#I’ve only been aware of his existence for a day but now I’m fully OBSESSED with this man what the hell is going on up there Jesus Christ
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Eat My Crow
A/N: So who else is obsessed with jealous Jax?!? 🤤 This fic is based on the two below requests – in which you and Jax make each other jealous and end up having a huge fight over it, followed by super hot makeup sex!
Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader
Warnings: smut, swearing, ANGSTY ANGST, rough sex, possessive jealous dom!Jax
Request: Two separate anon requests – (1) & (2)
Word Count: ~2.5k
So you married a snack. There’s no problem with that. You’ve accepted the fact that your husband, the crown prince of Charming, is going to strut his fine ass around town calling everyone darlin’ and flashing his signature slut-magnet smile, ‘cause that’s just his style. You’ve gotten quite used to it now after being his wife for a while.
But the problem with Jax... well, he’s more than a snack. He’s a whole fucking feast. He’s a goddamn buffet, on display every day, all-you-can-fucking-eat. And the bitches attack when he walks down the street. You’ve been taking this shit in stride, telling yourself it’s alright. And it is, you decide. Because it’s gotta be. Even when he flirts back, he’s assuring you constantly that no one else means a thing to him, honestly.
Babe, it’s just business. I promised you my pussy-hounding days are finished. And I mean it. Really do. Ever since you and I started this, I’ve never thought of sex with anybody else, not for a minute. Have you even seen yourself? So fucking beautiful you’re on another level. No crow eater could ever get my dick so wet and take it so damn well. I’m serious. The whole Cara Cara crew doesn’t got shit on you. Fuck all those whores. I mean, maybe I did... before. But baby, now my heart is yours, and yours belongs to me too—doesn’t it? Just gotta trust me with it.
And you do believe it’s true, that you’re his one and only princess in a sea of faceless bitches. Jax loves you, and no one else. Love is your witness.
Still... some nights the dirty bastard really tests your fucking limits.
Like tonight. You watch him from across the room and feel the daggers you’ve got glaring from your eyes. He’s flirting up a storm and working all his charms, one pornstar clawing at each arm, while your arch nemesis is practically grinding her pussy up against his thigh.
What kind of shameless cunt seriously goes by the name of ‘Ima Tite’? Of all the clingy twits who think that Jax will be attracted to their false lashes and fake tits, she’s your absolute least favorite. A couple times she even tried to pick a fight. You always put her in her place, but she can’t seem to stay away...
Just then, an unexpected voice distracts you from your jealous daze. “...Hey.”
You look up from your drink, with a few blinks to chase the daggers from your gaze. This random guy is a new prospect that you recognize; you’ve seen him once or twice. He’s kind of cute, you think, in quite a clueless little fuckboy kind of way.
Though normally you don’t have eyes for anyone but Jax, you force yourself to see this cheap vending machine treat as a satisfying snack. ‘Cause if your man is gonna keep on letting his married ass come under attack... then that’s a game that two can play.
***************
“Babe, you okay?”
You glance up from the bathroom sink to see your husband standing in the doorway. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you lie, trying to hide the true reply that’s shooting from your eyes. Just go away.
“Know there’s no point in ever lying to me, right?” he tells you as he steps inside.
You heave a sigh, meeting your own bitter stare in the mirror, well aware that Jax takes pride in reading your mind. “It’s nothing; I’m just—”
“Sick of seeing me swimming around in a pile of sluts?” he finishes the sentence. Coming through. “Come on, Y/N, just... please don’t let ‘em get to you.”
Already he’s fucking you up with the force of his presence, the way he moves close and surrounds you in his manly scent, drowning you in his essence.
“Babe, you know I hate these pornstar parties just as much as you do. Boob job Barbies aren’t my thing, but I’m taking one for the crew. Apparently letting the girls rub up against the prince of Charming keeps them coming. Keeps the whole damn business up and running. Who knew?”
“I did, for one,” you groan, as he enfolds you in his flannel-clad arms and looks up to lock eyes in the mirror, smiling at the view. “And stop being a cheeky little shit, ‘cause you did too.”
Jax doesn’t fight you on that since it’s too blatantly true. “What do I have to do to prove—”
“That’s just the problem, Jax,” you snap as you reluctantly pull out of his embrace, stepping away, pushing him back. “You shouldn’t have to ‘prove’ your love.”
“Damn right I shouldn’t,” he huffs, not too happy about how you just shoved him off. “But here you’re telling me the way I love you isn’t good enough.”
“No, I’m not,” you mutter, not even wanting to get into the real reason why you’re so mad. Because it doesn’t matter. “I never said that.”
“Think I don’t know how to read between the lines? Told you a thousand times that I will always read your fucking mind.”
“Yeah well, read this, genius,” you hiss, flipping your middle finger in his face. Because of course you’re so fucking mature that way.
The gesture was so pointless that he easily dismisses it, that very instant. “Seriously, Y/N. We talked about this. It’s business. They’re just emp—”
“Empty or not,” you interrupt, ranting without a second thought, “they’re always all over your ass, and you know how I feel about that. Know it pisses me off seeing so many hoes eating my fucking crow.”
Jax rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Babe, they’re not ‘eating’ shit—”
“Yeah, well they’re feeding it. Constantly smothering my husband in a sea of tits. Raking their filthy fingers through your hair, while I’m standing across the room right fucking there.” ... as if I don’t even exist, you finish in your head, not saying that aloud. Not yet.
“So the hell what? You don’t trust me to handle myself around sluts?”
“Don’t fucking talk to me about trust.”
“No, that’s exactly what we’re gonna talk about. ‘Cause clearly you don’t have any in me,” he counters forcefully. “Clearly you still have doubts, when I tell you that all of this business is meaningless, empty—”
“I’ll tell you what’s empty,” you snarl, slamming both hands into his chest aggressively. The suddenness of your attack has him reeling until his kutte-clad back is pressed against the wall. “Your fucking promises. That shit you’d always tell me. Guess all that was also just part of your business.”
Beautiful blue eyes blink at you. Appalled, confused. More than a little shocked. Just what you meant, he has no clue. And he’s ashamed that he can’t see straight through you in this moment, just the way he loves to do. “Y/N, the fuck...?”
Right then, as you’re all set to spell it out for him... you hear a familiar voice just outside the bathroom. Loud enough to hear through the closed door. It’s that fucking whore. She won’t bother to knock, you’re pretty sure. And all of a sudden... the lioness lurking behind the woman in you feels a spiteful kind of urge you’ve never had before.
“I need your cock,” you grunt, which is an honest statement; Jax’s dick is the one thing you’ll always want. No matter how, no matter what. “Like, now. Let’s fuck.”
Jax takes a pause, clenching his jaw, dim lighting glinting off his golden locks. “Babe, we should talk...”
“No, we should not,” you snap, pressing your lips to his to shut him up, heavy and hot. “Fuck that. Just fuck me, Jax.”
And the lust-driven lion in him knows there’s no use trying to fight back. He cedes to your demands, leather and flannel sliding down his flawless body as you pull at them with frantic hands. Giving in passionately to exactly what you want—and in a split second, he’s suddenly the one on the attack.
You rake your fingers through the lustrous head of blonde hair that belongs to you, the way those other bitches love to do. Fuck all those whores. Every last lock is yours, just as his cock is yours, and you both know it’s true.
Once Jax is slamming you against the wall like an insatiable animal, that’s when the bathroom door opens. And Ima stands there gawking for a moment, just as you’d been hoping. Just as you had planned.
Jax doesn’t even register her presence—far too deeply engrossed in ferociously fucking you over—as you and she briefly make eye contact over his shoulder, you shoot her a fierce, fiery glance. Bitch better back off my fucking man.
Now that you’ve staked your claim, you’re finished with this game.
Jax isn’t done—he hasn’t come—but today, just for once, you decide that you want it to end that way. Allowing him release would grant him victory.
You’re well aware that you’re being the cattiest, brattiest bitch in fucking history. But maybe you deserve to be. Maybe that’s one of the perks of being queen. You’ve earned the right to whip your claws out and to get a little mean.
“Okay—enough,” you say, pushing him off.
He’s never looked so shocked, still impaling you on his massive monster cock. “Uhhh... what the fuck?”
“Jax, I was just using your ass to make a point in front of one of your crow-eating sluts,” you tell him, clear and blunt. Pretending not to care as you see him flinch in disgust. “And now I’m done. Got what I want.”
He looks incapable of processing the shit you’re dishing out. Stung by each word out of your mouth. Apparently still clueless as to what this is about.
You know deep down you shouldn’t blame him, but the only other option is to blame yourself. And you just can’t. At least not right this instant. Shit would hurt like fucking hell. He wouldn’t understand. The reason you escaped into the bathroom in the first place, just to wallow in your heartbreak... fuck’s sake, you don’t even fully understand.
Hope he doesn’t notice as you wipe a stray tear with the back of your hand. “Did you hear me or not? Get the fuck out.”
He noticed. Definitely did. Holds back his own somehow. “Y/N, who even are you right now?”
“The fact you have to ask, Jax...” you murmur, pushing him further back. “You wouldn’t have to if you’d only looked at me just once tonight. The way you promised me you always would, right? No matter what? Promised that I’m the only woman in your life, the only face you ever see, even when you’re buried in sluts? Maybe that’s where you really want to be. Because you’re fucking blind, apparently.”
Quietly shoving his unsatisfied dick back inside his pants, he tries to hold you in place with his other hand. “Y/N—can...”
“No, Jackson, we can’t just talk about this shit. Because it honestly makes me sick that you didn’t even notice, when—when I...” your voice trails off into a shaky sigh, terrified to admit the unspeakable thing you almost did. “Fuck this. Right now there’s nothing you can say.”
You turn to leave, wiping more tears on your sleeve. You hate yourself so much more than you hate him, in this moment. Truth is you don’t hate him one bit. Couldn’t even if you wanted. Just hate the way that loving him drove you to do something so stupid and dishonest. Hate yourself for being so ashamed about the fact Jax didn’t notice. Is that his fault? Yeah, it probably is. But not nearly as much your fault for having done what you did in the first instance. You crossed a line that he didn’t. A line he never would, because he’s good.
Whereas your sorry ass... you reckon, right this second, that you’re no better than any of those damn crow-eating cunts you hate so much. Much worse, in fact. The truth is you don’t deserve Jax.
“For someone who can always read my mind, you sure as hell fucked up today,” you choke the words out of your throat, knowing they’re out of line. Trying your best to keep your dignity afloat, though it’s an ever-sinking boat. “Why don’t you get back to your business. Prince of Charming keeping everything running, just like you said. For once now I won’t let you have the cake and eat it, act like you’re some loving husband, as if I’m your one true princess. ‘Cause I’m not, okay? Guess the prince doesn’t always get his way.”
Once you’ve fled from the bathroom—ignoring how you only feel worse now that you’ve turned your back on him—you drown out the pain in your heart with a series of shots at the bar. Wondering if you should run back into his arms and explain everything and tell him just how sorry you are.
Just a minute afterward, you hear the front door to the clubhouse slam shut, hard. Fucking loud, as Jax furiously storms out.
That’s when you notice, finally, that the prospect you had almost kissed, right on the motherfucking mouth, not long ago tonight... is sitting at the far end of the room, with a few concerned club members and crow eaters hanging around at his side. The poor bastard is healing from some fucking serious wounds.
That’s all you need to see, to realize suddenly—Jax did notice. Of course he fucking did. And you could kill yourself in shame for having ever doubted it.
Why hadn’t he confronted you with that shit, when he joined you in the bathroom after pummeling the prospect with his jealous fists? Hadn’t your man been mad about it? Fucking pissed? Why didn’t he step in between the two of you and stop it sooner, if he’d noticed, so it wouldn’t have to come to this...?
Truth hits you now, somehow, long overdue—it must’ve been because he trusted you. Figured you were playing some stupid game and trusted that you wouldn’t overstep your limits, though you ultimately very nearly did. He must’ve trusted you the way you should’ve always trusted him. Clarity hits you just as hard as the door slamming when he’d stormed out of the room.
And you have never felt like such absolute shit.
You had hoped that Jax would be pissed, to be honest. Because you’re so fucking mature. Had wanted him to channel all that alpha male possessive jealous rage toward you, for sure. That was what you had expected. After dishing out a lesson to the overstepping prospect, he would be all set to ruin you in bed...
But you had ruined any chance of that, by being so insensitive and immature and insecure instead.
Now all you want is just to throw yourself at him, wherever he has gone, shamelessly begging for forgiveness, for the stupid awful shit you’ve said and done... beg for possessive, jealous Jax to savagely punish your sorry ass, as soon as he gets home.
***************
... Continued in Part 2!
Hope you enjoyed this and would love to hear if you did! 🤗❤️
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A Cure for Insomnia CH 1.
This is a reader insert I originally started posting on AO3. I’m cross posting here because I know some of the fandom still lives here.
Quick Disclaimer:
This is a fic I'm writing for my own comfort.
I was inspired by RaeBees (you can check out their works over on Quotev and AO3), and how they characterize the "proxies". Having always seen the characters different than most of the fandom I've interacted with I never really shared my thoughts until now. This work is only placed in the Creepypasta tag so it reaches its demographic. However, I am fully aware of the fact that no main character is considered a Pasta.
It may also appear to lean more Toby X Protag in the beginning but end goal is protag with all three, and Brian and Tim already in a relationship. How I picture it now is a slowburn but Toby and Protag will be in a friends with benefits relationship before either has any feelings, so I think that counts. Some may be confused by the asexual protag tag but it'll be explained in story, as an Ace myself I get frustrated with media that only show one version and say it goes for us all. That being said I don't represent the whole Ace community but I hope to provide a bit more representation for some others out there.
Protag will be depicted as agender, and will have a few tics that stem from their Autism. Again I don't speak for any others with Autism but I hope to provide some representation for those in similar positions.
Tags will be updated as the story progresses. Canon-Typical violence and mental health issues are to be expected if you feel uncomfortable with those aspects I advise you to not engage. This story will also have a lot of NSFW themes and scenes so I highly discourage anyone under the age of 18 from viewing this work. You will get warnings on chapters with NSFW and I will make it skippable as well.
I'm also very nitpicky and gave the main characters birthdays just because it irritates me when it gets mentioned once and you have to do the math or imagine your own conversation when a birthday was too close to a character's.
Tim January 1st, home state Alabama
Toby April 28th, home state Virginia (saw this years ago no clue if it's accurate)
Protag May 13th, home state Virginia
Brian May 23rd, home state Alabama
Connor the service dog July 18th, home state Kentucky
I've referred to Protag as Protag here but in story they're referred to as YN.
Everything felt impossibly dull; your senses, the dark room you're currently in, the noise coming from the fan just to the left of the bed on which you laid. Turning to the window beside your head you stare out into that weird midnight summer sky. More of a gray than a true dark blue night, cast in an orange glow that made the night seem closer to day than it truly was. While the time was just half past twelve, you felt it may have been more accurate to say it was closer to four in the morning.
You're exhausted but that true sort of exhaustion where whatever energy you have left buzzes all around. It consumes your entire being, dances between being deafeningly loud in your ears to giving you twitches in your legs. You'd laid down hours ago thinking you'd be tired enough to sleep once your tics started to spasm in closer intervals, but to no avail were you able to rest. That buzzing preventing you from dreamland. Maybe the hum of your body was right, you didn't really need to sleep, you just wanted it to feel normal.
