#and he really does only fit in real life chicago

[sonicattos]

sonic prime (2022)

#shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #sth #sth fanart #sonic fanart #sonic prime #he really doesn’t fit in green hill #and he really does only fit in real life chicago #drew this in two seconds sorry #sonic prime spoilers

[fastcardotmp3]

Eddie Munson does do the whole rock star thing, but it doesn't quite go the way it did in the daydreams of a sixteen-year-old kid trying to stay awake in school.

He leaves Hawkins after the world doesn't end, gets himself out there, takes all the hurt and fear and fucked up shit and puts it into a handful of good enough songs to get himself signed.

It's not quite the genre he grew up with, not quite something any of his idols might have played, but only because it is so entirely Eddie, so influenced by where he's been and what he's seen that it kind of doesn't fit one specific influence.

It's new and it's good, is the point. Really good. And he skyrockets fast enough to give himself the spins.

He's recognizable and then he's famous and then he's too famous and too young to know what to do with it and too far from home and everyone he loves to really cope with it and it's just.

Eddie isn't built for it. Eddie hasn't even processed the fact that he was maybe supposed to die in that place, or the fact that he did watch people better than him actually die, but he's out here shooting to the top of the charts and being called the next big thing and it's too much.

It's just enough, at the end of it all, for him to self-sabotage his way out of being more than a one-hit wonder.

One big hit, a contract broken by the guys at the top with the fancy lawyers because Eddie has become the too much thing, just like always, and it's over as quick as it started.

He disappears, becomes one of those whatever happened to him? he was supposed to be the next big thing? stories that travel by word of mouth and then fade with the shift in conversation.

So what does happen to Eddie Munson?

He falls hard, he hits rock bottom, he crawls his way home to an uncle who deserved for Eddie to really make it, make him proud, have him financially set for life and get him into a real house with two stories and a garage to park the truck in, maybe even a yard for a dog.

He spirals and isolates and falls apart and stops letting himself make music at all and makes some personal choices that will probably have lasting effects on him for the rest of his life and then somewhere along the line a girl with hair like tangerines and terrible aim manages to smack him with her cane and says if I learned to walk again, so can you, asshole.

There are people in his life again after that, a reason to get out of bed and realize that he can make Wayne proud in more ways than the one he'd already fucked straight to hell.

Eddie watches a bunch of kids graduate high school and then he packs up and chases down some people who pulled him out of hell once before up in Chicago, crashes on Steve and Robin's couch until he gets himself a job painting houses and they can afford three bedrooms instead of just the two.

He cuts his hair, not short but shorter, and he gets more tattoos and itches for the guitar that sits in a case under his bed, ignores it. Itches for the pen in his hand, ignores that too.

He's still barely past his mid-20s and he still has some fucking around left to get out of his system, some finding out to accomplish doubly so, but he learns as he goes no matter whether it's forwards or backwards.

He falls in love and falls out of it, gets fired from jobs and tracks down new ones, gets into fights with his friends because they're all a little fucked up and codependent and weird but makes up with them for the same reasons.

The thing with Steve happens slowly, going from tolerating each other for the sake of knowing they'll always be on the same team to genuinely liking each other to discovering a care between the two of them that's a bit too strong to be normal about even if it still takes them a half-dozen so-called turning points to really name it and take it and keep it.

Eddie's 33 when they buy a condo together on the outskirts of Chicago two weeks after they fall into bed with each other for the first time, and he's over a decade on from being a kid who rose to the top too fast but it doesn't feel dissimilar, that sensation of a too-good thing that's bound to go wrong.

Only this time he doesn't try to sabotage it, tries the opposite, tries to hold it tightly in ways that would probably be too tight for anyone other than Steve Harrington with all his deeply intense feelings and inability to love at anything other than an eleven.

It's in the move that Steve finds a box of notebooks, snoops because it's who he is, and finds years worth of words that never made it past the tip of a pen but did, eventually, make it that far.

And it's not an easy thing, convincing Eddie that they're words worth sharing, because Eddie doesn't want it to be an easy thing. He can't let kind words shoved into his orbit by a beautiful man be enough to make it feel worth it, can't see a world where sharing his art doesn't end in another great big self-induced mess that he can't let happen when he's finally found something good.

He doesn't want to go on tour and get screamed at on stage and, besides, he's pretty sure the rest of the world doesn't want to scream for him anymore either, but then Steve has to go and remind him--

"You don't have to be the face of it. You can just be the words; you are so fucking good at being the words, Ed."

Which still isn't quite enough to be convincing, but it's a start in a solid six months of the words coming easier now that he has someone to share them with, someone to listen as Eddie plucks away at a guitar that sits out in the open now, free of dust.

It stops feeling like something shameful to hide, his music, and the thing is? It doesn't feel how it did back then either.

It's not an escape or a purge of violent energy or a distraction from everything he didn't know how to think about. Sure, it takes all of that into consideration because it takes the whole of Eddie into consideration, but more than anything it's just fun.

Like he's thirteen and still learning how to play the guitar, like it's just a hobby that never has to go anywhere, like it's just art that maybe deserves to be heard.

Everyone pitches in on ideas when they find out he's trying to come up with a pseudonym, and it's goofy and supportive and kind of the final straw in reaching out to old, burned bridges to see about any new artists looking for equally new tunes.

The first time Eddie and Steve catch familiar lyrics being sung by a new hotshot band on the radio, Eddie cries not because he's jealous or disappointed, but because it feels right.

He doesn't like being up in front of the crowds, had only ever walked across tables and made himself big and scary and loud out of self preservation, would always rather his biggest performances be for the people he knows really care.. Besides, after everything he's survived he's learned, albeit slowly, that he really likes the freedom of the quiet.

This way he still gets to say what he has to say, gets to throw his hat into the ring of an artform that he loves without selling his soul to a machine that tried to eat him alive (trust him. he knows what that feels like.)

Of course, someone is going to put 2 and 2 together eventually, the industry isn't as big as it looks and pseudonyms only pull so much weight when you went out in such a spectacularly messy and memorable fashion, but Eddie's got his condo in Chicago.

He's got the guy he shares it with in his bed.

He's got two cats and a windowsill full of plants he's going to keep alive this time, Steve, just you watch.

He's got his uncle settled in Indy these days, a small place with a small yard.

He's got music, too. Turns out even his own tendency to self-destruct couldn't take that away, huh?

It's what got him out of hell alive, after all.

#dot post #dot fic #eddie munson #steddie #one hit wonder eddie has lived rent free in my head for too long you guys have to join me in this before I lose my mind to it #rockstar!eddie #writer!eddie

[heavencasteel420]

My default Joyce backstory:

Her mom, Evelyn, is a farm girl from Hawkins who moves to Chicago to work in a factory during WWII. She has a whirlwind romance with a soldier and they get married, but they don’t spend much time together before he ships out. He comes home at the end of the war, but his PTSD and her basic dislike of being married lead them to divorce…but not before Joyce is born.

Evelyn sends baby Joyce to live with her parents. They disapprove of her marriage/divorce/desire to live and work in the city (which they assume involves liquor, sex, etc.), and she is deeply unhappy with being a mother, and these two factors lead to her drifting out of Joyce’s life entirely within a few years. Growing up, Joyce feels alternately confused and angry about this abandonment, but mostly she tries not to think about it.

Joyce’s grandparents are strict, dour, and unwilling to spend time or money on frivolous things, which makes it hard sometimes to fit in with girls who have more money and/or flexible parents. However, they’re not cruel or violent, and they feel a genuine obligation to look after her. Unfortunately, they’re also old and not in good health. Her grandfather dies when she’s twelve and her grandmother dies soon after.

Joyce lives with a series of relatives for the rest of her childhood and adolescence. None of them are looking out for her; in their eyes, they’re providing room and board, and she’s supposed to show her gratitude by providing household labor and not complaining about anything. This is inherently neglect, and in some of the homes this attitude is a breeding ground for abuse.

About halfway through high school, she ends up staying with Aunt Darlene, who lives alone and is already starting to behave oddly. Joyce is still overburdened with responsibilities, but Darlene is pleasant to her and she has more space/privacy than she’s used to.

Desperately poor with scandalous missing parents, she’s not popular at school, but boys like her and (because she’s tomboyish and a late bloomer physically) most of the other girls label her immature instead of branding her a slut.

She tries enough in school to pass, but, because she’s a poor girl in the 1960s, college is not on her radar. So, after graduation, she works as a store clerk or waitress and continues to look after Darlene, unsure of her next move. She's relieved to be out of school, but she doesn't particularly like her job. She's also not sure she ever wants to marry. Her only real plan is to save up and move to a bigger city to see if there's anything better there.

She goes on like this for a year or two. Enter Lonnie, who's charming and intense (and whose devil-may-care attitude is a lot more palatable when directed at their hidebound small town than the well-being of their children). He's just a couple years older, and his upbringing was even more chaotic than hers, so she's sympathetic to that. She still has a lot of reservations, even though she's having fun...but then she gets pregnant.

This is pre-Roe v. Wade, so getting an abortion is difficult and dangerous. An unwed mothers' home (like Florence Crittenton) is maybe an option, but those are mostly for middle-class girls. She does not believe that Lonnie will want to marry her, and openly having a child out of wedlock would make her life exponentially more difficult. And her main feeling is that she is opposed to adoption, even though that's technically the most respectable option, because she does not want to send a child out into the world and risk them growing up like her. She would rather have an abortion or have a baby and raise it herself.

But Lonnie does want to marry her. He wants to marry her enough that (unbeknownst to her) he knows where she can get an illegal but relatively safe abortion but doesn't tell her. He's not really doing anything in particular, he really does like her more than he likes any other woman he's seeing at the moment, and (essentially) the Vietnam War is happening and he knows he has less of a chance of being drafted if he's married with a kid.

Joyce is surprised and touched and relieved all at once--enough that it's easy to overlook that Lonnie (while not yet overtly cruel) is throwing up a lot of red flags. They marry, and Jonathan is born six or so months later.

#joyce byers

[areyougonnabe]

I have a follow up question which is What's Going On With Kathleen?

lol oh man. the real question is what ISN'T going on with kathleen

she was......... A Real Character that's for sure. interpreted in all sorts of bonkers ways by posterity because she refuses to fit into any sort of neat historical categorization as far as "wives of famous heroes" go. she was a strident anti-suffragist, loud in her universal hatred of other women, obsessive about maintaining her virginity amongst swarms of admirers in fin-de-siecle paris, determined to find a worthy father for her destined son, despite her occasional wishes she could have a son without marrying at all...

back to spufford, who wrote really wonderfully about kathleen:

She does not mind the election to muse and taskmistress; but she did not choose it, and again Scott has perhaps slightly misread her. The Woman One Must Strive For is a cartoon out of the male mind, and only approximates Kathleen. It is true that she plays up to it. It is true that she has something of the presenter of white feathers about her, blithely demanding bravery in circumstances her gender prevents her from experiencing. But her vicarious involvement in his polar life is more generous than that, and her emotions more detached from the public failure or success of the expedition than Scott imagines. Their marriage would not be ruined (as he sometimes fears) if he returned having failed to reach the pole, or (now his fears have coalesced into a Norwegian) having failed to beat Amundsen. The self-invented code she lives by has an eccentric stoicism as a main tenet. Nothing will be allowed to hurt enough to take the joy out of her life. When Scott moped once about the future, she had replied, in italics, 'I shall be happy whatever things happen and that is true!' She would contrive to be happy if he came home defeated; she would manage somehow to make it not matter; though whether he would be able to endure that particular demonstration of her self-sufficiency is another question.

in terms of the polycule chart, her connection to nansen comes from a set of historical letters between him and her that demonstrate certainly that he was in love with her, and that she felt something for him in return—but whether they actually consummated an affair is disputed. roland huntford, rolanding away, claims that clearly they obviously did, but wayland young (kathleen's son from her second marriage) was able to dispute that fairly easily based on evidence from the letters which huntford actively ignored.

but it's clear she had certain qualities which caused everything from obsession to revulsion to confusion in the people that she encountered. when she had to suffer the company of Hilda Evans and Oriana Wilson during the terra nova's time in new zealand it ended in violent fighting, with oates comparing the scene to a "Chicago slaughterhouse" with blood and hair flying everywhere. her overbearing presence during the loading of cargo annoyed the hell out of bowers. later, when cherry published Worst Journey, she took issue with Scott being described at times unflatteringly—despite Cherry's clear affection for him elsewhere in the book. this caused a fatal rupture in their friendship, which up until then had seen kathleen bringing her young son and many admirers (including nansen lol) to cherry's country estate.

anyway, that's about all i got, but there is a biography by her granddaughter louisa young which i have not read but is based partially on her diaries/autobiography, so if you want to know more about her you could start there!

#polar exploration #kathleen scott

[unfinishedbusincss]

Muse Vomit

Did you think it was going to be all historical bastards here? Well, you were wrong! I mean this character still ended up with me doing a lot of research and historical-adjacency'ing of my own, but I have non-historical bastards here too now!

Anyway, this is Mx. Steal-Your-Girl themself, J.D..

I love them, Your Honor. J.D. is one in a long line of poor writerly planning on my part, an original character juggling multiple concepts that don't quite fit. They're a work in progress, but one I want to work more actively on, so I'm bringing them here! I just want it out there that J.D. is a lot of things, many of them perceived as "bad," so I want the record set from the beginning. J.D. is:

wish fulfillment

self-experimental

in-development

If these things bother you, please do not interact with them. If they don't bother you, give me all the things for J.D..

As a fandomless original character, I fully expect J.D.'s gonna have their story changed to match the canon/verse of the partner I'm writing with. That said, I'm so stupid proud of their background that I just wanna gush about that.

J.D. was originally developed for two different RPGs I run on Discord--feel free to ask for info, they're fun!--but writing the bio for the second RPG is when J.D. really started coming together. It's a post-apocalyptic world featuring all kinds of monsters and humans, and I was adding J.D. to my roster of vampires as a means of diversifying them a little bit more. Since the RPG is set 30 years after a nuclear apocalypse and the oldest of the vampires present in the story is literally from Ancient Rome, I kinda had fun with the timeline. Especially with making history more of a suggestion, really.

J.D. is actually born Riley Anne Sinclair, the daughter of one of America's most notorious authors of the 20th Century, Upton Sinclair (The Jungle). [NB: Sinclair only had one child, a son. Shhhhhhh.] The onset of the Great Depression upset the Sinclair family, already dealing with poor relations with the press due to Sinclair's investigative writing, and unfortunately someone Riley thought was a close friend ended up revealing her darkest secret to her family: her attraction to women. The Sinclairs could not handle the additional scrutiny from this, and Riley left home out of shame. She hopped a westbound bus and didn't stop moving until she reached Las Vegas, Nevada.

Fun fact about Las Vegas: like Chicago and Los Angeles, it was a hub for mafia activity. Riley--now going by a play on her name, Ryan St. Clare--fell in with the Siegal crime family, working one of their many legitimate business fronts. Ryan's natural curiosity combined with a little bit of bad time resulted in her walking into the butcher shop during a confrontation between Mickey Cohen (one of Bugsy Siegal's most trusted) and the D'Angelo brothers (I thought I based them on real people but can't find those notes now???). Mickey was having the D'Angelos taken out, but Ryan's discovery of the illegal activities made her a liability. Although he didn't shoot her himself, Mickey Cohen was the one who killed her, having given the order to leave a lead slug in her stomach. That would probably have meant the end of anyone else...but Ryan's luck wasn't all bad.

