#If your parental figure or sibling is completely out of it that's lockdown so the FAMILY can handle it
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HEESEUNG 이희승 - STEPBROTHER
MINORS DNI
Word Count : 3.3k
Genre : SMUT
Content : step!sibling! (if you are uncomfy don’t read), begging, oral, nipple play, mentions of pandemic, unprotected sex, creampie. lmk if i missed anything!
Preview : After a pandemic took over the nation, how will you and your step brother cope with the house to yourselves.
Authors note : I hope you enjoy <3
SUPPORT BY REBLOGGING if you want
It was an unexpected situation being stuck at home with Heeseung during the pandemic lockdown. He was only a few years older than you, but at very different stages of life - you were still in college while he had already graduated and was just living at home to save money.
With both your parents working the afternoon shift at the hospital as essential workers, you two had the house to yourselves during the day. You figured Hee would spend most of that time holed up in his room, playing video games and chatting with his friends online like usual. And at first, that's exactly what happened. For weeks, he'd wake up late and then disappear into his room, the sounds of gameplay and his friends' voices filtering out from behind the closed door.
Meanwhile, you filled those lonely days by mindlessly scrolling on your phone or napping the hours away in your own room, emerging only to grab food. The house felt eerily quiet and empty even with Heeseung there. You were both just about existing under the same roof, going about your isolated pandemic existence in parallel lines.
Seung had always been the quiet, reserved type - never one to flaunt romantic relationships or bring many girls around. He kept things low-key, sticking to his close circle of friends whom he was intensely loyal to. Looking at him, you would assume he never had any luck with the ladies. But saying he NEVER brought a girl home would be a complete and utter lie.
Back when he was in university, every once in a blue moon, you'd hear some...noises coming from his bedroom late at night. At first, you tried to ignore it, but the sounds of rhythmic creaking and muffled gasps were unmistakable. Your face would burn realizing what was going on in the next room over.
Your bedroom happened to border his, the thin walls giving you unintentionally intimate knowledge of Heeseung’s occasional overnight guests. A soft feminine giggle would drift through, followed by his low rumbling tones, indistinct but clearly meant to be seductive. The telltale sounds of activity would start up again minutes later.
You'd lie awake, pulling your pillow tightly over your ears, trying desperately to block it all out. But it never worked - small creaks, breathy gasps, and rhythmic squeaks of the bedsprings would persistently filter through no matter what. On those nights, you couldn’t help but to slip your fingers into your panties, wondering what it would be like if it were you in the room with him instead. This would even happen on nights of complete silence. The thought of being fucked senselessly by your stepbrother was eating you alive.
But the next morning was always awkward. You'd have to look Heeseung in the eye over breakfast, knowing you'd been an unwitting aural witness to his private activities. He'd act like nothing happened, utterly shameless, while you averted your eyes burning with silent humiliation.
Those rare evenings served as reminders that Hee did indeed have a sexual side, despite his outward personas a quiet, studious homebody.
You were surprised but pleased when Hee first started initiating hangouts and inviting you into his personal space. At first, it seemed innocent enough - watching movies together in his room, playing co-op video games side-by-side, or even just sitting in comfortable silence as you both worked or read. A welcomed change from the isolation you'd both been existing in.
But as the weeks rolled on, those hangout sessions started awakening feelings in you that you never expected to have towards your stepbrother. With so much time spent together in close quarters, you began noticing things about him that you'd previously overlooked - the way his shirts hugged his toned arms, how his brow crinkled adorably when he was concentrating, the rich warmth of his laugh.
You found yourself stealing sidelong glances at him as he gamed, admiring the sharp line of his jaw and how effortlessly cool he looked with that headset on. Or zoning out while bingeing shows, becoming hyper-aware of him next to you on the bed, close enough that you could smell his subtle cologne and body wash.
At first you brushed off those wayward thoughts and traitorous flutters in your belly. This was just your loneliness and proximity talking after being cooped up together for so long. But you couldn't deny the way your skin grew warm whenever Heeseung’s hand brushed yours reaching for the popcorn. Or how your breath caught when he absently stretched and his shirt rode up, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of toned abdomen.
What started as harmless hangouts quickly began skirting a dangerous line once you registered the undeniable physical attraction simmering between you two. You noticed him sneaking appreciative looks at you as well sometimes. The shifting energy was palpable, brewing tension that went beyond just bonding as stepson and stepdaughter.
Those hangouts that once brought you connective comfort took on a new, charged meaning. You tried to bury the symbolic meaning behind Seung inviting you alone into his private bedroom sanctuary. But it became impossible to ignore when he started finding excuses to "accidentally" graze you with his knee or arm, sending tingles through you at every simple point of contact.
It became a delirious game of brutal restraint and forced obliviousness whenever you were alone with him. You overanalyzed every smile, laugh, and lingering touch, uncertain whether you were reading too much into the gestures or if he felt the same smoldering tension. The captive, heavy atmosphere only grew more stifling with each encounter until you knew something had to finally burn through and break.
————-
The bedroom door clicks shut behind you and instantly that familiar electric tension crackles in the air. Your heart pounds as you turn to face Heeseung lounging on his bed, controller in hand as he's immersed in another video game.
"Hey, wanna join?" he asks casually, patting the space beside him. Such an innocent invitation loaded with so much more weight these days.
You nod, trying to keep your cool as you settle onto the bed, your sides brushing. The warmth of his body so close to yours is utterly disarming. His intoxicating cologne and body wash surrounds you in an arousing haze. You try to focus on the game but are hyperaware of every subtle movement, every shifted position that puts your bodies even closer.
Jungwon curses as his character dies and you chance a sidelong glance at him. The way the words slip from his mouth is so insanely sexy. The tendons in his forearms flex entrancingly as he grips the controller. Your gaze tracks up to the sharp line of his jaw, admiring his beautiful tanned skin. You tear your eyes away before he catches you staring, but not before drinking in the broad expanse of his shoulders straining against his t-shirt.
As the gameplay continues on, you can't resist sneaking admiring looks at the man beside you. The man who has been awakening such unbidden feelings and cravings in you for weeks now. The chemistry between you both has built to a fever pitch you can no longer ignore or rationalize away.
Your entire body is hyper-tuned to him, tingling at every casual point of contact - his knee brushing your thigh, the tickle of his arm hair grazing your skin as he shifts positions. You imagine how electrifying it would feel to have those muscled limbs wrapped around you instead of just these maddening, transient touches.
Hee lets out a dramatic groan of frustration at another death, running a hand through his soft brown hair. You watch hungrily as his shirt rides up to expose a tantalizing strip of toned abdomen. Does he have any idea the effect he has on you with these simple, unaware gestures? The aching need he stokes in you just by existing so close?
As if he can sense your yearning gaze, Heeseung turns his head to meet your eyes. You feel pinned under the heated intensity of his stare, rendered breathless as he deliberately lets his eyes drag over every inch of you. The atmosphere thickens further with the sudden acknowledgment that you both feel this irresistible magnetic pull.
In that searing, loaded look, you see reflected the inner turmoil you've been grappling with - the tangled guilt over these unbrotherly urges warring with the feverish desire that leaves you undone at his smallest glance. The unspoken question of what might happen if one of you finally has the courage to act on those simmering tensions that charge every breath between you.
You can't take this torture any longer. Your mouth is dry, body humming with arousal and need as you open your mouth to finally break the silence. But Heeseung cuts you off by closing the scant distance between you in one decisive movement, capturing your lips in a searing, hungry kiss you've been starving for.
————-
He pulls your head down into a more passionate kiss. You could tell that he has been wanting this. These kisses started turning into rougher, sloppier ones. Your tongues were exploring each other's mouths. He is naturally such a great kisser. He knew what to do and when to do it. He even bit your lip a few times, which was extremely hot.
He sat on the edge of the bed and signaled for you to straddle him. Such an invitation could not go unaccepted, so you crawled onto his lap and continued kissing.
Without even realizing it, you start grinding your hips while on his lap, creating friction that you both desperately needed. It was so subtle but so effective. It made your breaths shallow but you didn't want Hee to say anything about it. You tried so hard to contain your self but you let out a slight moan.
"Mhmm do you like that baby?, you didn't think I would notice what you are doing here?, don't worry because i'm really enjoying it to."
WHAT? You think to yourself. "I'm glad you are enjoying yourself." he says as he slightly chuckles.
This man KNOWS how to make you feel embarrassed, but he doesn't mind what you are doing and you surely don't either. It's as if he were saying these things to provoke you to do it more. So you did. You were desperate.
You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter. You could also feel his bulge get a lot more obvious under you.
He gets to the point where he can't take it anymore. He grabs you and picks you up, in the same position that you were sitting on his lap in, and he turns you around and slams you onto the bed, having you laying on your back.
His pants looked like they were getting tight from his painfully large erection. You are so tempted to strip him of his clothes and have it your way, but, you knew that he wasn't gonna happen.
He crawls on top of you and starts kissing you again. This time, more forceful and hungrily. He then starts kissing down your neck and your collarbones. He sucks on your sensitive skin, leaving purple hickies all over your upper chest and neck.
Both you and him start breathing heavily. He pulls at the bottom of your t-shirt, signaling that he wanted to take it off of you. You lift your arms and he slides your shirt off. You are left exposed with only a bra on. He goes in and starts leaving hickies on the exposed parts of your breasts.
He goes back up to kissing your lips passionately while caressing your breasts with his big, muscular hands.
You feel one of his hands slide down you back, you assume it's to unhook your bra. The feeling of his hand grazing on your back gives you goose bumps. He unhooks your bra and gently pulls it off of you.
He admires your beautiful, topless body.
"I hope you know that I have wanted this for so long, ever since our parents got together" He said sincerely.
You can't help but to blush. You are left speechless. You pull him down to give him another kiss.
He pulls away from your lips and immediately goes down to sucking on your nipples. He swirls his tongue and it make you short of breath. "Ah~h~ you are so good at this Seungie." You hands are gripping his hair, fueling him to do more.
He stands up and towers over you, throwing his shirt off and to the side. His eyes were full of lust and determination. He ran his fingers up your thighs and stopped to hold them around the seam of your shorts. You lift up your hips, assuring him that it is okay to take them off.
He pulls of your shorts and your panties in one go. “You always look so fucking hot in these shorts when you walk around the house, but i’ve always wondered what you would look like with them off” he says in a deep, raspy voice. His bulge poking through his basketball shorts brushes against your naked pussy, making you so much more desperate.
“I have felt the exact same way about you” you return, leaning up and tugging at the waist of his shorts. “Please let me taste you” you begged.
He can’t help but to have a huge smile on his face and his shorts drop to the ground. His throbbing cock springs out, catching you by surprise. You imaged it to be big, but not like this. Heeseung could see the fear in your eyes as you knelt down to the ground.
“Don’t be scared sweetheart, I will make it fit”.
You don’t know of him saying this makes you feel reassured or more scared but you continued either way.
You grab the base of it and start off with small licks, trying to build up the courage to take more of it. He hummed a little bit when you put your mouth on it. He starts to run his fingers though your hair in the midst of it all.
Once you got confident enough to take more, you found yourself putting you mouth around it and sucking on it more. You start bobbing your head up and down. You were only taking about a third of it to tease him.
He is relieved from all of his built of tension finally being released by the feeling of your mouth around his dick, replicating the real thing.
He soon gets tired of you only sucking on the top and he grips your hair and slowly pushes your head a little bit farther each time, which didn't bother you too much because despite being scared of the size at the start, your throat seemed to mold to the size of his dick very easily.
He groans quietly because he doesn't want to admit that this good feeling has taken a toll on him. Suddenly, he pushes your head all of the way down, with the head touching the back of your throat. He repeats the motion, he is face fucking you with no shame.
The sound of you gagging on his dick and the sound of his quiet moans mixed together made you feel really good. Cute tears start rolling down your face and he looks down to you.
"You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth, and with the tears in your eyes... I almost want to take a picture and save it for later." he said admiringly
You wish he fucking did. You wish that you had met him before your parents met, so that you both could be together instead.
When he talks to you this way you can't feel any other way but than accomplished. You, making your stepbrother feel really good, was a hard concept for you to grasp, but you loved it.
He pulls out of your mouth and pushed your back onto the bed. He leans down and hovers him self over you. “Are you sure you want this” he whispered in your ear. You could feel nothing but horniness and desperation and all you could do was agree to cross the line that could never be taken back.
"Yes, please, this is exactly what I need."
He smiled at your words and starts massaging your clit with his tip slapping it on you wet folds. One he felt the time was right, he gently inserts himself inside of you.
"Fuuuck~" he said under his breath.
He starts with 1 inch, then 2, then 3 until he is almost all the way inserted in you. Giving you time to adjust to his size. He starts going in and out slowly, making sure that you are as comfortable as possible. You winced at the pain at the beginning, but slowly, the pain was turning into pleasure. You had never taken a cock this big in the past, the new feeling was exciting, but stung as well.
He starts picking up the pace once you signaled that it was okay for him to do so. His face and chest was glistening with sweat which you found extremely hot. His deep breathing and the faces he would make as he was sliding his member in and out of you is something that you just don't forget.
“We should have been doing this a long time ago, I can’t get enough of this pussy” he groans
Your cheeks turn red at the thought that these forbidden feelings for your step sibling were not one sided.
He starts going fully in and almost all of the way out with each stroke. He throws his head back in pleasure and his grunts and moans start to get louder. The pace is really fast and it feels like you are on a whole new world. The sound of your skin slapping together and the sound from how wet you are make the atmosphere of the room more intense. Your moans are all over the place, changing from whimpers, to gasping for air, or just screaming his name.
He used his thumb to stimulate your clit. He was like a professional, knowing every trick in the book to make a woman cum. This in itself would make you reach your high very quickly, but you try to hold it back.
"I had imagined your pussy to be heavenly, but this is so much better." Seung says smiling. He takes pride in making you really wet.
“It feels- So good” You choke up. A few more strokes and you could start to feel your orgasm approaching.
"Angh, i'm almost there Hee." you say out of breath.
"Hold it back for me, for just a little bit longer." he says. You are determined to wait until he says it's okay.
He pounds deeper into your pussy, brushing agains your most sensitive spot, making you scream out. His tip repeatedly pressing against your cervix as he bottoms out, as if his dick was perfectly made to fit inside of only you.
Your walls clenched around his dick and he became more breathless. “Let’s cum together”
“Please Seungie, i’m so close pleaseee”
Your cute begs sent him over the edge. He strokes getting slower and sloppier as he releases his seed inside of you. His dick was pulsating inside of you while you rode out your high, digging your nails into his back while trying to contain yourself.
He slowly pulls his limp dick out of you and grabs a rag to clean you up. He leans down to plant a kiss on your forehead. “You can not not anyone” he states sternly.
“Not a soul” you responded looking directly into his eyes.
He chuckles “I should invite you into my room more often”
#enhypen#enhypen niki#enhypen sunoo#heeseung#heeseung smut#jungwon#enhypen x reader#kpop#stray kids#sunghoon#enhypen smut#jay enhypen#enhypen sunghoon#enhypen jay#enhypen jungwon#enhypen jake#enhypen fanfiction#enha smut#kpop smut
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I posted 12,567 times in 2021
813 posts created (6%)
11754 posts reblogged (94%)
For every post I created, I reblogged 14.5 posts.
I added 5,104 tags in 2021
#invader zim - 2425 posts
#melody rambles - 749 posts
#zadr - 504 posts
#zib - 433 posts
#friend art - 237 posts
#royalty au - 206 posts
#za2r - 145 posts
#my writing - 139 posts
#yeah - 137 posts
#awww - 129 posts
Longest Tag: 137 characters
#but you have to also realize that this was a major part of growing up for a lot of kids who saw themselves in harry escaping to hog warts
My Top Posts in 2021
#5
Kid Au
So.... since this chapter is taking me a hot minute and this week is, shall we say, not full of a lot of free time, I offer, humbly, an Au of the Au.
The kid Au.
The gist is that Zib discovers that he has magic much earlier. Much, much earlier. Around the age of 10. Since he’s 10, and siblings are siblings and tend to fight and when they fight...
Accidents happen. Now Zib doesn’t necessarily know how he managed to get Dib in there, and so he does what any scared child would do: tell his dad. Unfortunately Membrane in this au is clinical levels of oblivious and the conversation goes like this:
Zib: DAD HELP
Membrane: Ah hello son, what seems to be the problem?
Zib: I TRAPPED DIB IN A MIRROR
Membrane: I don’t see anything wrong here.
Dib: DAD PLEASE
Membrane: Now where did your brother go...
Gaz has 0 patience for Zib’s nonsense. Especially because he keeps accidentally casting magic. Eventually they manage to put together a plan to head to Irk to get Dib out, although Zim’s not initially on board.
With Dib trapped, Zim doesn’t have to marry Dib. Win win.
He does not get a say in the matter. (the ‘can’t go 10 ft curse’ is applied here because it’s funny).
And thus our intrepid kiddos must find a way to go to Irk before Dib is a reflection forever and maybe become friends along the way. They have to sneak out because Membrane has the kingdom on lockdown until Dib is found, and Zib has to wrestle with his envy and the temptation to not let Dib out. Gaz is doing her best to knock some sense into all of them. Zim gets to realize that the Membranes aren’t so bad, even Dib.
Credit to @shandzii for the adorable art, I love seeing the beans. I want to pat Zib on the head he’s so cute. Au aus are fun. We have somewhere around *counts* five? Six? Something like that.
259 notes • Posted 2021-03-08 14:31:00 GMT
#4
do you have any recs for good gen fics?
