#he never learned how to do divorce so everyone is just stuck like this.

[bowenoke]

in scott's pov (ep7) he refers to scar as grian's husband. no one tells him this is not the case. this is because traffic!scott decides who is and is not married like some sort of contractually binding arbiter of love. to me anyways

#he never learned how to do divorce so everyone is just stuck like this. #trafficshipping #craftie art #third life #bo's lpcu (lonely people cinematic universe) #the answer to my question about tagging seems to be 'is it even ship art if its in the desert?' which is fair #grian #scott #'op this is not shipping' the problem.is to me tl!g+s are together in a way that is so inextricable to their characters that any depiction #of them is shipping. sorry. it makes it hard to judge if its actually ship by tumblrs standards lmao

[jamiesfootball]

After careful consideration and a lot of angry tags, I think I have pinpointed for me where Ted Lasso, especially season three, fails to succeed all the way at the themes it explores.

The narrative uses the deconstruction of toxic masculinity to paint their characters as being stronger for having let go of their preconceived notions of acceptable behavior - but the narrative also never lets their characters be weak or fragile without having toxic masculinity to blame. And there are a lot of situations in this show where you would expect someone to go ‘hey man, are you okay? Are you doing alright? because that was a shit thing that happened. it’s okay if you’re not okay.’

And it never does.

There’s an undercurrent in how scenes play out that suggests that the male characters should be strong enough to deal with hand they’ve been dealt. The narrative suggests that they’re the ones who need corrected. They can act better, but they can not be treated better themselves as a result. The male characters are allowed to express themselves, but they are not allowed to ask for anything back from the situation.

Which is why you can have a fight with your assistant coach, but when he comes back to apologize you don’t articulate how it made you feel. You don’t tell your friend how he hurt your feelings. You just accept it and move on.

The Diamond Dogs give advice on how to handle external problems with  emotional roots. They never discuss how they feel internally on its own merit.

The closest we got to a male character just having a bad one and expressing it without a clear source of external conflict? Jamie in the boot room. And that was played for laughs.

Which is why you could be in a deep depression over losing your career of twenty years and part of your mobility, I guess. But also maybe that’s a problem of you not being able to let go, and maybe you should apologize for not moving on sooner? We should pity Roy for getting so stuck in his own shit all the time. Not because the man has lived an incredibly stressful and emotionally isolated life in a high pressure environment for so long he doesn’t have the tools to deal with it, but because the narrative would like us to know if he just stopped getting in his own way all the time, this wouldn’t be a problem.

Is your ex-wife seeing someone else, who happens to also be the person who was your marriage counselor? I don’t know man, relationships are hard. Don’t worry about how hard that must have shaken your trust in a profession that already made you feel skittish. Maybe you should stop obsessing over her and move on.

Your girlfriend can tell all your friends and coworkers how you’re too smothering. Yes, this is the ‘learn how to communicate better’ show, but that was on you, really. Good on you for apologizing for smothering her.

The women may have worrying relationships with people who love bomb them or turn out to be controlling, but Jane and Beard are just a bit weird. Don’t worry about it, Higgins.

You can take accountability for your actions, but if it was your email who was hacked - who cares? You apologized, and everyone is very proud of you. We won’t ever bring up how incredibly mortifying that must have been for you to realize, because something more mortifying happened to someone else.

You can show your emotions, but not the angry ones, not the bad ones - those you should get a hold on, no matter how warranted they are. The stronger you are, the more divorced from toxic masculinity you are, the less those things should matter.

Struggling with your abusive dad and how his relationship with you has literally scared you so badly that you keep looking over your shoulder, afraid he’ll be there? That is clearly the anger talking. This is definitely not a situation that calls for your pseudo-father figure to put his hand on your shoulder, look you in the eye, and say, “i’m really sorry to hear that, son, but you know we got your back. Ain’t nothing bad gonna happen to you while we’re here.” 

No no, this is a you problem and you can correct it by forgiving that man who hurt you. In fact, you thank him for motivating you. It was the anger that got you this far. It wasn’t getting up at 4am every morning for extra training. It wasn’t your mentor, the one invested all his time in helping you. It wasn’t the coach who gave you a second chance when you blew your whole life up to get away from that man. It wasn’t your own drive and passion and love for the sport that pushed you towards succeeding in a career you only had a one-in-a-million chance of ever getting. No, it was the anger that carried you. You should let that go. And hey - what if hypothetically speaking, he might try to be better too one day? You can’t hold it against him. You should let that go too.

Breakdowns and displays of crying are fine, but expecting people to care or show concern afterwards? The narrative doesn’t know her. The narrative will not validate that. We don’t see what happened after Wembley. We don’t see what happened when Isaac came back to the locker room after blowing up. What the show will validate, however, is moving on. Just be a goldfish, or forgive and forget. 

And finally-

Embrace your feelings, but not too hard - you can’t be trusted with them, actually.

Can you imagine that we actually got a scene of Roy telling Jamie that he was worried if either of them pursued Keeley it might ruin their friendship? Can you imagine? From the beginning they have butted heads. From the beginning, Roy has struggled to actually articulate his feelings, especially to the people they involve. And here is Roy doing exactly what the narrative has been teaching him to do - he voiced a feeling that was bothering him to the person who was involved in the problem. Unprompted. He did that on his own. After three seasons of being told that is what he should do when he has a problem, that should have been the moment of narrative reward. That would have been the audience’s release of tension: they’re still at odds, they’re still the same bull-headed people they’ve always been, but they’ve learned to talk about it. No matter what happens next, at least, they’ve gotten this far.

Instead the narrative rewarded him, and us, by having them fight it out in a back alley. Because they’re idiots, and they can’t be trusted to handle their feelings without someone else in the narrative (Keeley) setting them straight.

Yes, people backslide in real life all the time. But when the narrative backslides at the very end of the story - that’s just nihilism. That’s what this felt like - all that progress and promise that you can be better, and two of the people who struggled the most tripped at the finish line. The audience don’t even get to see them pick back up. I mean they’re fine now, I guess. They went for kebabs. I have to assume it worked out. I guess after that they found a way to be happy, but I would have preferred to see them find a way to be happy by way of their own actions. Not in a fanfic. Not by way of imagining how it went afterwards. Not by what’s implied in a montage. By the story actually showing me they could get there on their own.

And the worst part about all of this is that when the show gets it right? It fucking sings. The team coming together to repair Ola’s? That sings. Ted’s ‘ain’t nobody in this room alone’ speech? Wonderful. Trent telling Colin that ‘some people need time to adjust; it’s not fair, but they do’? So delicately wielded, so painful. Beard’s speech to Nate about stealing a loaf of meth? Chef’s kiss. Ted forgiving Rebecca when he learns why she brought him to coach Richmond? The tears in his eyes when he tells her ‘divorce is hard’?

The hug at Wembley.

That’s what I wanted, from start to finale. When the show knew how to wield its empathy, it wielded it like a knife, cutting into the deepest parts of your heart.

Which is why when it does mess up, it hurts so much worse. Because by season three, the show has sunk so far into the deconstruction of things that it’s forgotten that what it fixed were not the only problems those characters ever faced. The show zoomed in too close on the themes. It forgot that at its roots, the its biggest strength has been its empathy. And that to me is where the show failed.

#i am upsetti spaghetti #and this has been rolling around in my noggin since the finale so- here #ted lasso meta #people don't care when bad shows mess up #they care because the show was good #oh and because i can't say this enough #fuck jamie's dad #i'm all for forgiveness and fuck jamie's dad are two sentiments that can should and do coexist

[tvlandofficiall]

Very general ask sorry haha but I’d love to hear more about your swatchton (or just swatch) headcanons 👀

SWATCHTON! where do i start with swatchton? (continued under the cut 'cuz this gets LONG!)

first off, i'm more of a fan of them as a divorce/dysfunctional relationship than i am of the fluffy stuff (just as a personal preference thing ^^;;). i really like tragedies, and deltarune is a game rife with both divorce and tragedies, so it only seems fitting that swatchton would be rife with such things as well.

swatch is a very special darkner in that they have a direct connection to their gods -- they're able to make the hopes of the light into a reality, in a far more literal and direct way than anyone else, and this is a duty they take very seriously. their creations hold a great, hopeful power. in general their relationship to their purpose is a lot like ralsei's -- they cope with the inescapable nature of it by fully believing it to be Right and Good. obviously, thought, it isn't, and that causes them to be more than a little stuck-up and callous towards other darkners. to them, being used is a holy thing, and everyone should aspire to be as good a servant to the light as they are. if someone isn't blessed, like them, they simply deserved their fate. if someone has the opportunity to be blessed again after years of disuse, they should be thankful to the light for such a gift. that's how swatch feels.

because of all this, swatch has a very intense religious devotion, cultivated by their status as "object" in this world. unlike many other characters, they believe this not only because it is how they were conditioned, but also as a way to stay sane in the wake of their inability to choose who they are in this world. a revelation through a shadow crystal or some other means would only strengthen their beliefs, because they would see the true inescapability of their fate. "no one can choose who they are in this world, so why would i do anything but accept that? better to reason it as Good and Just than fight an impossible battle." that's how swatch survives in this world.

on spamton's end, he believes he can truly "game the system". he thinks he can change fate. he thinks, if he just gets on the grindset (so to speak), if he can harness the power of the light for himself, he can gain power over other darkners and truly become a Big Shot (in an ironic way, because his conception of being a Big Shot still involves his purpose -- being an advertisement -- and so in his search for freedom, spamton is never truly free at all). he wants the neo body for himself. he wants to become god-like. he wants the power over others that only those who see them as objects possess. who cares if the rest of the world freezes over? who cares if a few people have to die? that's show business, baby!

both of them see the neo body as a vector for their views of the world. swatch sees it as another part of their purpose -- even as it is abandoned by the light, it is imperative for them to keep it away from prying eyes, to guard the once holy relics in the basement to the best of their ability. it was made in the image of a god, after all, blessed with the hope of the light. spamton, meanwhile, sees it as a means to his own ends. he wants the light -- and hey, if swatch has it, why don't they show it off? why act all high and mighty about keeping it away from someone who could really use it? why don't they use it for themself? swatch's reason for that, of course, is that they see such a thing as a sin. they know, in an abstract way, that it could only end badly, that the light will still hold power over them no matter what. there will always be strings.

but as spamton becomes more and more fixated on the body, learning of it through what i imagine is a while of observing swatch at work, swatch becomes more and more fixated on spamton. their differing viewpoints come to a head as spamton spends less and less time in his room and swatch spends more and more time keeping an eye on spamton. i like to think that for a while, during the big shot era, swatch and spamton would meet in the basement nightly, as spamton would make a routine of going there to pray, and swatch would make a routine of questioning just what he's praying for. a blessing, perhaps? or for it to grant him an impossible ascension?

when things go downhill, of course, swatch and their men throw spamton to the curb, and spamton continues to try and sneak back into the basement -- now dressed as a two-bit version of swatch, which no doubt brings even more complexes about the man to swatch's mind.

i do think, though, that there was a sort of mutuality for them, and there still is, regarding their situations. it's why they keep coming back to each other again and again, despite how diametrically opposed they are. they are the only two who know about the neo body in the way that they do, the only two as close to the light as they are (or, were, in spamton's case). they spend so much time around one another that when spamton needs a shoulder to cry on, he still finds himself seeking swatch. as there are in many relationships, there are often those quiet moments, those times when they're together in the cafe at the end of the day where things are perhaps not nice, but peaceful. and, too, there are those moments they spend together in the basement, tension high, the neo body watching silently over them, where they think "i need someone like this. i wouldn't be here if i didn't clash with you like this. i wouldn't be here if we weren't polar opposites. i hate you. i don't know what my life would be like if you weren't here to know me this way."