Cohen and his cohorts fled the massacre, but the next people on the scene were not the police. They were vampires, one of whom (Amalia) performed the blood rite to reawaken Ryan as one of their own. In exchange for her new eternal life, she was asked to pledge herself to Amalia, Amalia's husband (Sanguinous), and their plans for vampire supremacy. Ryan would join them in a heartbeat, and would make herself a new identity one last time.

Now going by Jane Doe--J.D. for short--and alternating between she/her and they/them pronouns, J.D. has a grip on life. This is where we get to me not having done much character development, as the gap between "dies and is resurrected as a vampire" and "who J.D. is now" is where I've fallen down. But yeah; J.D.!

#✗ j.d. #✗ queue #✗ out of character

[cowboyjen68]

What are your thoughts on gender neutral parenting?

This is the question I have next up. I have 30 minutes before I need to be on the Farm making kettle korn after a long, hot day yesterday of landscaping for a little side money. So here is goes My parents raised me in a sort of gender neutral way.. without awareness of it. This we the late 60's and early 70's. I still was praised for being "pretty in a dress" and told to smile because "I have such a pretty one". My mom wanted me to get perms and she always, always said when I was leaving to go anywhere, "don't be loud." (As a youngster I was very loud and outgoing. I tamed a bit as I got older, pretended I was shy so I didn't have to hide being a lesbian so hard.. just stay in the background.) But they also encouraged me to play with whatever I loved, to run around out side “GO OUTSIDE!!”, to be very independent, often riding my horses for hours without contact. They gave me chores from helping in the kitchen to cleaning the garage. They didn’t quell my passion for being rough and tumble AT HOME... in public mom tried a little harder to get me to settle and be more passive. They mostly let me dress in what I wanted except for fancy occasions like weddings and out to dinner with Uncle Jerry from Chicago. They did not force gendered things on me all the time for two main reasons. My sister (who is straight) was very independent and head strong. She did what she wanted and they figured I would too. AND my siblings were 17, 20 and 23 years OLDER than me. They were tired. They were over it. So they didn’t fight me on what I liked. (And dad was HAPPY to have help on the acreage since they moved there on my behalf to get horses and let me be more wild). When I told my mom, at 12, I wanted to be a boy she told me I did not (colorful description of why not... and not flattering to the male body) then said "what do you really want". I wanted to do what boys did. So she said "do it.. talk to your father". I did. He had been bypassing me in favor of the neighbor boys on manual labor since I was 9. He thought I was not interested. From then on, chainsaw, mowing, (not just the easy parts) hay, oil changes, and such. When he was dying he told me to take his belt, "good leather last you a life time and you pass it to your kids" and he made sure I got his "wedding suit". A brown 1970's 3 piece JC Penny suit that he wore for every "suit" occasion since he retired in the late 80's. He said I would look good in it. Mom was way more into making sure I followed the rules of my sex and the gender society applied to that. She was concerned I would not fit in, would have a hard time, or be bullied for not conforming to the expectations of females. Women=feminine. Which is odd considering she played softball, was known to be very bold and outspoken (there are stories worth telling there). She bowled, always worked full time and managed the financials of the house. She shared cooking with dad. Her worry came from a mom knowing her kid was different and if she could lesson that "oddity" she could protect me. OF course.. a butch in a dress is still a butch and everyone who can see knows it. So gender neutral parenting. It is a great theory. It should be a thing. When I say gender I mean the set of stereotypes and societal expectations placed on us because of our sex. The engrained response to gender is little girls get pink and teddy bears and little boys get blue and trucks. Most parents don't even realize (there have been studies) that they do it. They tell a little girl in boys clothes "you are so strong and tough" and a little boy in a dress "aren't you just precious and pretty... boys will love you". They are using visually gendered clues to determine the sex and therefore the gender and ROLES this child is supposed to abide by. Not just abide by but thrive on. Praise for following the rules. And kids figure that out very quickly. Little girls stop trying "hard or dirty" tasks and little boys stop being tender with a doll or each other because they don't earn praise for those behaviors. Unfortunately no matter how perfectly neutral a parent (or family) is the world exists. Day care, the park, grandparents, cousins and on and on also affect this child's view of themselves in the world. Gender Neutral purity can be dangerous. You child will get into the real world and be hit with reality. We are expected to follow certain rules based on our sex and not doing so can cause issues at school, jobs, summer camps etc if that child does not have an idea about what is happening. Gender awareness parenting is much more important once the child is past the stage of being only with mom and dad. Actively speaking to your son about the benefits of dolls (sesame street has a short clip about this and IT IS STILL amazing). Speaking to your daughter about what she loves and encouraging that. If a little girl loves pink and dolls GO FOR IT> Parenting is NOT and never should be a political statement. DO NOT use your chld to prove your wokeness on gender. If your little boy likes motorcycles and buzz cuts don’t make him grow long hair and ride a pink bike because “color is not gendered” Kids should be encouraged to love and pursue what they love not what their parents want or think they shouldwant  in order to make a statement. I am going to repeat that. Kids should never be a statement of their parent’s political wokeness. Kids are people.. they deserve to love what they are passionate about. THAT Is the core idea behind gender neutral parenting.  You can’t send your kid, unarmed and unaware in to a world still very flush with gendered jobs, clothes, actions, hobbies etc based on their sex and expect them to just blindly power through. Actively educating kids to understand gender expectations and empowering them to do as they please is parenting at it’s finest. A child kept in the dark about the reality of the bad effects gender roles has on each one of us can be dangerous. They need to be actively involved in making decisions to keep themselves safe, to understand why gender exists and to let them choose when and where to push back.

#gender #parenting #gender neutral parenting #children #opinion

[rhysismydaddy]

An Artful Revenge pt. 6 (Feysand)

Part of the Damnation series. 

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

This is the last part of this fic! Gonna work on some asks next, then start the Nessian story (see the link above for details) 

~Feyre~

Men, in general, are beyond stupid.

I honestly don’t even know how the male population is still around.

I mean sure, they have their moments. Fire? Pretty cool. 

Maybe I should amend my statement: Men are stupid when it comes to women.

Because if Tamlin had any common sense, he would wonder why I drag myself into his office downtown, the day after I found out who he really is.

He’d wonder how I even found his posh little office, since he sure as hell never told me about it. (Answer: Rhysand). 

He’d wonder why I’m crying and having an emotional breakdown, but am still dressed in a lowcut dress with my hair done. (Answer: men are even stupider when it comes to a woman with exposed breasts). 

But he doesn’t.

He sees me stumbling toward him, a mess of tears and fluffy hair, and jumps to his feet, coming to my rescue.

His arms wrap around me miraculously at the same time my legs give out, and I fall into him dramatically. 

That was a little much, but what can I say? I was a theatre kid.

“Feyre,” he says calmly, stroking my hair like he didn’t insult me twenty-four hours ago. In fact, he’s acting like we didn’t even break up. “What’s wrong?”

I press my face in his shoulder, trying not to think about how wrong this feels, how wrong he smells. 

Rhysand smells like citrus and the sea and something so manly it makes my knees go weak for real. Tamlin smells like dirt and bad decisions. 

“You were right.” It’s something all men love to hear a woman say, even though it’s hardly ever true. “You were so right, Tamlin.”

He pulls back and runs a thumb over my cheek, swiping a tear away. 

His green eyes question mine, so calm and understanding compared to yesterday’s rage. His hands are gentle as they cradle my face, and I want them off off off.

“He’s a monster,” I wail, dredging up some more tears. Knowing there needs to be more of a concrete reason for my breakdown, I make some pretty seedy shit up. “He... killed his driver! Because he took a wrong turn!”

Gods, Feyre. Really?

I can practically see Rhysand rolling his eyes. He’d see through my lies in a second. 

Tamlin, however, bites the bait... more like he swallows the whole damn line.

He hugs me again, so tight my feet leave the floor, and I go limp against him, pressing all the soft parts of me against the hardness of his chest.

Don’t get me wrong, Tamlin’s attractive. Wide shoulders, surfer boy hair, tan skin, and green eyes that look like the deepest of emerald. 

But he also is a fucking asshole, and everything about him irritates me.

It’s crazy, I think as his hands slip lower on my back, that yesterday he called me a whore, and now he wants to sleep with me.

Prick.

“Tamlin,” I sigh against his neck.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

I almost throw up at the little pet name, but I nod and act like he’s the greatest thing on this planet, the gods’ personal gift to all things women.

But then he kisses me, and I get tired of this little charade. 

I keep my eyes open as his warm lips meet mine, wanting to see his face as the needle sinks into his skin.

His eyes fly open, and he drops me to my feet roughly, a hand pressed against his neck. It’s too late, of course.

Whatever black market shit this is, it works fast. 

His legs give out, and I shove his shoulder so he lands in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. 

“Feyre,” he growls, no longer happy to see me, “What the fuck are you doing?”

I roll my eyes, because even the dumbest of men should be able to figure that out my now. 

You’d think he’d pass out or be too paralyzed to talk, but just like Rhysand promised me, the drugs have paralyzed him from the neck down but left him perfectly conscious. 

I want him to see exactly what I’m doing.

Straightening my dress, I saunter over to his desk, eyes scanning the messy papers and folders for what I want.

Three rings, the exact copy of Rhysand’s, sit in a glass box, the shining titanium making them look like treasure. And they are.

But they’ve been here fucking long enough. 

I try to open the box, but it’s locked, so I sigh and grab a paperweight, then smash it to bits.

“You do this, Feyre, and I’ll come after you.”

“Ooooh, scary,” I deadpan, completely writing him off in a way I know drives him crazy.

Glass flies everywhere, but I just grab the rings and put them on whatever fingers they’ll fit on. 

Yet another piece of evidence men are idiots: I was wearing Rhysand’s ring when I walked in here.

A small detail, sure, but when I took that ring from him yesterday in his car, I made a vow to never take it off.

It’s a little big, resting on my thumb, but it’s perfect. 

It means I’m his, and he’s mine.

“He might have Chicago, but I’ll make you’re life miserable!”

“You did that for two years,” I remind him with a smile.

Then I set the radio exactly like I’d been told to, turn back to Tamlin, punch him square in the jaw, and smile when I hear a crunch.

That wasn’t exactly part of the plan, but I was tired of his threats. 

He howls in pain, and I know it makes me meaner than an adder, but I blow him a kiss and laugh as I walk out of his office. 

A sleek black sedan, driven by the very much alive Rolando (I’ve officially stopped thinking of him as Beefcakes), waits for me at the curb. I swing the door open and climb in, turning to Rhysand with a grin.

I hold up my hands victory. 

Rhysand smiles and laughs, relief and love and awe written across his beautiful features. 

He’s so fucking handsome, I can’t hold out anymore.

Muttering an apology to Rolando for what he’s about to witness, I sling myself across the leather seat and pretty much attack Rhysand. 

It might be the fact that I just drugged someone with illegal substances--my very first crime!--or maybe just how he looks when he’s happy. I don’t really care.

My hands are on his jaw, running down his chest, tangling in his hair. 

He lets out a surprised laugh as I paw at him, and I use the opportunity to sweep my tongue into his mouth, holding back a moan at the taste of him.

The car stops, but I sure as hell don’t.

Until Rhysand takes me shoulders in his hands, and gently pulls away. “Adrenaline junkie,” he accuses with a smile, pressing one last kiss to my cheek. 

I nod, because it’s probably true.

He gives me an amused look. “Then I can’t wait for what happens in twenty minutes.”

I stick my tongue out at him, ever the mature adult, and he smiles. Then he takes my hands, examines the rings, and takes the two that fit the worst.

He slips them on, and even though it’s a casual gesture, I almost break out into tears.

Too manly to cry like a baby, Rhysand just opens the door and walks out, taking my hand and pulling me with him.

Even though he looks calm and cool as a cucumber, I know he’s not exactly thrilled I’m here. We had our first real argument about me coming along for this part of the plan I’ve secretly begun to call Toppling Tamlin the Tool. 

I won, obviously.

He warned me time and time again about what I was going to witness today, but I don’t care. His revenge is his to take, but I want to be here for him. 

He’s been fighting for so long, completely alone. 

And no matter how it started, I fell for him. He isn’t alone anymore, and won’t be ever again, no matter how dangerous the situation is.

Hand in hand, we stroll into Leperchaun’s Luck, the last remaining Irish stronghold in Chicago.

When I asked why he’d let it remain all this time, Rhysand smiled that cruel smile and said, “Revenge is only worth it if it’s slow and painful.”

I’d shuddered, half in horror and half in excitement.

I know it’s horrible and beyond absurd, but what he does for a living doesn’t scare me. He explained the gory details last night, and I listened. And even though I was scared, it wasn’t of him.

It was for him.

He has enemies with rap sheets longer than my arm. 

The guy Rhysand blocks from buying Degas? Russian arms dealer!

But Chicago, he’d told me with a smile, is his. Someone would have to be suicidal to come after him here. So I guess I’ll just blow up his plane and never let him leave.

Sounds realistic.

I’d like to think it was my smile and charm that made him give in and let me tag along, but it was likely the fact that we aren’t in any super big dangerous. 

We walk through the empty bar and to the courtyard in the back, and it’s a little amusing how quickly the six men sitting around a poker table jump to their feet and start shouting questions. 

“What the fuck?” is the most popular. 

“Hello, gentlemen,” Rhysand greets smoothly, ever the gentleman. 

Someone behind us loads a gun, the sound making my eyes go wide. 

But it’s never fired.

Because all of a sudden, red dots are on every single chest besides mine and Rhysand’s. 

“Pull that trigger, McCallen, and all your friends die.”

They all look down and around at each other with huge, saucer-sized eyes. 

Not one to dally, Rhysand smiles and tells the group, “I just bought this establishment. Needless to say, you’re no longer welcome. In here, or Chicago. You have six hours to leave my city.”

‘Bought’ is a bit of a strong word. He hacked into Tamlin’s bank account and bankrupted him, forcing him to sell to the highest bidder. Guess who that was.

“Or what?” one asks, feeling brave.

Another dot makes its way to his chest.

Gods, how many snipers does Rhysand have?

“Or you’ll die, and your precious little daughter Lena will be an orphan.”

The man’s jaw sets, even as his face pales. 

Checking his watch with a casual gesture, Rhysand reminds, “Six hours and counting.”

Then he says, directly at the small box in the middle of the poker table, “That goes for you too, Tamlin.” 

Since he didn’t want to risk coming back to Chicago, much less his last property here, Tamlin had been keeping control of his men by listening to everything that happened in this place on a private radio frequency.

Which, somehow, Rhysand knew.

He’d told me the number, and I’d turned the radio in Tamlin’s office to it before leaving. The drugs haven’t left his system and won’t until later today, meaning he’s still lying limp in that chair, listening to every word.

“Leave before I lose my patience,” Rhysand growls, and the men take the warning and haul ass out of the building.

Turning to me, he smiles and asks, “Ready, Feyre darling?”

“Ready.”

We walk out of the restaurant again, pep definitely in our steps, then get back in the car. Rolando starts driving immediately, leaving the restaurant behind us.

“Do you want to-”

“Yes,” I answer immediately, grabbing the phone from him and hitting call.

"So violent,” he murmurs with a smirk, turning in his seat to watch as the explosives he’d placed there years ago during a mandatory “city inspection” finally came into use. 

The explanation I got on that one: “In case I got bored.”

Gods, he’s sexy.

The car rocks slightly as orange and blue and yellow flames race out of the building, leaving absolutely nothing behind. 

Even though the violent woman in me wants to keep watching, I look at Rhysand instead.

His eyes find mine, and he smiles softly. “It’s done. It’s over.”

I nod and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, linking our hands together. We both stare down at the rings. “It’s over.”

