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eddieschains · 10 months

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Is It Actually Over?

A/N: this is a repost from when i first started my blog

Word Count: 1.2k

Part 1

TW// cheating, angst

“Whose baby is that?” Eddie questions the both of you. You look at Steve, who’s looking between you and Eddie.

“Hey Eddie.” Steve greets him with a shaky hand. Eddie ignores him and continues staring at the sleeping child in the car seat.

“Is anyone going to answer my question? Or am I just supposed to know?” You and Steve look at each other, searching for what to say. “Is she yours Harrington? Knock some poor girl up that decided she didn’t want you anymore?”

“Eddie! Stop it!” You yell at him. You motion at Steve to give you the keys to the apartment and you unlock the door, ushering Eddie inside. “You should come inside.”

You had already moved most of your furniture inside so there would be less to bring on the actual move in day. Eddie takes a seat on the hand me down couch your grandmother gifted you, as you sit in the recliner across from him. Steve sets the baby down next to you as he leaves to bring all the boxes inside.

“What’s her name?” Eddie questions, his eyes never leaving the child.

“Kelsey.” You respond, a soft smile gracing your lips.

“How can you and Steve have a kid? I’ve only been gone 7 months. Were you- were you cheating on me?” He finally looks up to meet your eyes.

“No Eddie, I would never. She’s… uh… she’s not his.” Your voice is shaky. You weren’t prepared to have this talk today, or any time soon for that matter.

You can see Eddie’s eyes welling up once again, a single tear falling from his left eye. “Are you saying that… that she’s mine?”

Steve carries the final box into the kitchen, listening in on your conversation wondering if he should stay with you or make his way to one of the bedrooms. He decides to unpack the box labeled kitchen first. That way he can give you guys your space while also keeping a close eye on things to make sure nothing goes wrong.

“Yes… she’s yours Eddie.” He lets out a laugh of disbelief, shaking his head.

“No no how- how can that be? You would’ve told me.” He protests. “And… and we used protection every time.”

“I didn’t find out until after you left. Apparently condoms don’t work 100% of the time. I wanted to tell you, I did. But you didn’t really give me a chance.” You scoff. “You didn’t leave a number Eddie. You didn’t leave a number or and address or anything. Was I supposed to just go to LA and roam the streets until I found you?”

“You knew where Wayne lived. He would’ve told you.” He stares into his lap, sniffling his tears away.

“Yeah let me just knock on Wayne’s door and tell him I need your number because i’m pregnant with your baby while you’re 2,000 miles away. That sounds like a great idea.” You stand up from your seat in the living room, walking into the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

Eddie is still sat down, looking over at Kelsey again. “Can I at least hold her?”

You turn to Steve, looking for advice. He reaches for your hand giving it a squeeze. A silent let him glowing in his eyes. You finish your water, before making your way back to the living room. You pull Kelsey out of her seat, holding her as you sit down next to Eddie.

You don’t give her up quite yet. You look down at her, admiring her features as Eddie does the same. You never noticed how much she looks like him until now. Or maybe you just didn’t want to believe it. She had his thick curly brown hair, his full pink lips, and his wide brown eyes. The more you look at her, you realize the only thing she had of yours was your nose.

You take a deep breath in before handing her over to Eddie. He lays her in his arm, supporting her head with the crook of his elbow while he plays with her soft ball of curls.

“She’s beautiful.” He smiles.

“She looks like you.” You smile back. Steve senses the tension starting to fade, so he makes his way over to you. Sitting on the couch with a comforting hand placed on your thigh.

“What’s her full name?”

“Kelsey Anne Munson.” He looks up at you, trying to fight back tears for the third time today. Anne was his mothers name. Even though you thought Eddie would never come back, you still wanted Kelsey to know the people that she came from.

“After my mom? Or am I being conceited in thinking that?” A chuckle leaves your mouth.

“No. She’s named after your mom.” You smile, kissing the top of her forehead. Eddie smiles with a slight glimmer of tears welling up in his eyes as he hands her back to you, laying her back into the warmth of her mothers arms.

“So you guys are raising her together? So Steve- Steve’s like her… dad?”

Steve shakes his head. “I may be helping raise her but you’ll always be her dad, man.” Eddie smiles at Steve before returning his focus on you and Kelsey. Steve stands up to grab his keys off the kitchen table. “I’m gonna go to the grocery store so we have something to eat tonight. I’ll let you guys catch up some more.” He smiles before walking over to you, placing a kiss on your forehead and making his way out the door.

You and Eddie sit in silence for a few minutes, just admiring what the two of you created.

“So… we made a baby.” He interrupts the silence, rubbing Kelsey’s little feet.

“Yeah, yeah we did.” You chuckle, looking him in the eyes. His eyes are void of sadness. You see nothing but love glimmering in his pupils. This is the man you fell in love with. This is the man you planned on spending your whole life with. The man filled with nothing but love. You don’t realize how long you were staring at him until he pulls away for a second.

“I missed you. A lot.” Eddie admits. “I should’ve called, I should’ve come back. I shouldn’t have even left in the first place. I’m so sor-“

“Shh. It doesn’t matter. You’re here now, with your daughter. That’s all that matters Eds.” Eds. His favorite nickname. He’d never felt more content than in this moment. All the fighting before, it didn’t matter. All he cared about was that you were here.

Suddenly, his hand reaches around your neck pulling you closer to him. “Eddie… what are you doing?” Before you can get a response from him, his lips are on yours. His lips are just as soft as you remembered, and his taste, god his taste, a perfect mixture of tobacco and his favorite mint gum.

You fall deep into the kiss, your arm that isn’t holding Kelsey up snaking around to the back of his head. Your fingers intertwine with his curls, pulling lightly. Eddie moans softly into the kiss, moving one hand down your hip.

It feels like time itself has halted. The world has stopped turning. Nothing and no one left but you, your daughter, and Eddie. Neither of you pay attention to the sound of the door opening until you hear footsteps approaching.

“Steve…”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader

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grison-in-space · 2 months

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Reading Men Who Hate Women (Laura Bates, 2020) at the moment. She's talking about the manosphere: the massive online communities of men who congregate to talk misogyny, ranging from PUAs to MRAs, incels and MGTOW. These aren't new topics to me—I've been following this off and on since watching Gamergate kick off—but Bates handles them well and I think this book could serve as an introduction if this is a movement with which you're not familar. By the way, it's been a decade since Gamergate this year. Isn't that a kicker?

(Incidentally, I first ran into the concept of incels way before I think many people did: when I was still on AVEN, c. 2006-2007ish, I remember a few occasions where users ran into incel communities and brought them to our forums to ask: is this like what we're doing? Is this like us? Consensus quickly solidified on the direction of "no," each time, not least because asexuality dialog at the time was extremely clear about divorcing desire from action, and it was very clear that the desires centered in that community were very different than the ones people in asexuality spaces were untangling.)

Bates handles the topic with grace, compassion, and a deep understanding that I really wish more writing on radicalization or terroristic networks used: people in real pain, who are struggling in pitiable circumstances to do their best and clearly need more support, can also in their pain be truly dangerous to others. Hurt people hurt people. Compassion for pain suffered is important—you can't understand recruitment without understanding that—but you also have to understand that pain, fermented in darkness, can create deadly poisons. Pain isn't essentially holy or cleansing or cauterizing. It doesn't accomplish anything good by existing. If we can relieve it, we should—but we should follow harm reduction principles as we do so, lest pain be allowed to multiply and fester.

What gets me is that in 2017, in the wake of the Google bro "manifesto," I spent a feverish week writing what wound up being a 20,000 word rebuttal studded with what eventually totaled 100+ peer reviewed citations. It got quite a bit of reach and covered ground ranging from effects of testosterone on behavior, the concept of effect size in sex differences, basic statistics, the ways that humans treat people differently based on their perception of gender, intersex trauma, and whether feminists care about men's problems (yeah, actually, and they should).

I released that piece, changed up my name and fannish presence—my long time pseud was tangled all over the piece's genesis—and hunkered down for the reprisals. I expected harassment and vitriol. It never really came: I ignored the comments on the post, after a bit, and I held boundaries on what I was willing to pay attention to. But by and large, I had no direct consequences from the Manosphere.

Perhaps the piece was too long (although I got many comments from people who read it and found it useful, and I included an index). Perhaps it was simply that I included a headshot of myself, with uncharacteristic red lipstick and characteristically buzzed hair, and cheerfully discussed throughout that I was butch and queer: sometimes I confuse people who are very focused on bioessentialist sex differences, because I don't fit their paradigms in the slightest.

About six months later, James Damore attempted to frame his incredibly poor decisions in light of his Asperger's, and I did get a couple dudes on social media presenting me with this information apparently in the hope that it would shock or embarrass me. I immediately pointed out, acerbically, that I'm equally autistic and that he was making us look bad, and they melted away again into the background. It wasn't really the well of terrifying anger and obliterative fury I was expecting.

I find myself reading these stories in Bates' book and thinking about the internet I grew up on: AVEN by 2005, WrongPlanet the same year, listening to people on the margins talk about their fears and hopes and dreams and theories about themselves. I find myself thinking about narratives and meaning, the stories we tell ourselves about who we are and why.

I'm certainly not the first person to worry about radicalization of young autistic people, especially autistic men. Not even close. Paradoxically, it's a group of people for whom an understanding of intersectionality is crucial: young disabled men often alienated deliberately from conceptualizing themselves as disabled, without the tools to understand why life is hard and painful and never seems to reflect their experiences, trying to construct understanding beyond one's singular, isolated defective wrongness—which is what's left, if you take community off the table.

(Have I mentioned how grateful I am that so many autistics are trans spectrum? Imagine if we weren't, and if I didn't have so many transfeminine sisters funneled along those same currents and drifting closely enough alongside to understand. My sisters, so many of whom are out there living and modeling better ways to understand and participate in gender as a social activity: by figuring out what is most comfortable for you, understanding that comfort for one might be agony for another, and taking steps to shape your own life into a fashion that wells forth the most peace and joy. It's a message we all need to hear, but that is a group of people I hear singing so loudly from my place in a different wing of the choir, and I love them for it.)

I don't have answers. As is, so often, the case these days, I have only grief and love, and the determination to build better structures where my own hands reach. I had intended to direct my career, once, to undermining the entire concept of "good genes" models of evolution and explaining how their convoluted connections to natural phenomena are better explained by other, more direct motives. Since 2020, I've been moving in a new direction—but what precisely it is, I'm not sure.

Sex differences is certainly a piece of it, though. Even if I find myself often enough writing that it's not enough to know a sex difference in one species to assume that another will reflect a similar relationship: we should study sex differences in animals, but we really shouldn't assume that humans will have the same ones or work the same way. I suspect this won't be the first time I tangle with that community. I suppose it depends how much authority I can accrue as protection first.