Knowing the battle had already been lost you push yourself off the bed and grab a pair of shorts off the floor. Slipping them on you contemplate your options for the night. Going into town was out since it was Sunday...well Monday now, but there would be nothing but bars open and you were never one for drinking. And as fun as a drive sounds right now, you feel the buzzing in your bones grow stronger, you need to move. A late night hike should keep you occupied, with it being so quiet and the middle of the night you wouldn't even have to take your headphones to cancel out the sounds of other people, you aren't likely to run into many people tonight.
Deciding on a hike you grab a mask and car keys and make your way to your yellow Kia Soul. A going away present from your parents that they gave you the moment you got your driver's license after your 24th birthday. Having anxiety throughout your life you'd never been in the head space to start driving till later on, and while you still don't enjoy driving you are pretty good at it even with your “late” start. Surfing through radio stations as you let the car warm up you find your latest obsession, it's a conspiracy theory podcast that someone in Kepler managed to blast through the limited air ways of the town. Impressive considering Kepler was in a radio quiet zone and even cell phones couldn't work in the small town, luckily you lived just outside of the zone so you could send texts and call your parents every weekend.
It seemed today's episode was a rerun, Mothman: Murderer, Man, or Myth. It was actually one of your favorites, the paranormal stories tended to be more entertaining than hearing about how a man could murder sixteen people while working as a cop ruining evidence to lead the others off his trail. Humans could be more vial and cruel than any little gray alien from the future or tall Fresno Nightcrawler could ever be. And they weren't as entertaining to hear about, nor were their exploits as impressive. You could always see patterns, either connecting clues first or finding connections no one else saw, it was never hard to tell where a certain case would lead so you'd always end up disappointed in humanity when they overlooked such obvious clues. Though that often led you down a path of deep diving for information to see just how obvious it was, more often than not you'd find that the most logical conclusion was shady public officers. After investigating so many cold cases you're sure if you're ever in trouble you'll never involve the police, in the end they'd probably just ignore you and rule your case closed if anything ever did happen to you.
'I'd haunt them if they did.' You decide and you shift gears and begin driving to the Monongahela National Forest, as the timeline of Mothman sightings and events play out before for your ears.
Instead of going through town and possibly loosing the signal of the show, you drive on the old dirt road that runs along the very edge of the town, partially covered in trees. This over grown road is the main reason Kepler doesn't see many visitors, the second someone makes their way onto it coming off the interstate they floor it until they see civilization. Over the few months you've been here you've nearly been run right off the road by spooked tourists, trying to escape whatever ghouls their wild imaginations created. The only real thing on this road was a mini mart gas station, and even though it was shady as hell the cashier didn't bug you too much when you came in in the dead of night. Plus they had a cat, how could you not stop in and say hi to little ole Magnolia?
Speaking of which you should probably get a drink for your hike, you could already feel your throat drying out. Turning into the parking lot you're happy to see no other cars around, putting your face mask on you make your way inside. As usual the store is dead at this time, and Ronnie is manning the desk. What's unusual is the man also behind the counter, he has dark brown hair that he's tied into a small and low ponytail, thick sideburns frame his face. You immediately take note of the slight imperfections of his face, most would see the slit in his eyebrow as following the current trend or even just a genetic thing, but you can see the slightly off color of a healed scar that starts just above his eyebrow and ends mid eyelid, he has a few smaller discolorations on his crooked nose, you'd guess he's had it broken at least twice.
Briefly taking a glance to his brown eyes before looking away, today is not an eye contact day. Nodding in their directions, the best acknowledgment you can give right now, you make your way to the freezers. From the freezer section you can hear Ronnie “explain” you.
“That's YN, a regular mainly at night though. A bit skittish and rarely ever says more than 'thanks have a nice day'” Even though she's whispering you can hear everything. Including the high octave her voice takes to mimic you, it feels more like mocking.
If being mocked hadn't already put you on edge the eyes boring into you have. The eyes may not be roaming over your body but the icky crawling of your skin sure makes it feel that way. The feeling of being put under a microscope has always made you sick, the stares, the leers and sneers, and the judgment just makes you want to implode on the spot. Cease existence, be swallowed into the abyss. You're about to set yourself into an anxiety attack with all these thoughts.
'Mask, mask, mask' you repeat over and over in your head, it's the only thing you can focus on. You are wearing a mask, there is one thing they can't perceive, the face is the most important for humans to perceive, your mask protects you.
Without looking you pull a water bottle from the cooler. You don't think you like this brand but the sports mouth makes up for it, and you can't focus enough to grab another. As the imaginary spiders crawl their way under your skin and your breath hitches you make your way over to the counter head down, never looking up at the employees beyond the counter. Your vision is blurring in time with the beating of your heart, you can't tell if it's due to nerves or from being up for five days in a row.
“Hey YN, how're you?” Ronnie asks, her tone is different from the past times you've been in. It's higher and has a lilt in it that you'd expect from a teasing friend. But Ronnie isn't a friend and has never spoken to you like this, you hate it. You nod to politely move on with the process, between the crawling of your skin and the buzzing underneath it you feel sick. And you're now very aware of the existence of your eyelids, you try to focus on ignoring that awareness. You need to move.
“Hmm, that's good. Anyway this is Tim! He's just started so go easy on him.” you hear the sound of a hand hitting fabric and assume she's patted Tim's shoulder as she introduced Tim to you. Why was she doing this, what purpose could introducing you two have? You nod again, was anyone going to ring you out?
“Hi, this all?” a deep voice asked, it isn't extremely deep more of a standard baritone that has a slight raspy quality, probably a reformed smoker. You don't smell cigarettes currently so he could've quit after years. Unfortunately despite your efforts to stave them off your blinking tics emerge. Making it difficult to keep your eyes open for longer than a nano second.
Startled and ticcing you look up and catch his eyes, you see pity in them, before casting your glance back to the counter. You can never tell what's worse people seeing you as weird or seeing you as something needing to be fixed. Nodding again, Tim tells you the total; a dollar fifty eight, and you hand him two dollars from your wallet.
Tim doesn't ask if you want the receipt or a bag, he prints out the receipt and hands you your change. The change goes immediately into the cat food fund for Magnolia. She got diagnosed with diabetes about a month ago and having worked in shelters and pet stores you know just how expensive her prescription food is. After folding the receipt into your wallet, Tim gently slides the water bottle over to you.
“Have a good night.” he says it so low and gentle, as if he thinks you'll shatter in front of him. As kind as the gesture seems, you aren't that fragile...or maybe you are if you have to keep repeating 'mask' over and over in your head to ground yourself. With a final nod you turn and make your way to the door, and just as you open it you hear Ronnie call out.
“Awwww, c'mon YN at least say 'Hi' to Tim.” You really don't like how she squeaked out 'hi'.
Taking a deep breath you prepare yourself, you'll show them both you can do this simple task. Even if you can't stop blinking long enough to see straight. Once you've steadied yourself you turn and look at Tim. He's sending you a look that says 'You don't have to' all that's missing is a slow head shake to complete his unease with this “peer pressure”.
But you can do this you can say 'Hi, Tim.' Two words super simple, nothing complex like 'Hi, Tim, nice to meet you.' and so much better than the option of your next meeting saying 'Hi, Tim. Sorry for spazzing out the other night.'. Yup you can do this just breathe, you open your mouth and...and you've forgotten what to say. Looking like a deer in headlights, well at least the tics stopped, you say the first thing that pops in.
“Mask.” You've said it loud and clear both cashiers heard you.
Tim stares with wide eyes and you see Ronnie failing to hide her laughter. Out of all the ways this could've gone this was probably the best outcome for her. The blinking has started up again, this time growing more frequent. You can't even hold your eyes open, to the two cashiers it must look like you're in pain or crying. And while you want to die of embarrassment, crying is a bit of an extreme for you.
So with red face and the inability to see you leave through the door, and try to make your way back to your car. Once in you lock the doors, switch the car on, and rest your head on the steering wheel. Out of every way this stop could've gone, being perceived by a new comer and Ronnie was not what you expected. While this hadn't been the worst five minutes or so of your life, it definitely would be another thing keeping you up at night for the next twenty years.
Calming down in the cool quiet dark of your car your slowly brought back to the world by the beginning of a new episode. This one talking about the Tailypo legend. A favorite story of yours from when you were a kid living on the coast of Virginia. So with yet another deep breath and the wave of nostalgia, you pull out of the parking lot and slowly coast down the old dirt road. Heading yet again for the Monongahela forest.
It's nearly two in the morning when you roll up to see an RV parked by the forgotten entrance of the park. It isn't surprising at all to find an RV out here since the Monongahela Forest is one of the most beautiful parks you've ever been to. You also don't think anything of them being parked by this unused entrance because you use it all the time since finding it accidentally. Figuring they just wanted to camp and be left to their own devices rather than use the RV sites and be bothered with other campers here for the summer.
Climbing out of your car you notice the RV isn't new by any means but it isn't a total rust bucket either, looks like it's been passed around throughout the years. There isn't anything to suggest it's been here a while, nothing left set up outside, must have just gotten into town then. You do happen to notice dog tracks around the sandy dirt you've parked in, good to know they have a dog before you slammed your car door. Closing the door gently behind you so you don't startle a pup and wake up it's owner or owners, you make your way through the woods. No real direction in mind, with no real thought in your head. Just the thought of moving and to keep on moving.
You could walk the same path every time you came through and always find something different. In fact that's exactly what happens, you're almost positive that you've deepened the imprint of the path just from walking through several times a week. Following the same winding path you usually do, climbing over the fallen tree, and through a scattering of blueberry thicket's you find yourself on the edge of one of the forest's many streams. It's your favorite spot in the forest so far, and about as far as you've gotten considering these hikes of yours take place during the dead of night.
The wind picks up and sends a chill through you, taking that as a sign you slide down to sit by the stream. Vans placed to your side as you sink your feet into the cool water. It's peaceful out here, so cool, and quiet, save for the slight noises the stream makes, various bubbling and drips. You try to think on things like your recent move, your job, the embarrassing 'mask' incident, just life in general. But you can't seem to form a single thought, this happens a lot, you've recently been conscious of the fact that you've been running on auto pilot for the past two months, hell a lot longer than that. You think everyone must get like this from time to time, but you think you've always been this way. Keen to dissociating and slipping in and out of existence.
It's quite nice really, except for the times like right now where you'd love to figure out why the silence in your head is so painfully loud. The more you think on it the louder it gets and the stronger the buzzing under your skin feels. And right now the static in your mind has been getting louder and louder for the past few minutes. You feel your head jerk to the right of it's own accord, moving back in place it happens for a second time, and then a third, then jerks up, before jerking a forth time to the right effectively cracking you neck.
“There we go.” you mumble, you can relax a bit as the verbal tic indicates the end of this round of tics.
Sighing you look at the sky...that can't be right. The sky has been painted it's fresh baby blues for the day, but again that can't be right. You just got to the stream, that path is a thirty minute walk meaning it should be just about two thirty in the morning, but the sky suggests it's five or six at the latest. Reaching for your water bottle you find it empty next to you. You didn't fall asleep you know that much, perhaps you did dissociate tonight. Well this hike was disappointing if you knew you were going to dissociate you'd have saved yourself that embarrassment and stayed home. Maybe done some painting or tidied up.
Sighing you push yourself off the ground, collecting you vans you're about to put them on when you notice a figure off in the distance. You freeze out of shock and stare at the figure, it stares back. The figure is about ten yards away, god your near sighted ass should really remember to not leave your glasses in the car when hiking. The figure starts to make it's way to you and after a few steps you realize it hasn't moved from it's spot. Rolling your eyes you ignore the hallucination.
You'd really needed to get sleep last night, today is day six of no sleep and though you haven't had many episodes these past few days, you have a feeling they'll start to get more prominent today. Hopefully tonight you can manage to get some rest, the longer you go without sleep the more realistic the hallucinations become. But for today you're content with the knowledge that it's just shadow like beings that you'll be seeing.
After putting on your shoes you start the thirty minute hike back to your car. You're thankful for the weather in Kepler, nothing like back on the coast. Here you can go for a morning hike through the forest while a gentle breeze passes by and the sun starts to give the area a pleasant warmth. Back on the coast you couldn't run and grab the mail without getting drenched in moisture from either sweat, humidity, or a mixture of both. The coast sucks, hell Virginia sucks altogether, you're glad to be in Kepler.
“I want to go home, home.” you say out of nowhere.
Before you reach the entrance you hear barking, oh the RV campers must be up. Should you be careful not to scare them, or just walk normally and say 'Good morning' in passing, maybe just nod your head in greeting. Oh and you've stopped just beside the entrance as you got lost in your rambling. You didn't mean to come to a stop here, and as you try to move you notice how silent it's gotten. Did the dog go inside, maybe they've already passed...no it's too quiet for that. No the silence is oppressive like the one you deal with nightly, there's a reason for the silence. The situation's making you feel uneasy, but that could be the sleep deprivation talking.
You're about to brush it off and move when you hear a whispered, “Seriously man, I don't think anyone's out there. Let's get inside.”
There's a noise of agreement before you hear shuffling. Oh no, you zoned out and now you look like a weirdo stalker. Just perfect, maybe if you wait around a little more you'll seem more normal or at least feel normal. Not knowing how long to wait you walk along the tree line for a bit, looking at the ground as you do making sure you won't step on any snakes. In you quest to not step on any snakes you spot something suspiciously off white. It seems purposefully buried under a dead blueberry bush and some fallen branches.
Having listened to too many true crime shows, you know better than to implicate yourself in a murder. Grabbing a stick off the ground you gently brush the foliage away from the supposed corpse. No way, you can't believe your luck, it's an actual fucking skull. An intact skull of a deer! That is so cool, you've only seen taxidermists on TikTok getting so lucky and finding these dudes. Since the jaw bone is connected by tissue it of course isn't with the skull but maybe it's close by? Clearly this got planted or hidden by someone, maybe they were planning on pranking a friend by 'uncovering' a skull later. Oh well, finders keepers and all that, you have way better plans for this guy, hopefully you can find that jaw bone.
You set off searching through the foliage and near by bushes with the branch while holding the skull in your other arm. After searching about three feet around and finding no more bones you decide that this is the only part of the deer's skeleton in this area. A little disappointed but still thrilled with your find, you decide it must be a good time to go back to your car.
Surely you won't look weird now. You a little forager with their treasure in hand. Looks like you'll be busy cleaning, then bleaching, and cleaning these bones today. Is that the order to treat found bones? You aren't sure but you can look into that later. Placing the skull in the trunk so it doesn't roll about and get damaged you make sure it's secure before closing the trunk and getting into your car and locking the doors.
Not once did you notice the pairs of eyes that had been watching you. One watching as you found the deer skull, and the other set seeing you place bones into your car. They kept watching as you fiddled with the radio while the car was starting up. They watched as you pulled out of the sandy dirt lot and drove back down the old road a little faster than before now that you could clearly see.
#creepypasta fanfic#ticci tobyx reader#brain thomas x reader#timothy wright x reader#masky x reader#hoodie x reader#reader insert#no clue if I'm reaching a wider audience than AO3 but I'll try this out#Crossposted#as of now 13 chapters are over on AO3 if you wanted to read#other wise I'll post a chapter every 3 days on here until I catch up with AO3#Ao3 has priority#A cure for insomnia
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Character analysis: Vivienne de Fer (Dragon Age Inquisition)
So, if you’ve wondered where I popped off to the past two months or so, I’m going to give you an answer - I finally bought Dragon Age Inquisition (legit on my gaming wishlist since its 2014 release) and I’ve been obsessed with it ever since.
