#would love to study my high school self like a bug. who was she. fuck if i remember lmfao

[essektheylyss]

no more "fix-it fics". enough "everybody lives au". everybody DIES au. I could make it (canon) WORSE.

#this joke brought to you hilariously not by recent events but in fact rediscovering my old ffn fics from high school #they exist and are easily findable lol #and boyyyy have i not only really not change. but i have MELLOWED on the angst. #if you think my fics are rough now... #literally wrote MULTIPLE fics for a romance-oriented procedural where one or both of the leads died and someone else had to deal with that #hilarious. like. this was 'i know they're gonna get out of this tight spot canon left them in last episode. but what if they didn't. :3' #like say what you will about some of my sadder content but the characters aren't getting MURDERED #also went out of my way to write the cockblock rival LI sympathetically in one scenario #like this character was universally reviled. MEANT TO BE in fact. and several comments were just 'icb you made him impossible to hate' #me at all times: have you considered. this character is not evil. just trying their best and not favored by the narrative but like. fine. #and also do you want to talk about GRIEF? #would love to study my high school self like a bug. who was she. fuck if i remember lmfao #ANYWAY this is genuinely so funny #also damn ffn reviewers were brutal about update times lol #also were not shy about 'WOW this is so ooc' (they were wrong. to be clear. they were mad about a ship thing) #the writing was 'eh' but the specific aspect of the characterization they were mad about was not lol #but also uwu over some of the comments i was looking through last night #some of them were like 'wow someone said this about tiefling fic last week!'

[ktmarison]

album  sentence  starters.

’  at  least,  that’s  what  google  told  me.  ‘  

’  but  sometimes  critics  would  murder  all  the  artist.  '  

’  an  album’s  not  forever.  '  

’  it’s  a  dangerous  endeavor.  '  

’  an  album’s  not  forever,  but  the  writing  on  it  is.  '  

’  when  i  was  born,  i  looked  like  a  hairy  gnome.  '  

’  i  imagine  a  future  version  of  me,  it’s  the  man  who  i  would  become  if  i  could.  then  i  think  of  my  current  reality.  '  

’  i  look  nothing  like  the  anxious  boy  in  photographs  whose  dreams  felt  so  completely  far  away.  '  

’  now  life’s  worth  living,  but  the  self-doubt’s  still  at  play.  '  

’  kids  are  completely  bewildered  by  the  idea  of  music  that  you  can  hold.  '  

’  the  slang’s  outdated,  but  the  point  is  still  well  heard.  '  

’  family  is  forever.  '  

’  passion  is  forever.  '  

’  dreaming  is  forever.  '  

’  memories  are  forever.  '  

’  theatre  is  forever.  '  

’  critics  are  forever.  '  

’  breakup’s  not  forever.  '  

’  existence  is  forever.  '  

’  anger’s  not  forever.  '  

’  your  struggle’s  not  forever.  '  

’  when  a  fire  starts  in  the  hull,  how  much  time  do  you  have  before  it  spreads  to  the  deck  ?  '  

’  how  do  you  tell  your  family  that  you  wanna  quit  school  and  just  play  with  your  band  ?  '  

’  when  a  fire  starts  burning,  how  much  time  do  you  have  before  it  burns  itself  out  ?  '  

’  why  do  i  feel  like  i’m  choking  lately  ?  '  

’  maybe  for  once  i’ll  really  try,  or  fuck  it  all  and  just  get  high,  'cause  that’s  an  answer.  '  

’  what’s  the  furthest  distance  a  ship  can  be  from  the  shore  before  it  loses  its  signal  ?  '  

’  maybe  i’ll  practice  my  guitar,  or  read  a  book,  or  steal  a  car.  '  

’  i’ll  get  a  job  and  get  paid,  or  get  a  girlfriend  and  get  laid.  '  

’  i’ll  join  the  army,  go  to  war.  '  

’  i  need  an  answer.  '  

’  maybe  it’s  okay  that  i  don’t  have  a  plan,  and  i  don’t  have  a  clue.  '  

’  i’m  nineteen,  and  that  doesn’t  mean  that  i  should  know  exactly  what  i  wanna  do,  right  ?  '  

’  i’ve  got  time  to  make  mistakes.  '  

’  but  i  am  scared  and  i’m  afraid  that  a  decision  won’t  get  made,  and  i’ll  be  like  this  forever.  '  

‘  time’s  up.  ’  

’  to  beat  malaise,  i  think  i’ll  clean.  '  

’  that  doesn’t  look  like  me  at  all.  '  

’  i  remember  taking  this.  i’m  all  aglow  because  he’s  giving  me  a  kiss.  that’s  how  i  know  how  long  ago  it  was.  '  

’  ignore  the  black  marks  on  the  wall.  '  

’  i  know  she  did  it  to  provoke,  'cause  she’s  exactly  like  her  dad.  '  

’  nothing’s  wrong,  and  i’m  no  longer  crying.  '  

’  that  mailman  likes  what  he  just  saw.  '  

’  aw  shit,  i  love  to  clean  the  house  !  '  

’  rip  the  pictures  off  the  wall.  '  

’  i  love  it  more  than  i  love  (name).  if  i  could  marry  it,  i  would.  '  

’  it  drives  me  wild,  it  does  the  job.  does  what  that  asshole  never  could.  '  

’  my  daughter  used  to  love  me.  she  doesn’t  anymore.  '  

’  every  time  you  make  a  compromise,  it  comes  at  quite  a  price.  '  

’  my  day  was  fine.  and  how  are  you  ?  '  

‘  i  feel  no  sorrow  because  i’ll  see  you  tomorrow.  ’  

’  i’m  sorta,  like,  the  neatest  guy  in  school.  '  

’  when  things  get  chilly,  that  is  when  i  want  them  hot.  '  

’  it  might  sound  silly,  but  it  bother’s  me  a  lot.  '  

’  they  know  the  way  their  whole  lives  will  play  out.  but  me  ?  i  don’t  have  a  clue  of  what  i’m  gonna  do  or  even  what  my  story  is  about.  '  

’  he’s  never  making  up  his  all-american  mind.  '  

’  i  hung  my  barbie  with  a  wire,  then  i  set  her  hair  on  fire.  she  looked  better  that  way.  '  

’  i  brought  her  carcass  to  class  to  keep  me  company.  a  move  which  was  apparently  not  cool.  '  

’  i  don’t  crave  acceptance.  '  

’  i  like  studying  bugs.  '  

’  no,  i  don’t  want  your  hugs.  please  just  leave  me  alone.  '  

’  i  am  a  strange  and  unusual  girl.  '  

’  i  need  a  place  where  i  show  my  face  and  strangers  don’t  tell  me  to  smile.  '  

’  i  need  a  place  where  a  girl  can  just  be  herself  for  a  while.  '  

’  you  need  a  pill,  you  need  a  bed.  that’s  what  they  say  when  mommy’s  dead.  '  

’  i’m  sad  my  mother  died  for  sure,  but  i  was  so  this  way  before.  '  

’  it’s  dumb,  just  let  me  be  numb.  '  

’  is  that  place  really  far  ?  '  

’  is  there  room  there  for  me  ?  '  

’  we’ll  be  together  there  in  the  nether,  laughing  as  death  knells  sweetly  chime.  '  

’  i  know  you’re  fine.  '  

’  i  know  you  don’t  need  me.  '  

’  i  just  get  scared  and  act  like  a  jerk.  '  

’  nothing’s  going  to  hurt  you.  not  on  my  watch.  '  

’  i’m  gonna  protect  you  from  former  mistakes.  '  

’  i’m  gonna  protect  you,  i  swear.  '  

’  i’ll  be  there  to  protect  you  from  all  of  the  bad  things  that  happen  in  florida.  '  

’  please  don’t  shout.  '  

’  i  know  you  know  what’s  best.  '  

’  it’s  not  that  i  don’t  trust  you.  it’s  just  i  don’t  just  trust  this  town.  '  

’  yeah,  i  really  didn’t  wanna  argue  today.  '  

’  if  you  really  listened  to  the  things  that  i  say,  you’d  hear  they  come  from  a  good  place.  '  

’  i’ve  seen  what  can  happen  to  people  like  us.  it’s  enough  to  make  you  sick.  '  

’  i  know  it’s  silly  that  i  worry,  but  i  do.  '  

’  i  wish  i  had  someone  who  said  this  shit  to  me.  '  

’  you’re  looking  blah  as  ever.  '  

’  my  daily  routine  is  all  such  an  endeavor.  '  

’  no.  not  gonna  happen.  '  

’  he  got  his  hoodie  at  the  fulton  flea.  '  

’  i  see  ironic  patches  and  my  soul  detaches.  '  

’  i  can’t  feel  a  thing  anymore.  '  

’  it’s  all  been  done  before.  '  

’  everything’s  a  horrible  bore.  '  

’  living  is  a  terrible  chore.  '  

’  there’s  nothing  new  to  do  in  brooklyn  anymore.  '  

’  i  didn’t  always  use  to  be  this  way.  '  

’  remember  how  i  felt  on  move-in  day  ?  i  was  so  young  and  connected.  '  

’  i  think  i  need  a  change.  '  

’  i  need  to  feel  some  heaven.  '  

’  i  don’t  care  where  you  were  on  9/11.  i  mean,  you  didn’t  even  live  in  new  york  at  the  time,  so  it  wasn’t  really  a  thing  for  you.  '  

’  it’s  totally  late.  '  

’  we’re  by  that  club  that’s  owned  by  beck.  ’

  ’  that  was  kind  of  whatever,  but  it  was  mostly  dumb.  '  

’  would  i  feel  different  if  i  lived  in  queens  ?  '  

’  it  doesn’t  matter  anyway.  '  

’  there’s  nothing  new  to  do  in  new  york  anymore.  '  

’  there’s  nothing  new  to  do  in  america  anymore.  '  

’  there’s  nothing  new  to  do  in  the  universe  anymore.  '  

’  it’s  all  been  done  before.  '  

’  i’m  feeling  alright.  a  little  depressed,  but  mostly  alright.  '  

’  oh,  how  i  love  a  novelty  mug.  '  

’  you  can  tell  that  she’s  got  guts  !  '  

’  she  struts  so  effortlessly  and  delicately,  she’s  so  different  from  me.  '  

’  i  don’t  want  her  to  think  that  i’m  some  perv  on  some  voyeuristic  trip.  '  

’  i  promise  i’m  not  looking  out  of  carnal  frustration,  it’s  more  i’m  just  observing,  rapt  in  admiration.  '  

’  you  make  me  feel  so  clean.  '  

’  please  show  me  what  to  do.  '  

’  i  wish  i  was  just  like  you.  '  

’  i  think  it’s  time  that  we  meet.  '  

’  wait,  how  did  i  even  get  on  the  street  ?  '  

’  a  couple  couples  see  me  fall  all  over,  but  none  of  them  cares.  '  

‘  i  wonder  what  you  think.  ’  

‘  your  life  will  be  the  same,  but  i  am  not  the  same.  ’  

’  i  dream  about  a  time  many  years  ago,  back  when  things  were  better  in  many  ways.  '  

’  at  least  we  still  got  one  thing  that  looks  the  way  it  did.  '  

’  it  might  be  safer  for  you  to  walk  to  school,  but  you’ll  never  be  as  cool  as  raul  julia  heading  to  rehearsal  in  the  fall.  '  

’  new  york  at  the  moment  is  a  troubling  place.  '  

’  take  me  back  to  the  way  back  when,  'cause  i  know  that  life  was  better  then.  '  

’  change  is  good,  but  at  what  price  ?  sometimes,  i’m  just  not  sure.  '  

’  i  know  we’re  better  for  the  progress  made,  but  i  still  dream  of  when  the  city  was  pure.  '  

’  better  now,  or  better  then  ?  how  do  you  compare  ?  '  

’  it  wasn’t  all  perfect,  last  i  checked.  i  know  that  things  look  different  in  retrospect  and  with  every  cause  comes  so  many  effects…  good  lord,  nostalgia’s  so  complex.  '  

’  man,  i  envy  girls  like  that.  '  

’  everybody’s  all  hypnotized  by  her  little  display.  '  

’  i’m  not  surprised,  i  see  it  every  day  of  my  life.  '  

’  i’m  playing  the  whore  and  the  wife,  but  that’s  fine.  i  don’t  wanna  play  the  princess  anyway.  '  

’  i  will  not  blend  into  a  crowd.  '  

’  please  let  it  be  understood  that  even  if  i  could,  i  wouldn’t  wanna  play  the  princess  anyway.  '  

’  confidence  is  not  a  skill  i  learned.  '  

’  they  get  pretty  far  playing  rough,  but  i  kinda  wish  i  was  that  tough.  i  mean,  i’m  fine.  '  

’  i  mean,  i’d  do  it  as  a  joke.  '  

’  i’m  allergic  to  flowers.  '  

’  i  bet  she’s  not  allergic  to  flowers.  '  

’  as  much  as  i  do  hate  to  say,  i  think  that  it’s  sorta  okay,  if  she  wants  to  be  that  way.  '  

’  she  had  potential.  '  

’  i  think  it’s  worth  a  shot.  '  

’  yeah,  you  should’ve  heard  the  cheering  in  the  place.  '  

’  her  skin  was  in  a  mushy  pile  of  blood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor.  '  

’  it’s  amazing  how  quick  things  can  move  when  unique’s  not  in  the  way.  '  

’  there’s  no  more  passion.  she  just  sees  it  as  logistics.  '  

’  see,  the  star  don’t  need  a  mouth.  she  just  needs  a  name.  '  

’  her  stratospheric  rise  and  fall  is  nothing  new.  '  

’  somebody  help  !  '  

’  she  just  keeps  crying  on  and  on  and  on.  '  

’  she  was  usually  screaming  anyway,  so  her  yelling  didn’t  cause  dismay.  no  one  checked  on  her  for  at  least  a  day.  '  

’  here’s  the  moral  of  the  story:  if  all  you  do  is  just  sing  loud  and  high,  when  you  die  nobody  cares.  '  

’  it  doesn’t  feel  good.  '  

’  things  are  just  weird.  '  

’  words  don’t  come  easy  for  me,  i  can’t  really  explain.  '  

’  how  could  you  leave  me  this  way  ?  '  

’  what  you’ve  done  to  me  is  wrong.  it’s  been  your  fault  all  along.  '  

’  i  promise  i  won’t.  but  if  i  did,  would  you  be  mad  ?  '  

’  you’ve  got  no  heart.  '  

’  you’ve  got  no  soul.  '  

’  your  brain  is  what  is  wrong.  '  

’  i  don’t  care  if  you  can’t  or  you  can.  if  you  can’t  say  it  to  my  face,  then  you’re  no  kind  of  man.  '  

’  hey,  at  least  change  my  fucking  name  when  you  goddamn  write  your  song  about  me.  '  

’  all  the  mistakes  that  he  made  about  the  girl  don’t  bother  him  as  much  as  everybody  things.  '  

’  all  the  mistakes  that  he  made  about  the  girl  are  different  from  the  mistakes  he  makes  when  he  drinks.  '  

’  i’d  bet  you’d  like  to  think  he’s  got  so  many  regrets,  but  the  way  he  sees  it,  he  did  nothing  wrong.  '  

’  the  anger  and  the  objects  he  would  hurt  were  not  the  things  that  made  life  unlivable.  '  

’  so  what  if  he  had  trouble  letting  down  his  guard  ?  it  wasn’t  his  fault  she  was  so  quick  to  feel.  '  

’  she’d  melt  every  time  that  he’d  sing.  '  

’  what  are  you  scared  of  ?  '  

’  yes,  there  were  mistakes.  but  it  doesn’t  matter  anymore  because  she’s  not  coming  back.  '  

’  all  the  mistakes  that  he  made  about  the  girl  keep  fucking  with  his  life  in  such  surprising  ways.  '  

’  he  likes  to  think  that  if  he  had  to  do  it  again,  he  could  fix  the  things  that  he  did  all  wrong  and  he’s  not  the  same  as  he  was  back  then.  '  

’  the  one  thing  that’s  totally  clear  is  he  wishes  she  was  still  here.  '  

’  he  tries  to  be  different,  but  he’s  still  out  of  touch.  '  

’  well,  that’s  what  i  would  do  if  it  were  me.  but  it’s  obviously  not.  '  

’  i’m  filled  with  sorrows  in  a  million  ways.  '  

’  i  hate  today.  '  

’  i’m  just  not  meant  for  these  times.  '  

’  i  try  to  be  like  other  guys  and  everybody  rolls  their  eyes.  '  

’  i  pretend  that  i  don’t  care.  '  

’  most  people  think  i’m  weird.  '  

’  all  my  friends  have  disappeared.  or  i  guess  they  were  never  there.  '  

’  my  social  life  would  be  on  fire  if  only  i  was  born  sixty  years  prior.  '  

’  everybody  on  their  phone  makes  me  feel  so  all  alone.  '  

’  life  is  complicated,  things  don’t  go  as  planned.  people  act  in  ways  that  i  don’t  understand.  '  

’  it  all  came  crashing  down  through  no  fault  of  my  own.  '  

’  i  tried  to  fit  in  and  they  told  me  i  could  not.  '  

’  the  outside  world  is  overrated  by  a  lot.  '  

’  i’ll  build  a  fort  all  by  myself,  alone.  '  

’  man,  it  sucks  that  there  is  no  one  who  really  understands  me.  '  

’  if  you  try  to  enter,  you  will  be  denied.  '  

'  i  have  been  away  so  long,  been  afraid  to  show  my  face.  but  i'm  a  man  now.  '  

'  i'm  not  a  man,  i'm  just  a  shape.  '  

'  everything  looks  weird  and  new.  '  

'  i  went  back  to  the  old  house.  it  was  crumbling  like  a  grave.  '  

'  if  i  can't  get  you  back  today,  i'm  gonna  make  this  whole  town  pay.  '  

'  welcome  home.  '

'  i  let  you  take  advantage  of  me  because  i  like  it  when  you  shove  me.  i  know  it  makes  you  feel  good.  '  

'  although  it  is  understood  that  you'll  be  the  death  of  me,  still,  i  got  the  sympathy  for  the  killer.  '  

'  i'm  grateful  every  time  you  choose  me.  '  

'  we  agreed  to  our  roles,  and  we  may  not  be  couple  goals.  .  .  '  

'  darling,  i'm  a  dying  breed.  '  

'  danger  is  impending,  i  can  guess  the  ending.  i  should  run.  '  

'  poor,  poor  baby.  '  

'  i  let  you  take  advantage  of  me,  it's  how  you  show  me  that  you  love  me.  '  

'  i'm  glad  that  you're  in  my  life.  '  

'  here's  where  you  put  the  knife.  '  

'  darling,  sweetie,  look  at  me.  '

'  i  try  to  focus  on  the  work,  but  it's  hell.  '  

'  i  try  to  not  just  go  berserk,  but  that  is  not  going  well.  '  

'  these  days  it's  harder  than  it  seems  to  ignore  that  she's  accomplished  all  my  dreams  then  some  more.  '  

'  i  know  that  jealousy  should  not  be  allowed  in  my  heart,  but  then  i  see  a  poster  of  her  and  i've  got  to  just  rip  it  apart.  '  

'  i  try  to  channel  all  this  hate  into  good.  '  

'  i  wanna  sing  about  hope,  about  faith,  about  loving  and  persevering.  '  

'  i  wanna  sing  about  me  and  you.  '  

'  my  psychotherapist  is  great.  well,  except,  when  she's  not.  '  

'  she  says  i  must  eliminate  this  fixation  i  got.  '  

'  i  swear,  someone  would  think  i'm  ill  if  this  didn't  make  sense.  '  

'  it's  not  lost  on  me  you're  here  at  my  show.  with  your  support,  i  try  to  let  my  anger  go.  '  

'  as  i  look  out  at  your  face,  i  can  tell  you'd  rather  be  with  her.  '  

'  i'm  gonna  sing  until  the  anger  and  jealousy,  illness  and  horror,  just  numbs  me.  '

'  without  her,  i  would  not  survive.  '  

'  she  feeds  me,  comforts  me,  she  is  my  family.  '  

'  my  thoughts  start  to  splinter  and  she  keeps  me  sane.  '  

'  you  say  she's  not  my  type,  but  i  don't  think  you  understand.  '  

'  she's  not  the  one  who  keeps  me  here.  no,  i  am  the  one  who  wants  her  near.  '  

'  i  could  leave  her  if  i  choose.  '  

'  it's  not  like  i  wanna  quit.  ’

‘  i  just  pull  away  a  bit.  .  .  she  does  not  like  that  very  much.  '  

'  thanks  for  all  you  gave,  but  i  am  not  your  slave.  '  

'  she  burns  me  and  beats  me  and  ties  me  to  bed.  '  

'  she  loves  me,  she  hates  me.  '

'  aw,  shucks,  it's  no  big  deal.  '  

'  i  mean,  it's  not  like  i  didn't  know  that  this  was  your  m.o.  '  

'  if  i'm  buying  beer,  you're  dear  and  kind.  but  if  i'm  not  near,  you're  deaf  and  blind.  '  

'  i  try  to  not  hang  on  too  tight,  but  if  i  don't  you'll  just  take  flight.  '  

'  i  hate  you  until  we  reunite.  '  

'  it  aggravates  the  piss  outta  me,  'cause  i  thought  we  had  a  history.  '  

'  doesn't  it  count  for  something  ?  '  

'  if  you  knew  just  how  bad  that  it  hurt,  you'd  be  ashamed  of  yourself.  '  

'  if  you  knew  just  how  hard  i  cried,  you  wouldn't  look  in  the  mirror.  '

'  i  know  you're  really  not  that  bad  of  a  man  and  that's  what  makes  it  all  worse.  '  

'  if  you  can't  really  see  all  you've  been  putting  me  through,  i  hope  you  try.  at  least  try.  '  

'  safe  travels.  '

'  the  saddest  thing  about  having  one  leg  is  that  it  isn't  the  saddest  thing  about  me.  '  

'  it's  becoming  clear  everybody  does  fine  without  me.  '  

'  condescending  pity's  not  my  fave.  '  

'  i'm  just  being  real.  no  need  to  smile  or  frown  or  get  all  pouty  and  weepy.  '  

'  he  don't  have  to  be  from  france,  i  just  want  somebody  to  spoon  with.  '  

'  see,  i  have  never  been  touched.  '  

'  ew,  get  away.  '  

'  he  don't  have  to  taste  like  honey,  he  can  be  a  fuckin'  slob  !  '  

'  i  don't  want  a  rose,  and  i  don't  want  the  moon.  all  i  want  is  a  dude  who'd  be  down  for  a  really,  really  good  spoon.  '

'  i  just  want  her  to  feel  alright.  '  

'  we  all  get  a  little  sad  sometimes.  '  

'  i  want  to  watch  her  chew  her  food.  '  

'  we  all  act  a  little  bad  sometimes.  '  

'  if  you  rearrange  the  letters  in  both  our  names,  you  get  one  away  from  normal.  '  

'  we're  not  in  love,  i  wish  we  were.  '  

'  i  can  tell  you're  hungry  and  you  need  some  food,  and  if  i  didn't  offer,  i'd  be  awfully  rude.  '

'  baby,  let's  go  to  bed.  '  

'  the  moonlight  taunts  me.  '  

'  now  i  have  to  run  away  from  you.  '  

'  i'll  be  back  here  in  the  morning.  '  

'  if  you  could  see  me,  you'd  be  frightened  half  to  death,  even  if  you  knew  the  motions  i  was  going  through  i'd  done  a  thousand  times.  '  

'  there  are  times  i  don't  feel  as  guilty  as  i  should.  '  

'  i'll  seem  innocent  as  ever.  '  

'  please  try  to  be  discreet.  '  

'  feed  your  filthy  hunger,  but  clean  up  the  evidence.  '  

'  i  say  it's  just  because  i  love  you  so  much,  but  i  think  we  both  know  that's  a  lie.  '

‘  i’m  sorry  for  the  times  i  ran  away.  ’

'  there  won't  be  no  snow,  won't  be  no  joy,  because  i  had  to  go  and  be  a  naughty  little  boy.  '  

'  she  shed  a  tear  when  i  said  she  wouldn't  see  me  on  the  25th  this  year.  '  

'  i  committed  a  crime  at  christmas  time,  so  i  won't  be  coming  home.  '  

'  i'll  serve  my  time,  unless  santa  stuffs  my  stocking  with  a  pick-axe  and  a  file.  '  

'  i  never  cared  for  christmas  much  before.  '  

'  now  i'd  atone,  i'd  scream  amen,  if  it  meant  i'd  get  to  taste  my  mama's  stuffing  once  again.  '

'  they  tell  me  that  my  songs  have  gone  out  of  style.  '  

'  what  else  you  got  ?  '  

'  if  you'd  come  in  here  in  '73,  you're  the  kind  that  i  would  have  signed  instantly.  but  it's  now,  not  then.  '  

'  they  don't  like  my  sound.  they  tell  me  my  singing's  out  of  style.  '  

'  i  remind  him  of  a  girl  who  used  to  work  in  this  place.  she  made  it  big.  '  

'  i  could  smell  the  alcohol  upon  her  breath.  '

'  they  were  friends  but  kind  of  competitive.  '  

'  they  were  real  new  yorkers  down  to  the  core.  '  

'  things  in  new  york  are  temporary.  you  can  beg  it  to  stop  changing,  but  it  won't.  '  

'  remember  the  thing  you  once  admired.  '

'  you're  used  to  thinking  about  him  in  a  certain  way  from  the  persona  that  he  displayed.  then  something  changes,  and  he  changes  from  a  guy  that  you'd  never  be  into  into  a  guy  that  you'd  kinda  be  into.  '  

'  i  don't  always  relate  to  other  people  my  age,  except  when  i'm  on  the  stage.  '  

'  why  am  i  telling  this  to  you  ?  i  guess  there's  a  part  of  me  that  wants  to.  who  knew  ?  '

'  i've  got  a  little  problem  that's  really  got  me  low.  i've  got  a  crush  on  this  beautiful  boy,  but  nobody  can  know.  '  

'  if  we  were  ever  seen  together  in  public,  my  friends  would  scream  and  mother  would  die.  '  

'  his  hair  is  dirty  and  he  paints  his  nails  black.  '  

'  he  curses  like  he's  got  tourette's,  and  he  tokes  and  smokes  clove  cigarettes,  and  i'm  in  love.  '  

'  we're  like  mickey  d's  and  fine  wine.  '  

'  in  that  instant,  i  saw,  i  knew  that  his  nipples  were  pierced,  but  his  heart  was  too.  '  

'  he's  in  love  and  he  wants  me  to  know.  '

‘  i’m  in  love.  ’

'  it's  no  big  thing,  i  swear.  '  

'  i  was  bored  and  she  was  there.  '  

'  you  wanna  talk  a  while  ?  '  

'  i  went  because  i  was  feeling---  well,  no,  feeling's  not  the  right  word.  no,  i  went  because  i  was  crying.  well,  not  crying,  more  like  choking.  '  

'  what's  happening  to  me  ?  '  

'  sometimes  i  think  about  something  that  i  can't  stop  thinking  about.  '  

'  i  care  so  much  it  scares  me.  '  

'  i  mean,  it's  just  like,  whatever.  '

'  i  fell  in  love  in  juvie  hall.  '  

'  i  used  to  freak,  i  used  to  cry.  i  wanted  to  kill,  wanted  to  die.  '  

'  would  an  angel  such  as  she  ever  get  with  me  ?  '  

'  the  way  she  looked  at  me  in  anger  therapy...  it  made  all  my  defenses  fall.  '  

'  i  just  gotta  tell  you  that,  um,  i  think  you're  pretty  fine.  it's  not  just  your  looks,  it's  everything  about  you.  '  

'  people  say  that  i  got  too  many  feelings  for  one  little  body.  '

'  there's  a  crazy  little  dance  that's  sweeping  the  nation.  '  

'  it's  an  easy  little  cure  for  your  frustration.  '  

'  now  it's  time  for  everyone  to  dance  with  me  !  '  

'  i  hope  your  body's  feeling  limber  !  '

'  when  you  get  made  fun  of  at  school,  they'll  tell  you  them  bullies  are  jealous  and  stupid  because  you're  so  cool.  '  

'  when  it's  time  to  go  to  prom,  they'll  give  you  a  condom  and  a  shot  of  binaca.  '  

'  you're  the  bomb.  '  

'  they'll  made  disapprove  a  little  and  grit  their  teeth,  but  they  will  understand  what's  underneath.  '  

'  they  love  you  so  much  that  they  will  tolerate  all  the  silly  crap  you  say.  '

'  i  heard  him  coming  from  miles  away.  '  

'  we'll  be  friends  until  the  day  we  die.  '  

'  that's  nice,  you  say  i'm  a  stand  up  guy  even  though  i  have  terrible  scoliosis.  '  

'  have  you  been  taking  dance  classes  ?  '  

'  we  very  rarely  fight.  '  

'  when  life  gets  tough  or  too  intense,  i  know  he's  got  my  back.  '  

'  i  love  it  that  you  have  skin.  '  

'  i  love  you,  you  old  bag  of  bones.  '

'  it  always  seems  like  i'm  out  of  place.  '  

'  everybody  screams  when  they  see  my  face.  '  

'  i  try  best  at  the  latest  fashion,  but  my  issues  still  feel  unresolved.  '  

'  my  awkwardness  is  so  distinct.  '  

'  i  wonder  why  i'm  still  alive.  '

'  i'm  beautiful.  i'm  perfect  too.  '  

'  i'm  a  celebration  of  time  and  modulation.  '  

'  i  am  confident  in  who  i'll  become.  '  

'  honey,  don't  be  dumb.  '

'  who  i  am  currently  isn't  who  i  am  gonna  be.  '  

'  i  don't  care  and  i  don't  mind,  but  what  if  this  transition  is  the  thing  by  which  i  am  defined  ?  '

'  i  think  i'm  starting  to  forget  his  face.  '  

'  i  think  i'm  starting  to  forget  his  hands.  the  way  they  looked,  the  way  they  felt  when  holding  mine.  i  think  i  remember  they  felt  strong,  but  i  can't  be  sure,  it's  been  so  long.  '  

'  he  gave  me  a  kiss  and  whispered  something  to  me,  but  i  can't  remember  what  he  said.  '

'  don't  you  fall  down  now,  you're  almost  to  the  other  side.  '  

'  if  you  don't  pull  through,  you're  gonna  scar  the  children  who  had  faith  in  you.  '  

'  as  you're  choking  on  a  cloud,  think  of  just  how  freaking  loud  they  will  scream  when  you've  returned.  '  

'  every  compliment  you  field  is  another  wound  that's  healed.  '  

'  my  power's  gone.  i  need  to  pay  the  bill  to  get  it  turned  back  on.  '  

'  i  think  how  lately  i  just  feel  beat  down  and  tired.  the  motivation's  not  the  same,  my  drive's  expired.  '

'  i  can't  dance  in  the  rain  because  i'll  corrode  and  rust  up.  '  

'  i  wish  i  was  flesh  and  bone.  '  

'  i  know  that  next  to  them  i  just  look  like  an  appliance.  '  

'  i  keep  keeping  everybody  at  an  arm's  length.  '  

'  i'm  more  than  some  discarded  steel.  '  

'  i  can  freak  out  and  feel,  i  think  that  that  means  that  i'm  real.  '

'  i  threw  out  my  tickets  to  the  opera  because  nobody  wanted  to  go.  '  

'  i  thought  i'd  just  sit  here  contently.  '  

'  i'm  gonna  put  a  party  hat  on  my  cat.  '  

'  we'll ��be  laughing  and  doing  the  lindy,  and  i'll  be  the  belle  of  all  things.  '  

'  you  back  the  hell  up.  i  don't  want  no  part  of  that.  '  

'  why  do  i  do  this  ?  '  

'  it's  better  than  living  in  a  dumpster  !  '

‘  you  are  quite  something.  ’

‘  that’s  what  my  therapist  says  !  ’

'  you  better  thank  your  lucky  stars  that  i  exist.  '

'  i'm  hanging  around  and  dreaming  of  chicks.  '  

'  i  would  thrive  in  the  caribbean.  '  

'  sometimes  my  mom  forgets  to  feed  me.  '  

'  they  don't  understand  when  i  make  a  noise  or  when  i  try  to  escape  or  break  my  toys,  that's  just  how  i  communicate.  '

'  he  was  supposed  to  be  watching  me,  but  he  was  stoned.  '  

'  when  he  slept,  i  went  through  all  of  his  stuff.  i  found  pills,  and  a  gun,  bit  a  beer,  bit  a  snuff.  '  

'  you're  the  best.  '  

'  we  love  how  you  play.  '  

'  i  was  nervous  and  nerdy  and  totally  shy.  '  

'  this  is  better  than  anything  else.  '  

'  my  acne  is  gone  and  my  mom's  not  divorced,  and  it's  all  good.  '

‘  it  hasn’t  all  been  perfect,  but  it’s  been  better  than  anything  else.  ’

'  i'm  gonna  find  the  bastard,  get  my  woman  back,  and  be  with  her  again  beneath  the  setting  sun.  '  

'  they  done  me  wrong,  i've  been  abused.  '  

'  revenge  has  long  since  been  defused.  '  

'  the  only  thing  i  know  how  to  do  is  to  live  and  breathe  and  die  for  you.  '

‘  no  one  else  would  understand.  ’

'  i  would  never  last  on  land.  '  

'  the  rules  that  we've  invented  allow  us  all  to  play.  '  

'  when  exits  are  presented,  we  stay.  '  

'  there's  so  many  strangers  there.  '  

'  everybody  lives  so  far  apart.  '  

'  we  find  the  solution  to  escape  our  fates.  '  

'  i  don't  know  where  i'd  be  if  you  weren't  here  with  me.  '  

'  lord,  what  would  i  do  if  i  didn't  have  you  ?  '

'  someone  else's  success  is  not  your  failure.  '  

'  hey,  it's  okay.  i  still  love  you.  '  

'  if  life  don't  give  you  what  you  need,  just  try  and  try  again.  '  

'  you  gotta  know  that  even  though  it's  so  cliche,  you  must  go  on  with  the  show.  '  

'  just  dust  yourself  off,  honey,  and  respect  that  that  was  a  sign.  '  

'  if  your  suicide  goes  bust,  then  you  absolutely  must  not  try  again.  '  

'  fuck  those  bastards,  find  a  friend.  '

#rp memes #rp sentence prompts #rp sentence meme #sentence #sentence starters #meme #ask meme #roleplay meme #prompt #askbox #ask sentence meme #be more chill rp #be more chill sentence starters #be more chill rp meme #be more chill ask meme #bmc rp #bmc sentence starters #bmc rp meme #bmc ask meme

[marvelsswansong]

Could you please do 48 with Sugar daddy!Bucky, please? Thank you!

48: “Why do you keep this picture of me in your wallet?”

word count: 2.3K

a/n: includes mention of sexy times (obviously, it’s a sugar daddy AU). I changed the quote slightly to fit the blurb better, sorry about that x blurb requests are still open, check my bio for more info :)

NOTE: above gif is simply used for aesthetic. not to indicate the reader is imagined to be white and skinny. 

regular taglist: @wantyoubackpeter @platonic-plots @superwholockwannabe @xxmizzlexx @xdsockmonkey @princess-unicorn124  @not-jay-c @therealmrshale @caswinchester2000 @heartbeats-wildly @mostlylyricedits @musiclover1263 @angel-spidey @delicately-important-trash @theimpossiblehologramtree @sweetstilesofmine @valentinevirgo @barnes-heaven @paintingbellarke @cherryblossowm @sailorcrescentpotter1 @tomshufflepuff

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

“No feelings, just business.”