Yeah! Lemme wrack my brain for a hot sec
"Parade of Indignities" by @rissynicole is a 10/10 fic, good development all around excellent time (except for the characters but who asked them). Complete and fuckin great.
"Every Star Another Sun" by @dionysuscrysis is gen, the later works in the series are borderline zadr but it's mostly qp so you can read it either way. Death defying action and heart wrenching angst.
"Droit" by @perfectlysteadyzombi has Dib gain two whole parental figures in the form of the tallest much to their shock. A fun ride throughout.
"Honesty Hour" by @patchworkpoltergeist is another stand out but not for the faint of heart. Beware if psychological torture isn't your thing. If it is? Dig in.
"The Cotton Candy Incident" by @cdarkheartzero is going strong and I do quite enjoy their particular form of prose. Very tasty stuff, as the name would imply.
"Tech Support" by @paketdimensioncomic and @dana-chan-the-control-brain give the world the computer characterization that you didn't know you needed and will crave like water once you realize you do need it.
These are just a few off the top of my head, there's a whole bunch more I'm sure I missed, but I hope this helps!
276 notes • Posted 2021-07-09 02:18:26 GMT
#3
What’s delta and marizas relationship like after she becomes full sea goddess (if I interpreted that’s what happened)? Is delta still trying to recover her memory or pursue a relationship or anything?
Bingo anon, once Delta sees Mariza again, it's uh... complicated. The way I describe is it:
Friends -> Lovers -> Strangers -> Enemies (light, more just because Mariza is feisty and Delta is frustrated) -> Lovers
They run the whole gamut.
This isn't to say that Delta didn't try to move on while she thought Mariza was dead it just... didn't go well.
322 notes • Posted 2021-12-03 17:41:09 GMT
#2
A gift for the lovely @bamsara and their amazing series. This scene haunts me to this day and your work is just 👌
342 notes • Posted 2021-01-15 00:34:02 GMT
#1
Scares the shit out of me every time how do you do it @bamsara
498 notes • Posted 2021-10-10 20:36:56 GMT
Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →
#my 2021 tumblr year in review#your tumblr year in review#welp#no wonder my posts get buried#I don't post ever /j#fjdfslfds#love that my most popular post is a shitpost I made about getting surprised bamsara is in my notifs#fkdsfdsjkfjds#wild
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Neku & Hanekoma surrogate father-son headcanons
— Neku is an only child, born to parents who, honestly, should have never been parents. It wasn’t that his birth was an accident, exactly . . . but more that his parents had him because they figured that having a child was the Next Step they were Supposed To Take. You know, go to school, get a good job, get married, have kids. Fortunately for any future potential siblings, Neku’s parents realized early on that this whole parenting thing really wasn’t for them and that they, in fact, hated being parents, and as such they never had any other children after Neku was born. Unfortunately for Neku, they did still have him and, due to stigma surrounding adoption (both in terms of adopting kids and giving your own kids up) in Japan, they kept him instead of adopting him out to parents who would actually love him.
— As a result, Neku’s relationship with his parents is . . . not great, to say the least. His parents never failed to provide the basic needs he needed to survive—things like food, shelter, clothes, etc. But they also weren’t keen on giving him anything beyond that, feeling that it was at best a hassle to do so and at worst an aggravation. So although Neku never went hungry, was never homeless, and was never without clothes that fit, he was also left to feed himself with the food that was in the house, and rely on himself for all of his emotional needs. In a way, he brought himself up. This contributes to how much of an absolute mess he is at the start of The World Ends With You, in that it wasn’t just the death of his friend that sent him into that complete lockdown of not letting anyone else in, but also that he’d taken care of his own business for so long growing up that he figured this really was the best way to go about it, that he hadn’t needed anyone else for a long time and wouldn’t need them, either, if trying to rely on them only brought him pain. He was forced into self-sufficiency due to parental neglect and, as a result, that trauma shaped how he developed and grew as a person.
— On top of his parents not really wanting to be parents and do the things that parents do, the fact that Neku’s interests and attitude were radically different from their own / became “difficult” following the death of his friend meant that Neku and his parents were often at odds. Neku’s parents didn’t understand things like Neku’s style or interests, and didn’t appreciate (to say the least) his sarcastic tongue and snarky attitude. Neku, in turn, didn’t appreciate them belittling and demeaning his interests, talking down on his idol (they aren’t fans of graffiti and think that CAT is a vandal who should be arrested), and only paying attention to him when they had something critical to say. Needless to say, as Neku entered his teen years the tension between them became thick enough that a knife would have a hard time cutting through it and fighting became the norm. This was exacerbated by the fact that although his parents were glad when Neku wasn’t home, they also felt they had to punish him when he broke curfew, resulting in even more hostility and anger on both sides of the conflict.
— Prior to the first game, whenever Neku left home after a fight with his parents (or stayed out later than he was supposed to), he would often go to the mural in Udagawa in order to have some time alone to cool off. After the first game (but before his three year imprisonment in Shinjuku), he found himself going to Wildkat instead. This wasn’t intentional, at least not at first; his feet often just carried him there before he realized what was happening, and the first few times he ended up there at obscenely late hours (such as around midnight), he felt embarrassed and bad about it and apologized to Hanekoma for waking him up. But Hanekoma never minded; he let Neku in to have a cup of coffee or hot chocolate or whatever else, and to talk about whatever was eating him up inside. Not that Neku liked talking about it, but . . . whatever little he was willing to divulge, he always felt safe divulging to Hanekoma.
— For his part, Hanekoma generally wasn’t one to involve himself in domestic spats. What happened between parents and their children was their business, not his. But Neku was a special case. Neku was someone who had just recently been through three weeks of Hell. Neku was someone who had, though he probably didn’t realize just how much, contributed to saving Shibuya. And Neku was a kid who, Hanekoma would admit to himself, he could see a little of himself in. Not totally—there were a lot of differences beween them, too—but something in the tenor of Neku’s Soul was similar to Hanekoma’s own. There was a lot of potential there; Neku had a lot of potential to be someone even greater than he already was, and Hanekoma would hate to see that squandered by a miserable home life. So if Neku needed some solace in Wildkat in the middle of the night after yet another fight with his parents, Hanekoma was willing to give it to him. And if Neku needed someplace to crash, well, Hanekoma had a perfectly good couch upstairs. It was no big deal, really. Wildkat’s door was always open to him, no questions asked.
— So for the couple months Neku had between the long Game and Coco murdering him again (and Joshua locking him in Shinjuku for three years instead of, you know, just reviving him and putting him back in the RG where Shiba and the others couldn’t get their hands on him), this became something of a routine for them. It didn’t happen every night, but at least a few nights a week Neku found himself at Wildkat long after hours, oftentimes crashing on Hanekoma’s couch when he was too tired or it was too late for him to go home. His parents, of course, hated this; Neku wouldn’t tell them where he was (they hated CAT, and would undoubtedly call the police on him for his “street vandalism” if they knew who he was, and there was no way Neku was about to sell him out), but they hated that he was staying out all night and let him have it whenever they saw him the next day. Of course, this often led to Neku bolting that night, too . . . so it was a bad cycle that kept repeating. Hanekoma did think, sometimes, that maybe he should encourage some reconciliation here, and he did try a little; he tried playing a light devil’s adovcate whenever Neku opened up about his problems, suggesting that maybe his parents weren’t trying to upset him, but that maybe they were just doing what parents did. But Neku never wanted to hear it, and Hanekoma wasn’t going to push. The last thing he needed to do, he felt, was push Neku away from one of the few places he felt safe.
— Over time, Neku felt more and more comfortable sharing what was going on with Hanekoma—in fragments, of course, bits and pieces, but bits and pieces that became bigger and a bit more detailed as time went on. And they talked about other things, too. Tin Pin Slammer, how things were going in the café, new music that had just come out and indie artists that were just about to make their presence known on the big stage, and just about anything else under the sun. Hanekoma never belittled or disparaged Neku’s interests, and in fact often had insight and knowledge into things that Neku hadn’t known before. Neku’s late night visits to Wildkat were a respite from a tumultuous home life, but also Neku greatly enjoyed getting to talk to and spend time with his idol (who was becoming less of an idol, and more of a person to him, someone reliable and safe whom he could go to if he ever needed anything, someone who could actually look out for him for the first time in his life, like his parents never did). And on Hanekoma’s end, well, he genuinely liked spending this time with Neku and would be lying if he said he didn’t. Sure, when they first met, Neku was more prickly than an over-thorned cactus and it was abundantly clear why Joshua had chosen Neku to be his proxy, i.e. the representation of the worst of Shibuya. But Neku had grown so much, and was still growing, and well, Hanekoma liked that he got to watch that growth happen right in front of his eyes. Neku was a good kid. Hanekoma liked having him around.
— The week before Neku was murdered, Hanekoma offered him a part-time job at Wildkat, so he could start saving money so he could move out of his parents’ place after he graduated high school. (Of course, Hanekoma was willing to just give him the couch upstairs, but Neku was too proud to just take that without doing anything in return.) It would have to be kept on the down low, of course, because high school students weren’t supposed to have part-time jobs unless they had a waiver signed that let them do so based on economic need, but it wasn’t as if Wildkat was exactly on most people’s radar anyway. Neku would start training the following week, and hopefully be full-fledged, post-training employee by the end of the month. Or at least he would have been, had he lived that long.
— Three days before he was murdered, on a night when Neku once again found himself in Wildkat after hours, Hanekoma took Neku with him to tag a previously undisturbed portion of the Udagawa mural. Neku was, of course, nervous as hell; this was not only his first time tagging a wall, but he was tagging a wall with CAT. He had no idea what he was doing, he was bound to screw it up, and what would CAT think of him then? How could he ever look Hanekoma in the eye after that? Having to decide whether he could shoot Joshua to save his own life had felt like less pressure than this.
— But Hanekoma activated some of the hidden sigils in his previously marked graffiti to release calming vibes to help Neku relax, and after he started them off, Neku was able to add his own flair to the new patch of mural Hanekoma was creating. Though they added quite a bit of art to the wall, the last piece they added was an artistic rendition of Neku’s own headphones, with angel wings spread out behind them. With Neku’s Imagination subconsciously put into the paint, the tag would inspire those who saw it to use their individual talents to seek out and expand their horizons. Of course, Neku wasn’t aware of this; he couldn’t read the Imagination imprinted in art the way Hanekoma could, and wasn’t even aware that he was adding it. But he had, and although Hanekoma was proud enough of Neku for taking that step and putting his artwork out into the world, he was even prouder that Neku’s art would inspire those to chase the same journey he had, and ultimately take similar steps into making the world a bigger, brighter, more passionate and dynamic place than it was before.
— Unfortunately, Neku was killed a mere three days later.
— This history, the time they spent together between the long Game and his second death, is the reason why Neku told Coco that there was “no one he trusted more” when she questioned why he was going to see Hanekoma about what was going on. Neku didn’t trust Hanekoma only because of the help he provided during the long Game, but also because of all Hanekoma had done for him since then. The late night talks, the place to crash, the promise of an upcoming part-time gig, the advice, the wall tagging. Hanekoma was there for Neku in a way that Neku’s parents never were, and though Neku would rather die than verbalize this to Hanekoma (because he would die, of embarrassment, if he did), it still meant the world to him. Hanekoma provided him solace and sanctuary when he needed it most. He wasn’t just a “sort of guardian” for Players playing the Game, but was also a guardian for Neku in the RG. There was no one Neku trusted more. If anyone could (and would) help him, it was Hanekoma.
— Unfortunately, that didn’t stop Coco from shooting Neku point-blank right in front of the mural they tagged together.
— Naturally, Hanekoma didn’t want to take this lying down, but also his ability to help Neku was rather limited. As Producer, he had many powers, but returning Players to the RG was not one of them. So he did what he could do; after Shinjuku’s Inversion, he went to discuss the matter with the Composer. He asked, point blank, what Neku’s fate would be, now that he had been killed by Coco and cast back into the UG again. And Joshua, after a moment of thought, shrugged and looked away. “He served his purpose . . . but I don’t need him anymore.”
— To say that wasn’t the answer Hanekoma wanted to hear was an understatement. Of course, he knew that Joshua wasn’t being entirely truthful; not only was it rare for Joshua to be direct with his thoughts and feelings (especially if those thoughts and feelings suggested that he cared about someone else on some level), but Hanekoma was savvy enough to be able to tell when someone wasn’t being entirely truthful with him. Call it an extra facet of his extrasensory perception. He knew that Joshua was not going to leave Neku at the mercy of those who would seek to erase him from Shibuya altogether. However, he also knew that what Joshua was saying was that he had no intentions of returning Neku to the RG either. And in Hanekoma’s opinion, that . . . wasn’t exactly great, to say the least. Neku had been through a lot already, and he had so much more life to live, so much more potential to realize. And while time spent in the remains of Shinjuku would allow his extransensory perception to grow exponentially (thereby giving him the firepower needed to fight back against those who would seek to erase him), it would also cut him off from all the connections he had made, and being locked in isolation like that would not only shoulder him with even more psychological and emotional trauma, but would also significantly hamper his emotional growth and development. It wasn’t good for him, and it wasn’t right. He deserved to live his life. And so while Joshua wouldn’t do something about it, at least not yet . . . Hanekoma decided that he had to try. He couldn’t return Neku to the RG, but he could at least get him out of Shinjuku. He could do that much.
— . . . or at least, he could have, had the Higher Plane not detected him attempting to interfere with the remnants of Shinjuku. Not only was this out of bounds, but this discovery led to the discovery of everything else he had done during the long Game, and he was summoned back to the Atrium of Judgment to stand trial (and then sentenced to imprisonment in the Chamber of the Fallen for his crimes). He was allowed a psychic link to Shibuya so that he could still perform his duties as Producer, writing reports on everything that unfolded in the city, but he wasn’t able to interfere. He couldn’t help Neku escape Shinjuku, or offer him any aid—even just a listening ear—once he got back to Shibuya. All he could do was watch.
— Well . . . mostly.
— After his return to the RG after his three year imprisonment in Shinjuku and the Game in Shibuya that followed, Neku . . . he could have gone back to stay with his folks. He could have. He knew that there had been a funeral for him, that his folks had moved on from his death, but none of that had taken place anymore due to Joshua’s merging of the timelines (or whatever it was that he had done). But Neku . . . didn’t want to go back to his parents’ house. His plan had been to save up money in his final years of high school so that he could get a place of his own (or at least pay rent to Hanekoma by working at Wildkat), but that plan was ruined due to the timeline Joshua had selected not coming with a stockpile of savings for him to use to get his own place. Even so, returning back to his folks wasn’t something he felt comfortable with. They didn’t remember his death, or recognize his absence; they were as distant and cool toward him as ever. But between his own goals being shattered at his feet and everything he had been through, the idea of living with two people who tolerated him at best and whom he actively fought with at worst just . . . didn’t sit right with him. He didn’t want to do it. As churlish as it sounded, he just didn’t want to.
— So his first night back, he walked the familiar streets back to Wildkat, which was just as closed as it had been during the Game. This was not surprising to Neku. He had told Beat that he doubted they’d run into Hanekoma on CAT Street not because he knew what happened to Hanekoma (he didn’t), but because he figured that if Hanekoma was around to help, he would have helped Neku escape Shinjuku way sooner than he had. Hanekoma would have never abandoned or left him hanging without good reason. He just wasn’t that kind of person. But although Wildkat was closed, and there was no hope of a familiar face and a comforting cup of coffee waiting for him if he knocked on the door . . . well . . .
— Neku’s powers had, as Joshua had banked on, grown expontentially in Shinjuku, enough so that he could now use them to some degree in the RG. With enough focus, he was able to use his telekinesis to unlock Wildkat’s door and let himself inside, closing and locking it behind him. It was empty, and a bit dusty; but when he climbed the stairs and unlocked the door leading into the apartment, he found everything pretty much as he remembered it, right down to some of his old textbooks still sitting on the kitchen table.
— He didn’t cry, but his throat choked up.
— That night, Neku crashed on the couch in the living room just as he always did. But the next morning he awoke to find himself in Hanekoma’s old bed, a note and two sets of keys on the nightstand beside him.
‘Phones,
Take care of the place while I’m gone.
— H. Sanae’
— Neku didn’t know why Hanekoma left him a note instead of waking him up to talk in person. He didn’t know whether he felt more confused or upset about that fact, either. But he did know that he trusted Hanekoma, more than anyone. And if Hanekoma was going to give him the keys to Wildkat and ask him to look after the place while he was gone . . . wherever he was, then Neku would do it. No questions asked.
— It had, after all, already felt like home to him for a while now.
#the world ends with you#neo the world ends with you#twewy#ntwewy#neo twewy#sakuraba neku#hanekoma sanae#neko to koneko#fic fix#kind of#you will pry Hanekoma being Neku's surrogate dad out of my cold dead hands#just a very very brief overview of my view of these two and their relationship#which is so precious to me i cry#for the record: Hanekoma IS still in angel jail#BUT Joshua visited after the events of Neo & Hanekoma gave him the note and the keys to take to Neku#and Joshua moved Neku from the couch to the bed#and left the note and keys etc etc#''Considering you didn't lift a finger to help Shibuya this is the least you can do'' Hanekoma said#''Excuse you I gave Neku moral support'' Joshua said#''After locking him in literal Hell for 3 years so he'd be strong enough to fight this battle for you''#''Details details''#anyway#but no really I don't see any other reason why Joshua wouldn't just return Neku to the RG like#he could have easily locked COCO in Shinjuku and returned Neku to the RG#and Neku a.) couldn't have spilled his secret to any Reapers then#and b.) wouldn't have been in danger#but Neku got SO MUCH MORE powerful during his three years in Shinjuku#even MORESO than he already was (which is saying smth)#and I feel like Joshua knew there was a high probability of that happening#which is why he chose to lock Neku in Shinjuku instead of just reviving him. that's the ulterior motive Neku was talking about
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Character Interview
What is your full name?
