#although that's still a very fuzzy line because it could have been built a little while before he activated it

[kingdomoftyto]

Oh yeah ANOTHER thing?

It's now canon that Vlad (and by extension probably Danny too) can survive THE VACUUM OF SPACE with no food, water, or air for at least several months if not over a year??

Like yeah we saw him out by Saturn at the end of Phantom Planet but I think a lot of us figured he'd probably die out there (including the characters in the story apparently LOL brutal). But here we have confirmation that (half-)ghosts can pretty much keep going indefinitely on stubbornness alone. Like holy shit, dude. I don't know whether that's awesome or super dark.

#Danny Phantom #DP comic spoilers #I was going to point out Tucker's ''they don't teach this in Driver's Ed!'' line as evidence they're over 15 #and thus DEFINITELY FINALLY OFFICIALLY sophomores #but apparently in some states you can get a learners permit at age 14. buckwild #anyway I'd argue the only evidence we have for where this is on a timeline is the very beginning when #Danny narrates that the Portal was built ''a few years ago'' #although that's still a very fuzzy line because it could have been built a little while before he activated it #and we don't know exactly how long he had his powers before Mystery Meat anyway. maybe he got them before the school year even started #A N Y W A Y... all this to say we have no idea when this takes place except ''at least several months post-PP'' #and until proven otherwise I choose to go with my initial assumption from when I first read it and headcanon the trio as 16

[shychick-52]

My boi Jughead and how I discovered I was aspec (long post)

(Reposted from my defunct blog)

So, to start off, I'm cishet. But all my life, I've felt different. Even as a teenager I never had the desire to have a boyfriend, or so much as date anybody. I never even crushed on anybody. I've never kissed anyone in my life. And... yeah, I'm a- yeah, you get the idea. I've never been turned on by anyone or anything in my life.

Well into my adulthood, I stopped thinking I was a late bloomer and that something was seriously fucking wrong with me. I felt like a robot or an alien. I felt like a freak. I always hated myself for it, but at the same time, I could never force myself to fall in love or feel attraction or even try hooking up with anybody (as tempted as I've been, just to feel like a normal human being), let alone get married. I always knew, as abnormal as it was, I was happier single and free. I just never cared about it or wanted it, period. But I still hated myself, and felt like a total abnormal weirdo.

On the other hand, it's not that I fail to appreciate that somebody's good-looking. I can sometimes appreciate somebody's looks, but without having any desire to get to know them, let alone sleep with them. But it's not like I even always notice a person's looks; sometimes it stands out to me, sometimes not. And my eyes or thoughts never gravitate to their ass at all.

And here's the interesting thing, and this is important for later. I actually enjoy scenes in media (even fanfiction) where a couple is dating or snuggling or talking cute to one another- I'm a total sucker for fluff in fiction, I admit! It's sweet, it's adorable, it gives me all the feels! And even though it's never been a priority at all in my life, I admit that if I got to know somebody well enough- very well- maybe I could see myself dating them and experiencing those sweet, special, fuzzy moments too (which is why I identity as demiromantic).

...But for the most part, I draw the line at sex (including foreplay), whether in fiction or my own life. ESPECIALLY pure smut or anything hardcore.

I've always related very strongly to Jughead Jones from the Archie comics. Even as a kid, he was my favorite character. He never cared about romance or dating; in fact, it totally repelled him. He literally ran from girls! Hormone-driven the boy was not, unlike his friends! And... unlike me, he totally didn't question it. He was comfortable in his 'weirdness', he embraced it, he totally accepted himself. I always envied how he was so cool with being so out-of-place in society and not caring what others thought of him. Like me, ol' Juggy was much happier enjoying food or a good nap. I used to wonder if Jughead was gay, except he never wanted to be involved with anybody.

Then in 2015, Archie Comics rebooted their flagship title. And Jughead- who'd been around since the 40s like the rest of the Archie gang, LONG before being ace or aro was even a thing- was officially established as ace in the rebooted comic (but nothing was mentioned about him being aro too/aroace, oddly enough, but it was still strongly implied he is).

That was the very first time I'd heard of the term 'asexual.' I was intrigued, as well as curious. So, I looked it up... and suddenly, EVERYTHING. MADE. SENSE. About Jughead, and more importantly, myself. Around the same time, I also discovered the term 'aromantic', which equally applies to Jughead. Jughead is, and always has been... aroace.

On the aspectrum, I'm demiromantic and sex-repulsed. I'm more tolerant with sex scenes in media- and maybe the idea of sex for me personally- if it's deep and meaningful in a long-time relationship already built on love, trust, and respect. And tbh, I think I'm a little demisexual too (although mostly ace) because of those strong values of mine. I don't ever want to have sex with anybody, but if I did, I would only want it to be with somebody I've established a real bond with and have known/trusted for a long time.

To this day, even after learning that I'm aspec and that I'm NOT alone, I still struggle with accepting myself. It's not nearly as bad as it used to be. But it's still something I go through.

Oh. And here's a perfect example of how they could've totally brought in more ace/aroace representation in Hollywood, but fucked up... on the worst level imaginable. CW's Riverdale, which came out in 2017. You'd think they would've stuck to the decades-long source material with Jughead, right? Especially after he'd been officially established as aroace in recent years, right? WRONG. They put him in a relationship with Betty. And a few other women on the show, but mostly Betty.

FRIGGING WHAT? JUGHEAD'S ALWAYS BEEN A LONE WOLF, HE DOESN'T DO RELATIONSHIPS- THAT'S HIS BIGGEST TRAIT (aside from eating). To break decades worth of canon is just inexcusable, but especially after they FINALLY establish him as aroace and give some much needed representation... I can't fucking even. Just. WHAT. And Archie Comics was actually behind the show, so they REALLY have no excuse. Even Cole Sprouse, Jughead's actor, was pissed.

#aspec #asexual #aromantic #demiromantic #demisexual #aroace #jughead jones

[eiseryn]

Feeling not that great lately so I took a bit of time to fill in this ship meme made by @/gibbarts for Vail x Lei! I have their ship name as Vailei (which is just me smushing their names together) but my friend has brought up Leil which is tempting just because it's fun to say... I think we'll stick with Vailei for now XD

I used some headcanons for this because NGL Vail doesn't have enough screentime in the canon campaign so I had to just fill in some blanks XD This is why he is also my OC now cuz I've made so many headcanons to fill in the blanks that he's prob a diff OC than the KP imagined XD

I realize their faces are kinda babey in this. That is because I did this in like 1 hr so it's very messy sorry. I still had a lot of fun filling this out and thinking about them <3 my OTP 🥺🥺🥺

OC lore under the cut (as per usual of course)

More explanations about how I picked this even though you didn't ask 😎

Big spoon Vail / Little spoon Lei. They could def swap though but this is their usual formation if they're spooning. Little spooning is def by Lei's request but she'll big spoon him if she wants him to feel extra comfy!

Lends clothes (Vail)/ Borrows clothes (Lei) - This is self explanatory. I already drew Lei in Vail's hoodie. She really likes to "borrow" his clothes, as in, she'll wear them until they don't smell like him anymore and then return them to him XD. I do have this funny quote thing so I headcanon he steals her fuzzy socks. I'll draw that one day :3 But I also think it would be hard for him to borrow her clothes even if they're similar heights because he has a SIZ of 65 (muscle mass) and she has a SIZ of 50 which means she's probably built like a stick XD

Pet names - Vail seems like the type of person who calls people by their name/ what they want to be called. So he would prob call Lei "Lei" which is something she even requests at the end of the campaign! (Before he called her "Doc"). Lei is definitely into pet names though! In the cyberpunk universe she probably calls him "my love" 🥺

Introversion/Extroversion - this one was kinda hard NGL. Lei is def more introverted but she isn't suuuper "Ew people" cuz she is a doctor and forced to interact with people. Because Vail likes to talk/ramble, I put him as slightly more extroverted but he didn't have enough screentime so XD I couldn't confirm this theory. He didn't seem that open to talking with Liam in the campaign but it could have been due to lack of time who knows 😔 By comparison Vail is prob more extroverted than Lei at least.

Affection through words (LEi) / Affection through actions (Vail) - Lei is both LMAO cuz her love language is physical touch. But she also expresses affection through her words! This is especially true because if she doesn't like you she won't even bother talking to you. But if she likes you, she'll say sweet things to you/compliment you AND if she really really likes you she'll be physically affectionate! Vail is def an actions person XD I mean we're talking about the guy who bought her a cat for her birthday. I think sometimes she can feel a bit sadge if he doesn't verbally validate her/ have words of affirmation for her but they work with it 🥺

Confesses first (Lei) / Waits for confession (Vail) - THIS ONE IS CANON LMAOOO. Although the first time they hung out it was him who initiated, she has to make him ask her for dinner XD and then when she said it was date he was like ayo alright XD

Bugs - I feel like they're both capable of bug squashing so I put them around the same level... now I feel like if we want to dig into catboy vail his should be reallyyy far into it but I'm not changing it for now XD maybe in an updated one sometime down the line

Drives car (Vail) / can't drive (Lei) - this is also canon XD Vail drives around bikes so he has to be a decent driver, although I didn't see DRIVE in his invested skills according to the stats the dm gave me so like 🤔🤔 Lei has the base DRIVE of like 20? So I mean she can drive. But it's not great XD I would say she's just not very confident, esp in the slums where people speed a lot. She prob felt safer in the Middle district.

can't cook (Vail) / makes dinner (Lei) - Vail prob never had a chance to learn how to cook and he says "food in the slums generally sucks" XD But Lei is a good cook. I mean she cooks drugs so she has to be good at cooking food too (COPE). I just want her to be a good cook so therefore she is.

PDA - Lei likes PDA! She wants everyone to know who her man belongs to, but I think she'd be more like into handholding and clinging to him. The other stuff she prefers to do in private :3 Although she's def up to giving him cheek kisses here and there. Vail probably doesn't particularly mind, if it makes Lei happy :)

Overprotective / Chillgoing - THIS WAS HARD. Lei is def on the overprotective side, especially when it comes to her loved ones, she gets very desperate. But I mean I would imagine Vail would be protective if she were in danger. But overall he's supposed to be a chill dude so I imagine she's just chill. Like oh you're going to Prism HQ and killing some jerks? I'll come with <- maybe something like this LOL

Relationship experience - It is canon Vail has no relationship exp (like me frfr) but Lei's had 2 relationships in the past, so she has more exp than him.

(WARNING: NSFW IMPLIED) HORNY METER: I feel like they're quite similar in levels of horniness. I think mostly Lei has to initiate because Vail is shy uwu about those types of things. But once he's in the mood and the switch has been flipped... pray for Lei LOL. He will let her have control as much as she wants but if she wants him to dom... it's over for her XD a Runner and their stamina y'know... In my headcanons, he is secretly quite horny just never had the chance to express it. He is a young man after all 😔 But he has really good self control :) His willpower is 70. Lei was not supposed to be super thirsty but she is played by me so.... y'know... some stuff happened XD

AWKWARDNESS METER: Lei isn't super super awkward but there are definitely situations where she has no idea what to do, especially to circumstances that are new to her. For example, needing to learn how to do a runner's job XD that was hard for her. In highschool she was def much more awkward but she's grown out of her shell a little. In terms of this relationship, I imagine she gets awkward because she doesn't quite believe she's in a relationship with him XD (she'd be like "really? Are you sure you want me?" and he's like "yeah we had this convo last week") Vail is pretty chill so I think he's barely awkward. I imagine he's only awkward as he's new to this whole relationship business :)

JEALOUSY METER: Vail is not supposed to get jealous so hence why there's like nothing there for him. I would say he either 1) feels secure in his relationships + trusts Lei and 2) Would want the best for her so if she finds someone that makes her happier than him, he would easily let her go. Lei though... is much more insecure than he is. It's something that I would develop for her if she lives XD in the future, because she is slowly gaining confidence in herself! :) She is a capable woman, she simply needs to realize that. But yeah she's the type to get jealous, if she sees him with women who are prettier and younger than her. But she is lucky because he doesn't

#OC #my oc #lei #vail #ship meme #oc ship meme #know my ship in 5 min #oc ship #vailei #lei x vail #vail x lei #my art #(kinda ????) #get to know my ship #original character #oc lore #oc lore dump #i love my ocs

[dawnmon]

Foolish Tommy Lore Transcript

Title says it lol, on May 6th they did lore that I transcribed at the time; the whole stream is great but I only transcribed the lore bit just for funsies, regardless of if it already exists. If it does, welp; I promise this is my own typed out thing that took an hour or so lol

Copy pasted from a google doc; whole 2.2k word transcript beneath the cut: 

*Text*: Sound effects *Laughs* *Sighs* *Pickle sounds*

(Text): Actions, descriptions, or lulls (Pause) (Long Pause) (Looks away) (Loudly)

/Text: Overlapping lines

Pickle: Pickle.

https://youtu.be/Djy6uPtIKiE 

Starts at 2:52:50

Foolish: I am a rich man, Tommy. 

Tommy: Well, cool. I’m not.

Foolish: *Laughs* You’re wearing full Netherite armor. Well, besides the iron boots.

Tommy: Well I borrowed from Tubbo, so I could go and fight Dream.

(Pause)

Foolish: ...Oh, how’d that go? (Pause) ...Wait, you fought Dream?

Tommy: …*Frustrated sigh*

Tommy: (Heading to the Pickle) Do you hear that, do you hear that?!

Foolish: N-No no, no, nono, no no no, that is an important question!

Tommy: Do you hear that?!

Foolish: That is an important question!

Tommy: *Pickle sound effect* Ayyy! /Amen brother, amen! 

Foolish: /No no, bad, no, shut up Pickle!

Foolish: What do you mean, you fought Dream?

Tommy (Quietly): ...W-Well, y’know… you’ve seen Wilbur, haven’t you?

Foolish: No, no, actually. Well, actually, it’s been a while since I’ve seen Ghostbur…. Probably, like, a few weeks ago. Lovely guy, I like Ghostbur.

(Long pause, Tommy looks down at the floor)

Foolish: Do you need Pickle time? You seem upset.

Tommy: Nope. We just mine.

Foolish: Just mine? Okay! Okay..

Tommy: *Long sigh* … Ghostbur’s, um, Ghostbur’s not here anymore.

Foolish: Oh, did he pack up? Move out? Got bored? He seemed like a free spirit.

Tommy: Yeah, he moved out, um, to this little train station, far away. There’s a little train station, you know, right near the world border. There’s a little train station. 

Foolish: Oh, well that’s cool! I wanna see that sometime. (Pause) ...I was thinking about building a train myself, actually, I was gonna call it The Hype Train. 

Tommy: ...That’s really cringe.

Foolish: Well, I-I disagree, That depends on your definition of cringe. 

Tommy: You hit it, the nail on the head.

Foolish: No, I disagree, I-

Tommy: There’s a little, um, there’s a little train station, out near the world border, and Ghostbur went, but he left Friend. 

Foolish: He left Friend?

Tommy: But we’ll get Friend to him soon. 

Foolish: Oh.

Tommy: Because then he’ll be happy. ...But no, um, Ghostbur left, and I, I went to prison, to go and….

Tommy: (Pause) How much can you… take, Foolish? 

Foolish: Take? What do you mean?

Tommy: Blood. Blood. Does that upset you?

Foolish: Uuum, mm, see, okay, okay, I-I don’t really, do that anymore. I haven’t killed a soul since being here. I don’t really do killing.

Tommy: (Slightly shaky) Ouh...well, um. I went to go and kill Dream, Foolish, you see, you know he killed me, don’t you? /And uh-

Foolish: /Yeah, I’m aware that- Wait, speaking of which, h- I never really asked you, you know, I knew it was kind of a touchy subject… How exactly are you back?

(Long silence. They stare at each other.)

Foolish: Okay, okay, maybe wrong question, wrong question…. Y’know, one step at a time…

Tommy: Alright, I don’t really feel comfortable talking about that with you, Foolish, /if I’m honest.

Foolish: /Okay, okay, no, fair enough,

Tommy: But, um…. *coughs* No.

Foolish: So, you fought Dream?

Tommy: Yeah.

Foolish: Recently? 

Tommy: Well, I tried to, and then Wilbur, uh, was revived, he was revived, and he came back, uuuh, and now he’s… I don’t know where he’s gone, (Energetically) but all I know is I’m proving that bitch wrong, ay?!

Foolish: Wait, what do you mean-

Tommy: Because he told me, he told me I’m weak! He told me I couldn’t even lift… lift my whole weight, six-foot-three, and now, I’m, what I’m doing is I’m going and I’m picking up all this stone to prove him, I’m gonna get it and I’m gonna fucken go “Yeah, bitch!”

Foolish: You’re… gathering stone… wait okay, I have so many questions, but we'll just stick to one question at a time…. You’re gathering stone… to prove that, you’re a…a man? 

Tommy: Well, I already know I’m a man, just to, fucken prove him wrong. And I need to, uh-

Foolish: That you can… gather stone? 

Tommy: (Pause, quieter) Well, y-yeah. Fuckin’, I don’t know how to speak to you, man. 

Foolish: I don’t really see how this solves the problem…?

Tommy: Well, it doesn’t solve the problem, it’s preventing the problem, Foolish, alright? Have you noticed that all the problems come, the-they don’t get solved, do they, alright? It ends up with some madman screaming he’s solved it, alright, and now he’s- and then look at ‘im, alright, now he’s taken away everyone's favorite man. Ghostbur, alright? Problems don’t really get solved on this server.

Foolish: No, no, yeah, I-I suppose you’re right….

Tommy: Yeah. /Well, that’s what I’m doing- 

Foolish: /Well, how do we go about changing that? By gathering stone?

Tommy: No! Well, what I’m doing, my friend, is preventing the problem. Before it gets out of hand, like it did before, alright? *Sigh*

Foolish: So… Wilbur’s back… Uumm, okay, yep, I’ll just- I’ll- I’m not even gonna ask how he’s back, that’s-that’s a question for another day-- and you’re here, just, you’re trying to stop him? You don’t- You don’t like that he’s back? I- Weren’t you guys friends at some point? 

Tommy: Listen. Listen, alright. /Come over here Foolish,

Foolish: /I’m still a little fuzzy on everything,

Tommy: Let me-Let me show you something, alright? You-You’re still very new ‘round here, /I’m not really sure... what you are, but, come over here, alright? 

Foolish: /Yeah yeah yeah.

Tommy: (Leads him to L’manberg) You see this? L’manberg. 

Foolish: Oh yeah, I’ve heard this before.

