someone i'd leave you when i got interested in something else, but then you did it to me instead"

paris was furious.

they first sent me several messages in our personal server, telling me they were disappointed in me and that they would not forgive me, and left that server and others we shared. when i did not chase them down, they sent me an even longer, much angrier rant in dms. they were vicious, telling me things they had apparently held in until then, things i wish they would have ever been honest about feeling. i trusted them to be honest with me, but they lied up until that day, i realized.

i had split on them some days before because a formerly-mutual friend had told me paris was treating them the exact same way. i realized they were leaving me, in that moment, i think. i still broke down later, obviously, but i was on the way out. their explosive farewell didn't affect me as much immediately, because of that, but the aftereffects have been... difficult.

i'd never seen them so mad. for weeks i debated responding, but in the end i chose to just let them exit my life without any rebuttal, because nothing i could say would mean anything. they were so mean in those final messages. i'd never imagined them talking to me like that. there was no easy or right way to respond. the only winning move is to not play, as they say.

in the weeks following, someone else they had told off and left in the past told me their discord icon was all black, and they'd purged all their friends. i assume that means they abandoned that account to start a new identity, as they told me they'd done in the past. i don't know where they are now. i don't want to find out.

abandonment is one of my greatest fears and triggers. this all has been very hard on me, and even now, i miss them. i miss what we were a year ago. i wish i'd seen the red flags for what they were. i wish i'd never met them, sometimes.

i loved them so very much. so many old souyo arts were dedicated to them, and their descriptions say as much, reminding me of it all every time someone goes through and likes a bunch of my art. it's hard. i wish things had been different.

but i have other people. i have devot, mikee, anjie, ashe, priam, robin, and so many others who care deeply about me. it's been hard to allow myself to be close to everyone--i'm afraid they'll leave, too--but i know i'm being irrational. it's just hard. it's so hard.

i hope i move past this. i hope this post can be a landmark for how far i've come and how far i'll go.

and paris, if you do read this, i'm sorry.

#very very very personal and rambly and venty #tox.txt

[shelovescontrol91]

Between a starring role in Cinderella, live performances, and a forthcoming album, it would appear things are business as usual for Camila Cabello. But there’s a difference: Before the pandemic her work was leaving her drained, anxious, and insecure. Now she’s found a way to be a pop star on her own terms, and everything—from the music to her relationship with her body—has fallen into place.

By mid-September, Camila Cabello was feeling burnt out. In the span of three days she had performed at the MTV Video Music Awards, attended the Met gala with boyfriend Shawn Mendes, and shot the first-ever global cover for Glamour. So when she finally returned home to Miami, rest wasn’t just desired—it was essential.

But rehearsals for New York’s Global Citizen Festival loomed. Before jumping back into pop star mode, Cabello put on a yellow bikini and headed to the beach for two hours of blissfully uninterrupted downtime. She sank into a chair and cracked open a book, her favorite pastime. The salty air enveloped her; waves crashed in the distance. This is why she lives in Miami, her hometown, as opposed to a showbiz hub like Los Angeles: more privacy.

Or so she thought. Somehow the paparazzi found out where she was for those 120 minutes. She didn’t see them at first, but there they were, snapping away.

“I didn’t consent to those pictures,” she tells me over Zoom, camera off as she drives in Miami. (At one point she says to someone on the road, “Why are you honking at me, bro?”) “I got my period on the beach. I’m in a bikini and on my period, so I don’t know if I have a fucking period stain and that’s going to be everywhere. I didn’t sign up for anybody to be taking pictures of me in a bikini.”

Cabello has developed methods for dealing with invasive situations like this. She’s had to. The 24-year-old—born in Cuba, raised in Miami—has been in the public eye since 2012, when she competed on The X-Factor. She auditioned as a solo artist but was later matched with four other girls to form the pop group Fifth Harmony. They released two albums before Cabello embarked on her own—and achieved mind-boggling fame. Her singles “Havana” and “Señorita” (with Mendes) topped the charts worldwide. She’s earned three Grammy nominations, become a face of L’Oréal, and tried her hand at not just acting but starring in a feature film: this year’s Cinderella remake on Amazon Prime. Her third studio album, Familia, is due out later this year.

By all accounts it’s a lot. Careerwise it’s the closest things have felt to prepandemic times, when she was working constantly, arguably to an exhausting degree. As COVID-19 shutdowns went into effect last March, Cabello was able to realize just how tired she was.

“I by no means am trying to complain,” she says, “but it was such a thing of, ‘I have to get onstage tomorrow and I’m performing at this big thing,’ or whatever. ‘I want to do a good job. How do I do that when I feel nervous?’ I did this without being like, ‘Am I even happy right now? Do I even feel healthy?’ I didn’t have the space to ask myself those questions. I’m still working a ton now, but after quarantine I’m able to be like, ‘You know what? Right now I’m just not happy. I need to change something.’”

Therapy helped her see the changes she needed to make. Cabello tells me she’d experimented with therapy before the pandemic, but it was always situation focused—quick fixes to help her tackle the next performance or songwriting session. But with time at home, she dug deeper: “Because I wasn’t stressed about all the things I needed to do the next day, I was able to slow down and have enough stability to look at my stuff.”

Cabello doesn’t expand on what that “stuff” is. She does, however, explain why she decided to switch therapists as her internal work continued. “I wasn’t feeling like I was progressing in the areas I wanted to progress,” she says. “But when I switched, I found I was able to apply what they said in a way that benefited my mental health.”

One lesson she’s learned is the power of saying no. Two hit albums under her belt give Cabello the freedom to do things her way. Now she always has one day off a week, minimum. And when time came to start work on Familia, she forwent the standard pop music factory for a more intimate approach. The new album was made with just a handful of collaborators she could be open with. If Cabello was feeling anxious or nervous in a session, she had the space to address it. As a result, she says, it’s her best work yet.

“It’s the most grounded and calm I’ve ever been making an album,” she says. “I worked with people I wanted to have dinner with, and I was like, ‘I’m not going to write every single day for months, but write a few days a week and have time to gather experiences and be a human being.’”

Shawn Mendes is one of the people she’s gathering experiences with. The two singers confirmed their relationship in September 2019, and they’ve been tabloid magnets ever since. Everything from their laughably slow pandemic walks to their kissing style is dissected with a fine-tooth comb. A clip of them getting ready for the Met gala went instantly viral.

Cabello tells me she and Mendes try to avoid the social media chatter about their relationship, but it inevitably seeps in. “When stuff that’s negative is out there, it’s going to get to you,” she says. “So yeah, that’s very, very challenging. I feel like it’s another thing therapy has been really helpful for.”

Mendes goes to therapy too. While Cabello says she and Mendes haven’t done couples therapy—though she’d be open to it—they very much work on their mental health together.

“For better, for worse, we’re very transparent with each other. I think that’s why we can trust each other so much, because it’s a very 3D human relationship,” she says. “I’ll be venting or ranting about something, and he’ll be like, ‘Have you talked to X about it?’ And I’ll be like, ‘No. I’ve got to do a session.’ And he’ll do the same thing to me. I think even just the language of being like, ‘Hey, I’m sorry that I’ve been distant with you or snappy with you. I’m just struggling and I’m feeling kind of anxious.’ That level of transparency really helps a lot.”

Mendes echoes Cabello’s thoughts. “Camila and I give each other an extreme amount of patience and understanding,” he tells me via email. “I think the truth is that when you’re struggling with mental health, it turns you sometimes into the version of yourself that you don’t like to be—and kind of loving and accepting your person through that, and being there for them through that, is life-changing. We give each other so much space and understanding and patience.”

A behind-the-scenes VMAs story perfectly illustrates this. When Cabello was nervous meeting new people at an after-party, she caught herself leaning on a habit she’s trying to break. Mendes helped her through it.

“I have this pattern of eating a lot when I’m anxious or uncomfortable,” she says. “It’s a comfort thing for me. I’ll just kind of become unconscious and zombie-eat a lot, and then I’ll feel sick. I’ve told Shawn about that. So at the VMAs party, I was like, ‘I’m doing it.’ And he was like, ‘It’s okay. You’re doing it. That’s okay. Let’s just take a breath and not do that.’ It’s really good for me to be able to talk about my patterns with someone.”

Food and body image are two things that have really been on Cabello’s mind this year. A July TikTok she posted shutting down body-shamers racked up 4.8 million likes. “Being at war with your body is so last season,” she says in the video, which she posted after photos of her running in Los Angeles made the rounds online.

That mantra is true, sure, but it’s easier said than done. Even Cabello has difficulty following it. She braced herself for what she might feel when those aforementioned bikini pics went live: “I need to work out. I need to eat better.” “Not that those things are bad,” she says. “But maybe I wouldn’t think about them as much if there weren’t people taking pictures of me.”

It’s not just the paparazzi who ignite moments of self-doubt. Cabello tells me about a time she was exercising with her trainer, Jenna Willis—who’s great, she says—and feeling insecure. “She’s the same height as me, and I was kind of comparing myself to her, because she is a lot skinnier than I am,” she recalls. “I was just like, ‘Yeah, but I’ve been working out and I look better, right? I look better, right?’”

It’s Willis who helped silence those voices in Cabello’s head, reminding her that how she feels is more important than appearances; that life is about balance and enjoying food. These are health philosophies we’ve all heard—but when you’re Camila Cabello and millions are picking apart your beach photos, it’s hard to tune out the noise. Now when she’s feeling down on herself, she just turns her phone off and goes outside.

“When I’m having negative thoughts about my body, that’s actually when I’ll want to binge-eat cookies, and then I have a stomachache,” she says. “It’s this weird psychology: The more I love my body, the more I actually want to take care of it…. As long as I’m healthy and working out and feel good, that’s the best I can do. There’s no point in trying to have another kind of body.”

By this point in our conversation, Cabello’s made it to her destination. When I ask if she’ll have time to chill and decompress, she says, “To be honest, not yet, but I will after this weekend.” There’s a calmness in her voice when she says this—a stillness, a readiness. She seems perfectly prepared for what lies ahead: album promo, performances, and undoubtedly more scrutiny about her body, her relationship, her everything. But she’ll be fine, because just around the corner is a day off. That’s nonnegotiable.

“It’s important to be on top of not just what’s making you sad or anxious, but also what’s giving you joy,” she says. “I want to be happy and enjoy my life. That’s kind of it.”

#camila cabello #shawn mendes #shawmila

[dreaminae]

We All Neee The One Friend

Chapter 6

"I got all the fun we need for this weekend right here." J.J excitedly announced, showing off his portable fun box.

The guys rolled their eyes playfully, but J.J was completely serious.

"We know your kind of fun, Jay." Jordan chuckled, about to let J.J down. "And not to burst your bubble, man, but I don't think we came down here for that kind of fun."

"Maybe later." Asher agreed. "Spencer needs help going through the stuff inside."

Pouting, J.J groaned desiring to start the party. "Fine, but afterward we are going have some fun. Especially, Spence."

The boys headed inside while the girls took a stroll around the wooded area surrounding the cabin.

"I really shouldn't be out here, you guys. I'm super behind on my college apps." Simon sulked, walking beside Layla and Olivia.

"You need to loosen up, alright." Layla encouraged, knowing how overwhelmed her friend was these last few days.

"That's easy for you to say. You've probably finished all of yours." Simone moaned, angered by her lack of priorities.

"Yeah, but I haven't had as much going on as you either," Layla recalled Simone's last few months. "From being pregnant, to dealing

with giving up your baby, I'd say you have a good excuse."

"At least, tell me you are in the same boat." Simone plead with Olivia who gave her a sad smile in response.

"Sorry," Liv mumbled, "I didn't have a lot going on over summer break. Starting my college apps was a time filler for me."

"Ugh, let's talk about something else. Both of you are making me feel like an underachiever." Simone groaned, fed up with herself.

"Good idea." Liv and Layla agreed, attempting to lift the strain off Simone.

Simone's eyes fell to the sight of Vanessa helping Asher collect wood for the small bonfire they planned for tonight. "Aye, I've noticed that Vanessa and Asher -"

Layla coughed roughly in the middle of Simone's statement to keep from an awkward conversation. Shaking her head she signaled for Simone not to go there.

"What? What am I missing?" Simone asked, glancing between the other two girls as they each other knowing expressions.

"It's fine, Layla." Liv dryly stated, finding it pointless to hide Asher's summer secret.

"What's fine?" Simone asked.

"So it turns out that Asher and Vanessa met each other in Mexico during summer." Liv revealed to Simone.

"Woah." Simone gasped.

"Not, Woah." Olivia sighed. "He didn't cheat on me with her. They just formed a close bond, like... I don't even know." Liv dragged out, unsure what went on between Asher and Vanessa.

"Cheating or not. If you ask me, she shouldn't be hanging around like she doing." Simone spat. "It's disrespectful towards you."

"I don't even care." Olivia shrugged off the recollection of Asher's summer fling. "Asher says nothing happened, so I am not going overthink it."

"I am not sure whether to applaud your trust in your man or to be concerned that you're not more apprehensive," Simone observed Liv's disinterest.

Thinking hard of what Simone stated, Layla began to wonder if Liv might have a secret of her own.

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

"Don't tell me you guys mixed up the piles." Spencer moaned frustrated by the thought of having ro redo all of the organizing the keepsakes from the junk.

"I didn't even know there were two different piles." J.J revealed, his cheeks flushed from embarrassment.

"Guess we're restarting." Jordan pouted.

"Do we have a chance?" Asher huffed, wondering how the four of them got their wires crossed during the organizing.

"Alright, so is this junk or keepsake?" J.J inquired, shaking around a small dusty box. "Something is in here."

"Let me see that." Spencer insisted before J.J might accidentally spill the containments out.

"What's in there, Spence?" Jordan questioned, curious to know what secret treasures Corey might be left behind.

"Letters," Spencer responded with convection of surprise. "Addressed to me and Dillion." He added, looking through the stack of sealed letters dated after his Pops first left years ago.

Their conversation was cut short by Vanessa's cry for assistance with the grill.

"Here I come, boo." J.J chuckled, goofily skipping from the room to help his date.

"No way, am I leaving the grill to those two." Asher moaned, following right after J.J to ensure they didn't burn the place down.

"Like you're any better than the two of them." Jordan chuckled, ready to follow suit. Halting in his steps, he spun around to check on the person that was supposed to matter at the moment.

"Hey, Spence, you good?" Jordan inquired, noticing that Spencer's focus centered on the unread letters.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, don't worry about me." Spencer assured his close friend. "Make sure they don't burn my Pops' place down." He laughed to cover up his anxiety.

Sensing that Spencer needed a moment alone with his thoughts, Jordan conceded, leaving him isolated.

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

Somewhere between failing to start

the grill for dinner, and debating on games to play, the crew found themselves in a war of water guns.

However, Layla's fun ended at the sight of her boyfriend through a nearby window. Seated in the love seat, Spencer remained alone, contemplating what to do with his Pops' letters. Engrossed within his mind, he failed to notice Layla's presence.

"Are you alright?" Layla asked, wanting Spencer to feel comfortable confiding in her about the things racking his brain.

"Turns out my Pops wrote me and Dillion while he was away." Spencer chuckled emotionless. "He wrote a letter to me and Dillion on every birthday that he missed after he left. But he never sent a single one."

"Did you read any of them?" Layla asked, sitting on the arm of the love seat to be near Spencer.

"I'm not sure if I should," Spencer admitted. "There are so many questions I wished he was here to answer. His letters could hold some of the explanations, but it's possible they won't." He explained in a quick rant.