Tamlin will run back to wherever he’s been the past seven months, and since there’s absolutely nothing for him here, he won’t come back. 

Rhysand has complete control of the city again, his empire built brick by brick through hard work and rage. He’s gotten his revenge, taken everything from the man who left him with nothing. 

And he got me.

“Was that enough adrenaline for you, Feyre?” he asks, hitting a button to roll up the barrier between us and Rolando. 

Someone else, it seems, is an adrenaline junkie. 

Smiling, I slide down on the soft leather and lift an eyebrow. “Come find out.”

~Feyre, three months later~

Somehow, I feel nauseous, excited, and doomed all at once.

I don’t even know how that’s possible, but it’s true.

I’m so nervous, I might be sick. I’m so excited, I can hardly walk. I’m so unsure of myself, I might fail. 

Focusing on the one in the middle, I walk down the aisle between chairs, ignoring the people watching me and focusing on the destination.

I can feel his eyes on me, and just like the first day we met, I can hardly breathe. But I ignore the tingly feeling in my spine and focus on what I’m doing.

I walk up to the slightly lifted stage in the large auditorium and turn to my peers, smiling and feigning confidence. 

I’m presenting my senior project today. And even though I’m excited and nervous and doomed, I’m proud of it.

It turned out better than I expected, honestly. 

It took me forever to finish the painting aspect because I wasn’t quite satisfied until late last night. 

The paint’s interrupted and surrounded by photos I’ve collected this year.

Rhysand, covered in paint. Art from both Chicago’s museum and the private collection I visit almost every day. Random bits of architecture and the night sky and shots that just work. 

Up close, it’s a bit of a mess, but from a distance--particularly, the distance between me and Rhysand’s chair--it looks like three dancers, twirling and leaping under the night sky. 

My professor hugged me when she saw it. So did Rhysand.

No offense to Prof. Jones, but I enjoyed his a little more.

“This is called Starlight Dancers,” I tell the room, my voice surprisingly level. I’m glad for the bright lights, because I can’t see anyone’s actual face as I continue. “It’s a rendition of Degas’s work, Dancers in Blue, which is my favorite piece. I’ve also incorporated photographs of art and people who mean a lot to me. Like a lot of pieces from the Renaissance, it’s meant to be viewed at a distance.”

I keep talking, going through the difference elements and explaining how, essentially, it’s a celebration of painting and love.

More than once, my eyes are drawn to the photographs of Rhysand, and I find myself searching for him in the crowd. 

I also get a little distracted by the mass of sparkles adorning my ring finger.

We’ve been engaged for three days, eight hours, and a handful of minutes.

He proposed in the museum, right where we met. When I almost feinted at the site of the biggest diamond I’d ever seen and told him it was too much, he’d just laughed and said, “It was this or the painting behind you.”

Ridiculous, wonderful man. 

I know it’s fast to get married after less than five months together, but the scary truth is that I can’t imagine life without him.

I scan the crowd again, and it might be my imagination, but I think I see a pair of violet eyes watching me. 

And I could swear one winks at me.

~Rhysand~

I’m not supposed to be in here.

I’m not a professor, and I’m sure as shit not a student. 

But I snuck in anyway, ignoring the millions of things I actually need to be doing, because I want to support her. 

I don’t even know what she’s talking about--impressionism and romantic elements and different types of photography--but she’s so passionate and beautiful, I can’t take my eyes off her.

She has me completely wrapped around her finger, and it should probably scare me that I don’t even care.

Years and years of planning, and everything that’s happened in the past month still surprised me.

Not the part about running every last Irish bastard out of my city; that’d been set in stone. 

The part about me getting engaged.

Ironically, that’s the only part that makes me smile.

Sure, I sent Tamlin running for the hills with his ragged band of leprechauns, set his stronghold on fire, and finally have peace over what happened all those years ago. 

But even that pales in comparison to waking up next to the woman up on the stage.

She’s a bed hog and always puts her freezing feet on me as soon as I crawl next to her, but the way she smiles at me when she wakes up makes up for it.

Everything about her makes up for it, actually. 

She’s still absolutely crazy and wonderful and I now have paint splatters on more than a few of my suits, but being loved by her is like... standing in the sun after being locked in a cave. Or some other shitty metaphor.

The fucking point is, even though getting down on one knee in a museum and asking her to share her life with me is the last thing I expected to happen, I’m glad it did.

Because being with her gives me something I’d thought I’d lost ten years ago: happiness.

________________________________________

Thank you for reading! 

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#feysand #feysand fanfiction #feyre archeron #feyre #rhysand #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury #a court of frost and starlight

[sexbirthdeaths]

if i had an orchard

ship: morgan x garcia

summary: penelope is constantly shifting, growing with each passing day as a sapling grows to a tree. with each day he learns more and more what metamorphosis looks like, up close and personal - there are some things a book cannot teach you. and he can’t look away.

warnings: mentions of minor character death (hank morgan, the boy morgan finds in the junkyard), episode 3x09 “penelope”, rotting fruit/maggot imagery, religious imagery, implied murder (boy in junkyard), toxic masculinity

words: 3000

Derek is eight when his dad takes him camping for the first time. It’s the summer of 81, Sarah is entering middle school and Desiree is about to start Kindergarten, so after all of the stress of school applications, Hank proposes they just go out, enjoy the sights of Illinois.

So they go to Buffalo Rock, and he loves it, loves the smell of nature and the feeling of the sun on his skin. He plays soccer with his dad by the campsite whilst Sarah burns through her summer reading list and Desiree cries because she doesn’t like the bugs and she’s too small to play with the boys, and it’s the best summer of his life.

One night, his father pulls a bag of apples from the rucksack, suggests they bake them in some tinfoil over the fire. So while Fran puts Desiree away to bed, Hank sits him down by the campfire and shows him how to pare an apple with a penknife. Slow, using his thumb to stabilise the blade, careful not to cut his finger.

He cuts it straight through the core, hands Derek one of the slices to parcel up carefully in tinfoil. And once those are on the flames, he gives him the knife, another apple from the bag.

“Be careful,” Hank guides him slowly, hand hovering over Dereks’ own, “You don’t want to cut yourself.”

Derek peels it clean and precise, he’s always been a bit of a perfectionist like that. But when he cuts down the core of the apple, and the two pieces fall away in his palm, something is wrong. Very wrong.

His hand retracts in an instant, sends the apple flying, maggots spilling onto the ground into a writhing mass. His stomach is churning, twisting itself in disgust at the sight, and his father stomps it with his boot.

“That one was rotten,” Hank says, pulls the knife from Derek’s hand, “No good. It’s no good.”

Even when the apples are done baking, he can’t stand the sight of them, can’t stomach it after seeing the rotten fruit.

“Tenderness is a sign of rot,” Hank informs him as he eats his slices, “They shouldn’t be soft. That’s how you know they’re bad.”

And he takes that sentiment with him. Even when his father dies, especially when his father dies. He doesn’t cry at the funeral, he starts lashing out at anyone and everyone because to be soft is a sign of rot, of corruption at the core, it makes you undesirable and unwanted and sickening. Keep the toughest rind and you will come out the other side strong.

So he picks fights, even with the kids he knows will beat him. He’s always been a tall kid but Rodney has always been taller, stronger, but to turn the other cheek is a soft man’s path, and Derek Morgan is not soft.

He picks fights and he loses them, comes home battered and bruised and his mother will fuss over him, press a bag of frozen peas to his eye and sing him to sleep. She doesn’t care if he’s too old for it, he’ll always be her son. And even when the pain runs more than skin-deep, crawls through his veins and writhes like a maggot, sickly and decay-drawn, she will cradle his body like he isn’t crumbling from the inside out.

When Derek is 11, it’s the first Thanksgiving since his dad died. There’s an uncomfortable silence in the house as Sarah and Fran work on dinner, and Desiree’s out in the backyard with the neighbour’s kids. His grandparents aren’t coming this year, something about the Chicago winters being cruel on their arthritis.

There’s a faint layer of snow already beginning to settle outside, and he can see the constellations of snowflakes in Desiree’s hair as she finally bids the neighbours farewell and comes tumbling inside, ready to bound up the stairs.

“You promised you’d help me with the apple pie,” Sarah chides as she scoops Desiree up in her arms. The girl laughs loud and gleeful, the first real laugh since the day began, wriggles as she tries to escape her older sister’s grip. Desiree is a big girl now, 6 years old and wide-eyed and too mischievous for her own damn good, and she’s too big now for Sarah to pick her up with ease but she tries anyway.

Derek steps out, takes Desiree from Sarah’s grasp and slings her over his shoulder, grinning at the shrieks he hears.

“Come on, Des,” He laughs, “You promised!”

So, whilst his mom cooks the turkey and the mash and the myriad of thanksgiving side dishes, the three Morgan children converge in the living room, and work on the apples. Sarah peels them and Derek slices them, and Desiree just watches with her big brown eyes and pretends she's helping, because Lord knows no one trusts her with a real knife.

When they’re done there’s a pile of peels in a bowl. Their mom takes it, a sparkle in her eye.

“You know,” she says, grinning and setting down her knife, “There’s an old wives’ tale that if you throw the peel behind your shoulder, it will spell your husband’s name.”

Desiree and Sarah dissolve into giggles. Desiree’s too young to know what true love like that really feels like, too young to be thinking about marriage and life as an adult. And Sarah’s approaching it closer and closer with each passing day, she’s had her heart broken by careless boys to want nothing but a guarantee that the next boy will be the one.

So they take the peels and throw them. Desiree’s looks sort of like an L from the right angle, and Sarah’s is an A, if you use a bit of imagination, and Derek doesn’t get anything because he refuses to try it.

“That’s for girls,” he scoffs, puffs his chest up like a proud robin all red and strong.

“You’re impossible,” Is the response he gets.

When he is 15 he finds a boy’s body in the junkyard. All battered and bruised and broken and he wishes he could press a bag of frozen peas to his head like his mother had done, tell this boy it would all be okay. But it won’t be okay, and the case is never solved because the police don’t seem to care for kids like Derek or the boy, seem for focused on pinning things on them than catching their killers.

When he sees the policeman shake the community centre owner’s hand, Derek knows his killer will not be caught.

He goes door to door and pools up enough money to buy a headstone, and he visits it whenever he can, touches the cool rock and feels himself break. And he doesn’t know this boy, know his face or his name, but they feel connected. Through space and time and tragedy, maybe in another life they were friends. Maybe in another life it was him, and he would be the one rotting in the ground.

Move forward a few years and he feels like something inside of him is broken. Like he’s been torn apart and stitched back together again but something went wrong in the process. He feels moldy, he thinks one day as he’s filling out college applications, disgusting. If he could he’d rip all his skin off and scrub himself spotless. But this runs deeper than skin.

He gets the football scholarship, and his mother cries when he reads the letter because her baby is going to Northwestern and he’s gonna be something great, bigger than himself, he’s gonna change the world. And the success feels like the pinprick in the lid for him, like he can finally breathe as there’s a chance for him to go. Leave those rotten parts of him behind.

After college and the Chicago department, he finds himself starting in the BAU. The team is pretty small - Hotch is a hard-ass and Gideon is, well, Gideon, and the liaison stays in her office too much for Derek to really know who she is, but the BAU feels right for him. Gideon’s got some kid on his radar and so does Hotch, but they’re both so frustratingly secretive that he has no clue who they could be.

He fits right in like a puzzle piece that’s been missing for so long, takes on a role as the ladies’ man and the handsome coworker who flirts with you over coffee, but also the guy who’ll sit with child victims for hours to make sure they’re alright. Hotch hasn’t booted him yet so he figures he’s doing something right.

And then he meets her.

Penelope Garcia, she introduces herself as, and she’s so unlike any girl he’s ever met before with her long, dark hair and she acts like she’s the smartest person in the room (and after a few hours interrogating her, he figures that sentiment isn’t too far off). She’s got these big curious eyes and glittery pink acrylics and he can see the person that sits behind the dark facade.

They don’t hit it off, at first, because he’s proud and she’s defensive and he has a job to complete, but then Hotch informs him of the deal that’s been made, so he better start trying to get along with her. She gets along great with JJ, they eat lunches together in Garcia’s ‘batcave’ and JJ’s finally starting to open up a bit more, actually talks to Derek at the coffee machine in the mornings and asks how he’s been. Before, she’d talk to him, or Hotch, or Gideon even, with strained words and avoiding eye contact.

The first time he calls her babygirl is the first time he sees her properly flustered, cheeks red and stammering as she types away at her keyboard and Hotch gives him the mother of all death glares because they’re trying to run an FBI investigation here, Derek. But it makes him smile, seeing her all blushed pink, and he decides he likes it.

She pretends she doesn’t struggle sometimes, and he sees it. The mass of figurines and posters in her office are just a distraction technique - he’s well versed in those - and he knows just how taxing it must be for her, seeing all those awful things. She loves and she loves like it’s the only thing she knows how to do, full-bodied and all in, and some days he wonders if she’s really capable of hatred at all.

“How can you do it? How do you deal with it all?” She asks one day over coffee, voice small and sad. She’s seen some awful things over the past few days, and he wraps her up tightly in her arms. The worst thing is - he doesn’t know what to say. For as long as he can remember, he’s just been pushing it away and ignoring it. Letting it sit inside him and simmer, rip him from the inside out and just pray he’ll be able to pick up the pieces once he finally falls apart.

Things shift, change, over the years as people come and go. There’s a new kid, one Gideon’s been raving about for months who’s finally gotten all the necessary qualifications, even if some exams had to be waived. And he gets hurt, gets hurt bad, and Derek wonder’s if that’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back because it isn’t long before Gideon leaves. There’s a new man in his place and they’re still trying to trust him, but he just isn’t Gideon, he isn’t the mentor and the peacekeeper and the caretaker that they’ve all grown to need.

Penelope is constantly shifting, growing with each passing day as a sapling grows to a tree. With each day he learns more and more what metamorphosis looks like, up close and personal - there are some things a book cannot teach you. And he can’t look away.

She has a date. She has a date and he doesn’t know why there’s this ache in his chest, like something’s been scraped out from him and left him hollow. But it’s her choice, he figures, he doesn’t own her. And then he gets the phone call.

Shot, he hears Hotch say over the phone, voice crackled and rough, and it’s like everything in him shuts down. Like someone’s ripping him apart limb by limb. That motherfucker. He will not know kindness from me. Do you need me? He asks, but Hotch just sighs.

She needs you.

And he’s driving to the hospital but he’s so pissed he can barely even focus, consumed by the rage bubbling within him, he wants to find that son of a bitch and make him feel a thousand times what Penelope felt. His skin is itching like thousands of maggots are crawling across him, it’s so overwhelming.

He feels rotten, like he’s so full of pain he can barely breathe, and his cheeks are wet and he doesn’t know why they are until he reaches up to touch them, realises he’s crying.

Men like Morgan do not cry. It’s a sign of weakness, he thinks, and you cannot afford to be weak. Not here, not now, you have never been safe enough to be weak. You bottle it up and ignore it, because to be soft is to be rotten.

He flashes his badge to the hospital receptionist and she informs him with pitying eyes that Penelope is in emergency surgery, that he can wait until she’s out and hear the verdict. So he collapses into the waiting room chairs, unable to look at the others, waits for Penelope to be okay.

Waiting lasts a century. All he wants is to take her in his arms and let her know she’s going to be okay, but he can’t. He can’t even guarantee that it will all be fine, because from what he’s heard it’s a bad wound from a good shot and it’s not looking good.