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redleavesinthewind · 4 months

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elliot's 2023 fic wrap up

2022 version

alright friends it is once again time for me to review the (many) fics i read in the previous year and try to write a more or less concise rec list of my absolute faves (i wish i didn't have to chose but heh i'm not gonna subject anyone to 332 fics in 1 post - also wait only 332 fics? that's like. over 100 less than last year, what the fuck. anyway)

okay now first the part that interests no one but me (yes you may skip this) and that's the numbers part! i'm not making a whole elaborate spreadsheet to then not throw around cool numbers. anyway.

i've read around 4,932k words in 332 fics across 18 fandoms. that is much less than last year, and yeah, i've been generally less productive in 2023 but we don't have to talk about it. at least i have more variety of fandoms this time (let's ignore that it's only 2 more and also that from fandom 13 on there's only 1 fic per fandom)

i started out the year strong with 847k words across 72 fic in february (followed by 753k across 42 fics in january, and 621k words across 63 fics in march). it goes downhill for the rest of the year. eh it wasn't my year so what! 2024 is gonna be more filled with fic reading again!!!

my top 3 fandoms are so entirely unsurprising to me i am almost disappointed in myself. when did i become so predictable. top fandom is young royals with 166 fics! congratulations young royals, you are a very persistent hyperfixation, you didn't peter out after 2 months like i expected. Spot number 2 is taken by avatar the last airbender with 41 fics! giant leap there, but it's also funny because i fell into an atla rabbit hole late 2023 (as i do every few years) and it still got up to 41 fics despite uni not allowing me to read last semester (uni is evil). Same as last year, spn takes third place with 38 fics. speaking of persistent hyperfixations.......... *big sigh*

and that is it the boring part is over let's go to the fun section LET'S REC SOME FIIIIIICCCCSSSSSSS (under the cut)

JANUARY

bet you you'll ... (noraverse) (series) by @gh0sthugs | young royals, wilmon | teen&up | 52k words

a kid fic!! and such a sweet one too! i'm kinda weak for kid fics ngl, and nora is so sweet and wonderful, and the relationship that slowly forms between wille and simon is beautiful and comfortable. this whole series is just such a good time

spreadsheet notes: ah to fall in love with the dilf next door who also happens to be the ex crown prince of the country

A Royal Intervention by AnxiousAnaconda | young royals, wilmon | teen&up | 18k words

erik is being such a dumbass in this one. like, he means well, but he's kinda messing up and pissing people off (understandably). it's nice to get a view on erik that's not portraying him as this perfect guy though, and the fic is actually so much fun to read. and hey, the prime minister of luxembourg gets mentioned, which i was kinda waiting for in yr fic ngl

spreadsheet notes: big sigh... erik you fucking idiot. stop listening to august. also shoutout to xavier bettel apparently (edit: this aged poorly, fuck xavier bettel)

and each slow dusk by @if-fortunate | young royals, wilmon | mature | 49k words

okay. ooookay how do i even begin with this one. ohhh boy. okay. so. world war three. wille gets stuck in bjärstad with simon, many many things happen, it's about finding hope in a horrible situation and trying to live life despite everything falling apart around you. it's incredibly well written and something about it just has me in awe

spreadsheet notes: i don't know what it says about me that this is without a shadow of a doubt the best fic i have ever read in my life

Put Me Back Together and Take My Heart by @notalotgoingonatthisinstant | young royals, wilmon | mature | 50k words

i once again don't know what to say, this one is sooo good. simon is suffering and both wille and i hate it, but... but wille is there for him and ugh, they just... they just can't be apart. a story of reconciliation and healing from both physical and invisible wounds, and of making the right decisions for yourself

spreadsheet notes: ugh. UGH. my guys. MY GUYS. yeah let's go blackmail the queen

Department Six by @thisdiscontentedwinter | teen wolf | gen | 4k words

a fun short one about stiles and danny working for the fbi and being delightfully weird and mysterious

spreadsheet notes: HILARIOUS i'm in love with outsider pov always

FEBRUARY

There Are No Wolves in California by @thisdiscontentedwinter | teen wolf, sterek | gen | 5k words

you know, sometimes you see a fic you know is going to hurt you, and you've never clicked on anything faster. this is definitely one of those fics

spreadsheet notes: let's be wolves today yeah well derek what if i just break down and cry instead

you got my body, i got your body by @prince-simon | young royals, wilmon | explicit | 9k words

this one's technically part of a bigger series (which, definitely read that one too), but i'm highlighting this one cause... damn... this made me feel things... like, gender things... which is really weird cause wille's gender in this is very much different from mine BUT STILL

spreadsheet notes: how almost 9k of pwp gave me so many gender feelings i will never understand

Changing Channels: Queer Premiere by @emeraldcas, @fellshish | spn, deancas | gen | 27k words

this might actually be one of the funniest fics i've ever read. dean and cas are so stupid (affectionately) and all the crossovers are delightful (bonus that i knew all the other shows). everyone go read this it's gonna be the best time

spreadsheet notes: mel and fells have genuinely outdone themselves this is the most hilarious shit i've ever read

Catalyst by @stretchoutfics | young royals | teen&up | 3k words

a backstory for boris! this fic is within a series of other side character ficlets, but this one has a soft spot in my heart

spreadsheet notes: AAAAHHHH HE KNEW ABOUT THE RECKLESS DRIVING BUT DIDN'T BRING IT UP but also... him being a gay man trying to help the queer crown prince navigate his sexuality that's kinda nice actually, like boris understands at least a bit

The most beautiful boy by lovelysarcastic | young royals, wilmon | teen&up | 88k words

there's something incredibly grounding about this fic. the way it develops, the way wille rationalises his thought processes, the way the relationship between wille and simon develops... this fic just kinda sucked me in and spit me out again feeling... content and calm and... it's just... this fic is so beautiful

spreadsheet notes: dude i love this so much??? they're both so stupid??? i love them???

MARCH

All's Fair in Love and Hunting by @badjoices | spn, deancas | mature | 20k words

they're playing gay chicken but also are being incredibly competitive and stupid about it, and i'm just sorry about the shit sam has to witness. so many shenanigans in this fic

spreadsheet notes: they are both so stupid omg

["mi cotufita" started sharing their screen] by @omar-rudeberg | young royals, wilmon | explicit | 60k

so... this is a follow up to one of my favourite fics and it is a delight. very horny but also very sweet? and also for some reason there's porn. fun times! oh, and this fic made me cry. it really has the range

spreadsheet notes: how are they so horny it's so funnyyyyyy, but also if i were wille i could never look linda in the eyes again

A Light To Guide You In The Dark (Warmed By The Fire's Glow) by 80shairmetal | stranger things, harringrove | teen&up | 19k words

this is just... people taking care of each other out of the kindness of their hearts. finding comfort in strangers who become family. growing and helping each other. there's such a beauty to this one

spreadsheet notes: this is just..... comfort

did you see the love in my eyes, oh were you gazing through this disguise? by @tooindecisivetopickaurl | young royals, wilmon | mature | 67k words

fake dating my beloved. they're so in love with each other but they're pretending not to be while pretending... to be? i'm obsessed with them. but they're so respectful with each other and cautious of boundaries and they really are best friends who also happen to be obliviously in love

spreadsheet notes: love a good fake dating au they're so stupid i love them

flash like a setting sun by @playedwright | 911, buddie | explicit | 22k words

because you only realise you're in love with your best friend when you're scared you're losing him. that's the fic. and it's beautiful

spreadsheet notes: oh this is sooooo beautifully written and ugh just <333

Other people's secrets by @sflow-er | young royals, walty & wilmon | mature | 239k words

yooooo hello? so first off this is an outsider pov on wilmon which i am always obsessed with anyways but the focus isn't just on them, this is henry's story. it's a beautiful story about how friendships form and warp and change, how feelings manifest in different ways, how decisions and actions have consequences. it's an incredibly mature take on post-s1, and it's probably my favourite of the year. also ace representation!!!!

spreadsheet notes: ace henry my beloved <33 also love seeing wilmon from an outside perspective! such a good, well thought out fic with lots of healthy comminication <33

APRIL

if i stare too long by @brawlite & @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger | stranger things, harringroveson | explicit | 191k words

i haven't seen st s4 (and probably won't watch it) but that definitely won't stop me from reading harringroveson fic. i mean, who wouldn't look at those three and immediately want to see them together. the way their dynamic is written in this fic is peak, i don't even know what more to say. i also very much trust these authors with billy, and again i wasn't disappointed. there's just something in his head that's intriguing.

spreadsheet notes: this whole fic is such a vibe it makes me feel of hot summer chillin

MAY

Rewrite the Stars (series) by @in-amor-veritas | young royals, wilmon | mature | 137k words

definitely one of the highlights of the year, simon's whole life in new york... those scenes, they just show such a wonderful life simon has built for himself, and his relationship with wille doesn't change it, but he manages to fit in (after, you know, fun rom-com drama shenanigans). also. this is a kid fic. kid fics are my weak spot. rasmus is my new favourite little guy. also shoutout to luis best side character ever

spreadsheet notes: YELLING i love this fic sooo much it is everything

Where The Wind Will Carry Me by @1-life-to-give | young royals, wilmon | teen&up | 49k words

AND THEY WERE ACTORS PLAYING LOVE INTERESTS. do i have to say more? the tension guys the TENSION. also erik's side-plot i'm in love

spreadsheet notes: hopping up and down like a hyperactive chihuahua EN I LOVE THIS

Your love is my turning page (the t4t wilmon as girldads au) (series) by @willesworld | young royals, wilmon | teen&up | 17k words

i know i know another kid fic BUT!!!! t4t wilmon. makes it automatically superior. i'm not even kidding, add trans characters and i will like your fic (that i probably already like a lot) aroun 300000000 times more. but also this series comes for your feelings. it hits

spreadsheet notes: i am weak for t4t wilmon AND them having a biological child there's something so beautiful about it like that could be meeee ; siiimon i need to hug him and i need to hug wille they're gonna get out of this i prommy ; recovery and one step forwards a hundred steps back, but they made it there in the end ; they were so happy :((((

JUNE

A trace of dew by nuncflore | elden ring, this is too complicated | gen | 13k words

very elden ring-esque writing style, wonderful representation of whatever the hell is going on in the lore. hehehehehhe fucked up family ehhehehehe DIVORCE. my friends are so talented :))

spreadsheet notes: CAP I AM EATING YOU

Hanging from the Ceiling by @spicymiilk | spiderverse | teen&up | 6k words

for like. a week after i saw the new spiderverse movie i made miles 42 my entire life. that also meant reading this fic. and damn did this fic hit. i am still thinking about it

spreadsheet notes: i need more miles 42 content he is my favourite guy ever

The Darkest Little Paradise by @yourdemiurge | young royals, wilmon | explicit | 79k words

*holding you at gunpoint* read this fic. read it now, in this moment. you are not gonna regret it. believe me when i say you NEED this fic, you really do. doesn't even matter if you've seen yr or not. you're gonna thank me later

spreadsheet notes: THIS IS INSANE I CAN'T BREATHE MADY WHAT THE FUUUUUCK

JULY

Protected (series) by bastuba | young royals, wilmon | explicit | 69k words

hey do you ever read a fic and you just feel. so incredibly grounded because something about the characters feels grounded? like, they aren't grounded, but they still give off that vibe? idk how to explain this properly but that's this fic. also wille and simon cook together (i haven't read all parts of the series yet btw)

spreadsheet notes: incredibly grounded very mature how is wille like this ; i'd be like wille, always complaining about the heat ; they're soooooo. idiots. getting tattoos for each other ; i too would come out on a podcast about food ; SAFE SEX

AUGUST

The Season of Rebirth by @notalotgoingonatthisinstant | young royals, wilmon | mature | 30k words

part of a series, but i'm picking out this one specifically because it's soooo sweet!!! the title fits the fic so well, like yes it is the season of rebirth, but simon and wille's relationship is also rehashed in a very cool way, this fic is like one giant easter egg, i love it so much!

spreadsheet notes: wille taking the season of rebirth to recreate their early relationship, i am obsessed with him he's such a dumbass romantic

The Upgrade by @groenendaelfic | young royals, wilmon | explicit | 13k words

it's about the moment simon realises who wille is. that's why this fic is here. i mean of course also because it is very good, but mainly because of that moment

spreadsheet notes: the moment simon realised who wille is i am wheezing

Right Where You Left Me by @armandgender | spn, deancas | explicit | 94k words

if you're wondering why this fic is on my 2023 list instead of the 2022 list.... well that's because it took me almost a year to read the last chapter, and in terms of how my spreadsheet works, that makes it a fic i read in 2023. anyway. if you haven't read this fic yet, what are you even still doing here. click on that link right now. you want complex emotional situations? intricacies of ill-advised marriages? you wanna pick through abusive behaviour and encourage infidelity? well you're at the right place! also this has one of my favourite jack characterisations ever. it also made me go on multiple rants

spreadsheet notes: I FINALLY FINISHED IT AAAAHHHH I LOVE THIS FIC THE CABIN THE CATS JACK!!!!!