Trying to relate to Spencer's situation, Layla thought back to when she finally allowed herself to go through her late's mother's belongings.

"I know it's not the same, but I remember the repercussions of going through my mom's song lyrics." Layla detailed from last year's events. "I thought the lyrics might help me to understand what she might have been going through before she died." She sighed sadly. "Truth is, reading those lyrics left me with more questions than answers."

Spencer nodded, comprehending where she was coming from.

"I can't tell you what Corey was thinking when he wrote these letters," Layla conceded, knowing that fact was beyond anyone's ability. "But maybe there is a good reason why he never sent the letters. Maybe he didn't want to leave you and your brother with more questions, than answers."

"So you don't think I should read them," Spencer concluded from his girlfriend's comparison.

"That's your choice." Layla asserted. "But, hey, it's not a choice you need to make right now." She implied, suggesting he take a break from his inner thoughts to have some fun. "C'mon."

Grabbing his hand, she leads Spencer away from the letters and his conflicts, dragging him outside to join in the fun.

The game of water wars continued for another half an hour before everyone drifted to their activities. While everyone helped out in the kitchen, preparing a good grilled meal, Spencer couldn't let go of his intrigue.

In the end, his curiosity won, forcing Spencer to commence reading the letters. Starting from a more recent year, Spencer delved into a letter that documented his father's spiteful side. Inside the letter, Corey revealed his reason for leaving was because of the one-time affair between Coach Baker and Spencer's mom.

Hatred garnished each sentence as Corey vented about his rough history with his former best friend and wife. Stunned by the harsh torment of his father's words, Spencer released a sigh of relief once he reached the closing sentence of the letter. Advising his son to beware of those closest to him, Corey precisely conveyed his perception of treachery in his final statement.

Stopping in his steps on the path through the wooded area, Spencer folded the letter closed, unsure if he should read another one. His confliction attracted him to a region of serenity.

Reaching the lakeside where he bonded with his late father over a traditional pastime of fishing, Spencer sat in a lawn chair watching the marine life as his mind wandered into deep reflection.

From afar, Olivia observed Spencer's anxious mannerisms. Noting how his hands clenched to a rusted box, that she assumed contained the letters from his late father. Only knowing what Jordan disclosed to her earlier about their findings, Olivia summed up that Spencer might need a listening ear.

Although they were in a strange place, Liv refused to turn away when Spencer needed her. Like an unspoken vow between the two of them, Liv wanted Spencer to understand that --- no matters what problems they carried-- he was never alone.

Following the motions of so many summer nights that they shared, Olivia made her way over to Spencer ready to help with whatever he required.

"Damn, you showed those letters who's boss." Liv joked, approaching Spencer as he tossed the box down on the boardwalk.

Cracking a small smirk, Spencer played along. "Someone had to."

Sitting down in the empty chair next to Spencer's seat, Liv inhaled a breath of the fresh, outdoor air. Following her actions, Spencer sniffed the tranquil atmosphere.

"We can talk about it," Liv spoke lightly, breaking their silence. "Or not talk about it." She added, knowing somethings people needed to figure out for themselves. "Whatever you need."

Spencer nodded, glad to have her at his side for either. "I hoped reading these letters would ah.." He sighed, trying to piece together an explanation. "I don't know. I hoped they'd be like a....ah.."

"A gift." Liv finished for him.

"Exactly." Spencer agreed, surprised that she took the right word choice out of his mouth. "But my Pops was so angry. He blamed my moms for everything, even for the choices he made." He explained, disappointment coating his tone. "And I ah, I don't want to remember him like that." Spencer decided, striving to keep the happy memories of his father, rather than recalling Corey's cold side.

From a few feet away, Asher watched the interaction between his girlfriend and Spencer by the lake, while he grilled on the porch deck. Carrying a plate of cobbed corn, Layla accompanied Asher around the grill.

She hadn't noticed his stressed expression as he observed Liv and Spencer from afar. "They seem closer than ever."

Layla's brows furrowed, confused by whom he referred to. Following the line of his sight, her vision landed on her on the scenery of her boyfriend in a deep conversation with her best friend.

The smile that she expressed when she first arrived outside inadvertently faded. Despite her best efforts of attempting to ignore the new intimacy between Spencer and Liv, Layla continually felt envious of their cozy friendship.

"Have you wondered just how much did we miss being gone this summer?" Asher inquired, his eyes pulling from the scene by the lake to analyze Layla's cold exterior.

Feeling that she wasn't ready to answer his question, Asher spared one last glance to Liv and Spencer before striding inside the cabin.

Glued to the view of the intense discussion between her boyfriend and Olivia, Layla realized that she desired nothing more than to know the answer to Asher's question.

#3x07 #all american #olivia and spencer #olivia baker #spelivia #spencer and olivia #spencer james #3x06

[vicegrips-fr]

Into the Black

Azizi divulges his upbringing and the horrors that came with it.

-------------------- I’ve debated sharing this on here because to be completely honest it’s very personal and not for everyone. I’ve decided to open up and share it anyway with the appropriate warnings. It’s no secret that I vent through my own ocs to explore the intense abuse I survived and this is one of those lore posts that delves into that. Hopefully some of you will take the time to read it and if not I completely understand. It’s a long one and difficult to read in many ways I’m sure.

Gustav belongs to my boyfriend @wyvernrising!

Warnings: language, themes of parental abuse, drug/alcohol abuse mentions, and unpleasantness abound.

Pings: @fusefr @kattafr @stimmy-dragons -------------------

They’re together for the night. Himself, Gogo, and the Sub Rosa sent to protect them which includes his boyfriend Gustav. There’s an injury to his hand which isn’t self-inflicted but the product of his past come back to bite him in the ass today. Since then they’ve been sharing their stories to pass the time and ease the tension, getting to know each other better and well, now it’s his turn.

“You don’t have to share,” Gogo peeps up sympathetically, scooting closer so that their thighs are pressed together.

He already knows the truth, knows how hard this will be for Azizi to talk about.

Azizi waves a dismissive hand in the air, happily allowing Gus to take hold of the injured one and press a kiss to the knuckles. Some small part of him does care what they’ll think but it’s drowned out by the stubborn I don’t give a shit what you think of me attitude he’s spent a lot of time cultivating for himself. “We’ll see about that,” he says, pouring himself a glass of wine.

He pauses, bottle in hand as his eyes land on Gustav’s glass. There’s still wine inside but he fills it back up to the top for him anyway. Whether he chooses to drink it or not is irrelevant. Maybe he doesn’t want him to; more wine for him.

Their previous compliments earlier in the night did not fall on deaf ears and bring a smile to his face when he remembers them. “Ha! I am a pleasure to be around, aren’t I?” he chuckles, licking his teeth, “If I were a bore then I wouldn’t be netting as much dick as I am on the daily.”

It’s crude but true. He’s popular for a reason and part of it is his bombastic, nasty personality. Truth is sunshine and rainbows have no place in a brothel, no matter how hard Gogo tries to change that fact.

“But you’re right about what you all said,” he sighs, “It’s an ugly story, just like the rest of you have.”

For a solid few seconds he lapses into silence, picking through the pieces of his life inside his head like dusting off an old photo album. None of the pictures inside are things he wants to see, they’re kept in a box for a reason, after all.

“Where to begin?” he muses to himself, swirling the wine in his glass around, transfixed by the dark red liquid sloshing around the sides.

“Like Gustav and Gogo I was born in Neo Necropolis. The slummy part, obviously. My mother’s name was Tiwa but she went by Candy. If that doesn’t tip you off she was a stripper. A popular one, I was told.”

He stops to sip his drink, the mere mention of his mother’s name enough to elicit that response. Jesus. How long has it been since he said her name out loud?

“My father’s name was Ayoola but everyone called him Ayo,” Azizi continues, the wine burning all the way down his throat, “And his biggest claim to fame was his appetite for men and women. He frequented just about every brothel and strip club in a fifteen mile radius.” Azizi looks up, eyes passing over everyone’s faces in favor of focusing on anything but.

“You can all put two and two together and figure out how my parents met,” he laughs without joy, “They were never married, of course, but they lived together and it wasn’t long before I was born. Not like they were kind of people to use protection, but I sort of wish they had.”

It’s a terribly dark thing to say and painfully true. Plenty of people in a bad situation have the same thought- I wish I was never born!- and he can’t count how many times he cursed the world for being forced into it. “They fought all the time,” he says, recalling the first time he was old enough to understand the words they were yelling.

------------------  

”Get off of your ass and do something for once!” Tiwa screams at the top of her lungs, “I work my ass off on the pole every night and you can’t even get off the couch to get Zizi his breakfast? Pathetic!” It's early. Early enough that the sun is only just coming up, bright light streaming in through the dingy window in his bedroom despite the tall buildings that surround their home. It’s not the first time he’s been woken up this early from his parents fighting. His mama is gone all night, returning every morning and sleeping most of the day away, but not before their daily fight. Tail between his legs Azizi tiptoes quietly to the end of the short hallway, his little hands gripping the corner of the wall as he peeks out from behind it to see what’s going on. ”Oh, I’m pathetic?” Ayoola shouts back, “That’s rich coming from a pole crawler who calls herself Candy! The pipsqueak isn’t even up yet so fuck off to bed already and quit your yapping.” Azizi can’t see them from where he’s standing so he lets go of the wall and steps into the living room, ducking back into the hallway as quietly as possible when he catches a glimpse of his father laid out on the sofa, beer bottle in hand. ”No Ayo YOU fuck off,” Tiwa says loudly from the kitchen, bone tired and her tail lashing behind her in anger. “I’m not dealing with this mess when I’ve been up all fucking night, do you hear me? I’m not your mother, I’m your girlfriend and I need your help. We’re barely getting by, for fuck sake. Just… try to be responsible for once in your miserable life. Please.” ”Jesus fucking christ Candy, get a grip,” Ayoola snorts nonchalantly, rolling over so that his face is pressed into the cushions of the couch, “I’ll do the dishes and get the brat his breakfast, alright? Will that shut you up?” Tears in his eyes, Azizi shuffles off back to his bedroom and curls up on the small mattress laid on the floor of his tiny bedroom, pulling the blanket over his head. The shouting continues but it’s muffled through his hands over his ears and, after a little while, he falls back asleep.

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

“It was really annoying,” he scoffs, “How they’d fight over just about everything. It was like they couldn’t help themselves. No matter how small the affront they would manage to find a way to turn it into something more.”

He’s getting off track. Blinking away the memory like it’s nothing, Azizi drinks deeply from his glass and marches forward. “Anyway,” he mutters, taking another small sip, “I was, hm, about eight or nine years old when my mother up and left. I can’t blame her, really. My father was a bum and an addict who brought other men and women home when she wasn’t around. More than once she walked in on him cheating on her and I guess that plus his allergy to contributing anything to the ‘family’ was enough to put the final nail in the coffin. We all have our breaking point.”

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

”Where’s mama?” Azizi asks, tugging lightly on his father’s pant leg. It’s midday and she hasn’t come home yet. Ayoola is passed out on the couch, his dirty hair sticking up in different directions, spit and booze drying in a crust at the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t respond right away. It takes Azizi asking the same question a few times before he’s finally roused awake. ”Huh?” he mumbles, cracking an eye open, “Oh. That.” Ayoola doesn’t seem particularly worried about Tiwa’s absence, just slightly annoyed to have been woken up. ”She left,” he sneers, grunting with effort as he pushes himself up and grabs a crumpled piece of paper that had been wadded up underneath him. “Don’t worry, she’ll come crawling back eventually. Until then how about you go play or something. Daddy is trying to sleep off a cold.”

It would only be a couple more years before Azizi would realize that these frequent ‘colds’ were actually hangovers of varying degrees. A week turns into a month, a few months turn into a year and Tiwa still hasn’t come back. Around the six month mark was when Azizi realized he would never see his mother again. In another three months he would grow angry and resentful, pounding his little fists into the floor because she left him behind. She left him alone with HIM. ”That selfish bitch!” Ayo yells, putting another hole in the wall with his fist, blood seeping from between his fingers, “Leaving me to take care of you by my fucking self! How the hell am I supposed to do that, huh?! Tell me how! Where’s the money going to come from?! I’m sinking here! Do you know how many people I owe money to?” Azizi sobs into his hands, tiny body curled up into a ball on the sofa as his father paces back and forth like a caged animal, ranting like a lunatic at the top of his lungs. ”I… I don’t know!” Azizi cries, far too young to understand all of the things his father is saying, “I’m sorry dad! I’m sorry!” -------------------

“After Candy split the house chores fell to me,” Azizi murmurs darkly, setting his drink down to reach for another cigarette instead, “The cooking, cleaning… Him. Ayoola was a full time job. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I had to clean him up after a blackout. Put him on his side and make sure he wouldn’t throw up and drown in his own vomit.”

Azizi pauses, takes a drag from his cigarette and sighs.

“He drank and shot up so much that the floor was littered all over with the aftermath,” Azizi chuckles bitterly, “I’d have to wade through the filth being careful not to stab myself with a used needle, turn him over and check his pulse. Clean the puke off of him with a rag and then pick it all up.”

Gogo sniffles, rubbing his eyes dry on the back of his hand. It’s at this point that he wants to interrupt, to tell Azizi that he doesn’t have to go on if he doesn’t want to. But as if reading his mind, Azizi looks over at him and smiles sadly. 

“It’s okay, Gogo,” he says as soothingly as he can manage, “I’m fine.”

Another pause as he tries to collect his thoughts, memories he wishes didn’t belong to him. “As I got older we started to fight more and more,” Azizi murmurs, “At that point I really had replaced my mother in almost every way.”

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

”Zi! That you?”

”Yeah, it’s me dad,” Azizi replies a little flippantly, “Who the fuck else would it be? One of your booty calls?”

Ayoola snorts with laughter, looking up at him as he walks into the room with bloodshot eyes. ”Have I ever told you that you look like your mother?”

Azizi rolls his eyes, arms crossed over his chest as he leans in the doorway.

”Yeah,” he answers flatly, “Like, fifty times this week.” Ayoola nods sadly, head rolling to the side as he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep again. Frowning, Azizi goes to his room.

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

I won’t cry, Azizi thinks, he doesn’t deserve my tears. “Eventually I ran away,” he informs them, unable to bring himself to give them the gorier details of his life, “And I went out with a bang.” Chuckling softly at his own wording, Azizi brings the glass to his lips again. “That makes it sound like I shot him dead,” he hums, “Sadly, I didn’t. We got into a fight, another bad one where he didn’t just use his words to berate me but his fists. I shoved him backwards, he shoved me harder, I slapped him, and he told me to get the fuck out of his house- I happily obliged.”