That’s what he had told you, the first time he had bought you that far too expensive champagne at the bar at a roof party in Milan. You had been dragged there by Natasha after turning down her offer to let you stay in her penthouse for a few weeks while you could find another place to live in after your landlord had decided to kick you out for a wealthier renter. As a university student, you needed to find a new place to live, and fast, near the university. Unfortunately, your university was in the smack middle of the city- making any possible accommodation extremely expensive.

“Just two drinks and you can leave.” Natasha argued, grabbing your hand and dragging you into the party. You already regretted entering as you felt so out of place- Natasha had been born into wealth, her father being an oil baron and her mother being one of the most famous actresses in Russia’s history. The other people at the party were those in her circle, other rich, successful and attractive people far above your caliber.

“I don’t belong here, Nat.” you complained, frantically pulling at your dress. She had insisted on buying it for you, going as far as pretending to go to the bathroom before paying the bill at the cashier of the designer store, but it was far too tight and short. The black little number clung to every crevice of your skin and matched with the velvet heels you were wearing, making you feel slightly self conscious with every step you took.

“Nonsense, babe. You look fucking gorgeous, you’ve been stressing too much lately and you need to blow off some steam tonight! Besides-” she leaned in closer to your ear to whisper. “I’m pretty sure half of the men here want to jump into your pants tonight.” 

You didn’t even want to glance at the direction she was pointing at and scowled, pushing her off with a playful glare.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.” 

“No I’m not, I-” 

Someone near the pool called Natasha’s name and she gave you a brief apology and a hug before scurrying off, greeting the other person with a loud scream. She was definitely a social butterfly, whilst you took a bit of time to warm up to people- especially in situations where you felt out of place. And now you were left. 

Alone.

“Could I keep you company instead?” a deep voice rung out from behind you. His tall stature dwarfed yours in comparison as he extended his hand towards you, the cuff links of his Armani suit rolled back slightly to expose his skin. The designer suit was nothing compared to his gorgeous face, a hint of stubble on his chin and a jawline that could cut crystal glass.4

“S-sure.”

He ordered the two of you a cocktail you’d never heard the name of, but you didn’t question it, still mesmerized by his presence. He chuckled at your obvious stare, causing you to look away in embarrassment.

“Are you fond of Oscar de la Renta?” he asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

“W-who?” 

He chuckled at your frantic response, sipping on his glass slowly as he eyed you up and down.

“Your dress. It’s an Oscar de la Renta piece.... You’re not a part of this usual crowd, are you?” 

You shook your head sideways, confirming his suspicion.

“How’d you know Natasha?” 

“We go to the same university. She invited me to this party because I’ve been pretty stressed in between studying and finding a new place to stay... Money’s really tight right now and places in the city are expensive...” you rambled on, not noticing the shift in his eyes as he listened to your predicament.

“I could help you, you know.” he proposed. You chuckled nervously, toying with the hem of your dress.

“I don’t even know who you are.”

“The name’s Bucky. Bucky Barnes.”

Three glasses of wine later and he’d lured you in, trading details of your life with his. You found out that he was a self-made billionaire who co-owned a private equity firm with his business partner, Steve Rogers. With hundreds of companies under his palm, he had it all- the money, the fame in the business world, the admiration and loyalty. But he wanted more than a “quick fuck”, as he put it.

“So what exactly are you proposing?” you’d pressed, leaning in closer. He smirked, flexing his rolex watch in the dim bar light.

“I could be your sugar daddy, in the bluntest terms.”

“Do I look like the type of girl who’d be a sugar baby?” 

He raised his eyebrow.

“I don’t know, doll, but... you’re fucking gorgeous. And out of money. I know you’re busy with school and all, but all I’m asking is that when you’re not at school to accompany me. I’ll give you everything else- money, gifts, trips to exotic places, connections.... All you need to give me is affection and physical company.” 

You bit your lip, mulling this over. The thought of being a sugar baby had never entered your mind, but here you were, being offered the world and more by an insanely attractive man. And all you had to do was keep him company- emotionally and sexually. His hand traveled over to your lap, his clean cologne warming your senses as he awaited your answer.

"No feelings, just business, right?” you asked quietly. He nodded.

“No feelings, just business.”

That solidified your decision.

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

For the first few months, you followed him everywhere.

Fiji. London. Paris. French Rivieras.

You’d let him pin you against the wall and fuck you senseless at the hotel room in exchange for an unlimited access to his platinum credit card the next day. He spoiled you with designer dresses from brands you couldn’t even pronounce and gifts that could single-handedly pay off student loans. 

With your schedule as a full time student and his hectic lifestyle as a billionaire CEO, you both agreed on having spaced out interactions. If he was in the city, you’d meet him twice a week, maybe even more if he was offering extra. If he was travelling, you could take a week off, week and a half off, maximum, to see him. On the days where you couldn’t physically see him, lots of sexts and calls were exchanged, all from the new phone Bucky had bought you. 

It was as business as it could get, or so you thought.

You’d gotten a call from Bucky in the middle of the night, whilst you were cramming for a final, even though you’d both agreed at the beginning that meeting up during finals would be extremely limited.

“Hello?”

“I need you to fly with me to Boston tomorrow night.”

You sighed, rubbing your eyes.

“Bucky, I can’t. I’m swamped with finals and-”

“Doll, I’m literally begging you, I-” 

That caught your attention, causing you to sit straight up. Bucky never begged for anything. Let alone, to you.

“My family’s been bugging me about meeting my new ‘girlfriend’ and me ‘settling down’ or whatever. I already told them I was bringing you, please, doll? I’ll double, even triple your pay.”

“Buck... It’s not about the money right now, I really need to do well on my finals. It’s in two weeks.” 

“And we’ll be back in a day or so, it’s just a quick stop by. Please... do this for me? A-at least as a friend, we’re at least friends, right?” 

And for some reason, perhaps it was because he sounded unusually desperate, you said yes. He picked you up in his limo the next day, exactly at 6pm, and you flew with him in his private jet to his childhood home in Boston. 

“It’s a little small.” he’d warned on the plane, as he helped you step down the metal stairs. 

Small your fucking ass.

You were astounded by the sheer amount of ground the mansion covered, as a maid scurried towards you and took your bags into the house. The steep marble arches and the high pane windows made you feel small, as you felt Bucky slip his arm around your waist and guide you towards the entrance.

Bucky’s mother was waiting for you at the door, pulling you into a tight hug and gushing about how pretty and polite you were to Bucky. You felt your heart skip a beat when Bucky referred to you as his “girlfriend”, but you forced yourself to breathe and smile.

No feelings, just business, you had to remind yourself. 

Bucky was dragged off to the side by his sister and father, meaning that you were dragged to the kitchen to keep his mother company. She was a very lovely woman, which was why you felt quite guilty lying to her about dating her son. 

“I’m so happy you’re dating my son, (Y/n).” she cooed, opening the stove. “I’ve never seen him stare at a woman so madly in love.” 

Signing if off as good acting on Bucky’s part, you smiled, waving off her compliment.

“I’m the lucky one, miss. That said, I’m pretty sure I’m the romantic in the relationship.” you joked, eliciting a laugh from her.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, you know. I’ve seen that picture of you in his wallet.”

Picture? 

Bucky never told you he kept physical pictures of you. You’d spend him pictures and you two took pictures on dates and outings, sure, but it was all digitalized and kept away in your phones....

Right?

Before you could question her further, she announced that dinner was ready, forcing you to sit next to Bucky. He pulled out a chair for you, causing his sister to outwardly “aww”, and making you let out a shaky sigh.  His hand found his way down the table to rest in yours, his thumb grazing your hand repeatedly in a soothing manner. 

That was new.

Bucky was an affectionate man, but he usually kept it brief, unless in bed. 

“So (Y/n), tell us more about how you met Bucky.” Rebecca pressed, sipping on her glass of wine with a teasing smile. The conversation flowed easily from there, jokes and embarrassing childhood memories being thrown around as time passed by. Four cups of wine and a mortifying story about Bucky falling on his face during a dance recital at his boarding school, you and Bucky clambered up to bed, your face still red from laughter.

“It’s not that funny.” Bucky grumbled underneath his breath as you clung onto him for support.

“Sorry, I just... I never would’ve thought you’d be a dancer. Let alone a clumsy dancer.” you teased, opening the door to the bedroom.

“Well I guess there’s more of me for you to discover.” 

The drunken haze lifted from your consciousness at his response, the sudden soft tone catching you off guard. The entire night, you drank away your fears, the fear that maybe he liked you back. You’d realized you had caught feelings for him, hard, about two months into it, but you’d talked yourself out of acting on it.

No feelings, just business. That is what he had said.

But the whole night he went out of his way to touch you, holding your hand and kissing the back of your neck. Calling you “doll” and “sweetheart.” Telling his family stories about you with an adoring gaze in his eyes. And according to his mother, that picture of you in his wallet...

“Shit, I left my phone downstairs. I’ll be right back.” he said, interrupting your train of thought. He conveniently left his wallet behind, and when you flipped it open, there indeed was a picture of you inside. 

And not just any picture.

It was one of you, passed out on his lap after a particularly grueling and boring conference call, in which Bucky was working from his home. You weren’t dressed up, hell, you didn’t even have any makeup on. Just an old t-shirt he owned and short pajama shorts, and a pair of penguin socks. It was oddly domestic and simple.

And he had it printed and stuck in between the leather bindings of his wallet.

“Why do you keep this picture of me in your wallet?” 

Bucky’s smile dropped off his face as his eyes shifted to the picture he’d been hiding away in your hand, dread seeping across his chest. He swore under his breath, he knew he should’ve kept it somewhere more secretive, but he just couldn’t help himself.

“Can I be honest?”

You nodded as he took in a deep breath.

“I.... I know I said ‘no feelings, just business’, and really, at the beginning, I thought that was all it was going to be. But... somewhere down the line, I realized, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re wicked smart. You’re so kind. You’re not afraid to crack a joke at my expense. You’re... the perfect girl for me, except I was paying for it. I was paying for this... fantasy. Before you say anything, I know you don’t feel the same. I know this is all business for you, so uh, if you want to end the relationship now, since I’ve gotten attached, I’ll under-”

He’s cut off by your body crashing into his, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and he can taste the cherry wine on your lips as you press into him. He eagerly returns the kiss but is left dazed when you pull back, a wide smile on your face.

“I love you, you idiot.” 

He smiles back, a smile so bright and sweet that makes your heart flutter, before he pulls you onto his lap on the bed. His hand is already underneath your blouse as he pulls out his phone, his lips tracing your neck.

“So... what’d you say I get a new picture for my wallet?”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #bucky barnes fluff #sugar daddy!bucky #sugar daddy!bucky x reader #sugar daddy!bucky barnes #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel blurbs #marvel imagine #marvel reader insert #i actually really like the way it turned out

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #441

“all alone, he turns to stone while holding his breath after death  /  terrified of what’s inside, to save his life he crawls like a worm from a bird”

Have you ever watched a movie in class/school that made you cry? Yep, a few. What’s the earliest you could go to bed at night and feel okay about? If I'm having a really bad day, I can tolerate as early as 7:00. :x What is you favorite type of lunch meat? Honey ham, probably. What time of the year do you dislike the most? Summer is disgusting. It's too hot, too humid, too many bugs, and I just hate it. Do you put ketchup on your scrambled eggs? No, that sounds gross. What is your favorite color to wear? b l a c k Are you an overachiever? Oh, hunny. What physical feature do you wish you had (i.e. freckles, curly hair)? Maybe uhhhh big eyes. What fictional character (i.e. Bambi, Scarlette O'hara) would you marry? Darkiplier bc he is merely a misunderstood soft boi. How long have you gone without shaving (girls- legs, armpits; boys- faces)? Legs: It's been nearly a year. Pits: not that long, considering I shave them every time I get in the shower. What is the meanest thing you have ever said to someone else? I'm sure it would be something in one of the letters I sent Jason. Or Dad. Idk. Did you ever go through a phase where you wrote bad poetry? The phase never ended lmao. What is your favorite thing about your life? My loved ones. Save all the animals that die during road kill or save 1 human from a fire? Sorry, but I'm picking the animals. Have you ever painted a picture of somebody? Yes. How many real bfs/gfs have you had? Two. Did you enjoy your past relationships? Yes. Except for when I was with Tyler. Name a comedy that you like. White Chicks. Could you wait until marriage for sex? Yeah. What’s the best Nirvana song? I'm not sure, really... Maybe "Drain You?" What was the last thing that impressed you? No clue. When was the last time you were in a pet store? Several months ago when I went in to get more rats for Venus. What nationality is your last name? Irish. What’s your favorite kind of chips and dip? Plain, rippled Lays in French onion dip. Who was the last boy that you saw cry? I don't know, actually. It may have been Sara's dad, which was years ago. Does your mom know you do surveys? I mean no, it's not like it's come up in conversation. Have you ever had a serious injury? When I was a kid, there was this one time I was running down the road with my friend, and I tripped; I was a fast runner, so I skinned the everliving FUCK out of my knees to the point there was even pus. I was SOBBING, and it took weeks to heal; I had the scars for years. What was the last thing you achieved? Losing weight at the gymmmm. Staying dedicated to going. Would you enjoy being famous? No. I couldn't take all the eyes on me and even ONE person's negative judgment. What’s under your bed? A big box of my art supplies. Do you enjoy travelling? Yeah. I wish I could do it more. Have you ever belonged to a club? If so, what was it? No. When was the last time you drank strawberry milk? Not since I first tried it at elementary school. It was absolutely disgusting. Have you ever managed to collect all the fast food toys in a set? I doubt it. Do you have a clock in your room? No. Did you have a good driver’s ED teacher? No. If I'd listened to him while driving, I could've gotten myself killed while merging onto the highway. People are assholes and didn't want to move over. Which of Britney Spears’ songs is your favorite? Probably "Freakshow." Does mind over matter work for you? Not usually, no. Are you paranoid? Oh yes. What is the best thing about winter? Everything!!! Literally the only BAD thing about winter is the dry skin/lips. I love the cold, Christmas and all that comes with it, the decor, hot chocolate, snow, getting all cuddly... Everything. :') Have you ever been truly in love? Absolutely. Are you currently planning a trip? No. A trip to Illinois is just a wish right now. How many plants are in your home? None, I think? What is your favorite possession? Excluding my pets (because I don't like calling them "possessions"), probably my laptop. Have you ever felt like you were too nice and way too often overlooked? I have before, yes. What movies have tripped you out? Off the top of my head, the only entertainment media in general that has ever truly "tripped me out" was the first time I played the Silent Hill game. The movie didn't affect me to that level because I already understood the concept. When I watched Jason play it for the first time, I was SO confused and just blown away by the concept that I did loads of research and just thinking about it all. That franchise is just cool as shit, okay. Did you rollerblade as a kid? Do you still rollerblade? I LOVED rollerblading. I haven't done it in years, though. Would you ever settle into a relationship that wasn’t right for you? Do you know friends who are in relationships just so they have someone to sleep with at night? NO. I will NOT settle. Being genuinely in love with my partner is too important to me for me to ever do so. I don't know if any of my friends are in that situation. Would you take a dirty picture of yourself for someone you are dating? With my current body? FUCK no. If I was happy with my body, the answer is still probably no. I'm too self-conscious and awkward with that kind of stuff, and besides, I really don't think I want a picture like that to exist of myself to avoid potential trouble. Do you use earplugs or a sleeping mask when you sleep? No. What summertime treats do you love? We have this local slushy place that is FUCKING BOMB. It may sound basic, but they have SUCH a vast variety of flavors and goodies you can top it with that it's truly just so amazing. How picky are you when it comes to choosing who to kiss or not kiss? I am VERY picky. I have to be really interested in you. Save for how things were with Tyler... I just felt like I was supposed to. What do you hate most about moving? I. Hate. The process. Of moving. It is just so, so stressful to me. I have a very hard time confronting big tasks, and that's exactly what packing and unpacking entails. Do you feel that having sex anywhere but a bed is more exciting? Not necessarily. Do you drink 5 hour energy drinks or any other kinds of energy drinks? No. Has anyone ever whistled at you? I don't think so. Do you like scarves? No. Is your father homophobic? Possibly. I don't actually know. I honestly don't think he took Sara's and my relationship seriously, so that may be a sign. Do you take gummy vitamins? The only vitamin I take now is vitamin D, which isn't a gummy. Have you ever applied make-up on a guy, for any reason at all? Ha, yeah. I gave Jason a makeover once. Who would you like to meet before you die? MARK. I am so determined, alsdjfkaj;wek;rj. I just want to hug him and say thank you and ugly-cry. If your dream was to be a model, and a big opportunity came up, but you had to be nude, would you take it? No. Even if I had the body of a model. What’s the most ridiculous conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of? The fuckin' flat earth theory, probably. If Heaven and Hell exists, where you going when you die? Well, considering I have an, uh, very negative opinion of the Christian god... Who is the person that you are afraid of losing, above everyone else? My mom. The day she passes is a day I am inexplicably horrified of. What is one thing that pisses you off pretty much everyday? My life. If there anyone you know that you feel should consider therapy? My mom really could use it. Do you like any of the songs on Twilight, or the actual movie/saga itself? I love "Supermassive Black Hole" by Muse, but idk if it was actually written for the movie. How old was the first person you kissed? He was 18 when we first kissed. Will you be a strict parent one day? I never want to be a parent. If I hypothetically became one, I don't think I'd be strict, necessarily, but very protective. Last person to stand up for you? Probably Mom, idk. Have you been to a baby shower? Yeah, a few. Who were you with the last time you went to the movie theater? My dad. What’s your favorite high school memory? Just... a lot with Jason. Do you like relationships, or do you prefer to be single? I prefer being in a (healthy) relationship, but I won't get into one just for the sake of having one. What is one adventurous thing you’d be willing to do? Hmmm... scuba-dive, maybe? What subject at school did you absolutely hate? Math. Italian food or Chinese food? Italian. I don't really like (most) Chinese food. Do you like to make flash cards when you study? I rarely did that. Has anyone ever told you that you’re a good singer? Yes, somehow. Do you ever watch TED talks, live or online? No. I dare you to write the name of a person you strongly dislike. Ashley. What do you think about Marilyn Manson? He's one of my favorite musical artists, but he's a disgusting dick personally. Biggest trouble you’ve ever gotten into at school? Nothing, really. I was a very well-behaved kid. Do you own one of those “professional” DSLR cameras? Yeah, I have a Canon. Does it bother you when you see a 6th grader with a bunch of gadgets? No. Did you buy yearbooks every year in high school, or did you not bother? Not every year, but most. Do you have Restless Legs Syndrome? No. Jalapeños: yay or nay? I loooove them. Did you ever play Minecraft? Nah. My niece is getting into it. Did you ever have a Club Penguin account? Were you a member? I did have one. I wasn't one of those premium members or anything like that; I just had a basic account. Do you know anyone that seems to not have any common sense? Bitch me. It's extremely embarrassing. I 100% got it from my dad. What do you think is the biggest injustice that was ever done to you? The manner through which Jason broke up with me. It left me traumatized. What type of person angers you the most? Abusive people that think only they matter and have no consideration for how their actions affect other people. If you could change your appearance, how would you alter it? I'd lose a shitload of weight, for one. My teeth would be whiter, my eyes bigger and bluer, I'd want my hair colored/able to hold color far better, I'd lighten and lessen my body hair, make my skin clearer, thin my eyebrows... I'd change a lot. What are your feelings on feminism? MANDATORY. Absolutely necessary in a misogynistic society. However, I do believe some people take it way too far to a point it is anti-man and puts women on a holy pedestal. It is about equality. Describe your first relationship? Perfect, until it wasn't. Describe your last relationship? Wonderful and healthy, but distance and our health were issues at the time. Can you honestly say that you always practice safe sex? My history with sex is confusing and complicated and I really don't know. Why do you think your most favorite film touches you so deeply? Thinking about it... it's probably because of how Simba runs from his problems and bad memories, but returns to confront them and is victorious. That's how I want to be. What do you want people you meet for the first time to think about you? That I'm nice and clearly sincerely cared about them and their feelings. Do you feel protective over someone? My sisters, nieces and nephews, Sara... What perfume/cologne do you wear? It's called "Blush." Where did your vehicle come from? I don't have my own, but Mom's came from a girl at the dance studio. She ran into a deer, and the front got fucked up, but the sweetheart paid to fix it up to being operable so Mom had her own car. The front bumper is kept intact with zip ties and duct tape, but hey... it works and has for many, many years now, lol. What was the color of the bridesmaid dresses of the last wedding you went to? Ummmm... I actually don't remember. What is your favorite way to eat chicken? As tenders, probably. It is your birthday. You hope the cake is: Red velvet. This year for my bday, our controlling-as-fuck family friend bought me my birthday cake without consulting ANYBODY, and I was so fucking annoyed. It was a very kind gesture, yes, but um, can I have a say, please? What do you wear to bed? Usually men's pj pants and a tank top. What were you doing at 8pm last night? Sleeping, actually. I was extremely tired and went to bed early.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''the bird and the worm'' by the used

[ziracona]

please bless me with all of your dbd headcanons even just a crumb would satisfy me,,,,, lmao. Fr tho ur hcs are godly pls give me all of them especially for og 4 and wraif

Thank you!! I’m glad you like my hot takes!

Let’s see, og4.

Jake grows facial hair pretty easy (that part is just canon). Usually he either lets it grow and ignores it till it gets long, or stays cleanshaven, but the in-between stage is physically painful for everyone else at the campfire bc you wake up and see rugged 2day scruffy woodsman stretch and he sees you staring and goes, “What?” Looking thoroughly unimpressed and Meg sheds a tear and Claudette pretends to not be looking and stares at her journal and Dwight gets heart palpitations it’s just bad for the whole group. When he shaves he’s an edgy dumbass and does it with a sharpened hunk of metal he made into a knife for himself and Dwight saw him shaving once and had to go sit down.

Jake has a soft spot for many of the survivors he’s known longer (honestly at this point, he’s pretty attached to the lot of them though), but especially the ones who work really hard at protecting other survivors. Double points if you’re younger than him. He would kill for Claudette, and take a bullet meant for Quentin, but would not convey this to them at all. Jake puts almost zero effort into making sure people knows he likes them. The people he has a soft spot for especially are also not always the ones he prefers to spend time with. While they’re survivors he spends less time with personally, Jake respects Feng Min for being the snarky little gremlin she is, and Tapp’s dedication to his job even here. Weirdly, while the people he likes often aren’t aware of affection, the ones he respects but isn’t as close to usually are aware of the respect. Jake also thinks he doesn’t like having friends and spending time not alone, but he does.

If asked point blank his thoughts on a survivor he likes, he’d probably just shrug or say, “They contribute to the team,” or “She works hard,” or “He’s fine,” because Jake just be like that. He had a hard time getting close to anyone initially because of how he grew up. Jake’s very guarded. He’s used to people manipulating and using each other, which makes keeping anything vulnerable close to his chest just necessary as he sees it. Boy doesn’t trust easy. Or open up. Ya need a can opener. Boy also does not like getting pushed around. Least favorite killers (aside from Nightmare) are probably Doctor and Ghostface, because he cannot stand being forced to do things or used. He’d rather take a chainsaw to the back than have someone lord power over him. He’s also got a looong memory, so if you fuck him over, he is not the kind to forget and forgive. He is the kind to resent and remember. Not that he never forgives people, but boy would have to really believe whatever happened was regretted and the person wasn’t like that anymore to let something that made him very angry go. He’s quiet angry though. Bide your time and get vengeance kinda angry. Would never let someone push him around. If a killer tried to fuck with him, he’d do everything in his power to kill them.

While Jake is tough and likes to hike just to be out and moving, and enjoys toughing it out, Meg enjoys being outside more as a fun thing than a wildnerness lifestyle thing. She has a lot of energy, and even in the realm, all that adhd can be a bitch. It would be easy to focus on the shitty stuff happening and drown in that, so she likes to keep moving, like she has since she was a kid and started running. Meg loves hard, and if she cares about you, she’ll make sure you know it. Not good at shutting up or realizing if she’s been going on for too long, girl has passion for everything.

Meg talks a big game, but does not have as much confidence as she pretends to have. She has abandonment issues, but they’re less, ‘my dad abandoned me’ and more ‘everyone but my mom, from him to grade school friends, hasn’t stuck around,’ so she does worry about that and coming on too strong, which she is aware she often does, but she can’t get herself to turn down the power settings on herself even when she tries. She’s never been good at making friends, so all of this in the realm is kinda new to her, since no one can leave. Meg would tell almost no one those things about herself. She cares hard though, and will try to distract other people from realm despair any way she can, because it’s what she needs and she assumes what they must need too. And to be fair, she ain’t wrong. Good at cultivating activities and drinks loving her friends juice.

Big goofball. BIG goofball. Also big gay. Well, bi af, but w a pretty strong preference for the ladies. She is simple of heart. Sees a girl, loses ability to think. Bonded with Nea over this problem. High int, low wisdom, big dumbass. Her weaknesses include girls’ eyes, voices, accents, freckles, scars, stomachs, legs, ass, titties, hair, hair dye, laughs, hands, eye contact, and cute accessories. Not great at expressing her feelings when she catches them, but tries hard. Actually pretty good at romancing once she gets into the groove. It’s just getting there she sucks at. Loyal as hell. Will go to bat for her friends and would rather die than betray them.

Meg has a real temper, especially when she feels like something being done to her or someone else is unjust/unfair, and will always try to fix those things even when it’s hopeless. Can and will weaponize her anger extremely effectively. Ridiculous memory for pop culture, shit memory for homework and things she was supposed to be doing. Memelord, but with some class.

Idk if this is because I identified with Claudette really strongly when I first started playing dbd or not, but I have always seen her as Asexual & Panromantic. Attracted to kindness. 

She gets overwhelmed fairly easily, but has been improving that by necessity since arriving in the realm, and can tap into the mom-friend override to fix problems for people who aren’t her. Has a hard time telling when people are teasing her/joking, but everyone knows this so they take it easier on her than each other.

Like Meg, had no friends before this, so it’s exciting and new, and a little scary, but mostly really good. She worries about other people a lot, and doesn’t always know how to help, but she tries. Very relieved Dwight volunteered to be team leader.

Enjoys recording things and studying. Would be fascinated by the Entity’s world if she wasn’t always being killed. Seems small and weak and easy to take down, but she has the strength of will to kill God herself if backed into a corner, especially when fighting for someone she loves. Sweet does not mean she will not fight back, and since being in the realm, and getting over her initial freezing up at the sight of horrifying murderers, she has worked extremely hard to be brave and take an active roll protecting people whenever she can. She is still terrified a lot, but has learned to push through that to help her friends and herself.

Loves animals, including ones a lot of people don’t like (bugs, snakes, rats, etc) and would and has definitely tried to snag a scorpion and a cockroach from trials to study before, and tried to befriend the realm rats now that they exist. Tries to get Jake to show her how to get birds to like you but does know how to ask him right.

Nervous about interpersonal relationships and unsure of herself. Really likes everyone but horrible at telling how other people feel. Feels like she always comes off wrong and can’t put words to things well even when she understands them super well. Does her best 24/7. Incredibly smart and talented. Knowledgeable about her passions. Is always thinking 4th dimensionally and has saved the team many a time by pulling off wild bullshit that makes sense kind of just barely but no one else would have thought of.

Dwight was a loser and kind of a douche growing up, kind of selfish and entitled and weak, but is no longer that person after a few years in the realm. He works hard to make good on his promises to look out for everyone, and cares about them very genuinely. Great at thinking on his feet and sounding like he knows more than he does, wonderful at regulating tasks to people efficiently, and not a bad strategist. 

Being the kind of person now who would not have liked the person he was a few years ago causes a little cognitive dissonance and self-doubt, but he’s trying. Genuinely enjoys hearing about people’s days and interests even when he’s completely lost. 

Not a fan of heights. If the fear of heights was not vastly overpowered by fear of sharp object, he would actively avoid the old ironworks in trials, but alas.

Used to play video games a lot. Thought he was good at them. Was not. Was definitely not.

Self-improvement king. Works hard and is a really decent dude. A very good sport. Used to be an asshole, so now that he’s nice he’s pretty damn forgiving if other people put in the work to improve too (my boy’s no hypocrite). Has mellowed out a lot and is pretty chill and nice but the damn fool will break his own heart by taking things people say the wrong way, or things they mean as a joke literally, if it’s something he thinks is true about himself, and will totally miss context and vocal inflection and just be like, “I know but I’m trying TuT.”

Big gay but in denial and confused

Just at this point really does want people to get to go home and be ok. Loves hearing stories and listening to his friends talk at the campfire because it makes him feel like things might be okay. Get the same result just by being near his friends, especially the other og3 who have been with him forever. If they’re all still there, things have to turn out okay someday. :’ ) Has never really told them that, because he’s supposed to be the leader, and thinks they’d feel less secure if they knew he depends on being able to sleep close to them at night to feel like he’ll be okay himself. Not in a they’d judge me way, but in a I really don’t want to let them down way. He wants them to think he’s got a handle on things even when he really doesn’t.

I was gonna do Philip too but I got this this morning and this post is already ridiculously long TuT, so here you go. Plus one mini Philip one.

Philip feels responsible for the young man he saw his boss kill the day the Entity got him. He knows that he killed scores of people unknowingly for Azarov, and those weigh, but he thinks sometimes late at night that if he could have just saved that one, it might have been enough to make him feel absolved someday for all the other deaths on his head. He remembers his face very well, and how terrified he was, and the moment of confusion and relief, and almost gratefulness when Philip let him go. He thinks over and over that if he’d just talked to him–assumed something was up, and gotten him to be quiet. Seen Azarov in time and stopped him. So many little things, and the young man would have lived. Even if the others were things he was completely blind to, he feels like that one is especially his fault, and that he could have stopped it. That one really haunts him.

#long post #dead by daylight #dbd #Philip Ojomo #Dwight Fairfield #Jake Park #Claudette Morel #Meg Thomas #I love doing these but I have like 6000 headcanons and I'm not good at picking one TuT I'm happy to do more but please help me give me an #area to focus on I'm dyin' scoob I'm boo boo the fool #Too many thoughts head full #the wraith #ask #anonymous #In Living Memory #In Living Memory (fic)

[lovelyirony]

pls 33.) “He said oh my god you’re piecing it together/You are just a shadow of me/oh my lord you’ve never left the mirror/You were never ever free” Mirror Master with Peggy and Sharon parallels and some Steve/Sharon mayhaps? OR 12.) “It’s on pretty lady/born to be angry/grip of the vice/click on the trigger, girl/sip wine on ice” It’s About Time with rivals to lovers Nat/Maria

Sharon loved visiting her Aunt Peggy. From investigating the various nooks and crannies around the house to the “don’t tell your father I told you this story...” tidbits, it was her favorite place. Her house always smelled of tea and linen, and sometimes Aunt Peggy allowed her to try on some red lipstick. 

“With red, you’ll be unstoppable,” Peggy says teasingly. “And who knows what will happen when you’re unstoppable...” 

Being a kid means you don’t see a lot of the things that go on behind the scenes, so to speak. Sharon doesn’t know why her mother never likes that it’s Peggy who watches her when she can, doesn’t understand why her father doesn’t want Peggy to tell her what her job is. 

She doesn’t know why her mom steers her away from any talk of “being just Peggy!” 

“You want to do something else,” her mother says worriedly. “Didn’t you want to be a ballerina?” 

“Peggy said they can’t work as a ballerina for very long because of repetition,” Sharon says, frowning. 

“Then you can be a doctor. Or a lawyer!” 

“Lawyers are boring,” Sharon says, rolling her eyes. “Why can’t I be like Aunt Peggy?” 

“Because...just don’t ask,” her mother tells her. She’s irritated, voice getting sharp. Sharon knows that her mom is never a fun person when she’s mad. So Sharon doesn’t say anything, not until her mother is lying down for the night and she sneaks out to her dad’s office. 

“Mom doesn’t want me to be like Aunt Peggy. Why?” She whispers, crawling into his lap. He smells like printer ink and the woodsy smell of his cologne. 

“Peggy...she’s chosen a dangerous career. It gets her in a bit of trouble sometimes. Your mother doesn’t want that for you.” 

“She wants me to be a boring lawyer,” Sharon whines. “I don’t wanna be a lawyer.” 

“You don’t have to be,” her dad whispers. “You can be what you want. But with Aunt Peggy’s job...there’s more of a chance that you don’t get to see family as often. She’s lucky that she doesn’t have to move to England or Paris again.” 

“She lived in England?” Sharon asks, eyes bugging out. 

“Yes, for a bit. You know that we were raised there. She wasn’t there to visit anyone. She had to work the whole time.” 

“That doesn’t sound like fun,” Sharon says, frowning. 

“No, no it isn’t. But I think saving lives as a doctor could be fun, yeah?” 

“Maybe.” 

Sharon doesn’t stop wanting to be like Aunt Peggy. Peggy is fierce and Peggy is liked by a lot of people and holds influence. 

Peggy Carter probably doesn’t sit alone at lunch because girls called her weird and guys say she’s too much like them. 

Peggy Carter has loads of friends, like Aunt Angie and Mr. Jarvis. 

If Sharon was more like Peggy, then maybe things would be different and her mom would quit asking her if she wants to invite Mackenzie to her birthday party. 

Sharon is very similar to Peggy. Scarily so. She has the same intensity to her gaze, the same drive to help others in her own way. She doesn’t suffer fools easily, and Peggy knows that if she’s not careful, Sharon will end up like her. 

And that is one thing that she is terrified of. Peggy knows a lot of the things that have led her to survive are either lucky or questionable. She’s done lots of things she’s not proud of. She doesn’t always check in on her kids as much as she should, doesn’t miss the drifting commentary of not being something/somewhere/someone “again.” 

Again. What a damning word, to be something/someone/somewhere “again.” 

So when Sharon asks her if she can start training--after all, she was already thirteen and needed to get a headstart if she really wanted to be like her aunt--and Peggy looks at her. 

“No.” 

“What? Why not?” Sharon asks, sipping the rest of her tea. “Is it still too early?” 

“My job is not easy,” Peggy says. “It is not a game.” 

“You think...what?” Sharon asks. 

“You wouldn’t take it seriously,” Peggy says. “This isn’t some adventure of Betty Carver, this isn’t a Captain America adventure. No.” 

Sharon blinks back tears. She can’t cry in front of Aunt Peggy, not here. Not now. She wants to prove she’s not some fucking little kid who thinks this is her thinking it’ll be like Betty Carver, the stupid nurse from the old radio show about Captain America. 

“I-I’ll go home now,” Sharon says, voice brimming with tears. She can’t hide it. Doesn’t have the training for it, obviously. “See you later.” 

Peggy knows it hurts Sharon. She knows it does, knows that she will never look at Sharon like she usually does. But she needs Sharon to be nothing like her. 

Because if she’s everything like her...oh god. 

- 

Her mother is relieved. There’s a lighter air to her demeanor when Sharon says she’ll just walk home from school anymore. 

“I don’t wanna bother Aunt Peggy,” she says lightly. They can’t know what was said. She can barely think of it without tears coming back up. “Do you think I can sign up for anatomy in high school?” 

A doctor. That’s what she’ll be. That’s what she tells herself. 

But then there comes a night when she’s home alone. Her parents are on a date night, playfully telling her to not do anything dangerous. She knows they mean have anyone over, light the house on fire. 

They don’t think she’ll reconsider her career path. 

Aunt Peggy doesn’t think she can do it. She thinks that Sharon is just some kid who thinks this whole thing is some stupidly fun mission and she’ll tell stories by the campfire when she’s old. 

Sharon’s not stupid. She still may be a kid, but she doesn’t know why the hell anyone thinks kids are stupid. 

She can still pretend like she’s gonna be a doctor. She’ll just need to add some necessary lies. Like saying she needs to study foreign languages to a.) make sure she knows her patients, and b.) get scholarships. Saying she needs self-defense because she wants to work in DC. 