“Archex Cal’lien. Supposedly Cal’lien isn’t actually originally a surname, heard a few stories about my grandmother. In theory it was my grandfather’s name.” A shrug, “But I never met either of them, so...”
Who are/were your parents?
“I had my mother, Saaliz. She was pretty young, and fought very hard to keep us both alive on such a harsh planet. Sometimes, I wonder what would have happened if she hadn’t fallen ill... would I have stayed on Jakku...? Or when the First Order showed up, would I have still ended up with them? She was smart... I don’t think she’d have let them just take me.”
Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like?
“Not by blood. For the better, I know, but I kind of think it’d be nice... But all those Stormtroopers that trained alongside me? Especially my squad? We were a family. Brothers and sisters...”
Where do you live now, and with whom?
“Batuu. With Zade, on his insistence. Small apartment. It’s... not bad, actually. But I do miss space.”
What is your occupation?
“I work as a manager for a shipping facility,” Ohnaka Transport Solutions, but the idea of voicing that flat out felt... well, between his connections and Hondo, it could be a fun thing to tumble through. Especially if someone nefarious learned of it.
How would you personally describe your appearance?
“... fit? I... I mean I guess, nowhere near what I used to be. Less for lack of trying, more for.” Gestures at his leg, sighs, “It’s getting better. I can do more. But I know I’ll never be what I was before. I’ve... somewhat, accepted that.”
To which social class do you belong?
Snorts, “I’ve hardly any credits to my name after three decades wrapped up in some illegal military. I do have a job, but it may well be out of pity. Or... desperation. Not sure which is worse? Anyway, I’m not anything fancy. Not... anymore. At least it’s a step up from Jakku, eh?”
Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses?
“This sounds like a very damming question to answer???”
Are you right- or left-handed?
“Left hand dominate. But I’m perfectly capable of using my right hand if and when need be. It was annoying, having to learn to be able to use it effectively for better uniformity back before I was promoted to Captain and given more freedom but. I suppose it has it’s perks in hindsight.”
What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently?
“I... don’t think there’s anything I use enough to be of note? Unless you count the curse from Jakku, but-- anyway.”
What do you have in your pockets?
“A knife.”
Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics?
“I’m notoriously stubborn?”
Growing Up
How would you describe your childhood in general? What is your earliest memory?
“Shit. It was shit. Earliest memory was my mother telling me my father died before I was born and gifting me a carving she claimed he made for me before it happened. It was a lie, all of it, but I understand the attempt now... my father was a piece of shit.”
How much schooling have you had? Did you enjoy school?
“School...? I’m pretty sure not even what the First Order taught me can count towards that word. So. Uh... none.”
Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities?
“Jakku, for actually a good chunk... the First Order, for the others. Shocking, I’m sure.”
While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them.
“The only one that won’t make me gag to voice, or get thrown back into heavy lockdown is my mother,” a laugh followed the claim, but it was completely serious, “She was brave. Strong... determined. I think she’s a big part of why I am who I am, even if I’d only had her for about seven years... she certainly made her impact.”
As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?
“Alive.”
As a child, what were your favorite activities?
“I... didn’t get much of a childhood, and I’m certain this is guaranteed to get me side-eye glances but. I actually really enjoyed the simulations. Figuring things out, creating strategies, playing to my squad’s strengths and weaknesses-- you could, I guess, consider it was the closest to playing with other kids I ever got.”
As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display?
“I was stubborn. Not much has changed. Supposedly smart, but at this rate I think ‘smart’ translated more closely to ‘smart enough, but capable of being manipulated’ and not genuinely intelligent...”
As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like?
“Back in the mines on Jakku, I’d earned myself a sort of following... even at only ten years old. After the tunnel collapsed and I dug myself and the three stuck with me out to safety and a semblance of freedom, they stayed with me.... followed me right into the First Order.
“And I guess you could say I was popular there, too. But that’s. Different. Though still well liked by my peers. My family.”
When and with whom was your first kiss?
“That’s-- ah, very damming and classified information, actually.” There’s a laugh, a sound of embarrassment-- though not over who it had been. He held no regrets, despite everything, “First Order. Not necessary information even for the Resistance to know, mm??”
Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity?
Clearing his throat, Archex finally sat forward and sought to hide his face in his hands, “Classified. Suffice to say I wasn’t exactly the remodel Stormtrooper everyone may have anticipated.” Another snort, and despite himself a grin formed, “Bet you lot thought I was chaste or some shit... that’d be fair. Untrue, however.”
Past And Influences
What do you consider the most important event of your life so far?
“I mean, being dragged out of the First Order kinda seems big and important. Let’s go with that one, hm?”
Who has had the most influence on you?
“... Mh. You wouldn’t like that answer...”
What do you consider your greatest achievement?
“Er... odd question to ask someone who’s only real effect on the universe thus far has been training up billions of children into soldiers...”
What is your greatest regret?
“I’ll tell you one thing straight up. It is not joining the First Order. I was meant to become Cardinal, for better or for worse. This way I have the chance to help... I wouldn’t be able to do much had I’d been stranded on Jakku all my life. And I know that.
“... I guess it’s not asking questions... back in the Order. Not aloud, that’d be suicide but... internally. I should have realized sooner just how wrong the First Order was...”
What is the most evil thing you have ever done?
“Evil,” the word is flat as it leaves his mouth, “That’s a subjective term, is it not? Evil... everyone has their own sets of believes and morality. You can claim taking kids into the First Order was evil, and I’d reply back that to me leaving them orphans to struggle through life would have been more cruel. You can say that killing someone who’s a traitor is evil, and I could argue it’s an act of mercy because the other option is torture and perhaps even reprograming. You could tell me torturing someone is evil, and I could argue that it may be a brash act but I’m doing it for the better good.
“But, fine. I suppose there’s one thing that may well have been unjustly cruel of me. I don’t regret it, don’t get me wrong. But I can acknowledge it was in... perhaps, poor taste. Shortly after being promoted to Captain and being gifted the name Cardinal, my father had come to the First Order with information in hopes of a sort of salvation. I took the information and instructed everyone not to pay him, with the explanation that he may well turn around and sell the information of the First Order’s knowledge on said thing right back out to double his profit.
“I quite possibly led to his death. Though I never bothered to look into it. I don’t think I’d like either possible outcome.”
Do you have a criminal record of any kind?
“Let’s see... I used to be a high ranking officer in a military that is technically illegal, all things considered. I’ve killed people on their orders. And now, even if it had been legal, I defected informally. After trying to kill someone of the same rank of myself. Add that to the years of thievery on Jakku, and I’m sure somewhere you can pull up something on me. If not, I’d be genuinely surprised.”
When was the time you were the most frightened?
“Most frightened...” Archex hesitates, then shakes his head, “Probably when my mother dropped me off at the orphanage and told me not to go looking for her. I get why she did it. She was sick, dying. She didn’t want to let my father get his hands on me. But it left me alone... and I couldn’t accept that. When I slipped out days later to track her down, I was completely alone for the first time in my life. I never found her. I know she died. I’m not ashamed to admit I was terrified... the idea of being on Jakku without anyone with me? It’s a cruel planet, I was seven...”
What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you?
“Phasma.”
If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why?
“I... I would have left with Vi instead of going after Phasma and being forced to leave, anyways. Stars, I could say I wish I had actually managed to kill her but I’m... well aware, that wouldn’t have changed anything at this point. At least had I left, I could be more useful than I am now.”
What is your best memory?
“Mm... I’m going to be completely honest here, alright? I miss raising the kids back on the Absolution.... there’s no one solid memory I hold more fond over any other. It’s... just them...”
What is your worst memory?
“I mean, honestly speaking? Considering the massive amount of truths I was forced to learn about someone I thought cared about me? There’s... a huge handful of memories in a bad light now. Memories that make my skin crawl, that make me question everything... everyone. Make me never want to trust again. You probably thought it’d be something simple and concrete, like my confrontation with Phasma? Those scars are mostly just physical... while the injuries won’t heal completely, they’ll be easier to live with than the factor that my entire life had been a lie.”
Beliefs And Opinions
What is your greatest fear?
“Failing, I suppose...”
What are your religious views?
“What was that word I’d heard again,” a pause, as Archex shook his head, “I’m... agnostic? There’s a lot of different religions and ideas and cultures out there, too. The idea that maybe they’re all right, or maybe none of them are right--... I dunno. It seems. Mmm... It’s not something I sit down and turn over in my head. Even, like, the Force-- I know something of it exists, but the whole.... all those stories... it seems like so much of it fits better to a myth. Cautionary tales... something fun to tell around a plate of food, or for fun.
“There’s just. More to it than I’d had time to pounder, and right now I have more important things to spend my energy on.”
What are your political views?
“I... still believe that some of what the First Order claimed is true. Now, before you go and have me hauled off to Cerea again hear me out-- the New Republic seemed more focused on the richer worlds. Those that could afford to have a voice. The little people, those who suffered-- like so many on planets like Jakku... we could have died out, and it feels they wouldn’t even have bat an eye. The First Order... hn... I still like the ideas they pushed around. I know now, yes yes yes, bad... they wanted to bring equality through oppression and control...
“There... has to be some way to help those less fortunate not have to struggle and starve every day of their life without oppressing them or others... right?”
What are your views on sex?
“... weird question, but okay. It. I..? Personally I only ever have sex with someone who I’m emotionally close to. But I’m not about to drag anyone who goes off and has fun.”
Are you able to kill? Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable?
“Don’t like killing. Never did. Never will... but I can. I... I think, I still can. I... I dunno.” Brushing his hair from his face, Archex huffed in annoyance, “I think... that if you can avoid it, then you... you should, but there’s cases where it would only lead to multiple deaths of innocents-- yourself dying, or otherwise bad things happening. There are times where it’s best to just end someone’s life. It’s not pretty, and I don’t enjoy it. But I’m not about to pretend like I view the option a horrible mistake.”
In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do?
“Force others to suffer for their own gain... or amusement.”
Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love?
“Weighted question, don’t you think? I’m going to be honest and say I... have no kriffing idea. I’ve not really gotten much a chance out there to have experience first hand to answer this. I... have a weird relationship with fate, as is. Look at it this way; if you had someone you’re destined for, why would you end up with anyone else? But then you can argue the others were lessons-- and everything gets all muddled...”
What do you believe makes a successful life?
“Having a positive impact on those around you, and their future... I mean, that’s. That’s what I want... I want to make things better for those to come...”
How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings? Do you have any biases or prejudices?
“I’m a sentient being... of course I have biases... anyone who claims otherwise is a liar. I’m not an open book, but I’m also not impossible to get open if you know what I mean? Then again, if you were to ask Vi she’d probably tell you all my feelings are on the cover in large font.” A snort, as he shook his head, “Okay, seriously though. I’m a terrible liar, and the idea of hiding things isn’t much for me anyway. Unless it’s something better left unsaid, usually those who need to know will know.”
Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it?
“I won’t harm a kid. Ever. That should be obvious as to why... the idea that the First Order destroyed a whole system... I could never, ever support that sort of thing. Even smaller scale.”
Who or what, if anything, would you die for (or otherwise go to extremes for)?
“I’d die to keep my family safe. Though at this point... that word is ripped in pieces, blanketed over... so many, and people that the Resistance admittedly would likely disapprove. This-- being here, is difficult. After everything, there’s... there’s people I love who are in the Order, still. I’ll admit that freely, kriff I raised those Stormtroopers... things aren’t ever going to be easy again.”
#i may have missed transfering a question over due to adhd but fuk it if yes#am i playing this most specifically to the verse with winter's hux? yes sue me#tagged meme#ooc — 🔪menace#it's there enough to be vague tho haha#a plate of cookies to anyone who actually reads all this#but i enjoyed writing it so whatever sjfndjf#this took Alot Of Time#more than a reply ever does wtf
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Zoom call with Henry
Today, Mom talks with Dad for ages. She makes Henry leave the room like always, ordering him to go play, and she closes the door behind him. As if that ever stops Henry from being able to hear everything she says. She always talks in such a loud voice to Dad.
But today, her voice is really quiet. Even with his ear pressed flat against the door, the only words he can make out are right at the end of the conversation: “I just don’t want you to tell him yet, Charlie. We both know what you’re like. He’ll only be disappointed.”
Henry knows she’s talking about him, but he doesn’t understand what she means.
When Mom opens the door again, he’s sitting in the middle of the hallway with his colored pencils and sketchpad, deeply engrossed in his latest masterpiece.
“Henry? Do you want to talk to Dad?”
Henry’s heart leaps with excitement. He tears off the page he’s been working on and brings it with him, leaving the rest of his mess on the floor. He bounds into the office and climbs into the comfy leather chair, wiggling around until he’s comfortable. His feet almost but not quite touch the ground. Grandma said the other day that he’ll be as tall as Dad soon, and Mom gave her a look that Henry didn’t get.
There’s a lot he doesn’t understand sometimes. Grownups are strange, he thinks. Especially his parents.
“Hi Dad!”
“Hello, Henry.” Dad’s little smile is the same as ever, but he looks tired today. The same kind of tired as when he was sleeping on the couch, when him and Mom thought Henry didn’t know. “How are you today?”
“GOOD!” Henry happily rattles off a list of all the fun things he did. A playdate at the park with Josh. Frozen yogurt on the way home. Helping to bake cookies to take to Grandma’s tomorrow. Mom even let him lick the spoon because he’d done such a good job of measuring out the ingredients without making a mess. The only dark spot on the horizon is the bath that Mom has been threatening him with since this morning, but Henry thinks he can probably sweet-talk her into an hour of video games if he goes without protest, so it’s not all bad.
He has to take a big gulp of air at the end, because he’s forgotten to breathe in his excitement to tell Dad everything all at once. “How about you, Dad? It’s late there, right? Did you and Britt do something fun today? Is she there? Can I talk to her?”
Something weird happens. Dad flinches, like Henry does when Mom catches him doing something he knows he shouldn’t do. But when he starts talking, it’s completely normal. “Britt’s not here, honey. We were both very busy doing different things today. She’s been … planning something. And I’ve been working on my writing. Well, trying to.”
Dad picks up a funny-shaped glass of something red, and takes a long swig of it. He told Henry once that it’s grape juice for adults. Henry asked Mom about it afterwards, and she said something about Dad being just like his parents. But that can’t be right, because Dad doesn’t have any parents. That’s why Henry only has one grandma, right?
Dad likes to write like Henry likes to draw. It’s his favorite thing to do, and he does it a lot. Henry can sit silently so much better than any of his friends, because he learned very early on that if he could be still and quiet, he could sit with his dad for as long as he wanted to. He loves visiting Dad in New York. Going out and doing a million different activities is so much fun! But the best times are when they’re in Dad’s study, and Henry is sprawled out on the rug with his pencils and sketchpad, doodling whatever comes into his imagination. He likes hearing the sound of Dad’s fingers flying over the laptop keyboard, and the way he occasionally mutters to himself while he thinks. And he really likes the way Dad will often close his laptop with a frustrated sigh, and come sit on on the floor next to Henry, and listen to him talk for hours about whatever he’s been working on.
Speaking of which, Henry has something he wants to show him. “Dad, look! I drew this for you!” He holds up the picture he finished only moments ago.
Dad peers at the screen, makes an impatient sound, and then reaches off to the side, retrieving his glasses and putting them on. For a moment, he tilts his head to one side, and then the other. “Why don’t you talk me through it,” he suggests eventually, his voice very kind.
Henry huffs. Isn’t it obvious? Dad must have really bad eyesight. Probably because he’s so old. “This is you,” he says, pointing at the tallest figure, who has very long legs. “You’re wearing black, of course.” He points to the next largest person, with long hair. “This is Britt. She’s wearing her favorite big cardigan. And in the middle, it’s me.”
Dad nods slowly and appreciatively. “Very nice. Your grasp of proportions is improving, and everyone has the correct number of fingers this time. But can you explain why we are surrounded by so many dinosaurs?”
“Because we’re at the Museum of Natural History!” It’s Henry’s favorite place in New York, aside from Dad’s study, and maybe that pizza place they go to every time he visits.
“Ah. Of course. Silly me. And … what is that strange looking dinosaur in the middle between you and Britt?”
Henry rolls his eyes. “DAD!” he complains. “That’s not a dinosaur! That’s the baby!”
There’s a spluttering sound as Dad, who is halfway through another mouthful of his “juice”, begins to choke. “W-what?” he stutters eventually, grabbing a tissue and wiping frantically at the front of his sweater.
This is it. Henry’s big chance.
“Well … Josh’s Mom had a baby during lockdown. She brought it to the park today and it was so cute, and Josh says it’s annoying and cries all night, but I think he’s just jealous because HE still wants to be the baby, and I actually think it would be really fun to be a big brother, so I asked Mom but she said absolutely not, so basically you and Britt should have a baby so I can play with it and teach it all about dinosaurs and show it how to read and write and draw.”
Henry runs completely out of steam at the end of his big speech, and has to take another of his massive gasps of air as he’s started to feel a bit lightheaded.
