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autumnslance · 27 days

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I have a question! How do you get over a fear of writing and creating a character? I try to write but I start feeling anxious. My brain doesn’t want to come up with anything. Even trying to imagine a character in another series causes the anxiety. I know I should stop but I don’t like the idea of stopping as I feel like I’m failing.

Is it the creation, or the potentially sharing with others, that's actually scary? Is it what others may say? Is it feeling like what you might come up with isn't "good enough" in some way? Is it fear of a self-insert, or of being derivative? Feeling like you have to create characters and stories to be in fandom, rather than wanting to create for the sake of it?

A lot of times, it's our fear of how others might react or think that stops us. We're afraid of looking dumb, or oblivious, or otherwise Incorrect in some way, and that we'll be ridiculed or scorned for it. We're taught to fear failure and the judgment we think comes with it.

It's easy to say "kill the cop in your head" and "screw what others think, create for yourself" but it IS hard, if it's a point we want to even get to for ourselves.

So figure out what part of the process actually is scary. I guarantee it's not actually "all of it!" There's at least a ranking of "scariest" to "least scary but still nerve-wracking". Once named and acknowledged, and broken down, it's a little easier to tackle.

I made up stories and characters in my own head for years before I ever shared them with anyone. A teacher singling out my and another student's stories as meeting the mark of an assignment in completely opposite ways helped. Screwing up the courage to post to my high school's nascent lit journal was hard.

I was terrified. I was one of the weird kids constantly bullied or ignored. If people knew who I was, they didn't like me cuz I was awkward and unsociable. But I wanted to write, and adults I trusted who read the few things I actually turned in told me I was decent at it, so I did it scared anyway.

And nothing bad happened. Some folks thought my stories were OK. If they said anything at all.

It took me several years before I was able to post anything online. Some was access. Some was fear. Some was feeling like I didn't have characters or stories to share. I got into roleplay, online and in person. My characters were...well, LynMars, my usual handle, is from a Vampire LARP character I played over 20 years ago, and made a lot of baby roleplayer mistakes on. I did her dirty in many ways. She wasn't a good character. Had a basic screwed up backstory but no real goals or plans. I played her for a few years and learned a lot from her, and so she's stuck with me as a reminder.

Several of my characters from those days weren't great; unimaginative, derivative, some very much "wow I did not know better back then..." But...we had stupid goofy RP fun anyway, learned from those characters and each other, tried new things. Sometimes they worked. Sometimes they didn't. A lot of times it was nerve-wracking.

There's a lot I write that I don't post. Some because it isn't ready yet. Some because I'm not ready and don't know that I ever will be. It's scary. And some of that is the bully still in my head, and I know it, and some days that's easier to deal with than others. Some days I can tell the bully to screw off. Sometimes I keep those stories private, I tell myself as indulgences.

I give myself the grace to fail, and remind myself that doing it scared anyway is where many of us live every day.

Anxiety sucks. Even with meds and therapy, it doesn't entirely go away. Figuring out how to work around it, or through it, or even wrangle it into submission and work for oneself, is tricky and individual. But it doesn't own or define you and your creativity.

Start small. Start simple. Start for yourself and don't worry about sharing it yet. If making up a new character is hard, find a favorite canon character, marinate and rotate that blorbo in your brain awhile, then file the serial numbers off as you imagine them in What Ifs and AUs. Share only if and when you're ready, if it's a thing you want to actually do.

And you may not. You don't have to create anything to be part of fandom. You don't have to have OCs with full backstories and planned futures. You don't have to write or draw or screenshot stories. You can just vibe.

Find why you want/need to create. How much it means to you. Isolate what parts of creation and/or sharing are so scary. Figure out if it's something you personally truly want or need. Then you'll be able to chart your path forward, one way or another.

#lyn prompts #blogging #about me #rambling #not sure if this is helpful #cuz I'm not sure I'll ever stop feeling scared of creating myself #I do it cuz I gotta & that's just a bit stronger than the fears

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mental-mona · 1 year

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Things Not to Say to Someone Who's Depressed

Apparently there are too many well-meaning folks out there who just don’t understand depression and its effects on people, and they say some really stupid things. As someone who has spent many years fighting depression, both as a disease in and of itself and as one end of bipolar disorder, I hope I can help explain to the uneducated why some of these things are so dumb. So I give you, ranked from least to most offensive,

9 things not to say to someone who’s depressed:

9. “Have a drink and you’ll feel better.” Self-medicating with alcohol is never the answer and is often the first step on the road to addiction. If you give me alcohol, one of two things will happen: either I will drink myself into oblivion trying to feel better, or I will end up feeling worse thanks to the depressant effects of the alcohol.

8. “Have you tried [alternative/additional therapy]?” Just to clarify: depression is caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain and/or destructive thought patterns. If what you’re pushing makes some kind of sense, I might consider it, but the best it will do is improve my outlook a bit or give me a coping mechanism. It won’t make the problem actually go away; only medicine, psychotherapy, and putting in The Work can do that. Yes, St. John’s wort has value, but it conflicts with a lot of prescription medications, and you can never fully trust herbal supplements.

7. “This is happening to you because you [insert vice(s)]. If you’d just [insert virtuous thing(s)], you’d be fine.” If you’re lecturing me about getting enough exercise and sleep or about drinking less alcohol, you have a very good point. I wish you luck trying to break through the depression lethargy to get me to exercise, as that would actually be very helpful, but you'll have a very hard time getting me off the couch until I'm already in a somewhat better place. Also, making those lifestyle changes won’t magically cure me, I have no energy to exercise, and I’m probably not sleeping well. If you’re admonishing me about anything else, then no, what you’re pushing probably won’t make much difference. Also, you sound obnoxiously self-righteous when you lecture me like that; please find a nicer way to make your point.

6. “It’s not that bad.” Actually, it is. The fact is that my brain’s screwed-up biochemistry and thought ruts are making me feel all sorts of awful things mentally and physically. I am not imagining them, and while I probably know that there’s no rational reason for me to feel them, I can’t use logic to make them go away. Please stop trying to convince me that life is good when I feel like a worthless piece of dirt and haven’t genuinely smiled in months.

5. “I have no idea what to do with you.” There’s a very simple solution: ASK! I will hopefully know what I need from you. If I can’t give you a concrete answer, ask about something specific you think you might be able to help me with. If I still can't give you a good answer, then that’s my problem not yours. If what you mean is more along the lines of “You need more help than I can give you” or “I don’t have the energy to deal with you all the time,” then you should have said so, albeit gently.

4. “When’s the last time you took your meds?” in response to a strong emotional reaction. I am a human being with the same basic emotional responses as everyone else. Please do not pathologize my feelings and/or brush off an outburst as the product of a diseased mind until you have talked to me and tried to understand what I’m reacting to and why.

3. “OMG I feel so bad I didn’t know what life is like for you I’m so sorry that I reacted like that!” or “I feel so useless that I can’t help you!” Odds are that you said this in reaction to my explaining how depression makes my life hell. Odds are that when I explained this to you, I was looking for support. You have just turned the tables and made it about you and how you’re a bad friend, thereby forcing me to expend energy that I probably didn’t have in order to reassure you that it’s ok. Fail.

2. “Stop being so lazy.” I’m not lazy; I just have no energy to get things done and even less interest in doing them. I wake up each day feeling like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders, in the blackest pit you can imagine. There are days when getting dressed and eating meals are major accomplishments beyond my capabilities, never mind doing something which you would consider an actual accomplishment. If you see me sleeping all day, it means that I’m desperately low on energy, I’m trying to hide from the world, and/or I slept badly last night.

1. “Cheer up!” or “Snap out of it!” I can’t. Thanks to my brain's messed up wiring, my world looks gray and dreary, or black and hopeless. It’s probably going to take a lot of cognitive behavioral therapy to teach me how to change my thought patterns to something more positive, and likely an antidepressant to lift the soul-crushing despair and numbness. Your chirping at me to think myself happy is unbelievably irritating and may even depress me more.

#what not to say #mental health #mental illness #mental health awareness month #depression #communicating and relating #text post #long post #written oc #mm.txt

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wallflowerimagines · 3 years

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*TW PERIOD MENTION*

If you're comfortable with this, could you do some hcs for the lords (but mainly moreau) with an s/o who gets HORRIBLE period cramps? Like they're literally writhing in pain and even after they take pain meds it's still miserable. Only do this if you feel comfortable of course, I totally understand if you dont want to do it❤

Hi, sorry folks, I bumped this to the top of the list, cuz I don't know if it's time sensitive for you, hope it brings comfort❤️ (Moreau's will have some extra)

TW: Period Mention, Reader is still Gender Neutral

Alcina Dimitrescu

Ah, she remembers those. She hasn't had to deal with one in a long while, due to her mutation, but even for her the experience was not pleasant.

This, however, looks very different.

Alcina cannot imagine the pain you must be in. You are curled into yourself on the couch, humming in an attempt to distract yourself from the pain, and you might try to hide them but she can see the tear tracks on your face.

Alcina takes care of you. Any of her day to day tasks can and will wait-- you are far more important. She doesn't leave the room unless you ask her to, and the Maids aren't let into the room unless it is to bring HER the things she needs to take care of you.

She will do whatever you need from her, no question. Cuddles, heated blankets, she will even read aloud to you as a distraction. Pro tip--her hands can get pretty chilly, and if you're someone who does well with ice packs, her hands work 100% better to cool off your skin.

Don't worry about her loosing control at the smell of blood--you are obviously in pain and she has far too much self control to let a little bit of blood bother her. (But depending on how hungry her daughters are, they might not be let in the room unless they have fed recently)

She will also use her contact with the Duke to find you a proper doctor. It's not normal for you to be in this much pain. Dearest, it doesn't matter if someone else has said there's nothing more to be done-- she's getting you a competent Doctor to get a second opinion.

Donna Beneviento

Donna is panicking.

Lady Beneviento is stressed the hell out by seeing you in pain--she hates it. You're lying in a pile of blankets on the floor, unable to be even the slightest bit comfortable because of the pain, and in such obvious agony that your hands are shaking.

Still, she's more than ready to make you feel better. Other than pain pills and more traditional treatment, Donna firmly believes in the power of distraction.

She will use books, movies, heck with your permission she might even use the pollen to craft a hallucination for you to help take the pain away.

(Ethan's encounter with the demon fetus was able to cause him enough harm that he felt it, Donna would definitely try to see if she could use her powers to trick your brain into not feeling as much pain)

She will also be attached to you at the hip, if you need space or can't be touched during your period, you need to tell her up front. She'll be very clingy when you are this miserable.

A little self indulgence here: while Donna does like her tea, she makes a KILLER hot chocolate. If chocolate brings you joy during your period, she has a constant, steady supply of it sent up to your room.

Salvatore Moreau

Salvatore engages Doctor mode immediately. For you to be in this much pain is both not normal and completely unacceptable. He's going to do his best to help.

This man absolutely used to be the Village doctor before his mutation, and as a result does Know His Shit. His siblings and mother may infantilize him to a certain degree, but that is mainly because Moreau's main issues are short term memory problems and his obsessive devotion to Mother Miranda that can make him regress. He's still competent as a doctor, and if he needs to reference anything, he still has some copies of medical textbooks.

He was also a Small Town Doctor, meaning he knows how to treat pain without access to traditional medicine, since often times he didn't have access to it.

It doesn't matter if you're not a tea person, you're still getting tea, made with herbs you don't know the name of and couldn't pronounce even if you did.

He doubles this up with more traditional pain relief methods like extra strength ibuprofen and heated compresses on the area. He might even talk you into doing a few exercises--it can help a lot with pain relief.

Still, when he's caring for you, sometimes he has to leave the room. He uses getting you a glass of water or another blanket as an excuse, but it's really so he can take a deep breath and center himself. Moreau is an empathetic man who loves you to pieces, and watching you cry silently into a pillow just...hurts.

Salvatore also does his best to distract you with anything he has on hand, mostly movies. While you two might normally playfully argue about which ones to watch, he will absolutely defer to you. I would recommend taking this time to watch a scary movie if you're a horror fan, there's literally no other time where Moreau would let you get away with it.

He is at your side constantly, and will only give you space if you ask for it. Even then, he will pop back in every few hours to check in.

Now for Fluff stuff: If you're not careful and watch him like he watches you, Moreau will run himself ragged trying to keep you comfortable.

The best solution to preventing this is coaxing him into bed with you. He might let out a couple of token protests, but one look at your pleading face takes all the fight right out of him.

He will cuddle up to you as close as possible and rub little circles into your back or stomach, whatever feels best. If you two are face to face, you can start to feel yourself relax in time with his breathing, and both of you slowly drift off to sleep together.

It's the best you've felt in days ❤️

Karl Heisenberg

Magnet Man is just... So lost...

You are writhing in agony in your bed, sobbing into a pillow, and so obviously suffering. He HATES to see you like this, because you're hurting and he doesn't know how to fix it.

Karl wants to hurt the things that hurt you, but when it's your own body rebelling against you and causing you pain...He wants to make it better for you but he can't.

He swallowed his pride IMMEDIATELY and called Moreau to the factory. Heisenberg might consider The Lord of the Reservoir to be a little slow in the head, but he used to be a doctor, and Karl is taking zero chances with your health.

He also pops by the Duke to pick up any kind of pain relief possible--Karl literally brings back 8 different brands of acetaminophen, hot water bottles, cocaine, opium, and enough alcohol to give an elephant a blackout. (Maybe he can get you to pass out long enough that you'll sleep through the worst of it?)

You will have to ask directly for cuddles if you want them--as handsy and clingy as Heisenberg is, he is so Bad At Feelings that he will just hover in the corner and work on projects to keep his hands busy. He doesn't know if you want to be touched, and is afraid to ask...but he really wants to keep an eye on you anyway.

#tw: periods #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #donna beneviento x reader #salvatore moreau x reader #lord moreau x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #re8 #resident evil village #karl heisenberg #donna beneviento #alcina dimitrescu #salvatore moreau #resident evil #resident evil 8

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ashisstrange · 3 years

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MASTERLIST

ʷᵒʳᵈˢ: ².²ᵏ

ᵖᵃⁱʳⁱⁿᵍ: ᶜʰⁱˡᵈᵉ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵗᵃᵍˢ: ʰᵘʳᵗ/ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ, ˢˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃⁿᵍˢᵗ, ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ⁱⁿˢᵉʳᵗ, ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏ ᵃˡʳᵉᵃᵈʸ

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

Its late in the night, far too late for your liking. The moon is glistening in the sky with it's stars, providing a small sheen of light in your dark room, passing through the curtains. It's not unusual for Tartaglia to get home late considering his occupation, but you never got used to the worry pooling in ur gut each hour that passes without him by your side.

What if he's gotten incredibly hurt and you're not there to help? What if one day he doesn't return home? Nontheless you always prepare extra dinner and make the bed, even on nights he doesn't return. You never had the idea of coming home to loving arms and warm dinner as a kid, so it felt as if it's your duty to make sure Tartaglia never suffers that feeling.

The feeling of a stab in the chest as you enter the dark house, eerily silent. You'd always pad your way to the kitchen silently and snag a sandwich before going to bed in your room. Your living situation had never been inherently bad, but the people you lived with, the people any other person would've called their parents, seemed to make everything unbearable.

That is why when you turned 18 you moved out to Liyue harbor, and your close friend Zhongli was there every step of the way. You had run into him once during a trip at the age of 16, and you had kept contact through letters ever since.

The man, at the time, told you he was 23, but he never really seemed to age. You brushed it off, probably overthinking it. That is the same person that introduced you to Childe, it was quite a sudden occurence, but you'll be forever grateful.

You needed a place to stay and your friend told you that his friend wouldnt mind a roommate, and that he was rarely found home anyways. You took up the offer, not knowing that your roommate would be one of the fatui harbingers.

You were off to a rocky start, the man refusing to talk to you the very few times he was at the appartment. Later though, he seemed to warm up to you, ever so slowly.

You don't remember how your relationship ever came to be, it's not like you've ever explicitly put a label to it. There was just a moment where you felt as if everything changed. What you had wasn't just merely a romantic relationship, it was more than that. To provide each other comfort and love like no one else had ever done before. Unconditional love that didnt seem to falter, even during the moments where you parted ways.

You smile to yourself, remeniscing the days you barely talked, and the days you spent helping him when he was wounded. There was one particular night he just crashed into your bed in the middle of the night, even though he usually only used the couch.

He had clung to you as if you were his only lifeline, sleeping soundlessly as you laid in shock. The shock died down after a few seconds though, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Not long after you fell asleep too, and since that night Tartaglia had never slept on the couch ever again.