“To work on politicians, huh?” her dad asks with a grin. “Don’t pull the plug, they’ll throw you in jail.” 

“I won’t get caught,” Sharon jokes. 

“Don’t,” her mother warns. “You’ll get us all in trouble one day, I swear. What made you decide to focus more on all this, hm?” 

“Future’s important,” Sharon says. “Isn’t that what you always say, mom?” 

“So you can listen to that but not me telling you to put away your laundry seven times?” 

“Mom!” 

Her mother chuckles. 

“I’m proud of you, honey. Just think, our next doctor! How fun...” 

She prattles on about her insanely-boring Uncle Jimmy, who could make paint beg to dry quicker. 

Sharon starts studying, and studying hard. She memorizes languages, at least enough to get by. She starts going to the gym and kickboxing. And she remembers that she wants to do this in spite of Aunt Peggy, because she wants to be there to help people. 

She remembers Peggy’s stories of Steve, which always varied with Captain America’s. Steve was a sweetheart who liked to draw and had a surprisingly vicious sense of humor. 

“You and him would have gotten along like a house on fire,” Peggy would say, chuckling. “Of course, he owed me a dance...I’m not sure if I would have taken him up on that.” 

She would gaze fondly over at Uncle Daniel, who smiles in response and kisses her on the forehead and tells her what’s for dinner. 

Steve always did stuff for the right reason. Didn’t matter that he was as skinny as a telephone pole, didn’t matter that he could get around New York by categorizing which streets he got beat up on. He kept going. He kept trying to be the best person he could under the circumstances. 

That’s what Sharon likes about Steve Rogers. Of course Captain America most likely ended World War II on a much quicker pace and gave hope to millions, but it was Steve who at the end of the day promised a dance and had smiles on his face that were endearingly familiar to her. 

When she goes to college, she goes on scholarship and moves into a dorm. Her mother tries to convince her in vain to join a sorority. 

“Don’t you want built-in friends?” Her mother asks. “After all, you know that I still talk to Roberta and Missy from mine--” 

“And they’re such a delight,” dad mutters, ignoring the dirty look his wife gives him. “Sharon, do what you want. You wanna join a sorority? Fine. You don’t? Cool.” 

“They’re beneficial, Sharon. Who knows how many connections you could get for jobs?” 

That makes Sharon pause. 

She joins a sorority. Not her favorite thing, but some of these girls have mothers and fathers and family members that sway decisions. And if she wants a favor later, she’ll have to see Lindsey puke out three margaritas in a shitty bar to do it. 

Class, of course, is difficult. She plays the part well of studying to be a doctor and finding out it just isn’t for her. 

“Oh that’s okay,” her father says. “I wanted to be an archaeologist at some point. Can you imagine how ridiculous that would be? I misplace my socks half the time, I don’t know what I’d do with dinosaur bones...” 

Sharon giggles. Says she’s thinking about switching to be a communications major. 

They okay it, she’s set. She also has more time to train, practice languages, and get a minor in Spanish. 

She keeps a lookout for SHIELD. Listens carefully to what her dad says about Aunt Peggy. 

He knows something happened. Neither party will tell him, but something is off in the way Sharon makes too sharp a remark and Peggy hasn’t the faintest idea what Sharon’s actually up to. 

“I worry about both of them,” Harrison tells his wife. 

“People grow apart some times,” Amanda answers sleepily. “And it’s good that Sharon grew out of that phase where she wanted to be Margaret. Of all things...” 

He supposes his wife is right. He sets down his newspaper, takes off his reading glasses, and heads to bed. 

Meanwhile, Sharon has ditched her sorority’s party night to interview at SHIELD. She’s submitted her applications under Agent Thirteen, waiting for a response. When she gets an email from someone named “Phil Coulson” to meet at seven o’clock for an interview, she dresses in business casual and waits at a cafe for him. 

He blinks. 

“Does...does Director Carter know you’re here?” 

“No, and I would prefer it if she didn’t,” Sharon says. “Especially since she’s retired and SHIELD is no longer under her eyes.” 

Coulson clears his throat. 

“Of..of course. May I ask why?” 

“Family connections are dangerous things to have in this business,” Sharon tells him, taking a swig of coffee. “I would prefer to avoid it.” 

- 

She gets a trial run. She’s put in a course with the other new recruits. Calls her parents and says it’s a boot camp for leadership. (She’s not wrong...technically.) She tightens her ponytail and listens as the senior agents tell them all it isn’t a walk in the park. 

“This isn’t some ‘save-the-day’ routine that you get to brag about once it’s done,” Agent Coulson says in that infuriatingly even, boring voice he has. “You’ll have nightmares. You will have to lie to everyone you love about everything. And people will leave you and you cannot blame them for it, you cannot tell them the real reason. Are you ready for that? Do you think you can handle that?” 

Recruits nod. Sharon says “yes.” Because verbalizing it? That means you have a dedication. Simply nodding never means what it is. It means you cannot dedicate yourself to a problem, but you think you can. 

It is that night when she sleeps on an uncomfortable cot that she understands Aunt Peggy a little bit more. She understands why she couldn’t always be there, why her own kids didn’t like visiting, or so mom had said. 

(Maybe why she told you to stay away, her brain whispers. But she remembers her throat burning, remembering that her aunt had told her that she couldn’t train someone like her.) 

Sharon keeps that thought away. Better not to have personal connections. 

Of course, everyone wants to know why she’s Agent Thirteen. 

“You like numbers or something?” One girl asks. “Come on, you can tell me. We’re friends, right?” 

They are not friends. Lily seems to think they are because she wants Sharon to let her guard down enough so she can beat her time on the obstacle course. 

“Nope,” Thirteen says. “Just call me Thirteen like everybody else. You’re not gonna know it.” 

“Fine, be that way,” Lily says. “I’m still gonna kick your ass on the obstacle course, Thirteen.” 

Sharon grins. 

“Do your worst, Lily.” 

(Lily’s worst is...well it’s worse than most everyone’s. She’s rejected from the field academy and doesn’t let anyone see her cry. But everyone can hear it over the steady thrum of the shower.) 

“So, why the number Thirteen?” Agent Barton asks. He’s different from most recruits. For one, he’s from Iowa. That in itself is...something. Secondly, he was recruited from an honest-to-god circus where he wore purple sequins. 

“Thirteen is my favorite number,” she responds, rewrapping her hands for the sparring session. “Why purple sequins?” 

“They were out of hot pink,” Clint says, and she laughs. “Come on, I think if we hurry to the cafeteria we can get a meal that is only questionable and not highly questionable.” 

Thirteen scores well on tests involving body language. She reads people like a book. Her aim could use work, but it’s proficient enough to impress. She can turn on the charm, turn on the lies like she’s meant to do it. 

(And she’s spent so long lying to everyone around her, is it any wonder?) 

When she gets officially inducted, Fury asks her if her aunt knows. 

“No, and I would rather she didn’t,” Sharon said tersely. 

She understands Peggy now. She understands her in the way that agents are lost and people get frustrated and drop the training because they have a spouse that they love more than life itself. God knows how Peggy balanced it. 

She thinks that maybe Aunt Peggy was scared that Sharon would disappear and never return, become like so many others on the wall of remembrance. 

Sharon touches Steve’s placard every time she passes it. It’s more tarnished than others, the first one on the wall. Her fingers trace the “S” and the “R” every time, and she smiles as she remembers the stories of him. 

People see similarities. The higher-ups don’t spill any secrets to the lower agents, they can’t. But they know that she’s related to Peggy in the way her voice becomes clipped when she’s frustrated, in the ways her eyes flash in rage. 

She’s too similar, she knows that. 

The comparisons won’t stop. Because she knows she’s too similar. Dear god, sometimes she’s worried that she’ll look into a mirror and see her. 

The older agents, the ones that have been in the field and now deal with all the boring paperwork and paper trails whisper to her that Peggy made a lot of the same decisions as she did, stayed behind to make sure the job was done. 

“You’re just like her,” Agent Veering says, his spectacles slipping down his nose. “She would be proud of you, you know.” 

No, no she wouldn’t. To have someone turn out exactly like you? 

Well...you know your shortcomings. You know your failures. You know how you will die, nearly. And someone having that same pattern? 

God, Peggy would die. 

So she pushes that out of her mind. She focuses on the mission at hand and reads the various notecards on the fridge about “please don’t touch this meal or you will die.” 

She’s one of their best. Of course she is, people say. Fury is reminded of Peggy’s legacy, of how Sharon acts. She puts herself out there first, luring people away with expectations. It’s...eerily similar. 

Sharon gets a call from her parents. They think she has an office job dealing with communications in security fields. (Technically not a lie. Also not a complete truth.) 

“You need to come visit Peggy,” dad says quietly. “Please.” 

“What happened?” 

“She’s been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.” 

It’s a terrible thing. Because it can’t get better, it will only get worse until you have someone who doesn’t know a damn thing. 

Peggy doesn’t like all the fuss. 

“Don’t worry about me darling,” she tells Harrison. “I’m fine. Just a bit forgetful. I’ll be out of hospital in a week, tops. I’ll be back to work!” 

She thinks she’s going back to work a lot. 

They actually have to keep her in a special home, one monitored by SHIELD agents. She keeps revealing secrets, ones that people absolutely cannot know. 

But on good days, Sharon visits. And on bad days. 

“I cannot believe you joined SHIELD,” Peggy says sharply. “It’s exactly what I didn’t want you to do.” 

“Should’ve told me to go for it and then told me about the recruit training,” Sharon says. “Would’ve turned me off completely.” 

Peggy laughs. She holds Sharon hands. 

“Promise me you’ll be careful. Don’t...don’t be like me.” 

And it means more now. It’s unavoidable, what Peggy has. And yet there’s always the “what if.” 

“Okay,” Sharon says, knowing she is lying. “Okay.” 

Sharon cries in her car. For longer than ten minutes. Which is fine, she knows that. 

But she gets a call from Hill. 

“Thirteen?” 

“What?” 

“Okay over there?” Maria asks. Sharon can feel the eyebrow raise from here. 

“Personal issues. I’ll be okay. What is it?” 

“You’re gonna want to get here as quick as possible. I’m talking a hundred miles an hour.” 

“What, did Fury finally wear white?” 

“No, way better than that.” 

- 

They fucking found him. They found Steve Rogers. He’s in a block of ice and he’s alive. 

Sharon’s horrified. Everyone else seems to be losing it, smiling and grinning because Cap is back. 

They don’t know how badly he’s going to be out of time. 

She goes straight to Fury. 

“You can’t push him immediately,” she says. “You can’t.” 

“And what, you know Cap better than us?” Fury asks. 

“I know Steve better than you,” Sharon says, leveling with him. “And this is gonna suck and he’s going to need to learn how to be himself before Captain America is even an option. Trust me. Trust the psychologists who are gonna tell you the exact same thing.” 

Fury looks at her for a moment. 

“Tell me the difference.” 

“Steve is going to run out of that room because you messed up,” Sharon says, gesturing to the woman they’re having going in. “You got the fashion wrong, you got the hair wrong. In the army, her hair would’ve been up and away. You’re also playing a baseball game that he was at. He knows that he won’t be.” 

“We’re not sure the state of his memory.” 

“He memorized strategies and sites of attack in one glance and could recall even the smallest detail about a stranger, he’ll remember,” Sharon argues. 

Steve Rogers runs. 

Sharon curses. She fucking knew they’d pull this, knew that SHIELD wanted Captain America back so badly they’d forget that he’s still just a guy.

He stares at Times Square with all of its people, all of the lights, and he looks lost. 

“I...I had a dance.” 

Fury ushers him back inside. Sharon says nothing. 

This does not explain why Steve Rogers gets moved in right next to her apartment. 

“What the fuck,” Sharon seethes into her phone. “When I told you to get him help, I didn’t mean me!” 

“You’re the one who has the closest connection to him. Seeing your aunt is gonna depress the living shit out of him,” Clint says. 

(Yes, she told Clint. In her defense she was wine-drunk, had eaten the best burger to that point in her life, and Clint had made her laugh for ten minutes straight.) 

“Is he seeing a therapist?” 

“As soon as he agrees to one.” 

Sharon knocks her head against the wall. And then goes over to see Steve looking forlornly at the space. 

“What’s up?” she asks. 

Steve turns, blinking at her. 

“Who are you?” 

“Sharon. Carter.” 

“You’re...?” 

“Related? Yes. But that’s not important right now. You need help unpacking your kitchen stuff.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“I don’t think you realize how bad new agents are at packing things,” Sharon says. “I’m helping.” 

Steve is truly and really lost. It reminds him of when he went through the city for the first time by himself and got lost around a streetcar and he couldn’t find his way back until Bucky had happened to walk by with a cute girl on his arm. 

He should really tell Bucky about all of this, he just needs to find--

Stamps. For a man who’s MIA. Or KIA. Most likely the latter. 

Then he can’t breathe. And he sits on a chair that’s too modern and he stares at a carpet that looks weird, and Sharon is by him. 

“Hey,” she says. “Breathe. You’re here in your apartment. I put away dishes. I’m making you get new coffee mugs because the ones you have are disgusting.” 

“Where the fuck do I get those?” Steve asks. “Woolworth’s? Do they even have those?” 

“Missed it by a decade or eight,” Sharon says. “No, there are other stores. Better designs, too. Or we can go and paint custom mugs. Ever wanted to see what it looks like to paint ‘fuck you’ on a mug?” 

Sharon is pretty sure she’s fucking everything up. 

But Steve laughs. 

“You can....you can do that?” 

“Of course you can,” Sharon says. “Let me show you some stuff...” 

Steve is taught the worst and best of American pop culture. He hates rock music for now. 

“I’m down the hall, the first room on your left,” Sharon says. “Don’t hesitate to knock for anything. I know you will need things, do not tell me you are fine. You’re not a good actor yet.” 

He breaks a wall. A fucking wall. It’s the one leading into her room, and luckily her bed wasn’t against it. He’s covered in dust and wood and plaster, and he speaks a litany of apologies. 

Sharon can’t help it. 

She laughs. 

“Only you would make sure we had a shared apartment,” she says. 

“I can fix it I know it isn’t proper--” 

“I don’t care about proper,” Sharon says. “At least now I can keep a closer eye on you. We’ll have SHIELD do some renovation work while I show you potentially the worst or best places you will ever go.” 

Steve gets a tour of DC. He remembers when there were stories and pictures of President Woodrow Wilson’s sheep “mowing” the lawn. He’s surprised at all the security measures, and is not happy that there is more security on public transit. 

“We can still break in if you want,” Sharon says. “But I’ll get you a pass.” 

“It’s the future and it sucks,” Steve mutters. 

Sharon laughs out loud at that. 

“Well I’ll show you something that doesn’t suck, and that is a restaurant that I only take few people to, such as Agent Barton. You’ll meet him later, he’s a real disaster.” 

Steve loves the burger place and all of its seedy decorations and kitschy photos of old celebrities visiting. 

Sharon takes him grocery shopping. He’s overwhelmed. 

“How are there more than one type of orange? How can you afford them?” 

“We get good pay from SHIELD,” Sharon answers. “Tell me, have you ever had a strawberry margarita?” 

“What?” 

“Adding to cart,” Sharon answers. “You’re about to enjoy alcohol, finally.” 

“Peggy tell you I hate it?” 

“Just figured you would,” Sharon says. “She said the only time she saw you drink was when Bucky disappeared.” 

It’s sad after that. Steve’s shoulders hunch in on themselves. 

“You ever lost someone?” Steve asks. 

“I am,” Sharon says quietly. “Do you want to make a pie?” 

“What?” 

“I’m going with no,” Sharon answers back. “We’ll make good brownies then.” 

Steve’s frame is hilariously slim when you wrap an apron around it. Sharon can’t see she doesn’t admire it. 

“This is amazing,” Steve says. 

“Quit licking the batter,” Sharon says. “We have to eat these, you heathen.” 

“Oh, like you’ll die from it,” Steve answers back sarcastically. “I was frozen for seventy years, I wanna lick batter.” 

Sharon nods. 

He doesn’t want to see a therapist. Insists he’s fine. 

Sharon gestures to the wall that is now tastefully decorated with curtains. 

“...fine. But if I don’t like it I’m leaving.” 

“Would never force you to stay,” Sharon says. “Keep in mind one therapist is not your end-all solution. Sometimes you need to look around.” 

“Do you...?” 

“Yup,” Sharon says. “Can’t be as sexy as I am without a few issues that need working on.” 

Eventually, Steve finds one. 

He shows Sharon his world. He shows her records that he keeps buying off online sites, the player that he swears he can fix up. 

“We could probably get you a functional gramophone if you wanted,” Sharon says. “Like yeah it’ll be expensive but we can do it.” 

“I want one that’s well-loved,” Steve says. “One with character.” 

Not for the first time does Sharon smile. 

They sit together at dinner sometimes, and Steve tells her about what Brooklyn used to be, and she tells him stories of how she would climb trees until she couldn’t go any higher, and she used to memorize all of the cassettes and CDs that her parents had. She could still sing along to ABBA with no prompt. 

She makes Steve watch Mamma Mia! after that, laughing as he stares wide-eyed. 

“This is incredible.” 

Steve looks at Sharon like she’s his world. And in some respects, she is. But he can’t get over how different she is from Peggy. And that’s the damning evidence, isn’t it? That she’s a connection, but she’s...she’s not. 

She doesn’t wear red lipstick, doesn’t own any. Told him one day that she looked stupid in it. “I’m unstoppable without it, I don’t need it,” she says, and it feels like there’s something more there. 

How she reacts in some ways like Peggy would, but how communicative she is with others. How she laughs and makes sure people are comfortable in the situation. Not that Peggy wasn’t any of that, but she was focused on getting to the end, to proving that it was a success. Sharon wanted the same thing, but what mattered was that people were okay. 

He doesn’t stay with Sharon all the time. She encourages him to get out “into the big, bad, scary world.” 

She meant interacting with college art students, which is quite scary. He agrees. He thinks it’s very cool that you can dye your hair now, and buys the shittiest dye ever. 

He dyes his hair blue and accidentally smears some down his neck. He shivers as Sharon traces her hand down, laughing. 

“Oh my god. Steve, what did you do?” 

“Marcy in my class has pink hair, I wanted to dye my hair!” Steve says defensively. “You left me bored.” 

Sharon smiles up at him. 

(What would it be like to wrap his arms around her? To hold her and let the universe pass them by?) 

He shakes his head out of the thought. 

“Ooh, showing off the hair?” Sharon asks, grinning. 

“Of course.” 

“Nerd,” she teases. “Well come on, I got some ice cream from the store. Your favorite which is disgustingly basic, but here we are.” 

“It’s basic for a reason, it’s good,” Steve teases right back. “Need to ask you about my new art project.” 

“Shoot.” 

“I need to draw someone. And you’re basically the only person I really, um, want to draw.” 

“What, afraid that you can’t capture Coulson’s strong personality on paper?” Sharon asks wryly. Steve snorts. 

“Oh yeah, his vivacity would fly off the page. Really and honestly, truly.” 

“Well, what do I need to do?” 

“It has to be a stylized portrait from any historical era,” Steve answers. “And I already have the materials and stuff, we just need to go shopping for some clothing and stuff. Maybe accessories.” 

“Okay.” 

Sharon thinks her heart is absolutely stupid for beating this fast. It’s been doing this more recently. 

Natasha keeps making fun of her. 

Steve wants to do a Baroque style, over-the-top goddess style. He has her dripping in drapery and gold chains, thin as can be. He delicately sets a crown that he weaved into her hair. 

“You look gorgeous,” he says, blinking. “Just...wow.” 

“All thanks to the cute artist,” Sharon flirts back, winking. “Tell me how you want me.” 

Silence after that. 

But Steve positions her reclining, and she can’t stop herself from raising an eyebrow at him. 

“I feel ridiculous, just so you know.” 

“You look great, if that’s any connotation.” 

“It could be.” 

She smiles at him, and that’s the winning expression. “Hold please.” 

Sharon tries her best, stilling. Benefit of SHIELD training. She can stay still for hours. Her smile, however, moves. 

This is fine. Steve smiles back. 

“Break time,” he announces a couple of hours later. Sharon sags on the couch, swinging her legs over. 

She overestimates her abilities and the fabric, as one foot gets caught and she falls forward. 

Steve’s catching her in a flash. She grins. 

“Being my hero, huh?” 

“Of course,” Steve says. “Where would I be if I didn’t save the pretty lady?” 

Sharon smiles, leans closer. 

“Can I...I wanna kiss you.” 

Steve blinks. Goes for it. 

Sharon smiles into it. 

- 

Months later, when everything’s going to shit and Natasha asks if that’s the first kiss he’s had since 1945, he smiles to himself. 

“No, it’s not,” he tells her. “You knew that, didn’t you?” 

Natasha smiles to herself. 

���Sharon’s not gonna be mad at me, is she?” 

“Of course not,” Steve says. “Especially after I tell her I convinced you to wear these terrible shoes.” 

“Hey!” 

When he wakes up at the hospital, Sharon’s standing at the side and Sam’s sitting down. 

“On your left,” Steve pants out. 

“You--” Sam hangs his head, laughing. “You got me on that one. Got your shield. We don’t know where Barnes is. Your girl is here, by the way. Gotta say, you got lucky.” 

“Damn right I did,” Steve says weakly. Sharon waves. Steve tries to wave. 

“You got thrown from a Helicarrier, don’t,” Sharon says. She sends Sam off with a goodbye hug and a promise to deliver some dessert as a thank-you. 

She looks at Steve. 

“You have so much explaining to do. So much. But later.” She takes his hand, kissing it softly. “I was terrified.” 

“So was I.” 

They sit like that for a moment. Steve turns, seeing the bandage around her arm. 

“What’s that?” 

“Rumlow’s a bastard with a knife, played dirty,” Sharon says. “It’s nothing. He got crushed under a building. Karma, you know. Whole thing.” 

Steve laughs. Winces. Sharon puts her hand over his. 

“Get some rest,” she says. “I’ll be back tomorrow to visit and evaluate if you can go home or not.” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

Sharon rolls her eyes. 

“Of course you are.” 

She presses a kiss to his forehead. 

“I love you, honey. Stay safe.” 

“You too.” He squeezes her hand. 

Things will be okay. 

#HOLY FUCKING SHIT. HOLY FUCKING SHIT THIS IS SO FUCKIGN LONG. WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO #peggy carter #sharon carter #steve rogers #clint barton #yes clint is her bff yes i do what i want #of course i do what would you have expected #lovelyirony writes #any single time jess (not me) requests a prompt from me i just HAVE to go feral #staron

[houseofvans]

ART SCHOOL | INTERVIEW WITH ARTIST KATHY AGER

Originally studying graphic design and illustration, Kathy Ager left the world of ad agencies and design studios to pursue something she’d had the bug to do back in design school–painting. Making 2 to 3 paintings a year, Kathy’s art career began to take off: Her Baroque-style still lives with a modern and personal take began to get the attention of collectors and galleries alike. We’re excited to find out more about Kathy’s artistic journey, process and about her upcoming solo show this summer, opening at Thinkspace Gallery in Culver City.

Take the leap!  

Photography by Kea Mowat 

Introduce yourself?  And where you’re from or currently residing?  I’m Kathy Ager, an artist and graphic designer. I’m originally from Vancouver, and just recently returned to Vancouver after living in Amsterdam (and a little bit in Barcelona and Lisbon) for the past 9 years. I originally moved to Barcelona – I’d visited a year earlier with my then-boyfriend while he was shooting with the Canadian skate team and fell in love with the mystery of the place. From there I hopped over to Amsterdam where things fell into place. Now that I have representation in LA and a lot of shows happening around North America I’m back in my hometown of Vancouver. Being back is definitely a trip! It’s a bit of a Twilight Zone experience — everything is the same yet nothing is the same. 

Tell us a little about your artistic journey–from graphic designer to painter! We read that you only started painting about 3-4 years ago? How did this come about, and did you pick it up naturally or did you find you had to change your approach vs. the way you had made art prior to it as a graphic designer?  I originally went to school for graphic design and illustration. I worked for many years in ad agencies and design studios both in Vancouver and Amsterdam. I’ve always hated having a boss and eventually I went freelance which was way more my style. There came a point when I was a graphic designer where I just didn’t feel like I was doing what I was supposed to do. I’d been a graphic designer for years and I still like it, but it just wasn’t enough. There was way more I wanted to say. I discovered painting back in design school and was especially encouraged by my teacher Kiff Holland. But I’d always been one to “do the right thing” and I followed the more solid path of graphic design. Finally, I found myself sick at home for the good part of a year – partially stress-induced I’m sure! That’s when I got back into painting.

It was a slow process of getting into it. I would fit it in between my freelance graphic design work, maybe making 2-3 paintings a year in my spare time. I had no agenda other than to just keep going with it. 

In the fall of 2015, I went to Lisbon for a couple months just to paint. It was the first time I showed up in a new place as an artist, not a graphic designer. That was big. The response and the welcome I received there was a big thing for me. It was the third time I’d dropped myself into a new city where I didn’t know anyone or speak the language. But this place was magical. I met some amazing artists and champions of my work and it’s become a sort of second European home, including a spot at the table with Portuguese grandparents for Sunday lunch. Portugal. It’s a dream.

In the last year and a half things have really picked up in terms of interest in my paintings and the response I’ve received is mind blowing. Sometimes I wish I’d come to the art game earlier, but I’ve always been a late bloomer — I mean, I looked like I was 12 until I was 20, for god’s sake! I don’t think I was ready to say anything at a younger age.

How would you describe your work to someone who is just coming across it?  I’d describe my work as Baroque-style still lives with a modern and personal take.  

Why the  interest in realist still lives and the way of the Dutch masters? What do you absolutely love about them, and what are some of your favorite still life paintings?  I originally started with just painting cityscapes and random images I liked. Safe things that I could practice with. At some point I painted a still life image I liked and it struck me how much of a story could be told with objects and light. The first couple of still lifes I crafted myself were so personal and revealing, I was too embarrassed to show them to anyone at first (Lonely Hearts Club and Can’t Get High Enough). I’m a pretty happy person on the outside (it’s no secret that I love a good laugh), and these paintings were exposing something no one knew I had in me. But the process of crafting these messages and selecting the right combination of objects and titles gave me such a laugh and a feeling of empowerment that it felt like I was on the right path.

Who and what were some of your early artistic influences? What artists inspire you these days? I came to painting mostly unaware of other artists. I didn’t go to fine art school and had little knowledge of art history. It’s only in hindsight that I see the influence of the art that surrounded me – the Dutch, Spanish and Portuguese masters from the Golden Age. As I became more brave with the content of my paintings, I found it inspiring to discover artists like Christian Rex van Minnen and Sean Norvet who were doing things even more fucked up than I was. It was amazing! 

Take us through your artistic process? What’s a typical day in the studio like? How long does it take you to complete a painting from start to finish?  My process always starts with either a title or message I want to convey. I love music and books and I get a lot of ideas from lyrics and titles and beautifully written sentences. They’re these magically articulated truths and observations that just hit me so deeply. From there I usually sit on the idea for a while, working on how to solve it visually with objects I encounter. Some ideas might stew like that for up to a year. Once I have the idea set in my head, I visualize it through my own photography and also collaging from images online until it seems right. Only then do I start putting it on canvas.

I treat my painting process like a job. A day in my studio is typically 4-10 hours hunched over my easel. It’s not glamorous! My ideas come more organically, but the production process requires a lot of self discipline and stamina. 

A painting takes 1-4 weeks to complete, depending on the size. But the amount of thought that went into it before that can be months.

What are your essential art tools and materials?  I keep my materials minimal so far. A couple brush sizes and 5-6 colours of oil paint. I mainly like to mix my own colours from the primaries because I like to know exactly what goes in to each colour. 

You’ve been preparing for an upcoming debut solo show that opens in June at Thinkspace. Tell us about the work going into the show, and what you hope folks will  take away from it!  This is my first solo show, so it’s going to be the first time a larger body of my still life paintings will be out in the world. Before this I’ve only had a handful of paintings in group shows. All the paintings are deeply personal, but I love crafting them in a way that’s universally appealing. I hope people will get a kick out of it as much as I have. It’s dark, but it’s also meant to be beautiful and funny and I hope that comes through. 

The title of the show is Golden Age. It’s a reference to the style of paintings I’m referencing from the Dutch and Spanish Golden Age, but also a comment on our current times, my own personal experiences, and how we survive it all as sensitive beasts. 

Is there a favorite piece you’ll be presenting at the show, and if you could, tell us a little about the piece and why it is so special to you?  I think my favourite piece is the first one I painted for this show. It’s called The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter, after the novel by Carson McCullers. Although the meaning of the painting has nothing to do with the book, I loved how perfectly this title described my feelings of loneliness and discouragement when navigating the current world of dating. One guy’s opening line to me on a dating app was “How are you enjoying this internet dumpster fire?” And he couldn’t have been more spot on, sadly. It’s a jungle out there – stay strong and bring enough snacks. The female bust in this paintings just gives me such a kick. She’s so fierce and strange. I love having her in my studio.

What are five favorite things you love painting in your still lives? Are they books, items from pop culture? Or is creating the composition of the painting more enjoyable?  Books from my bookshelf, flowers (although I have a love/hate relationship with them), sneakers, the tattoos of ex lovers, and random objects belonging to lovers and friends. I’m aways telling a specific story about a person, feeling or event in my life and I love the intimacy and sort of inside joke it creates. 

What has been the most challenging project or work you’ve battled through? How did you overcome those obstacles and what did you take away from it?  Definitely making the work for my upcoming solo show has been the biggest challenge! I went from painting a couple paintings a year to making 12 paintings in 10 months. I’m getting through it by just doing it. There’s no easy way around it. I’ve had to learn to have a continuous stream of paintings on the go and to trust my abilities. 

When you’re not painting or working on projects, how do you unwind and unplug? Music is a big thing for me. I just feel it so much. So listening to music and dancing are a big thing for me. Reading and travelling are also amazing. I’m just so curious about people and places and hearing as many experiences and adventures and ideas as possible. I’ve also been getting back into snowboarding and skateboarding after being away from the Westcoast for 9 years. Vancouver is amazing for random outdoor adventures with friends!

What advice would you give someone who wants to follow in your footsteps and pursue art? Just do it! There’s no way around it. Put the time and effort in every moment you can, even if there’s no one watching. It’s not glamorous. Sometimes I wonder where all the parties and rock and roll is. But if you’re putting in the time, if you’re making art for yourself and not what you think others will like, you’ll find yourself in the right place, attracting the right attention. 

Also, there’s never a perfect time for anything. Most of my paintings before this year were created alone in a tiny apartment, mostly fit in between design projects. Just ignore the discomfort and keep going. Oh and don’t quit your day job until you feel you’re getting momentum. It’s like surfing – you’ll just know it when you’re catching that wave and you can pop-up. Until then enjoy the space that’s created when you’re NOT focussing on art all the time. 

What’s your best Art School tip that you want to share with folks?  I’ll give you some very specific painting advice as told to me by my only painting instructor, Kiff Holland. I still feel like these are responsible for my painting success: 1. Paint what you see, not what you think you see. 2. Paint dark to light. Sorry if you’re not aiming to be a realist painter and find this completely irrelevant ;)

What are your favorite style of VANS? Right now I’m liking the CHIMA PRO 2. It’s the first pair of shoes I bought specifically for skating, so it has a special place in my heart! 

Anything you can share that is coming up? Other than my debut solo show in LA this summer, I have a bunch of group shows in cities including New Orleans, London and Miami. And more big things coming in 2020 which I’ll announce in the future on my instagram!

FOLLOW KATHY | WEBSITE | INSTAGRAM 

#Art #Vans #Vans Art #Vans Girls #Kathy Ager #Art School #Painting #Studio #acrylic #Portrait #Still Life

[masonsfm]

better late than never , am i right folks ! 

。· . ˙ ☀ ⌈ madelyn cline + cis female + she / her + the maverick ⌋ yo , have you meet that POGUE , mason sterling , yet ? — no ? well , to give you a little heads up before you do , they’re a TWENTY-TWO year old , FREELANCE PHOTOGRAPHER / BARTENDER , and have been living in coston for TWENTY-TWO YEARS . since i’ve known them , they’ve reminded me of GRAINY PHOTOGRAPHS DEVELOPED ON FILM, LIGHTENING BUGS MAKING THEIR FIRST APPEARANCE OF THE SUMMER, NOTES SCRIBBLED IN THE MARGINS, WHITE COTTON SHEETS ON A CLOTHESLINE, AND A MIDDAY NAP UNDER THE SUMMER SUN . usually they’re quite INTUITIVE & EMPATHETIC but just make sure you keep an eye out for them around town because i heard can be quite RESERVED & UNFORGIVING as well so here’s hoping they aren’t the ones to undo this whole peace pact they have going on this summer . but just between you & me , i kinda hope it all falls apart . the rivalry keeps this whole boring town interesting 

hi kids! i’m b and this is my sweet mason who is a lil too curious . . . a lil too stubborn . . . and prob shouldn’t be climbing trees anymore . i’ll tell you why in a minute .

BACKGROUND.

near the muddy waters of the cut, surrounded by tangled woodland, there was a two-bedroom house with a leaky roof and an old dog named arlo constantly snoozing on the front step. the sterling residence was nothing to look twice at, but it was home for the first eleven years of mason’s life. she lived there with her dad, matthew, and her mother, charlotte, and things were never quite easy.

mason was a save the marriage baby, a last ditch effort to rekindle love that was slowly fading to nothing... and it worked, for a little while. but as she got older and the novelty of a shiny new baby wore off, things between her parents got rocky again. they were constantly fighting over, well, everything, but money was the root of a lot of it. her dad worked two jobs and still didn’t make much, especially when her mom had a habit of blowing it on things that were far from necessary.

everyone in the cut knew it, too, the way the sterlings were falling apart.. mason knew it was bad when her friends parents’ started bringing it up to her, just checking in to see if she was okay. and she was, for the most part, until the other shoe drop and her mom moved out, revealing she’d been having a long term affair with someone on the other side of the island.

charlotte (mason’s mom) moved out and went full kook in no time. she remarried in a lavish summer ceremony, taking on two picture-perfect step children who were just a little older than mason, and beginning her picture-perfect life in an old plantation house turned mansion. back in the cut, matthew (mason’s dad) still struggled with two jobs and was rarely home, but if you asked, mase would’ve told you she was perfectly happy with that.

a judge presiding over the custody battle for mason, however, was not, and due to her father’s work schedule and lack of supervision in the cut, her mother was granted nearly whole custody of their daughter and at twelve, she moved to the figure 8 and, for five days out of the week, wasn’t allowed back on the rougher side of the tracks.

they called her macy and insisted she always wear shoes when leaving the house. she had a new room, a new wardrobe, and come fall, a new school. her mom signed her up for piano lessons and shoved her back into ballet classes, to keep her occupied, and without any subtlety at all began molding mason into the kind of kook princess that her older step sister was. one day she’d have a coming out party. she’d wear a white dress and take a knee on the stage as a debutant. high school would come and she’d be a cheerleader, a prom queen. her mother had what’s best for her planned out to the very last detail.

her only saving grace was weekends with her dad. she got to head back to the cut for two or three days most weekends, and there she could be whatever she wanted with her father’s full support. unfortunately, though, a lot of her friends noticed the prim and proper new clothes and the perfectly manicured nails. those who didn’t know better saw mason going full kook as well.

with the friends she grew up with slipping away, and the first year of a new middle school being an absolute nightmare, mason decided to give in... mostly because her father, whose heart is too big for his body, asked her to. she was macy, kook princess in training, taking after her older step sister and quietly doing as her mother said. she kept to herself, for the most part, ran through the motions with only so much as an occasional eye roll, but as time passed, it became more difficult.

she missed the cut. she missed friends that liked her for her. she missed having weightless shoulders. it seemed that everyday she was trying to live up to expectations her mother had that she could never meet, that she would never meet because they just weren’t her. so if she couldn’t be prim and proper, she could at least be pretty, right?

tw eating disorder, anorexia

early on, around the age of 14, she started to become hyper-critical of how she looked . . . and how it wasn’t reflective of this older stepsister her mom was in awe of. over time she developed anorexia nervosa, which took form in habits of rarely eating, at first but then progressed into compulsively exercising. it took a toll on her physically and mentally, and eventually she was just kind of the shell of who she used to be.

her father was the first to notice, and thus began a fight that would last two years between her parents. custody was called into question again, all while mason was in therapy and on a prescribed diet to get back to normal weight.

by 15, her father had accepted a newer higher paying job as a director the wildlife center, and he’d stepped back into the dating game. mason spent every other week with him, and her mental health seemed to only increase when she was back home in the cut.

by 16, a final decision was made, granting matthew full custody of mason after a judge took her health and wants into consideration. this was the same time that they moved in with the bauers , and none other than miss finley bauer became, after a little bit of a rocky start, the sister she’d always wanted.

things were good for a long while, and they’ve stayed that way for the most part. heading back to school with the pogues had its hitches, and there are still people who think she might’ve gotten a little too close with the kook side of things, but for the most part, mason moving back was a homecoming. she saw her mother every other weekend and on some holidays, and though she wasn’t made to be a deb, she still had to participate in a few things like midsummers and what not. this time with a little more of a mason spin on it, quietly causing a little trouble where she could. 

she did exceptionally well in school, and by the time she graduated high school, she’d saved up enough and snagged enough s

cholarship money to attend columbia university in new york where she studied journalism. she loved the schoolwork but sorted hated the culture of the city and struggled to find her place. sophomore year she had an ED relapse, but got through it with the insistence of her family.

she recently graduated from columbia with honors, and now she’s back in pogue territory with no idea what the fuck comes next. she doesn’t know where she wants to live, or even if she’s ready for the real world. with grad school and a big girl job on her mind, she’s preoccupied and lost in her thoughts a lot of the time, but she’s happy to be home and happy to be taking a year off to figure it out in coston.