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

”You!” Ayoola screams, following Azizi around the house as he does his best to get away from him, “Where do you think you’re going?! I’m talking to you! Where the fuck were you?! You knew you had a client coming over! You knew and you went out anyway- hey!” His hand lashes out violently, grabbing Azizi by the arm and yanking him back. ”I’m not playing with you Zi!” Ayoola says, spittle flying and his teeth grinding together as he gets up in Azizi’s face, “You’re in big fucking trouble. If you’re going to live under this roof-” ”I don’t want to live under this roof!” Azizi screams back, slapping Ayoola in the face in an attempt to get him to let go, “I want to be as far away from you as humanly possible! You’re a fucking monster!” Ayoola doesn’t hesitate to backhand him, the force of it throwing Azizi to the floor where he sits shocked and rubbing tenderly at his freshly bruised cheek. ”Then get the fuck out!” he shouts, jabbing a finger in Azizi’s face as he looms over him, “Leave! Just like your mother did! I’ve taken care of us for how long and you’re acting out like this because I ask you to do your part?! All you have to do is put out! Easiest fucking job on the planet!” Azizi stares at him, dead behind the eyes as he’s yanked back up onto his feet and shoved hard against the kitchen wall, a hand around his throat. ”You hearin’ me? Answer me-” Azizi screams, shoving his father back so hard that he trips over his own feet and falls backwards. ”Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!” he wails, shoving past Ayoola and out the front door. Ayoola gives chase, pausing in the open doorway to yell after him. ”Then go! Die on the street for all I care!”

He does not follow.

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

“To make an already long story short,” he says, glancing over at Gustav and then quickly averting his eyes, “I spent a long time, years, on the street just like Gogo. I did what I knew how to do best. Eventually I ran into Chaka.”

At the mere mention of his name his blood runs cold, the events of his sad life replaying all over again. He handles it though, shoving it deep deep down inside himself where it belongs. “He took me in off the streets you know. Well, for the most part anyway,” he admits, “There were plenty of times he’d leave me on a corner. To teach me a lesson, he’d say. I mean, I do have a reckless mouth so is that any surprise to you guys?” He laughs humorlessly, eyes finding Gogo’s. “But I met Gogo because of that,” he adds very fondly, “So hey. Silver-linings.” Sighing deeply, Azizi downs the rest of his drink in one go.

“I’ll save the stuff with Chaka for another time,” he murmurs, “If I go into that right now we’ll be here all night. Needless to say I didn’t go down the best path after leaving that hellhole, but if I’m being honest I don’t regret it. Dealing with Chaka’s bullshit was a hell of a lot better than dealing with my old man’s.” Despite his best efforts there’s a wet shine to his eyes now, but the tears don’t fall. Not even when the memories are threatening to choke the air out of his lungs. “So, that’s part one of my story,” he says faux cheerfully, “Now you know I come from trash. Do with it what you will.”

End.

#flight rising lore #fr lore #lore: the velvet fang #azizi #my lore #sorry for any typos #this was a pain to format on here

[goodwriterwithbadhabits]

The Study of Hearts

Master List

Warnings: Hospital talk, minor swearing

~~

“Hey Y/n, what’s been up with you today, doc?” You spare a quick glance over at the nurse who’d come up beside you, glancing away from the patient’s chart for only a second before returning to it. 

“Nothing’s up with me, I’ve just got a lot of patients today.” She scoffs instantly. You should have known better than to try and lie to Nurse Choi. She had been your head nurse during your internship, and your residency, she knew almost everything about you, and you were a fool to assume she wouldn’t notice your sudden drop in mood. 

“Don’t tell me that. We’ve had a fuller ward than this and you’ve never snapped at someone. That resident you scolded is still crying in the nurses station.” You feel a twinge of guilt at her words. The resident hadn’t really done anything wrong, but offered up the wrong medicine when you asked the group a question regarding a patient. You may have laid into them for longer than necessary about checking charts and allergies before handing out meds. “And this morning you actually shouted at the guy who took your parking spot. This isn’t like you.” You’re thankful the patient you’re currently looking at is asleep, recovering from a surgery that just ended. “So tell me what has the calmest, most level-headed doctor in the cardiology department so wound up.” You sigh deeply, setting the chart back into the sleeve at the end of his bed. 

“My boyfriend.” 

“The idol you swear you’re dating.” She huffs, somehow not believing you. You roll your eyes, deciding not to continue and simply walk away. No one ever believed you when it came to your boyfriend of nearly 4 years, and he wasn’t helping his own case either. “I just can’t believe an idol would date you, I’m sorry Y/n.” You spin back to the older woman, rising to your full height. You were sick and tired of people looking down on you for who you were dating as if they had any clue what was happening. 

“It’s Doctor L/n, Nurse Choi. You may refer to me on personal terms when we are outside of this hospital, but seeing as you refuse to respect my personal life, you are no longer privy to it.” She blinks up at you in confusion before nodding. You can almost feel the shock she emits.

“Yes, Doctor.” 

“Room 1134, Patient Kim Seungkwan needs to be prepped for anesthesia. Dr. Song will be here in an hour.” 

“Yes, Doctor.” She bows to you before turning away. 

“And Nurse Choi.” 

“Yes,Doctor?” There’s a hopeful gleam in her eyes when you call for her again. 

“Tell that resident to stop crying, if he can’t handle being reprimanded there is no place for him in a medical field.” Her shoulders slump again, but you can’t bring yourself to feel guilty. 

“Yes, Doctor L/n.” With one last curt nod to her you spin on your heels, stalking down the halls to your office. 

You’ve barely gotten the chance to start your computer before someone is knocking on your office door. 

“Who is it?” You ask, annoyance clear in your voice. 

“Someone told me you’re having a bad day.” The voice of the young Chairman has you standing immediately as he walks in. 

“Chairman Yoon, forgive me, I didn’t know it was you.” You bow, but he simply waves it off. 

“Come on, Y/n, it’s just us. What have I told you about bowing to me.” 

“Sorry Myungsoo, someone could have been behind you.” You chuckle dryly at your friend. “What do you want? I’m in the middle of something.” He holds up a small lunch box, waving it slightly. 

“I brought ice cream, but if you’re too busy I’m sure someone else will help me eat it.” 

“I’m never too busy for ice cream.” You relent, holding out your hands for the box. “And I guess your company too.” He takes the seat across from you, watching for a moment as you dig in. 

“So tell me, how come you’ve been such a bitch today?” His comment makes you choke slightly. 

“Yah, Myungsoo, what the hell?” 

“Come on, Nurse Choi’s upset, you yelled at a resident so bad he had to go home early.”

“He’s a crybaby.” You huff. 

“That’s besides the point. What’s eating at you?” You sigh, stabbing your spoon into your ice cream and setting it on your desk. 

“Mark.” 

“Huh, you’d think Mark eating you would make you happier.” His joke has your cheeks flushing instantly and you throw your napkin at him. 

“Yah! That’s not what I meant.” 

“What about Mark? I heard their tour ended a few days ago.” You clench your teeth slightly, recalling exactly what’s got you so pissed off.

“They got home last night, at least BamBam says they did, only Mark didn’t text, call, anything. I only found out they got back in when BamBam posted a selca.” “So you’re mad because he didn’t come see you?” 

“I’m mad because I’m fucking sick of it!” You explode, slamming your hand on the desk, making him jump. “He refuses to tell anyone we’ve been dating for almost 4 years, so everyone thinks I’m some delusional fangirl. He refuses to talk about the possibility of moving in together, we never go out when he’s in the country, and when he’s on tour I barely get a text once a week. He’s never met my friends or my parents and it kinda feels like he doesn’t even want to be in a relationship with me.” You finish your rant with a huff, raking your fingers through your hair. “He’s been managing to piss me off without even talking to me.” 

“Sugar, I don’t think you’re mad, I think you’re hurt.” He begins, setting his own treat down, “Anger is a secondary emotion.” 

“I know that, I did take psychology.” You grumble. 

“So what’s really making you so upset?” You cross your arms on the desk, hiding your face in them. 

“What if he doesn’t want to be with me any more? What if he just sees me as a burden these days and is trying to make me break up with him, so he doesn’t feel bad?” Myungsoo sighs, reaching out to rub your arm soothingly. 

“I think if you’re questioning the relationship, you should either talk to him, or break it off.” 

“I know, I’m just not sure if I’m ready for that. I really love him, you know?” 

“Chairman Yoon, we have a meeting sir.” A voice announces, knocking on the door. 

“You should go, thanks for the ice cream, and letting me vent.” 

“No problem, sugar, you should call him.” 

“I will.” The moment the door shuts behind him you pull your phone out of your bag, and pull up his contact. He doesn’t pick up, but you aren’t shocked. “Hey Mark, I heard you got in last night, I hope you’re doing alright. Look, I uh, I didn’t call for no reason. I’ve been thinking, and I don’t think it’s going to work out between us. There’s just so much missing between us, like,” You scoff lightly, “Like love. So yeah, I uh, think we should break up.” You look up to the ceiling, blinking back tears. “I get off at 11 tonight, if you want to call me back then. I doubt you will though, you never seem to want to talk to me any other time. Either way, I have Thursday off, you can come get anything you left at my apartment then. Bye.” You hang up quickly, before shutting your phone off and tossing it in your bag. You felt like sobbing, just finally crying and letting it all out, but you knew you couldn’t, you had patients to help, and they were the priority. 

Of course, by the time 10:45 rolled around, you were dead on your feet, your brain hurt and you were about 2 seconds from cracking open the emergency wine you kept in the fridge in your office. 

“Sir, I may not be a pulmonologist, but I can tell you that smoking combined with not exercising are a major factor in why your heart is damaged.” You insist, trying not to roll your eyes at the man as he scoffs. 

“I don’t think you’re qualified to talk to me about this.” 

“Sir, I’m-”

“Doctor L/n to Emergency Care, paging Doctor L/n to Emergency Care.” 

“Mother-” You cut yourself off with a huff, “Sir, while you are in my care, it is my duty to offer you medical advice. You need to cut back on the cigarettes or quit entirely. While you’re in this hospital you are not welcome to smoke unless outside in a designated area, with a nurse present. Good night.” You bow, quickly exiting the room before you lose your cool and punch him. 

“Doctor L/n, you’re needed in-”

“I heard,” You interrupt the resident who ran up to you. “What’s going on?” 

“It’s a patient. He was attacked by a mob. He seems alright but he refuses to leave without seeing you.” The kid explains, holding the elevator door for you.

“Is he having trouble breathing? Shortness of breath, chest pain?” 

“No, I haven’t seen his chart yet, but as far as I’m aware he only has a few cuts and bruises, if there are any internal injuries, it would likely be contusions on his ribs or-”

“Spleen, why on earth am I being called?” You’re racking your brain for some kind of answer when the elevator door opens. 

“Ah doctor, you’re here.” The head of the ER sighs, meeting you only a few steps away from the lift, “Good. This way.” She begins leading you down one of the quieter halls.  

“Jangmi, tell me you have some grasp as to why someone needs a cardiologist here right now.” You bite at the inside of your lip, completely lost as to why someone might need you. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n, he’s insistent and he’s mentioned you by name several times. Besides I’d rather his company continued to send their idols here.” 

“Company?” You ask, just as she opens the door. “Who-” “Oh thank god, the good doctor is here, now will you stop being a baby?” A familiar voice asks, and your heart leaps into your throat as you round the privacy curtain. There, sitting on the bed, looking pitiful in the hospital clothes, was Mark Tuan. You have to bite back tears as you pick up his chart. He had several bruises already forming on the skin you could see, and a split in his lip. 

“Mark Tuan what the hell happened to you?” Blood pressure, normal. Pupillary response, normal. No signs of concussion or brain trauma. 

“Some sasaengs started fighting as we were trying to leave, Mark got caught in the middle.” Jackson explains, toying with the IV stand. “Hey what does this button do, Y/n.” 

“Don’t touch it, Jackson.” Your response is instant and almost habitual, having had to slap his hand away from your tools plenty of times. 

“I’m sorry, Doctor L/n, do you know these men? Personally?” Jangmi asks, noticing the way JB lingers at your shoulder and Jackson immediately stops toying with things. 

“You could say that.” You muse, “Your vitals seem fine, though your heart rate has gone up slightly.” You can’t help the cheeky smile that dances onto your face. No, you broke up with him. You set his chart back down, grabbing his chin softly to turn his face towards the light. “You’ll have a few bruises, but nothing your make up artist can’t cover.” 

“Y/n-”

“So you have any trouble breathing? Shortness of breath, chest pain, headaches?” You ignore his plea of your name in favor of the heart monitor next to him. 

“No I’m fine.” 

“Then why did you beg a cardiologist to come see you?” You snap, turning on him. “If you wanted to finally talk to me, you could have waited fifteen minutes. Instead you’ve wasted the time of not one, but two doctors, at least one of our residents and several members of the nursing staff. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“What do I have to say? What about you? You broke up with me over a voicemail.” He shouted back, and you watch from the corner of your eye as everyone in the room takes a step back from the two of you. 

“Well if you ever pick up your damn phone when I call, I could have broken up with you like that.” Your voice is somehow level, despite how hurt and angry you are. 

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day.” Well, fuck, okay that was on you. “I didn’t want to run into you like this, but I figured ‘fuck it, you work here anyway’ might as well see you.” 

“So instead of waiting to be discharged and coming up to my department you worry me sick by begging me to see you like this? Do you know how scary it is to be paged down here? I was terrified someone’s heart had stopped beating, or I was going to need to perform an emergency surgery and I found you sitting here, beaten up instead.” The dam breaks, and the first tears begin streaming down your face. “The second I heard JB’s voice I was terrified I was about to have to save your life. After everything I told you about my work, about my fears of finding you on my table one day, how dare you use that against me.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Mark jumps up, pulling you into a tight hug as you cry into his shoulder. 

“You’re the worst.” 

“I know. I know I’ve been shitty. I should be taking you out and showing you off and I haven’t been. I’ve been so scared that Aghase might reject you, I never realized I was the one doing the rejecting. Please give me a second chance.” 

“Promise me you’ll change?”

“For you, in a heartbeat.” 

“Um, Dr. L/n.” Jangmi’s voice has you pulling away from Mark, wiping your eyes on the cuffs of your sleeve.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Seo.” You laugh, trying to calm down. “I’ll handle his discharge paperwork.” 

“Of course, Doctor.” She chuckles softly, offering you all a bow before exiting the room. 

“You really broke up with him over voicemail?” JB asks, clearly trying not to laugh.

“I was upset.” You defend. “I also yelled at several people and told one of my closest friend’s to go fuck herself.” 

“Well, I’m declining your break up attempt, you didn’t tell me directly, so it doesn’t count.” Mark decides, pressing a kiss to your cheek as you walk out of the room. Nurse Choi is standing immediately outside the door, discharge paperwork in hand. 

“Oh, Nurse Choi, I thought you were up in Cardiology still?” You greet. 

“Dr. Seo asked me to deliver this personally.” Her eyes are wide as she sees Mark’s arm around your waist and the other boys just behind you. “It seems I owe you an apology, Dr. L/n.” 

“Yes you do. I’ll take those.” She sets the clipboard into your outstretched hand with a bow, moving to walk away. You saw the slump in her shoulders as she walked away, and the guilt crept into your chest. “Before you go,” Your call has her turning back to face you. “Noon, Saturday, come have lunch with me? Please Jisoo?” The smile that erupts on her face is enough to make you feel better. 

“Of course, Y/n, see you then.” 

#mark tuan #mark tuan imagine #mark tuan imagines #got7 imagines #got7 #got7 imagine #goodwriterwithbadhabits #halloween game #request

[crobones]

Saw your posts in the anti-fj tag and needed someone to vent to lmao hope that's okay✌ i just--- they haven't even talked after the kiss??! Except that weird mess when Jester tried to talk to him about the creepy forest and Cad, and he just.. agreed with her and it went nowhere🤷‍♀️ Travis can be a great rp'er, but it just feels like he is afraid that talking on a deeper level with Jes will expose how incompatible they are(i could also just be projecting lol) I'm just so disappointed,do they really not see it?