You check th clock. 4:37 Am, way too late to be up, but it's not like you'd sleep regardless. You'd probably get an ear full from Zhongli during your scheduled lunch the next day, but that, folks, is something for future you to deal with.

Suddenly you heard the turning of keys in a lock, and a door opening and slamming shut. That can only be one person. Then you heard a crash coming from the living room, making you shoot up. You slipped on your slippers as you quickly shuffled your way across the room and out into the living room.

You flicked on the light and were met by Tartaglia, slumped against the back of the couch. His bow was discarded to the side and he was breathing heavily. Sluggishly, his eyes opened to meet yours, his gaze seemed distant, almost empty.

You snapped out of your trance, rushing to pull his arm over your shoulder. You managed to drag him across the living room, over to the bathroom, settling him down on the closed lid of the toilet. You held up your hands, as if to say 'wait here'. You didn't dare break the silence that hung over you, scared that you'd set him off or something.

He didn't seem to protest, so you left to go get the med kit from the kitchen, and a clean rag to clean off the blood splattered across his skin. Was it his? That was a question that, regardless if you could guess the answer, would be left unanswered. As always.

He met your eyes when you returned, seeking for some contact. He knew how much you hated blood. The stickyness, the sickening smell and the thought of what must have happened that involved getting covered in blood. You always helped him regardless, and he thanked you dearly for that. After a long day he simply could not do it himself.

It makes him feel helpless, but you're always right by his side to make him feel better. You wet the rag, cleaning off his calloused hands. His face too had some traces of blood, but those were easily wiped away as well.

After some emergency stitches and a bandage around his bicep you motioned for him to stand up, letting him know that the treatment was done. He was still quite weak, but not as much as before.

"Thanks," he croaked, the first words you shared in 2 days. His voice sounded devoid of any confidence. He seemed very fragile, but you didn't comment it.

"No worries," You send him a reassuring smile, helping him get up and over to the bedroom. You see him visibly relax once he's in bed, snuggling into the sheets. He immediately rolls over towards you when he feels the matress dip, wrapping his arms around your waist.

His face is buried in between your shoulder blades, and it's nearly impossible for you to turn over and look at him. He only does that when he's in a bad mood, and you stop putting in effort to try and face him.

"Bad day?" He hums, the vibrations thrumming against your back. He seems tense, but you're careful not to trigger him too much. The last thing you want is to stress him out even more, knowing he has a lot on his plate already.

After a while, when you've started nodding away assuming he fell asleep you suddenly feel movement behind you. You open your eyes as you hear a small sniffle. It's almost as if you could hear your hart shatter from beneath your ribs. He probably thought you were asleep too.

His arms had relaxed, allowing you to turn around easily. His ocean blue eyes met yours, big with surprise, even though they seemed almost grey-ish in the faint moonlight. All you could do is smile at him as you opened his arms, for him to rely on you.

And that's exactly what he did. qHe fell into your chest, sniffling and crying freely as you drew patterns on his back, your other hand running through his hair. You could almost feel his clogged nose by the way he was having trouble breathing. After a bit his sobbing eased down to mere sniffles as you handed him a handkerchief to blow out his nose.

He used to have a lot of trouble with that, relying on people. Upon meeting him he imediately sparked you as the type of person that didnt bother anyone with his personal feelings, bottling them up for only him to experience. You could see how it physically and mentally ate away at him

That's why one day you faced him, and opened your arms. He had quirked up a brow, confused at what you were insinuating. "Rely on me." You said, and he chuckled, assuming it was a joke.

When you didn't move he realised you weren't kidding. Eventually you wrapped your arms around him, the man tense in your grip. "You don't seem to want to bug anyone else with your problems, so you can rely on me instead,"

You had no idea ho much those words had meant to him, they stuck by him like gum under a shoe. It felt good, he admitted, to have someone to rely on.

"I'm so sorry," He croaks, and he sounds nearly as small as he did in the bathroom half an hour ago, his eyes red with tears. Seeing him like that made your chest clench in pain, knowing the pain the world has caused him.

"There's nothing for you to apologise for," he seems to be taken aback by your comment, maybe even... offended?

"N-no way, i'm clearly a burden to you and a waste of yo-" you shut him up by pressing a kiss to his lips, making his eyes widen.

"You have nothing to apologize for because i am here for you, willingly. I promised to help you with whatever you're going through didn't i," He nods in defeat, leaning back into you. The way he cuddles up to you almost seems domestic, forgetting the fact that he kills people for a living.

"You need to take a break sweetie, otherwise you'll just keep eating yourself up," You stroke a lock of hair out of his face that nearly seemed glued by the stickyness of his tears. He furrows his brows, creating deep creases in between them.

"You know i can't, there's way too much for me to do," He looks up at you, as if he's offended you brought it up in the first place. You press your thumb in between his brows, easing up the crease and stopping him from furrowing.

"We both know it isn't a crime to take a week off, considering you've never used your days off," He tries to butt in, but you shush him before he can start. "And before you start about 'your duties', there's enough harbingers at the fatui, it's not like they can't send Scaramouche to deal with your business for a bit,"

He frowns again, but you resume in stroking his hair. "Besides, if they don't allow you to take off, which i highly doubt, they'll have me to deal with," You smirk. His eyes crinkle up as he musters a small smile. You're not the most intimidating person on the planet, but it's the sentiment that matters.

"What would i even do in that week though," he huffs, fiddling with the back of your shirt as he seems deep in thought.

"Well i had just the idea," you chuckle as he looks at you in disbelief. His eyes are still a bleary red, but you can tell he's a lot less tense than earlier. "And that is..." He continues, his tone ever so curious.

"Say, how long has it been since you've been back home," he visibly tenses up, not meeting your eyes. You know its a sensetive topic, but it'd really do him good to go back home to see his family.

"I dont know, nearly two years," his voice is merely above a whisper, bless the fact that the room is so silent you'd be able to hear a pin drop. You adjust your position so that he's laying against you more comfortably, going back to stroking through his hair.

"Well i thought we could book it to shnezhynaiya for a week or two, spend some time with your family," He lays still against you, as if he'd break if he moved. "After all, they've only heard about me through letters," you chuckle.

You hold him a little tighter, leaning into the warmth. "Wouldn't you like that?" You say in his ear, just above a whisper. That seems to break him, the realisation dawning on him that he'd get to see his family again. Tears run down his face once again, only this time they're not caused by distress. He nods as he buries his face back into your shoulder.

You stroke his back as you continue talking about your trip, soothing him. Later, when he's stopped crying, he talks along. He tells you about his parents, about how his mother used to be there for him through everything. About how he used to go ice fishing with his father in the winters, and proudly mention he caught a very big fish once.

He also tells you about his siblings, about how he cares for every single one of them very dearly. He also tells you about the spots he wants to visit with you he used to hang out at.

He tells you all about it, and for the first time in a while you see him smile. Really, genuinely smile. The kind of smile where his eyes crinkle up and he bares his teeth. It's an incredibly endearing sight, and u make a mental note to never forget it.

Suddenly he yawns. "You must be exhausted," you chuckle as you both adjust your positions, ready to fall asleep. He only hums as he keeps his eyes shut, pulling up his blanket. His breathing evens out as he falls asleep.

You smile as you look at his resting face, snuggling closer to him as you think; god, how did i get this lucky

#genshin impact #genshin childe #childe #tartagalia x reader #tartagila #genshin ajax #reader insert #childe x reader

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ad1thi · 3 years

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begin again

for @rhodeslabs‘ prompt: "OK I HAD AN IDEA A FEW DAYS AGO FOR SAMTONY THAT I THOUGHT YOU'D LOVE. Ok so teacher!Sam with single parent!Tony AU where Sam is the best teacher for Tony kid of your choice :)". major shout-out to @omg-just-peachy for the beta and @warmachinesocks for sensitivity reading!!

i’m super proud of this fic, i put a lot into it, so please consider reblogging, and leaving a comment if you liked it!!

There isn’t a specific rule against having opinions on your kid’s parents, but Sam knows that it’s not the done thing.

As a teacher, he may know a lot about his kids, but he learns next to nothing about the people raising them. He doesn’t know their work schedules, or what goes on in their private lives, hell - sometimes he doesn’t even know their names until he meets them at a PTA meeting. It’s bad form to judge people you don’t know, and it’s even worse to judge them through the very biased lens of their kids.

There’s exceptions of course, like the kinds of folks who leave bruises on their kids - but for the most part, passing judgement on parents isn’t standard procedure.

That doesn’t stop Sam from fiercely hating Lila Rhodes’ old man with every fiber of his being.

Sam never imagined himself as an elementary school teacher.

His father was Air Force right up until the day he died, just like his father before him, and there was never any question about whether Sam would follow in the family tradition. He enlisted right before college, because if he was going to give away the rest of his life to the military, the least they could do is pay for the next four years of his life. He picks an English degree, because it’s easy enough that he’ll actually be able to enjoy college and not find himself holed up in a library - but not too obscure that he can’t do anything with it after.

Not that Sam ever plans on using his degree, but his Ma mentioned that it was good to have a back-up plan. Just in case.

He graduates Summa Cum Laude on a Friday morning, and catches the evening train to Texas for Basic Military Training. There’s no break, no pause, no hesitation about who he’s going to be or what he’s going to do. He has his orders by the end of the year, and only has time to make a quick phone call to his sister to let her know where he’s gonna go and make her promise that she’ll tell the family before he’s on the first flight out.

In truth, Sam enlisted because it was the thing to do. There was never a time in his life when he considered another path, when he was allowed to consider another path. But now that he’s here, he finds that he loves it. All that bullshit they say about the military giving you a sense of purpose? It’s true.

Still, there’s an itch under his skin, something that keeps tugging at him that’s telling him he can do more, be more - so when it trickles down the pipeline that the Brass is looking for two flyboys to test out the experimental EXO flight-suits, Sam jumps at the chance.

It takes about six months for him to retrain as a paramedic, which is more than enough time for him to get to know his new partner, Riley Evans - but when Sam puts on the EXO-1 FALCON and kicks off the ground; everything in him settles.

It’s a stupid way to describe the feeling - but it feels like everything in his life has been leading up to this very moment, Sam in the sky with honest to god wings, Riley on his left, and nothing but the open sky around them.

There’s others in their unit - in total, there’s about 8 members of the 58th Squadron, but Sam knows that he and Riley are the best. The others are good, there’s no doubt about it, but they don’t come close to the kind of stats that Sam and Riley have.

It’s exhilarating work, saving people instead of killing them, and it makes the blood in Sam’s veins thrum. He can’t write home about it, because the 58th is shrouded under all sorts of covert operations and need-to-know missions, but he tries his best to let his family know that he’s happy.

That he's more than happy, that he’s found his purpose, he’s found himself a brother, that he finally gets what his father meant when he said there’s nothing like a life in the service, son.

It’s the best three years of his life, and then everything goes to shit.

It’s a routine training session, not even an operation, and Riley’s doing loop-de-loops around Sam and generally being a dumbass. The wings have been upgraded recently, more manoeuvrability and decreased weight, and Riley’s making sure he gets his promised full range of motion.

He shoots up, yelling something that gets lost in the wind, and Sam watches as he goes up, and up and up - and then just as abruptly, he goes down.

It takes a couple of seconds for Sam to realise that Riley isn’t slowing down, that he isn’t flying down - he’s falling down; and those precious seconds cost Riley his life.

Later, he’ll hear people say that it wasn’t his fault. That there was some sort of malfunction in the wings, that Riley went too high too fast and the shift in altitude caused something to break.

Sam knows the truth though.

He catches Riley’s arm just as Riley hits the ground, his head lolled back and body limp, and rushes him to the med-camp, screaming so loud his voice goes hoarse. They rush him inside, a large burly man stopping Sam from following, and Sam stands there for five hours, in the blazing sun, catching glimpses of the doctors working as the wind moves the tent.

He stands there, un-moving, until someone steps out of the tent, caked in blood, and solemnly tells Sam that they’re very sorry, and they did everything they could.

Sam files his discharge papers the very next day.

Sarah picks him up at the airport.

She’s waiting for him outside, leaning against her car and furiously texting someone, so Sam sees her before she sees him. He’s split between being grateful that he doesn’t have to hail a cab, because those are next to impossible to catch from Louis Armstrong Intl Airport to Delacroix and he does not feel like renting a car - and being annoyed because he thought he had a couple of hours before someone was going to start asking him questions.

“You didn’t have to do this y’know,” Sam says when he’s close enough, and Sarah looks up with wide eyes, expression softening into a smile when she sees him, “I could’ve caught myself a cab.”

“That’s what I told Mama, but you think she listened?” Sam steps into his sister’s arms to accept the proffered hug, “Her baby boy coming home on his own? Like the fully grown man he is? Perish the thought.”

“You know I’m her favourite,” Sam wiggles his eyebrows, throwing his bags into the trunk of the car and making his way over to the passenger side, “I don’t get why you gotta be so mad about it.”

“Trust me, everybody and their mother in Delacroix knows you’re our mother’s favourite. There’s a little shrine for you next to the cash register. Any day now she’s gonna start leaving out candles next to your photo like you’re the second Jesus.”

Sam rubs at his chin, “You know - there’s been a couple of girls, and guys who’ve made that mistake before.”

The only reason Sarah doesn’t reach out and slap him upside on his head is because she’s driving, and Sam’s never been more thankful for his sister’s hyper-focus on road safety. She packs a mean punch.

They fall into a companionable silence, the kind cultivated by knowing each other for their whole lives, but Sam knows she’s biting back her questions.

“It’s okay,” he says finally, because you have to rip the band-aid off fast to lessen the pain and all that jazz, “You can ask.”

“I don’t got nothing to ask,” Sarah says immediately, like it’s a rehearsed answer, “but Mama thinks you’ve been hiding some major injury from us. Like a missing leg or something.”

Sam huffs at the non-question, “I got all my limbs Sarah. All ten fingers and toes I promise.”

There’s a beat and then - “My partner died on my watch. Fell out of the sky during a training exercise. I couldn’t stay there after that.”

Sarah hums, “You know what you’re going to do now you’re back home?”

Sam shakes his head, even though Sarah isn’t looking at him, “I have no idea.”

read the rest on ao3!!

#my writing #ironfalcon #samtony #sam wilson/tony stark #sam wilson x tony stark #sam x tony #sam/tony #begin again #teacher sam wilson #parent tony stark #genius lila rhodes #alternate universe

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thedevillionaire · 3 years

Text

Panacea

Exordium, part two, though this can be read as a stand-alone. This one comes with an 18+ label.

Some other supernatural soap opera folk get brief appearances here too. Aera – Sorcery Leader and best of frenemies with Cerberus; Vampyra – Vampirism Leader; Ashtaroth – Incubus, Vampirism Understudy, Kia’s BFF and ex-FWB. Mentioned, not appearing: Lilith – Cerberus’ ex, and Therion, Demonics Understudy. As always, any questions, please do ask! But anyway...

Offering a hurried apology, Cerberus sneezed again, more heavily than before, and Aera and Vampyra frowned at him simultaneously. “Cerberus, if you get me sick, I will never forgive you,” Vampyra said, the expression on her face suggesting that she was quite serious about it too. “I have far too many things to do, and not just this. Also, if I can’t do those things, then you’ll have to work with Ashtaroth or, more likely, whoever he sends in when he doesn’t feel like working, and you’ll completely deserve it. So think about that.”

“Mm,” seconded Aera, looking at Cerberus and raising her eyebrows as if daring him to disagree.

Cerberus, mildly affronted but feeling increasingly unwell, blew his nose, excused himself and took a drink of water. He cleared his throat, grimacing a little at the pain. “If either of you would like to try reclassifying the Demonics Levels without me, then please, go right ahead. Although surely Therion can do at least some of it. I’m not particularly keen to be here, you know.”

Aera rolled her eyes. “None of us are. And really, I’m still not convinced it’s even all that necessary. We’ve gone generations without doing anything to rejig the whole ratings whatnot and the place hasn’t collapsed.” She waved a paper in the air as if it would back her up, not that anybody else could read it. “I mean, I do agree that there probably should be more fine detail between levels, but, at the same time, if…”

“Huh-TSSCH-uu!”

Cerberus, having abruptly derailed Aera’s point, muttered a reflexive, “Pardon me,” added a more than somewhat irked, “again,” and internally cursed himself for failing to shake this off despite his best efforts. He sniffled. Everything ached, his head foggy, this damned incessant itch still refused to abate, and he knew at this point his fight was a lost cause.

“For fuck’s sake, go home,” said Vampyra crossly.