#ooc #deltarune #swatchton #swatch #spamton #long post #THIS IS REAL LONG just know that i have a lot of thoughts on this. perhaps not quite ship. narrative idea #i think its fairly unique and different than popular 'fanon' swatchton so if you need something to sell you on the idea in a fresh way #that is this. to me

[bruhstation]

Any fun facts on your bigg city cast you would like to share?

Can you share how you wrote fortezza bigg city. Such as inspiration and resources you found?

of course! I have a lot to share too (copy pasting some of these from my google docs, haha!)

their nicknames are their boats' names. conveniently, some of them are quite fitting for their sailors.

example: "ten cents" because he always asks to borrow a dime from his coworkers (and seldom returns them), "top hat" because he never goes anywhere without it, "hercules" because it's derived from his real name, "zip" because its both his given name and has a plethora of meaning in the dictionary (he was named first, then his boat), "boomer" because of its literal meaning and because he started going by his boat's unceremoniously changed name, etc.

they all refer to their boats with "she/her" pronouns.

zip doesn't know big words and talks simply and concisely. he knows how to read, though slowly, but is still learning how to write. he reads many children's books that are easy to digest in both story and words, like pollyana, pinocchio, heidi, the wonderful wizard of oz, and various children's fables. he also likes doing word puzzles like crosswords and word searches from newspapers.

zorran knows how to forge other people's handwriting, making him an even more valuable asset to captain zero.

top hat's family runs a boutique. he dresses and acts like an upper class socialite, much to his parents' disapprovement.

the bridge cafe is a popular hangout place for bigg city port's sailors. the members of the star fleet and z-stacks meet each other here coincidentally. navies also stuck around the bridge cafe when they got stationed in bigg city port like bluenose and grampus, much to the annoyance of everyone.

captain zero and captain star got married in 1909, at age 25. they got divorced in 1931, at age 47.

the reason? captain got involved with criminals for money, basically lying about his job as a normal, well-adjusted businessman who’s probably involved with bigg city port’s mafia or other mercenaries, so captain star divorced him. both because he’s a patriotic navy at the time and because captain zero has created more than enough lies for captain star to handle. other people got dragged into the aftermath of their divorce and lies. also they're not beating the mid dad allegations

captain star and captain zero rarely show up in person. they're very careful of their public appearance.

the z-stacks are part of something bigger. zip doesn't know this.

johnny cuba has some blackmail on captain zero.

ten cents and zip are thomas' grandparents.

zorran is diesel's grandfather.

regarding the story, here are some (fun) facts I want to share.

themes of names, youth, and freedom will be prevalent.

fortezza bigg city is set in 1938. the narrator is captain star. the stories are excerpts from his diaries.

if you’ve been following me for a while and paid attention to casa tidmouth, I aim to make FBC the foil to CSTM. it’s similar but also different to casa tidmouth. both feature regular, unremarkable people who are just doing their jobs while juggling with their environmental threat and conflicting relationships with their loved ones. the difference is that CSTM has more of a mystery urban fantasy feeling to it (gold dust, sodor's 70s tech in the year 1999, lady’s patrons who are keeping secrets from their loved ones, etc) while FBC has more of a realistic background to it (interwar era, criminal backgrounds, the great depression, etc)

the titles of both works are italian. casa means home. fortezza means fortress.

a lot of literature I've read are inspirations for fortezza bigg city. demian, catcher in the rye, moby dick, the little prince, l'etranger, watership down are some of them. emil sinclair's character and his relationship with frau eva and franz kromer helped me write zip. you can say that ten cents is his max demian wait who said that.

many of t*tsuki f*jimoto's works are huge inspirations for fortezza bigg city, and my works as a whole. ch*insaw m*n, g*odbye eri, m*rmaid rhapsody, and f*re punch are some of it. the way he writes adolescents and their complex relationships with their parental figures became a great help to me. I also write from my personal experiences and thoughts, especially regarding the captains' relationships with their youngest members. (here's some panels from g*odbye eri that stuck with me)

h*useki no kuni is also an inspiration, but its effects are not as big as the one in casa tidmouth.

many clothing resources are taken from vintagedancer, old magazines, photos, leyendecker's works, and even my university's library. here are some of my favorites.

despite the way I've described captain star's relationship with TC and captain zero's relationship with zorran+zip and the overall setting of it, I want FBC to have a more hopeful feeling to it. I have a vision of making FBC some kind of crime comedy (it's hard to describe the genres of my stories)

I think that's all I have to say for now!

#asks #isjssjsjshuuuuuuuuuuuuyyyyyyyyyy #this is tugs #fortezza bigg city

[wendytestabrat]

why i resonated with stan in “you’re getting old/ass burgers” (FROM THE VAULT [2020])

You’re Getting Old/Ass Burgers has always been one of my favorite South Park episodes because I feel like I’ve always connected to it on so many levels and related to Stan a lot. My favorite part is the end of part 2 (Ass Burgers) after Stan was so depressed and had been seeing shit for so long he came to the realization that he DIDN’T want things to go back to the way they were. He realized he was fine with his parents getting a divorce and Kyle ditching him to go fuck Cartman because it opened his life up to new possibilities of where it could go. In his words he’s all like “I’m gonna make a big left turn” or whatever. The ending is also frustrating tho bc everything ended up going back to normal anyways so we didn’t get to see how that would’ve played out, but we’re not gonna talk about that we’re just gonna talk about the beautiful speech Stan made. That part has always resonated with me so much bc I agree with Stan. I remember at a certain age I just got to a point where I realized that the key to staying happy and optimistic is to stay open-minded and keep trying new things. I think it’s rlly important in life to follow those child-like curiosities you have when you’re a kid, when you’re younger you’re excited about everything and want to know about the whole world and how everything works, and I think it’s good to continue that mindset into adulthood. For me personally, I get really depressed easily if I feel like I’m stuck in one place, following the same routine and doing the same shit over and over, like that’s the point when everything starts to turn to shit to me too. It’s good to add some excitement and spontaneity to your life, and I know it can be hard for a lot of people to get out of their comfort zones, trust me I get this sometimes I can be a stubborn bitch and I only wanna stay in the same lane doing the same thing over and over, but trying new things and embracing change is what builds character. Sometimes life can seem scary, especially when you’re young and you don’t have everything figured out, but the truth is life just gets easier the more and more you challenge yourself to get out of your comfort zone and try things, it makes you more fearless. The more you can gain knowledge and wisdom about different aspects of life the easier you have it figured out, and this all comes with allowing yourself to get excited about new things, expanding your interests and having an open-mind. And when I say trying something new it can be big or small. It can just simply be deciding to learn about something new each day, deciding to read a new book, watching a tv show or a movie you’ve never seen before, starting a new hobby, meeting new people (I know this one is a bad example bc everyone is social distancing LMAOO), for me I really love discovering new songs and listening to artists I haven’t heard before. I mean the risk that goes into trying something new is that maybe you won’t like it and sometimes we can have that mindset where we’re like “this is gonna suck” so we don’t even bother, but you never know until you try, and you can still have an opinion on something you don’t like too. (I can’t count how many times I’ve suffered watching something awful I could not care about but I did it anyways out of curiosity. Also NEVER form an opinion on something you know nothing about or shit on something you know nothing about or else you sound ignorant.) But open-mindedness and being able to adapt to change and trying new things is really the key to staying well-rounded and happy and fulfilled. Having a lot of interests also makes it a lot easier to be able to talk to a lot of different people about different things and make real fulfilling connections. So yeah to me, what Stan said was actually very wise and I agree with him because it’s kind of been my go-to philosophy on life.

update 2024: i’m starting to realize now that my constant need for stimulation and new experience is prob just my sociopathicness FFHJDJSJS bc i get bored of shit way quicker now than i did before

#i’m a motivational speaker #me > tony robbins #south park #stan marsh

[annas-hair-donut]

Here's a little snippet from my upcoming Kristanna Valentine's Day fic!

She Holds a Candle (T)

Kristoff twists his hands on the steering wheel as he glares at the hearts and cupids sprinkled across the brightly colored Oaken’s Bath & Sauna Works signs. He might have said they were cute if they weren’t specifically designed to take advantage of people who don’t know any better.

Kristoff knows better, though, and he knows that as soon as he walks in the door, at least one beautiful salesperson will descend upon him and try to convince him he should go home with more than he came in for. Maybe they even believe the lie that buying more saves money.

He rolls his eyes as he steps out of the truck. Unfortunately, he’d been there before, and since he got divorced a few years ago, he never had any intention of going back.

But Valentine’s Day is a few days away and his daughter Stephanie’s giant heart is broken. Apparently, the boy she liked didn't feel like it was enough just to turn her down; he had to tell everyone at school that her voice slipped into falsetto when she asked him to the dance.

Kristoff wants to clobber that asshole for making her feel ashamed of being who she is. Not to mention Kristoff had spent about $350 on new clothes for Christmas that she now won’t wear.

She came out as trans right around the time Kristoff's ex-wife left, but she’d only just started dressing like a girl the past couple of months. And now she’s back to wearing jeans and baggy t-shirts; no more flower hair clips and heart earrings. And she's barely spoken in days.

It’s not like Kristoff knows anything about raising a girl; it would have been nice if his ex-wife had stuck around to help Stephanie with those kinds of things. She should have been teaching her how to style her hair and paint her toenails. But Lisa's timing was the worst, and even though Stephanie never mentions it, he knows she misses having a mom.

One thing Kristoff did learn from Lisa was that Oaken’s Bath & Sauna Works is the best place to get girly things that are more symbolic than useful. And that’s what Kristoff needs: a token to show Stephanie that she’ll always be his little girl.

And if it means wading through the sea of Oaken's sirens wearing green aprons, he’ll do it.

💕💕💕

A nauseating mix of scents assaults Kristoff’s nose as soon as he walks in, and a cheerful woman shouts, “Welcome in!”

Kristoff searches for the disembodied voice just so he can avoid it.

“We’re having a Valentine’s Day sale today! Buy three full-size body care items, get three free!”

Kristoff stares at her pink freckled face, with ginger hair tied into braids hanging loosely in front of her shoulders. Her blue-green eyes set his stomach in knots, which only tighten when she blinks.

It's worse when he looks down. Her apron is tied just in the right place to emphasize her figure, but it's the tiny sparkly rainbow that catches his attention.

Kristoff lifts his eyes quickly and she smiles sweetly. “Can I help you find something special today?”

How many people have gone home with bags of wasted products because she smiled at them like that?

“I’m good.”

"Well, I'm Anna! Let me know if you have any questions."

He thumbs his nose as he walks around her, not even bothering with the basket she offers him.

💕💕💕

Special thank you to @livseses for their help with this! 💕

#frozen #frozen fanfic #kristanna #kristanna fanfic #wip wednesday #she holds a candle #seriously i'm so excited for this fic

[scythemichaelfaraday]

I am once again realizing that engaging with anything JTHM related while actively struggling with many mental illnesses is in fact bad for my health.

Under the cut: a love letter to JTHM with a side of divorce papers. Also an apology to anyone in the community who I've hurt directly or indirectly.

I think I’ve come to the conclusion that I found a space for JTHM in my life when I really needed it to find me. It helped me find my best friend, my spouse, and many cool people who have made all sorts of impacts on my life.

It helped me feel seen when I was struggling with coming to terms with the "darker" and "scarier" symptoms (homicidal ideation, delusions, paranoia) of my disorders. It helped me feel like I wasn't alone in my despair and my anger and angst.