Tommy: This was mine and Wilbur’s na- It was Wilbur’s nation, (shakily) it was Wilbur’s, which makes it all the more heart-wrenching, alright? And he decided, that even, *sigh* and he doesn’t mean this, but even though at the time--when we made this?--it was to get away from Dream, because Dream, wouldn’t let us do what we wanted to. He told us that we had to live under his big, iron fist, but we went “No, Dream, that’s not fair, is it?” alright, you don’t think that’s fair, do you Foolish? 

Foolish: No, no, /so you were a couple revolutionaries...revolutionists, basically.

Tommy: /We can’t- People want to do what they want. So we made this nation, yeah, we made a nation, and it was glorious, and it was amazing! People challenged it, sure, but we got through it! 

Tommy: *Heavy sigh* And then to try and con--you really don’t know the story?-- /and then to try and consolidate our power... we held an election. 

Foolish: /I mean...yeah.

Tommy: Now… *Sigh*

Foolish: Oh man, you’re saying there used to government here? Oof.

Tommy: Now, the problem with an election is it kinda puts all your life on the line, which can be good, if you’re confident, but perhaps we were a little overconfident… and because of that, Foolish, well, we, um…. We lost! To the hands of JSchlatt, right here, actually, right about here is where we lost. 

Foolish: Oh. 

Tommy: And Schlatt banished us. Now, we were okay, when- I was okay, when we were banished, and I knew that we’d get it back, that we’d talk about it, right, as you said, peace is the option.

Foolish: Mhm.

Tommy: ...But here’s the thing, Foolish. Wilbur didn’t want to do anymore talking, he’d given up with that, because some people aren’t strong enough, alright, some people stop talking. 

Tommy: ...You know the phrase “treat others how you’d want to be treated”, Foolish? /That’s a really important phrase.

Foolish: /Yeah! Yeah (nods)

Tommy: And people hear it, you hear your teachers say it, you hear it when you’re young, people don’t ever listen to it, “treat others how you’d want to be treated”. Wilbur disregarded that rule. He decided that... he wanted to be treated poorly, so he’d treat everyone else poorly.

Foolish: Why do you think that? 

Tommy: *Sigh* Honestly, I…. Sometimes I don’t know, myself. (Pause). But this block here, (Gestures to TNT at Wilbur’s shrine), he used this and he blew up L’manberg and...shattered it into a million pieces. Now, Wilbur, he was a good man, he is a good man, deep inside him, alright? /But he’s been a-

Foolish: /So you’re saying there’s still redemption for him? 

Tommy: Well, he’s been a good man deep inside him, but he’s been a bad guy for a very, very long time. And I know that there’s still good in him, there’s still good in everyone, really, Foolish, even if they are all assholes, and wankers, and… but-

Foolish: Do you believe in second chances? 

Tommy: No, I don’t. I don’t really believe in second chances, I don’t- that’s not really a thing for me, Foolish, it’s just that… *sigh*...I believe everyone’s got a little bit of good in them. And I know that Wilbur had good in him, alright, so I won’t g-

Foolish: You said “had”?

Tommy:...Yeah, he did, because when we made this nation- although now he seems to claim- he claimed to me, Foolish, that the nation (slams fists on irl desk) we built together! *Shaky inhale* ...He claimed that it was all just a ruse for power. Now, I think that Wilbur’s just being a bad guy, alright, and that’s okay, we’re all bad guys, everyone messes up, it’s- you learn the most from your mistakes. He’s made so many mistakes, so many that have hurt so many people, but, what this is gonna be about isn’t giving him a second chance, isn't giving him a third chance, it’s not about chances, Foolish! It’s about making sure you don’t give up on the people you care about. So I know you’re still really new to this server, and I know you’ve built lots of things, 

Foolish: (Nods) Yeah, yeah,

Tommy: So I know if you really care about someone, do not give up on them, Foolish, don’t give up on people, alright? /Because that’s how you lose.

Foolish: /You know, Tommy, I think I had you wrong. I think I had you wrong.

(They leave L’manberg)

Tommy: Oh, I don’t know what that means. 

Foolish: Well I just, y’know, you’re a little more...mature than I thought you would be. I thought you were just a loud, obnoxious, y’know what I mean, do-what-you-want, y’know, a couple muggings here and there, but no, maybe there’s more to you than meets the eye.

Tommy: Well, I still do that, obviously, because it’s funny. And it’s fun-

Foolish: Well, *Laughs nervously* Nah, I mean- I understand…. But maybe there’s more to you, Tommy, than I thought. 

Tommy: Thanks, I guess. (Begrudgingly) ..Maybe there’s more to you, too.

Foolish: Oh, there’s so much….

Tommy: Okay.

Foolish: Do you consider yourself to be the good guy or the bad guy? 

Tommy: ...That really depends who you ask, doesn’t it, you know? If you ask Dream, he’d say I’m- he’d say I’m his little- I’m his little play- (shakily) his little toy, that he plays with, y’know? It doesn’t… 

Tommy: *Inhale* Foolish, honestly, I used to consider myself the “good guy”, y’know, the fucken second in command, going around and going “yeah, let’s do this!” yeah, but recently… these past….

Tommy: …*Shaky breath* (Quietly) These past 6 months, or so, Foolish, everything got so much harder than it was before, but, because before it was just “us fighting the bad guys!” but it was also clear, y’know, it was all so clear,

Foolish: Yeah, nothing muddy,

Tommy: But it’s not been clear for so long, alright? It wasn’t “these are the bad guys, these are the good guys,” now it’s, “he’s doing this, and that makes him a bit worse, that makes him a bit-”, it all got so fucking complicated, so… I don’t know. It depends on who you ask, but… *sigh*

Foolish:  I dunno, it all seems strange, cause, just hearing from others, and y’know, learning a little bit, it seems like you’ve been… the hero, you’ve been, the villain, the conqueror, the savior, and even now I still have no idea what you exactly are. 

Tommy: Well, that’s up to you to decide, isn’t it? I’m just a… I dunno, these days Foolish, I’m a little weaker than I used to be. I’m not who I want to be, but… *long sigh*

Foolish: I’m gonna be honest with you, Tommy, that’s the same case for me as well. 

Tommy: Oh, really? 

Foolish: Yeah, yeah yeah yeah

Tommy: Here’s the thing, Foolish, unlike you, I don’t really have a choice. I have to try and be who I want to be, ‘cause if I don’t… very bad things are going to happen on this server. And now Wilbur’s back, Foolish, I can’t… quite frankly, no one can risk that. So I don’t really have a choice. I’ll just keep on mining, I’ll and keep on pogchamping. 

Foolish: You’re just gonna pog through the pain? 

Tommy: I try to, and then Twitch deleted the Pog emote.

(They talk about Pogchamp and Lore Man for the rest of the stream [a very funny bit])

Ends at 3:03:23

#Dream SMP #Dream SMP Transcript #Transcript #foolish gamers #Tommyinnit #Ask to tag

[thewritewolf]

After the End Chapter 11: Take A Break

Chat Noir pays a visit to someone near and dear to him.

First | Previous | Next | Last

@marichatmay

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Chat Noir - or, more accurately at the moment, Astro Chat - flew between the low Jura Mountains. They weren’t nearly as high as the Swiss Alps, but they did let him know that he’d finally crossed the border into Switzerland. It wouldn’t be much longer before he reached the facility.

Not for the first time, he was grateful for Ladybug’s insistence not only on rediscovering how to make the transformation potions on her own, but making so much of the stuff that even after blasting through their resources in the final battle he still had enough of the space cheese for things like this. It was definitely useful - after all, Adrien could hardly be seen on a Parisian train bound for Switzerland when he was supposed to be somewhere in Italy. Although the English tabloids insisted that he was in their country, forgetting that Adrien had an identical cousin.

As for Chat Noir - well, Astro Chat’s suit blended in perfectly well with the cloudless starry night, especially after some alterations to remove some lime green highlights. There was probably only one, maybe two people in all of Paris who might notice that he was gone tonight.

Instead of reassuring him, however, that fact only caused him to frown.

“Claws in.”

Plagg’s bright green eyes appeared in the dark. “You gonna be okay, big guy?”

“Yeah… she’s been getting better, after all. She even recognizes me! Well, most days at least.” Adrien gave Plagg a smile. “And its good to see her again after thinking she was gone for so long.”

“Like seeing a ghost,” Plagg commented. “You sure you want to do this?”

“I have to, Plagg.” Adrien opened his jacket and his kwami flew into his inner pocket. “She’s my mom. I can’t just pretend she isn’t around somewhere.”

He walked onto the main path that lead into the facility, a long term hospital of sorts. Finding it had been a godsend for Adrien - a place that specializes in people waking up from years-long comas? One specifically dedicated to restoring mental and physical wellbeing? It was almost too good to be true. With all the progress she had made so far, it had been worth every euro sending her here. And really, what else was he going to spend a dirty fortune on anyway?

Eventually he made it through the checkpoints and entered through the front door. One of the nurses at the front smiled warmly at him when she noticed him. He placed his hands on the elevated desk.

“Hello, Adrien.” She began checking something on her computer. “Late night visit again?”

“You know how it is,” Adrien said with a sigh. “If any tabloids caught me here, they’d probably start going after my mother.”

“Which is exactly why we have guards.”

“True, but I’d rather not cause you guys any trouble if I can avoid it. You already do such a good job - I don’t want to make it harder.”

“That’s very sweet of you.” The nurse finished whatever it was she was doing on her desktop. “It looks like you’re in luck. Emilie is in therapy right now. Do you need me to take you to her?”

“No, that’s fine.” He gently tapped the desk. “I know the way by now.”

Adrien followed the twisting corridors mechanically, his thoughts back in Paris, split between recent discoveries and the battle that had changed everything for him. What had his father done that had caused him to be immune to the miracle cure? Was it the same thing that turned him into a giant monster? And who had helped him do it? Because now he was almost certain that he’d gotten help - likely from these “Gentlemen” mentioned in his records. But they didn’t appear often. He was working with little more than the whispers of a dead man.

It would have to be enough. He didn’t have any other choice.

Those depressing thoughts took a backseat when he entered the little therapy room where his mother was seated in front of a woman in a lab coat. The doctor glanced at him and gave him a nod before turning back toward his mother.

“Alright, Emilie, we’ll stop there for now. It looks like you’ve got a visitor.”

“Adrien?” She turned toward him and gave him a radiant smile as she held open her arms. He eagerly hugged her, crouching down so she could reach around his back while she sat in her wheelchair. “It's so good to see you sweetheart.”

“Same to you, mom. How’re you doing?” His eyes darted between her and her doctor.

“Every day she can walk a little further, Adrien.” Doctor Lara had learned early on not to call him Mr Agreste. “She’s making phenomenal progress given how long she was in her coma, but it will still be some time before she can walk without support. Mentally… well, she is improving but prognostications are harder given the non-mundane origin of her affliction.”

“Thank you.” He shook her hand as the doctor stood. “I really appreciate everything you’re doing, I know it can’t be easy.”

“Just doing our jobs.” She smiled and walked out of the room, leaving Adrien alone with his mother.

He took the seat the doctor had just left. “So… how are you doing?”

“My memories are still… fuzzy and there are holes in it. Like a bunch of moths built a nest in my closet and ate away at my gala dresses.” She winced. “Sorry, dear. Poor analogy.”

He forced a smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Now, my memory may not be what it used to be, but I believe the last time you were here, you were filling me in on your time in high school...?”

His mother always did have a talent for changing the subject, even before everything that happened. But, if she wanted something to talk about to get her mind off her recovery, then Adrien would happily oblige her.

Besides, it didn’t take her long to get tired again. Barely half an hour had passed and she was looking ready to fall asleep. She’d take naps throughout the day to counter it, but that just lead to her being up at all hours of the day. Eventually she’d need to fix her sleep schedule but for now it wasn’t as pressing an issue. Especially since he could visit her under the cover of night.

Eventually he managed to pull the topic into more dangerous ground - Gabriel and his side practices. Getting any leads had been a large part of the reason he’d made this trip now, second only to checking in on his mother.

“Mom?” Emilie turned from the window she had been staring out while listening intently to him and looked him in the eyes. “Have you ever heard of some people called… the Gentlemen?”

His mother frowned and he braced himself for the moment he was expecting - that she either didn’t know anything or that she had forgotten what she had known. This was a shot in the dark for him, a desperate grab for any possible leads. Who else besides Gabriel’s wife would know the intimate details of his business?

Well, besides Nathalie. But she… wasn’t around any more for questioning.

He was pulled out of those morbid thoughts when his mother responded.

“That definitely sounds familiar.” His eyes widened, which went unnoticed by Emilie as she tapped her chin and looked off into the distance. “I seem to remember something about the Boutonnière Noir?”

“What was that? Some kind of group or…?”

“It was a place, but…” She began to glare, annoyed. “I can’t remember where it was! Or even what it was, to be perfectly honest. But it definitely had something to do with them. Maybe it had something to do with an academic too? Someone in your father’s line of work, I think.”

She put her fingers to her temples, rubbing them gingerly. He put a hand on her arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks, mom. That’s already way more than I had - I’m sure it’ll help.”

“I’m glad, dear.” She gave her a weak smile. “And as much as I would love to keep talking, this has really taken it out of me.”

“Of course.” He stood up after giving her another hug. “I’ll let the nurses know you’re ready to go back to your room.”

“Thank you, sweetie. Come back soon!”

Adrien looked back at her from the doorway and offered a smile. “I’ll do my best!”

#Miraculous Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Emilie Agreste #Plagg #ml fanfiction #MarichatMay2021 #my writing #After the End

[starbuck09256]

Snowy Lane of memories

MSR

Post revivial although super AU

Emily is alive and so is Maggie. Mulder and Scully have three other children as well. When Mulder and Scully are called away on a conference and leave their tribe behind how do they cope?

Tagging @today-in-fic

Day one Fictober

It’s been one week without their parents. While they originally thought it would be fun the Mulder kids really miss their parents. 

Emily the oldest at 9 sits with her three younger siblings on the steps of the farm house. They are bundled up as snow swirls around the porch steps. It’s late february as the chill has moved in. Their grandmother is inside watching from the window as she stirs the crockpot of homemade soup. It’s been a long 7 days, and while she originally was thrilled to have such uninterrupted time with the three best kids she knows, there have been lots of tears. She bites her lip. Hating to admit her daughter was right, there was a reason why they didn’t often leave the kids. After everything that has happened to their family the level of codependency is somewhat suffocating. She always knew Dana would be a wonderful mother, and god is she, and fox is such an involved and exceptional father. They dote on these kids and it's not hard to understand why. Emily’s health issues, Jacksons and Williams unique sensing. The littlest one is such a combination of her parents. Maggie sighs watches the siblings sit on the porch nervously waiting for their parents to drive up the long windy drive. 

Emily pulls the hat a little lower for her sister. Who happily looks up and smiles. Emily smiles too but turns to stare down the snowy drive. 

Her brother William fearful “What if something happens to them on the drive from the airport?” he mutters, using his boot to kick a little snow off the step. 

Emily looks over at him sadly. How horrible would it be that after everything that has happened to them their parents would be lost for something as stupid as ice and lack of snow tires. 

“Dad grew up on the vineyard and he knows how to drive in snow.” she says calmly. 

Always trying to channel her rational mother. Keep calm, think things through, don’t let your emotions dictate your actions or words. William still unsatisfied looks at his sister. Always the skeptic. Jackson nudges him with his shoulder. “

What have you missed the most this week Em?” 

She smiles and loves that Williams twin Jackson is more focused on now.

“I miss dad’s ufo pancakes.” she smiles. 

Thinking of how her dad would spread the fruit on top to look like it was flying. William nods. Em looks over at her younger brothers at 6 they are still annoying but at least now they can talk and play nerf guns with her. 

“What about you Will?” William has been ringing the life out of his mittens and chewing on his lip nervously. 

“I miss all the hugs.” he gives her a shy smile. 

Her heart breaks a little. William might have been coddled a bit as a baby, and Grandma is pretty good about hugs but nothing matches a kid sandwich, in which both parents hug them and each other with their kids in the middle. Abruptly Jackson stands up marching down the stairs stomping his feet. 

“What is taking them so long Em?? They were supposed to be here 20 minutes ago!” she watches as his anger flares and he kicks at the snow stomping out his frustration, snow starts to lift on its own and swirl around him. 

“Jackson, jackson” she states as she sees rage building up in him. 

“Hey count to 10 like mom does when you are upset.” 

He groans in anger but as Emily starts to count with him his anger comes down, the snow stops flying all around him landing in a small heap beside his boots. 

“What about you little one?” Emily asks her little sister who is just shy of 2. 

Her sister all grins pulls the hat down on her head and closes her eyes and pretends to snore super loud. 

They all giggle, their dad’s snoring a legendary sound that they have all heard when they had a bad dream or couldn’t get back to sleep. 

Emily looks at her siblings at the way their intense eyes match each others, some blue, some hazel with flecks of gold. “I miss moms fuzzy robe and her perfume.”

Jackson nods. “I miss watching them dance to Elvis and Cher.” he grins.

Emily rolls her eyes. Only because mom lets you stand on her feet so you can dance too. 

William chimes in. “right? Like dad doesn’t do that with you too Em.”

He’s got her there. 

William’s voice continues. “I miss where we all lay on top of dad and watch star trek. Voyager is finally getting really good.”

Jackson nods. “I like that we all can’t stand Neelix.”

Emily laughs. “He is the worst and so boring.”

“Right?”

The smallest Mulder nods in agreement and starts to eat at her mitten. 

Emily looks at her brother and moves closer; they all snuggle together and stare at the trees toward the giant metal gate at the end of the road. She looks to the side at the swing set and playhouse. The crumbling snow alien they built last week, and the tulips that have just popped out of the snow. She knows this trip was necessary, that being apart is sometimes good. But as she rubs her brother's arm and feels a small squeeze from the other brother she can’t help thinking that 7 days is far too long. Yes they have talked on the phone and video chatted. But it isn’t the same as you mom rubbing your back as she changes her voice to match the characters in a book. It’s not the same to have her help with your science homework when she isn’t next to you to smile in encouragement. She looks over towards the basketball hoop, how her dad will lift both her brothers up to do layups. She told them both she would be fine, she is a big girl almost double digits. She can make sure that will and jackson clean their rooms. She can make sure her sister brushes 4 tiny teeth. Then finally it happens they can see some headlights in the distance and they start to run. Even the newest little Mulder is going as fast as her little snowsuit will allow. It doesn’t matter that William lost his boot or that Emily's hat falls off half way there. 

Finally they are there back in the arms of their parents. She looks up at her mom who has tears streaming down her face to her dad who is kissing every inch of his son's face as he squeezes the life out of the other. It doesn’t matter that they have fallen into a heap of tangled limbs wrapped around one another sitting on the cold snow. 