The main draw to this game however, isn’t so much the gameplay (if you want a game that feels similar but has better gameplay - Assassin’s Creed Odyssey is what you’d want instead), but the storytelling and particularly the character development are top notch. All nine companions are fascinating and fleshed out in such a realistic manner I’m still gasping in awe on my fifth playthrough.
Thus, a post on it is in order. It’s a bit different from my usual content, but don’t let that discourage you - clearing my head from Dragon Age will allow me to let Eurovision back in and continue my unfinished 2020 ranking.
In this post, I will be analyzing one of DAI’s most interesting characters - none other than Madame de Fer herself, Vivienne.
Now, I’m under the impression that this is a rather unpopular opinion but I absolutely love Vivienne. And no, I won’t apologize for it. As a Templar-thumping elitist with a icy, sardonic demeanor the sheer ‘Idea Of A Vivienne’ is meant to make your head spin. Dragon Age has always been a franchise in which mages are a socially surpressed group and to be confronted with a socially confident enchantress who likes Templars and seemingly supports the social shunning out of her own ambition is the walking embodiment of flippancy.
and yet, I feel a lot of sympathy for Vivienne.
Yes, she’s a bitch. She knows she’s one and she’s a-ok with it. I won’t argue with that. Sadly, the “Vivienne is a bitch” rhetoric also drastically sells her short. Vivienne is highly complex and her real personality is as tragic as it is twisted.
Madame de Fer
So let’s start with what we are shown on the surface. Vivienne is a high-ranking courtier from an empire notable for its deadly, acid-laced political game. She seemingly joins the Inquisition for personal gain, to acrue reputation and power, and eventually be elected Divine (= female pope) at the end of the game. She presents herself as a despicable blend of Real Housewife, Disney Villain, and Tory Politician, all rolled into one ball of sickening, unctuous smarm. Worse, the Inquisitor has no way to rebuke Vivienne’s absurd policies and ideas. You can’t argue with her, convince her to listen to your differing viewpoints or even kick her out the Inquisition. She has a way with words where she can twist arguments around in such a fashion that she lands on top and makes the other person look like the irrational party.
“Thus speaks the Inquisitor who has made so many mature and level-headed choices so far. Such as releasion malcontents upon the population without safeguards to protect them should they turn into abominations. Very wise. I rearranged some furniture. Lives aren’t thrown into jeopardy by my actions. Perhaps a little perspective is needed.”
She’s Cersei Lannister on creatine, Dolores Umbridge on motherfucking roids. If you look at merely the surface, then yes, Vivienne looks like the worst person ever created. I love a good anti-villainess however, and she’s definitely one.
Yet, she never actually does anything ‘evil’? Yes, she is ‘a tyrant’ as a Divine, but 1) the person saying this is Cassandra, whose dislike for mage freedom is only matched by her dislike of being sidelined 2) Divine Vivienne isn’t bad to mages either? (hold that thought, I’ll get to it). She never actually sabotages the Inquisition, no matter how low her approval with the Inquisitor gets. She never attempts to stop them, no matter how annoyed she is. She’s one of the most brutally honest companions in the cast, in fact. (It always surprises me people call her a ‘hypocrite’ - you keep using that word and it doesn’t mean what you think it means.) The ‘worst’ display of character is when she attempts to break up Sera and the Inquisitor and even then - are we going to pretend Sera isn’t a toxic, controlling girlfriend with a huge chip on her shoulder? I love Sera, but come on.
Vivienne is a character where the storytelling rule of Show, Don’t Tell is of vital importance. The Orlesian empire is an empire built around posturing and reputation. Nobody really shows their true motivations or character, and instead builds a public façade. It’s like how the Hanar (the Jellyfish people) in Mass Effect have a Public name they use in day-to-day life, and a Personal Name for their loved-ones and inner circle. Vivienne’s ‘Public Visage’ is that of Madame de Fer - this is the Vivienne who openly relishes in power, publicly humiliates grasping anklebiters with passive-aggressive retorts, the woman who is feared and loathed by all of Orlais, and this is the Face you see for most of the game.
The real beauty of Vivienne’s character and the reason why I love her as much as I do (which is to say - a LOT) are the few moments when - what’s the phrase DigitalSpy love so much - Her Mask Slips, and you get a glimpse of the real woman underneath the hennin.
This is the Vivienne who stands by you during the Siege of Haven and approves of you when you save the villagers from Corypheus’s horde.
This is the Vivienne who comforts you when you lament the losses you suffered.
This is the Vivienne who admires you for setting an example as a mage for the rest of Thedas.
This is the Vivienne who worries about Cole’s well-being during his personal quest, momentarily forgetting who or what he is.
This is the Vivienne who, when her approval for the Inquisitor reaches rock bottom, desperately reminds him of the suffering mages go through on a day-to-day basis because of the fear and hatred non-mages are bred to feel towards them and how this can spiral into more bloodshed without safeguards.
This is the Vivienne who shows how deep her affection for Bastien de Ghislain truly is, by bringing you along during his dying moments. I love this scene btw. This is the only moment in the entire game where Vivienne is actually herself in the presence of the Inquisitor - needless to say, I consider anyone who deliberately spikes her potion a motherfucking psychopath ^_^)
“There is nothing here now” fuck I *almost* cried at Vivienne, get out of my head BioWare, this is WRONG -- people who delude themselves this is an irredeemable character.
So, who is Vivienne really?
Understanding Vivienne requires recognizing that the mask and the real woman aren’t the same person. I think her relationship with Dorian is the prime example of this. I love the Vivienne/Dorian banter train, obviously - an unstoppable force of sass colliding with an unmovable wall of smarm is nothing short of a spectacle. However, there’s more to it than their highly entertaining snipes. As the incredibly gifted son of a magister, Dorian represents everything Vivienne should despise, and should be a natural enemy to her. And yet, she doesn’t and he isn’t.. Their gilded japes at each other are nothing more than verbal sparring, not dissimilar to how Krem and Iron Bull call each other names when they beat each other with sticks. In what I think is one of the most brilliantly written interactions between characters in DAI, I present Vivienne’s reaction when the Inquisitor enters a romance with Dorian:
Vivienne: I received a letter the other day, Dorian.
Dorian: Truly? It's nice to know you have friends. 🙄
Vivienne: It was from an acquaintance in Tevinter expressing his shock at the disturbing rumors about your... relationship with the Inquisitor.
Dorian: Rumors you were only too happy to verify, I assume. 🙃
Vivienne: I informed him the only disturbing thing in evidence was his penmanship. 🙂
Dorian: ...Oh. Thank you. 😳
Vivienne: I am not so quick to judge, darling. See that you give me no reason to feel otherwise.
Madame de Fer can never be seen directly expressing approval to a relationship between the Herald of Andraste and an ‘Evil’ Tevinter ’Magister’. By this subtle, subtle conversation, Vivienne indirectly tells Dorian that she considers him a good match for the Inquisitor and approves of the romance. It’s one of those reasons why I could never truly dislike Vivienne - between the layers of elegant poison lies a somewhat decent woman who never loses sight of the bigger picture. Not a good person maybe, but not one without some redeeming qualities.
The crux of Vivienne’s personality is that she, like all DAI companions, is a social outcast. She’s a mage in a fantasy setting where mages are psionically linked to demons, and grew up in a country where the majority religion has openly advocated the shunning and leashing of mages (’Magic exists to serve man’ - the Chantry is so, so vile in this game.). Vivienne’s “gift” was discovered so early in her life that she can barely remember her parents. Vivienne grew up in a squalid boarding school, learning from a young age that she’s dangerous and her talents need to be tamed and curbed. She is also terrified of demons, as her banters with Cole point out:
Cole: You're afraid. You don't have to be.
Vivienne: My dear Inquisitor, please restrain your pet demon. I do not want it addressing me.
Inquisitor: He's not doing any harm, Vivienne.
Vivienne: It's a demon, darling. All it can do is harm.
Cole: Everything bright, roar of anger as the demon rears. No, I will not fall. No one will control me ever again.
Cole: Flash of white as the world comes back. Shaking, hollow, Harrowed, but smiling at templars to show them I'm me.
Cole: I am not like that. I can protect you. If Templars come for you, I will kill them.
Vivienne: Delightful. 😑
Vivienne’s Harrowing is implied to have been such a traumatizing event to her that she’s developed a pavlovian fear of demons ever since. (Hence her hostility towards Cole.). Vivienne is fully aware of the inherent dangers of magic, and projects this onto all other mages.
Besides, given how Dragon Age has a history with mages doing all sorts of fucked up shit, ranging from blood magic, murder, demonic possession and actual terrorism (yes, *ElthinaBITCH* had it coming, but let’s not pretend like Anders/Justice was anything other than a terrorist), Vivienne’s policies of controlled monitoring and vigilance are actually significantly more sensible than the options of ‘unconditionally freeing every mage all over Thedas’ and ‘reverting back to the status quo before the rebellion’. They’re flawed policies, obviously. When Vivienne says “mages” she pictures faceless silhouettes foremost and not herself. Regardless, unlike Cassandra and Leliana, Vivienne is aware of the fear others harbour for her kind, and how hard it is to overcome such perceptions.
Additionally, Vivienne’s a foreigner. She is an ethnic Rivaini, a culture associated with smugglers and pirates (Isabela from DAO and DA2 is half-Rivaini). This adds an additional social stigma, again pointed out by Cole:
Cole: Stepping into the parlor, hem of my gown snagged, no, adjust before I go in, must look perfect.
Vivienne: My dear, your pet is speaking again. Do silence it.
Cole: Voices inside. Marquis Alphonse.
Cole: "I do hope Duke Bastien puts out the lights before he touches her. But then, she must disappear in the dark."
Cole: Gown tight between my fingers, cold all over. Unacceptable. Wheels turn, strings pull.
Cole: He hurt you. You left a letter, let out a lie so he would do something foolish against the Inquisition. A trap.
Vivienne: Inquisitor, as your demon lacks manners, perhaps you could get Solas to train it.
This is the only palpable example of the casual racism Vivienne has to endure on a daily basis - Marquis Alphonse is a stupid, bigoted pillowhead who sucks at The Game, but remember - Vivienne only kills him if the Inquisitor decides to be a butthurt thug. She is aware that for every Alphonse, there are dozens of greasy sycophants who think exactly like he does, and will keep it under wraps just to remain in her good graces.
Finally, there’s the social position Vivienne manufactured for herself, which is the weak point towards her character imo. Remember, this woman is a commoner by birth. She doesn’t even have a surname. Through apparently sheer dumb luck (or satanic intervention) she basically fell into the position of Personal Mage to the Duke of Ghislain. Regardless, ‘Personal mages’ were the rage in Orlesian nobility, and the prestigious families owned by them like one may own a pet or personal property. By somehow becoming Bastien de Ghislain’s mistress and using his influence, "Madame de Fer” liberated herself from all the social stigmata which should have pinned her down into a lowly courtier rank and turned the largely ceremonial office of “Court Enchanter” into a position of respect and power. This is huge move towards mage emancipation by the way, in a society where, again, Mages are feared and shunned and are constantly bullied, emasculated and taught to hate their talents. Vivienne is a shining example of what mages can become at the height of their power. Power she has, mind you, never actually abused before her Divine election. Vivienne’s actions will forever be under scrutiny not because of who she is, but because of what she is. The Grand Game can spit her out at any moment, which will likely result in her death.
Inquisitor: “You seem to be enjoying yourself, Vivienne?”
Vivienne: “It’s The Game, darling. If I didn’t enjoy it, I’d be dead by now.”
Whether Vivienne was using Bastien for her own gain or whether she truly loved him isn’t a case of or/or. It’s a case of and/and. The perception that she was using Bastien makes Vivienne more fearsome and improves her position in the Grand Game, but deep down, I have no doubts truly loved him. Remember, Vivienne’s position at the Orlesian court was secure. She had nothing to gain by saving Bastien’s life, but she attempted to anyway. That Bastien’s sister is a High Cleric doesn’t matter - Vivienne can be elected Divine regardless of her personal quest’s resolution. She loved him, period.
No, I don’t think Vivienne is a good person. She treats those she deems beneath her poorly, like Sera, Solas, Cole and Blackwall (characters I like less than Vivienne), which I think is the #1 indicator for a Bad Personality. But I don’t think she qualifies as ‘Evil’ either and I refuse to dismiss the beautiful layering of her character. I genuinely believe Vivienne joined the Inquisition not just for her personal gain, but also out of idealism, similar to Dorian (again, Cole is 100% correct in pointing out the similarities between Dorian’s and Vivienne’s motivations for joining, as discomforting it is to her).
In her mind, Vivienne sees herself as the only person who can emancipate the mages without bloodshed - her personal accomplishments at the Orlesian court speak for themselves. Vivienne isn’t opposed to mage freedom - she worries for the consequences of radical change, as she believes Orlesian society unprepared for the consequences. Hence why she’s perfectly fine with a Divine Cassandra. Hence why her fellow mages immediately elect her Grand Enchanter of the new Circle.
Hence why Vivienne is so terrified by the Inquisitor’s actions if her disapproval gets too low. The Inquisitor has the power to completely destroy everything she has built and fought for during her lifetime. Remember: Vivienne’s biggest fear is irrelevance - there’s no greater irrelevance than having your life achievements reverse-engineered by the accidental stumbling of some upstart nobody. This is the real reason why she joins, risks her life and gets her hands dirty - the only person whose competence Vivienne trusts, is Vivienne’s own.
Even as Divine Victoria, I’d say she’s not bad, at all actually. Vivienne has the trappings of an an Enlightened Despot, maintaining full control, while simultaneously granting mages more responsibility and freedom, slowly laying the foundations to make mages more accepted and less persecuted in southern Thedas. Given that Ferelden is a feudal fiefdom and Orlais is an absolute monarchy, this is a fucking improvement are you kidding me. (Wait did he just imply Vivienne is secretly the best Divine - hmm, probably not because Cass/Leliana have better epilogues - but realistically speaking, yes, Viv should be the best Divine and it’s bullshit that the story disagrees.)
Underneath the countless layers of smarm, frost and seeming callousness, lies a fiercely intelligent and brave woman, whose ideals have been twisted into perversion by the cruel, ungrateful world around her. Envy her for her ability to control her destiny, but know that envy is what it is.
The flaw in Vivienne’s character isn’t so much the ‘tyranny’ or the ‘bitchiness’ or the 'smarm’. Her flaw is her false belief that she is what the mages need the most. Her belief that her competence gives her the prerogative to serve the unwashed mage masses... by ruling over them. For all intents and purposes, Vivienne is an Orlesian Magister and this will forever be the brilliant tragedy of her character. She was created by a corrupt institution that should, by all accounts fear and loathe her but instead embraced her. It’s that delirious irony that makes Vivienne de Fer one of the best fictional characters in RPG history.
the next post will be Eurovision-related. :-)
#RPG#Dragon Age#Dragon Age Inquisition#Vivienne#Vivienne de Fer#Madame de Fer#DAI#Dragon Age 3#BioWare
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why do you think stiles refused the bite? he was lying when he said he didn’t want to be powerful like peter and scott, and he said he enjoyed the strength being possessed by the nogitsune gave him. so i do think he’d like the powers that come with it, but he still doesn’t want to be a werewolf. it’s not that he’s afraid of dying, he’s constantly willing to die for scott, lydia, his dad and malia. maybe it could be that he doesn’t want to give peter the power to control him, but he never asks scott for the bite either. for stiles the bite is always treated as a last resort. idk i’ve always wanted the show to have stiles explain his reasoning!
