#they way I’m already psychologically drained this year isn’t funny

[leedongwook]

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#they way I’m already psychologically drained this year isn’t funny #my head hurts 🤯 #please tell me it’s gonna get better #I’m so tired #sorry I’m having a moment #*cries in my coffee* #to be deleted #personal #negativity

[sageblogsthings]

Do you have any tips on how to write characters with scoliosis in a respectful/accurate way?

Thank you so much for asking! I smiled like an idiot when I saw this ask. :) Let me preface this by saying that scoliosis can vary a lot from person to person depending on the severity of curvature, location of curvature, treatment methods, etc. So I think that, as with anything really, getting a wide range of viewpoints and voices on the issue will make it easier to write! Honestly just scrolling through the scoliosis tag on tumblr will give you a good sense of what it’s like for some people too. With that being said, I’ll talk a bit about my experience, and how I wish that characters with scoliosis were portrayed. Just know that my answer is far from universal amongst those with scoliosis. Also, medical treatment where I live is pretty shitty so I may have some other undiagnosed stuff that I’m attributing to scoliosis who knows lol. And I’m still learning a lot about it myself! Ok, with that caveat out of the way, here we go!

I’m gonna put a tw here for discussions of scoliosis, chronic pain, anxiety, and depression

Also, for those who don’t wanna read about my experiences with scoliosis, if you scroll down there’s 13 tips on how to write characters with scoliosis (a lot of these tips apply to chronic pain in general tho). :)

To talk about my own experience a bit, I was first diagnosed with scoliosis when I was about 10 or so. When I was first diagnosed they told me it was minor and just to watch my posture. Scoliosis runs in my family but for most of my family members it’s pretty mild so I didn’t worry about it and went on my merry way. In hindsight, not the best way to deal with that but ah well.

Flash-forward to college. I had been having back pain and headaches for awhile, but I just figured it was studying for prolonged periods of time, carrying a heavy backpack frequently, and not watching my posture when I studied. I never connected it to scoliosis because I hadn’t had a check-up since that first diagnosis. Again, not the best idea but life happens.

I just finished my junior year in college, and I have had almost non-stop doctors appointments all year. It started after I had some sharp pain in my lower back, and got x-rays to see what was going on. Several doctors appointments and an ER visit later I find out that my scoliosis has gotten significantly worse, and that I have a fractured L5 as well. One thing I don’t see mentioned a lot with scoliosis is that it significantly weakens your spine (usually lower) because your weight distribution is thrown off. I had a job that involved some pretty heavy lifting, and voila fractured L5. 13/10 would not recommend btw.

My curvature (I can’t get consistent answers from doctors) is somewhere in the 20′s in my lumbar region and in the upper 20′s/lower 30′s in my thoracic region. At least with the neurosurgeons I’ve spoken to, they don’t consider you a candidate for surgery until the upper thirties or forties, unless you have significant neurophysiological symptoms. Treatment options vary widely depending on where you live, what you can afford, and what your doctor will give you a referral for, but most doctors will recommend physical therapy off the bat. To my knowledge, most doctors do not recommend bracing anymore, though I think in children that might be different (not so sure on that). So currently, I am waiting on an appointment with a pain management specialist and will go from there. 

Even though the curvature in my spine is relatively minor, I still experience significant symptoms. Some of these symptoms include sciatica, pinched nerves in my arms, legs, and back, muscle spasms in my upper back and neck, swelling of my hands and feet, and numbness or pain in my hands and wrists. Also, because my spine curves more in the upper portion of my back, my left lung cannot expand as much as my right lung. This isn’t always a problem, but I get shortness of breath pretty easily, and any respiratory infections make it super hard to breathe properly (pneumonia sucks a butt). There’s also the obvious bit of scoliosis where I stand a little crooked. Another thing I think that not a lot of people know is that how “lopsided” you are can vary from day to day. This doesn’t mean that the curvature is changing day-to-day, but the muscles may be more relaxed or tightened on some days.

So that’s my experience pretty much (bless you if you read all that!). But, to show an example on the opposite end of the spectrum, my friend had (I think) a 30 degree curvature in the thoracic region and 50 degree curvature in the lumbar. He had immediate corrective surgery (I’m not sure exactly what kind) and now aside from the scar on his back and that he looks like a table when he bends over (his words lol i’m not being mean) you would never know. And even weirder, he had no significant symptoms before his surgery aside from occasional sciatica. So your symptoms don’t necessarily depend on the degree of curvature, where the curve is located has a lot to do with it. Typically, more curvature in the upper spine is more painful but that’s by no means always the case.

Ok, so how in the heck does this all apply to writing characters? I promise it does, I’m not just rambling (well, maybe haha).

13 Things to Consider When Writing Characters With Scoliosis:

Their symptoms may vary from day to day. This may mean that some days they can do activities like running or baseball, and other days they can barely type or walk without pain.

They may have no, mild, or severe symptoms, depending on the location and severity of curvature, and other factors.

What is medical care like where they live? Dealing with doctors, neurosurgeons, physical therapists, etc. is just a part of having scoliosis, and very often an incredibly draining aspect. This is especially true if you have anxiety or other factors that make going to the doctor even more unpleasant.

Were they misinformed about scoliosis? Unless you go to someone who specializes in scoliosis treatment, you’re probably gonna get inaccurate information about something. For example, I was told constantly as a kid to watch my posture. Yes, this can have an impact, but more and more research is showing that scoliosis in many cases is influenced more by hormones (especially in teenage years) than posture. There’s also more egregious examples of this, such as a neurosurgery PA who recently told me not to ever use CBD to alleviate pain because it’s a “gateway drug.” This is literally impossible. So for writing, this could translate into frustration or even anger for your character. But it could also make for some funny situations later! I wrote down everything that crazy PA told me and it still makes me laugh from time to time.

Don’t give them a back-breaking job. It will literally break their back lol. I’m not saying they can’t be active, but if someone is impacted by scoliosis on a daily basis they probably aren’t working as a professional wrestler. Or maybe they are, and your story is trying to explain how that works lol

What do they do to manage the pain (if they have it)? For me, the symptoms are typically inflammatory in nature so things like ice, heat, turmeric tea, and anti-inflammatory medications help relieve the symptoms. This is one of those things where getting other viewpoints is good though too!

Is their spine visibly crooked? If so, are they self-conscious about it? This varies a loooot, and may even vary with symptoms. For example, maybe some days when the pain isn’t bad they wear a cute dress that shows their shoulder-blades. But then when the pain is bad, they just want to look like a hobo. I say this from experience lol.

Have people treated them differently because of it (positively or negatively)? Some people may experience bullying if their scoliosis is more visible, especially as a child. They may also be treated differently by adults, who are trying to look out for them, but nevertheless it still makes them stand out from other kids.

Do they make jokes about it? For example, I can be found frequently saying “my spine said yeet!” or “straight spine? idk her” or my personal favorite “my spine is about as straight as I am.” Scoliosis sucks, but living with it you learn to find humor in it too.

Are they going to get surgery for it? I can’t speak on this part since I haven’t had surgery, but I would imagine that there is a psychological aspect to this that you would want to mention for your character, as well as any logistical aspects like finances, dealing with trash insurance companies, etc.

How does scoliosis impact their mental health? This is one of my pet peeves, and it’s entirely founded in a lack of resources and education, so I’m not aiming this at anyone specifically. But scoliosis does impact your mental health, especially if you have pre-existing conditions like anxiety or depression already. It can be incredibly depressing to want to do something as simple as going for a walk, but you’re in too much pain. It can also really impact anxiety. For example, when I found out about my curvature change in college I had one of the biggest anxiety attacks I’ve ever had. There is also the added issue of not being able to breathe properly at times, which can make a panic/anxiety attack much worse (in intensity or duration). Of course, mental health issues can also be exacerbated by the environment you’re in, so that is definitely something to consider for your character.

What was their diagnosis like? What factors impacted their ability to get a diagnosis? Lack of adequate medical care or having crappy insurance is a huge problem, and it makes it really hard or even impossible for some people to get a diagnosis. And for most neurosurgeons or specialized treatment facilities you have to have that diagnosis and referral for them to be able to do anything. There may also be aspects of your character’s home life that prevents them from getting a diagnosis. Do their parents think they’re faking it, or that they just need to sit up straight? Is your character trans, and/or wears baggy clothing? I’ve heard several stories of undiagnosed cases because of this, so it’s something to consider.

Ok, I think this is the last thing (huge huge thank you to anyone still reading this!!). But please, if you’re writing a character with scoliosis, or any chronic issue/disability for that matter, avoid the trope of you’re still beautiful to me/you’re beautiful anyways/I don’t see your disability. Some people might not get what I’m saying here, so let me explain a little. If you have a character with significant scoliosis, to the point it impacts their daily life, and they meet another character (potential friend, love interest, whatever) and this new person grows to love them in spite of their scoliosis/disability, that is a huge red flag. It implies that they are seeing them through a lens of not having the disability, and they love that version of your character. But that is not your character in reality, because your character in reality has a very real disability. In general, just try to avoid the “I don’t see __,” in writing and real life. That could be applied to a disability, or the character’s race, sexuality, etc. In all cases, it dismisses a fundamental part of who that character is, and what experiences have shaped them into who they are. If your character has scoliosis and it has shaped who they are, it is important for other characters to recognize that as well, otherwise they aren’t really seeing that character in their “full glory,” if that makes sense. I’m rambling a bit at this point and I’m sure there’s other posts that make this point better than I have, but the takeaway is just please don’t write scoliosis as “you’re beautiful anyways.” Scoliosis or no scoliosis, it’s just “you’re beautiful.” Full stop. But part of how your character may come to recognize that beauty within themselves, or how others see it within them, may be influenced by their experiences with scoliosis.

Phew, I did not expect that to get so long but it’s a topic I’m passionate about and I haven’t seen information on scoliosis geared towards writers before, so hopefully this will help! Again, a lot of this is based on my own experiences so please do not take any of this as a universal guide to scoliosis, it definitely isn’t. And if I’ve said anything that people disagree with (or even agree with!) or have questions about, I am always open to polite discourse and discussion. :)

I hope that this answered your question some, and if not feel free to let me know! Thank you so much for asking this!

#ask #scoliosis #writing characters with scoliosis #kit chats #am i oversharing? probably #am i gonna share this anyways? yes #chronic pain #writeblr #representation #kit answers

[spookyc]

I sure do!!

Well then, I shall divulge.

So, in my talentswap Kiyo is the protagonist as he is the ultimate detective. Originally this was just because I thought it fit but I definitely have more of a definite reason as to why I chose him for the ultimate detective. So a big thing I wanna do with this au, is to give more of the unpopular characters a spotlight, this can be seen with the main central group of the game, Kiyo as the ultimate detective, Tenko as the ultimate astronaut, and Angie as the ultimate child caretaker/assassin. (Which, yeah, It's kinda funny how these three ended up being the main trio considering what happened with them in canon) And when I played v3 I always thought Kiyo was super interesting, not only his talent but also his entire personality. It was so unlike what you would expect from the typical dr cast, I mean the creepy guy of the cast isn't the main antagonist? It was so different and it drew me towards his character, and I even indulged in a few of his free times which were always super fun just because I learned something new with each one.

And then, well, chapter 3 happened. I don't believe I have to explain what happened with that. I remember being kinda bummed out, I mean, the creepy weirdo just ended up being a creepy weirdo, a creepy weirdo who was abused by his shitty sister, but a creepy weirdo nonetheless. Didn't help that I have a brother that I'm decently close with; the entire thing just made me very uncomfortable. So I figured it would be super interesting to go through a story with Kiyo's lenses, to understand why he believes the things that he does and to give him a second chance, in a way.

Also when I really sat down and thought about it, it made a lot of sense to me. Like, in this au I want to keep their backstories intact, (for the most part) and I also wanna keep the fact that they were originally pursuing their canon talents until an event happens that changes their mind. So originally Kiyo was still gonna go for the anthropolgy route, but on one of his vacations, he happened upon a murder case. In the beginning he planned to just observe how the scene would play out, but because he's so attuned with people, he ends up finding out the killer and has him arrested. After this he becomes fascinated with criminals, about their ideologies, their psychology, the history behind past criminals. And so he then redirects his path towards that of a detective, perhaps partially out of a sense of justice, but mainly out of a morbid curiosity to see, "how far the depths of humanity can go."

I also noticed how in the canon story Kiyo often likes to observe others and sorta likes to stay neutral on most topics and I feel this would really benefit him as a detective. But yeah! That's essentially the reason I decided to make him the ultimate detective but let's dive into more of his background and how he grows throughout the story.

So, let's just go ahead and get this out the way. The sister issue. Now, as I stated before, I have a brother I'm close with myself so the entire incestuous relationship with Kiyo and his sister makes me deeply uncomfortable. So I'm sorta divided on two options. 1. I could eradicate sister from Kiyo's story completely and pretend she never existed. Or 2. I keep sister but simply change the form of abuse she inflicts on Kiyo. I'm leaning more towards the second option as this way I'm not just neglecting the abuse Kiyo went through, but I also don't have to make myself uncomfortable by acknowledging the incest stuff.

Anyway! Moving on to the more exciting stuff. So, I still want to have Kiyo involved with the occult, or at least he used to be. See, possibly a year or two ago, (and possibly in regards to sister's death but I'm undecided on that) Kiyo performs a ritual that goes horribly wrong. And the result of this ritual enables Kiyo to see and hear the spirits of the departed. And while at first it was intriguing, it soon became annoying at best and mentally draining at worst. It's simply a fact of life he has to deal with, and due to this power he can see and hear the ghosts of his dead classmates throughout the story. Which is both a blessing and a curse.

Now, as for his development throughout the story, here's what I'm thinking. Now, Kiyo doesn't really have many confidence issues, he's proud in his line of work and he's unapologetic about his beliefs and such. And I wouldn't really wanna repeat Shuichi's storyline anyway. So, for this au, I think Kiyo's arc throughout the game will be learning to trust and gain acceptance amongst people he loves. Rather than the twisted perception of love that Kiyo gives off in canon, I'd want Kiyo's result from sister's abuse to be that no one loves him and no one ever will.

He then begins to believe that love doesn't exist, and not just romantic love, but any kind of love. But rather than grow depressed by this fact, Kiyo uses it as a way to uplift himself. Telling himself that he doesn't need love and that he's perfectly fine being alone. To put it bluntly he's basically just coping from the abuse, trying to use it as shield to protect himself when in reality it's just a sword pointed at himself. But then again, what reason would he have for not believing this? This very concept is what's made him such a great detective.

He doesn't take sides because he can't understand the reasoning behind either side, not in an emotional way anyway. And even though he's incredibly successful in his work, there's a part of him deep down that is terribly lonely. A part of him that longs for company, a part of him that wishes he knew why hatred always burns in the eyes of those he arrests. And it isn't until he's kidnapped and taken to the Ultimate Academy that he finally has to acknowledge this part of himself. This starts with his relationship with Tenko.

Which, as you might expect, doesn't start too well. Tenko of course still has her "degenerate male philosophy" (though after chapter 1 this part of her becomes severely toned down and we get to see what her actual character is like sorta like what canon should have done before chapter 3) but Tsumugi, (ultimate pianist) accompanies Kiyo for a lot of chapter 1 and this sort of slowly warms Tenko up to Kiyo. After chapter 1 tho, when Kiyo flawlessly solves the first case, Tenko sees how useful Kiyo is and grows a sort of begrudging respect for him. After the trial she congratulates him on a job well done and Kiyo appreciates the gesture, obviously being able to tell that it wasn't something she was particularly ecstatic to do. Chapter 2 comes around and if you read my ask about Maki (ultimate artist) , you know this is when she starts spreading the "rumor" that Angie is an assassin.

Kiyo initially doesn't buy this at all, because even though he's exceptionally good at reading people, Angie is a total blank for him, so he can't really confirm or deny the rumors. What he does notice, though, is that Tenko seems to he strangely angry at these rumors, growing visibily distressed whenever Maki brings them up. He doesn't really get it, seeing as though he's only seen the two talking a handful of times, but he brushes it off but he doesn't get involved with people's personal bis. Until Tenko comes to him. He's surprised to see her and even more surprised to see the angry expression on her face.

She tells him that they can't keep letting this go on. He asks what and she responds with the rumors. He agrees that the rumors have gotten out of hand but he asks her what she wants him to do about it. She tells him that he is the only one that the others will believe. And he's like, fair enough, but why do you care so much. And she responds saying, "Because I have her motive video." Kiyo is shocked by this info and asks why she can't just tell them herself. And she says that, "Well, because the rumors are true, she is the ultimate assassin."

Kiyo is again flabbergasted and asks Tenko if she intends on him lying and she says yes. He asks her why, in the most sincerest tone, truly not understanding why anyone would go this far to lie about someone they hardly know, Tenko responds. "Because something isn't right, Monokuma has to be playing some trick, there's no way Angie is capable of murder." Kiyo still doesn't understand, but seeing the fierce determination in her eyes, he knows he won't be able to refuse her offer. And so he agrees that tomorrow he will do his best to dispel the rumors about Angie and convince everyone that she isn't an assassin. And then, the very next day, another body is discovered.

Immediately the opportunity to clear the air is gone in the mass confusion. And it's not long after that everyone begins to pin their blame on Angie. So, Tenko approaches Kiyo again asking if she can accompany Kiyo on his investigation, but only on the basis of defending Angie. Kiyo, who isn't used to working with others, hesitantly agrees and the two form a reluctant partnership. Kiyo initially plans to work on his own but after Tenko finds a few vital pieces of evidence he grows more accustomed to her presence and the two actually bond quite a bit, although they don't admit it.

Eventually the investigation ends and the two head to the trial together, convinced that Angie isn't the killer. Of course the main lie of this trial is that Angie is not the ultimate assassin, the only real thing that was pinning her to this case. After that is cleared up, Kiyo, along with some help from Tenko, solve the case. All is well and good with the world it seems, until Maki speaks up. She asks Monokuma to show Angie's motive video, just to be 100% sure that she isn't the ultimate assassin.

Immediately Tenko retorts, saying that they already cleared up that she wasn't but Maki replies.

"Well, if you're so sure that Angie isn't an assassin, then you should have no problem with me showing this right?"

"Unless, you know something we don't?"

The others agree with Maki and demand that the motive video be shown. Tenko looks to Kiyo, demanding he do something but Kiyo shakes his head. "They're too far gone now." Tenko clenches her fists, but doesn't say another word. With a grin of pure malice, Maki tells Monokuma to show the video and he complies, if a bit reluctantly due to Maki's tone. The video plays and the truth is revealed, Angie is the ultimate assassin.