Just for a moment, there’s a strange expression on Dad’s face. He almost looks sad. But then he’s smiling again, although he still looks tired. “Now, Henry. That’s rather a big ask. There’s an awful lot more to take into account than you wanting a sibling, I’m afraid.”
“But Dad – I asked Mom where babies come from, and she said that when a man and a woman love each other very much, they can have a baby. And you and Britt love each other very much, right? So you can have a baby, RIGHT? By Christmas would be great. It can be my present, instead of a replacement for the Nintendo Switch I lost last time I was there.”
Dad is laughing now. Properly laughing, like he hardly ever does. It’s hard to imagine how sad he looked a minute ago. Maybe Henry just imagined it … “Henry, it takes an entire nine months for a baby to grow in a woman’s tummy. Even if we were to acquiesce to your request immediately, there’s no way we could produce a baby by December. Indeed, at the very most, Britt would merely be looking slightly round in the middle by Christmas …” He tails off for a moment, as if lost in thought, with a little smile on his face. But then he shakes his head slightly and continues talking. “The answer’s no, honey. You will get your new Nintendo Switch, and that Goose game you’ve been talking about nonstop, and you will be grateful.”
Henry pouts. “BUT DAD …”
“No.”
Henry tries a different approach. “I love you, Dad. I miss you …”
“Nice try.” Dad folds his arms across his chest. “But that pout you wield originated with me, and you should know by now that it holds no power over me. The answer’s still no. However, I do love you an immense amount. And I miss you. Very, very much.”
Dad looks a little bit sad again. Henry feels sad now, too. He really does miss him. Mom is great, but Dad gives the best hugs.
Suddenly, Mom’s voice calls out from the hallway, loud enough for him and Dad to both hear. “Henry? It’s getting late. You need to finish up and take a bath before bedtime.”
NOOOOOOOO.
Henry doesn’t want any hecking bath! And he isn’t done talking, either. He casts his mind around, trying to think of a way to stall for time. Finally, something strange Dad said earlier comes back to him, and he decides to ask for further clarification. “Dad? I have a question.”
He knows Dad knows that he’s stalling because Dad’s super smart. But he also knows that he doesn’t mind. He never wants their calls to end, either. “Yes, honey?”
“How exactly does the baby get into the woman’s tummy?”
Dad’s eyes widen for a second. Then he grins. “Why don’t you ask your mother,” he suggests, voice loud enough for Mom to hear him from the hallway. “She knows all about it.”
***
Twenty minutes later, Henry is wallowing in the bath. It isn’t as bad as he thought it would be. (It never is.) Mom let him choose one of her Lush bath bombs, so the water is pink and sparkly, and covered in a thick layer of foam. At least twelve of his dinosaur figurines have joined him for moral support.
As he lines them up along the side of the tub in alphabetical order, his mind wanders to something Mom shouted just as Dad finished the call. What’s a bastard? he wonders. She uses that word a lot when she talks about Dad.
Mom said that when a man and a woman love each other very much, they can have a baby. But Mom and Dad haven’t ever seemed to even like each other very much. So Henry can’t help but wonder how he came to be. Maybe Mom got it wrong, though that doesn’t seem likely. Maybe Henry misunderstood. That’s probably right.
There’s a lot he doesn’t understand sometimes. Grownups are strange, he thinks.
Especially his parents.
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The Woman In The Smoke: Mysterious (1)
Summary: Bucky, Steve, Tony and Natasha are attacked in the middle of the night by a mysterious man and woman.
Warnings: Angst, language, mentions of neglect, mentions of kidnapping, mention of abandonment.
Author’s Note: This is my first series after not writing for about a year. I decided to do something Buck related because it’s in my comfort zone. I hope y’all enjoy. Feel free to comment and give feedback (my inbox is always open).
Word count: 1,376
The sound of the alarm blared in the tower, they were under attack. Bucky awoke in a panicked state. The super soldier got out of bed and hopped to his feet. He sighed, rubbing his hand over his stubbly face.He barely got any sleep in the first place, and now the sleep he did get was being compromised.He walked over to his chest drawers, in his scarcely decorated room.He open the top drawer to reveal his vibranium prosthetic. He attached it, then suited up in his all black, all leather gear. He made sure his holsters were secured tightly and his favorite blade was tucked away in a pocket on his hip.
Bucky met Steve outside in the hallway. He turned to his oldest friend, “What's going on out here Stevie?” Bucky questioned, clenching his jaw. Was it so much to ask to just get one day of peace and quiet?
The blonde scratched his face. “Dunno Buck, I’m as confused as you are,’ Steve sighed. Bucky could physically see the tiredness on his best friend's face. He could tell that Steve wasn’t getting much sleep either these days. His dazed expression and watery eyes were pictures that spoke a thousand words.
In the bat of an eye, a wall in front of the two super soldiers collapsed. Through the wall flew Tony and Natasha. Both of the Avengers were covered in dust and considerably disheveled.
“Are you alr-” before Steve could even finish his sentence a masked woman hovered to the ground. Her eyes were completely black as she landed on her feet and her dark curly hair flowed effortlessly. She was dressed head to toe in black in a sleek suit that looked very durable. The confidence that exuded from her was dangerous. She looked menacing to say the least.
Bucky was experiencing wave after wave of emotion. He didn’t know whether to run in the opposite direction, fight, or be turned on by the mysterious woman. The super soldier was frozen in place, and frankly this never happened. He had never seen a dame like this back in his day.
At times like these - when Bucky was feeling raw, untamed, human emotions, he wished he was still the Winter Soldier. Learning to feel and be human again was such a task for him. The only trait that he envied of his old ‘self’ was his ability to act and react efficiently - without emotion.
Steve urged Bucky to talk to him when he felt emotionally overwhelmed but there were some things that America’s golden boy just would never understand, and that was that. Bucky never wanted to be a burden, so he just found it fine to keep his emotions tucked away - for now anyway.
Tony, Natasha, Bucky and Steve were the only ones at the tower (other than the intruders). This was because the other members of the team were off on a mission in pursuit of the trickster - Loki. Loki was once again demanding the respect and praise of the poor mortals of midgard.
“Are you almost done? I’ve got them distracted”, the woman questioned, communicating through what looked like a bracelet on her wrist.
“About 98% done here Y/N, keep them distracted for a little while longer,” a man responded. She directed her attention back to the group of Avengers that stood before her and smirked.
“Wait- distracted, what do you mean distracted?” Bucky mumbled a bit loudly to himself. He had a habit of doing this when he was thinking. Tony immediately started to panic. What were they trying to steal? One of his inventions? Information? Materials? Blueprints?
Tony had worked way to hard and way too long on any of his inventions for them to be stolen or duplicated. What about his legacy? The man, the myth and the legend that was Tony Stark aka Iron Man?
Stark’s mind began to race. “JARVIS, initiate lock-down!” He commanded. “Lockdown initiated” the system responded. All the windows in the tower began closing, and the sound of doors locking could be heard through out the massive building.
“Sorry to do this to you sweetie but, I gotta go,” the unknown man quipped. With that Y/N’s bracelet went dead. “Wait,hello? hello!” She tapped at the object, but to no avail - it was dead.
Fortunately for the Avengers, she was now the one distracted. Natasha skillfully pounced on the woman, tackling her to the ground. Before Y/N could defend herself, Natasha swiftly jabbed her directly underneath her eye - knocking her out cold.
Say what you will about Natasha, but the Russian could sure pack a punch.
“She’s out,” Natasha boasted with a sly smile on her face.
“Great now I can finally get some well deserved shut-eye.” Bucky professed.
“Not so fast Barnes, we have to find out what all that was about.”
“And for the record, you didn’t do shit,” Natasha scoffed.
Bucky stood there and scratched his head trying to figure out a response.
“I was following your lead Romanoff...” He started, unsure of what more he could say.
“Pshht, yeah right, we could all tell you were practically drooling at our little assailant over there,” Natasha mocked and pointed to Y/N passed out on the floor. She looked peaceful. Almost angelic.
Bucky turned and looked toward Tony and Steve. The two men nodded their heads in unison.
Bucky rolled his eyes, “For the record, I was observing her moves. No need to patronize me for doing my job,” he scoffed.
“Okay guys can we just move her before she wakes up?” Steve chimed.
Bucky shrugged his shoulders.
“Yeah Mr. America is actually right,” Tony sighed.
They all stared awkwardly at each other until Steve finally sighed. Steve slung the passed out woman easily over his shoulder and turned to Tony for directions.
“Uh... to the elevator,” He motioned.
When they arrived on the floor of the building that contained the labs, Tony lead them to a door that had ‘Laboratory 001′ inscribed in black, bold letters on it.
“Lay her down on the table, let’s find out who she is,” he sighed rubbing his brow.
Steve laid the passed out woman on the steel surface. Tony proceeded to then find a vein, and inject her with some mysterious liquid. Steve assumed it was a sedative of some sort. Stark was humming to himself as her strapped her down the table.
“Okay, now let’s find out who you are...” he mumbled to himself as he took out a hand held device which he put her thumb onto. The device beeped three times and the screen turned red.
“Huh, she’s not in the system,” Tony muttered confused.
“Spy maybe?” Bucky suggested shrugging his shoulders.
“Maybe... but just to be sure, JARVIS run a face scan on our passed out visitor.”
“Running facial recognition.” JARVIS responded.
The team stood there for a whole ten minutes. Tony himself was starting to lose hope. Bucky was twiddling his thumbs and Nat was practicing her jabbing techniques in the corner.
Steve was simply staring at the young woman. Oddly enough Steve could not identify a single flaw on her face, it was as smooth as porcelain. There wasn’t even a bruise from Natasha’s powerful strike. Not a single curly hair on her head laid out of place, not a single split end. Her lips were perfectly wrinkle free and her nails were perfectly manicured.
“Match identified.” JARVIS announced.
Tony had never shot his head up so fast. He made his way over to the screen adjacent to the table.
“ Y/N Y/L/N, and last known address is from 5 years ago, 62 Hamilton Rd.
Brooklyn, NY 11207. The only picture we have of her is a passport picture. No records of any parent or guardian or any siblings.” Tony spoke carefully.
“Check the address,” Bucky suggested.
Tony worked his fingers quickly against the screen and let out a sigh.
“It doesn’t exist,” Both him and Bucky said in unison.
Natasha started pacing.
“So what do we do now?” She asked.
“Wait, till she wakes up,” Steve sighed folding his arms.
Tag List:
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Hey guys,
This is the local dog rescue charity that we were carers for, for several years.
May do it again in future, but after Debbie (who was rescued by Precious Paws), it feels like we need a break.
We have had three foster fails, but two puppers came through our home, learned to feel safe and loved, and went on to a perfectly matched new family.
There is always a demand for carers, so if you think you can, have a look at their Carer Info. Or look into the FB page, to keep your eyes open.
The best way to find new carers for animals is having a network of people sharing the Urgent statuses, which flags the attention of new groups of people.
No dog will ever be LEFT on death row. They look for carers until the last second, but will absofuckinglutely take the dog anyway and put them in a boarding kennel short-term whilst a carer is located.
No doggo left behind.
It can be a bit confronting, though, so I understand if you cannot.
The majority of the dogs have been surrendered to the pound, for various reasons, and the rescues in the region put their hands up for the ones slated for being put down each week. This list constantly refills, so there is always a need.
Some other dogs, like Debbie, are rescued directly from the disgusting human slime of the world who have caused them pain, injury, or attempted to kill them.
Carers open their homes to as many as they can, but there will always be more needed. A dog can be with you for a few months, to a few years, depending on their needs.
Little Willow was so scared of everything when we got her, it took 5 months to get her to trust men near her due to where she came from. But after nearly a year, she was ready for adoption and went to a new mother; happy, healthy, and confident. She was fast, smart and a very delightful little doggo. I do miss her, sometimes, but her new mother sent us photos of Willow on her first and second adoption anniversaries.
And little Gemini’s face, when her new family sent a photo from her first meeting with her human brother, was SO BIG!
It is hard to say goodbye, because they are with you for a long time, and you have to work hard with them, so they are an integral part of your life. But it helps to know that their future family is out there, not yet aware that there’s a dog shaped hole waiting to be filled.
As my parental unit says, “In reality, if they were not with us, they’d be dead. Someone without any heart dropped these animals off to be killed, and because of all these rescues, all these dogs and cats get another chance at life.”
Harvey, who we have now, was 9mths (Willow too) when they came to us.
BABIES who just were too energetic or too big, so they had to be sent away. It takes a while to rebuild that trust in them.
Not to mention the absolute FUCKS who take their little old dogs, who have known and loved them their WHOLE LIVES to the pound and walk out with a new puppy (or kitten). FUCKS.
Those little doggos are never forgotten, PPARs and the other rescues make sure they have somewhere to go as well! I know of a 16yo bulldog called rosie, who was snappy when she first came and very depressed, who blossomed with her carers into a happy old girl. She was adopted recently!!!
It is important to be aware that these animals are often traumatised and have behaviours that some can consider ‘naughty’. You have to be understanding.
Like traumatised kids, the worst thing you can do is yell or hit or whatever, even if they piss on your favourite rug or chew a beloved pair of shoes.
They may snap and snarl. Might shy away from men, or women, or teenagers. Might cower away, or show subservience constantly. Might hide for a few weeks. Might wet themselves or run to hide if something makes a loud noise or there is a specific trigger. They might rip up the couch twice, or hump your pillows. Try to escape the yard (need strong fences).
A trigger? One of our kids was terrified of men, the noise of a powertool, and anyone having the hood of their car open. Would sit, shaking, panting in fear if these things were present. Still a bit much for her, but she knows to go to a human, who will keep her safe. Or sit with her sister doggo, who will protect her.
Willow was scared of men, shouting, and would be immediately wet-herself-afraid and show her belly in subservience. My giant bearded mountain of a sibling would lay on the floor with her, and talk gently, let her come over to sniff him. Eventually, she would lay next to him, and finally he could pat her, and it progressed from there. This took months of consistency and care.
I know of another carer couple who had this tiny little dog who was SO SCARED of everything she spent absolute months hiding under their bed or sofa. Too scared to be touched. They fed her and never made a fuss if she had a little accident indoors. And one day, she popped her head out while the male carer was pretending to be occupied... and licked his arm. That was it, went straight back under the bed. But it was a huge step.
She can now be held and cuddled, and loves her little life. But it took the time, understanding and patience of these carers to get her there.
It’s important to note that carers dont normally have the whole backstory for each dog, but after a while, you tend to get good at figuring it out based on behaviours. Harvey’s behaviours were extremely frantic for attention, he didn’t know how to sit or be still, he was desperate for attention; his behaviours increased when on a lead (which had to be used for the first few weeks and outside time, as this was a New Household Member time).
It was clear that given his age, when we got him, and his behaviours that he’d been an xmas gift puppy that had gotten WAAAAAAY bigger than anticipated. When he was small he’d been the fuss of what we suspect was at least 2 children. After getting too big, he was put on a leash in the yard, and had no real interaction.
Harvey would go BALLISTIC if given even a glance from a human. He NEEDED attention, and it took months of careful work with him to teach sit, stay, look, settle, back back, etc. He’s still a bit ridiculous, sometimes, but he can sleep on a bed with a human and only half drown them in spit (ugh) lmao.
So consider if you could be a carer.
Or, if that isn’t realistic for you right now... donate.
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Donate, if you can.
If you’re in Brisbane, you might see them doing sausage sizzles at Bunnings on the weekends to raise needed funds!
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COVID-19 hit all the rescue charities hard. Their normal fundraising was crippled by the lockdowns, but animals are always in need of new homes and protection.
If you can help out your local shelters, they’d appreciate it!
There’s food and supplies that need to be paid for; PPAWs specifically help out pensioners who take on an animal, by providing the food and toys, collar, bedding, etc.
There’s desexing, microchipping and all vaccinations to be paid for.
Some animals have extreme medical issues that need to be fixed (such as a dog surrendered with a broken hip, or dogs like Debbie, who were starved almost to death. Who need intensive and long-term things; with Debbie, my family put money forwards for her insulin and eye surgeries, etc. bc we could budget for it. Not everyone can, though.
There’s also little emergencies here and there that they jump in for, to assist.
[E.g early on when the caninculin levels were being sorted, Debbie had a random fit, so I rushed her in and they discovered her BSL had hit 1 - very dangerous. PPAWs got on the phone and said, “Any tests, any medication, any fluids, anything that needs to happen for that little girl, you DO IT” and they stabilised her. PPAWs also helped fund the full-day glucose testing and blood panel the next day and an overnight with the vet, that was pretty expensive.
To be clear, it is expected that her starvation and new diabetes was likely to experience highs and lows, so we had bought a glucometer, and had squeezy-top bottles of honey all over the house as an emergency-response kit. When Debbie went funny, we filled her mouth full of honey and transported; which was the protocol, as was taking her medication chart (she’d been waaaay high for BSL that morning so this dip was SCARY). It took another incident before the vet decided to use an interstitial fluid monitor, and the results backed up our concerns that Debbie was having completely random highs/lows and spikes with no real pattern.
She had the vet recommended food and no treats outside of the ones she was allowed, and at times suggested by the vet. Except on her last day when the vet said she could absolutely have a wholw happy meal, and little Debbie was DELIGHTED. I have the funniest photo of her with it all in her mouth looking excited but not sure where to go from there, but it still makes me cry to look at it because we lost her just three weeks ago. (We did rip it into little mouthfuls for her, though. Just to clarify.)
She was placed on a higher dose, after that, and was completely stable from there. It was the testing that initially identified a flaw, though, and we are forever grateful that PPAWs stepped in on that day.