She hears her grandmother in the distance. Feels her dad helping her up on her feet, rubbing his hand over her hair. She sees her mother lifting her sister into her arms as she holds onto Jackson's hand. Her dad’s voice cuts through the wind and snow. “So I take it you missed us?” he says with a sad chuckle and Emily can’t help but turn back to him as they walk to the house. She sees the fine lines in his face, the deep crevices in his face he hasn’t slept in a week it looks like. She gives him a big smile. Williams' voice comes up. 

“Looks like you may have missed us more since you came home early.” 

He is trying to be tough now, play it cool. Jackson doesn’t even bother trying as he hugs their moms leg. Emily watches as his dad leans over and gives his mom a loving kiss, she realized she missed that too. The blatant affection they have between one another. Her mom smiles. 

“Yes your dad wanted to come home after 1 day but I told him you guys were fine and could sweat it out.” 

Emily meets her mother's eyes and sees the pain and truth in her reflection. Her mom wanted to come home too, how these two made it 7 days is beyond her. As they walk to the house her dad spins her sister in the air with whooshing sounds. Her mother comes up pulls her close and whispers“we tried to get a flight 2 days ago but everything was cancelled for the storm, we even tried to get a car to drive it instead but the highway was down from a tree. Was everything ok? God we missed you all so very very much.” 

Her mother's arms are tightly wrapped around her. She feels it then, the warmth, the smell of her perfume, the sound of her voice resonating in her ears. She missed her mom so much. She sees her grandmother on the steps with a dish towel in her hand. Emily nods towards her, grandparents are great but nothing beats having your whole family together again.

#fictober20 #todayinfic #msr #fluff #myfic #au #all together #snowy lane of memories #mulder and scully #xfiles #post season 9 #family fic

[rigelmejo]

I don’t know if this extensive reading has helped but I FEEL like it has helped lol. When I started 小王子 how long was it taking a chapter? Just under 5 minutes per page right?

Well I know I got faster than that. Today my Internet was down so while waiting for things to restart and load and stuff I read like 5 chapters of the book. I read them out loud (just a handful of words I didn’t know how to say out loud). I was reading at slow but steady speaking speed so that’s still faster than 5 minutes a page. Ok I just timed myself to test it and I am taking 2 minutes to read a page, and I would guess 3 minutes if I slowed down to consider a bit more on the sayings/less familiar hanzi. That’s better then the 4.5-5 minutes I started at! So I must’ve picked up some words from this book. So I would say... yes a little extensive reading seems to be helping reading speed. Also! I have 16 pages to go! This story is so short. It is sweet and odd and so human though maybe that is why it’s remained loved like Alice in wonderland. (Fun fact I also read 2 chapters of Alice in wonderland in French this week and it is just as bizarre to me as when I watched the movie as a kid, But I do think in book form if I were 6-9 I would’ve related more since Alice’s POV in the story is pretty relatable... and when I was a kid and watched the movie I just did Not relate aha).

Anyway from 4.5 minutes to 2-3 is great!

What I did with graded readers/extensive reading this month, that I am hoping is why this helped:

Read graded reader (butterfly lovers, Pleco, 500 unique characters) - not hard but very satisfying to finish it and read it quickly when it used to take me 40 minutes to read a few Pleco pages of it). So that was a few thousand words comprehensible extensive reading.

Read another graded reader, chinese short stories. While I think it’s good as a study companion, a lot of very specific words which I tripped on (antique coins, being scammed). Which was fine I just think it was not the funnest reading material? It was mostly graded reader though I had to look up a couple handfuls of words.

Read a little of my 500 character Sinolingua reader (2 stories). Also read through the back of it which has all the words in the book, and the HSK 3 words included in the book - I knew all those words but it was a nice refresher. Mostly it was just nice to see how much easier these stories were to read compared to when I first got the book. (I would recommend these books as readers if you want something for adults and in short segments, the short stories are simplified prose from established authors, and the quality of storytelling can therefore be felt a bit. They feel more meaningful as short stories and therefore enjoyable if a bit basic (since they’ve been simplified). You can tell though compared to the Chinese Short Stories book above, which was probably written by a teacher/language textbook maker and not necessarily a literary writer.

Read mandarin companion journey to the center of the earth. 450 unique characters. Another easy read that felt really nice, compared to when I first read a mandarin companion book.

Started reading 小王子 on paper, so extensive reading with little word look up (I’ve looked up less than 10 words so far when reading on paper - notable words I looked up because it frustrated me I didn’t know them: 悲伤，惊奇，惊讶，匆匆，逐渐，观察，测试 a lot of these because I know I’ve seen these Hanzi before I just never remember specifically like 惊讶 惊奇 what the difference is or guan pronunciation 观察 or 测 I tend to forget when it’s not in 测试). I started reading it because it’s supposed to have around 2000 unique words (so not too many), and be pretty easy reading level (so a bit easier than 活着 which is the novel Chinese learners often get recommended). Basically, this was the extensive reading book choice step up from graded readers - it’s got a bit over 1000 unique hanzi, not an overwhelming amount of unique words, but it is not a graded reader so if it goes well I could jump to other stuff of similar or slightly less “ease” while still having it feel this “easy” to read (and hopefully take days to read instead of months).

Started reading 笑猫日记之会唱歌的猫 in Pleco, so clicking words I didn’t know (though this one only had a word or two a page unknown). I saw it recommended on a Chinese learners form as easy reading material after graded readers, and I agree! It’s very easy to read! I could understand it without clicking words but it is nice to understand fully since it’s convenient, and look up the pronunciation etc. I read 8 chapters so far. I also listened to a few chapters after reading, but idk if it helped at all.

15 ish chapters into 小王子 I found it online and reread 4 chapters with a click dictionary for unknown words. It was nice just clarifying the word pronunciations and fuzzy bits, also the online translation was different so seeing the difference on how they decided to word it (mostly just seeing synonyms used instead or different sayings for certain parts). I listened to a couple chapters audio afterwards, idk if it helped.

Unrelated, but I did listen read to 5 chapters of 默读 mainly following the Chinese text so, idk if that would’ve helped my overall reading at all (I want to say no but I did notice in general much more general gist comprehension of lines in MoDu then last time I read a couple months ago - although listening to the audio and being able to glance at the English for unknown words of course also makes things much more comprehensible that’s why listen reading method is the structure it is ahh).

Listened to some audio for 小王子 during work because I happened to find it, for chapters 1-4. Just playing in the background. I looked at the text while listening to one to match pronunciation to some words, since the chapter was like 5 minutes long in listening. Again interesting to see their word choice since It was yet another translation (I think I like my print books translation best).

Back to reading print 小王子 today and I think the audio beforehand did help me with being able to pronounce more of what I’m reading. Read like 4 chapters in one short break, another 3 chapters just now. While I don’t know how well the reading speed will translate to reading harder stuff like guardian (which was oddly also taking me 5 minutes a page? Why is that my default speed?), my reading speed doing extensive reading on “stuff mostly easy” to me has increased noticeably. (Fun fact when I read English technical text like psychology and physics books and educational etc I think my reading speed is it’s like 10-20 pages an hour... I do not read non fiction very fast).

So anyway, my goal with extensive reading easy material this month was to see if I could push UP what my starting base level “easy” material is.

What I used to do is practice with an “easier text” (which was still pretty hard for me tbh) and then once it got bearable (took 30-40 minutes to read instead of an hour), I’d switch to a harder material that took me 1-1.5 hours to read. Then when I’d burn out, I’d go back to that “easier” text until it got easier at 20-30 minutes to read. Then I might pick a harder base reading text (usually what used to be the hard one that would now take 30-40 minutes to read), and find something even harder. Lately that has been 寒舍 as my “easier” text, taking 20-30 minutes a full chapter (2 mini chapters), and 天涯客 as my harder text at 30-40ish minutes a chapter. And yes, at this point I could pick something harder but they’re both hard enough I was just sticking to them. You might notice none of these were actually easy for me though, my actual base easy materials were still graded readers, and manhua. So I want to push that upward until there’s some “easier” material below 寒舍 that I can be built up to and read easily Without a dictionary aid. So I can have a solid base that’s reliable. Hanshe is an “easier” practice material but it’s not necessarily something I can read extensively with ease. But if I keep pushing up the difficulty of what I can extensively read, bit by bit, I will eventually Get it to hanshe (or a little below it realistically but still firmly in regular-webnovel-exist at the reading level). I will not get faster at reading these hard things unless my base level of reading is both higher and already a reasonable speed. (I’m guessing anyway??).

Well happy to say this plan is working. I guess the advice articles I read were right somewhat. I knew graded readers could drag you from 0 beginner to some reading ability, since It’s what I originally did with Chinese (and even French sort of). But I was very quick about it because I’m impatient and easily bored by too-easy things apparently lol. I read 1 mandarin companion graded reader (the 300 word Sherlock Holmes one), a couple chapters of 2 other graded readers, then started on a random webnovel (the bl 他们的故事 which somehow thankfully is on the easier end for novels) and looked a lot of words up to get through. But I did not think to try to “match my reading level and increase gradually” in regular novels, even tho if it works for graded readers it probably works for regular stuff!

And in school in our native languages, that’s why our elementary schools had libraries, and we read books for our age group and the chapter books we read were much easier than what we read as teens or what adults read! I remember bunnicula and cat wings those were not hard but they were chapter stories. Then I remember Dracula and hg wells and mark Twain in high school and how they felt a bit Hard despite me being one of those kids rated at college reading level in 3rd grade. Now as a kid? I had the same tendencies I do now, so I’m not surprised I always jump in the deep end and Try to read hard stuff (and it must help since it’s part of why I got good at reading my native language, and definitely has helped my chinese and french). I would be like 7 and pick up a mitchner novel of My dad’s (is that the author of stuff like Alaska etc?) and I’d read a couple pages and feel drained trying to follow it and give up. Or the huge The Witching Hour by Anne Rice, or HG Wells History of the world, or the biography of benjamin Franklin, I never finished any of these or had any idea what they were about I just got curious and opened up a couple pages every now and then. Yet somehow that must’ve been part of why my reading level so early on was considered “good”? I’m guessing.

But I wasn’t actually good at reading in the sense of doing it often or fast until my dad started reading to me at like age 8-9 I think it was Harry Potter which at the time worked out since the books got harder each time, and also my dad reads out loud slow just like he tutors slow lol so eventually I read myself so he’d stop boring me (I love him and loved the bonding time I’m sure but truly i just apparently always liked jumping in the deep end). Eventually his strategy Im guessing to get me to read slightly harder stuff each time worked, because by books 4-5 I read each in 2 days. He was so impressed because before that I couldn’t read long books and not fast, and that’s when he thought I got good at reading. Looking back lol it’s actually so funny? How much work he had to do to get me to read and how what ended up working I still sort of do now. He started me on Hop on Pop as a kid as my first book cause One Fish Two Fish bored me and I thought jumping on a dad was funny, and he did that just to do something to get me to pick up a book lol. Then he got me that digital book toy they had back then where you had a real book but it was in a digital holder and if you clicked words with the pen it read them out loud. Literally how I learn Chinese now... he really got me digital equivalent to graded readers back then ToT. And just like as a kid I still pick up stuff way beyond my level and just read a couple pages at random. It’s just. Kind of funny to me how much I didn’t really change that much after all ToT

BACK ON THE TOPIC OF APRIL PROGRESS lol ok. I listened to Guardian ep 1 today just in the background so no subs etc and I was Floored by how much I completely understood. I’ve been listening to SpoonFed chinese again (15 audios listened to this month), but I’m floored if it made a difference?! Since I was mostly listening in the background not focusing and missing some stuff. Idk if it made a difference, or listening reading method just that 1.5 hours I did this month or what. Or if my listening skills have been this decent I just don’t test them since I usually watch shows with hard Chinese subs (and read the subs), or watch shows with English subs. So like. Anyway mejo back in what was it august 2019 when I started studying? Would be so happy. Back when I started watching guardian and only knew ni hao and xie xie and zai jian.

Also I can’t even remember now if I did extensive reading guardian (after reading the English translation), this month too or just last month. But I’m sure that helped and I should test general reading sometime of a priest novel. Like.. literally what kicked off the “I should extensive read more” this month is me Desperately wanting to kick up my reading speed after the horrific 25 page guardian chapter I read that took like 1.5 hours.

#rant #april #april progress #reading progress #to be honest tho truly I’m really happy with my chinese progress so far #it has yeah sooooo much farther to go #and communication wise I’m ahhhh not not anywhere much yet #but listening and reading are already significantly further than Japanese was at 2.5 years #and honestly ‘as slow progress as Japanese’ was my assumption and goal when I started #so I figured I would not read this good for 4 years at least #so just under 2 years? I’m pretty amazed

[honeyvbarnes]

Let Me In

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angsty AF, mentions of heartbreak, anxiety and depression, commitment issues, language, Happy ending (I promise) 

Summary: A heartbroken soul is never easy to fix.

Word count: 2,393

A/N: Hi, it me, ya angsty gal. The readers past is pretty much based off of my past. I wrote this to let everyone know that you’re not alone through heartbreaks, and that it does get better. Love yourself before you can love someone else!

This is also for @whimsicalrogers​! Thank you again for sharing your beautiful art with me. I love you so very much! @the-wayward-robot​

*

You know heartbreak. You know heartbreak a little too well, actually. You’ve spent most of your young adult years dating immature individuals that weren’t anywhere near ready for commitment, yet they still strung you along for the hell of it. You were ready to give up on love all together, but then you met him.

This was the man you were going to marry, you knew it, you felt it in your bones, deep in your soul. He was charming, shy but knew exactly how to make you laugh. His unique features interested you, you’d even go as far as describing his looks as angelic. He promised you the world. Promised you the life you’ve always wanted. Marriage, a home, children, and stability most of all. He gave you his heart, and without any hesitation you gave him yours in return. You gave him your mind, body, and soul. Blind by the honeymoon of it all, you didn’t see. You didn’t see the red flags and warnings. His sweet words and gentle touches put you under his spell. Easy. You made everything simply too easy. He had you, he had what he wanted. For years this man, if you could even call him that, owned you. Young fiancées, you believed you were to be wed. Until you weren’t. Alone. You were left completely and utterly alone. Left for another woman, as he had been sneaking around the last couple of months. He opened up his heart for someone else, as he shut you out all the same. Nothing. You were left with nothing, but the broken pieces of your own heart. Pieces were missing, the pieces you had so eagerly given to him.

The disgusting darkness weighed you down for the years to follow. Completely ruined for any other man, so you thought. Ugly anxiety clawing at your mind every second of the day, and the heavy depression drags you down into the unknown. And yet, you’re stronger. Built up walls for yourself, so you could not be attacked again. Although you yearn to be loved, hoping someday maybe someone will show you what true love actually feels like, but you’ve shoved that idea far away now. You’re smart, and you know love doesn’t come easy. You’re determined to never be so blinded by the fuzzy warm feelings. Cold and unattached is your new façade. Men line up to simply bask in your beauty and charm, but you’d never give them a second look. You’re stronger, and you’ll prove it. You’ll prove the world, but more importantly yourself.

*

You’re proud of yourself to say the least. Over the years you’ve worked hard to get to where you are today. Becoming a SHIELD field agent, that was your first goal. Excelling in all your courses, and challenges thrown your way, you quickly climbed the ranks and was accepted into the Avengers initiative.

Being a part of the Avengers was strange at first, but you quickly settled and fit right in. All of your teammates adored you and you now considered them your family.

Natasha took it upon herself to take you under her wing to train you, Steve and Sam always the big brothers, and Tony, well Tony was a big flirt and you loved the banter between the two of you. Clint, Wanda, and Thor loved you just as much as everyone else did as well, but Bucky Barnes was a different story.

You two became really close, really fast. When the two of you first met, something snapped in Bucky’s heart, feeling the need to protect you at all costs. He would always snarl at Tony when he’d flirt with you, or yell at Steve for pushing you too hard during training. You never viewed it as an issue, and you’d trust him with your life if it came down to it, but you were scared. Scared of accepting your friendship for what it really was. You and Bucky spent a whole year of tip-toeing around each other, never knowing what each of you wanted. The team sometimes teased you guys, calling Bucky your boyfriend and vice versa. It would always make your anxiety spike, and you’d shut down for a couple of days in result. They all knew you had some sort of dark past, but you never talked about it. Natasha always stood up for you, if you were to be questioned by another. “A good spy never reveals her past.” She would say. Your past makes you feel weak, reminds you of a time that you’d like to erase out of existence. So you continue to shut down, and shut out.

You don't necessarily like to be affectionate with your teammates. You’ll rest your head on Bucky’s shoulder on the quinjet ride home after a particularly tiring mission, hold onto Sam’s arm if he’s ever escorting you anywhere, and you’ll let Wanda give you a hug if she knows your having a bad day. Other than that, you have a strict no touching rule, and refrain from any other affection. You used to love affection, but that was when you were weak.

*

Tony Stark was infamous for throwing great parties. Galas for charities, holiday parties, and buying out whole club venues were his specialties. Tonight though, he’s agreed to keep it small and low key to celebrate you one year of being an Avenger.

You were appalled by the idea at first, and weren’t completely sure why everyone would want to celebrate such a small milestone, but you eventually agreed to a small dinner and a night of dancing. You still knew how to let loose and have a good time after all.

The festivities started a couple of days before the gathering when Tony had given you his credit card for you, Nat, and Wanda to go shopping, without any type of price range. You appreciated the gesture, and after a long day of searching, you found the perfect dress.

The breathing ensemble fit you like a glove. The fabric hugged your curves in all the right places, and had slits up both sides of the dress showing off your toned legs. For a moment you felt like yourself again, twirling in front of your mirror, and putting on the last touches of your makeup. You had just finished buckling your heels when you heard a voice pulling your attention.

“Doll, you sure know how to clean up.” Bucky spoke from the door frame of your room. He wore all black, slacks and a dress shirt to match, with the last two buttons undone. His hair was messily perfect, pulled back to a low bun, and his face was freshly shaven showing off his handsome features. He smiles at you as he walks in.

“Thought I told you not to call me that, Sarge.” You teasingly shot back, using the pet name he so graciously asked you not to call him either.

“Sorry, you really do look amazing though Y/N” he says with such sincerity, you blush at his words.

“Thank you, Barnes.”

Bucky extends his elbow to you and you indulge in his gesture, hooking you hand on his arm.

“Ready to make your grand entrance?” He asks.

“Yeah, lets get this over with.”

*

Dozens upon dozens of dishes filled with your favorite foods are served on the table for dinner. You have a taste for fine dining, and Tony did not disappoint in providing. Dinner went smoothly, laughs were shared and memories were made as the wine never stoped flowing. The common area had been cleared of the furniture and been turned into a dance floor, with a DJ to set the mood. Your favorite songs play all night long, and you dance the night away with your super family.