After the video the students erupt into an uproar, angrily turning towards Tenko and Kiyo and demanding why they lied. Tenko responds that if they hadn't lied, the rest of the students would have gotten them killed. They also turn on Kiyo, asking why a detective would lie. He responds saying it was the only way to get to the truth. He also adds that Angie being an assassin had nothing to with this case, they already determined the true killer.

But despite their statements many of the students are still outraged as they mount the elevator. They also notice Angie is not with them, as she seems to have disappeared during the chaos. Two individuals however observe the scene with twisted glee, Maki and Kiibo (ultimate supreme leader). After everyone gets off the elevator, Tenko approaches Kiyo. She thanks him for standing up for Angie, and this time she actually sounds genuine. She then admits that maybe he's different than the other degenerate males and that he's not so bad. Kiyo accepts the sort of compliment and Tenko walks off.

And for the first time Kiyo feels happy. Now he's felt satisfaction after a solved case and even sometimes felt contentment but, he can't remember the last time he felt happy. The last he felt like he belonged. And after this the two from a solid friendship, one that will carry them throughout the entire game and Angie joins the squad too and as much as I'd love to get into their relationship this post is far too long already and I wouldn't wanna waste anymore of your time. But! I hope this was enjoyable at the very least.

I really enjoy getting these asks because they always help me to flesh out the story and the characters and they're always super fun to write so if you ever wanna know about any of the other characters, don't hesitate to ask. Thanks for the ask!

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #talentswap au #korekiyo shinguji #tenko chabashira #angie yonaga #maki harukawa #kiibo #incest tw

[homestuckcontroversyin2020]

My Opinions on The Epilogues

So I expect that this isn’t going to go over too well, whether it be because I get absolutely zero attention on this post, or for the fact that I’m literally typing up what is probably a hate post that’ll spark up some, “Oh fuck you.” comments. Either way, I don’t really care about the possible hate to be garnered or anything. I’m here to state my opinion on this, and opinions can’t kill anyone when you’re as weak at arguing as I myself am. Now, this isn’t a fucking logical article, I’m not taking time with comprehensive research and making sure I fact check every little detail because that would involve reading Homestuck for and eighth time and re-reading the Epilogues so I have the biggest refresher in the world. I’m not doing that, so take my sub-par rambles.

Preface over, let’s get into the meat.

My original thought when I heard that the Epilogues came out was initially an eye roll big enough to be like when Hulk smashed Loki in the ground. An arch of, “What the fuck, Hussie.” In other words? I didn’t want to read them. I spent the first few days in agony, complaining about how Homestuck was probably just becoming a money grab, and hearing from other people about the content that  came out.

It.. wasn’t as bad as I expected when I jumped into it. People made a bigger deal about them than I thought was even insanely possible. Let me get this out of the way. I don’t hate the Epilogues. Do I think they were poorly done? Yes. Do I think that the writing was subpar? Absolutely. Do I think that fourteen year olds in their bedroom typing away at shitty fanfiction or roleplaying smut on MxRP/MSPARP have a better grasp on the characterization of each individual character than the people who took over and wrote the Epilogues? 10000%. Still, I thought they were a clever addition to alternate timelines. I had heard from a source they were meant to be a satirical take on fanfiction, and was a mocking poke at the Homestuck community... until Beyond Canon came out.

So here we are now with an 18 year old who’s spent their time on this planet obsessing over Homestuck since before they could read cuss words without feeling embarrassed telling you about how they’re pissed off with some small things that are of no value.

I’m an Alpha Kid Stan(TM) so everything that happened to my sweet babies has made me want to blow my brains out over the walls. Let’s go down the line.

Jane, sweetheart? Who hurt you? Now, I’ll be honest, I rushed through the Epilogues in my, ‘fuck I don’t want to read this but I feel like I need to in order to satiate my burning curiosity.’ mode. Jane’s whole... situation seems really fucked up to me. The color of her text in the EPs is another thing that pissed me off beyond belief, and I’m not sure why. The consistency between comic and canon was draining on my nerves. Jane, in Homestuck, is a whiny teen, but in no way do I look at her and see racist Hitler. Also, what the fuck was up with the clown thing? Why did she have an obsession with fucking Jake? Sure, she was into him before, but wasn’t part of her character arch getting over the buck toothed bangaroo? I thought so. I also thought that Jane was, you know, just a normal girl living her best life. She sure complained, but who doesn’t?? The Jane we’re given in the Epilogues seems to lack the internal dilemmas that the dear, sweet Crocker we’ve grown fond of does. There’s barely a hit of self hate, she doesn’t blow up, and sure we could possibly count this to her being older, but, what? She didn’t seem to be pissed off about the entire existence of trolls in Homestuck. Sure, her time with them was minimal and she didn’t really get all the shit through, but she fought side by side with Kanaya, even. I just don’t see it at all.

Jake. Oh boy. This is a big one. In either case, Jake’s whole thing really bothers me. He doesn’t seem like Jake. He seems like a watered down version of himself that doesn’t even make fucking sense? He’s an aloof dork, but he’s not horrendously stupid, there’s no reason to make him an alcoholic, and why the fuck is he an attention seeking slut? Yes, yes. We could blame this all on Dirk but really, what were the authors thinking? They had complete control over what happens in this and they turn Jake into something he’s not. He had other drives and passions than living out his life as the sexy action movie woman we all need in our lives. Jake’s smart to his own degree, stubborn, and kind of a flirt! He’s not insanely oblivious, either. For instance, I recall a specific moment where he insinuates that Jane was having a wet dream about him in Homestuck. I’m not going to find the quote, but I know it’s there. Jake spent time working on the robot rabbit for John with Jade and outright refused help from some outside sources. Jake is smart! He’s got an extensive vocabulary! He’s just a nerd, and he’s more than an uwu gay boy for Mr. Triangles.

Roxy, oh no. This is where I expect to get the most heat. Roxy is a beloved character. The light of my life and the best of the kids, in my opinion. (I’m an avid Dirk Stan, but Roxy has won my heart truly and thoroughly.) I don’t like the whole trans/non-binary thing. Not because I’m transphobic or anything, because I’m absolutely not. It’s because it feels like it just doesn’t fit with her as a character?? Roxy grew up in isolation in a place without humans, you really think she’s going to have an outright conceptualized view on gender roles and norms? Basic fucking psychology would tell you otherwise. This is something that her brain would have trained her to do based on a societal view. I may not have paid a huge ass amount of attention in psychology, but gender is a thing that’s completely up in the air and taught to us. Roxy didn’t have that. You could argue and say that her house has something of the sort that’d lead her to feel that way, or perhaps she’s learned this all off the internet, but her clothes scream femme and she had to make them herself, is all I’m saying. Again, whatever, go off, make Roxy trans. It’s not a huge deal, but that isn’t the only problem I have. Roxy as a character seems to have just lost her spark. There’s little outright love and enjoyment and adoration for her friends that there is in Homestuck. She’s not your hype go get them loving girl. Again, maybe you could blame this on the fact that they’re all older, but getting older isn’t going to drastically impede your previous personality and make you an entirely different person. They essentially turned Roxy into a watered down version of Dave, but trans. It’s like they couldn’t make Dave trans so they just made a new Dave. It’s annoying to me, and that’s my biggest problem. I love Roxy. I don’t care for Epilogue Roxy. If they had done it right, if they had used specific things from Homestuck, if Homestuck itself keyed in on this or ANYTHING, fine. But Roxy was old enough to question her identity, most people do around 16, and she could have had the opportunity to start representing this already. I mean, who was stopping her? Then the baby stuff. Huh? What? Why? Doesn’t make sense, pass. Her bffsy, brother, and person that cared about her most off and yeets himself from the top of the nearest belltower and all she can think about is copulating with John??? Alright, fam.

Onto Dirk. Y’know what? I don’t have many huge problems with Dirk. I found his personality in Meat really funny, I found the death in Candy absolutely soul crushing. Dirk is a good character. I don’t think they did his personality well, but I don’t think they did any of the characters well. Maybe John. Maybe. Dirk really just sounded like a child who wasn’t getting what he wanted, and it was amusing to say the least. He sounded horrible from the way people talked about him before I read it, but I really just found his overzealous ego entertaining. I found the fact that they made him still totally desperate for Jake kind of annoying though. Dirk broke of their relationship. Dirk was the one who took a moment to realize it wasn’t healthy for either of them, and getting what you want isn’t good. Taking over the narrative and making your ex nearly jizz himself in public is hilarious and all, but also, what??

Alright. Alphas. Let’s move onto Betas.

I skipped a lot of it, not going to lie. Rather than breaking it down for each character like I did with the Alphas, I’m just going to ramble and see where the wind takes. me.

I don’t ship Davekat. I don’t see it working in a romantic aspect. I see them being bros, and it felt really forced in both sides of the story. The homoerotic tension could maybe be smelled for a mile away, but lets not forget something very important. Dave has shown interest in women. Dave was interested in Terezi, he called Roxy and Jane hot, he totally fucking jizzed his jeans for Jade. The fact that so many characters in the Epilogues were exclaiming that Dave was gay, and Dave himself leaning towards the sentiment, didn’t seem to really match up. Dave’s not just pretending to like chicks either, he’s definitely interested in them to the point of being genuinely flustered and embarrassed (I.E The Hot Mom conversation.) So, I don’t really enjoy that. I think the economy shit is cute, his alternate counterpart seemed to have a good hand for business according to the spiel that was made about him, I liked it.

Rose? Didn’t pay a lot of attention to her. The drug abuse shit really pissed me off. Rose in general really pissed me off in the Epilogues. 

John is a can of worms. His characterization was done well, but I guess I just don’t see the point in the two timeline deals. Also, why did he have sex with Terezi? Why was he so much of a baby when the rest of the people around him apparently seemed to mature? Who knows. I sure as hell don’t.

And... then there’s Jade. Poor, sweet Jade. She’s been done dirty almost as much as Jake has, if not worse. She has a dick for one. Yikes. She’s extremely sexually driven, which isn’t something I can see for canon Jade who just wants to hang out and vibe. She’s also so fucking insistent with the “uwu lets date Dave and Karkat” shit that it drives me up a fucking wall. Jade, you should know better! You dated an alternate version of Dave! You dated the OG motherfucker fresh timeline bitch who lost everyone, and sure he was depressed, but I think if I remember correctly you know about all of this???? Hmmmmm!!!! Big questions. It almost leads one to believe she’d know better than to enter into a relationship like this with Dave since it could be emotionally unfulfilling. :))))

Anyways, this entire thing is a can of fucking worms and I don’t suspect I’m going to use this account often aside from shitposting, so have this one uneducated article and if you made it through it and agree, disagree, or what have you, don’t be an ass in the replies? I get it, I’m opinionated and should probably shut my mouth, but it’s the internet and I don’t really care at this point.

#homestuck #epilogues #opinions #spoilers #roxy lalonde #dirk strider #dave strider #jade harley #rose lalonde #john egbert #jake english #jane crocker #rambles #controversy #trans roxy #hs epilogue

[flos-timore]

hahahahaha the more i delve into habit the more horrifyingly tragic he is oh no- 

- Habit is unhinged. No, I’m not saying he belongs in an insane asylum or that he’s a complete lunatic; we’re not going the stereotypical demonizing route of “oh this person’s crazy!! there’s no reasoning with them, they must be stopped!!”. He’s a mentally damaged man who feels as if he’s in the right. Years of abuse and torment have led him to ENJOY causing others the same pain he’d been dealt. He RELISHES in being mean; he plays his role as the villain WELL. He acknowledges this fact, and he will go to any means necessary to continue to do so. 

- You’ll find he laughs. Often. More often than not it’s just a reflex so he can maintain his happy smiley “calm”, but once he has you strapped down, right where he wants you.... THEN his cackles tend to have a bit more meaning behind them. :-) 

- He fully believes that he’s finally choosing his own destiny and taking what’s his. The Habitat is HIS domain, and he’ll be AWFULLY keen on reminding you of it. Everything is intentional, everything is monitored, and he’ll Know if you’ve done something he doesn’t approve of. He’s running a sick sort of “business”, here, and he isn’t about to let his hard work go down the drain because of ONE pesky little nuisance. 

- Passive aggressive. OH MY GOD IS HE PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE. He won’t even hide it if he thinks you already Know/he hates you enough. The fact that he won’t outwardly admit that he’s insulting you to your face just makes it all the MORE insulting and infuriating. He knows this and it’s funny to him. 

- He’ll Absolutely make sure the door Literally hits you on the way out. He’s also not above SLAMMING doors as hard as he can when leaving rooms/a conversation; either to make a point, or just be an asshole. 

- He talks to himself. Sometimes even inanimate objects will become his focus as he holds entire conversations as if he’s Actually talking to other people. This has become a habit (no pun intended) of his over the years due to the sheer isolation and lack of anybody ELSE to talk to. He can’t STAND prolonged silences. This man is UNGODLY sociable; he needs other people around him. 

- Adding onto that: he DOES get auditory and visual hallucinations. His mentions of his lily “talking to him” is an example of this. I felt the need to clarify that since inanimate objects CAN sometimes talk and be sentient in the SFM universe. 

- He will eavesdrop. He WILL Eavesdrop On You. He feels the need to know EVERY LITTLE THING going on at ALL times- even if it doesn’t concern him in the least. If you Try to have any semblance of privacy or you confront him about this, he’ll be flippant and try to paint YOU as the one in the wrong for being upset in the first place. Yes, he’s good at gaslighting.

- While he has next to No actual fighting experience, he has PLENTY of experience with dodging blows. Should you ever try to physically... ahem... CONFRONT the good doctor, sure, he won’t try to fight back, but this doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll make being taken down EASY for you. Have fun as he dances and twirls around to dodge your blows, mocking you all the while. 

- It’s nearly EFFORTLESS for him, too. Habit might not be the athletic type, but he’s naturally flexible. You’re not really “FIGHTING” him, and he’ll surrender once you gain the upper hand, but catch him in the right mindset and he’ll literally pull you into a deadly tango. 

- TORTURE METHODS. He knows Many. He’s found ways to do his research. Psychological, physical, mental- you name it. He’ll take Any opportunity to flex this knowledge, too, and he ISN’T afraid of things getting.... “gory”, once he has you where he wants you. Though he might throw up a few hours or days later, looking back on his actions. 

- He makes certain to differentiate “Boris” from “Dr. Habit”, in his mind. What I mean by this is: growing up, BORIS was the pushover. BORIS sat quietly at the dinner table while his parents argued and insulted him. BORIS was the silent kid in class that cried in the bathroom over the other kids bullying him. BORIS was the soft nobody who had a heart too big for his body, and goals too optimistic for the cruel outside world. BORIS is the person that Dr. Habit has fought TOOTH and NAIL to choke the life out of and replace. He wants other people to realize this, too. 

#| Dr Habit - мυѕιngѕ ☢ #Smile For Me #Boris Habit #Long Post #ask to tag

[vincent-frankenstein]

Oooo!! Could you do "I think our house is haunted" with any (or all?) of the sides?

YOU BET YOUR SKELETON I CAN

(i had so much fun writing this that im probably going to write a part two so dont get too stressed over the cliffhanger, there’ll be more in 10-12 business months when i can wrangle my creativity long enough to focus on this again)

Title: Touch-Tone Telephone (Disbelieving, That’s The Real Crime) 

Summary: Roman’s apartment is haunted.

He knows there’s something sinister in their house, something deep and dark and dreadful, and he knows he can stop it, if only his roommates would help. If only they believed him.

But his search for proof brings him face-to-face with something more horrifying than he’d ever expected. Can he survive, faced with the specter of the brother he never knew?

Warnings: ghosts, disturbing imagery (but only for one sentence near the end), knives, sleep paralysis, generally just Spooky Vibes™ also sympathetic deceit and unsympathetic remus

Gen Taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @joygaytrash @ruh-roh-emer-has-an-account @aliferous-ly @im-crunchie @triton-bear @emiisanidiot @jemthebookworm

It was a cold October evening when Roman gathered his roommates in the living room for one of those fam-ILY meetings Patton seemed so fond of. He sat atop his “throne” — a worn crimson armchair he’d had for years — and crossed his hands in his lap, his face set and solemn. His roommates shifted where they sat — some uncomfortably, worriedly, others just confused.

“I assume you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here,” Roman said, with the grim air of someone about to impart life-changing news.

Cecil rolled his eyes, sarcasm burning on his tongue. “No, no, Roman,” he simpered, his voice slow and insincere. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

Virgil elbowed him in the side, and Cecil abandoned his sarcasm in favor of wheezing in pain.

“Cecil, this is serious,” Roman said seriously. “What I’m about to tell you will change our lives forever. It may even ruin them.”

“Oh gosh, are you —” Patton cut off with a gasp of horror, his hand flying to his mouth. “Are you sick? Are you hurt?”

Virgil’s face grew pale. Or, well, paler than usual, which was a significant feat, because Roman hadn’t thought that was possible. “Princey, I swear to fu —”

“Language,” Cecil and Logan said in unison, the former reaching to cover Patton’s innocent ears. Virgil growled.

“I swear to Gerard Way, if you die on us —”

“No!” Roman cried, holding up his hands. “I’m not sick!”

“Then what is going on?” Logan asked, sitting forward. “This needless drama is only causing Virgil and Patton unnecessary stress.”

“’Needless’? ‘Unnecessary’?” Roman gasped with over-dramatic offense, an over-dramatic hand pressed against his chest in shock. “Au contraire, ye of little faith. I come bearing news of the most heinous caliber. News that could shock each of you to your very cores, news that —”

“Oh for the love of — spit it out already!” Cecil growled, slamming his hand down on the arm of the couch and making Patton jump.

Roman leaned forward, allowing just enough time to pass, just enough stress to up the shock-value. “I think our house is haunted.”

His words had the exact effect he’d hoped for: profound, reverent silence. Logan sat back, his face set in a serious scowl as he pondered Roman’s words. Virgil and Cecil shared a look, both faces set as stone. Patton leaned forward, his eyebrows furrowing. Roman basked in their shared awe, pride blooming in his chest despite the grim nature of their situation.

Logan snorted, and the moment shattered. Virgil and Cecil both burst out laughing, clutching their stomachs with twin looks of glee. Patton was the only one who didn’t laugh, though the corners of his mouth twitched.

Roman scoffed. “What, might I ask, is so funny? I’m being serious!”

“Mhm,” Logan hummed, raising an eyebrow. “And what exactly is it that makes you believe our house is haunted?”

“I’ve been hearing noises, every night, after everyone’s gone to bed. Footsteps, doors opening and closing, muffled, moaning voices. There’s a shadowy figure that has passed my bedroom door several times, bringing with it a feeling of utter dread.”