Alejito y Marimar (series) by th0ughts | red, white, and royal blue | teen&up | 18k words

OBSESSED WITH THIS DYNAMIC YOOOOOO. seriously the friendship between alex and martha is an expansion of the rwrb universe that is much needed, trust me

spreadsheet notes: the friendship i didn't know i needed in my life <333 ; they're just chillin!!!

SEPTEMBER

Change of Address (series) by hearmerory | avatar: the last airbender, zukka | mature | 134k words

okay. oooookay. strap in for this one, it is a lot. emotionally. like yes zuko is autistic, yes yes yeeees, i agree, also azula is treated like an actual person with actual mental issues, she deserves to be treated with care and this author definitely does that! this is the kind of series that makes me want to disappear in it, but it's also the kind of story i need breaks from, because it is so heavy (definitely check the tags for this one). zuko's relationship with sokka is written so thoughtfully and iroh is characterised incredibly and the author even included ursa in a way that didn't undermine everything that happened in the series before she appeared again. i can only recommend this one!

spreadsheet notes (there's lots of parts to the series, so this one is long): hhhh if i were ms jamieson i would have snapped after two days probably ; be nice katara!!!!! he's nervous ; i need to murder ozai ; and i need to murder zhao as well ; iroooohhhhh he should have just. taken the kids with him that first time he noticed something off ; yeah i think there was a reason why iroh never took zuko to the movies ; ozai needs to suffer ; i need to destroy ozai. violently and painfully ; iroh is the best uncle ever, zuko deserves all his kindness ; azula...... you don't have to fight for affection, it's not a competition..... they love you ; iroh should have taken her with him the first time around, she was like. 10, he could have just picked her up or sth ; ..... hakoda you idiot ; IROH BACKSTORY IROH BACKSTORY ; sokka and the plan that changed his life <3333 ; they are so soft with each other ; they all deserve all the therapy and support and yes sokka obviously you have adhd get with the program ; URSA??????? also i am living for sokka and azula's dynamic they are everything ; i don't. i don't understand her. i don't fucking understand her how could she not want her own children. how can she talk about them like that. like she knows them she doesn't know them she LEFT

Every night my teeth are falling out by @sulkybender | avatar: the last airbender, zukka | mature | 9k words

i was in need of some good zuko angst and oooohhh boy was i lucky to find this author. PEAK zuko angst. this fic in particular is very dear to me because it explores how mental illnesses would be handled in a world where there's practically no resources to help. i think we need that more

spreadsheet notes: yes well. how DO you deal with a schizophrenic fire lord in a fantasy world? (you stay with him and support him that is how)

OCTOBER

for years or for hours by @ghostinthelibrarywrites | the witcher, geralt/eskel/jaskier | explicit | 52k words

listennn i love myself some good polyamory fics, and this is the first fic i read for this ship and now i am OBSESSED with them. but this fic in particular.... the concept alone, like. what do you do when you thought the man you love was dead for 800 years, and then when he comes back you have another man you love. the answer is simple. polyamory. the two men you love also love each other. perfect coincidence.

spreadsheet notes: YO the concepts of witchers in modern times alone is sooo cool but adding in everything else? hello yes?

this is a love story by @achillestiel | supernatural, deancas | mature | 3k words

listen, i've never seen fleabag, but that's not the point. this is intriguing and funny, that's the point

spreadsheet notes: fucked up families and you want to fuck the priest hell yeah

The road not taken looks real good now by @stretchoutfics | young royals, wilmon | explicit | 90k words

it's not even the wilmon part i love about this fic (i very much enjoy it of course don't get me wrong) but wille and his kids. like, i don't want to spoil anything but like. wille's interactions with his kids are so important in this fic, and they're written so well. like, emilia is my favourite character in this, i kinda wish there was more with the kids honestly. this fic is definitely a highlight of the year, and to get back to wilmon, i do love how they're portrayed in this fic, how their dynamic plays out, and specifically how certain decisions do not depend on simon

spreadsheet notes: no but. the care put into this story. i can't--

NOVEMBER

Averno (series) by @sulkybender | avatar: the last airbender, zukka | mature | 12k words

a fascinating take on a fire lord zuko that was never part of the gaang

spreadsheet notes: HE JUST DESERVES KINDNESS but also he's a little fucked up WELL NO WONDER GIVE HIM KINDNESS ; i mean.... what makes a monster really ; well then let's get him out of his cell shall we (also hiiiii suki hello <3333)

Half Awake in Our Fake Empire by @hmslusitania | 9-1-1, buddie | teen&up | 34k words

another kid fic!!! but in a different fandom this time!!! seriously, giving buck a child fills so many of my life's needs it's ridiculous

spreadsheet notes: THEY'RE A FAMILY (thank you for giving that man a child)

a soldier (who carries a mighty sword) by @ghostinthelibrarywrites | the witcher, geralt/eskel/jaskier | explicit | 92k words

everything about this fic is wonderful!! the world(kaer morhen!!)building, the developing dynamic between geralt, jask, and eskel, ciri and yenn, the conflict, jask as a teacher!!!! aaahhhhh!

spreadsheet notes: they're my new favourite guyssss this whole fic is so cool, what they've done with kaer morhen <3333

Will We Last the Night by CSHfic & VSfic | avatar: the last airbender, zukka | teen&up | 143k words

this fic asks what if sokka had been stuck with zuko since the end of s1 and delivers a delightful answer. this is the adventures of zuko and sokka (and sometimes iroh) travelling through the earth kingdom. shenanigans ensue

spreadsheet notes: i am obsessed with this i'm just. i know it was only shortly but their life in ba sing se. obsessed

DECEMBER

Grudge Match by @catcas22 | elden ring | gen | 17k words

i'm not entirely sure how to explain this. it sure is an elden ring fic

spreadsheet notes: i don't even know what to say. this is ridiculous and brilliant and stupid and genius all at the same time. hell yeah suburban demigods

Lonely Digging by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger | stranger things, harringrove | teen&up | 3k words

this is hilarious. go read it to unlock intense life-threatening flirting

spreadsheet notes: best way to flirt billy's doing everything right

***

(quick note: i’ve tried to find everyone’s tumblr handle, but i’m aware that not all the authors have tumblr/have it on their ao3, however if i somehow missed someone, i can go back and rectify that!)

if you’ve made it all the way down here i am giving you a kiss <3

#pigeon coos #fic reading shenanigans #fic rec #ALL THE LOVE TO FIC WRITERS YOU GUYS ARE DOING AMAZING!!!!

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gabessquishytum · 6 months

Note

We've talked about the boys being pervs, and panty stealers.

How about Roommate AU, where they've been roommates for 2 years.

Dream always does the laundry (chores are split between them), and he steals Hob's underwear, cums inside them (always thinking about fucking Hob when he does) and then he washes them. He's been doing it since a month after they moved in together and thinks Hob has absolutely no idea.

While Hob doesn't actually know how long he's been doing it, Hob DOES know that for at least the last few months, Dream's been stealing his underwear, using them to jerk himself off, cumming in them, and then doing the laundry to hide it. Instead of being disgusted by his apparently extremely horny and perverted roommate, Hob is extremely turned on by the whole thing and is trying to figure out how he can get his roommate to forget about his underwear and instead, cum inside him.

Maybe he should start walking around the flat naked? 😈

- 🐺

Ooo YES more pervy boys!!!

Hob has been dropping major hints that he's DTF, but Dream either doesn't pick up on them or he's too awkward to respond. And Hob is getting absolutely desperate, knowing what Dream is doing to his underwear while he's out. He's tried to wear sluttier underwear to show exactly how willing he is, and he's sure that Dream must have noticed, but still the status quo continues. Every day Hob buries his nose in his own briefs, hoping that he'll pick up a fraction of Dream’s scent from the fabric.

And so he finally decides to leave a note among his dirty laundry: if you want me as bad as i want you, then don't waste your cum on my underwear. i need you to fill me up completely tonight.

Dream spends the day in a daze, waiting for Hob to come home. He's not 100% sure if it was real or a prank and he's almost too anxious to be horny... and when Hob comes home from work, he's also sweating with anticipation! The arousal in the room is so strong, you could almost smell it.... and finally the horny outweighs the anxiety, and they fall on each other like they're starving.

Dream has Hob doggystyle on the living room rug, and murmurs in his ear the whole time about how his underwear smelt and felt so good, how much he loved coming inside it. How he loved seeing those new lacey briefs and now he loves them even more because he knows that Hob bought them to show off. How he always strains to listen to Hob jerking off at night. And how fucking him for real is so good, so much better than he ever could have imagined.

They both make massive stains on the rug, and neither of them particularly care. Hob can feel Dream’s warm cum dripping from his hole, and it's the best sensation he's ever experienced. He doesn't think he'll ever be satisfied with anything except Dream’s cock and Dream’s dirty talk from now onwards.

#🐺 anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft

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micheya · 1 year

Text

Al haitham x reader | Logical until he isn't (Kaveh thinks he's a loser)

Synopsis: Just an average piece on how both Al haitham and Kaveh think of each other as losers, and how Al haitham realises that confessing isn't necessarily as simple as an equation (Kaveh told him so. He didn't listen)

___

I think Al haitham thinks that Kaveh is the loser with all his poetry and stuff. When Kaveh is telling him to "go out" and "At this rate you'll be a lonely loser forever." He can't help but think that Kaveh is the pathetic one, getting drunk, prattling around like a little fairy with his love letters and such filled with frivolous similes and unnecessary metaphors like they're really some sort of masterful magic that you have to find from deep within your soul.

He'd seen it all before. Back when he had taken an interest in "The History of literature; History of Language; The Development of linguistics; Communications between creatures and their evolution; Poetry through the ages; Humanity's social evolution: the display of love-" He had listed

"Stop, stop, stop!" Kaveh had an incredulous expression that day, "What is wrong with you?! Are you the Akasha itself?!"