PERSONALITY. 

mason’s got a quiet sort’a nature about her. she’s never the center of attention or the star of the show, and she doesn’t really care to be. part of that quiet nature comes from the unacknowledged lack of self confidence that still lingers under the surface, but most of it just stems from the fact that she was an only child or a misfit child for a long time, so she’s used to keeping to herself. quiet gives her the ability to observe.

that said,.. she’s a bit of a nancy drew type. definitely intuitive, definitely curious, definitely a little too nosy for her own good. it’s what makes her so good on the journalism front, her need for answers and her ability to act on a hunch. if mason’s gut is telling her something, it’s generally right.

she’s an introvert for sure but that doesn’t mean she’s... not friendly. she might not be the first to strike up a conversation, but she’ll hold it for sure. with a bit of a dry sense of humor and a straight faced delivery, she might even shock you. overall, she’s very sweet. very easy to be around.

being observant and intuitive really leans into her being empathetic in that she’s . . . good at people. again, you might not know it since she does a good job of keeping to herself, but she’s very easy to be comfortable around, very easy to spill your secrets to, very easy to trust. which is fair!! because she’s quite trustworthy

though she doesn’t give out her own trust so easily and that absolutely stems from her mommy issues

she’s quite .. .. unforgiving with that sort of thing, too. once you lose it, it’s gone. once you break it, it’s broken. 

super laid back which occasionally looks like apathy . . . but. that’s far from the truth

she’s passionate about a lot , but she’s not going to waste her breath arguing with someone who isn’t willing to learn or compromise.

fearless in a very quiet way like . . . the way i explain it is this: if a whole group was arguing ab who was going into a haunted house first, she wouldn't participate in the argument. she'd just kinda .. . blink . .. and then turn her flashlight on and walk in first

always up for adventure. that little shrug and ‘why not’ sort’a vibe when you ask her to do something is actually a hard yes from miss mason

level-headed as fuck, will keep you sound of mind in a fight

loves being outdoors, especially by the water

rides a longboard everywhere despite having a car

has broken her left wrist twice due to falling out of trees. still has not learned her lesson and will continue to climb trees bc it’s a nice place to sit and read ig chill out tarzan

super mellow. if she were music, she’d probably be a bob marley song

will answer your question with a question bc one: she doesn’t like talking about herself and two: she’s genuinely curious

honestly very smart . . . like clever as the devil and twice as pretty but book smart too . . .. good for her bc her mun could neVer

will not take help if her life depends on it i s2g this idiot could be sinking in quicksand and she’d be like ‘it’s fine i can gET OUT ON MY OWN’

freelance photographer, mostly for the coston paper

bartends at a local dive on fridays/saturdays, otherwise catch her in an ugly tennis skirt lookin uniform at the clubhouse serving old men shitty bloody marys and wishing she could commit murder when they hit on her 

loves her people relentlessly but chooses them very very carefully

did not like living in new york one bit lemme tell ya

always carrying around a film camera. always. 

writes in the margins of all of her books... and even in the margins of her own notes for annotation purposes

brain always running at 139871 mph which is why she’s in her thoughts a lot like she rly is just trying to sort it out

CONNECTION IDEAS.

childhood friends . . . that stayed friends even as she crossed into kook territory . . . and that didn’t stay friends and have since drifted 

the one (1) kook that prob welcomed her and honestly is still pals with her because there’s a genuine friendship there not just a toleration

a skinny love that was at it’s prime during childhood like these two were gonna grow up and get married, had their first kiss on a dare while sitting in a literal tree, old old friends that idk mayb they’re still pining because that like never went away!! or maybe ‘you’ve changed’ and now it’s uhhh.. different

an ex on the kook side would be a fuckin adventure especially if it was after she moved back to the cut and was like i waNT nothing to do with ANY of them . .. , except that one i like that one

an ‘enemy’ aka someone she just never clicked with and they’ve been at each others throats since high school

u KNOW miss mason sterling is all about her girl gang shit so gimme that

the brother she never asked for! never really wanted! but, begrudgingly, needs

ANYWAY THAT’S MASON!!! overall. . . .. she's mellow. v calm, v levelheaded, v to herself. observant and a lil nosy. fearless to a fault on occasion, and stubborn in her independence. loves her people, but chooses them carefully. shouldn't be climbing trees. uHhHhhHhhH hit me up on discord or like this and i’ll come bother u for PLOTS so we can get this thing poppin’ ok that’s all

#coston.intro #LOOK AT THAT #there she is

[littlestgahena1301]

Fountain of youth. Part 1

Although he was scorned by many, everyone could admit that Bakugou Katsuki is at the very least, attractive. Air quotes because he actually is very handsome. With strong and firm muscular built that graced Greek’s heroes and soft, supple-looking skin, youthful features of their goddesses, he is the amalgamation of both strength and beauty in one handsome packet.

Tinted lips in pale rouge, long corn silk eyelashes and dazzling, bright and passionate set of red eyes. Izuku had never paid much attention to anyone’s appearance before, but with the dawn of his love for Kaachan, he can’t help but be a little bit of a sap when it comes to the hot blonde.

Katsuki shared his attractive traits with one other Bakugou named Mitsuki. Still looking youthful despite her climbing age that not even the scowls that she had on could give her wrinkles. Due to their shared quirk, glycerine, the two had always look at least half a decade younger. For Mitsuki, it worked in her favor, while Katsuki, he loathes it.

“Stop staring at me and then spacing out like that, nerd!” Katsuki smacked his head with the exercise book that they are working on. Inko peeked in from the kitchen.

“Katsuki, dear, what’s wrong?”

At the concerned tone, Katsuki spoke more softly. “Nothing auntie, Izuku just keep spacing out it’s annoying…”

Inko was still a tad worried but continued on her work prepping for dinner. Katsuki unfolded the book in his hand, the edge curls a little bit. He noticed Izuku’s still in his daze, staring right into his face.

“Geez, what bug crawled up your rear and made a nest in your brain? We still got half a chapter to go through…”

Izuku broke his stare to lean on to his right hand and glanced back. “Kaachan, have you ever thought that your quirk might be used in some way?”

Not a topic that he was looking forward to, ever. “Why does that even matter?”

“I was just thinking about it.” He dropped his eyes to Katsuki’s hand. “Have you tried to secrete a lot of them at once?”

Katsuki mimicked Izuku’s stance. “Like what, running around and see how much sweaty I get?”

“Kinda…” Izuku agreed.

Katsuki sucked in through his teeth. “Ain’t doing much for me and ain’t gonna do much for anyone.”

Izuku pondered. “Maybe because you haven’t tried to touch anyone while you’re sweaty?”

“Heck, of course! I won’t do that, I’m gross and clammy!”. His voice hitched a bit, but Izuku paid no mind to it. Still looking thoughtfully at his friend’s general direction.

“I just wondered if your glycerine is actually medical grade.” Izuku swiped his index at a stray drop of sweat sitting on top of Katsuki’s closer hand. “I wonder if this would give anyone anti-aging effects.”

Katsuki gives him an incredulous look. “So what, you want to test that out before we finish this book?”

“Well, we’ve been at it for an hour and a half. I say we deserve a short break.” Izuku rubbed his arm and index together, testing the consistency. Kind of watery like how a normal sweat, but definitely feels a lot more slippery.

He heard a tsk from Katsuki. “Yeah, whatever, not like your dumb ass can concentrate on this anymore.” He stacked their books and pushed it aside. “Let’s get this out of your system so that we can finally work.”

Izuku moved to the side to face Katsuki, and the other promptly did the same. “So, any idea about how you want to do this?”

“Hmm, maybe we should try to get you to sweat first? I want to see how much you can sweat at a time.”

“You want me to run around the neighbourhood and then drain my t-shirt in a cup for you?”

“No, that’s too much work. Sides, it will take too long and definitely not sanitary.”

“Figures.”

Izuku hummed in response. “How about I warm up your hand instead and see if we could use it that way?”

Katsuki made a look, a faint blush crept onto his cheeks. Not that Izuku noticed. “You want us to hold hands?”

Izuku stammered. Equally embarrassed at the idea. “No, not exactly! I was just thinking to warm up the surrounding air around your palm to make you sweat more naturally…”

Katsuki lowered his gaze. “Yeah, that makes sense…”

Izuku motioned Katsuki to keep his hands suspended in air, then he began working with his quirk. He raised the temperature a few degrees and wait until a significant amount of sweat beads upon Katsuki’s skin. He deemed it satisfactory.

“I think that’s enough.”

“Well, now what?”

Izuku hummed. He didn’t think this far. “I think…. you could like…swipe it on my face or something?”.

Katsuki grimaced. “Like I’m wiping away some snot from your face? Gross.”

Izuku was flustered. “Well not like that, just…” Izuku pulled Katsuki’s hand by the wrist and had the knuckles pressed to his cheeks. “Like this….and you can help me rub it in.”

Katsuki swallowed. His hands, however, start rubbing it into Izuku’s face in the same manner Inko would when both of the boys where covered in mud in their younger years.

Izuku’s face didn’t change much from back then. Eyes still round and bright, like the kid who still runs around holding All Might figures while chasing after him. Cheeks always filled with baby fat and freckled skin still taut. Katsuki noticed it is just a little bit dry.

He tsked once more and began to rub it in more seriously. “You gotta take care of yourself once in a while. Your skin is dry as fuck, maybe as dry as Hand job’s is.”

“Well, I’m not one to care about this beauty regimen thingy.”

“You should care! It’s not about girly stuff or whatever, it’s about self-respect and taking care of yourself, dammit.”

“I don’t think of it as girly…” Izuku looked at him with fiery determination in between the working palms. “I don’t think of any part of you as girly. It is just that I was never into it.”

Katsuki bit back whatever he was planning to say. “Yeah well, you should now….”

As Katsuki pulled away, Izuku’s face is glistening from the substance. Katsuki was suddenly hit by a thought. “What if you’re actually allergic to this stuff?”

Izuku gave him a look that tells him he just thought of it. But that expression quickly fades as it comes. “I don’t think that’s possible. You touched my face before, and nothing happens…”

Katsuki breathed out a relief. He did not wish to leave his friend’s face marred because of something so silly. His fingers clenched around nothing. “Well, if you say so. Notice anything different?”

Izuku grabs on to a hand mirror that was just near his study table. He studied his own face, poking at the glistening skin. “Wow, this is actually pretty thick, although not like lotions I’ve used.”

“Yeah, it is supposed to be sweat, right?”

Izuku gave one last look at the mirror. “You know, maybe it’s going to take some time to show effects. I’ll update with you tomorrow morning.”

Izuku rushed out of the house without a proper breakfast. Since Kaachan wasn't there to kick him off the bed in the morning, nor was he around to stop Izuku from staying up for too long, he was running late. Kaachan would definitely be at his own house, packing his necessities, maybe fixing himself breakfast. Only 1-A had extra training today. Izuku had no way of telling what the blonde was doing since neither he nor the blond texted each other last night. They usually do but apparently not in the previous 8 hours.

He jumped onto the train, barely making it before the door shut behind him. There's not a lot of people going to work this time around, and he was lucky enough to get a seat. He plopped down to the one on his right, taking out his handkerchief and wiping away stray sweats beading on his forehead. He heard giggles coming from the seat in front of him, both belonging to a group of high school aged-looking girls. He gave a weak smile towards their direction. "Oh. hello…"

The two girls didn't hello-ed back, Instead, the two look at him in bewilderment and then look away, smiles on their face and breaking out a few quieter set of giggles. Izuku had wondered if he had done anything so silly that it made two strangers, giggled in amusement. Izuku was in one of the girl's peripherals, and he had noticed her looking at him with a blushed face. Oh, was she now shy and embarrassed that Izuku had heard them before?

The bolder of the two turned to him. "Hey, are you that kid that came in third from the Sports Festival?".

A fan.

"Ahahaha…yes, that was me!" He flustered.

"We were wondering if you could sign our notebook real quick?"

"Sure…"

This is new. Izuku never thought that he would immediately get recognized right after the Sports Festival, nor does he ever think that anyone would openly ask for his autograph. He gave them a quick scribble of his given name. He didn’t have time to think of any proper hero names.

While he was busy doing just that, one of the girls took out her phone that Izuku didn't see. She raised it up high for a group selfie. "Hey, look up!"

"Huh?" Only then he noticed what she was holding.

Snap!

The girl looked at the photo for inspection. Izuku realized how unprepared he was that he looked startled in the picture taken. That was a bad take.

"Sorry, I didn't realize we are taking a group picture, may we do it again?"

They took another one, this time it looked slightly better. The awkward air around Izuku didn't change much despite his best effort to make himself look somewhat more friendly. The beauty filter in the app makes his skin looks glowing, though. He couldn't even fathom how dark his circles would be if it were not on.

"Thank you~" The girl cheered, seemingly pleased with the result.

The two parted ways with him as they arrived at their station. Izuku had one more stop before his. Being so gleeful from this encounter, he almost missed it.

Izuku arrived at the training area, which is at a public stadium in their city. He waved to the others, panting hard as his lungs screams for some air.

“Guys! Sorry that I’m late! I hope I didn’t miss anything.”

His friends just gawked at him. Mina pointed her index at him, aghast. “Oh my god, his skin is literally GLOWING!!!”

@abbystaffyisgeek I really hope you like this one. It's kinda bad but I'm trying to get back into writing too~

#bnha deku #bnha au #i dont even know #i dont make the rules #bnha kaachan #mha au #quirkless

[gotatext]

TASK OO1 / OOC SURVEY.

[kermit voice] hallo.... its me 

YOUR ALIAS & NICKNAMES — nora

AGE — 23

TIMEZONE — gmt

PREFERRED PRONOUNS — she/her

MBTI — enfp-infp border cos im an introvert who Masquerades as an extrovert :)

HP HOUSE — i spent 10 yrs of my life thinkin i was gryffindor.... to find out.... huffle....puff...... 

ARE YOU A STUDENT? WHAT DO YOU STUDY? — i fuckin wish! being a student was dope af i got stressed about essays like once a month and apart from that i was just chillin, surrounded by really intelligent people every day n livin it up on the party scene. adult life fucking sucks no one wants to have fun cos we all work fuckin tonnes of hours so we can afford to eat and get paid peanuts xx

ARE YOU ENJOYING IT? — im really afraid of bein one of those jock types who peaked in high school but i deff peaked in uni like 100% i was way more interesting 2 years ago

LINKS TO OTHER ACCOUNTS & SOCIAL MEDIA — im not showin u my instagram bc im a fuckin embarassment but this is pinterest , this is my personal blog, this is my writing / 1x1 blog i never use any more n this is my trash talking twitter where i mostly just cry about timothee chalamet and bash the tories. 

DISCORD USER — kristine’s forehead vein#8664

WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE FICTION GENRE? — i dont read fanfiction much but when i do u can be sure it’s slow burn angsty enemies to lovers mutual pining heart attack every time one of them accidentally brushes the other’s hand

TOP FIVE FAVOURITE FILMS — suspiria (2018 luca guadagnino version rogue i kno but i prefer the remake), the lobster, before sunrise, baz luhrmann romeo + juliet, eternal sunshine of the spotless mind,  thoroughbreds (REC!! so underwatched pls watch it. compelling female characters), hunt for the wilderpeople (also so underwatched), swiss army man, call me by your name, atonement, moonrise kingdom, trainspotting, the florida project. i rlly like films ok

A BOOK YOU FEEL “CHANGED” YOU? — the song of achilles by madeline miller n also fen by daisy johnson

A MOVIE YOU THINK ABOUT OFTEN? — booksmart cos its fuckin dope

WHAT IS YOUR SIGN? — libra

ARE YOU INTO ASTROLOGY? —  i like to pretend im super invested in it mostly to anger my friends but tbh.... i just use it as a rough guide for character creation.... its fun but i dnt .... fully invest in what it has to say..... altho i am the most unbalanced n indecisive bitch on earth so i guess they got that right !! i just live to please baybeyy!

WHAT PLATFORMS HAVE YOU ROLEPLAYED ON? — tumblr for about 8 year (omg) n before tht facebook..... i was very embarassingly in a twilight rp..... i wrote jane..... i also rped as a scene kid oc n when i was like 12 i was on some weird forum harry potter roleplay where i basically played a self insert with georgie henley as the fc......

WHAT OTHER HOBBIES DO YOU HAVE? — i used to have so many hobbies but now i jst lie in my bed staring at the ceiling. but before i was workin like a dog i loved reading, writing, acting in theatre productions..... going out on the town getting bevved..... big druggy EDM nights in warehouses tht probably weren’t liscenced for tht many ppl..... gigs... costume-design and making, spoken word poetry, acrylic painting n rollerskating but my sister broke my skates abt two years ago in vengeance and i’ll never forgive her that fuckin bitch

HAVE ANY PETS? IF SO, TALK ABOUT THEM! — no my landlord is a fascist

IS THERE A TV SHOW YOU RECOMMEND A LOT? — i’ll never stop reccing euphoria!! also i was pleasantly surprised by looking for alaska!! but i also rlly like bob’s burgers, parks and rec, good omens.... black mirror, n sharp objects. lovesick on bbciplayer (n netflix i think) is also rlly fun

ANY SHOWS YOU LIKE SOME MIGHT BE SURPRISED TO HEAR THAT YOU DO? — maybe love island, idk if i talk abt that much bc i am ashamed but i am so obsessed with it. i even got the love island game n got so invested in my fictional relationship w bobby tht i had to delete it

WHAT WAS THE LAST BOOK YOU READ? WOULD YOU RECOMMEND IT? — god god... i haven’t finished a book in ages.... i recently started reading milkman by anna burns, the bees by laline paull and everything under by daisy johnson.... bt the last book i read cover to cover was probs circe. defs read it. feminist and witchy

CURRENTLY READING? — i jst said this but the bees, everything under and less so milkman cos im finding milkman a bit tough

LAST FILM? REC IT? — i watched ladyworld the lord of the flies all-female remake n even maya hawke could not save it.... dnt get me wrong from an art film point of view i loved it but it felt a bit underdeveloped n a level media studies for me..... apart from tht?? the runaways (yorkshire film not released yet at a preview screening) and threads (also a yorkshire film from the 80s about nuclear apocalypse)

THREE MOVIES YOU NEED TO WATCH — portrait of a lady on fire, i work at an independent cinema n we recently had a preview screening and everyone said it was SICK, uhhhh short term 12, n the new eliza scanlen movie babyteeth

WHAT MOVIE DO YOU THINK YOU’VE SEEN THE MOST TIMES? — madagascar because when i was 12 my parents bought me a little television with a dvd player in it for my birthday and madagascar was the only dvd i owned for like..... the first two years of havin the absolute luxury of a tv in my room so i just used to watch it all the time n i now basically know the script inside out

WHAT ALWAYS PUTS YOU IN A GOOD MOOD? — nothing, life is pointless n i hate fun, let me rot in peace

WHO IS YOUR FAVOURITE MUSICIAN / BAND? LIST IF THERE ARE MORE THAN ONE. — ughhh god probably lcd soundsystem. gorillaz, the streets, tame impala, talking heads, soft hair, i also love lizz tho n also angry twangy guitar girl bands like girlpool, courtney barnett, best coast, cherry glazerr,

WILD NIGHT OUT OR QUIET NIGHT IN? — quiet night in my party days are over i cant even be bothered to go to the shops if its past 4.30pm and dark these days

ANY PHOBIAS? — clowns n rats

DO YOU LIKE BUGS? — absolutely not

BIRDS? — yes but not if they fly in my face

ARE YOU A CAT OR DOG PERSON? BOTH? — i love both i want one 

BIGGEST PET PEEVE? — tory middle aged boomers who treat me like actual shit on their shoe because i work in the service industry like thats my choice and their poor economic decisions didnt mean i have to do a shitty job to afford to live bcos of austerity n cuts to arts funding meaning i cant get a job writing unless i self-fund :)))

FAVOURITE THING ABOUT THE RPC? — that everyone ive met through rp is a fuckin LAFF

TOP TEN FAVE FCS TO USE? — god .... diana silvers, timothee chalamet, margaret qualley, kristine froseth, froy gutierrez, zendaya, elle fanning, astrid berges frisbey, hunter schafer, leonardo dicaprio

FIVE YOU LIKE WRITING AGAINST? — herman tomeraas, hunter schafer, saoirse ronan, timothee chalamet, froy gutierrez

FAVOURITE TYPE OF FOOD? — linda mccartney 1/2pounder mozzarella veggie burgers, sweet potato wedges, tomato soup, mozzarella sticks, brownies

WORST FOOD? — green things like broccoli n sprouts gross. baked beans cos as a kid ppl used to do baked bean baths for comic relief / red nosed day a lot n i thought when they were finished in the baked bean bath they just put all the cold beans back in the tin. actually anything small that moves around on your plate. peas. spaghetti. sweetcorn. i dont like small things i cant control.

DO YOU PLAY VIDEOGAMES? IF SO, WHAT ONES AND ON WHAT PLATFORM DO YOU PREFER? — last year my housemate had an xbox n i went through a phase of obsessively playin fable 3 it was amazing. i had like 5 husbands and 3 wives and loads of kids but they all ended up leavin me cos i spent so much time out doing quests neglecting them

ANYTHING ELSE YOU’D LIKE TO SHARE WITH THE TAG? — this

LASTLY, HOW DID YOU FIND US? — im one of those bitches who was in this grp all the way back when it was swipe... so quirky and original!! i knew the band before u! anyway im goin now this has been sufficiently embarassing..... i am lame

#huntingtonooc #huntingtontask #huntingtontask001

[wistfulcynic]

Another Brick In The Wall, Chapter 9

a/n: Prepare for feels

Summary: Emma Swan, sheriff’s daughter, mayor’s niece, quarterback’s girlfriend, is the undisputed princess of Storybrooke High. She is smart and confident and used to getting what she wants. What she wants is Killian Jones, the new boy in school. But Killian is not easily manipulated, and reluctant to allow the dark secrets in his past to touch the girl he is rapidly falling in love with.

Rating: T

Read it on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Tags for: @darkcolinodonorgasm @jennjenn615 @hollyethecurious and @resident-of-storybrooke

Chapter 9:

Killian stood at the bathroom mirror fiddling with the knot of his tie, wishing he didn’t have to spend this already nerve-wracking evening feeling like he was being strangled. “Is this really necessary?” he grumbled. 

“It’s a formal party, little brother,” replied Liam, coming up behind him and batting his hands away from the knot. “Yes, you need a tie.” He adjusted Killian’s tie himself then placed his hands on his brother’s shoulders and smiled at their reflections, feeling a small pang at the sight of them standing there together. Killian had grown so tall over the past year, now nearly as tall as Liam was himself, and dressed in a suit with his hair neatly combed he looked so grown up. Liam wanted to hug him but refrained, knowing that in his current mood Killian would scoff and pull away. Instead he stood, suddenly assailed by memories and by the wild thought that what he actually wanted was to go back in time and hug the little boy his brother had been the first time Liam had felt a similar pang.

The day of his mother’s funeral was bright and sunny, which made Liam angry. Not even the weather was cooperating, remaining unseasonably warm and steadfastly refusing to turn grey and dark to match his mood. He had been scrambling for days to arrange everything, the church, the flowers, the service, the burial. It was far too much to take onto his young shoulders but he had no choice. His father had started drinking on the day the doctors proclaimed the tumour inoperable and terminal, and hadn’t stopped since. Liam had been so busy, so overwhelmed by the tasks and his grief and his anger at his father that he’d had barely any attention left for Killian, who fortunately at six didn’t fully understand what was going on around him and was content to play quietly while Liam handled things. When the dreaded day finally arrived they stood together before the casket, his brother’s small hand in his, Killian dressed in a suit and tie but with his dark hair falling over his forehead into his eyes. There hadn’t been time to have it cut. He tugged on Liam’s hand. “I can’t see,” he whispered. 

Liam lifted his brother up in his arms, watching Killian’s big eyes grow bigger as he took in the sight of their mother laid out in death, seeing the moment his brother grasped that she was gone and wouldn’t be coming back. He watched as Killian fought his tears for as long as he could —he always tried so hard to be brave— and he saw the moment when they would be held back no longer. Killian blinked rapidly, gulped, then turned his face into Liam’s shoulder and sobbed. Liam held him close, feeling his small body tremble and heave as he wept. 

He had always loved Killian, of course he had, both because and in spite of the decade between them, always had time for him, never minded him tagging along behind or his endless questions, but in that moment Liam’s heart was flooded by a surge of love unlike anything he had ever felt before. He knew then that he would protect his brother with everything he had in him, would lay down his life to that cause. 

In that moment, Liam reflected now, he had become Killian’s parent. 

As with any parent he had made mistakes, hadn’t always lived up to his own standards. He had failed to protect Killian from Milah, failed even to notice that there was something amiss with him, although with hindsight the changes in his brother’s behaviour and attitude had been glaringly obvious. Almost overnight he had gone from an energetic, talkative boy to a sullen and moody one, responding curtly to questions and frequently disappearing for hours on end. Caught up in his investigation of Admiral Gold, Liam had simply shrugged all this away as the effects of adolescence. He cringed to remember it, wishing he could kick his past self, or maybe give him a good punch to the jaw. 

At least he had taken immediate and decisive action once he’d learned what was going on, thought Liam, removing Killian from Milah’s influence and taking him as far away from her as possible, then ensuring that he had the professional counseling he would need to deal with what he’d been through. He had done everything he could yet he still worried that it wasn’t enough, still ached every time he saw the shadows that lurked behind his brother’s eyes, still blamed himself for their presence.  

Killian cleared his throat, jolting Liam out of his reverie. He looked again at their reflection in the mirror, noting his brother’s exaggerated smirk. 

“Are we going to get going, then?” asked Killian, in an exasperated voice. “Or are we just going to stand here all night admiring our faces? Mine’s all right, but I definitely don’t want to be staring at yours for the next six hours.”

To hell with it, thought Liam, and pulled his brother close, squeezing him hard. 

“Ugh, Liam, get off, you’re wrinkling me!” Killian, as expected, shoved him away. “If I have to wear this bloody thing the least you could do is not crease it.” 

Liam released him from the hug, rolling his eyes as Killian ostentatiously smoothed his jacket. “You look fine. Good even. Emma will swoon.” He grinned as Killian turned bright pink, then his expression softened into seriousness. “I just love you, little brother. You know that, right?”

Killian performed an eyeroll almost identical to Liam’s own. “Of course I do. I love you too.” He grinned. “Even though you’re annoying as fuck—”

“Language!” 

“—and you’re going to make us late. Can we go now?”

“Lead the way, brother.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as the Joneses arrived at the Swan house, they were engulfed by warmth and noise and energetic welcome, people eager to take their coats and get them a drink. Despite this effusive hospitality Killian was still nervous and antsy as he scanned the room to see who was there. To his relief he soon spotted Ruby and Victor —he had never been so glad to see Victor Whale’s smug grin, he thought— and was just turning to tell Liam that he was going to talk to them when his brother stopped dead, his mouth dropping open and his eyes nearly bugging out of his head. 

“What the devil is wrong with you?” asked Killian, astonished.

“I— um, er, I—” Liam swallowed, blinked, and shook his head. “Who is that?” He nodded in the direction of a petite brunette standing a few feet away, talking animatedly with Ruby’s grandmother. 

“Um, Miss French?” ventured Killian, certain Liam couldn’t be referring to Granny but baffled as to why the school librarian would inspire such a reaction in his brother. 

“Miss French?” echoed Liam. “The librarian? The one you’re doing your independent study with?”

“Yeah?” Killian was completely confused now. “Why do you ask?”

“Er— no reason,” said Liam, fidgeting uncomfortably. “I just— um, thought she’d be older.” 

A glimmer of comprehension was beginning to dawn in Killian’s mind, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from breaking into an enormous grin. “Would you like me to introduce you?” he asked innocently.

Liam seemed to choke on his words again and before he could recover Killian had caught Miss French’s attention and beckoned her over. 

“Hello, Killian, I thought I might see you here,” she greeted him with a friendly smile. “How have you been enjoying your holidays so far? Is it very different from England?”

“Very,” said Killian wryly. “More snow, for a start. Though I would imagine it’s a lot more different for you.” 

“Well it’s summer in Australia, so yeah, pretty different,” she laughed, and from the corner of his eye Killian could see that his brother’s ears had gone bright red. The Jones family tell. This was excellent. 

“Miss French, this is my brother Liam.” Killian dug his elbow into Liam’s ribs, jolting his brother out of what appeared to be a fugue state. “He went to Australia several times when he was in the Royal Navy.” 

“Really?” Miss French turned her attention to the elder Jones, and Killian could swear he heard Liam’s Adam’s apple scrape across his dry throat. “What places did you visit?”

As Liam attempted to choke out anything resembling a coherent answer, Killian spotted Emma’s mother bearing down on them with a tray of drinks and moved to intercept her before she could interrupt and possibly extinguish the sputtering sparks of his brother’s romance. “Let me take those for you, Mrs Swan,” he said, flashing her a brilliant smile. She blinked for a moment, slightly dazed, then returned it. 

“Why thank you, Killian, that’s very kind,” she said, angling the tray so he could take his hot spiced apple cider and Liam’s hot buttered rum. He turned back and handed Liam his drink, just in time to hear his brother stuttering something about the Sydney Harbour Bridge, to Miss French’s evident amusement. 

“Oh thank bloody fuck,” muttered Liam under his breath as he took the mug. 

“Language!” admonished Killian, smiling angelically as his brother glared daggers at him over the mug’s rim. “I’m just going to go talk to Ruby and Victor, see you later Liam, Miss French.” 

As Liam stared helplessly at his brother’s retreating back, the vision of loveliness that was somehow the high school librarian spoke again. Desperately he tried not to think about how her voice was like a song, and focus on her words instead. 

“I’m actually glad to have a chance to speak with you, Mr Jones—” 

“Liam,” he croaked. Why was his throat so dry? He’d drunk nearly half the rum.

“I beg your pardon?” She blinked the biggest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen, and he nearly forgot his own name. 

“Er—” he cleared his throat. “My name, it’s um, Liam. Please call me Liam.”

“Liam,” she repeated, smiling again. He wished she would stop doing that so he could bloody breathe, and also that she would never stop because she was stunning. “I’m Belle.” 

Belle, he thought. French for ‘beautiful.’ Almost too on-the-nose, yet somehow perfect.

“Belle,” he said softly. “It suits you.” 

She flushed a glorious shade of rose pink. “My mother named me,” she said, almost shyly. He wanted to ask her all about her mother and her father and everyone else close to her and all her thoughts and hopes and dreams but before he could even open his mouth again she steered the conversation back to the point. “Liam, I wanted to talk to you about Killian.” 

“Killian?” Liam was shaken out of his fuckstruck haze by a flash of fear. “What about him? Is there a problem?”

“No, no, nothing like that! He’s one of the brightest students I’ve had the pleasure of working with, but— well, you see, in addition to being the librarian I am also the college admissions counselor. I was hoping we might discuss Killian’s options for university.” 

“He’s going to Oxford,” said Liam automatically. 

“Yes, I know he’s been offered a place there, it’s just, well, what with everything that’s happened and the way Killian seems to be finally settling into life here in the US, I thought he might not wish to return to England for uni. Especially if you plan to remain here.” 

Liam’s mind whirled. He’d been so caught up in dealing with Killian’s current drama that he hadn’t spared a thought for the drama that was to come. The one thing that his brother had been absolutely certain about since the secret broke was that he no longer wished to return to England. Did that include Oxford? Liam somehow suspected it did. 

“I do plan to remain here,” he replied. “I like my job very much and feel surprisingly at home in Storybrooke. Killian does as well.” He’d never given the matter much consideration before, but now that he thought about it he realised how true this was. Storybrooke, after only a few short months, felt like home in the way his hometown never had.

Belle laughed. “Storybrooke has a way of doing that to people,” she said. “I only intended to stay a year myself, but it’ll be five years for me, in July.” 

“I don’t think,” said Liam slowly, thinking hard, “that Killian is as dead set on Oxford as he once was. But if he stays in the US for uni I’d need to be certain that he had access to the same quality of education he’d have received there. And then there’s the question of, er, finance. He’d have a bursary at Oxford.”  

Belle smiled reassuringly. “I don’t think either of those things will present an insurmountable problem,” she said. “Let me tell you some of the ideas I’ve had, and then if you’re agreeable we can broach the subject to Killian.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time Emma had finished helping her mother with hosting duties and was able to actually join the party, Killian, Ruby, and Victor —accompanied, Emma was irritated to note, by Aurora— were settled comfortably on and around the end of her living room sofa, laughing uproariously. 

“What’s so funny?” Emma whispered to Ruby. 

Victor and Killian are just telling stories from their road trip the other day,” Ruby replied. Earlier that week Victor and Killian had driven down to Portland for the concert Victor had wanted to see. Caught up in her mother’s whirlwind of party planning, Emma hadn’t had a chance to see or speak to Killian at all over the past few days, and now she couldn’t help feeling a bit left out. Usually she was the first person Killian told anything —for a while she had been the only one— yet now she had no idea what tale he’d been recounting. Again, she reminded herself that this was good, that he needed other friends. That she was glad he’d found them in Storybrooke.  Still, the vicious talons of her jealousy would not relinquish their grasp, particularly when Aurora leaned close to him, eyes shining with laughter, and touched his arm as she cried “And then what happened?”