Cecil rolled his eyes. “That’s just Virgil,” he said, earning another elbow in the side that left him wheezing all over again.

“No!” Roman cried. “It absolutely is not Virgil! It’s all hunched and baggy and strange, like — like some sort of ghoul.”

Virgil shrugged. “As much as I’d love to live in a haunted house — and as much as I hate agreeing with Cecil — he’s probably right. I go downstairs for midnight snacks all the time.”

“At five in the morning?”

Virgil shrugged again.

“No,” Roman insisted. “I don’t buy it. There’s something — something bad in this house.”

“There are five people in this household,” Logan countered. “How do you explain the fact that none of us have ever seen it?”

“I-I don’t know! Maybe it’s only showing itself to me?” Roman shook his head, scowling. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t believe me. You wouldn’t believe in ghosts if there was one right in front of you.”

“Falsehood,” Logan said. “Given proper evidence of such a thing, I would have no choice but to believe. However, you have provided no evidence beyond your own experiences, which, while strange, can be easily explained.”

“’Easily explained’? How? And don’t tell me it’s Virgil.”

“It could be any one of us,” Logan said, “including Virgil. You cannot expect a household of five to remain perfectly silent throughout the night. The fact that you hear footsteps and doors opening and closing means nothing, and the shadowy figure is most likely one of us passing by your door on the way to the bathroom.”

“And the feeling of dread?” Roman asked, eyes narrowed. “It’s the most awful feeling in the world. It sits on my chest and it’s so heavy I can barely breathe. Unless one of you is capable of doing that —”

“Like I said, that’s just Virgil,” Cecil said, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a smirk. “Feelings of dread are his specialty.”

Virgil readied his elbow, and Cecil reached behind himself and snatched up a pillow, whacking Virgil across the face. With a feral growl, Virgil lunged, and the two rolled off the couch and onto the floor, pillows flying, laughter laced beneath their mocking voices.

“Hey, c’mon,” Patton said, holding the table steady as the two roughhoused beneath it. Cecil kicked Virgil into the table, and Patton’s glass of hot cocoa nearly toppled. “Hey!”

“Enough,” Logan said, eyes narrowed. When the two didn’t listen, he stood, and Roman and Patton both covered their ears. “Enough!” he yelled, at a volume loud enough to rival an airplane taking off, and the two leaped apart. Logan sat back down, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Roman, what you are experiencing is purely psychological,” he said, once again the epitome of calm. Virgil rubbed at his ears, shoulders hunched. “Shadowy figures, a feeling of dread, and a weight on your chest can all be explained by sleep paralysis, which is —”

“I know what sleep paralysis is!” Roman said. “It absolutely was not that. I hadn’t even fallen asleep yet! And I could move.”

“Alright,” Logan said, nodding, “then it is just your mind playing tricks on you. Halloween is a handful of days away. Tell me, how many horror movies have you seen so far this month?”

Roman glared at the floor. “… Quite a few,” he admitted.

“Right. And how many horror festivals have you been to?”

“Three.”

“Mhm.” Logan readjusted his glasses, his eyes glittering smugly. “You see one of us pass your doorway, and, believing us to be some creature of supernatural origin, you begin to panic. However, you’ve mistaken that panic for a ghostly feeling of dread brought on by some malevolent outside force. The amount of horror you’ve consumed in the past few weeks has primed your brain for a haunting. You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“I am not!” Roman insisted. “I know what a panic attack feels like, Logan. This isn’t it. Something’s wrong, and — and I’ll prove it to you!”

“How?”

Roman stood. “You’ll see. I’ll get proof, and I’ll make you all believe.”

“Aw, I believe you, kiddo!” Patton said, his smile wide and earnest. Roman managed a smile back.

“Thanks, padre,” he said. Patton’s support, while appreciated, didn’t do much to lessen the righteous fury he felt at Logan’s dismissal. It was like a participation trophy — always there, whether you were right or not. He wanted first place, the golden medallion of Logan’s belief — and he was going to get it.

“Good luck, Dib No-Brain,” Virgil said, offering a sarcastic thumbs up. “Now that that’s outta the way, next order of business: who the fu —”

“Language.”

“— heck has been stealing my eyeshadow?”

Roman tuned out the conversation — which was boring, and overly predictable, really. He already knew who had stolen Virgil’s eyeshadow, but he’d never confess. It looked so much better on him. Besides, he had more important things to think about.

He knew he was right. Logan’s explanations made sense — of course they did, everything that asshole said made sense — but he couldn’t explain away the awful feeling Roman had. It wasn’t a panic attack, or sleep paralysis. It was something darker, colder than any of them could fathom, and it seemed he alone had to shoulder the weight.

Night fell, and Roman prepared for battle. With a camera as his shield and a vial of holy water — a gift from his cousin, Remy, who was as superstitious as he was sassy — as his sword, he sat on the edge of his bed and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

The house was silent. Not a floorboard creaked, not a door moved, not a creature stirred. He’d drained his 12-hour supply of coffee roughly three hours in, and now his head nodded down towards his chest, eyes fluttering, sleep chasing away the last dregs of caffeine in his bloodstream.

What a waste of time. Logan was right — he was always right, really, could he be any more insufferable? There weren’t any ghosts; their house wasn’t haunted. Roman dragged a hand across his face, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. He was wrong again, too imaginative, too overdramatic, too —

Footsteps. There were footsteps in the hallway. There were footsteps in the hallway and by the time Roman stopped fumbling with his camera and managed to lift it, the shadowy figure had appeared, a baggy mass of darkness that stopped in his doorway and —

And laughed?

Wait. He knew that laugh. A small snort, stifled behind a hand, as if the act of laughing alone was enough to indict him as a human being and therefore must be hidden at all costs. “Don’t tell me you’ve been awake this entire time, Roman,” Logan said, stepping into the room with a thick blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

“It was you,” Roman said lowly, his voice thick with ultimate betrayal. “This whole time! It was you!”

Logan readjusted his glasses. “Well, not entirely,” he said. “I’m sure Virgil contributed to your hypothesis at some point, he tends to wander the house during the night. However, I wasn’t doing this intentionally to scare you.”

“Bullshit,” Roman scoffed. “Why didn’t you say anything? I’ve been up all night!”

“I did say something, Roman. I told you that your ‘shadowy figure’ was merely one of us passing your doorway. I could have reiterated, but…” The ghost of a smirk passed his face. “I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to see you like this.”

Roman promptly threw his pillow at Logan’s face. Logan dodged. What an asshole.

“So is that the only reason you came down here? To see me suffer?” Roman placed a hand against his chest, shaking his head. “I never thought you capable of such cruelty. I guess I’m just wrong about everything these days!”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You are not the only reason I came down,” he said, “and you’re not wrong about everything. Just several, inconsequential things.”

“Thanks,” Roman deadpanned. “Why did you come down, then?”

“For Crofters.”

“Oh. Of course.” Roman grabbed his pillow from the floor and set his camera on his bedside table, rolling his eyes. “Go ahead. Leave me to my shame. Enjoy your jelly.”

He flopped down on his side, hugging the pillow to his chest, and heaved a long, pitiful sigh. Logan hesitated in the doorway, closing his eyes and breathing in for a long three seconds. “Roman,” he said. “Would you… perhaps, care to join me?”

Wow. Sure, Roman had been angling for Logan to offer, but he hadn’t expected the nerd to actually do it. His guilt-trips only ever worked on Patton, and occasionally Virgil, once in a blue moon and every other holiday. First time for everything, he supposed.

“I. Uh. Sure?” He stood, still holding his pillow to his chest. “Only if I get the last of the concord jelly.”

Logan shot him a look. “Absolutely not. Die.”

Roman collapsed against the wall, clutching his chest, head lolling, eyes rolling back into his head. “Agh! Sweet embrace of death, come so soon to gather me into Her arms! How could this beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee~”

He dropped to the floor, onto his hands and knees, and fell sideways, a heap of limp limbs. When he was sure his performance was enough, he released his final breath. Logan blinked down at him, unimpressed, and kicked him in the side as he passed.

“Fine!” Roman called after him. “You’re not invited to my funeral!”

Logan flipped him off without even looking back. What an asshole.

Roman shoved himself to his feet and scrambled after him, mind set. He was going to get that jelly before Logan could even blink, and he wasn’t going to share a single drop of it. That’d teach him to ignore Roman’s acting gold.

He slid past Logan and rushed into the kitchen, not realizing that Logan had stopped in the doorway, not noticing the dread that settled deep in his bones until he slid to a hasty stop, a sharp gasp flying from his lips.

“Oh,” he squeaked. His heart attempted gymnastics in his chest and only succeeded in lodging in his throat, choking away every attempt at a response Roman could possibly give.

There was a knife.

Floating in midair.

There was a knife floating in midair and really, a sight like that should have sent him running, but there was a knife floating in midair and it wasn’t supposed to do that and simply the shock alone was enough to lock his legs in place. He glanced around; surely there were strings, somewhere. Surely the others were pranking him. Surely —

The knife was moving.

“Logan,” he managed, in a voice several dozen octaves higher than usual. “Logan, please tell me you’re seeing this, please —”

“I —” Logan tried to speak several times. His voice failed, words cutting out again and again. “I — Yes. That’s — mhm. Yep.”

The knife was floating away from them, thank god, and Roman couldn’t help but watch, mesmerized. “What do we do?” he hissed, and he could practically feel Logan struggling to find an answer. He was speechless — the great Logan Sanders, king of Being Insufferable, had been stricken speechless, and Roman didn’t even have the time to enjoy it. “Do… Do we call an exorcist?”

And wow was that the wrong thing to say, because the haunted-demon-ghost-knife heard him, and it whipped around in midair — and suddenly a figure appeared around it, and Roman collapsed backward, wheezing, the weight on his chest so suddenly heavy that he couldn’t draw a single breath. Logan looped his arms through Roman’s and held tight, his own breathing sharp and erratic.

The figure — tall, horrible, green, a rotting face, the barest wisps of a mustache above a skeletal smile, and eyes that Roman recognized, eyes that had stared him down in the mirror every day since he’d been born, his eyes, the ghost had his eyes — grinned, raising the knife. Roman couldn’t breathe.

“Boo.”

#sanders sides #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #remus sanders #ts deceit #sympathetic deceit #ts remus #unsympathetic remus #(for now ;3c) #basically this au is like. the sides are all a Found Fambly living in the same apt #a bunch of dumbasses platonically in love who may or may not have a ghost join their littol family sometime in the future :3c #celeste's portfolio #ts-touch-tone-telephone au #Anonymous

[piperemerald]

An Hour To Midnight

Fandom: Promised Neverland

Pairing: Norray

Coffee Shop / College AU

Summary: In which Ray works the closing shift at the Starbucks on his college campus and does not understand why Norman continues to walk through the doors at 11pm, order a tea, and sit at the counter until the cafe is closed.

AO3

“He’s back again.” Emma didn’t even meet Ray’s eyes as she stage whispered and subtly gestured to the doorway. Ray resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her. Apparently his usual amount of sarcasm was bad for business. Not that he thought their only customers in the past hour would care.

“Of course he’s back,” Ray replied instead. He made a point of keeping his tone as dry as possible, even though he was well aware any attempts to mask his emotions were rendered useless on the girl who had known him since they were both five.

It was his turn to man the cash wrap while Emma made the drinks and warmed up the food. They divided their shift, even though there was really no point. There was no point in the Starbucks being open two hours later than the dining hall and campus store. The 11pm rush that the university seemed positive they would receive was nonexistent.

At best, it was empty and Ray could spend the last two hours of work balancing a book on the register and testing Emma on psychology terms. At worst, they had one customer.

“Grande green tea and a strawberry scone?” Ray asked the closing shift’s only regular.

“Am I that predictable?” The boy chuckled. “Yes, thanks.”

Ray rang him up, knowing that Emma had already started the drink when he walked through the doors. This was the third night this week that he’d wandered in, each time he would end up sitting at the counter until closing. The last two instances, he’d made conversation with them. Ray had several theories as to why anyone would want to spend their night sitting in a cafe instead of sleeping, or studying, or doing anything else with their time.

The wildest one was that he was a vampire, the most likely one was Emma.

This would not have been the first time he’d watched some poor idiot fall for her, only to later realize that she was that friendly and bubbly to everyone. They weren’t special. A majority of the time, Emma was oblivious to this. In the case of the boy with the blond hair so light it was practically white and a seeming lack of a sleep schedule, Emma was completely convinced Ray was over exaggerating.

She was, however, fully in support of the vampire theory—which was apparently far more feasible than a handsome man being attracted to her.

She thought Ray was teasing her, when really he was being serious. He was also counting the days it took this kid to summon the courage to ask for her number. It seemed tonight wouldn’t be the night.

When Emma placed his drink and pastry in front of him, he only gave her a quick smile before his eyes went back to the phone in his hand. Ray was a little bit disappointed. As much as he knew it would be at this boy’s expense, he really wanted to have his ‘I told you so’ moment. Knowing that they likely wouldn’t get any more customers for the next hour, Ray turned his attention back to the book that he’d tucked into his apron when the door opened.

He was behind on the assigned reading, something that had never happened to him before in his life. It wasn’t even that Ray didn’t enjoy his classes, he did, but he often felt like there wasn’t enough hours in the day to do everything that was expected of him. He thought he’d known what he was getting himself into, after all back when he was signing up for classes the idea of finishing a book every week hadn’t seemed so insane.

It was different when he had time to take in each detail, to let his imagination enjoy the story. It was also different when he wasn’t trying to make excuses for the dyslexia that he knew slowed his reading pace to about half of all of his classmates, making it feel like there was no point that his comprehension was far higher and his analysis leagues better than any of them.

In high school he would buy the audiobooks to listen along with, because hearing someone else’s voice usually stopped the words on the page from swimming. But right now he couldn’t afford to shell out thirty bucks for every assignment.

“Could I get another one?” A smooth voice cut through Ray’s thoughts. He glances up to see the boy gesturing to the plate when the scone had once been. “It’s $3.75, right?”

Ray nodded. Emma was in the backroom, probably checking her phone but it wasn’t like he cared enough to chide her for that. They were both only working here because they had to—because they couldn’t afford their cramped dorm room without it. So he let the fact that she had left her post slide and warmed up the scone instead, placing it on the table and accepting the boy’s exact change.

“Thanks,” the boy was smiling again. There was something behind that smile—something incredibly exhausted, and drained, and all too familiar.

“No problem,” Ray said back.

Maybe if he’d just called Emma, maybe if he hadn’t spent a moment longer than needed looking into those soft blue eyes, nothing would have happened. But he did. And from there he was doomed.

“He’s kinda cute,” Ray said once the cafe was closed and the boy was gone.

Emma lifted her gaze from the deposit she was supposed to be counting to give him an odd look.

“What?” Ray felt like she was analyzing him. “I’m allowed to think stuff like that.”

“I never said you weren’t,” she laughed now. “You just usually don’t say it when you do.”

She had a point. Ray had come out to her back when they were eleven, he’d known he was gay since he was ten, but they rarely actually talked about boys. He blamed that on the fact that their lives were too busy to stop and have a romantic interest in anyone. He’d never really felt like he was missing out on much, anyway. Having a crazy best friend that he knew him better than he knew himself had always felt like more than he thought he deserved.

“You should ask him out,” Emma decided.

Ray snorted.

“I don’t even know his name,” he reminded her. There had never been any reason to ask it, since he was always the only one in the Starbucks Ray had never felt the need to write a name on the cup.

“Then ask him,” Emma pushed.

“I just said he’d kinda cute,” Ray gave her a deadpan expression. “Not that I’m head over heels after handing him a scone.”

“Whatever,” Emma rolled her eyes. “He is kinda cute.”

“Yeah,” Ray mumbled. “He is.”

The next night Emma wasn’t feeling well, but since none of their coworkers volunteered to cover for her she ended up staying for the first hour of the shift. It took that long for Ray to convince her to just go back to the room and that he could handle everything alone. Begrudgingly, she agreed and he was left alone with the book he still hadn’t finished.

Part of him almost regretted making her leave, since it was so much easier to keep himself together when she was with him and joking around. When he was alone, all of his fears felt a little bit bigger and the stress that might have been solved with a bit of sleep and a pep talk seemed impossible to defeat. It was while Ray was wallowing in this state of self pity that the door open.

He honestly wasn’t in the mood for this.

“Emma’s not here today,” he stated as the boy walked up to the register.

“I can see that,” the boy raised an eyebrow. “Can I get the usual?”

Ray mutely wrote on the cup and left the register to put the scone in the oven. He could feel the boy’s eyes on him as he did so, it made him feel like he wanted to crawl out of his skin.

“For here or to go?” He asked.

“For here,” the boy smiled at him again.

Ray didn’t say anything else. He took the money, gave him the change, and put the scone on a plate. It would probably take a few minutes at best for the awkward Emma-less silence to make this guy leave. Then Ray could finally focus.

“You were reading that last time too,” the boy spoke up. Ray only turned his head to give him a withering glare in response. “It’s good, isn’t it?”

“You’ve read it?” Ray asked back.

“Last year,” the boy nodded. “Intro to English, yeah? It was the first book they assigned.”

“It’s still the first book,” Ray said dryly. He let the blond boy connect the dots.

“It’s kinda dull,” he tried to sympathize.

“That’s not true,” Ray said back. “I’m just a slow reader and have a million other things people are expecting me to do, okay? It’s not because I don’t like it, or because I’m lazy, or because I don’t care. I’m so fucking tired of all of this!”

His voice rang out in the tiny cafe. He was dead. There was no way in hell this kid wasn’t going to tell the manager about Ray screaming at him. Then there went the job that was supposed to help him support himself. There went being able to afford his dorm and the lunches his meal plan didn’t cover. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he was in over his head and should just—

“Give it to me,” the boy held out his hand.

“What—”

“Give me the book,” his voice was sterner now but his expression was neutral. It was funny that, even though he was the one who had filled the small place with shouting, Ray was the one who was doing everything he could not to flinch. He handed the used paperback over.

Calmly—and far too composed for someone who had just had a mental breakdown that he’d done nothing to influence directed at him—the boy opened to the page Ray had dog tailed. He started reading out loud.

“You don’t—”

“It’s faster this way,” the boy stated. “That solves the problem, right?”

Ray didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t know how to react to the knowing, almost arrogant, eyes looking back at him, or the cool collected smile. He didn’t know why this stranger wanted to help him.

“Right,” he uttered.

“Good,” the boy directed his eyes back to the page. He started reading again.