A sharp nod of agreement from Aera. “Yep, what she said. You sound awful. Go be Kia’s problem. You can test her resolve about the whole ‘in sickness’ part of things,” she said with a brief sardonic laugh. “I’ll call Therion. If he fucks it up, you can fix it in a week or so, alright? Don’t pretend you wouldn’t be double-checking it all anyway,” she added. “And don’t argue.”

Cerberus hadn’t intended to. He stood, gave them both a curt nod of acknowledgement, remarked, “Don’t call me,” and disappeared.

----

Closing the door behind him wearily, Cerberus leant back against it and sneezed heavily three times in succession, his eyes watering and his head pounding. Kia, her attention abruptly and thoroughly pulled from the Inception papers she’d been reviewing, peered down at him from her vantage point at the top of the stairs. Abandoning her work, concentration destroyed, she descended and crossed the foyer to meet him.

“Meeting over already? Or just over for you?” A rhetorical question, the answer writ unambiguous across her bonded’s entire demeanour. She reached up and put her hand on his forehead. “Well, at least you don’t have a fever. Oh, hon. I knew I should have kept you home tonight.” She gave him a soft look of chastisement. “What happened to ‘I’ll be fine’?”

He’d certainly meant to be fine. “Miscalculation,” Cerberus managed before his breath caught again, sharp and demanding, and he turned from Kia in haste. “Ahh-TSSCH-uu! Gods! Pardon me. *snf!* Sorry. Can’t seem to stop doing that.” He met her eyes with apologetic dismay, sighing. “I’ve been exiled.”

Kia made a gentle noise of sympathy, stroking his arm and motioning for him to accompany her into the loungeroom. She glanced up at him as his expression helplessly crumbled anew, pressing a pre-emptive tissue into his hand as he lost a very briefly fought battle against another heavy sneeze. “Hh-hh… Huh-ATSSCHH-uu!” He groaned, excused himself again, blew his nose.

“Aw, bless you, sweetheart. Sit,” Kia said, and Cerberus all but collapsed onto the couch. Kia moved to join him, stretching her arm across his shoulders and stroking his hair repetitively, soothingly. Cerberus closed his eyes, relaxing into her touch, although with a measure of reluctance. “Careful, darkling. I do not want to give this to you,” he murmured.

Kia, not concerned about that in the slightest, kissed him lightly. “I know.” She continued to stroke his hair, and he leant into her, energy drained and thankful for the respite she provided. “Do you have any cold meds in the house?”

Cerberus sat up a little straighter, sniffled again, shook his head. “I never catch cold,” he said with another sniffle, the unmistakeable notes of congestion starting to blunt his consonants now, and he conceded quickly to the soft challenge in his love’s eyes. “Alright, well, not never...clearly.” He claimed another several tissues, wiped his nose and sighed in weary resignation, pressed his fingers to his forehead against the relentless pulse of cold-fuelled ache. “But no.” And despite Kia’s expression now plainly reflecting well that probably wasn’t the best-laid plan was it, it was indeed true that he’d not had a proper cold for well over a year, possibly two – not that his newly bonded had any way of knowing that – and there were only so many unexpected events one could prepare for.

“Okay then, I’ll do a drug run,” said Kia, deciding practicality was the best course of action right now, and stood. “I shouldn’t be too long, depending on how busy Healing is. Here.” She handed him the box of tissues from the loungeroom table. “So, um, just a thought…if it is really busy, can I name drop you and skip the queue?” Kia raised her eyebrows archly.

“Hmm. Your hopes as recent Underworld queen are certainly ambitious,” Cerberus said, then after brief consideration added, “Although…yes, probably,” with a conspiratorial chuckle and a tired but knowing smile.

“Ha! I’m going to try it.” She kissed him again. “See you soon. Because queens don’t queue.”

----

Kia did indeed return in good time, carrying a bag of Healing concoctions. “Hey, babe,” she said, kicking the door closed behind her and crossing the foyer to meet Cerberus in the loungeroom, where he now sat on the chair nearest the fireplace, looking more than a little defeated, a blanket draped across his shoulders, tissues in hand. “I didn’t get a chance to name drop my way to the top, because they were actually not busy, damn it. I swear, the only time I’ve ever kind of wanted them to be busy, and…nope. Anyway, the dealer is in,” she said, leaning over to kiss him.

Cerberus held up a finger to indicate that Kia should wait, pausing with brow creased in expectation, turning from her as that expectation escalated to urgency, excusing himself as hastily as he could, desperately and unstoppably overcome. “Huh-TSSCH-uu! Hh… h-huhTSCHHUU!”

“Bless you,” said Kia, looking at him with a mix of sympathy and concern. Cerberus acknowledged her as best he could, made a small sound of exasperation and sneezed again. “Ahh-TSCHUU! Gods!” He sniffled fiercely, managed to take a determined moment to recover, and met Kia’s compassionate gaze with a matter-of-fact certainty. “I’m going to die,” he announced succinctly.

Kia suppressed a laugh. “Oh, sweetheart. Well, um, probably not, but...”

“No, I-ihh-HH…” Cerberus inhaled sharply, shakily, and broke off in short order. “HehAHTSCHUU!” He groaned and cleared his throat, the resultant raw sting bringing with it instant regret. “I’m definitely dying.” He blew his nose, sniffling again, vaporised the latest addition to an increasingly long succession of used tissues, and put his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry, darkling.” Looking back up at Kia in sincerest apology, he raked his hair back from his face and rubbed his nose with resolute firm hand, sighing heavily. “I have a question for you, though, if I may. I assume you remember the night I proposed?”

“Vividly,” Kia said, chuckling in reflex at the apparent randomness of it. “Interesting tangent. But first, drugs! You sound wrecked, hon.” She handed him the bag. “By the way, I’ve been warned that you’re a terrible patient. More than once.” A kiss pressed to his forehead. “A lot, you could say, actually.”

“Malicious lies,” said Cerberus as imperiously as he could manage, which wasn’t particularly so given the circumstance.

“Naturally.” Kia rested her arms on the back of the chair, and brushed some wayward hair out of his eyes, tucking stray tendrils behind his ears. “Anyway, I think…maybe you’ve just never had the right nursemaid.” She kissed the top of his head lightly, running her fingers through his hair now in a tranquil, repetitive motion.

Cerberus raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” Well, it was certainly true that Lilith had never been caretaker inclined – not that he’d considered any alternative reaction as a possibility at the time. Avoidance of these sorts of…contagious absurdities seemed a perfectly reasonable response anyway, he thought, as he rubbed his nose once more against another rising itch, frowning, but managed for the moment to see it off. He refocused. “My question, then, darkling, if you’ll indulge me. Earlier that night at your old apartment, when I told you that you were always beautiful, you told me that I was either a liar or crazy.”

“Or drunk,” Kia added brightly.

“Ah, yes, of course. Anyway, love, if you are even the slightest bit attracted to me in this…frankly ridiculous state—” Cerberus sniffled sharply, as if to emphasise his point. “—then I’m afraid you owe me an apology.”

“Hmm.” Kia smiled slyly, feigning consideration, as she continued toying with heavy ebony hair, trailing her touch further now, slowly, down angular jawline, across broad shoulders, and mused, “I don’t know. I mean, what if I am crazy? Because—”

An acute deep inhalation the only warning, Cerberus interrupted her with a sudden, powerful sneeze. “AAHTSSCHHUU! ..ugh. Excuse…” he began, but the insistent, demanding need was not yet sated. “Huh-TSCHU-uu! Oh, for…” Another catch in his breath and he surrendered again, almost doubling over with the force of it. “Ahh-HEHTSSHHUU! Fuck! If I find out who’s responsible for this, I will immolate them!” His patience completely at an end, he looked up at Kia in consternation, the frustrated fury alight in vivid emerald indicating there was every chance that he wouldn’t so much as hesitate if given the opportunity.

“Sweetheart, I know that’s kind of a Demon king perk, but…probably a bit extreme in this case.” Patting his shoulder firmly on her way, Kia moved to sit on the table in front of him and tried to think a little less about just how deliciously being indignantly dishevelled suited him. For the time being, at least. She took his hand in hers, held his gaze. “Alright, I want you to listen to me now, okay? Take the drugs, go to bed and I promise I will do my best to make everything better in just a little while, but you have to help me out here.”

With a discomfited sigh, Cerberus sniffled again, apologised – though that green fire, albeit ameliorated slightly, still burned apparent – and nodded after a short time in mildly begrudging concession. He stood, taking the bag of Healing concoctions and the tissues with him. “As you wish, darkling,” he said, and kissed Kia gently on the top of her head. Another sniffle. “But make no mistake – an immolation would be entirely and thoroughly deserved.”

:Ash! Hi! Sorry about the intrusion, but I was hoping maybe you’d want to come entertain me for about an hour or so? Are you busy?: Kia stretched her legs out across the coffee table and took a sip of wine. :Also…I could kind of use your help.:

Ashtaroth needed no further encouragement. :Not busy, definitely would like to get the hell out of here, will help with whatever. See you imminently, sweetie.:

Kia laughed and began walking towards the door, reaching and opening it at almost the exact moment Ashtaroth arrived. He smiled and hugged her in greeting. “Alright, fill me in, love. A time limit and a mystery task? Darling, what is going on?”

“Come in first,” said Kia, heading back into the loungeroom to reclaim her wine and pour one for Ashtaroth. She took a seat on the couch and motioned for him to join her. “Okay, well, basically, the short version is I’m on a bit of a medication timeline, and I could use some assistance with getting into an outfit.”

Ashtaroth, taking a seat beside Kia, raised his eyebrows. “Not out of? Where’s the fun in that?” He smiled mischievously. “Wait, did you say medication timeline?” He looked closely at Kia, frowning in concentration. “Well, all hail to the Healing team. I’d never have picked you as ill. What’s wrong?”

“Not me.” She pointed upstairs. “Head cold.”

“My, my. So the delicious Demon can be undone like the rest of us after all. I imagine he’s taking it just marvellously.” Ashtaroth chuckled. “Ah…and you intend to be the cure, am I right? I am, aren’t I?” He grinned, winked and raised his wineglass in a toast. “Well, then. To the goddess Kia, panacea!”

“Ooh, I like it!” Kia laughed. “A little bit ambitious there, maybe, but, well, I’m going to try, so…here’s hoping, at least for a while. Cheers!” Kia raised her glass also, then hesitated. “Oh, actually, hang on. Probably shouldn’t. There’s kind of a fair bit of fiddly lacing up of stuff to be done yet.”

Ashtaroth drank his wine anyway. “I’m well practised,” he remarked. “And since I’m very sadly not actually the one who’s going to be the beneficiary of this, and I’ve only got an hour here – even less than that now – honestly, I should probably have your drink too.”

Kia laughed again. “Fine, but I’ll be doing my own eyeliner.”

“Deal!” Ashtaroth claimed Kia’s wineglass for himself, smiling playfully. He took a sip, then said, his tone serious and genuine, “You’ll be fucking irresistible, Kiki love. He’s so lucky.”

“Oh, Ash,” Kia said, touched. She kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, sweetie.”

“I mean it. He is. And I think,” Ashtaroth said, toying with Kia’s hair, “that after this you’ll even properly believe it yourself.” He stood, finishing the rest of the wine, and offered his hand. “Alright, come on! Let’s get you even more gorgeous.”

----

Kia opened the door to the bedroom quietly, peeking in at Cerberus, who was semi-lying, semi-sitting amid an array of pillows on the bed, a Demonics text in one hand, and smiled to herself. Perfect. She entered the room.

Cerberus pushed some hair back from his face, sniffling lightly. Healing’s assistance had brought some manner of relief, though his head was still somewhat heavy with the cold he’d come home with and – to his immense irritation – failed to shake off, but he sat up a little straighter and widened his eyes as his bonded walked slowly further into the room, closing the door behind her. Kia, dressed for pure seduction in a black silk fitted minidress, velvet and lace detailed, bodiced and skintight, six-inch stilettos and sapphire eyes kohl smoked, her hair a wildness of arranged disorder, gave him a knowing smile as she reached the foot of the bed, and stopped. She placed one fishnet-clad leg smoothly onto the bed and looked directly at Cerberus, who gazed back at her in a mix of astonishment, disbelief and desire.

“Hey, babe,” she purred, shifting to sit now on the edge of the bed, leaning forward, her hourglass figure lushly emphasised by the corsetry she wore. “As promised…I am here to make your night…better.” Rearranging herself to straddle him, she lowered her body across his and traced a tapered dark ruby fingernail along his jawline, cupping his face in her hand and kissing him deeply before sitting up again, fluid, measured, catlike.

Stunned, Cerberus couldn’t take his eyes off her, absently dropping the text to the floor and barely noticing that he’d done so, mesmerised and fixated, only returning to his senses as a re-emergent, rising tickle sharply forced his attentions redirected. With a brief frown and shake of his head, he hastily claimed a handful of tissues from the box on the bedside table, apologising as he did so but unable to do anything else much about it. “HHTSCHuu! ahH… HuhTSCHuu! Ah, gods, I’m s…” he began, intending to attempt a half-hearted protest that he wasn’t at all sure he was up to this and that he’d meant it when he’d said that he didn’t want Kia to get sick too, but she wouldn’t hear of it. “Shh,” she soothed, putting a finger to his lips. “That’s a chance I’m willing to take.” A little smile and a quick, gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. :Bless you.: Pressing herself closer again, she kissed him anew, warmsensual, indulgent. “And you don’t need to do anything…well, one thing, but I don’t think,” she continued, now trailing her hands down to his inner thighs and pressing, coaxing, insistent, “you’ll have any trouble with that.” She gave him a sultry smile and a quick wink as she felt him harden at her touch. She pushed herself against him a little more, and Cerberus made a small sound of pleasure, closing his eyes, giving in. Kia smiled again, briefly, wickedly, as she moved to weave her fingers through his hair and gently but firmly pull him towards her, teasingly licking, lovebiting and kissing him before murmuring, “Okay, babe, I need you—" Another soft kiss. “—to trust me now.” And another kiss, intense and absolute, accompanied by a heatwhispered Mindsend of :Drop your Protect.:

Cerberus immediately opened his eyes again at this, meeting Kia’s gaze directly, serious, questioning. :Darkling…: he began in reply, uncertainty evident, but she did not relent.

:Trust me.:

And he looked at his love, his heart, and he chose to trust her in a way that he had never trusted another and so gave himself over absolutely, and she took him in body and psyche and she was power, essence, flesh and dream, she was air and emergence, she was sensurround envelopment and possession, immersion, complete and completion, weight and flight and heat and heat and (oh gods) heat, sanctuary and abandon. She was vibration, whisper, scream and pulse, metronomic beat-beat steady and crescendo (breathe) and fall (gods) and arise, crescendo, once more, once more, again immerse again again (breathe) and again (breathe) fire my love, fire, the inferno elemental and burn, burn, burn. She was becoming, she was ascension, she was all the unknown and all the familiar. She was warmth and blood, the crimson charisma, ecstasy and power, she was urgency, debauchery, divinity, desperation, she was insatiable lust and beautiful sanctuary, the splendorous art of the succubus supreme, the frisson edge, enveloping centre and magnificent release, release, ravenous need, and (oh) she danced, yes, (oh) yes, unstoppable force ascendant, as she took his hand, his heart, his sex and his soul and she was everything, everything, everything, and she was, they were, and (oh, oh gods, oh) he was wildpurest sensation, plenary surrender, ecstatic enraptured climactic consummation everything (oh gods) everything (oh gods) everything and (oh gods yes) they were everything and now he was (oh, oh gods) he was (OH) he was hers, he was hers, he was oh (!GODS!) he was hers as he came supplicant unprecedented and she wrapped her arms around him and whispered I love you through his entire being, more than and more than, and kissed him like there was nothing else in the world but this…

..and Cerberus, as beyond words as he’d ever been, found himself unable to do anything more than gaze at Kia in a state of amazed reverie as she smoothly shifted positions on the bed to kneel beside him. She smiled gently, a little impishly. “Feeling better, yeah?” she said with a wink, and placed the palm of her hand on his forehead. :Get some sleep, babe: she Mindsent with Compel, taking advantage of his Protect still being down, and in entranced tractable rapture, he fell readily into unconsciousness. Kia kissed him lightly and stood, gathered some scattered items of clothing from on top of the bed, repositioned the bedcover to ensure he’d stay warm, and made her way downstairs, privately but without reservation delighted.

----

Cerberus, rested and freshly showered and impeccably dressed in an all-black silk nightwear ensemble and robe, his hair still slightly damp and falling loose around his shoulders, entered the loungeroom slowly, almost cautiously, meeting Kia’s eyes with an intense focus as he did so. She smiled idly up at him from where she was lying stretched across the sofa and put the book she’d been reading aside. “Hello, sweetheart,” she said. “You’re looking quite unfairly hot right now. I’m not sure you should be, but…whatever. I’m fine with it.” She grinned. “I might even take some of the credit.”