It helped me process when I lost my sister to suicide. It helped me explicitly write out my darkest fantasies of violently killing the people who kept my sister from coming home from the morgue. It helped me take out all of my pain and trauma out on a single individual that already was hurting so deeply, so why not hurt him more. But as time has gone on, I've realized that I have distanced myself farther and farther from the source. I've created a Johnny of my own- one different but cut from the same cloth of Jhonen's. It became unclear to me where I started and Johnny began. I integrated so much of myself into my version of how I wrote and drew Johnny that it started to seem more like a mirror than a self-portrait.

I cut my hair like him. I wore similar clothes. I acted in a similar manner. I imagined myself looking like him when people perceived me, despite being... 5'1", filipino, and not-at-all thin.

I had a dilemma, I wanted to be him, but I also wanted him to be more like me.

I styled his hair to be more like mine: less spiky, more soft, rounded, full with my current (constantly changing hair color) to match. I gave him my glasses. I put him in my clothes. I gave him undiagnosed chronic pain, then MCTD, then fibromyalgia. I gave him a cane. I gave him self harm scars in the exact same places mine are. I later gave him my "sexuality" (both in terms of orientation and otherwise) and my gender identity. He has my Bipolar, BPD, PTSD, ADHD, ED, Anxiety, etc. And finally, I gave him my partner, or at least the characters that my partner also furnished for themself.

At this point in my journey of mental health, I can say that I've turned Johnny into quite the projection. Even before I met my current partner, I gave him a spouse and kids, things that I vehemently denied wanting, but secretly desired to be stable enough to have. Well... less so the kids.

I wanted him to recover in the same way that I wanted and still want to. Not to be "fixed." There is no fixing mental illness, just treating it and learning how to live with it. Fucking up and fixing along the way. Just like I gave him those other things, I inserted a support system into his life; I gave him a family; I gave him a purpose outside of the one that Jhonen made him for and... it felt freeing but it also felt scandalous. Sacrilegious. Forbidden.

I was so afraid that people would see the Johnny I "created" and shun him and by extension, me. "He's out of character. He would never say that. This is who he is. This is who he is only allowed to be."

As someone with Borderline, I internalized the outcry of OOC as an attack against my constantly fractured sense of identity and kept myself stuck in the ways I always were. I believed that in order to stay within the community/fandom, I would have to stay as sick and as disordered as possible or else I'd be an outsider someone who just "doesn't get it." Someone who "doesn't get Johnny."

And maybe I do, maybe I don't. Maybe there really isn't "getting" Johnny in the same way for everyone, but this isn't about that.

On the opposite hand, when I became more secure in my recovery (or at least during a phase of it) I was more defensive of my depictions. That other people were talking about me behind my back, that I was pariah of sorts that dared to think differently. I thought: these people want to stay stuck, they want Johnny to stay stuck. They engage in these things that are so sickening and awful. Why can't they be like me and just hurt themselves?!

Then, someone's response to it made me realize that I was no better no different than them. What gave me the right to judge people for how they coped with their trauma and disorders? My cutting, my vent art, and interaction with the same exact media was just the same as them engaging in a community that while I still wouldn't become a part of, I have newfound respect for. We are all just trying to fucking cope with our awful lives and experiences and I had and have NO RIGHT to judge them for it.

So to be crystal clear without naming names: I am sorry for what I've said about people who engage with the TCC. I am sorry for what I've said regarding people liking Jimmy. I have not sent anon hate or any hate to people who like Jimmy, but I have made comments such as "liking X is like you being the Jimmy" and thus have contributed to the fandom's hostility towards people who like Jimmy. It is through these people that I've discovered that there is a lot more nuance than I can personally appreciate for the character. I may not like him still, but I do respect and admire anyone who can find comfort in him or otherwise.

Since then, it's been a journey of accepting that from the start, I have engaged with the community from a standpoint of mental illness. Much like someone forms a trauma bond with a friend or acquaintance, I trauma-bonded with JTHM and have been "married" to it for 7 (heh heh) long, complicated years. It's been my personality, my identity, my story, my thoughts, my everything. I didn't lose myself in JTHM, because I never knew who I was, and I still don't. But remaining married to it has severely impeded my ability to learn who I am.

I did character analysis after character analysis. I combed through every last page, read every last note Jhonen wrote, turned the book over and over to read the hidden messages in the borders. I tried to parse who Johnny is, who he wants to be, his likes, dislikes, his dreams, nightmares, fears, everything. I asked him everything about himself, but I didn't once turn those questions towards myself directly.

I want to learn who Zzy is. What Zzy wants. What Zzy likes, dislikes, fears, aspires to, everything. And with this final step towards freedom from JTHM, I think that I am ready to learn who they are. Or at least, try. I want to try for them.

This doesn't mean that I will be leaving behind the Johnny I've built, but rather that I will work towards making him something of my own rather than the extension of something that was never mine to begin with. I love the world and story I've built with him too much.

So thank you, JTHM, thank you Jhonen, for giving me some serious pain food to chew on. My monster's teeth have been continually sharpened and worn down all these years thanks to your help, but I think I can take it from here. I will never forget the awesome people you've connected me with, the experiences you've granted me, and the relief you've offered.

However, we also have not been good to or for each other. I made you into everything about me. I forced you into every corner of my life. You convinced me to abandon all hope of wellness and manipulated me into the temptation to stay with you even when I knew it'd be better to distance ourselves. You kept me from discovering myself in some of my most formative years. These are things that will take a while to recover from. And these are things that cause me to tell you that we are done.

This isn't goodbye forever, but this is sayonara for now.

#jthm

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Me & You & Everyone We Know | Chapter 2 | S.R

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A/N - title and lyrics from a song by Bruno Mars.

Chapter Summary - Spencer becomes instantly infatuated with you but his thoughts are put on hold when he has a disobedient daughter and argumentative ex-wife to deal with.

Pairing - Single Dad! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, smut in later chapters.

Content Warnings - mentions of divorce, disobedient teenager, strict dad Spencer, swearing, some suggestive topics, arguing, vague mentions of male masturbation.

Word Count - 5k

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2 - Today My Life Begins

I will break these chains that bind me, happiness will find me,

Leave the past behind me, today my life begins.

A whole new world is waiting it's mine for the takin, 

I know I can make it, today my life begins. 

Spencer’s day had been consumed by thoughts of you. He managed to pull himself together to teach his classes but you were at the back of his mind all day. 

He didn’t think someone had ever been stuck in his mind the way you were. In one brief meeting you’d taken up residence in his brain and were now living there indefinitely. 

Thankfully his daughters didn’t notice he was preoccupied. 

The next day he drove to work full of anticipation at the prospect of seeing you again. 

He was hyper aware of everyone around him, taking second glances around in case he found you in a crowd. 

But he knew he’d be able to easily pick you out of any group of people. 

It wasn’t until he took a stroll to the coffee cart on campus after his morning class when he finally spotted you. 

The sun had poked its way between a thick blanket of clouds and it was warmer than it had been as of late and you were taking advantage of that as you sat on a bench with your head buried in your book. 

Your navy overcoat was bundled on the bench next to you and Spencer was glad he’d left his own jacket in his office. 

His nerves betrayed him and his hands started to sweat as he crossed the courtyard towards you. And it had nothing to do with the temperature. 

He was fascinated by the way you seemed to be lost in your book. You were in your own little world, blocking out everyone around you, lost in a land of the authors creating. 

Your brow had a small crease in it and you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth in concentration. Every so often you’d dampen your finger on your tongue before turning the page. 

Honestly, Spencer could have watched you all day. He was utterly captivated by you. He stood not six feet in front of you for some time, just observing your micro expressions. 

You didn’t look up from the pages but you stunned him when you spoke. 

“Are you going to stare at me all day or are you going to join me?” 

“I…uh…” 

You glanced up at him with that glint in your eye that made his knees weak. 

“Sit down, Doctor.” You closed your book and moved your coat aside before patting the bench. 

He took a few breaths before moving closer and dropping down next to you. 

“I’m sorry if it was weird of me staring like that. I’ve just never seen someone so deep in concentration before.” 

“I have a lot of siblings, I had to learn to tune things out.” You shrugged with a smile. “How’s today treating you, Doctor Reid?”

“You can call me Spencer, you know?” He felt himself blushing a little because he really liked it when you called him Doctor. Probably too much. “And shouldn’t I be the one asking you how your day is going? Being new here and all?” 

You mused on this a second, running your fingers up and down the spine of your book. Your nails were painted a dark grey shade and were a little chipped on a couple of the digits. 

“It’s good. Professor Monroe is nice, I think he could teach me a lot. I’m actually working towards my doctorate in psychology so I’m hoping this will help.” 

“I have a doctorate in psychology.” Spencer blurted out, very unjustly. 

Your lips tugged up at the corners in amusement. 

“It’s not a competition.” You smiled at him. 

“I didn’t mean…I just…” Spencer mentally berated himself, forcing himself to take a deep breath. “I can help. If you need it. Not that you need it I’m sure but…I can. If you do.” 

What is wrong with me? 

He thought he’d long passed the stage of being awkward around pretty women but he supposed it had been a long time since he was single. 

He’d never been good with women before he’d gotten married and now he’d been out of the game for thirteen years he was a disaster. 

He tapped his foot on the ground trying to focus on that rather than his complete lack of social graces. 

“I’ll bear that in mind.” You had a look of amusement on your features as though you knew the effect you were having on him. 

Spencer had never felt like this before. He felt so unsure of himself, so utterly out of his comfort zone. 

Spencer didn’t let himself stay in situations where he felt so in over his head. He shied away from social situations where he could, never went out of his way to make friends. 

But here he was purposefully putting himself a new and scary situation in which he felt so utterly out of control. 

“You should.” He nodded, playing with his hands in his lap. 

You both fell into silence while Spencer continued to scold himself for being such an incredibly awkward human being. 

You watched the side of his face. He had a very nice face, one that you could stare at for hours and not get bored of. 

He wore the signs of age in the little creases around his eyes and forehead and he was starting to go a little grey around his hairline. 

The dark circles under his eyes told you he’d seen his share of darkness. His obvious discomfort was a sign he wasn’t at ease around women. 

“Can I ask you something?” You spoke after a while of silence. 

He looked up from where he’d been staring at his foot bouncing up and down. 

“Of course.” 

“Why did you leave the BAU, if you don’t mind me asking? It seems like it would be such a fascinating place to work.” 

Spencer chuckled softly if not slightly wistfully. He still missed the BAU but maybe not as much as he once did. It had been almost seven years since he left the bureau. He still yearned for it every now and again but he wouldn’t trade the time he got to spend with his girls for the world. 

“It was. I loved working there and truthfully I never thought I’d leave.” He sighed a little, realising he hadn’t answered your question. “I left not long after my second daughter was born. I missed out on a lot with my first and I didn’t want to make that mistake again. It was hard to leave but I love my girls.” 

You smiled at the way he lit up when he mentioned his kids but he noticed something passing by your eyes that didn’t match your smile. 

Despite his years of profiling, he couldn’t tell what it was. 

“How old are they?” You smiled because you really did want to hear about his kids. 

But you couldn’t help but be disappointed because if he had kids, he probably had a wife too. Of course he did. He was beautiful and intelligent, of course he wasn’t single. 

“Daisy’s thirteen going on twenty-one. And Lily is seven.” He beamed talking about his daughters, he always did. 

“Cute ages.” You subtly scoped his hand. 

No wedding ring. But not all men wore them. 

“They’re the lights of my life, I swear.” He fawned. “So I left the BAU so I wouldn’t miss out on any more of their lives. And I’m thankful for this place, they let me curate my own hours so I can drop them off and pick them up from school everyday.” 

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. For the love of god, don’t say it Y/N. 

But you did. 

“Your wife can’t do that?” You hated yourself for asking. It was so obvious what you were really asking. 