It took until the end of the shift for them to finish the book that Ray had been assigned a week ago. He already knew what he would write his essay on. He already had a list of messages and conclusions he could pull out of the story that had just been read to him.

“Thank you,” Ray knew the words couldn’t fully encompass how unbelievably grateful he felt.

“I didn’t have anything else to do,” the boy shrugged.

Ray knew what he had to ask now was going to make him sound like a complete ass: “What’s your name?”

Instead of seeming offended, the boy let out a chuckle. His laugh sounded like water—flowing gently, but with a sort of up-and-down rhythm to it. Ray wasn’t sure he’d heard anything more beautiful in his life.

“Norman,” the boy stated. “And I already know you’re Ray.”

“Name tags are fun like that,” Ray said dryly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Norman smiled at him one last time before leaving.

Ray found himself standing there, rooted to the spot and staring, long after Norman was gone.

#norray #tpn #tpn fic #promised neverland #promised neverland fic #tpn norman #tpn ray #norman x ray #ray x norman

[ringmaster-jack]

Pass the Kerosene

[ An intermitted drabble elaborating on what occurred between Jack and his firebreather during the events in Early August.  It’s long as shit and it took me forever to write but I’m sick of looking at it so herE.  Preemptive apologies for all the god damn fire puns.  Also this drabble gets kinda dark and psychological-like so if you’re bothered by that kind of thing, warnings inbound. ] 

                                                        ♤ ♠ ♤ ♠

"What do you mean he's GONE?"

"I mean what I said.  He's gone.  He left."

The ringmaster clutched his face in his hands, a desperate and unyielding attempt to quell some of the disorganized jargon that threatened to spill from his lips.  It took him a few moments to collect his barrings enough to speak again without screaming, but even then, it was barely contained.  There was only so much one man could take over the course of a day, and there had been too many days like this over the passing months.  Chaos, change, danger and all that came with it; it was something Jack had more than accepted as a part of his life, long before he ever began his showmanship.  But everything was moving too fast, now.  Much too fast, and much too much of it, with repercussions he couldn’t even begin to unravel.  The way his brow tightened against the press of his roughened fingertips seemed to mark the coming of a nasty headache.

"What did you say to him.”

It took a hyper sense of focus, an ungodly shade of self-control for him to even manage one line to the woman in front of him without snapping like a territorial wolf.    

"What he needed to hear." Just one.

"...SERA.  What does that even MEAN?  WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO.”

Even if the sturdy-shouldered firebreather had wanted to respond to him, he didn’t really allow her the time with which to do that before he began flapping his jaws again.  Never shutting up was one of the ringmaster’s most defining features.  It was why a lot of the crowds he drew in enjoyed him, though to this woman, it was his most aggravating trait.  He never listened. 

 For a time, she allowed him to continue his yammering, though she felt herself not far from her own tipping point. Jack was the only one who could insight such a very specific and special sort of rage in her that was otherwise left unexpressed to their fellow carnies.  Amber eyes narrowed gradually the more she listened to him blather on, locked to his frantic and emotive pacing.  

"This is...bad. This is really really bad, this is not good this is a damned--catastrophe-- he can't--he has no place else to go, Sera, ANYTHING could happen to him--ANYTHING could just-- what, what was it?  What did you say to him?  WHAT DID YOU SAY? WHY? What the fuck possessed you to think that sending HIM --of all people--out-- THERE-- He was hurt, he--"

"He wasn't in critical condition. And he left on his own. He's a grown man, Jack, he can take care of himself."

"NO, HE CAN'T. HE'S NOT...THERE. MENTALLY."

"Okay, so then you took advantage of someone with a serious psychological condition.  That’s what you did, you haven’t done anything to actually help him. That’s pretty horrible, Jack.  You, you are pretty horrible. Y’know? "

Miss Seraphina Lefevre was many things, but she had never been one to pussyfoot about when it came to matters such as this.  For at least 5 years now she’d known and followed this man, which was why it came as no surprise to her when he turned on a dime and launched himself into her personal bubble to thrust her to the nearest tent rafter.  The framing of the big tops always held considerably sturdier than any of the personal tents, but even they shook with the force of his motion.    

"Don't you dare put that shit on me, Sera.  It’s not like--" 

The ringmaster didn’t have time to finish speaking before he felt a pain strike him where he touched her, a scorching heat that left blisters on his hands.  He should have known by now to never even try with this woman; the fire witch hadn’t even the need to struggle in order to get him to back down with a startled shriek.  

She pushed herself away from the pole she’d been so rudely knocked against, arms folding as she approached the man who by now had gotten over the momentary shock of having the first layer of his palm skin burned off. 

She spoke before he could finish, contemptuous and lucid in her speech, despite her obvious irritations over his lazy threats of violence.  Some people feared this man, but she knew him for what he was.     

"What is it like, Jack? Because from where I'm standing, this isn’t exactly out of your usual routine.  Maybe you’re invested in it now, but you know as well as I do you’ll eventually lose interest.  You always do.  You can go on and lie to yourself, if you want to believe you actually have feelings for him, then fine.  But it’s not the truth.  If you actually cared about him then you’d realize all you were doing was using him and playing games with his head. Hurting him. Like you do with everyone.  All. the time."

The heat that radiated from her person felt like stepping into a sauna, but Jack refused to swallow his pride no matter how many steps she took towards him.  He was sweating now, but his expression refused to crack under the very literal heat.  He was a stubborn sort.

"Why are you such a fucking bitch to me--”

"No, Jack. You're going to listen."

With every breach of distance, the showman's posture would sink.  Even with disregard to her firepower, this woman stood at a respectable and athletic 6′2″-- she was no delicate flower, and Jack, although he’d been healthier than in previous months-- was still not much of a match by comparison.  Not without his toys, or some backup-- and she was supposed to be his backup.  

"I don't care how much you think you want him. You do this every single time. You fixate on one person or thing and drain it of everything it has until there’s nothing good left."

"I don’t--want him, Sera, I need him--it was different with him.  I don’t know how to explain it, it just...I’ve never felt this way before.  You don’t understand-- you don’t-- get it.”

"Oh, I don't?"

Though she’d stopped moving toward him, her words were no less harsh than the fire in her veins.  Perhaps even worse, to one such as the ringleader.

"4 years ago, Cayri. Do you remember that name? 3 weeks of courting and one pregnancy later and suddenly you're not interested. She's madly in love with you but you push her away to the point of emotionally crippling her despite the child you left in her belly.  3 years ago, Scout. How about him? You certainly loved to push him around, and he was ready to give you the world, but whatever happened to him? You think he just--disappeared, Jack? He's probably dead now, and you don't even care anymore.  Left to rot somewhere in the catacombs for centuries, I’m sure of it.  2 years ago, Alice. Dead from an overdose on stimulants that you provided her with. She’d never done anything like that in her life before she met you.  2 years ago, Rosalie-- a prostitute and an addict now in the red light district.  She was in school to become a teacher before she met you, Jack. A teacher.  1 year ago, Khai. You--"

"Stop, stop-- just-- stop it. I get it.  I get it, okay?  What do you want from me?  I can’t control the way I feel. I don't know what to do. You don’t know all the shit I have to deal with Sera. I'm doing the best I can."

"THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH."

Ah, there it was.  Her breaking point. One could only listen to the crying, blithering bleats of a spindly, insane man-child for so long before losing their cool. She never really had that much ‘cool’ in her, anyway.  This was made abundantly clear by the flames that danced between her fingertips a mere inch or two from the man who spoke, exaggerating her gestures in the most intimidating of styles.  Jack ducked away from each movement she made-- she wasn’t making any conscious effort to injure him, not yet, anyhow, but he could still feel his unshaven chin hairs singe when she got too close.  

"I don’t CARE if you’re trying.  You need to be better.  You need to be a better PERSON.   Your mental disorders aren’t justification to be a horrible human being. You ruin everyone you come into contact with and you don't even CARE.  You can’t just keep doing this shit every other month and going on about your business like it’s okay.  It’s not fucking-- okay, Jack.  There are consequences.  Maybe not for you, but for everyone else who has the fucking misfortune of having to deal with you.  If you actually care about anyone then get your shit together."

Silence.

  The ringmaster heard nothing from her that hadn’t already been reeling around in his own mind-- and pretty often, in truth.  It didn’t make it hurt any less to hear it out loud.  Although his eyes followed the fire that swirled within her calloused hands, he gave no real reaction to it, now, unblinking and motionless.  There was a stillness that followed before his voice made its reappearance, indignant and soured.  He turned up the collar of his coat, a small expression of anxiety that he rolled into with a hefty side step, away from his second in command and her judging stare.

"...If that's really how you feel, then why don’t you just leave? Just.  Go. Get out.  Go ahead.  I don't need you."

"I can't.  I made a promise. Unlike some people, I actually keep my promises."

"And what promise is that, Sera?  To irritate me relentlessly until I develop high blood pressure and die of a heart attack at the age of 42?”

"This isn't funny Jack."

“No, it’s not.  You think I’m joking?  Leave.  I told you to go.  That wasn’t a suggestion, it was a demand.  Good day to you, madam.  Au revoir.  You are dismissed.  Goodbye, I am tired of listening to your bullshit.  Do not pass go, do not collect 200 gold.  Make sure to leave your keys by the door.  Get the fuck out.”

This did not earn the look of shock or terror that the jackal had initially expected.  In fact, she actually laughed at what he’d had to say, and genuinely so.  It wasn’t because of the content in his words; though, and he knew that long before her merry sounds were quelled.  Even with the heat of her flames still twitching through the air, he felt his blood chill.

“Jackie...” the redhead began, her voice softened from its previous state of enmity.  Coming from her, that didn’t necessarily mean something good was inbound.  

“I do...at least 70% of your paperwork.  Most of the documents for all this?” She gestured around them, her fire leaving streaks of afterglow in the dim light of the tent. 

 “Most of this is in my name.  Just because you’re the poster boy doesn’t mean you’re the showrunner.  I got you here, not the other way around. This is my circus.”

Well... she had him there.  It was never something he’d actually thought about, though.  Ever.  In fact, it was such a distant concept in his brain that it almost felt as if he’d just learned it.  How was he supposed to come back from that?  He hated arguing with this woman.  He hated this woman, period.  

“Well...then...fine,” He was defeated.  He knew when to admit that.  But it didn’t mean the lanky showman was going to take his defeat lying down.  

Instead, he’d walk away from it entirely.  

“Then I’ll leave!  I don’t need this place.  And I especially don’t need you.  See how well this garbage runs without me, I’m gone.  I don’t have time for this.”

A dramatic exit was the goal, here, but yet again, the witch superseded that in an instant by way of magic.  Before the ringmaster could even get halfway to the door, he’d been cut off by a wave of fire-- if he hadn’t sucked in and allowed himself to stumble and fall back, it would have most certainly burned him.  The uncharacteristically high pitched shriek that came from his lungs would have been funny in other circumstances, but this wasn’t really that sort of moment.

 The fire that spread formed a ring around them, a cage of flame that suspended itself at a height that made it nigh impossible to take his leave.  He was more than just a bit upset, now.  He was pissed.

“No.” the fire witch exclaimed, her voice strong and unyielding.

“Sera, what the fuck?”

"Jack..."

Through the veil of flame, the fire dancer had coast towards the ringmaster, unscathed by the heat of her element.  She’d made a point to kneel down beside him, her hands to her knees to speak to the man as if he were a child. Jack rebound from his momentary startle and returned to a state of violent irritation in record time, his brow heavily knit in her direction. 

"Why am I here?" She asked of him.

"Well, presumably to make mon--can you please stop it with the fire?  My nuts are getting steam-cooked here, "

"No. Besides that."

"Because you enjoy making my life miserable?”

"Jack...”

“...Let me go, Sera, I swear to your gods...”

Seraphina didn’t seem to have any intention of dropping the firewall that surrounded them.  Even as the ringmaster tried to slip back on his rump, she stayed where she was -- it wasn’t like he could really go anywhere unless he wanted to burn.  The possibility of crossing the flaming barrier wasn’t completely out of his mind, though.  Especially when she began talking again. 

“She asked me to stay with you.  Tabitha. She asked me to keep an eye on you if anything happened to her.  To make sure you don’t get into trouble.  I’m basically your caretaker, Jack.  We’ve talked about this.”

“I can assure you we most certainly have not.”

“Three times.  I’ve discussed this with you three times, now.  You’re not...well, Jack.”

“No, but I’d be a whole lot fucking better if you stopped holding me hostage like some kind of fucking domestic terrorist.”

While his anger was mounting, the firebreather remained static, indifferent.  Jack had begun the task of pushing himself back up to his feet again, though with a brief curse beneath his breath when he used his scorched palms to do so.  He’d forgotten about that.  

 “I need to go, Sera, I need to-- I don’t have time for this, I have to-- find him, he could be--”

“He hates you.”

Although he’d begun pacing around the flickering heat that surrounded them to try and find a means of escape, the showman stopped in his tracks when she spoke again.  Of all the things she’d said to him, this was one he hadn’t anticipated.  He gawked at the woman with more confusion than antipathy, his forehead dripping with sweat.    

“...What?  What does that even mean?”

“He said he hates you, Jack.  The jester.”

“...You’re lying.”

“Do you really think he would have just left like that if I was making shit up?  I didn’t want to tell you that part, Jack, but you left me no other option.  You nearly got him killed.  The gods know what else you’ve done to sway him in the other direction, but he told me himself how he feels.  Not in...so many words, but-- just let it rest.  Persuing him won't get you anywhere.  You’re just going to make yourself even more miserable. It’s been a long day.  For everyone.  It’s time to give it up.”

Whether she was being honest or not, this new revelation was one that Jack hadn’t the mind to even begin contemplating.  He didn’t want to contemplate it, but he knew that the moment he actually had a second to relax, it would be the first and only thing he’d be able to ruminate on.  He felt a hollowness in his chest that crept into his belly like the sensation one felt when falling.  He didn’t like it.  Not one little bit.  

“...Okay.  Fine, just.  Whatever, I won't--I won’t go -- looking for him.  Please, just... take down your stupid firewall. I need to get out of here, Sera, I need to--”

“You need to calm down.”

“I AM CALM.” Hardly.  He inhaled sharply and shot her a glare that was even sharper.  Everything in him was tense.

“I have to feed Umbra.  Do you have any idea how much I’m trying to placate this absolute trainwreck of a situation that is my life without having a total and complete nervous breakdown?  Because frankly you’re doing nothing to help with negating that scenario, woman, so if we could just please please please continue this conversation later, I promise promise promise you, I won't-- leave, okay?  Scout’s honor.  But I need to fucking go.  Now.  He has to be fed before this gets any worse.”

“I’ll get him food.  You need to go rest.”

“You can’t give him what he needs, I--”

“I know, Jack.  I spoke to him.  He told me what you’ve been feeding him.”

“...You...spoke to him?”

“Yeah.  The night you got stabbed, actually.  I took him to a diner.  Bought him a milkshake and everything.  I know what he is, Jack.  It’s inconsequential.  You were supposed to stop--”

“I did--I did stop!  But I have to now, for him.  You don’t know what will happen if I don’t...”

“You don’t know either, Jack.”

She just wouldn’t let up, would she?  The fire still blazing around them, Jack pushed his fingers into his eyes-- not enough to really hurt, just enough to blackout his vision and show him stars.  He pinched the bridge of his nose after this, no longer even attempting to take his leave as he tried, tried to compose himself.  As was the case with most situations for the ringmaster, he knew that the only way he was likely to get out of this was to smooth talk his way to the end.  But he hadn’t felt this angry in a long, long time-- and when he opened his lips to try and convince her again, all that came out was a bitter, tired,

“I fucking--hate you.  I hate you so much.”

The firebreather had pushed herself back into a standing position, if only to keep on level grounds with the ringmaster.  She’d remained unphased by the lazy insults or Jack’s penchant for traipsing the tent floor, something that had started again, like a caged lion.  When she spoke, it was much calmer than it should have been.

“I think you need to go back to Zaun.”

He halted in his tracks, but only to look at her.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you need to be hospitalized again if this is how things are going to be with you. In the past half a year alone you’ve almost died at least 5 times, you’ve happily invited an assortment of demons and malevolent spirits into our place of work, endangering everyone in the process, you’ve murdered an unknown amount of innocent people to use as sacrificial fodder to a literal dark god-- do I need to go on?  Because I definitely can, you’ve also-- ”

“Shut up.” he hissed, his voice barely a whisper.

“You’ve made it crystal clear to me that you’re a danger to yourself and to others.  You need things that I’m not capable of providing.  With the record you have, getting you involuntarily committed is a non-issue, Jack.  But I’d really rather have your consent.  You need help.  Please recognize that.”

“You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about!  They don’t help anyone there, Seraphina!  They make everything worse!  Exponentially!  Do you know what they did to me in there?  Do you have any fucking idea--”

“I’ve been given a basic summary of your history, yes.”

“Then you know it won't make anything better.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“NO.  NO I AM REALLY, REALLY NOT.”

Incapable of finding an exit within the ring of fire, he turned back to the flame dancer instead, her self-righteous attitude and confident stare doing nothing but fueling the anger that bubbled in his stomach.  He wanted to approach her, to scream in her face, or worse-- but he knew any attempt at fighting this woman would probably end poorly on his behalf.  Especially if what she said was the truth.  So he continued speaking, instead.  Aggressively and with a bit too many flippant hand gestures, but maybe she’d listen.

“2 years in that place was enough.  They kept me so doped up I could barely function-- I’m only just now remembering bits and pieces of it, Sera, but I don’t need to remember any of it to know the shit they do in there-- it’s not fucking good.  By ANY stretch of morality!” he exclaimed, to which the witch seemed apathetic.

“They don’t heal people there, Sera, it’s where you go when no one else will take you anymore.  They just lock us away with disregard to any kind of human dignity and throw away the key.  They do things that would never fly anywhere else in the world because nobody actually gives a fuck about people like me.  Do you understand where I’m going with this?  I don’t know what misguided garbage my sister funneled into your thick fucking skull, Seraphina, but I’ll tell you right now--her whim isn’t worth the trouble.”

“It’s absolutely worth the trouble.  I loved her, Jack.  And she loved me.  And regardless of what you think, I’m not your enemy.  You’re like family to me, now.  I just want what’s best for you.”

My gods, the emotional rollercoaster they’d been on over the course of the past 15 minutes was one for the history books.  Now, it was the ringmaster’s turn to laugh.  It was a cold sound that built up from a soft chuckle into a half-exhausted but deep-bellied cackle, one he made zero effort to hide.  It made the elemental hesitate; if only for a moment, shifting her weight to the opposite foot in discomfort.  When he looked at her again with a shimmer in his eye, that hesitation grew.