Al Haitham just huffed with his arms crossed, "I have read everything I'll ever need to know about 'wooing' a person. And of course I am not so limited in my thinking to understand that theory never always 100% aligns with reality. I do talk to people, Kaveh. And I'd assume me as a living breathing human would at least be able to figure out what makes a person tic."

Kaveh could only really pull a face in almost offence. He hadn't been directly insulted this time around but the knowledge of Al Haitham living with this (whatever "this" was) highly unromantic view of romance felt like an absolute stabbing.

Al Haitham of course ignores him and carries on with his day as usual. But then eventually whether days, weeks, months later when he finally develops a sort of liking for someone beyond the usual friendly acquaintance, he finds out that every once in a while his mind does go blank like he'd hear some other akademiya students discuss amongst themselves in their own journey's of romance.

His initial plans to go by the books to discreetly show affection usually start as intended, but end with it either completely going through the target's head or turning into an accidental work session (at least he and you are spending time together, though he doesn't miss the face you pull at the sudden work dropped onto you. He's sorry.)

Apparently bringing you fruits isn't enough to notify someone of romantic intention. He had completely ignored Kaveh telling him to gift flowers. He understood the gesture, he wasn't completely devoid of general understanding of these sorts of practises, but fruit and food in general would be much more useful to you in a practical sense.

He made sure to let you know of the benefits of what he had decided to give you that day and would always allow a bit of time to stare at your expressions afterward, though unfortunately due to his stern face the initial reaction to this tended to be a sort of unfounded guilt, "Am I in trouble?" You had to ask the first few occasions of this happening, before ultimately accepting that this was just the way he was.

"No, why?" He'd pull a rare smile, something about it being slightly devious, "Are you guilty of something? I may let you off easy if you confess now." It was taunting but in a gentle tone meant to pass off as a joke. You got it as seen by your own chuckle, the sound of it being something he relished, he was extremely fond of everything to do with you and continued to wonder (despite not making it explicit himself) how you hadn’t noticed his feelings.

Like he had said to Kaveh he had read everything he needed to know, or was curious enough to learn about, and he had read of great declarations of affections. Giant presentations for the mere request of courting a person.

It was such a request that would make one's intentions almost most definitely 100% clear.

But instead, he resolved to pass you a bunch of tangerines for that day's worth of fruit.

He processes the point Kaveh was trying to make, that love as an equation can only work so well until your actual feelings of love get in the way.

#yaepublishinghouse #al haitham x reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x you #al haitham x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x you

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hils79 · 3 months

Text

Hils Watches Kiseki: Dear to Me - Ep 10

Have we had another time skip. In the last episode he had literally just got out of prison and said he'd like to open a bakery. Now apparently he has?

Crying again

Oh, apparently this part from the previous episode was also at whatever point in the future we're at now. It must be a few months, right? You can't just open a bakery overnight.

Oh my god is that the boys from Plus & Minus?

I am going to lose my shit when these two finally get on the same page

WAIT IS THAT WHERE HE WAS??? Did I somehow miss this entirely? Did they come out of prison at the same time? I was clearly not paying attention.

JFC like I do believe he 100% considers Bai Zongyi to be one of his best friends, but I also don't think he'd have gone to prison to protect him quite so quickly if he wasn't trying to get away from the guilt he felt for having sex with Chen Yi while he was drunk.

MY HEART

I really do love their friendship

We are all praying for this tbh

Oh shit! Okay, I did not have them running into each other while Bai Zongyi was delivering a cake order but it's happening!

Wait, does Fan Zerui remember him now? At least subconsciously? He's spending a long time staring at a guy who should, as far as he's concerned, be a rando delivery guy.

Who IS this dude? I thought he was Fan Zerui's brother but you do not possessively wrap your arm around your brother like that

2 photos wirh Ai Di, 186 photos with Fan Zerui. Even his own family barely has more at 202

He's totally going to sniff Chen Yi's jacket, isn't he?

DUDE!

Aww now he's sleeping snuggling it 🥺

The way I rapidly went from 'aww Chen Yi is going to carry him to bed' to 'oh shit! Prison really fucked Ai Di up'

God, this poor kid

Chen Yi has a literal stab wound in his gut and he's still able to pick Ai Di up like it's nothing

OOH ARE THEY ALMOST THERE NOW? Ai Di just needs to stop freaking out

I KNEW IT!!! Or, okay, I suspected

Wait, is possessive dude actually helping??

Look at him being all wise. LISTEN TO HIM AI DI!

Somehow this is even more heartbreaking than if Fan Zerui didn't remember Bai Zongyi at all. Even this dude, who I think is the same dude who threw away Bai Zongyi's university letter, is all 'FFS JUST GO AND TALK TO HIM'

HAS HE BEEN FAKING AMNESIA THIS WHOLE TIME??? Dude! I thought maybe it was real at first but then he got better. DUDE!

I am suddenly very concerned that this is a trap

GDI HOW CAN THE EPISODE END THERE??

Well, that was a rollercoaster of events and feelings

#hils watches #hils watches kiseki: dear to me #hils watches twdramas #kiseki: dear to me #twdrama

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smolvenger · 1 year

Text

The Twelve Days (Henry V x fem! Reader Miniseries), Chapter One

Summary: "You, luckiest of girls, are betrothed to none other than the king of England!"

You celebrate the Twelve days- from Christmas to New Year- in your role as queen in an arranged marriage to King Henry V. How will you cope with your new role? And what about your husband?

Warnings: Eventual Smut starting in Part Two, Arranged Marriage, discussions of Sexual Assault but no attacks, impolite courtiers, marriages, families, Henry's codpiece is mentioned and he is an actual dick for a hot second but gets better bc you get to call him out on it.

Buy Me A Ko-Fi!

My Etsy Shop

Summary: This was inspired by Lucy Worsely's documentary "The Twelve Days of Tudor Christmas" plus some of the tidbits I learned about the reading about royal life in that era. Yes, I know some of these practices come from that era 100 years after Henry V but it's my fic and I can do what I want.

COMMENTS, KUDOS, AND ASKS ABOUT MY WORK ARE APPRECIATED!

Your eyes were drooping, fighting the urge to close them. You fought the urge to yawn at such a sacred space as Midnight Mass. But especially considering the crown on your head and hearing your husband’s slow exhales next to you, you made yourself in the present, listening to the words. At least the chill of the castle chapel and the light touch of the necklace you wore kept you awake.

All of December you had to prepare for the Christmas season with fasting. Even the king, your husband, Henry V had to.

Husband- the word felt new.

Months ago, it was announced suddenly that you had to travel to London. Your parents hugged and kissed you in deep congrats.

“Why, what is it?” you asked.

“Y/N, you’re betrothed!”

“Betrothed!? To whom?”

“You, luckiest of girls, are betrothed to marry none other than the King of England!” your mother cheered.

Your heart leaped in your chest and the room spun. Were you even awake?

“Henry Bolingbroke? But he’s an old man now and quite sick!” you cried

“No- haven’t you heard? He’s dead and his son, Hal, is the king! Not Henry the Fourth- You’re going to marry Henry the Fifth!” your father explained with excitement.

You had never met him.

You heard all the stories concerning Prince Hal. He was apparently a wild boy- who frequented taverns, placed prostitutes on his lap and wore their favors to jousts, and enjoyed playing pranks with thieves. He could put Bacchus to shame with the chaos he would get into. For a time, he rarely appeared in court due to preferring his revels late at night with the seedy company and getting drunk. And now this wild, drinking, philandering, troublemaker was not only the new king of England but your husband!

You could hardly speak when you joined the carriage with your parents for your first meeting. The whole ride seemed to last forever and you were sweating beneath your nicest pink dress.

Your heart was beating as hard as if you were running and you felt sick with nerves entering the palace. There was a flourish with footsteps like a march. The door was open and a loud voice announced: “His royal majesty, Henry the Fifth.”

God, protect me! You thought in terror. You looked it up.

Imagine your delight that it was a young, attractive man. He was clearly sober. Surely better than marrying either an old man or a partying drunkard.

“Lady Y/L/N, I greet you, most fair lady. I bid you welcome,” he said.

“Your majesty,” you replied with a bow along with your parents.

He offered you his hand and you accepted it. And in yours he placed a little wildflower that you took.

“May I kiss your hand and call you my queen?” he asked politely.

Swallowing, you nodded your head. You reached out your hand and he accepted it, bowing down his head, you saw the combed back curls hidden under his crown. He kissed it lightly.

“It is our advice for the wedding to be as soon as possible. Before the fasting of Advent…and the sooner you have an heir, the better.” An older man, the Chief Justice, suggested.

“Then let it be so,” Henry replied.

An awkward dinner passed and that was that. The next time you would see him would be your wedding day, now set to November.

Besides, the more cynical side of your brain thought, you were being brought in as no more than a glorified broodmare for England. A pretty accessory for the king. Once you squeezed out a son, you thought, he would toss you away for a mistress. But such thoughts you dared not tell your parents or family who all saw you as the shining star of their family for propelling them to royalty at the price of your maidenhead. And there was one upside to being Queen Consort- it relieved you of the harder choices and responsibilities that any king or any ruler would have, you thought.

November and the Wedding arrived. You couldn’t sleep the night before. You were brought to that same chapel in a pretty white dress befitting a queen. You felt like a child playing dress up. You couldn’t believe that every eye on the country was on you as the bishop placed your hand on Henry’s and made the sign of the cross over you two. The ceremony ended in a daze.

Your stomach churned so much you couldn’t eat much of the feast. You understood what was coming and the horror stories relayed to you from almost every woman you knew. And from the quick glances you had at Henry’s codpiece, it was going to hurt.

When the whole party followed you finally to your chambers and you were brought to that large stone room with the king’s bed- not your own private room for the queen- you wanted to cry from fear. That same bishop made the sign of the cross again at the bed. Once it was where Henry IV’s lifeless body was placed and now you knew you had to be placed there like a lamb on the altar, awaiting the knife.

A few ladies in waiting- women of high status you knew you could trust- took off the tiara placed on your head and removed the ring from your finger. A few male servants began to undress Henry. Yet the court, many of whom were men, kept their eyes on you when the ladies moved onto the skirt of your wedding gown. They seemed to watch as one lady in waiting began to lift the skirt, showing some of your leg when…

“Please bring a screen,” the king ordered.

A screen was shuffled in to allow you privacy to change into night clothes. You stepped out, the cold stone floor touching your bare feet as you stood in your shift. You began to shiver.

Henry turned to you.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“Yes, my lord,” you replied.

He took a black fur coat that was draped over a chair and placed it over you. His hands on your shoulders felt warm. He led you to sit on the chair near the writing desk.

“Now the rest of you- please leave the room…and do not stay at the door if you are not the guards…” he then said.

“But your majesty, we must make sure the marriage is consummated. You could at most close the drapes around the bed, but we must make sure you do your duty to your wife. For St. George and the sake of-“

“Yes, that is tradition. But seeing as I am the king now, here is a new one. I ask that all of you leave and go to your own rooms.” Henry protested.

They looked at each other in confusion.

“But how will we know if-“

“I’m sure once we discover she is pregnant, you will know the marriage is consummated. Now leave!”

They bowed their heads and left.

He walked up to you, and you backed off. But he held up a hand.