YOU UNDERSTAND, THEN? like, i get that pursuing romance can be awkward, but i’m having a hard time recalling them even having a platonic conversation - and i mean one on one. it’s like, if i were to walk up to one of my casual friends, kiss them on the mouth, and we both just went “i guess this is what love feels like.” you’ve heard of slow-burn? NOW GET READY FOR... no burn.

and i see what other people are saying - i don’t necessarily disagree. they typically lean anti-fjord in that they find he treats jester like a child and rarely takes her seriously. straight up? in the beginning, i could have sworn jester was like seventeen pursuing a romance with a thirty-three year old man, so i was also thinking of jester as a child/teenager. i’m not saying it’s predatory or anything like other people do, because in the beginning, he actively pushed her away.

people like to compare it to pike and scanlan with the “one person wore the other person down”, but how i see it? pike showed signs of reciprocating in the beginning. scanlan proposed to pike before they even kissed, and literally felt regret for putting so much pressure on her. scanlan literally went AWOL and went through a big character change. honest and serious discussions were had aplenty when he got back. they began to pursue an actual romance in the EPILOGUE of the campaign. yes, i shipped pikelan then and still do now, but that doesn’t mean i agree with how everything went.

now, imagine if, the tables were turned and pike had abruptly proposed to scanlan, and he said yes. THAT is what this feels like. fjord suddenly confesses what is essentially the intent to be the love of her life or whatever because they’re succumbing to the pressure of thinking “this is the final chapter and we may die.” no character growth for jester; fjord acting super out of character; everything is rushed.

but, imho, it isn’t just fjord and jester that stopped their character development to pursue romance. beau and yasha’s thing came out of fucking nowhere to. sure, they flirted, but honestly, can someone name one thing that beau knows about yasha that isn’t “flowers, food & drink, fighting, lesbian with a dead wife.” she hasn’t even tried to understand yasha’s relationship with Kord (the stormlord). Both Beau and Yasha talk to Caleb and Caduceus about their personal lives more than each other.

and what does fjord know about jester that isn’t basically public knowledge to the entire party (and anyone who happens to talk to her for more than ten minutes)? in fact, i would even hazard a guess that he knows LESS, because he’s showing me (and the audience) that he’s trying to romance who she used to be instead of who she is now. he still doesn’t even think the traveler is legit! and surprise, the traveler is just a fucking archfey! she was questioning her beliefs and then... nope! no more questions. nothing even meta like “am i still a cleric or am i technically a warlock now?” or in-character like “should i worship the moonweaver now?”

someone could argue that they’re too busy for character growth right now but like, who tf is rushing them? veth has a cursed dagger she pulled from the corpse of a BBEG, caduceus potentially got rid of the rot that was taking over his home but is too afraid to check, caleb and beau both have separate plots to possibly kill trent ikathon, THEY’RE NOT ADDRESSING THAT A MAJOR POLITICIAN IN THEIR HOME COUNTRY WAS MURDERED AND THEY CAN LIKELY BE ACCUSED OF HER MURDER, yasha and caleb - who have both been subjected to mind-control several times - are about to face a fucking cult of hive-brain subconscious entities, jester just gave five years of her life for answers that beau and the group already kinda figured out on her own, AVANTIKA AND UK’OTOA ARE STILL A FUCKING THREAT. and now? molly is hinted to still be somewhere in lucien.

but no. let’s not talk about anything except pursuing empty fucking romance with people who barely know each other or maybe wouldn’t even like each other outside of life or death situations.

romance in anything that involves action is pretty boring to me. sandra bullock’s character Annie in Speed (which has keanu reeves, you should check it out) has a quote that’s stuck with me for over a decade. “[...] you know, relationships that start under intense circumstances, they never last.” does the movie end with a romance between Annie and the person she says this to? yes! but guess what, there’s a sequel and then ended up breaking up between Speed 1 and 2 lol (mostly because keanu refused to do a sequel, but still)

EITHER-HOOT thanks for hitting up my inbox. good to know there’s like-minded individuals out there, and i needed a good rant.

#anti fjorester #anti beauyasha #critical role

[pudding-head-kenma]

Wear Your Name Proudly [ Konoha x Reader ]

Request: Fluff with Konohaaaaaaaa we all need it(I feel like u probably know who this is now lmao)

A/N: number 1. i’m too stupid to know who this is 👉👈🥺. number 2.... i guess this could be taken as angst?? but there’s cuddling, mutual trust and taking care of a loved one, and i consider that fluff 👉👈

You knock on the door for the third time in the last few minutes. For the first time, you hear ruffling inside, and slow footsteps approach you.

You and your boyfriend had planned to hang out today after his practise was over, since they were – for once – going to leave early, meaning you could use the rest of your free evening to have a date. He hadn’t texted you by the time practise was meant to be over, but you paid no mind to it, instead deciding to head to his house.

After the first knock, you figured he just wasn’t home. It wasn’t unlikely that they would stay just a little bit longer at the gym if they were finishing a practise match, so you decided to take out your phone and call him.

You heard buzzing inside.

Okay, that’s weird... So you knock again. By the second knock, you wonder if perhaps he left his phone at home, so you decide to text Bokuto and ask if they’re going to take long. He seems confused by your text, and lets you know that practise ended a while ago. You ask if perhaps Konoha had decided to practise a little more, and he tells you he went home before everyone else.

Okay, that’s weird.

Now you’re worried. If he’s home, why isn’t he answering the door? Or his phone? Did something bad happen to him, is he hurt?

Your third knock is a little more assertive, and you have your phone on your hand, ready to call someone if he doesn’t reply this time.

But you heard the ruffling and footsteps, and you immediately relax. He’s okay.

Well... him being okay is arguable. He’s alive, anyway.

“Aki?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, and you’re barely even sure why you’re calling out for him, unable to think of a single thing to say.

He looks exhausted.  His hair is ruffled in every possible direction, and you take note of how his eyes are slightly puffier than usual, his nose a little red. He looks... cold, emotionless. The entire house is dark, all blinds and windows closed even though it’s the middle of the day. At first, you wonder if he’s sick. Maybe he caught a cold and tried to go to practise but ended up overworking himself and decided to come home. However, you can see it in his eyes – he’s just going through a bad time.

There are times Konoha gets like this. Despite being a little sarcastic and even provocative with his team, which gives off the impression that he’s always a little mischievous and seldom sad, he tends to hide his pain away most of the time. This results in him exploding at random times, engulfed and overwhelmed by his own worries. By default, he doesn’t call anyone. He deals with it alone, and he’s back to being himself the next day.

It has been a while since the last time you saw him like this. You faintly remember it being about a particular game they lost that really took a toll on them, and he kept ranting about how Bokuto had gotten into one of his  moods at the worst possible time – he’s clearly very frustrated about that particular subject, as you’ve come to learn. He loves the guy to death, but it leaves him anxious to know their ace (not to mention captain) could just break at any time during a game when he’s meant to be the rock of the team.

Immediately recognising his mood, you drop your bag and wrap your arms around him, bringing him into a tight hug. He barely moves at all, letting his arms hang by his sides for a few seconds before moving them up hesitantly, wrapping them loosely around your waist. He probably tired himself out crying, and you’re not sure if it’s frustration, anger, or sadness, but it doesn’t matter. You know you need to take care of him today.

The first thing you do is take him to his room. He’s attached to you, but he’s not exactly dead weight. He’s mostly clinging to you desperately, like you’re the only thing currently keeping him together. All things considered, that’s probably not far from the truth, given the current situation. You make sure he lies down on his bed comfortably, pressing a kiss to his forehead in promise of being back soon before heading to the kitchen to brew some tea for him. It helps calm him down to talk over things over a warm beverage, you know that now.

A few minutes later, you’re able to help him sit down just enough for him to take the mug, and he immediately seems to relax from the shift in atmosphere – he doesn’t feel good, you can tell that much, but he seems a little calmer now that he has company.

“I’m sorry.” It pains you that those are the first words to leave him a few moments later – he has nothing to apologise about, and it frustrates you that he would feel the need to.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Aki. I’m here for you, you know that.”

“I ruined our chance to have a date. We probably won’t get any free time for a while.” He has pretty much ignored your reassurance – he doesn’t do it on purpose, he’s just focused on other things, lost in his own head.

You reach forward and gently cup his cheeks, making him lift up his gaze. When he gets into these moods, it’s not rare for him to be looking away, lost in thought while glancing at the floor, zoning out while focusing on a pillow. So you know that you need to snap him out of him from time to time, bring his attention back to you, back to reality.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. We can have more dates in the future, it’s not important. Your well being is more important to me. Right now, and always.” You explain again, this time a little slower, making sure you don’t break eye contact. He needs to hear it, and you need to say it – not because he needs it, but because you mean it.

He freezes for a few seconds, overwhelmed with emotion once again. So used to taking care of his team, it’s likely that he forgets to take care of himself. To have someone else, someone he cares about, do it for him must feel like a dream. He relaxes into your touch, and his eyes close as he takes a sip from the tea, before he’s able to mutter out something again.

“I’m tired of being seen as the weak member of the team.”

This shocks you. You’ve seen their practise multiple times, and not once did you ever think he was the weak member at all. In fact, you can’t think of a single person who would be able to think that; in fact, he’s probably one of the strongest members, even with the whole team being very powerful in general.

“What are you talking about?”

“Everyone thinks I’m weak.”

For a second, you think he’s just exaggerating – not that it would invalidate his feelings, but when we’re stressed we tend to think others think badly of us. However, the way he speaks... He talks like it’s something he has come to accept a while ago, not only during this stressful breakdown. It sounds like he has been told that before, and it makes you feel uneasy. Was the team perhaps being unfair to him? You couldn’t imagine such a thing, but...

You don’t have much time to wonder before he speaks up again.

“I don’t know, I think- I thought I was pretty good, but they just don’t agree. I’m tired of that stupid nickname. I get it, I’m not fucking perfect at anything, I’m not a perfect setter like Akaashi nor a perfect spiker like Bokuto, but I’m trying. I’m really, really trying Y/N.”

It clicks.

You know exactly what he’s talking about. Through the years, the team had given him a nickname – you can’t remember exactly, but it’s something along the lines of ‘Jack of all trades, master of none’.  Like that popular saying. You believe it happened overtime, as he consistently showed his ability to take on any position just fine, even subbing in for Akaashi once when the time called for it. You know the team doesn’t mean any harm, but you never thought about how much it affects Konoha himself.

“I get that I can’t be the best at any of the positions, and I get that it’s ridiculous. I can’t just be a very good setter, a very good spiker, a very good libero, I can’t be a very good anything. I’m just average in all of the options. But why do they have to keep reminding me of that? I get it, I set the ball when Akaashi couldn’t reach today, but why do they need to remind me that it doesn’t work for me?” He’s getting more agitated as he speaks, likely as he recalls the events of today’s practise. You stay quiet, allowing him to vent, to let go of what’s bothering him.

“ ‘Ah, Jack strikes again!’ I’m sick of it. Why do they have to word it like that? I get it, I’m going out of my way, and I’m not even that good at what I do originally, but just- why? Why do you have to keep telling me that?”  He seems to be done talking. He brings his hands up to his hair, roughly tugging at it before covering his face, the tea long forgotten on the table next to him.

You understand. You never thought about it before, but you definitely understand. So, setting your tea down as well, you gently shove his shoulder. He’s pliant under your touch, trusting, expecting you to know how to help him, believing you can help him. You lie him down again and climb on the bed behind him, attaching yourself to his back immediately. He relaxes, melting into the warmth you bring, and his breath starts getting regular again.

“I think you’re misunderstanding. It’s not an insult at all, Aki.” He tenses up, but doesn’t speak. He’s willing to listen, even if he’s already objecting and formulating other possibilities in his head, other ways it has been used as an insult. You don’t give him the time to go into detail, speaking up once more in a gentle voice.

“Granted, it’s a nickname that bothers you, and that’s something worth bringing up with them. However, I’m sure everyone means it in the most flattering way possible. You know that saying continues, right?” That seems to peak his interest, because he’s shoving you away gently, only enough for him to turn around and face you. True to his name, any cuddling position works just fine for him, but he does have a preference for the ones he can see you.

You bring him in closer, allowing him to rest his head on your chest. You’re taking care of him today, and you want to show it through actions just as much as words.

“Jack of all trades, master of none, but oftentimes better than master of one. That’s how the saying goes. It’s a compliment. You’re a generalist more than a specialist, meaning you’re better at resolving issues than someone who’s very good in a specific department. You’re versatile and able to think on the spot, instead of being stuck to your element.”

He seems to tense up a little at that as well, but this time it’s different. It’s not a pained tensing up, not a worried or anxious one, but more of a realisation. He realises that it could be interpreted like that as well, and fears he might have let his insecurities get the better of him. His grip around you tightens, and you wrap your arms even harder around him, a quiet promise that you’re protecting him.

“Do you know why you have such a good team, with such amazing specialist players? Because you’re there. If you’re there, they can focus on getting better and better on their own position, knowing they always have you. You always have everyone’s backs, Aki. You have Bokuto’s back when he’s being blocked, you have Akaashi’s back when he had to touch the ball first during a receive, and you have everyone’s back when Bokuto goes crazy and they need to depend on you to score. It’s because they have such an amazing generalist on their team that they can focus on being specialists. You’re their most important player. You keep the team together.”

By now, you can tell he’s crying. You don’t think you’ve really said all that much, but it must be very important for him to hear this. He has likely been doubting himself for quite some time, so it must be reassuring to be praised. It must be hard; Konoha is extremely into volleyball, and sometimes he gets really competitive. If he thought that nickname was used as an insult to tell him he wasn’t as good as the others on the team who excel at what they do, it must have really hurt him. You wish he had brought this up with you sooner.

No other words are exchanged between the two of you about the topic; you keep him close to you, gently combing through his hair in hopes of calming down his sobs, which now have gotten louder. He’s letting them pour out, and it’s for the best – his frustrations, his shame, his anger, they’re all pouring out with them, being instead replaced by confidence, understanding, and pride. He should wear the nickname proudly, because that’s the only way his team would ever mean it. He knows it, of course, knows they would never insult him in such a way, but sometimes he can get too much into his own head.

That’s where you come in. Your gentle touches and kind words are a silent promise of help, of compromise to him, to always be with him and help him through this. In the same way he helps you through your own issues.

At the end of the day, you two have each other, and will always have each other.

So you remain quiet, basking in each other’s presence, lucky to be together. Lucky to be able to count on one another, thankful for the time you’re allowed to spend by the other’s side, grateful for the wonderful memories you’re able to create.

And another day goes by, and you both end up sleeping the problems away.

When Konoha shows up confident the next day, now laughing along at the mentions of the nickname, nobody seems to notice.

But as you sit and watch them practise, you know. He has changed again, grown to accept himself even a little more, and you were there to see it.

And you sit there, hoping you’ll get to see it again.

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyū!! #hq #hq!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #konoha #konoha fluff #konoha akinori #akinori fluff #konoha x reader #konoha x you #akinori x you #akinori x reader #fukurodani #konoha angst #hehe couldnt resist sorry

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 06

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, slight angst

; Word Count: 2.7k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: Another part :D please let me know what you think and all that jazz. If you enjoyed it, please consider reblogging to let others find it too! :)

; Flower Masterpost

-

You don’t get very long to swoon over the date to yourself, for the very next morning you wake up to an abundance of texts from your two very impatient best friends. It’s a wonder your phone has any battery left given how many messages they’d sent into the group chat you all shared and it’s with more than a little bemusement that you respond to them both by asking if they’d sent enough.