“Is that really what you think?  You think she actually loved you?  Oh, honey-- if that’s really what your whole life has been based around for the last 6 years, do I have some sad news for you--” 

She’d wanted to interrupt him before he spoke again, but she didn’t get the chance.  His body lethargic in the heat, Jack floundered his way in her direction-- though this time there was no intent to try and assail the witch.  His cruel smirk betrayed his intent.

“Tabi didn’t love anyone.  You think I’m bad?  At least I have the capacity to actually feel something.  I fucking hate it, but it’s a thing, no matter how much I try to ignore it, y’know?  Her, though-- all she ever cared about was power.  Progress, at any cost.  What she thought was progress, anyway. She’d do anything if it meant furthering her ‘career’.  She slept around a lot more than I ever did-- you were just one in a long, long list of others.  I really don’t think she wanted you to babysit me with my best interest at heart.  She never really did care what happened with me.” The bitterness that hung on those words was enough to crumble his facade of egotism, at least for a moment, before his speech would continue on, more somber than before.  Sera was left to her own rumination for those few protracted seconds.  

  “If you’re really telling me the truth-- if you really do care about me, then.  Prove it.  I made a promise to you, and I don’t intend to break it.  But I need.  To go.  And you need to trust me.  Please, Sera.  I’m begging you.”

The firebreather knew that Jack had a way with manipulating people in his favor, regardless as to whether he was in the right or not.  She was one of the few mortals who had lifted that veil and seen the ugliness beneath the surface.  She didn’t buy his bullshit, not for one minute-- but in the stillness of the evening, with only the sound of her embers crackling in a coil around them... she saw some sincerity left within this filthy but charming man she’d followed for half a decade.  Maybe it was something in the way his eyes gleamed with unshed tears, or maybe it was the sheer exhaustion in his voice.  She didn’t know at that moment.  He’d hit her in places that were much more damaging than the scorch of any flame ever was.  Things weren’t adding up.  

“...Fine.”  

Jack let forth a triumphant but passive ‘woo!’ when the intense temperatures that surrounded him where uplifted in a flicker of hot ash.  He knew better than to bolt immediately, so he took a moment to wipe the sweat hanging from his skin with the sleeve of his jacket, and offer her his graciousness.  Of course, the almost sardonic tone to his voice belittled that sentiment, now that the danger had been extinguished.  

“Thanks, boss, you won't regret it, I--”

Well, maybe not extinguished, so much as... muted.  Temporarily.  

His words garbled by the sensation of the firebreather taking clutch to his throat, Jack’s own hands instinctively moved to try and grab her arm-- a poor choice, as it only reignited the sting on his palms.  Her grip was so rough that the tips of her ruby-polished nails left crescent brandings around his neck.  Speaking was nearly impossible when you had a fire witch strangling you, which had perhaps been her intention.

“But let me make one thing clear to you first.”

Her amber gaze left holes in the man’s skull.  Jack did his best to avoid eye contact, but the panic in his expression was undeniable.  

“You’re not a hard man to track down, Jack.” 

That was all she said.  Nothing more, nothing less. One cryptic line that would stick with him in the coming weeks, though the burns on his neck would fade in a matter of days.

It didn’t take the woman long to release him, giving him the freedom of speech again-- but it took Jack a moment to compose himself through the fit of dry hacking.  He managed to rasp out a passionless, 

“Okay,” 

to her statement, though nothing more came for a minute still. Fire mages were never any fun, and though it was in his nature to poke fun of her for her amusingly heated temperament, he toned it down.  For once in his life.  

“I’m... leaving now.  If you want to dance again later, you know where I’ll be.  Thanks.  I suppose.”  

It was an anticlimactic ending to an incredibly intense night, enunciated with wounded pride that he did his best to uplift long enough to carry out the door with him.  He was no gentleman, but Jack would still do the bare minimum to at least present some sort of dignity, whatever that meant in his mind. It was a fine note to end on, he pondered, as he knew somewhere in the back of his thoughts that this was far, far from over.  

The stench of paranoia lingered in the air beneath the saccharine smell of late summer.  It hung itself heavily on the evening breeze that kissed the showman’s wet skin when he stepped out of the big top.

#ooc #drabbles #writi #long post #thIS TOOK A LOT LONGER THAN I WANTED IT TO #I'm just gonna end it there and post it #even if I haven't really proof read it officially #because imM TIRED OF LOOKING AT IT #jfc #seraphina #jack #tw: abuse #tw: swears #tw: violence #tw: asylum? #tw: drug implied #tw: dark themes in general #idk what else to tag this

[hhunjins]

Pairing: Seungmin x gender neutral reader (past Minho x reader/Felix x reader)

Genre: college!au, mostly fluff with slight angst (or the other way around, aslkjafd I’m bad at this)

Word Count: ~3,500

Warnings: None

Note: Using the American school system because it’s the only one I understand oops

Summary: With all of the everchanging things surrounding your life, you need at least one thing to be stagnant.

Seungmin comes like a rainbow at the end of a storm and, maybe, he can become that one thing.

Honestly, you don’t even know why you’re mad.

Maybe it’s the unfairness of it all and how wronged you feel. Or maybe it’s an accumulation of a lot of things and he tipped you over the edge. Whatever it was, you are upset, and you aren’t going to back down this time.

In some ways, Minho is right. It’s been nearly two years. There should be more than there is now. Your friends always tease you about how you two look like you’ve been only dating for a few months. Hand holding, hugs, the occasional peck on the cheek. Never more. So he’s right to want more.

But is that all there is in a relationship? Physical contact? PDA? For you, it wasn’t, and Minho knows that too.

There have been so many arguments about this very topic, but even if he says, “fine,” you know that he doesn’t really mean it. Every time he looks at you with guilt written all over his features and apologizes for pushing too far, it feels real until it isn’t.

You’re sick of the apologies. You’re sick of trying to accommodate when you really aren’t ready.

Minho texts you again, your phone screen lighting up with his name. No matter how much you stare at it, you can’t find it within you to reply.

It feels weird to walk into the campus coffee shop without Minho by your side. He always went with you for your daily coffee fix. But now he isn’t, and you can’t help but think that there’s yet one more thing gone wrong. You order your vanilla latte and scroll through Instagram on your phone while you wait.

Minho’s deleted all the pictures of you on his account. You’re surprised he hasn’t unfollowed and blocked you, but maybe this is better than nothing. He was a good friend before he was your boyfriend, and this might mean there’s a chance you could mend any loose ends.

Your name is called and you quickly exit the app before you start to overthink. You have a lecture to go to and any lingering thoughts about your ex-boyfriend isn’t going to fare well.

The coffee tastes bitterer than usual, even with the ample amount of sugar inside.

There is a boy who sits next to you in your psychology lecture. He’s your seatmate, has been since the beginning of the semester. He’s a sweet thing, always smiles and makes small talk before your professor walks into the hall and drones on for the next hour and a half. You’ve even exchanged numbers so you can help each other on assignments. It’s nice to have someone to send you notes when you’re too drained to make it to class, and you’re glad that he’s dependable. Seungmin saves you a seat whenever he comes earlier than you. He’s waiting for you today, earbuds plugged in and playing some game on his phone. He looks up when you arrive and takes his backpack off the seat so you can sit.

“Morning,” he greets.

You give him a smile. “Hi, Seungmin.”

“Are you okay? You look down.”

Your face scrunches up as you balance the cup of coffee in one hand and try to unzip your backpack with the other. He ends up taking the cup from your hands so you don’t spill. “Kind of TMI, but I just broke up with my boyfriend yesterday. It’s not really a good time.”

“Oh…Sorry for asking.” Seungmin looks so upset that you rush to reassure him.

“It’s really fine. It was coming anyway.”

He doesn’t look comforted at all.

“Let’s talk about something else.” You take your coffee back and hold it in both hands. “Did you start your paper?”

Seungmin groans, arms stretching out above him. “I have one sentence for my introduction and it’s not even that good.”

You let out a small laugh. “Want to work on it together?”

He checks through his schedule and then says, “After class on Thursday?”

You nod. “Sounds good. Campus coffee shop?”

He grins. “Okay.”

“Mom, I’m not coming back.”

“Why not? We all miss you here. You haven’t even talked to your brother or step-father in months.”

“I’m not coming back, and that’s that. I like it here, and so I’m staying,” you argue. You can hear her huff indignantly over the phone and mutter something about you being an ungrateful brat. “I have things to do, so I’m hanging up now.”

“Y/n, at least come back for Christmas.”

“I’ll think about it, but no promises.”

“That’s what you said last–”

“Bye,” you cut her off and end the call. She immediately tries to call you back, but you reject the call and turn your ringer off. From across the table, you see Seungmin glance over the top of his laptop, but he pretends like he didn’t hear anything. You’re sure he could though, even with his earbuds. You have a habit of getting heated when you talk to your family.

“Everything okay?” he asks, eyes not straying from his screen.

“My mom wants me back home for the holidays, but I’m really not feeling it.”

Seungmin nods in understanding. “Ah. They’re overbearing?”

You shrug. “I don’t have a good relationship with my mom, and ever since she got remarried, it’s been rough.” You pause. “Sorry, that was a lot. I didn’t mean to dump it on you.”

“It’s fine.” Seungmin gives you a reassuring smile, eyes curving into half moons, and you feel your stomach do a flip. He turns his computer around. “Hey, can you read this and tell me what you think?”

You skim through his introduction. “You could probably do without this sentence, but otherwise, it’s good. Your thesis is perfect.”

“Wow, the perks of having an English major as a seatmate.” He’s looking at you in awe, and you can’t help but laugh a little. “You’re amazing.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to be doing with it, but thanks.” You push his laptop back to him, eyes lingering a bit too long on the way his hair falls over his eyes.

It’s 2:13 a.m. and you’re working on your psychology paper out of pure boredom, when your phone lights up with a text. You glance over to see who it is and are surprised to see that it’s Seungmin.

“I hope you’re awake, or at least that your phone is on silent if you’re not since I didn’t mean to wake you up. But could you read my psych paper and give me feedback? Also is there another day we can meet up? I’ll pay for coffee since you’re the one doing me the favor even this is supposed to be a mutual thing.” He sends a sad face with the text.

You bite your lower lip to stifle the smile that’s starting to bloom on your lips. When you open the message, he immediately sends, “Please tell me you were awake.”

“I was awake,” you send back. “And yes, send it to my email. Does Tuesday after class sound okay? Also, it’s nothing!!”

Seungmin takes a while to respond, but he sends you a smiley face and a simple, “yes.”

You aren’t sure when it started. Maybe it was after your parents had their divorce and your father walked out of your life without even sparing a glance at the six-year-old child clinging onto his pant leg. Maybe it was seeing your mother fall completely in love with another man like she was never married in the first place. Maybe it was watching them get married because she had a little one on the way. Maybe it was the way your half-brother got all the love from both parents that you never did.

At one point, you found yourself disgusted by the displays of affection in movies and television. It was worse at school, because everyone had a crush, and everyone was dating someone, and you were just…there.

You had tried it out once in middle school. Felix was nice and funny, and it was okay until the annual school dance rolled around. His hand on your waist felt out of place, but it was bearable. It was when everyone starting chanting for you two to kiss and he leaned in that you felt yourself freezing up. You had broken up with him a few weeks later, because you felt too uncomfortable with him afterwards. It wasn’t his fault, and you made sure he knew. You’re still friends with him, but you only ever interact on social media. Sometimes, he comes to you for relationship advice, though you’re not sure why. It’s probably because you were his first girlfriend and that holds some sort of sentiment.

Minho came around during college, after you moved across the country because home never felt like home. You were more mature, more understanding of what you wanted and what you didn’t. He was the older boyfriend every girl dreamed of: sweet, patient, caring, and not to mention very easy on the eyes. Minho was the first person you befriended, and he eventually turned into something more. He was perfect, but it was his experience and your lack of that made you fall apart. He was ready for more while you just wanted something steady to hold onto.

Maybe it’s just you.

Tuesday comes fast. You don’t have a coffee in your hands since you’re going after class with Seungmin anyway, but that means you’re grumpier than usual.

Seungmin’s smile makes you feel a little better, but you’ve been thinking so much over the weekend that you’re tired of looking at the male population.

“Are you okay? The week barely started, y/n,” he laughs.

“It’s been a rough weekend,” you mumble. “And I didn’t get coffee.”

“Are you sure you can sit through ninety minutes of lecture without caffeine?” He’s teasing you, you can tell by the lilting tone in his voice. Suddenly, he gets serious. “But if you’re not feeling it, we don’t have to meet up today.”

You shake your head. “I think I just need coffee. Please wake me up if I fall asleep though.”

Seungmin doesn’t. You only realize you fell asleep after lecture when he taps your shoulder and offers, once again, to cancel working together. “You didn’t wake me up!”

“I already sent you the notes. Besides, you look like you needed the sleep.”

Huffing, you pack up your unopened notebook. “We should work on the essay though. If you could read mine over, that would be great.”

“Of course.”

All of the thinking over the weekend has made you realize that you’re thankful for the space Seungmin puts between the two of you when you walk. When you walked on this same path with Minho, he always had his arm slung around your shoulder or his fingers were intertwined with yours. Seungmin holds the door open for you and gives you a cheeky grin that makes you suddenly jolt with the realization that this is Seungmin, not Minho. Minho isn’t with you anymore. However, when you enter, the smell of freshly ground coffee beans fills you up and the thoughts disappear.

“Grab a table, I’ll order for you. Medium vanilla latte?”

“Yeah.” You fish through your pocket for money and pull out a five-dollar bill that he refuses to take. “I’m not letting you pay!”

“This is an apology for not waking you up during lecture.” Seungmin sticks his tongue out at you and dashes off before you can say another word.

Your stomach does a weird turn.

“How is it that our papers are literally about the same thing but yours sounds so much better than mine?” Seungmin groans.

You hide a smile behind your drink and shrug. “Writing comes naturally. It doesn’t really matter the subject, I just like it.”

“I’m jealous.” Seungmin runs his hands through his hair but doesn’t let go of the strands when he reaches the ends. “I can do everything but write.”

“I’m really bad at math, if that makes you feel any better.” Your eyes drift across the coffee shop, surveying the décor and layout of the place. You’ve been here so many times, but never took the time to really appreciate the ambiance. Seungmin is refocused on his paper, so you begin to day dream. You look outside, looking into the main quad area and the clumps of people sitting in the grass. Your eyes travel a bit further and stop on a group of familiar guys as they walk past the window.

It’s too late to break eye contact. You’ve stared for too long. Your fingers tighten around the cup of coffee and you let out a soft gasp that has Seungmin glancing up.

“Y/n?”

Minho looks at you, then at Seungmin, and then back to you. His expression doesn’t give away what he’s thinking, but you’re sure there’s hurt written somewhere in his eyes. Then, he clenches his jaw and looks away, lips curling up into a smile directed at his friends.

Seungmin follows your gaze and finds who you are staring at. Connecting the dots, he lightly kicks your leg under the table to grab your attention. You’re still staring, even though Minho is long gone. “Hey. Do you want to talk to me about it?”

You sigh and shake your head. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s something. But if you’re not comfortable, you don’t have to. But know that I’m here if you need me to be.” Seungmin nods earnestly and smiles.

The sparkles in his eyes are beautiful.

Love was never an easy thing. You didn’t hate it, but it wasn’t something that you welcomed so easily. It was easy to walk out and that uncertainty made you uneasy. But when in love, it was harder to keep the balance. What did you want that your partner didn’t? Where was the line drawn? How much did you have to give up to keep the peace, to continue being happy?

You weren’t sure. You didn’t have good enough experiences with it to ever figure it out.

But with the way Seungmin never probes too far and gives you the space you need, you may or may not be falling in love with him.

“I can’t believe I got 90% on this. A whole month of work has paid off.” Seungmin kisses his paper and holds it up to the sky. “I owe you my grade.”

You laugh at his silliness. “There’s still the final, Seungmin.”

“But this solidified my grade.” He has a big grin on his face that makes you smile too. “I’ll buy you coffee?”

“I already had one before class. It’s okay.”

Seungmin hesitates for a moment. “Then what about lunch?”

Of course you run into Minho. It’s even more awkward this time because you’re both in the middle of a conversation when you make eye contact and somehow you both seem to stop talking at the same time. You’re trying to overlook the fact that the girl he’s with is playing with his fingers on the tabletop. The chances of you running into him like this are one in a million, but you’ve been awfully lucky with awkward encounters recently.

The smile on Minho’s face slips off faster than you can blink. He looks over at Seungmin again, gaze lingering longer than before, and then back to you with an unreadable expression. The girl turns to look to see what caught his attention and she gives you a questioning look.

You feel a nudge on your shoulder. “Let’s go somewhere else, this place is really crowded today.” Seungmin forces a laugh. There are plenty of empty tables right in your field of vision, but you’re thankful he’s trying. “Come on.”

Once you’re outside, you let out a breath you didn’t think you were holding, and you pause to close your eyes for a moment. “I’m not sure I’m in the mood to eat anymore, Seungmin.”

Seungmin contemplates for a moment, looking back at the restaurant and then at you. “Let’s talk about it instead. You have a lot pent up, don’t you? You can tell me.”

Seungmin’s eyes are warm like the coffee you love so much, and his smile is like the sun that lights up your day.

You hate yourself for thinking how Seungmin fills in all the empty spots that Minho left.

“People show love differently. For you, it’s with emotions rather than with physical touch, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” Seungmin chews on his fry thoughtfully. “My mom showed me she loved me by cutting up fruits for me when I was studying. My dad showed me love by telling me he was proud of me. People seem to think that kissing and sex is the only way you show someone you love them, but it really isn’t.”

You spin your straw in your soda. “I guess it’s the pressure of society telling me that it is.”

Seungmin dips his fry into his little ketchup cup. “Well, you don’t always have to listen to it.” When he sees that you’re still unsure about yourself, he scoots closer to the table. “Hey. There’s nothing wrong with you being hesitant to do all those things. You have your boundaries and your partner should respect that. They should understand. If they don’t, they aren’t worth it.”

“I don’t know, Seungmin. I just feel like I owe it to him for being with me so long. We spent two years together. That’s a long time.”

“Y/n.” Seungmin’s voice sounds so firm you look up in surprise. “You don’t owe anyone anything.”

Your heart skips a beat.

Finals creeps up on you and hits you in the face. You’re normally on top of it all, but with all the emotional turmoil you’ve been experiencing and another awkward encounter with Minho and his new girlfriend that you had to get over, you’re not ready. Seungmin, the ever-reliable seat mate, sends you his annotated study guide and the link to his online flash cards.