As the evening dwindles down, most have retreated to their rooms. Wanda, Sam, Bucky, and yourself still remain. Sam and Wanda are definitely more intoxicated than you are, while Bucky remains sober. The four of you are sitting in the middle of the dance floor as you finish off your drinks, your feet are in Bucky’s lap, he’d taken off your heels and he massages the aches away.

“Why don’t you two jus date already?” Sam speaks up, obviously with no filter.

“Sam!” Wanda warns. Her eyes immediately shine red as she looks at you, knowing very well that this is a touchy subject for you.

“Come on Sam you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re talking about man.” Bucky smoothly fires back. You eye him and his appearance remains calm, but you can tell his anxiety spikes as well by the way he’s gripping your feet.

“I-“ you begin, but Sam cuts you off.

“Ugggh y’all are so annoying, just kiss already! Everyone one knows you guys got somethin goin on anyways. Why won’t you date him Y/N? Is it the arm? Or is it because he’s old as shit?” He wiggles his brows at you.

You’re stunned to say the least, on the edge of an anxiety attack. You know Sam’s just teasing, but you don't like to be teased. Your hands are starting to shake and the walls are starting to close in.

“Just fuck off Sam!” You exclaim. Pushing off the floor, you run to your room, leaving your friends concerned.

“What I do?” Sam asks.

*

“Y/N can I come in?” Bucky knocks on your door. You’ve changed into your pajamas already, and you’re currently trying to remove your makeup while crying.

“Go away.” You answer.

“Please, Y/N whats wrong?” Bucky hesitantly opens the door. You remain sitting on your bed but try to look away from him.

“I said go away Bucky.”

“Did I do something wrong? I mean Sam was just messin’ around Doll, I-“

“I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE!” Your anxiety takes over and you can’t control it any longer. You scream at Bucky to leave you and your sobs are coning out harsh leaving you breathless. You bring your knees up to your chest as you wrap your arms around them, as an attempt at comforting yourself.

Bucky rushed forward the pick you up into his arms, but you’re quick to push him away.

“Don’t touch me! Please, don’t touch me!” You yell through breaths.

“Let me help you Y/N!” Bucky tries again and this time he succeeds in holding you, placing you on his lap as he wraps his arms around you tight. You thrash and attempt to hit at his chest to let you go, but the more you cry, the more weak you become.

“Let me go, leave me alone! Just leave me! Go away!” You slip away from his arms and promptly fall to the floor, sobbing harder as you realize you want Bucky to hold you, you want him to make you feel better, but you can’t. You can’t let him in.

“Y/N I’m not leaving you like this. Please just let me-“ and he tries again, reaches out for you sliding to his knees on the floor next to you, but you push him away again, and stand. Pacing across your room to keep your distance.

“JAMES LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” You finally scream at him.

“NO!” He actually yells back. You’re stunned where you stand. Bucky has never raised his voice at you, and his outburst shocks you like fresh crisp air. Calms your breathing, and you're confused why.

“No, I am not going to leave you alone Y/N. I can’t do that.” He grits out. Bucky stands before you tense, fists tight at his sides, chest expanding with each hard breath. He looks angry, again it calms you.

“ Why?” You ask, and your breathing labors, the tears are slowing down.

“God Y/N are you serious? I. Love. You. Why can’t you see that? I love you so much and it’t terrifying. You won’t open up about your past, and I respect you decision to do so. But I need you to let me in Y/N. I need you to tell me if you feel the same way too. I feel like you do, but you’re scared.” Bucky surges towards you and grabs both of your hands in his. “Please let me love you. After all the years of torture and pain, I never thought I’d get a chance at love. I probably don’t even deserve love, after everything I’ve done. But I love you, and I need you. You don’t know what you do to me Doll. You make me a better man. You make me want more out of life. We’re all damaged here, we can be damaged together. I just- God I wish you’d say something. I shouldn't have told you all of this, I’m sorry. I-“

“I love you.”

It comes out in a soft breath. The weight of your past dripping off of you in heaps, and its like coming up for fresh air, after drowning for decades. Bucky stands before you, a good man. Memories of the past year together with him flood your mind, and new tears form in your eyes. His beautiful face is one of shock and disbelief. But the corners of his eyes crinkle, and he croaks out a laugh.

“You love me?” He asks for good measure.

“Yes, Bucky I love you. And I’m sorry I-“

He gives you no time to explain. In one quick but gentle motion his lips are on yours. He pulls you in incredibly close, and a piece of your heart is restored. You’ve never been held in such a way before. In his arms you feel the passion radiate off of him in waves. This love is different, it’s real. Something you’ve only dreamed of feeling someday. As you pull away for air you stare into each others eyes. Searching for what has always been there.

“Y/N, I love you. You’ve been hurt, I can tell. But I promise I’ll never hurt you. I’ll spend the rest of my days protecting your heart. So let me in, okay?”

The earth shifts, and the heavens above shine bright on the lost lovers. Separate, they know nothing except heartbreak and pain, but together they find love. Soul renewing, heart repairing, true love. Nothing so cruel shall ever tear them apart, not even death.

“Okay.”

*

Taglist: @pinnedandneedled​ @perpetually-tuned-out​ @stuckonjbbarnes​ @rayche776​ @sebbbystaaan​ @the-wayward-robot​  @captnrogers​ @chloerinebarnes​ @valkyriesryde​ @captain-kelli​ @stateoflovinged​ @mushyjellybeans​ @bitchassbucky​ @an-adventureland​ @imma-new-soul​

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #marvel #marvel fic

[vesuviannights]

Violet, Lilac, Wisteria, Amethyst: Part 2

Asra x reader, gender neutral, lemon free. 3031 words.

Now protected and loved by a demon, you grow restless and ask to be taken along next time he is summoned. Never able to say no to you, Asra agrees - but your surprises continue, and who you meet with is the last person you might expect.

Featuring: mild course language, mild violence, demon Asra, still (somehow) lemon-free.

<-- Back to part 1

*

“So what exactly is your job title?”

“Apart from being divinely gorgeous and, when you’re naked, god?”

Your eyes roll hard enough to take your entire body with them, shifting in the sunlight toward the edge of the bed.

You don’t make it very far.

Something thin curls around your ankle, squeezing lightly, and is soon accompanied by something a little warmer and thicker around your waist.

And then your senses are enveloped with him, with lavender and sage and musk, as Asra—your sweet trickster, your wicked bargain maker—presses a kiss to the back of your neck.

You melt back against him, your exasperation dissolving all too quickly as his tail releases your ankle and begins stroking your bare calf.

“The only job title you need be concerned with,” he murmurs against your skin, a little damp from the heat of the morning sun. “Is the one where I belong to you, forever and always.”

“Oh, you belong to me?”

And now it’s his turn to roll his eyes, or at least laugh against your back as he slowly makes his way down, pressing languid, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your spine.

You sigh and close your eyes, murmuring as he manoeuvres you to lay on your stomach. His kisses continue down until he reaches the small of your back, where he nuzzles against the curve.

“I have always belonged to you,” he murmurs there, so quiet you almost don’t hear it. “Perhaps even before I laid eyes on you.”

As he moves back up your body and settles beside you, you keep your eyes closed, mind in deep thought.

You couldn’t count the days you had been here with him, in his home atop the mountain. You didn’t want to count them, and it seemed almost a waste of your newfound life to spare a thought to what you once had.

Here, now, atop the mountain in his open-air home with all the sunshine and moonlight and stars you could ever dream…here is where you are, and time will not take that from you.

His fingertips begin tracing patterns along your back, little bumps appearing in your flesh at the sensation. Something stirs in your gut at his touch, warm and all-too-familiar, begging you to move to touch him in return, or to reach back and move his hand to other, more intimate places.

That will have to wait, though. There is a more pressing issue, one that has been dancing in the forefront of your mind for a while now.

It takes you a few moments to gather the words, but when you finally speak them, they are every bit as firm as you need them to be.

“I want to know more.”

He hums quietly. “About?”

“You. The world.” You shift and roll onto your back, and immediately he settles above you, eyebrows pulled down into a curious frown as he awaits the rest of your words. “Will you take me with you next time you go?”

He did not leave too often, or at least he tried to only go when you were asleep. Where he went was anybody’s guess, though you certainly had your theories.

At your words, his eyes shift, a deep orchid you haven’t seen often but which you already know to mean he is worried.

“Are you no longer happy here?” He asks, barely above a whisper.

One hand curled against the back of his head, you pull him down to meet his lips, your movements as languid and soft as the kisses he had placed down your spine. You feel him melt against you and give a soft sigh, his worries quelled for the moment.

You pull back to meet his gaze, curling a strand of his hair around your finger as you speak.

“I’m still very happy here,” you answer, and truthfully. “But I want to share everything with you. Everything.”

He doesn’t look away, though you can tell he desperately wants to.

“Most of the people I meet in my work are harmless,” he tells you. “But many are also not. I would hate to bring you along and have something happen.”

“Do you forget that I’m a powerful magician who managed to wrap a powerful bargainer around their little finger?”

His eyes spark at this, nose crinkling as he shakes his head.

“No,” he grins. “That, I could never forget, because it gets a little tighter every moment I breathe.”

“So you will take me? Next time you leave to make a bargain?”

His gaze shifts between your eyes, and you see—just for a moment—the orchid deepening a fraction more, bordering on a colour you have never seen before.

But it passes, clearing back to the amethyst that always glints there whenever he sees you. He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, and then to each of your cheekbones, and then finally to your lips.

“Yes,” he murmurs there. “I will take you."

*

He wakes you in the middle of the night with a soft kiss to your bare back. You murmur and stir, almost too tired to be roused; no moment had been wasted last night when it came to you or your body.

Asra preferred being close to you in every sense of the word, above all other things, and more than once he had worked some of his own magic in with yours to ensure you both lasted long enough to sate his hunger.

It takes a few more kisses, but you do blink your eyes open, the world a little fuzzy as you stretch yourself out.

“Time to go, cherub,” he murmurs against your skin.

When you are fully awake and dressed, he takes your hand and takes your lips. You sigh into the kiss and almost forget where you are and whatever it is he wants, waking you so late in the night.

When he breaks the kiss and you open your eyes, you can see that you are no longer in his home atop the mountain, but instead a rather untidy and dishevelled office, in the middle of which stands a balding middle-aged man just a little shorter than yourself.

On the floor between his feet and where you are standing are a familiar set of symbols and lines, drawn in blood and scattered with lavender. A book has been dropped at his feet, and the tang of magic tingles at the tip of your tongue.

The man straightens himself with a hurried gasp, and his gaze goes between Asra and you and then back to Asra.

And then his face goes purple in rage.

“What took you so long!?” The man spits.

Asra’s head goes back and he laughs, a loud belly laugh that echoes throughout the room but is in no way mirthful. It causes your gut to twist, and the man’s face to pale at least fifteen shades.

“I-I-I mean—”

“I know what you meant,” Asra grins, almost wickedly. “But you’re clearly under a lot of stress. Do not fret—all is forgiven, Ines.”

The man’s eyes widen. “How did you know my—?”

Asra’s eyes flash and he steps forward, eyeing the scene around him. Your gaze follows. It’s a mess of paperwork, books; someone has clearly been looking for something.

Asra hums thoughtfully. “What do we have here?”

“Someone has stolen a very important set of documents from me. I need them back. Right now”

“And I was your chosen demon to summon?” Asra cocks an eyebrow. “Do I look like the postal service?”

“I need the documents back and I need whoever stole them dead.”

You still. Surely this man had misunderstood? Maybe the universe had done the same thing it had with you and thrown Asra here, it couldn’t be by choice.

But Asra’s face doesn’t shift, and he doesn’t balk at the implication of murder, he simply…looks around.

“You’ve built quite a fortune for yourself here, Ines.”

The man’s chest puffs, and a smug sort of curl comes to his lips.

“I can pay you anything you need,” he says.

“Oh, I don’t doubt. But you’ll find that I don’t deal in coin.”

Asra steps forward, his eyes already on the shelves around him, and much like the first time he found you, he begins to peruse them, fingering spines and peering closely at others.

As he walks slowly to the far end of the room, the man’s gaze falls away from him and to you. You shift on your feet, watching as his gaze shifts and darkens in a way that you definitely do not like.

“Eyes to ourselves, Ines,” Asra calls, much like scolding a toddler.

The man’s eyes flicker over you once more, then he turns to Asra, voice haughty and gruff.

“Are we doing this or not?” He asks

“Or not.”

There’s a pause. A long, pregnant silence, broken only when the man begins stuttering and Asra continues walking, as though he had just commented on the weather.

“What do you mean ‘or not’?! I have money, I have—I have things, it’s your job to make bargains—!”

“Actually…”

Asra’s hand falls away from the book he had been examining and he turns, but his gaze doesn’t go to the man—it goes to you.

And it’s crackling with power, a deep abyss of shadows that makes your pupils dilate in response.

“You’ll find,” Asra continues, sure and slow. “That my job title is more…trickster, than terminator. Although I prefer freelancer.”

Asra lifts his hand, and a sound like a whip cracks throughout the room as he clicks his fingers.

The man drops to his knees with a howl of pain, clutching his head as his body bows. Your jaw drops open, and you are frozen in place, watching as Asra steps up behind the man and leans in close, lips pressed almost right to his ear.

And when he speaks, when he murmurs, his gaze is still fixed entirely on you.

“Do you know who I’ve brought along with me today, Ines?”

The man moans and growls; you think he spits something out, and when he doesn’t give a proper answer, Asra clicks his fingers again, and the man drops onto his hands with another cry.

Asra straightens and tucks his hands behind his back, beginning to circle around the man.

“Allow me to tell you exactly who this is,” he says. “It has been exactly forty-three days since that deal fell through, yes? The one relating to the paperwork you are so desperately seeking?”

The man is heaving and breathing a little too hard; you can see drops of sweat pouring off him, hitting the dark oak floor beneath his face.

“Answer me, Ines…”

The man spits and answers him, but it’s a string of foul curses that make Asra’s nose curl. He lifts a hand, and the man begins whimpering, hand clutching at his opposite wrist.

“Answer me or I snap it.”

“Y-yes…”

“Yes what, Ines?”

“Yes, the paperwork was for the deal!”

“And pray tell, what kind of deal was it? Certainly not your usual kind involving importing slaves from the continent.”

The man spits again, and then a loud crack sounds through the room.

He crumples, and you see his left wrist is bent at an unnatural angle. Now, he’s merely a ball on the floor, whimpering and crying, his tears joining his sweat as it runs down his face in rivulets.

Asra grins.

“The great news about this is that you have two of those, as well as two ankles, and a very small—”

“It was a contract!” Ines spits out; every second breath is a high-pitched wheeze, his pupils are pinpricks. “A—a contract with a family in the next city over. They needed money, my eldest needed a spouse—”

“So you decided to do an exchange? Money for a partner?”

The man nods and tries to curl in on himself a little more, but Asra doesn’t even seem to care about him anymore, his lip curled in disgust as he eyes him over.

“And it fell through,” Asra continues. “Didn’t it? You had already handed over the money, but when the morning came the partner you had paid for was nowhere to be found. What a shame.”

“I upheld my end of the contract! I gave my money, it’s not my fault that insolent brat ran away—”

Another howl.

Now both of his wrists are at odd angles, but you hardly notice.

Your blood is rushing in your ears, a howl that easily overpowers his own. Your heart is in your throat, and you can feel the tips of your fingers shaking, even as you twist them around your clothes to try and stop it.

Everything is a little out of focus as Asra bends down and yanks the man up by his hair, head twisted back to reveal his quivering Adam’s apple.

“Tell me, Ines…did you ever set eyes on the one you were set to marry off to your eldest child? Or was it simply all a deal to you?”

The man doesn’t answer, but it seems Asra doesn’t need him to. You’re terrified that maybe you don’t need him to, either.

Asra leans down and eyes the man over, his gaze lingering right at the pulse of his jugular.

“You will tell me,” he murmurs quietly. “If you want to keep your blood in your veins and your cock on your body, tell me…what was the name of the person you were being sold?”

The man inhales, those same little high-pitched wheezes as he whimpers and moans. But when Asra’s hand begins to reach around to the front of his body, the man seizes and begins to struggle.

“No no no no no—no—I’ll tell you, I’ll give you the name!”

And then he does.

And it’s yours.

*

The world is ringing around you as Asra drops the man to the floor, his body hitting with a dull thud.

You stand there, unblinking, unbreathing, as your own name rings in your ears.

This…this was the man who was so ready to pay a handsome fee for you, to sell you off to his eldest in hopes of producing heirs and continuing his legacy. With no though to you, or your wishes, or how you had met his eldest once and had never been acknowledged or looked in the eye.

This man, this whimpering, pathetic sack of shit trying to crawl away in front of you, was the reason you had nearly lost yourself.

“Cherub?”

You blink, and your gaze flickers up to Asra.

He is watching you, that same intensity lingering in the back of his gaze, and you decide this is one colour you do not want to add to your list.

But there is something else there, something for you to hold onto: amethyst.

Right here and now, there is nothing else in the world except for you.

“I’m fine,” you whisper.

And, strangely enough, you think you mean it.

Your gaze drops to the man, still trying to crawl on his two broken wrists.

“This is the man?” You ask. “The one who bought me off my family?”

“This is he.”

You nod. You don’t really know what to do with that information.

Asra takes a single, slow step toward you, then reaches out to slide his hand along the side of your neck.

You reach up to take his wrist, and find your heart slowing a little at the small comfort of his steady pulse.

“Say the word,” he whispers to you. “Say the word and I’ll hang him from his entrails.”

You blink. Your gaze moves to the man; he has given up on his crawling, and now he’s sort of hunched in the corner trying to disappear from the universe.

He doesn’t even seem to realise anyone else is there anymore.

“You said he has money?” You ask. Asra nods. “And…and slaves, he keeps slaves?”

Asra nods again.

And you already know your answer, can feel it in the back of your throat, so sure that you don’t even need to pause before you give it.

Your voice is louder, purposefully so; you want the pathetic excuse for a human being, the one who tried to buy you and take your freedom away and give you like a prize, to beg and crawl and plead for his life.

But not to stay alive—for the life he once had. The life he would have had, when your bargainer was through with him.

“I want it gone,” you say. “All of it. Not a coin left, and all of his slaves freed, and none of his family or friends to love him any longer.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Asra’s lips flick up, a dry and wretched smile that only spurs you on. You continue a little louder.

“I want him to grovel at the feet of every god and Arcana and deity he can find, and for none of them to give it back. I want him to grow old and watch as the world forgets him. I want him to suffer the same inescapable torment as he wished to bestow upon me.”

Asra breathes out, then leans in to press a kiss to your temple.