Killian delivered his punch line and the group exploded in laughter. Aurora’s hand slid, oh so casually, from Killian’s arm and onto his leg. Emma waited for her to remove it, or for Killian to pull away, but instead he remained where he was and she actually slid closer to him on the couch, and Emma’s vision went red around the edges. Don’t be a jerk, Emma, she begged herself, just let it go, even as her mouth opened and she heard her voice say “I’m surprised to see you here, Aurora. You’ve never come to our party before.”

Their mothers were good friends and they had grown up next door to each other, but for some reason Aurora and Emma had never been close. 

“Oh, it just seemed like it might be fun this year,” said Aurora, with a significant glance at Killian, who had just taken his phone out to show Ruby some pictures and was paying no attention. Her hand was still on his leg, and she flexed her fingers slightly. Emma felt her face grow hot and her own fingers itched to grab Aurora by the hair and drag her from the house. She could cool off in a snow drift, thought Emma viciously, it might do her good. 

And what the hell was going on with Killian, she fumed. He didn’t even seem to notice Aurora was touching him. Not like the way he tensed and looked uncomfortable if Emma even so much as brushed up against him. What the fuck was that about?

Why the fuck was she thinking “fuck”? What was wrong with her?

“Swan?” Emma shook herself out of her thoughts at the sound of Killian’s voice. “Is everything all right?” 

She tried to smile but could tell from the way his brow wrinkled that he wasn’t buying it. “I’m fine. Um, can I talk to you?” 

He smiled, and his was genuine. “Of course, love.” He stood and followed her away from the group, not noticing as Aurora’s hand slid off him. 

Emma didn’t really know what she wanted to say, only that she wanted him away from Aurora. So it came as much of a surprise to her as to him when the words “Do you want to take a walk in the garden?” fell from her lips. 

“The garden? Isn’t it covered in snow?” 

She shrugged. “It’s still pretty, and, I don’t know, I feel like I need some air.” 

Killian shrugged too. “Sure,” he grinned at her. “Whatever you wish, Swan.” 

He offered her his arm and she giggled as she linked her own thorough it. As they turned away she caught a glimpse of Aurora’s face falling into a pout and felt a wash of emotion she couldn’t put a name to. Triumph? Relief? It didn’t feel quite like either. All she knew was that Killian had agreed to come with her not just willingly but gladly. He still preferred her company over any other’s, and that made her happy. 

They put on their coats and she exchanged her heels for boots, glad she’d chosen to wear thick tights with her dress. Killian had only his dress shoes so she dug out an old pair of her dad’s boots, which almost fit, and a thick pair of socks. Soon they were bundled up and ready, and linking arms again they headed out to the snowy garden.

It was a large, well-tended space, a testament to her mother’s affinity with nature, with a walled-off vegetable area to the left and a thick rose hedge at the back, separating their house from Aurora’s.  At the centre of it all stood a huge, sprawling tree, with branches that reached to the furthest corners of the garden and a large white swing hanging from the sturdiest one. 

“This is the apple tree my aunt Regina gave Mom when I was born,” said Emma as they approached it. “They’re stepsisters and they never really got along, but when Mom was pregnant with me they had a huge fight and Regina knocked Mom down a flight of stairs. She almost miscarried me. Aunt Regina felt terrible and tried to make amends with the tree. I don’t think Mom was exactly thrilled; Aunt Regina is kind of weirdly obsessed with those apples and it makes Mom a bit uncomfortable. But she said Regina was trying to make a gesture of goodwill and she could do the same, so she planted it, and since then they’ve made an effort to be civil, or at least not to be completely awful to each other. About three years ago Mom actually set Aunt Regina up with her husband. Or, he’s now her husband. You know what I mean.”

“Indeed. It’s good that they were able to settle their differences, even if only in part.” 

“I think they’re too different to ever really be close, but I’m glad they don’t fight anymore. And I like Aunt Regina well enough. She can be a bit… abrasive, but she always tries to be nice to me.” 

“Well, she did nearly kill you, so nice is really the least she could do.” said Killian, his voice gruff.

Emma laughed. “That’s what Dad says.” 

Killian chuckled and tightened his arm around hers, almost protectively. She snuggled into his side and leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling him tense just briefly before he relaxed with a small sigh, and she thought she felt his cheek brush her hair. “Can I ask you something?” he asked. 

“You just did.” 

He sighed again, dramatically this time, and she could almost feel his eyes roll. “Another thing, then,” he said. 

“Sure.” 

“Is your mum’s name really Snow?”

“Yep.”

“And— is there a story behind that?” 

“She says it’s the curse of hippie parents and I should be grateful she rebelled against her upbringing when naming me.”

“Hold up,” Killian stopped walking and looked down at her. “You’re telling me that if she’d stuck with family tradition you could have been named Rain? Or Sleet?” Emma began to laugh. “Or Blizzard? Or Drizzle? What an opportunity missed!” He sounded almost indignant.

“Drizzle Swan?” Emma could barely choke out the words through her laughter. “Really?”

“There’s dozens of words for precipitation, love, your mum could really have flexed her creativity. I mean, there’s flurry, hail, spit—”

“Spit?!”

“It’s a real weather thing! Or what about monsoon? Or torrent? Torrent sounds like something people might name their kids these days.”

Emma was laughing so hard she snorted, which made her laugh harder. She buried her face in Killian’s shoulder and for the first time since she’d found out about his past he didn’t stiffen when she got close to him. He was too busy laughing himself, his shoulder shaking under her cheek as he held onto her arm, his other hand gripping the back of her coat. He turned his face into her hair and she turned hers into his neck, and as their laughter faded their arms shifted and tightened around each other until they were standing in the middle of the garden, twined together, snow falling softly around them. 

They stood like that for a long time. Finally Killian sighed, his breath tickling the fine hairs on her temple and making her shiver. “Emma,” he said, in a voice so soft she could barely hear it, “I wish things were different.” 

“They could be—” 

“No. They are what they are and we have to deal with them. I have to deal with them. I just— I need time to sort myself out.” 

Familiar pain twisted within her, but she kept her grip on her emotions. “I understand,” she said. “I really do, and I don’t want anything from you that you’re not able to offer freely. I’ll wait.” 

“I could never ask you to—” 

“I want to.” I love you. I’d wait forever. She swallowed the words back, knowing he wasn’t ready to hear them. 

“Swan, I don’t deserve—” he began, and her pain was burned away in a bright flash of cleansing anger. She was so sick of him thinking himself worthless because of what that— that— Emma didn’t even like to think the word she had in mind for Milah, but she certainly felt it— what that woman had done to him. Pulling back from the embrace, she fixed him with a glare and fisted her hand in the front of his coat, thumping his chest with it. 

“Yes,” she said firmly, almost snarling. “You do. You deserve— so much,” she finished lamely, unable to say what she wanted to say without revealing far too much. 

He looked down at her and their eyes met, his overflowing with the same desperately conflicted yearning they’d held the night of his birthday. She could see in them that he wanted to kiss her, and more than anything in the world she wanted to let him, longed to feel his lips and tongue on hers again, as she had countless times in her dreams. She wanted to wrap herself around him and sink into him, to absorb his pain and guilt and burn them away with the fire of the fury she still felt on his behalf. She wanted all this and more, but she also knew that he didn’t, not really. He wasn’t ready. 

Gathering every ounce of willpower she possessed, she stepped back, out of his arms, before he could do something he’d regret. 

His expressive eyes flashed with disappointment, followed quickly by relief. 

Emma swallowed the lump in her throat, forced it down. This was the right thing, she reminded herself. However much it hurt, it was the right thing. And therefore the only thing. 

“Come on,” she said, summoning a bright smile from God knows where. “Let’s get back inside. It’s freaking freezing out here. What idiot thought it was a good idea to stand in the garden in the middle of winter?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Your Killian is a lovely young man,” said Snow some hours later as they collected empty plates and mugs and loaded them into the dishwasher.  

The butterflies did a quick jitterbug in Emma’s belly, but she managed to roll her eyes. “Mo-om, he’s not my Killian.” 

“Are you sure about that, dear?” asked Snow, in the sing-song voice that never failed to raise Emma’s hackles. 

“Mom, please don’t try to matchmake us,” she pleaded. “Killian’s made it clear he just wants to be friends.” That wasn’t entirely true, but her mom definitely didn’t need to know about what had happened in the garden. 

“Emma, you know perfectly well I don’t matchmake,” scolded Snow. 

“Yeah?” Emma tried to imitate Killian’s eyebrow quirk but only succeeded in looking surprised. “Tell that to Lance. Or Jasmine. Or Aunt Regina, and you don’t even like her!”

“I like your Aunt Regina!” protested Snow, unconvincingly, as a telling flush bloomed on her cheeks. “We’ve worked hard to put aside our differences.” 

“Uh huh,” said Emma, forbearing to point out that those differences had evidently not been put far enough aside for her step-aunt to accept Snow’s invitation to this party. “Mayoral business” had been her excuse, but Emma had it on no lesser authority than that of her cousin Henry that the Mayor’s office was already closed for the year, and he, Regina, and Robin were planning to spend Christmas skiing in Aspen. 

“And anyway,” Snow persisted, “I don’t have to like someone to think they deserve a happy ending. You definitely deserve one.” 

“Well, I’m not going to have my happy ending with Killian, so can you drop it please?” If she repeated this enough, thought Emma, she might eventually believe it.  

“Of course, sweetie, I won’t push,” said Snow. “But— don’t write Killian off just yet.” 

She smiled her serene smile and refused to be drawn out any further on the subject. 

Notes: The eagle-eyed among you may remember that I called Snow Mary Margaret earlier in this story. That’s now been changed. She’s much more Snow than MM here, and the name change led to the garden scene, which is not what I’d intended but I think is going to take the story in a better direction. 

#cs au ff #captain swan #teenage captain swan #captain duckling #lieutenant duckling #brothers jones #brothers jones feels #high school au #another brick in the wall #profdanglaisstuff

[chungledown-bimothy]

Trust Me: Chapter 7

Hey look! A timely update! Consider it a preemptive apology to everyone who loves Logan. 

Chapter 1 Chapter 6 AO3 Chapter 8

Warnings: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF TORTURE and JD is a high schooler. It’s relatively short, and marked by ******* before and after. But it’s for sure there. Oh, and some swearing.

Author’s Note: The German translates to “I speak German too, and I know you killed them.”

Word Count: 2190

Tag List: @ccecode​ @emo-sanders-sides-loving-unicorn​ @ren-allen​ @ilovemygaydad​ @bloodropsblog​ @funsizedgremlin​ @raygelkitty​ @roxiefox23​ @thomasthesandersengine​ @spookyingarbageisland​ @band-be-boss-blog​

15 minutes passed before Logan broke the silence. "I understand that two members of the football team committed suicide two weeks ago. I know that you are new to the school, but it must be difficult nonetheless."

"Not really. I bounce around so much, I don't bother learning names or faces, let alone care about anyone. Besides, I heard they did it because they were gay and too homophobic to deal with it. No major loss there, in my opinion."

"That is… an interesting perspective, JD. I am almost afraid to ask about your thoughts on Heather Chandler's death."

"Sometimes even the shiniest of ivory towers are prisons, I suppose. One has to wonder, though, how much the bullying rate has dropped since she kicked the bucket. I mean, sure, one of the other Heathers is trying to take her place, but even she knows that she'll never measure up." He looked out the window and then back to Logan. "Hang on, I never told you where I live."

"I know where I'm going. What do you know about how Heather, Kurt, and Ram died?"

"If you say so," JD began, hesitantly. "Only what everyone knows. Heather drank drain cleaner, and Kurt and Ram shot each other. I heard someone saying that they used some special kind of bullets called ich lüge."

"Ich spreche auch Deutsch und ich weiß dass Sie sie umgebracht haben."

"H- how could you possibly know that? No one knows that. I was careful. I was perfect."

"Obviously, you were not. If you were truly careful, you would not have said anything about the bullets. You wanted to applaud yourself for being so much smarter than everyone else. You also would not have chosen such an emotionally-driven accomplice. I understand the appeal. We have a lot in common, JD. We both understand that emotion and personal attachments are nothing more than hindrances. But there is that one person who changes all of that. Who makes you want to know how to feel things. But ultimately, they will always choose their emotions over us. I was not completely certain that you killed them until you bragged about the bullets. Killing people who had been cruel towards your person, Miss Sawyer, aroused my suspicions. Rule number one of getting away with murder: only kill people to whom you are not linked."

"It's you, isn't it? The killer everyone's talking about. The Park Puzzler."

"That is the first honest and correct thing you have said all evening." Logan paused, considering JD's words. "Is that really what they are calling us? Disappointing, but not surprising. The best and brightest certainly do not go into journalism."

"You aren't gonna kill me. You said yourself, the first rule of getting away with it is killing strangers." Logan was filled with a savage glee, seeing the terror in his student's eyes, his desperate attempt to save himself.

"In most circumstances, yes, killing you would be a mistake. However, your father is known for leaving town and taking you with him unexpectedly. You have attended 10 high schools, I believe, and it is your senior year? Everyone knows that the killer is punishing people for their unpunished crimes, and how would a simple teacher know what you did? Especially one who does not interact with other teachers, let alone students. No one was around when you got in my car. No one has ever seen us interact outside of the rare occasions you showed up to my class." He sighed when he saw JD reach for the door handle. "Don't be stupid- there is no point in trying to escape. I engaged the child-lock this morning. You cannot open the door from the inside, and breaking through the window is difficult with only a fist for exceptionally strong individuals. Looking at you, I estimate that you have slightly below average upper body strength for an 18-year-old male."

"Well that's awfully rude, teach. So, I'm gonna die. Why? Why not just turn me over to the cops?"

"You are a young, white man who, when you want to, can be quite charismatic. The American justice system is skewed to protect people like you. Even that is predicated on the assumption that a prosecutor would take the case, which is unlikely, given how well you were able to convince everyone that they were suicides. Your kills were cold-blooded with very little motive outside of bloodlust, and you left very little to no evidence. Truthfully, I am rather impressed."

"And we're back to my question. Why do I have to die for doing such good work? You're a killer too. Why should I die, when you're no better than I am? If the papers are accurate, killing me will even up our body counts, so you aren't even better than me on that front."

"The quality of your work was admirable, but it was still wrong. You took three innocent lives, simply because you wanted to. I only kill those whose crimes go unpunished by the corrupt justice system. We are both killers, but my crusade is a righteous one."

"I still don't buy it. I trade in half-truths, straight-up lies, and manipulation, teach, and there's more to it than you're saying. You're gonna kill me anyway, and clearly we aren't to wherever it is you're taking me to do the job. Why not pass the time with a good old-fashioned villain monologue?"

"All will be revealed in due time. I have been reliably informed that people tend to dislike 'spoilers'."

"You're absolutely nuts. You know that, right? You're even more delusional than I am. And that's my self-harm of choice is fucking Slurpees."

"I find it interesting that you truly believe that your obsession with what is colloquially known as 'brain freeze' is less sane than your manipulation of Veronica Sawyer and the cold-blooded murders of your peers."

"Peers? That's bullshit. They were, at best, vapid instruments of the system."

"And for that, they deserved death?"

JD shrugged. "I would do anything to protect Veronica from assholes like that."

"As I would do anything to protect my sibling from a world that turns a blind eye to the crimes of assholes like you. We are at an ideological impasse. That impasse, however, is rendered irrelevant by my superior intellect. Ah, here we are." Before JD could respond, Logan reached across the car and emptied a syringe into his arm.

-

The first thing JD noticed when he came to was the rope around his wrists tying him to a chair. Struggling revealed that his ankles were bound as well, and the chair was bolted to the ground. He was surprised to find that he wasn't gagged. Looking around, he reasoned he could only be in a warehouse, and it was empty except for him and a video camera. He continued to struggle against his restraints, barely noticing when the rope burn broke his skin. He was also hungry, and his mouth felt like sandpaper.

"How long was I out?" JD croaked, unsure if anyone was there.

"Approximately eighteen hours. It is 2pm on Saturday." JD jumped, not expecting Logan's voice to be so close behind him. "You are in luck. Normally, Patton would take a turn with you before I do anything, but they are… otherwise occupied. You should thank me- you will be useless to them once I have started with you, let alone finished. I am saving you potentially weeks of agony. The last one took a week and a half to learn his lesson. Only then could I begin my experiments."

"Experiments? What the fuck are you going to do to me?"

"As many things as you can endure."

"Why? Why not just kill me and get it over with? Satisfy your 'righteous crusade' without wasting time."

"And waste the opportunity to study how much the human body can endure? I think not. In all honesty, I care about the cause far less than Patton does. As I said, you will be spared their particular brand of torture, both physical and mental. I can only imagine what they'd do to you, given the fact that you murdered children, despite being a child yourself."

"We were all 18. Technically not children. Why, may I ask, won't I have the pleasure of making their acquaintance? They sound absolutely delightful."

"I am not surprised that your listening skills are subpar. They have other business to attend to."

"They're with someone, aren't they? That's why you've got such a big bug up your ass about emotional attachments and me and Veronica. It's rebellious child 101, teach. Lash out to get their attention. You aren't the center of their universe any more, and it's eating you alive." Logan flinched, and JD smirked; he'd hit his mark.

"Those who speak of what they know find too late that prudent silence is wise. This is doubly true for children who know nothing." He raised a hand, cutting JD off. "No more talking. Feel free to scream, however. Your responses will be recorded on that camera," he pointed, "and further analyzed later. I tend to get… distracted in the moment."

Logan briefly returned to the shadows of the warehouse before returning with a tank that seemed to be smoking. "This, JD, is liquid nitrogen. You mentioned your fondness for cold-induced pain. Let us see how you feel about it in the extreme. And remember, this is for posterity, so be honest."

****************************

He put on thick gloves and an apron before opening the lid and pulling out a ladle full of liquid nitrogen. Very carefully, he stepped forward and slowly emptied the ladle onto JD's arm.

The first drops hit JD's skin with a sizzle, causing JD to flinch. That flinch quickly turned into convulsions and a scream he didn't know he was capable of making when the stream grew thicker. It burned. Every second was more painful than the last. He was on the edge of unconsciousness when the agony stopped getting worse- Logan had stopped pouring. JD didn't know how long he sat there, face contorted with pain, before he was able to open his eyes and look at his arm. He immediately wished he hadn't. From wrist to elbow, his arm was mostly violently red and blistered. What truly horrified him, however, were the areas that weren't red at all, but were an unnatural grayish-yellow.

***************************

"That is third degree frostbite. Those uniquely discolored areas should turn black over the course of our time together." JD tried to scream, to swear, to cry, but he couldn't. He was hit with a wave of dizziness and nausea when he tried to open his mouth. "Ah yes, that would be the shock setting in. Breathe with me, JD. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight." Logan led him through the breathing exercise until he returned to a slightly more normal temperature. "Well done. Keep focusing on your breathing; I will be right back with some first aid."

"Wh- why bother?" JD asked when Logan returned without his gloves and apron, carrying a first aid kit. "Why not let me die from this?"

Logan gently began heating the frostbite with a warm, wet towel before responding. "There are more experiments to run. Even if this was the only one I had planned for you, seeing how it heals is a crucial part of the process. My goal isn't killing you. My goal is observing how the human body reacts to and recovers from various extreme stimuli. Letting you die would be extremely counterproductive. For now, at least." Logan began wrapping JD's arm with bandages. "There we go. That should be adequate to keep you alive and will hopefully prevent gangrene. The point is to study frostbite, not gangrene."

"Why thank you." JD smirked the best he could, but even he knew that it was, at best, a pitiful attempt.

"You certainly are strong, JD. Most people would not dare being sarcastic in the face of their torturer. Drink this." Logan demanded, holding a water bottle to his lips. "Good. I suggest you get comfortable. I will be back tomorrow to change your bandages and check on you. Can't have you dying before I allow it."

-

Sunday

"Oh Logan, he's absolutely wonderful. He's so smart, kind, and handsome. He didn't even blink when he learned my pronouns! And he said the most beautiful things about Monet and Impressionism. Aahh, I wish I could stay and tell you all about it and him, but I have to spend some time at the coffee shop- between our work and Virgil, I haven't spent nearly enough time there!" Patton got to the door before turning around. "Oh, and I'd love to know what you were up to yesterday- I called, but you didn't answer or call me back. That's why I had to come check on you before going to work. I'll be back around eight tonight, okay? See you then!" Patton was out the door before Logan could respond. Eleven hours. Plenty of time to tend to JD and come up with a convincing lie.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #fun and games #my writing #sanders sides fan fic #sanders sides au #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #please reblog if you like it #trust me

[ohmytheon]

Karma in Retrograde (20)

title: Karma in Retrograde

summary: When Dabi is hit by a de-aging quirk, he’s turned back to a 16 year-old U.A. Gen Studies student with self-esteem and parent issues, a destructive quirk, and no memory of the last five years. To help the Dabi of the past, present, and future, he is placed with Class 1-A. There, they must all face the question of whether he can change or if his destiny is already set in stone.

– Chapter 20: Class 1-A decies to tackle the Aizawa Clothes problem with Ryouta.

Lanni notes: This is a long af post and I’m sorry to everyone on mobile! This chapter did not go through Misty's usual super heavy beta'ing, but she decided that my writing was "postable". lmao You all deserve a break from the angst. Seriously, you really do. I mean, there's never a full break from angst because Todorokis gonna Todoroki, but this is definitely one of the crackier chapters. Also it's ridiculously long, but there wasn't a good place to cut it in half. I wrote the first three-fourths and, judging by how much I wrote, you can tell that I had a blast. It honestly didn't feel like 12k. There was just something really great about writing Ryouta in this scenario and, while it seems really silly, I think it pushed his character forward a lot - both with himself and the class. Also, there is a scene at the end that might come off as particularly cracky, but, well, it's based off experiences that both Misty and I have done. I will say that my family made a night out of it. Maybe I loved this chapter so much because I related to it a lot. I don't know. I just hope you all enjoy reading it. Oh, one more thing: Uraraka is a goddamn hero.

We've also got some new art for the fic! (Bless ya'll!) mucha.rt somehow pulled an image of Ryouta and Dabi right out of my head. Here's an insanely awesome depiction of a scene from chapter two where Aizawa shows Ryouta a picture of Dabi by @wellthengetouttathesoupaisle, a hilarious pink-haired Bakugou from @calys-artsy-side, and the squad (aka Ryouta, Mina, and Kaminari) by @feferisushi! The song for this chapter - which is absolutely perfect and I demanded we use it when Misty brought it up as a joke - is "Thrift Shop" by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis. If that gives you a hint about what this chapter is about.

Savin' my money and I'm hella happy that's a bargain, bitch I'm a take your grandpa's style, I'm a take your grandpa's style, No, for real. Ask your grandpa. Can I have his hand-me-downs? Thank you

To be honest, Ryouta didn’t having been cooped up in UA since being struck by the quirk. It didn’t feel like much of a prison sentence when he never really went out before. Staying in Heights Alliance or studying in the library was normal for him. Everything he could possibly need was on campus. Why bother going out? It wasn’t like he’d had close friends to do things with. He didn’t go hang out in the city on weekends. If asked, he couldn’t tell anyone the last time he’d gone to the mall or the movies. Those things didn’t matter. He hadn’t even done them often before high school.

As far as his memories were concerned, the only times he had left campus were to buy groceries and visit his siblings. Both trips were brief and done out of a sense of necessity. He didn’t have a ton of money since he refused to ask his father for more help and he couldn’t handle being at the Todoroki house for long. UA might not have been the best of places, but it wasn’t home and that had to count for something.

He did miss Fuyumi. He missed the way she would lecture him on his homework and help him tend to his burns as their mom had before. He missed Natsuo’s persistently bright nature and the way he would tease him and Fuyumi even if it wasn’t appropriate. He missed Shouto, who looked at him like he was good for something.

It still wasn’t enough to make him visit home more. He might’ve missed his siblings, but he was wary of crossing paths with his father more.

Five years and one de-aging quirk later, Ryouta didn’t have to worry about that. Not only was he in constant contact with Shouto, but Fuyumi and Natsuo had sought him out. He wasn’t alone anymore. Besides the confines of his dorm room, which he wouldn’t be surprised to find out was bugged, he couldn’t hide from people. It left him feeling entirely exposed. He didn’t like it, but he also knew it was what his family wanted. One fact stood between him and his ultimate prize: he was a villain.

Ryouta sighed as his thoughts once again distracted him from his notes. Maybe getting so worked up over the notes on the hero course was stupid (after all, it wasn’t like he was going to become a hero), but he had spent years trying to get here. Now that he was in it, he found himself floundering. He knew the most important basics of being a hero, but there was so much more than that. He had some training experience under his belt, but all the theoretical stuff was mind-numbing. There was so much to consider. He knew that being a hero wasn’t just fighting blindly, but working through multiple scenarios made him realize how much could go wrong.

“I think my brain is melting,” Ryouta grumbled. He set his pen down and rubbed his face tiredly. Everyone was so focused on the physical aspect of being a hero that they didn’t stop to consider how much thinking went into it as well. He had spent the better part of his morning reading and flipping through a booklet filled with different scenarios. It made him feel like he was doing a reading comprehension study guide. He was not a fan.

“You doing alright over there?” Midoriya asked from the other side of the table.

Ryouta dropped his forehead onto the booklet. “I think I’d rather fight Bakugou than do this.”

Midoriya smiled understandingly. “It’s a lot of tedious work.”

After lifting his head enough to fold his arms under him, Ryouta dropped his chin on his arms. “It wouldn’t be so difficult if there was one right answer, but there isn’t. There’s just so much to consider. You do one little thing and everything can go to hell.” Not to mention all the reading of old cases and villain takedowns, ones that ended well and ones that didn’t. “Makes me wonder if things ever end okay.”

“They do,” Midoriya insisted, “but it takes a lot of determination and effort.”

“And brains and muscle,” Ryouta added.

Midoriya chuckled. “That too.”

“I didn’t know pros had to do so much homework,” Ryouta said. “Like I don’t mind the extra work - not really. This is what I wanted to do. I wanted to be in the hero course. I wanted…”

He wanted to be a hero. He wanted to be the best. He wanted to be like his father.

(“He’s becoming more like Enji every day,” his mom cried on the phone one night when she thought he was in bed. “I don’t know what to do. He used to be so gentle.”)

When Ryouta realized that he’d drifted off mid-thought, he sat up and took a deep breath. No more slacking. It was time to get back to work. As long as he kept working, he couldn’t dwell on anything. Midoriya must have either been used to Shouto ending conversations abruptly or he was polite enough not to call him out on it.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Midoriya asked carefully, “why were you in General Studies?” Ryouta tried not to react, but he kept his gaze on the notes even though he wasn’t reading. “Not counting your fight against Bakugou, I’ve seen your quirk, uh, up close.” He really didn’t want to read into that, but he knew that meant Dabi had attacked him. “It’s definitely strong enough to warrant a position in the Hero Course. Did you not pass the exam?”

Ryouta twirled the pencil between his fingers as he thought about what to say. He had already explained to Shouto why he hadn’t been in it, but no one else in the class knew. He didn’t think it was any of their business. He knew he could tell Midoriya that he didn’t want to talk about it and the other boy wouldn’t push the matter any further. He was polite. Ryouta didn’t always trust people like that, thinking they were trying to get something from him, but Midoriya was genuinely kind.

It made it much more difficult to lie to him.

“I didn’t take it,” Ryouta answered. “I applied for General Studies, took the test, and got in.”

Midoriya shot up in surprise. “Why not? Your flames are hotter than your brother’s. With the right training, they probably would’ve been stronger than Endeavor’s.”

They were. That was the shameful part. His father had been ecstatic to find out that his oldest son’s fire quirk was even hotter and more powerful than his. Of course, he was stronger because of all the training, experience, and hard work that he’d put into controlling his quirk, but he had been so sure he’d be able to mold his son into a great successor. Ryouta could still remember how excited and happy he had felt upon making his father proud. It embarrassed him to think of it now.

“I had to prove I was worthy of it,” Ryouta explained. He knew he was being evasive, making Midoriya work for the truth, but this was hard for him. He had been sort of open with him before though. He could do it again. It was a process. He was learning.

���That’s what the exam is for,” Midoriya pointed out.

Ryouta shrugged his shoulders. “That wasn’t enough proof.”

His tone ended the conversation, but he had a feeling Midoriya didn’t need him to elaborate. He knew exactly who he was talking about. Shouto had a lot to prove with their father too, but while he was already halfway to the top of the mountain, Ryouta felt like he was stuck at the bottom with only a rope and no other climbing equipment. It wasn’t fair in the slightest and it didn’t matter. He’d fucked off elsewhere instead of conquering the mountain.

Couldn’t he have chosen something besides becoming a villain? It made him feel like his entire life was tied to Endeavor, like no matter what he did or where he went or who he became, his decisions would always go back to him. It was incredibly frustrating.

Shoving the papers away, Ryouta stood up. “I’m gonna take a break. Go for a walk or something. If I don’t, my head might actually explode without Bakugou’s help.”

“Probably a good idea.” Midoriya gave him a quick look over and bit his lip. Ryouta furrowed his brow. What the hell was that look for? “You, uh, gonna change or anything?”

“Why would I do that?” Ryouta asked. He looked down at himself and rolled his eyes. Midoriya was too polite. “Is it the outfit again?”

“No, no!” Midoriya was quick to reassure, waving his hands in front of himself. His pink cheeks betrayed his thoughts though. He could be nice and still lie if he thought it would make someone feel better. By now, Ryouta had learned that the three most honest people here were Iida, Asui, and Bakugou. At times, it was easier to deal with them than someone who was nice to the point of lying. Midoriya meant well though. “It’s a bit nippy out today, is all. You might want a jacket or hoodie. Did Aizawa give you any?”

“I’ll be fine.” A washed out old anime merch t-shirt and bright teal sweatpants with some slip-on shoes were good enough. Even if it was cold outside, it would help soothe the headache that had been building up over the past thirty minutes. Maybe he was allergic to honesty. That could explain why he always felt so sick when he opened up further.

“Of course.” The smile on Midoriya’s face was too tight to be honest. He wasn’t going to say outright he thought Ryouta’s outfit was butt ugly, but he didn’t have to. It mattered very little to Ryouta. He was going out for a walk around campus, not to a fancy restaurant. “Do you want any company?”

Ryouta’s first thought was that Midoriya wanted to keep an eye on him in case he did anything suspicious, but he struck that down almost immediately. No, he was genuinely asking if he wanted someone with him. Most people liked it when other people were there for them. Not Ryouta though. He wanted to be alone. There would probably be a teacher or someone hanging around to make sure everything was safe, but he could at least pretend. With his head hurting, he felt too close to saying something he’d regret.

“Nah, I’m good,” Ryouta told him.

Instead of asking again, Midoriya nodded. Yeah, he was definitely used to Shouto, although his brother was still more social than him at this point. Gathering his things into a neat stack, he went to pick them up, but Midoriya waved at him to leave his stuff there. He wasn’t going anywhere so his things would be safe. Not that anyone in Class 1-A would mess with it. He doubted even Bakugou would, although Kaminari might think it a fun prank to hide it. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going to be on the receiving end of one soon now that he had gotten involved in the prank circle.

Upon walking out of the dorms, a cool wind blew over him. It was indeed chilly as Midoriya had said, but that didn’t bother Ryouta. Being early spring, the days could still get cold. No doubt Iida would scold him if he caught him out here without a coat on so he didn’t stop walking. Fuyumi used to do the same thing, always reminding him to wear his jacket so he wouldn’t set a bad example for Shouto.

The cold wind reminded him of his mom’s quirk. Being a civilian, she couldn’t use it as freely as his dad, but she had used it at home. In the face of his father’s sheer power, it was easy to forget that her quirk was actually pretty strong. She didn’t use it for fighting like Shouto used the ice half of his quirk. Ryouta had always found it soothing and kind. When he had been younger and lacked any control over his quirk, it could burn right through him. She would hold him against her, using her quirk to cool him down or put her hands on his face whenever he struggled with a fever. That was what the wind made him think of now.

Ryouta was about halfway through his mindless walk around campus when he decided he wanted something to eat. It was close enough to lunchtime that he could probably get something from the Mess Hall. It wasn’t likely to be busy either, so he could grab a quick snack and go to a spot in the trees where no one would bother him.

However, his plan to eat was cut short when he opened the door and nearly walked right into one of his teachers. It was always strange to see his teachers outside of their hero costumes. Aizawa’s was so understated that it could pass off as his regular clothes. He slept in it enough. Besides finding out All Might’s true form, seeing Present Mic in civilian clothes with his hair down always threw Ryouta off guard. It was so weird.

Present Mic looked just as surprised to see him. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m hungry,” Ryouta immediately answered.

“Oh.” Present Mic scratched his chin. “That makes sense.” His eyes dropped from Ryouta’s face down to his feet, slowly widening as he did. The suspicion morphed into horror and his hand covered his mouth. “My god, what did Shouta do to you?”

“Um…” Ryouta wasn’t sure how to answer that since he didn’t know what Present Mic was talking about. At first, he had thought Present Mic had said his brother’s name, but then he realized that he’d misheard him. He had said “Shouta,” not “Shouto,” which then begged the question who that was. It clicked a few seconds later when he realized his teacher was gawking at his outfit. “You mean Aizawa?”

“Yes, I mean Aizawa!” Present Mic waved a hand at him. “That outfit has him written all over it!”

Ryouta sighed. “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s a bright ass outfit that still somehow manages to convey ‘depression’,” Present Mic countered. The remark made Ryouta raise his eyebrows. Besides Bakugou, that was definitely the most forward someone had been about their thoughts concerning what he wore outside of class. The two teachers had known each other for a while though, hadn’t they? Both of them had been teaching at UA when he was here five years ago. Aizawa’s lack of a fashion sense must have been a problem for a while. “And you’re okay wearing that?”

“I mean, it’s not like I have anything else to wear besides my brother’s clothes,” Ryouta pointed out, frustration evident in his voice. It wasn’t like everyone else was the pinnacle of fashion. Most heroes’ costumes were tacky as hell, but he didn’t hear anyone commenting about that. “Plus, I don’t have any money to buy my own clothes. All I have are the funds the school set up for me so I can eat.”

Present Mic gave him a weird look. “The funds…” Realization dawned on his face, which confused Ryouta, but he didn’t question it. “Ah, of course, the funds - I remember now.” He put his hands on his hips and gave him a cheerful grin. It looked normal on him, but Ryouta wasn’t used to seeing that friendliness directed towards him. He was pretty sure that Present Mic neither liked nor trusted him. “Well, you’re in luck, kid, because I think they added more to it recently so you can buy some of your own things.”

“Really? I checked it this morning and I didn’t see anything added.” Ryouta knew that he wasn’t a careful person, but he ran a tight budget. Maybe he wasn’t that great in Present Mic’s English Lit class, but he was damn good at math. He had to be. Accepting any money from his father had been irritating enough, so he had to make sure it stretched for as long as possible and then some in between working odd jobs. He hadn’t known any other UA students that worked on the weekends, but he’d needed to pay for necessities somehow.

“It just happened,” Present Mic insisted. “You need your own shampoo and razors and stuff, right?”

“Yeah,” Ryouta admitted. He’d been using other people’s things, which was humiliating. Shouto kept telling him that he didn’t mind sharing, but all he could think about when he used his brother’s shampoo was that it was the name brand kind, the stuff they used at home. It had been such a stupid shock to switch to the cheaper than store brand toiletries, but he’d done it for over a year now. “I guess I can pull some money out and give it to Shouto to buy me stuff the next time he goes off campus.”

“Huh, that’s right. You haven’t left campus since being brought here, have you?” Present Mic kept his hands on his hips and examined him carefully, like a teacher would a difficult problem. It was a bit off-putting.

Ryouta did his best not to squirm. “I didn’t think it was allowed.”