“Good luck. Hopefully I’ll see you in another class,” Seungmin whispers as the test is passed out.

You give him a small smile. “Good luck.”

With all the help he gave you, the test is relatively easy, but you spend extra time going over your answers to make sure. Seungmin finishes before you and gives you a wink when he walks past you and out of the hall. You hand in the final a few minutes after he does and leave, feeling lighter. What you’re not expecting is him waiting at the door.

“Woah, I thought you left,” you say.

“I was going to, but I came back.”

“Did you forget something?”

Seungmin hesitates, face contorting into a weird expression for a moment and then into a thin smile. “Would you like to go on a date with me, y/n?”

Your housemates have left to go home during the semester break. You’re determined not to fly thousands of miles and be stuck in a house where you feel like you don’t belong.

Last year, Minho stayed over and was glued to your side every moment of the day. He slept on the couch because you didn’t want him sleeping on your bed and he complained about it the entire time. You went through the entire break with guilt pooling in your stomach and annoyance pulsing through your veins. The argument that followed that almost separated you two.

This year, Seungmin shows up around noon after you’ve woken up and leaves after dinner. There’s a pillow between your legs whenever you curl up on the couch together to watch a movie. He texts you and asks if you want to call and sends you pictures of cats instead of hearts, though you know they mean the same thing.

Seungmin holds you steady, keeps you grounded and secure in the world that’s constantly changing. He’s up until the ungodly hours of the night, and ready to reply to whatever random thought you have on your mind. You’re not so sure what makes him different from the other two, but when he raises his hand for a high-five after something good happens instead of his arms for a hug, you feel your insides twist in a good way.

It’s the subtle things that made you fall for him. Like the way he smiles and offers to listen without forcing you into anything. And the way he never invades your personal bubble until you nod when he cocks his head to the side as his way of asking. And the way he makes you feel comfortable in your own skin, like you’re not being pressured into holding his hand, or hugging him, or kissing him.

Seungmin has made you feel like you belong, like you’re not some weird freak that doesn’t like being touched by their significant other. He has made you feel accepted and has made you accept yourself – that’s the biggest thing.

Maybe that’s why you’ve been going steady for the past year.

#seungmin #kim seungmin #stray kids seungmin #stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagine #seungmin scenario #seungmin imagine #fluff #some angst

[ravenwritesstuff]

Best Laid Plans (4/?)

Fandom: Frozen (modern AU, no magic) Pairings: Helsa, established Kristanna, lotsa frohana Rating: T for now, M later almost for sure A/N: Oh hey I realized I had like 20k words of this story written just nothing in sequence so I was like yeah okay I should maybe actually work on this?

[ part one ] [ part two ] [ part three ]

Also on FF.net

He leaves her alone after that and somehow that is worse. Somehow the fact that he never catches her glances or the way she can hear him laugh when she passes by but never so much as acknowledges her sets her off balance even more.

She has to convince herself that this is not some ploy, some sort of reverse psychology to get her to chase him instead.

He probably just realized that she is not worth the trouble, that there are plenty of other eligible young women who can actually give him what he wants, or might want, or - whatever

She has a headache.

For most humans the only thing that means is that they should drink some more water, take a pain reliever, and wait for the pain subside. She, however, is not most humans. Tonight though she will chalk it up to the late hour (it is three in the morning, after all) and the fact that on top of all of her other duties she has been battling with keeping her focus anywhere but where he lingers in her periphery. Her headache could just be from working twenty hours straight with four more to go.

It could.

It is what she chooses to believe. She does not have the space or strength to acknowledge her other option.

She focused beyond all that, needing every fiber of will power to stay on task for this final push.

Tiana and her crew are long gone as are the band that has been replaced by a mellow DJ. The bride and groom exited at midnight beneath a Technicolor display of fireworks  The bar had been replaced with a boozy smoothie and doughnuts truck for those party goers who were still going strong but even that has packed up and left. The last of the guests mill about the tent, sit scattered between tables, as Elsa and crew finish tying up the final details.

Rentals have been organized for pickup.

The crew hired to dismantle the tent and get it offsite would arrive at six AM to make way for the next day's event.

Gifts and cards had already been catalogued, packed up, and shuttled to the specified location courtesy of Rapunzel and Eugene along with sentimental items including Ariel's dress.

Final checks had been provided to all vendors for their services.

The videographer and photographers left when the bride and groom had.

The leftover cake had been boxed and sent home with guests along with bottles of Dom Pérignon.

The florals are being donated to a local hospital and all but the centerpieces have been dismantled accordingly.

The list continues and Elsa's mind mechanically checks and rechecks the boxes. She has done this so many times it is like clockwork. She hardly has to think anymore when it comes to the operations side of things. At least she normally does not, but tonight she runs through the list again and again until she is dizzy from it. She allowed her focus to slip and now she pays the price.

He is among the chosen few that still huddle in groups, laughing and chatting. He has lost his tie and suit jacket, his hair is not quite as perfectly placed as it had been as he relaxes back in his chair across the way. He seems happy, fully engaged in whatever the giggly brunette next to him was saying, and she isn't jealous. She is glad, relieved in many ways, but there is a strange twinge of sadness that twists in unbidden in her chest. It is a funny kind of mourning for something that died before it has a chance to live and it is a feeling she knows all too well and she hates it.

She will not pity herself.

She will not give into grief for all the things she will never have.

She looks away and goes over her list again.

….

The last of the guests finally throw in the towel half an hour before the tent crew shows up. They have rooms here in the winery where they stumble to, laughing and smiling, and that is all Elsa needs. These days are long, grueling, and relentless but to see smiles on the faces of the guests is enough to let the stresses fall away to nothing.

That feeling is just enough of a boost to finish the last few tasks before she goes home and falls into bed for the next few hours.

The men start the process of unstringing lights as the women dismantle the centerpieces. They blow out the few candles left burning and start separating out the flowers into respective types for the donation. It is a large tent and there are so many tables that they spread out into sections, all exhausted and ready to be done, but working dutifully. She moves robotically just trying to get this all done as quickly as possible and does not hear him approach.

“Let me help you.”

His voice catches her off guard and she squeaks. A thorn in the bunch of roses she is bundling stabs the soft skin of her palm and she drops the flowers to the table.

She had thought he had gone up with the others and maybe he had. Her head whips to the side to see him standing there, rumpled but eyes still bright, as she rubs the stinging place on her hand.

“I don’t need help.”

It is quick, a knee jerk response, and he tilts his head to look at where she is tending her sore spot.

“Looks like you might.”

She forces her hands down and chin up. “Is there something you need, Mister Westergaard? Problems with your room?”

He looks at her like he hasn’t quite figured her out but cannot wait to.

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you were offering to come up with me,” They both get the implication. “But I have the feeling that any kind of proposal of the sort would mortify you.”

He is right. Her ears heat even at the thought, at the idea that anything she said could have been construed in a way that could give him an inch. He lets it go, however, and nods towards the hand she has clenched at her side.

“That okay? I could find a bandaid or something.”

He is so sincere and she almost buys it.

“It’s nothing,” and it is. She is used to being poked and prodded. This is nothing new. “If there is nothing I can do to assist you -”

“I want to help you.”

He cuts her off and she looks for the lie. She looks for the bravado, for the arrogance she knew came with this class. She looks for the price, but she doesn’t find it. All she sees is the same earnest expression he gave when he helped her straighten the chair covers all those many hours before.

“I really don’t -”

“Please.”

And she wants to refuse. She wants to turn her back and return to her work and forget she had ever seen him before but she knows that is impossible. She knows that he will not relent until she gives in and what scares her more than anything is that she wants to. She wants to let him help. She wants to let him in, and that cannot happen.

She must keep her distance, but she knows he won’t let her go far.

There is only a few hours longer, and then he will be gone for good and she won't have to worry about this again.

She can do this.

“Sort the flowers by type. If they are too wilted we trash them. Greenery gets sorted, too. Leave the piles on the table and we’ll get them where they need to go.” She keeps it simple, direct. “You can finish this table and I’ll move to another. Feel free to stop at any time.”

She doesn't mean that last sentence as much as she wants to, her heart beating into her ears till she can hardly hear.

“Sounds good, boss.” He smiles and she hates how bright and wide it cuts across his face. He smiles like he doesn’t have a care in the world, and she wonders what that is like.

She doesn’t trust her voice, trust the words that might trip out of her mouth, so she gives a terse nod and turns on an aching heel. With trembling hands she begins to dismantle another centerpiece. She isn't sure if she can feel him staring or if that is just her exhausted paranoia. She can hardly get her mind to focus on the task at hand and she takes a deep breath.

Just a few more hours, maybe less, and he will be gone.

She doesn't know why that makes her feel so sad, but she chalks it up to exhaustion. It is easy to confuse feelings or feel things that you normally wouldn't when you are overwrought. She has seen this many times, felt it too, in all aspects of life.

You don't spend collective years of your life waiting on tests and scans and results, uncertainty ringing like an alarm in your head at all times, without knowing a thing or two about emotions creeping in where logic would better serve. She will sleep soon and the world will make more sense then. She will shower and wash every trace of his touch against her neck, his breath on her cheek, his scalding palm on her waist down the drain and forget she ever felt a thing.

She has done it before, and she will do it again.

She does not have time to feel sad for an impossibility. That road has never helped her before and she refuses to take it now, but she cannot ignore how close he is. She cannot pretend she does not notice him working in the periphery, and maintain her focus.

She grabs and armful of peonies and marches behind the bar. There are dozens of buckets set up waiting for the florals and she starts the unloading process. The rest of the crew have been creating piles on the bar according to type as instructed and this is the perfect place for her: secluded and protected behind the solid wood and marble of the outdoor bar.

She is busy assigning buckets to their floral counterparts when he approaches with an arm full of greens.

He drops them on the bar top across from her and shifts his weight. She nods in acknowledgement, hoping to keep him at a safe distance. He does not approach but he does not retreat either.

Not yet.

Not until: “I'm sorry if I came on too strong.”

Her hands falter just for a moment. Of all the things she had expected - an apology is not one of them.

She shakes her head, not looking at him as she reaches for another pile. “Let's just forget it and move on.”

He pauses before stepping away, not pressing the issue, and again that is unexpected. She does not try to deduce anything from it. Her mind too exhausted from running in circles to go any further down this spiral. Whatever game he may or may not be playing - she is done trying to determine the rules.

He is back before she has too much time to decide she isn't going to spend any more time thinking about him. This time he brings arms full of white roses and she remembers swans.That feels like a lifetime ago already.

“What if I don't want to forget it?”

Her mind blanks at his question, already moved on from her flippant statement and stuck firmly sixteen hours before.

“Excuse me?”

“You said we should just forget it, but what if I don't want to?” He shakes his head, looking the closest thing to flustered she has seen on him yet. Her heart skips when he brings her eyes back to hers. “I mean, I don't want to forget you or any part of this the time I spent with you. So what should I do about that?”

There is something deep, secret, and hidden in the way he asks - the way he looks at her. It strikes a familiar chord within her that she cannot place, does not want to try. She is too exhausted.

“I thought you were sorry for coming on too strong.” She can only recycle his words, cannot dare come up with ones of her own, cannot begin to tell the truth and bare the look of pity or disgust that comes with it.

He huffs a smile.

“You're right. I am sorry. It is something I apologize for a lot - and not just where beautiful women are concerned.”

She hums under her breath, a non-committal half answer in hopes to hide the fact that his flattery irks her. She is aware of her appearance. She knows that in many ways she is objectively beautiful which is why she takes measures to downplay it. She does not want to be noticed or appreciated and his attention only serves to show she has failed. She hates failure.

He leans into the bar, elbows resting dangerously close to the gardenias she is grabbing when he says:

“I may come on too strong, competitive nature - I guess, but I have to say you are possibly the most cagey and confusing and honestly the most frustrating human I have ever met.”

And she can't ignore him then. Blue eyes flash to green to find them watching her with that locksmith precision that leaves her breathless.

“And despite all that I swear I have never wanted to get to know someone more than you.”

His voice deepens to a whispered rush of air as if he is just as affected by her gaze as she is his.

She sucks in as much air as she can, chest rattling with effort, and she lies: “There is nothing to know. I’m just like any other girl.”

He laughs out loud at that, a deep chuckle that brightens his eyes and softens his face an errant thought wonders what it would be like to rest in that expression, in his presence, instead of fighting.

“Not any girl I’ve met.” He meets her blow for blow.

She fights back, is always fighting, is never allowed to stop fighting. “My work is my focus.” The flowers she grabs are her punctuation. “Girls like me don't have time for distractions which is probably why you don’t meet us.”

He studies her a moment, head cocked to the side just so.

She pulls her focus, uncertain if she had just been too hard. He may have apologized but she won’t. She drops a bunch of baby's breath into a bucket and reaches for more, trying to do anything but look at him. She already knows what she will see if she does: that seeking, searching human gaze that let's her in as much as it asks to be let in.

She sees him shift back off the bar and stand up straight.

“Okay,” he says.

It catches her off guard. Everything about him catches her off guard.

“Okay?” She cannot stop the question in her voice, not sure what exactly she is agreeing to.

“Okay,” he says. “I won’t distract you.”

She waits a breath for the catch, for the other shoe to drop, but it doesn’t come.

“Okay,” she replies before she can stop herself.

He looks back over his shoulder and shoves hands into his tux pants pockets. “My table is done. Anything else you want me to do, boss?”

The way he says 'boss’ really makes her feel like he means it, like he takes this seriously - her seriously, and she appreciates that. She wishes she didn't appreciate that.

She straightens and meets his eyes. His hair is a mess, shirt and pants wrinkled. His vest, jacket, and bow tie are long gone. There is something young, hopeful in the way he looks at her. He looks like someone who has time to live his life and while she envies him she also respects that her journey is hers alone. In a day’s time he will have forgotten her and go on without a second thought. She will go back to her work as long as she is able. It will all be as it should be.

So she gives him a soft smile of understanding, nods her head, and says, “That will be all, Mister Westergaard.”

He gives her a cocked smile in return, kicking his shoe against the dance floor Kristoff and Sven are dismantling for pick up. “It’s Hans.”

He doesn’t give her a chance to respond as he walks away, whistling as he goes.

It is only a few moments later she realizes the tune he chose.

What a Wonderful World sticks in her mind for the rest of the job.

[ previous ] [ next ]

#Helsa #Frozen #Raven writes stuff #Hans #Elsa #Modern AU #fanfiction #hey I write lots of stuff other than Kristanna #but this story has established Kristanna #and Rapunzel and Eugene #which is fun #Anyway #I am just writing what feels good #so here is this #BYE

[m0oranshi]

Diary of a cinephile - Entry 2

Want to get away from life and and watch top notch movies instead?

I’ve been extremely depressed and sick and unable to do much more than watch movies to block out my thoughts in the past two weeks. I haven‘t written a diary of recommendations in ages, but I feel like I’ll feel better if I pour out my love for my favorites, because I haven’t seen or talked about them with anyone. So... I just have to vent about their awesomeness and I want more people to enjoy them because they deserve recognition.

This one will be... Wow.

It’s bound to cure a little bit of sadness or at least get away from it for a while.

Every single one is different but so unique and amazing, from time-bending thriller, to life and loss, to stopmotion, to romance, to hell, to a man in a sheet walking around the whole movie and somehow it’s perfect... I have so many things that will blow your mind and I can’t keep these gems to myself anymore.

This will be in no specific order. They are all awesome.

I’ll post links as usual to the trailers, it’s up to you to watch them. I won’t give any spoilers though. You’re safe.

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

A Ghost Story - Dir David Lowery

Ghost 2: Hello.

Ghost 1: Hi.

Ghost 2: I'm waiting for someone.

Ghost 1: Who?

Ghost 2: I don't remember.

Genre: Romance, Drama, Mystery

Trailer (please don’t watch it if you want to be surprised)

---

I can’t, again, write a synopsis without spoiling anything. So I’m going to write it in a question: How long are you willing to wait, and stay, for the person you love, even if you don’t really know if you’ll ever see them again, even if you don’t really know why, when or even how?

This movie is near impossible to explain. There is very little dialogue but it’s striking as hell. I never knew you could feel so much for an actual sheet without an expression that doesn’t talk. It drags on like crazy at times (there is a scene with a pie and I counted, it’s literally one shot for 3 minutes straight and I admit that was weird in the beginning) but in the grand scheme of it all, the slowness, the sudden fastness, the silence, it all adds to the dreadful flavor this movie brings that I haven’t really felt from a movie before. Boy, is this an experience if you’re open to it. And I don’t think I’ll shake this feeling soon.

If you are into symbollic shit and want a movie where you can really lose track of time in, (I watched it while half awake and it was like a lucid dream) I recommend it. Think of the opposite of The Avengers and if that sounds horrible to you, don’t watch, you’ll hate it and think it’s some artsy-fartsy bullshit. Just being real here.

‘A Ghost Story’ with it’s thriller-like name is ironically one of the most romantic/saddest things I’ve ever seen.

+ Bonus point: the main character is a person in a sheet. C’mon.

++ Bonus point: This fucking epic soundtrack.

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

- Gifted (2017) - Dir Marc Webb

Mary Adler: “He's a good person. He wanted me before I was smart.“

Genre: Drama, Family

Trailer (Safe to watch)

---

A young girl is gifted/cursed by being way ahead of everyone her age in intellect, something that runs in the family, and her uncle tries to give her a normal life, a happy life, a life any kid deserves by making friends and whatnot, while others think she deserves and is created for ‘more’.

This one struck me harder than I thought because it started relatively sweet, but then adults got involved and made everything difficult. Near the end I had to burry my face in a blanket to stop my crying because it got a little too close to home (not that I’m a genius or know at all how horrible it would be like to be ‘gifted’ like that, but some scenes are things anybody can relate to, really.)

Anybody has felt like the ‘odd one out’ at some point, and the unfairness of how you are treated when you are slightly different and how people jump onto that opportunity like vultures just struck such a cord with me. The child actress is absolutely brilliant, the best I’ve seen in a while, I generally wanted to jump through the screen to hug her because for a second I thought she wasn’t acting, that’s how good she is.

+ Bonus point: A one eyed cat becomes a major plot point.

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

- Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri - dir Martin McDonagh

Mildred Hayes: “This didn't put an end to shit, you fucking retard; this is just the fucking start. Why don't you put that on your ‘Good Morning Missouri fucking wake up’ broadcast, bitch?“

Genre: Drama, Black Comedy

Trailer (safe to watch)

---

(If you don’t like cursing look away now. Personally, concidering the circumstances of this poor mother’s rage, I think it’s entirely justified.)