And the point of my rambling speech... is that shit happens. Especially with these dogs, cats, horses, and all the other animals they rescue.
Emergencies are often the most expensive to cover for charities.
On the upside! Donations also help with a) transporting animals to carers around the region, and b) on the occasion that an animal’s new furever family is interstate, they can be flown to them!
Lots of stuff.
Think about the mess of words, and consider donating - to PPAWs, or find out the name of your local charity and see if they need help!
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A little (not quite) Anxiety Ramble
Do something! Do SOMETHING! Don’t stop doing something!
Welcome to 2020.
It won’t stop, my brain will not shut off. We’ve been in lockdown for… to be honest off the top of my head I can’t even get dates right but I’ve been in isolation mode, working from home for about 4 weeks now maybe?
On week 2, I became more lethargic than I ever have in my life, I withdrew from any contact with other people, my brain was in a fog, I couldn’t focus. My muscles were tired and refusing to function and my energy was entirely zapped.
I managed to pull myself out of that by attempting to not guilt myself for eating that bowl of carb loaded cereal or allowing myself to rationalise that it’s OK to just watch a movie.
But here I find myself in that cloudy little place again. My anxiety is in such a way that my brain refuses to shut down and my motivation is becoming a precious commodity that I’m unsure of how exactly to keep it in a steady flow.
When the anxiety kicks in like this for me, I stress and worry about every and any thing. Things entirely out of my control, other people, how I am perceived, why I am not now or have ever been good enough for anything or anyone.
My rational brain packs its bags and heads for the door as I stare in the mirror and hate everything I see looking back. My doubts, my insecurities, my shame - every dark little voice that can be mustered up gets louder and louder.
And so I overthink every action I make, I try too hard to impress a version of myself on people. I try too hard to force anyone who might give a shit that I am in fact OK! And you know there’s nothing saner than someone screaming “I’M OK!!” directly into another person's face manically.
Sleeping is the worst, or in my case not sleeping. It doesn’t matter how tired I may or may not be, I can be assured that as soon as I lay my head down that anxiety demon comes alive.
I cannot remember the last time I slept for a solid 7 - 8 hours. I can recall what it feels like to be at complete odds and ends at 4am because it’s happening every goddamn night!
Is this a symptom of what is happening in the world right now or is it just an exemplification of how screwed up I might actually be? These are the beautiful thoughts which haunt my brain in between scrolling through Twitter or Reddit, telling myself to not scroll through Twitter or Reddit and then, you know, casually reminding myself that I will never be good enough for whatever the fuck I think I should be good enough for!
I’ve always been a bit of an introverted extrovert, or am I an extroverted introvert? I’m not sure, the point is I’ve never had a problem being a bit “isolated”. I’m quite happy in my own company and just pondering about, in my own little world doing whatever silly things I decide to do with myself. However, that world of mine was always interrupted with everyday interactions - people I work with, the ability to visit someone and general activities which we just take for granted.
I’m starting to even question if I am as introverted as I liked to think I was at all! I told myself that being locked down wasn’t a big deal for me, not a massive shift in my life. I’m single, I live alone… Just a real wholesome and healthy picture there! “I’m OK!!!”
First World Problems.
One thing about me I’ve known since childhood is that I love my independence. I was told by my parents growing up I was the most independent of all my siblings. There is a sense of freedom that comes with independence and I think losing that is throwing me for a bit of a loop.
The freedom and independence to just make a decision to do something in the moment and being able to just do it. Even the smallest, stupidest of things like going for a browse in a shop. Such a boring and mundane activity but an activity that clearly ticked some kind of box for my mind.
Of course, I am wary of banging on about this word “freedom” but allow me to state, I do not mean freedom with the gusto of some hardcore, right wing, gun toting Murican (Or the Irish lady, she whom shall not be named… We all know).
No, I’m not trying to suggest my first world concept of freedom is being threatened on some conspiracy level, I accept the merit in the fact that for a period of time we have to do what’s best for the greater good. But jaysus, it’s not easy at times is it?
Without the fundamental freedoms which I take for granted as everyday life it’s as if my brain is being withheld vital nutrients for it to operate full steam ahead. Don’t get me wrong, this anxiety trip isn’t a new phenomenon for me, I know the bitch well, but I had such a great grip on things and I think the hardest part for a minute there was trying to figure out how I was allowing it all to spiral so ferociously when I know I have the tools to not do that.
It also bothers me because I am, by nature, incredibly laid back and positive. I flip between Energizer Bunny, Everything is Awesome and easily passing for a hippie stoner on my good days. So seeing myself behave erratically at times now makes me not recognise or like the person I am having to live with during this lockdown! Her neediness and desire to please is very, very off putting to me.
But maybe I just need to let her be a little bit, maybe I just need to let her know that it is fine. It is fine if a momentary lapse in the mind causes a mini freak out which embodies itself as wanting to just shut down, it is fine if she does just go a bit OTT at times with people to overly compensate for how weak and low she is feeling. It’s fine.
It is fine. Once you recognise that that’s all it is, it does not lessen your worth to behave in a way you might later regret and it does not lessen your value if you allow your insecurities or vulnerabilities to sneak through every now and then. You just have to hope that whoever is lucky enough to get the brunt of your vulnerability can appreciate the value in getting a taste of it at all. Because that right there, that vulnerability, that is a precious thing which is not afforded to many, if any at all.
It is the most beautiful aspect of humanity, to be vulnerable. And it is really fucking hard to let go of. Vulnerability takes an incredible amount of strength, it’s a feather that keeps on floating through regardless of how much dirt and debris gets attached to weigh it down. It is delicate and strong all at the same time.
And for me, it is terrifying to let that wall down. It feels frightening to think for a moment I let someone see weakness or gave a hint that I, with all my positivity and strength and being there for other people, could have a moment of weakness. It cracks the veneer of who I want to pretend I am.
Meet my friend, Anxiety.
Anxiety has been an under current which has existed within me since my childhood but something I only recognised as I began to get older and, yes, get help. Speaking to a professional allowed me the opportunity to begin to understand myself and learn about myself, gain self awareness.
Where I am now compared to where I was back then are completely opposed. At its worst, I was consumed by my anxiety and all the other little niggly things which tortured my brain. It all manifested in self-hate usually, maybe hate is a strong word but certainly a really strong dislike of myself! I would allow that to spin in circles in my mind until I was lost in it and trying to fix a million and one things about myself and others which really, was all very surface or non-existent.
The difference today is that I can, at last, recognise it. I can see the signs, at times I am deep within them and it takes a step back to shake it off and see it but at least I can find it within myself to rationalise and take that step back.
It doesn’t make it easy, there is nothing easy about managing mental health in the same sense there is nothing easy about managing physical health. If I want that toned stomach I will have to feel the burn and it has to work the same for mental health too!
Jesus, it is not easy at times. I will always remember an episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race in which the contestant Katya suffered severely from debilitating anxiety. During a walk through Ru asked the Queen if she was, in fact, addicted to the anxiety. This registered with Katya and as time has gone by and that interaction replays in my own mind, I realise it often registers for me too.
When it is all you know, you can easily become all consumed by the anxiety, the worry, the stress and you can get sucked right down into it. And you can find a level of comfort within that discomfort, it’s recognisable and it can feel easier to submit yourself to it than seek out the light and pull yourself back from it.
When I break it down I can see the various triggers for my anxiety:
Opening up and being vulnerable = Opening myself up for rejection.
Feeling like I cannot help = Opening myself up for failure.
Failure, rejection = Not good enough.
Attempting to improve and increase my self worth is really something that I never understood was such an issue for me, mostly because the concept of “self worth” was never something that even showed up on my radar. But guess what? It’s a thing!
Self love is not about having an over inflated and delirious ego, it is about recognising that you do have worth as a human being. Recognise yourself as a human being.
Oh god, she’s going to talk about her childhood...
So, why is it that I may not have always recognised myself as a human being, worthy of care and love? Well, I will refrain from the details that will cause my very being to quiver but I was raised in a home in which I received a lot of love, but it was unstable. Arguments, raised voices, depression and a lack of seeing love between my parents. A tumultuous family backstory which, while I was not in existence for much of it, carried a heavy cloud over all proceedings. I was in existence for difficult times with siblings and parents who butted heads constantly.
I was a witness, I was shielded from being on the receiving end for the most part but I still stayed awake at night waiting for things to take a turn for the worse. I jumped at nothing and everything, like a scared little mouse. I was reserved and private with friends, I held the problems into myself and did not expose anyone to it.
As well as this, I faced a level of mental, physical and, like so many other girls and women out there, sexual abuse. I won’t delve into all the details but it seems like some sick, twisted joke that once you are forced to be subjected to this as a child, you do not recognise the issue with it which leaves you vulnerable for it again as you mature into an adult and set off on your own.
This is because your self worth has been destroyed. So when you see ladies coming to the fore as part of #MeToo or another movement, or no movement at all, don’t be so quick to judge. These ladies have likely held their tongue because their self worth has been so low that until they became exposed to others discussing it they didn’t even realise what had happened to them.
I won’t dwell too long on that, I could spend a long time dissecting it but it isn’t for now.
I will note, neither of my parents were responsible for that abuse. However, what my beautiful, kind and lovely parents were responsible for was me and as much as it absolutely kills me to have to admit, there were failings. Aside from generally being exposed to an unhappy home, as a child I was used to bridge the gap. Something which ran into my adulthood.
If my father was angry, upset or, as I now reflect and realise, in a spiral of depression it was my responsibility to pick him out of it. From a young age, I was the fixer - a tool to try to make things better.
Until I actually discussed this with a professional I never saw the problem here, everything was normalised to me, but apparently not great! It’s a lot of pressure to put on a child!
Add into that a complex / chip on my shoulder of never being as good as an older sibling, whom I perceived as the ‘golden child’, feeling like I had to keep things hurting me hidden for fear of disrupting an already disruptive home for which I felt responsible for keeping the peace or holding together and well, you get yourself a nice little stew that is a recipe for absolute fucked up adulthood!
Honest Reflection.
How could I ever expect to grow into a well developed individual? The balance of genuine love I did receive from my parents is what I believe kept me from falling down an even more desperate track, a track which I pondered along on many occasions. A dark road with flickering lights where the allure of escape was often far too real.
However, my internal commentary of having to be responsible for others actually kept me from ending it on many occasions as I could not release the feeling of not wanting to let anyone down.
Jesus, unpack this shit and it’s an absolute shit show! But I don’t claim to be special or unique, the sad reality is how many people went through a similar journey or worse and are now in their early to mid adulthood and attempting to get to grips with it all. And that’s only if they managed to find the tools and resources to recognise it in the first place.
Recognise that 1. You are not mental and 2. You are not a terrible human being.
I can’t speak to anyone else but clearly I have lacked the tools to manage or cope with my emotions. Anything outside of my control freaks me out and I lose the absolute run of myself! I panic, I seek out approval and validation and often in unhealthy ways. I have had eating disorders which I have been in denial about, I have drank too much, gone off the rails and slept with far too many people!
What now? What triggered my writing, which has evidently turned into an unintentional essay about myself (fair play if you’ve made it this far, you’re a better person than me).
I recognised irrational behaviour and a deep dip in my mood as well as an increase of self critical behaviours. That was when I began writing, this is now the future, or present, or wait, is this inception? I’ve incepted myself, just know as you read now a couple of days have passed.
And it took those couple of days for the lightbulb to click on but better late than never!
Let there be Light!
I began writing this aimlessly as a means to just put my thoughts down and that was a step in the direction of realising I had to do something. I am now slowly picking myself back up from it all.
First step, I went to the chemist and I just asked what can you give me for anxiety, I am not sleeping, I have not had a proper night sleep in close to two weeks or more - I asked for…… Help!
Gulp, scary, try it sometime.
The Pharmacist gave me a product called “Avena Sativa” (check it out). I added 20-30 drops to a little bit of water and it immediately relaxed and eased my mind. I took more before bed and baby, when I say I slept! Pure, deep, joyful sleep - all the z’s.
But wait, there’s more! Thinking I might as well hit this from all angles, I also grabbed some Vitamin D supplements and began retaking my B-12. I don’t know if one or all of these things did the trick but I can certainly feel the easing effects.
So that’s the taking stuff, but that isn’t all I did - Oh no, that would be too short for me!
I knew I really needed to hit this hard if I wanted to pull myself out of the hole I could eventually be down deep within. I’m a fan of meditation, I get that some skeptical people might huff it off as new age hippie nonsense or whatever, but it can work. Youtube has a host of wonderful meditation videos and for me, switching off from the world and onto one of those helps me massively.
Additionally, I stopped hanging out of my phone, for the best part at least. I have a bit of anxiety with my phone (of course I do). I went through a period of time where my phone was a bearer of bad news, any phone call could have been bad news and eventually, it was. I realised I find it hard to let go of that, the idea that if I do not have my phone on me and with sound on 24/7 I risk not getting an important piece of news, I risk letting someone down or not being there as I should be.
Should = dangerous word. Don’t let ‘should’ govern your life or mind. Every ‘should’ is an expectation and additional level of stress you are putting on yourself. Best advice I received was to replace ‘I should’ with ‘I want to’ and see what the end result becomes.
Let’s wrap this up.
All in all, this is a time that can lead those susceptible to anxiety, and even those who are not typically, to find themselves in the mental trenches. It’s imperative to look at yourself from the outside and attempt to recognise what might be the deep rooted cause of what is effing you up. Do you really hate your body right now or is your self worth a bit low because of some other reason that deserves to be addressed?
Maybe consider going a bit easy on yourself? Don’t beat yourself up over that response or message that you regret. Don’t assume you can control others, just be yourself. Speak your truth at any given time and allow yourself that beautiful release of scary, scary vulnerability.
Don’t run from it or beat yourself up over every and any little interaction or negative thought, give yourself a break and pull yourself out of the addiction of dark thoughts. Seek out help, ask for help - even if you are just asking yourself. Make healthy choices that will have a knock on effect of making you feel good about yourself or happy in your decision.
It is far from easy, but again, nothing worth having in this life is ever easy. But then the end result, when you push through and put in that effort - it is so, so very worth it to be able to have that moment of that day when you actually don’t doubt yourself or hate yourself.
I will keep motoring along with my own work and efforts and I ask that you do the same, if you find yourself in that dark place. Push through and don’t give up on yourself, you’re all you’ve got and that’s a pretty amazing thing to have.
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Hi Em, I'm a 15yo student who's obsessing over their type again. I know I'm xNFP 6w7, and I thought I was ENFP for a while but I'm weirdly not as bored or starved from social interaction as all my ENFP friends during lockdown. From my evidence below, am I likely to be INFP instead? (xnfp1)
I thought I was ENFP because I have a severe inability to process evidence, which is commonly cited inferior Si behaviour. Then I realised that the world was clearer and using logic is the best way to determine moral righteousness. My sense of morals seems to be an abstract but deeply felt gut impulse and my arguments based on these tend to be incoherent. (xnfp2)
When I came back to reality, I realised that my arguments and thoughts were much, much clearer during lockdown. I realised this is because of much less surrounding noise because everyone's opinion deserves thought and analysis which I'm apparently unable to devote to them. Now I'm hearing a lot less from everyone and I love it. (xnfp3)
The insight I now have is that my lack of ability to cope with noise is due to 1. overthinking and 2. improper mastery of logic. The thing about logic is that I'm good with it for Math and Science (my strongest subjects) but that's because I was taught these in a super linear fashion. I struggle with unstructured learning e.g. in Languages and life skills. (xnfp4)
This is because I have a lot of trouble 1. breaking down complex tasks into simple tasks which I can cope with and 2. dealing with complex tasks in the real world without simplification. And what I don't know how to do I don't do (that's human nature right). So I'm stuck. (xnfp5)
And this is, I daresay, my greatest weakness. I can't learn anything without help. Learning at home is excruciating because I can tell I'm not learning properly. My ENTP friend sent me a long lecture about economics the other day which was completely incoherent and I become like that when there's any background noise, or if I'm trying to do anything while thinking (including typing this). (xnfp6) Is what I've written inferior Te, inferior Si or just youth and inexperience with the world? Thanks!
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Hi anon,
I am going to read this all the way through but before I even start: the combination 15 years old and “I might be an ENFP, but” are two blazing sirens that indicate you should sit tight and spend more time developing as a person. 15 is on the young edge of when type even begins to make sense, in my opinion; and the whole “I think I’m an ENFP but [new evidence has appeared and instead of calmly integrating this evidence into what I already know about myself and what led me to type as an ENFP and presenting that whole picture to you I will only focus on the new evidence]” is so common I had to make a masterpost about it. People joke about it.
Reading through completely:
I am not saying you are not an xNFP 6w7, and truthfully from this I don’t know what exactly your type is though ENFP seems very possible and likely to me, but again, 15 is very young. Your personal development in the next 5 years is likely going to be absolutely staggering. There is so much change coming your way, and you may come out of it saying “yes, I was right all along” but you may be like “oh, once I have a large measure of independence and responsibilities that are truly mine and not backed by authority figures...this doesn’t fit at all.” In short, at your age, you are welcome to type but you should keep your mind very open to the fact that you might be very far off - and that’s healthy and normal.
With that in mind: assuming your friends are of similar ages...how confident are you they’re all ENFPs? Some might be ESFPs. Some might be ESFJs. It’s also worth noting that this is going to vary situationally; an ENFP who gets along with their siblings or who has a hobby that can still continue uninterrupted during quarantine like writing or playing an instrument might be doing significantly better than an ENFP who is only child or who finds their siblings annoying and who’s favorite hobby requires going out - and that’s just a tiny part of it - I haven’t even covered things like parental relationships, confounding mental health factors, and so on. It’s not to say that people’s pandemic responses aren’t revealing, but people’s pandemic experiences vary so much that you need to have a pretty complete picture of their specific situation to even begin to understand how they’re doing and why.