Cerberus chuckled quietly. “You probably deserve all of the credit, darkling.” He walked over to sit opposite her and looked at her almost in study, a slight frown on his face, contemplative and in consideration for some time before he asked, sincerely and seriously, “What did you do to me?”

“Well, hopefully gave you the best orgasm ever, but I think you might mean more specifically, yeah?” He indicated agreement, and she continued. “Immerse and Possess, the succubus experience deluxe. Everything but the Take.” Kia smiled again. “I’m pretty good, you know,” she said haughtily.

Cerberus acknowledged this with a nod and soft laugh of assent. “I… We’ve had some marvellous sex, darkling, truly, but you… That… I can’t… You…” He shook his head. “Damn it, I really thought I’d have things together by now.” He sighed heavily, smiled a little, and sniffled. “Apparently I’ve forgotten how to talk.”

Kia laughed. “Babe, you’re sick and full of meds and, well, let’s face it, still a little fuckstruck, so…”

“I’m what now?”

Kia smiled, gentle victorious, and blew him a kiss.

:Mine.:

----

#snzfic #snz fic #my OCs #my writing #cerberus #sneeze fic #supernatural soap opera #in which kia technically becomes the most powerful person in the Underworld #Cerberus has never before voluntarily ceded power to anyone for any reason in any circumstance in any way EVER

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peppersonironi · 4 years

Text

Batfam Avengers Crossover Chapter Two: Meeting

Chapter Two, folks! Finally some batfam appearances.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: Gen

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types

Relationships: Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Natasha Romanov & Damian Wayne, Clint Barton & Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tim Drake & Duke Thomas, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Dick Grayson/Wally West, Roy Harper/Koriand'r/Jason Todd,

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Barbara Gordon, Justice League (DCU), Alfred Pennyworth, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, Thor (Marvel), Bruce Banner, Peter Parker, Alfred the Cat (DCU), Bat-Cow (DCU), Goliath (DCU), Selina Kyle’s Cat Isis, Kate Kane (DCU), Duke Thomas,

Additional Tags: Batbrothers (DCU), Avengers Meet The Batfam, MCU/Batfam crossover, Crossover, no beta we die like robins, rated T for Jason’s language, I bleeped it out though. Just to be safe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, canon? What’s canon?, Deaf Clint Barton,Deaf Character, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Happy Batfamily (DCU), Birdflash and joyfire are implied/referenced,

Summary: Avengers enter the cave, and meet the batfam!

Notes: In sorry if this chapter is a bit boring, I tried to keep it light. (I know the techie stuff that I glossed over bored even me) But now that I’m done with the first introductory chapters, I can move to some - hopefully - more fun scenarios!

“Woah.” Peter looked around at the giant cavern that the Green Lantern guy had flown them into. His ring had formed some kind of platform to carry them, and Peter was still theorizing how it worked.

They had flown toward the city - named Gotham apparently - following the mysterious “Batman”. Then reached a waterfall, which had a huge mechanical door system that parted the water. They had gone through a long pathway lit up on the edges before emerging in the cave.

It was huge, with multiple platforms built into the rock. Peter first found himself on one that was clearly meant for vehicles, as there were multiple motorcycles parked beside where Batman’s car stopped. There were other levels that held gym equipment, a sparring ring, weapons stations, and some sort of lab. There was weird memorabilia too. Peter spotted a giant penny, dinosaur, and a Joker playing card. A few more levels had cases for suits, not unlike that which Mr. Stark had. Though some of the suits were strange. One was clearly bloody and ripped. One of the most prominent platforms held a huge computer with a dominating black chair.

However, Peter could have sworn it was playing … The Dinosaur Game? That was weird.

Batman got out of his car the way he had before and made his way over toward the Avengers, where they had been set down by Green Lantern. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, a very loud voice called out in the cave, startling everyone except the Batman.

“Bruce! Where the F*** is my AK-47?!”

The Hulk, who had since transformed back into Bruce Banner, frowned in confusion.

No one got the chance to question it, however, because a young man in a skin tight black bodysuit swung from another level, and was now hanging upside down from a support beam near Batman. He had a blue bird on his chest, Peter thought it looked a bit like an eagle. He also had on a black domino mask.

“Hey B!” He said cheerily. “ I should probably warn you that Hood is on a rampage ‘cause he can’t find his gun. And also Robin is threatening everyone as per usual. ” The Dark Knight sighed. “What about Red Robin, Spoiler, and Oracle? ”

The new comer grinned. “Dinosaur Game Championship. Oracle is in the lead.”

There was a sudden shout of disapproval from where the apparent game seemed to be held.

“And Signal?”

“Taking weapons stock while muttering about how insane we all are.” He shook his head. “He seems to forget he’s one of us, and therefore crazy by association.”

The Dark Knight sighed once more, this time with his fingers on the bridge of his nose. “Thank you Nightwing. Would you tell Red Hood that his AK-47 is in the Med Bay where he left it when he was doing his stitches? And tell everyone to meet in the conference room in uniform. Code 27G.”

Nightwings eyes - well, lenses - widened. He glanced at the Avengers. “Huh. Sure can do B.”

He swung up from his perch, flipped onto the platform above him - Peter was pretty impressed at how casually he did so - and ran off, seemingly melting into the shadows.

An awkward silence followed, with the Avengers all huddling protectively together. Peter really wanted to explore - that T-Rex looked awesome - but he saw the worried look on Mr. Stark’s face. This was an unfamiliar situation. They must be cautious.

A moment later Peter had had enough of caution. “Excuse me sir, is that a dinosaur?”

The Dark Knight turned toward Peter and glared. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw Mr. Stark tense up. But a split second later the glare softened. “Yes. Animatronic. From one of my early … endeavors.”

Peter grinned under his mask. “Cool!”

Batman lifted his head, and began walking on a path up. “Come, I’ll show you where we can talk.”

*****

They entered a meeting room that was off to the side of the cave. There was already a group present. They were clumped loosely in a corner, boredom and intrigue apparent on their faces. They all stood to attention when Batman walked into the room, all except for Nightwing from earlier. He was currently in a handstand in the center of the conference table, shifting from one hand to the other. He collapsed onto the table at the sight of the arrivals, before quickly jumping to his feet and saluting with an embarrassed grin on his face. Batman rolled his eyes and they all went back to what they were doing, except Nightwing who slumped into a chair.

The group of teeneagers were dressed in more skin-tight suits. Peter was slightly taken aback by how young they were. The smallest seemed to be around ten - perhaps he was this “Robin” mentioned earlier - and the oldest in his early twenties. Most seemed to be about his own age though, in their mid teens. It felt weird to not be the only kid.

The closest was a young man sitting in one of the chairs with his feet on the table. He seemed to be taller than Nightwing, with a broader chest. He wore gray cargo pants, some sort of utility belt, an armored shirt with a red bat on it, a leather jacket, and a red helmet that looked a lot like Tony’s. Peter could already imagine the copyright complaints from their resident billionaire. The man also had gun holsters on each leg, and was stroking a - newly returned - AK-47 in his arms.

The first teenager had black bottoms and red top with a black and gold “X” over his chest, joined by some symbol that looked vaguely like an “R”. He also had a black cape and smooth cowl. He was standing in the corner, leaning against a wall with a tablet and mug of coffee in hand.

A teenage girl stood beside the teen, dressed in a mostly purple with hints-of-black bodysuit and a purple hooded cape. She wore a full black mask over her face, with only white lenses. It was a bit freaky, but she was mostly non-threatening, due to her easygoing posture and laugh, which was directed at the teen with the cowl.

The kid was dressed in black leggings, green boots and gloves, a red and yellow tunic with an “R” on it, black and yellow hooded cape, and green domino mask. Though the strangest thing about him was the huge Katana he was sharpening while sitting at the table. He also had an unimpressed glare on his face. Peter decided that he and Helmet-Guy were the scariest in the room. Aside from Batman.

Another teenaged boy had a tired look on what Peter could see of his face, as he looked slightly disapprovingly at his companions. He stood in more heavily plated bright yellow and black armor with a bat symbol on it. He had a utility belt, and a helmet which looked to be shaped like a bat.

What was with these people and bats?

Peter didn’t get to ask, as at that moment a new person joined the group. Flying down a ramp was a red headed young woman in a wheelchair. She expertly slowed to a stop in front of Batman, who had not yet entered the room. Peter noticed that she had hastily applied a black domino mask, leaving a pair of glasses in her lap, along with a laptop.

“Sorry I’m late B, I forgot where I had put my extra mask. These things keep disappearing!” She said the last part while glaring at the kids.

“It’s fine, Oracle. Now that we’re all here-” He paused, then looked around at the group. “Where’s Black Bat?”

“Handling a Robbery downtown. She’s finishing up. ETA 20 minutes.”

Batman nodded. “Very well, we’ll continue without her, she won’t mind.”

He entered the room, ushering everyone else to do so as well. With a quick glare, all the kids sat down. The Avengers joined them, as there were plenty of seats. The only one who did not sit was Batman.

He spoke once everyone was ready, mainly directing his words to the kids. Peter briefly wondered what it would be like to actually be respected like that, but shook off the thought. Batman quickly and efficiently summarizes the events, including several readings of the energy sources, which only the red and black teen seemed to understand as he nodded along, looking fascinated. Once he was done, Batman turned to the Avengers. “Names. No need to share personal identities if you are uncomfortable. Though since we are from different earths, I doubt it would matter.”

“Everyone already knows our identities on our earth,” Mr. Stark said, receiving several weird looks from the teens. “So it’s not a problem for us.” He removed his face plate. “Tony Stark, I’m Iron man in the suit, which I built myself.” He gestures to Steve Rogers next.

“Captain America, Steve Rogers. Our resident super soldier and senior citizen.” Steve frowned at the last comment.

“Bruce Banner,” Mr. Stark said next, “Alter ego is the Hulk. Anger Issues and Gamma radiation galore.”

Red Robin perked up. “Cool! How did-” He was cut off by a glare from Batman.

“This is Thor Odinson, named… well, Thor. God of lightning, has a hammer. You can call him Sparky Sparky Boom Man.” A pause. “Yeah, maybe just stick with Thor.”

“Clint Barton, codename Hawkeye. Our long distance weapons specialist.” Mr. Stark gestured to Clint’s bow for good measure. The kids giggled and whispered something to each other that sounded like ‘Green Arrow knockoff ’, though Peter didn’t get it.

“Black Widow, Natasha Romanov. Intelligence expert, and ex-assassin.” This got a bunch of whispers from the kids.

Peter was the last to be introduced. He pulled off his mask while Mr. Stark said “The kid’s Peter Parker, our rookie, also known as Siderman ”

“You sure it’s Spiderman,” Helmet-Guy said.

Peter glared. “Yes.”

“Red Hood,” Batman said, frowning. “No antagonizing the interdimensional visitors.”

Red Hood just shrugged and went back to stroking his gun.

The Avengers just sat around awkwardly. The Woman jabbed her elbow into Superman’s ribs, which got him talking.

“Oh… It’s only fair we introduce ourselves, since it isn’t really official earlier.” This time it was Superman who spoke. “I’m Superman, known as Kal-El, a kryptonian. Human name is Clark Kent.”

Huh, he didn’t look like an alien.

“Here we have Wonder Woman, an amazon, demigoddess, and princess. Secret Identity is Diana Prince.” He gestured to the woman, who, despite just being called a princess, looked very threatening indeed.

“Martian Manhunter, a martian known as J’onn J'onzz. Civilian name is John Jones. Yes, quite original.” The Martian nodded in greeting, and Peter was seriously freaking out. A real martian!? Cool!

“Flash, a speedster also known as Barry Allen.” The man pulled back his cowl as Superman spoke.

“S’up?” He asked with a smile.

“And Hal Jordan, one of the Green Lanterns.”

“The best Green Lantern.”

Batman grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “keep telling yourself that.”

Superman turned to Batman, but before he could, the Dark Knight spoke. “I can do it myself Clark.” He lifted his hand and removed his cowl to reveal a handsome man in his early to mid thirties with black hair and blue eyes. “Batman, also known as Bruce Wayne.”

He turned toward the kids. “These are my kids, as well as partners.”

He started with Nightwing. “Nightwing, aka Richard Grayson. My eldest.” Richard grinned and removed his domino mask. He too had blue eyes.

“Call me Dick,” he said.

“Red Hood, aka Jason Todd, my second eldest.” Jason pressed some button or something on his helmet and took it off to reveal… a domino mask. After a quick glare from Bruce, he sighed and took it off. Revealing black hair and blue eyes.

“Red Robin,” there was a soft ‘yum’ that came from the corner, though Peter couldn’t tell who said it. “Aka Tim Drake.” Tim pulled his cowl back and grinned. He had black hair and blue eyes.

“Over there is Signal, aka Duke Thomas, my ward.” The teen took off his helmet, revealing yet another black-haired kid. Though Duke was clearly african american, and had brown eyes.

“Next is Robin aka Damian Wayne, my youngest.” Damian sneered as if he were above everyone around him.

“Spoiler, aka Stephanie Brown, is a family friend.” Stephanie waved.

“I’m also his ex,” Stephanie said, jutting her thumb at Tim.

Tim groaned. “When will you stop introducing yourself like that?”

“When it stops getting under your skin.”

Tim sank back in his chair and flung an arm over his eyes.

Batman sighed once more. “Oracle, aka Barbara Gordan. Also a family friend, and our tech specialist.” Baraba nodded in recognition. “Now that introductions are out of the way, we must discuss how you got here, and how you’ll get back.”

Everyone nodded and began the discussion. Mr. Stark started off the explanation, going over Anagnorisis, the compound, the gun that they got hit with, and how they ended up in the crater.

The other adults - mainly Batman - popped in, talking about the calculations for such an interdimensional jump. Peter listened intently, as he found it utterly fascinating, but didn’t add anything. Then Tim spoke, listing off a series of numbers and variables, that were received with nods. Peter was a bit jealous that he spoke so easily. So Peter decided to add something later on, a small comment about energy sources. When he did, the conversation stopped. Peter thought he was dead meat for interrupting, but then Bruce - Wayne, not Banner - spoke.

“The kid’s smart.”

Mr. Stark smiled proudly.

A moment later the conversation continued. They went on for almost a half hour, and even Peter was getting a bit bored. He could tell the other kids were too. The girls seemed to have gotten back to their Dinosaur Game championship, and there were small cheers and groans coming from their corner every so often. Jason and Damian had yet to set aside their weapons, though they had begun a small conversation too quiet for Peter to hear. The only people who seemed to be paying attention were Dick and Tim, though Dick clearly didn’t understand half the words that were being tossed around.

The adults seemed to be disinterested as well, namely Barry and Hal, who were in the middle of a thumb war. When they inevitably got too loud, Batman sent a glare their way. The other members of the Justice League seemed to only be listening out of courtesy. As were Thor and Clint. Natasha seemed to be focussed more on the kids. She had a small frown on her face, as if something about them bothered her.

Everyone paid attention when Batman spoke next, however. “It should take at least a week to charge up the energy sources and prepare a device to send you home.”

Peter perked up. “That’s not that long. Have you dealt with interdimensional travel in the past?”

Several of the kids groaned. “Don’t remind me,” Stephanie said.

“Worst twenty-six hours of my life!” Dick agreed.

Then Jason spoke, and Peter was speechless.

“It was almost as bad as that time I died. Now that wasn’t a fun evening.”

“You died?” Natasha said, clearly confused and worried.

“I’m better now,” he said as if referring to a common cold. Jason had a small smirk on his face as he shrugged.

“Back to the discussion at hand,” Batman said, glaring at Jason. “Yes, Peter, we have dealt with the multiverse before. It should be fairly simple to locate your dimension and send you back. The only problem is powering the device. It requires Superman flying out to the sun and placing the energy core inside to fuel it. It needs to remain there for over a week.”

“You can fly to the sun?” Mr. Stark asked. “How do you survive?”

Clark shrugged. “I have impenetrable skin, and a very high melting point.”

No one questioned this, though Peter was quite intrigued.

“Where will they stay?” Dick asked, which caused a sudden silence.

“Does the Watchtower have enough rooms available?” Barry asked.

“What’s the Watchtower?” Peter asked.

“Our space station,” Diana answered, much to Peter’s delight, “and no, we have those visiting Green Lanterns, remember? Hal has been grousing about it all this week.”