That had only inspired a barrage of even more messages, leading to you simply telling them both to come over. They would have done that anyway, you knew that, but the official invitation at least gave them the excuse that they were wanted.

Which they were, because of course you wanted to gush and squeal to them along with analyse every bit of the previous nights date. It had been too late when you came home for them to come over and you’d felt tired, bone-weary even. Unlike your effervescent friends, you often liked to say that you had a social battery.

You were happy to socialise with people you got on with and understood until that battery depleted, upon which you simply wanted to go home and recharge. People took a lot out of you, and events like last night were particularly draining for you due to your nerves.

As such, you’d gone to sleep at 11pm and ended up sleeping straight through till 10am, completely oblivious to the impatience of your best friends. But now they were here, in the living room of your small apartment and practically sitting on you in their desperation to hear all about your night of debauchery.

That was a joke, they knew you well enough to know that would never happen.

Though they had been thoroughly entertained by his dick vomit story. Poor guy. He hadn’t even met them and now he was forever associated with a story like...that. You’d apologise whenever you saw him again, or at least before they ever got to introduce themselves.

Still, it was fun though as you retold the events of the night to them. They were charmed by the fact he’d taken you to an escape room and you knew that it meant a lot to them that he’d been so careful and sweet regarding your shy personality. The fact that you were talking about him with such enthusiasm and that tiny smile that said you were trying to hold back a grin told them everything and you sensed their overwhelming happiness for you.

“I can’t believe you went on a rant about to milk an almond.” Chungha groans, dainty hand slapping at her forehead before she runs her fingers through her long, ice-blonde hair. Her face was completely empty of makeup but you’d already promised her that you’d do it for her later. She had a date herself tonight, which you and Soyeon were pleased about.

Unlike you though, she’d met this guy through her work. You hoped it would be good for her though, even if boyfriends did often take your friends away from you for a while. 

“Well he started it. Or did I? I don’t remember. Either way, he completely agreed with me. The first people to do things must have been truly wild. I mean, think about it. Who was the first person to look at a cow’s udder and go ‘...I’m gonna have me some of that!’” You point out, eyes wide as you tried to convince them of your point.

Both of them just stared at you before Soyeon sighed deeply, flopping back onto the couch and shifting until her fluffy sock covered feet were in your lap. You pushed at them lightly, nose turning up but she ignored you completely, just letting out a deep groan.

“I mean...you’re not wrong. It is weird. But that is so not first date conversation!” She lets out another groan that sounds almost like it comes from her stomach and you feel your body heat up in embarrassment.

“Well he didn’t complain. If anything, he encouraged it. Asked me how do you milk an oat?” Your voice is defensive, lips pursed in a petulant pout and there’s silence from them both for a minute. And then Chungha is running her fingers down your arm with a defeated smile, shaking her head.

“It sounds like you’ve got a winner there girl.” Everything goes quiet for a few minutes after that and you feel the stirring of anxiety and panic in your stomach that you’d done something wrong. It only takes the tiniest signal from your brain before your body goes into overdrive, muscles tightening while everything feels like a livewire and your mind begins to run over the date obsessively, picking over anything that you think you were too forward or stupid on.

Anything to prove that you’d made an idiot out of yourself and that you would never hear from Jung Hoseok again.

“Do you think I messed up?” The words are so soft, every syllable laced tightly with fear and worry as you stare down at the fuzzy pink socks Soyeon is wearing. They have prancing unicorns on them and pretty rainbows. You’d bought her them for Christmas last year and had a matching pair of your own in your extensive sock drawer.

The two of them don’t need to be experts to hear the vulnerability in your voice and they’ve both known you long enough to know that your mind is compulsively finding ways to convince you that everything went wrong. That Hoseok had been weirded out by you and didn’t want to see you again, despite his commitment to texting you.

Guys did that, didn’t they? Said they’d text or call and never did.

Maybe it was a stereotype or something. Who knows. But the sickness in your stomach tells you that it’s probably true here.

“Hey, hey no. Don’t do this. Don’t do it sweetie, don’t you dare take a good and fun date like that and twist it negative in that pretty head of yours. It genuinely sounds like you both had a great time. And you said yourself that he didn’t complain about your conversations, he even encouraged them and went along with you! He sounds like a great guy!” Chungha says earnestly, grasping your hand tightly between her own and squeezing with an encouraging smile.

Soyeon pokes at your stomach with a toe, giving you her own smile from where her head rests on the large Pusheen pillow that sits with pride on your couch. You hate touching feet so you don’t do anything, simply give her a glare that just causes her to smile prettily.

Unlike Chungha, she has nothing this afternoon so has decreed that she will be spending her time with you instead. You both had a ton of true crime documentaries to watch on Netflix!

“He does. And he walked you to your car. Besides all that, you sound into him. Don’t talk yourself out of it.” Chewing on your lip, you let out a quiet hum and shrug your shoulders. As much as you love your best friends, it was sometimes frustrating when all you wanted to do was vent and be negative when they were so persistent on cheering you up.

You knew why they were doing it, and you appreciated it. But getting out of your slumps had always been hard. And your mind found it far easier to destroy happy moments than to let go of the negative.

“Yeah but…” Chungha places her hand over your mouth gently, pressing just hard enough that you can’t say anything before raising her brows with a soothing smile. 

“No but’s. They’re not allowed in this conversation. Not unless you want to tell us what his butt was like. I mean...did you see it? Not naked obviously, but like...you know...in his jeans. Some guys have amazing asses.” And with that, you chuckle, the looming aura of sadness still prevalent inside you but momentarily pushed aside as you recall her ex. He had indeed been blessed with an ass.

“Ahh...unfortunately not. He looks like one of those guys who’s...moderately blessed in that department. Not that I was looking. Well I was totally looking. But he fills his jeans nicely, so there’s that.”

“Yeah but he has tattoos and piercings. That makes up for any lack of bubble butt. Besides, you don’t wanna date a guy with a better ass than you. That’s just depressing. Think of the squat envy you’d have.” That comes from your splayed out friend, slapping her own thighs with a pout and you roll your eyes at her, thoroughly amused.

“Please, you don’t have to worry about any butt envy or anything. Your ass is fine. My ass has too much going on anyway, maybe I should give some to him.” You lightly pinch Soyeon’s leg, laughing as she yelped and then pouted at you, rubbing at the place before waving her feet in your face.

Immediately you’re recoiling away, landing almost on top of Chungha who just watches you both playfight with exasperation.

“Maybe so, but it’s nice to have something to grip you know? Both male and female.” Soyeon says with a grin, wiggling her brows at you suggestively and you heat up at the idea of grabbing Hoseok’s ass like that. And then you think about him grabbing yours and you can practically feel the ghost of his hands on you.

It makes you shudder in delight, the fantasy a wonderful image and Soyeon giggles as she feels the movement from you.

“Oooh, you like that. You wanna touch Hoseok’s ass?” She teases and you stick your tongue out at her childishly.

“Okay...in the interest of honesty...I want to lick every tattoo he has until I’ve committed them all to memory and then just...bite him. Anywhere. I don’t even care where. Oh god, his neck. Guys...his neck is just so freaking...urgh. And his fingers! Argh, they’re just...long and perfect and all I could think was…” You break off then, body heating as you squirm at the thought of everything you’d just said while you press your hands to your hot cheeks, embarrassed at what you’d blurted out.

Everything was the truth and you knew that they could tell. What you most certainly were not telling them was that you’d imagined tracing along his tattoos with your tongue. Which had then led on to a delightful fantasy of him pleasuring you with his own tongue, that delightful ball piercing combining with those long fingers in your mind until his name had been a gasped prayer of satisfaction and pleasure in the quietness of the night.

And then suddenly your phone vibrates, the sound loud on the table in front of you and all three of you jump in alarm at it. There’s a moment of silence before you all look at each other and laugh, feeling ridiculous that you’d all gotten scared of a phone notification of all things.

Reaching out, you grunt as Soyeon accidentally kicks you in the stomach before your fingers grasp your phone. Your friends were adamant that your phone case was uncool, but you didn’t care. You liked the flip phone case, the design a cute and overly cartoonish strawberry in hot pink and mint green.

Eyes widening, you stare at the lit-lock screen in disbelief before Chungha is poking at your arm, leaning over to try and see what’s got you so shocked.

“What is it? Has your dad accidentally posted in your family chat again?” Yeah, he was never living that moment down when he’d accidentally sent a sext that was supposed to be for your mom into your family group chat. “Is it...oh my god. It’s him! Soyeon! He’s texted!”

Her squeal is appallingly loud, causing you to turn and glare at her yet you can’t find it in yourself to shush her. Because you want to squeal loudly as well as she’s right, it’s Hoseok. He’s texted. Like he said he was.

“Isn’t it supposed to be too over eager to text the next day?” Is all you say, your tone confused and you recognise that what you’ve just said it stupid. But you can’t think properly right now because all you feel is pure elation that sizzles and crackles in your veins, the nausea of panic earlier to now turn into nausea of excitement while you try your hardest not to smile.

He’d texted. Just like he said he would.

“Oh shut up woman. Are you seriously gonna turn him down messaging you?! This a sign he likes you! Really likes you! It’s not even noon and the man is trying to talk with you again! Answer him!” Soyeon says and you realise that she’s gotten up, peering over your shoulder at your phone screen as well.

Quietly, you unlock your phone and read the message from him a few times before licking your lips and responding.

Jung Hoseok [11:23am]: Hi. So...about that Instagram?

Jung Hoseok [11:23am]: Also, I know you’re not meant to double text but...last night was fun.

The second text comes in before you can properly respond and your eyes widen, noting that he seems to be pretty eager just like they’d said. Or at least...being polite.

Y/N [11:24am]: Hi...same. Hope I wasn’t too...weird

You send him your Instagram handle as well, wondering whether or not you’d posted any dumb photos on there recently. Before you can get too worked up over it though, you push the thought firmly away and decide that he’ll just have to put up with it. He didn’t seem to have been bothered by your quirks last night, and if he wanted to pursue anything further then you’d rather he realise sooner than later.

Jung Hoseok [11:26am]: Nah, you were fine. Best first date I’ve ever had

Jung Hoseok [11:27am]: I also found this out this morning and thought you’d like to hear, Fact Queen

Jung Hoseok [11:29am]: Did you know...Stan Lee almost made the Power Rangers. Saw it on a documentary I’m watching

Y/N: [11:30am]: The Toys That Made Us? On Netflix? It’s great!

Jung Hoseok [11:32am]: It is! Thought I’d tell you anyway

Y/N [11:33am]: :)

He goes quiet after that and you realise that your friends have both been sat silent, holding their breath as they read the conversation between you both. And when you look at them, your eyes widen when you see the matching broad grins they wear.

There’s a second of hesitation before they both squeal and wrap their arms around you tightly, squeezing you so hard.

“Oh my god! He so likes you! He gets you! Oh my god! Girl! You’ve lucked out!!” Chungha shrieks, shaking you violently by the shoulders while Soyeon is slapping your arm lightly in her excitement. Their positive energy is infectious and you find yourself laughing in response, the happiness inside you bubbling higher at Hoseok’s words.

He’d enjoyed last night. Really enjoyed it, if he was to be believed.

And not only did he not mind your weird sense of humour or fact based response mechanism, but he reciprocated it with something he thought you might find interesting. It made you feel warm and gooey.

Another vibration causes you to look down at your phone again, noting that there’s no new message this time from him. Instead, you see that someone called ‘jungsevenfold’ has followed you on Instagram.

Clicking on it, you see that it’s Hoseok’s profile. And just like his Facebook, it’s a hodgepodge of casual photos of him and his friends and more artistic and aesthetic photography shots. Shyly, you follow him back and then note the notifications that pop up on the bottom.

“Oh...my god. This guy is gonna be whipped for you.” Soyeon snorts and you heat up in embarrassment, wanting to deny her but unsure how to.

Because he’d already viewed and liked at least 5 of your images. And he’d even left a comment on the photo you’d taken before you left for the date last night, the angle and light perfect to make your make-up and outfit look its best.

jungsevenfold: beautiful! :)

#armiesnet #networkbangtan #btssunshineclub #hoseok fluff #hoseok angst #hobi fluff #hobi angst #j hope fluff #j hope angst #bts fluff #bts angst #hoseok fic #hoseok fanfic #hobi fic #hobi fanfic #j hope fic #j hope fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfic #hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #hoseok series #hobi series #j hope series #bts series #flower!hoseok

[obxwritings]

☆ drinking alone ☆

requested by @13reasonswhystan : Hey can you please do a Topper from Outer Banks imagine where y/n is a pouge and she is the badass of the group and she doesn’t really like to show her emotions she had a crush on jj but sees the way he looks at kiea so one night she is at the beach alone drinking and topper happens to be there too and they talk about their heartbreak they end up sleeping together and slowly start liking each other. (topper x reader)

word count: 1,986 (damn okay) 

warnings: underage drinking, swearing, mentions of heartbreak/insecurities about relationships, very slight alluding to sex at the very end

note: sorry this is so long lmao but I really like how this turned out! I hope you enjoy! let me know how it is :) thank you for requesting by the way! sorry it took so long! also, this is just my take on topper. I watched the show a while ago so if this is very uncharacteristic from his character, lmao it’s called fanfiction for a reason, but I did try to stick to what I remembered from his character from the show. 

masterlist of other works :) 

This was a terrible idea. You know that, hell, anybody would tell you that you were being immature about the situation, but you could care less. You were having a shitty day and the only thing you wanted to do was get drunk to forget about it. However, your house was not the place for your pity party. The beach, on the other hand, was. It was late enough that no one would be there, and you could have it all to yourself. The walk to the beach wasn’t too far and after finding the perfect spot on the beach and plopping down on the sand, you decided to break out the beer you had stashed in your backpack. 

Taking in the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore while sipping your drink, you couldn’t help but recall what led you here in the first place. 

. . .

Earlier that day, the pogues were all out on the boat and enjoying the summer sun before they had to return to school soon. Nothing was special about it. John B and Sarah were giving each other heart eyes while everyone else was mocking them. It started with Pope making a quiet remark that didn’t go unnoticed by you, JJ, and Kie. From then till the end of the boat ride the four of you kept laughing at everyone’s jokes, only making John B and Sarah more confused. That’s not what set you off, though. 

What made you so frustrated that all you wanted to do was scream or cry or drink was the fact that all day you had been trying to get JJ’s attention, and he was giving you absolutely nothing. You cracked jokes in attempts to make him laugh, wore a swimsuit that made you feel confident, and shared your last joint with him and all of it was still nothing compared to the looks and smiles he gave Kie any time she did, well, anything. You couldn’t blame him though; Kie was an amazing person through and through. You just wished someone would look at you like that one day.

. . .

Trying to forget the memory, you took another swig of the cheap beer you brought. Realizing you were almost done with it, you grabbed your bag and started to pull out another one when you heard some movement. With some panic setting in, you clutched your unopened beer can and got ready to throw it just in case anything came out and attacked you. 

“Woah it’s just me.” said the voice. Recognizing the voice, you lowered the beer can and shook your head. 

“What do you want, Topper?” you didn’t mean to sound so stuck up, but you couldn’t help it. Old habits die hard. 

“Just came out here to clear my head. What about you? Were you waiting to throw that beer can at someone specific or…?” Topper joked while sitting down next to you. 