I am not sure what “severe inability to process evidence” means exactly, but...if you can’t process evidence you can’t type. That’s what typing is. This whole second part is also kind of a perfect example of why I need examples: “abstract but deeply felt gut impulse” describing morality is just...nothing. I have no idea what you’re trying to say - which doesn’t mean that doesn’t accurately sum up your experience to you, but I am a stranger who does not know you and when people say “my morals are abstract” it doesn’t mean anything because I don’t know what you mean by ‘morals’ and what you mean by ‘abstract’. This could be “I have a big-picture throughline that unites all my personal values”; it could be “I have difficulty implementing my personally held beliefs in the real world”; it could be “I perceive morals as formless shapes in the void.”
I will say that the idea that everyone’s opinion deserves thought and analysis could be Ne, but also it really sounds more like the Ti-Fe spectrum. Te fundamentally doesn’t believe this although you’re young enough that you don’t really have much Te influence yet, so this is something else you should revisit. I also think the trend of understanding things best in a linear manner is a lot more in line with the introverted perceiving functions, as is the feeling of being overwhelmed by a lot of differing perspectives - a high Ne user should probably thrive in those conditions, even if they’re an INFP rather than an ENFP.
You don’t really provide examples in the 5th part which makes it difficult for me to draw conclusions; I don’t know what you see as complex, or what you see as simplification, or what you interpret as an inability to break down complexity.
Getting to the last part:
Most people have difficulty learning without help, especially at your age, and especially if we’re talking traditionally academic means of learning. Moving to at-home learning is a massive disruption that’s an issue for many people, and it’s not really something I’d type off because it’s so disruptive that there’s a good reason basically any type could be struggling.
I do wonder, based on some of the things you’ve said, and this is totally not coming from a place of expertise, if you have some kind of information processing issues going on - if lots of things seem incoherent and you struggle tuning out background noises, that doesn’t seem purely based in typology.
Anyway, my overall takeaway is youth and inexperience, and you’ll be better served by 1. Figuring out what’s going on with the background noises/being overwhelmed by tons of perspectives, 2. Cutting yourself some slack with distance learning/reaching out to teachers if you’re really struggling with independent study, and 3. Just letting time and experience do their jobs.
#mbti#i think one thing i haven't articulated well is i'm not asking for examples just because i'm a sensor#it's because people are subjective and their idea of what's abstract or organized or whatever might not actually be that thing to me#Anonymous
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Would you ever become a fan of a team you hate to please your spouse?
Hmmmmm the only sport Gab and I have in common is MMA, and we’ve never watched a pay-per-view together. I imagine it’d be fun if we were cheering for the opposite people hahaha.
Can you handle scary movies?
Yeah but I only watch them if there’s at least one person with me. I find scary movies boring when I’m alone :/
How often do you get a new purse…and for guys a new wallet?
I’m not very picky about stuff like this so I only get a new wallet – or rather Gabie gets me one, because she likes buying me stuff lmo – if I notice my current one is super worn out already.
What is the most money that you have ever spent on getting your nails done?
$0. I’ve never had a ~pampering day~ for myself, so I don’t know the hype.
Once a cheater, always a cheater?
Like most of life’s experiences, cheating is not a black-and-white situation. < My answer for the most part is yes, but I also agree with this.
What word describes your last relationship?
My first stint with Gab was hasty.
Do you have a fake I.D.?
No. Never had one, I was always too much of a goody two shoes to have one made.
Would you date someone 5 years older than you?
No. Any kind of age gap is just not my thing lmao. But who knows, maybe I’m just saying this because I’ve only ever been with someone who’s the same age as me.
Have you ever been fingered?
I have been blamed for things I didn’t do, sure -__- < LMAO yep.
Does it matter to you if your boyfriend/girlfriend drinks?
Of course, as long as she doesn’t get reliant on it.
Honestly, if you wanted to get laid right now, could you?
Not for another two weeks because the whole region is on lockdown.
Do you like deviled eggs?
I’ve never tried them but they look SO good in the shows/movies I’ve seen them in??? It’s not a common dish here at all, so I’ve only been hoping to come across them at a party or something.
What is your favorite horror movie?
Probaby the original Carrie.
Has a little kid ever fallen asleep on your lap before?
Nope. I think I’d melt if that happens.
What’s your favorite kind of float? (coke, root beer)
I don’t like those and have never had them.
If you heard your best friend’s significant other was cheating on them, would you tell them? Even if you couldn’t prove it?
I’d tell her I’ve been hearing a rumor going around, but I’d still kind of assure her by saying nothing’s been confirmed. Then again Angela hears about stuff days before I do, so there’s always a chance she’d already be aware by the time I tell her lol.
If you discovered you were pregnant at this point in time, would you keep it or abort it? Why?
Keep it then give it up for adoption. Am pro-choice but it doesn’t mean I’d get an abortion for myself.
What is the last thing you googled?
I had to Google what deviled eggs are made of for that ^ question above cos I never did figure out what’s in it - I just know it looks really good.
How far away do you live from the closest mall?
15 minutes, but that’s because I live very far from the village’s main gate and most of the 15 minutes would just be driving out of the subdivision.
Have you ever jumped off a high dive into a pool?
No. I’ve never done high jumps/dives in general, I’m scared of the possibility of falling wrong.
Ever had sex in a public place?
Semi-public. < Yeah, same.
What foods can you absolutely not eat?
Olives, raisins, fruits, ice cream with nuts, sinigang.
List four things about your facial appearance:
I have a scar by my left eyebrow, my left earlobe piercing is ripped from an accident 11 years ago, my left eyebrow in general has uneven hairs from years of plucking them out, and because my face is on the dry side, I generally don’t have acne.
Do you like hot, cold, or lukewarm showers?
It depends where I am or what time of the year it is. I like hot showers when I’m in hotels and want to feel completely relaxed, lukewarm when it’s colder at home, and cold when I’m at home and it’s summer.
Favorite holiday?
Halloween and my birthday, if those count. Holidays are generally not my thing.
Have you ever taken part in a threesome?
No.
Have you told your parents all of your secrets from when you were a teen?
Lmao yeah right. That’s one of the worst decisions you can make if you have Asian parents.
When drinking hard alcohol do you take shots more or make mixed drinks?
I have more mixed drinks but that’s mostly because my friends and I drink in chill environments more than parties. Also because they’re cheaper lmao - a single shot of tequila is usually already equal to a full glass of a mixed drink. If we’re going to college parties or birthday parties, then I don’t mind downing shots.
Have you ever been to an arena concert?
Yeah, that’s how it was in both the Paramore gigs I went to.
Do you plan on having both your parents at your wedding?
My dad yes. It depends on how my mom is going to act a year or a few months going into the wedding. I can very quickly cut her out of the guest list.
Has a friend ever really hurt you and you never told them?
Athenna did this many times but she’s always been unapologetic and it would make no sense if I tried to be honest with her.
Have you ever stayed on a ride at a theme park to ride it again?
Maybe only for my school fair’s octopus ride, but other than that I hate rides and can’t get on them.
Do you work any holidays?
No work.
Last funeral you attended?
I haven’t been to a funeral, just wakes. The last wake I visited was unfortunately Nacho’s.
Where did your mother and father meet for the first time?
The hotel they were both working at. The hotel had just newly opened and they were also fresh graduates at the time and they were both working in the kitchen, my mom being a bar waitress and my dad a cook.
What is your oldest sibling’s middle name?
I am the oldest sibling. My second name is Isabelle.
Have you ever stayed in a cheap motel?
No.
What are you currently dressed in?
CM Punk tee that’s a little big for me, and shorts.
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please tell me about your trash vamp tristan -candy pop anon
Alright buckle in coz I'mma tell y'all about my shitty vampire pretending to be a human pretending to be a shitty vamp. Tristan is the manifestation of a dumpster fire—and if there is a dumpster on fire it was most likely his doing.
((LONG POST IS LONG. I’MMA INFODUMP ABOUT MY SON.))
I believe I have a post or two that has dialogue from him, in which he’s not his usual self. He’s got some profound wisdom hidden in him somewhere, and some repressed sad from his life, usually buried down until he connects with literally anyone on a deeper level than: “Tris, why the fuck is there a skeleton in your cupboard?”
I'mma come back to Profound Wisdom and Repressed Sad later because let me first get y'all to the subject of Tristan’s cupboard skeleton.
Now, when I say trash vamp I mean that he’s not really a good guy. Like, he’s not evil, but he’s not good either. He’s a mess whose day job ((night job, considering he’s a nocturnal vamp)) is being a Certified Spook. It’s in his job description to cause just enough chaos that the supernatural is plausible in case anyone fucks up their cover, but still make it easy for the supernatural to be denied or debunked by humans. He maintains that stupidly specific balance.
Shitty Vamp = he’s got a lot of debilitating, stereotypical vampire traits that makes it super hard for him to do his job when the sun’s out
His cover is he’s a human from Ireland ((which is true, he was born in Ireland who knows how long ago)) but he’s pretending to be a stereotypical vampire from Romania ((half true due to him first being stationed in Romania due to his eldest adopted brother)).
So, technically he’s a supernatural government worker. But, again, he’s a fucking mess. There’s shit he’s repressed, or has been helped in repressing. There’s a lot of advantages to being adopted into a magic family. But there’s also a lot of disadvantages to being adopted into a magic family that descends from a hell realm.
So’s, he wasn’t raised with the best morals, and with some abstract-ish laws from a realm that birthed The Boogeyman and The Big Bad Wolf and Death’s Daughter and the Mother of Shadows. But he was also able to complete all requirements from two foreign governments and their realms to be able to have the job he does. So even if he doesn’t have the best morals—depending on your own standards, honestly—Tristan does adhere to local laws. Mostly.
Which brings us to Cupboard Skeleton aka F??? aka Frederick aka Tristan-doesn’t-remember-the-guys-name-other-than-it-starts-with-F-and-he-was-an-ass-in-life-so-Frederick-it-is
Frederick McCupboardSkeleton is the skeleton that someone—Tristan doesn’t remember if it was him or not—shoved into his cupboard in between all the cereal boxes and liquor bottles. He has slowly become a cursed skeleton since his death. Tristan’s a vampire, he doesn’t have the power or magic to banish an angry spirit or seal non-human bones to trap him. But he can contain him and keep an eye on him until he figures out who this guy was and why he (Tristan) was involved with his death (Tristan assumes). Thus he’s cursed and Tristan doesn’t keep him all in one piece.
So if ya spot Tristan anywhere outside his apartment or his eldest brother’s house, you can assume that there’s a skull in his bag and that it’s Frederick and you’d be goddamn right. They’re a pair until Tristan figures shit out OR Frederick enacts whatever revenge plot(s) he’s got stewing in his skull.
Tristan’s the one that’s usually shit on publicly and openly out of his brothers.
Ji’s the eldest and raised them all. He the one you truly have to look out for but no one’s gonna say shit to his face or even in his general direction. He’s That Guy. He’s old magic and hellfire. He’s got a reputation older than human civilization.
Isidore is biologically Ji’s little brother. Just basically runs Ji’s Estate, acts like an assistant, keeps tabs on Tristan whenever he’s home and will watch Frederick’s skull. Because he’s actually a witch that can deal with restless spirits. Not as intense as any of his brothers or his mother. The Calm One.
And the youngest is Luca. He’s a werewolf. No one truly knows if he was born that way or infected or born from infected parents. His origins are as unknown as Tristan’s. Luca was practically a baby when their mother brought him home. Just as traumatized and repressing just as much as his vamp brother. But Luca is Dealing with it, because he’s the Most Responsible of the four. Some-fuckin-how. (Izzy’s The Calm One, but don’t think he won’t go off the rails. You just won’t know until it’s too late.)
Luca works as head of personal security for the Song Siblings—who go between all the realms really. But they’re usually on Earth working with humans so he’s the closest to Tristan—also closest in age. Luca sees most of the shit Tristan ends up doing. He’s the first to point out Frederick’s bones to Tristan, actually.
But as much as he shit-talks Tristan’s bad habits—mainly mixing up the milk bottles and blood bottles and liquor bottles in his fridge when the vamp is having cereal in his presence because Luca can smell all the things—he does it out of concern. Tristan isn’t indestructible, and even as a vampire, the amount of alcohol and cigarettes he goes through a day has to be doing something to his body. Also the sugar in his favorite cereals can’t be mixing well with the blood Tristan actually has to consume to sustain himself. If sugar affects the being that blood came from, it’s probably doing even more shitty things to his brother. He’s the one that will fight you then and there if he catches you. (Ji causes paranoia because what the fuck is he up to and wHEN, and no one ever suspects Izzy until After the Fact.) ((You just can’t shit on Tristan just to shit on him.))
Tristan got fucked up by his birth family, and then by being raised in an environment where he only had one source of sustenance and it was heavily laced with things that are addictive to vampires. Addictive in ways it fucked him up even more. Namely magic, but There’s More. It’s a Big Concern for everyone who knows, because ya can’t exactly synthesize that shit. There’s More changes anyone who’s exposed to it long enough, and Tristan’s been eating it since he was a babby vamp. He doesn’t have much choice but to live off it and he absolutely hates it.
Tristan has that habit of trying to kill something inside him he can’t see or remember. He’s picked up the habit of eating junk food that’s almost pure sugar, smoking, drinking anything. He’s a fucking neon sign of reasons why preternatural mental health is A Thing they should be researching more. But also the poster boy of: We should be taking a vampire’s physical health more seriously than Just-Feed-Them-Blood.
But catch Tristan passing on some profound wisdom to school kids and anyone that reminds him of Luca. Partly because he feels like a shitty brother so here kid have some advice. Also because Ji won’t let Tristan suspend too much time with either of his kids, even with Ji’s son being 20-something now. Like, he gets it, and he’s not proud of it being that, but he’s not really changing because he has Luca and the Song Siblings. He has his friends in Louisiana. He’s buddies with Willy Shakes--
Now I’m spewing all this bullshit because a lot of it comes from a story I scrapped where Luca’s a teenager and Ji has the one kid and you meet the Song Siblings before they’re ever—Celebrities, I guess??
Because Tristan was worse. He was the brother you absolutely hated. There, you had the rest of the brothers who followed the law and then Tristan who was headed towards a Dead End. But when it came down to it, he was there for Luca. Because he was the only one there. Tristan risked himself for this baby werewolf and his friends.
And that’s where my tag in that one post comes in. Where it ties in with my dialogue posts.
It has to do with Tristan watching sad scared little witch Celia Song growing up confident-in-herself Song Seonmi.
Tristan has a habit of flirting with everything, mainly dating ghosts so far, so he has no fucking clue when she got under his skin. And as much as Luca tells him to back off his friend (and boss) he really can’t be mad that Tristan dropped The Worst of his habits to keep seeing her. Because the first time she walked out of his life completely was a disaster until Tristan figured out that she would keep disappearing before he ever reached her again so long as he was being a complete bastard. Because when she left she took her brother and his own with her. And he really didn’t want to go back to living on lockdown with Ji—or worse, with his mother in the hell-realm. Isolation does shit to you.
So the Tristan you see in the story is a better off vamp than the one from Alex and Celia’s story. That was. . . Bad. As in that story probably won’t ever see the light of day because I cried every time I sat down to write that Tristan. Like, maybe I’ll incorporate bits and pieces into other stories, and most of the TrisMi growth is written in their interactions. But I just can’t do it, yo. I love my trash vamp because there’s hope to him and just watching the change in him as he grows in the background of everyone else’s stories. I can’t write him being an Absolute Asshole.
What sealed the deal was when I wrote about Tristan losing control because of There’s More in his diet and Seonmi—still going by Celia at that point—does her damned best to try and snap him out of it. Like, my girl had hope in him and didn’t give up so I couldn’t either. Now here we are.
Tristan is as On Brand as I’ll ever be. Horrible Past, Trauma, Found Family, Walking Shitpost, Angst, and Hope. He don’t really know what he’s doing but he’s still going.
I mean yeah, I can get real deep about Tristan as a moment’s notice—i.e. this whole post because I’ve been in my feels tonight. Like, Tristan will do a bunch of shit to comfort himself. Dumpster fires. Speaking at preternatural schools (like cryptid academy I brainstormed with @ladymaliwan). Setting out food and drinks for Frederick’s skull because he feels awkward leaving none for the skull when he has his own.
Catch Tristan smokin cigs with the skull in a dumpster, both wearing sunglasses. Find trash vamp poppin out like Oscar the Grouch for advice. It’s not always good or profound, but he always got something. But also save him—because he’s sensitive to the sun as a ginger nocturnal vamp raised in a dark hell-realm, later an cold fog realm where a sun doesn’t really exist. Toss him in your trunk or a body bag to help him get home.
Dear lord, I can keep going and dump everything about him but this is long as it is. He’s one of my oldest characters. I created him before Isidore and Luca, but not too long after Ji and their mother—and Ji and their mom are fucking old. As in I’m finding scraps of paper where they’re mentioned. But it’s also telling that I’ve written Tristan on my blog more than any of my other OC’s for an original story.