“I was not!” Hal said, then sighed. “Okay, maybe I was, but that’s beside the point. What about your farmhouse, Clark?”

Clark shook his head. “Under renovation. Speaking of which I need to head over there after this. Lois will have a cow if I’m late.”

There was silence after that, as everyone was thinking. Then Stephanie got a - slightly evil, Peter thought - smile on her face. “What about the Manor? God knows we have enough space.”

“You don’t even live here!” Tim said.

Bruce glared at Stephanie for a bit then sighed. “The Manor would work. Though why anyone would want to stay with you rabble rousers is beyond my understanding.”

Jason snorted. “Says the guy who adopted us all willingingly.”

Batman grumbled, but was saved from replying as a sudden noise came from the door.

The meeting room had a wide glass window next to the exit - which was open - so Peter had a good view of the sleek black motorcycle that entered the cave, upon which rode a figure dressed all in black. The motorcycle was parked and yet another costumed teen - this time a girl - strolled toward the conference room.

She was dressed in head to toe black, in the form of a skin tight suit. She also had a yellow utility belt, and outline of a bat on her chest. She wore a black cape and cowl which had pointed ears and covered her whole face. There seemed to be some form of stitching across her mouth, which was quite creepy.

She walked forward and entered the room quickly. Bruce smiled upon seeing her.

“Ah, Black Bat. How was the robbery?”

She motioned with her hands in a way that Peter didn’t understand. It seemed vaguely like that sign language which he’d seen Clint use.

Whatever it was, Batman seemed to understand. “Very good. These are our visitors. Code 27G. They’ll be staying at the manor till we can send them back.”

Black Bat reached up and took off her cowl revealing an asian girl around eighteen year old with a black bob. “Good,” she said. “Names?”

“We’re allowing them. Over there we have Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker, and Bruce Banner.”

“Bruce?” She asked with a smirk.

Batman sighed. “Yes.” He turned to the group. “This is my Daughter Cassandra Cain. Alias is Black Bat.”

Everyone muttered small hellos, except Jason who said something with the word “favorite” in it. Cassandra didn’t seem bothered by the lack of enthusiasm. She just smiled and walked over to Damian.

“Seat. Mine.” She spoke simply.

Peter thought the kid would just sneer, but instead he quickly moved over. He could have sworn the kid looked scared. Perhaps the kid was all bark and no bite.

“Well, if that’s all, I really should be going,” Clark Kent said as he rose from the table. “Good luck with staying at the manor. See ya kids.”

“Bye Uncle Supes,” The kids chorused

“I should be going as well,” Barry said. I’m needed at the station.”

Soon the rest of the league left, and the Avengers were left alone with the bats and birds.

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rosalies-rage · 4 years

Text

folklore x Twilight: An Analysis

folklore's lyrics match Twilight uncannily well and here’s proof!

my tears ricochet - Rosalie

We gather here, we line up, weepin' in a sunlit room And if I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes, too Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe All the hell you gave me? 'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you 'Til my dying day I didn't have it in myself to go with grace And you're the hero flying around, saving face And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet We gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean Some to throw, some to make a diamond ring You know I didn't want to have to haunt you But what a ghostly scene You wear the same jewels that I gave you As you bury me

And I can go anywhere I want Anywhere I want, just not home And you can aim for my heart, go for blood But you would still miss me in your bones And I still talk to you (When I'm screaming at the sky) And when you can't sleep at night (You hear my stolen lullabies)

Rosalie would sing this to her murderer/fiancé at her funeral as he goes around being the ‘hero’ and ‘saving face’. She’s ‘screaming at the sky’ because he has stolen the one thing she really wanted from her ‘anywhere I want, just not home’. Even though she loved him ‘til [her] dying day’, she can never forgive and has no choice but to haunt him.

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exile - Edward in New Moon

I think I’ve seen this film before And I didn’t like the ending You’re not my homeland anymore So what am I defending now? You were my town, now I’m in exile seein’ you out We always walked a very thin line You didn’t even hear me out (You didn’t even hear me out) You never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs) All this time I never learned to read your mind (Never learned to read my mind)

Edward leaves in New Moon because he believes he and his world are too dangerous for Bella, exiling himself indefinitely. They had ‘always walked a very thin line’ as he tried to be with her without harming her, and he literally ‘never learned to read [her] mind’. Now he’s left and can’t do what he wanted to do, i.e protect her (’what am I defending now?’).

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august - Jacob

Salt air, and the rust on your door I never needed anything more Whispers of “Are you sure?” “Never have I ever before”

Back when we were still changin' for the better Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope of it all Canceled plans just in case you'd call And say, "Meet me behind the mall" So much for summer love and saying "us" 'Cause you weren't mine to lose You weren't mine to lose, no

Your back beneath the sun Wishin' I could write my name on it Will you call when you're back at school? I remember thinkin' I had you

Bella and Jacob start spending time together in the ‘salt air’ by La Push beach fixing beaten-up motorbikes (’rust’). Jacob knows Bella isn’t interested in him but lives in hope (’to live for the hope of it all’) and by the time the Cullens come back he’s convinced he could win Bella’s loyalties (’I remember thinkin’ I had you’). It doesn’t take place in summer, but it is a brief, intense fling that lifts Bella from her Edward-induced winter, and Bella calls Jacob her personal ‘sun’. In the end, though, Bella tells Jacob that there was never really a choice between him and Edward; it was always going to be Edward (’You weren’t mine to lose’).

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invisible string - Alice & Jasper

And isn't it just so pretty to think All along there was some Invisible string Tying you to me?

Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire Chains around my demons Wool to brave the seasons One single thread of gold Tied me to you

Alice woke up as a vampire with no memory of her past - all she had was her psychic abilities, which were an ‘invisible string’ leading her directly to Jasper. On Jasper’s side, he was living a brutal life training newborn armies until Alice found him and ‘wrapped all of [his] past mistakes in barbed wire’, putting ‘chains around his demons’ and leading him to a better life. You could also interpret it as his journey to chaining his inner monster that wants to kill humans when he goes to live with the Cullens.

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epiphany - Carlisle

Something med school did not cover Someone's daughter, someone's mother Holds your hand through plastic now "Doc, I think she's crashing out" And some things you just can't speak about

Only twenty minutes to sleep But you dream of some epiphany Just one single glimpse of relief To make some sense of what you've seen

This song describes the experience of medical staff during the COVID-19 pandemic, and Carlisle was a doctor during the last major pandemic (Spanish Flu in 1918), which is where he turned Edward. A religious man, he searches for an ��epiphany’ from God while he grapples with the decision to consign another person to a life of vampirism and tries to understand whether or not he still has a soul.

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mad woman - Rosalie

Do you see my face in the neighbor's lawn? Does she smile? Or does she mouth, "Fuck you forever"? And there's nothing like a mad woman What a shame she went mad No one likes a mad woman You made her like that And you'll poke that bear 'til her claws come out And you find something to wrap your noose around

They say “move on” but you know I won’t

I'm taking my time, taking my time 'Cause you took everything from me

Rosalie is filled with anger and bitterness over her murder. She’s cast in a bad light particularly because she’s an angry, ‘mad woman’ but she explains that her murderers ‘made her like that’ when they ‘took everything from [her]’, and in return she ‘[took her] time’ when killing them to make sure they knew she was coming.

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cardigan - Bella on Jacob

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan, under someone’s bed You put me on and said I was your favorite You drew stars around my scars But now I’m bleedin’

Bella was destroyed after Edward left, feeling that he’d taken most of her with him and was just discarded like an unwanted toy (’I felt like I was an old cardigan, under someone’s bed’). Then she started hanging out with Jacob and his friendship (’I was your favorite’) started to heal - or at least disguise - the hole in her chest (’You drew stars around my scars’). But then he left, too, when the werewolf transformation happened, which left her ‘bleeding’. It turned out she wasn’t really healed, she’d just been papering over the gap with Jacob’s love.

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illicit affairs - Edward & Bella as tragic fated lovers

Tell yourself you can always stop What started in beautiful rooms Ends in meetings in parking lots It’s born from just one single glance but it dies and it dies and it dies A million little times

Leave no trace behind, like they don’t even exist

When Edward first becomes enamored with Bella and wants to get closer to her, he convinces himself he can always stop - but he can’t. The more time he spends with her, the more doomed he is. When Bella gets hurt because of him, first in Twilight and then in New Moon, he disappears in hopes of keeping her safe and hides all the presents he gave her (’leave no trace behind’).

And you wanna scream Don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby" Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else Don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby" Look at this idiotic fool that you made me You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else

A dwindling mercurial high A drug that only worked the first few hundred times

And you know damn well For you, I would ruin myself A million little times

This part is Bella’s response. When he left, he took away this entire paranormal world he’d introduced her to (‘You taught me a secret language I can’t speak with anyone else’), leaving her to think she’s gone insane because not only has she lost the love of her life, all traces of an entire extra world have disappeared. She wants him to stop patronising her by saying she’ll move on like mortals do (’Don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you made me’). Desperate to get some sense that he’s still there, she starts doing risky stunts like motorbike racing and jumping off a cliff (’A dwindling mercurial high’). Like she told him in the meadow scene in the first book, she is willing to die for him, and we see in New Moon that he feels the same way (‘you know damn well / For you I would ruin myself, a million little times’). The only way for them to stay apart would’ve been to never meet in the first place.

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seven - Rosalie on her childhood friend Vera

Please picture me in the trees I hit my peak at seven Feet in the swing over the creek I was too scared to jump in But I, I was high in the sky With Pennsylvania under me Are there still beautiful things? Sweet tea in the summer Cross your heart, won't tell no other And though I can't recall your face I still got love for you Your braids like a pattern Love you to the Moon and to Saturn Passed down like folk songs The love lasts so long

Before I learned civility I used to scream ferociously Any time I wanted

Rosalie fondly recalls her human life and her best friend Vera, who had the normal life she never got. This ‘love lasts so long’ even though Vera is dead by now because Rosalie still remembers her, even if her human memories are fuzzy and she can’t necessarily ‘recall [her] face’. Also, Rosalie was always valued only for her beauty, but maybe she ‘hit [her] peak at seven’ because her beauty hadn’t yet started overshadowing her personhood and she was still able to ‘scream ferociously’ at that age instead of being the girl and young woman who had to learn ‘civility’ and be married off to a rich man.

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hoax - Bella in New Moon

My only one My smoking gun My eclipsed sun This has broken me down My twisted knife My sleepless night My winless fight This has frozen my ground Stood on the cliffside screaming, "Give me a reason" Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in Don't want no other shade of blue but you No other sadness in the world would do My best laid plan Your sleight of hand My barren land I am ash from your fire You know I left a part of me back in New York You knew the hero died so what's the movie for? You knew it still hurts underneath my scars From when they pulled me apart

Bella’s ‘eclipsed sun’ has disappeared and left her ‘broken’, ‘sleepless’ and believing she has no way to win him back. She literally goes and stands on a ‘cliffside’ before jumping off just to see a hallucination of his face - Edward, a mythical creature, is the ‘only hoax she believes in’. Even though he’s hurt her and broken her heart, she ‘don’t want no other shade of blue but you’. He thinks he’s saving her from harm by leaving, but the scar from James still bothers her, i.e. his leaving cannot protect her as the damage has been done (’You know it still hurts underneath my scars’) and now Edward has just added emotional scars that ‘pulled [her] apart’ and left a gaping hole in her chest.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

peace - Edward & Bella in Breaking Dawn

I never had the courage of my convictions As long as danger is near And it’s just around the corner darlin Coz it lives in me No, I could never give you peace

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Throughout the series, Edward has been afraid to get too close to Bella for fear of hurting her (’danger is near’, ‘it lives in me’). Now he finally has to accept that she’s not going anywhere and value her choice. Even after he’s no longer a threat to her directly, their life is full of challenges like the Volturi. It’s impossible to guarantee her safety, and she doesn’t want him to - she wants to be in his world as an equal. He comes to terms with the fact that it’s okay if he can ‘never give [her] peace’.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

#twilight #the twilight saga #twilight renaissance #Edward cullen #jasper hale #Alice cullen #Rosalie hale #carlisle cullen #Taylor swift #folklore #ts8 #tslyrics

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skollwolf · 3 years

Note

I want to ask a question and I hope it doesn’t get taken the wrong way. So please forgive me if I offend you, but can you tell me what made you decide/learn you are trans? Like where did it all begin? I’m just curious because I, someone who is not trans, would like to kind of understand a little more as to what people feel with this sort of thing. You can be as specific or as general as you like obviously. It’s whatever you’re comfortable with. Thanks.

Sure, I suppose I'm willing to take this one in good faith and answer it. It is a bit abrupt to lead with this sort of question, and obviously in real life I would hope you know enough to like....say hi to a trans person and establish a dialog rather than jumping right into something like this, but I'm willing to go from 0 to "how did you figure out you were trans" without a warm up.

Actual answer under the cut, so people who don't feel like reading can skip it.

For me it started with both physical and social dysphoria, though it doesn't for all trans people; dysphoria's not actually a requirement for being trans, I'm not a trans med, but it was key for me particularly.

Not to go into too much detail, because the specifics of dysphoria are fairly personal, but there have always been aspects of my body that I've disliked or been actively uncomfortable with. Around my mid teens, it started occurring to me that all the things about my body I disliked were also the things that contributed to other people reading me as female when they pass me on the street. I'm not just talking, like, secondary sex characteristics here, I also mean things like my height or the width of my shoulders.

Equally, I'd never been comfortable with certain overtly gendered terms. For instance I hated being called a "lady", or being called miss. Growing up, I thought this discomfort was because of the old-fashioned connotations of the words, and the gender roles associated with them, which I did not want to perform.

So, okay, I didn't like being read as "female" or "a woman" by strangers. I got that far, and then was stuck at that point for a couple of years, unsure if that was because of internalized misogyny, or the Acute Discomfort of Being Perceived at all, or what.

I'm old enough that I knew next to nothing about being trans growing up, because that information just wasn't available then like it is now. There was exactly one trans girl I knew through school, who I didn't particularly like due to a personality clash and so spoke to...maybe three times ever, despite the fact that we were in the same LGBT+ club. Other than her, I never met another trans person growing up, and absolutely everything I ever heard about being trans came from transphobic jokes or stereotypes. To go from "I don't like being perceived as a woman, and I don't feel right with some parts of my body that cause me to be perceived that way" to "I'm trans" was a mental leap I would have been literally incapable of making.

But then I got a little older. A speaker came to my high school health class in 12th grade and talked, amongst other things, about transgender and nonbinary identities. I was so fascinated by the concept of being nonbinary that I wrote like...30+ pages of a story with a nonbinary main character for NaNo that year. It was supposed to be a scifi romance, except then I started writing about the main character's experience of growing up nonbinary, and navigating presenting as male and female at differing times, and how they navigated the world a little differently based on the gender they were presenting as at any given point...and 30+ pages later, I'd written nothing about my planned plot. But that had nothing to do with me personally, right? I was just interested in writing a character! I write lots of characters!! Nothing at all to do with me hahaha I told myself, aged 17, and then wrote more backstory for this character.

Then I went to college, and my first year college roommate made me make a tumblr. As I poked around on here, I encountered the blogs of other folks who were trans, and nonbinary. Though I couldn't at this point (most of a decade later) tell you exactly whose discussions of their dysphoria or their experiences of being trans resonated with me, what I can say is that bells started ringing. I read stories written by trans people, read resources intended for people questioning their gender identity, and then realized. Huh. A lot of this does sound like me, actually.

I told my best friend hey I don't know if this is something I'm going to stick with, but I want to try out some other pronouns. So she started calling me “they” and “he” when I asked her to, and I realized that that felt a million times better than being called "she" ever did. I told my best friend hey haha again not sure if this is permanent but...help me pick out a more masculine name? And being called my new name alleviated a feeling of pressure I didn't even realize I felt whenever someone used my (very feminine sounding) deadname. I said to my followers on tumblr, back in my very active fandom days when I chatted with folks a lot on here, hey I'm using this name and these pronouns now, trying some stuff out, and being referred to by the terms and name I'd chosen felt so good that I finally bit the bullet and admitted to myself that this was, in fact, permanent, and that I was, in fact, nonbinary and trans.

And that's the long and short of it, for me. But, uh, it might vary deeply from trans person to trans person, so I don't know if that gives you whatever you were looking for, anon.

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always-and-forever-a-killjoy · 4 years

Text

Coming Home Chapter 2

Hello fuckers I know I promised this chapter yesterday but then I fell asleep because I was incredibly exhausted. So I'm posting it today because I deserve it Also, the song for the last chapter was Revolution Radio by Green Day, which no one guessed! I'll give you a hint for this chapter- it's very far off from Green Day or My Chemical Romance.