“Anything else, cherub?” He asks. He’s not even trying to hide the delighted lilt in his voice.

“Yeah,” you say, taking the last of your boldness and throwing it to the sky. “I want it so his dick never works again.”

Asra lets out a barking laugh, one that is warm and loving and that fills every space of the room and every space in your heart. You turn your gaze to him, a matching wicked grin and glint to your eye as he shakes his head at you.

He leans in to capture your lips in a kiss, a single one, soft and simple, before pulling away and turning to the man.

“As you wish, cherub.”

And then he descends on his prey.

🍑 Requesting | Masterlist | My Ao3

#the arcana #asra #asra alnazar #asra x reader #the arcana asra #the arcana asra alnazar #gender neutral reader #gn reader #writing #lemon-free #demonverse

[doctorwhoformybestie]

Anon asked,

hello, could you write something with eleven where he takes the reader to an amusement park or something of the like on another planet and they spend the day there? maybe aliens show up, I don’t know, up to you! thanks love :)

So here's my best shot! I hope you enjoy it!

11th Doctor x reader

Visiting Childhood Places

The Doctor takes y/n to his favorite place in the whole wide galaxy.

Word Count 2,018

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"Doctor, where are we going today?" You asked as you leaned your back against the railing. 

"Oh I thought, we could go somewhere fun today!" He looked over to you smiling from the control panel. 

Usually when the Doctor says, "fun" he means, "go to another planet and get accidently caught by aliens and sent to jail". So when you gave him a skeptical look he was not surprised to see it coming from you. Many times you were told places would be fun. Meeting Christopher Columbus was supposed to be fun and it was, until the doctor found out that Chris was just a clone who was part of some ancient alien race trying to take over the new colonie. Then that led to more danger and big spaceships. But in the end everyone was okay and ended up alive, and all of history was put back into place. 

The Doctor just smiled at you, "trust me this one won't be as bad as the times before." 

"I'll be the judge of that" you replied with a sly grin and a wink. 

He laughed it off and started pulling levers and twisting knobs. The Tardis started making its iconic wooshing sound. You held onto the railing and was laughing as the Doctor jumped from here to there to get the spaceship to travel to wherever you were going. 

As the Tardis settled down, the Doctor was ecstatic. He ran over to you with a happy smile, grabbed your hands and twirled you around. 

You were astounded by his giddiness over one place. The last time he was this happy was when he learned to rollerskate. You had the biggest smile on your face as he twirled you around in a few more circles. 

"Are you ready?" He asked as he stopped spinning you and took one of your hands. 

You nodded your head and his eyes lit up. You followed the Doctor to the door of the Tardis. 

"Now, when I say fun, this is what I mean. I haven't been here in hundreds of years!" 

He swung open the door and stepped out with you right behind him. 

"Welcome to the biggest amusement park on the planet Aerelia. Where all aliens can come together and have some fun!" 

You looked at the place amazed. The whole place was like a human amusement park but 10 times bigger. There were rollercoasters, some with tracks some without. Food vendors everywhere, selling treats from all sorts of different planets around the galaxies. Aliens of all sorts were walking up and down the long walkways. Some of the aliens you could recognize were the ood, slitheen, adipose, and vinvocci, but there were a lot more that you did not know. Balloons and what looked to be cotton candy were being sold by some aliens walking around the park as well.

"Doctor this place! It's just incredible!" You exclaimed.

His eyes darted from one thing to the next like a child in a candy store. He started walking and you went along with him as both of your hands were glued to each other. 

It was like walking in a wonderland filled with all sorts of delights and games, rides that you've never seen before that look quite scary. 

"I was never fond of those ones" the Doctor would say as he pointed up to the huge roller coasters that floated above and around you. Some flipping people upside down while others just flashed before you like a speed of light.

"Are you telling me you're actually scared of something Doctor?" 

"Well, not really. Just found other things around here to fill my time with." He smiled at you with eyes that were filled with kindness.

"Okay then Doctor. Show me what a normal day would be like here if you were a kid?" 

His smile got much wider and he seemed to accept the challenge.

"One must first partake in the eating of a fried zigtobno." 

"A what?" 

"A fried zigtobno. It's quite delicious really! Somewhat of a funnel cake as they would call it on Earth." 

You gave him a confused look as he led you down the aisle of food vendors, surrounding you on both sides. Many of the places had small lines, but the one the Doctor was leading you to had no line at all. 

It was a small yellow shack that had a sign above it that said 

~FRESH FRIED ZIGTOBNO~

The alien inside was a small creature with 4 tentacles running down its face. It looked like a small ood but with a shrimp like head with a human body. It had what seemed to be a thick layer of flour all over his apron, and when he moved the flour seemed to move with him like a ghost. 

"Ahh Herbert my good pal! How's it been?" The Doctor flew his hand onto the counter and Herbet flew his hand on top of the Doctors. They did a very interesting hand shake that consisted of fistbumps, finger snaps, a pinky promise and at the end the Doctor made a bird call while the Shrimp man (or whatever he was) just put his hand up to his eyes and covered them.

After the complex ritual, Herbet and the Doctor started laughing. 

"Good to see ya old pal! What can I get for you and your lovely misses today?"

You slightly blushed at the choice of words this Shrimp man had said. 

"Just one fresh fried zigtobno please!" 

Herbert smiled and whipped around to fix up a zigtobno. Although you couldn't see what exactly he was making it sure did smell good. 

"How long have you known Herbert?" You asked out of curiosity.

"Oh just around 400 years or so. Great pal. He saved me from a trash can falling on me once. That's the day I fell in love with his food stand. Never wanted any other food than fresh fried zigtobno." He stood there with his eyes closed smelling the sweet smell that was coming from the little shed. 

"One order for you Doctor." 

The Doctor was reaching inside his pocket but before he could pull out anything Herbert just said, "Don't worry about it. This one's on me." 

The Doctor smiled and patted Herbert on the arm. "Thanks friend. I owe you one!" He smiled and grabbed the zigtobno and walked over to a bench, sitting where you could look off at all the rides in the area. 

The zigtobno was not what you were expecting. It had a cinnamon roll type texture but it was in one big heaping like an elephant ear. The powder that was on top of it consisted of pastel colors that luminated in the sunshine. 

"Here you have the first bite." The Doctor said as he held the paper plate the food was on. 

You tore off a piece and it was slightly gooey on the inside. Not sure if it was completely baked or it was supposed to be like that you took a bite anyways. 

Your eyes light up like a million stars, as you tasted the pastry. The dough tasted as though a fresh warm baguette, with the powder as cool strawberries all mixed with a slight chocolate flavor hinting on the tip of your tounge. 

"This is the best food I've ever had. Like better than Aunt Cindy's raspberry tart she makes for Christmas." 

The Doctor laughed as you quickly reached for another piece and ate it quickly. He joined in as well and ate the simple pastry made by the Shrimp man Herbert.

Once you were both done eating, the Doctor continued to show you around a few more of his favorite places. Some of which were the center drama, where mini plays were put on throughout the day. The one you ended up watching was like a Romeo and Juliet spin-off. Instead of them both dying they just left Earth with some aliens and started a whole new colony. The Doctor thought it was fantastic while you on the other hand thought it could have been a little less cliche. But come on, it's Romeo and Juliet we're talking about. 

He also showed you some of his favorite rides like the flying dragons, which you could control going up and down. And let's be honest the Doctor did most of the controls himself.  Another ride was more like a simulation of whether you could get out in 10 minutes or not. And again he did most of the work for that one as well.

But as the day went on the night started to fall and it was getting quite late. You were getting slightly tired from all the fun you've been having, but the Doctor had one more thing purposefully planned put. (Apparently it's been planned for quite some time. But you know time travel and how that all works, and let's be honest he probably wandered off to run to the Tardis and do this because he just thought of it like 2 seconds ago)

The sky was almost fully dark and the stars were shining brightly. The Doctor led you to one last ride, a ferris wheel. 

He checked his watch and started mumbling under his breath. "Right. Now just wait a few more ticks and then we should be good to go." 

You kept giving him sideways glances as you walked up to the large ferris wheel. 

"Did you know that this was built only 200 years ago, and it still runs to this day!" You could tell he was getting nervous. Spilling out random facts about random things was what he did when he got nervous. Yet you had no idea why he was so scared over one ride on the ferris wheel. Didn't he want to go on it? Was he that afraid of heights?

With a slight "hmm" the Doctor seemed to settle down a bit and slowly started to relax more. 

When you reached the line the doctor handed the ticket taker 2 very old fashioned tickets. The ticket taker smiled and then winked at me as we entered the cart. 

When the Doctor walked in he turned around to see what my reaction would be. 

The cart was filled with fuzzy blankets, a tub of popcorn, and a giant zigtobno placed on the seats across from us. The Doctor smiled as he saw my eyes light up with joy. 

"Did you do all of this?" 

"Oh possibly. Maybe it was the past me, or the future me, hard to tell sometimes." He smiled and sat down on the right side of the cart. You joined him and then the wheel started turning up. 

When the wheel was at the very tippy top it stopped. You could see the whole sky from up there. Galaxies and stars could be seen from up here. 

Soon shooting stars started to light the sky. 

"Doctor this is amazing!" 

He smiled as the stars were passing the both you from up above. 

"Tonight marks the 500th year anniversary of the legend of Mika and Woo. The ones the play were about."

Ahh yes the cringy Romeo and Juliet play that you watched earlier that day. 

The Doctor slowly placed his arm around your shoulder as he continued talking. 

"Legend has it that once that Mika and Woo landed on an abandoned planet they started their own colony. Representing peace for all alien races. That's what this place represents, peace for all to come together as one."

"That's just beautiful Doctor" 

"I know isn't it?" He turned his head every so slightly to get a glimpse of your amazed face. 

You slowly put your head down on his shoulder, the Doctor tensed up a bit not knowing what to do. But as minutes went on he started to relax. 

About 10 mins later you were out asleep, from such a long day you had the Doctor did not blame you. 

He gently placed a soft kiss on top of your head and then continued to fall asleep himself. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

A/N thanks so much for reading I hope you enjoyed it! If you have any requests please feel free to pop a question!

#matt smith #eleventh doctor #hottie #11th doctor #doctor who #tardis #time travel #11 doctor #best friend #hot model #doctor who imagine #doctor who fanfic #doctor who gifs #11th doctor x reader #reader insert #doctor who x reader #fanfic

[thesummerstorms]

Rev Recaps Hard Contact (Chapter 10)

CW: murder, death in combat,slightly graphic descriptions of corpses

TL:DR Recap: Etain and Dar go to one of Jinart’s safehouses and are immediately betrayed, which yet again, kind of justifies Etain’s paranoia. Darman kills a man, which perturbs Etain. Omega steals mining equipment and accidentally captures Guta-Nay. Hokan is pissed that Dar and Etain got away, and reveals that Jinart literally murdered the collaborators and tore them to pieces.

unfortunately, after posting the last recap I saw two Kal mentions in Chapter 9 that I missed, so we’re starting at a Kal count of 18.

Beginning Kal Count: 18 Ending Kal Count: 19

I regret to inform you I missed TWO references from Niner about Kal in chapter 9, so we’re starting at a Kal Count of 18.

I won’t screenshot the opening quote, but it’s basically a notice to the farmers on Qiilura that anyone who has Republic soldiers on their land without knowing will be sold into slavery and anyone helping the Republic on purpose will be shot. It does provide some needed framework for the rest of the chapter. Then we open in Darman’s pov, and IDK, I just kind of like the opening line. He still thinks of Kamino as “home” apparently at this point in time.

Etain is still being kind of unfairly snarky, and Darman’s at a loss what to do about it.

“Darman took is as a sensible observation rather than an insult.” Etain isn’t really being great right now, I recognize that, but I still love that line.

Anyway, they stop at the first safehouse and Etain goes to knock. Darman hates feeling obvious and exposed, and compares his lack of ability to blend in to, you guessed it, Skirata.

Kal Count raised to 19, BUT so far I think that’s the only one in this chapter.

Anyway, the house is empty; the family fled in the middle of a meal. Darman is still overly cautious, and walks Etain through house clearing procedure, even though her Force-sense tells her it’s safe. He points out that she can’t sense a tripwire that would murder them, even though Jedi Danger Sense is an established thing in the EU by this point and-

Sorry.

He also redirects her when she’s peering over his shoulder into the pantry instead of standing guard at the door and watching their gear, although he’s gracious enough to admit it had probably never occurred to her with Jedi senses.  While he raids said pantry with the intent to test the food for toxins later, she goes to fill bottles of water from a pump outside, and he asks why she isn’t using a filter. Again, we were just giving Etain shit a few chapters ago for being too paranoid and now she’s asking if he was trained by Nemoidians, but honestly I’m feeling kinder to Dar than Jinart because it really is a culture clash.

Yet again, I wonder how the Kaminoans can afford to kill that many clones out right when each clone is such an investment to rain and train in terms of both input and time. 

Darman doesn’t know what to make of a Jedi who isn’t the perfect demigod he was promised, which is affecting his trust levels. And Etain hasn’t been helping a lot with that. But she does notice something is wrong with him; she just doesn’t know him well yet, so she assumes it has something to do with his physical injury.

They eventually make it to another safe house, when they meet a woman “with a face like a gdan”, several children, and a few other adults. Dar is briefly overwhelmed because it’s the first time he’s seen this many humans who aren’t clones. I guess the commandos never saw their Sergeants group up.

Darman places mines all around the entrance to the building before he goes in, which I’m sure would win him no love even if the farmers weren’t already under threat of execution or slavery. The family at the safehouse says very little, outside of one woman who wants to know how the Republic is better than the Nemoidians, but they do attempt to feed Dar and Etain, which I have to say, is generous for the kind of place they’re living in. Or would be, if the family weren’t planning to sell them out & use the food as a distraction.

Dar, honey, she’s going to be able to read you in the Force better than anyone else in the galaxy by the time this is over and you’ll like it, so you might as well just buckle up. 

Also, clones are able of discerning thoughts/behavior patterns/moods really easily through minute observation and there’s nothing ruling out Etain doing the same her, but I guess it makes sense he jumps to mind reading the way the Kaminoans built up the Jedi.

Lots of little thoughts here. There’s post to be made based on a conversation I had with rey-skywalkin-away about Etain and food that I’ll save for another day, but for now, let me just say as much as KT tries to present Etain as a picky/snobbish eater, lemme just say that I don’t blame Etain in the least for being suspicious when the last stew Jinart tried to serve her included grains literally picked out of the manure on Etain’s cloak. Also, it’s still kind of sweet that Darman notices she isn’t eating enough and immediately offers her his bread, even though he’s in heaven getting “real” food. It’s generous. 

But good things never last, and Etain pretty much immediately is warned by the Force that someone is approaching unexpectedly. Darman flips out and the family immediately flees, which only confirms his suspicion. Dar and Etain brace for combat, while Etain uses Force-sense to pinpoint the incoming enemy forces. It’s actually kind of a great little action scene for the two of them.

“She put her lips so close to his ear he jumped.” Idk, I just giggled at that.

It’s just kind of a great little moment, getting to actually see Etain use her Force skills competently in an action scene. But of course, it immediately devolved. Darman, being raised to be a soldier, kills the one surviving Separatist, who’s injured on the floor. Etain, being raised a Jedi, doesn’t understand. Again, it’s a culture clash, but given the military focus of the books, we know who the narrative thinks is right.

I STILL WANT TO KNOW... who the hell were the clones supposed to be killing on Kamino? I can’t imagine the Kaminoans would let the clones kill even “worthless” Kaminoans, for fear of the armies they were raising getting ideas. I suppose Jango could have snuck back a bounty that was supposed to be dead every now and then, but that wouldn’t be a lot of people for training with 3,000,000 men. 

Also, Darman literally had his freak out over killing people on page 56 of this same, book, so it comes off as a tad hypocritical, even though this isn’t the last time he’ll not understand what Etain is upset about wrt killing.

Anyway, Darman is shot in the shoulder, though it’s a minor wound, they’re now on the run with no “safe houses” to hide in, and at the end of this scene, when Darman asks if Etain can sense droids, we find out she can’t when a droid starts shooting at them.

We then skip to Niner and Atin and Fi raiding a quarry for droids/explosives/equipment. I’m not gonna lie, I could care less about the plot of this section. This is my third time reading it and I’m still fuzzy on it. But it has a few fun little moments:

Atin is tricky. Also, I’m pretty sure that if this wasn’t a Star Wars book,that line would say “pants-shittingly nervous” rather than “drink-spilling”. With the facility seemingly cleared out, Niner and Atin go in to loot it, and we build some more on the “Atin is the tech guy” thing.

Except the guard shack isn’t empty. Guta-Nay (again, the would be rapist) has been hiding there, since Hokan wants him dead. Guta-Nay tries offering various bits of information if Niner will keep him alive, and KT really, really leans in to the whole “to stupid to function” thing, which is still making me uncomfortable, but comes to a head a few chapters from now. Eventually, Niner concedes that they’ll take Guta-Nay prisoner rather than kill him. Atin is displeased, but starts leveraging it to try and find a technical solution to one of their other problems.

Niner, you should absolutely keep thinking mean thoughts about Vau.

Atin hacks some droids, and they’re going to use them to move the mining charges and smuggle them into the places that need to be blown up, including the Nemodian comm relay in Tekklet. Atin still does not like Guta-Nay.

And then one bit that really makes this scene:

Tiny bit of foreshadowing for Triple Zero and True Colors. GREAT moment of Fi’s typical sass. “Don’t stand there being so ugly, man. You’re scaring him.”

We then close the chapter with Hokan being pissed that Darman and Etain escaped. I’m not going to spend too much time on it, because it’s mostly Hokan yelling at his subordinates.

Things that are of note,  with a CW for a graphic description of mutilation of corpses: this is what Jinart went and did to the collaborators.

As negatively as Traviss paints them, I actually feel really bad for the farmers in this book. She’s not much sympathetic to them, and she explicitly goes out of her way to show why you’d be stupid to sympathize with them, but on the one hand you have the Separatists and Hokan torching these people’s land, selling them into slavery, and executing them. On the other... you have Jinart. 

On top of which, they’re literally starving because of the Nemodian’s financial control of their lives. They don’t even have 21st century plumbing, in Star Wars. Whatever point Traviss thinks she’s making about unworthy civilian/local populations, it rings kind of hollow in the face of that information, because I can understand exactly why the NPCs act the way they do, even if they’re technically in opposition to our protagonists.

Anyway, Hokan pulls all droids out of Tekklet, where the comm is, to guard Uthan’s facility. He tells his men he wants either Darman or Etain alive, especially if Etain is a Jedi. Preferably both of them. Again, remember, he tortured Kast Fulier to death with Fulier’s own lightsaber, so remember what we’re working with here.