But if Spencer realised, it didn’t show. 

He averted his gaze again and rolled his lip between his teeth. 

He hated talking about his ex at the best of times, let alone with you. 

“I’m divorced. It’s a whole messy thing.” He spoke quietly. “I really don’t want to waste what precious time I have with you talking about her.” 

You tried to hide the large smile that crept to your lips hearing that he was divorced. You shouldn’t be so happy to hear that, but at least it meant you might still stand a chance. 

“What would you like to spend your precious time with me talking about, Doctor?” The flirtatiousness was dripping from your words but again if he noticed, it didn’t show. 

“I would very much like to talk to you about taking you for dinner.” Spencer startled himself a little with his words. It wasn’t like him to be so bold. 

He’d never once thought about dating since his separation despite Luke and Matt’s determination to have him do so. He’d never been inclined to put himself out there again. 

So it surprised him to say the least that he’d actually said that out loud. 

And what if you said no? How awkward would that be? And surely there was no way you’d actually say yes. 

He tried to keep his cool and not start panicking before he’d given you a chance to respond but his brain was already running over the hundreds of bad outcomes to this. 

“Well, I would-“ you started but were cut off by the sound of your phone alarm going off from inside your purse. 

You quickly shut it off and stuffed it away again. 

“Sorry, I have to get to my next class. Monroe can’t stand tardiness.” You pushed yourself up from the bench and slung your coat over your arm, smirking at Spencer playfully. 

“You don’t even have time to say a simple yes or no?” He questioned you. 

“I’d rather keep you in suspense.” Your eyes sparkled. “I’ll let you stew a bit. It’s more fun that way.” 

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh as you winked at him before quickly turning on your heels and sauntering away. 

He was mesmerised by the way your hips swung as you walked. You had a confidence about you that Spencer envied slightly. You held your head high and marched with the sort of self-assurance Spencer wished he possessed. 

It was also the kind of assertiveness which Spencer found so undeniably attractive. 

He kept his eyes on you until you’d disappeared from sight. 

He was already hooked on you. And he was sure that couldn’t end well. 

***

Spencer thought about nothing but you for the rest of the day again. 

Even when he picked Daisy and Lily up from school you were still at the back of his mind. 

He cooked dinner and helped the girls with their homework before he settled them in front of the TV while he graded papers in his office. 

He put them to bed, read Lily a story she’d heard hundreds of times before but Daisy bypassed a story in lieu of one of her own. 

She regaled her dad with a complete play by play of a fight that happened at school between two of the popular girls. She went into great detail about it, talking so fast Spencer could barely keep up. 

But he nodded where appropriate and threw in a perfunctory “yeah?” every once in a while. 

By the time she finished she was half asleep. 

“So it means,” she stifled a yawn as Spencer tucked the sheets up to her chin. “Meredith is looking for a new BFF. And I could be it!” 

“That is great sweetheart. I’m really pleased for you.” He kissed her forehead and stood up, backing away to the door. 

Once in the corridor he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Teenagers are hard work. Was it too much to ask to keep Lily young and innocent forever? 

He was exhausted so he took a shower and crawled into bed. His last thought was of you. 

***

He was sipping his coffee at the island in the kitchen, perusing the newspaper while Lily ate a bowl of cereal and hummed to herself like she often did when she ate. 

He checked his watch before folding the paper and slipping out of the chair. 

“Daisy, if you don’t come down soon you won’t have time for breakfast!” He called upstairs, finishing off his coffee before placing his mug in the sink.

“I had breakfast, daddy!” Lily beamed brightly at him.

“I know you did, pumpkin. You’re such a good girl.” He came close to her and kissed her head before smoothing out the errant locks.

Lily was gifted his unruly curls. If he brushed them they doubled in size. If he left them, he looked like a bad parent for neglecting her. 

While she finished eating he stood behind her and pulled the strands back off her face, using one of the hair ties usually around his wrist for such an occasion to tie her hair back into a ponytail. 

It was better than nothing. He was a single dad, he tried his best. 

Lily finished her cereal and he dumped the bowl in the sink with his mug before checking his watch again. 

“Daisy, seriously? What are you doing up there?” 

“I’m coming! Jeez dad.” Her voice carried back down stairs. 

He lifted Lily from her chair and placed her on the floor and she ran to the door to get her shoes. 

There was some clattering upstairs before he heard his eldest daughters unnecessarily loud footsteps on the stairs. 

She ran straight past him to the door, clearly hiding something. He froze for a moment when he took her in, his blood turning to fire in his veins. 

“Daisy,” he choked. “What are you wearing?” 

“It’s called a skirt dad.” She still didn’t look at him while she got her sneakers on. 

“Really? A skirt? I would consider that more of a belt. You are not leaving the house dressed like that.” 

“Chill out dad. All the girls at my school dress like this.” 

“I don’t care how the other girls dress. You are not leaving my house dressed like that.” He was trying to stay calm but he felt anything but. 

“How do you expect me to be Meredith’s BFF if I don’t dress like this?” She finally turned to face him and Spencer nearly blew his lid entirely. 

Her beautiful face was painted in heavy eyeshadow, mascara, a thick blush and bright lipstick. 

She folded her arms over her chest and Spencer had to count to ten in his head before he spoke or he would say something he regretted.

“What is that on your face?” He spoke through grit teeth. 

“Make-up.” She huffed. 

“Where did you get make-up? You’re thirteen!” 

“All the girls are wearing make-up.” She rolled her eyes. 

“All of them, except for you.” He clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides. “Did your mother buy you that?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged. 

God-fucking-damnit Maeve. 

“Go and take that off your face and the next time you come down here you will be wearing something that covers your knees. Do you understand?” He hated being the strict parent. That had always been Maeve’s role. 

But since their separation she’s played the part of the “cool mom” while Spencer was left to be the bad guy. He hated it. 

“Mom would let me go to school like this.” Daisy huffed again. 

“I think you look silly.” Lily giggled. 

“Shut up!” Daisy raised her voice. 

“Do not talk to your sister like that.” Spencer exhaled. “Go and get changed. Take that stuff off of your face. Now.” 

“But dad I-“

“Daisy Diana Reid, I said now!” 

“I hate you!” Daisy screamed before storming upstairs. 

Spencer closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

There was nothing worse in the whole world than hearing those words out of your child’s mouth. 

With his eyes closed he didn’t notice Lily passing closer to him until he felt a set of small arms wrap around his waist. 

He opened his eyes and looked down on her. She was smiling up at him. 

“I love you daddy.” She beamed, squeezing him tightly. 

“I love you too, pumpkin.” He sniffed back his tears. 

Being a single parent was hard enough without the added difficulties of a teenager. Daisy was probably going to rebel against his every word until she was eighteen. 

And there was no telling what Lily would be like. 

He had to cling to moments like this when his youngest daughter was hugging him the way she was and looking at him like he hung the moon. 

Please never grow up, he thought as he bowed his head to kiss her. 

***

Daisy didn’t say another word to Spencer or Lily as he drove them to school. She was even more angry at the fact he’d checked her back pack and found the make-up and skirt hidden inside. 

Did she think he was born yesterday? He would have a serious talk with Maeve about this. 

His first class on Wednesdays wasn’t until just before lunch so he spent the morning in his office grading more papers. 

At around ten thirty there was a soft knock at his door and he glanced up from his desk, blinking a few times. 

“It’s open.” He called, sitting back in his chair and stretching his legs under the desk. 

The door creaked open and when you walked inside it put the first smile on his face in hours. 

You brandished two coffee cups which you set down before slipping into the free chair on the opposite side of the desk. 

It was a large old desk with papers scattered around almost every available surface. In the odd free space between papers you could make out multiple coffee rings. 

Behind him was a huge floor to ceiling bookshelf, almost bursting at the seams it held so many books. 

There was a large window on the far wall that looked out over the courtyard but the windowsill was also stacked high with books. 

His satchel and jacket were hanging on an old, wooden antique coat rack by the door. 

“You brought me coffee.” He smiled, gratefully picking it up and taking a sip as you inspected his office. 

“I felt bad for leaving you hanging yesterday.” You crossed one leg over the other, running your free hand over the crease in your checkered pants. 

“Really? Did you?” He raised a sceptical eyebrow at you. 

“No, not especially.” You smirked. “But I noticed you’d been hauled up here all morning and figured you might need a pick me up.”

“You have no idea.” He sighed. 

“Everything ok?” You sounded genuinely concerned. 

He took another sip of coffee before setting it down and leaning his elbows on the desk. 

“I had an…incident with my oldest this morning.” 

“Care to talk about it?” 

Again Spencer sighed. Normally he would not talk to someone he barely knew about his kids or anything pertaining to his personal life. He liked to keep the two sides of his life separate.

But the look gracing your features told him, for whatever reason, you cared. He didn’t know why you did, but Spencer felt like he could tell you anything. 

And more concerningly, he wanted to tell you everything. 

“She’s thirteen years old and she comes downstairs this morning in an obscenely short skirt and a face full of make-up like it’s not going to give me a heart attack? And then she got mad when I made her change and now she’s not talking to me.” He had no idea why he was telling you this. You were basically a stranger. 

You smiled sympathetically at him around your coffee. 

“Ah yes, I’m sure I put my father through hell with the same things. Teenage girls are rebellious. Especially towards our dads.” 

“Is it so much to ask that I don’t want her to turn out like her whore mot…” Spencer stopped himself abruptly. He was not going to open that particular can of worms. “I’m just…I don’t know how to deal with this.” 

“You’ll figure it out.” You smiled at him. “You’re a genius after all, right?”

“How much exactly do you know about me?” Spencer frowned a little. 

“Only what they publish online.” Your eyes danced with mischief. 

“It seems very unfair that you know so much about me and I know so little about you.” 

“Maybe you can find out more about me over dinner.” 

“Seriously?” Spencer perked up, sitting up right. 

“Seriously.” You giggled. 

“I have the kids this weekend but next weekend they’re with their mother. Does Saturday night sound good?” 

“Sounds great.” You mused as you ran your fingers along a silver photo frame on the corner of his desk. It was the only personal touch in his office. “Your kids?” 

“Yeah.” He beamed proudly. 

“They’re beautiful. The little one looks just like you.” 

Spencer chuckled and nodded. 

It was true, Lily looked the spitting image of her dad. As well as his unruly mane of curls she had his eyes and his smile. She was also much taller than all the other kids in her class, just like her dad.

Daisy shared her features more with Maeve. Her hair was darker and her eyes were blue not brown. She had a lot of her mothers mannerisms too which sometimes crushed Spencer’s heart in a vice. 

“Yeah, she does. Daisy looks more like her mom.” 

“So she gets them every other weekend?” You looked back at him. 

“Yeah. I’m their full time parent.” 

“There’s a story there.” You sipped your coffee. 

“There is.” He chuckled lightly. “But not one I want to go into with the beautiful woman I’m trying to flirt with.” 

“This is you flirting?” You laughed. “Wow, that’s adorable.”

“I asked you to dinner.” He grumbled. “Cut me some slack. I was married for thirteen years, I’m kind of out of practice.” 

“You’re doing better than you think.” You smiled seductively at him and Spencer wanted to take you right over his desk. 

He wanted to sweep all the papers off of it, grab you in his arms and slam you back against. 

He wanted to tear every single item of clothing off of your body and fuck you right here and now in his campus office. 

God he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had sex. How sad was that? 

Even just the thought made his cock twitch in his pants and he was glad there was a desk separating you so you wouldn’t be able to tell. 

But he was sure you knew anyway. And it was confirmed a moment later when you pushed yourself up and spoke again. 

“I’m not sleeping with you before you take me to dinner, Doctor Reid.” You grinned, grabbing up your coffee. 