Peter Hale Can Go To Hell. This only applies to the time Peter offers Stiles the bite, but it’s the biggest reason why Stiles says no in that instance. Peter has been torturing Scott all season, including trying to make him murder Stiles, and just recently attacked Lydia, the girl Stiles has had a crush on since he was in the third grade. Stiles will do anything for the people he loves, and anything to the people that hurt them. Peter could offer Stiles anything at that point, and Stiles would say no. Stiles wouldn’t accept the time of day from him. The next time he sees Peter is when he tries to set Peter on fire. He’s done with this guy.
The question becomes a little more complex once there are other Alphas around, particularly Scott and Satomi. Here are a couple of thoughts on why Stiles wouldn’t want to be a werewolf:
Risk of Dying. This is a big one. You pointed out that Stiles is very willing to risk his life, but also that he does it for other people, which I think is crucial. Stiles places almost no value on his own life compared to the people he loves. To a certain extent, especially after the nogitsune, I think he places little value on his life in general. But he’s also very aware of how dying affects the people who survive you, as we see in his rant to Lydia in season two, so I don’t see Stiles risking death for personal gain—again, because of how much he cares about the people he loves.
Being a Werewolf is Shit. One of my favorite things about Teen Wolf is that becoming a powerful supernatural creature makes you more vulnerable, not less. Yes, you become stronger and more able to heal, but the danger you face from that more than cancels out the benefits. Even becoming an Alpha simply makes you more visible to dangers like the Alpha pack. More humans may die numerically in the show, but a much greater portion of werewolves either die or suffer constant injury (or both). My favorite example of the show subverting the supernatural-transformation-as-power-makeover trope is Erica. Initially, she seems to embody the trope; her physical transformation is tied to a social transformation even more dramatically than it is for Scott. She’s hot, and confident, and powerful. But what does it get her, in the end? Derek winds up being a lot less charming than he was when he seduced her into the pack, and she’s subsequently hunted, captured, and tortured first by hunters and then by other werewolves. I still can’t figure out if she spent more time as a werewolf in the vault or not.
Stiles watches this happen. At first, he focuses on the benefits of her physical change, and even uses them as an argument for why Scott shouldn’t interfere with Derek biting people. He also gets to be Batman to Erica’s Catwoman, which calls back to Stiles’ season 1 complaint that Scott’s transformation has turned Scott into Batman while Stiles is stuck being Robin all the time (the same anxiety that Peter preys upon when he tries to win Stiles over to accepting the bite). But, as Scott says, in the end, “no one is Batman and Robin any of the time.” Erica’s life quickly turns sad and bleak, before she’s killed in captivity. I think that would kill any last remaining romance Stiles had about being a werewolf, while his pessimism would be strengthened as he watches Scott and other supernaturals be targeted over and over again.
Conviction That He Is Bad (esp. Post-Nogitsune). Stiles’ mother is convinced that he’s evil. It’s a formative moment for Stiles, and one he internalizes, as we see in season 2, when Stiles hallucinates his father telling him that he killed his mother, and now he’s killing his father as well. This conviction that he is secretly evil or dangerous would make him even less likely to want the inherently violent power that being a werewolf brings. The conviction would also be made much worse by the nogitsune. Stiles does say he enjoyed the feeling of power that possession gave him, but he also feels enormously guilty about it, which is one of the themes of 5a. He hates how much he “enjoyed” being possessed, i.e. feeling what the nogitsune felt. He hates that Donovan’s death made him feel “good,” however briefly. He’s terrified of what he’d enjoy as a werewolf.
Role as a Human. I think Stiles is too anxious to ever be fully comfortable with his role as anything, anywhere, but we do see him, after season 1, start to think about what it means to be a human in the pack. In season two he wrestles with it, but afterwards, he picks the bat and the Jeep as symbolic of his human status (though the Jeep means other things too), and becomes obsessive about his role as the pack’s detective. He’s also there for both Scott and Liam during the full moon, and is aware of other times when it’s an advantage to be a human, like when there’s a line of mountain ash. I believe this is something the actor has discussed as well, for what that’s worth.
The Show Ignores Human Physics. This is an external factor, which I wouldn’t usually include, but it annoys me so much that I can’t help it. Stiles should have had so much more physical damage than he did. He mentions a bad elbow once, and has the wound from Donovan, but that boy gets knocked out so many times. Way too many. He should have such brain damage. Lydia makes his ears bleed. He gets stabbed in the chest with a piece of glass. He gets thrown against walls constantly. A realistic depiction of the physical trauma Stiles goes through would have been the biggest argument for him to become a werewolf—and indeed, the only time he really considers it is when he thinks he’s got a terminal illness. Because the show ignores that, Stiles can exist as a relatively unharmed human and the benefit of werewolf healing is undermined.
I’m sure I’m not the only one to speculate on this, so please feel free to comment or reblog with your thoughts or links to them!
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Hi! I just started playing litg in May and I’m fully obsessed. Your blog was the best thing to happen to me after starting to play! I love reading your thoughts so I was wondering....Which of the season 2 LI’s do you think would actually be in an open relationship? I started CMM with my MC who married Noah but when I saw they could be open I immediately restarted with my MC who married Henrik. I wanted to make out with everyone, but it felt so wrong for Noah/MC
thank you so much! i'm so glad you like it here, love! 🥺🥰 and i apologize for the next few paragraphs, because it's about to be angry in here, and in no way it's directed at you.
with that being said...
I HAD THE FATTEST POST IN MY DRAFTS FOR WEEKS NOW, ever since cmm started. i saw the dialogues about open relationship and polyamorous and had to spill everything i had in my mind!
i didn't wanna sound too aggressive about it, but then again, i always do, especially when i'm pissed off, so... to the slammer, mama!
(i'm so sorry, but that sentence lives in my head rent free and i'll make everyone's problem)
i'm a multistan, but that doesn't mean i agree with the polyamorous/open relationship just for the sake of banging more people. for one reason, and one reason only: THEY'RE NOT POLY. PERIODT. this has the "50 shades of grey ruining bdsm" energy all over.
"i'm not jealous therefor i'm poly." fusebox, NO ❤
they simply threw the terms in there, without researching what everything means, and called it a day! i've seen lazy work, but OH MY GOD, they should take a seat and open a fucking book every once in a while! meddling with this type of thing just to cater for horny (me included) players is disgustingly lazy and i won't shut up about it!
here's why i'm pissed: i have been in both situations: a poly AND an open relationship, in different times of my life, with different people.
an open relationship is when two people seek sexual connections with others, outside of the main commitment, and both parts are aware of the fact they're open, but there's no more to that. neither of the parts are aware of the their partner's "outs", just the fact that they exist.
polyamorous, however, is all about intimacy, commitment and love with multiple people, and everyone is aware of everyone, possibly leading to throuples, and more. a polyamorous person can be married to a person, dating another, being engaged to another, and so it goes! IT'S RIGHT THERE ON THE NAME FOR FUCK'S SAKE!!!!!! PLEASE!!
so now that the definitions are out of the way, let's talk about how much i hate this!
being married to someone doesn't exclude the possibility of having other arrangements, BUT, i don't believe most of the main characters would be into an open relationship, or are poly.
i really don't.
commitment to some of them mean something 'exclusive', and in that category we have: lucas, kassam, gary, noah, elisa, lottie, hope, hannah, bobby and chelsea.
in the "open relationship, way before i realize i want to take a huge step, such as marrying her, because i could never live with the imagery of my girlfriend having sex with other people, because i'm jealous and never really wanted this to happen, because i realize it was selfish of me to propose such thing, and wouldn't bear with knowing that my girl has touched by other people" possibly include marisol, henrik, carl, arjun, elijah. they realize it would be difficult to simply imagine what's going on, and they're not really open to it, unless they're not in love yet.
and the final category: "i'll try it, because i know she loves me, and maybe diversity can bring something to the table, but honestly i don't know for sure, and i'm kinda scared of what that might mean for us because i've never done this before, and i don't think i can handle it" we have: henrik, carl, marisol and covidiot.
trying everything, at least once, it's fun for them, but with the foot on the brakes at all times. i know for sure they wouldn't be into an open relationship right away, because they connect sex with intimacy and love, and that might throw their heads for a spin.
MAYBE COVIDIOT, BUT THAT'S A POST FOR ANOTHER DAY. especially after today's episode, i wanna dedicate a full on rocco post here.
at the end of the day, none of the characters were written to like different arrangements because fusebox doesn't know the very definition of those terms at all! they confuse poly with open and i can't begin to tell you how frustrating it was for me to read that!
if you don't know what something means, it's impossible to write your characters' consistent to that very same concept. they didn't think ahead, about any of this, and the very idea of making them "poly" or "open" now? IT MAKES ZERO FUCKING SENSE!
so in shortage, i hate it. and i don't see most of them even open to the conversation.
I HATE IT HERE²³
#litg lucas#litg noah#litg gary#litg carl#cmm#litg murder mystery#litg s2#litg season 2#love island the game#fusebox#open relationship x polyamorous
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SamBucky opinions & things...
I’m not going to say who people should ship as it’s everyone’s own opinions and it’s a tv show/film series so it’s not like this is the most important thing on the planet... That said, I’ve seen a few posts from Stucky people who say they actively want to understand what SamBucky shippers see in the pairing and since I’m gone on these two, here are some thoughts...
If you take a long view-- which the MCU is having you do now because these characters are outlasting Steve Rogers in its canon-- Steve & Bucky, while fun to play with and full of a lot of really great yearning/angsty possibilities back in the day, are really just the formative chapters of Sam & Bucky’s romance. If we got more Sam flashbacks in the story-- and I really hope we do in his canon in the wake of the end of TFATWS (S1?)/CA4-- a Sam & Riley story would be the equivalent to The First Avenger, in terms of it sets up some backstory that leads to where the story is going, as opposed to is the entire story itself.
A main factor for me in liking Sam & Bucky over Bucky & Steve is that Sam is a healthy, mature choice for Bucky-- a guy who has gone through a hell of a lot here and deserves all the good things-- whereas Steve, while not a bad man, is a regressive choice. It stems from the fact that Steve was never really comfortable with Bucky’s sexuality-- at least not when it mattered-- and that’s because Steve was not comfortable with his own... or much of anything about himself. This still wouldn’t matter so much in terms of who to ship Bucky with if it weren’t also for the fact that Bucky is perfect *for Sam*, who should get all the good things, and we’ll get into that a bit more below. Have to do Steve & Bucky first because chronology and also because that’s the other ship in question here, really. (Sorry, SteveSam people like if you are asking for stuff too and anyone cares, I don’t think I have enough for a whole meta post on why it’s kinda blah, if full of cute friendship moments, but I touch on it a bit further below.)
The entire plot of The First Avenger is about how Steve is obsessed with being Mr. America 1940-- and how he gets to that point is understandable. He was born with a ton of heart, a truly good man, but he’s small and sickly and he doesn’t love himself. He lacks confidence in himself because he holds himself up to a standard of masculinity put forth by a country on the brink of war-- and then, at war-- as physically strong and very, very straight.
While Steve is desperate to change how he looks, Bucky hides behind how he looks. Steve might look at Bucky and see a lot of what he wishes he was-- the good-looking soldier with a dame on each arm-- but at some point, he becomes aware of how Bucky is playacting. He’s not as he appears to be. He’s a man trying to survive a world that does not accept him and working to pass in that society, all the while with an eye to the World of Tomorrow. Not just the technology that grips his imagination but the idea that things could improve, things could change and he’ll fight for America because he, like Steve and later, Sam, believes in it but while Steve worships it, Bucky can love it while looking at it critically. It’s not built for men like him.
Steve never fully understands this because while Bucky is trying to show him some of the World of Tomorrow, he’s off making plans to get injected with super serum to fill in the gaps of what he feels he needs to become the man he is supposed to be.
The key difference between them is that Steve will do anything to be that man-- and that includes shoving any potential feelings he has for Bucky so deep that he won’t even acknowledge them (if he has them at all). Bucky, on the other hand, even in 1940, had more strength. He wasn’t as tormented by who he was. I’m sure he had some of it at some point but by the time we meet him in the movies, he’s fine with who he is, even if the country he serves and the society in which he lives is not. He could basically give af. He doesn’t think in the ‘40s that he’s going to live to see an America that will ever really accept him and he fights for it anyway because Mr. America is really, fundamentally, more Captain America than The OG Captain America.
Steve is not a bad man by any stretch of the imagination but it’s clear that, at some point, he began to understand that Bucky liked men and while he didn’t do anything horrible about it-- like have Bucky arrested or told anyone else, both of which could have destroyed Bucky’s life at that time-- he never completely approved of it, either. Guaranteed he told Bucky more than once that if he just stopped, if he just found the right woman, etc-- he didn’t mean any harm with it but he was happy to think the way of his era, whereas Bucky was born ahead of his time. Still, Steve is probably the only person that Bucky knew then who knew his secret and that he protected it earned even more of Bucky’s loyalty and devotion.
Now, consider what happened when Steve Rogers was pulled out of the ice and found himself living in the literal World of Tomorrow. It’s imperfect, for sure. It’s overwhelming for him, especially at first, but it’s a world that he has to feel the wrong guy from the ‘40s has lived to see. How many times did Steve wish Bucky could see this world? How much was he thinking of Bucky when he met the literal son of the creator of the World of Tomorrow in Tony Stark-- a man who would challenge everything Steve thought was true about what it was to be a man? How guilty did Steve feel when he would sometimes get a little closer to being more open about himself in this world of Tony’s, when he’d think of how there had been a man who loved him in their own time, who was his best friend and gave him an unconditional love, even when Steve didn’t love himself, and how Steve just couldn’t love him like that in return?
Then, Steve’s journey results in him meeting Sam Wilson. They have some things in common-- they both know war and what it’s like to feel like like they might sink to the floor through a mattress. They both know the solitude of the floor and have not seem to have figured out a way beyond that. They both are runners-- literally and figuratively-- as they try to outrun the men from their pasts that they left behind... the fellow soldiers that didn’t make it home and died before their eyes. Sam is a good listener and Steve is Captain America-- they are able to help one another. Steve needs some counseling and Sam needs to feel a connection to the country he’s feeling has left him behind but that he loves. So, naturally, this is of course when Bucky resurfaces in the story.
The Winter Soldier’s existence breaks Steve in half because, for the first time, Bucky isn’t the strong one of the two of them. Bucky is in trouble and Steve never saved him. Have you all considered that The Howlies should have known Bucky was missing because back then, you left no man behind and they should have hiked down the hill for his body? If it wasn’t there, they should have realized he was *missing* and not *dead*? But they never did. Because, as crushed as he was by the loss of his closest friend, some dark part of Steve let Bucky be dead from that fall and couldn’t face seeing it for real because he couldn’t look at the unseeing, dead eyes of the man who loved him and accepted him, even when Steve was unable to give Bucky the latter in return. It was guilt and then that guilt pops up right as Steve is in conflict with Tony and has just met Sam not that long before-- these relationships with men in the modern era that challenge Steve to be a better version of who he was and who pops up but Steve’s living, breathing, prowling, raging guilt in human form.