“It’s true we haven’t considered it before,” Present Mic said, half to himself. He considered Ryouta, looking like he was now trying to solve that problem. Easier said than done. Ryouta knew he was essentially made up of a series of hurdles, each one harder to jump than the previous one. “This isn’t supposed to be a prison for you though.”

“I didn’t think of it that way,” Ryouta replied honestly. Since he hadn’t gone off campus much when he had been here the first time, not leaving felt normal. Although he hadn’t liked UA at times because of how much it reminded him that he was a failure, it was nothing compared to what home felt like. He’d spent years cut off from his quirk every night with the same quirk inhibitor braces that were used on criminals, walking on eggshells and coming up with plans to escape. Now that had been a prison.

The comment didn’t seem to please Present Mic, who still looked like he was trapped in the thought process. “You’ve been on your best behavior too.” Well, that was nice to hear. He had been trying to be good - maybe too hard - but he couldn’t afford for any of the UA staff to think he was planning on acting out or was taking the situation and how much they’d done for him lightly. No one had made any negative remarks about the prank on Bakugou, so he figured he was in the clear there. “I don’t see why you can’t go off campus at least once as long as there’s proper supervision. It’s not like anyone knows who you are.”

Right. No one outside of Class 1-A, the police, and a handful of heroes knew who he was. Any enemies he had made as Dabi, even the League of Villains, wouldn’t know he was anything more than a UA student. As long as he refrained from using his quirk, he should be fine. No one would know the difference.

Even though he had thought about how much he didn’t mind being confined to campus, Ryouta latched onto the idea of being able to get out. It would mean he had built up a sense of trust between him and UA, which was very important to him. No doubt they had kept the police up to date with his progress. Something like that would be necessary in order for UA to keep him here. They had to prove that what they were doing here was right and also that Ryouta wasn’t a menace to society. He had to be twice as good as everyone else in order to get anything.

It wasn’t the idea of going off campus that was such a big deal so much as the idea that they trusted him to do it. The last people to trust him had been his siblings and he had left them behind. There was a lot of making and catching up to do.

“I’ll be good,” Ryouta swore, too eager for his liking. He had to dial it down a notch, but he was excited. Going off campus would be another mark of him acting like a teenager again. Besides going to the store with Fuyumi or taking Natsuo and Shouto to the park, he’d never gone out and done things with friends, mostly because he either didn’t have the money or the friends. “I’ll even wear the quirk inhibitor braces that Aizawa got me. I can hide them under a hoodie. Whatever it takes.”

Something of a smile appeared on Present Mic’s face, which was odd considering Ryouta had never once seen him smile in his direction besides that obviously fake grin earlier. It was always that vague, uneasy look of suspicion. “I thought you didn’t mind staying on campus.”

“Well…” Ryouta shrugged his shoulders. “It’d be nice to see if anything’s changed. Being stuck here, even though so much is different, sometimes makes it feel not real since it’s the last thing I remember.”

Since he hadn’t been able to leave UA, it was sometimes hard for him to remember that the whole world had continued to spin while he had turned into a villain. It was only when he saw how technology like phones had changed or he overheard the other kids talking about media that he realized he had missed so much more than Shouto growing up, Natsuo going to college, or Fuyumi following her dreams.

The stray thought that this must be how his mother felt in the hospital crossed Ryouta’s mind. Her world stayed the same day in and day out while everything changed around her. What would it feel like to step outside? Would it be that much different? Would it be overwhelming or anticlimactic? He wouldn’t know until he left the routine and safety that UA provided. After having experienced a taste of what a normal life could be like with friends, dumb pranks, and the hero course, he was all too eager to have more.

“Let’s see what I can do. I think it’ll be good for you to get out of here.” Present Mic snorted and shook his head. “Besides, someone needs to save you from Shouta’s horrible fashion judgement. I’ve had to deal with him for years. I’m not letting him corrupt you too. This is cruel and unusual punishment. No one should be subjected to that.”

That seemed a little harsh, but Ryouta wasn’t going to argue with his teacher. He clearly took this matter very seriously. At least Present Mic was being honest. He could appreciate that. People being nice to him was good and all, but a little brutal honesty went a long way in this messed up situation. It was probably something he remember for himself.

*

It turned out Ryouta’s first experience off campus was a trip to the mall, which put him on edge. To be honest, he wasn’t a fan of malls, but Present Mic had thought it would be the best place for him to find some clothes of his own to wear. He didn’t care for the large crowds or the store employees popping out of nowhere to ask him if he needed any help. Even if he did, he wouldn’t ask them. Thrift shops were better so he could get in and out without anyone bothering him. No one asked questions there.

The trip also meant he had to find something to wear, which somehow devolved into Uraraka and Iida sifting through the clothes Aizawa gave him until they came up with an outfit that didn’t look like he had dressed in the dark. Shouto had sat back and watched with Deku, looking more amused than he had any right to be, as Uraraka struggled to keep a straight face with every article of clothing she found. Seriously, what was so bad about how he dressed?

After finding a pair of jeans, t-shirt, and plain hoodie, Ryouta was deemed to look decent. Were they embarrassed to be seen with him in public? Whatever.  He didn’t really care either way. He was ready to go. Despite the fact finals were next week, almost everyone was excited to go off campus for a few hours. Even Iida had decided a break was necessary. Ryouta had thought Kaminari was going to cry when he found out they had been given permission to leave. According to him, studying fried his brain worse than overdoing his quirk.

Honestly, Ryouta had expected Aizawa to be one of the teachers supervising the trip, seeing as how his quirk was best suited to subduing him if need be. After all, he knew how poorly of a fighter Ryouta was, so it wouldn’t be difficult to take him down if his quirk was out of the equation. He was surprised to find it was actually Present Mic and Midnight, both of whom were wearing regular clothes as well. If it was weird to see Present Mic in civilian clothes with his long hair down, it was jarring to see Midnight wearing modest clothes. He recognized her from the foreboding smile on her face, but everything else threw him off.

“Try to ignore us and have fun,” Midnight told him as the group made their way down the stairs of the nearest subway stop.

“Right, fun.” That was difficult to do for Ryouta, who knew the teachers were only coming because of him. With her quirk, Midnight could knock him out quickly. None of the other students paid their teachers any attention, all of them wrapped up in what stores they wanted to visit or when they should eat lunch. It was like they weren’t even there. Only Shouto seemed to take note of them, but only as a precaution. He knew what they were (watch guards to keep Ryouta in check) and he didn’t look pleased. There was no way he was going to argue with them though and neither was Ryouta. This was a stretch as it was. “I can do that.”

Apparently, there was an arcade in the mall that Kaminari and Sero were eager to hit up. That was new. The last time Ryouta had gone to the mall, there hadn’t been one. He liked video games well enough, but he wasn’t that great at them. It had taken years to convince their father to let them have a gaming system since he considered them a waste of time, but he’d found out it got his other kids out of his hair. It wouldn’t hurt to check it out. He’d only been to an arcade once years ago.

“And try to get some better clothes!” Present Mic added, all but shoving Ryouta and Midoriya onto the subway after it pulled in front of them.

Shouto sighed, far too dramatically. “That will be a challenge.”

“Oh, I can tell,” Present Mic said. He stayed near the doors, watching all the kids take their seats. Almost the entire class had decided to come on the trip. The unfortunate souls already on the subway car watched in woe as a mob of teenagers piled inside. “If he willingly wore the clothes Shouta gave him without complaint, we already have a problem. I can’t let there be another one. It’s my duty as a hero and teacher to ensure he doesn’t pass on his bad habits to students. Dealing with Shouta is bad enough.”

Midnight laughed as she walked to the back of the car so there was a teacher posted at both sliding doors. It was a good tactical decision. Ryouta sat near the middle in a seat next to Shouto, who looked at ease enough. Up until applying at UA, Ryouta had never been on the subway before. He’d hated it the first time he used it and he hated it now. There were so many people on it, especially on the weekend. At least he could space out. All he planned on doing when they got to the mall was find the cheapest store, snag the plainest clothes he could find, buy some necessities, and be done with it. Then he could follow the others around and relax.

Midoriya spun around in his seat next to Uraraka to look back at them. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Ryouta said, “just kinda anxious and relieved to get off campus.”

“I’m so excited!” Uraraka exclaimed. “I haven’t been in the mall in months. Not that I’m going to buy anything, but I like to look and try on things.” She rubbed her hands together. “Plus, all the free samples at the food court.”

“And you can buy your own stuff so you don’t have to rely on Aizawa’s, um, interesting personal taste,” Midoriya added.

Again, Ryouta didn’t think Aizawa had bought the clothes personally. Even if he had, they gave off a definite thrift store vibe, which was fine by him. After moving out, that was how he’d got a lot of his clothes. The main issue with having a fire quirk and trying to improve it was that most clothes weren’t fire retardant. He couldn’t have said how many t-shirts he had destroyed over the years. Why spend decent money or find things that looked good? That was partly why he didn’t mind how bright, ugly, or boring the clothes he’d been given were. There was a possibility they’d get ruined anyway.

Kaminari clapping him on the shoulder from behind nearly made Ryouta jump, but instead, he turned around to give the other boy a semi-alarmed look. “Our boy is gonna find some clothes that’ll catch all the ladies’ eyes.” He elbowed Sero playfully in the side. “It’ll suck to have more competition, but then you’ll be a proper pretty boy like your brother.”

Shouto’s furrowed brow and slight frown made him look so confused that Ryouta snorted. Even Uraraka giggled and Midoriya grinned. The idea of his little brother being labeled a pretty boy was almost as funny as Ryouta being competition for girls. One of the very last things on his mind was dating. He was pretty damn sure he had much more important things going on in his life than that. There was no way he was going to develop a crush on anyone when he had a life sentence hanging over his head in the form of his future self.

Truth be told, it had never been a big deal before. When his father had cut off his training and sent him to school with Fuyumi and Natsuo, he’d been too wounded and too hung up to develop close bonds or friendships, choosing to stick with his sister or by himself. By the time he reached high school, he simply didn’t care. There wasn’t time for anything like that and, well, he was kind of too absorbed in his own shit to notice anyone else.

Huh, wow. That made him sound like more of a bastard than usual.

“Do you know where you want to go first?” Midoriya asked.

“Erm, not really,” Ryouta admitted.

“We should formulate a plan before splitting off,” Iida said from his seat next to Yaoyorozu on the other side of the train car, “and make sure Present Mic and Midnight are aware of it.”

Ryouta held up his hands. “I don’t care where we go. I’ll follow you all.” If he acted like he didn’t care where they went, maybe they wouldn’t realize he didn’t know where to go. How many of the stores had changed since he’d last been there? He wouldn’t even know where to even begin. Maybe he could ask Uraraka once they got there. Wherever she got clothes would probably work for him.

Everyone seemed ready to split in a mad dash the second they got to the mall, but Iida forced them all to come up with a plan once they got off at the stop. That way their teachers would know where everyone was even if they were going to stick close to whatever group Ryouta found himself in. He figured that they could go to a few stores, but since he wasn’t picky, they wouldn’t take long. Also, even though he knew this whole trip was kind of for him, he didn’t want to be the focus, so he made sure to stress that he would go anywhere they wanted.

Despite the organized plan they had decided on, the moment they stepped foot into the mall, the class split up into groups and bolted in separate directions. Kaminari waved at him as he left with Sero, Kirishima, and Bakugou to the arcade. Uraraka even left them to go with Mina, Asui, Momo, and Hagakure, giving them a helpless shrug as she was dragged off. Others began to taper off until it was just Ryouta, Shouto, Iida, and Midoriya.

It looked like it was officially a boys’ day out shopping. Well, this wasn’t weird at all.

Sighing, Ryouta started forward. “Let’s get this over with.”

“It’ll be fun!” Midoriya told him.

Ryouta looked at him sideways. “Should I put on a fashion show too of whatever clothes I pick out?”

Shouto hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe we should’ve sent him off with the girls.” Even though Ryouta shot him a glare, his younger brother looked dead serious.

Instead of being offended, Midoriya bit his lip as he tried not to smile too much. “Then they really would’ve made him try on everything they picked out so they could see what he looked like. They’d have him wearing whatever clothes they like.” He started to laugh, putting a hand over his mouth to muffle it. “Don’t be so mean, Todoroki!”

“We won’t steer you wrong,” Iida reassured him. He stopped in front of what looked like a nice store and walked inside. The other three boys followed him without complaint. “Just pick whatever you want. These are your clothes, after all.”

If given the option of what clothes he could wear, Ryouta knew it wouldn’t be as bad as what Aizawa had given him. The knowing look on Shouto’s face suggested he thought differently. It wasn’t Ryouta’s fault he couldn’t afford to be picky about what he wore. Even when he had lived at home, buying fancy clothes hadn’t made sense to him. It wasn’t like their dad took him out anywhere. He spent most of his time either at home or school, so whatever Fuyumi bought him for his birthday was what he wore.

Although Ryouta had been certain he wouldn’t be able to miss Present Mic and Midnight watching over him, once he started to wander through the store looking at all the clothes, he forgot about them. He was much more focused on trying to find something the other boys thought looked fine. However, when he did finally pick something out, he balked when he looked at the price tag. He had known this store was probably going to be out of his budget, but he hadn’t realized it was that off.

“What’s wrong?” Iida asked when Ryouta started to put clothes back.

“They, uh, aren’t my size,” Ryouta replied edgily.

“Really?” Iida glanced around. “Let me see if I can find an employee. They might have different sizes in the back. They’re very polite and helpful here whenever I shop here.”

Ah, that explained the prices. Over the past few weeks, Ryouta had become more familiar with the kids he had attacked as Dabi. One of the biggest things about Iida was that he came from a family of heroes as well. Everyone in his family shared similar speed quirks and were in the pro hero business. He was even carrying on the pro hero name Ingenium of his older brother, who could no longer be a hero. It was very inspiring and a huge contrast to what the Todoroki household had been like, except for one thing.

Iida had money. The stores he shopped in were very different from the ones Ryouta had learned to frequent in the past year.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Ryouta insisted quickly before Iida could leave. “I can just look somewhere else.”

Even though he frowned a little, Iida nodded. “If you want. I don’t have need of anything today.”

Ryouta looked around a rack of shirts to find Midoriya and Shouto looking at ties. Shouto was shaking his head, a smile on his face, as Midoriya compared two different ones. Seeing as how it was obvious to Ryouta that Midoriya didn’t know how to tie a tie, it was probably a useless thought. He might not have been able to dress stylishly, but Ryouta’s school tie was always the proper length.

“Hey, Midoriya!” Ryouta called out.

The green-haired boy turned around to face him. “Oh, hey, which one do you think looks better? I need a new tie for any formal outfits.”

“The blue one,” Ryouta told him. Shouto immediately plucked the blue tie out of Midoriya’s hand and put it back on the rack. He hesitated and then put the other one back for good measure. Well, that was rude. Ryouta narrowed his eyes briefly before getting over it. Whatever. “What stores do you usually shop in?”

“Oh, um, not this one,” Midoriya responded. He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s a little out of my price range.” Yes, good, now they were talking. “I get a lot of my clothes in a store further in near the food court. They’ve got pretty good deals and they’re comfortable.”

“Cool, let’s go there,” Ryouta said, already walking out of the store. “Maybe you can find something too.”

“No shirt shirts,” Shouta jumped in, a little too firmly if Ryouta was being honest. Midoriya smiled awkwardly and zipped up his jacket further to hide the evidence. Maybe the real reason why he never outright commented on Ryouta’s clothes was that he knew he didn’t have a leg to stand on either. As long as the clothes were comfortable, what was the big deal clothes weren’t that great?

Just as Ryouta had hoped, the store Midoriya took them to was indeed the more or less right place. It had sale written all over it like it was going out of business. Actually, maybe it was going out of business considering how many sale signs were up. It wasn’t like March was a big time for shopping. Here at least, Ryouta could grab clothes at random without having to worry about breaking the bank. He didn’t look at anything he picked for long, just enough to decide he’d wear it without complaint. He needed clothes he could wear as it got warmer what with spring upon them.

After picking out an armful, Ryouta rechecked to make sure they were the right size and on sale. With that taken care of, he made his way to check out, but Shouto stopped him cold by laying a hand on his arm and asking, “Aren’t you going to try them on?”

“I don’t see the point,” Ryouta said. “They’ll fit.”

Shouto sighed and pulled his hand away. “Let me see them.”

Ryouta jerked his arms and the clothes back. “They’re fine, you little shit.”

“You picked them at random,” Shouto retorted. “I watched you go through the store and just grab things when you figured out they were your size.” He shook his head. “Don’t you care in the slightest?”

“Not really,” Ryouta said.

“Why?”

Ryouta opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out and he closed it. Why did he not care? Why was it such a big deal to care about something as basic as his appearance? To be honest, he’d never put much thought into it before. The clothes would get destroyed. What did it matter? When he started attending public school, Fuyumi had edited what he wore, sometimes his mother. While he didn’t understand why they were so particular about it, he didn’t fight them either. Shouldn’t he have cared at least a little? Shouldn’t it have irritated him that he either wore what other people wanted him to wear or he wore whatever he found on the ground? He remembered his mother wrestling him into nice clothes for family portraits, but besides that, he simply...didn’t care.

No, maybe that wasn’t completely it. He remembered finding some of Fuyumi’s horrified reactions funny. Ryouta hadn’t been put together at all. He was a disaster. He could also remember their father forcing him back inside to change. Usually he did, but the times he refused meant he had to stay home alone. Those had been some of the quietest days of his life once the explosive arguing was over.

No, he didn’t care what clothes he wore, but he did care what he looked like. There was a difference.

“Will you even try?” Shouto asked.

Clenching his jaw, Ryouta looked down at the bundle of clothes in his arms. He really didn’t think they looked bad, but, if he thought about it, he knew they would only be a step above what he had now. If he took the time, he could be fully aware of what he was wearing. Objectively, he knew the clothes he wore outside of his school uniform looked bad and he had a shit sense of fashion, but he didn’t care about them. He could wear anything, no matter how stupid or ridiculous as it was, as long as he didn’t look like his dad. That was fine. It was partly why he settled on wearing such plain clothes at home.

Ryouta sighed. “Okay, fine.”

The first thing they did was go through everything he’d picked out before even trying them out. While Iida and Midoriya walked through the store in an attempt to find some formal wear the latter could afford, Shouto tore through Ryouta’s selection without any forgiveness. He frowned, furrowed his brow, and almost cringed with every article of clothing he produced until finally the only clothes that were left was a button up shirt, a dark pair of jeans, and a jacket.

“Seriously?” Ryouta scoffed. “Nothing else was good?” Shouto gave him a judgemental look that said he wasn’t even going to grace him with a response. “Can I be honest?”

“Yes, please,” Shouto said.

Waving a hand at the three articles of clothing left, Ryouta admitted, “I don’t even like these.”

“Then why did you pick them out?” Shouto demanded, the first hints of frustration evident in his voice.

“Because they were super cheap when combined with other clothes for the store deals,” Ryouta shot back, also frustrated. Shouto gawked at him. There might not have been much of a change in his facial expression, but he could tell just how much in shock his brother was right now.

It was understandable. Ryouta had seen his dorm room, after all. As much as he’d gone through with their father, Shouto wasn’t above spending Endeavor’s money either. That was fine. If Ryouta had access to his dad’s credit card right now, he’d probably go wild after the past few weeks had been dumped on him, but it had become important to him not to rely on his help. His pity. He’d given Ryouta the bare amount of funds to take care of himself, just enough that didn’t make him look bad, and that was that. Ryouta had found out the hard way that, despite how much his home life had sucked at times, he’d had it made too. It was a mortifying realization.

“I don’t see why you won’t let me buy this stuff for you,” Shouto finally said.

“Because it’s not your money!” Ryouta exclaimed. He cringed at the volume of his voice, hunkering his shoulders so he could hide behind a coat rack, and then rubbed his temple. “I appreciate the gesture - I do - but I did everything I could to not rely on our dad. I went by a different name. I never mentioned him at school. I didn’t ask for help. It was… It is important to me that I still don’t.”

The shock on Shouto’s face was gone, replaced by something softer that looked more like understanding. There was a moment where they stared at each other and it felt like another piece of the puzzle had fallen in between them. So much of living with Shouto now and going to school with him meant figuring each other out all over again. Luckily he’d had practice doing that with Fuyumi after their father had decided to end his training, but it didn’t make it fun or less painful, just easier.

“Find anything?” Midoriya asked, a bag filled with purchased items in one hand. Iida looked...tired. Apparently, his attempts at convincing his friend out of his poor taste in fashion hadn’t gone as well as Shouto’s.

Ryouta shook his head. “Nope, I’m still a hopeless cause.”

Iida picked at the clothes that Shouto had discarded. “Why?”

“Look, I just don’t care, alright?” Ryouta sighed. “I never have. Whatever is given to me, whatever fits, whatever doesn’t have too many burn holes in it, I’ll wear it. Seriously, it’s that simple.”

“Surely you have a preference though, right?” Iida queried.

“I-” Ryouta’s shoulders dropped. If he had to choose something - if he had to pick a style - he knew what he would wear, but he didn’t want to wear that right now. Looking at these clothes now and thinking about the obnoxiously bright-colored clothes that Aizawa had given him, it had been an easy choice to make when the other option made him think of the person staring him in the face. His future.

“He looks like the walking dead.” Yeah, but he’d liked that jacket a lot. Ryouta had spent too many nights thinking about that stupid photo of Dabi that had thrown his world upside down not to face that errant thought. It was frustrating. As if his quirk wasn’t a bad enough reminder or his mere presence. He didn’t need to do anything else that would make them compare him to Dabi.

Before Ryouta could finish that thought or anyone prompt him to continue, Midoriya perked up and waved at someone coming up behind them. “Hey, guys. What’s up?”

“It’s close to when Iida proposed we meet up at the food court.”

Ryouta turned around, spotting Tokoyami and Shoji stopping in front of them. They had gone off separately with Jirou, who turned out to be behind Shoji. He was large enough to block her from sight before she stepped around him to look at the clothes Ryouta was no longer buying. With one earbud plugged into her ear, she could bop her head to the loud music and still listen in on the conversation. She had the right idea. When she looked at the clothes and raised her eyebrow, he fought the urge to throw his hands up and walk out of the store. Granted, out of everyone here, she did have the best style.

“Ah, you’re right,” Iida said when he looked at his watch. “I suppose we should head that way.”

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” Tokoyami asked, his sharp eyes moving from Midoriya holding his purchases to Ryouta holding nothing.

“Uh, not exactly…” Ryouta gave a sheepish smile. “Maybe another time, yeah?”

The three newcomers looked at each other, a moment of silent communication passing between them that could only come from having been around each other nearly every day for a full year. While Jirou typically wore a near constant bored expression that made her hard to read, it was even more difficult with Tokoyami, who had an actual bird’s head, and Shoji, who wore a mask over half his face.

The first one to break was Jirou, who huffed and said, “We’ve gotta do it.”

“It is not our job,” Tokoyami responded.

“Yeah, but…” Jirou waved a hand at Ryouta, which made him stiffen. “Dude, come on. You know it too.”

“She has a point,” Shoji added.

Tokoyami closed his eyes, folded his arms, and sighed deeply. It was incredibly dramatic, which made Ryouta unsure of how to react, leaving him to stand mutely and eye them all. They were communicating on a level he wasn’t privy to, even though he knew he was somehow a part of their conversation.

“Listen, not to interrupt you all or anything, but what the hell are you talking about?” Ryouta blurted.

When Tokoyami opened his eyes, he turned his focus onto Ryouta and said in a voice that was both very serious and mysterious, “This is not your store.”

Ryouta looked around like the store might actually provide him with an answer to that statement, but no help came. He had no fucking clue what Tokoyami was talking about right now. This was one of the first times he’d been involved with any of these three. How could they possibly know anything about him? They had friends in the class, but he’d noticed they either stuck with themselves or flittered between groups. Not everyone had a set core of friends like Midoriya or Bakugou.

“Just follow us,” Jirou told him.

He knew they were being helpful, but it sounded kind of ominous. His feet didn’t move. “Why?”

“Do you actually like any of the clothes here or are you just grabbing whatever?” Shoji asked, his voice somewhat muffled behind his face mask. Having been called out by someone that barely knew him and had maybe said all of three words to him was unsettling. His face must have given them the answer because he nodded his head. Even Tokoyami and Jirou looked like they’d had their suspicions confirmed.

“I thought this might be the case,” Tokoyami said in a tone that was much too solemn for the situation.

“Seriously,” Ryouta demanded, “what are you talking about?”

Jirou playfully punched him in the shoulder. “You’re one of us, man.” She turned to Shouto. “Mind if we take him for a bit? You all can go on to the food court. I think we know somewhere he can find some clothes he likes and won’t look like he dressed in the dark.” She smirked. “On second thought…”

Shouto turned to face him, an almost defeated expression on his face. “Are you okay going with them?”

“Going where?” Ryouta questioned. “No offense, but you all are being stupidly cryptic.”

“A place where you belong,” Tokoyami said dramatically.

“Somewhere you’ll fit in,” Jirou added cheekily.

“We’re just helping you get clothes you’ll actually like,” Shoji finished. When he rolled his eyes, it was so emphatic Ryouta couldn’t help but nod. It was the most emotion he’d seen from him so far. He had thought that Jirou was pretty level-headed, but considering she hung out with Bakugou’s group half the time, he should’ve known better.

When Ryouta glanced at his brother, Shouto only sighed. “Just go with them.”

“You sure?” Ryouta asked.

“They’re better equipped to help you,” Shouto told him.

What the hell did that mean? Ryouta let Jirou throw an arm over his shoulders and guide him out of the store. It was an intimate move, but somehow gave off the vibe they weren’t that close. He wasn’t sure how she did it, but it was impressive. He shrugged his shoulders helplessly at his brother before they made a left turn and was out of each other’s sight.

“So, uh, where are we going?” Ryouta asked in his best good-natured voice. He sounded like a boy scout. It was terrible.

Jirou grinned up at him. “You’ll see.”

This time, Ryouta was the one to roll his eyes. “You don’t have to be so-”

“Here!”

He rolled his eyes right onto the store. “Oh.”

Even though it was dumb, his cheeks turned red. This was the one place in the mall he’d been avoiding. He knew it would still be here as this style never died. Looking at the three Class 1-A kids with him now, he should have immediately known where they were taking him. There was too much black clothing between the three for any one of them to not shop at a store like this. He could point out the cool band t-shirts or nerd merch all he wanted to justify coming here. It would only make the fact he’d shopped at this place that more obvious.

“How did you know?” Ryouta asked quietly.

Tokoyami was almost scathing in his honesty when he said, “I remember your clothes from the Training Camp.”

It was a blow to the ego, although Ryouta knew he hadn’t meant it that way. Five years was a long time, but at the same time, it wasn’t. His style probably hadn’t changed that much in between him dropping out of UA and him joining the League. It hadn’t gotten much better, but it hadn’t gotten worse either. That jacket had been cool, along with the boots. As much as he hated it, he could stand here right now and admit that to himself. He’d worn a lot of dark, drab colors growing up. They fit him well.

But he hadn’t wanted to do that now. He didn’t want anyone at UA to look at him and see Dabi, which he knew those clothes would do. Maybe the bright colors had been a shield.

“It’s okay,” Shoji told him.

Jirou pulled her arm away. “Yeah, you’re in good company.”

“I just…” Ryouta sighed. “I don’t want you to think I’m him.”

Tokoyami shook his head. “The clothes don’t make the person. They don’t make the villain or the hero either.”

Ryouta ran his fingers through his hair, stopping to rest his hand on the back of his head. “I guess I was being kind of stupid. I know I don’t dress for shit, but it was always easier sticking to black or neutral colors.” Plus, burns and soot were harder to spot on black clothes. “You’re still probably gonna have to help me.”

“Finally,” Jirou said smugly, “a makeover I can get behind.”

It wasn’t any less weird picking out clothes and having people edit him, but he was definitely more comfortable in this store. The prices were a little higher than he would’ve liked, but that was a price he would have to pay if he wanted to wear clothes that ticked every box. Just going for comfort and a low price wasn’t always a good thing, if only because they weren’t a decent quality either. Caring about his appearance wouldn’t make him a bad person. Neither would dressing in the same colors and style as Dabi. It annoyed him, but if they didn’t think it was awful, then maybe he was overthinking things.

For some reason, it made him think of the horrific scars on Dabi’s body. He must have cared an awful lot about what (and who) he looked like to let himself get that damaged. What had he been thinking? Had he wanted to erase every last remnant of who he was - or where he came from? He’d inherited his mother’s build, but he’d grown up looking like his father, the only child born with both his signature red hair and eyes. He’d dyed his hair and either burned himself or let his quirk burn him beyond recognition - and then continued to wear either shitty or neutral black clothes.

With their assistance, combined with Ryouta’s need to get this over with, they gathered an armful of clothes he could try on. He was content with trusting their gut and simply buying it, but Jirou had insisted he try them just in case to check the fit and if he liked them on him.

“Remember,” Jirou said on the other side of the changing room door, “it’s okay to be picky sometimes.”

“Yeah, but what’s the point?” Ryouta asked as he tugged a t-shirt over his head. “If it fits, is comfortable, and doesn’t look like shit, then it should be fine.”

“It’s a confidence thing,” Jirou told him. “When you look good and actually like what you’re wearing, you’ll feel better. Trust me, there’s something awesome about putting on the right pair of boots.”

Was he that obvious about his fluctuating confidence issues? Ryouta couldn’t deny he had them in spades - after what he’d gone through with his father, there was no sense in it - but he also knew he was clever and strong. As much as he hated his quirk and the way it took control, he liked it at the same time too. It was hard to explain. He’d made it and continued to do so despite everything thrown at him. Of course, that didn’t mean he was handling things well. Maybe she had a point though. He’d never really thought of his appearance that way.

“So?” Shoji prompted.

“I…” Ryouta stared at his reflection. “I don’t really care for this one?”

“Toss it over, man, and try on the next one,” Jirou immediately replied. She didn’t sound offended at all that he didn’t like a shirt she’d picked out. He pulled it over his head and did as he was told, throwing it over the door and then grabbing the next shirt.

After that, it went by a lot faster. In the end, only that shirt and a pair of jeans that were far too skinny for his comfort were put back on the racks. Everything else fit perfectly, was affordable, and, as Jirou had suggested, he did like them and felt a little more confident.

Before he could go up to pay, Jirou rushed back with a black leather jacket in her hands. “You have to get this.”

Ryouta immediately reached out for it, already liking the look of it, but then hesitated. “Uh, isn’t it a little…too on the nose?” It wasn’t a long jacket like the one he’d seen Dabi wearing in that picture and lacked the stitching and metal braces, but it did make him think of it, which meant others would think the same.

“We can match,” Jirou said in an attempt to make him feel better. “Besides, it’s cold outside. You need one jacket.”

When Ryouta took the jacket from her, Jirou smiled in triumph and Tokoyami nodded his head like some wise sage. Hell, maybe he was. Over half the clothes Ryouta ended up buying had been picked by him. He had planned on putting them up when they got back to the dorms, but Shoji suggested he go ahead and change into some of his new clothes in the bathroom. It was a little awkward, especially with a random stranger complaining that he was taking too long, but once he stepped out, a funny thing happened. The guy took one look at him and shut up.

It was ridiculous how much a simple change of clothes could, well, change things.

The moment he walked out of the bathroom, Jirou high-fived both Tokoyami and Shoji. “Success!”

“Much better,” Shoji told him.

At first, Ryouta thought Tokoyomi would say something cryptic like, “You are now one with the darkness,” or equally strange that he seemed fond to do, but he didn’t say anything. However, he looked like he approved. Again, it was hard to tell with his bird features, but he didn’t look horrified.

“Thanks,” Ryouta said. “Shouto will probably still think I look ridiculous, but…”

“He’s got that rich kid pretty boy style going for him,” Jirou said, rolling her eyes. That made Ryouta grin. Yeah, he kind of did now that he thought about it. Natsuo had more of a jock style too while Fuyumi had always gone for modest and slightly girly. “You’ve got this.”

Shoji waved for them to follow him to the food court where everyone else would no doubt be waiting for them. Now that the shopping was out of the way, Ryouta felt a lot more eager about being off campus. Hopefully, they’d have some time left over to go to the arcade later. He wanted to do something fun. Shopping certainly didn’t count. It had been easier with these three, but he was glad it was over. He’d never liked shopping before and he didn’t now.

As soon as they entered the food court, Ryouta’s first thought was that it was large and then it was overwhelming. The number of choices didn’t bother him so much as the number of people. If he wasn’t picky about what he wore, he was even less picky about what he ate. Growing up, half the time anything he ate came up anyway, so it didn’t matter if he ate something heavy, light, delicious, crappy, sweet, or salty. It had always been more about quantity over quality for him. If the training wasn’t enough, his quirk alone burned through him quick, leaving him skinny no matter how much food he shoveled in his mouth.

Spotting the Class 1-A group was easy. They were all crowded in a handful of tables in the middle of the food court with Iida seemingly herding them. Uraraka caught sight of them first, waving to catch their attention. A huge smile lit up her face when she spotted Ryouta, which put him at ease. Okay, so it wasn’t just these three. He had done a good job. Well, they had done a good job and he’d rolled with it. Before getting in line for food, Ryouta made his way over there so he could drop his bags off.

“Oh, you look so good!” Uraraka burst when he set the bags in the chair next to her. “So edgy and cool.”

Ryouta snorted. “Stop.”

Shouto eyed him for a moment before deciding, “It’s better than I remembered. There’s actual style.”

“Glad to receive your approval,” Ryouta retorted dryly.

Iida finally took his seat at the table. “I understand your hesitance about your choice in clothing, but you should have said something earlier.” He didn’t have to be straightforward for Ryouta to hear the implication: We’re not going to think you’re a villain because you want to wear a black leather jacket.

Thinking back on it now made him feel foolish, but he was doing so much to distance himself from Dabi, especially in their eyes. Anything that came off as threatening was something he did not do. It was why he’d been so passive over the past few weeks. While he wasn’t confident like Shouto or arrogant like Bakugou, he wasn’t a doormat either. He’d struggled and fought too much to be one. After that confrontation with Monoma, talking with all three of his siblings, and the prank on Bakugou, he didn’t feel like acting like one either. It wasn’t him.

“I’ll be right back,” Ryouta told them. He walked in the direction of the nearest food station, weaving his way through the crowd. He didn’t even know what it was until he got in line and looked at the sign. Jirou’s voice piped up in his head reminding him he could be picky about some things, but he shook it away. This was fine.

“Oh my god, I love your jacket!” a girl exclaimed. Ryouta blinked and turned to the side, only to lean back when he realized how close she was. “Where did you get it?”

“Oh, um, the store by the coffee shop,” Ryouta answered, pointing vaguely in that direction. It was the first time he’d spoken with a civilian after being de-aged since the others had dealt with any employees. It shouldn’t have made his heart race, but it did. This person not only had no idea who he was, but she wasn’t even involved in heroics. She would take his answer and run with it, not thinking anything of it or him.

“It looks really cool,” the girl told him, a bright smile on her face. “You look great in it.”

He’d beat himself over the head for it later, but Ryouta actually blushed. “Um, thanks?”

It was like dealing with Mina’s forwardness all over again when she’d told him to call him by her given name. This girl looked to be around his age with long black hair and dark brown eyes. She was pretty, but things like that had always been objective, errant thoughts he didn’t have time for. He definitely didn’t have time for them now.

“I’ll have to check out that store,” the girl replied teasingly. “Ta ta!”

And then she was gone, all but disappearing in the crowd. Had that just happened? Ryouta stood there awkwardly until he heard the food employee behind the counter call for him a second time. Oh, it was his turn. He hastily ordered his food and handed over the cash. Still somewhat dazed, he carried his food back to the table where he’d put his clothes, not really paying attention to where he was going.