A mother who recently lost her daughter by a horrific murder tries to stirr up her small community and the insanely lazy police force to finally do something, and look for the perpetrator, who is still out there.

I love black humor, but this one was very, very... black. I don’t know how you can be so funny and yet deal with such horrific things at the same time, but they pulled it off so, so well.

In a matter of minutes you feel like you are part of this little town and you get just as frustrated as any and every character on the screen, they are all written so well, it’s as if you’ve known them for years. It was so easy to get into the whole story.

Just after five minutes it’s impossible to stop watching. The lead character ( Frances McDormand ) is just simply amazing, I think she was nominated last year too and I can see why. I’m not a mother, but I could feel her heartbreak every second.

+ Bonus Point: No unecessary stupid romantic bullshit, congrats Hollywood, slowly you’re learning and realise that when you see a man and a woman they can be friends.

++ Bonus Point: same director of ‘In Bruges’ and ‘Seven Psychopaths’ so I feel like a fish stuck on a bait already because I adore those movies, but heh... I am happy to be captured once again. I LOVE him.

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

- Triangle (2009) - Dir Christopher Smith 

????: - IF. THEY. BOARD. KILL. THEM. -

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Trailer (I really recommend you don’t watch this one)

---

I can’t really explain short what this... this... thing is without spoiling anything. Some attractive people straight out of glamour magazines get shipwrecked on their out of a magazine yacht and they get onto another ship. If I say more I ruin all the fun.

I think this might actually be my favorite out of the ones I saw because I remember sitting for an hour straight with a hand covering my mouth with how insane it was. I didn’t know what to believe for a long, long time.

The beginning is such a false representation of what’s to come, and I remember trying to begin watching it years back but I fell for their trick and quit. Now I’ve seen all of it it’s actually up there with some of my favorite psychological thrillers, and I’ve seen ALOT.

But, like I said before, you honestly can’t talk about anything without spoiling it, so don’t even look up the ratings or trailer or synopsis. Just trust me, I went into this knowing nothing and I was never more grateful. (Though know you’ll need a strong stomach at times because there is unexpected blood and gore.)

+ Bonus point: UGH it kills me not being able to tell how brilliant the end is. But yes. The end. And all the crazy foreshadowing.

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

INTERLUDE

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

The Void - Steven Kostanski and Jeremy Gillespie

Genre: Horror, mystery, something someth-

trailer

---

HAHA I’m just kidding, this was excruciating. Please don’t see it. I’m sorry but they should be punished for this so I had to include. If you want to have a good laugh though, be my guest. So much potentional, so much promise of a different layer of fear, and it goes absolutely nowhere and it’s so sad. It’s not like I’m stupid and just ‘don’t get it’, there is nothing to get. I don’t think the writers even knew what they were getting at.

I sound so mean, but I am mean because I was robbed of my time.

Yes, yes... they did a good portrayal of Hell. But ironically Hell was sitting through this movie. After seeing ‘Triangle’, a movie that ACTUALLY portays Hell well in my opinion, this is just... amazingly bad. Good special effects can’t save this movie for the life of it.

(I wanted an interlude because making this is pretty draining.)

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

END INTERLUDE

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

- A Simple Plan (1998) - Sam Raimi 

“Sometimes good people do evil things. Four million dollars and plenty of change. They've worked hard all their lives, but they still can't afford the American Dream. Stealing it is even better.”

“Do you ever feel evil?”

Genre: Crime, Suspense

Trailer (safe to watch)

---

Three dudes find a bag of 4 million dollars. Sounds like a slam dunk to me, but it isn’t easy at all because a ton of problems come with it. Who did it actually belong to, is it morally right to keep it, what if the police is after it, does it mean you’re stealing...? What if money corrupts and friendships aren’t like they seem to be and how far will you go to keep it?

This one is straight out of the Coen’s brothers directory, but I’ve looked and I don’t think they have any affiliation with it. Anyway, it’s sooooo reminiscent of Fargo with the set and tone and everything, I honestly thought they had something to do with it. If you’re familliar with Fargo, you’ll absolutely adore this one.

It’s such a dreadful but such a true tale about how people can act ‘differently’ once given an opportunity. You might end up thinking ‘I would never do that’, but... wouldn’t you? You’ve never been in the place of these characters and it’s impossible to imagne, and seeing the true nature of how abhorent you truly can be, can be confrontational.

Everything you try to do leads to more complications, and it’s hard to imagne where you’d say ‘no, enough is enough’.

It’s not an easy watch because it’s way too true but I adore it.

+ Bonus point: Billy Bob Thornton. If you’re not familliar, get on it. He’s amazing, always.

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

Isle of Dogs - Wes Anderson

Oracle: It may snow tonight.

Boss: Really? Thank you very much, wow.

Oracle: To whom it may concern.

Boss: She sees the future!

King: Ha! No. She understands TV.

Trailer (safe to watch)

---

In a dystopian near-future Japan, dogs have become a menace because of some dog-flu virus, so they all get deported to a seperate island. But there are conspiracies flowing around, vaccinations being made, and the dogs do whatever they can to stay alive on this god forsaken island of trash.

I never liked dogs, sue me. But for some reason I KNEW this was going to be an experience so I bought a ticket, and holy crap was it worth it. Every single frame is a piece of art. Every. Single. One. (I want an artbook for this movie. Or a poster. Just... ANYTHING because it’s sugar to my eyes.)

I was so overwhelmed with how gorgeous it was, it was hard to concentrate sometimes, but I walked out with such a huge smile that lasted for days. The humor is on-point and yet so dry, just enough to pull you out of that overwhelmed trance. You end up caring for each and every one of the dogs because they are all perfectly rounded characters, better written characters than you see in humans sometimes. It’s mindblowing. The voice acting is perfectly cast and... Just. This movie is a dessert, something we don’t deserve but we got it anyway.

+ Bonus Point: Edward Norton voice acting. I am in love with his voice.

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

WELL. I’ll make another one sooner than I thought because I have so many more to share, but honestly making these posts is a task (a lovely one though) but I have life duties. I didn’t even get to share my favorite ones yet, so stay tuned (nobody will read this but whatever)

#Movies #film #isle of dogs #a ghost story #a simple plan #triangle #three billboards outside ebbing missouri #gifted #the void #me ranting #movie reviews #cinephile #life

[worldaccordingtobenjamin]

Shear Gratification

We all have these things in life that comfort us. Things that we hold on to for the way they make us feel. We comfort ourselves with food, shopping, other people...all sorts of things. For me over the years it’s been my hair. That might sound weird, but hey sometimes I’m weird. Something about it. Maybe the way I’ve worn it as a shield, the safety of hiding behind long locks. Maybe because those long locks were something I always wished for as a little girl after my parents gave me a mullet at six years old? Maybe I was even holding on to those last few inches I could still feel my husband run his fingers through for his own comfort. Who knows? There’s probably an encyclopedia of psychology behind it. All I do know is that there has been something pulling at me for a change. A little bit of the universe tempting me out of my comfort zone by way of Pinterest posts and the InStyle network. So today after a full year of debate I finally found myself in Bristol Borough at The Beauty Shop. As soon as I walked through the doors of this perfectly decorated salon I felt an overwhelming sense of peace. For any of you that know me you know that I’m a big fan of good vibes. This shop is loaded with them. As I sat there tapping my foot to the beat of one of my favorite Babe Rockers, PInk, I couldn’t help but notice how freely the creativity was flowing. It was everywhere! From the beautiful handmade jewelry adorning the check in desk to the smiling clients finishing up their own meticulously performed transformations. And it only got better. Enter the Boss Lady. She came in with a strong light around her. She had grown this place from her core and when you put the work in to be able to do what you love that light just shines through. Kickass ladies, gotta love them. As she welcomed me to her chair. I was immediately at ease and could tell without a single doubt that I was in good hands. I showed her one picture, and within seconds a lifetime of weight, aka hair, was snipped away from my body. And all I could do was smile. The Boss Lady, Christine and her incredibly funny counterpart Kitty took turns tending to my tresses all the while kindly listening to my stories of what led me to them. And I’m not the only soul that was drawn to the ladies of this shop. Not one but two sweet pups found their way through the front door greeting each person there with their giant pittie smiles while graciously accepting head rubs. Their impromptu visits only added more charm to this already awesome experience. Puppies and a makeover? Could this Thursday get any better? I had to count up my blessings as the timer counted down the minutes to the new me. Two hours and a Beauty Shop blowout later I could only smile with gratitude and hug these awesome stylists for not only how they made me look but also how they made me feel. While that may seem like a small amount of time to write such a long blog about, it really isn’t at all. Throughout our lives we often dwell on the people and situations that drain us when we should really be focusing on these fleeting moments that replenish us. And that is certainly what happened for me today. I am full. So tonight as I reflect on these few paragraphs of time I just want to express my gratitude for the makeover inside and out that The Beauty Shop sent me home with tonight. Coco Chanel once said, “the woman who cuts her hair is about to change her life” and I could not be more ready. ❤️

#beautyshopbristol #lifewithmrben2019

[humanitysteeped-blog]

Party Down:

One of the cons of being an ambitious twenty-something these days is the non- stop emotional constipation. For weeks at a time you put inordinate amounts of energy towards the things you prioritize-Work, health, being social, and hygiene. The journey to self actualizing is often misguided and forced. You gotta get to where you want to be as soon as possible so you can then rest. Some people call this the rat race, some call it “the man.” (Honestly what’s more withholding and full of unrealistic expectations than a man? Can I get an amen, girls?) The problem with this is the inevitable diarrhea of your emotions. Your head eventually will need to take a dump and almost always… alcohol is involved. Or at least it was for me this particular weekend. I partied and then partied down. If you’re like me, you fill your schedule and then some -you tend to put actual health on the back burner. Things like self reflection, properly confronting emotional conflict and resolving issues that cause you stress. We say going to the gym relieves stress but in all actuality it’ll never be as efficient as emotional regulation and psychological exercise. Especially if you’re a gay guy with years of practice at emotional repression and a thousand other psychological defense mechanisms. Our nervous systems are shot. True to form one particular Saturday after having given up me weekend off to work a morning shift at my store I was driving home slightly overwhelmed and drained. I should have seen the signs as I scrolled through Spotify looking for high powered party themes instead of my usual Stevie Wonder/ Elton John commute playlist. Halfway through a popular Justin Timberlake song I had already formulated my well thought-out Saturday evening plan and also true to form - at 6pm I was in front of my best girlfriends house dressed to the nines ready to have the type of night most girls live for. This was my brain preparing for its bowel movement that consisted of 7 months worth of ignored emotional build up. Dressed to impress and ready laugh we made our way up to The Bulldog on Magazine which had always been one of my favorite spots. My friend and companion for the evening (we’ll call her Mrs Aussie, for personal reasons) used the drive time to fill me in on her personal life. As if my brain had somehow signaled to her what our mood was going to be she wove me a tale that was stuffed with emotional constipation. Her boyfriend and her had fought a few days before over something seemingly simple yet she was questioning the future of their relationship. See, when you just go and go the small things you ignore become serious threats to your happiness. An emotionally repressed mind is a dramatic one by default. This was my perfect distraction because I love people’s stories. It also kept the conversation lively. We talked all night at The Bulldog before heading to Superior Grill for margaritas at 10pm. Our conversation was deep and hilarious because it’s me. We laughed a lot. We complained about how dumb guys are and ultimately made the age-old superficial promise to grow old together. Continued repression and interpersonal dishonesty is fantastic for keeping on a straight face. Because we both knew that our fulfillment would eventually come from one day shacking up with a guy who would be our best buds with whom we would establish mutual respect and trust with. Sometimes we need to lie to ourselves about the things that will really make us happy in order to protect ourselves from being hurt. By 10:30 we were finally filled and boozed and ready to catch a ride to a birthday event for our former co worker. It was during this trip that I felt it. I knew the big shit was coming. Alcohol has a way of loosening you up in more ways than one. Mrs Aussie in all her Downtown girl glory complained about my Uptown Boy taste in music so we switched genres which helped me stave off the unavoidable outpour. It’s funny how something as simple as music can be a comfort zone that, when changed, can help you in your endeavor to push back any type of personal progress. A long car ride and ten dollars at the jukebox later… I was fired up on tequila and corona and thoroughly enjoying the birthday event for one of the most incredible lesbians I know. (As if they aren’t all incredible.) The party was obviously great and there was plenty of laughter which is a requirement for me to want to stay out past 11pm other than a solid make out session. By 1am I was done. I’d played out and laughed all my energy away. I’d released any angst and obstinance that had fueled the last years drive towards my goal of being amazing and seemingly well grounded and also of being the next of my cousins to open their own restaurant and/or bar in the city. My composure was absolutely slipping in the smoke filled atmosphere of a small Northshore billiard bar. I had played Sweet Painted Lady by Elton John and this song usually triggers me. I started thinking about things I hadn’t give a nod to as of yet. I thought about the boyfriend who had cheated on me five years ago and how that changed me. I thought about the fact that I was engaged to a guy I wasn’t very attracted to and then left him eight month earlier and how I never really had cried about it. I thought about my own growth and how even though I let things go when I can’t control them-they still hurt. All the these thing that I used to define myself as strong and well grounded were the things that had made me an emotional train wreck who never really gave anyone two minutes of seeing me as just regular ole Pepperoni. All of this started to creep in my head and I felt that weird clamping at the back of my throat. “Well shit, I think I’m gonna cry.” Mrs Aussie of course went into full fledged best friend mode and started telling me about how handsome and worth it I would be for any guy as if somehow I was going to be crying over any man in public. If I cry in over a boy it’ll prob be in the shower a year after we parted ways. That’s just me. I wanted to explain to her it wasn’t about anyone but me and who I’d become and who I had been and who I wanted to be. It wasn’t altogether negative, it’s was just the natural release of emotional thoughts and calculations that I’d been saving and needed to let out. So I ditched. Fully sober at this point I drove home and put my comfort music back on as I did. I was ready. I knew what was coming and I had my gym towel in the bag on my passenger seat. I was partying down. And so, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, I pulled up to my house, parked and cried like a baby for 30 minutes. It did not feel good. My head was pounding and I knew the next day I’d be hungover as well and emotionally toasted. But here’s the thing, I got my head straight about a lot of things. Not all of it, but a lot. And I didn’t feel as stressed or upset. And that’s important. Letting it out is important. Society tells us a man shouldn’t do this. That’s why alcoholism and violence are so common for guys…no skills involving emotional regulation. Essentially men are children wether it’s crying, barfights, or the silent treatment- guys aren’t very developed in the area of working that emotion muscle out. That’s a problem today because I feel like the only way to develop fulfilling connections with people is by being able to engage in healthy adult communication and being emotional intimate or vulnerable. I realized this was a fault of mine as well so I cried more and vowed that no matter how weird it may make me seem, I would be open and willing to be vulnerable with people….so I didn’t have to ever take another emotional shit like this again. But also because I want to slow down and enjoy my life and maybe one day share it with someone in a very real and quiet way. Isn’t that what we all want? So here I am starting over sort of. Ready to tackle this coming week with ferocity and stillness of mind. Openness of heart. To be honest I’ll probably do this twice more this year. I’m a slow learner.

“The world will break your heart ten ways to Sunday, that’s guaranteed. And I can’t begin to explain that- or the craziness inside myself and everybdy else,but guess what? Sunday is my favorite day again” -Mathew Quick

#gayrationships #gaylove #gaydating #gay #nolapride #proud #pridemonth #pride #love #neworleans #louisianimal #nola #relationship #long reads #magazine #bulldog #mathewquick #silver linings playbook #dating #men #feelgood #crying

[buffylikescoke]

Buffy the Vampire Slayer 11#7

"I'll be in my bunk" ~ Willow Rosenberg

At first I found this issue quite decent, though maybe a bit boring but after giving it some more thought I can say with full conviction that "Disempowered" is this season's weakest moment.

The issue opens with secretary Reyes announcing a permanent solution to the supernatural problem. The government gives the zone denizens an option of being drained of magic or, as the fascist pig puts it, of what makes them a threat. Those that agree to go through the process are free to leave the ghetto. Their legal status is to be normalized and records expunged - expunged of what, exactly? The crime of existing? Fascists. Later on Lake, Willow's devoid of personality ex-girlfriend, even calls it an amnesty. Fucking fascists. Oh, and they might get some reintegration assistance - a carrot before the stick as Willow and Spike point out and hey, Willow and Spike can talk to each other, without Buffy in the panel, how cool is that? So how does the zone's population react? Some are delighted actually, but those that cannot survive without magic obviously are not and soon fights start breaking out between the two groups. During one of such fights stopped by Buffy, a nu-pire accuses a werewolf, very happy to get rid of his wolfhood, of abandoning his own kind. The vampire is afraid that when the majority leaves the zone, those that can't or won't take the government's deal will face ethnic cleansing. About that werewolf. He looks like garbage. If I didn't learn that this is supposed to be a werewolf from the dialogue I'd assume that it's just a dude in a fursuit or a were-rabbit (were-bunny?) or something! Not happy with werewolves holding conversations in their wolfed-out state either but since that already happened in season eight, I can't complain, I suppose.

But what about Scoobies? Their main worry is that the newly announced magic draining process is a smaller scale version of the machine the government is secretly building and that the endgame might be to zap the entire country with de-magicking ray. Spike suggests that Buffy and Willow accept the government’s offer, lose their powers and try to stop whatever is happening from the outside since apparently it's impossible to escape. Excuse me, what the fuck did Willow do in the previous issue? She walked out of the camp, with Buffy. So what keeps her from, again, walking the fuck out, grabbing Buffy and teleporting the fuck away? Not enough power? Isn't Willow, like, overflowing with power from all the wiccans she drained? Is it the wiccans that keep her inside? Later Willow talks to her coven and suggests that the witches still in the zone should take the deal and reveals that she might as well. OK, but what exactly makes them unsafe inside of the zone? I get that it's full of vampires and demons but we haven't seen any actual violence directed at the wiccans, not a single one of them was even attacked! If they're in such danger, then why not show that hypothetical danger instead of just constantly talking about it? The witches repeat the arguments we've heard in the previous issue, when Willow was doing the draining ( spiritual mutilation, violation and so on ) After the coven's meeting is done Calliope comes to talk to Willow about her decision and Willow reveals that she has a plan. Kind of. We don't learn what this plan entails in this issue but I'm hopeful. Willow asks Calliope to trust her, Calli ( can be Calli? Callio? 'Liope? ) kisses her but Willow stops her yet again because it's not right. Calli promises to break up with her girlfriend but Willow tells her not to. Basically, Willow's worried that Calliope is attracted to her because of the situation they're in and that Calli might feel differently when they're out of the zone. Willow's attitude here kinda reminds me of Oz a little bit in season two which is interesting. Anyway, is Calliope really the best the writers can do in Willow's love interest department? The bar was set impossibly low with Lake and so far, Calliope just doesn’t look like an improvement. In the end Calliope takes the deal and leaves the zone.