Title: Coming, Coming Home

Chapter Title: Cause I’m with you this time

Chapter Wordcount: 3333

Chapter Summary:

Cherri Cola settles into living with Dr. Death Defying and White Lily, figures out that someone actually cares about him, and makes some reckless decisions.

Warnings: implied/referenced past abuse, referenced past misgendering, light panic/anxiety attack, non-graphic/canon-typical violence and injury, uhhh i *think* that's it? (If you want to know what parts to skip, go to the end notes on AO3- I also put a brief summary of any important info in those parts. Stay safe!)

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia @dagger-queen @no-braincells-here @piratecherricola (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

Chapter 1 AO3 Link

Chapter 1 Tumblr Post

(Actual fic under the cut)

It took a few months for Cherri to really settle in to living with the other two. He was younger than them, and lacked the shared experience of fighting in the Helium Wars. But all three of them had the shared understanding of having grown up too fast, the pain and weariness in the other’s eyes mirroring his exactly. Not to mention that running a pirate radio station and attempting to spark a rebellion did tend to bond people. Having each others’ backs in firefights, fixing the radio equipment together, and eating their meals as a group only aided that process.

So 109 WKIL slowly got off the ground, heading into the sky just as promised. Their transmitter was fairly decent, and so their range was large even if few listeners were tuning in right now. But the rebellion grew daily, neutrals and Battery City folk abandoning a more peaceful life under the hand of Better Living Industries for the wild world of a killjoy. White Lily spoke over the radio at least weekly, encouraging them to fight, to not let themselves be squashed under bli’s heel.

“Power is not given, but taken. If you hate oppression, you better be ready to fight against the oppressor and give it everything you’ve got.”

Cherri was sitting in his usual spot under the broadcast desk, making sure that all the equipment was running smoothly as White Lily spoke above him. Her voice didn’t have the deep, gravelly weight of D’s, but the fire in it was inspiring. There had always been something about White Lily that made people want to follow her, D had told him. Some spark in her spirit that kindled fires in others, bringing them together under her leadership.

“Better Living may have bombs, and gas, and more ray guns than we can dream of getting our grubby little killjoy paws on. But we have something they can never replace: spirit. You can’t make a fiery heart with pills and white walls. They can take our bodies, shoot us full of plasma and throw us to the wolves. But they can never touch our spirit. Never. We will rise again, as many times as they try to throw us down.

"The spirit of the desert is something they can’t kill with any amount of laser beams. Any size of bomb, any number of exterminators. None of it will squash our spirit, and that’s what makes us invincible. As long as a single killjoy rises to fight, Better Living Industries cannot win. So get out there, crash queens! Get your vehicles, motorbabies. Angel kissers, grab your med kits, and kerosene saints, your matches. We’ve got a corporation to overthrow, and we’re not stopping at just nipping at their heels. Killjoys, it’s time to make some noise!”

She clicked off the radio. “How was that?”

“Good,” Cherri told her. “Inspiring. Makes you want to fistfight an exterminator.”

“Oh good, that’s what I was hoping for.” Lily paused. “No fistfighting exterminators though, that’s a bad idea.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“Oh yes I can,” Lily laughed. She was still grinning as she reached to help Cherri out from under the desk, a grin both achingly close and achingly far to one he remembered. There were days when she looked so much like his sister it hurt, not in her features but in the way she laughed and her teasing grin as she and D bantered back and forth.

Cherri tried not to think about it as he pulled himself to his feet. “And how do you plan on stopping me?”

“Hmm…I think I shall tackle you.”

“Then what?”

“Make D lecture you nonstop until you fall asleep.”

Cherri laughed as they headed back into the house. "Good luck with that."

So far, they hadn’t had to move the van from its position in front of their home in Zone Four, but all of them knew it was only a matter of time before bli would be breathing down their necks.

“We have some time,” D said that evening. “Our signal will be hard to track, and we don’t have a wide enough reach to be a threat to Better Living Industries yet.”

“We’re getting there, though,” Lily commented, digging around for the last bit of power pup in her can.

“True, we’ve got a lot more listeners now than we did before.” Cherri was already finished with his, playing with his dented spoon and reflecting the sunlight across the room idly. “It’s going to be hard to stay hidden for long, not when the other killjoys whisper about our station and spread the word between themselves.”

“The more people who know, the easier it is for Better Living to find us,” D agreed. “Of course, we need people to know so they’ll tune in, but we’ll have to be careful as we get larger.”

“Careful, careful, you’re always careful.” Lily leaned back in her chair, setting down her spoon. “I’m not saying we abandon all caution, but there’s going to be risks running a rebellion. A lot of the time, we’ll just have to decide if they’re worth taking.”

Cherri nodded, still examining the spoon. “And a lot of the time they will be.”

“Didn’t know you were such a daredevil, Cher.” He made to glare at Lily, but she went on. “You’re right though. Everything’s a risk, and we’re going to have to take a lot of them.”

“I don’t like that,” D put in.

“None of us do, except maybe Cherri the daredevil over here. But we’re doing it.”

“We’re doing it,” D agreed tiredly.

“I’m not a fucking daredevil,” Cherri muttered. That was….mostly true. Risk for the sake of risk wasn’t exactly his thing, but risk for any other sake was. As long as only his life was at risk, it was a risk worth taking. He figured, at least.

“You’re pretty fucking daring, Cher.”

“Only risks that are worth it, though.” He pretended not to see the two older ‘joys exchange glances.

True to their predictions, the rebellion grew. Their radio was a contributing factor, Cherri hoped. It certainly seemed to have grown in popularity as more killjoys entered the desert and more neutrals lay down their peaceful ways and took up arms alongside the killjoys. WKIL was something whispered about in killjoy circles, told to the newbies, the undergrads of the desert.

Cherri knew because he was the one who went and talked with them, the lesser-known face. Everyone recognized at very least the voices of D and Lily by now, the two radio speakers who rallied the rebels, but Cherri Cola was not a name whispered in legend yet. He was just a sixteen year old with a shitty ray gun and a bad haircut, which had advantages and disadvantages.

One of the advantages was the ability to go talk to random people and be seen as relatively harmless, just a teen with a bright pink mask. There was nothing about him to suggest that he was an incredible shot with a ray gun or a dangerous fighter, not in the slightest. He wore oversized clothes and perpetually looked disheveled, so he had been told. And if you didn’t look too closely at his eyes, you wouldn’t even see the fire in them.

So Cherri used that hidden advantage, appearing perfectly harmless to anyone who didn’t know him well. It was helpful for White Lily and Dr. Death Defying, since neither of them could go anywhere where there were a lot of rebels without being recognized.

And the rebellion grew and grew. Their voices were growing louder, their colors brighter even as Better Living Industries tried to squash them down. The spirit of the desert truly was rising, and a faint sense of hope had started to permeate the air. White Lily never promised that they would win. But she promised that Better Living Industries wouldn’t, so long as a single killjoy stood, and that was enough for most of the desert.

They were teenagers, mainly. The bulk of the force that was forming the current rebellion was either teenagers, running from their pasts in Battery City, or twenty-something former soldiers of the Helium Wars, running from what they had done or trying to put it right. They were young and invincible, so it seemed. The reality that they could easily die doing this hadn’t sunk in for most of the younger population of the desert, intoxicated on freedom and the thrill of the desert.

D and Lily knew that reality all too well, Cherri knew. He knew they knew what all of them were up against, had watched death in their own right in the Helium Wars, had wrought it with their own hands.

He knew what the consequences were too, a memory of bli employees in clean white suits coming to respectfully ‘recruit’ the person he loved most hovering behind a door in his mind. That door would remain closed, Cherri had decided. The past was the past- but he fought because of it anyways, knowing the horrors Better Living Industries had done.

Cherri might have been young, but he was no fool. He knew quite well that he could die, and he couldn’t be bothered to give a fuck, as Lily would put it. There were things more important than living to some grand old age, and this rebellion was one of them.

He would be lying to himself if he said that some part of him wasn’t in this for revenge, maybe a larger part than he was willing to admit.

“If you take away someone’s world, they might just burn yours down,” Cherri muttered to himself, aiming his shitty old ray gun at the empty cans Lily had set up that day. Despite how long he had already been out here, they still hadn’t managed to locate him a better weapon. That was fine, he thought, he was deadly enough even without one, but D and Lily both insisted that it would be a lot easier for him with something that wasn’t outdated by at least three years.

“What?” Cherri jumped as D came to stand next to him, aiming his own black and blue ray gun at the cans. “Did you say something, Cherri?”

“Oh, uh. Nothing.”

D shrugged, tilting his head to take aim. “You don’t have to tell me, I just figured I’d ask in case you were trying to tell me something.”

Cherri lowered his ray gun, glancing down. “I said if you take away someone’s world, they might just burn yours down.”

“Ah. True, and insightful.” Cherri didn’t have to glance over at D to know his face would be gently concerned. “Somewhat dark though, you could say.”

“Guess so.”

They were silent for a moment, apart from the zap of ray guns.

“Pasts are something to be forgotten here,” D said finally. “But if you need someone to talk to about yours, Lily and I will support you.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean it, you know.”

Cherri fiddled with his ray gun. “Yeah.”

“Just putting that out there.” D turned back to their target practice.

Despite D’s words, there was a silent agreement amongst the three of them that pasts were not to be spoken of or asked about. Occasionally, D or Lily would tell a few stories, mainly from their childhood. They rarely talked about the Helium Wars, only occasionally with each other. And Cherri said nothing about his past. Instead, he pretended not to notice the days when the other two flinched at any loud sound, and they pretended not to hear him cry out in the night, when everything was silent and there was no buffer against the memories. It was a courtesy more than anything, a way to keep each other from having to speak about their darkest times. Usually, Cherri appreciated that, finding it easier to deal with any hurt alone than worry about burdening the others.

Tonight, however, was different. No matter how much he tried to calm himself down, his breath kept coming too quickly and he couldn’t drown out the voices of his past. Worthless, never going to amount to anything…should be more like Samantha…your grades are slipping again…never going to be a boy…

Cherri shivered violently, even though the blanket was tucked safely over him, and climbed off the window seat he had been using as a sort of bed, picking up said blanket. It was cold in the desert at night, no use leaving it behind.

It took him more rests of leaning against the wall and trying frantically to draw a single breath than he wanted to admit before he was down the hall to the room D and Lily had claimed. Their door was cracked open, but Cherri pushed it open a little bit further to see both of them seemingly sleeping peacefully as he stood in the doorway.

“Cher?” That was White Lily, lifting her head a bit from the mattress. “Everything okay?”

He managed to shake his head, and she gestured for him to come sit.

“What’s going on, friendo?”

“Bad dream,” Cherri whispered.

“Ah. Those are no fun. Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Lily nodded as if to say that didn’t surprise her, and she looked dreadfully like someone he used to know in that moment. “Come on then, lay on down. D won’t mind if you elbow him, he gets up at ass o’clock in the morning anyways.”

Cherri was quite certain D would, in fact, mind, but he did as she asked anyways, settling down on the creaky mattress. Lily put her arm out in what was clearly an offer, but didn’t touch him until he rolled over towards her. When he did, she wrapped her arm around him fully, pulling him closer, and Cherri felt like he could breathe for the first time since waking up.

Lily didn’t say ‘I love you’ or anything of the sort, but she did ruffle his hair and give him a quiet “Goodnight, Cher.”

And Cherri didn’t say ‘I love you’ either, but he leaned into her embrace. “Goodnight, Lily.”

True to Lily’s words, it was, in fact, what Cherri would qualify as ‘ass o’clock in the morning’ when D woke up and proceeded to wake the other two up while getting out of bed.

“Is it even light out?” Cherri questioned as Lily gave a massive yawn.

“No, which is why D’s being an asshole.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you up, Lil. Or you, Cherri.” He didn’t question why Cherri was there, much to Cherri’s relief.

“You did anyways,” Lily grumbled, but she released Cherri and sat up. “I guess it would be time to get up soon anyways.”

“Exactly,” D huffed.

Lily just yawn-laughed as she got up, and Cherri reluctantly followed the others downstairs. They had quick breakfast in the predawn light, followed by a bit of fussing around as they got ready for D’s morning broadcast, organizing all the news and things that had come in yesterday. Killjoys had started to send them news of the desert, to the point where they got almost as much from what people sent in/dropped off/radioed to them as what Cherri found out on his almost daily runs. It was starting to pass what he could find out on daily runs, really. But he went anyways because they still needed his info, and they needed to eat.

“Bye, Lily, D!”

“See you, Cherri,” Lily hollered back. “Be careful!”

“I will!”

The three of them split the tasks that living in the desert and running a radio station required. Today, D and Lily were taking the radio station van to drive around and talk to people, encourage them to join the cause. Cherri was taking the motorcycle to get any news and see if he couldn’t grab some power pup from a supply truck.

He sped down the road, getting in position to raid the supply truck. A one-killjoy raid was a dumb idea, for sure, but Better Living Industries hadn’t started to arm their trucks very heavily yet, and Cherri was confident enough in his ability to think he could pull it off. This was a small one, anyways. The initial raid went off without a hitch- the driver and few accompanying dracs were dead before they had time to see the teenage killjoy who hurried down from the dune to pull out as much of the contents of the truck as would fit in the sidecar of the motorbike. It was afterwards that became the problem, as a full two cars of bli employees came rushing towards the site.

“Fuck,” Cherri hissed under his breath. He quickly assessed his odds. One teenager with a shitty ray gun and a motorcycle against what must be at least one scarecrow and probably at least eight dracs was not good odds, but he doubted running away would be any better. They would chase him down, and then he wouldn’t even have the advantage of his higher vantage point. Hiding wasn’t an option either, given that dracs would search the entire area, so Cherri crouched behind the motorcycle and got ready to fire.

When the first person hopped out of the car, Cherri almost swore out loud. Not a scarecrow. An exterminator. He was so fucked.

Cherri’s hands shook slightly as he lifted the ray gun and aimed. He had to take down that exterminator as soon as possible, or he was dead. The shakiness proved his undoing, as the shot whistled past the exterminator, missing by barely half an inch and causing the Better Living operative to turn.

Fuck it. Cherri got out from behind the motorcycle and ran directly towards them, firing off shots indiscriminately. His best shot now was to overwhelm and confuse them. It seemed to be working, given that one thing they did not expect was a teenager in a bright pink mask to come running directly at them. In fact, most of the dracs froze, enough that he was able to get in a few good shots before they realized what was happening. One shot even hit the exterminator in the shoulder, but unfortunately not their shooting arm, leaving them perfectly capable of raising their gun to retaliate.

Retaliate they did, and Cherri screamed as a shot hit him in the side. “Fuck! Fuck you!” He was shaking too hard to shoot back as the exterminator held up a hand, quite calmly.

All the dracs stopped, and the exterminator strolled casually towards Cherri. “Greetings, rebel.”

Cherri spit at their feet.

“Rather rude of you, wasn’t that? I’m tempted to kill you here, you ill-mannered rebel scum.” They reached out and tilted Cherri’s chin up to look them in the eye, letting him see the cold fire that lingered there.

“Get fucked,” Cherri spat out as they took his ray gun from a shaking hand and tossed it over their shoulder.

“I do appreciate the suggestion, but I suggest you keep your mouth shut if you want to live.”

Their ray gun was positioned at his neck, and Cherri knew he had a low chance of surviving even a stun shot to that spot at such a close distance.

“I would kill you now, ill-mannered rebel, but I think I’ll let you live for one reason and one reason only- I want you to go to that ‘Doctor D’ and his friend White Lily, and tell them they will not win. We will find the radio station you killjoys speak of, we know your precious leader is hiding out in Zone Four. So go, tell them. And pray you survive that shot.”

They shoved Cherri, and he stumbled away, ignoring the pain in his side as he climbed onto the motorcycle. He revved the engine, throwing it into action and barely caring if some of the supplies fell out of the sidecar.

The exterminator watched him go with a cruel smile.

#cherri cola #dr. death defying #ttlofk #coming coming home tag #auri writes #ask to tag #white lily #killjoy oc #sometimes a family is a 21 y/o rebellion leader her tired best friend and the feral 16 y/o they picked up along the way

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mental-mona · 3 years

Text

Things Not to Say to a Depressed Person

9 things not to say to someone who’s depressed:

9. “Have a drink and you’ll feel better.”Self-medicating with alcohol is never the answer and is often the first step on the road to addiction. If you give me alcohol, one of two things will happen: either I will drink myself into oblivion trying to feel better, or I will end up feeling worse thanks to the depressant effects of the alcohol.