And, man, is it ever causing some serious havoc...
So, why is Sam ultimately better? The guy who advised Steve that sometimes you couldn’t save them all and Bucky might be gone now and just needed to be stopped?
Steve couldn’t give up on Bucky because he felt he owed him. He had been on his own journey and realized a lot about how he used to think and act and here was Bucky again and a chance to make it up to him in some way. What’s of note, though? Steve does not act like someone who got a long-lost love back. He’s still running for Peggy the moment he has a chance. He’s still not capable of looking at Bucky as anything beyond his oldest, closest friend. What he wants for Bucky, though, is the World of Tomorrow.
Suddenly, there’s a chance to give to Bucky the thing he’s been thinking all the time since he woke up-- that this is a world for Bucky Barnes. Steve, out of his sense of loyalty and his decades-long guilt, moves heaven and earth to give Bucky that chance and is grateful when T’Challa will help to bring Bucky back. The irony of all of this is that Bucky Barnes, the man who used to hide his true self beneath an exterior identity, is now a man completely trapped beneath The Winter Soldier and when Steve sees a glimmer of that, he *has* to save Bucky.
What Sam learns along the way is that he and Steve have some things in common, sure, but he has more in common with Bucky Barnes. Sam is a man who understands what it is to have PTSD and the struggle to overcome it. He used to think he was the Steve of this story-- the one who watched his old soldier friend fall to his death-- but he has quickly realized he’s actually the Bucky... the guy who loved a man who couldn’t love him back and who was lost to him, leaving him spinning. Sam knows what it is to have to act in a different way to try to be accepted by a society that doesn’t have your back, even if you love the country with your whole heart anyway. He knows what it’s like to be a veteran who was left behind and forgotten about, discounted and forced to find his own way. For sure, Bucky has enjoyed more privileges in his day (pre-Winter Soldier) by virtue of being white than Sam has but neither of them are ever going to be what Steve Rogers wanted to be. Neither of them are that outdated ideal of 1940s blue eyed blond Star-Spangled Man with a Plan kind of masculinity.
Sam is also something Steve still really isn’t, even in the modern era, which is a man who is comfortable with the fact that he is attracted to men. In this World of Steve and Bucky’s Tomorrow that is the present, that is something that is no longer needed to be kept as hidden as it once was. It is not an era of complete change, especially in places like the military and when it comes to celebrity-- the nexus of Captain America’s world, really-- but it is an absolutely revolutionary transformation from when Bucky was last in control of his mind in the 1940s.
Sam is a quieter guy, even if he’s cheerful and amiable on the surface. He keeps a lot to himself. He’s clearly not gotten seriously involved with anybody in awhile when we met him and hadn’t between then and TFATWS, either, despite being a smart, gorgeous, kind and empathetic Avenger. The one who has caught his eye is the once-brainwashed assassin who keeps showing up to save his life (often from an annoying teenager with webbed fingers, much to their chagrin). It’s Bucky that he’s stuck with and that’s not just because he feels like Steve would want him to. Both he and Bucky think that the other might just be caring because of Steve but they prove to one another that this isn’t the case-- that their instincts that they have something that might be independent of Steve is true. They’re both afraid. They’ve both been through a lot and do not trust easily so it’s a thrill when they realize they really can trust one another-- and that they actually do *see* one another there. They don’t just see Steve’s shadow. They understand what the other needs and get better at it the longer they are together because they are fundamentally more alike and better suited than either of them are with Steve.
TFATWS has Bucky telling Sam that he and Steve talked about giving Sam the shield and since Steve’s shield in the present was broken in the battle with Thanos in Endgame, it means that Bucky knew the plan in its entirety (which goes along with how he doesn’t seem surprised by it in Endgame as well.) It means Bucky knew that Steve was going to go back to the time they were from and find Peggy after he put the stones back and have that dance. It means that Bucky standing there while Sam spoke with Steve knew he would see Old Steve that day, knew the whole thing. Steve, being the fundamentally decent man he is, had to have offered for Bucky to come with him. He probably really wished he would because he would love to have his friend back then with him for the rest of their lives. It would be a way to do it all over-- to go back to where they began and this time, Steve would try to be more supportive. You know he would have tried to be different, even if he couldn’t feel any thing different than what he did. But Bucky...?
Bucky had to see a life of more hell in that. What was the plan there for him? He goes back with Steve, they put the stones away, they find Peggy and then what? The rest of Bucky’s life is him married to some friend of Peggy’s they set him up with? Stolen moments with some man, if he was lucky enough to meet one? A family made not from love-- not the kind of love, anyway, that Bucky would like to have? What was waiting for him back then? Nothing.
Because he’s been through sheer hell but, somehow, he’s been given something he never thought was possible then: the chance to not only see what the future might be like but to live in it, as a part of it.
For sure, Endgame!Bucky, who had just gotten his mind back not that long before The Snap and just came back from dust to fight a battle and go to a funeral and that’s about it, hasn’t the first clue what the first step he should take to sort himself out enough to figure out how to live again is... but even then, even in that place of nothing but vulnerability and pain, he’s hopeful. He’s strong enough to say that’s what he wants. He wants what Steve wants, in a way-- to live in the time he belongs in and be able to find a life for himself. He wants the love and the family he never got to experience and wouldn’t in the same way in the era he was born in. Staying in the present to work though his pain and figure it out-- to have that choice-- means more to Bucky than following Steve because while Bucky believes in Steve’s goodness and would follow that to the moon and back, Steve cannot give him what he once might have wanted, which is to look at him the way that Steve looks at Peggy. Bucky wants that. Steve might not understand not wanting to live in the 1940s entirely but he wants Bucky to have whatever he wants. He feels uncomfortable not being there to see it through-- hence, that kind of awkward hug before he travels back in time. There are things that Bucky wants and needs that Steve doesn’t fully appreciate but he can appreciate him needing to make the choice to live the way he wants to live and deserving the freedom to do just that.
Consider the rush for Bucky when he realizes that Steve’s snarky friend might have just looked at him when he thought he wasn’t looking, that maybe that heat between them isn’t one-sided. That they live *now* and while it’s not free of challenges, it’s paradise compared to the 1940s. That maybe, just maybe, he lived through all this hell because he’s supposed to be here now and maybe that also means he’s supposed to be with this man who not only understands him but who is everything that Bucky couldn’t have been in his day-- openly attracted to men? If you were Bucky, there’s no way you couldn’t be entertaining fantasies about being able to take Sam for a romantic walk by the water somewhere and no one calling the police if you were to kiss him at sunset...
Not to mention that if you’re Sam? Who is going to get your PTSD and understand when you get a little quiet more than the guy you met while he fell out of the sky and tried to murder you while brainwashed? Who is so annoying because he’s dryly funny and annoyingly hot and more good than anyone who has been through that amount of hell should have a right to be? Who is enough like you to be made for you but different enough that you’ll never be bored? Who makes you feel safer than you’ve ever felt-- safe enough to give over a lot of the trust you are hesitant to give much of anyone because you know he won’t abuse it? You have to be entertaining thoughts about spending a lifetime making him feel as safe and finding new ways to make him laugh...
Sam and Bucky are the ones that will protect one another’s hearts. Steve is a great guy whose arc with Bucky is about making up for hurting him and growing as a person as a result, not about Steve’s undying romantic and/or sexual love, IMO. Among other things, Sam is the first man Bucky has been able to consider building a life with and I’d wager it actually works in reverse for Sam, despite him being born much later than Bucky-- Riley could have been Sam’s lover but there is enough pining regret there that I think he saw Sam in the way that Steve saw Bucky. There’s enough there to suggest that Sam had not met someone he saw a future with until Bucky, which would also account for the occasional nervousness. They seem like opposites but, in many ways, they’re exactly alike and in the ways that they are not, they compliment one another. Sam and Bucky are each other’s chances at happiness and peace so if you’re still saying Bucky should be sobbing in Steve’s notebook waiting for him to come back from the woman he left him for... why are you wishing such hell on this poor guy? Bucky deserves the smiles and the lightness in his step and the sister and the nephews and the community cookouts and, most of all, *Sam*...
...and Sam deserves the sun, the moon and the stars and seems content having found his way to the shield and to Bucky so let them be happy for the hot minute they will be until their movie conflict. ;) Steve’s getting his dance-- Bucky and Sam deserve theirs, too.
#sambucky#stucky#captain america#bucky barnes#sam wilson#steve rogers#the falcon#tfatws#thewintersoldier#thewhitewolf#marvel#mcu
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Queer Trauma, Coming Out, & the Long Road to Self-Love and Healing
As I’ve reflected on my past, I’ve discovered that my adolescence may be one of, if not THE most traumatic time of my life thus far as a queer person. The last few months with my incredible therapist have made me realize that the years of anxiety, panic, fear, self-loathing, confusion, and depression have scarred me deeper than I had previously thought. She also made me realize that this is at least partially because I have never really talked about it openly and in depth in a healthy and productive way before, which is what inspired me to start this blog to share my experiences with others that are currently struggling with their identity, or to allow those that are also currently healing from the trauma of their previously closeted life feel a little more seen.
I knew from a VERY young age that I was different, but didn’t know how or what it meant. I was a lonely kid for a lot of my childhood without many friends. I didn’t want to play football with the boys during recess. I sought companionship at lunch with a table full of girls more often than not, which in itself also made me feel incredibly self conscious at the time as well.
I asked, (with incredible shame) for the “girl’s toy” from the backseat in the McDonald’s drive-thru because I loved to play with the mini-Barbies and craft entire storylines for them. They were easier to hide in my room than regular sized Barbies. I spent most summers off school alone playing video games and reading book and book after book. I didn’t really click with the boys down the street. I was obsessed with Britney Spears and the color purple. I was lonely without really knowing what it meant.
I feel as though that fear I felt in my childhood and adolescence held me back from SO much. Middle school in particular was absolute hell. I hated it. I always felt constantly insecure and uncomfortable. I had absolutely zero confidence or self love. I hated my body and how I looked.
While other kids experienced their first relationships and first feelings of romantic love, I was convinced that it was just not a possibility for me. On top of being deeply closeted, scared, confused, lonely, and in deep denial, girls didn’t go for me anyway. I was the awkward chunky guy struggling with his identity feeling like he had to make up for it by working extra hard to get perfect grades and give himself 100% to other people. I tried not to think about it too much, but hearing about relationships, seeing people kiss in the hallways between classes, and girls talking about what they liked in boys which was the complete opposite of me... it was hell.
To make my self consciousness worse, I felt supremely uncomfortable in gym class and the boys’ locker room in particular. I was ashamed of my body and also self conscious for wanting to look at the other boys; terrified that they would catch on and beat me senseless. Hearing them consistently call each other f*g in a very VERY negative context drove me deep into the closet as the identity I already felt shame for was directly correlated with being a ridiculed outcast, and something that was inherently, disgustingly wrong and unacceptable. The worst insult teenage boys could deliver to each other in the safety of an unchaperoned locker room in a hick town often not kind to queer people or those that were different. I SO desperately wanted to fit in with the other boys instead of being any version of who I actually was.
Part of that façade of blending in with my hetero peers involved having a girlfriend for two months in 8th grade. We didn’t even kiss, let alone approach any sexual situations. I’m sure she had her suspicions. I was utterly obsessed with the concept of blending in by having a girlfriend like the other boys and just having someone special in my life, even if we really didn’t even do any couple things.
Upon reflection, I don’t think the concept of ever being sexual with her ever crossed my mind in the slightest. Even the idea of kissing her scared the hell out of me, and not just from first kiss nerves. Deep down I knew it wasn’t right for me. Don’t EVER tell a kid they’re too young to know. Fast forward to modern times, my first kiss with a girl was with a close friend YEARS after I came out. Go figure.
The idea of caring about and loving myself was non-existent at that time. It’s a very VERY new and ongoing journey for me. I didn’t really care about myself at all. I hadn’t learned how to. Mom was in and out of cancer treatments, and would later pass during my senior year of college and kick off my coming out process, but that’s a whole other post for another day. Spending pretty much my entire childhood watching mom deal with being sick, I didn’t want to cause my family any more discomfort. I was full of self loathing, fear, and confusion, but it seemed irrelevant and unimportant because I didn’t want to be a hindrance.
Instead, I tried so desperately to be the perfect kid and son by befriending my teachers, being a model student, and joining band and a bunch of organizations to stay as busy as possible to stay distracted and impress everyone else.I didn’t love myself because I didn’t think I was allowed to or deserved to in my own head. While I did finally make more meaningful friends in high school, I continued to go through the motions to make my family proud to make up for the scared closeted kid who thought he had to make up for his queerness as though it were a shameful weakness, and it seemed to be the only thing that could possibly matter at the time.
Non-surprisingly, I never really knew any openly queer boys in grade school. It probably legitimately wasn’t all that safe to come out in that environment. I’ll never forget the two boys I saw holding hands in a Wal-Mart that absolutely shook up my entirely reality, because I had never seen romantic same-sex affection in person before.
There was a lesbian couple at my school, but people said awful, degrading things about them behind their backs constantly and acted like they were the biggest freaks. Another boy in my grade in high school hadn’t come out yet officially but was very flamboyant, and thus was treated just as awful as the lesbian couple, if not worse. Other kids just regularly said despicable things about him without even knowing him at all. I even heard parents make blatantly homophobic jokes about him.
His life had to have been hell, and as a fully out queer adult, I still regret not being able to stand up for him more. That definitely forced me deeper into the closet. He wasn’t even out but got talked about like he was some disgusting abomination. How could I ever assume that I could ever come out, let alone kiss, date, and love another boy? I HATED the idea of any attention being placed on me, so I just wanted to survive school at that point.
I had multiple people throughout high school ask me if I were gay just as though it were the most casual question rather than a triggering inquiry that sent me into a mental frenzy every damn time it was presented. Having one of the jock boys ask me such a deeply personal question in passing on the way to my seat in Algebra class was traumatizing. I of course always said no, as at the time I was still convinced it was a passing phase and that I couldn’t actually be gay.
At home, in the days of Myspace, I got anonymous messages telling me they were pretty sure I was gay. The anonymity was arguably worse in some ways.
At a young age, I became hyper aware of how I carried myself, talked, and acted. I loathed hearing my voice or seeing myself in pictures, for fear of sounding too feminine or standing or emoting too gay. I obsessed over the concept that boys and girls carried their books a certain way, or the boys would be labelled as queer. I was paranoid about where I shopped for clothes, the colors I wore, and the length and fit of my shorts.
In middle school, I got a lilac colored trapper keeper for school that I ultimately had my parents take back to the store for a different one because I felt so self conscious about it all day. At home I played with my little Barbies, but didn’t dare tell the kids at school for fear of rejection and isolation. Overall, I felt grossly incompetent, irrelevant, and unimportant in my own mind. Unworthy of love and of course, deeply ashamed for my attraction to the other boys.
I never had anyone whatsoever to help guide me through the coming out process, because I didn’t know a single queer person who could. I’ve now dedicated a good amount of my energy trying to be that person I desperately could have used then for anyone else that needs that role to be filled, and for someone to tell them that someone is incredibly proud of them. An obscene amount of queer people don’t ever hear “I’m so proud of you!” when they really need it the most.