“It’s happening already!” Kaminari wailed dramatically from the table next to them.

“What’s happening?” Mina asked as she munched on her meal.

Kaminari pointed an accusing finger at Ryouta. “The girls are already going after him. Did you see that hot chick walk up and hit on him? You know the hottest girls hang out in malls.” Mina shrugged her shoulders as if to say he wasn’t wrong. “I knew this was going to happen. Our chances with girls decrease with every Todoroki apparently.”

“Don’t worry,” Ryouta told him, his cheeks still warm with embarrassment. “I’m not going to steal girls from you.”

“You don’t have to,” Kaminari sighed, plopping onto the bench. “They’ll come flocking to you, leaving the rest of us poor souls behind.”

“Because girls like edgy bastards?” Bakugou drawled.

Kaminari knowingly pointed a chopstick at him. “Just because you’re too much of a hothead for girls to like you-”

“Would you shut up?” Bakugou snapped.

A grin found its way onto Kaminari’s face, one that Ryouta immediately recognized as a bad idea. “I thought for sure the hair change would mellow you out in girls’ eyes.”

The mini-explosions that rattled from Bakugou’s palms made the couple next to them jump and their table shake, but Kaminari only laughed and leaned out of his reach. It didn’t even make Mina, Kirishima, or Sero blink. They all kept eating and watching with amusement on their faces. They weren’t scared of him at all. Granted, the hot pink hair did do wonders for making him look less threatening. He seemed to know it too, which made him simmer even more.

As usual, Ryouta took lunch as an opportunity to keep to himself while everyone else conversed. They were happy about getting the chance to take a break from studying for finals. It wasn’t until they were finished that he noticed Midoriya looking at him in thought.

“Uh, something wrong?” Ryouta prompted.

“Oh, I was just wondering…” Midoriya said, sounding like he might be talking to himself. “You aren’t familiar with any of the stores at the mall. If you didn’t come here to shop, where did you get clothes and stuff?”

“Ah, right.” Ryouta no longer felt hungry, despite the few bites left on his plate. He pushed them aside with his chopsticks until he finally set them down. Shouto was watching him too. He must have been thinking the same thing. Ryouta tried not to sigh. He would’ve had to face this truth eventually. Their curiosity would’ve grown too much eventually, particularly Uraraka’s, who he could tell was trying her best to act like she wasn’t listening. Well, he had to own up to his methods at some point. “I usually go to a thrift shop around the corner.”

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” Iida asked, sounding genuinely distraught.

“I didn’t think you all would want to go there,” Ryouta replied. It was the truth, but it wasn’t the entire truth. No, there was something far more embarrassing than a thrift shop. Shouto looked troubled. He’d probably never been to a thrift shop before, seeing as how Ryouta had never been to one until he moved out. When he had stressed about how little money he had, his brother hadn’t realized how bad it was.

He had no idea.

“Why don’t we go there?” Iida suggested. “You can probably get cheaper things like pajamas and such there.”

“Oh, no, we don’t have to do that,” Ryouta said quickly. “That stuff can wait.”

“I’d like to go,” Shouto cut in.

Ryouta tried not to wince. Out of everyone to speak, he knew he would cave immediately if Shouto wanted to go. When he looked around, he realized everyone at the table looked done eating and interested in leaving. Well, it was now or never. The moment he stood up, a handful of others did as well, taking it as a signal. At least most of the class was staying behind. He’d only have to suffer humiliation from a few people then.

When he glanced around, he caught sight of Present Mic and Midnight for the first time since walking into the mall. They’d done an amazing job blending in. He could tell they were curious about what was going on. Ryouta kind of hoped they would put a stop to this - maybe say they had to stay at the mall or go back to UA - but no, they stood up and threw away their trash too.

This was happening. They were really doing this. He thought he might puke as they walked out of the mall in the direction of the thrift shop. That pretty girl from the food court wouldn’t think he looked so cool if she saw where he was going now. How embarrassing.

Ryouta tried to ignore the feeling of self-consciousness prickling at his skin. Unfortunately, it only seemed to increase with every step he took. I could have lied, he errantly thought. Guilt immediately welled up inside him. It wasn’t enough to make the notion any less painfully tempting. He could have just taken them to the thrift store. Instead, they were about to learn the truth of how he lived.

He had to hold back a grimace as he glanced over his shoulder. Shouto was quietly discussing something with Yaoyorozu, whose caution and excitement seemed to be growing in equal parts, while Uraraka was happily chattering with Midoriya and Iida, as they moved deeper into the “shady” part of the shopping district.

They were all going to think he was a fucking garbage person.

There was only one more corner to turn before they reached their destination. Shoving his feelings down, Ryouta forced himself to quicken his pace, only to falter once the store was actually in plain view. His last step before coming to a halt hit the pavement a little harder than usual, generating an echo. He couldn’t bring himself to turn around and look at the expressions of his companions. Instead, his gaze was locked on the large, glittering thrift shop, promising to provide cheap goods and ask no questions.

Confusion flickered in the undercurrents of Shouto’s voice. “Is this it…?”

Before Ryouta could feel too much like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole, Uraraka happily exclaimed, “I’ve come here before!”

The statement prompted Ryouta to risk a cautious glance over his shoulder. None of the others were actually looking at him. Uraraka was staring intensely at the store, rocking forward onto the balls of her feet and counting something off on her fingers. Meanwhile, Shouto, Midoriya, and Iida had all turned their attention to Yaoyorozu, who was starting to speak. “It’s kind of like that store we went to, isn’t it?” Her lips were pressed in a small smile while her eyes glimmered with excitement. It looked like there might have been something else there as well, maybe nostalgia, or maybe something rawer, but this wasn’t the time to try to look into it.

For the life of him, he couldn’t think of a reason why Yaoyorozu Momo would go to a thrift shop (or his brother for that matter), but the knowledge that she had done so was something of a relief. It didn’t put him completely at ease by any means, but some of the tension drained out of his shoulders and allowed him to start moving again. “Not quite. Actually… “ Actually, as much as he wanted to say something that would immediately make them understand that he wasn’t some sort of disgusting freak, such a thing was impossible. Ryouta signed in resignation. “Just follow me.”

So much for overcoming his shame. Not only was it back, but he could feel it intensifying with every step he took. It was only sheer willpower and the knowledge that turning back would make him look suspicious that made him keep moving. As promised, he didn’t lead them inside the store. Instead, he began to walk around it into the alley leading to the area behind the store. Murmurs just a little too quiet to make out emitted from the group behind him as they went further into the darkness.

Forget being gross. I’ll be lucky if they don’t think I’m going to murder them. A corner of his lips twitched in dark, unhappy amusement.

A de-aged villain leads a group of naive students into a dark alleyway. It didn’t take a comedy genius to figure out how that joke ended.

After a walk that felt much longer than it really was, Ryouta came to a stop. The others falling silent didn’t come as much of a relief, as he had lead them directly over to a trio of dumpsters. He pursed his lips and lifted his chin a little despite the heat he could feel building in his face. “This is it,” he announced. In different circumstances, he might have been proud of himself for keeping his voice from wavering when his every nerve was on edge with anticipation for their response. Right now, telling his younger brother and his friends that he frequently did his “shopping” in other people’s trash, already well aware of what they thought of his fashion sense, he just felt uncomfortable, darkly amused, and bitterly accepting. This was it: one of the most embarrassing situations he had ever willingly walked into.

Although he couldn’t bring himself to turn around, he did plant his hands on his hips, as if he was not only unashamed, but proud of his overly thrifty ways.

He thought he heard Shouto begin to say something or, more accurately, make a surprised, confused, and probably horrified noise. Before it could form into words or grow loud enough for him to confirm that it really was his brother, Uraraka spoke up and saved his hide once again. “Oh! I’ve always wanted to try this!” She strode forward, entering Ryouta’s line of sight and stopping only inches away from the dumpsters. “Which one are we gonna climb in?”

Ryouta rubbed at his arm, more than a little dumbstruck. “Last time I was here, the one on the right was used for actual trash,” he hesitantly offered, “but the other two…”

Uraraka nodded decisively. “Right!” As if entirely without shame, she closed the distance between herself on the middle dumpster, braced her hands against the side of its open top, and vaulted in. He couldn’t help but find the sight oddly admirable. It wasn’t as hard as he had expected to push the anxiety out of his expression before turning around.

Shouto looked absolutely gobsmacked. That much he had expected. It was news to him that his brother had ever been inside a thrift shop. Dumpster diving had to be a completely alien and ridiculous notion to him. The self-conscious that it would have sent flooding through him was paused by the expressions everyone else wore. There was obvious curiosity intermingled with Iida’s confusion. Midoriya looked like he had a better idea of what was going on and was fidgeting in what might be nervousness or excitement, maybe both. The most surprising was probably Yaoyorozu, who displayed a layer of hesitance, but was clearly excited beneath it, maybe even eager. Finally, Midnight and Present Mic leaned against a wall a short distance away, engrossed in a hushed conversation. Occasionally, one of them would shoot a glance at the students, but they didn’t look like they were going to stop them.

If the students all seemed to have a hint of repressed melancholia seeping through everything else, he refused to let himself acknowledge it. For the most part, they didn’t look disgusted or upset to be there. That was good enough for him.

Ryouta took a moment to make sure he wasn’t fidgeting before speaking. “I know this looks weird, but they throw out a lot of-” Nice? No, it might be different if it was just Midoriya, but he couldn’t call the stuff he would get from here “nice” when he was speaking to Iida, Yaoyorozu, and Shouto as well. He didn’t need them to start wondering what “bad” was by his standards. “Usable stuff here. As long as you don’t go in the one on the right, it’s pretty clean too.”

After several long seconds in which the only sound came from Uraraka rooting around in the dumpster behind him, Midoriya asked, “What kind of stuff?”

“All sorts!” Ryouta immediately restrained a wince, caught off guard by how loud he was. Loud by his standards, at least. It wasn’t enough to qualify as a shout, but it did bring him close to sounding excited. That wasn’t quite the case. Someone starting a conversation was just such a relief. It meant that they were getting on with it, which brought him one step closer to this moment being over. That the immediate reaction wasn’t one of revulsion made it even better. Even so, he toned his voice down and fought down the warmth threatening to creep up his neck as he continued. “They’ll take pretty much anything, but they get enough donations that they throw away anything flawed. Not just broken stuff. Things with a little tear or dent get tossed as well.”

Iida began to look a little more intrigued, only for it to be overshadowed by a fresh wave of concern. He warily eyed the dumpsters for a moment before speaking up. “Ryouta, are you certain this is legal? I mean no offense by the question, of course!”

“I have it on good authority that it isn’t illegal,” Midnight chimed in. Normally, that particular teacher jumping into a conversation with a devious glimmer in her eyes would make his stomach twist in anxiety. This time, her interruption provided a welcomed distraction from the much more painful sensation of his entire being threatening to tie itself into knots over the legality of his actions being questioned.

With a stiff nod, Ryouta confirmed, “It isn’t.”

“Don’t remind me,” Present Mic grumbled. It earned him a gentle elbow from Midnight and an odd look from Ryouta, but before anyone could ask what he meant, Iida began speaking again.

“If our teachers are alright with it and you’re certain it’s safe, then so am I.” Iida pursed his lips and clasped his hands together, the innocent action managing to increase the discomfort of the situation. Maybe it was the absence of his usual arm movements that was doing it. “I would like to reiterate that I did not mean to insult, offend, or insinuate anything with my question. I understand how it may have come across, although the realization came too late, but that is no excuse!” His hands unclasped, as if it were physically impossible for them to remain still for too long when so much nervous energy was coursing through him. It didn’t bring any relief, considering what he was saying. “I assure you that I would have asked anyone else the same question and-”

Ryouta raised a hand to cut him off before the tirade could take on a life of its own and achieve sentience. “Iida, it’s fine.” He doubted that his fake smile was particularly convincing, but he had to do something. Aside from Uraraka, who may not have heard any of it because of how engrossed in the dumpster she seemed, everyone else looked at least a little, if not very, uncomfortable. Like himself, they were probably all (except Shouto, if he was being honest with himself) well aware of how asking a de-aged criminal if he was breaking the law looked without anyone pointing it out. He didn’t blame Iida anyway. Regardless of Ryouta’s status, it was a reasonable enough question and he knew that he didn’t mean anything by it. All of the stuff that came afterward was just…unnecessary.

A heavy silence fell over the group. It was broken by the dull thud of something hitting the concrete. Ryouta whirled around to see Uraraka scrambling out of the dumpster, where a large, black, malformed bag now laid in front of. “I think there’s a beanbag in there!” she cried. “It felt like everything in there’s soft, too.”

It was like a spell had been broken and everyone suddenly remembered why they were there. While Uraraka got to work opening the trash bag, Midoriya gave a decisive nod before stepping forward and declaring, “I’ll try too.”

That prompted Shouto to make a half-strangled sound before, “Midoriya.”

Midoriya shot him a sheepish grin. “It looks like fun,” he defended, “and if I find something nice…”

Despite knowing that his younger brother definitely didn’t approve of his preferred method of “shopping” method and feeling much more aware of Present Mic and Midnight’s presence than he had been only moments ago, he had to admit that there was something funny about watching the color drain out of Shouto’s face. Ryouta waved an arm at the dumpsters as Midoriya began to walk forward. “Go ahead. You don’t need to wait for my permission. I’m not the keeper of the dumpsters.” Once Midoriya had passed him, Ryouta shot Shouto a smirk that said he was absolutely the keeper of the dumpsters.

His brother looked somewhat pained. “This is…how you got your belongings?” he slowly asked.

Ryouta fought to keep his shame pushed down. It was made easier by the sound of Midoriya climbing into the dumpster and Uraraka squealing excitedly. Apparently, she had found her bean bag. “A lot of them, yes.” He shrugged in an attempt to look casual and decided not to tell him it was also how he planned to get most of his stuff going forward. “It doesn’t cost anything and, as you can see, it pays off.”

As if on cue, Midoriya gleefully exclaimed, “Posters!” His immediate silence afterward suggested that he regretted his nerdy outburst. Even so, Ryouta pointedly raised an eyebrow.

Shouto furrowed his brows. “I know why you don’t want to borrow money, but…” He glanced uncertainly between Ryouta and the dumpsters. He didn’t know if Shouto noticed him pursing his lips slightly or just decided to change tactics, but instead of continuing his previous sentence, he asked, “What if there are rats?”

“Most of them stay with the actual garbage.” Not only did his brother look unconvinced, but the faint widening of his eyes suggested that he was horrified that there might be rats at all. Ryouta snorted. “If you find one, just give it a little nudge and it’ll go away.”

A discomfort not dissimilar to Shouto’s fell over Iida’s face. However, for whatever reason, that was when Yaoyorozu decided to step forward. The nervousness in her expression was largely overpowered by resolve. “I would like to try as well.” Her statement earned her a surprised look from Iida and a partially worried, partially betrayed one from Shouto. The latter’s jaw began to loosen as if he was about to say something, only for him to firmly close it again seconds later.

“Are you sure?” Iida asked, careless or unaware of whatever had held Shouto back. Probably the latter, knowing him. “If a rat bites you, it would mandate a visit to the hospital.”

Yaoyorozu wavered, only to steel herself with a sharp nod. “I’m wearing tall boots. I’ll be fine.”

Ryouta grinned for real. That wasn’t something he had expected, but it was definitely a pleasant surprise. Yaoyorozu returned his expression as she walked past him. Her smile was small and hesitant, but warm and encouraging in a way that didn’t feel condescending. It made him think he was silly to worry about what Shouto would think of his dumpster-diving. He was a rich boy who, although his childhood was incredibly flawed, had never lived anything other than an expensive lifestyle and, from what he remembered, wasn’t the sort of child to be drawn in by “gross” things. Of course he would be put off by dumpster diving. He also knew next to nothing about practical living. If he had never lived with the sort of circumstances that would drive someone to consider it, he would probably think it was gross as well.

That meant that Shouto’s squeamishness was relevant in regards to one thing and one thing alone: mockery.

Ryouta turned on his heels to stride over to the dumpsters. Since Yaoyorozu and Midoriya were both already in the middle dumpster, Midoriya carefully placing what looked like All Might posters in a pile on top of a relatively flat garbage bag while Yaoyorozu poked at something, he moved toward the one on the left. As he walked past her, Uraraka stopped sorting through the pile of tattered Beanie Babies that had been in the bag alongside a sickly-green beanbag chair to shoot him a smile and wink. It almost made him pause. Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence that she took that bag out when she did.

He quickly brushed that thought aside. There was every chance that he was just overthinking things again.

It was just as easy to climb into the dumpster as he remembered. Once he found his footing atop the pile of bags within, he looked over his shoulder and, in a somewhat stiff and haughty voice, called, “A hero can’t be scared of rats. They’re just a part of life.”

Shouto wrinkled his nose. Victory.

Meanwhile, Iida frowned and, apparently failing to get the joke, said, “There’s a difference between being too scared to do something and not wanting to take an unnecessary risk. You may do as you wish, but we will content ourselves with watching.”

When his classmate finished speaking, Shouto simply said, “Not the life I choose to live.”

Ryouta narrowed his eyes. “The prissy life,” he teased.

Getting an accurate read of Shouto was still a difficult task, but as he watched, he was pretty sure he saw a myriad of subtle changes flicker across his expression. First was amusement, then seriousness, something that could have been uncertainty or worry, and finally, that neutral mask snapped back into position. It remained as Shouto shook his head slowly. “I’m not going to respond to that.”

All thoughts related to whatever his brother might be thinking were forcibly pushed to the back of his mind. Instead, Ryouta not only gave in to but embraced the impulsive urge to say, “You just did.”

Wisely, Shouto didn’t say anything this time.

Spirit bolstered, Ryouta moved to give Iida an amused smirk before finally turning his attention to the contents of the dumpster. He wasn’t even able to finish the first task before the sound of crinkling plastic distracted him. His gaze moved from the class president to Midnight and Present Mic. While the former was still leaning against the wall, an amused look on her face, the latter was kneeling down and rifling through one of the shopping bags. The remainder of how they had essentially foisted their shopping upon the teachers during the walk over made him feel a twinge of guilt, which was promptly overshadowed by confusion when the teacher retrieved what looked like a wad of clothing and stood back up with a triumphant sound.

By that point, everyone else had noticed he was doing something and watched with keen eyes. It also looked like Present Mic couldn’t care less. He strode confidently over to the dumpsters, seemingly unbothered by the curious stares and the gentle thwack Midnight gave his arm as he passed her. As he got closer, Ryouta squinted at the mass he was carrying, only to squint a little harder when he was able to make out what it was.

“Are those…the clothes I wore here?” he asked.

Present Mic didn’t answer at first. He stopped in front of the dumpster on the right, made a face at what Ryouta assumed was the scent of garbage, and dropped the clothes in the dumpster in a motion that managed to feel careless and ceremonial at the same time. Solemnly, he said, “It’s where they belong.” The effect was ruined by him promptly scrambling away from the dumpster and the odor surrounding it. “Let’s just hope Shouta doesn’t find them again.”

Ryouta blinked slowly. Was he really implying what he thought he was implying? With what he knew of Aizawa, it would make sense, yet the prospect that it might be true felt entirely alien. It was enough to make him disregard the waste of clothes for the time being. He cast a searching look at Shouto and Iida, who, much like him, looked like they were cautiously dancing on the brink of a revelation.

There was a faint rustling from the dumpster next to him as Midoriya, who had practically disappeared inside of it in his search for nerd memorabilia and other items of interest, resurfaced. Slowly, he asked, “Are you saying that Mr. Aizawa also…?”

Midnight’s laughter cut through the conversation. “He used to bring us here when we were your age,” she gleefully confirmed.

Present Mic let out an agitated huff. “Don’t remind me.” He pointed a finger at Ryouta and cried out, “Now you know what I’m trying to protect you from! He’s trying to make a miniature version of himself!”

Shouto’s gaze drifted over to Ryouta, thoughtful enough that he could almost feel it. “You do seem to have a lot in common,” he remarked. It didn’t sound like an insult.

Ryouta caught a glimpse of Present Mic rolling his eyes as he walked back over to Midnight. More importantly, he also heard him mutter, “Bet he won’t even turn back into Dabi. The quirk’ll wear off and he’ll just be a second Shouta.” Based off of how they tensed up, so did Shouto and Iida, an awkward tension falling over the group and stilling everyone in its wake.

He understood the concern. It probably wasn’t something Present Mic meant for anyone to overhear besides maybe Midnight - the result of a hero with a voice quirk accidentally speaking a little too loudly - and had the potential to upset him. Ryouta himself was surprised to find that he wasn’t. Maybe it left him feeling a little awkward, especially since the others were looking at him askance, but the muttered jab didn’t bother him. It’d be nice if he didn’t turn back to Dabi, but he wasn’t going to hold his breath. Like everyone else, all he could do was hope he would be different when the quirk did wear off with these new and better experiences in his head.

It would be nice if he were a little better at hoping.

With everyone uncomfortably waiting for someone to break the silence, Ryouta took the opportunity to change the subject. The least he could do was put them out of their misery. Honestly, everyone acting like they were stepping on eggshells around him got a bit tiresome. “We should probably get going soon.” It was as much of a valid point as it was a distraction. The sun had already begun to set. He glanced down at the dumpster.

“I think we can afford ten more minutes,” Midnight said.

After making himself meet the hero’s eyes to give her an appreciative look, Ryouta started to sift through the dumpster. As he searched, it occurred to him that, for all of his apprehensiveness, nothing had gone wrong today. Everything had worked out alright. By the standards of people who’d had normal childhoods and to whom socialization wasn’t such a massive task, it might even be considered uneventful. It was…nice. He had enjoyed it.

It was nice to have an uneventful day for once.

*

She shook off her disguise like a long-forgotten memory. Golden eyes gleamed with excitement over what she had learned from her little outing. Even though it wasn’t what or who they were looking for, it was still exciting. Or rather, it was exciting once she got past her initial disappointment.

The odds that Dabi would actually be in the mall she had decided to search were admittedly low. She had only gone because it was better than doing nothing and, until they found a solid lead, all they could do was keep looking and hope something popped up. Her hopes hadn’t even been that especially high after days with no luck.

However, when she caught a glimpse of a black leather jacket and corresponding dark attire out of the corner of her eye, her heart leapt into her throat. For a moment, she thought she had found him. It was enough that, even after she moved to get a closer look, for a few heartbeats, she could have sworn that his face was achingly familiar. If she imagined some scars and allowed her mind to wander away from reality...but no. That boy - with his red hair, unblemished skin, wrong age, and different group of friends - couldn’t have been Dabi.

Toga did think he was cute though. Cute and important. After all, it wasn’t every day a new face suddenly manifested amongst class 1-A. That alone was enough to make it worth lingering for a little while longer. At first, she had thought he was just a cute, dark boy with befittingly bloody hair who happened to be friends with one of students, but no, no, no. The way he behaved with the rest of the little heroes, the way they danced and changed and reached out to meet his presence said that, while new and uncomfortable, he was one of them. And a very special one of them, if the complaints of the loud electric boy were anything to go by.

There was a genuine spring in Toga’s step as she headed for the change of clothes she had stored in the alley behind a run-down gas station that was wedged in front of a questionable supermarket and behind a thrift shop. She may not have found Dabi, but she had found someone of interest, not only for herself, but for the League as a whole. Tomura was bound to be interested in the new boy. Perhaps it would even help him calm down a bit, or at least give him something else to think about. The entire League had been tense and stressed since they had realized Dabi was missing. It wasn’t that she wanted them to give up on finding him and write him off as lost - not by any means - but it would be better to keep themselves occupied than dwell on…

Again. If they didn’t find him, that would mean it was happening again. They had lost people during the attack on the training camp and the following raid, but Toga didn’t know them well or care for them. Shigaraki’s Sensei though, that was a hard blow, because while he didn’t mean anything to her, his loss hurt her leader so keenly she could almost taste it. It wasn’t a good taste. Magne - that one had hurt her directly. Her friend dead because she had tried to touch some miserable, stuck-up demon of a man. Tomura’s pain hadn’t tasted good, but Overhaul’s misery, the flavor of vengeance, was absolutely wonderful. It hadn’t brought Magne back though. It had been great, but it didn’t truly fix it. Kurogiri’s arrest was a horrible mixture of both. It had to weigh on Shigaraki, even if he was trying to act strong, and there was no one who she could take vengeance on yet. And now Dabi…

Dabi, who was distant and mysterious but had been there from the beginning, was suddenly gone and they had no idea what had happened. Had whoever had taken him painted him wonderfully red? Red wasn’t his color. He wasn’t someone she loved like that - wasn’t someone she wanted to make bleed - wasn’t someone she wanted to hurt. Wasn’t someone she wanted to - no - they shouldn’t have to lose anyone anymore. When she found them, she would have to return to favor, dye them in shades of red that had nothing to do with blood, make them scream and plead like Overhaul hadn’t in the hope it would taste that much sweeter.

She would. She would. She would. And if it was too late, if they couldn’t find him, if they never knew, then she... she…

She shouldn’t be thinking about this. The “if”s would only bring her down and Spinner had told her she acted “weird” when she was angry and vengeful the other day. Toga thought that was a little hypocritical coming from someone who was weird a lot of the time, but sometimes she thought she caught Shigaraki or Twice sending a worried look her way or that Twice might be trying to calm her down like she had for him once, so she supposed it may have some merit. It felt better to cling to something happy than let herself be swept away by darker feelings anyway.

Although her steps had faltered as her mind threatened to veer toward darker places, she managed to shake it off. By the time she reached the hideout, she had returned to her full, bubbly self. She swung the door open and called out a greeting, heedless of the night that had set in. Tomura wouldn’t be asleep anyway. She wished he would. “I’m baaaack! And I found something interesting!”

As expected, the rusty voice of Shigaraki Tomura rose up to greet her. “Is it important?”

Toga’s smile was unwavering, although it felt like the reminder of exactly what “important” meant right now should make her eyes shine a little less bright. “It’s not related to Dabi,” she said as she pranced out of the entryway and toward the voice, “but it does have to do with Class 1-A.” Fearlessly, she took a seat on the couch beside her bedraggled leader. It was hard to tell with the hand on his face, but sitting there, with pictures of the outside and inside of a warehouse spread out on a table in front of him, she thought he looked more tired than usual. Older, when if she had to guess, she would pin him closer to herself and the hero students than Compress or their teachers in age. The only other person in the room was Mr. Compress, who, despite his mask, she was sure was eyeing him just as closely.

Shigaraki heaved a frustrated snarl of a sigh. “There’s nothing here. All the footage after he started fires was destroyed or…” Stolen. By the heroes. He raised a hand to scratch restlessly at his neck before turning his obscured gaze to Toga.

That was all the cue she needed to start talking. “There’s a new student! He’s definitely with them, but I didn’t hear anything about anyone being replaced. And” - she raised a finger to pause Shigaraki when she saw that he was about to interrupt - “he’s a Todoroki.”

The quiet before Shigaraki spoke was exciting. She could see the interest spark in his red eyes. That made it that much more disappointing when it faltered and faded a second before he said, “We can look into it after we find Dabi.” It seemed that distractions, no matter how promising, were doomed to be tossed aside. Toga couldn’t help but think he was going to wear himself thin at this rate. That, as much as her dismissal, made her shoulders sagged and a faint, disappointed sigh passed her lips.

“You did good finding this!” Compress piped up. “We just have to prioritize right now.”

“Right,” Shigaraki confirmed. “Besides, I need the two of you for a stealth mission. If you get the loot, it could have a much better payoff than stalking the hero wannabes.”

Toga perked up at that. Although there was a graveness to his voice, she saw Tomura’s lips twitch into small smile.”We’ve narrowed the timeframe for Dabi’s disappearance down to his raid on the quirk supplies warehouse. And we know that the heroes didn’t drag him away. So…”

His pause felt like it was purely for dramatic effect. She appreciated it.

“I want you to get me information on everyone who works in the warehouse.”

@mistystarshine notes: We have reached chapter twenty of KiR. The song is 'Thrift Shop' by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis. Sometimes, that's how the Crack treated Seriously cookie crumbles. But seriously, thank you so much for all the continued support! It means the world.

For this chapter specifically, I will note that it was a lot of fun writing Toga! I tossed aside a lot if the care I usually take to better convey her mental state and I think it paid off. Also... I hope nearly 20k of fluff (+ Toga) makes up for next chapter, which will, hopefully, demolish you. It won't be the League doing the demolishing! That plot won't move that quickly. But it will be... Explosive.

#dabi is a todoroki #dabi #shouto todoroki #bnha #mha #ochako uraraka #jirou kyouka #dabi fic #long post #izuku midoriya #tenya iida #present mic #midnight #fumikage tokoyami #mezo shoji #denki kaminari #toga himiko #shigaraki tomura #mr. compress #mina ashido #yamada hizashi #kayama nemuri #bnha fanfiction #the things of songs

[eatmymakeup-blog]

My Depression and Anxiety Story

I’ve been drafting this for so long and I don’t know if this will ever be finished. (Spoiler alert: It wont be finished) A post from my friend who’s struggling with her own depression is what pushed me to finally publish this. 

I’m going to start with my own story.

I was (oh wait I still am) a fat kid. No one bullied me at school but I was always quiet and reserved. I wasn’t the studious type. When I get home from school I just open the TV or call my friends on our landline phone. I’d copy homework from my classmates in the morning. I also changed best friends every year until I met my forever best friends when I was in Grade 7. High School was the same, I still didn’t study. Thinking about it now, maybe even if I wasn’t bullied, I was quiet, shy and didn’t have the motivation to study because I was (oh shoot I still am) fat. I was my own bully. 

After High School, I didn’t want to go to school anymore. I told my Mom that I wanted to rest for a year before I go to College. She was okay with it. I spent my 18th birthday in the States. When we got back to the Philippines, I learned that my Mom and Dad were fighting. I didn’t go to my best friend’s 18th birthday because of that. One of the reasons too was because I wasn’t in school. I was ashamed, I self-pitied, because everyone I know are talking about school and I don’t have anything to share. I was depressed but I didn’t know what to call what I was feeling yet.

When I got to College, I made a lot of friends. I pushed myself to talk to people and not be scared. I was a Dean’s lister. I fell in love and got my heart broken. My Mom and Dad got separated. I started smoking. 2008 was my first documented depression. 

While writing, it looks like I didn’t have a good time. I didn’t, I had a great time! I met new people, learned from them because they’re very different from the people I knew from High School. They’re still my friends until now. 

I graduated. I was supposed to be a Cum Laude, but my grades were a 0.01 short. I didn’t want to blame my parents separation, but sometimes I do. I always feel that they were the reason why I didn’t push harder, but in reality it was still myself. It’s still my own fault. 

After graduation, I told my Mom that I wanted to rest for a year again. She didn’t agree to me this time. She said that I should start working at our family business. So I did. At first I didn’t care about anything in the office. My mom gives me work, I do it. But then I only go to work 1-2 times a week. Maybe after a year or two (I’m not really sure) my Mom decided to put me in the Accounting Department. That’s the time where I really struggled, I didn’t want that job. I still worked there and went to work every day just because I felt guilty about not doing anything on my first few years. I was still struggling because I didn’t like what I was doing. I would always be stressed out because of that.

A few more months, I was asked to help my sister-in-law with her job. So I was doing my job, and a quarter of hers. This made me more exhausted.

2017. I had no idea what happened. We went on a cruise for 7 days. I was supposed to be happy. It’s a free vacation! In the moment, I can tell that I was. But the times when we were back on the ship at night, all these thoughts of jumping off the ship intruding my mind. What would happen if I jump? I asked myself. I was irritated the whole time. I felt that my boyfriend and my Mom weren’t listening to whatever I say. 

And then we came back home. I was so different than before. I was feeling down without any reason. Before that, I was a people pleaser, I loved helping other people and making them happy. I chat with my two friends every day, one I met online and one is my High School best friend. I told them on different days that I can’t chat with them anymore. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I was feeling overwhelmed with my own sadness, and I can’t deal with theirs anymore. They understood.

I kept myself isolated. I don’t go out anymore. I don’t talk to my High School best friends even online. I reply to other people, only when I need to. 

One time, my sister-in-law went to Europe for a month and that month I had to do all her work. So then I’m working two jobs for a month (probably more). The reason why I didn’t go full crazy was because my boyfriend was there to help me out. I’d joke about wanting to die. But in reality, I didn’t want to live anymore, I was just all work, then go home, then work then go home. We’d stay at the office until 1-2am. I didn’t even have the time to shave my legs or cut my nails. I was so exhausted. At that time, I thought that that’s going to be my life forever.

All through out the years I’ve documented my depression phase (on my other blogs). I’m can’t call myself clinically depressed, because I haven’t had the guts to go to therapy, and I’m also stubborn minded. I have this belief that the only one who can fix myself, is myself (more on this later). My depression was on and off. I’d get up then go back down again. I even developed social anxiety. I was anxious to meet new people. One time my Mom hired an intern and she let him inside my office. My boyfriend wasn’t there, and my Mom closed the door. I literally couldn’t breathe. I gathered all my courage to stand up and go outside so I can smoke. 

There’s a social media site that starts with the letter P. I’d always rant there about my life and my depression and one person asked me if I have privacy at home. And that’s when I thought about it. I’m an introvert. I’m with my family and boyfriend every day from Mondays to Fridays and on the weekends I’m with my friends. My job bugs me. My room was a mess. I didn’t have time to myself. I’ve been trying to please other people but when did I ever please myself? I continued my isolation for over a year, I tried to focus on me. Only me. 

It sounds so boring, but through that, I met myself. 

On the first few months. I felt numb. I didn’t feel anything. Why can’t I feel? I didn’t give a fuck about anyone, I didn’t even give a fuck about myself. I didn’t clean, I was too lazy to get up, I was stress-eating.

But then I felt like I was at the end, I was so down that there was no where to go but up. 

I love this quote from my favorite movie, Fight Club. “Marla’s Philosophy of life, she told me, is that she can die at any moment. The tragedy of her life is that she doesn’t.” It may sound a bit negative for some people. I’d always refer to that quote when I feel like I want to die. But this time, I reacted to it differently. I told myself, that I’m not scared to die anymore so I shouldn’t be afraid to live my life. To explore new things... or old things that I loved. 

Music. I started listening to music. My love for music came back. I listened to Hip-hop again. I love all genres but listening to Hip-hop makes me have this attitude that makes me feel strong. When I listen to Hip-hop, in my brain I’m like “whatever, fuck you all”. Also, I’m exploring OPM. There’s a ton of good bands right now.

TV Series and movies. Netflix is life. By watching tv shows and movies, I learned a lot. I’ll make a blog series about what I learn in every show or movie I watch. 

Buddhism. I’ve also gone through this path. I want to know how to have peace of mind. I’ve been studying Buddhism but it doesn’t mean I don’t believe in God anymore. I just love their main goal. Basically, their main teaching is to be kind. And wow, just wow. That’s all you need, right? 

Astrology. The day of my birthday last year, my niece was here and she read my birth chart, it was scary accurate so I researched more about it and I’m slowly studying it at the moment. I also love it because I discovered more things about myself, that I know already but was just in the back of my head.

Hobbies. I asked myself a question, “What do I love doing?” I love arts and crafts and creating things, so I started buying materials for cross-stitching. I actually finished a piece last year. I haven’t framed it yet. 

Do what you love, everything is an investment, you may not earn money but you’ll earn skills, discipline, etc.

Organizing. Tidying Up With Marie Kondo and Minimalism. This was just recent. I might make a separate post for this but this really helped me. Organizing made my life better but the lesson I learned from them will be with me forever. Tidying Up with Marie Kondo focuses on what sparks joy. You do it with things, but you can also apply it in your life. On the otherhand, Minimalism teaches us gratitude and contentment.