“Don’t be afraid, my lady,” he offered.

You heard the last footsteps of the courtiers vanish into the hallway. They gossiped and it rang through the halls, until it melted into nothing.

You took it and said, “I know you want me to…to…sleep with you.”

“Well, is that what you want? Do you want me to have you done tonight?” he asked.

“It’s what’s expected of us…” you answered meekly.

He scratched at his cleanly shaven chin.

“But is it what you want?” he asked.

You blinked. His own large hands overpowered your own, but they were soft.

“No…no I don’t want to…I’m not ready yet…” you confessed.

“Then you don’t need to worry. Nothing will happen tonight…” he assured you.

He let your hands go to gesture to a small table where there was a large jug

here- they gave us spiced wine for us to share. Have a cup.”

He poured you a generous amount and you sipped at it.

“You didn’t eat anything at the feast. Would you like me to ask for a plate?” he suggested.

“Yes, my lord.”

He opened the door and whispered to a guard. The coat almost drowned you in it’s size, but it was warm. Like petting the pelt of a black bear. Henry closed the door again.

“Thank you for the cloak…” you said.

“It used to be my father’s. And he was always cold.” He commented.

“My lord …what should I call you?” you asked.

“Henry will do for now…you can call me Harry. Maybe Hal later…what would you like me to call you?”

You gave him the name you wanted to be called and he repeated it.

The terror of being raped gone, your appetite returned to you. You enjoyed the cup of spiced wine and although the plate of leftovers was tasty despite being cold.

Henry went to the desk full of papers.

“I have some letters to write…you seem tired, Y/N. It was a long day. When you’re done, you can sleep in my bed.”

You glanced at the bed, sitting in it and draping off the black cloak.

“You’re being kind to me, why?” you asked.

Both of you knew that you were now considered property of the most powerful man in the world. He had the right to do whatever he wanted with you whenever he wanted…and he was not doing anything.

“Because I don’t want to be hated. This was forced on me as much as on you. I can at least make your life my wife not a misery. I pity you, I guess,” he explained.

You settled into the sheets, resting your head against a large, round pillow placed before the square ones.

“Henry where are you going to sleep tonight?” you asked.

“I’ll crawl in later. Don’t be nervous- but it’s big enough. I won’t be able to touch you…” he said,

“What if I never want you to touch me?” you asked curiously.

He turned to you and got his own cup of wine, raising it.

“I think I know of an abbey that will let me in. I’ll become bald and fat and join them,” he said with a smile.

You fell asleep deeply and quickly. Once you woke up, you were ushered in.

And here you were today. In a far grander chapel than the one you were used to. But instead of praying with your family, you were leaning your head down to pray next to your husband. He gave you a kiss on the hand as a good night before your servants ushered you back to your separate rooms and beds left for a royal and still unconsummated marriage.

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

The First Day of Christmas

The first day was a feast. It was a smaller party away from the prying eyes of the court. The party consisted of you, Henry, his three brothers, and his “favorites”- the Chief Justice, Warwick, and Lord Exeter. The room was a smaller stone room with a long walkway and a window to the cold outside world. You missed your family and celebrated the twelve days of Christmas with them. If only you knew it would be your last celebration together then! Now, here you were with a new family you were not at all familiar with- and the only woman at the table too!

You were amazed that the table was decorated with a peacock and a swan as if they were not killed but frozen in their place as they glazed over a pond. Before you placed a large Mince pie. You looked over and saw that there was his crest along with HR- Henry Rex or King Henry. It was so large you wondered why the table didn’t break from the weight of it!

The King was served first, the tenderest choice of slices of pie. Though there was a variety of meat.

“Did you miss eating meat all month, Henry?” you asked.

He nodded his head, “yes, I did. I almost forgot the taste of it and cheese. May I ask, Y/N, have you ever tried eel before?”

“I have not,” you said.

He poked his plate closer.

“Here- it’s my favorite fish to try on Christmas Day. Different from any other I’ve had. Give it a taste, tell me what you think!”

You poked your fork into it. It was light, but firm and with a little sweetness.

“It’s not bad!” you commented.

You felt a poke and saw it was one of the king’s brothers, John. A young, handsome man with cheekbones like his brother and a crop of soft, dark brown hair.

“My lady, save room on your plate. They’re about to present The Boar…”

“Will they sing the carol The Boar’s Head? I like that one!” you replied, nearly popping in your seat.

You heard your husband confirm “They will.”

But you saw his face turn white. His blue eyes lowered to the plate before him.

Soon a group of servants in fine robes and large hats with feathers walked in with a large platter over their shoulders with a roasted boar on it. One young man in green stepped forward, exhaled deep in his belly, and began to sing that jaunty tune in a bright baritone.

“The Boar’s head as I understand is the rarest dish in all the land!”

You smiled and tapped your foot to the beat of the familiar song. Everyone was nodding along, gazing at how the Boar’s head they brought had oranges in its eyes. The gold on it’s tusks gleamed from the candlelight. By the third verse you noticed the whole table was smiling…except Henry.

There was applause and it was brought in front of his plate and carved.

“Here, my lord, the choicest meats for you!” the servant boasted.

“Save some of these choice meats for the others- especially the queen. She is new here and should be welcomed.” He requested.

You glanced and you nodded your head in thanks. A tender part of the pork was cut off and brought to your plate.

“Thank you though…what troubles you, Henry?” you asked.

Since the feast was more private, you did not have to call him “my lord” but his name. That was one relief on your part.

“The Boar’s Head was name of the tavern I used to frequent…” he confessed.

His brothers perked up, listening. John’s jaw tightened.

“I heard about your youth, Henry. Do you miss it?” you asked innocently.

Part of you flinched, perhaps that was too personal. Even among his brothers. But you could hardly believe those same stories again.

“If I must be honest, a little…I let it go. I banished those from that tavern away from me….” He said.

There was silence for a minute. What could you say?

“It was the right thing to do, I think. But I imagine it was hard. But it is your right to banish a bad influence.” You reasoned gently.

You saw his fist was clamped in agony. There was a clanking of forks and knives as the others continued to eat. Gently, you placed your hand over it. You felt it relax beneath you.

“Have you tried the boar, husband?” you asked.

“I…I haven’t.”

“It’s delicious. You should eat at least a little…it helps with nerves if I recall correctly” you said.

There was a shared look and you saw him smile, realizing that this time the roles were reversed. He began to stab his fork into the boat meat and eat it.

Although you were quite full, you saw there was still plenty of food on the table by the time the servants arrived to pick it up.

“What happens to the leftovers?” you asked curiously.

“They’re doles,” John explained. “We take them and distribute them to the poor outside the castle waiting for it…”

You turned to Henry and the servants “may I…may I help distribute them?” you asked.

Heads turned to you.

“You wish to hand out food to those without name?” Henry asked.

“Yes, I do.”

“But they’re only peasants,” he responded.

“They’re our people. They aren’t animals. If we’re good to them, they’ll follow us even more,” you replied.

“Majesty, it is not the usual fashion for you to do so…” the Lord of Exeter protested.

“I’d…I’d like to help. It’s Christmastide, after all. It’s right to do. It’s the feast of Christ’s Birth. It’s what He would do,” you explained.

“You aren’t wrong,” Henry said.

What was the good of being part of the most powerful family in the country if you couldn’t use it to help anyone? Besides, you had to count yourself extremely lucky that you had a large feast in a warm palace with servants to cater to your every whim. That was more than so many could dream of.

They looked to the king, who nodded.

“You shall…” he permitted.

He turned to the servants.

“Ask the ladies in waiting to give her a cloak for warmth. Make sure she isn’t harmed,” he asked the servants.

“Thank you, Henry” you said.

There was a small urge inside you. From how gentle he was to you on your wedding night, to how he was the opposite of what you expected, and now how he insisted you be fed equal to him and had permission to do what you wanted, a tenderness overcame you for Henry. You wanted to take his face and give him a kiss on the cheek from everything he had done- yes, even despite the peasant comment. But it would be too forward even in front of the smaller party. It was an action reserved for the privacy of husband and wife in their chambers. In gratitude, you merely clutched his hand and squeezed it and he let you.

You walked out, not noticing how Henry’s smile followed you out.

Once you were bundled up, you held a large plate full of meat from the board and walked outside. Hundreds of peasants, some in mere rags despite the cold, were shocked.

“Make way for the queen! Approach her one by one!” guards barked.

The first was a young woman who seemed to be your age. One good look at her and you realized at a different time or if different choices were made, you could have been the one begging at the gate. The only real difference between you two was the clothes on your back. It chilled you as you handed out meat and she bowed before scurrying off.

Now these people had to bow before you and some even knelt with reverence as if you weren’t flesh and mortality as they. But you leaned down, and with some tools, gave some rations of meat to them before they moved onto the servant with bits of the pie. Then another servant who kept the beef and other choices of beef. Some were amazed that Henry served crayfish, eels, and porpoise at his feast and that there were leftovers, rushing to sample what they tasted like just from curiosity.

The smiles on their faces seeing you and the hundreds of “thank you’s” from their faces warmed your heart. Seeing each walk away with something on their plate, you sent out a prayer for their safe return to their homes, food intact.

Little did you know that from his window, Henry watched you for a while. Something moving inside of him to see you smile as you handed out the doles.

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

The Third Day of Christmas

The snow was crisp, clean, and even the next day. Already your ladies in waiting were watching it as it fell outside in puffy drifts. It was late afternoon and finally there was some wintertime weather.

“I think the St. Stephen feast was better than the Christmas one!” one said.

“I have to agree with you on that,” you agreed.

You walked over to return to your sewing circle. You passed by a spinning wheel that- like with the rest of the castle- was decorated with holly and ivy. The vines prevented the wheel from turning practically-there was to be no work for anyone on the Twelve Days of Christmas except the busy servants of royalty.

“I don’t know if I can even eat at another feast!” another lady sighed.

“I second that!” you said, looking down at the embroidery you began.

“You will have to,” came a voice from a distance away.

All of you stood up to see before you Warwick. Heads bowed in courtesy. When it got closer to evening, one male servant or courtier would arrive to you to give you an account of how Henry’s day went.

“Your majesty, I came to give you the annual report of the King’s Day- he spent the morning riding as usual, following by some celebratory hunting with bow and arrow. He then paid respects to Richard and his father’s grave before taking some time to study.”

“Very well and good fares my lord, king, and husband, I am glad,” you replied dutifully.

“And speaking of feasting, there is something important he asks…”

You folded your hands in front of you.

“What is it?”

He took in a deep breath.

“The King has asked to dine with you tonight in your quarters.”

There was a silence that fell along the ladies. All of their eyes got big. You looked among them and then shrugged.

“Oh! That is all- that’s alright. He may!” you answered with casual cheerfulness.

There was a burst of giggles from one lady that she immediately silenced putting a hand over her mouth. They all stared at you.

“What…what is it…what…what does this mean?” you asked.

“You don’t know…” Warwick asked.

“I don’t know…”

He lowered his head and turned pink. One lady went over to you.

“When you accept the king’s invitation to dinner…it’s expected that you…bed him right after. The king is actually asking you to bed him tonight…” she whispered to you.

You looked back at her in amazement and then at Warwick. Then at the ladies.