I also didn’t have any good queer representation on TV or in movies, so I really did feel completely alone at times. Most queer characters in media existedly solely to be made fun of and mocked, ratcher than celebrated, properly represented, or God forbid, given a legitimate love story, and the public’s reaction was so frequently one of such repugnance and disapproval.
This was also probably about the time that a close family member told me that he had punched a gay guy for hitting on him when he was younger, a story he again felt the need to share with a now ex-boyfriend and I when we were dating, as though that’s not a horrifying thing for an already scared and closeted queer to hear from their own family.
I think during middle school in particular is when my anxiety and depression issues started, but I assumed either that I was being a baby and that my feelings were invalid, or that it was just teenage angst. The idea that boys and men should mask their emotions and feelings and feel shame rather than expressing them was, (and seemingly appears to continue to be) a very real thing in small towns and society in general.
It didn’t occur to me at the time that I was experiencing varying levels of almost daily trauma that would fuck me up well into adulthood. If you take anything at all from this post, let it be that the conversation around mental health, (and men in particular in this instance) NEEDS to change.
Another particularly noteworthy event in my queer adolescence was when two of my friends, (both girls, shocker) discovered gay porn on my computer. While they pestered me about if it were mine while they laughed, I of course lied. I felt a deep shame and utter humiliation. On reflection, fucking IMAGINE if they had been able to be gentle and understanding with me and told me they loved me and still would even if I were gay. From then on I was terrified that they would bring that day up to our other friends as a joke. Perhaps they did a time or two, I don’t recall. These same friends made jokes about the queer kid I mentioned earlier, and both parents of one of the girls regularly gossiped and made homophobic jokes about him when I was at their house
By the time school dances rolled around, I knew I would never be able to go with anyone but friends. Even if I weren’t still deeply closeted, I’m pretty sure my school still had pretty strict rules against bringing same-sex dates to Prom. While I definitely had fun with my friends at the dances we went to, I so desperately longed for a world where I could dance with a boy who loved me like everyone else was able to.
The loneliness and isolation I felt at the end of those nights could be unbearable because it didn’t seem possible for me, even as I looked into the future. I was fully convinced I would live a very lonely life without anyone to love me the way I craved. I didn’t belong in that world, and wouldn’t ever be set up for that kind of happiness, joy, and feeling of content. I would live for everyone else but myself because that’s just the way the world worked for us queers.
I wish I had had just one single person then who gave me full permission to be my authentic queer self on any level. Someone who could hug me and tell me life after high school and college could and would be vastly different. Someone to tell me I wasn’t an unlovable disgusting freak, but rather a kind-hearted boy who deserved a deep love someday because I was a valid and gentle soul who deserved the world. I certainly deserved more than the shame and pain that constantly haunted me.
Maybe then I wouldn’t have thought about death before 30 so much and obsessed over it well into my college career. I might have realized that I needed to learn to be gentle with myself and take care of and prioritize me and my own happiness. So many people let me down and convinced me that I was a filthy sinner and an over-emotional kid with invalid perspectives and feelings. As most of my closest friends, (that I cannot stress enough have been the ones to save my life and encourage the authenticity that I present so proudly today) came into my life after I had already come out fully, they weren’t around during those dark early struggles.
Sometimes as an adult I still wonder what it would have felt like and how profoundly different my life could be if someone had held me close and sincerely told me they’re proud of me for what I survived and overcame, and told me that they can’t wait to see my eyes light up with the love I’ve always dreamed of in a boy, and that I still continue to seek.
Young, baby gay Travis would be in absolute awe if he knew what life had in store for him back then. To see a future version of himself painting his nails, wearing whatever he wanted, dancing with strangers at pride festivals, having the time of his life at drag shows with his queer family and falling in love with boys? Proudly holding a boyfriend’s hand walking downtown in a busy city? Openly telling his dad about the cute boy he’s going on a date with? Going Facebook official with a boy? Being a super vocal advocate and inspiration and mentor to not only queer family, but to people he hardly talks to but manages to influence and inspire just by unashamedly being himself? Genuinely looking forward to kissing his new husband in front of family and friends on his wedding day, knowing it’ll be one of the happiest days of his entire life?
Holy. Actual. Fuck.
Travis of six or seven years ago wouldn’t have even dared to dream this big, let alone baby gay Travis. He probably would have been utterly mortified but SO comforted to see that future life when he didn’t believe it to be any level of possible.
I’m so fucking proud of myself for this journey, and no one will ever take that away from me or water down my trauma or the grueling work I’ve put in. Genuinely, this is the one thing in my life that makes me absolutely burst with pride.
I think I want to learn how to keep baby Travis in mind with this pride without having to revisit the trauma in the process. Look back at him with open arms, excited to see him learn and blossom into his actual self someday. Even if he could have desperately used someone like the me I am today, he survived then, and continues to persevere today.
He’s queer as fuck, and proud to shout it from the rooftops. He’s a voice and an advocate for the voiceless. A shining light and beacon of hope for those still navigating their terrifying escape from their closeted life. He’s going to meet a man someday and love him so deeply in the way baby Travis always dreamed of. Above all, he’s going to continue to make that little guy so incredibly proud because he knows now the importance of loving himself in the process.
I’m so proud of that scared little boy. I just wish he could have known then how proud he would make himself one day.
As you talk with the queer people in your life, please keep in mind that just about all of us have incredible trauma directly tied to our identities. Talk to them with love, compassion, and understanding. Tell them how proud of them you are for pursuing their own happiness in the face of oppression and rejection.
Demand better from elected officials. Advocate for us. Shut down homophobic ideals, even if you think it’ll make your family and friends uncomfortable to hear. Support queer content, artists and creators. Be a proud ally, but don’t ever allow yourself to take the spotlight away from actual queer people or our queer spaces. Mourn, love, and celebrate with us.
Understand why pride is SO fucking important to us, and why you never have to worry about needing your own pride events. Listen to us and love us for exactly who we are, and were always meant to be. Love is the most incredible, beautiful, and often rare human experience we’re able to experience during our short time on this planet, and it should always be celebrated.
Happy Pride!
#pride#gay#lgbt#journaling#love#queer#coming out#coming out stories#queer trauma#adolescent trauma#self love#healing#trauma
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And Hell is Just a Sauna -- Part Three
And Hell is Just a Sauna -- Part Three
Fandom: Marvel/MCU
Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader
Characters: Bucky Barnes
Author: @amandaoftherosemire
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 6,091
Format: Short Series (Complete)
Warnings: Language, violence.
Summary: You meet Bucky Barnes upon your mysterious and deadly escape from a power obsessed cult leader and his followers. Though you carry a secret in addition to the wariness of trauma, you can’t help your attraction to Bucky and his irascible demeanor. As for Bucky, he is drawn to the light he sees in you while he fears the things you’re hiding. Can you trust him with your secrets, and your life? Will you have a choice?
A/N: Over the course of the last year, I have decided to fully embrace the swamp witch aesthetic that I have been side-eyeing for a long time. What this means for my blog is that I emerge from The Rosemire every few weeks to offer up what I’ve made, only to immediately disappear again. I don’t know if this is an explanation or an apology. Maybe a warning? Up to you I guess.
Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four
And Hell is Just a Sauna -- Part Three
Bucky was watching you. Again.
He was trying to be subtle about it, as per usual, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, but he couldn’t help himself. To Bucky, you were endlessly compelling.
You took a couple of hours in your office every afternoon for researching… something… and he’d gotten into the habit of hanging out on the couch in there, originally intending to nap. Rather than sleep, however, he’d found himself watching you, enthralled by the serious demeanor he’d discovered in these moments. Between the narrow-eyed focus on whatever you were reading and the low muttering under your breath, he found you both charming and intriguing.
The intrigue made sense, considering your discomfort when he asked what information you were seeking in these hours in front of your computer. You hadn’t tried to deceive him, but you’d made it clear that you weren’t ready to talk about it. That had been before you’d let him into your bed, however, and he’d been hoping you’d share the truth ever since.
And so, he found himself stretched out on the couch in your office, watching you from under his lashes and trying to understand the mystery you presented.
Bucky was fascinated and frustrated by the puzzle of you. He’d spent hours talking to you, even more hours simply existing around you, endless days considering everything he’d observed about you. He hadn’t figured you out yet, nor had he uncovered why he was so obsessed, though he was getting an inkling.
He was pretty sure he was falling in love. He’d once had the heart and soul of a romantic, had been able to fall in love every other day, with a woman’s voice, scent, smile, but something about you was different. Something about you made him yearn for more.
He didn’t think it was the mystery alone, though that was part of it. You were in most ways an open book, outgoing and full of stories about anything up to and after your captivity. What happened to you in that blank spot you wouldn’t or couldn’t say, but he heard you whimpering pleas for help or mercy along with the name ‘Joseph’ in your sleep. The terror in your voice always made him want to destroy something. Instead, as he would pull you into his arms to comfort, he’d deliberately remind himself that those he wanted revenge upon were beyond him, but he could care for you.
Most days, however, you were light-hearted and happy and being around you made him feel brighter, more like himself. Every day he woke up next to you was a good day simply because he knew it would be another opportunity to bask in the light and heat of you, the crackle and snap of the searing energy that arced between you. He wanted to understand you, wanted to understand that heated energy. He was certain that there was something vital to be found there.
If he was being completely honest, however, he had to admit he was watching with as much interest the way you absent-mindedly brushed the pen in your hand over your lips as he was listening to your muttered asides about flames and one-way doors. He was utterly obsessed with the seemingly unconscious sensuality that characterized almost everything you did, but he couldn't be sure it wasn't something appealing particularly to him.
The fact was, if he was still the boy he’d once been and you were a girl he'd met before the war, he would already be thinking about claiming you permanently. However, he was in a new century, with new rules, new realities. Old evils still nipping at his heels. The boy he'd been would have adored you as much as the man he'd become, but the man was only comfortable enough to indulge that adoration thanks to his certainty that you could protect yourself should those evils catch him.
Except he was not at all certain he could have resisted you, regardless. The emotion that made his heart race and leap and ache was too powerful, the glory of what you gave him, the joy of giving back to you too exquisite. He'd begun to dread the day he was inevitably forced from your side. He wasn't entirely certain you'd let him go without a fight. He wasn't entirely certain he wanted you to.
You had made clear your genuine enjoyment in him, but he also wasn't certain how deep your feelings toward him ran. He wanted to believe that the softness in your eyes wasn't his imagination, that the tenderness in your touch was proof that you were as taken over by this as he was. But as long as you continued to keep secrets about things that terrified you, he couldn't be sure he wasn't anything more than a diversion. As long as you kept your own counsel about your past, and in the absence of explicit words, he had to assume that your feelings didn't run as deep as he might hope.
On the other hand, Bucky couldn’t help but notice the less than secure way you hid whatever it was you were researching. Every day you closed down your computer and put your paper notes in your desk drawer, which you then carefully locked. He knew that you were aware that the lock on your desk was something he could pick half-conscious with his eyes closed after a bender, and that was the point. That you trusted him to stay out of what you’d made clear was private told him how you felt. You evidently trusted him to respect your privacy. Maybe it wasn't a proclamation of undying devotion, but it was a start.
When it made him so warm and soft inside, he couldn’t even think of breaking that trust. No matter how mad it and you drove him with curiosity.
"I'm pretty sure you're not asleep, you know.” The sound of your voice startled him, so engrossed he’d become in watching the way you rolled the pen over your lower lip. “I feel like I can hear you thinking from over here." Though you weren't looking at him, a mischievous smile was playing around the corners of your mouth and Bucky felt the low-burning embers of desire that had been teasing at the edges of his consciousness burst into full flame. He always wanted you, but he wanted you most when you were teasing him.
Bucky smirked, but otherwise didn't move as he replied in a slow drawl, his eyes bright and blue as they glittered at you from under long dark lashes. "That pen of yours is giving me thoughts, the way it's playing with your mouth."
He was sorry to see said pen yanked away from your mouth, but the bashful grin you shot him as your laughing eyes met his more than made up for it. "Hey now," you mock scolded as your eyebrows lifted in playful challenge. Bucky adored the pretty way you played with him, the fearless way you challenged him. His grin turning feral, he sat up and swung his feet to the floor.
“Don’t get up,” you ordered with a smirk as you tossed the pen down on the desk and got to your feet.
Bucky sat back with a grinning leer as you circled the desk, hoping he'd managed to tempt you into his lap. When you dropped to your knees in front of him, skimming your hands up his thighs to his belt buckle as your mouth spread in a sly smile, he laughed in breathless wonder, grateful to be wrong.
"Fuck, doll," he sighed happily as your hands went to work on the button of his jeans as your eyes burned into his, "a penny for your thoughts."
Bucky's whole body tightened in desire when you leaned forward with a sultry laugh.
…
A long while later, after you'd destroyed first his body, then his mind with your wicked mouth, what was left of his heart crumbled when you led him from the room toward dinner without shutting down the computer or putting away your notes. He followed you without a backward glance, certain that the day was coming soon when you'd confide in him. He could wait until you were ready.
The intruder alert connected to the security system sounded from your phone at the same time the hissing, spitting panic of your friend had Bucky sitting up from behind you where he’d been sleeping curled around you as big spoon.
“What the fuck?!” he spat in a furious and confused whisper as he rolled to his feet in a move so violently graceful you caught your breath even as your heart picked up in fear at the sound of the low humming coming through the cracked window.
You scrambled out of bed and snatched up the nightgown you always left draped over the foot of the bed for just this moment. You’d almost started to think, hope, that it wouldn’t come, but you’d never been that lucky. “Kiki!” Your voice was hoarse with the terror that prickled at the back of your neck when the chanting started.
“What the fuck!” Bucky had put himself beside the window and peeked around the edge into the yard. He now sounded disgusted in addition to infuriated and if you weren’t facing your worst fear you would laugh at the aggravation all over him. Only Bucky would be exasperated by what appeared to be robed and hooded cultists surrounding the house.
When you peeked around the other side of the window and saw one man with his hood thrown back, a chill ran down your spine. The mask covering his face did nothing to disguise his identity. You’d recognize Joseph’s shining gold hair and arrogant stride anywhere, even if only by the light of a crescent moon.
You snatched up the phone on your nightstand and pulled up the controls on your security as you hissed. “Kiki, how is he still alive?” You couldn’t help the panic coloring the question, but at this point there was no reason to keep anything from Bucky any longer. You felt Bucky’s eyes on you when the popping hiss came in response and wished you’d had the courage to introduce him to Kiki before catastrophe struck.
Bucky crouched to pull the rifle from beneath the bed where he’d placed it when he started sleeping with you every night. As he loaded the gun and checked it over, he seemed only mildly curious when he asked, “Who’s Kiki?”
“Very small, Keek,” you said softly as you lifted your hand and turned it so that the backs of your fingers were facing up. Across the knuckles, a tiny orange and yellow flame with a vaguely animal shape, like a small lizard, jumped and pounced until it turned blue flame eyes on Bucky. You smiled a little at his raised brows. “This is Kiki.”
The flickering shape of Kiki’s face spread in what was unmistakably a smile even as the jeweled blue of her eyes narrowed in flirtatious charm as they rested on Bucky. He laughed a little, one of his scoffs of astonished humor, when she hissed and whistled in what could only be appreciation.
“Keek thinks you’re hot, for a human,” you said when Bucky’s eyes met yours over the happy little flame perched like a bird on your fingers. Your smile was a little sick around the edges and Bucky could see the fear that lived there. He was too familiar with the terror of rejection because of what one couldn't help but become to not recognize it when it was all over the woman he loved.