Self-discovery. I discovered (and still discovering) who I really am, who I want to be and what makes me happy. All of us are different, what makes me happy might not make you happy. Learn from yourself. Love yourself. Ask yourself what makes you happy. Ask yourself what makes you sad. Ask yourself what can you do to survive this. The only person who knows how to make you happy, is yourself. I still believe that we’re not meant to be 100% happy all the time, because if we’re happy all the time, what is the point of living? See, that’s what we think about when we’re sad too, because we think that we’re going to be sad forever. Because you can’t feel joy if you don’t experience sadness (lol Inside Out reference, watch it!) Just believe that there will always be better days. This post isn’t to give advice, I didn’t post this because I want you to do this or that. It will always be a personal journey. No one knows if this will be my last depressive phase, so this post is also for myself. A reminder, that I was once okay. 

“Happiness in a meaningful life is really about the full array of emotions, and finding them in the right place” Embrace the sadness, embrace the happiness. Keep learning. Keep loving yourself.

Don’t be scared to share your story or reactions on my ask box. Let’s learn from each other. Let’s inspire each other. 

PS. If you know who I am, please respect my privacy, I don’t want people to know who wrote this. :) I’d love to express my real self more, in the future.

#depression #depression story #anxiety #inspiring #inspiration #sadness #sad #happy #joy #personal #til

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #397

“you’re my religion, you’re my reason to live  /  you are the heaven in my hell”

Do you think that you’ll always love who you love now? Even if we're never together again romantically, I will ALWAYS love her at least as a best friend. Have you ever made out with a random person? Yeah, no. If you could do your first kiss over, would you? No. I'm lucky that my first kiss was honestly cute as hell. Do you like your country’s president or prime minister? Well I voted for him, so I obviously can't hate him. He seems to be doing fine so far, though take that with a grain of salt seeing as I don't keep up with politics. Even before voting for him, I just did a small bit of researching on his values. What color is your house? Yellow with white accents. Do you listen to Christmas music during the holiday season? No, I don't enjoy it. Man, Jason's mom sure did, though... I loved how in the spirit she'd get and always played Christmas music in the car during that time of year. I miss that woman and I sure as hell hope she rests easy now. Do you like ginger ale? Solely if I have a stomach bug, and I can only ever sip it. What are you listening to? "Electric Sugar Pop" by Jeffree Star. What’s the last thing you watched on TV? The TMS office has the TV on, and the woman who overlooks it (I have zero idea what her position is called) tends to have it either on a cooking channel or a home improvement one. Today was a cooking one. Is your favorite author the author of your favorite book? I don't have a favorite author. Describe someone you find really attractive: M-Mark Fischbach. *___* If you HAD to look like someone else, but could choose who, who would you choose? Hm... maybe my friend Alon. I've mentioned I feel like a million times that she is like, ethereal with how gorgeous she is. Have you ever seen someone get a tattoo done? If so, what was it? Did they cry or were they in a lot of pain? Yeah; it was a watercolor feather with "ohana" written below it. She didn't cry at all, but she grit her teeth a few times. Do you have anything you couldn’t go a day without? Some form of technology. Have you ever gotten caught doing something illegal? No. What’s your favorite flavor of Vitamin Water? I don't even think I've ever tried it. Is there someone you wanna date right now? Yeah. What first attracted you to the last person you kissed? If we're talking the very first, our vast similar interests. How many brothers does your father have? None. Does your best friend have any tattoos? No. Do you like Ben + Jerry’s? Yep. Man, I want their Phish Food ice cream now. Would you ever wish to be the opposite sex? Nah. Do you think you’re attractive? Nope. What is your favorite card game to play? Magic: The Gathering. I really miss my PS3 where I had Duel of the Planeswalkers installed on it, it was really fun. Do you own a globe? I don't think we still do. What is your favorite wild cat? Perhaps clouded leopards. If your bedroom had three portals to anywhere, where would they lead? South Africa, Sara's place, and maybe a nice little cabin in the mountains for when I'm feeling a peaceful getaway. You can ask any author one question about their story. What do you ask? I have zero idea. What’s a place you have a strong emotional connection to? The pond behind the local community college. Jason and I took our first prom pictures there. Do you take yoga classes? No, but I'm actually considering it since they offer those at the YMCA Mom and I now go to. What is a decision you’ve made that changed your entire life? To let Jason go. It's pretty great, my PTSD has been less of a bother lately! Have you ever made any money from a side-hustle? Could you consider being paid to take pictures once in a blue moon a "side hustle" when I don't even have a main job? Do you ever wonder what kind of person you’d have turned out to be if a certain event never happened to you? Ugh... it's incredibly painful to wonder how life would be if Jason never left. If you could have anyone’s singing voice, whose would you choose? Adele's or Amy Lee's, probs. What are your top 3 favorite genres of music? Metal, hard rock, alternative. Do you think Mars will be colonized in your lifetime? No. Have you ever been homeless? If so, what led to your homelessness? Technically, yes, because Mom couldn't afford the rent. She, my little sister (who still lived with us at the time), and I each were accepted into the homes of willing, kind people, though. Have you ever been on a ship? No. Who was Van Halen’s better singer - David Lee Roth, or Sammy Hagar? David. Which fictional character has the most memorable quotes? Heath Ledger's Joker is quoted all the time, so probably him. What do you think of the "Healthy At Every Size" movement/philosophy? Before I answer this, I want you to keep in mind that this is coming from someone who is obese, so I would positively love to agree with that for my own self-confidence, but I don't. I believe it's a very dangerous mentality. I think you should cherish your body unconditionally, like it's an amazing machine, but I firmly believe you should have an active interest in becoming what is physically healthy. You couldn't pay me millions to convince me that, say, a 300 lb. person is healthy. What was the name of the first person you ever had a crush on? Why did you like them? I think my first *real* crush was this guy Sebastian my freshman year of high school. I thought he was very sweet, funny, caring, and attractiveness was a bonus. What food will you absolutely not, under any circumstances, eat? Sashimi, caviar, raw eggs... Which famous person would you like to be BFFs with? Bindi Irwin, for one. What kind of natural disaster is most common where you live? Hurricanes. Have you ever had an animal get into your attic? No. Have you ever been bitten so hard that there teeth marks were there after? I mean I've had hickeys before if that's what you're asking. Ever gave one? Oh, I guess you were. Yeah. Do you think its weird if guys wear make-up like eyeliner? Not at all. Would you ever date a disabled person? (Be honest) Yes. Would you rather adopt or have your own child? IF I wanted kids, I'd rather have one myself because I'm well aware I personally need that special connection. Stepkids count, too, because they'd be my partner's and therefore very important for me too. What is the most personal question you have ever been asked? Probably TMI, so here's your fair warning, but I've been asked before if I "touch" myself and I was absolutely repulsed that someone would ask me that. Were you abused by your parents? No. If you’re not straight, who was the first person you came out to? Sara. Were you one of the smartest in your class? Up to finishing high school, modestly, I was. Where did you meet your first crush? Art class my freshman year of high school. Do you ever go places with wet hair? Yeah, idc. Who is your favorite little girl? My niece Aubree. She's such a wonderful girl. Does your best friend have kids? No. If you were pregnant, would you want a boy or a girl? Hypothetically, a girl. What place outside of your own home do you spend the most time at? Um, maybe my older sister's house? Have you ever participated in a medical study? No. Do you have any family members who are cancer survivors? Yes, including my mother. Twice. Are you allergic to any medications? None that I've tried. Do you have any licenses other than your driver's license? I don't even have that. If you’re atheist, would you raise you kids believing in God or not? No; I wouldn't intervene with their own spiritual (or lack thereof) journey. They'd learn what they'd learn and decide themselves what they believe. Do you like reading self-help books? No, I just can't get invested in those. What is your opinion on sex change? If you're unhappy with your body, you're more than free to surgically change that with no judgment from me. Do you have any goals for this summer? If so, what are they? Yes, to lose weight. Can you get a strike at bowling? I have before. There was one occasion where my first go was a strike RIGHT after saying I sucked at bowling, hahaha. Do you ever take pictures of negative moments? Well, I photograph roadkill, and that's one hell of a sad moment. I actually wouldn't mind broadening my horizons of photographing negative moments (with permission of course), because I actually find these very impactful and even builds empathy. I will never, ever forget this one picture I saw sometime of an emaciated boy huddled in the dirt with a vulture close by watching him... like fuck, it made me want to sob. No one should ever have to live like that, especially a child. Would you ever post a picture of yourself crying on social media? No. I know that sounds contradictory to what I just said, I just wouldn't be able to do it myself. Have you ever held a newborn baby? Once, when my last niece was born. I'm terrified of holding them because they're just so fragile. Do you know anyone who has twins? My friend just had triplets. What is your favorite country in Europe? Germany. Are you thriving in your life right now? BOY HOWDY- Do you remember to water plants? I don't keep plants. Name three YouTubers you aspire to be like. 1.) Markiplier in a vast plethora of ways; 2.) Jeffree Star for his incredible work ethic; and 3.) Shane Dawson for his incredible compassion. Yes. I know the controversy, but regardless, he cares a lot about people. Who is your favorite character from Harry Potter? I wouldn't know, given I haven't read the books or seen the movies. Do you watch PewDiePie? Not anymore; his content doesn't interest me anymore. I watched him religiously back in the day when he was a serious let's player, though. Do you have a Steam account? Yes. Have you ever played Five Nights at Freddy’s? No, not personally. I like watching LPs of it and I find the story fascinating, but it's not the kind of game I'd enjoy playing. Have you ever tried Akinator? Yes. I don't think I ever beat it, except maybe once. Are you wearing socks right now? No; unless I'm wearing closed-toe shoes like sneakers, I never do. I hate the feeling of them. Can you twerk? Haven't tried, don't wanna. Do you like dabbing? No, it looks stupid. Do you like fishing? I honestly do think it's fun with all the anticipation and thrill of seeing how big the fish is, however I don't support it anymore unless, like hunting, you genuinely need it for food. The only case where I'd go again was if my dad asked me, because that's always been our bonding experience. Do you have a Spotify account? Yes. Have you heard of Blizzard Entertainment? Well, they're the company behind World of Warcraft, so obviously. Do you like bananas? Yes, but only for a VERY short window of time. I am beyond picky with the ripeness of bananas. Are you addicted to anything? Caffeine and technology. Do you know your phone number? I actually don't. Do you swear in front of children? No.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''here for you'' by ozzy osbourne

[megbox]

2018 Year In Review

Previous Posts: (2017) (2016) (2015) (2014) (2013) (2012) (2011) 

2018 has not been a banner year for self care. It has not been a banner year for much of anything, to be honest. This year in review will be much less colourful and exciting than they traditionally tend to be. It has been a year of hard work, stress, and feeling the pressure of the less-fun parts of adulthood creeping up on me. It has been really hard, to be totally honest. I have spent the majority of the year in a deep state of exhaustion and distress. There are positives within it all, though. Big positives, such as: 

I went on my longest trip ever away from home. 

I have developed so much in the professional sense and have fallen so deeply in love with social work and my future career path. 

I have made new friends who reflect these changing influences in my life, and the enduring friendships that have survived all of these years continue to strengthen and deepen as time goes on. 

January: 

Tell me - why does January always suck? 2018 began with an opening double shift on New Year’s Day, which I feel is strongly symbolic of the year as a whole because you have an exhausted Megan struggling to responsibly balance my professional responsibilities, self-care, and partying. On January 3rd, Alex and I booked our flights to Asia and in doing so, solidified that we were going through with a plan made drunkenly over the table last summer at a karaoke bar. 

I did get to spend an awesome ski weekend with Alesta, Sydney x 2, and Shelby. It was especially nice because this particular group of people had never spent time all together - we were just united by being a group of girls who love to ski. We hit Lake Louise on Saturday, stayed overnight at a hostel in Banff, and Alesta and I hit Sunshine on Sunday. In Banff, we got a free jug of sangria because we are cute girls. We went to High Rollers and Sydney was drinking IPAs and porters like a pro. I went alone (like... what? Who am I? How drunk was I?) to Dancing Sasquatch after and made friends with some Nova Scotians in line. One of them paid for my cover and bought me not one but two of those infamous Time Machine drinks and extra bonus - Alesta and I got FREE lift passes at Sunshine. 

At the end of the month, my mental health took a sharp nosedive into oblivion and I don’t even really know why. I started experiencing a violent resurgence of something I haven’t felt since the end of the 12th grade, having what I now recognize as panic attacks. The first one came when I was studying on a Sunday at Higher Ground and I had no idea what the fuck was happening, I’d been there for several hours when I suddenly felt the urge to throw up. I packed up all my shit and burst out the door literally gasping for air but ended up being fine. Just shaky and confused. They started happening more frequently after this, with no predictable trigger, and I started to feel the physical manifestations of stress. That was new and it freaked me out. This lent itself to a lot of strange patterns around eating (since I was constantly feeling nauseous, or I thought I was, I didn’t want to have a full stomach. I also thought I had a food intolerance, and because I’m me was 100% convinced I was pregnant because the stress caused me to miss my period). 

February 

Things started to get so bad in February that I had to plead my manager at Famoso for less hours. He was an idiot in general but also did not seem to grasp the severity of what I told him. He would frequently schedule me for these long swing swifts all weekend long, leaving no time or energy for the mountains of homework I had to do. It did not help. 

February was especially busy with school. That’ll be a recurring theme throughout this year. It could honestly be a summary of this entire year - so I’ll spare you the details. But five courses at the University of Calgary is no joke. 

I never needed reading week so badly in my entire life. I was beyond happy to just be able to take a long weekend and not be at Famoso. Shelby arranged for a giant group of her friends to spend the weekend at her friend Sawyer’s massive, absolutely beautiful cabin in Invermere. I got to spend some quality time with two of my favourite people on the planet - Emma and Sydney. From the minute we got into Emma’s car together, to having ciders at the Emerald Lake Lodge on the way, to eating A&W and sharing a bed and “she gon’ fuck the fridge.” Sydney and I spent one afternoon on homework while everyone else went skiing and I was with her when she got the news that she’d won this massive grant and we celebrated by sitting in this magical massage chair and just loving life. We played Drink, Talk, Learn! And I gave a drunken presentation on the history and etiology of pugs. Emma and I went skating on Lake Windermere to cure our hangovers on Sunday. A keg and a bonfire were involved. It was so Canadian, honestly LOL. And so perfect. 

March 

Although I was still struggling with this weird panic-nausea cycle, it lessened through March as more and more assignments were completed. I started to see the light at the end of the tunnel, to use a cliche. I gave three presentations in a week, I remember that being particularly awful. 

I attempted Mellow March for the second time and once again failed. Mildly concerning. I caved on a Wednesday wing night with the Famoso friends. It was 27 days in. So close, so close. 2019 will be my year! 

I started getting really into podcasts at this time because I started commuting using public transit. I got really into Guys We Fucked (which I still love), and This Is Actually Happening. TIAH is kind of fucked up though, and after a while it started to fuck me up. I would have weird dreams about the content and I started becoming paranoid that there was something wrong/extraordinary about me. So I stopped. I guess that is something I have learned about myself this year, is that even when it’s not overt, I am really deeply effected by some of the things I learn. Typically, people of this nature do not excel in the field of social work so allow me to flag this as a place for improvement in the future.

I ran the 5km at the St. Patrick’s Day road race, which was awesome and I won the draw that everyone was entered in and got a FREE pair of these super nice, hot pink New Balance running shoes that I now cherish with my life. 

I had my first round of practicum interviews, which only ended up being one interview because I was offered the placement at CommunityWise before I could interview anywhere else. This is one of the best things to happen the whole year :) 

And a special moment for me as well was on March 31, I got to see Alvvays live. 

April 

In April, I finished hell semester and immediately jetted off to Thailand.

From the get go, the trip was a bit of a shit show. This was my second time to Asia, and my first experience with really planning a trip including flights, hostels, and transportation from place to place without the aid of a tour guide or travel company. We had a time even getting to Bangkok due to an untimely snow storm the day of our departure that forced our flight to Vancouver to be late and causing us to miss our connecting flight to China. After two hours in line at the Air Canada desk, an agent produced a new itinerary for us. Calgary to Los Angeles to Hong Kong to Bangkok. He printed the sheets out and when I looked at the times on the paper, the mental math wasn’t adding up. With me, the mental math never really adds up but this time it seemed impossible that we could leave so much later than planned for our trip and arrive in Bangkok only three hours later than we were supposed to. I brought this up with him and he assured me it was fine. I wasn’t satisfied though, and asked a bunch of other airport personnel the same question. They all said we were fine but lo and behold, we land in Hong Kong and are waiting for the Thai Airlines desk to open so we can retrieve the tickets for the last leg of the journey when the agent there tells us, “They put you on the flight that left yesterday.” Anger and distress ensues. I call Air Canada from the airport in Hong Kong and the call drops. I’m straight up crying on the floor at this point. But in the end – we fucking made it.

In Bangkok, I was welcomed back to the stifling heat and humidity of Asia. We met American doctors-to-be who were at the end of their trip and were totally sick of one another and were very happy to have company. We ate massaman curry for every meal, partied on Khao San Road (those nitrous balloons!!! God, they’re so fun!!), and spent a lot of money on a single cocktail just for a photo op at the top of a skyscraper but the sunset was perfect and it was totally worth it.

In Chiang Mai we drank Sangsom and Coca-Cola by the pool and ate street food out of Styrofoam containers. We met these Americans who were teaching English in Chiang Mai and they took us to a night club on the back of their motorbikes. I did a drug I said I’ve never do in one of the bathrooms at this night club and ended up going home with one of the aforementioned teachers. It was funny to me because at about 3:00pm, Alex and I went back to our hostel to change and get ready for the evening and at that point I said, “I think I’m going to end up hooking up with Cory.” I fucking knew. I KNEW.

In Pai, I had the DIRTIEST hostel experience of my life. I was showering… just fully naked and vulnerable in this nasty ass shower when I saw a bug I did not recognize from my sheltered upbringing crawl out of a hole in the wall. I have never felt more small. It was also 43 degrees and we were staying in a tiny hut with a plug-in fan that only worked half the time and somehow had the effect of making the room hotter? Pai was also the first time we rented motorbikes. It’s honestly so dangerous… like, what the fuck, Thailand. We experienced our first flash rainstorm. We went to a place called Sunset Bar and took mushroom shakes and holy shit I’ve never experienced more potent mushrooms in my entire life. We met our Irish friends who we’d later see in Koh Pha Ngan, and I slept with an Israeli soldier on our second-to-last night and I’m almost 100% certain I took his virginity.

Koh Pha Ngan was alllll thunderstorms. We also decided to splurge a bit on food on this island and gorged ourselves with seafood and lavender Moscow mules at this nice restaurant down the road from our hostel. We partied so hard. We went to the pre-parties for the Full Moon – they have the Waterfall party two nights before, and the Jungle party the night before. I had sex with a total stranger at the Waterfall party up against a rock (when I recounted this story to Steven upon returning home he put on a redneck accent and said, “C’mon baby let me take you down to the fuck rock” and now that’s all I hear when I think about this experience in my head). The Full Moon Party was fun but not AS fun as the pre parties. It wasn’t as wild and the beach is so big but everyone concentrates in one little area. I took some kind of mystery pill (as you can see, I was very safe in Thailand) and had yet another sexual experience with a casual partner. I also witnessed a fight in the taxi back because one girl called another girl a stripper. It was bad.

May 

Continuing on with our Asia trip.

We landed in Krabi and intended fully to chill out a little bit after the wildness of Koh Pha Ngan. The first night was chill, we were staying in the Muslim quarter of the Krabi area so there weren’t a ton of nightclubs to go to and the hostel had some kind of run-in with police and weren’t able to take us out on the pub crawl we signed up for (lame). We had a roommate from Vancouver on the second day who bought a bunch of Xanax from a Thai pharmacy and gave me one. I can never do it again because it was so. good. But of course, I took one pill and stopped drinking just in case. This bitch continued drinking and took six or seven Xanax throughout the night. I honestly don’t know how she lived. We went rock climbing and drank beers on a boat tour one day and it was soooo great. We had the hottest tour guide. I did a hike by my lonesome that I nearly died on.

On the ferry ride from Krabi to Koh Phi Phi is where I got the sunburn that will likely give me skin cancer in later life and kill me. 90 minutes on the outside deck of a ferry (because I felt nauseous as fuck and didn’t want to vom in the cabin) absolutely fucked. me. up. We stayed at another pretty fucking gross hostel in Koh Phi Phi, and my roommates were all male which was a new experience for me. I went on a solo booze cruise cause Alex was sick. We took mushrooms again with our Canadian friend Kelsey and god, I was laughing so hard I was crying and I could not stop. I was like rolling around in the sand laughing so fucking hard about Fisherman’s Friends candy. It was so blissful. So pure.

And then… the sickness. This is going to be TMI but… fuck it. A bit of indigestion and stomach trouble is expected whenever a white person enters Asia. Different microbes etc. etc. But this… this was on a new fucking level. I knew something was up because on the morning that we woke up to take our ferry from Koh Phi Phi to Phuket, I vomited. And I never vomit, and I wasn’t that hungover (especially in relation to much of the rest of the trip). I felt okay afterwards though so we soldiered on. Three hour ferry ride, totally fine. We board our bus that will take us from the ferry port in Phuket to our hotel and about halfway through this bus ride, I feel it. I am wearing overalls. My heart starts beating loudly in my chest, sweat begins to bead on my forehead. Holy fuck, I am going to shit my pants. I clench until we get to the hostel – which is, of course, the last stop. It’s like a solid 45 minutes of pain. My stomach is ROILING. I have never felt anything like it.

I honestly know nothing about Phuket because I spent the entire 72 hours we were there running from my bunk bed to the bathroom. I would go so far as to say every ten minutes. At one point, I just brought my laptop into the washroom with me and watched Netflix for a few hours. A roommate who was with us switched rooms (understandably… I’m sorry, Helen). I didn’t eat for four days, literally not a fucking thing. Just Gatorade and water so that I didn’t die of dehydration. Because we had an airplane to catch and I needed to not be shitting the contents of my body out, I saw a doctor. He prescribed me like five different medications and told me just to take like eight of these pills and to expect stomach pain but it would at least get me through the flight to Seoul and hopefully home.

It worked, and we spent the last few days of our trip in Seoul. What an absolutely fascinating and beautiful part of the world. With Kieun as our guide, we got to see the best parts of Seoul. People took photos with us and gave us free shit. I had the absolute best meal of my life (it was the first thing I’d eaten in like four days… I really risked it all with the Korean barbecue honestly…). All-you-can-eat thick fatty slices of pork belly, grilled in front of us and dipped in sesame oil and salt with garlic and spices. Spicy chicken feet on the side, corn with cheese. It was wild. I cannot believe I stomached it.

And on May 12th, we returned home back to our lives and school and work and all of that boring ass shit. I remained ill for a solid six weeks upon returning home. To a lesser degree, I still have not fully recovered. At this point, I am unsure if I ever will. I truly think that second-round Asia gave me skin cancer and permanently altered my gastrointestinal functioning. Worth it? Unsure. But it happened nonetheless.

June 

My brother graduated from university and won a very prestigious award and it was very nice to watch him cross the stage and hear a nice speech about his accomplishments (he won so many scholarships that he basically had a free ride to school – I think it’s clear who inherited the brains).

I finished up my spring courses. Can I just say - spring courses are the worst? The two I picked were especially bad. The one about human sexuality was basically Sex Ed 101 which made for an easy A but I was hoping to investigate deeper on a number of topics. And the second one was way too hard for my tiny brain to accommodate and I got the lowest mark I’ve ever gotten on my paper and it brought me down.

I had a very random unexpected night where I slept with a really close friend of mine (like, friends for over a decade) who I used to have a little bit of a crush on in high school. We were very drunk and it was kind of a curiosity-satisfying move that has actually not resulted in a very big change to our relationship at all but I think it’s worth mentioning because younger me would have been stoked. This one’s for you, younger me!

We went to the High River Rodeo and Cabaret – another unexpected move but oh my god it was so fun. Matt, Steven, Amanda and I. You could buy as many beers as you wanted at a time and they were cheap because fuck the AGLC apparently. The rodeo was actually super fun. The cabaret was redneck af and I happened to see my roommate from the hostel in Koh Phi Phi and his buddies there? Although it was not a friendly reunion because I had unknowingly exposed him for cheating on his girlfriend when he was in Phi Phi (which he did. I shared a room with him, and the girl he loudly banged every night until 4am). Two-stepping ensued and I passed out in the car ride home. I have a great photo of Steven from this night next to a bottle of hot sauce. I do not recall why. I will include it below. 

July 

Okay, I am just going to preface this by saying July was a hot mess. 

Myself, Madison, Maeghan, and Cayley were all single and messing around on dating apps so we decided to create Tinder bingo. It’s exactly what it sounds like. The rules were that you could only cross off two things per date (so that you had to go on a minimum of three to win), you got bonus points for going on a Tinder date with the same person someone else had gone out with, and the first to win got their drinks paid for on a night out. So, I went on exactly one Tinder date. Which is something I said I’ve never do and never really saw myself doing but I went for it on this occasion because I think that in this day and age, a Tinder date is an experience everyone should have. So I bit the bullet, and went for a drink with this guy James at the Oak Tree Tavern. And oh... my god? What a terrible experience? LAUGHABLY terrible. His only desired topic of conversation were the nationalities of people I had slept with and in what circumstances. At one point he asked me, “when was the last time you had sex? Was it good?” He also talked at maximum volume and I guarantee you everyone else at that bar overheard our conversation. Midway through the date, he asked for a review of how he was doing and I told him he seemed a bit nervous. This angered him. He said, “I’M NOT NERVOUS” and I was like, “you asked, buddy.” He asked me if I would pay for him. Cayley literally had to come rescue me and I ran out of his car where he had unbuttoned his pants and had his dick out and was literally on the verge of tears begging me to touch it so hard. I literally bolted out of his car and he yelled out the window, “CALL ME!” He still hits me up on instagram sometimes. I hope his life gets better. 

I also moved again. This is my favourite living situation I’ve ever had. Great roommates who are almost never home. Cute house. Good location. A+ choice by me. 

I got really obsessed with the Thai cave rescue. It was just such a compelling and unique STORY and I would literally come home from work and refresh the BBC live update feed for hours until I fell asleep, then I’d wake up and refresh hoping for good news. I cannot wait for the movie. I will go opening day. #Obsessions 

Stampede!!! Oh my god, what a wonderful Stampede. The most memorable thing is that Steven and I went to the standing rodeo one afternoon and got absolutely. fucking. hammered. Whilst there, we met and befriended two Australian retirees named Lyn and Ken. They are rich and are obsessed with horseriding and rodeo stuff. They purchased many drinks for us and we convinced them to come to Nashville North with us, where they purchased MORE drinks for us and Steven attempted to show them how to two-step. They later invited me to go horseback riding in Banff and I accepted. They literally picked me up, drove me to Banff, we crushed two bottles of wine at the Park gin distillery, went on a three-hour horseback ride through the mountains, they drove me home and I paid for NONE OF IT. It was........ a day. I sat on my bed later and thought to myself, “that was fucking weird.” But now, if I ever go to Melbourne, I will hit them up. 

It was Ali’s birthday and we went camping in Waiparous. We took mushrooms on Saturday and just as they were beginning to fully kick in, the RCMP rolled in and kicked us out of our campsite. What a wild time to be faced with an interaction with the cops. Also - no one could drive except for two people who had stayed sober and they had to shuttle us to a new campsite. Have you ever tried setting up a tent on mushrooms? Do you know how difficult and hilarious it is? 

And lastly at the end of July, I went to Folk Fest. I saw Alvvays again. Front row! Like, against the barrier front row. It was awesome. It was folk fest that inspired me to cut my hair and get bangs again. No regrets. I love my bangs. I also experienced a level of street harassment that I didn’t know was possible from some random, innocent-seeming guy. It was terrifying. I called the police. No bueno. 

August 

In August, I got promoted at my job and basically became a baby manager. It was better in theory than in practice because my shifts got longer, I made less in tips (but more hourly), and the cash out for a restaurant is a long and frustrating process that depends on a lot of small pieces working together correctly in a big ass spreadsheet and I suck at math.

In happier news – August was also the establishment of podcast club. Podcast club is one of the best and dorkiest things I have ever been involved with. We pick a podcast each week to listen to, and get together on Sunday mornings at 10:00am to discuss the contents of the podcast. It was initially open to whomever wanted to come but has since whittled down to a core group and at this point, we’re all so close that it would almost be weird to introduce a new person into the mix. There is Kendal, who I go to school with and who started the whole club. Her boyfriend, Mitch. Lachlan and Maddy who are siblings. Matt, a YouTuber who was kind of a wildcard. Chad, also kind of a wildcard but who works as a youth counsellor – and me! Podcast club has made my life infinitely better and is probably the best thing to come out of 2018, in all honesty.

I also got obsessed with Harry Potter and read like almost the whole series and my new at the time roommates thought I was such a loser because I would literally post up on the couch in the living room with a HP book and they would come back five hours later and I hadn’t moved and all I wanted to talk about was Harry Potter. 

September / October / November 

I am lumping these three months together in this review because truly, they are lumped together in my mind and heart. 

On September 11, I started my first practicum at CommunityWise. I really had no idea what to expect when I started there but looking back, I cannot believe how hard I lucked out. The U of C is VERY clinically-based when it comes to how it educates and describes the practice of social work. CW was the opposite of it all and day-to-day so much happens there that it is honestly impossible not to get dragged in at such a deep level that it literally forces you to care. When I was in practicum, I did a lot of reading and I came across this concept of a “disorienting dilemma” which is “an experience within which a current understanding is found to be insufficient or incorrect and the learner struggles with the resulting conflict of views. Such experiences often are those to which learners point as the beginning of the process of questioning their understanding and views and entering the transformative learning process” (Source). Truly, being in that space over the course of 300 hours created this for me. I was forced to confront a lot of racist and otherwise problematic shit that I have been brought up with and that comes up in small ways for me that I try and quash down for the sake of saving face. Poverty, addiction, mental health issues showed up LITERALLY on the doorstep and I was thrown into it all. The experience was a disorienting dilemma and it shook me out of my bubble and I have never fallen so deeply in love with social work. My supervisor and I formed a VERY close relationship that probably broke some ethical and professional boundaries and she was there for me to discuss social issues and experiences I was having in an honest way that really deconstructed things. I had my debit card stolen by a client on one occasion, had to call the DOAP team because I witnessed people in overdose more times than I can count, had to talk many a person down from suicide, befriended a very mentally ill person who suffers from delusions that they are an alien in a human body sent here to observe earth and report back to their master. We had to kick someone out of a workshop for being racist. It was a wild ride, honestly. There were many many positive things to come out of practicum. I built my professional network in ways I never would have been able to, I was able to move out of the “student” realm and step into the role of a social worker and advocate and professional. I did a lot of public speaking! I was out in the community talking to a million different people. I made videos and posters. And the best part of all is that even when my practicum ended, my connection to CW did not. They have hired me on as a digital storytelling intern (paid!) for the new year. Which is a major confidence boost and I just love CW and everyone there so much. I will literally be forever grateful to them for taking me under their collective wing and showing me I have the skills and abilities to be an effective social worker :) 

Ahem. Now on to some not-so-good things... 

The end of October was kind of difficult because I was attempting to manage practicum responsibilities, actual class projects and homework, second-round practicum interviews, and Famoso. I was very stressed out and it was not good, especially because I got a rejection from one interview and didn’t even get an interview at my top choice. I was feeling very sorry for myself and may or may not have cried at my desk at practicum. It all worked out in the end though, and actually I was offered a placement at the first place I interviewed – they just took a while to get back to me. She called me to let me know this while I was on a run and being idiot me, I picked up… panting and gasping for air in Nose Hill Park. She was like, “We’d like to offer you the place… wait, are you okay?”

I would also like to just slide it in here that I slept with my ex in October. Which wasn’t a particularly momentous occasion and was actually kind of funny because it felt so much like a one night stand. I am mostly putting this in here because I don’t think many people know that and I want to see who reads this far.

Along similarish lines – I PUT MYSELF OUT THERE AND ASKED SOMEONE ON A STRAIGHT UP DATE AND GOT REJECTED AND IT WAS HONESTLY SO EMBARASSING AND BRUTAL and it’s okay now but oh… my god. This also happened around the same time as the rejections from practicum placements and I had such a bad night where I got drunk on my couch alone and Cayley brought me burnt ends from her new job at a brewery because she was #concerned for me and I didn’t want to be alone. That’s a true friend right there.

December 

December is only halfway done - but I feel I can summarize it accurately. It has been a nice, tidy wrap up to the year. A month of podcasts, cleaning my house and my car and my life up, a mysterious knee injury that is really fucking me up, working a lot at Famoso, finishing my practicum and school semester. One thing I am dreading is that my brother’s girlfriend who our family is not particularly fond of will be joining us in Saskatoon this year. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. 

In General 

2018 has been very stressful for me. But despite the stress, and sometimes out of it, have come some very nice, beautiful things. I said last year in my post that I wanted to become more deeply involved in my community and in activism and social work and in that way I think I have excelled. I’m in it now, you guys. I feel capable. I feel motivated. I feel CONFIDENT. And I’m fucking excited to see what comes in the future. 

I nearly doubled the amount of people I’ve slept with so that’s... a notable thing that happened this year. 

It has been nice to feel a return to a sense of belonging with my old high school group of friends. In a way, I feel more united with them than ever. I guess not having a partner that they all hate helps. But also, I think I’ve just been feeling more and more like myself. But to Connor, Steven, Matt, Adam and the assortment of new(er) members that come and go - I am very grateful for you all. It has also been good for my heart and soul to become so close with people from podcast club. It’s actually like... really hard to make new friends. Podcast club made it easy. And I found myself on a Friday night in Maddy and Ben’s apartment, watching cooking shows and teaching them how to play card games, laughing until I cried and drinking wine. And it’s like... who else gets together on EVERY Sunday morning to discuss podcasts? For fun? I know relationships change and dissolve and grow from each year to the next but I just have a deep feeling that some of these friendships are the real deal. And I’m really lucky. It sounds so ~fake deep~ and lame but honestly podcast club is making me a better, happier, less anxious person. 

2019: 

I think 2019 is going to have to be the year that I really, truly grow the fuck up. I’m not mad about this. I look forward to crushing through 400 more hours of practicum, graduating and getting my degree. Hopefully entering the work force for real (this prospect is honestly so exciting to me... I creep the job boards every day daydreaming about what I might eventually do when I leave the world of waitressing) and making some adult money. 

I also like... totally got fat in 2018 so 2019 will involve some activities to counterbalance this. AND I have a ticket to Big Valley Jamboree. Which is hilarious because I think if you asked 2015 Megan what she’d never do, it would be “go to BVJ” but here I am, ticket in hand, excitement mounting by the day. Boots on, bitches. 

Some of my goals or things I’d like to work on in 2019 are to become less attached to social media and more invested in the actual moment/doing of things rather than recording them (ironic as I type this MASSIVE year in review post, yes), to get into a healthy and sustainable pattern of exercise where I don’t just like become obsessed with it for a little while and then slowly taper off and then do none of it for like six months... and honestly? I want to download a bunch of those dating apps again and just go for it. I think you can learn so much about yourself through dating and I’ve been such a recluse this year for the most part because I have been sort-of-but-not seeing someone since literally JULY but we’re not actually together and I don’t know what’s going on. I just need to get over my own insecurities and anxiety and just jump in with both feet. It’ll be fun. It’ll be crazy. I’m excited. 

The rest of it, as always, is an open book. Who knows where I will be, what I will be doing, or who I will be doing it with by this time next year? Not I. 

#text #personal #year in review #2018 #megbox