See, Penelope is an apple tree. She gives and she gives and she asks for nothing in return but a spot in the sun and a love her body has been starved of for years. And all Derek wants is to drown in blossom petals and cider, to drown himself in her warmth. All she asks for is to be loved, and that bastard didn’t even try. Derek will try, he will try and he will pray to a God he does not even believe in (Goddamnit he’s trying, he’s trying) if it means he can love her, if it means that she will be there to receive his love.

When the surgeon comes back, gives them the news, everything in him relaxes. Like the tightly-wound coil of a music box as the lever is finally released. She’s okay, she will be okay, no one must die today.

Her makeup is gone, hair a knotted mass, she’s traded out the bright clothes and heavy jewellry for a hospital gown. And she’s as breathtaking as ever, and Morgan can’t look away. He wants to reach out and hold her hand, press his forehead against hers, let her know that he’s here and everything is going to be okay, tell her how glad he is that she’s alive.

“You really love her, huh?” JJ asks with a smile, looks up at Morgan with a piercing, knowing gaze once they file out of the room, split up the group. She’s cradling a to-go coffee cup in her hands and disshevelled - she’d been the first one at the hospital, been in charge of letting everyone else know.

It’s JJ that knows Penelope the best, if not Derek. She knows the ins-and-outs of their relationship, she can see what they’re too scared to say to eachother. Love, he thinks, this is what this is.

“I do.” He nods.

“So tell her- show her, god knows she needs you right now.”

He waits until the others have left Penelope’s hospital room. The thing is - he flirts with her all the time, has himself branded as a ladies man, but it’s been so long since he’s had something real. He’s always been too afraid to show that tender side that a relationship requires.

But he’s tired of holding back. Penelope softens him, turns all his harsh edges hazy, makes his heart wrench in his chest. He has forgotten what it means to be rotten.

So he sits himself at the edge of her bed, doesn’t care if any of the others can see him through the window, all that matters is here and now.

“I almost lost you,” he says, voice soft, “I was so scared- I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if you’d gone besides tear the bastard apart.”

He scoots closer, chair handle digging into him as he leans into her. His hand cups her face, feels her warm skin against his cool palm, heartbeat thrumming under his fingertips. She’s alive, good god, and she’s here with him, and maybe everything will be okay.

His forehead presses against Penelope’s own and she seems to welcome the movement, twists a handful of his shirt in her grip like she can’t bear the thought of ever letting him go. Derek has never wanted to be loved more than right now, loved by her.

He’d bite the apple for her, Derek thinks, swallow it down seeds and all. Because he loved her, he didn’t care if the fruit was rotten or wretched, damnation was a gift if he was condemned alongside her. He’d run to the edges of the world where all that could reach them was the moon and the stars, and he’d tell Penelope how he hung them just for her.

Kissing her feels like breaking the water’s surface. Being reborn, baptised under her hands, and for what feels like the first time, he can breathe.

#morcia #derek morgan #penelope garcia #criminal minds fic #derek morgan fic #penelope garcia fic #derek morgan x penelope garcia #penelope garcia x derek morgan #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #david rossi #jason gideon #jj jareau #jennifer jareau #criminal minds fanfiction #userpenemily

[spaceradars]

i woke up thinking of due south today did i dream of it? idk but probably and i had to rewatch call of the wild and just... think about it again because i realized i literally can’t imagine any other way it could’ve ended.

and maybe it's me not being so accustomed to having a series that's so close to my heart end with what i consider to be a good, fitting ending.there's no way i can imagine an ending in which Fraser would've stayed in Chigago, and not only because of him stating in the first five minutes of cotw that he's homesick, but because that just wouldn't have felt like him. and yet, then there's just another point which is his loneliness -what if he had gone back to Canada only to be alone over again? partially that's how Fraser is, or maybe how he was presented to us, more like it, but over the course of four seasons he changes in that aspect, so it wouldn't have made sense either. that was literally my main concern during the time i was watching cotw for the first time -what if he goes back home and just... is all alone again? and i mean with no friends/people who care for him, i don't mean Dief lmao i mean literal people. and then the ending happened, and i was glad because none of my worst fears came true.

rewatching this again made me think about how i'm also extremely glad i was to have the Rayk ending we got (and let's forget about shipping for a sec here). what kind of ending would they've given Rayk if not that one? staying in Chicago, in some other precint? working with/for other people? having to sorts of rebuild his life once more? because the way i see it and the way it's shown there's a Rayk that was married to Stella --the Rayk we never got to meet. the one we got to meet's the one who was working with Fraser (and actually got to grow a lot in the process). and then there's a third one that would've become when striped of this last thing. it would've been like starting all over again (and we know how he literally states he doesn't know who he is when he isn't around someone blah blah, someone meaning Fraser, of course). and i don't know, i just would've found it heartbreaking to go back to that lonely, "i've got no one so i've got nothing to lose" persona he was at the beginning of s3 (and yes, maybe now he's become acquaintance with his co-workers/is actually talking to his parents but still, but up to what point?).

and i find it actually fascinating how (whether it was actually a choice or it just happened to be that way, or maybe i just read it that way myself) it's a literal parallel but also contrast to what Rayv is facing. because he comes back from Vegas after being undercover for like two years, and coming back means letting go a part of his life, that part that took place during those specific years (same as Rayk is doing/will have to do once Rayv is back), and part of him needs to retake his old life. but another part needs to start over (not because he literally has to, but because it's been many months... anyone would've to do the same). and yet, and here's how it's all different, i think the main thing lies on the fact Rayv has besides from coworkers/Fraser ofc this big and caring family as a support system (not that it's actually stated in cotw, but we know how they are from before), which is something we know for a fact that Rayk doesn't really have. and the only person who could actually fill that role is, well, Fraser.

so idk my point here is that i'm actually so glad they went ahead and gave him that ending which (even if we want to read the whole "adventure" as a whole more than searching for the hand of Franklin/the hand being just a metaphore), actually says a lot about Rayk's development/who he is or has become as a person --he has this experience in which he has to face death once again (we know it's not the first time) but it's probably the first time he actually decides to do something about it. he literally states that if he mades it out, he'll go for a real adventure, look for the hand of Franklin --which is exactly what he's going to do in the end, what he does.

it also got me thinking a lot about the meaning of ghosts which is enough to make an entire different post about it lmao. like what was Fraser sr’s role as a ghost, besides the one he had with Fraser? was it to bring Fraser’s mother’s (aka his wife) murderers to justice/get revenge? was it something else, something more, something less? idk i mean i should write an entire different thing about it, and about the whole series’ relationship with ghosts, but i don’t think i’ve ever think as much about it as i just did

and yes, i do think the ending seemed a bit rushed, which was probably a matter of time (and i know it's kinda impossible to take 10 minutes to wrap every character story because it would've taken the entire episode, but still i wanted to know more), but the thing is that i'm very glad this wasn't one of those endings in which they made us feel as if the entire character(s)' journey didn't matter, you know?

#if you guys wanna talk about this message me !!!!!! or tell me !!!! im always willing to talk about due south lmao #these are my opinions blah blah no need to clarify that right? we’re all free to have different ones #but it’s just something thats on my mind since this morning and needed to put in words #also yes i project in rayk bUT ALSO i could fix him you know #sofi watches due south #due south #txt

[trvelyans-archive]

If anyone else – anyone, even Sally or Nick – asked you to go on a hike with them, it would be an immediate “no”.

With Gray, it’s an immediate “yes”. (Though, to be fair, he could ask you to spray paint the Chicago Bean with him before lighting it on fire, and even then, you’d only hesitate for a split second before Googling what store that sells spray paint is closest to your house). Sure, it helps that this is a walk instead of a hike, and it helps more that he drove you to the lakefront on his motorcycle, but still… Sally would get a ten-minute walk to the closest Burger King to your house and a ten-minute walk back at most, and even then, you’d probably complain a little anyway.

Though maybe you could be convinced on a night like this, considering how nice it is outside. You and Gray stopped to watch the sunset an hour ago, sitting on a bench close to the water and splitting a Diet Coke and a bag of fries (which, unfortunately, you were forced to eat without ketchup after the first half, though it helped that he fed some of them to you). Now that it’s getting dark out, the two of you have started walking back to his motorcycle to head to his place, and you occasional sneak a sideways glance at him when you can, just to admire how pretty he is with his hair all windswept.

Four years ago, on a night like this, you’d sit and watch the sunset through the kitchen window while sitting on the counter and eating a whole sleeve of stale crackers, and now you’re here strolling through a nice lakefront park, holding hands with the man you’ve been in love with for the same amount of time.

… Weird. Life can be really weird sometimes.

Gray glances over at you when he feels you looking, and you watch in real time as he starts to smile. “You look beautiful tonight,” he murmurs eventually, once he’s smiling enough that you can see his adorably perfect dimple. “Did I say that already?”

“Yes,” you say, rolling your eyes. He even had the audacity to say it after he wiped a smear of ketchup off your cheek and then stared at you adoringly for ten seconds like that was something stare-worthy.

“Well, there’s no harm in reminding you.” He tightens his grip on you and tries to pull you a little closer to him on the sidewalk. “Because I love you.”

“You’ve also said that already.”

“I know,” he replies, bringing your hand to his lips and gently kissing your knuckles. “But it never hurts for you to hear it again.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and look away, trying to pretend that he can’t see and also isn’t smirking about how much you’re blushing.

It’s especially nice out because of how quiet the park is, you think. The couple times you’ve been here before with Nick or Sally or another one of your friends that quickly dumped you, it’s been packed bench-to-bench, but it’s practically empty tonight, save for a handful of other couples who are also wandering down the sidewalks or sitting on the grass and who very clearly do not want to leave.

(God, referring to you and Gray as a couple… also very weird.)

Eventually your path starts to curve away from the water and back towards the parking lot where there are much less people – much less light, too, with the trees on either side covering up the sky above you. You’re looking up and admiring the leaves when Gray tugs on your hand again. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You snort. “You don’t have to ask, Gray.”

“I know I don’t have to ask, but I want to.” He smiles. “It’s polite.”

That gets a smile out of you, too, and his grows a little wider when he sees it. “Just thinking,” you say, trying to go for the best enigmatic delivery you can manage.

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow, clearly willing to play along. Not that that’s a surprise – he’s usually willing to play along when you joke around with him like this, the same way you’d play along and arrange a getaway car in the event that you successfully burned down one of the most famous Chicago landmarks and weren’t immediately picked up by police. “Is there anything in particular you’re thinking about?”

Besides hypothetical arson? You turn around and look over your shoulder at the retreating backs of the elderly couple that just walked by you. They’re probably far enough away that they won’t hear you by now, unless they’re Ments with brain ranges like Nick’s (which is unlikely). “You,” you answer as you turn back around, satisfied that no one else can hear your conversation.

“Me?” Gray touches his free hand to his chest. “I’m honoured.”

“Oh, shush,” you say, shaking your head.

“I mean it,” he replies. He pulls you closer to him until you’re practically hip-to-hip and lowers his head to talk in your ear. “I like knowing you think about me, Mari.”

It’s hard to think when he’s so close to you, but you try not to let it get the best of you. “I’m thinking a lot of things about you right now,” you continue. He does dirty talk a lot better than you, but you’re working on it.

“Good things, I hope?”

He yelps when you elbow him. “Obviously.”

“Mmm. Like what?”

You glance over your shoulder again to double-check that the elderly couple is gone before giving Gray a wicked, albeit slightly self-conscious, smile. “Like how long we can make out in the park before people start yelling at us?” you answer.

He pulls you to a stop on the sidewalk, his eyes flickering to your lips a second before he leans in to kiss you – but not before you lean in to kiss him, first.

Kissing Gray is new, but it’s not weird. It’s the exact opposite of weird. He makes sure of that every time.

You shake his hand out from yours – which makes him grunt in protest, which makes you smile against his lips – and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer against you, so close that there’s barely a centimeter between your bodies. He places his hands on your waist as the kiss deepens and holds you tightly as he walks you backwards, off the path and into the trees, and you’re very glad that you came here tonight instead of some other time during the day, because not getting to do this would be a crime (and doing it then might, you know, actually be considered a crime). He grunts again as his back hits the trunk of a tree and you smile, moving your hands to cup his face, pulling him even closer to you until you can literally feel his belt buckle pressing against your stomach, so much that you’ll be shocked if it doesn’t leave an indent.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, moving away from your lips as his kisses start migrating down the line of your jaw and his hands move to the small of your back. “So perfect. So beautiful. Sometimes – you’re so beautiful – it hurts.” He stops kissing you to nip at your neck. “And you smell so good.”

“Okay, weird,” you say, as if you’re not secretly loving the praise.

“Mmm. Don’t think I didn’t see you smelling my pillows this morning.”

God - how many times has he seen you do that? “Only because –“

Whatever protest you were attempting to make dies on your lips when he kisses you again, a little more insistent and a lot more impatient than the last time.

You drag your hands down to the collar of his jacket and start walking backwards, walking until your back bumps up against a tree behind you, and Gray takes advantage of the situation by pressing the length of his body against you. “I love you,” he whispers, this time lining kisses down your other jaw as he slides his hands under your shirt. “I love feeling you against me. I love your body.”

“God, Gray…”

“What?” He pulls back from your neck, his face flushed and eyes sparkling. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Are you crazy?”

He grins and leans back in for another kiss. You don’t protest when he slides one of his hands underneath the band of your bra and thumbs at the hooks, and you especially don’t protest when he drags his other hand over your side and up your chest, cupping one of your tits in his hand and squeezing.

You moan, arching your hips against him, and he grins.

“I love the sounds you make when I touch you,” he whispers.

“I love when you touch me,” you reply, because you do.

He squeezes it again so you moan again, and then brushes his thumb over your nipple. “Good.”

This time, when he pulls away from your mouth, he starts kissing down the column of your throat, and you wind your arms around his neck to keep him steady. As you do, though, you catch sight of something behind him, and after a moment of deliberation, you tap his shoulder to try and get his attention – unfortunately for you, he’s very intensely kissing the line of your collarbone, and it takes you tugging on his hair to get him to look up.

“People are staring,” you mutter. Sure enough, the elderly couple you saw earlier is watching your make out session from the middle of the sidewalk, both of them smiling in amusement. Gray tears himself away from you to follow your eyes and then, once he spots them, goes completely still like a deer in the headlights.

He curses under his breath and then, a little louder, “uh, hello there! Don’t mind us, I’m –“

“He’s giving me CPR!”

“Yes, I’m just – what?” He whips around to look at you and stares until you eventually break down into a fit of giggles, at which point he starts laughing, too, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Ugh… I’m sorry, Mari,” he says, “I shouldn’t have let myself get so carried away.”

You shake your head, tilting your face to the ground to hide your blush as the elderly couple continues walking again. “It’s okay,” you reply. “Uh – kinda my fault, too.”

Gray sidles up close to you again, distracting himself by adjusting your shirt until it looks like you weren’t just furiously made out with. “I’m glad you stopped me,” he says once they’re out of sight. “I don’t know if I could’ve resisted you otherwise.”

You press your legs together and chew the inside of your cheek. “Uh, my pleasure,” you reply. “I mean, you’re welcome. I mean – thanks?”

He’s supposed to be the awkward one, you think miserably.

Gray laughs and leans in so he can kiss your forehead. “You’re the cutest,” he murmurs. “Also, Mari… I’ve been meaning to say thank you for coming out with me tonight. I know it’s probably not what you want to be doing on a night like this, but…”

“Are you kidding?” you ask, reaching for his hand again and twining your fingers together before you begrudgingly start to head back to the path. “Spending time with you is the only thing I wanted tonight. Well, I mean… I wish I had more ketchup for my fries, but…”

“Next time,” he promises, smiling until there are crinkles at the corner of his eyes.