Contemplating whether or not to tell him the truth, you let out a tired sigh. You honestly are still a little wary of kooks, but after hearing what Topper did for John B (and also just needing someone to finally vent to) you decided to throw caution to the wind and just spill all your thoughts (the alcohol definitely was encouraging you too). 

“Honestly, I had a crap-tastic day and just wanted to drink the day away, so you can either join me or just leave.” It was harsh, but you couldn’t care less. You were tired of holding everything in; you were bound to break at some point. 

Topper looked at you and gave you a soft smirk, “well, better hand me a drink then. Seems like you have a lot to say.” 

You were shocked but gave him a beer nonetheless. He was going to need it if he was going to listen to you rant. 

“So tell me y/n, what’s got you so worked up? I’ve never seen you like this. I mean, not that I normally hang out with you, you know, because we aren’t really friends. You just always seem so confident and tough. It’s kind of weird to see you like this, showing emotions and all.”

“Gee, thanks, Topper.” You rolled your eyes. He did have a point though; you were always making witty comebacks or trying to one-up everyone in dares. You hated showing your true emotions because you didn’t want anyone to think you were weak. Right now, however, you knew that instead of the confident person everyone saw, Topper was seeing the opposite. It was a look he knew all too well himself. 

You were on the brink of breaking down, yet you were forcing yourself not to. Your eyes were glossy, and you were seconds away from letting a tear slip. Your normal, collected self was slowly breaking down, and you didn’t know what to do. 

So you decided to just let it all out. 

“I just wish I was enough sometimes. It’s hard to see the person you care about clearly not feel the same way. And like, I want him to be happy, so if he’s happy with her then I should be okay with that, right? I guess, I don’t know, I just wish he was happy with me.” you couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down your face at this point, so you just let it happen. Not wanting to look at Topper, you began to pick at the random frays on your shorts while waiting for a snarky response from the kook himself. 

You never got one. 

Instead, Topper took a sip of his beer and calmly said “It’s the fucking worst feeling ever. I’m sorry.” 

Your eyes shot up and gave Topper and look of pure shock. You studied his face, looking for any signs of teasing and waiting for him to break and just laugh at you. But he didn’t. His face had nothing but a slight frown and a distant look in his eye. You didn’t know why he wasn’t taking the opportunity to make fun of you, but you were secretly thankful for it. Someone finally understood what you were going through. 

Deciding to just go along with whatever was happening right now, you wiped your tears and scoffed quietly, “tell me about it.” 

“I kind of just did, no?” 

“Oh my god,” you shoved him lightly while letting out a little laugh, “there’s the snarky Topper I know and hate.” 

“Oh shut up. At least I got you to smile. I don’t know how much of ‘sappy y/n’ I could handle.” Topper joked. 

“Whatever, Topper.” You rolled your eyes. You looked back at Topper, and while he looked content while starring out to the ocean, you could tell there was more to be said. 

“You can talk about it if you want. Yo don’t have to if you don’t want to. Talk about the dilemma you’re also having. I know I ju-”

“Thanks,” Topper cut you off mid ramble, but you didn’t mind. From the look on his face, you knew he just wanted someone to talk to and listen to his issues as much as you did. 

“Sarah and I broke up a while ago, as you and just about everyone in this damn town knows, but it really hurt. I loved her, at least I think I did, but after hearing about how happy John B made her, I knew I couldn’t do much about it. I lost her, if I even had her to begin with, and it broke my heart. It broke me. But like you said, I wanted her to be happy and she’s happy with him, so I should be happy right?” Topper looked at you with a sad gaze and, despite your past with everything that had happened this past summer, you couldn’t help but pull him into a hug. You knew what he was feeling all too well. 

“It fucking sucks, doesn’t it?” 

“Yeah it fucking does.” Topper chuckled slightly as he pulled away from you. He couldn’t help but smile. He finally told someone how he felt, and it felt amazing to not be the only one going through this. 

“Look at us,” you said after starting your second can of beer, “who would’ve thought that we of all people would be here and crying about our feelings.” 

“I mean, you’re the only one who’s cried so…” Topper joked, earning him the middle finger from you, “but it feels nice to finally let it out.”

Not really knowing what to say, you just nodded in agreement and kept sipping your drink. It didn’t take too long for the alcohol in both you and Topper to kick in. Soon enough, the two of you were filling the awkward silence with jokes, laughs, and stories that you thought would only stay between your respective friend groups. 

. . .

However, the drinks might have been a little too strong because soon enough you’re flirting shamelessly with Topper. You don’t think he minded though because he was doing the exact same thing. 

It didn’t help that the small amount of light coming from the rising sun was making Topper glow, accentuating his facial features and making his eyes sparkle. You had a few thoughts running through your head such as what time is it? Have we really been out here for that long? What would happen if I kissed him right now? 

You didn’t have too much time to think about any of them because soon enough Topper stopped his joke mid-sentence and said, “What’s on your mind, beautiful?” 

So he clearly noticed you weren’t paying attention. But at that moment you didn’t really care. With alcohol still coursing through you, along with the compliment from Topper, you couldn’t help yourself. You threw your arms around Topper’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Without hesitating, he kissed you back. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss after that. However, Topper didn’t seem too comfortable with your current position beside him, so he carefully lifted and placed you on his lap. 

“Well that was a nice surprise.” Topper smiled. 

Blushing and slightly embarrassed by your sudden outburst of affection, you just hid your face in the crook of his shoulder. “Stoppp.” you mumbled into his shoulder, “I don’t know what happened okay? You just looked so hot and then you complimented me, and I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to kiss you.” 

“Hey, I wasn’t complaining. In fact,” Topper lifted your head to allow you to look up at him, giving you a soft smile, “I wouldn’t mind you doing that more often.” 

Looking out at the rest of the beach, you saw people getting ready for an early morning surf. “Well, if you want to go somewhere else my parents are out of town for the rest of the weekend. We could always go to my house. It’s not too far from here.” 

Topper nodded and helped you stand up, but you couldn’t really walk due to how much you had drunk. Seeing this, Topper offered to give you a piggyback ride. You couldn’t help but let out a laugh. The two of you probably looked crazy to anyone just passing by. But you didn’t care; you were happy and that’s all that mattered. 

While leaving the beach, Topper could help but smile and ask “so, you really think I’m hot?”

. . .

When you woke up in your bed later that day, you saw an arm securely wrapped around your waist. You looked over to see Topper still sleeping, letting out small snores every now and then, and couldn't help but smile as snippets from last night replayed in your head. You were so glad that you finally let your walls down. You didn't know what would happen between the two of you, but you did know two things: you didn't regret a thing from the previous night and you secretly hoped Topper felt the same way.

note: I hope you enjoyed (if you made it this far lmao)! as always, my requests are open! I hope you are staying safe and healthy! also, you can always message me :) i love talking to people! 

#topper imagine #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks netflix #topper thornton #topper thronton imagine #topper fanfiction

[the-autisticats]

Who becomes a special education teacher?

There is no singular answer to this question. When I volunteered at a school for autistic and otherwise disabled students, each teacher and aide was different. When I volunteered at an ARC adult daycare center, the staff were equally varied in their treatment of the individuals there. But there were some common threads I noticed across both locations, regardless of how different they were on the surface. And there were common threads that tied the teachers & staff together, too.

For the purposes of this post, I will be discussing my observations about the school, not the ARC adult daycare center. Also, before you continue reading, you should know that this essay will discuss suicidal ideation and sexual actions. Now, let’s continue:

Something very interesting I noticed was that the only white man I ever interacted with was the principal of the school. I’m sure there were a few white male teachers, but I never met any. The people who were with me in the aftercare classroom were all women and/or POC. This demographic data didn’t match my own school, which was only 10 minutes away. My own school had extremely few teachers of color, and had a decent amount of white male teachers. But looking back, I recall that the many of the one-on-one aides for the special education students at my school were people of color.

I’m pointing these things out because usually, jobs that women and/or POC do are systemically undervalued in society. Teaching is still seen as “women’s work,” because it’s associated with caretaking. The association with caretaking gets less intense as kids get older, which is why there are a heck of a lot more male secondary school teachers than there are male elementary school teachers. According to the National Center for Education Statistics (in the US), only 11% of elementary school teachers are male, whereas 36% of secondary school teachers are.

When you look at the stats on special education teachers as a whole, 86.3% are female (meaning that 13.7% are male). Despite being significantly outnumbered, the average salary for a male special education teacher is $53,855, which is $8,393 more than the average female salary of $45,462.

Then, looking at the statistics for one-on-one aides, things get even more stark. Almost 89% of paraprofessionals are female, and the average female classroom aide makes only $19,927 per year, compared to male classroom aides who make $26,453 per year. Referring to the previous paragraph, notice the significant gap between what the teachers are paid, versus what the aides are paid. There are also many more POC aides than POC special education teachers. Only 16.8% of special education teachers are POC, whereas 24.3% of aides are POC. (I did those calculations based on US census bureau data)

Okay, so we’ve discussed the demographics, the pay gaps, and the racial disparities. Keep in mind that the vast majority of people in these jobs are also neurotypical, and that all of the teachers and aides where I volunteered were neurotypical as well. Now, I’m going to discuss the pervasive ableism and problematic attitudes that existed at the school, keeping in mind all of the sociological factors that have contributed to these people feeling that they are not valued in society for the work that they do.

The culture of the school I worked at was what one might expect. The teachers mostly cared about the students, and were pleasant to talk to. But there were some things I noticed that weren’t particularly pleasant or enjoyable:

Most of the time, the teachers and aides talked about the students in the 3rd person, as if they weren’t in the room. Even if the students in question could speak clearly, they were still treated as though they could not contribute any meaningful input to a conversation. The problem was even worse for students who couldn’t speak. They were all referred to in the 3rd person, discussed by staff, and speculated about without any regard for the fact that they probably understood everything that was being said about them. I tried my very best not to engage in this behavior when spoken to (teachers would try to involve me in their conversations about the students), but in order to mask and protect my position as a volunteer, I couldn’t speak up about the issue or do anything to stop it.

Many of the teachers obviously didn’t want to be there, and didn’t like their jobs. There was one teacher in particular, I don’t remember her name, who would even “joke” about committing suicide right after a student did something mildly disruptive. She would vocally express (right in front of the students!) how much she hated her job, hated herself, and hated her life. She was at least 50 years old, and often turned to me (I was only 17 at the time) to vent and rant in distress about how awful everything was and how much she wished for retirement. This was incredibly uncomfortable to me, and probably very damaging to the students, but it was also something I couldn’t really do anything about given my unofficial status at the school.

Students were not given any intellectually stimulating activities to do in the after school program. This was a particular problem for one autistic student named Matt, who I could tell was bored out of his mind. To quell his boredom, he peeled the paper label off of crayons, peeled the name stickers off of other students’ desks, ripped up pieces of construction paper, stole food from the snack bin and shoveled it into his mouth when the teachers weren’t paying close attention, and masturbated in the middle of the classroom. That last part is something nobody had prepared me for when I started volunteering there. In fact, it seems to be something nobody in the special education world talks about at all. The only other person I’ve talked to about it until now is Laurel. And yes, it caught me off guard. But I very easily understood why all of this was happening- Matt was seeking intense sensory input to replace his boredom.

Sometimes his aide gave him picture books to read out loud, which he did. But when he was finished and said “Done!” his aide just told him to read it again. The only times I had seen him truly happy and engaged were the times that he was allowed to play the keyboard. Matt was an amazingly talented musical artist. I was shocked when I first heard him play- not because he’s autistic, but because the composition he was creating was worthy of being played in Carnegie Hall. During the days he had access to the keyboard, his sensory seeking and anxious behaviors significantly decreased. He sang along to the tune of the songs he created (they were extremely catchy), and chewed on a red chewy that was clipped to his shirt. He didn’t bite his hands, rip up his gloves, or ask to “go to the bathroom.”

Yet, he usually wasn’t allowed to use the keyboard. The reason I overheard was that the music teacher was afraid he would break it. And yes, he did have a history of throwing things during meltdowns, which I witnessed. So it was possible that he might try to throw the keyboard, too. But what nobody except me seemed to understand was that his meltdowns only happened on the days when he wasn’t given access to the keyboard. He was calmest when playing it.

These were the ways that each student was failed. They were treated as less than human, as non-thinking and non-understanding. Teachers spoke openly, in front of the students, about how much they hated their jobs. The knowledge and skills of students were severely underestimated. Students like Matt were not provided with real books, real intellectual challenges, or the ability to fully express themselves creatively.

And quite honestly, not all of that was purely a function of ableism. It was also a function of the socioeconomic status of the teachers, and the ways they were unappreciated, undervalued, and underserved by society at large. When these teachers and aides aren’t given proper tools and resources to understand and assist autistic people, they will inevitably fail. When classrooms don’t have enough books, when teachers have to buy their own art supplies, and when there’s only one keyboard in the entire school, the students aren’t going to get their needs met. When the school is understaffed, people are working overtime to pay for their mortgage, and teachers have to stop meltdowns during their lunch breaks, they’re bound to have negative attitudes about their jobs and lives in general.

The solution to this problem is two-fold: start funding the important work of educating and caring for disabled people, and start creating seminars and workshops for these teachers to learn about disability from the perspective of disabled self-advocates, so that they will be best equipped to serve their students’ needs.

I hope that dream becomes a reality someday.

~Eden🐢

#actually autistic #autism #autistic #aba therapy #ableism #autismacceptance #special education #special education teacher

[whitleyschn33]

RWBY Volume 8 Episode One: Quick Thoughts

Or not so quick, seeing how long it took me to write this and how much I ended up having to say. Spoilers (duh) under the cut, as this thing got insanely long.

So we open with a maid scrubbing a floor, a shot that lasted long enough I was starting to wonder where it was going before we cut to Cinder. So, Cinder backstory - interesting way to open the volume, but I’m not sure if it’s a good way. At the very least, I would have cut it a couple seconds, or have it flash between Cinder’s face and the flashback. Same information, but given in a quicker manner that lets us know exactly what we’re seeing instead of wonder who this random maid is for 10 seconds.

Whale aircraft carrier. The design is interesting, if looking a bit too clean for my taste. I would’ve liked to see the bones and muscles of the Grimm incorporated into the design a bit more, the surfaces less smooth and more textured, but it looks good.

Facial acting on Neo is good - I appreciate being able to see what’s running through her head, even if it also makes me wonder why Salem isn’t picking up on the obvious tells.

Emerald and Mercury are back and with new outfits; I can hear the diehard EmMerc fans screaming from here. Would’ve liked a better look at the whole outfits (I don’t think there’s even one close up of their entire bodies), but I like Mercury’s! Emerald’s model feels off to me for some reason, like it’s wider or more padded (?) than before, but it’s not a big deal and is probably just a result of her wearing a jacket now.

Oh, yeah, Hazel got one too, don’t care.

Why does the whale have a screen? A connection to one of those seer orb Grimm?

Cinder is still not interesting to me, but I am curious - can one woman hold multiple maiden powers? What happens if one woman holds them all? If they can hold multiple powers, what happens when they die? Do they both/all go to the same person, or would they split?

I like the Faunus that gives Oscar the soup. His design is pretty cute to me (I think he’s a mole Faunus?), and I feel like he’s based on something, but I’m not sure what. Getting a Narnia vibe for some reason, which I’m always on board for.

How did Ruby know where Oscar ended up? Did he call? 

Weiss’s braid looks much better! I’m still not a huge fan of it, but this model is an enormous improvement - it actually looks like hair instead of rope, it’s slicker, and doesn’t look as heavy. Nice job, animators. Blake’s looks better, too, more fluffy, but it’s not as drastic a change to me.