Bucky reached out and took your free hand with his own and squeezed gently as he smirked. “I guess Kiki would know, considering.”
You huffed out a laugh of relief. You could hear in his tone that he wasn't angry, that he understood. No wonder you'd fallen head over heels with the man. He was perfect, at least for you. “I was trying to figure out how to tell you," you rushed to explain, afraid to believe it'd be this easy. "Batshit cult outside kinda figured it out for me.”
“This works," he answered with a shrug. You'd trusted him when it was important. He had faith that the next time, you wouldn't hesitate. With a wink and a flirty grin, he nodded at the little flame still sitting on the backs of your fingers. "Pleasure to meet you, Kiki. You wanna help finish these assholes off?”
Your breathless laugh of wonder chased by adrenaline followed the low, long gleefully malevolent hiss from the little creature. You grinned fiercely at Bucky, ready to defend your home and everyone in it. “Keek likes the way you think.”
"Darlin'?" The deep Southern drawl that haunted your nightmares floated in through the window and sent a shudder of terror running over your skin. Bucky looked down when your hand clamped around his. Using that grip, he tugged you close, letting go to wrap his arm around your waist and crush you against his body as he took your mouth with his own.
"I'm not gonna let him hurt you." He growled the words not like a promise, but as a statement of fact, and one that required no further explanation. The sound of his utter confidence, his complete commitment helped you slow your breathing as he turned you both toward the bedroom door.
A shiver of fear still ran through you at the shouted "Darlin'!" coming through the window, however. Despite the still polite tones, you could hear the undercurrent of cruelty, of barely leashed violence, and the sound reminded you of the time you'd spent as his prisoner before that last horrible night. "I think I've been awful patient with you, darlin', but I'm already a mite annoyed that I had to chase you at all. Why don't you come on out here and we can talk about this like adults?”
Bucky kept you tightly snugged into his side as he pulled you into the upstairs hallway that ran between the bedrooms. He ignored everything but you as he spoke in calm, soothing tones to counteract whatever was in the other man's voice that made you shake this way. Fury lit a fire within him, made him want to leap into the fray with nothing but his knife to take vengeance for you in blood. Only his determination to see you safe could overcome that white-hot rage.
"I have an idea. Go to your library window," he murmured in a voice as soft as velvet as he led you down the hallway toward the room in question. "Stall him a bit while I get into position downstairs." He lifted the rifle still in his other hand, but his reassuring smile drew your eyes and gave you a much-needed boost of confidence. "Let him manipulate you downstairs, but you're only going to the front door."
You looked into eyes so blue the sight made your heart sigh and relaxed in a fundamental way for the first time since you'd been kidnapped by the man that was still taunting you and calling your name. You took a quick breath and leaned forward to snatch a kiss from that gorgeous mouth. With a quick grin into that stormy blue, you turned into the room to face your demons.
"Uuuugggghhhh!" As you threw open the window next to your reading nook, you shouted in hostile exasperation and hit the button on your phone that turned on the flood lights. Bucky grinned in appreciation from the shadows behind you as he turned to make his way silently to the ground floor.
Dropping into the seat with a huff, you leaned out to sneer at Joseph, the villain in your story, who was blinking and shielding his eyes from the sudden light. "What is your fucking problem?!" you sang out with malicious glee.
You'd learned very quickly as a matter of survival how to both fascinate and frustrate Joseph during your time as his captive. Like many psychopaths, he hated boredom above all else. Keeping him amused, even by irritating him, had made you a favorite, kept you alive. It had also led to your place as the vessel for his occult summoning, unfortunately.
"Ah, there's my girl." You were pretty sure you saw his grin flash with that familiar Southern charm. The mask only covered the top of his face and his voice was warm and appreciative. "You sure are a sight for sore eyes, there, darlin'."
You narrowed your eyes and ignored the flattery. He'd sounded the same even as he'd staked you to the ground, spread eagle for what he'd believed to be a demon. "Why’re you hiding your face, Joe?"
The face in question fell into cruel and bitter lines, the charming smile gone as though it had never existed. Despite the warm presence hissing reassurance in your ear and the burly man with the giant gun downstairs, you felt a chill run down your spine at the sight of Joseph angry. "I'll take off the mask if you promise to still think me handsome."
“I told you when we were dating that I have an ugly temper.” You kept your voice bored and unconcerned, well aware it drove him crazy. “If I did some damage on my way out the door, it was only to be expected.”
The dark and sinister cast to his features snapped off and his mouth spread in a wide, cheerful smile. The speed with which he switched from charming and pleasant to cruel and menacing and back again chilled your bones, despite Kiki’s ever-present heat. “I fell for that fire before it burst into flame, darlin’. Why do think I’m here?”
You smiled at him, a thin baring of teeth that carried no hint of amusement. "I thought I made myself clear when I left that I was breaking up with you." You tilted your head in a taunting kind of curiosity. "Was setting everything on fire too subtle?
"I'm not mad, if that's what you're afraid of," he ignored the question with a sly smile. You were only half paying attention as Kiki was hissing warnings and instructions into your ear. Like the night you'd met her, she sounded both calm and competent, the neurotic worrywart you'd come to love these past months gone now that you were once again in danger. "I know you were a mite hysterical."
One corner of your mouth lifted in a darkly amused smile at the sound of Kiki's offended hissing. Describing the destruction that she'd rained down upon Joseph and his cult as 'hysteria' was an insulting understatement and only served to cement the little elemental’s determination to not hold back this time.
"Do I seem hysterical right now?" You drawled the question with a raised brow as you gazed calmly down at your nemesis, that mildly amused smile still playing around your lips.
Joseph let loose with an appreciative laugh that made you vaguely uneasy for reasons you couldn't quite put your finger on. He had a decent sense of humor for a psychopath, and he'd always seemed to enjoy the wryly sarcastic attitude with which you treated him. This laugh, however, had an edge that hadn't been there before, a sound that made you sick to your stomach.
"No, darlin', you sure don't." With another laugh, he pushed the mask up and onto the top of his head and the sight of his face made your blood run cold. His eyes were dark and red and raw, the skin around them cracked and blistered, as though he was burning from the inside out. "I gotta say, I like this side of you.” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, but you could not respond in kind, only look at him in dawning horror. “Feisty."
Kiki’s low hiss communicated both fear and horror and terrified you more than anything else. Kiki was a fire elemental from beyond a portal into another dimension. If she was scared, you wanted to shake in your boots. The warnings she was muttering in your ear only added to your dread, concerned as they were with evil creatures from her realm, as powerful as she but without her kindness, or control.
"Joseph," you said in a voice gone cold with that dread, "I don't think we should hang out anymore. I'd appreciate it if you and your friends left now." With that, you pulled your head back in the window, lifting your arm to pull it closed behind you when Joseph's voice stopped you with a boom that made your ears pop.
"Except you didn't leave alone, did you now, darlin'?" Your eyes narrowed as his eyes began to deepen and darken. Kiki sighed in relief as she recognized what you were up against and knew she could defeat it, though there was hesitation in her mind that worried you a little. Still, it was an easy answer when she asked of you the same thing that she’d asked the night you met, the night she'd almost destroyed the man in front of you. "You took something with you!” Joseph bellowed. “Something that belongs to me."
Yes, you breathed, in the huffing sigh Kiki had taught you would allow her to work through you to channel her power from her own dimension into yours. Your eyes lit to flames as you replied in a voice that sighed with the same horrific rush of sound that accompanied a wildfire as it tore through a world. "I don't have anything of yours."
Downstairs, Bucky lifted a brow at the tone and timbre of your voice, the sound sending a rush of relief through him at the knowledge that you and Kiki were working together. He'd heard this the night he'd met you, knew he had nothing to fear. He glared, cold-eyed, at the people on the other side of the window that he'd silently cracked so that he could slide the barrel of his gun outside, and hoped for their sake they did nothing to provoke Kiki. Or you.
"You didn't set those fires on your own." Joseph sounded almost petulant, and the sound had you frowning in consternation and disgust. "That was supposed to be my patron, my power."
"Your power, my burden," your breath was starting to flame as Kiki settled more firmly into your form, her thoughts, her emotions sharing the same space as your own. When you were merged like this you worked in concert, each able to read the other. "You had no intention of carrying a demon on your back in return for that patronage. That was my job." Kiki spoke through you, trying to mislead the thing that Joseph didn't seem to realize accompanied him. "I took the patron and the power since I'm doing the work, thank you."
You and Kiki chuckled together when he took the bait and his demeanor shifted to convince, his tone to a wheedle. "Then let me take that burden. If you won't use the power on my behalf, then give it back. You never wanted any of this. Give him back to me and I'll leave you in peace."
Him? You asked the question in the popping language you'd painstakingly learned over the months you and Kiki had been companions.
(Her name, of course, wasn't really Kiki, but the sound you'd learned from her that represented her name started with a double scoffing sound that reminded you of the nickname. She liked the sound of it and so encouraged you in the familiarity.)
Kiki responded with her own confusion, not sure who or what Joseph had been trying to pull through the portal when she'd gotten caught in it. She was almost certain the thing that was currently hitching a ride with him was not what he was referring to, as it was highly unlikely that he'd meant to pull another elemental like herself through the portal.
"Why should I believe you?" You let your voice tremble, just a little, but enough to give the question a touch of vulnerability. You wanted to make Joseph think you were wavering, that he might have a chance at talking you into making a mistake. "You forced me into this before. What's to stop you from turning on me once I give it to you?"
At the tone of bitter betrayal, the sneer of suspicion that curled your lip, Joseph smiled gently and replied in a croon. "You know I never wanted to hurt you." He reached out with one hand and gestured in a come-hither motion. You wondered that you'd never noticed the condescension when you were dating. "Come on down here, darlin', and let me try to convince you. You have to be tired.”
"I am tired, Joseph." Bitter and weary, the words carried the weight of condemnation and the sting of disdain. "He's cruel and it scrapes at my brain. But I don't see how I can trust you to fix that for me. Since it's your fault in the first place." You folded your arms over your chest and glared mutinously down at him.
"There now," he chided, and the sound of his voice made heat climb from your heart up into your throat, your own anger feeding Kiki's fire, "you know you're my girl." If he'd been closer, he would have seen the flickering light behind your eyes, but he could easily see in the flood lights the smoke starting to climb from your hair and hurriedly changed his tone. "I always meant for us to do this together. Come on, darlin', you can't look me in the eye from up there and I want to make a deal with you." His act was completely believable, and if you hadn't already learned what he hid beneath the just-right remorse that cloaked him, you knew you'd have been fooled. "I bet you can smell a lie these days. I only want to take care of you."
This was what Bucky had asked you to do, and Kiki agreed that you'd made Joseph work for it enough that he wouldn't find your agreement suspicious. You glared down at him with narrowed eyes and an indecisive curl to your lips for a long, long moment. His expression didn't shift, except to grow softer and more wistful, as though he believed he could make you ignore the molten burn around his eyes.
When you relented with a deeply wary and resentful, "I'll come down to the front door," he looked both relieved and triumphant. You moved to exert just enough control to allay any suspicions and make him feel magnanimous in agreement. "But I’m going to get dressed first. Everyone stays where they are, got it?"
"Of course, darlin'."
With that same wary glare, you pulled the window closed with a snap and whirled to dart into the bedroom. You were on a clock and you still wanted to talk to Bucky before you stepped outside to face the fire.
Downstairs, Bucky had been listening to you almost as carefully as he had been watching the man in your front yard. After living with you for months, loving you for nearly that long, he knew you well enough to hear both the smoke he now knew was named Kiki as well as the shining brilliance of your canny brain. The way you allowed Joseph to believe he was talking you into doing what Bucky had asked of you had Bucky grinning like a fool.
He couldn't have asked for a better partner; even being back in the fight wasn't as bad as it could be when he had you by his side. He felt no conflict in the fight, not when he was fighting for you, for the home you'd shared with him, allowed him to make his own.
He would do anything to protect that home. He'd say the same about you, but the hellfire he could still hear in your voice reassured him that you were more than capable of protecting yourself.
Still, his eyes scanned the hooded figures on your front lawn with his enhanced and careful gaze, determined to miss nothing. He felt the satisfaction of a hunter's patience when he heard you snap the window closed, saw Joseph tilt his head to the side, and watched the shadow at the edge of the woods move to slip around the house.
Gotcha, he thought, and silently set his rifle on the floor next to the window and got to his feet, listening to discover which point of entry the shadow would choose. He could hear you upstairs, sounding like you were hopping around on one foot, but he could have kissed you for distracting the intruder.
Evidently, the shadow was either blessed with an abundance of confidence or cursed with a lack of imagination, because they had chosen to enter through the mud door into the laundry room at the back of the house. With a sneer of disdain, Bucky moved to the wall beside the door the intruder should come through if they were following the sound of your footsteps overhead coming from your bedroom to the stairs at the front of the house.
Part of him was surprised when the shadow, tall, slim, and largely androgynous, came through the door as expected, without a sound, but barely aware of their surroundings. Bucky easily had his metal bicep around their throat and was choking them into unconsciousness. He frowned in suspicion, worried that this shadow was meant to distract from something else.
If this was the best the bad guys churned out these days, no wonder HYDRA had still been using the Winter Soldier well into the 21st century.
You were coming down the stairs as the shadow was going limp in Bucky's arms. Your eyes widened in surprise, but your night vision had recovered while you'd changed and come downstairs so you recognized Bucky and, in his arms, Joseph's second-in-command losing consciousness from lack of oxygen.
Your eyes narrowed again, flames flickering behind the pupils. Brit had helped hold you down as Joseph had staked you to the ground the night of your escape. You'd never forget her face, and you had no sympathy for her feeble struggles.
You gave the two of them a wide berth as you ducked around Bucky into the kitchen down the hallway at his back. When you came back, Bucky was lowering Brit's body to the ground and you were carrying a hank of clothesline you'd gotten out of the junk drawer.
Bucky flashed a grin so bright with appreciation and warm with affection it made your breath catch, even with Kiki setting fire to your mind. You'd seen him through the curtain of flame when you'd first set eyes on him and had cried out inside that you should have to destroy something so beautiful. That cry of regret had made Kiki pause despite the gun he held and given you a chance to speak through the blaze.
His wry, irritated confusion had done the rest.
Joseph had lied and manipulated you with a carefully cultivated façade so that he could make you the vessel for evil to use its power without paying its price. He had also never even frowned at you until he had you captured and soon to be sacrificed. After that, Bucky's scowl had been irresistible.
Bucky snatched a kiss as he took the rope from your hands, thinking that he'd been completely right when he'd decided his luck had changed when he'd met you. "Do you hate the way he's talking to you as much as I do?" he asked with a smirk as he bent to tie up the intruder.
You snorted in response, wondered if Bucky realized how adorable he was, with his sharp eyes and gentle teasing. "Only with all my heart." You wished you had time to tell Bucky the whole story, wished you had told him before now about Joseph and the strange time in your life that you'd been under his spell.
Somehow, Bucky seemed to understand that because when he straightened up again from restraining your uninvited guest, he held his hand out for yours with a wolfish grin. "You want him alive for any reason?"
You laughed a little as you took his hand and moved into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Can't think of one."
Bucky was mesmerized by the flames that still twinkled in your eyes as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tight against his body despite the heat pumping off of you in waves. With a quirked eyebrow, he sniffed at the smoke still clinging to your hair and made you smile. "No complicated feelings? No need for revenge?"