#roxawrites#candy pop anon#tristan æfentid#song seonmi#luca æfentid#isidore æfentid#jianael æfentid#frederick mccupboardskeleton#listen I'll reblog this later at a more decent hour but currently the godless hours of 3am just feels right#also because i can't schedule an ask anymore??#but I can't write tags on asks on desktop anymore either???#i have such a large cast of characters that i gush about to friends#currently reworking some shit in worldbuilding but Tris won't change much I don't think#at least not as drastically that I'll scrap the story again and leave it at vague mentions#ladymaliwan#your tag since I mentioned cryptid pta story that I joked about tossing Tristan in once upon a time#also for adoring my trash vamp as much as i do#when the formatting gets fucked up after editing between devices because of the fuckin tags h el p
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Cutscene: Post-9x02
Story update, character development, a new character, oh my!
“How do you do it?” Paul asked softly. His head was pounding, mostly because Richie was up screaming most of the night.
“You mean Gracie?” Aaron asked, looking at his daughter, who was napping in his arms, “Paul, I have one...you have two kids. I can’t really-” he winced when Meredith ran through screaming with Richie running after her, “I can’t really give you advice there.”
“But you’re doing it alone,” Paul said quickly, not even phased by the screaming at this point, “Just...how?”
Aaron looked up at him, shocked, “You want to do it alone?”
“No,” Paul mumbled, “I don’t...want to. I love Daryl, you know that. But lately…” he swallowed, “Aaron, Richie doesn’t even want to speak with him on the rare occasion he’s home. I thought with Carol taking over the Sanctuary that things would be better, but they aren’t. He just turned into Maggie’s lacky instead of Rick’s,” he said quickly and sniffled, “I respect Maggie’s decision, hell...I would have done the same thing,” he swallowed, “But why...why’s it always my husband that does the dirty work, huh?” he demanded, “Why’s it always my family that gets bit in the ass?”
Aaron pursed his lips but didn’t say anything, just looked down at Gracie, who was napping in his arms, “Hey, I bet we could start getting a daycare going here. There’s a school, at the Kingdom, yeah...but nothing for the younger ones,” he looked up at him, “I’m sure we could find someone interested in teaching...and it would do you good not to be in the house all the time.”
“Alex says I’m getting paler,” Paul snorted, rolling his eyes.
“And how is Alex?” Aaron asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.
Paul pursed his lips, looking out the window, “He’s…” he trailed off and shook his head, “He’s certainly...looking at me,” he snorted, “Don’t tell Daryl...I’ll never hear the end of it if he knows he was right about him still…” he shook his head again and winced when Meredith let out a particularly loud screech, “Mer, quiet down a little,” he called, standing up and looking through the cabinets, “Daddy has a headache.”
“Need me to get you something from Harlan? I can run over to the trailer,” Aaron told him.
Paul shook his head and held up a bottle, “He already got to me,” he laughed, leaning on the counter, “Somehow he noticed I had one...despite looking after about four communities.”
“At least he has Siddiq...and Alex, I guess,” Aaron smirked.
“It’s never good to have Alex,” Paul snorted, “The good doctors probably need these more than I do with him around.”
Aaron walked up and clasped his shoulder, “I’ll ask around about getting a daycare set up,” he said, “Hang in there.”
Paul smiled at him weakly, “Thanks, Aaron,” he said, watching as he walked out. He popped the tylenol Harlan had given him and put the bottle away before looking up at the clock on the wall.
Noon.
Paul sighed, walking down the hallway towards the other bedroom, “Vi, c’mon, you can’t be sleeping this late, they’re going to start calling you lazy,” he said, knocking on the door for a moment.
Silence.
Paul sighed again, “Vi-” he opened the door and froze.
There, was his little sister, in bed with someone else from Hilltop.
It wasn’t the first time he’d sadly walked in on her...Violette had walked in on him several times as well. During the few months their parents gave them to spend together in the summer, the two always got into trouble...it was just who they were.
Hell, you leave two people in their teens in a beach house for months, there was bound to be trouble.
“VIOLETTE!” Paul snapped.
“What?” his sister groaned, burying her face in the pillow.
“It’s noon and you’re naked with…” he trailed off, gesturing to the woman beside her.
“Lily,” Violette said, “Who just got back last night, Paul.”
Paul felt his anger dissipate immediately and he grinned, “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“Well, you’re still just as high strung as she described,” Lily said, turning to him despite not having anything to cover her chest and nothing on.
Paul immediately put his hand over his eyes and looked up at the ceiling.
“Yup,” Violette said, tossing her a shirt with a grin.
Paul rolled over in bed at three in the morning, wincing as he grabbed his phone.
He really didn’t need his father waking up, especially from a noise. It would immediately turn into lockdown mode and he didn’t feel like dealing with sitting in the basement until morning when his father deemed it safe.
“Hello?” Paul asked, his voice scratchy.
“Paulie?” Violette whispered on the other line, “Hey, little brother, how’s it going?”
From the time Paul was adopted, Violette was determined that she was the older sibling, despite being younger. Paul was adopted after Violette was born, so she was determined that she was the older one here.
Violette was twenty one now and Paul was twenty four. Violette was living in New York with a job at an upcoming fashion industry, three hours behind him, since he was still living with their father in California.
“What’s goin’ on, Vi? It’s three in the morning,” Paul said, rubbing his eyes.
“I met...the most amazing girl,” Violette said, giggling drunkly, “Her name is Lily Marie Teller...fuck, Paulie, you’re gonna love her.”
Paul rolled his eyes, sure this wasn’t going to go anywhere. He’d dealt with plenty of calls like this from his sister before.
But it did go somewhere...it went to Violette bringing Lily to their annual summer trip, to meeting their dad, to bringing her all their family holidays…
“Welcome back,” Paul said, still looking up, “How’d you find this place?”
“Saw some of the signs in Ohio. I was with a small community, nothing big...” Lily said, pulling her shirt on, “Figured...if the Rovias were anywhere, they’d be in a big place like this,” she smirked, “The two of you were always so preppy, I figured you’d have to have a place with a mansion.”
Paul rolled his eyes, “Well...I’ll introduce you to my husband when he shows up. Have you met the kids?”
“Not yet,” Lily grinned, “But I’d love to.”
Then, it hit Paul.
Lily.
Lily was a pre-school teacher.
Finally, things would start going his way, especially with Aaron looking to start a daycare.
“Well, lunch will be soon, you can meet them then,” Paul said, turning around with his hand still over his eyes.
He ran right into the wall, making the two burst out laughing.
“So...when’s that husband of yours coming home?” Lily asked that night, “Starting to think he’s made up.”
“Funny,” Paul snorted, crossing his arms as the kids watched and old VHS tape, “He comes around eventually,” he said.
Paul watched as Violette gave Lily a little shake of her head, a silent don’t bring it up.
Someone knocked on the door.
Paul sighed and got up, almost tripping over one of Snowball’s four children in the process. He was pretty sure it was Buttercup that was under his feet.
He swung open the door and Alex stood there. Paul sighed and stepped outside, “What, Alex?” he demanded immediately, leaving the door slightly cracked behind him.
Alex handed him a paper.
Paul sighed and took it, “Is that all?”
“Yeah,” Alex nodded.
They stood there in silence.
“Are you going to read it?” Alex asked.
Paul sighed and opened it, reading down the page quickly.
Dear Paul,
I know this is kind of weird...a letter. It’s the same way that we called things off...but I’m also hoping it can be a new beginning for us too.
It’s no secret around here and probably outside of the community that you have been having issues with Daryl...hell, you’re not the only one. But after tonight, after what I’ve heard, I’m saying this as your friend as well as the person who is still very much in love with you, that I fear he’s dangerous.
That being said, we don’t have to tell anyone if you’d ever want to
Paul stopped reading and shoved the letter into his arms, “Okay...first of all...no. Just...no. We’re not,” he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, “We’re not getting back together, Alex. Are you completely insane?” he demanded, “I have two kids...just…” he shook his head, “Second, what did you hear?”
“You haven’t heard?” Alex asked, “Harlan and Siddiq are getting ready to leave now. Aaron’s arm was amputated at the sight of the bridge construction. Apparently the Saviors dropped a bunch of logs on it and Daryl lost his shit, beat the guy with a pan or something,” he snorted, rubbing his arm awkwardly, “Not exactly safe to be around kids.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll be the judge of that,” Paul snapped, “Alex, you’re my friend. I thought we were on a good page and then you just…” he took a shaky breath, “I need to...can you leave?” he demanded before walking inside and grabbing his coat.
He looked at Violette and Lily, “Can you put them to bed when it’s time? I need to go.”
“What’s up?” Lily asked immediately.
“Family emergency...stay with them,” Paul said before dashing out the door. He pulled his beanie down over his head and waved down the car that Harlan and Siddiq were in just before it headed out of the gate, “I’m going with,” he called, getting in the car.
Paul rushed into camp, following quickly behind Harlan and Siddiq as they rushed to the medical tent. He looked around and caught eyes with Rick for a moment before trying to hurry after them before he caught up.
“Jesus, wait a minute,” Rick called.
Paul sighed and turned around, “Yes?” he asked, crossing his arms.
“Look,” Rick cleared his throat, “I know me and Daryl haven’t been on...the best of terms lately. But I wanted you to know...you ain’t alone in this. We’re a family, you included. Okay?”
Paul nodded, not saying anything.
“What are you doin’ here?” a shocked voice asked.
Paul turned around and saw Daryl. He quickly pulled him into a hug.
Daryl hugged him back, “Sorry,” he mumbled against his shoulder, “Was tryna get back, but this happened a-and I…” he took a shaky breath, “Couldn’t leave ‘im, Paul, you gotta understand.”
“I know, I know,” Paul said, carding his fingers through his hair, “C’mon, let’s go inside and see what the docs say,” he said.
And the two went inside to check on their friend.
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27/3/21
HIIIIIIIIII, i’ve only blinked and its already MARCH. this time last year, what was i doing? i think i’ve already went for this current job interview and then a while later, the lockdown was announced~ but wow, time really flies huh. *cues the angmoh man blinking gif*
for the most part, i really want to write down the feelings i’ve been feeling (melancholy and loneliness) for the past few days and how i’ve sorted them out internally AND how i just want the future nabilah to just READ this and REMIND HERSELF that everything will be okay. it will be okay you dramatic, overreacting bitch! it will be okay. haha okay lets starteu~
#/melancholy
i’ve been feeling downcast the past few days. i dont even know where to begin. melancholy as well as feelings of sadness and depression have always been a part of me since 2017 im not gonna lie but lately, these episodes got a little bad despite me trying to keep myself occupied hahah. for the most part, i am just really really afraid of getting older. i really am. its not so much of the “getting older part” which gets to me i guess but its more of how lately, i just want to turn the hands of time and go back to my past when i was 16 in secondary school (heck even primary school) and just live a life where i didnt have to worry about anything except for studying you know? where times were simpler and i was (definitely) happier. i miss wearing a school uniform, i miss only having to worry about my studies, i miss being at home at noon and watching disney channel until i accidentally nap and not understanding trig/physics/chem. oh- what id give to be in my youth again. id do anything. i would study harder and change my whole course of life and hope that i could be someone im proud of. im desperately clinging on to good memories. i terribly miss being young. i really do.
and recently, i feel like im expiring, i feel old (really old) which is funny cos ive only turned 23 BUT the fact will always be that im turning 24 this year (2021) AND its when the bone-crushing realisation of getting old really sinks in (for me). i find myself looking back at my accomplishments (which trust me is little to none) and i just feel like people are accomplishing great things (even at such a young age). there’s nothing in my life where i can truly be proud of. what have you done with your life, nabilah? questions i ask myself everyday. but then again, people would say the past experiences have shaped who i am today and without them, i would’ve been a completely different person WHICH brings me back to the next point. the current me right now who is writing this post is not someone im all that proud of either. i feel like- i feel like im struggling (keyword: struggling) to achieve great things before i turn 30 (and trust me when i say i dont even want to live that long of a life). i’m tired of adulting, of getting old, of having to worry about financial issues, of having to worry about whether i’m at that milestone where everyone expects me to be, of wondering whether im really suited for this field im currently working in. im aware that it may be very shallow of me to think this way considering that there are some people in their 30s who will probably read this, laugh at me and say “you’re still young + you still have a long way + you still have time to figure out your life” but the FACT is THAT im NOT young! i still have a long time to figure out my life? yeah that is if i plan to live way over my 30s (which i DONT). side note, my biggest fear is actually living a long life. so.. like.. what now?
#/loneliness
this is a very touchy topic for me considering that i am planning to devote myself to the single life and dying a virgin because i really dont think (keyword: really, really) there’s a man good enough for me out there. even if there is, he lives only in my imagination. and yes, as embarrassed as i am to admit it, YES i do feel lonely at times. honestly, i really thought that loneliness is something im able to handle really well considering that ive been single.. what? my whole life? LOL HAHAHAH (its true. sucks to be ugly.) but yeahhhh as of late, during times when things get hard at work and i start tearing up in public transport on the way home, when home doesnt feel like home anymore, when the world conspires against me... i look up and wonder @God, “don’t i deserve someone who i can talk to, who loves me for who i am, who doesnt mind the mess i am?” ok that was abit cringey but yeah i used to be ashamed of secretly wanting someone special despite swearing to the single life BUT thats just how it is! and honestly i feel that humans are not psychologically meant to be lonely, that is why we’ll always crave for a partner (even if we dont need one). but all that aside, its not like im going to even try and find one (like i said, there is no one good enough for me out there) and i absolutely detest the idea of getting married and having kids so i will have to suck this lonely feeling up and just live. for the most part, i just wanted to point out how lonely this adult life can be.
side note: its really great that i have a really good support system (my siblings and friends), so yeah.. i’m really grateful for that<3.
things i want the future nabilah to read (now that i have come to terms with these feelings):
phew that was a rollercoaster now wasnt it. now that you’ve typed all that and acknowledged what you feel, i have a few things to say to you.
i just want you to know that you are (as much as you dont want to hear this or dont believe in this), you are doing well (at least the future you reading this wont look back and be embarrassed of who you were). you may not have done well for o’s, may have slacked a bit during poly and uni and regret everything academic wise (and yes personality wise) but always remember that, these things do not define the authentic real you. not getting into a local university and not achieving greater things in life during your youth, these are trifle things that you shouldnt be ashamed of or even beat yourself up about. after all, they dont matter in the afterlife?? so like, stop it. its not like you can go back to the past and change it, you only have control of the present and thats WHAT you have to work on. as tough as it may be, as much as you refuse to get old, the harsh reality is that you have to and you will. you have a degree and you’re getting experience working in the field you have always been curious about and you’re on your way to get a another diploma under your belt. you’re really doing the most if i must say??. and you’re so lucky to be able to love what you studied and do what you like. off track and a side note, i wanted to tell you that i woke up today feeling a tremendous shift in me (and i really honestly think its because of the conversations i had with zim, bff and syiqs the past consecutive days). but i honestly woke up feeling excited at what i have to offer the world. you may not be the prettiest and the smartest but the amount of love you have (and willing to give) in your heart, the feelings of empathy you’re capable of and the change you want to make in lives.. these are things that define you and you can do just that. there are times where you will definitely feel afraid and wonder if you’re doing the right thing but as long as you keep reminding yourself of your morals and values, i think you’re pretty much on the right track.
and i know, i know you hate yourself more than anything else in this world. the face you see in the mirror and the horrible things you feel inside you, your dumb thoughts and all that but i really pray that in the years to come, you’ll grow to be kinder to yourself (and definitely the people around you). be kinder to yourself and have courage to face your flaws and work towards being a better person everyday. be kind to everyone (especially your parents) and just have a little faith that you can go through many hurdles in your life. you cannot do everything but you can do some great things and that is enough. i dont have to remind you that everything here and now in this world is just temporary right? remember the podcast you heard yesterday? true happiness will be in the afterlife, inshaAllah. death will come for you, you just have to be patient and never forget to work towards the afterlife. also dont feel too lonely. ultimately, you know you dont have the mental capacity for things like marriage and having kids and all but dear nabilah, if you get lucky and love comes to you one day through Allah, i hope that you dont close your doors firmly shut to it and embrace it if you may (only run when the guy proposes cos u aint got no time for that). last but not least, please never let go of good memories. cling on to them and let them be attestations of your kindness and love. always be kind and always try to be better for the people around you. i hope you’re smiling as you read this, i hope you’re proud of who you have become and i hope that you continue to always remind yourself of amazing person you are, despite all that you went through.
- 23 year old nabilah (technically 24 this year but hey SUCK IT TIME IS A SOCIAL CONSTRUCT)
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❛ you’re just whatever you think other people want you to be. ❜
Étienne was gone. His things were gone. He left without a note. Without a goodbye. He just up and ran away without saying anything.
Regi knew there’d have never been a goodbye anyway.
“I’ve tried calling him,” Luci sighed. “He probably just had some family things to take care of-”
“He’s not in contact with them,” Regi stated quickly. He tugged at the sleeves of his sweater, feeling like he was being tied up. “Kinda like me and Marianne…”
Luci nodded. “Okay then. Maybe he’s just seeing to some work things. That’s a possibility, right?” They gently put a hand on his shoulder. “Étienne wouldn’t just up and leave without telling us. He’s a logical man. A talented, smart person like you. It was probably some kind of emergency and saying he’s leaving or letting us know slipped his mind. Kinda like you when the new comics come in at the shop?”
That…does make sense, Regi thought.
“He’ll be back,” Luci assured, giving him a reasurring smile. “He’ll come back to to see you and tell us what happened.”
“As if he ever cared about you enough to bother.”