“But after I’ve taken you for dinner, you will?” He smiled, feeling a surge of confidence. 

“Depends on how good of a dinner it is.” You left him with one last sultry look before you strutted towards the door. 

Spencer chewed on his lip to hold back a moan that wanted to escape. By the time you left his office he was almost completely standing to attention in his pants. 

It was a heady feeling. Spencer hadn’t felt this was in such a long time. Maybe he’d never felt this way. 

You were something else entirely. You were a magnetic force, drawing him in and sucking the life from him. 

He shook his head, his metaphors getting confused in his mind due to the lack of blood pumping in his brain. 

He glanced at his watch. He had ten minutes until his first class. 

What to do with ten minutes? He thought to himself as his hand had already started working it’s way to the button of his pants. 

***

His good mood, as it usually was, was short lived. 

Talking to his ex-wife was his least favourite thing to do, but after the situation that morning, he’d had to call her. 

And the second he heard her voice down the phone, he was already seething. 

“Make-up, Maeve? You brought her make-up?” He raised his voice a little as he paced the length of his home office. 

Daisy and Lily were already asleep and he didn’t want to wake them but he couldn’t help his tone. 

“She’s thirteen, Spencer.” Maeve kept her voice measured. 

“Exactly! She shouldn’t be wearing make-up at thirteen! And don’t get me started on that skirt!” 

“I wore make-up when I was thirteen.”

“Yeah and look how well you turned out.” He growled. 

“You might not like me Spencer but I am still the mother of your children. Show me some respect!” She huffed. 

“You lost the right to my respect a long time ago. I will not let you turn my daughters into sluts.” 

“Like me?” 

“You said it.” He rolled his eyes. “My job is hard enough without having to police Daisy every time she leaves the house. In future, tell me before you buy her things like that.” 

“She’s my daughter too. I have every right to buy her what I want.” 

“I swear to god if I find out you’ve brought her any more make-up or inappropriate outfits-“ 

“You’ll what, Spencer? Have me see them less than I already do? I get to see them for two days every two weeks, is that not punishment enough?” 

“You were sleeping with someone else behind my back for three years! You should consider yourself lucky you see them at all! Don’t test me Maeve, I am not messing around.” He was livid, his blood boiling on his veins. 

“If you try to revoke custody from me I’m sure the courts would love to hear about how their father gets blind drunk every time they aren’t home. You think I can’t smell it on you? You think the girls can’t smell it on you?” Maeve yelled down the phone. 

Spencer gripped the edge of his desk so hard his knuckles turned white.

“I have four days a month off. I have four days a month when I’m not cooking and cleaning and helping with homework. Four days a month when I can just be me and allow myself to feel the weight of the fact my wife cheated on me. Four fucking days a month when I’m not Doctor Reid or daddy. Don’t you dare try and get high and mighty with me you bitch!” He was angrier than he’d ever been, even angrier than when he’d found out she was cheating on him in the first place. 

Before Maeve could respond, Spencer pulled the phone away from his ear and ended the call before he could say anymore. 

How dare she threaten him. He had every right to let loose on his scarce days when he wasn’t looking after their children. 

He did everything for Daisy and Lily, his life revolved around his two princesses. Who was Maeve to judge how he spent his few days apart from them? 

He could feel his anger rising, about to spill over at any moment. He was gripping the desk so hard he was sure it would snap beneath his grasp. 

No one in the world had the power to anger him the way his ex-wife did. 

He was about to reach breaking point, seconds away from snapping when his phone started to ring again. 

I swear to god if that’s her I will… his thought trailed off when he saw a number he didn’t recognise on the screen. 

Frowning a little and trying to keep his anger at bay, he answered it and put the device to his ear. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi. I hope you don’t mind but I got your number from Monroe.” 

He could hear the mild hint of embarrassment in your voice. And in an instant, Spencer felt his anger melting away. 

“You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice right now.” He exhaled, letting up his hold on the desk. 

“Bad night?” 

“Just…my ex-wife.” He grit his teeth. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Fair enough.” You had a smile in your voice. 

“So, why did you ask Monroe for my number?” Spencer felt himself smile too. He rounded his desk and fell into the chair. 

“Honestly? I don’t know. Was it weird of me?”

“I mean, you could have just asked me.” Spencer chuckled. 

“True.” You agreed. “Jumping through hoops is kind of fun though.” 

“Oh really? You like the chase, huh?” Spencer leant back in his chair as he felt his cock throb just from your voice.

“You asked me out, I didn’t think I needed to chase.” You sounded amused. 

“I could always rescind my offer if it’s more fun for you. I don’t think a woman has ever chased me before. I kind of like the sound of it.” He smirked, hand moving to palm himself through his slacks. 

“I find that very hard to believe. I would have thought Doctor Spencer Reid would have women lining up at his door.” 

“Oh yeah, a divorced dad of two really gets the women hot under the collar.” He chuckled lightly. 

“It does the job for me.” You confessed and Spencer couldn’t help the growl that left his lips. 

“Woman, you have no idea what you do to me.” He admitted, pressing the palm of his hand against his erection. 

“Oh, I’ve got a pretty good idea, Doctor.” You whispered the last word and as expected, Spencer moaned slightly down the phone. 

“This is very unfair.” He swallowed. “My girls are asleep down the hall and you’re getting me all riled up.” 

“My roommates are asleep down the hall and you’re getting me riled up.” Your voice was slightly breathy. 

“I should…go.” He forced himself to say although he didn’t want to. 

“Sleep well, Doctor. Try not to dream of me.” You whispered and then the line went dead. 

He dropped to the phone on the desk and hissed as he pressed harder against his cock. 

And for the second time that day, Spencer relieved himself from his pants and stroked himself while he thought of you. 

You were going to be the death of him. 

Taglist -

Series -

@foxy-eva @kbakery @chrissyflo3 @simxican @aysixdy @givemeth

All ships & genres -

@muffin-cup @andiebeaword @measure-in-pain @takeyourleap-of-faith @sexy-dumpster-fire @thebloomingeagle @dirtytissuebox @smurphyse @ssa-uglywhore27

SR x reader -

@dreatine @adoringanakin @dr-spencerr-reidd @sleepretreat @spenxerslut @sweetandsunny @bellaswanismysoulmate @mcumorningstar @kuolonsyoja @radtwinkie @drayshadow @lytrc @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @safespacespence @pastelbabygirl19 @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @people-whatabunchofbastards @justreadingficsdontmindme @dielgonacoffee @hotchandspencearedilfs

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #me and you and everyone we know #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds

[earl-grey-love]

Everyone in the office thinks that Emmett, my mad m. s/i, is in love with Joan. And that's true, since in S1 he spends all his time blatantly admiring her. (And for the rest of the show too). Including Joan, who does think he's lovely. But the thing is, he'd never fit into her ambitions. Major show spoilers btw.

Joan is chasing the "dream". Her idea of success is to get married to a handsome man who can provide for her, so she can leave the work place forever. This is what she wants more than anything. Emmett isn't able to do that for her. And they both know that, so there's no way she would ever choose him. No matter how much they may like each other.

Joan does go on to marry a man who does fit that bill. However, like all aspects of the american dream, it doesn't work out the way she thought it would. Especially not in a decade where society is starting to undergo a drastic change. Despite this, and the slight resentment Emmett has, he supports her through everything.

Meanwhile, he becomes best friends with Ken. They're similar but contrasting in the way Ken shamelessly flirts around while Em seems stuck on unrequited love, but they're both gentle creatives at their core. It's unclear exactly when Em falls in love with Ken, but it's likely sooner rather than later. Once again he fell for someone who won't want him, but he really doesn’t care.

This continues for a painfully long time (like 4 seasons!). It's a stalemate it seems until one day Ken abruptly discovers two things - 1, Em likes men, and 2, that Ken feels jealous of the guy he just saw him kiss. Cue gay panic and confusion. He eventually confronts Em about all of this and the two come to terms with the fact the feelings have been mutual for a very long time. Their exploration of their romantic attraction to each other begins.

Joan is one of the first, and only ones, to learn of this development. Since its the 60s, they go with the whole "roommates" thing as a cover, and cus they've always been close like that it goes unnoticed. Meanwhile, Joanie gets her divorce (and her baby), and she has a conversation with Em about regrets. Namely that she wishes she had chosen him, which causes Em to get angry.

They have an open and honest conversation about their feelings about love and relationships. Joan realizes now that the only way she would be with someone again is if she really loves them, something which she's not sure she's ever experienced. And Em reveals he never cared about relationships or sex either way, and that he's never slept with Ken despite their romantic relationship. Em and Joan are just happy to have each other in their lives, even if their feelings aren't exactly romantic. Em did feel that way for her once, but the years have changed that. They both grew and moved on.

The series ends with Ken and Em supporting Joan in her new business and single motherhood. Em joins her company as creative director, and Ken continues his career as a writer. And they both help Ken adjust to going blind in one eye too.

#Emmett is a cis man btw #but yeah this is sorta how it goes #there's way way way more details and all that but if I wrote all of them we'd both be here all day #sunny speaks #qpr: joanie #ship: creative accounts

[sorcerous-caress]

hope this isn't weird to ask but how long have you been writing and how old are you? did you ever take any courses related to writing or have you been improving through writing as a hobby?

Hey it's not weird at all, I'll happily answer!

I'm 20 years old, and I have been writing non-continuously since I was 12.

My first fic was written with colon punctuation for spoken dialogue instead of quotation marks bc I didn't know what those were at the time. For example:

Bob: nice weather we're having today (he said with a smile)

Bob2: I signed the divorce papers, they're on the counter. (Sighing at the other's stubbornness)

I posted it on wattpad.

Afterwards, I never wrote anything else, but I learned about Ao3 and kept enganging in fandom spaces. At 14, I joined roleplaying group chats, which made me think and write faster to keep the rp going. Eventually, it became one on one rp with another person where we would take our chat history log, freshen it up a bit, then post it as a fic.

By 16, I joined a fandom server with a semi serious writing subcategory in it. People more experienced and much older than me would beta for other's story. It's where I picked up the habit to write drafts in google docs so I can easily share the link for a beta reader to add suggestions to.

I still haven't written another fic by then, not by myself, at least. I got very insecure at the time about my writing and lack of knowledge. Mind you, I joined the server, not knowing what punctuation was. It took several beta readers adding punctuation for me until it finally clicked that I should use it.

It felt like I was an outcast in a way? Sure, everyone treated me just as nicely as others there, but I noticed the little things that added up over time. Like how no one would react or talk about the stories I post, but if someone else shares theirs, then the entire server gushes over it. Or how one time I reacted to my own story with an emoji, only for someone else to mention how it's me who clicked it and I shouldn't do that. It was a very unhealthy environment for a 16-year-old surrounded by 30-20 years old, but I stuck to it because I wanted to improve my writing.

Even if I was ignored, they'd still beta for me as a chance to offer "constructive criticism." Artists can be very petty when a low skilled person joins them.

My skills improved, and I posted my second fic! It was nothing remarkable, but it felt like the first stone into the stairway of improvement, yk? I loved that fic, it was my crowning jewel.

But as a result, I started to hate writing. It was a struggle, I'd spend hours on two sentences while others on the server were bragging about their 50k fics. I hated my own inability to perform better, to write better.

I got sick of reading my own writing from the number of times I'd rewrite it in an attempt to format it better. I couldn't even bare look at other's writing or read fanfics on AO3 because I'd always compare their writing to mine. Break their style down and analyse it in an attempt to spot what I'm doing wrong.

I left the server eventually, abruptly too. It was for the better.

I swore off of writing.

For two years, that was true. I gradually came to reading fanfics again, but just looking at a blank document was enough to get me nauses.