And that’s where the scene ends.

#Republic Commando #Rev Recaps RepComm #Etain Tur-Mukan #Darman Skirata #Ghez Hokan #Niner Skirata #Atin Skirata

[chaosbrewing]

vitamin d

The sun had risen some time ago, but bright purples and pinks still remained in the gorgeous Swiss sky, setting it ablaze with a myriad of colors. It was as if someone had dipped a fan or aquarelle brush in a series of pastels and haphazardly darted it across a pale blue canvas back. The day thus far was particularly clear, with a few puffy clouds dotting the otherwise empty horizon. Dappled light fell upon the snow-covered alps that formed the backdrop to the picturesque scene presented by Mother Nature to all who chanced to see it.

The Frankenstein family home stood in stark contrast to this image of gaiety and peace. Although the outside was trim and quite appealing to the eye, the inner halls of the manor were quiet and dark—spare a few servants moving from place to place. For the most part, however, it was silent. Every room was plunged in darkness; human life seemed to be entirely gone from the place, beyond the few scurrying about to do their daily duties. One of the few people walking through the halls, dressed in the uniform of one who has dedicated their life to the service of a family, was walking room to room and throwing open the heavy brocade curtains. As the fabric parted, the gilded ceilings of each room glinted and gleamed with reflected light. This did little to combat the encroaching darkness of the rest of the unhappy house, which seemed to actively repel all that which sought to bring joy to the dwelling.

There was one force that could not be stopped, however. The very mention of it brought delight and warm smiles to the faces of all the household servants—and even the master of the house. Like a warm summer’s breeze, it swept through the home and brought color and livelihood back into every corner, nook, and cranny. It was impossible to feel bad; at the very least, one’s spirits were lifted greatly by the force, and from there it was not a far journey to sheer bliss. Whenever it appeared, it was welcomed wholeheartedly. The servants had a particular affection for it, as very little seemed to hold sway over their master’s mood beyond the miraculous force.

Upon the front door came a familiar tap-tap-tap; the maid who was dusting the front parlor immediately snapped to attention. Her duster fell to the floor as she hastened to confirm her suspicions. A quick glance out the window and the acknowledgement of a carriage drawing away prompted her to quickly rescue the fallen cleaning tool and rush off to locate the butler.

“It’s Master Clerval!” she cried out, bursting through the doors into the servants’ quarters. “Master Clerval has arrived.”

The butler, who had been enjoying a cup of tea at the table, rose to his feet and strode off towards the front door. He was followed eagerly by the young maid, who was nursing quite the attraction to young Master Clerval and was sore for any attention from the man.

“Master Clerval! Thank you for coming,” the butler hummed, opening the door.

Henry beamed, running a hand through his thick auburn hair and further messing up the already-tangled curls. His warm brown eyes cast a fond glance upon the inside of the grand foyer, idly taking note of the fact that naught had changed since his last visit. The young man was clad in a smartly-cut suit of a pale tan silk, with a crisp white linen shirt and a finely tailored vest in a shade two tones darker than the tailcoat. His collar was high and wrapped with a baby blue cravat, again cut from fine silk.

“‘Tis no trouble at all!” he replied merrily. “In all circumstances, I seek to do the best for my dearest friend. In which room has he sequestered himself now?”

“His study, sir,” the butler sighed, stepping aside and holding the door so Henry could enter the home. “He shut himself up again after your last visit. I had hoped it would be a passing fit, but…”

“With Victor, it never is,” Henry sighed softly, shaking his head. “He is quite intelligent, but he really is not wise.”

The maid was standing behind a column, occasionally peeking out and gazing at the handsome young man standing in the doorway. It was after several such attempts that Henry caught notice of her. She squeaked and jumped about a foot in the air; her starched white petticoats were visible for the briefest of moments as her black skirt came up. Immediately she began to retreat, cheeks bright red and hands clenched against the white ruffles of her apron.

“Now, now, don’t be afraid,” Henry chuckled. Quite smoothly, he stepped forward and managed to grab her hand, which he then raised to his lips.

The maid practically fainted as he brushed his lips across her skin. She turned redder still, mortified that she had been caught but pleasantly surprised that her youthful fantasies had been indulged.

Henry laughed softly, the sound carefree and light, before turning back to the butler. A sad little smile played upon his lips, teasing the corners of his mouth slightly upward but not masking the sorrow in his eyes.

“I shall see to Victor now,” he hummed, offering the man a nod before quickly heading towards the stairs.

The butler nodded back before approaching the maid and admonishing her with a stiff hand.

“Your fantasies are hardly of importance when it comes to the master’s health,” he said sternly. “That being said, Master Clerval would never feel that way for you. He has a...particular kinship with our master.”

“Kinship, sir?” the maid frowned.

She paused.

“...ah.”

“Not a word outside of the house,” the butler ordered her. She nodded meekly in response. The two quickly headed back to the servants’ quarters.

Henry had begun to ascend the stairs to the higher floors of the manor. His well-shod feet were light upon each stair tread, barely prompting a creak from any of them; many years of visiting had schooled him in regards to which steps produced louder sounds than the others. His ascension was smooth and quiet, perfectly suited for the temperament of the house.

The second floor was equally dark as the first floor, if not moreso. The curtains here had not yet been opened; the amount of activity on this floor was even less than that on the main floor. This was no deterrent to Henry, however; he glanced around and sighed before continuing through the house. Mahogany paneling rose halfway up the walls, lining the hall as if it were a tunnel. The floors were covered with wool rugs, each one woven with the utmost craftsmanship; oriental silk rugs were used only where very little foot traffic was received, as they wore at a much quicker pace than the woolen rugs.

At the end of the hall was a small oak door. Henry quickly approached this door and opened it to reveal a spiral staircase. It was this staircase that he began to climb, breath hitching slightly with each step. He was not out of breath; rather, he was slightly winded, but he was in excellent physical condition and thus paid no mind to it. His pale, freckled cheeks were tinged with the slight blush of exertion.

By the time he had arrived at the top of the staircase, he was quite flushed. There was a short, dark hallway leading to another door; this was his intended destination, as evidenced by the slowing of his steps upon approach. Pale knuckles rapped against polished wood. The honeyed voice spoke again.

“Victor? Victor, are you there?”

Behind the door was a personal study belonging to the master of the house, Victor Frankenstein. It housed, among other things, a desk, scientific apparatuses, bookshelves, and dozens of miscellaneous papers scattered with no system of organization whatsoever. To order it all would require the creation of some sort of massive catalogue to keep track of each item’s location amidst the controlled chaos. It was rare that guests were allowed in; Victor preferred to keep to himself, and to keep his projects and experiments to himself. For that reason, the room was filled with dust and general debris from the lack of a proper cleaning for god knows how long. Although several windows were built into the walls, all of the shades were drawn and there was only a bit of dwindling light from a sad stub of a candle sitting on the desk.

Victor groaned. He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced; the black locks had become greasy, as he had not bathed for some time. A few gray and black strands dropped in front of his eyes, temporarily obscuring his vision. The young man stretched against the back of his chair—upon which his tailcoat had been discarded—, wincing as his spine cracked multiple times, and blinked a few times in a half-hearted attempt to wake himself up. Indeed, not only had it been some time since he had bathed, but it had been ages since he had slept properly—falling asleep and drooling all over his papers did not count as proper sleep.

“Victor? Victor, answer me!” came the voice again. It was only this second time that Victor realized it was from beyond the door, meaning that he was still alone in his study.

“Go away,” he muttered sourly, picking up his quill from where it had fallen on the floor. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, a crisp white against the strangely bright aquamarine hue of his irises, and scratched at his neck behind his jabot before attempting to refocus on the papers before him. This task proved challenging, however, because Henry had begun to pound on the door.

“Victor, if you do not open this door, I will have to force my entry!” Clerval cried. His throat felt fuzzy from all the shouting, but he deemed it important enough to remain straining his voice—after all, Victor was his dearest friend.

Frankenstein had not expected this. He had assumed that, being spurned, Henry would turn away and leave him in peace. However, it was clear that his friend had other actions in mind, and if he wanted to avoid having to replace the door to his study he needed to haul himself to his feet and unlock the door.

Sighing, Victor pushed himself up by leaning on the desk. He turned to take a step and was caught off-guard by the fuzzy feeling that filled his lower limbs; having been seated for so long, his legs had fallen asleep. He took one shuffle of a step forward and promptly fell onto the floor with a rather loud thump.

“Victor! Are you alright?!?” Henry cried, hearing the sound and automatically fearing the worst. He quickly began to fiddle with the lock, trying his hardest to get the door opened without damaging it.

“Schieße,” Victor spat. “I am fine, Henry! Do not—”

The door flew open.

“Victor!” Henry cried, rushing to his friend’s side. The latter could do naught but lie back against the wool rug in mild agony and internally sigh.

“What are you doing on the floor? Did you fall?! I heard you’ve been locked up in here for some time. Do you ever listen to me?”

Clerval’s chastising comments went unnoticed by Victor, who was busy staring into the other man’s dreamy brown eyes. A soft sigh of longing escaped Frankenstein’s lips.

“When was the last time you bathed?” Henry continued. “God, Victor, must I constantly be around to mind you? Let’s get you into the bath.”

Victor suddenly found himself in the arms of his friend. He immediately attempted to free himself, squirming in Clerval’s grip. Secretly, really, he didn’t want to move; his ear was against Henry’s chest, and he could just barely make out the beating of the other man’s heart. It was warm and cozy, too, a comfort he had been lacking for some time.

“I’m not letting go, Victor,” Henry said sternly. He shook his head disapprovingly, auburn curls flying every which way, and continued to carry Frankenstein down the hall and to the spiral staircase.

Victor watched Henry’s face with a sense of fond amusement, letting his limbs dangle limply over his friend’s arms. It took him several seconds to realize which room they had entered.

“Henry, I thought you weren’t serious!” he cried, voice squeaking in alarm.

“You require bathing, Victor, and it seems the only way that will be accomplished is if I myself aid in the completion of that task,” Clerval muttered, setting Victor on a chair and beginning to undo the man’s jabot.

Despite Victor’s protests, it was clear that Henry would not budge from his position on the matter. Some time later found Victor in the bathtub, face red from embarrassment. Henry was casually ogling him.

“Please look away,” Victor muttered.

“Nope,” Henry replied cheerfully.

Victor sighed deeply, trailing his fingers along the edge of the porcelain bathtub. The clawed feet rested evenly on the floor, an easy place to rest his gaze.

Anywhere away from Henry.

“Cheer up, Victor,” the man in question said softly. “Let’s get you outside and into the sun.”

Eventually, Clerval managed to get his friend into a fresh set of clothing. The old garments were quickly collected by a maid to be put straight into the wash, as they were in sore need of a cleanse. He took Victor’s hand in his own and led the way outside.

“It’s so...bright,” Victor mumbled, shielding his eyes as he glanced up at the sun.

Henry rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Victor, that’s called the sun,” he said patiently. “It gives us light. Or, at least, it gives light to those of us who don’t hole ourselves away in dark, dingy rooms.”

He set off in a specific direction, dragging Frankenstein along with him. Victor’s feet trailed through the grass with no small lack of enthusiasm.

“Where are we…”

The young scientist never finished his question. Henry was gesturing, beaming, to a blanket and basket set beneath an ancient-looking tree. A small brook lay between them and the idyllic scene; this his galant friend did splash through with quite a deal of gaiety.

“Join me, Victor,” he smiled, sitting down upon the blanket.

Victor did not need to be told twice. He hurried to cross the stream and seat himself next to Henry, where he picked up a book and began to read in the comfort of the quiet countryside. After some time, he became aware that he was leaning against Henry. He shifted to look up at his friend, who was wearing a content smile.

The kisses came easily. The simplest of thoughts produced a slight shift in body position; lips pressed against lips, soft and gentle as a lamb’s wool. Long, slender fingers tangled themselves around black locks, caressing and stroking Victor’s hair. The young man stretched and leaned into it approvingly, letting out a happy little sigh.

“Victor?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you,” came the simple response.

“But for the love of god, don’t make me pull you out of that study again.”

#i never did post this #alyssa’s writing #clervalstein #clervenstein #whatever you people call it #victor frankenstein #henry clerval #sorry that this is so shitty

[bi-lullaby]

Meredith vs People

Alternative titles: “My other post in a similar format got slightly popular and I crave attention” and “I’m still hung up on the one time Owen called Mer “the only universally liked individual in the hospital” because she is my fave”

Meredith x Cristina

Once called “the true lovestory of the show” I think it’s one of the kost refreshing relationships between characters I’ve ever seen in my, admittedly not that long, experience with fandom. The love and support each other wildly and publicly, straight up say to others how their person is important and a thing to prioritize. It’s so... Amazing to watch their deep, soulmate-like bond develop. I also love them from a narrative standpoint: How they started out as ambitious, driven people with complicated relationships with intimacy who saw surgery as the end all be all goal, and how they’re allowed to grow apart from that slightly, acquire other goals and relationships and projects (Meredith) or continue on that path, prioritizing their career and success solely/mostly (Cristina) and how both are treated as valid, rewarding choices (Mer with her happiness at family life and her Harper Avery, and Cristina with her bomb-ass hospital and the resolution of her personal relationships). They’re two characters that took on distinct journeys, but whose paths to personal fulfillment are deeply intertwined to each other.

Meredith x Alex

Okay, this is my favorite friendship ever. If Izzie showed Alex that his “evil spawn” ways weren’t exactly preferable nor they made him better than anyone or immune to pain, Meredith stuck out her hand for him and said “you’re dark and twisty? Cool. Doesn’t mean you can’t find, and fight for, happiness. Lets be dark and twisty together while we figure this out.” They relate to each other in a fascinating way, both children of neglect (to varying degrees) who worked their way to the top with a lot of bumps in the way. Also, seeing as I’m Mer’s number one stan, I also love their relationship because Alex is so amazing to her. Even Cristina had her moments of “mommy tracking” her, or even putting her aside in favor of a relationship, while Alex sticks by her side like glue and puts her above almost everything (which, I’m not saying a friendship is less valid if it’s not the most important thing in the world to you, of course not. I’m saying that everyone has a favorite person in the world, and the fact Mer is someone’s, makes that someone (Alex) even better in my eyes). Meredith sticks by the people she cares about’s sides through whatever they’re going through, in whatever way she can, and I find that that is surprisingly not-reciprocal in some instances, so it’s good she has her own ride-or-die. It’s also comic to me that two of the most sexually active, sex-driven characters in the show have never had an indication of sexual tension between them. (Almost like men and women can be friends, shocking!). The show’s not complete without Merlex, that’s for sure!

Meredith x Lexie

BRB, will be crying about the softest sisters ever, who deserved a much more fleshed-out relationship! To this day, all my (unpublished) Grey’s fanfiction involve “Lexie is actually alive” because it was such a traumatic loss to Meredith (that was under explored, imo, even if the little mentions of it through the show are heartwarming AND breaking). I loved that they made Mer push her way at first, because it showed her deep resentment of her own life, of not getting the doting father and the protective mother and the “growing up with siblings” and then having someone who had all that come and throw at her face the word “sisters” like they shared anything but DNA at that point... I think my two favorite examples of “family is about choice, not blood” examples of this show are their relationship and how it got deep through knowing each other (Meredith donates a piece of her liver to their father because of Lexie, but doesn’t remember Molly’s name in the same ep because Molly has not actively been her sister) and another one I’ll talk about later. And the contrast between Lexie’s own sadness from suddenly being left with basically no family (alcoholic father, dead mother,stranded older dister and far-away younger sister, all things I feel like people don’t consider enough to understand Lexie has also suffered) and her fight to get that family back was just so amazing. In a way, Lexie was Meredith’s Izzie, not only by being cuddly and fuzzy and nurturing but by having a “I deserve better than you being an asshole so I’ll make you less of an asshole or so help me god” attitude. Mer got softer for lexie and I think that’s beautiful.

Meredith x Amelia

Yeah, that’s my other “favorite family is not by blood, it’s by choice” ark. That clear-contrast scene of Amelia coming from her “sisters” meetup, emotionally drained after having to endure their toxic, demeaning, vicious attacks, and into her sisters, who are earning to hear what she has to say, who empathize with her and support her... I ate that shit UP, let me tell you. Because Mer was such a huge bitch to Amy at first, but came to love her after allowing herself to truly get to know her (which is the opposite story with Nancy and Lizzie and Kate, who all refuse to get to know her past the version that they despise). I also love that Derek was kind of a barrier between them, because he had his own views of Amy that influenced Mer and when he was gone, she had to face a... quite different reality. I see a lot of people shitting on Mer for the “You’re not my sister, Cristina is my sister. You’re Derek’s sister and Derek is dead” line, and I can see why, it was rude, but... That’s Meredith’s whole instance on family? Yeah, Amy was sweet and I’d bet she was mer’s favorite “Shepherdress” out of the four woman (she had stood up to her before, against Derek, nonetheless), and it breaks my heart that Amy saw her as “the only sister she could relate to” (seriously I was sobbing) but... Sister? That’s a personal, intimate title she reserved very, very few people in her life, and Amy has earned that right with a lot more patience and care than most people put into relationships. Of course she was more loyal to Cristina than to Amy at that point (who herself was more loyal to Addison than to her own siblings, hence she didn’t tell Derek about the affair, for example). But then? She literally tells Megan she can’t possibly choose which one of Owen’s wives she likes more, and need I remind you the other one is Cristina herself? (who she called “her soulmate” over Derek?. They’re two example of women who’ve gone through tremendous trauma and pain and came out changed from it, and the fact they have each other for support now makes me very, very happy. I do wish they had more scenes together, but the ones they do share are enough for me to say their relationship is a gift for this show.

Meredith x Maggie

So pure! I like that they meet up when they’re both older and more experienced and have kind of “set” personalities, that clash sometimes, but also can add up into beautiful things when combined. It was... slightly frustrating to see Mer push away yet another person at first, but watching them get closer was also sweet. I hate the comparisons between their relationship and Merlexie’s (and the comparisons between Maggie and Lexie/Cristina/April like she’s just a stand-in for them). They were different moments of all their lives. Mer and Lexie? Inexperienced 20-something women going though shit trying to find their place in the world, when Mer was still in her dark and twisties and needed to be cajoled into giving Lexie even an inch. Mer and Maggie? Well-established women in their late thirties whose relationship wasn’t built on a need for each other, but in working together for the sisterhood they wanted. I love that it was Maggie that had to get to know Meredith and be persuaded into liking her, actually. And look where they are now! They have such a comfortable, intimate relationship that’s based on love and mutual respect! I love Maggie’s small fangirl moment when Mer pulls that amazing straw-in-the-skull stunt in the airplane and Maggie’s filming the interview (although I hated what came afterwards. C’mon Maggie, fighting over a boy? Really?). It’s also good to see how Meredith helps Maggie navigate her first real trauma (loosing her mother) and how her pain has build her up and actually helps others! It’s an excellent stance of character development that remains true to the character. Their little interaction when Mer’s creating her little dream-induced invention and Maggie looks at the board once and understands it, helping her figure it all out, is so cute and nice! They’re sweet and good for each other, and I’ll protect this relationship forever!