Nice to see the Happy Huntresses actually doing something to help Mantle, and having Joanna(? that’s her name, right?) take charge and be helping Ruby get Oscar back in exchange for their aid is nice. It feels realistic for a situation like this.

And more secret keeping, but in this case, dropping the Oz bombshell would actually probably be a bad idea. There’s enough going on, bringing up Oz being back can wait until tensions aren’t as high.

Why would Ironwood stop evacuation? That makes no sense for his character, and there’s no reason to stop them. Until he gets Penny back, Atlas isn’t going anywhere. Might as well keep evacuating until you can find here, get as many people to safety as possible before getting away. I’d assume the Doylist answer for this is that Mantle still needs to be a factor in any decisions made after this and it can’t be that if we can get everyone evacuated, but that doesn’t make the Watsonian explanation make more sense.

Actually a good plan, getting everyone into the crater if it is in fact warm (why, I wonder? Thermal vents? Heat coming off of Atlas?) solves the cold problem (that people should’ve probably already died from) and having to defend one smaller location is strategically a good option. Corralling people would also make any eventual evac to Atlas easier. There is the small problem of, you know, Atlas literally crushing anyone in the crater if the staff is used on anything else, and Salem is known to be after that Staff, sooooooo -

Okay, maybe a nitpick, but I thought Pierto’s specialty was prosthetics and robotics. Doesn’t seem like something that necessarily overlaps with what’s needed to convert Amity into a satellite. I guess maybe the engine/whatever is going to propel it into the air could be similar to Penny’s boosters/whatever lets her fly, but it doesn’t seem like something that he would be involved in raising Amity. Whatever - I know we need a scientist person to tell these things to RWBY+Co and Pierto is the most likely candidate to be in a position to do that.

It seems like, from Ruby’s dialogue, she both wants to warn the other kingdoms and ask for their help. This has been trampled to death, so I won’t rant, but - there is no one that’s going to be able to help. Argus is hours away, will take time to assemble, and isn’t a very large force to begin with. Mistral is still weakened from V5 and has next to no huntsman, and is even farther than Argus. No idea what’s going on with Vale, but they’re probably still nursing their wounds from the Fall. Vacuo is the only kingdom likely to be able to muster up a force, but they’re on the other side of the map and will take hours, if not days, to get together an army - and that’s if they decide they want to help at all. The other objective was warning the Kingdoms about Salem. Ignoring that Salem is immortal and can just throw as many Grimm as she pleases until the defenses fall, ignoring that the other Kingdoms might not even believe Ruby, what’s to say they won’t go “F*ck Atlas, they’re on their own” and recall every available Huntsman and Huntress to shore up their own defenses? Or what if the other kingdoms just fall into anarchy? Learning an immortal witch with an endless supply of Grimm will come knocking on your doorstep soon tends to cause chaos. Or is Ruby going to leave the whole immortal part out again? I just can’t see what this will accomplish.

Holy shit, it’s actually happening. Dissent from WBY, and it’s coming from Yang of all people - I love it. I wish Yang had gotten to finish her sentence, say something along the lines of “Maybe if we’d told the truth immediately things wouldn’t have gone this way” since that would fit with her “hate secrets” thing she had going on in V5/6, but the fact that Yang is actually questioning Ruby’s leadership and choices - yes yes yes, more of that please, less of the hive mind. I wish it’d come a little earlier, but at this point I’ll take what I can get.

I’m slightly confused at the sides that Ren and Nora are taking here. I like that we’re splitting them up here (we never get to see them separated, and after last volume, I am more than on board with letting Ren get some breathing room), but Ren going with Yang, Jaune, and Oscar to help evacuate Mantle while Nora goes on the “bigger picture” team to get Amity up and running seems weird considering where they were last volume. Nora was always screaming about how the big picture stuff was hurting Mantle, while Ren was pushing to keep training, keep working, support Ironwood and try and work at the big picture problem, so it would seem like they should be on opposite sides. I’m not saying it makes no sense - I can absolutely see Ren feeling protective of towns under attack from Grimm with no Huntsmen in their corner - but it feels like a bit of a 180 from their last positions. 

Did Oscar just call Jaune “John”?

Yeah, if nothing else, don’t let Penny get anywhere near Salem or her cronies. Salem can absolutely not be allowed to get her hands on the Staff, especially with the whole “get everyone to the crater” plan. Squish.

Yang and Blake splitting up, maybe we can actually get some conversations on what the hell is up with them that we should have gotten in V6/V7 instead of petty showing off and Nora projecting.

“But what about Mantle?” “Oh, I’m helping Mantle.” with the same thing you spent all last volume complaining about. Uh-huh, that’s not annoying.

Weiss has an idea on how to get up to Atlas - Winter’s ship, maybe? That one she came in on in V3 was her personal ship, wasn’t it?

Ironwood calls Penny. From the music, it sounds like they were aiming for foreboding and manipulative, but Ironwood just sounds tired, the poor man. Love how Ruby doesn’t even try for a comeback for Ironwood’s argument, really convincing.

Dead Clover, and I hope that he stays that way, because if he’s brought back to life, so much of V6′s themes of life and death and the natural cycle is just going to be spit on (again). Clover is dead, and there should be no way around that save interference from a literal god. Any attempt at bringing him back needs some kind of drawback - some prevision of life, a body that moves but his soul isn’t there, something, please RT, don’t double back on your “Death is permanent” thing again.

And Ironwood did lose his arm completely. It’s an awesome looking prosthetic, but the fact that it’s black when the rest of his prosthetics are silver, combined with the comments made by the CRWBY about Ironwood’s humanity, make me very afraid they’re going to go for some sort of bullshit parallel to Cinder’s black Grimm arm. I do like the orchestral version of Hero playing here, though.

I like Winter’s new hair style - similar enough to her previous one, but looser. Not exactly happy about what that might symbolize, but it looks really good. It looks like she might have nerve damage, though, which would mean she might be off the battlefield until she can get her hands (hah) on some sort of brace to help her move her hands (which might be hinted at in the OP~)

I do really like Ironwood and Winter’s relationship, please don’t f*ck it up, CRWBY.

Is the only thing CRWBY knows how to do to make Ironwood seem like the bad guy shoot people for no goddamn reason? Ironwood was surrounded by loyal soldiers after declaring martial law, there was no reason for him to not just order Slate detained (that one was Slate, right? Not that it matters). The man’s annoying and probably in cahoots with Jacques, but shooting him is out of character, excessive, and makes no sense when he could just be arrested. “It shows he’s slipping -” No. It’s lazy writing meant for shock value and to give characters a reason to go “Oh, he’s going evil now, I better question my loyalty to him” (based on the look Winter and Harriet share) rather than any actual flaw in his plans maybe because CRBY realized that Ironwood’s plans are rational and the best one on the table right now, so they can’t use that to turn people against him. F*ck that.

Salem sends a bloodhound or whatever after Oscar, we already saw this bit in the trailers. No comment.

TLDR: Once again, RWBY sets up a lot of stuff that I find interesting and want to see more of. However, their treatment of Ironwood doesn’t make me optimistic for them to treat him right, and RWBY has a track record of setting up good concepts/plots/characters/arcs and then failing to execute them well or at all. We’ll have to see if V8 actually lives up to the promise or falls flat due to the issues that plagued V6 and V7 .

Going to make a whole new list for the OP because dear Lord, this thing is dense.

This song is definitely more in line with RWBY’s usual sound than Trust Love, and I’m all for that. The beat is a little hinky to me - it’s going to take a few re-listens to get used to it - and once again I wish the lyrics were clearer, but I know people that weren’t as happy with V7′s sound will be happy with this return to form.

Establishing shots of Mantle going to hell, nice use of red and contrast, but I wish there was a bit more use of shadow to really sell the red coming from fires and emergency lights.

Ruby standing alone, turning to find the others standing at the ready to fight, but away from her and with their backs turned. Any chance of more dissent? Will we actually get some growth from Ruby, in regards to her leadership in particular? We can only hope.

The four girls, on a blackish/blue background with floating warm lights, with images of their V1 selves in their clothes/hair/weapons. I really love the animation in the portion, the girls look so good. It also makes me wish we’d get some sort of flashback to V1-3, because I want more of their Beacon designs in the new animation style. The fact that this background/setting shows up again later in the trailer makes me wonder if it might be what the interior of the Atlas vault looks like. No basis for that, just a random thought. Couple minor nitpicks, focused on Yang. The fact that she’s the only one not in a more dynamic pose (and this is Yang of all people) seems odd, and the way her hair flows looks weird to me based on the angles and whatnot. Putting her in a different pose like a charge would fix this, letting her hair flow more naturally and giving them the space they need to to add in her past self. Otherwise, gorgeous. 

Ironwood with Atlas inside him, slowly being overtaken by the red as he looks up. No real comment other than beautiful.

Clover dropping his pin, with the AceOps and Qrow in the leaves, before transitioning to Qrow taking Robyn’s hand in prison. It looks like Harriet will be taking over as team leader. I don’t have a lot to say here - Marrow’s the only AceOp I’m interested in, and Qrow and Clover’s relationship has never been compelling for me. Robyn, similarly, is not a character I like, so a Qrow/Robyn team-up jailbreak isn’t something that I’m interested in unless Watts is involved. Already teamed up with one villain, Qrow, why stop there?

Oscar in pain holding his head, while Grimm eyes surround him and then Salem with wyvern wings comes out and looms over him preparing to grab him. I like the visual of Salem as the Wyvern at Beacon, but her face looks almost doofy in this shot. I think it’s the lack of expression mixed with the eyes. If she had a more menacing expression, I think this would work a lot better.

The falling weapons of the girls, Crescent Rose with Myrtenaster and Gambol Shroud with Ember Celica. Cue the shippers.

Jaune with his sword in front of his face, pulling it down to be at the ready, with Nora and Ren in the far background, their backs turned on each other but looking sad at their positions. I know Jaune’s thing is probably generic, but it gives me Mulan vibes, which is funny considering. Hey, hint that Martial Arcs will become canon now that Renora is on the rocks? fingers crossed More of Ren and Nora’s rough patch, and I really hope that that gets some focus. Their kiss last volume left a bad taste in my mouth with how it went down, and getting into these two as separate characters and their relationship. Ren not requiting Nora’s romantic feelings towards him would be a really interesting place to go with these characters that everyone’s pegged together since episode 4 (in no small part due to their lack of interaction with anyone else, but I’ll get to that). 

Winter and Weiss walking towards each other on the Schnee symbol, passing each other by with Winter getting her new hairstyle and a brace of some sort. She’s actually wearing this brace in the hospital, but on the other arm, while now it’s on the arm she couldn’t bend her fingers with. Interesting, and it looks all looks really good!

The Schnee snowflake falls between Whitley and Willow, before shattering onto a chessboard. YESSSS, Whitley’s in the intro again! That’s more than I could’ve hoped, and I really really hope that him looking contemplatively like that means something - that’s he’s figuring things out, coming up with a plan, something! Still no new design though T-T CRWBY, what do I have to do to get my boy some new clothes?

From the chessboard, Salem rises up, turning the other black pieces into Grimm to attack the white where Ironwood stands. His pieces turn to dust, the board blowing away entirely. Nice callback to V1. Ironwood stands alone - no allies, and no space to move forward. He’s a king with nowhere to move - check or checkmate. 

Smug Watts hacking while leaning against a mirror, rotates to show Pierto doing the same, his reflection looking over its shoulder at him, then a pan to Penny to show the same thing before the mirror breaks. I’m not sure what this might symbolize. Inability to trust yourself, maybe?

A snowflake flies through the air and lands in Ren’s palm. It turns into a flower petal, (or scraps his hand, I can’t quite tell) then Yang, Jaune, and Oscar join him, Ren smiling to Jaune. Another flower petal flies by to transition to Nora, who reaches out but can’t catch it, looking dismayed until RWBP comes in to join her. I assume the symbolism is straight-forward - the snowflake turns to a petal when caught by Ren (lotus guy), then flies to Nora who can’t catch it. Really living for the Ren focus in the op~

Pans to a shot of the whole group in the middle of everything - Atlas and Mantle overrun with Grimm on one side, Salem’s whale and Grimm army on the other, and Amity in the middle, which Penny flies up to hover below. Penny is going to be vital to launching Amity, and probably for reasons other than the terminal.

Then Ruby and Yang looking at each other with a smile and nod before the girls jump into fighting some Grimm. Interesting bit when the volume opens with the sisters starting to have disagreements.

The entire thing freezes, Cinder strolling cockily past the crew to walk in front of a bored/disgruntled Neo and Emerald who starts to wave but looks dejected when Cinder ignores her. Not much to say here - I don’t really like the freeze frame for some reason, no idea why. This also doesn’t give us any new info on the dynamics between these three characters.

Cinder grabs her Grimm arm in pain as fire flares up behind her, transitioning into Merc, Tyrian, Hazel, and Salem with the lamp in her eyes, transitioning to the lamp and staff twirling around each other, both emitting smoke like they’re being used as they come together. I wonder if this means that the last question and the Staff are going to be used, and maybe together? Once again, though - Atlas falling, people in the crater die.

Smoke clears up to reveal Ruby, looking up to Atlas first in invasion mode, then peaceful. Turn to a shot of the group standing looking to the left, Yang and Ruby looking like they’re posed but the others just kind of standing there. It’s a weird shot, and I’m not sure what to make of it, honestly.

The ice breaks beneath Ruby’s feet, sending RWBY falling into a void, their bodies trailing those lights that we saw before. Ruby opens her eyes to see the brightest light, the Staff. She reaches out to it, but Grimm paws and hands drag her down. V6 callback?

The word Happy? flashes only to be crossed out, a sketchy Grimm roaring, then the words Ever then Never as it’s crossed out, with a sketchy Penny lifting her head and her eyes then face going red, then the words After Again being crossed out. I’m not really of the words - I think it’s going for a Happily Ever After Happy? Never Again thing, but there’s no Happily that I can see, and it just kind of comes across as a bit emo to me. I like the sketches of the Grimm and Penny - I think it might be a Wyvern Grimm or something like that, and the red spreading from Penny’s eyes to her entire outline is interesting. I wonder if it’s connected to the Maiden powers and how she’ll use them.

Sketches of RWBY’s weapon fall into the snow, Crescent Rose falling with the tip stuck in the snow, then a flash and a pull out to Crescent Rose in the snow in full animation, framed by the broken moon as rose petals fly by with the “Created by Monty Oum” credit appears. I really like this as a reference to the Red trailer, and compared to the very cluttered ending shot of V7, this is a nice change of pace.

I like this OP. It’s definitely above V7′s for me, with a good song and some beautiful animation in it’s visuals. If I had to criticize it, I would say that it feels very long and cluttered. My breakdown of the opening feels as long as everything I mentioned in the actual episode. I realize one was going almost shot by shot, while the other summarized, but the point still stands that this things feels longer than it needs to be (I’d have to check time stamps to see if it is actually significantly longer).

A more promising start, all in all, than I’d hoped for. Things irritate me for sure, Ironwood’s treatment, Ruby’s plan, all that stuff, but I know I would have those bones to pick going in. The shake-up of the usual teams and the promise of inter-group conflict is enough to get me to want more, and I look forward to seeing how my favorite characters will be utilized. 

What are your thoughts on the episode? Reblog and comment down below, and we’ll start a convo.