Regi’s body stiffened as he turned around slowly. The source of the new voice was someone he didn’t know. And yet he knew like he did his own siblings. The same berry-blonde hair he’d come to love on his best friend, on the head of an older man with a cold smile. His amber eyes were filled with a mix of disgust and surperiority.
Damien? How the hell did he get in here?
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Regi asked.
Damien shrugged. “You know my brother. He doesn’t care about anyone or anything but himself and his work. Just like you.”
Regi shook his head, backing away slowly. Luci had completely vanished from view. The room became a dark void as he whispered. “You’re wrong.”
“Are we?” Another figure with dusty blonde hair walked up beside him, looking forlorn. “You’re a lot alike, you know? Bottling everything up. Believing there’s no one in the world who understands hardships like you do. You both think you’re misunderstood geniuses.”
Another blonde, this time lighter, appeared, waking side by side with Marianne. “You both hide how you really feel about things. You put your creations over everyone else.”
“Stop. Just stop.” Regi was shaking. Fear and rage were boiling in his veins.
“He doesn’t care about you, Regi boy,” came a softer voice. A more digitized, angelic tone. A tone that belonged to another technological hero Regi had admired for years. A hero who joined the ever growing circle of people surrounding him.
Uncle Elbert? But he’s dead. Isn’t he?
“Étienne doesn’t care,” Derezzed said. “And you don’t either. Not really. You’re just whatever you think other people want you to be. You’re a nobody.”
Tanith stepped forward, hugging herself as she cried tearfully. “You never really did care.”
“It was always ‘I’ve got work’ and ‘like it really matters’,” Marianne scoffed. “I worked my ass off to feed you and this is how you repay that kindness?”
“We gave up so much for you,” Mary whimpered. “And you threw us away.”
“No I didn’t-” Regi was starting to panic. His parents walked up to him, shaking their heads.
“Are you really that weak son?”
“Are you really that selfish?”
“Shut up.”
A little girl, frozen and alone. Little Millie who he failed to save.
Oh god why?
“Why are you acting so cold?” Millie whimpered. “Why are you being so cruel?”
Ceri, standing there, removing his eyepatch. “You don’t think we suffered too? Why are you obsessing over Étienne’s betrayal? You can move on. He does all the time once he’s done with someone. Right? Isn’t that how he is?”
“No he isn’t. You don’t understand-”
“I think we understand plenty,” Damien laughed. “You’re both so alike, but you’re in denial because you’re a ‘suffering genius’ and a pro hero. Isn’t that right?! You think you’re better than the rest of us. Better than Étienne even-”
“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING!!!”
Everyone around him went silent.
“You think I like being like this?!” Regi screamed. “You think I like constantly fearing for my life and holding my hands close to me because I’m so damn afraid they’ll be chopped off again?! You think I derive pleasure from all the pain of losing everyone I’ve ever had the courage to open up to?! That being abandoned by my best friends and loved ones is my favorite pastime?! I can’t just brush everything off like you all can and pretend everything will be okay because it won’t! And I have to face that fact every day and move beyond it because if I don’t, it means death!”
Everything began to grow murky, the figures surrounding him staring at him in fear.
“You don’t understand anything and I’ve had it! I’m sick of the abandonment! I’m sick of it all! You think you understand how I feel about all of this? You’re nothing but shadows! A curse on my mind and my life! I’ve had enough of you!!!”
Soon, everything came back into focus. The void became the living room, covered in brand new items made from the appliances. Meatloaf was watching from outside, having snuck out when Regi wasn’t looking.
And staring at him, eyes wide with a waterfall of tears streaking their cheeks, was his beloved Luci.
It had all been a hallucination. But that didn’t matter. He had still said all that. He still said all of that while facing Luci.
He just called Luci the one thing he swore he’d never call them.
He’d hurt them.
It’s over Reginald. You lost.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Before he could see their response, he ran back to the bedroom, locking the door before hurrying to the lab and going into lockdown. R.A.I.N.E.E. watched him from one of the shelves as he went about the lab, pacing and cursing. He knew he shouldn’t have let this affect him so much. It was just how Étienne was. He always left without saying anything. That was always how he-
Regi stopped.
“That’s how Étienne always dealt with pain,” he whispered. “Burying it until he could be alone and never reaching out…He probably left because he was suffering because of this too.”
Regi sat at his desk, deciding he needed to do something to try and distract himself from the voices invading his head. He opened the draw to grab his sketchbook and-
“Wait a minute.” He looked around. “Where’s my resignation? I could have sworn I-”
Everything seemed to click.
Étienne was suffering from all of this just as badly as he was, but hid it. He discovered Regi was going to quit support design and didn’t mention it.
And he left before he could be hurt again.
It’s all my fault.
Regi closed the drawer and got out of his seat, making his way to the familiar corner he’d spent so many days in not long ago. He sat down, pulls his knees to his chest, and cried himself to sleep.
Luci closed up the kitty carrier, cooing gently to Meatloaf to assure her that everything was going to be okay. They didn’t want to leave. But they had to for now. Regi didn’t want them around anymore. And they weren’t in a state to take care of him. Be there for him. Their quirk had been overused and was clawing at their insides. Luci needed a break.
It was nonnegotiable.
“R.A.I.N.E.E.?” Luci called softly. “Can you give Regi a message for me?”
R.A.I.N.E.E. appeared on the coffee table, looking more monochromatic than usual. “Yes, Master Amaryllis?”
“Tell him I’m taking Meatloaf and we’ll be staying at the hotel for a couple of days,” they explained. “We’ll be back before we have to visit L and Marianne in Bel-Town. I promise. I just have to take a break for a few days because of my quirk. If he needs anything, he knows how to reach us.”
“Very well, Master Amaryllis.”
Luci nodded. “Thank you.” Before they turned to leave, they reached over and pressed their phone to the tablet on the table, transferring the data to it. “And if you can, try to call Étienne for me? I’m really worried about him too.”
“Yes, Master Amaryllis.”
With that last errand done, Luci grabbed their bag and Meatloaf’s things and headed out. No taxi waited. They’d have to walk. Crude, but they’d gotten used to it. Luci made their way up to the Secret Felines slowly, pausing every so often to catch their breath and let out a cough.
They made sure to hide the blood on their lips before walking through the door.
#myselfinserts#mybnhaocs#friend's ocs#the au of class#oops I think I went a little overboard#whoopsie daisy#Anonymous
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Rapunzel Rewritten
Basically, I’m rewriting a fairy tale (the story of Rapunzel) to make it more inclusive to people of color, LGBTQ+ people, and to have it take a more feminist approach since many fairy tales are about women getting saved by men.
Rapunzel was sick and tired of her tower. No doors, one window, and no way out. She blamed her nonexistent parents. If only they hadn’t gone and stolen those vegetables. No, she blamed the witch. Who stole someone’s baby because they’d stolen some plants?
The witch did, that’s who.
She’d told Rapunzel the story when she was 16. It was her birthday present, which completely sucked. Once upon a time, she’d begun, there was a couple who lived in a small cottage next to a witch. That was when Rapunzel knew this was her story. The witch had told her shortened versions of this story before.
The couple, the witch continued, was expecting. The wife had pregnancy cravings, everyone does, that’s excusable, but the way she acted on them, was not. She was craving rampion, the witch’s most prized vegetable, and she asked her husband to steal some of it for her. Maybe if they’d asked nicely, the witch would have given some to them, she’d had pregnancy cravings as well. Rapunzel frowned at that. If the witch already had children, then why did she want Rapunzel? But no, the witch proceeded, they had to steal. The witch decided they had to be punished.
The couple had stolen something prized from the witch, so the witch decided to steal something prized from them. Their baby.
One night, the screams of the wife giving birth, then later, the wailing of a baby filled the air. The witch gave them a day or two to get settled, to give into the false idea that they were safe, that the witch had forgotten. Then she struck.
The witch came into the little cottage in the night, quiet as a mouse, and tiptoed to the cradle where the baby lay. As she snatched up the baby, she let the window creak, just the tiniest bit when she’d opened it up, and escaped into the night.
When the couple woke up, hearing the creak of the window, they were hysterical, rounding up the entirety of the small village to search for the witch. But their efforts were futile. The witch had escaped with the baby, and soon enough, she’d found a tower for them, where the baby had grown up, and became you, my dear Rapunzel.
Rapunzel hated the story. She hated how the witch told the story in third person, making seem farther away, and untrue, rather than the story of her life. She hated that the witch called her “my dear” when she’d stolen her away from her family. She especially hated that she’d been little and unable to defend herself. So she made sure it would never happen again. The library in the tower was very well-stocked, so Rapunzel, all through her 16th year in the tower, taught herself self-defence. Rapunzel didn’t want any help from anyone, ever again, except to maybe get out of this tower.
So, when one day, three princes turned up, during her eighteenth year in the tower, she knew this was her chance to escape. The tallest one shouted to her, “Maiden! We have come to free you from your tower!”
Rapunzel had a plan. She’d had a plan for a long time now. She’d cut off her hair, tie it to the bedpost of her bed, after dragging the bed to her sole window, of course, then carefully climb down, with a bag she’d made herself, containing food for a week or so, and a few of her favorite books. After that, she’d distract the prince in some way, then use her self-defence techniques to disable him, steal his horse, and ride off. She’d read in books how princes took the rescued princesses to their kingdoms to get married, and Rapunzel wanted no part of that.
However, Rapunzel realized the flaw in her plan. There were three princes, and she’d only planned for one. Rapunzel was smart, though, and quickly came up with a new plan. She’d travel with them for a day or so, and then, at night, when they were all asleep, she’d steal one of the horses and travel to the closest town, crafting a story along the way about how she got lost while traveling with her family, or something of the sort.
Once Rapunzel got to the bottom of her hair, she said in her ‘helpless maiden’ voice, “Thank you, gentlemen, so much for coming to rescue me. A witch stole me from my family when I was very small and has been keeping me here since.”
One still wore his hood, Rapunzel noticed, and one was still perched on the back of a horse, looking sickly.
One with short-cropped hair and dark skin stepped forward. “My companions and I have been searching for you for many days, fair maiden,” he said, “We heard of your tower from your sibling, Harper.”
“Sibling?” Rapunzel asked, confused, “I don’t have any siblings, I was taken to this tower as a baby.”
The hooded figure spoke up. “Yes, that would explain your ignorance of them. They are only seventeen, born almost a year after the witch took you. She didn’t turn up for them, though, until two years after their birth.”
“They?” Rapunzel was thoroughly perplexed now. “I thought you said the singular sibling.”
Rapunzel was intelligent, but books, especially a limited selection of them, could only teach a person so much. She knew next to nothing about anything besides math, and science, the witch gave her free reign with that, but books about the outside world and anything pertaining to it were kept on strict lockdown. She had poetry books and knew a lot about grammar and things, but she had few fantasy books. The ones she had she’d practically memorized.
“They/them pronouns are gender neutral terms, used by those who don’t feel they fit into a gender binary,” said the man with the short-cropped hair.
“Gender binary?” Rapunzel asked.
The one on the horse said, “It’s okay. She probably won’t get it yet.”
“That’s Harper,” said the man from before.
“This is too confusing to think about right now,” Rapunzel stated, “We have to go. The witch could be back at any second.”
“She’s right,” Harper said, shifting in their seat, “We’ll have time to get properly introduced later. I’ll ride with Felix, and you can ride with Cameron since we only have two horses.”
The man with the short-cropped hair is Felix, Rapunzel noticed, so the hooded figure must be Cameron. “Get on the horse in front of me,” Cameron says, and though she had heard the voice before, she realizes it’s higher than she expected. The name Cameron isn’t really any indication to gender, so Rapunzel decided to be bold.
“I’m sorry, but,” Rapunzel remembered what Felix had said about the pronouns. She didn’t know if there was any etiquette, but she supposed that since she’d been locked in a tower for her entire life, she could be let off easy, “what are your pronouns?”
Cameron pushes back (her? his? their?) hood and Rapunzel sees that (she? he? they?) has long dark hair and olive skin. “My pronouns are she/her,” she informed, “and if you could get on the horse so we could leave, that would be great.”
Rapunzel frowned at her abruptness but did as she was told. Cameron got on behind her and took up the reins.
Felix and Harper are already on their horse, and they were both looking over at Cameron to see if she was ready to go. She nodded, and they were off.
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Thought I'd post this piece from Vogue........
Why Is It So Hard to Return to Normal?
BY MOLLY JONG-FAST
June 4, 2021
A year ago, we were a country frozen in time. Empty planes flew across the sky, life took place on Zoom. We cleaned our groceries, left deliveries outside for days, and debated whether going to the store was really worth the risk. But what a difference a year makes! We are a country in which more than half of Americans are fully vaccinated, and air travel is almost back to pre-pandemic levels. Like it or not, life is getting back to normal. And largely, we don’t like it.
Of course, we will never be “normal” again. The scars of a pandemic will be indelible, will shape us in ways we can’t even begin to guess. The worldwide death of millions will linger in our collective consciousness forever. My grandfather, who died in the 1990s, never got over the flu pandemic of 1918. He developed small habits shaped by his fears. He never took the bus. He walked to work every day. He took handfuls of vitamins. He never got over the miracle of surviving the thing that killed so many of his siblings, his friends, his peers.
We are a country of mourners now; more than 596,000 Americans have died of coronavirus. According to an AP/NORC poll, one fifth of all Americans have lost someone they know to COVID. We aren’t the people we were in January of 2020 and we never will be. And we Americans are the lucky ones: COVID still rages across most of the world. Countries like Colombia and Argentina are seeing their worst death rates so far.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, our new normal is upon us now. Employers want us back in the office, and people want to travel. They want to go back to the rituals of normal American life—weddings, funerals, birthday parties, graduation celebrations. Various media outlets have predicted a roaring 2020s.
But the problem with “getting back to normal” seems to be two-fold. One problem is that some people don’t want to go back to normal. As Anders Melin and Misyrlena Egkolfopoulou noted in Bloomberg, “A May survey of 1,000 U.S. adults showed that 39% would consider quitting if their employers weren’t flexible about remote work.” Working from home has created a culture of families that eat lunch together, of pets that enjoy midday strolls, of life that is just a little bit calmer. My husband, who used to spend one week a month in California for work, no longer makes his regular cross-country trips. As Sigal Samuel writes for Vox, “The pandemic has proven that remote work is totally feasible for many jobs, validating people’s suspicions that our standard model of office work is arbitrary, unnecessarily taxing, and ultimately exploitative, sometimes forcing people to choose between their well-being and their career.” Why go back to the elements of normal life which were, in themselves, completely pointless?
And then there’s the question of people still being cautious—especially those who worked on the front lines, and not just in medical fields. A study from the University of California found the highest mortality among “cooks, line workers in warehouses, agricultural workers, bakers, and construction laborers.” The Brookings Institution points out that, “low-income and minority populations face a higher risk of dying from COVID-19 due to structural conditions, health inequities, and a higher prevalence of preexisting health conditions such as heart disease, asthma, and diabetes.” Now we’re wondering why these people aren’t more enthusiastic about going back to the same jobs that nearly killed them?
And the other problem, it seems, is that people seem to have shifted the concept of what “normal” even is. Take air travel: Before the pandemic people used to submit themselves to what we assumed were the standard indignities of flying: delays, crowds, an extra dollar for a drop of water or a place to stash your bag. But unless you found yourself on the last flight out of Miami on a Sunday evening, unruly passengers weren’t the problem they now seem to be. The president of the Association of Flight Attendants-CWA, Sara Nelson, recently told CNBC that she and her colleagues were facing “an environment that we just haven’t seen before, and we can’t wait for it to be over.” Passenger behavior, she said, has become “complete nuts.” After a video of a Southwest Airlines attendant having her teeth knocked out by an unruly passenger, both American Airlines and Southwest Airlines have stopped serving alcohol in their main cabins for now. The Federal Aviation Administration said it has received approximately 2,500 reports of unruly passenger behavior this year; nearly three-quarters of them have to do with a failure to comply with the federal mask mandate.
This week, the data company Morning Consult released a poll that said three in five Democrats felt comfortable returning to normal. That’s the highest it’s been during the pandemic, but it’s still not five out of five, or even four. How do you tell people to go back to normal when you aren’t 100% sure about the very thing that is going to allow you to resume regular life? The mRNA vaccines are new, and so far they have amazing efficacy (95%), but we’re learning as we go. We don’t know exactly the rate for breakthrough infections; the New England Journal of Medicine thinks it low, but it’s not zero. So far the vaccines work on the variants, but every mutation is a roll of the dice. After more than 15 months of telling people to err on the side of caution, public health officials now need to figure out how to tell those very same people a different message: how to balance lingering caution with a limited but highly optimistic data set.
Look, we’re all freaked out. We’re scared. We’ve been through the kind of thing that happens in movies, in hour-long TV dramas, in books. Since I’ve been vaccinated, I have been on airplanes and to dinners and to birthday parties, and it’s been weird and strange and abnormal. Sometimes I look at the person I’m talking with and all I can think about is how uncomfortable I feel. Sometimes I fantasize about just getting up and walking out of the restaurant. Sometimes I wonder what the point of these social interactions even are. Coming back after a year-plus of not socializing, of not participating in the acts of everyday life, has been jarring and somewhat upsetting. And I say all this as someone who had a pretty easy time in lockdown. I can only imagine how hard and complicated and guilt-inducing this is for people who have lost parents or siblings or co-workers. No one said coming back to normal would be easy, and in fact it’s not. Most of us can’t just flip a switch on our feelings, especially when they are connected to trauma, and what we went through this past year—what much of the world is still experiencing—is trauma on a life-altering level.
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