By 18, Aot happened, and the boom in x reader fanfics.

Everything I've written up to this point has been ships. Not once did I consider the idea of an x reader. For a while, I used to scoff at it and label it as cringe, as if the ship fanfics I was reading wasn't cringe either. Elitism, I tell you.

I saw these request blogs and how posting on tumblr seemed less intimidating than AO3. How intimate it felt to have an anon talk to you about your own fic that you wrote for them, to have people discussing your writing and stories with you! And they ask for more!

Sign me tf up.

I started my first writing blog, and I didn't know shit. I learned as I went. The new formatting, the tumblr tag system, creating a masterlist.

How important presentation is in here.

In AO3, your fic has the same chance of being read as any other one. Only your description is there to judge it by. But on tumblr? The shiny bookcover was almost as important as the material inside. In here, you have to market your own fic, present it with a lovely bow on top, add a pretty eyecatching header, and all the right trending tags.

Luckily, it clicked easy for me. I used free domian paintings from past centuries to make my covers, and they stood out amongst the anime cover galore. It was a little pretentious, I admit, but I also was a little pretentious, so it's alright.

I played my cards right, answered requests enthusiastically, and delivered fics at a fast rate. Paid attention to what styles worked best and what genres attracted more attention. At that point, it was a numbers game for me. Play marketing right, and you'll win at capitalism.

It felt very degrading and dirty.

My personal style fazed out, and my fics had a sanitised safe for mass consume feel to it. It was written to appeal to you rather than written out of any real love or passion.

It was soulless garbage.

Not to mention at the time I still used the same unhealthy and needlessly convoluted writing method I learned from that server. Yes I cut ties with them but I still didn't have any other alternative writing method to use.

What's that? Just write however I want? Are you crazy? What like my 12y old self wrote on wattpad? My 18y old self would rather die than actually be true to themselves.

I was extremely insecure and afraid of being labelled as "cringe" I completely ereased any stray stains of personality that managed to trickle their way down into my writing. Not once did I write for myself during that time, and not once did I actually enjoy a single piece I made.

I hated all of them, I couldn't bear to even read the fics I wrote. But I still made more and more to appease the requesters, still forced myself to sit and write each morning for hours on end.

A tight timeline, an exhausting production and no friends or hobbies to fall back into and relax. It was a fucking nightmare.

What ircked me the most was how people would just keep requesting more without a thank you or even a fuck you afterwards. It's like it's a fast food drive-through and I should be grateful for any attention I get.

But I never said a word. I never complained because complaining drives away people and engagement. No, I needed to keep my happy chill imagine and never show any emotion or talk about my struggles in real life or writing.

Instead of realising I hated my writing because of its lack of essence and soul, I convinced myself instead that it's because my skill level is still too low.

So I searched online. I found writing courses I couldn't afford, and neither could I ask my family for money for anything at the time because of personal reasons.

So I put on my pirate hat.

Apparently, people don't bother uploading the scam writing tips courses to pirate websites. That's fair.

Instead, I pirated books from famous authors talking about writing. Read them and tried to apply their methods, ignored my own preferences, and wrote to fit their subjective standards of what good writing is.

I signed up for free trials courses that didn't require a credit card and copied every single file into my hard drive before the trail ended.

I had so much material to study. I watched youtube videos about writing. I really really tried everything I could.

But I still loathed every fucking word I put down on these pages.

And I hated how a general advice in writing was to "follow your heart" what is that supposed to mean? I can't do that. Others do not like my heart, It has been proven many times before so how about you just give me some useful advice instead you useless wrinkled piece of shit book?

.

..

...

You can't force or fake creativity.

You can fake an elegant writing style, you can copy interesting lines from famous books and apply them to your own writing, you can include every trendy word in all the right places.

But you can't fake creativity.

I wished I was 12 again. Writing fics on wattpad, where my style was worse than garbage, and yet I loved it. People loved it.

Because it was garbage with a soul, a garbage that had empty chocolate milk bottles and spilt sprinkles. A garbage that showed personality and where my priorities were. With kids' fingerprints in colourful paint and a toddler's fridge artpiece.

A garbage that mirrored my love for the art.

And I ruined it. I traded it all for stupid punctuation that I didn't even care for.

I was happy.

Like every other probome in my life, I ran away.

I hit my breaking point. The requests were never ending, the studying and writing books were getting more and more pretentious and contradicting themselves. I barely had time to eat, I don't talk to people or go outside.

I do not have the time for anything, I missed having friends.

I left the blog. I stopped writing, it was too anxiety inducing.

I got into videogames again, I enjoyed the text heavy ones. I chose to ignore what that implied.

They were so...beautiful.

And fun!

I made some friends, I was happy for a while.

Then, one of my favourite characters in my video game mentioned missing their parents, how hard the funeral was.

It hit home.

I'm not writing, I convinced myself with a lie, I'm just gonna put down my thoughts on them...in a google document.

See just around 1k words, easy peasy. I AM NOT WRITING. It doesn't count.

But I did write it. Not with any calculated formula or method. I wrote my thoughts like how I hear them in my head and what I felt, what I imagined the character would feel.

Then, I added some dialogue, trimmed the corners, and sprinkled in euphemism.

It was simple and bare, vulnerable.

I posted it. It never got much traction.

But I was happy, I liked it, even loved it and kept rereading it.

I was 19.

I nervously showed it to my friend. They mentioned how much they can't stand reading books or fics because the words overwhelm them courtesy of their ADHD.

But they managed to read mine. Very smoothly.

Because my style, my own personal style that is set to my preference, makes me write in small paragraphs and straightforward. I never linger on details or focus on one thing for too long, I always give breaks and seperate events from each other.

And it clicked for this one person who struggled with reading, a style that will get criticism in any serious writing circle for being too simple or childish.

They liked it.

I hate needless convolution.

I just turned 20 years old, I asked for Baldur's Gate 3 early access as my birthday gift.

I received it, I played it.

I fell in love with its writing.

Then I made this blog, and I promised myself not to follow rabbits into any holes again. To reject the requests I don't want, to write because I love to, because I find it interesting or fun.

To never feel obligated to any thing or person. Only write if I want to, only post it if I want to. And if I don't want to? Then I simply won't.

And yes this blog gets much less attention than my first one but the people in here, the anons and my readers, they interact much more with me and my writing. It feels much better to have a handful of people genuinely excited and curious about your stories than a hundred people who would only leave likes and leave.

I have never touched a writing course or a helpful book since then. I block every writing tips blog, I see. I hate each and every single post about writing tricks and immediately skip past it.

I don't care if I improve anymore. I don't care if people don't read my stuff. I do not care if my style degenerates so much and reverts back to wattpad. All I care about is the fact I love writing and I enjoy it, I plan to keep it this way.

-

It's also funny that I'm writing in English since I when I first started writing at 12 it was in Arabic. My first fic? In Arabic.

And I was willing to go down that road yk. Keep true to my heritage and culture, write in my own beautiful language.

But. I wrote about queer topics and stories. Homophobia is still a massive thing in our society. My story was more infamous and taboo than famous and beloved.

I had so many people coming to my dms to "educate" me about religion and sin. How what I'm doing is wrong and the message I'm spreading is haram.

It was funny at first especially when it was the quran that made me want to write in the first place. Because it's actually a collection of poems! It just loses its rhythm when translated to English. It was so beautifully written, I'd listen to it always as a kid.

But then those dms became unbearable and I decided to learn english to join the western fandoms instead. A 12y old just deciding to fuck it and learn a whole new language to write gay fics.

A lot of my struggles in writing at 12-17 was because I was still learning English at the time.

This was fun. Thank you so much for asking this, anon! I had the chance to reminisce about the past.

I made so many mistakes. But I'd rather having made them and reached this point of content with myself than not having made them at all.

#♡other #♡writing

[iliterate-cunt]

This is my attempt at a Helluva Boss revamp

Because of course a teen on the net can attempt to write something more compelling than a team of professional writers.

These are my main complaints:

-The "character arcs" are way too quick for my taste. And they are more an exploration thing than a development.

-Blitzø is an asshole that is aware of being such. But more than an asshole: he is annoying. And by the point is shown that he feels bad for being an asshole, and that we should feel bad for him :(((, he already got unbearable. Why is this man the protagonist?

-The series is WAYY too focused on Blitzø, Moxxie and Stolas. To the point that Millie doesn't seem to have a personality of her own, and she is a main character. Hell, the episode about her parents is focused on Moxxie and Blitzø with this new dude.

-The color pallete. The reds are nice. But why only get stuck with red, white, black and mayyyybe yellow? If you made color pallets for the characters, you wouldn't recognize which is which (except Stolas, and mayyyybe Loona, but with Stolas you could confuse him with his family). The better looking episodes are the ones where it looks different enough.

-Consider this an extension of the first point: Blitzø with Stolas. Is way to quick, to the point where you can't pin point when it suddenly turned into something romantic (or at least something more than sexual)

Now. What would I do?

If Blitzø is still the protagonist: the point of the series wouldn't be that they're just hitmen. The point would be that in every adventure they're going, Blitzø slowly realizes that he is actively hurting the ones who he cares, and it culminates in the point when he wants to change. Not a full redemption, he would still be as immoral as any demon, but not as jerky as he was at the beginning. Also if he is doing something minor but shitty it would be at least funny.

But there's also the idea that Moxxie is the protagonist and we see from his point of view more. Then Blitz would become some sort of antagonist that gets some development tht removes that status (based on the idea above). Imagine. A hitman with his wife working on killing people and learning more about his boss. And this version of Moxxie would be more logical, yet has a very poor control of his emotions. Smart, yet gets angry easily. And while the series progresses, we see him actually improving his emotional intelligence. Also even though he is big brain he would explain his ideas badly, which lead to hijinks and that stuff.

With Millie... Let her have a personality besides her husband. Maybe she is more emotionally intelligent than her husband, and also a street smarts sort of gal. Also Millie would be interested in more "vain" stuff, like how cities look, or how humans act, since it's stuff that seems odd to her. This could cause some sort of conflict (that gets resolved in the duration of the show),

And with Loona. Yeah. She would still be a edgelord. Someone who interacts rudely to everyone, even though the rest attempts at being nice to her (if it works or not is another thing). But I would explore more of that. Why is she so rude? We had parts of ONE episode to see that. The fact that she has no friends and was adopted just before she turned 18 is never addressed, just stated and then we never see it again. Maybe we could see more of her trying to befriend other people, yet failing since she doesn't really know how to interact with other people in a positive way. Y'know. Explore her more.

And... The Blitzø x Stolas stuff. Oh boy.

In this version, this starts with the moment Stolas gave Blitzø the grimoire in exchange of sex. Stolas is in a loveless marriage, yet he doesn't have the guts to ask his wife about divorce, mostly because of his daughter (even though she is miserable hearing them fight so badly) and social pressure (of the what will the people think if he divorces and stays with someone who is below him regarding social class), so instead he searches some sort of care with someone without telling his wife, and Blitzø is not the first person who he has attempted to have an affair with, but is the longest affair he had, therefore, he falls in love with . (It's clear in the original series that Stolas and Stella's marriage is miserable, but is not clear why they haven't divorced, even though is implied in episode 8 that they did split up, so I gave them a reason)

So Stolas from the beginning is searching for some sort or romantic -or even platonic- love (he is not as degenerate as the og series, but still has one or two weird moments), but Blitzø is just there for the book and has intercourse because he can have. And the "big moment of truth" that starts the series climax would be the point when they realize the other's feelings: Blitz realizing that Stolas is in love with him, and Stolas realizing that Blitzø is not interested in him for him, and with this, Stolas realizes too that Blitzø is truly a horrible person. And no, they would not magically fix things and end together. They would at best become friends. But the most possible thing is that Stolas shares the grimoire and there's no other situation where they both interact willingly.