“Next time,” you repeat.

An easy silence settles over the two of you as you continue back to the parking lot, and you’re back to glancing at him out of the corner of your eye again, just to make sure he’s still smiling. Just to make sure he’s still happy. You could tease him like you do with Sally when you go to Burger King, pretend that he had to drag you out here and that your feet are killing you, but you’d know it’d be about as convincing of a lie as any of his (meaning not at all).

Plus, tonight was an eye-opener. If you could make out like that in a park like this, with elderly couples walking around like they own the place, imagine what would happen if you went on a real, actual hike in the middle of nowhere?

… Your feet might actually kill you, you think, so this is good enough for now.

#HI EVERYONE I USUALLY DON'T WRITE ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP FICS FOR SHIPS THAT AREN'T CANON YET BUT #I HAD BRAIN WORMS AND FINISHED THIS IN LIKE 2 HOURS SO. ENJOY THE ROTTEN FRUITS OF MY POOR LABOUR. #oc: mari #pairing: mari x gray #my writing #my ocs #mind blind #also this is rlly terrible. sorry everyone. gray is probably ooc and like it's all bad also. i say the word 'night' too many times. #enjoy anyway tho. if you want ! no pressure tho. #ANYWAY H I FEEL LIKE THE BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE WORLD POSTING THIS BUT WHATEVER I GUESS #nsft

[solarscholarsofmagick]

Saturn in Aquarius: 2020-2023

Beginning on March 21, Saturn entered the revolutionary sign of Aquarius for a brief month and a half preview and will retrograde back into Capricorn until the end of September. On December 17, it will re-enter Aquarius until March of 2023. Saturn is known as the planet of limitations, boundaries, responsibilities and hard lessons, and up until now has been making its way through the restrictive and authoritarian sign of Capricorn since the beginning of 2018. Though Saturn is the ruler of earthy Capricorn and identifies well with that controlling energy, it doesn’t always do its best work in this sign. Traditionally, Saturn also rules the airy free-flowing sign of Aquarius and tends to be very comfortable in this sign, despite how different they may seem. When Saturn enters this humanitarian sign, it evolves into a higher version of itself, capable of bringing much needed equality and change into the world. How do we know this? Well, let’s take a look at the last few Saturn transits through Aquarius – from 1991 to 1994, and before that, from 1962 to 1964.

Let’s begin with Saturn’s transit through futuristic Aquarius back in 1962. Right off the bat, as Saturn entered the sign, the first automated (unmanned) subway train in New York City began running. Aquarius rules technology and automation, so this stood out to me as a very modern Aquarian development already. Also in 1962, Spacewar! was developed and released as the first computer game, featuring two spaceships fighting it out. Each spaceship was controlled by a player, meaning it was not only the first computer game, but also the first multi-player game for computers. Fitting, as Aquarius rules groups as well as spaceships and technology.

In the early 1990s, there were also some major technological advancements, specifically related to the internet and computers. In 1991, at the beginning of Saturn’s transit through Aquarius, Apple released the PowerBook, the first modern laptop computer, which was a huge development in the computer world and has influenced our modern computers significantly in their portability and design. The WorldWide Web was technically invented in 1989, while Saturn was transiting Capricorn, and it was exclusively meant for information-sharing between scientists in institutions around the world at that time. However, in April of 1993, after Saturn had entered Aquarius, CERN made the “www” software public, accessible to anyone with a computer. This is significant because Aquarius represents freedom and equality, and though it was still mainly the upper class that could afford computers at the time, this movement away from intellectual elitism essentially opened the internet up for free public use like we have today. In 1992, ViolaWWW was released, and was the first web browser to become popularized by users. It was also the recommended browser by CERN until it was replaced by Mosaic in 1993, the first web browser to display images with text rather than in a new window.

In the upcoming transit of Saturn through Aquarius, we can expect to see even more advanced technology developments. Many people are expecting Artificial Intelligence to really take off in the coming years, as well as 5G technology and space travel on a grander scale. Smart devices and appliances are becoming more readily available and more advanced.

The future of technology was on the minds of many in the early 1960s, reflected in ABC’s first color animated TV series, The Jetsons, premiering in September of 1962. Not only does Aquarius rule color television and cartoons, but the futuristic utopian vision held by The Jetsons is also very Aquarian in nature. Television also welcomed the eccentric and beloved Addams family in 1964 with ABC’s premiere of The Addams Family. This television classic questioned social norms of the time, specifically the values of the traditional mid-century American family, which were quite conservative at the time. This series became a symbol of the counterculture in television, a typically Aquarian concept. Another incredibly popular futuristic TV show that technically started during Saturn’s transit through Aquarius, Star Trek began filming in November of 1964, during the last couple months of Saturn’s journey through this sign. Star Trek is also notable for this transit due to the fact that it was one of the first television shows to give women, especially black women, prominent and respected roles. The character Lt. Uhura, the ship’s communications officer, was played by Nichelle Nichols, a black actress. At that time, black women typically only appeared in television as servants and maids, so this was a revolutionary change not only in television but in the civil rights movement as well. In fact, when Nichelle Nichols considered quitting the show to pursue a career on Broadway, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. met with Nichelle, convincing her to stay on the show as a part of history.

Television in the early 1990s during Saturn’s next transit through Aquarius was just as influential on culture as the television of the early 1960s. One of the first TV shows that comes to mind when I think of the 90s in television is the classic sitcom Friends. Though this show technically didn’t air until Saturn had moved into Pisces in 1994, the concept of the show resonates very closely with Aquarian themes. For one, the name “Friends” is representative of Aquarius, the sign of friendship and camaraderie. David Crane and Marta Kauffman, the show’s creators, began developing Friends in late 1993 under the early title of Insomnia Cafe, as Saturn made its way through the last 10 degrees of Aquarius. Though it initially had mixed reviews, Friends grew to become one of the most popular and beloved television shows of its time. Another well-loved show of the early 90s, though aimed more towards a younger audience, Bill Nye the Science Guy first aired in 1993, and embraced the forward-thinking Aquarian scientist archetype. Science in general is ruled by Aquarius, sign of innovation and discovery, and this show was designed to teach children about the realities of science and observation. One TV show I thought I should mention here as well is The Real World, which first aired on MTV in 1992, and is credited as being the birth of the “reality TV” genre of television, though it was edited quite often in favor of certain situations and reactions that didn’t quite reflect reality. It received a lot of criticism as well for not ever casting an Asian man in nearly 30 years on television. Reality TV is also very much a Saturn in Aquarius concept, as Saturn rules realism, and Aquarius rules television in general.

Aquarius is also the ruler of cartoons, as I touched on earlier, so it’s only fitting that I discuss a few cartoons of the early 90s. The trend of “cartoons for adults” was beginning to take off around this time, after The Simpsons paved the way in 1989 with its adult humor and hidden messages about adult life. One of the more “mature” cartoons that comes to mind when thinking of Saturn’s transit through Aquarius in the early 1990s is The Ren & Stimpy Show. This show first aired in 1991, and was quite grotesque in its animation style, featuring detailed animated close-ups with which other shows later followed suit. It was especially adored among college students due to its bizarre animation style and dark yet quirky humor. Another “adult cartoon” that began while Saturn was making its way through Aquarius is Beavis and Butt-Head, which first aired in 1993. This cartoon had mixed reviews and stirred up a lot of controversy with its seemingly idiotic social criticism, but became a staple of early 90s adult television nonetheless. The social criticism in this show is representative of Saturn in Aquarius as well, as Saturn portrays a harsh, critical nature, and Aquarius is a sign of society and social groups. Rocko’s Modern Life was yet another cartoon series that was aimed for young adults rather than children, and achieved moderate success after its initial release in 1993. This show was known for highlighting adult situations through cartoon animation- combining the adult responsibilities and themes of Saturn with the off-beat cartoony Aquarian personality. One last cartoon I’d like to mention in this segment of adult cartoons is Animaniacs, which first aired in 1993, and quickly became a hit with both children under age 11 and adults over 25. The large following among adults even led to one of the earliest Internet fandom cultures, another Aquarian concept.

Television in the coming years will likely circle around again to some of these rebellious Aquarian ideas, and it’s likely that TV will become even more entwined with the Internet over the next few years, as online streaming is more common these days than watching cable TV.

Saturn’s movement through Aquarius was a big part of the civil rights movement of the early 60s as well. The sign of Aquarius is a sign of freedom, equal human rights, and disrupting the status quo, which essentially were a few of the main goals of the movement. In fact, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. had a 10th house Aquarius Mercury, which is why we remember him best for his “I have a dream” speech, which he delivered August 28, 1963 in Washington D.C. for the 200,000+ people who gathered in front of the Lincoln Memorial for the March on Washington. During the time he was writing and revising this speech, Saturn was transiting his Mercury in Aquarius as well. Later in 1963, on October 22, roughly 200,000 students stayed out of school in Chicago to protest segregation of African-American students in schools. This was a major peak of an ongoing battle to desegregate schools across America, again acting out the Aquarian values of equality and social justice.

In the early 1990s, this theme re-emerged through the Rodney King riots in Los Angeles. A video went public in 1991 of five white Los Angeles police officers severely beating Mr. Rodney King after pulling him over for speeding. The riots began on April 29, 1992 after a trial jury acquitted four of the officers, enraging thousands of Southern Californians who took to the streets in anger. By the end of the riots, in early May, sixty-three people had been killed and thousands more were injured or had been arrested. The 1992 Rodney King riots went on to inspire the folk song “Like a King” from Ben Harper’s debut 1994 album Welcome to the Cruel World, which was released just after Saturn transited into Pisces; therefore, the songs were written and recorded while Saturn was in Aquarius.

In the coming transit of Saturn through Aquarius, we can expect to see another revolutionary movement, particularly watching the Black Lives Matter movement, because the hashtag was born while Saturn was in Scorpio, meaning Saturn in Aquarius will be coming up on a Saturn square for the birth chart of the movement.

Furthermore in music, there were a few major developments in the early 1960s while Saturn was in Aquarius that stood out to me. First, in the early to mid 60s, Joan Baez was beginning to make a name for herself in folk music during the American folk revival. Then in 1962, Peter, Paul & Mary released their debut album, which reached #1 on the US album charts. During the same year, Bob Dylan released his self-titled debut album of cover songs, and later went on to release his first original album The Times They Are a-Changin’ in 1964, towards the end of Saturn’s journey through Aquarius. These politically-charged folk artists all peaked with the folk revival during Saturn’s transit through Aquarius, which makes sense, as folk music is Aquarian in its nature, typically discussing issues of politics, inequality and other “radical” ideas of change. In fact, these artists also all performed “We Shall Overcome” at Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s March on Washington in 1963.

Another emerging group that stood out to me from this Aquarian transit was The Beatles. This incredibly successful rock group released their first couple of songs, “Please Please Me” and “Ask Me Why,” in January of 1963. By the next month, their single “Please Please Me” was topping the British rock charts. The Beatles released their debut studio album, Please Please Me, in March 1963, and by May had landed on the top of the UK album charts, staying there for 30 weeks, only to be replaced by their second studio album, With The Beatles. By October of 1963, the media began using the term “Beatlemania” to describe the frenzied behavior exhibited by Beatles fans across the globe. Many of their live performances were accompanied by the sounds of screaming fans and general hysteria. Fanatics, by the way, are also ruled by Aquarius. In February of 1964, The Beatles made their first appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show, drawing a record 73.7 million viewers. The crazed audience clearly depicts the “Beatlemania” phenomenon in full swing. But how do The Beatles relate to Saturn’s transit through Aquarius? First off, The Beatles were one of the first mainstream groups to market to the younger generation of teenagers rather than to their parents. This was a big shift in the music industry, as typically it was the older audience with all the spending power, whereas now, young teenage girls were a powerful force in the music market. Though their earlier songs avoided heavier social topics, it became obvious later in their career that The Beatles were a huge part of the birth of counterculture and anti-establishment ideas. In 1964, when the band was informed that a venue they were scheduled to perform at in Florida in the US was segregated, they refused to play unless the audience was integrated. Many more conservative countries refused to allow The Beatles to perform at all, in fear that their progressive counterculture ideas would “infect” their younger population. Even the United States attempted to ban all British acts in 1965, as they saw their emerging rock ‘n’ roll culture as “dangerous” to the youth of the nation. The Beatles were also highly progressive in their music style, and incorporated many new and unusual recording techniques into their albums. This ongoing theme of progressive thinking and “peace and love” apparent in the music of The Beatles is very in line with the nature of Aquarius.

Later, in the early 1990s, grunge bands were the new emerging music trend. A number of grunge rock bands all released major hit albums around the same time: right around Saturn’s transit through rebellious Aquarius. In 1991, Pearl Jam released their debut album Ten, followed by Nirvana releasing their second album Nevermind, and then Soundgarden with Badmotorfinger– all within a span of two months! All three albums were incredibly successful, and resonated strongly with the Aquarian counterculture and anti-establishment ideas brought out by the earlier generation in the early 1960s. Then in 1992, Alice in Chains released their second studio album, Dirt, which is considered by many to be their best work. Also released in 1992, Stone Temple Pilots debuted with their first studio album, Core, which received mixed reviews, though it went on to win a Grammy in 1994 for Best Hard Rock Performance. Nirvana received a lot of attention and success in the early 90s as well, and Kurt Cobain was dubbed “the voice of a generation” by many. Similar to The Beatles influence on counterculture, Kurt Cobain’s darker lyrical content touched many listeners’ hearts on a deeper level than the earlier hair metal had been able to.

In the next few years in music, we’re likely to see younger emerging artists, similar to Billie Eilish, who has an Aquarius Moon, taking over the scene with some revolutionary new ideas and social commentary in their lyrics.

Though Aquarius is a masculine sign, I’ve also noticed a pattern with emerging feminist movements during these transits due to the focus on equal human rights. The second wave of feminism began picking up speed around 1963, when two major works of feminist writing were published: The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath and The Feminine Mystique by Betty Friedan. Both works were largely critical of the typical role of a female as a domestic housekeeper/mother figure in 1960s society. These works encouraged women to pursue careers that they felt passionately about for the first time. Also in 1963, journalist Gloria Steinem became a prominent figure in feminist culture after going undercover as a Playboy Bunny and revealing the poor treatment and underpayment of the waitresses at the Playboy Club.

In the early 1990s, during Saturn’s next transit through Aquarius, the third wave of feminism began to emerge. While second-wave feminism dealt primarily with issues surrounding equal opportunities for [predominantly white] women in the workplace, this third wave of feminism dealt with issues regarding intersectional feminism, violence against women and reproductive/sexual freedom. A trend of reclaiming “derogatory” female terms (for example: bitch, slut, whore) began largely with the Riot grrrl movement in punk music, popularized by female-constructed bands like Bikini Kill and Bratmobile, as a way of expressing feminine identity on their own terms.

Feminine power is already on the rise again, with Uranus having moved into feminine Taurus a couple years ago and still having several more years to go on that transit. Women in power will do great things with that power, and more women will come to be in power over the next few years with Saturn in this sign. Whether it be individual political power, or power in numbers, women around the world will come together and rise to power from now until 2023. Another trend I expect to see play out while Saturn transits Aquarius these next few years as well is that of gender revolution. With the gender roles of the past melting away, a revolution is roaring around the corner, and gender queer/LGBTQ+ identifying people will likely score a few big victories in the upcoming Aquarian transit.