Buffy has more doubts about giving up her power and guess who shows up to help her make up her mind? Yes, it's captain cardboard and his wife. Buffy points out that without her power she'll be defenseless against everything ever that wants to kill her. Sam is quick to say that Buffy can take self-defense classes and grab a gun ( We had a scene like this in retreat by the way, with Buffy and Giles - derivative much? ) It's stupid. No amount of guns and Krav Maga can protect Buffy from the likes of, say, Drusilla? And yeah, sure, normal humans aren't exactly defenseless but normal humans haven't been pissing off the forces of darkness since they were fifteen! Of course, Riley says that Buffy's really worried about Spike, and I mean, sure, Buffy is worried about leaving Spike in the zone but reducing an issue this complex to just Buffy's love interest the way Riley does is ignorant, even for Riley. Buffy expresses more of her concerns in a conversation with Willow and Spike later at night. Visually, this scene is breathtaking, it’s wallpaper material, the writing, however, is just atrocious. The more you read into it, the worse it gets. It's like an onion made of shit, a shit onion if you will, the more layers you peel off...well, you get the point. What we have here is Willow spewing a nonsensical, pop-psychology polluted speech. For goodness' sake, Willow doesn't even talk like that, she doesn't make speeches at people, this reads like Buffy at her most pretentious pretending to be Willow. Anyway, according to our witch magic is what makes Buffy and Willow special. This is why they're afraid of taking the deal. They don't want to become normal, like Xander and Dawn. So we just have to believe in ourselves, says Willow, who we are without all the bells and whistles. Which I fully admit is scary as hell. Willow, seriously, you managed to restore magic without those bells and whistles, you lose those bells and whistles practically every season - so what could you possibly be afraid off at this point? Willow also equates Buffy's fighty with her witchy. Problem is, those two things are nothing alike, one is a birthright, the other is a skill. Everybody can do magic in Buffyverse, even the normal guy Xander. Willow's a turbo-witch because she put in the effort. Acquiring of power is basically 90% of her story and she's very much proud of having earned that power. Xander spent years figuring out how to kick ass, says then Buffy. As opposed to Willow? Shaking my head. Even if Willow says all this only to convince Buffy to take the deal, even if the intention here is to parallel the closing scene of "Wrecked" it’s still just monumentally stupid. Oh, and that cheerleader obsessed with clothes and shoes line is kinda ironic seeing how Willow's much more of a fashionista than Buffy these days.

Next day Buffy and Willow go through the procedure. They put their hands on a panel of an occult machine and with the mundanity akin to an X-ray test, it's done, they're magic free. Yes, again. OK, how many times were Buffy's powers taken away from her in the TV series? Once, in "Helpless", it’s ~30 minutes out of seven seasons. You know why it was done only once? Because it's not an action series when the protagonist can't do action. This is the third time this is happening in the comics - Tibet, Robot Buffy - fuck you, it counts! And Willow! With the exception of season 10, the Willow can't do magic storyline has been done in every season since season six, every fucking season they do this shit. Six - Willow's addicted, seven - a Wicca who won't-a, eight - twilight and goddesses and whatever, nine - no seed. And now, after a season where a common complain about Willow was that she's just constantly getting her ass kicked, they do it again. When you do it every season it's not exciting, it's not interesting, it's just obnoxious. And what else is there left to explore here anyway?! In a twelve issue season?! There's five issues left and now we have an action series with two leads that can't do any action, that's like making a musical with actors that can't sing oh wait.... But don’t worry, they'll just bring Faith over to handle the ass-kicking and possibly rename the series to Faith and her bitches. Jesus. But that's nothing, really. If that's the story the artists choose to tell then whatever, I’ll deal. You know what's the real problem with this issue and the rest of this season? The characterization. Buffy and Willow show no initiative! And they weren't like this in the TV series, quite the opposite actually, so what changed? And if you're gonna tell me that they grew up I'm gonna super-literally bitch slap you through the internet! They don't act, they're acted upon, submit, completely passive. So far it's been an entire season of we can't do this, it's impossible, it'd be a suicide. Give me back my action-fucking-heroines! Now! I demand!

On her way out of the camp Buffy is given the scythe back because why would a magic hungry government even want to keep one of the most powerful magical artifacts in existence? Jordan throws the weapon at Buffy, which topples her over because the scythe is apparently heavy. What? I know that Willow probably picks up heavy things and puts them down occasionally because I've seen her ass but come on, she's been running around with the scythe for months just fine. Heavy? This is nonsense! So...what did I like? I liked Buffy and Spike! They're funny, they're sexy, they're entertaining! I have to give credit where credit is due, all the coupley stuff is actually pretty top notch in this issue! Yeah, the missing I love you felt forced and unnatural and why is it even such a big deal but other than that, it's all good! The art, aside from that werewolf, looks incredible - the inking is super-sharp, the colors beautiful and vibrant. Art team, one, writing team, zero!

Wow, seven fucks! Yeah, "Disempowered" is trash. It's a derivative, boring, nonsensical mess. But hey, at least we're finally out of the safe zone. I hope to be proven wrong but with five issues to go, I'm afraid that pacing will turn out to be an issue this season.

#buffy comics #buffy season 11 #btvs #Buffy The Vampire Slayer

[karathelastairbender]

And So It Was...| Self Para

After getting back from a particularly intense workout and run, Kara wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower to soothe her aching muscles. With a huff, the Air witch pulled out her clothes and laid them on a chair outside the shower area, thankful that no one seemed to be in the locker-room at this time. Turning the water pressure up to max and the heat up to as much as she could take, Kara walked under the shower, eyes closing as the room began to steam up from the heat of the water and the cool air.

“The beast you saw was once alive but now it isn’t….”

Kara’s blood ran cold at the voice, eyes jolting open as she no longer found herself in the shower but where the Halloween Ball had taken place. Spinning around she was greeted by none other than herself, jaw unhinging at the sight. As if to make matters worse, Kara looked up to see someone seated on the stage behind the other her, someone who was shrouded in darkness. As she neared him, curiosity getting the best of her, she reached a hand towards the figure, pulling the hood off.

With a flickering of light, Kara was back at the edge of the stage, watching as the other her walked up to the figure who was now lifting their head up so she could see who it was. Her heart stopped beating in her chest for a moment as her face drained of color as she saw him stand up from where he was seated, placing a hand on the other Kara’s shoulder.

“...Thomas.”

Thomas Butler grinned and so did the other Kara, causing her to back up, heels at the edge of the stage. Looking over her shoulder, Kara noticed that the edge wasn’t the floor, that it had turned into a swirling darkness. Quickly looking back up at Thomas and her clone, Kara swallowed thickly before taking a daring step forward.

“What do you want from me?”

“My dear girl. I don’t want anything from you. There is a darkness inside of you that not even I saw when I was inside your mind.” Kara watched as Thomas’s lips moved but instead of hearing his voice, it was only her own due to her doppelganger speaking for her ancestor.

Before she could say anything, Kara watched in horror as Thomas raised his right hand, beginning to twist his right index finger in a tight spiral, her clone doing the same thing. People lined up in front of them; Vivian, Zoey, Nicki, and several others that Kara had run into that night at Halloween, just walked up to the pair on the stage, letting the air be taken from their lungs before they collapsed into heaps on the ground.

Kara found herself unable to move as green eyes went wide with terror as Lauren walked past her with a smile on her face. “No... No! Don’t you dare touch her!” Kara screamed, jerking forward slightly but not enough. Not ever enough. “Don’t lay a damn finger on her or I swear to God I’ll fucking--”

“Or you’ll what, Kara? Kill me?” The other her spoke, eyes menacing as she lifted Lauren into the air with her magic, not even caring as Lauren squirmed in her grip. You’re already killing yourself. Between letting everything bad that’s happened to you since your birthday weigh you down to here? To now? You’re the reason why you’re unhappy. You’re the reason why you’re letting this darkness take over you. Because you’re happier with each memory that fades. You like not knowing. You like being in the dark.”

Blinking, Kara shook her head vehemently back and forth. “That’s not true! I’m not... It’s just the arm. I’ve forgotten just the--” But once again she was cut off, this time by the sight of the past her twirling her finger, beginning to cut off Lauren’s air.

“No you haven’t!” The other Kara bellowed, Thomas watching with delight as he laid both hands on her shoulders pressing down slightly as he held Kara’s gaze. “You’ve forgotten more than just that but you’re too blinded in your happiness to be free of all that pain, all that sorrow you keep tight within your chest. You’re happier not knowing. Harper. Hayden. Zoey’s relationship. The accident. The element switch. The fights with your parents. You don’t remember any of it. How can you be so happy when you don’t remember the things that make you who you are today?”

“I’ll do anything! Please! Just don’t hurt her!” Kara cried out, wishing she could move, could retaliate in some way or another. Finally the invisible weight that was holding her down was released and Kara lurched forward to grab onto her sister but just as her hands went to land on Lauren’s cardigan, the girl vanished before her very eyes. “What... What did you do with her?”

The other Kara and Thomas just shook their heads, whether it was out of pity or spite, Kara had no clue. They both looked down, raising their left hands up to their faces as the saw cracks begin to show in their skin, darkness swirling closer to them. “You can’t erase your pain, Kara. Pain is a part of you. We hurt people and we break. We don’t matter to people and we break others hearts. We lie and we take and take and take without even asking to. But you’re meant to feel it! Pain demands to be felt, Kara! If you let this keep going, what will be left of you?”

Kara didn’t know when she’d started crying but the choked sob that came to her ears had to have been her own and not someone else. “I... I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

Thomas and her clone looked at one another before Thomas’s hands swiftly wrapped around Kara’s neck, twisting. The bones crunched beneath his hands and Kara could only watch in horror as the other her fell to the ground... Dead.

“Is this what you want?! Do you want to not be here? The darkness inside of you isn’t just eating away at the pain anymore, Kara. It’s eating at the good too!” A loud crack of something that could only be lightning tore through the room and Thomas looked up at the darkness that swirled over his head before back at Kara. “No... You can’t forget me. Who would you be without me?!” He roared at her before a voice began to echo off the walls of the room, growing louder and louder.

Molybdenite opt tic tsks.

Thomas’s eyes went wide as the darkness encased him and the other Kara’s bodies, piercing through every single inch of them before they exploded into nothingness.

Water dripped on her face as Kara’s world shifted from that of standing up on the stage to finding herself on the floor of the shower, face pressed against the cold linoleum as the water that had once ran hot, was now cold as it beat down onto her naked form. Her brain screamed at her to get up but she couldn’t, not until her heart-rate slowed and her vision fully returned from a foggy mess.

It’s funny, really.

How powerful the brain is and even more amazing how the human mind works.

Neurons firing and lighting up synaptic connections like a Christmas tree. Memory is one of the best gifts that human beings are given; the ability to recall something that happened when you were five years old or an event that happened last weekend are both talents that memory and the brain achieve when they work in harmony together. However, the human mind is not invulnerable. Memory is very sensitive. A concussion or extensive psychological trauma have been known to make memories disappear for short or semi-lengthy periods of time and sometimes, memories have disappeared for good.

But, involve magic and the entire scope of what if’s and could be’s with losing memory change to something much more twisted. Something much darker. For Kara, as she stood up under the shower stream and finally began to shampoo her hair as if nothing had happened, neurons began to dim. Memories had faded. For Kara, she found nothing out of the ordinary, just a small headache.

The problem for Kara was that she was unable to see the darkness as it slowly bled into her memories.

She just didn’t know that the darkness would take.

And take.

And take...

#self para #para: asiw #//:)

[maigirasoli]

update part 2 - work

January - Work

Work wise, the head of HR at my work phoned me in January to tell me that the claim has been accepted and I no longer have to send in sick notes - it’s basically insurance from a separate company that accept a claim from my work so that I can still get some pay from work while I’m off ill (if that makes sense). And the claim company will get an independent doctor to review me every now and again to make sure the claim is still valid. The paperwork normally takes 3 months and the reviews are every 6 months or so but because the paperwork took so long to sort out my review is a lot sooner - next month.

I had an email a few weeks ago from her saying that the claim people had contacted her and they need me to fill out this form. It was 6 pages long and SO difficult to fill it because it was asking about symptoms, how it’s impacting on my daily life, how I manage doing daily activities, a summary of what I day in the mornings and afternoons for every day of the week, what’s stopping me from going back to work/what about my job can’t I do at the moment, what needs to change for me to go back to work etc. I also need to mention what support/treatment I’m getting. I got confused and thought I was seeing a doctor for a review but then because I got this form I thought oh that’s instead of but my dad is saying no I will see someone, the form is just the first step.

I also feel massively guilty because the HR lady and my line manager have been incredibly supportive since I’ve been off that I feel like I have to go back, even though I know that it wouldn’t be good for me and I hate it there. Feel so under pressure.

January - Work Experience

On that topic, I applied for work experience (at a veterinary practice) and voluntary work (at an animal rescue centre) at some point last year because for many years I’d had nursing in my head (both animal and human) and because I was in a better place than I am now, not massively better but better enough to think of a future of some kind - I thought I’d get some experience under way incase I do decide I definitely want to do this, I want a life and I’m going to go to college. For the college course (veterinary nursing) you need 2 weeks work experience done within the year that you apply and even though I’ve done work experience in the past it’s too long ago and would mean I’d have to find another placement. So I emailed loads of places and after a lot of no they’re fully booked or they don’t offer it, I asked my auntie (my ‘not real’ auntie, but my mum’s best friend that lives further South - that one!) if it was ok if I emailed places near her and my grampa the same. And I heard back from a vets near my auntie’s.

That went ahead, my mood had been gradually dropping at this point but I still thought no I can do this even if I don’t want a future, if I change my mind I have it there all completed, if I don’t then it’s just a few weeks of experience to get through and that’s that. I did 2 weeks there and the people were lovely, except for some girls really did make me feel like I was in school again and outrightly ignore me to my face or just give me dirty looks when I asked them a question. So petty, but anyway. I fainted the first day there oops (not because of blood, I’m not squeamish) and almost did on the last day.. was quite ‘funny’ (not funny) to think that could have happened on opposite ends of the placement days ha. I did feel like a spare part because there wasn’t much to do at all, a lot of standing around waiting for something that I could watch (it wasn’t like the work experience I did in Scotland years ago where I got so much involvement in what they did, I mean there were times I was standing around with nothing to do there too but not as much as this placement) but even the staff were saying this was unusually very quiet for them. BUT that’s what work experience is going to be like. It just doesn’t help my already negative frame of mind and me not wanting to be there.

Really struggled in that time especially with noise and social interactions and on particularly hard days, it was hard to function in general. One day in particular sticks out because I was crying as I came ‘home’ and I had to go back out to my car and drive somewhere because my auntie I don’t think understood what was going on and I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to talk and so I said I was going to go out and ended up crying on the phone to my mum (of all people, yep. It actually went.. ok, I mean it was me crying for like half an hour but yeah) because I couldn’t get a hold of my dad and I needed to talk to someone so so badly and I was just in a state.

After the first week I’d had enough and wanted to go - not because I had no interest in that career and hated it but because my mood was/is low and I just didn’t want to do anything. I did stick it out for the two weeks though and I’m glad I did) and I would cry in my car at lunch times or after haha, how pathetic.

After hours of being out the house and being around people and noise etc I need to be able to just go to my room for a bit to breathe. I  NEED my own down time and space, but I wasn’t able to get it because obviously i’m not at home and can’t just go to my room. My auntie LOVES to talk a LOT so I’m having to listen and pay attention and try and have a conversation back and I just feel drained and tired and it’s all too much. She also looks after her next door neighbours puppy 4 days a week who is ADORABLE but loves a squeaky toy and the noise would pierce my ears (especially at 7 in the morning when he’d be brought round for the day) and he loves throwing the ball about and doing it continuously for hours (and I know i’m going to sound like a wimp but I hate being around balls. They make me flinch and anxious). I feel so awful saying that because I love my auntie so much and I hated leaving her at the end of it and it was lovely to see her and spend time with her and on a particularly difficult day (the day where it was one year since I y’know) we ended up in a giggle fit that evening and it was a nice way to be able to ‘deal’ with that day, even though to everyone else it would have just been any other day.

February - Volunteer Work

I’d been successful with my application for it but hadn’t heard anything since then until last month about an induction. I had the induction in the beginning of February where I met all the animals (I’d applied to work with the farm animals on Tuesday afternoons) and had my first day volunteering last week.

The first thing I got to do was walk this shetland pony which did add some light to my day and then the rest of the afternoon was helping with cleaning, grooming the pony and helping with feeding some of the animals with their afternoon feeds. It went okay, apart from the fact that it was freezing outside (part of the job though so I don’t mind at all!) and that I don’t feel physically? very capable of some of the jobs. For example shovelling lots and lots of dirty hay into a big mound and carrying heavy feeds has really done my back in. But in general, I feel so weak and tired, which is pathetic of me I know. As for the psychological side of things, I’m not in a good place at all and I just don’t know if I can do this right now. I don’t know, I don’t know if I’m making excuses or what. I just don’t see the point in going. They are overloaded with volunteers as it is and on a Tuesday afternoon there isn’t much to do with the farm animals. I haven’t been since this one time. Last week I really wasn’t in the place to go and I feel really guilty. And then not next Tuesday but the one after that I won’t be able to go then either because my appointment with the autism services is during the time I would volunteer. So that’s going to make me look so bad.

The whole college thing has been in my head ever since the work experience still, but more so as ‘right this is something I can focus on in my head rather than killing myself’ and not because I genuinely want to and have this passion to do college/work/anything right now. It’s more of let me find something that will make me feel better and worthwhile. And for weeks I’d been driving my parents mad going do I apply for the course in April or September (my mum originally was saying April because it’s soon and if I just get out of bed and do all this then I’ll feel differently and want a future) whereas my dad was saying the complete opposite (September or not at all at the moment because I’m not in the right place) and the whole thing just goes round and round in circles, I can barely seem to make a simple decision at the moment and this isn’t exactly simple or little. I know now I wouldn’t be applying for the right reasons and if I did get accepted it’s only a month away and there’s still so much unknown in terms of medical support, aspergers stuff and what I’d do about work. It would just make sense not to make such a big decision when I’m having suicidal thoughts and am basing my decision on what I think other people think I should do and if I do this it will make them happy, instead of me being like yay let’s genuinely plan my future !! I really truly want to live !!