Also with Stella and the "wanting to kill Stolas" thing, it would be actually explained. The reasoning behind her plan is that she wants to leave him, but is afraid of what people will think of both her and him, and has come to the conclusion that the route she needs to take is to straight up murder Stolas. Not only she would be done with him forever, but either she or Octavia would take Stolas' place as a "prince of hell".

If we are going with the Blitzø as the protagonist route, then it would be ambiguous (in between the romantic-platonic-sexual attraction limbo) , but with the series progression, it would slowly become less subtle. But with the Moxxie as protagonist, it would be more straight to the point, and Blitz would appear to be oblivious to the romantic advances.

And with the pallete thing, I tried doing something that would make the show less boring to look in the color sense. Still a red dominant palette, but not as much as before

That's all the problems I believe I would resolve. Is semi coherent, so don't be afraid to ask something about it, just don't be a dick asking about it.

Perhaps if something is brought up, I could add this below 👁👁

#long post #by the end im just rambling tbh #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critical

[mostly-mundane-atla]

The only thing against the idea of Ozai arranging a marriage i can think of is, and i know this topic is fraught, the Search, and what it confirms/elaborates on vis-a-vis Ozai’s marriage to Ursa. If we take those comics as an interpretation of “Bryke” collective intent, Ozai was forced into an arranged marriage with a woman he never met for the purposes of his dad‘s breeding project, and it fuckin sucks. She produces one kid that he thinks is pathetic, taunts him with infidelity, and basically sounds like an extremely stressful situation to live in, knowing you can’t divorce her bcz FatherLord said so. (Not that im callin Ozai the True Victim, just sayin how his POV might look). I dont know how much “empathy” people think Ozai possessed, or his tendency for consistency vs hypocrisy, but i do wonder if Ozai would not *want* to deal with the untrustworthy wildcard of an arranged spouse for his kid- especially given that his wife killed his own father. Does this make sense or am i off base here?

I've actually played with this concept! Specifically the ways Ozai would reconcile his own experience with an unhappy arranged marriage with his right/duty to arrange successful marriages for his child (or children, in the case Zuko became useful to him).

I mainly use the Fire Nation Royal Family as a source of complicated drama because i think that fits the dynamic best, so i'll try to trim this down to only context that completely matters. Everything below is from the headcanon-laden timeline I put together for my fan writings.

When Azula was still quite young, Azulon began to have doubts about the prophecy and after reviewing it and weighing his options, he decided the safest course of action was to keep that Avatar blood in the main bloodline another generation. He arranged for Lu Ten to marry Azula when she came of age (twenty-one years old in the Fire Nation, judging by The Search) unless a more suitable match could be arranged. Everyone was uncomfortable with this, even Ozai, who coped with the news by considering it to be the most favorable match Azula could hope for and that his own grandfather married a young cousin when he couldn't ignore his need for heirs.

Ursa was distraught at the news for the same reasons Ozai was annoyed: they weren't given the choice to refuse to give their daughter to the union, and, even if Ozai didn't want to admit it to himself, that she was going to be given to someone who outranked her, was older than her, and far more favored. You'd think this would make him reconsider the unequal relationship he has with his wife, but he continued to ignore her wishes and didn't stop touching her that night until she slapped him. Probably justifying himself with the idea that princes and princesses exist to make more princes and princesses

The general hope was that Azulon would die before Azula came of age and Iroh could decide what makes up more suitable matches. Naturally, you couldn't actually say that and the only back up was not telling Azula until she was old enough to understand and have Lu Ten be especially nice to her so the idea of being stuck with him until one of them dies wouldn't feel like a punishment.

Lu Ten dies long before Azula ever learns she was betrothed to him. The Firelord himself is found dead the next day and Ursa is nowhere to be found.

It isn't long before Ozai sets Azula up to be the princess her mother was not. It isn't long before she gets to have adult conversations with him; the kind of conversations Iroh would disapprove of if he wasn't in a state of constantly flipping between catatonic and blubbering mess over the death of his son (and father, one right after the other). Azula isn't like that, perhaps in part due to her inexperience with death, but also because her father expects more from her and her duty is fulfilling those expectations.

Ozai resents his father for many things, including the arranged marriage. He words this resentment toward the former Firelord incredibly delicately when discussing it with his daughter, but not his resentment toward his wife and the union that bound him to her. "Dissatisfying," he describes her, as well as "ungrateful, willful to the point of childishness." Rather than suggest to him that marriage is best as a partnership of equals, his experience seems to have taught him that it ought to be that one party is unquestioned and answered to and the other knows its place. He promises his daughter that she will be better off than he was, and the husband he chooses for her will be grateful for her, and he will fear her. Azula, as the ideal daughter and princess her father wants her to be, thanks him for the care he takes with her future and praises his wisdom.

A man presents himself, a smooth-talking social climber whose ambition is best kept in check and loyalty best kept enforced. He plays the simpering yesman well enough, but his reputation betrays him. Azula is still young, and prodigy though she is, she could use a bit of polishing, but in time, she will put fear in him. It's what her father taught her and what her father expects.

#response #fire nation royal family #incest mention #because royal cousin marriage but also #i don't think anything physical happened between ozai and azula #but i also find it hard to believe she wasn't subject to emotional incest because *gestures to her entire canon character* #also i think at some point zhao had to bow to her and kiss her shoes and she kicked him in the mouth while he was there #also yes that's marriages plural because if one husband becomes useless they could always replace him borgia style

[alixinwwonderland]

Can I request a followup to that last one maybe??

First part here

Being with Midge is easy in all the ways Lenny never thought he'd get to have, and hard in all the ways he never thought he'd have to deal with.

On the one hand, quite possibly the biggest relief of his life is that adding romance (and sex. a lot of sex. really great sex) to their relationship hasn't actually changed it that much, and certainly hasn't ruined it. They still challenge each other and tease each other and banter with ease. Somehow, from the start, they just slid into each other's lives like they'd always been there, and the pressure he expects from Dating-with-a-capital-D just ... doesn't manifest.

That kind of stability also means that other things are easier than he ever thought he'd get to experience. It turns out that it's a hell of a lot easier to tackle a raging addiction and a headache-inducing legal quagmire when you've got people calm and on your side, willing to listen to you rant about free speech or sit patiently while you struggle to keep down a few spoonfuls of broth. And it's not even just Midge. It's Abe, always raring for a good rampage about free speech and injustice; it's Rose, elegant and tentative and much wiser in her advice than she gets credit for; it's Zelda, sitting with Lenny while Midge gets some food and rest. Hell, it's even Susie, who brings her own special brand of ferocity to wrangling the showbiz side of things when even his own manager is about ready to tap out from the stress.

But then there's the other stuff. Namely, one slick-haired schmuck of an ex-husband.

Now, as an ex-husband himself, Lenny understands a little about the breed. The frustration, the blame game, the guilt, the what-ifs, even the misplaced jealousy. He gives the man credit - he's doing his best to be a more active father to Ethan and Esther than Lenny managed to be during his post-divorce, mid-addiction years.

But Joel Maisel, well, he seems to have a knack for making pretty much everyone and everything around him worse. Lenny would find his floundering and lashing out amusing, if Joel didn't also have a knack for finding Midge's weak spots and drilling down on them in his more spiteful moments.

Which is why Lenny is strolling into the Button Club one evening, ignoring the stares of a few people who clearly recognize him, and sliding into a bar seat right across from the man himself.

"So, I hear I've been in your fantasies as of late," he opens with. He smirks behind his hand as Joel drops the glass he's holding and turns around with a sputter.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Lenny leans back, cigarette in hand, the picture of calm.

"Rumor has it, you've been running your mouth and imagining me sticking a needle in my arm 'til it's all over. Now, I'm very sorry to disappoint an audience, but the only sticking I'm doing these days involves a certain very funny brunette and-"

"OKAY!" Joel snaps, cutting him off. "Why are you even here? Defending Midge, playing the hero until she figures it all out? She's smart, you and I both know that. Smart enough to know when to cut and run from a mess," he adds disdainfully.

Lenny can't resist a joke served up so easily.

"Yes, she certainly has a history to draw on in that department," he comments. Joel's already-scowling face flushes, partly with anger and partly with embarassment at the realization that he set that one up himself.

"And no, in answer to your question. I'm not here to 'defend' Midge. She can do that herself, and it's not as if me saying anything would change your mind anyway."

"Then why are you here?" Joel demands. Lenny looks at him and thinks about all the things he's been through, all the things he's learned since Midge walked into his life, and how in a twisted way, he has the man in front of him to thank for it all.

"You and I are stuck with each other, possibly for a long time," he says. When Joel opens his mouth to retort, he just holds up a finger. "So, from one divorced dumbass to another. I get you're miserable, but stop trying to make everyone else miserable along with you. Otherwise you'll end up hating everyone, alienating your kids, and without any friends who give a damn beyond what you can do for them. And take it from me, that is a very, very unpleasant place to be."

"Why should I listen to you, huh?" Joel demands, but there's a flicker behind his eyes that tells Lenny the deeply un-marvelous Mr. Maisel might not be as stupid as history would suggest.

"Because I went from about as low as a man can go, to the kind of life I'd never even imagined," Lenny says, simply. "And if I can make that kind of leap, well, there's hope for anyone. Even you."

He walks out without another word.

#the marvelous mrs. maisel #tmmmfic #lenny bruce #joel maisel #midge maisel #wonderlandleighleigh #tv: the marvelous mrs maisel #ship: you're still staring #ch: lenny bruce #ch: joel maisel #ch: midge maisel #mine

[thisbelongsto-nohbodys]

Got any headcanons about Sashas mom and dad?

couldn’t sleep so I guess I’ll think of a few for this.

Sasha’s mom is a high class businesswoman for a major corporation and is  very ruthless (it’s where Sasha learned the “End of Discussion” thing), her dad is a celebrity lawyer and they met when a sponsorship deal was being renegotiated. They hit it off and liked how strong-headed the other was, this was also one of the reasons they later divorced.

Their arguments are legendary within their neighborhood and they go to extreme lengths to win, no one will ever bring up the Halibut Boat Incident of ‘12 for fear that it’ll continue.

Mr. Waybright hates golf, well he enjoys how peaceful it can be on the green but years of playing it for school, on a scholarship and for business deals has soured him on the sport. He dreads when a client asks for him to meet him for a game.

Mrs. Waybright is a good singer but Sasha has only heard her sing a handful of times. She’s heard her daughter’s band when they were in school and she’s attended a few of Sasha’s modern open-mic night shows and is proud of how good Sasha is...but just wishes the love songs weren’t so obvious about Anne/Marcy

Mr. Waybright never liked any of Sasha’s partners, he was scared that she’d either end up like her mom or like him. The only relationship he approved of was post-Amphibia Sasha, Anne and Marcy as he saw that not only was she a better person now but that they brought out the best in her.

On Sasha’s wedding day her parents had just one piece of advice for her “You saw what we did...so just avoid doing that”

When Sasha explained everything from Amphibia, they blamed Marcy for getting Sasha stuck there and Anne for the scars but saw how happy Sasha was with them and how much she changed and so they forgave them.

During Thanksgiving one year during Sasha’s relationship with Anne/Marcy, the Waybrights were beginning their usual petty arguments but Sasha took her swords and carved the turkey with a flourish, everyone else was impressed but her parents saw the death glare she was giving them without even looking at the turkey. They were so terrified that they remained silent for the rest of the dinner.

Once Mr. Waybright realized he wasn’t 100% straight after chaperoning Sasha and her friends to Pride events a few times he’s had a few “friends” stay the night which never lasted. The most awkward was one of Sasha’s college ex-boyfriends...that was a quick breakfast that morning.