Another theme I noticed through Saturn’s transit of Aquarius in the early 1960s was a theme of national independence and freedom. In August of 1962, the colony of Jamaica became independent, freeing Jamaicans from the United Kingdom after 300 years of British rule. In October that same year, Uganda also became independent from the UK. Then, in 1963, Kenya declared independence from the UK as well. Meanwhile, the Dominican Republic and Zanzibar both experienced major revolutions during this time frame in search of freedom. This trend continued in the early 90s, with many countries, including Lithuania, Ukraine, Latvia and Estonia, all declaring their independence from the USSR in 1991.

It’s likely that we will see many more uprisings and movements towards independence, including the United States’ Pluto return in 2022/2023, which is expected to be a revolutionary moment for the history of the country.

These are the kinds of themes we are likely to see re-emerging until March 2023, while Saturn roams through free-spirited Aquarius. Technological innovations are going to be increasingly involved with our lives, as the internet of things develops further. Television will trend towards witty humor and social criticism, as it did the previous few times Saturn was in Aquarius. Civil rights movements will be center-stage, writing more groundbreaking history into our textbooks, while the future leans towards figures who are genderqueer, females, diverse, and/or of color, rather than in favor of the cis-gender/heterosexual white male. Mainstream music will take on its own social commentary within the industry. Independence of the individual as well as the nation will be stressed in the coming years. Saturn feels confident in this sign, and we should too, moving forward into Saturn’s “Age of Aquarius” with hope for a better future.

#witchblr #witch #witchcraft #witches of tumblr #pagan #paganism #pagans of tumblr #wiccablr #wicca #wiccan #wiccans of tumblr #divination #astrology

[detectivejay-chuckles-halstead]

30 Days // Jay Halstead x Reader // Pt 3:6

Description: 30 Drabbles of Jay and Reader’s life together

Words: 2385

Warnings: Canonical Violence, FLUFF

Pairing: Jay x Reader

A/N: The third installment. I am simultaneously working on this, a new upcoming long fic, and requests. Not to mention I get to go back to work for the first time in 6 weeks (YAY!) So my posting may be out of wack, or only maybe once or twice a week. Hope you all enjoy!

Doing Something Together

“Why do you always insist that you can beat me?” Jay asked as the two of you walked into the firing range. Yes, your boyfriend had been an expert marksman as a Ranger, worked as Intelligence’s sniper when needed. That didn’t mean that one of these days you wouldn’t beat him when it came to target practice. 

“Because one day, someday, it’s going to happen. And today is going to be that day,” you answered with a smile, Jay just shaking his head with a laugh. It was like this every time the two of you went to renew your certification for work. 

It didn’t take long to sign in, being sent to your respective areas. You both put on the protective eye-wear and earmuffs. As the targets were sent back, you took out your gun and took a wide stance. One clip was all that you were firing that day. 

“You may begin,” the evaluator stated, the two of you firing your guns multiple times until no bullets were left. You holstered at that point, taking the earmuffs off as you looked at Jay with a smile on your face. This had to be it, right? This was going to be your day! The targets were brought up for evaluation

Most of your hits were along the 8 and 9 marks just to the left of the silhouette. When you looked at Jay’s target, at first you thought it was a joke. There was no way he only hit the target once dead center. Until you took a look at it again, realizing he’d hit the same spot multiple times. 

“Good job. We will see you guys back next year,” the evaluator then told you, writing down his comments before walking away. 

“One day, babe,” he assured you as you pouted. 

“Maybe next time, I just need to distract you,” you suggested, walking away from him with a sway to your hips. 

In Formal Wear

Voight had more or less ordered the team to go to this fundraiser that the CPD was hosting. Not that you minded, but you knew Jay hated these events. He said he felt paraded around. Which definitely wasn’t a lie, though none of you had a choice. If Voight said to jump, the answer would be ‘how high, sir?’

“Stop fussing with your tie,” you scolded for the fifth time since the two of you had arrived, swatting his hands away to fix the fabric. He huffed, letting you do your thing as he looked around the room. “We’ll be here an hour, two tops.”

“I will complain the entire time,” he assured you with a smirk, getting a chuckle from you. “You look gorgeous by the way.”

He’d been left speechless when you’d walked out of the bedroom in the black, low cut, tulle gown. Not like you saved it for special occasions or anything. You realized that Jay had never seen you dressed up like that before. And you’d never seen him in such a crisp, form-fitting suit before. 

“If you behave, maybe I’ll even let you take it off me,” you whispered as you leaned in, hands pressed to his chest. The glimmer of hope in his eyes was enough for there to be an understanding. All he had to do was put up with the event. That was all. 

A waiter walked around, Jay grabbing two champagne glasses off the tray like a pro. You couldn’t help but lean into him slightly as the two of you walked around the room, mingling with all the important names. As much as you loved the dress, you hated the heels. 

“Don’t you two look like a handsome couple,” Voight mentioned as you neared the huddled group of Intelligence officers. You couldn’t help the blush forming across your cheeks.

“Thank you, Serge,” Jay said softly as Kim and Vanessa pulled you into their conversation. Your eyes would meet Jay’s occasionally, wanting to just get lost in him until one of the other women would pull you back. Maybe you needed to go to these events more often. 

Dancing

“Why does this song sound so familiar?” you asked Jay as the two of you were cooking dinner, the tune on the radio bringing back clouded memories that you couldn’t quite place. 

“Really?” he countered, looking a bit hurt. Though you weren’t sure why. “Don’t you remember this was the song that was playing at Molly’s the first time we kissed.”

“How could I forget that?” You weren’t sure how to answer your own question, feeling crappy about not remembering. But you were a bit surprised that Jay remembered. There was no doubt that you would have remembered if you hadn’t been as drunk as you were that night. 

“Dance with me?” he asked, holding his hand out for you. There wasn’t even a second of hesitation as you took his hand, letting him pull you close to him before the two of you began gently swaying in the kitchen. He looked at you with complete love and adoration -- a look nobody else had ever given you before. 

It felt right, being with Jay. This moment was the moment you realized that he was the one for you. He was the one that you’d never let go. The one that you'd move Heaven and Hell for. You and Jay were endgame. You’d never been more sure about anything in your life. 

In Battle Side-by-Side

The case you’d all been working on for the better part of a week --the one that had already made most of the team shed sweat, blood, and tears -- had led you all to an abandoned factory on the south-side of Chicago. Everybody’s cars were huddled in a parking lot a block away, out of sight of the building to keep from blowing the whole operation. The team stood together as Voight spoke. 

“We bring this guy in dead or alive. Got it?” Everybody agreed with a ‘yes Serge.’ “Halstead, you and Y/L/N take the north entrance. Rojas and Atwater take the south entrance. Ruzek, you’re going to cover the north entrance in your vehicle. Burgess, you and me with the south. Nobody goes in or out once we start this except us.”

Jay helped you secure your vest over your shirt before grabbing his gun out of the trunk. His pistol remained holstered on his thigh. As much as you loved your job, it was moments like these that made you hate it. More like, you hated working in the same unit as your boyfriend. If things went south...you didn’t let yourself think of it, Jay pulling you out of your thoughts with a smile, handing you your own gun.

“I love you,” he told you softly, squeezing your free hand. You sighed, looking at him as everybody got ready.

“I love you too.” 

It was a go. You and Jay walked to the north entrance, your boyfriend in front of you as your hand rested on his shoulder, following right on his heels. Why a lone offender would be hiding out in an abandoned factory was the real question you were asking yourself, but you didn’t mention it to anybody else. As long as you got this guy, that’s all that mattered. 

The two of you silently breached the door, moving slowly and methodically. You’d done this a thousand times before, no different. He came to a T in the hallway, motioning for you to go left. There was no hesitation as you stepped to the side of him, hugging the wall as you went down the hallway while he walked the other direction. 

The only sound you could hear was the sound of your breath and your heart beating in your ears. The further you got away from Jay, the less you were able to hear his footsteps until they disappeared. You were on edge, creeping down this hall, taking turn after turn. Was this a factory or a maze? The second you heard any type of movement, you froze in place before slowly looking around. 

It was a bit of a scare when you found yourself looking down the barrel of a gun, releasing your breath when you realized it was Jay. The look on his face matched yours. Confusion.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” he said softly, getting you to nod in agreement as you continued down the new hallway. Eventually, the hall opened up into a large room. As you looked around, you noticed Vanessa and Kevin at the other end, about twenty-yards ahead of you. As far as you knew, nobody had seen an entrance to a second floor, realizing you missed something. There was no second floor, but there was clearly a window to the right as well as a door. 

“Jay,” you whispered, motioning for him to look. As soon as he started to turn his head, you heard clattering. 

“Flash grenade!” he called out, pulling you to the ground with him, trying to shield you from the flash. 

Your ears were ringing, feeling Jay’s body weight on you as you tried to assess what was going on. Shots were the next thing you heard, seeming to miss everything besides the walls. It sounded like it was only coming from one gun, which meant your offender was indeed working alone. 

“Stay down,” Jay told you softly. “Don’t key your radio.” Fear flooded over you. There’d only be one reason he’d tell you not to key your radio. 

“You think there’s a bomb.” There was no question about it. That’s exactly what Jay was thinking. “Vanessa and Kevin!” 

“Right now, we have to move,” he interjected, getting off you so that you could crouch. There was nowhere to take cover. No boxes, no equipment. The room was empty. The only way to get out was the way you came. The two of you looked over at the other pair who seemed to have the same idea.

“Jay, we leave, this guy will be in the wind,” you snapped as he grabbed your arm, ready to drag you out of that building. “Trust me.” 

He hesitated before nodding, the two of you pressing against the wall before moving quickly towards the corner. Kevin and Vanessa seemed to get the memo, mimicking your movements. The other pair waited, not daring to cross in front of the window as the offender stopped firing. Most likely out of confusion due to there being no active targets he would be able to see. 

Jay nodded at you as you busted in the door before firing a single shot at the offender, the man falling to the ground. Quickly, you kicked his gun away from his reach, though you knew it wasn’t necessary. A single headshot. Kneeling down, you felt for a carotid pulse, feeling nothing. He was dead. 

You sat down next to him, elbows on your knees as you rested your head in your hands. It was over. It was finally over. Nobody keyed their radios still, not until the bomb squad got there to do a search of the building to ensure there weren’t any extra surprises. 

“Nice work,” Voight told you when you finally exited the building. It didn’t feel like good work. You knew the order was to bring him in dead or alive...but never did you think it would be your gun that killed the man -- your shot, your decision. 

“Let’s go get this paperwork done, then go home,” Jay suggested softly, kissing your temple as you silently agreed. 

On A Birthday

“You know, all I want to do is just relax at home with you for my birthday,” Jay told you as you walked out of the precinct to the car. 

“Okay, promise not to get upset?” You’d waited until he was securely in the passenger seat of your car before you’d asked him. “The guys planned a surprise party that I’m supposed to be taking you to. I told them it was a bad idea, but can you just go for an hour at least to please them?”

“One hour, then just us,” he agreed. 

This was the third birthday you’d spent with him, still not getting a clear answer on why he never wanted to celebrate. The first year, you practically had to force a piece of cake into his mouth. He’d opened the present you got him the day after his birthday. The second year went smoother, but he still resisted nearly every idea to actually celebrate. This year though, it wasn’t your doing. You’d finally given in, still forcing him to get a cake at least and always getting him a present. Birthdays were a big deal for you growing up, family always making it a big deal. 

You pulled up in front of Molly’s, his arm hooked around your shoulder as you reminded him to ‘act surprised.’ Which he did, smiling as friends came up to wish him a happy birthday. He drank some beer, had some laughs, but as soon as that clock hit the hour mark, he excused himself from the party, ensuring everyone promised they’d keep it going for him. 

You followed close behind as the two of you stepped into the cool Chicago night air. When he suddenly stopped, you nearly walked into him before he turned to look at you with a smile, small box in his hand. 

“You’re the one who’s supposed to be getting presents today, silly,” you reminded him before he kissed you.

“I know, but I think you deserve this,” he countered, flipping the top of the box open to reveal an engagement ring, shock evident on your face. “You know I don’t really like celebrating my birthday. My mom was the only one who ever made a big deal of it, and after she died, I didn’t really find a reason to celebrate. Then, I spent two birthdays in Afghanistan...I was going to wait to do this, but I wanted a reason to be able to be happy on this day again. You’ve tried so hard the past few years...my mom,” he sighed softly, “she would have loved you. And she would have told me to keep you forever. So, Y/N...Will you marry me?”

#jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x reader #fanfiction

[dramaticviolincrescendo]

I've really enjoyed your recent meta takes and was wondering if you could elaborate on your thoughts on Mandy + Ian and her going for Lip as a result (from your Ian Relationships meta)? I love reading about M+I and their connection is just so dear to me 😭

(P.S Thank you for being such a beacon of positivity in the Shameless fandom! I only got into the show during lockdown last year but it's become such a comfort so it makes me so happy to see positivity right now. ❤ )

Oh my gosh, thank you so much! You’re seriously too kind! I totally sympathize with you: Shameless has shot straight to the top of my list of comfort media since watching it right around the same time, so I’m really passionate about sharing the love around. 😃🧡 

To me, one of the most important things to look at in this analysis is motives—who each of these characters are, what they desire for themselves, and how those factors fit together like a puzzle.

Mandy is in such a difficult position. It’s not as easy as saying that she’s a victim of abuse and wants nothing more than to get as far from her family as possible, because that’s simply not true. In s1, we see that she’s very comfortable in her house. She and Mickey exhibit your standard sibling animosity (and competition for Ian’s attention, unbeknownst to her), she makes breakfast for Terry even though she’s obviously not super respectful to him as a parent, and she clearly has a solid understanding of where her family stands in the neighborhood. In a way, she thrives on that in the beginning. At but a word, she can do serious damage to somebody without raising a finger herself. Viewing Ian’s lack of response to her advances as an insult, she takes full advantage of that. In s2, we know that she is being abused in such a heinous way. She takes charge of the situation, although not in a manner that would save her from it. She leaves the house for a while to avoid Terry; she holds him at gunpoint and forces him to accept what he already knows so that he won’t hurt Ian. When they talk afterward, she even recounts what happened in a way that makes it sound like no big deal—he was drunk, and he didn’t know who she was, so it’s whatever. (It isn’t. We know it isn’t. If this is going to be her reality, however, then she’s going to own it. No one will look down on her, especially not a Gallagher who’s barely ahead of her in social standing.)

We’ll pause there because so much of how Mandy changed afterward is tied to Lip, but we can already see that Mandy isn’t like Mickey. Mickey stuck it out with his family and very clearly fell into the same trap we’ve heard verbalized by other male characters, namely the notion that men can’t be abused. It doesn’t matter that that is entirely inaccurate—that’s what they’ve been taught in their environment. That’s what’s normal to them. (That’s part of the dramatic irony in this scenario: we can see how damaging and traumatic these events are, but the characters don’t have our perspective. I don’t think Mickey sees what happened to him as rape, just like Ian doesn’t see what happened to him as grooming or assault. That’s for the audience to comprehend in terms of gravity and should add to our sympathy for them.)

Mandy is different. Women are abused all the time in their neighborhood. It’s visible, and it’s pervasive. In s3, Mandy immediately teaches Debbie how to defend herself against it. She didn’t have to learn. Like not seeing themselves as victims is part of the boys’ culture, fighting not to be one is part of the girls’. But there’s a contradiction in her life: the Milkoviches are the neighborhood badasses, and while she shares in that, it’s limited by her sex. There is something she will never be able to overcome in order to see the same return on her reputation that Mickey and Terry do, not unless she gets out, which will be extremely difficult on her own merits. She’s living in poverty and not doing well in school. Her prospects are limited—she told the counselor so. Based on that conversation and her history with boys even before meeting Ian, she clearly sees one surefire avenue to get out of this hole she’s stuck in: a man with the resources to get out and take her with him.  If she’s lucky, it’ll even be a good man with a good heart who wants to do good in the world.