Meredith and Jo

“You’re Jo Wilson, I know exactly who you are!” makes me weak. Because it’s such a powerful, important phrase, but also such... A Mer thing to say. At the end of the day, Mer loves people and takes them under her wing and empathizes with them. She becomes Jo’s support system and doesn’t let go. I love how she’s the one to stand by her side and protect her from Paul, and I love how she’s the one in the more recent episode to manage to get Jo to open up, to get up and get help. They’re almost mirrors, Jo with Mer’s headstrongness and emotional baggage, barging in and taking the world by storm, with Mer being Jo’s Bailey in a way, with a lot of crankiness and a slight superiority complex but lots of wisdom and care, looking at her go with a smirk like “that girl will go far but she’ll need a couple wrist slaps on the way”. Mer was extremely important in Alex’s life, she became extremely important in Jo’s life, and that’s beautiful and sweet. Also, their “shared custody” of Alex is hilarious.

Meredith x Callie

How could we have guessed that two people that initially were at each others throats constantly would be so close one day? They are absurdly different, and yet so close! The way they support each other’s journeys as mothers, wives and surgeons is a great thing to see. And they have such iconic moments, like the panties in the bulletin board, the trial, and the little kiss!

Meredith x Mark

I’m not gonna lie, I shipped those two very briefly but very intensely when they first met! Then they evolved into a rather sweet friendship. I love to think Mer tells Sofia all sorts of stories she heard through Derek in those first years. When she told Callie that Mark used to call her (not Derek, not Addison, not Derek’s mom, not Bailey, her!) whenever he needed advice or had a crisis in the middle of the night, I teared up a little, because that’s such a huge step from who they began as! From loner and relationship-phobic insecure to parents with loving relationships who could count on each other! My favorite dirty mistresses ever!

And there’s so much more! Meredith and Bailey and how they both grew so much, Meredith and Arizona and how their relationship is underrate, Meredith and Jackson’s sibling-esque relationship, Meredith and April... “I used to think you could only have one person, but now I know. Turns out I have a whole damn village!”.

#meredith grey #mertina #cristina yang #merlex #alex karev #lexie grey #merlexie #callie torres #merllie #meramy #amelia shepherd #merggie #maggie pierce #merk #mark sloan #greys anatomy #grey’s anatomy #mine

[oaimniynaug]

I came to Los Angeles to do a PhD, but will leave - in time to come - with so much more

November 17, 2019 I want to first capture the details of my dissertation proposal defence as far as possible, because beyond its significance as a PhD milestone I think it symbolises my personal growth too. From that, I want to reflect on the four ways I think I have grown and matured in Los Angeles. The proposal itself had been one year in the making. The first two or three drafts were prepared for the Ministry of Social and Family Development in November 2018, and after two rounds of review and feedback - in March and June 2019 - I was successful with the grant application in July 2019. S$96,000 for a junior scholar is a big deal, and I was very proud of the achievement, yet unlike past instances of success it didn't feel necessary to scream and shout about it on social media. That itself, in retrospect, was quite the progress, because I didn't need to show off. Instead, my attention shifted to turning the grant application into my dissertation proposal, and I started asking five UCLA faculty members - in August 2019, after arriving in St. Louis with Martin - if they would be on my dissertation committee. I was genuinely surprised that all of them agreed without hesitation, and even more surprised that they were excited for my project. At Martin's in St. Louis it was also the perfect environment to read and write, and in that one month I cleared two years of hoarded readings, improved my literature review, and further strengthened the draft. The old me - even when I started the PhD programme in 2017 and even years of training under a seasoned Singaporean editor - would've scoffed at reviews and suggestions to improve my drafts. For instance, I reacted very badly to the initial results of my written comprehensive examination in June! With the dissertation proposal, across the two months in September and November (and through the awfully painful and expensive dental ordeal), I edited two more drafts of the proposal based on feedback gathered from the five members, whom I met with in-person at least once (and multiple times with the advisor). The week of the defence. Monday, I woke at 3.45am to catch a flight out from St. Louis at 6am, waited an hour for a ride out of the LA airport, went to the gym, unpacked, before getting a dental consultation for a final procedure on Tuesday morning. Tuesday, I woke at 5.30am to hit the gym until 8am, before completing one of the most painful dental procedures at 9am. I prepped for class, finished final revisions to my interview guide, and then taught from 5pm to 7pm. on Wednesday, I woke at 7am for yoga at 7.45am, and right after that, I started to get nervous. I had only gone through my slides and script once (both of which I had prepared the week before), and the defence was at 1.30pm. But as it turned out, I didn't have to worry about the rehearsal. My script had 11 pages; I didn't go past the third. I had 28 slides; I didn't go past the 11th. For sure, I felt a little nervous throughout the two hours. I had barely spoken for 15 minutes, and on the 11th slide about my research questions my five committee members never stopped offering suggestions or thinking about how the questions could be strengthened as well as how I could fit the findings into my dissertation and future research papers. I was worried that my remaining 17 slides and eight pages of script would no longer be compatible with what they were now proposing and I was worried that they would make me go through one more round of changes before passing me. The opposite was true, and I had a hard time believing them when everyone was so effusive. Who said what remains fuzzy to me - though I've probably written some of the comments down amidst my substantive notes - yet it was along the lines of: That despite how I may feel, the defence went really well; that this was one of the most enjoyable and constructive proposal defences they have attended, given how the committee members built upon one another and were genuinely concerned about helping me improve; and that everyone in the room was invested in my dissertation and in my growth as a scholar. I could barely stifle my emotions when they were talking about what I might do or accomplish, research-wise, in the future. I've had the benefit of having good mentors in Singapore, yet this felt a little different because all five committee members knew my work and my research in much greater detail - besides seeing me in class as an undergraduate, a graduate student, or as an intern or researcher, through which my Singaporean mentors have observed me - and they had no reason to offer praise or recommendations if they did not mean it. I felt empowered and energised. And I was prompted to reflect on my personal life too. — The PhD is still important to me. At the same time, it is now one of the many things in life which I treasure. 1. Sexuality and Martin: I've thought and written extensively about both my sexuality and my relationship with Martin, and there is little doubt that a lot of good things have happened since I've come to terms with who I am and since I met him (June 3, 2018). I never could've imagined my life panning out the way it has thus far, and at the same time it has given me confidence for the future. My family and my parents remain in the dark about this important part of my life, and whereas I have been apprehensive about broaching these subjects, I feel like I've grown to be more comfortable in my own skin. My biggest change, I think, is becoming more expressive or emotional (and therefore less stoic). I used to surround myself with a protective bubble for fear of being undermined or judged, yet since I've arrived in LA I've had my eyes opened. Think about this too: I even met and reconciled with Kate in New York, in August this year, when in the past I would've shied from the topic and avoided talking about past chapters of my life. At some point in the future I hope I will have absolutely nothing to hide, and the good thing is that the moment has never felt closer. 2. Personal relationships in Singapore and in Los Angeles: Without going into too much details of my growing-up and education experience in Singapore - especially through junior college and National Service, being arrogant, competitive, and accustomed to keeping to myself - I am learning what it means to be genuine and to be a friend in LA. Notwithstanding the fact that Martin had been texting my colleagues and friends, it felt special to have them wish me well and to celebrate the moment together. In fact, through my two years in the programme, folks like Jason, Melanie, and Michele have grown me what it means to be truly happy for someone else, to not see life as a zero-sum competition. Through Martin too, I've made so many new and dear friends in LA, many of whom I'll continue to know more about. In turn, and again as a result of both my sexuality and my relationship with Martin, I realised that I could be a better friend to those in Singapore. Besides letting so many of them into my life - perhaps in somewhat belated fashion - I've appreciated the need for me to give to: To be a listening ear to them, to keep in regular contact, and to be appreciative of what they do and have done for me. It never occured to me that I could open up so deeply and so intimately with so many of them, and doing so has made me realise that there is a lot more to our collective lives. 3. Therapy: And I've been going for therapy! This is not just a commitment to Martin and our relationship, because going for therapy has always been about my personal growth and development. At the most recent therapy session I spoke at length about the dental ordeal as well as the guilt and frustration I experienced, although in the bigger picture - and for the immediate future - it has always been about building "immunity" for the eventual moment of letting my family, parents, and loved ones in. I still have between two to four years (hopefully!) in the United States, so I want to be as patient as possible. 4. Professional development: I am proud of my research and what I have achieved so far, and the lengthy preamble about my dissertation proposal defence marks an important milestone for me. I am excited and motivated to get my research going. Beyond that, there are two distinct moments with faculty members which remain etched in my mind and which I want to remember: In February this year with Prof. MarySue, and a day after the proposal defence with Prof. Laura. During each of these meetings - in a university setting - I was given a space to think through and to express how I felt about my personal life, and the space or setting itself gave me much-needed affirmation that I was respected and valued. Both of them listened to much of what I have penned here, including my relationship with Martin, and without these moments as well as the support and autonomy my advisor, Prof. Jackson, has afforded me, I would not be writing this. I still have a great deal to learn, but I look to the future with so much more optimism, excitement, and - above all - love.

#gay #PhD

[robalchemy]

Coming Out Of The Empath Closet

Like most of these posts, I’m never really sure where to begin or how to lead in...But the title says it all; I’m an empath. So why write a blog post about this? Why make it public? Why make it a big deal? why even share it at all? Well, that last question is the biggest one I’ve been faced with most of my life. Why WOULD I share this about myself in such a close minded world? Why would anyone dare to allow the deepest parts of them out for all the world to see? It’s absolute insanity in our self-centered, closed minded, drive-through, fearful, dogmatic culture we call the western world in 2019. And I’m JUST bringing this out at the age of 35, so could you imagine trying to explain this to the school psychologists in the early 90′s? That would surely have been a one-way ticket to ALL the anti-psychotic drugs! Okay, so there’s a LOT to unpack here, so let’s just take it one spoonful at a time, yes? My biggest reason for bringing this aspect of myself out into the open is primarily for anyone else who’s in the same boat as me, but for a multitude of reasons, is perhaps conflicted by it. And believe me, I’ve been through ALL of these barriers time and time again. You never know what anyone will think. And this concept of normality and fitting in has been just pounded into us so hard for so long. Maybe you’re worried that your friends or family will think you’re crazy. Maybe you’re beginning to question your own sanity. Maybe people have TOLD you you’re crazy. Maybe people have put you down for it. Maybe people have made you feel like the absolute dumbest piece of shit that the face of the earth has ever seen for being so fake and ridiculous. Maybe religious people in your life want you to believe you’re all up in the devil. Maybe people have said it’s just a phase. Or that you’re fishing for attention. I’ve been to all of these places more times than I could recall.

And I WANT to tell you that this is all somehow not true, not real. I WANT to tell you that. But unfortunately, people’s judgments are VERY real, whether we like it or not. And so many of us can FEEL these judgments in so many ways. For me, I feel the intention other people have in conversation. I (more often than not) already know what their point is going to be before they’ve even finished the first sentence. I know when someone is lying to me. I know when someone’s trying to manipulate me. I even physically feel when someone is THINKING about me. (It feels like an extreme hot flash running up and down my spine and in my head.) So yes, judgement has, does and will happen. We can’t change that, nor is it our duty or right to change ANYONE. That’s not what any of us are here to do. So what should we do about both negative reactions or even just FEAR of negative reactions? Not a damn. Freaking. Thing. Which brings me to my second point of why I’m bringing this up: If we can’t be honest and true to ourselves, what CAN we be honest and true to? The truth here is that we all have the things and characteristics that make us US in this life. Would you be ashamed that maybe you have brown eyes? Would you shame someone else for liking ice cream? Of course not, it’s absolutely absurd! And these abilities that in truth, EVERYONE has - Are no different. These are just other characteristics of the way we are that are immutable. We can’t change them. We can’t delete them. So why not embrace them? That’s a question that would have made me VERY nervous even just months ago. In short, this is who I am. It’s who I’ve always been, since childhood. And it’s been a major factor in leading a VERY misunderstood life. Personally, I was VERY lucky to grow up in a family that was very open minded to these things. It’s not like I was identified as an empath and knew I was empathic when I was a kid. Back in the 90′s, that term was akin to ‘Witchcraft’ and late night infomercials for “JoJo’s Psychic Alliance Hotline for $5 a minute”. My Mom was strongly empathic, my sister is probably the strongest empath of any of us, and my Dad even developed some of his abilities later on in life, as well. (Although I’m probably closest with my Brother, but I really have no idea where he stands with any of this, and that’s completely okay too.) Growing up, my Mom always just described me as being very sensitive. And that really IS a very apt description. But she knew what I had from day one, whether she shared it with anyone or not. I’m not sure what my sister recognized in me at that time, but still, in some ways she could read me better than anyone. I also grew up OBSESSIVELY creative. And I haven’t changed even a little bit. This is a very common trait among empaths of all varieties - I don’t yet fully understand why, but somehow it also seems very fitting. As a creative soul, I can see possibilities that nobody else can. I can process certain kinds of abstract concepts intuitively and instantly. I can visualize almost to the level of hallucination, that’s how I always knew where to put the lines when I’m drawing. So even aside from all this empathic stuff, my brain was never wired “normally” to begin with. And growing up - The schools, psychologists and so many teachers saw this and insisted to my parents that something was wrong with me. I had to be “fixed” because back in those days, not fitting into the same box as everyone else was BAD. This was just the tip of the iceberg for a central theme in this life for me. So just for fun, I’d like to get into the specifics of some of the things I experience that maybe not EVERYONE else does. Since childhood, my main “odd” experience is that I feel the emotions and intentions of either those immediately around me, those I observe or those I interact with. This is actually the trickiest part of it all for me, because for decades, I had no idea that many of the things I was feeling weren’t mine. Can you imagine how screwed up that makes a person feel? The thing that made me aware and able to discern which emotions were and weren’t mine was...Well, it was freaking OBVIOUS once I began opening up to new perspectives. I knew I wasn’t perceiving the world incorrectly, yet my emotional reactions often did not remotely suit the circumstances I was in. I was just so used to it that it was just a part of life for me, and second guessing my own thoughts became normal. This caused me to repress it for so many years, but it never went away. It just kept getting more and more pushed down and compact over my lifetime until it reached critical mass and EVERYTHING I’d built up over this life began exploding out of me since it had nowhere else to go. I experienced this as chronic, severe long term depression and anxiety in recent years. That’s a long story unto itself that I’d rather not go too deep into, but the point is: Being THAT unhealthy and repressed nearly cost me my life. I became a borderline alcoholic, because that was the only way I knew to feel better. I also became obese. (Fun fact, in the last year, I’ve dropped ALL that weight!) And many times, I was borderline suicidal. I even went through several psychologists who were at a complete loss and fired me as a client because they couldn’t help me. Friends, THIS is what happens when we fall out of alignment with ourselves. This is why being true to ourselves goes FAR beyond a warm fuzzy sentiment. Now imagine being able to feel the intentions and emotions of anyone you direct your attention toward or interact with. Even through a screen. Now take a look around at the world we’re living in right now. It’s so disturbing and unspeakable to me that I don’t even want to go into examples, because even just tuning into the very concept of these negative emotions hits me so hard that I can feel it physically. And as much as I hate to say it, I live in Canada’s Arkansas. The part of the country I live in is Canada’s undisputed capital of bigotry, racism, xenophobia, selfishness and just fear driven hate in general. And I’ve lived here for 35 years. Just do the math on that and maybe you can begin to see how challenging it can really be just EXISTING as a person with empathic abilities. Now, the root word of ‘empathy’ is - You guessed it! So for me, this also goes the other way. When I see the VICTIMS of all this hate, I feel it exactly as they do. En masse. I can’t even begin to emphasize how strongly I feel it, and how much it hurts beyond what physical pain can offer. Because you can relieve physical pain sometimes, yes? This has created for me the challenge of even HAVING any faith or good will towards humanity when I can FEEL what we do to each other every minute of every day. Yet, in spite of all this - I’ve lived my life with an inexplicable and very deep sense of compassion and wanting to HELP this world, in spite of knowing what it’s capable of and the things we do to each other without so much as a second thought. I can’t even stomach how anyone can exist that way. On the flip side, I don’t come across genuinely highly positive people very often, but when I do - OMG WHAT A FREAKING RUSH!!!! I’ve never done cocaine, but that’s what I imagine it must feel like. Occasionally, I come across people who truly have the highest of intentions and hearts full of love and good humor. I feel it as soon as they approach me. When this happens, I get a very light headed rush, the world starts to look REALLY bright or “bleached” and the internal feeling is like a combination of excited butterflies in the stomach, an absolutely ELECTRIC surge throughout my entire body, very warm pins & needles that give me goosebumps, and I just instantly want to take this person, clone them 30 or 40 times and go to a party with only them. It is the starkest contrast I could imagine. So that’s the basic version. If we want to go even DEEPER into this rabbit hole, I would only tell you about the most recent MONTHS of my life. I can’t even begin to describe the work I’ve been doing on myself and where its taken me. (I will in the near future...) But in short, I’ve begun to accept, embrace and develop these parts of me. Well actually, they’ve kind of been developing themselves. So before, I was basically limited to the definition of a physical and emotional empath. In recent months however, I’ve been cracked so wide open that I’ve been experiencing things that I had no idea my mind was even CAPABLE of perceiving. To name just a couple - The degree of the sensitivities I’ve always had have increased ten fold. If I’m chatting with someone online, I can feel them to the point of their pulse. This is not an exaggeration. I’m willing to bet that some of my friends who are reading this right now are friends that I’ve been chatting with on messenger, and I’ve said something like “Okay, let’s change the topic because I just felt your heart rate spike and your adrenaline kick in”. (I actually feel much more than that, but I still want my friends to TALK to me, so I’ll leave it there for now!) I can feel the intentions and intensity of the energy of people around me in traffic. This tends to be not so much emotional, but rather I feel a spectrum of the quality of people’s energy from SHARP to GENTLE. Those are honestly the best words I can find. Not strong and weak, intense and mellow, but sharp and gentle. Another interesting thing I’ve noticed of late, is people will just randomly start pouring their hearts out to me. Perfect strangers, it can be just helping a customer at work or paying for gas at 7-11; And 2 sentences in, they begin rattling off their entire freaking life story. People give me EVERYTHING. Constantly. This used to happen occasionally, but in recent months, it’s been almost every day that I’m in public, often multiple times a day. This goes beyond just chatty people, it’s flat out rigorous. For me, this is kind of a trap, because once it starts - I can’t get people to stop even if I shout at them to shut up. (Not that I do, that one’s just an allusion.) I don’t understand exactly why this happens, but I have a faint idea that some part of people, probably subconsciously - Feel my receptivity and take it as an invitation to pour out everything they’re holding in. I’ve always been uncomfortable in large crowds. Hell, you don’t have to be even remotely empathic for this! Needless to say, this has also been taken to the extreme. But on the flip side, I can also feel nature every bit as strongly. Being in nature has become my drug in recent months. It takes absolutely everything in me that’s heavy, and replaces it with the most merciful rejuvenation and love that I think I’ve ever felt in this plane of existence. It’s like being beaten up at school by bullies all day, then going home and just crying in your Mom’s arms - It’s something I can’t even come close to putting into words. It’s sentient, and it feels me as I feel it. It’s beyond catharsis, it’s beyond being understood. That’s truly as close as I can get to describing it, I literally don’t have words for it. When I go walking in the ravine by my house, it feels like the trees are my oldest friends who know me better than I know myself. And they know exactly what I need and how I need it. 20 minutes among the trees does more for me than anything any human has ever been able to make me feel, with the sole exception of my wife. It’s unconditional mercy. And to think, I used to think this kind of stuff was for tree huggers...Well, maybe try actually hugging a tree, and see where that takes you! Like I said, there’s a LOT to unpack here, and I’ve only started to scratch the surface. But I can only type so much in one sitting, so I’m going to leave this post as it is here, save for a couple closing words for anyone who resonates with this... Again, the point here isn’t to show off these things or claim that I have something others don’t - We ALL have the exact same abilities to the exact same potential extent. Some of us are simply at different points along our own journey and evolution, there’s no rank to this or any sort of being above, below, ahead of or behind anyone else. We’re just all at different points of our own unique path, and no two among the approximately 8 billion people currently on this planet are the same. So truly, there’s no pissing contest here, so please don’t interpret it that way. The point is to simply SHARE for a couple purposes: To give anyone out there going through similar experiences validation and hopefully a bit of courage to embrace this aspect of their path rather than fear it, be ashamed of it or resent it. The second point is that in sharing this, I’m simply taking my own step towards being as authentic as I can be. This is simply who I am, it’s who I’ve always been. We can’t deny our truest nature and we should never be ashamed of it, and in putting this out there, I’m being true to myself so that hopefully others can be inspired to be true to themselves. Thankyou for helping me realize more of my own personal truth in sharing this with you!