“Do you…change your mind, my lady?” Warwick asked.

Shoulders tightening, hands clutching beneath their folded position in front of you, you looked at him and then nodded.

“He…he may…”

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sodacansculptures · 4 months

Note

I started following you on Facebook some years ago, and then apparently forgot all about your stuff. It just popped into my head randomly and I wanted to see if you're still active and if you're still making soda can sculptures?

Hi, I apologize, I have no idea when you sent this since Tumblr (at least mobile) doesn't have time stamps, and for whatever reason, I don't get notifications about messages. You're the first person I've heard who has migrated from my Facebook page to my Tumblr, so thank you for joining the blog! Way more commentary here than there where my mom can see.

To answer your question succinctly: I am alive, and that's about the best I can say I've been since covid.

(I have donation links at the bottom, if you feel moved to want to help me.)

The extended director's cut answer:

After I made the Eevee sculpture, grad school ramped up and I figured I'd return to sculpting after I got my degree and settled into a job. However, I graduated in Spring of 2020, so the job I had lined up was withdrawn, and with all the budget cuts and layoffs in my field, I was competing for jobs with people who were trying to reenter the field and had decades more experience than me.

I did 100+ applications (I lost count at 120-something), dozens of interviews (including getting to the final round of all that had such a format--which is a stupid format. You don't need to meet me in a formal pretense 3 times, ask me riddles, have me take multiple hour-long aptitude tests, plus make me travel on my own dime just to tell me "no" and not even send like a "2nd Place Loser" gift basket or accept my LinkedIn request or anything). I got super stressed and super depressed.

I was so busy with trying to find a job and trying to deal with the breakdowns of not finding one. I tried applying in all the fields I was capable of at all levels: executive, mid, and gruntwork. I was turned down from entry level, no-talent-necessary jobs because I was overqualified. I was turned away from the others because of the lack of experience and unprecedented level and caliber of competition.

I was (still am) unable to pay my bills and, when not having breakdowns, I was calling, emailing, filling out applications, etc. for any and all financial aid. It was very arduous work and tedious with all the documentation they wanted from me, hold times on the phone, etc.

I had a non-profit (ADVOCAP) laugh at me when I asked for rent help because apparently they were overwhelmed and I wasn't going to get anything as I didn't have a job or kids and was considered a non-priority. Later when I was working with the ADRC, I asked if my case manager (I applied for disability, but I'll explain in a bit) if she knew of any rent help. She basically scolded me for asking and told me that it was unethical of me to seek that because "that's for people who actually have a chance." People who have jobs, she means. She explained that that money wasn't meant for me, and that was a whole unexpected slap in the face with a bag of dogshit. Didn't realize we had devolved into a utilitarian society quite that quickly.

I started working with FSET (my state's employment training and search help program. I was literally trying everything. Like I had also called my college and emailed all my professors asking for job help, and they had no answers other than like, "look online"). After months of no luck, FSET eventually convinced me to sign with a temp agency.

I worked 2 temp jobs that treated me like garbage (worsening my depression) and also paid me as such. I had lost all my savings to trying to stay afloat and my free time was non-existent, unless you count the hours I'd spend in the middle of the night just walking around my neighborhood listening to music--in an attempt to stop what seemed like endless crying--while I cried.

I tried selling plasma but they rejected me because I couldn't ever get my heart rate low enough, as my antidepressants increase heart rate. I tried going off of them, but I was on them for a reason, so I need to go back on.

When I graduated, I had bought myself a PS4 as a graduation gift to myself. I could afford it and thought I earned it. All the atmosphere of rejection and failure the pandemic created for me and my link to survival (employment should not be tied to survival. I was doing everything right and the system was failing me direly while virtually no one else who shared my experiences understood why I couldn't get a job when "everywhere is hiring" and "nobody wants to work anymore") and I started to hate myself for stuff like gifting myself the PS4. I felt undeserving, like a waste of resources, etc. because those were the messages I was constantly receiving directly and indirectly.

I eventually landed a job in my field and was hired on the spot. I felt like I had hit the jackpot and finally was going to be okay. Surprisingly to everyone in my life, the job made my life even worse.

I signed an NDA due to being horribly abused for the 10 months I was there, so I can't say much more than I just barely paid off my credit card, still had no free time as I was salary and worked nights and weekends in addition to my scheduled hours because the real reason they hired me instantly was not because I impressed them but rather because they were collapsing and desperate for anyone with some level of responsibility and capability. I hated that job, was bullied and abused extremely badly by coworkers and bosses and HR was no help, and when my performance review came back with negative impressions of me when I was sacrificing so much to keep the employment entity alive and functional, I completely broke.

I ended up hospitalized for months for suicide, and part of the NDA included resigning. I never fully recovered and don't think I ever will. I think I've seen and experienced too much to return to the idea that I could be the trailblazer my professors projected me to be (I now think professors don't actually provide an accurate representation of the field and encourage with no basis for their optimism).

The human mind is very easy to manipulate with propaganda, and I didn't catch myself being in a sort of “main character syndrome” and thinking that because I was Valedictorian of my graduating class and that I had so many national and international recognitions, awards, accolades, and qualifications that I was, for lack of a better term, pulling myself up by the bootstraps and going to be rewarded with a promising future where success is not just viable but imminent. I knew the world wasn't fair and that some people could do all the prescribed “right” steps and fail, but the operating paradigm (that had been ingrained in me since childhood from teachers who saw me as bright) I had held told me that I was far too talented and hard-working to fail. I had very little doubt that I wouldn't be successful. I was an ideal, hypothetical model of a pre-successful American worker.

So anyway, I didn't expect to have all the trouble that I faced finding a good job. At the end of the first summer of covid with nothing but rejections and employers affirming to me that there was nothing I could have improved on to get the job other than have prior experience, I was a discouraged worker who didn't even try anymore.

That's when FSET convinced me to do the temp agencies (who dropped me because one employer who was inhumanely abusive and ironically an HR department) gave a bullshit reason about me violating a protocol so they wouldn't have to make good on their promise to hire me after the temp period.

(I had allergies and it was literally the exact week in September when allergies were at their worst. A coworker, who hated me for some reason I never figured out and can only assume was jealousy, reported me for having a runny nose and I was immediately escorted out for bringing covid symptoms into the building. If I didn't go to work any day I had a runny nose, I wouldn't go any day. I take allergy meds literally every day of my life. My parents kept me too clean as a baby or something and didn't let me eat enough dirt, so an allergy panel showed I was allergic to every single common indoor and outdoor allergen).

Back to my suicidal hospitalization: I could say so much on the inpatient part. Suffice it to say I was never given my meds and there were no groups because they were understaffed and constantly wound up/pissed because of the uncooperative patients, so it was like prison where you had to argue with staff to get your basic needs met, and no soft surface existed and the water was always freezing, so it genuinely felt like being locked in a concrete box with no sunlight, no one on your side (they lied and said they called my psychiatrist and therapist. They never did. They also lied about ordering my meds), and no contact with the outside world. It was like a cruelly-designed Mr. Beast challenge with no reward in the end.

My friends said I was messed up for 2 weeks after and scary af because I was in survival-fight mode that would not turn off. I also was too overwhelmed by the outside world when I got out and could only eat pre-packaged snacks for a while because that was all I was used to/comfortable with.

Part of the agreement to let me leave inpatient was to do an intensive all-day outpatient program. I was actually dropped from that by insurance because I had undiagnosed ADHD among all my other issues and couldn't show up on time or sometimes at all. I still don't have my ADHD figured out because I had to convince my psychiatrist to refer me to a neuropsych who booked out for months to test me. I did it and got “Yes, much ADHD. All of the ADHD. Very wow.” So my psychiatrist finally believed me and agreed to start me on ADHD meds.

My psychiatrist and I are still working to find an ADHD med that would work for me. Vyvanse helped for a time, but my body metabolized it too quickly, leaving me with only around 6 functional hours in the day. I'm currently on extended-release Adderall, but so far not much help and there are too many other variables that could be fucking with it, like that my sleep-wake cycle is extremely unpredictable and I have a million appointments every day, so I am constantly sleep-deprived and am actually busier now than I was in grad school or any 8-hour job I worked.

The breakdown I had triggered me to develop fibromyalgia, so that has been a whole ordeal. I'm constantly in pain, it again took many months to see any doctor about it, and the meds take so long to start taking effect that we've been trying since June to find something that works.

The crucible that was my pandemic experience didn't refine me like fire refines gold or whatever the saying is but rather left me burnt, and not in the way that you can scrape the charred parts off of toast but like BURNT burnt (I can't think of an example. Maybe a popsicle. You're not getting that back once you take a flamethrower to it. Plus the stick would crumble into ash. RIP popsicle).

My life lately is a lot of appointments I often miss and have to reschedule, arguments with various agencies and even my doctors, breakdowns, and driving for Uber Eats because no one can fire me (but it pays beans and I get flack from restaurants and customers AND Uber because somehow the driver is the scapegoat for any issue that arises. I was so proud of my delivery aptitude and quality service until the tip-baiters and people being assholes for no reason started hitting me as common and daily occurrences).

A lot of people don't understand how UberEats works, but Uber doesn't even pay their driver enough to cover gas or depreciation on their vehicle for the mileage, much less the value of the driver's time and physical efforts. Tips are literally ⅔ of my income and my income does not cover my bills despite all the time I put in and algorithm I set up for myself that determines which trips to accept/reject for the most profit. It's a very toxic and unprotected form of employment. A lot of people lie that I didn't give them their food so that they can get a refund, but that comes back on me and risks my account being deactivated. It's virtually a fear-based system with some tricky artificial competition that Uber likes to throw in from time to time to convince us to drive for less and less pay.

I've looked into all the alternatives like GrubHub, Spark, DoorDash, etc. but I've been on their waiting lists for years, including GrubHub booting me off their list even though I was always quick to respond to their periodic question of if I still wanted to be on the list.

Between depression and ADHD, I can't work a normal job. I no longer have the capacity to keep a routine and can't show up to things with any level of reliability despite how badly I want to. I also don't have the spoons to deal with working with others or being accountable for tasks that feel--idk how to articulate it, but like--stupid to my autism. If something seems inefficient or not progressive (like not helpful to humanity) to me, I can't get my brain to do it. And with ADHD, if it's not interesting to me/something I am passionate about (I was extremely lucky that learning and receiving the praise from teachers I never got from my parents was my passion that got me so far and through multiple degrees), I can't get my brain to let me do it. Sometimes I just can't do anything, including things I want to do, and simply end up stuck. I wouldn't last in any job that wasn't self-directed and only happening when I have the spoons to be available. My options are very limited. And Uber can be slow. I've had times where I've waited 13 hours and not gotten a single request that wasn't going to cost me money to run.

Uber has some personal difficulties for me. In the summer, I found it a little bit fun, but now that it's cold, my Raynaud's is painful and I don't enjoy having to watch out for people who got their licenses from cereal boxes and don't know how to drive in the snow. It's an unpleasant sensory experience for me to work and honestly risky safety-wise. People don't turn on their porch lights for some reason (I have a headlamp now) and don't salt their walkways, and I'm uncoordinated because my dad didn't throw a ball at me enough as a kid probably, so there's ice, the treads on my boots are shot (and I can't afford to replace them), and I get banged up from falling on concrete.