8. “Have you tried [alternative/additional therapy]?” Just to clarify: depression is caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain and/or destructive thought patterns. If what you’re pushing makes some kind of sense, I might consider it, but the best it will do is make me feel slightly better or give me a coping mechanism. It won’t make the problem actually go away; only medicine and psychotherapy can do that. Yes, St. John’s wort has value, but it conflicts with a lot of prescription medications, and you can never fully trust herbal supplements.

7. “This is happening to you because you [do vice(s)]. If you’d just [do virtuous thing(s)], you’d be fine.” If you’re lecturing me about getting enough exercise and sleep or about drinking less alcohol, you have a very good point. I wish you luck trying to break through the depression lethargy to get me to exercise, as that would actually be very helpful, but you'll have a very hard time getting me off the couch until I'm already in a somewhat better place. Also, making those lifestyle changes won’t magically cure me, I have no energy to exercise, and I’m probably not sleeping well. If you’re admonishing me about anything else, then no, what you’re pushing probably won’t make much difference. Also, you sound obnoxiously self-righteous when you lecture me like that; please find a nicer way to make your point.

6. “It’s not that bad.” Actually, it is. The fact is that my brain’s screwed-up biochemistry is making me feel all sorts of awful things mentally and physically. I am not imagining them, and while I probably know that there’s no rational reason for me to feel them, I can’t use logic to make them go away. Please stop trying to convince me that life is good when I feel like a worthless piece of dirt and haven’t genuinely smiled in months.

5. “I have no idea what to do with you.”There’s a very simple solution: ASK! I will likely know what I need from you. If I can’t give you a concrete answer, ask about something specific you think you might be able to help me with. If I still can't give you a good answer, then that’s my problem not yours. If what you mean is more along the lines of “You need more help than I can give you” or “I don’t have the energy to deal with you all the time,” then you should have said so, albeit gently.

3. “OMG I feel so bad I didn’t know what life is like for you I’m so sorry that I reacted like that!” or “I feel so useless that I can’t help you!” Odds are that you said this in reaction to my explaining how depression makes my life hell. Odds are that when I explained this to you, I was looking for support. You have just turned the tables and made it about youand how you’re a bad friend, thereby forcing me to expend energy that I probably didn’t have in order to reassure you that it’s ok. Fail.

1. “Cheer up!” or“Snap out of it!” I can’t. Thanks to my brain's messed up biochemistry, my world looks gray and dreary, or black and hopeless. It’s probably going to take a lot of cognitive behavioral therapy to teach me how to change my thought patterns to something more positive, and an antidepressant to lift the soul-crushing despair and numbness. Your chirping at me to think myself happy is unbelievably irritating and may even depress me more.

#depression #what not to say #mental health #mental illness #mental health awareness month

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synvamp · 4 years

Text

Professional Flirt

A bit of light fluffy crack for no reason. The teams are off for another adventure. Marrow is not a fan of the fact that Qrow and Clover have REALLY upped their flirting game X'D

Thanks for the prompt @shitluckebi-2!

Rating: T

---xxx---

Another day. Sun blazing. The air up here was crisp and clean.

Earlier that morning, the clouds were so low that the city in the sky just about scraped them. But now… a brisk breeze from the sea to the west had cleared all that away. Nothing but white below and blue above.

It was nice.

Not as good as flying.

Really flying.

But being in the airship wasn’t all bad.

Qrow glanced over at Clover.

The Captain was deep in discussion with Ruby. Nerding out about some game maybe? They were both waving their arms a lot, anyway.

Clover noticed he was looking almost before he registered it himself. He got a little flex of the bicep for his trouble and a tiny hint of a grin.

Such a show off. No wonder he made captain so young, he would have practised everything until he was the best. Probably in front of a mirror.

Clover had decided to come with them. He didn’t have to, which made it just that little bit nicer to have him along for the ride. He’d also brought Marrow. Qrow could see the kid was starting to form some strong bonds with his unruly brood. Maybe Clover could too.

It felt good to be out with the kids dealing with things that were more… normal, at least for huntsmen and huntresses. The missions challenged their skills without any real threat to life. They needed time to heal. It felt good to finally take the breath they all needed.

Ren and Nora were surprisingly quiet. They had suddenly become prone to getting lost in each other’s eyes. He’d just about had to wave his hand between their faces that morning to get them away from the breakfast table. It was… kind of adorable really. His eyes flicked across to the sleeveless godbod and back.

Might have a little hint about how they feel…

They were just sitting slightly too close together, looking out the window. It made him almost uncomfortably happy to see them so full of joy after everything. Weiss, Jaune and Yang were arguing about something. Blake had a novel clutched to her chest, a slight crease of concern deepening between her brows. Must be a good book.

Ruby slowly wound down from another peak of delighted screaming about her game. Clover gave her a high five and some goofy fistbump thing. Since when did they have a goofy fistbump thing? Qrow smiled.

“You all ready, Boy Scout?”

Clover just looked at him with his trademark What do you think? grin.

“Ren? Nora?” Qrow asked, just to see if they could still hear him this time.

“Hmmm?” they both said without moving an inch.

It’ll do for now.

“Jaune?” Qrow asked.

“Yes?” Jaune looked up.

“You got your landing strategy all sorted? I heard you were quite… creative at the Academy,” Qrow smiled, remembering Oz showing him the footage. Should he really be here? Qrow had asked. I have a feeling about him… Oz had replied, his ever-present cup hiding his smile.

“That was so long ago! Give a guy a break…” Jaune groaned.

“I’ll catch him!” Yang offered.

Jaune looked over the many amused faces turned to his, “Oh for… I’ll use my shield ok? And if it doesn’t work then you can all fight over who gets to catch me. Everyone loves Jaune.”

“I’m good,” said Ren, not taking his eyes from Nora for a second.

“I do love a good landing strategy,” Clover mused.

“Oh really? I hadn’t noticed,” Qrow shrugged.

“What’s yours then? Do you have a favourite?”

Qrow looked at him dispassionately, “Tend to just fall until I hit the ground. Don’t know why you need all the fuss.”

Yang snorted.

“I have to make the uniform look good,” Clover parried.

“I suppose you do that pretty well,” Qrow looked him slowly up and down, “Not sure how sleeveless plus tundra equals anything except hypothermia.”

“That’s why I have you, Hot Stuff,” Clover winked.

Marrow rolled his eyes.

“They do say no sense, no feeling…” Qrow shrugged.

“Huntsman Branwen!” Clover clutched his chest, “Are you questioning my ability to achieve mission objectives while also blessing the world with my spectacular guns?!”

Qrow coughed loudly *cough himbo cough*

Clover opened his mouth for yet another flirty reply when his stomach rumbled loudly.

“Skip breakfast, Lucky Charm?” Qrow asked, merrily pretending he didn’t know.

“I might have run out the door a little hastily,” Clover smirked.

“Really? Even I managed breakfast. Aren’t you meant to be all military perfection? Isn’t there some army marching empty stomach… thing?”

“Coffee isn’t breakfast Qrow,” Clover grumbled.

“Breakfast of champions,” Blake said to her book.

“…but lucky for me there are always emergency rations in the med kits so I can just…” Clover lifted a small sealed bag off the wall, opened it up and began to rummage. “Ah. A single solitary stick of gum. Wonderful.”

The team looked at the bag and then at Nora.

“Hey! Sometimes people get hungry!” she said.

“Oh well, better than nothing I suppose,” Clover shrugged unwrapping the gum, “remind me to get this restocked when we get back to the Academy.”

“Oh, I just remembered, we should…” Qrow started.

“Yes?” Clover turned, hand half-way to his mouth.

Qrow leaned over and plucked the gum from his outstretched fingers with his mouth, grinning wickedly. “Mmmm strawberry. My favourite,” he said, chewing.

Marrow shook his head darkly, “So unprofessional,” he muttered.

“Come on!” Yang said cheerfully, giving him a gentle punch on the shoulder, “I think they’re cute!”

“Now, now Firecracker, no need to go all the way out to the C word,” Qrow said, grinning.

“I for one welcome our new yaoi overlords!” Nora shouted. Ren put his head in his hands to hide his grin.

“What’s yaoi?” asked Jaune.

Weiss coughed.

Blake giggled, “I’ll tell you later.”

“Alright folks, we’re nearly there,” the pilot called back.

Clover instantly snapped back to Mr Professional, “Ok everyone; I want you to seek high ground to start. We need to get the lay of the land. There shouldn’t be any grimm this far out but once we enter the cave system we’ll need to be cautious. Blake, Marrow, please use your hearing to keep us alert to anything that comes our way. Ren and Jaune, stay in the middle of the group. We might need your semblances if things go south. Weiss and Ruby out front. Nora and Yang take up the rear and don’t cause a rockslide with any heavy hitting. Qrow will scout, I’ll stick with the main group. If we get split up, keep your comms open. Any questions?” he paused for a heartbeat, “Good.”

Qrow said something, and Clover leaned down to speak to him. A moment later he laughed, “Qrow!”

Qrow smiled and stretched back, hands above his head. He gave a flirty wink and Clover shook his head.

“I cannot wait to be out of this ship,” Marrow huffed.

“We’re at the drop,” the pilot called, cutting off Clover’s reply.

“Last one down has to cook dinner!” Yang shouted, leaping head first out the open hatch.

Blake sighed, “See you down there,” and stepped out behind her.

Ruby flew out in a tornado of red petals and Weiss executed a neat single axel. Jaune tried to give a salute but his ankle wobbled on the lip of the door and he fell out into the sky with a slightly startled yelp. Laughing, Nora grabbed Ren by the hand and pulled him out, “Later!” her voice trailed away.

Qrow stood up slowly, “See you, gorgeous,” he gave Clover a flirty little smile and then stepped nonchalantly out the door.

Marrow groaned.

“Oh come on,” Clover smiled at him. “What’s the problem?”

“Are you serious? I have been dealing with that for an hour now. Could you two be any more gay?”

Clover stood up and stretched out his shoulders, looking down at the annoyed faunus. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

Then he chewed twice, blew a nice big pink bubble, winked… and was gone.

Marrow rolled his eyes and tried to conjure up the last of his fucks from the deep well that was his long-suffering soul.

You just had to ask.

---xxx---

#fair game #fluff #crack #such happy nonsense #qrow branwen #clover ebi

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rosepetals-flyingbirds · 5 years

Text

Feel Alive.

Pairing: Modern!Hvitty x Reader.

Word Count: 4K.

Warnings: Langauge (kisses Stevie), drugs, violence.

Music: Feel Alive - Ali Shaheed Muhammad & Adrian Younge

Worse than being humble and having to work your ass off to live comfortable, is when you’ve been rich before.

Normal folks with normal bills and taxes to pay suffered. You knew that, you’ve been raised by a hard-working family and since young, you knew the worth of money.

But Hvitserk?

The man was rich as those brainless players of dumb reality shows. His family was famous for boat fabrication, but when his father died… things went south!

The partner in the business, Rollo stole 75% of the funds, Lagertha the ex-wife and co-founder took 15% and Hvitserk only go 10% of it and had to share with his four brothers, aside the chemotherapy treatment for his mother and physiotherapy and expensive meds for his brother Ivar.

Ubbe and Sigurd asked to Bjorn help them with money, Rollo loved Bjorn and still had some kind of past love for Lagertha so he helped them and allowed them to keep high on the company.

Aslaug passed, and after five months Ivar did too. Of course,Ubbe and Sigurd helped, vitserk but at the end, not even the jewels he garnishees worked, nor his expensive notebook, car, phone, nor sneakers.

And where were his friends then? The girls that used to run after him? All the time Ivar has said bad things about Hvitserk’s group made total sense, you only know who is your real friend when you can do nothing for them. Hvitserk was proud man, and when Bjorn said he could give him a job if he agreed with some terms Hvitserk took a deep breath and refused. He couldn’t work with Rollo! Not the man that stole all the money his father had made with hard work.

And even if doesn’t make much sense, he felt he owned Ivar some pride against Bjorn, after all his mother and young brother were dead while Lagertha and Bjorn stood rich.

So Hvitserk moved, after the grief of his loved ones he thought he could sell the mansion and get some millions with it, but of course it was in the company’s name… it was Rollo’s, Bjorn’s, Lagertha’s.

Not his and not Ubbe’s nor Sigurd’s.

So he moved, he held what was left of money and rented a small -and terrible- kitchenette and started searching for jobs, it wasn’t easy. Not to say that he was spoiled but… he was.

He has helped his father in the company and every time Ubbe mentioned College Hvitserk just didn’t know what to do, Ragnar has said it was normal and told him he could travel to figure it out, he helped in the company but didn’t want to study tedious bureaucracy like Bjorn and Ubbe, much less engineering like Ivar.

He had his ambitious, but he didn’t know where to go nor where to start. And after some universe’s plot twists, he ended up with nothing. Not degree in bureaucracy, nor design, nor travels.

And being a Ragnarsson no one in the business would contract him anyway. His father’s death was something, losing the status another, but when he lost his mother and Ivar it was too much to handle.

He hated Rollo.

Hated how Ragnar has ignored all the times Floki has warned him of the serpent Rollo Sigurdson was, how wrong Bjorn was for believing in his uncle, urgh, Hvitserk could imagine Floki spitting in the floor just for mentioning the man’s name.

But Floki was dead too, almost everyone, shit.

But Hvitserk tried, he searched for jobs and even received a lot of no’s and asked for jobs in places he has never EVER thought before. But those humbler parts of the cities always had people searching for jobs, he wouldn’t have the luck to suddenly find one.

But in the third week living in the new neighborhood, he had enough, well, especially when he came home from a near bar and found his small “living place” shattered and everything in the floor, he started to run for under the bed where he kept the only money he had left. “FUCKING SHIT!“

They took it, of course they took it. Fucking hell.

Hvitserk ran downstairs and went to the street searching for the robbers, he didn’t care if he got shot, actually, it would make him a favor. "WHO ROBBED ME UH?! COME FACE ME MOTHERFUCKER! YOU CAN’T MAKE YOUR OWN MONEY?” He yelled in the streets and people glanced at him and whispered mixes of ’he’s crazy’, ’probably heroin’, ’poor boy, so young’. But no one appeared, no dude with some revolver to kill him, no dude to beat him until he bleeds. Nada.

And that moment in the middle of the road, in some terrible part of the big city where lots of people lived in the streets inside boxes that Hvitserk Ragnarson lost all of his hopes.

He had been beaten, had lost his parents, his money, his annoying younger brother, had received lots of nos from works he needed to have only to pay the rent; But when those fuckers stole the last roll of money he had he lost it.

Fuck it.

He knew what he had to do, well, he wanted to do something and was the only thing he could at least try to do.

He was going to kill Rollo.

Walking to the most crowded places of homeless he searched for one person he knew it could provide him with what he wanted. “Hey, do you sell?”

The man looked Hvitserk up and down, the tattoos on his face showing the number of times he has passed through the jail. “Are you crazy? Coming here asking like that? What do you want white boy? Heroin? Lolly? Loló?”

“I want a gun.”

The man whistled and looked around at his friends. “Phew. What Richie Rich will do with it uh? Kill daddy cause he didn’t pay the last prom party you wanted to go?”

Hvitserk wanted to leash out, but he had another person to punch first. “No, my father is dead, and I’m not rich. I just need a gun to fix a problem, can you find me one?”

The man laughed and grabbed his gun… The barrel was quickly placed in Hvitserk’s forehead, the cold feeling making him anxious and scared. “Look, dude. This is real. Aren’t some of those shitty shows you watch on tv. Do you want a gun to kill someone?” The man lowered the gun and smiled when Hvitserk took a deep breath. “Well, tell me the reason.”

“What?”

“Come on, fella. Who knows maybe you touch my heart?”

Letting an exhalation he tried to control his pulse. “My uncle killed my father, and with that he screwed my brother’s treatment for his glassy bones and now he is dead, my mother too but that wasn’t because of him I guess. My uncle stole my job and screwed my life, I don’t have where to go, the only money I had left was stolen and next week I need to pay the rent but I can’t find a fucking job and I don’t care if I’ll go to jail. Either dead or locked it will be better than this.”

The dealer seemed surprised for a bit, Hvitsek bit his lip imaging it was just some act to embarrass him further. “Okay, I like that you aren’t afraid of dying or going to tank… so I’ll find a gun to you, but you will work for me first, maybe two weeks or so. If you do enough, you receive it.”

Drug dealing? Well he had tried weed once or twice before, but selling? “You are in or out?”

As he said: Fuck it. “In. But I don’t know where to sleep.”