Now, let’s talk about Ian. (See what I did there?) This doesn’t need to be long because I’ve already talked so much about Ian already lately, but let’s wax poetic just a bit. Ian wants to be a good person. He wants to be able to get by, even be successful, without having to do it through scamming and stealing. He has goals and ambitions, and whatever anybody thinks of those ambitions, he did it with the mindset that he would be a hero—a protector. Along with that, he never gives up. When Mandy sets her brothers on him, he doesn’t hide forever—he seeks her out multiple times to fix the situation. When he can’t get into West Point, he doesn’t quit ROTC and ignore his dreams. He keeps going.

Not only is he someone who wants to be good for himself, but he wants to be good for others too. He shows Mandy kindness that she arguably hasn’t seen from anyone else before. He takes care of his family when hers tends to focus on themselves and their own individual survival more of the time. Ian has what she would have seen as the potential to get out, and at the time, that is what he wants. It isn’t as an escape for him, but as a way to facilitate his own dreams.

The problem? Ian is gay. We can see that that bothers her sometimes because she forgets. She goes in for a kiss in s2 and has to reel back, settling for a hug instead. She gets tired of hearing him talk about Kash in s1 and kisses him to shut him up, saying she just wanted to kiss her fake boyfriend. Ian isn’t attainable. If Ian leaves, he won’t take her with him as a partner, and she can’t ask as a friend. How desperate would that seem to someone who refuses to be put in a position where she even slightly perceives him to be pitying her? She can’t ask. Not Ian. She needs someone else, someone who is also good and capable of getting out of here—who can be convinced to even if they don’t want to. Someone she can also trust and has some sort of connection with. Someone who is a fixer, and someone she can draw in with the only thing she thinks she has of any value: her body.

That would be Lip. Not only does he meet all of those criteria at the time, but she knows she can trust him. She trusts Ian, and Ian is closer to Lip than he is to anyone else—even her. No, Lip doesn’t have any convictions or real desire to leave, but he has potential. She can work with that. She’s also there for the entire Karen saga, so she knows that Lip is someone who takes his responsibilities to the people he’s with very seriously and tries so hard to cultivate that connection. (For example, feeding him, making herself sexually available as often as possible, letting him stay with her when he can’t go anywhere else without any conditions, etc. We even begin to see her distancing herself from Ian a little bit by s3, putting all of her energy into what she has with Lip when, a year ago, they were sneaking around because she said she didn’t want Ian to know about them. That isn’t to say that Ian was seeking her out either, being quite distracted with Mickey, but it’s noticeable for me.)

Like Mickey, Mandy also has a very deep capacity for emotion and affection that seems incongruous with her personality a lot of the time. Also like Mickey, nobody brought that out in her—it was always there. As much as she seemed to hope that Lip would take care of her, the process of growing closer to him led to a level of affection. I don’t particularly read their relationship as being a deep one. Both of them were using the other, to an extent, to deal with their trauma in other areas of their lives. But that sort of thing can foster a kinship, a mutual understanding that transcends time and place and even the terrible stuff that people do to one another.

So, it doesn’t work out. Mandy is hurt and does something unforgivable. She then runs from Lip, straight into what she feels is her only alternative now: an abuser. What else is there for a girl in her position? Ian was unattainable because of his sexuality, but to someone beaten down again and again, perhaps she believed he was also unattainable because he was too good a person. Lip was unattainable despite her best efforts to bridge that gap because of what he had with Karen, but to someone beaten down again and again, perhaps she believed he was also unattainable because her position in his life was to give but never to take. With Kenyatta, all she does is give. She’s embraced being beaten down because what else is there? She leaves with him, believing there’s nothing for her there.

When she finally finds her strength, far from home but hopefully under better circumstances than when she lived in Chicago, she still follows the formula that has ruled her decision-making for some time: finding a place where she can have the control over her life that was never there before, but still with the belief that what she has to offer isn’t academic or able to be built or improved upon. Ian has worked past his perception that his body was what he had to offer, that it was what would provide him with the love he was looking for. But of course, he has. He’s had Mickey to love him when he’s healthy and love him when he’s lost a bunch of weight from a depressive episode spent in bed. He’s had his family to mess up here and there but ultimately love him so much.

Mandy doesn’t have that. She didn’t then either. She got what she wanted—she got out. She even implied that that was the most important thing by telling Ian that being born on the South Side doesn’t mean that’s where they have to stay. But Ian “got out” of the spiral of abuse he unknowingly suffered and the mindset that it fostered while Mandy didn’t. This isn’t to say anything negative about sex work, of course, only the mindset that led Mandy to this point in her life. And when she leaves the house for the last time, she looks at Lip after having asked about him, and they acknowledge each other the way that people who once knew each other do.

I’ve made the joke before that to Milkoviches, Gallaghers are like catnip. It’s flippant and funny enough when we consider how many of them have dated at one point or other. I’ve also said the Milkoviches are designed as a foil to the Gallaghers, a juxtaposed image of what they could have been had their situation been altered slightly. In s10, Mickey mentions how the Gallaghers are messed up and he’s never been happier to be a Milkovich, so there’s some awareness there that these are the two notorious families of the neighborhood, albeit for different reasons. For Mandy to see that not one, but two Gallaghers are out of reach? To perhaps feel as though she’s less than even them, or made to feel that way in her interactions with Lip? It’s the ultimate slap in the face.

She trusts Ian more than anyone else in her life, to the point where she will still call him to help her hide a body long after she’s left him and their home behind. But trusting Ian led her to loving Ian, and she couldn’t have him. Trusting Ian led her to meeting Lip, and if Ian was so good and loved Lip so much, he had to be worth it too. And to her, he was. The problem was that she felt that she wasn’t.

Self-fulfilling prophecies suck: when you’re treated like garbage by a neighborhood that sees your family as garbage and repeatedly experience things that will make you feel like garbage around people with the best intentions, you’ll start believing that you are, in fact, garbage. I think what we’ve watched with Mandy is a steady decline from a place of strength in herself and weakness in her environment to an overall place of weakness that she couldn’t escape. Not with Ian and, when she realized that wouldn’t happen, not with the only real alternative she thought she could trust since she trusted Ian so deeply. 

#shameless #shameless meta #ian gallagher #mandy milkovich #abuse tw

[procrastinatorimagines]

Unconditional

Fandom: One Chicago / Chicago PD

Character/s: Jay x Reader

Warning/s: mentions of past trauma?

Word Count: 1,086

Request:  Hi bubs! I saw this post the other day, and if you're up for it, I'd like to request a Jay x reader about it. I'm gonna paste it here: "I love characters that have never been loved before experiencing it for the first time. They're taken aback by softness. They're confused by warm words and being cared for. They're almost scared by the loving way they're looked at. Fleeting tender touches send them reeling. Their heart almost feel like it's going to burst. What does it mean?  All they know is they don't feel as though they deserve that, even if they reciprocate. It's been proven time again that they're unlovable and yet... Being treated so gently feels so good and they aren't sure they want it to stop."

Not really sure if this is at all what you were looking for, sorry!

You knew he’d been hurt, he’d toss and turn at night screaming at ghosts, struggling to get away from an enemy he was no longer fighting, in a war he’d left a long time ago, but in that moment, in that nightmare, he was back there. Or maybe he was here, in his own home, his own city, taking fire and watching innocents die, unable to save them. No matter how many lives he saved or sacrifices he made, Jay Halstead was still haunted by his past. 

It was why he’d taken so long to open up to you, you had realised, why you’d paced your relationship, not getting too serious too fast. Jay had always been hesitant about taking the next step at every stage, this fear nawing at him, a lack of certainty about where you both stood.

The first time you’d met you’d been taken with him, the way he’d come onto the scene, comforting the victims family, taking note of the deceased with such sorrow and compassion in his eyes, the sincereity of his words as he’d apologised to the family for their loss and promised he’d do everything he could to get justice. He’d butted heads with his Sergeant on that case, you’d remembered him standing his ground, wanting to do right by the family, right by the victim, desperate to get justice. Of course, the way he’d been wearing that thigh holster had certainly helped... 

Getting to know him had only confirmed what you already thought about him, even if he couldn’t see it himself, with every case, every late night at Molly’s, then with every date when he’d finally gotten up the courage to ask you out to dinner, your first kiss after a long and difficult day at work and all the rest that followed. Whenever you thought you couldn’t possibly fall for him more, you did, every damn day, and it hurt you to see him never let you in all the way, not in the way you did with him.

At first you had thought it was about you, how could you not, when the man you were falling head over heels for kept holding back? Wasn’t he sure whether you were right for each other? Slowly, however, you’d began to understand that you’d had it all backwards, it was his fear of losing you, of you moving on, of him holding on to you so tightly only for you to slip through his fingers anyway, taken away by the need for something else in life, something he worried he couldn’t give you, or taken away by the permanence of death.

Those nights he woke up panting, face wet with sweat and tears, unsure of where he was, if he was safe, it was those nights you’d realised the truth, holding him closely in the dark as he wrapped his arms around you, knowing that you were real, you were safe. You’d run your fingers through his hair, the steady sound of your heart beat calming his own rapid one until you could barely differentiate one from the other, where one of you ended and the other began, even as your own was breaking.

Jay was good, in the truest sense of the word, he’d been hurt, and he’d been broken, time and time again, and somewhere along the way, he’d stopped trying to put all the pieces back together. Sure, at work, on the job, he was as steadfast and dutiful as ever; he had a code, a moral compass that never seemed to waver, despite the years in Intelligence, but all his years overseas and on the force had chipped away at him somewhere deep inside his heart. 

You knew now, he didn’t keep you at arms length because he didn’t love you, didn’t feel for you as deeply as you did him, but because he didn’t believe you could ever love him that much. Despite all the good he’s done, despite how much it outweighs any of the bad, he can’t see himself as you do, he doesn’t understand how you can see him at his rawest, fully open to you in everyway as he holds onto you for dear life, keeping him tethered to a place where he is safe and warm. Why would he ever deserve a love like that?

It was the contact, that’s what it had taken him a while to get at first. He’d tried to keep up with grand gestures and expensive dates, feeling like he somehow needed to impress you, like that was the only way for you to see his worth. But you didn’t need any of that, when you were snuggled up to him on the couch, head in his shoulder as his arm draped around you, or when you held his hand for comfort, feeling how easily it fit with your own, when he kissed you good morning or when he kissed you goodbye, it was those simple acts, those tender moments, conveyed more affection than he ever thought possible. 

So he let you hold him now, fingers moving gently down his back as your foreheads touch, eyes closed as he tries to remember to breath, tries to remember where he is, that he is no longer at war, that those memories, those painful, haunting memories, are in the past, scars of what he has endured and overcome to be where he is now. His wounds may reopen in his dreams, but in the night, when the only people in the world are you and him, slowly, he begins to heal.

“I love you,” you whisper in the dark, feeling the way he holds you tighter as you do. “I love you,” you repeat, making sure he hears it, he knows it.

Love, unconditional love, love without judgement, love without reason, that was the love he never thought he’d find, never thought he deserved. And yet here it was, you love him, you cared for him. 

“Thank you,” he breaths back, relaxing into you as he finds the ground again, opening his eyes as he does, brushing his fingers over your cheek gently as he continues to mark out the shape of your face. 

You know he doesn’t just mean thank you for right now, in this moment, he’s thanking you for loving him, for accepting him for all that he is. Jay may never truly believe that he deserves the love that you give him, but he never wants it to stop.

#jay halstead #chicago pd #one chicago #jay halstead imagine #chicago pd imagine #jay halstead imagines #chicago pd imagines #jay halstead one shot #chicago pd one shot #one chicago imagine #one chicago imagines #one chicago one shot #one shot

[calypsoff2]

Thirty Seven.

Herb has really become my partner in crime, I love him to the moon and back. I have never had such a supportive friend; he is there for me like no other. Nigga cooks for me and if I ask for something he does it, he really stands by the bro code, and I love that with him. I love him, that is real as hell. I told Robyn that Herb is coming, I will be bringing him because I love that nigga for life, he took me to Chicago to meet his family and people, it was cool, but I got him for life “so hold up nigga, your best friend. So this nigga you rode with in school, y’all grew up on the same block fucked Rihanna best friend, got her pregnant and left her?” Herb asked, he needs clarification clearly “yes you are right, he used to also talk shit to my wife, like I would always see her crying and stuff. I didn’t get why and then it came out, he would degrade her, and he used to that in school. Like people see my wife as this boss bitch, she really isn’t that at home. She has a weak heart, you know that. You see her in the home, she ain’t the woman you see out there at all, but he played in my face, he could potentially be there, which I ain’t going to say anything because I am above that” honking my car horn as some idiot got in my way, see what I mean about New York traffic “wow, that is wild. I couldn’t ever disrespect someone wife like that, he bold. Did you clock on then?” nodding my head “I did and beat his ass, ain’t seen the nigga since. Then there was Barry, he fucked up big time and he turned to drugs, started using Robyn name and stuff, so there is my best friends. That is why I don’t do friends, the only friend I got is my wife. I have peers but that is it and I don’t mean to sound like an asshole but since you came into my life, shit has been good. Thank you for being a friend, like you always giving positive vibes, even with the whole Rihanna situation you sat me down and said get her back, you didn’t say fuck her and let’s party, you was supportive so thank you” Herb chuckled “you going to make a nigga cry, I got you homie” smiling at him “you got a good heart and I fuck with that” hes a good friend, always will be I know that.

Robyn’ apartment is hectic, and this is the first time I am seeing her family since the separation, so this is hard for me, it’s a big thing and I got Herb here with me to support me, but I haven’t seen her family since, I know they pissed with me, but I got to do it, they family “daddy!” Imani ran to me, which caused everyone to look at me and I just wanted the ground to swallow me up, this is great, they are all looking at me now. Rajad smiled at me but Rorrey kind of turned his head and Monica, my god this is awkward “I love your hair baby, where is your mom” picking her up “there!” she pointed, which means her bedroom, but the family is staring and I am nervous, Rorrey looks very annoyed with me and it’s not good. Walking off to the bedroom, I need to see her first “that was awkward” Herb said behind me, looking behind me “you coming with me to see Robyn too?” he eyeballed me “you want me to stay with people I don’t know?” he got a point “right, just stay outside if the door isn’t open” her door is open “ok come in, hey people! It’s Melissa baby shower day!” Mel looked at me, she looks so pretty “you look so nice, wow” I am impressed “you glowing” Mel cooed out “thank you” Robyn came from around the corner “Your outfit is here, you not wearing that” pressing a kiss to her lips “I found a stand in baby father for you” stepping to the side, the room fell into a fit of laughter, Herb wants to kill me “I am playing but outfit set, this ain’t my fault. Nigga wore a Burberry shirt, I thought why not. Can I talk?” I said to Robyn, I need to ask her what do with the army outside that is not happy with me.