I have a chiropractor and physical therapist, and they each said even before this that they could see me every day and still have something to work on with me. It's affirming, at least, to hear that professionals can physically feel how in pain my body is and that it's not just me being a baby. Part of it, I'm sure, is that I have PTSD (including from the traumas of my various pandemic experiences) and have horrible nightmares every night where I jerk around a lot in my sleep. I wake up every day feeling like I got hit by a bus, which is also partially why I don't get places on time.

On my own time, I'll spend 2 hours trying to get out of bed both overcoming the pain to move and convincing myself to get the willpower to. It's so much easier to just lie there and accept it, especially when I don't look forward to having to do another day. I don't feel rested because I spent the night working my body and brain, so I'm not sure I ever am rested. I need so much more sleep now, too, with fibromyalgia. This adds to my stress of outpacing my bills and just keeping up with the maintenance of myself and my apartment because that's less time I have to get things done.

I have 4 alarms (phone vibrating plus noise, an earthquake pillow one, my Fitbit vibrating on my wrist, and a Pavlok going all out screaming, vibrating, and shocking me with electricity), and it's still possible for me to sleep through all of them or somehow turn them off while half-asleep and go back to sleep. There are also times where I will be like, “Okay, getting up now,” and then I black out and it's 4 hours later and I missed 3 appointments that will take weeks to reschedule, if the clinic hasn't dropped me for the tardiness and absence. I'm running out of clinics to go to.

On a mental level, I am in a near-constant state of overwhelm that holds me inches from a full-blown, all-day breakdown at any given moment. Something about being so stressed with no relief for years on end has rewired my brain, I think, to make the adrenaline pathway so reinforced and the stress part of the brain overlit/overactive. I don't know how to relax. Doctors keep telling me I need to, especially with fibromyalgia, but I physically cannot seem to do it. I can't focus on anything like movies. Nothing is fun when I have always-present and terrorizing (by threatening my survival) pressure from all these stressors (mainly money. I'm in a constant race against my monthly bills, and each month, they creep closer and closer to outpacing me). I'm never happy to wake up and I'm always low-key scared. I'm desperate for security in any form.

I was so unable to do tasks after my suicidal breakdown that even though my psychiatrist, therapist, and general physician were begging me to apply for disability. I had hoped I just needed a few months of R&R and would be right back to being willing and able to work. That never happened, and it was extremely difficult for me to accept the fact that I was disabled. When I finally did, I begged for months for people to help me fill out all the forms (they were overwhelming me, which is, y'know, kind of a key feature of my disability) and no one did, so I lost months of time there. I eventually just had a moment of conviction or indignation or something that I was able to force myself to do them. I'm still kind of mad at everyone who didn't help.

My therapist actually did her best to help and, when the outpatient hospital ousted me because insurance refused to pay for it anymore, referred me to the county's CCS (Community Care Something-or-other) program. They gave me a worker who allegedly had some psychology- or human services-related degree who would help me function for 1 hour a week. I think the whole program is a farce and despite spending hours on this program, we accomplished absolutely nothing.

The first CCS worker I had was supposed to come over to my place (which had become a mess. I was a messy person before, as my apartment was a graveyard of unfinished projects due to my ADHD), but with my extended burnout, I wasn't cleaning and organizing on the level I used to. So I texted my CCS person a warning that my kitchen table was cluttered. I mean it to mean, “It will take me a minute to clear the table once you get here for your laptop for you to finish the unreasonably long entry paperwork on me, and I haven't gotten the energy to declutter it yet and won't until you get here because my ADHD needs a body double right now. She, for reasons I still don't understand, canceled the visit and never came. When I confronted her about what I meant, she was like…embarrassed to the point of not being willing to work with me anymore. There was a communication breakdown that I couldn't get her to communicate with me and she was somehow scared of how much and how articulated or something I communicated that she shut down.

I understand I “overcommunicate” from the perspective of allistics and neurotypicals [I had a bad childhood and was invalidated and wrongly blamed for things a lot, so I give as much explanation as possible to avoid any misunderstanding and articulate to the point that there won't be any ambiguities and thus can't be twisted into reason to punish me when I've done nothing to earn punishment. My caretakers as a child had their own mental issues that led them to being unreliable/unsafe to me and didn't offer me any feelings of security in relationships, perspective of reality (them taking their anger out on me and telling me everything, including their personal problems, was my fault), and ultimately everyone seems to say they want transparency and communication, but from my experiences and perspective, they don't want that. I have no idea what they really want. I give the level of communication I would want someone to give me and hope that they will just discard the parts they don't need/want, and apparently that's me being a burden or something and a “bad” quality.

Meanwhile, I WISH people would communicate and be transparent with me more. I think I am an understanding person who has done enough work on themselves to not repeat toxic patterns and be a healthy relationship to others. I don't listen to judge but to understand so I can work with the other person to fix any problems and work with what we got, not devalue them and distance myself or abandon them. Everyone on dating apps says they want this, but I've yet to meet someone who does. I think it's that people see this as an ideal but are unskilled at the time to play their role in the situation–both in offering and responding. I think I've put so many years of therapy and introspection into working on myself that others just haven't, so we're simply on different levels. I know I'm not alone in my experiences, but it's very isolating when you don't meet people who have done the same work.

Anyway, I got assigned a new CCS worker and she did not do all that work I described. When I was told I would be assigned to someone else, I specifically asked for one who has seen some shit and that nothing I do or say will move them. They did at least give me someone older with more experience, but she either over- or under-estimated me (I can't discern which). She, working in the same building as my therapist and being basically in at least a good bit of communication with her when I wasn't around, knew that I had a lot of crap going on that I needed more therapy/support/help unraveling and making sense of and peace with than the 45 min/week I got with my current therapist. So she offered to be like a second therapist and said I could tell her absolutely anything.

As the pattern of this narrative likely already cues, it turned out I could not tell her absolutely anything. I was a few months into my transition and no one prepares you for some of the changes. My endocrinologist had only told me, “You might go bald.” I thought my years of research and consulting with transmen in my life had encompassed all I needed to know. However, we sometimes do not know what we don't know and thus don't think to ask the questions we need to ask. As probably an autistic/abused person trait of mine, I speak very clinically and technically. At the time, I had recently been speaking with my therapist about anatomical changes that triggered emotions I was not prepared for. I attempted the same sort of conversation with my new CCS worker, but she yelled me for being inappropriate. Not just scolded but legit yelled, as if I wasn't a full grown adult capable of reason and discussion.

I was confused on what I did wrong, since I thought I was just taking her up on what she willingly offered. I am also a firm believer in the Mister Rogers quote about how anything that is mentionable is manageable (which goes back to why I don't listen to judge but rather to collaborate and also why I see disagreements as us vs. the problem rather than me vs. them. I do not feel the need to yell at someone unless it's like an emergency of some sort and there's a threat that yelling can somehow address and be beneficial to the situation).

From my perspective, I was being shut down and punished/shamed for asking for help with a problem that legit scared me and that I was willing to be vulnerable enough to share. I consider that sort of thing sacred and not something that can be trusted in everyone's hands. But the way she responded, to me, reinforced that I was a person unworthy of help: a message received from my childhood caretakers and all the people who were supposedly there to help me during my pandemic crises.

I couldn't bring myself to trust her anymore or even want to see her again. I'll admit that's a bit of my Emotional Dysregulation Disorder weighing in, but I didn't want her in any intimate spaces I'd need to let her into in order to serve me in her CCS capacity. I had had too many things go wrong lately in that time to not shut myself down to prevent more hurt by simply refusing any future opportunity for more hurt to occur. I was well beyond my limit and it took much convincing from my therapist for me to even give CCS a chance to help me.

Still, I asked to be reassigned to another CCS worker, this time knowing that I could not trust what they claim to offer and just keep the things we work on surface-level functioning--like cleaning my oven or going through the pile of mail I hadn't opened in weeks because their potential contents paralyzed me with fear.

I was denied my request and let go from the program as they felt I had burned through 2 workers and thus proven that I am not a good candidate for the program. I still don't agree with this and argued, but after weeks of (a reasonable number of) periodic emails and voicemails, I never got an email or call back. In hindsight, I maybe should have reported to the county what happened, but it's been like a year.

That mostly brings us back to the present. I have been back in FSET since Spring but just focusing on staying afloat with Uber/working on whatever I can handle. I had a whole researched and designed pitch asking them to fund the several hundred dollars it would be for me to become a mobile notary, but they denied my request as they lack the funds. They also denied my request for new boots for the Uber hazards because they felt it was a fashion thing and not a need. Agencies, or honestly anyone with any power over me, not understanding me even with my articulate, crystal-clear explanations isn't surprising to me anymore. And counterintuitively, more explanation (even from different approaches) does not help and just makes me think I'm weird, which somehow is taken as more cause to not grant whatever request it is I am making in the first place.

So I Uber, I argue with doctors and agencies to try to get my needs met, and I have breakdowns despite my efforts to not. I have always had a massive list of more sculptures I want to make. I do want to get to a point where I can make them someday. I've been waiting on disability for an answer for nearly a year and done all I can to bolster my case with getting doctor testimonies, giving my testimony, noting clinic visits so the person assigned to my case can view the findings of them, getting an ADRC contact to guide me (though looking back, she didn't help at all and it was me searching out and discovering everything on my own while all she did was forward what documentation I had to the state for me)... All I can do is try to survive until they say “yes,” but they usually say “no” first (which is why an alarming number of people file bankruptcy and/or die waiting for a disability decision), especially since mental health reasons are the hardest ones to get approved, and my ADRC contact has been using language such as, “This will make it easier for next time,” and I'm not prepared to hear her tell me she thinks we'll have to file another claim and wait another year, so I don't ask

I feel terrible that I've not been sculpting or posting. I miss engaging the Tumblr community and sharing my art with people who appreciate it (and not tell me it's garbage. Wtf, Grandma).

The fact that I couldn't actually bring myself to commit suicide and still don't even though the extremely-difficult-to-survive--particularly with multiple debilitating ailments--and high cost I incur daily to myself trying to keep my head above water as long as I can, tells me that there is a life better than this that I want to live. I can't fathom for myself anything other than what is current, and I am putting all my chips into believing that I could be wrong and there's a chance all my striving will eventually meet stable ground to rest upon, where I can return to myself and make art again. I hate to think this wreck is who I really am and want to believe this is just who I am under a stupid-amount of pressure that no human should ever have to endure. A lot of people have been quick to point out all the resources, but I guarantee I've pursued all of them hard and received some help but not nearly enough. It's hard to wrestle with the feelings of not being enough to live or not being worthy of living because it's such a struggle for me to throw enough money at bills/expenses to allow me to live. It shouldn't cost someone all of themselves to try (and imminently fail) to earn the allowance to live.

Things like the ACP and student loan freeze (I owe $80,000+ because college is an overpromising, commercialized thing that is more gamble than guarantee) are ending soon (or maybe have ended and I just haven't opened my mail to know), and I'm deathly afraid. Uber isn't enough and on down-times with them and when my various ailments aren't being debilitating, I work on selling things to try to make enough for the month. Obviously I'm eventually going to run out of things to sell.