#empath #empathy #intuition #intuitive #spiritual #spirituality #spiritualawakening #spiritualjourney

[phyripo]

46 and robul?

46. “Hey, have you seen the..? Oh.”

Uhh… That looks like a humorous prompt, so have something… Creepy? It’s a mix of the fact that I played some Rusty Lake games again combined with the fact that I’ve started listening to Welcome to Night Vale again that spawned this, soooo… I hope you like it, sorry for the long wait!

Dragos is Romania, Stefan is Bulgaria, aaaand Luca is Moldova

Send me a pairing and a number and I’ll write you a fic

There was nothing unusual about the mist.

It had rolled in across the lake as it oftendid on spring mornings like these, greying out the little island Dragos livedon. The familiar trees were looming shadows in the fog, the old well a blurrymystery. But it was just mist, and the shadows were just shadows, so Dragoswasn’t sure why he felt so unsettled whenever he looked out of the windows.He’d lived here for years now, in this little refuge he and Stefan had built onthe island. It was safe.

“Stupid mist,” he grumbled at no one, shakinghis head and going to the next line on his typewriter with too much relish. “Ishouldn’t read so many books.”

Still, he was relieved when Stefan returnedhome after his work on the mainland, where he ferried wood back and forth. Hisshape was familiar in the fog, and he smelled comfortingly of the forest whenDragos kissed him quickly as he kicked off his heavy shoes.

“It’s cold out,” Stefan said, running a handthrough his slightly damp hair.

“Looks cold, yeah.” Dragos took his coat. Themist had lingered throughout the day, seemingly not lessening at all, althoughit must have—the news on the radio reported sunny weather on the shores of thelake. “It’ll probably clear out by tomorrow.”

Stefan hummed absently. Of course, he hadn’tbeen stuck in the middle of the white haze all day; he wasn’t as unsettled. Heusually wasn’t. Dragos was more prone to that. There was a reason they’d movedto this island, where no one could judge them because there was no one elsehere.

“Please tell me there’s something to eat, Dra,”Stefan was saying, walking further into their cottage.

Dragos laughed, going after him.

“Of course there is.”

The evening was pleasant in its ordinariness,spent listening to a record and reading or writing or filling in crosswordpuzzles. Dragos closed the curtains against the pressing darkness the mistbrought with it, and had nearly forgotten all about it when he went to sleepwith his arm draped over Stefan’s upper body.

It was all the more surprising when he woke thenext morning to an, if possible, even greyer world.

The fog curled against the small windows of thecottage as if asking to be let in, like a ghost knocking on the door. Dragosdrew the curtains again and told himself not to think about it, not to imagine thathe didn’t know the shapes outside or the muffled sounds of the water and theforest. He typed, ripping sheet after sheet out of his typewriter because thewords wouldn’t listen to him. They curled into unfamiliar shapes, his fingersstraying from the right keys without his permission.

When Stefan came home in the late afternoon, hestartled Dragos from a haze of terribly non-productive writing and brought agust of cold, damp air with him.

“It’s dark,” he said, quizzically, and made toopen the curtains over the dining booth.

“It’s—” Dragos leaped up from his chair andflung himself in front of him. “It helps me work.”

He gestured at the heap of paper lyingscattered on his desk, bathed in lamplight. He wasn’t sure what he had written, certainly not his next novel, but at least itlooked like he’d been doing something useful while Stefan worked.

“Alright,” the man said slowly. His eyes werebright in the gloom, their deep forest green a comforting color after nothingbut the grey outside, the orange of the walls, and the black and white of wordson paper to keep Dragos company over the course of the day.

It had been sunny on the shore, Stefan toldhim, taking his jacket off to reveal short sleeves underneath it. The slightestof tan lines were visible on his pale skin, if Dragos squinted.

There was nothing unusual about the mist.

Weird weather phenomena were not unusual,Dragos mentally repeated like a mantra when they went to bed, later, staring upat the whorls in the wood of the bedroom ceiling. His imagination wasoveractive and it would pass. It would all pass, and their island could go backto its usual unusualness—which was mostly just Dragos himself.

The next day was a Saturday, which was Stefan’sday off, and also the day Dragos’s younger brother always called, so that was agood excuse not to go outside no matter what Stefan said about Luca alwayscalling after three, which left them plenty of time to do something together,never mind the mist, Dragos, it’sjust water.

“I thought you were the smart one,” Stefan saidjokingly, shrugging on his jacket. He hadn’t shaved today, and his stubblescratched Dragos’s jaw when he leaned over to kiss him, when he laughed againsthis mouth as Dragos tugged him down to deepen the kiss.

While the ensuing tussle was playful and funand quite pleasurable, it only delayed Stefan’s going out into the ever-presentmist by half an hour, because he thought they would need more firewood soon,and the wood would need to dry if it was to be of any use.

“You’re a strange man, Dra,” he told himwonderingly. Dragos ran his hand through the man’s mussed hair, biting his ownlip.

“You love me.”

“Never said I didn’t. Guess that makes me alittle strange, too.”

Smiling despite himself as Stefan untangled hisbody and stood, Dragos replied, “Very strange. Be careful, alright?”

He gave a jaunty little salute and was off intothe fog, where he was nothing more than a shape no more familiar than thegnarled trees. Dragos frowned at it through the window for too long, but themist hurt his eyes and his head, so he pulled the curtain mostly shut again,leaving a strip of light to spill outside.

Just in case Stefan forgot his way back.

The phone rang promptly at three, and Dragoswent to pick it up in relief, leaning against the wall in the hallway where ithung.

“Hey, Luc!” he greeted.

There was a long, staticky silence in reply.

“Hello?” Dragos tried, his heartbeat ratchetingup.

More static. A sound like a voice speakingbackwards. Dragos bit his lip so hard it started bleeding, clutching the handsetwhite-knuckled.

“What’s going on?” he asked, voice unsteady andlouder than he intended.

The voice continued, pouring unintelligiblesounds through the telephone line. If the mist had a sound, Dragos imagined itwould be this, creeping around in his head, just syllables without meaning nomatter which way he turned them.

He slammed the handset back on to the base andwas on the verge of ripping the whole contraption off the wall, when the phonerang again.

“Get out!” he yelled into it, on the verge oftears. Something was wrong here, andhe hated it.

“What?” replied a seemingly perplexed Luca. “Dra,is that you?”

He swore. “I’m so sorry, Luc. I’m sorry.Something weird is—sorry.” The plastic of the handset creaked in his grip, sohe tried to ease it a little.

“Are you alright?” Luca asked. Dragos leanedhis free hand against the wall and hung his head.

“God, I don’t know.” He tried to breathesteadily. His mind felt fuzzy, but the feeling was subsiding little by little. “Probably.”

“That sounds reassuring.” Luca laughed alittle. “Is Stefan alright?”

“Possibly. He’s out.”

“Well, I hear the weather’s good for it over th—”

The line cut in a flash of static. Dragosdropped the phone.

He scrambled to grab it where it swung againstthe wall, bouncing. It was difficult to press the little buttons with hisfingers shaking, but he managed to dial his brother’s number from memory.

“Luca?” he whispered, and when there was juststatic in reply, he slammed the handset back down again and tried again.

Stefan found him sitting with his knees drawnup to his chest in the hall, the phone dangling next to him and his fingers inhis messed-up hair.

“Well, this doesn’t look good,” he said,kneeling down in front of Dragos. Tiny water droplets clung to his hair, hiseyelashes. His eyes were curiously mossy, and Dragos pressed himself tighter againstthe wall.

“Where’ve you been?” he asked.

“Out. I got firewood, remember?” Stefan reachedfor him, pushing wispy strands of light brown hair out of his tear-streakedface with cold fingers. “Maybe you should come outside for a bit, it’d do yougood.”

Terrified, Dragos shook his head as hescrambled to his feet.

“I’m not—I’m not going anywhere. Jesus Christ, Stefan, what is going on?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” hereplied calmly.

“Stef, Stef—” Dragos put his hands on the man’sjaw and searched his gaze, and he couldn’t even say what was wrong, but something was, and the front door wasopen behind him, which was wrong. Heleaped towards it, slamming it shut on the mist. As he leaned against it, hecould feel himself shaking.

“Hey, you should lie down,” Stefan was saying,carding his fingers through Dragos’s hair again. “I’ll get some food going,alright?”

Dragos wasn’t sure how he got from the hall tothe couch, but once he was there, he couldn’t bring himself to move, or even thinkabout what the hell was happening on his little, safe island. Against all odds,he fell asleep.

When he woke, the room was dark, but that didn’tmean anything with the curtains drawn and the mist most likely still heavyoutside. Silently, he sat up, cracking his neck and stretching his arms beforewalking over to the window and peering into the forest.

The trees stood silent in the fog. It mighthave been evening or it might have been morning. Dragos honestly had no ideahow much time had passed. He turned back to the room, flicking his desk lamp onand finding a sandwich sitting next to his typewriter. On the paper currentlyin the machine, a short message was written.

Dragos, you lookedlike you needed the sleep. I hope it helped. I’m going outside, find me if youneed me.Stefan

There was no indication of when the message wasleft. It was six, according to the grandfather clock over the desk, but Dragoscouldn’t say whether it was evening or morning. He felt rested, although stillwary.

Eating the simple cheese sandwich, he went overto the radio to turn it on, hoping to find out the time, but the speakers onlyblurted out more static, shot through with maybe-human sounds. With shakinghands, he tried to tune into a different channel, but everything else justbroadcast the static that was normal—they didn’t get great reception out hereand were usually only able to receive the one channel.

One channel that was now garbled nonsense.

He put the remainder of his sandwich away andwalked quickly to the bedroom. The bed looked unslept in, but Stefan’s radioalarm clock displayed a time of a quarter past six in the morning—the radioitself was broadcasting the garbled static.

Dragos swore.

“Stefan!” he called through the house,flinching at his own voice. There was no answer, and he wasn’t surprised.

This wasn’t to say that he wasn’t terrified.

Unable to swallow past the lump in his throat,Dragos paced back to the living room, then changed his mind and rooted throughthe bathroom and the kitchen, where he found nothing out of the ordinary. Thetelephone was still dangling from its cord in the hall, spewing static, andDragos shivered.

Was it cold or was that him?

He peered through all of the windows into theunforgiving white and grey that was the forest. Nothing moved.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, dragging his hands over his face.

He’d have to go outside.

Although his heart was trying to beat out ofhis chest and his breath was too high to do any good, he managed to find hisboots, his duffel coat. He threw the sheets of paper that he filled with hisnonsensical words yesterday into his shoulder bag along with—he didn’t knowwhat he was putting in there, he had no idea what he was doing. Closing the clasps of the bag proved difficult with hisshaking fingers, but he fumbled until they were shut.

After one last desperate sweep of the cottage,Dragos took a deep breath and opened the front door.

The mist—felt like normal mist. It was cold,and damp, and clung to Dragos’s eyelashes and wispy hair.

Somehow, he felt the urge to hold his breath.He went back into the house and found a scarf to wind around his head, coveringhis nose and mouth. It felt marginally better.

Trying to be silent, he made his way frommemory to the shed where Stefan sometimes worked. Nothing out of the ordinarythere, either.

The trees were still as he walked past the oldwell, but he couldn’t shake the feeling they were watching. Maybe not him inparticular, but watching all the same. Sometimes, something seemed to move inthe distance, but he couldn’t tell whether it was human and didn’t know if hewanted to know.

The island was small. Dragos must have beenwalking in circles or time must have stretched out in weird ways, because itfelt like hours before he saw a familiar shape among the grey. Stefan wasstanding motionless between the trees, and although the trees were motionlesstoo, they had all stretched their branches towards him as if they wanted himfor their own, like Dragos had wanted him for so long now, like Dragos hadgotten him.

He was Dragos’s. This island was Dragos’s, mist or no fucking mist.

Trees didn’t move. Trees had never moved.

“I’ve never seen a tree move,” Dragos said tohimself, his voice barely a whisper but there. He took large steps towardsStefan. They couldn’t take him away from Dragos, nothing could.

Stefan stood silently, slowly resolving intoseparate colors as Dragos neared. His green, short-sleeved shirt, hisbellbottom jeans, the dark of his hair. His back was to Dragos.

“Trees don’t move,” he repeated to himself. Andthen, “Stefan, have you seen the— Oh.”

Because he turned, and his eyes were not theirusual, comforting forest green.

Dragos stumbled back, catching his heel on atree root that may or may not have been there before and flailing to keep hisbalance.

“Stefan?” he whispered, but he knew, as certainas anything, that it wasn’t Stefan. The man—being—looked like Stefan and heldhimself like Stefan, but his eyes, his eyeswere a terrible haze of barely-there green. It was as if the mist had settled insidehim, pulled itself over his eyes.

“Hey, Dragos,” not-Stefan said, and his voicewas a wisp.

Dragos ran.

He tripped over swirling roots, and the mistthickened until he couldn’t see his own feet carrying him across his island. Heran blindly, scrambling up when he fell, pushing his scarf over his nose. Hisheartbeat rang in his ears, or maybe it was the island’s heartbeat, the treesin their terrifying unison.

Eventually, the trees gave way to sand, and heknew he’d reached the shore of the island. He couldn’t see anything out on thewater, so Dragos followed the sand until he found the dock and could scrambleonto it, his boots slipping on the damp wood.

The boat, he needed their boat.

“Dragos!” he heard Stefan, or not Stefan, callfrom the edge of the forest, louder than he should have been able to when themist dampened everything. He panted in almost-sobs, trying to squint along thedock for the little boat.

“No, no,” he whispered when he couldn’t findit. He dropped to his knees to feel along the dock for the rope.

Footsteps crunched through the sand behind him.

“Dragos!” Stefan called again. He soundedclose. Dragos’s numb fingers grappled uselessly against the scaffolding. “Nothingis wrong, Dragos! Come, I’ll take you home!”

Dragos heaved a sob through his scarf.

Footsteps on the dock.

A dull, roaring sound farther away. Somewhereon the lake. Oh god, what was out there?

“Dragos,” Stefan said. His voice sounded ashazy as his eyes had been. “It’s just mist.”

The roaring became louder, and then the mistwas breaking open at the end of the dock to allow Dragos to see that what wascausing it wasn’t something even worse, wasn’t the lake itself rising up againsthim as well.

“Luca!” he yelled, leaping up and runningtowards the motorboat his brother was driving towards the shore. “Don’t dock!Turn around, now!”

“What—” Luca started, and behind Dragos,footsteps clattered across the dock. He didn’t dare look.

“Just turn! Fast!”

Luca stared at Dragos or what was behind himfor a long second before he abruptly steered the boat in the oppositedirection, racing back along the dock. Dragos kept running, and he didn’t evencare if he was going to miss the little boat altogether—he dove towards it thesecond it shot by close enough, crashing against the wood and rolling along sofar that they almost capsized, but Luca kept going until they were clear of thedock, now just a shadow in the mist.

“Where’s Stefan?” he yelled, but Dragos couldn’tspeak, his voice was stuck somewhere in his chest. He breathed in sobs, curlinginto himself on the dirty floor of the motorboat. “Should we go back?”

Dragos shook his head. There were tears on hisface, and they were scorching hot.

They broke out of the mist and into brightmorning sunlight as suddenly as if it had never been there. Dragos still didn’tdare look back.

“I thought I’d check if you were okay,” Lucawas saying. “What’s—what just happened?”

“I don’t know,” Dragos choked out. “I just… I justdon’t know.”

He looked over his shoulder, and there wassunny lake as far as he could see, from the coast to the mountains. His heartbeatrang in his ears.

#I liKE creepy lakes #creepy probably sentient lakes #robul #Hetalia #aph romania #aph bulgaria #Phyripo writes things #anonymous #quaestiones #also this is set in 1978 #for a reason I can't quite remember but it had something to do with a song I think #I have a feeling it was nobody's home by kansas #not sure what that had to do with this fic #maybe nothing maybe I was just listening to it #I wonder if rusty lake and night vale take place in the same universe #rusty lake is the european equivalent of nightvale #'idk man my brother turned into a fly and tried to eat my dad' #'wow that same exact thing happened to me!' #jakob and cecil chorusing: besTIEEES #that's enough unrelated tags