“What do you think I am? Tinker Bell? I ain’t your homey! I don’t care where you sleep or if you do so, find me here tomorrow night and I’ll bring a bag for you to sell.” Before Hvitserk could say anything else the man left and entered a black car. “You know what? I think you sell just fine, some motherfucker like you seems too good to sell shit.”

…

The next day, in the exact hour that man has spoken Hvitserk to appear in the drug point he did, he was nervous as fuck. This was wrong, so so so wrong. And he knew that, but he needed to end his uncle before he would end up in the streets living homeless.

So he did, he got some packages with heroin and walked around selling, Hvitserk’s heart had shaken when each buyer reached him. The people were terrible, hopeless… One thing was the weed one of his “friends” loved to use to piss their parents off, another thing was heavy shit like cocaine and heroin.

He tried not to think of it, he was doing it to kill some person too so it didn’t matter, and if it wasn’t him it would be another dealer.

Dealer, that was what Hvitserk was now? … After a busy week sleeping in the streets and eating rests he found in the trash Hvitserk sold all the drugs, the man he has met with the name of “Kiko” seemed surprised and proud of the sells, Hvitserk was terrible, the kitchenette he has rented got in duo time and he was expelled, and living in the streets … well, there’s nothing worse.

Kiko gave Hvitserk a gun but told it was only a rent, he had to give it back for him.

The revenge was coming, he knew where to find Rollo, but if he shot the man in front of the building would take too much attention.

Maybe he could kill him near his children’s school.

… no, Hvitserk wasn’t a monster like that.

So he decided it was better to do the act while Rollo was in a meeting in some restaurant.

It was 9 PM the moment he stood on the other side of the street the fancy restaurant stood.

He waited and waited, until the big black car appeared and Hvitserk grabbed the gun in his jacket, he was sweating. Dead nervous.

But Rollo deserved it, he stole him and took Ivar’s life aside.

Hvitserk walked and crossed the street looking straight to Rollo’s head, but Rollo had seen some old friend and shook his hand, with that, Hvitserk saw the small bracelet his cousin has made for her father with Hvitserk’s help.

Then the world started spinning, he thought about the moment countless times, he slept in the street and sold drugs to do that!

But how could he make two children orphans?

Rollo was a motherfucker, but at least he was a good father.

Hvitty started to run away from there not caring for the people he stumbled on the path.

‘What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing?’

What the hell has happened to him? His rage and ambition were bigger than common sense?

No no no.

Hvitserk walked until the spot he has met Kiko and was ready to give the gun back at him. The homeless watched Hvitserk stumbled by and wondered if he was drunk or in one of the drugs he has sold.

Kiko was smoking and smiled seeing Hvitserk, his ‘golden boy’ to the business. “Ay, did you finished your uncle?”

Hvitserk looked at his sides and grabbed the gun giving it back to Kiko. “No, here its.”

Kiko chuckled and looked at his partners with a knowing smirk. “Didn’t have the guts uh?” He grabbed the gun and looked at the cartridge seeing all the bullets there.

Hvitserk didn’t agree or declined, he just wanted to leave.

Kiko shook his head and handed the gun for one of his mates, he grabbed some dollars on his pocket and gave it to Hvitserk. “Leave, dude. You don’t need to live on this shit.”

Hvitserk accepted the money and walked away, it wasn’t much for an apartment, but he could at least have some food.

He was at least grateful Kiko hasn’t killed him, and was definitely calmer after the whole situation seeing Rollo.

Hvitty entered some fast food place and ordered some heavy combo where his arteries would get probably clogged. He ate in peace and glanced at each family that passed around. Ragnar was really absent when he was younger, of course he had more time with the man than Sigurd or Ivar ever had but yet… he felt terrible for almost making someone lose a figure so important as a father. If Rollo were a bad father he could go on, but the motherfucker was loveable for his children.

Hvitserk then destroyed his food and made sure he would contact Ubbe in the next day, he needed some help.

In the walk to one of the parks where he could at least nap in one of the benches he spotted a bar, he had some money left so he could grab a beer. He entered the place and liked the aura of there. The walls were red and the light was scanty and a man was playing the saxophone. The place wasn’t much crowded which was a true relief.

Hvitty sat in one of the stool and a lady came to grab his order.

You cleaned your hands on the cloth and smiled at the man, he had bags under his eyes and he seemed like he needed one shoulder to cry onto.

“A beer please.” He asked and grabbed his money, you ask which one and gave it to him.

The man stood hearing the song and reading his beer’s information. The sax stopped and Hvitserk made sure he had enough money to ask for another one, he did so and has seen the musician speaking with the bartender. “Hey Y/N, give one just the way you know how to do.”

“Joe Joe Joe, your wife doesn’t want you drinking, you know that.”

“Come on, is just one, give me some credit. Tell you what, you give me one and I’ll make your company until you close.”

“Smarty thing uh?! Just because Jack bailed doesn’t mean I won’t find another bartender to help me here.”

Hvitserk’s ears picked at that. “Hey, excuse me but uh, do you-you need some help?”

You looked at the young man and then back at Joe. “Yeah, do you have any experience?”

“Well, no but I can learn. I swear I’m a good guy and I’ll learn quickly.”

You smiled at his enthusiasm. “Well, we can try then.”

Hvitserk smiled and thanked you, he was happy he wouldn’t have to ask for help nor become homeless again.

With the passing hours Hvitserk helped you around, you said he didn’t have to but he said he needed to show effort. You smiled at his answer, his sad demeanor of earlier was replaced with something like… hope.

People started to head out and Hvitserk was glancing at the couch on the other side. “Uh, Y/N, I know that sound weird but could I… maybe sleep here tonight?”

“Here? Why?”

“Is a long story but I lost my house and I don’t have where to sleep and I really don’t want to sleep in the cold out there. I swear I’m not drugged or with bad intentions here.” He justified.

You pondered about that, it was a hard request and even stranger. But you cleaned the register machine and he couldn’t escape since you lock the whole place. “Okay but, I know your face and have friends who are cops so it’ll be easy to find you.”

Hvitserk laughed and nodded. “Thank you! Thank you so much.”

You smiled at him and Joe had some talk with the man, probably threatening him if he did something bad.

When you left you told him he could drink the water bottles and the next day you would give him some breakfast.

When you left Hvitserk felt relief, pure and shining relief.

He could manage that job. He could fix his life and rise from dust.

And so he did.

Hvitserk showed effort and did learn quickly whatever you have taught him. At the second night, you heard his story, you then made something you have never imagined, offered a place to sleep for a completely strange man.

Of course you locked your bedroom and had a knife under your pillow if anything but Hvitserk were more than happy to have a shower.

You placed his clothes in the washing machine and handed him some loose shorts you had and some big shirt.

The moment he sat in the table and almost devoured the food you still had in your fridge. You smiled at that, he didn’t seem like a bad guy at all, and if his story were true, you would be relieved.

His clothes were clean so you placed them in the back of the fridge to make sure it would be dry the next day.

You made sure the couch was comfy enough for him and gave him goodnight. Hvitserk was truly grateful for the help, truly happy.

And inside your bedroom you searched about his relatives on the internet, apparently it was all true, his dad has passed and his uncle was the boss. The other sordid details the media hasn’t shown, obviously.

He would be alright. … In the passing of the months, you and Hvitserk grew closer, you had set barriers but the man was strong enough to crush them.

He kept on your apartment but made sure you would agree with that, he has saved enough to pay rent somewhere else.

But it was a clever idea, in the end.

Once Ubbe came to visit and you met him, it was nice for Ubbe to see his brother doing well on his own. He was proud.

And for you Ubbe didn’t believe his brother had such a luck, he has only met golden diggers before.

And life went on, once Rollo told Ubbe to contact Hvitserk because he wanted to talk, Hvitty declined, he didn’t want to deal with him, or the company, maybe in the future he will… but for now on he was happy. … Tuesdays nights were the slowers ones in the bar, the day had been busy, you and Hvisterk went to your sellers and made sure everything was stocked. You wondered how all of sudden a guy entered your place asking for beer has grown into someone so important to you.

The last customers headed out and you stood there cleaned the tables and Hvisterk mopping the floors. He turned the radio on and a sweet song came on.

In the middle of all night, the star so far On the sabboc of my mind, so far star From eve to dawn, I will go for him Surrounded and blinded so his arms on mine

The melody was slow and special, next thing you knew Hvister had pulled you into a hug and started to dance.

You laughed at him and copied his steps.

He held you close. “Thank you.”

(Mine, mine mine) Cuz every time I look in your eyes, I feel like I’m drowning

“For what?” You giggled.

Your smile is everything that I need, every day, every morning

“For saving me.”

Yeah, he was alright.

You make me feel alive, you make me feel so high In the way that we move, to the rhythm of our lives In the way that we touch, when it’s time to make love From my neck to my head, all I need is your curse Surrounded my heart, I’m so glad that you’re

(Mine, mine mine) Cuz every time I look in your eyes, I feel like I’m drowning Your smile is everything that I need, every day, every morning You make me feel alive, yeah baby, you, whoo You make me feel so high Your smile is everything that I need, every day, every morning

…

#hvitserk x reader #hvitserk x you #modern hvitserk x reader

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yournameoverandover · 4 years

Text

FOLKLORE: 1st Listen

1. The 1 - “I’m on some new shit” Love the production ooooo..... “If you never bleed then you’re never gonna grow.” Why does this remind me of HAYLOR?!?!!? Omg my heart. “It woulda been fun if you woulda been the one” Wow!!!!!! “And if my wishes came true it woulda been you” Wowowowowow!!!!!! WHAT AN OPENER

2. Cardigan - High heels on cobblestones what an IMAGE. I love her range here omg. “Baby kiss it better, Iiiiiiiii” I LOVE the breathiness of it. A friend to all is a friend to none, you tell em girl!!!! This song is so COZY I just feel like war, and soft listening to it. So much piano. “You drew stars around my scars but now I’m bleeding.” So softttt “Leaving like a father” 🥺🥺🥺 “These hands had to let it go free and this love came back to me// I knew you’d come back to me”

3. The last great American dynasty - Ok I was not excited for this one. The initial synth is interesting. Rebecca who tf is Rebecca? Saint Louis and Bill? This is specific.... Hmmmm okay I see a trend of blaming women. THE RHODE ISLAND SET HOLLA!!!! Dali?! Hmmm maddest, shameless now... What’s the twist in the bridge tell me? OMG IS THAT HER HOUSE!!! AHHHHHHH YES OMG!!!!! Loudest yessss! LITERALLY A SOMG ABOUT HER HOUSE I CANT. I like this chorus so much

4. Exile - I’m stoked for this one. Mucho piano. Omgggggg the vocals well done Bon Iver!!!!! “You’re not my homeland anymore” BROKEN HEART. “Now I’m in exile seeing you out.” There’s the title... Balancing on breaking branches :( “I’m not your problem anymore, so who am I offending now.” Awww “you were my crown” proceeds the exile line, that’s so sad and beautiful like THEY WERE ROYALTY IN LOVE. I love this interplay of perspectives holy shit this bridge. Her voice is so delicate and his is so strong they are just CHEFS KISS together!!!!! Like sneaking out a movie theater? This album is PERFECT for midnight release. I am obsessed with the ending of this song OMG. J’adore.

5. My tears ricochet - Ok time for track five I am not ready. Ooo floaty vocals me gusta. Omg it’s like a wake?? I love how she says loved you, cause I loved you. It’s almost British. Oooo SAVING FACE BURN GIRL. “You know I didn’t want to have to haunt you.” This is so prettyyyyyyyyy. It’s like Clean gets a whole album! “Just not home”. “Miss me in your bones.” “Stolen lullabies” THESE IMAGES LIKE WHAT. Not sure where the title fits in with the other story like if she’s dead how is she crying? Does he just not really care? Is he a robot? Hm. Much to think about

6. Mirrorball - TRACK 6 mirrorball. PLEASE be about the outfit to end all outfits! Kidding. Definitely not lol. This sounds like a middle school slow dance song.... shining just for you 😍 definitely a middle school slow dance song. “I can change everything about me to fit in.” Ouch Taylor. This is like the softest thing and also the saddest thing how she feels she has to try to keep his attention the whole time. I wasn’t expecting it to be sad?!

7. Seven - Aptly named seven. Ok we’re not waiting here let’s go. This has a little strummy country vibe? “Are there still beautiful things” powerful question. “Passed down like folk songs, the love lasts so long”. This feels like a song about her childhood. I really like this melody. It’s so gentle and pretty 😍

8. August - {WOW APPLE MUSIC WAY TO CATCH UP WITH THE FUCKING WORLD I HATE YOU. Okay we’re back!!!} Salt air?! I already love it. And rusty doors. Yes. Okay my birthday feels safe. “August sipped away like a bottle of wine cause you were never mine”🥺. Wait this is like happy retrospective WHEN WE WERE STILL CHANGING FOR THE BETTER, FOR ME IT WAS ENOUGH TO LIVE FOR THE HOPE OF IT ALL. “I can see us lost in a memory, august slipped away in a memory, cause it was never mine” this is so freaking ethereal and pretty. And she is repeating the hope of it all?! Inject this directly into my veins ughhhhh

9. This is me trying - “I didn’t know if you’d care if I came back” I love how she has all these images of bumbling and fumbling and puts it next to her saying she is trying, working on that communication. “I got wasted like all my potential. My words shoot to kill when I’m bad” Wait I have so many amazing lyrics I can’t even keep up with it what is happening. “It’s hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you”

10. Illicit affairs - curious about this title???? What’s going to happen. Oooo a sneaky love thing going on. “Clandestine meetings and longing stares”. LITTLE DEATH TAYLOR SWIFT I SEE YOU LE PETIT MORT. “Dwindling mercurial high”?! Damn girl!!! Ooo okay no more orgasm things, just about lies now. Death to lies. “You showed me colors I can’t see with anyone else” “you taught me secret language I can’t speak with anyone else” Wait is it over?! The sudden endings WOW.

11. Invisible string - I keep hearing all these colors and all I can thing is RED. “Invisible string tying you to me”. I just LOVE all these pretty floating songs! “She said I look like an American singer” Omg I wonder if this is about her meeting joe IT IS IT IS THE DIVE BAR IS BACK. “One single thread of gold” ugh I love the running themes this woman uses! “Now I send their babies presents 😍” “hell was the journey but it brought me heaven” I LOVE THIS SONG OMG

12. Mad woman - I’ve been so curious about this OKAY!!!!!! TAYLOR SWIFT SAID FUCK IT HAPPENED. “Every time you call me crazy I get more crazy what about that?” “No one likes a mad woman YOU MADE HER LIKE THAT” OH MY GODDDDDD YES TELL THEM TAYLOR. “Doing your dirtiest work for you” holy SHIT Taylor this is scooter’s call out song and I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS. “I’m taking my time because you took everything from me, watching you climb over people like me” I CANT KEEP UP TAYLOR THIS IS SO SHARP OMG and the dRUMS MY SOUL LEFT MY BODY

13. Epiphany - WHEW okay lots I’m still processing so epiphany whatcha got?! “Something med school did not cover, someone’s daughter, someone’s mother.” Omg aNOTHER HOSPITAL SONG SERIOUSLY Taylor baby no :((((( “you dream of some epiphany, just one single glimpse of relief to make some sense of what you’ve seen” I wonder if this is for nurses and caregivers?

14. Betty - oh HELLO harmonica!!!!! Is this one of the love triangle songs? TAYLOR SAID FUCK AGAIN TWICE IN ONE ALBUM! I WAS NOT EMOTIONALLY PREPARED FOR THIS!!!!! I like the melody in this though, it’s so pretty and it reminds me of her older stuff! WAIT FUCK IS IN THE CHORUS SO SHE’S SAYING IT A LOT AHHHHH. “A figment of my worst intentions” omgggggg what a great line?! Okay wait this has SO MANY CARDIGAN PARALLELS AT THE END THIS IS ONE OF THE THREE. SO IS CARDIGAN what is #3?!

15. Peace - interesting starting song hmmmmmmmm. Sounds more bluesy! “Our coming of age is come and gone.” So she can’t give peace- “I would die for you in secret, the devil’s in the details but you got a friend in me.” This song is really hitting a lot tbh. “It’s like I’m wasting your honor.” Taylor this is sad 🥺 “the rain is always gonna come if you’re standing with me”

16. Hoax - hOW are we already at the end?! I like the super gentle piano in the back. “Your faithless love’s the only hoax I believe in. Don’t want no other shade of blue but you.” She’s so vulnerable and this is really hard to listen to. Love was just as hard as when they pulled you apart?

Physical Album Update on (TBD)

1. The lakes

#folklore #my thoughts #first listen #i feel many things #taylor swift #ts8 at midnight

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