I'm also fearful that my estimated disability check, if I get one, is only going to be $900/month, because I didn't get enough work experience to be allowed more. I genuinely don't know that that's going to be enough, especially since the price of everything like rent is inflating. I don't know how long I can financially sustain my means of survival. But I'm still doing everything I can. It's jarring to go from decorated Valedictorian to…whatever exhausted mess this is.

My parents stopped asking me months ago how things are going because they know it's never good. They don't have the means to help me as my mom got laid off of work, my dad has dementia and doesn't work, and if I have to live with them again, I would essentially be signing off on my own death certificate because even spending a few hours in that home, with those people, is enough to completely drain me, trigger so much PTSD, grind my mental health down even more with whatever new dynamics and energies they decide to inject in our interactions. I wasn't free to fight the battles I needed to until I moved out into my own private space, and since it is the cheapest option in the entire city and so necessary of a component to my mental health, my therapist identified keeping my apartment as my number one priority. With my mental health, I wouldn't do well at all or be able to get back on my feet if I was homeless.

This turned into a lot more than I intended, but I'm really satisfied that it explains my situation and makes it known that you can do everything right and still lose. The system will cannibalize you if you don't have money to start with and don't have the means to keep it coming. Poverty charges interest and there are no days off, especially if you're disabled. There are no real safetynets and the ones that exist are overwhelmed, underfunded, underpowered, and essentially only serve to make the ones who don't need them feel satisfied (and aren't outraged and pushing for changes) being sold the lie that those who need help have it available to them. Having an inside view of what the experience is, I am apalled at how little systemic support or consideration there is for the disabled, especially since it is the largest minority group that anyone can join at any time.

Some days suck worse than others, like when the weather is so bad that I cannot Uber or when my pain or mental state has been aggravated and I haven't made enough time for self-care so it has decided for me when self-care must be attended to. I wish I could give myself the self-care my mind and body need so I can be healthier, more resilient to setbacks, and feel less pain, but honestly some nights I don't even go to bed because there isn't enough time/I can't afford to not be working or selling things. Society likes to frame self-care as a luxury and only recently (since covid attacked everyone's mental health) did self-care start to be widely accepted as a need. It's just too bad all that rhetoric amounted to is awareness without action. Capitalism still demands and glorifies the nonstop grind, even if it kills us.

Obviously some days are better than others and it feels incredible when I feel a genuine smile spread across my face. I wish it wasn't so foreign of a feeling, but the fact that it is makes it more impactful. I try to give my attention to hope, even if I have no practical basis to believe it exists.

Receiving this ask did ultimately bring a smile to my face because it means I'm still cared for in a world that kicks me to the ground daily and says I don't deserve care. It is so hard for me to even care about myself a lot of the time, with all the negative messages I've internalized from my dominatingly high ratio of experiences that are rejection or failure in some form. Ultimately, we all just want to be loved. Thank you so much for reminding me that pain isn't all there is for me (it's easy to get sucked into that mindset after years of nearly everything gutting me. I often fail to even notice myself falling into it and being consumed by it).

I know I don't owe anyone an explanation for my absence and that no one is mad at me or blaming me for it that I would need to provide some sort of justification. But I wanted to communicate with you all because I love you. I genuinely mean that.

I still think about this from time to time and I still want come back to making and sharing sculptures and just having fun hearing all the things you have to say about them and how delighting, inspiring, or entertaining you find them. I consider the ability to do that and this Tumblr page to be one of my greatest things I've made. I don't care about money and despise that money dictates virtually every aspect of my life in the worst way. Community, creativity, and self-improvement motivated by joy/love rather than profit/fear are of infinitely more value to me. I'm still pursuing that dynamic in the end through all of this.

By no means is anyone obligated to donate to me, but if you can afford to and want to, I'll post my payment platform things below (some may still have my birth name attached). Any amount helps and Lord knows I dove for a penny on the ground last week.

If you can't donate but still want to help, reblogging can help no matter how little reach you feel your blog has, and I also would appreciate words of encouragement or support. I also just want you to know that if you've been reading this far, I really appreciate that you care enough about me to do that.

All of my love,

Stan

(They/Them)

PayPal:

@Stanwagner09

Venmo:

@asclw7643

Zelle:

[email protected]

#Thank you everyone for your support #and thank you chronically-issy for checking in on me #chronically-issy

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pastelavender88 · 2 years

Text

Sinboud- Chapter 1

Summary: We see what everyone has been up to since Chapter 24 of Right Person, Maybe Wrong Time.

Previous Series Masterlist

Series Masterlist

It’s been around 4 months since I told Eddie about my pregnancy and things have been going great. A house opened up near Alex and Christopher’s school and we were able to quickly purchase and move into it. Thank god for a recession and royalty checks. I’m around 5 months pregnant and now my stomach is a little hard to hide. So I’m always being petted by my boyfriend, kids, family, friends, and even strangers. It’s “amazing”. The morning sickness, which I never understood why they call it that if it’s all day, came and went. Now, I’m just around the house all-day complaining about swollen ankles, and a sore back. Don’t even get me started on my boobs, I mean if I lay on my back long enough I’m 100% sure they're gonna choke me out. Everyone has adjusted to living together and our routines have developed. Eddie is on morning duty. He has to wake up the kids, shower, wake the kids up again, start breakfast, make sure they're dressed properly and they brush their teeth, make them eat, then take them to school. Oh and of course my morning kiss, while I’m still half-asleep. I’m on afternoon and night duty. Which is pretty much making dinner, making sure they shower, and they head to bed on time. Ever since I told Eddie I was pregnant he’s been really concerned about my diet. He tries to make me eat “healthier” which means he’s tried to deny everyone in the house of snacks and sweets. Except now that he’s a firefighter again, he’s not always here. So I can eat my cravings of philly cheese steak sandwiches with Oreo Ice cream in peace. All and all, things have been great.

Buck invited everyone over for dinner tonight so we were all huddled up in his dining room waiting for him to finish cooking. Buck was kind of just talking aloud when he directed a question towards Eddie. “So it doesn’t bother you?“ Eddie looked up from his game with Alex and Christopher confused. “That Bobby didn’t even consider either one of us for interim captain?”

“Not really. Just got back to the 118. Clearly it’s bothering you.” Eddie said.

“Listen, don’t get me wrong, I think Lucy is whatever.” Buck started.

“Understatement of the year but sure.” I said.

“Y/n, shh. She’s great but she’s out. You know, I think it’s weird that he’s struggling to pick a replacement when he has so many excellent options right under his nose.”

“Like you?” Eddie asked.

“Naw, I think he’s talking about Chim or Hen.” I replied.

“Haha. I’m serious. It’s like he’s choosing not to see them and everything they have to offer.”

“Time.” Eddie called in reference to the game him and the kids were playing. “Aw, y’all win next time.” He turned back to Buck. “What are you offering?”

“Right now, Bobby’s famous lasagna.”

“And his handsome face.” I said in a teasing manner.

“Yeah, that too.” Buck said, playing along with the joke. “This lasagna has 6 types of cheese and it’s cooked to perfection.” He grabbed the lasagna out of the oven and brought it over to the table. “Okay, very hot. Don’t use your hands.”

“Is it just my pregnancy or is that making anyone very hungry?” I asked,

“It does look good.” Eddie said.

“Smells really good, too.” Christopher confirmed.

“It only took me three tries to get it right.” Buck said.

“I’m not sure you get three tries on the job. At least not without a significant body count.”

“I just want to know what these other candidates have that apparently I don’t.” Buck questioned.

“Buck, you don’t even have a couch.” Christopher teased. Everyone besides Buck started to giggle at his remark.

“Seriously dad, it’s getting sad.” Alex added.

“What does that have to do with being fire captain?”

“Nothing…” Alex said.

“...It’s just plain weird.” Christopher said, finishing Alex’s statement. Everyone chuckled again.

“My last two couches came with girlfriends.”

“I think you mean your last two girlfriends came with couches. Taylor moved out, what, 4 months ago, Buck? You could have replaced the couch by now.” Eddie said.

“Uh, well, maybe I don’t want to pick the wrong couch again.” Buck replied.

“Maybe that’s how Bobby feels about interim captain.” Eddie said.

“Listen Buck, I have no idea how this whole thing works or what the criteria is but I’m sure Bobby not choosing you doesn’t have anything to do with your performance as a firefighter or anything else. I mean look at everyone around you. They’re all extremely qualified. Just relax.”

“It’s easier said than done.” Buck said.

“You know what isn’t? Feeding us. Let’s eat.” Alex called out.

“Fine, fine. Hold your horses.” We all ate dinner and made small talk here and there.

Eddie’s POV

Chimney was telling us about the situation between Maddie and him and when he turned to me for advice. “Oh don’t ask me. I once asked Shannon to sneak out of my house so Christopher couldn’t see her. Plus Y/n and I did that all the time.”

“You see? Compared to that, I’m as chivalrous as Sir Galahad.” Chimney said.

“Or as delusional as Don Quixote. I don’t understand. Isn’t this what you’ve been wanting? What the two of you been working towards?”

“It is, it just feels like I’m waiting for…something.”

“Well all those times Y/n and I were sneaking around. We both told ourselves it was to protect the kids or Buck. The truth is deep down we were just protecting ourselves.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Chim asked.

“You didn’t skip the morning after conversation, Chim. You delayed it.” Bobby replied.

“And you added a whole new complicated layer.” I said.

“I had a one-night stand with my ex. I don’t know what the rules are.” Chim explained.

“Maybe that’s what you need to find out.” Bobby said.

Buck’s POV

Alex was spending the night which she rarely does now due to the new house and the baby on the way. I was getting dinner situated when Alex began to talk.

“Dad?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” I turned to face Alex.

“If I ask a question, do you promise you won’t get mad?”

“What? Why would I get mad at you for asking a question?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes adults don’t like when kids ask them questions. Can you just promise?”

“Of course, I promise. Wassup?”

“Do you still have feelings for my mom?” She looked down at the counter.

“Uhh…” I wasn’t sure how to respond.

“I promise I won’t tell anyone. It’s just you seemed sad when I told you mom was pregnant and now with you not getting captain…”

“Hey, kiddo, you don’t have to worry about that. I’m okay.”

“I just don’t want you to be sad. I would come over more it’s just that I like Chris and Eddie. Not more than you, but still. Plus the baby, she’s growing more and more by the day.”

“She?”

“Well, we don’t know yet but I think it’s a girl. Chris thinks it’s a boy. If it is, I'm literally gonna gag.”

“Alex, just be happy for a little sibling.”

“I am. It’s just that I would prefer a girl.” I let out a chuckle. “Seriously, dad are you okay?”

“Alex, I’m okay. I don’t like you mom. At least not in that way. She’s with Eddie and they’re having a baby, and I’m getting used to being on my own. Well not alone, I’ve got you.”

“You’ve still got mom to dad.” She wrapped her arms around me.

“Yeah, I got her too.” To be honest, I was still head over heels in love with Y/n but she’s with Eddie, and as his best-friend I needed to be happy for them. No matter how much it hurt me.

I’m back! How’s everyone? There’s a lot in store for this season but it will no doubt be shorter than the other book.

#eddie diaz x reader #Eddie Diaz #eddie and christopher #evan buckley #past evan buckley x reader #evan buck buckely #original child character #911 fic #911 fanfic #911 on fox #911

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