Herb is just staring at me; he makes me laugh. He is always do nervous with formal things, he is worse than me “Mel don’t bite bro, be cool” walking behind Robyn “oops” hitting into the back of her “nigga” she turned to me “my bad” I smirked “you look handsome” she complimented me “already, I haven’t even got changed yet” she pushed her finger in my dimple on my face “thank you for that, you miss me. I know you do” Robyn shook her head like she doesn’t miss me “I love you anyways, but erm your Barbados army” Robyn shushed me hitting my arm “be nice, what about it?” why is Robyn giving me flirty eyes, she wants to fuck me “you want to fuck me?” I said laughing “stop, so tell me what you want me to do?” now she is playing “so you want them to be mean to me? Wow” Robyn crossed her arms across her chest “well I spoke to my family; they know everything, and they are ok with it. Just because I am ok, but if I was you poppa, I want you to speak to my mother and brother separately, mostly my mother but with Rorrey he thought so much of you and you both got on so well so just have it out with him, it’s better that way but that is what I want you to do, for me?” licking my lips “before the baby shower too” she smirked at me “man” I breathed out “so what do I say?” Robyn chuckled “so you ask my mother, just say to her that you would like to speak to her and she will come, don’t be scared of momo” I snorted laughing “man, your mother is scary at times, aight fine then. I will do it” I guess I will need to do it, she is right and I will do anything for Robyn “give me a kiss then” leaning down to her, pecking her lips as Robyn wrapped her arms around my neck “I love you so so so much” she said against my lips “love you too” kissing Robyn’ lips long and hard “oh brother, get a room” hearing Herb say behind me “you want to fuck me don’t you?” nuzzling her nose “so bad” she admitted, I knew it.

I am doing this for Robyn, I know it was rude of me to just slide into the bedroom like that, but I was nervous. It’s hard when I upset Robyn in front of them “hey cousin!” Noella spat “hey” hugging her close “you look so well, oh my god. Oh wow, hello” I chuckled “thank you ma’am” seeing Majesty and Rylee “you both being good, you looking beautiful ma. I am just going to speak to the family” I said to Noella, she smiled at me as I walked off. I mean I don’t know what I expected, like they would just disappear but not at all. They are sat here, Bravo looked at me and this is my moment to go up to him, he is older then me and I should pay my respects “Bravo” holding my hand out “where have you been hiding” he held my hand and shook it “I had to check on Robyn first” oh he knows, the way he is looking at me, he is slightly judging me but he is giving me the look of I know what you did “she is happy isn’t she” nodding my head, he isn’t letting my hand go “that is all I want, her happiness. The twinkle in her eyes, ok?” nodding my head, he let my hand go. This is the hard part “Monica” I didn’t want to get in her space “Christopher” oh she is using my full name now “can I speak to you” I asked, if she doesn’t accept then so be it “of course” she got up from the couch “Noella just was telling me, have you seen Chris he looks so well” I chuckled at Nikita just looking at me shocked “hey” hugging her close “hey you, good seeing you” they all complimenting me, maybe I have changed that much.

Imani wanted to come along, as she would want too. Holding her close to me, as we went into the open planned kitchen. Monica scares me, she drags her own daughter so who the hell am I, she just doesn’t care. Turning to Monica I see Robyn just walking to the living area, she looked at me and I just looked at her, I want Robyn here with me but I got to put my big boy pants on “yeah so” looking at Monica “my poor grandbaby, it makes me so sad that she is like this” looking at Imani “she will be ok” I said, she don’t need to be dramatic “I said to Robyn we can have her in Barbados, there she will be ok and she will get better” what is this woman on “erm, thanks for the offer but I want my daughter with me, she just needs a little more help than others but I didn’t bring you to talk about Imani, I bought you here to speak on Robyn. I want to apologise to you because I promised I wouldn’t hurt your daughter and I did; I am sorry. I went through a bad patch, and I was stupid, I couldn’t accept Rihanna, but I did Robyn, but I helped myself and I am here at this point, I am here to make Robyn happy” Monica has no emotions sometimes “you hurt me because I don’t ever want my daughter to have a life like mine, I don’t want her to be sad and it did hurt me. I met you and I liked you, I don’t hate. I am well was disappointed, but I told her, I told Robyn that you need to be home, so I am not shocked it happened either. But it’s ok, you saw the light and you have made my daughter happy again” smiling wide at her “thank you” I said in a whisper “she needs to learn to put you first, that is her fault” Monica really doesn’t care and just flat out said her daughter was in the wrong, but I always think Monica is too harsh.

Placing Imani down on the ground now I got to speak to Rorrey which I don’t know about him, he may be a little funny with me, I mean Monica has always been harsh but I have been hearing that Rorrey is very angry with me so we shall see “shall we go outside” he said it to me, I didn’t even have to say anything to him, he was waiting for me “erm yeah sure” Robyn is sat in the living room, I am not sure why because she is half dressed too. Rorrey walked by me, turning to Robyn she just smiled at me and held her hand out, holding her hand as I walked off. I didn’t think he would actually go outside the hallway, but he is, I mean I am not scared of him but it’s more of a respect thing, I respect him as my brother in law. The door closed and Rorrey is just stood there with his arms crossed “so yeah, I mean I want to apologise for in a way disappointing you because I know how much we did or do get on and you treated me with the most respect and I fucked up with your sister” I have no idea what to say, I am only doing this for Robyn so this is going terrible “you pissed me off, seeing my sister upset with three kids, you outing her to be a bad mother. No matter what she did all this for us, she did all of it for us and she suffered, and you outed her to be a bad mother and then you spoke to her like she is stupid, you know what annoys me is that this was happening for a while and I didn’t know, my sister doesn’t have a father, but she got me. She deserves the best, yes I am annoyed because I saw you as one of my brothers, but you just played in my face. My sister means a lot to me, I see her happier and I am not the one to ruin that for her” nodding my head “but you apologised, and I accept that, but you got to understand that seeing her cry and it’s been something ongoing and how you were speaking to her, that pissed me off. I am clam about it now but she has forgiven you so who am I” I thought it was going left “I just wanted to create more drama because Robbie be eyeballing me from across the room” Rorrey laughed saying “what you mean?” I questioned “she said to me to be nice, don’t be an asshole and then she was glaring at me across the room, so I thought come out here to annoy her” letting out an oh “it worked because I thought the same too” he seems to have forgiven me.

It seems like the theme is neutral colours, Robyn has made me wear a white shirt. She is wearing a white dress along with our daughters “is the sperm donor coming?” I asked Robyn as I buttoned up the shirt “erm he has an invite, we shall see but please do not argue, do not start with him. Let’s have a cute time, let’s find out what Mel is having too. It is her day so please” Robyn thinks I am going to do anything “I got you, we need to move though. Like get our own home” I am saying this but yet I have been busy too “yes, Tianna drives me crazy, they want their own room and stuff, but we can work on it, it’s fine. The girls will be going to school so that really frees up my time so you can show me the home then” I had to laugh because she is talking show me the home, but that shit is probably sold “the one I saw like months ago? I bet the shit is sold now” is she crazy “mhmm then we buy them out, don’t worry about it. And thank Jah, he chose the outfit for you” of course he did “mhmm I can tell, it’s a little sassy” she snorted laughing “be quiet” Jah is special and I don’t mean it in a nice way, wait till I see him.

#Chrianna #Chrianna Ff #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Chrianna fanfic #Chrianna Fanfiction

[rosemarie--h]

( zoey deutch. 25. she/her. ) i think i just saw ROSEMARIE  JANE HARMON ride by on a golf cart . at least i think it was them . after all , I MISS THE MISERY BY HALESTORM was blasting on the transistor radio . maybe they were on their way to work , i hear they’re a BARTENDER AT THE WATERING HOLE . but they totally could have been on their way to PLAY PRANKS ON THE MEMBERS. guess we’ll never know . you’ll definitely know its them when you see RIPPED BLACK JEANS, SOUND OF 90'S ROCK AND DILATED PUPILS around the country club . let’s just hope they stay off the green after hours or else the sprinklers will get them ! ( marie. 26. est. she/her. none. ) 

tw: child neglect, tw: drugs, tw: suicide

I couldn’t help myself and brought my old rebel  child back. I just love my messy and broken girl.!

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 Matthew and Stacey Harmon where the epitome of what success should look like. They were a young couple who had come from nothing and mounted to be the most sought-after criminal defense lawyers in the United States. They were known for their poise and ability to handle high profile cases with dignity and discretion. Their clients ranged from high-grossing actors and celebrities to politicians and other government officials. And in the years since their jump into high profile, they had built up an image that both always strived to be. They had to be picture perfect. Perfectly put together. Fit the part of success. So naturally, when they became pregnant, it wasn’t something they had planned or particularly wanted. They tried to keep the pregnancy as quiet as possible, and while they had always had the option of abortion or adoption, for some reason the Harmons had allowed the pregnancy to go full term.

Rosemarie Jane Harmon was born on August 5th, 1992 and unlike most babies, Rose was not held by her mother immediately after birth. In fact, she had been refused and sent immediately to the hospital nursery. The rest of her life followed in similar fashion. Rose had come into her parents’ life as unwanted and unloved. A child ruined the image the stoic lawyers had tried to build for themselves and their practice, especially as child as lively and rambunctious as Rose had been from the start. Rose had probably been embraced by her parents only a handful of times, most of the love she received growing up coming from the Nanny – Elizabeth Green – that had been hired to raise her. But even Elizabeth – the only mother figure she had truly grown to know – was taken from her once Stacy deemed Rose old enough to take care of herself.

Growing up without any love or affection had Rose searching for it in all the wrong places from a very young age. It started off innocently enough – mostly confined to causing trouble at home, just so she could get a flicker of attention from her father or mother but that stopped working, her cries become louder. Living in Atlanta, it wasn’t hard to find trouble. In school, Rose started to hang out with the wrong crowd. Though, the more trouble she found, the less it seemed her parents cared, almost slowly fazing her out of their image.

She was 17 when she first fell from grace. At a rave, Rose stuck her tongue out, letting a tablet be pressed to her tongue for the first time. She’s been after that high ever since. It was the closest thing that she could imagine love felt like. It took her away from the feeling of worthlessness that plagued her because of her parents’ incapability of loving her as parents should love their children. It took her away from the pain of missing her only mother figure who never tried to reach out to her despite promising a young rose she would on the day she was let go. It took her away from the depression that ran through her body despite her refusal to acknowledge it.

From that moment on, Rose lived searching for the occasional high to get her feeling alive again but for the most part, she had it under control, still having a firm grip on reality. But everything began to take a different path when she met Andrew. He was older than her, a good five years. But despite their age difference, they had immediately hit things off and it wasn’t long before Rose had fallen completely head over heels for him. He was the first person she opened up to him about her home life and when Andrew heard of her misery, he had given her the option to follow him to his next destination.

With no family or real friends to hold her back, Rose didn’t hesitate to pack what she could when her boyfriend at the time asked her to run away with him. They hit the road then and Rose hasn’t been back to Atlanta since. When her and Andrew landed in Chicago, Rose’s eyes were opened to a new world – mostly for the worse. He introduced her to a world of endless fun and chemically induced euphoria. It was with him that the dependency for drugs began to really grow. It started off her a tablet of molly here or there, like she had been doing in Atlanta, and before she knew it, she was doing a line in the bathroom of a club.

About a year or so after being together, Rose’s world would soon fall apart. One morning, after a typical night of partying, she woke up to find that Andrew was dead. He had overdosed and she’d been too high too notice. By the time she had woken up, it had been too late. So, Rose got up, called the cops and ran before they got there.

Rose’s already fragile heart was shattered at losing the one person that had loved her in this cruel world. The one person she had loved unconditionally. And the grief fueled her addiction even further. 

From that day forward, Rose lived most of her minutes high or searching for the next dose. It didn’t really matter where the high came from, she just craved that feeling of euphoria, of being alive, of numbness. If it came from a tablet of molly, fine. If it was from a shot of heroin, cool. A mixture of opioids, why not? A smoke of meth- what was the harm? But her favorite way to lose herself was from a line of cocaine. Rose began to live a very nomadic life, travelling where she wanted, making connections as she went, crashing on their couches and starting all over again. There were times when she became so drugged, she would party for days, unable to settle down enough to stop and sleep. She got into fights. Spent many days in stupors, a haze. She wouldn’t have a clue of the reality around her.

Rose was twenty, when she OD’d for the first time and was admitted into rehab for her addiction. After a few months of rehab, Rose was released, and she wasted no time in falling back into her vices. She continued to jump from place to place, never staying no longer than a few weeks at a time. In her travels, she had several relapses, a couple of times causing her to be readmitted into rehab. But sadly, her addiction was stronger than her will live.

That was until she met Finely but Finley is someone Rose never talks about.

If Rose lived in shadowed lands, then Finley lived in other darkness. There was fragility around this woman that had drawn Rose to her immediately. Their initial time was spent mostly just hooking up but it was in the quiet moments that Rose fell. Finley was the other half of her, her true and tragic soulmate. Her star crossed lover. 

There was a part of her that always knew Finley wouldn’t exist on this Earth forever. There was a sadness and exhaustion that clung so tightly to her love and even when there seemed to be a little light that shined through, it wasn’t enough. 

The day Rose walked into their apartment and found that Finley had taken her life, was as expected as it was a shock. She still doesn’t know how long she clung to Fin’s body, sobbing for her to come back before she finally called for help.

Rose has never been the same. 

The loss completely eviscerated her. There was a gaping hole left in her chest and Rose went down a spiral to rock bottom, trying to fill or numb that hole. 

Rose has never been truly sober since that day 2 years ago and while she has gotten her vices under somewhat of control, she still very much relies on them on a day to day basis. Just enough to numb the hurt that never seems to go away. 

When she arrived in Highland at 1 year ago, Rose was probably at the lowest she had ever been. But trying to keep her promise to Finley, Rose has tried to make the best of things. She landed a job at the Watering Hole and has found a apartment to live in with a roommate.

And though every day is a struggle for her, Rose feels that she’s on the right track to turn her life around. Or at least, pretend to.

Important Facts: - Rose has a lot of emotional and mental issues due to her past. Mostly, she has this abandonment complex and she struggles every day with a heavy sense of worthless. - Has been clean for two and a half years. - She still clings to the party scene, though she now stays away from illicit substances, she has no issue with throwing back a few shots. - Rose hasn’t been in a relationship with anyone in about 2 years and is very happy that way. She doesn’t want to get hurt again. And she isn’t sure she can love again. - Loves animals and often volunteers at the shelter - LOVES cats and wants one but considers herself too unstable to own a pet. - Hasn’t spoken to her parents since she left Atlanta and pretends it doesn’t bother her, but it does. - On her left side, Rose has a tattoo. It’s the quote “without struggle, there is no progress” in cursive writing. - Has lived in Atlanta, Chicago, Nashville, New Orleans, a few other places until she came back to Georgia and settled in Peaches Hollow.

Personality - Rose lives impulsively, acting first and thinking later. - She doesn’t hold back and certainly doesn’t censor herself. Rose is the most straightforward person around and she will tell you how it is, whether it hurts your feelings or not. - Fun is priority in her life. Having grown up so unloved and hidden away in her youth, she is desperately trying to fill that gap in her life. She will jump from club to club, party to party, a shot of tequila in her hands always. Mostly, she is afraid that if she stops, allows herself to feel, every heartache she has ever felt will coming rushing at her. - Attachments are a no go for her, especially romantic ones. She’s fine with hook-ups, in fact she rather enjoys them, but once she or her partner start to develop feelings, she flees. If you don’t let anyone close, you can never be hurt. - Losing Finley broke something inside of Rose and she’s very keen on not giving that part of herself way. She doesn’t know if she can love again or if she has any to give. Most of the time, however, Rose tends to develop friendships with her partners. She’s pretty laid back and goes with the flow which makes everything easier. - Rose is super protective of those she considers close to her and will do almost anything for them. - Once you get past her wit and sass, Rose is the sweetest person you would ever meet, even if she’s rough around the edges. But good luck getting her to open emotionally.

#highlandsintro #bio #about #tw: drugs #tw: suidice #tw: death #tw: child neglect