Mrs. Waybright bonded with Sasha’s hairless cat (named Grimes) and takes care of him whenever Sash and her gfs/wives are on vacation.

Mrs. Waybright taught Sasha how to drive and gave her a car that a client gifted to her, Sasha traded it in a few years later for her current car.

During the Frog Invasion they made sure to find each other and make sure the other one was still safe. They attempted marriage counseling after that but it still didn’t work, they’ve admitted that they still care for each other but not enough to be around each other for longer than they need to be.

To add onto their arguments’ list, Mr. Waybright is a fan of Star Trek while Mrs. Waybright is a fan of Star Wars. Sasha doesn’t care about either and only watches either because of Marcy.

I think that should be enough for now. I’m still waiting on either fan-designs or Amphibi-Crew designs of Sasha/Marcy’s parents before I do any comics with them tho’

#amphibia #ask #sasha waybright

[holiciouspursuitofenvy]

It took me a really long fucking time to acknowledge why i can't handle boundaries/end up being manipulative as fuck to real and sometimes online people.

EVERYBODY FEELS LIKE I HAVE TO WALK ON EGGSHELLS WITH! I truly did not understand stand that consciously, i only ever chalked it up to social anxiety. No matter how many times i told myself i wish there was a class on how to talk to people and what people will judge you on.

I grew up with parents who would be gone from home long periods of time (due to their jobs bc we were poor and childhood divorce). And when they came home would either fight eachother or their children (me and my siblings). Belittling us for little things we did or want which oftentimes was extremely normal kid stuff. And because i was the youngest, i was an honorary child of the eldest teenage sister who obviously was a bad mother but also actively bullied me for years.

Not to mention parents who would constantly tell me don't trust anyone, everyone is judging you and out to get you. So they sheltered you home minimizing play time or hanging out with other kids. I actively remember being a kid and trying to set up healthy boundaries like "hey mom, it really hurta me when you yell at me for crying when i get shots or needles, I'm trying my best." And her going "fuck off, you're just sensitive and you need to get over it by now." Or my dad actively triggering me when he does his angry sound tell so i asked him to please do it less and he angrily calls me a child in a long drawn out paragraph and huffs away.

I was/sometimes still am stuck in a toxic cycle of needing to learn how to set up boundaries for myself and telling people, namely my family, to fuck off if they don't. I used to have a hero complex where i would help people at the expense of myself to often but then i said fuck that and now I've made my over defensiveness even more obvious.

But i also couldn't acknowledge this extends to EVERYTHING. In real life when someone says you did a bad thing suddenly it feels like a volcano of the most angry emotions stir inside of me BECAUSE I AM FURIOUS.

I'M FURIOUS that no one acknowledges how hard it was to walk on eggshells all the time. How I'd need to pat myself on the back every time i completed a social interaction successfully or comb through every detail of them to find something to improve on. I never felt i was progressing to normal but that i was stuck incompetent forever.

I get told a lot that I'm very mysterious and never tell anyone anything and this is why. I HAVE MAJOR TRUST ISSUES. This is where the hyper-independence, the closed offness, the combative nature against people i trust especially comes in. Why I'm always surprised people who don't see me everyday or run to me anytime the see me say I'm their friend. I'm sure i came off super cold when i asked them why but i was genuinely surprised. Because being teased, bullied, and dismissed by everyone close to me growing up fucked up my view of people and relationships.

I don't mean for any of this to come off as an excuse but as an explanation. And me trying to reach people who've gone through the same things i have but kept getting back into the cycle of needing to defend yourself by all means possible to people who just said "please stop, i don't like this," or any other variation of you have done something wrong. Especially if you went over the line online and someone said "hey thwt way too over familiar, don't talk to strangers like that." because yea STRANGERS ON THE INTERNET ARE NOT YOUR THERAPIST OR PUNCHING BAGS.

I really need people to understand this isn't from entitlement, it's subconscious mistrust in everyone you meet bc subconsciously i believed everyone was out for me. Someone i needed to defend against before or after they talk to me. No matter how nice and gentle it comes doesn't matter. Everyone has to be lying and think it's the biggest deal in the world actually or this is a greater sign of you being awful all along. Like everone did that to everyone elae. And if anyone just casually calls this narcissism I'm hitting you with a 2x4. Those posts never resonated with me. They felt dismissive for me personally.

I AM ALWAYS IN A PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE VICTORIAN ENGLAND TEA PARTY WITH A BAD REPUTATION. Or better yet I'm always walking on eggshells with people.

Coming from someone who knows they're mentally fucked up but not knowing exactly how for all your life but especially in the past 5+ years of not going to therapy except when it was closeby and free a couple times but never being truly open with them because you learned vulnerability equals dismissal and pain 99% of the time.

So yeah, i highly recommend looking back on your childhood and examining when you were dismissed or had your boundaries broken. Then work on active trust with people and be open to more people because not processing my trauma but trying to steamroll being a functional persom also fucked me up.

#Mental health #Therapy #Trauma #Emotional abuse #Manipulation #Neglect #rant #God that felt good to finally say #I will block any and everyone who tries to dismiss this post as me excusing my bad behavior or “needing to grow up” #Paranoia #Trust #Coping mechanisms #Obviously it's not just a personal responsibility thing but a social norm symptomatic of society that rewards and encourages abuse.

[lostonehero]

Immortal Micheal

William is a sad little meow meow

Henry sighs, walking down the displays. "It was past midnight. They all were awake and skulking their enclosures. They enjoyed the gifts and everything the morning patrons left. Among the items were little dolls, drawings, and old toys. He bowed the best he could to his daughter, who he could hear giggling just out of sight. He knows it's her.

"Now careful everyone inspectors are coming tomorrow that means, no hiding toys in your bodies especially you Lizzie"

Henry chuckles at the "It wasn't me." On the sound speaker

.

He pauses in front of the golden fredbear. "I haven't found the last one yet, Evan. I don't know if Micheal was stuck, too." He sighs as gental static brushes past his ears. "I'll keep looking as much as these old bones allow. Also, stop giving your father little toys. I don't care that he makes you new toys it's dangerous."

Henry stops again, looking back. "Yeah, well, if he made everyone something, then I wouldn't say anything..." He waves but doesn't take the wind up toy he knows William made his son and the tiny ballerina he made Lizze.

He stops and sits on the bench in front of the spring lock animotronic

"Henry."

"William."

"Oh, what do deserve this visit for?" William huffs.

"Inspectors coming again." Henry hums.

"Ah, so I'm staying underground."

"You've learned from last time, have you?"

"My bones are mine, Henry." William sighs. "Is it the odor?"

"No, I'm planning on opening up night attractions. You're getting too comfortable with the children alone, William."

"They still torment me enough."

Henry raises his brow. "You're turning a toy car into a train for the boy in foxy."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." William sneers, pacing his enclosure like a lion.

"Don't throw a tantrum, William. You've adopted these kids just as much as I have." Henry hides his smile as William slams on the glass.

"I am the one who took those kids from their families, and I am the one who stuffed them in the suits. How dare you even insinuate I could care for my trophies, my victims."

"Your speech is less convincing than before William. You're growing soft." Henry laughs again. "By the way, Clara is still around and moved back to London."

"Never understood how you could marry her."

William gives a annoyed look. "It was arranged."

Henry stops and frowns. "Didn't know that."

"I never said it."

Henry sighs. "And you didn't divorce in the States?"

"Kids had to be 18 all of them, probably why we had more than Micheal." William walks back to the center. "Granted, none of them made it to 18, so I'm still in that contract."

"You're dead."

"I think she put a clause in there for that."

"That's disturbing considering you being you."

"Gee thanks Henry "

.....

William stops his pacing, staring at his old friend. “Clara was like that. She didn’t like any of the children, Michael especially. The others she tolerated.”

"She could dress Lizzie up like a doll probably helped in her favor of not being treated like Micheal. Evan was her baby." He tapped on the glass seemingly connecting something in his mind. Henry can see he never did grow out of the mindless tapping habit when he was in deep thought.

“Michael was the annoying one. The mistake." William spits out like it doesn't taste quite right.

"Well, I mean, he wasn't a mistake he was planned..." William frowns or what looks like a frown. "Henry, why did I consider him a mistake he was planned early so we wouldn't have to be married long." He pauses.

A loud slam against the glass pulked henry from mulling those words."Leave, I have to think," William huffs

....

Another night, another conversation

"Clara wasn't a good person." William speaks quietly. "The arrangement was about money."

Henry raises his brow, but let's William continue.

"They wanted to pawn her off, and I was single, and my family needed the money. The asylum would be a black mark on the family." William fidgets with the broken toys. "I know I didn't want that a relationship, and my parents fixed that. I mean we had a good thing us together but I don't know why Clara kept trying to poison me against you. I guess she was the one to suggest to make you hurt like we did.... like I did. Clara just had a broken.... toy..." He doesn't say anything after that.

Henry tries to push, and it only makes William lash out. The conversation died with that.

....

It takes a week. Henry has his laptop on his lap, scrolling through and looking at his nieces and nephews.

"I apologize." A quiet rough voice rouses Henry from his browsing.

Henry looks up, adjusting his glasses. "For what, William?"

"Charlie." He looks defeated. "I turned to the bottle for support then to Clara, and Clara didn't like you having a doll she couldn't have."

Henry swallows.

William continues. "I never understood how she worded things, I thought she was slow, hence the arranged marriage. I realize now that her words were deliberate."

Henry goes to speak before William Continues. "I am guilty of all of these crimes, but I... I just left the bodies."

"William, the dead bodies didn't just get up and move." Henry pauses and swallows. "The kids talk about...."

"A pretty ballerina who said they were going to get help." William growls, slamming his fist against the wall. "I take the blame for the murders." He sounds defeated

.....

Henry and William don't talk for a month after that they just spend time next to each other. Henry can see the kid spirits out of the corner of his eyes. They are getting braver moving from the animotronics. He swore he saw his old friend how he was sitting on the shoulder of springtrap, but he was gone when he blinked. Henry is quiet checking his emails. He gives a small huff and furrows his brows.

"I know that look." William breaks the silence."Of course you do." Henry mutters. "My old eyes are playing tricks on me.""How so?""It says Micheal Afton is applying for the night guard position." Henry frowns. "Same birthday.... these have to be fake creditentals."William presses his face into the glass, unable to see what Henry is looking at, but curiosity has grabbed him. "Micheal? You said he was dead." Quieter. "I lead him to his death."

"William, we talked about that, Micheal was 19 he was old enough to make his own decisions." Henry sighs, clicking through the application. "We should require a photograph with these applications... no, wait, that's illegal."

William laughs softly. Even in the rusted body and rough sound, his laugh is still soft. Henry shook his head, pushing those thoughts out of his mind. He's dead, and you're on deaths door.

"Henry, I was always better at the hiring." William chuckles he was in a surprisingly good mood like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

"I'm fine at this, Willy." He bites his tongue at that old nickname. "William, I can handle this, I'll just accept and lead him here. If he's a fake, then I can spot him."

"What if he's not? Do the interview at night." William places his hand against the glass. "Lizzie and Evan agree."

Henry shakes his head. "Can't labor laws, Will-iam." He bites back the nickname again. He was getting too comfortable, and when did his children start talking to him again. "The museum isn't open at night yet, so it has to be during operation hours."

"Henry..." A plea from William seems out of place when staring at him.

"Out of the question, William." He rubs his temples at the static. "Let me do this myself." He doesn't leave room for an argument as he takes his cane and hobbles out of the museum.

#william afton #clara afton #immortal micheal afton #micheal afton #henry emily #fnaf #five nights at freddy's