Until next time~

#rwby #rwby8 #rwby volume 8 #rwby8 spoilers #rwby 8 spoilers #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xioa long #episode breakdown

[thedreammweaver]

You Are My Destiny (Burton-schumachervers riddlebird, angst, hurt/comfort)

Warnings: blood, murder, violence, arkham stuff, insecurities mention, poor self image mention

“Are you sure we should be putting him in here with...you know.”

“Who? Nygma? C’mon, he’s harmless. Poor son of a bitch can’t even talk anymore I doubt he’ll be any help to this one.”

Ed listened attentively to the orderlies outside his cell from where he was laying on his bed where he always was. He was aware that Arkham was facing an issue where they had more patients then cells and were cramming two or three into one cell despite regulations. Ed figured he was about to get a new cell mate, he didn’t very much care though. He’d given up caring about things months ago, at least now he’d have something to watch. He didn’t look up as he heard his cell door open and something being shoved in before the door was closed very quickly.

Oswald growled angrily as he worked at ripping off the muzzle that had been forced on him,?once it was off he chucked it into the wall. Ed just watched the other man look around the room, presumably for anything he could use to escape. He knew who Oswald was and Oswald had heard of the riddler but they’d never crossed paths before now, what an odd way to meet. Oswald immediately ruled out the vent as a way to escape, knowing very well that he would never fit through even if he could reach. It was the same with the high window, even if he could get the bars off of the it was too small for him to fit through as well. He cursed his ample form and decided to instead inspect the ginger man laying on one of the beds. “So you’re the infamous Riddler, huh?” Ed only looked through Oswald, not making eye contact. “Damn, they really did a number on you..poor bastard.”

    Over the next few days Ed payed close attention to Oswald though nobody was aware that Ed could pay close attention to anything anymore. He listened to Oswald rant about how it took a lot of care to properly make clothes for someone of his unique proportions otherwise there’s problems like the ones the hastily made striped jumpsuit he was in presented. Some of the seams had already started to give in places where it hugged his frame. He also complained about how the wide stripes made him look bigger, Ed didn’t think that but he’d gathered Oswald’s perception of his own appearance wasn’t the best. Ed wanted to tell the other man he was beautiful...but he couldn’t , that was a weird thing to think about a stranger and yet Ed thought it and thought it again. He always watched with great interest when the orderlies came to take Oswald for ‘therapy’. It took nearly five of them to do it, one of them almost always got bitten before they could force the muzzle on. Sedatives only seemed to make Oswald angrier, for someone of his short stature he could surprisingly hold his own in a fight. Ed missed Oswald when he was gone and was excited when he heard him being brought back down the hallway, he hadn’t felt excitement for the year and a half he’d been in Arkham besides when Chase Meridian came to see him...but that felt like decades ago. Ed was so intrigued by the shorter man’s habits, how he snored, how he twitched so much in his sleep, how he was a perfect mix of refined and crass. He was funny too, Ed forgot what funny felt like. Oswald must’ve felt comfortable around Ed cause he told him a lot. About his childhood, about himself, just a lot. Ed had started imagining they were best friends until it progressed to something more. When Oswald told stories of past romantic or sexual escapades Ed always imagined the person Oswald was speaking about was him, that’s when he realized he’d already started thinking of Oswald as a lover. The thought of Oswald being his made Ed feel and care and want, he never wanted that to stop.

     It was night now, Oswald couldn’t sleep. He lined his flippers up with the moonlight coming through the small window and made a shadow puppet of a bat on the wall. Ed made the effort to turn his head to the wall to look. “Oh, you like that, huh?” He chuckled as he made the bat flap it’s wings and started mimicking bat noises. “I see without seeing...to me darkness is as clear as daylight...” Ed recalled to himself so quietly it barely qualified as a whisper, his voice weak from disuse. Oswald didn’t hear him over his self entertainment. Ed smiled softly, that was it, he had to make Oswald his, he couldn’t stand not to. While still watching the other man he reached under his bed and felt for the screw that held the leg of the bed to the metal frame. He began turning it with his fingers, it was difficult as due him being catatonic for so long and Arkham’s failure to administer frequent physical therapy Ed’s strength had somewhat deteriorated. He felt the screw dig and cut into his fingers but he kept turning as he watched Oswald get bored of the shadow puppetry and turn over to try and sleep.

“Alright, up we go, Nygma.” One of the orderlies said as they pulled Ed to his feet. “Fuck, why is he bleeding?” The other one said in disgust as he noticed the blood dripping from Ed’s fingers.

“I don’t know, must be biting himself or something, who cares.”

Ed was slumped down in the chair as the doctor ‘evaluated’ him. Really it was just routine, he didn’t actually care how Ed was doing. “How do you like you’re new cell mate, Edward?” He asked rhetorically, knowing Ed wouldn’t answer. “I hope, for your sake, that you won’t miss him when he’s gone tonight.” The doctor said, looking through files on his desk “Since I know you can keep a secret and I’ve been just dying to tell someone about this little project, I’m going to let you in on something very exciting.” There was evil in the man’s smile as he continued “You see, our dear Mr. Cobblepot is not insane. Disturbed? Most definitely, however, not crazy so there’s no reason for him to be here.....but being a man of science I can’t just release him.” He got up to look through a file cabinet on the other side of the room “I mean, the man is a medical anomaly. The syndactyly alone would be enough but there is so much more....anyways, I’ve decided I must dissect him. I’m afraid that means you’ll be back to being alone by tomorrow morning, dear Edward.” It was easy for Ed to hide his distress but inside his mind was racing. They were going to dissect Oswald? Take him away? Take Ed’s Oswald away? No...they weren’t, Ed wouldn’t let them.

     Ed waited patiently that night for the orderlies to come busting in, Oswald’s snoring soothed him for now as he worked at the screw under his bed. It felt like it had started digging into his bone now, Ed didn’t care he kept turning. The door opened quietly, only one orderly came in. He was holding a syringe, Ed deduced that it had to be something lethal as they quickly stopped bothering with sedatives on Oswald in the first day. Ed finally got the screw out, seething as he watched the orderly walk over to Oswald. Filled with a determination only love could bring about, Ed ripped the leg from the bed frame and forced his tired body over to the syringe armed man. “MINE!” he yelled as he brought the metal stick down on the man’s head, the feral declaration of ownership startled Oswald awake but Ed didn’t stop, he brought the metal down on the man’s head over and over again, how dare he try to take his Oswald away. Spotting the syringe in the orderlies hand Oswald quickly worked out that Ed must be protecting him. Ed stopped once the orderly’s face was just a puddle of viscera “Mine..” he asserted quietly once more, his throat already hurting from yelling.

    Oswald stopped to catch his breath once he and Ed hadn’t heard the alarms from Arkham for a few miles. “Thanks,” Oswald said sincerely “I guess we can go our separate ways now-“ he was cut off by Ed suddenly hugging him and shaking his head in disapproval of that idea, almost in a panic. It took Oswald only a second to realize that Ed didn’t save him because he just needed someone to escape with, he saved him simply because he was in danger. “O-Oh,” Oswald was a bit flustered as the ginger man bear hugged him as if he meant everything to him “So it’s like that, is it?” he smirked, gently pushing Ed off. “Hmm, you’re cute,” he mumbled while studying the taller man’s face “I guess we can stick together for a while.” He grabbed Ed’s hand and they kept moving. Ed was grinning ear to ear as Oswald led him. ‘A while?’ He thought ‘I think you mean forever.’

#oswald cobblepot #edward nygma #the penguin #the riddler #riddlebird

[tessandscottforever18]

By mid-September, Camila Cabello was feeling burnt out. In the span of three days she had performed at the MTV Video Music Awards, attended the Met gala with boyfriend Shawn Mendes, and shot the first-ever global cover for Glamour. So when she finally returned home to Miami, rest wasn’t just desired—it was essential.

But rehearsals for New York’s Global Citizen Festival loomed. Before jumping back into pop star mode, Cabello put on a yellow bikini and headed to the beach for two hours of blissfully uninterrupted downtime. She sank into a chair and cracked open a book, her favorite pastime. The salty air enveloped her; waves crashed in the distance. This is why she lives in Miami, her hometown, as opposed to a showbiz hub like Los Angeles: more privacy.

Or so she thought. Somehow the paparazzi found out where she was for those 120 minutes. She didn’t see them at first, but there they were, snapping away.

“I didn’t consent to those pictures,” she tells me over Zoom, camera off as she drives in Miami. (At one point she says to someone on the road, “Why are you honking at me, bro?”) “I got my period on the beach. I’m in a bikini and on my period, so I don’t know if I have a fucking period stain and that’s going to be everywhere. I didn’t sign up for anybody to be taking pictures of me in a bikini.”

Cabello has developed methods for dealing with invasive situations like this. She’s had to. The 24-year-old—born in Cuba, raised in Miami—has been in the public eye since 2012, when she competed on The X-Factor. She auditioned as a solo artist but was later matched with four other girls to form the pop group Fifth Harmony. They released two albums before Cabello embarked on her own—and achieved mind-boggling fame. Her singles “Havana” and “Señorita” (with Mendes) topped the charts worldwide. She’s earned three Grammy nominations, become a face of L’Oréal, and tried her hand at not just acting but starring in a feature film: this year’s Cinderella remake on Amazon Prime. Her third studio album, Familia, is due out later this year.

By all accounts it’s a lot. Careerwise it’s the closest things have felt to prepandemic times, when she was working constantly, arguably to an exhausting degree. As COVID-19 shutdowns went into effect last March, Cabello was able to realize just how tired she was.

“I by no means am trying to complain,” she says, “but it was such a thing of, ‘I have to get onstage tomorrow and I’m performing at this big thing,’ or whatever. ‘I want to do a good job. How do I do that when I feel nervous?’ I did this without being like, ‘Am I even happy right now? Do I even feel healthy?’ I didn’t have the space to ask myself those questions. I’m still working a ton now, but after quarantine I’m able to be like, ‘You know what? Right now I’m just not happy. I need to change something.’”

Therapy helped her see the changes she needed to make. Cabello tells me she’d experimented with therapy before the pandemic, but it was always situation focused—quick fixes to help her tackle the next performance or songwriting session. But with time at home, she dug deeper: “Because I wasn’t stressed about all the things I needed to do the next day, I was able to slow down and have enough stability to look at my stuff.”

Cabello doesn’t expand on what that “stuff” is. She does, however, explain why she decided to switch therapists as her internal work continued. “I wasn’t feeling like I was progressing in the areas I wanted to progress,” she says. “But when I switched, I found I was able to apply what they said in a way that benefited my mental health.”

One lesson she’s learned is the power of saying no. Two hit albums under her belt give Cabello the freedom to do things her way. Now she always has one day off a week, minimum. And when time came to start work on Familia, she forwent the standard pop music factory for a more intimate approach. The new album was made with just a handful of collaborators she could be open with. If Cabello was feeling anxious or nervous in a session, she had the space to address it. As a result, she says, it’s her best work yet.

“It’s the most grounded and calm I’ve ever been making an album,” she says. “I worked with people I wanted to have dinner with, and I was like, ‘I’m not going to write every single day for months, but write a few days a week and have time to gather experiences and be a human being.’”

Shawn Mendes is one of the people she’s gathering experiences with. The two singers confirmed their relationship in September 2019, and they’ve been tabloid magnets ever since. Everything from their laughably slow pandemic walks to their kissing style is dissected with a fine-tooth comb. A clip of them getting ready for the Met gala went instantly viral.

Cabello tells me she and Mendes try to avoid the social media chatter about their relationship, but it inevitably seeps in. “When stuff that’s negative is out there, it’s going to get to you,” she says. “So yeah, that’s very, very challenging. I feel like it’s another thing therapy has been really helpful for.”

Mendes goes to therapy too. While Cabello says she and Mendes haven’t done couples therapy—though she’d be open to it—they very much work on their mental health together.

“For better, for worse, we’re very transparent with each other. I think that’s why we can trust each other so much, because it’s a very 3D human relationship,” she says. “I’ll be venting or ranting about something, and he’ll be like, ‘Have you talked to X about it?’ And I’ll be like, ‘No. I’ve got to do a session.’ And he’ll do the same thing to me. I think even just the language of being like, ‘Hey, I’m sorry that I’ve been distant with you or snappy with you. I’m just struggling and I’m feeling kind of anxious.’ That level of transparency really helps a lot.”

Mendes echoes Cabello’s thoughts. “Camila and I give each other an extreme amount of patience and understanding,” he tells me via email. “I think the truth is that when you’re struggling with mental health, it turns you sometimes into the version of yourself that you don’t like to be—and kind of loving and accepting your person through that, and being there for them through that, is life-changing. We give each other so much space and understanding and patience.”

A behind-the-scenes VMAs story perfectly illustrates this. When Cabello was nervous meeting new people at an after-party, she caught herself leaning on a habit she’s trying to break. Mendes helped her through it.

“I have this pattern of eating a lot when I’m anxious or uncomfortable,” she says. “It’s a comfort thing for me. I’ll just kind of become unconscious and zombie-eat a lot, and then I’ll feel sick. I’ve told Shawn about that. So at the VMAs party, I was like, ‘I’m doing it.’ And he was like, ‘It’s okay. You’re doing it. That’s okay. Let’s just take a breath and not do that.’ It’s really good for me to be able to talk about my patterns with someone.”

Food and body image are two things that have really been on Cabello’s mind this year. A July TikTok she posted shutting down body-shamers racked up 4.8 million likes. “Being at war with your body is so last season,” she says in the video, which she posted after photos of her running in Los Angeles made the rounds online.

That mantra is true, sure, but it’s easier said than done. Even Cabello has difficulty following it. She braced herself for what she might feel when those aforementioned bikini pics went live: “I need to work out. I need to eat better.” “Not that those things are bad,” she says. “But maybe I wouldn’t think about them as much if there weren’t people taking pictures of me.”

It’s not just the paparazzi who ignite moments of self-doubt. Cabello tells me about a time she was exercising with her trainer, Jenna Willis—who’s great, she says—and feeling insecure. “She’s the same height as me, and I was kind of comparing myself to her, because she is a lot skinnier than I am,” she recalls. “I was just like, ‘Yeah, but I’ve been working out and I look better, right? I look better, right?’”

It’s Willis who helped silence those voices in Cabello’s head, reminding her that how she feels is more important than appearances; that life is about balance and enjoying food. These are health philosophies we’ve all heard—but when you’re Camila Cabello and millions are picking apart your beach photos, it’s hard to tune out the noise. Now when she’s feeling down on herself, she just turns her phone off and goes outside.

“When I’m having negative thoughts about my body, that’s actually when I’ll want to binge-eat cookies, and then I have a stomachache,” she says. “It’s this weird psychology: The more I love my body, the more I actually want to take care of it…. As long as I’m healthy and working out and feel good, that’s the best I can do. There’s no point in trying to have another kind of body.”

By this point in our conversation, Cabello’s made it to her destination. When I ask if she’ll have time to chill and decompress, she says, “To be honest, not yet, but I will after this weekend.” There’s a calmness in her voice when she says this—a stillness, a readiness. She seems perfectly prepared for what lies ahead: album promo, performances, and undoubtedly more scrutiny about her body, her relationship, her everything. But she’ll be fine, because just around the corner is a day off. That’s nonnegotiable.

“It’s important to be on top of not just what’s making you sad or anxious, but also what’s giving you joy,” she says. “I want to be happy and enjoy my life. That’s kind of it.”

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