"Nope." You stretched forward the few inches left between you to kiss him gently, with soft, warm lips that left heat spreading through him. The look on your face as you did so, bright flames in paradoxically gentle eyes, made his heart race. "I would love to be done with all of this forever."
Bucky's lips met yours with a tender greed that took your breath and made your ears ring loud enough that you couldn't hear the sound of Joseph getting impatient and shouting for you. Bucky could hear him but didn't care. He would show you how much he adored you before letting you walk out the door to finish this once and for all.
If he'd intended to distract you from the fear that had been shivering down your spine at the thought of having to confront Joseph face to face, it had worked well enough to have your knees trembling with lust instead of fear. When he broke the kiss and released you, it took you a second to steady yourself on them.
"Leave the door open and don't go too far out." As he spoke, he turned back to take his place at the window, kneeling down to pick up the rifle he'd left there. Sliding the barrel of the gun back through the crack he'd opened earlier and speaking in a soundless whisper. "If I start shooting, let Kiki do her thing."
You followed him to the window to give him the warnings Kiki had given you as you'd thrown on clothing while you were upstairs. "Kiki says that he must have dragged something through the door along with her because only something from her world could be keeping him alive right now."
Bucky calculated angles and checked the trees at the edge of the yard for the direction and speed of the wind. "What does that mean for killing him?" The bored tone to his voice had you smiling. He'd sounded much the same the night you'd met. It was clear Bucky found this kind of thing to be tedious in the extreme. Considering how he'd spent the 20th century, you could understand his ennui.
"If you see her come in from the right, shoot him as she hits. From the left, wait until she passes through." Bucky only tilted an eyebrow in your direction as you grabbed ahold of Brit by the rope around their ankles and began dragging them forward. As he'd left them on the hardwood floor, the lack of friction meant you didn't need to ask him for help getting them to the front door. "She didn't know how to explain further."
"If you trust her, I do."
"I trust her."
"Good enough for me." Bucky tipped a wink at you before focusing back on the man shouting impatiently for you in the front yard. "I can't believe you dated this guy. Anyone who doesn't know you're your own girl is clearly not good enough for you."
"I love you." The words had Bucky's head snapping around to stare at you in shock. Your gaze devoured his face, wanting to remember the look on his gorgeous face the first time you'd said the words to him. Plump, pretty lips parted on a breath of surprise, bright blue eyes wide with what looked like hope. You huffed out a little laugh and shrugged. "In case I don't escape him a second time." With that, you flung open the door to confront your own personal demon.
Bucky shook his head and snorted. "We're gonna have to have a talk about your timing, doll."
Part Four here >>
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#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#bucky#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky fanfiction#bucky fanfic#marvel fanfiction#marvel fanfic#mcu fanfiction#mcu fanfic#mcu au#and hell is just a sauna#pantswrites#short series
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I had a idea (it's long) the reader leaving then finding out that she's pregnant with maul's child, she doesn't think he loves or cares for her, he's been busier than usual. to the point that he's spending less time with her, she can't take it anymore. So she ends up writing a letter titled "my love" going into (great) detail about why she felt as if she couldn't stay and how she feels that he doesn't care about her, when maul reads the letter his heart breaks. He mourns her like a part of him just died, Crying out "my starlight where have you gone?!" distraught he starts going on a rampage of anger fulled by pain, hurt, and sorrow. reader then finds out that she's pregnant shortly after she chooses to keep the baby a secret and not tell him, try to raise this child alone. Years past and maul still can't forget about his starlight whom left all those years ago, he ends up going somewhere and spots a young child part zebrek and part human (it can be either a son or a daughter) come up to him. Initially the first thing that he notices is their gorgeous eyes that glisten like starlight, and all the features that make up this precious child that somehow look like his own. The Reader runs up to her child scolding them saying "there you are I've been looking everywhere for you where have you been?" She looks up a mixture of horror and surprise flash on her face, maul is in shock too. all this time his starlight was here in front of him in the flesh and with what he presumes to be his child he asks the simple question "is this child mine?". You may continue this if you want, you don't have to it's just a idea that was swimming in my head.
Uh... is it... is it cool that I wrote the letter....
Uhh... I’m sorry in advance-
My love, my darling,
I know there is much left unsaid, much unknown in the days past, as well as the days that were meant to come. Admittedly, these hours blur together in moments I’m not even sure I’ve been aware of before now. I had never imagined myself to grow to feel so... pointless.
Perhaps it’s my doing, that you’ve drifted so far, that you often left your side of the bed empty on the coldest nights when I could swear on my life I needed you most. Perhaps I’ve grown obsolete in my presence, my hands no longer grounding you, my heart no longer enough to pull you home when your work is long and harsh. Perhaps even, you’ve come to avoid it altogether.
I don’t want the answer, all the same. My actions lie solely in the knowledge that our love is not what it had been, that you no longer seek me out, that despite my every intention of giving you what I have the way you’ve always deserved it, you do not wish the same for me in return, as you once had. This rift is too great to ignore, your obsessions too powerful for me to even hope to compare.
And so, upon my hours and hours of deliberation, upon endless tears that you were never present enough to see, I choose to leave you now, beyond all hope that we have space to mend, turning my back on every opportunity. I will not stand idly by, I refuse to be abandoned in the dark by the one who swore long ago that he’d never leave me to blind shadow and empty fear. I will not lead you from your pains only to be tossed into them myself.
It aches, thinking of how little you know. Once, you’d been at my side, holding to me when I feared what danger might come to you, when I found my own anger boiling at the sight of enemies that were never mine. My heart still flutters against its own will at the memory of our first days, our gentle touches, the way you would look at me before pulling me into your arms. Yet, you don’t know how I miss that, nor would you ever had I not chosen to write this.
You don’t know how empty the rooms feel without your presence, how your warmth that used to envelope me so tightly now leaves me with a frigid chill that no blanket can remedy. And despite my refusal to know the answers, I ask still, would you have cared, had I said anything? Do you care now, even after I’ve been lost to another world? A part of me wishes that perhaps you do.
This is all not to say that my love has changed. Yours, I know, has altered with time, has perhaps become jaded after so long of my consistency. However, consistent I will remain, if only for my own sake. I do, truly, love you just the same, the way I always have, fully, unquestionably. I fear, I always will love you this way.
And perhaps you will forget about me, move forward with your life and your work as if I were never here, a mere blip in the progression of your existence, designed to keep you occupied for a time when little else stole your interest. I hope, then, that I served my purpose well.
But as your memory fades, as you wipe away that last remaining part that could still care for me, know I will be alright, I will find my way.
Always, and forever yours,
Starlight
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Meet Joe Black
I’ve watched this movie a couple times now. To a detriment really. Or “perhaps” a detriment, lol. I’m not really sure...
Anyway, I bring that up to say it’s an interesting one. At least I think so. I’ve watched it knowing there’s a ton of people who don’t like it and/or think it’s slow and brooding.
I guess it is.
I’m no expert on these things.
Not yet at least lol.
Maybe one day...
But I don’t think that day is today.
Anyway. Moving on...
I guess to the privilege and understanding of scaling this film to your average classic romance film — it’s nothing like, say, a film like Casablanca or let’s say The Notebook or, even let’s weirdly say, I don’t know — On the Waterfront.
That to push the specific point of: this film is 3 hours for a reason. It’s complex. It’s contemplative. It’s mystic beyond words. And it’s uncontrollably introspective. That’s just what it is at it’s raw core. Take it or leave it.
Anyway, perhaps it’s introspective most in like, a scary, uncomfortable way maybe lol. Maybe. And that’s okay really — I think, lol. Like I said, lol — I’m not at ALL an expert on these things. But I don’t know; I think this film is a sensitive breath of fresh air.
Take a moment to understand that this movie is NOT about Joe Black. It’s not even about how Joe Black’s presence is effecting the people he’s interacting with.
This is film is about people and most of all, it’s about the things they don’t say to each other — especially behind each other’s backs. This movie is about the lies we tell.
I say that because every single character in this movie won’t admit how they really feel or own up to who they really are. They never tell the truth about what’s really going on until it’s too late — and even then, that’s not enough. Because like I said, the film is NOT about truth; it’s about lies. Everyone in every single one of these scenes lies to someone else to protect either their own ego or to avoid bruising someone else’s. Even Joe f*cking Black.
So much so, that perhaps, there’s an argument to be made that no one in the film changes fundamentally at all. And even THAT, would still be okay lol. The only difference that happens is everyone finally takes the time to listen to each other’s motives and honest hearts for the first time in forever. Bad or good. They hear or see the truth finally and accept things as they really are and maybe especially, have been. Joe kickstarts this process a little bit, but even then, everything that happens in this film apparently was going to happen regardless. Whether everyone in it would have been comfortable accepting that is probably more up in the air and in question to debate — at least to me.
As Joe tells the elder Islands woman earlier in the film — he really doesn’t have control over people’s fates. They often complain to him and curse him because they think he has that power — but he more often than not feels so power-LESS in taking souls to the next place — that he decided to take a break from his usual routines instead. That’s the whole reason he’s “vacationing” under the guise of this new character “Joe Black” alongside Bill Parrish’s demise. Joe is finally taking the time to have and find some peace; to examine his “function” and “purpose” in this universe he’s apparently supposed to be overlooking.
According to Joe, our “time” is set.
So really, the only thing Joe can control is how he FEELS about that being the case.
Much like everyone else in this film, Joe’s 3 hour journey is either accepting it happily or begrudgingly continuing to feel uncomfortable about it all.
So, again, to the point of everyone in this film lying to themselves and each other — Joe still lies about who he is or avoids telling everyone he’s Death incarnate lol.
At the end of the day, even when Susan catches a glimpse mentally or spiritually of who Joe truly is — the woman still doesn’t and can’t admit it out loud.
Susan didn’t fully love Drew. She knew that. She just didn’t know whether it was okay to FEEL okay about it or continue being uncomfortable with it. Bill knew it was time for him to step back from Parrish Communications anyway. He’s dying now. What he had to learn to accept was how this company that he so delicately fathered into inception would be able to run without him. Joke is, this was something Bill always worried and wondered about. He tells or at least implies this to Joe after one of the board meetings at the very least lol.
Bill obsessively has found himself concerned how his legacy would and will continue after his years, but has never acted on ensuring his values and morals would stay with the company SHOULD he ever be coup de tat’d.
The joke of “death and taxes” in the board room from Drew obviously culminates in the pun of Joe posing as an IRS Agent (another lie), but it’s all in service of getting Drew to truly understand how evil and disrespectful his actions toward Parrish Communications have been. Joe and Bill’s lie invoke him to speak about his true intentions to the Board — but in all reality, that’s something that should have been done from the start. Why? Because Drew openly admits and feels comfortable telling Quince his ulterior motives simply as power play and form of humiliation.
Quince in turn openly says he’ll expose Drew (which he ends up doing through encouragement by Joe — but in all reality — that fight and passion from Quince might have proceeded without Joe when you consider how much it was eating Quince up in the first place).
Really, Drew enjoyed doing what he was doing. It was wrong; but he liked it. Wealth and promotions were his own main personal values and concerns. But he wasn’t understanding the value of truth and honor that was embedded in the COMPANY he was trying to overturn. That’s why he lost Susan. That’s why he started to get on Bill’s bad side. That’s why the Board (regardless of agreeing with the invocation of the retirement article) was weary of Drew once he called the secret meeting.
We all tell lies.
But what we really should just get used to — is accepting the truth.
And if not that, we should learn to at least accept how we feel about those truths.
I don’t know.
Anyway, I say all that to say that the most honest person in this whole 3 hour film happens to be the elder black Islands lady from earlier in the hospital scene anyway lol.
Even the Joe that died at the top of this film was far more honest than anyone else proceeding him. So maybe both of those characters, original Joe and the elder woman.
But especially the elder woman...
Case and point, original Joe is who Susan mistakes and falls for anyway. And remember, both Original Joe and the Islands woman were people taken by the Death possessed Joe Black falsely, selfishly and uncomfortably before their “times.”
Don’t you remember...?
We know it was wrong that both Original Joe and the elder woman died because that’s why Joe gives Susan BACK her coffee shop boy and that’s why Death possessed Joe feels guilt after taking the Islands woman to “the next place.” Death Joe lied to Bill and said he would never and could never make exceptions — but he made one for the Island lady.
If Joe continuing to be childish and trying to play human wasn’t wrong — as the Islands lady put it — he wouldn’t have started acting out once he took her. Arguing with Bill, who started to have to continuously put Joe in his place for thinking he was some sort of giant who could play God. Because that’s the thing...
Joe isn’t God.
He’s just a piece of the puzzle beginning to not serve his natural purpose. And now? He’s throwing off the balance of himself and his surroundings selfishly by lying about it. He’s in the wrong. And now he knows it for sure by facing new negative human emotions he was never aware of before.
Sadness.
Loneliness.
Anger.
Love.
Guilt.
Joe can’t lie to himself the way he perhaps could without a human soul. Bill isn’t scared of him (which is unorthodox and intriguing to Joe) and neither is the Islands lady. For the first time in Joe Black’s existence — he’s beginning to understand who he is by admitting it to himself emotionally.
And like... isn’t that something we’re all supposed to be on this Earth doing?
Why is it that we don’t...?
...anyway...
I don’t know.
I watch this film for comfort these days. I’m still trying to figure out why, but I know part of it has to be because of how raw and honest it is.
Meet Joe Black is melancholy in an intriguing way too. But, outside the interesting performances and writing (at least, in my opinion), I’m very sensitive to enjoying how heartfelt the film is for trying to explore how we form and keep secrets.
I tend to enjoy sitting here watching a film like this for three hours. Has yet to be a moment I haven’t watched it all the way through if I catch it on television. Never matters how deep I happen to come by the film into the later or mid areas of it’s runtime either.
I just can’t seem to move out the room once it’s on the screen...
So, yeah. I could go into how I enjoy the performances or cinematography or writing. The lighting and ethereal-ness of it all too.
Could talk about what I don’t like as well...
But...
I feel all of those extra things would be WAY more tepid and uncouth in comparison to speaking strongly about how I feel that this film’s core makes me feel every so often. The vibe and soul of this film is something I feel far more comfortable codifying. At least right now maybe.
I’ll let you know in the future if that changes...
I really don’t know whether I want my love life to be like ones you see in Meet Joe Black. I’m not even sure if I feel comfortable lying in the insurmountable ways people do in Meet Joe Black either. But what I do know is that I’d feel far more comfortable in my life if I could be as transparent with people in and around my life — the way that Meet Joe Black would like it’s characters to try and be.
Anyway, stay safe out there or your mind might crack. I don’t want that to happen to you.
Hopefully, even if it does — and I’m really praying it won’t — there’ll be peanut butter somewhere in the vicinity for you.
And if there is peanut butter,
I hope you enjoy it...
...Thoroughly.
🥺🌹❤️😂🥰
#meet joe black#sadness#brad pitt#thomas newman#love#romance#death#melancholy#film#cinema#film review#cinema studies#sergeanthurtsbrigade
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find the strength, find the melody pt. 7
lmfao I love how I posted an update 2 days ago like “this fic will have sporadic posts! idk when they’re coming!” and then I spent the last two days writing this. when that insomnia inspiration hits ya gotta just go with it!
this chapter went in a completely different direction than I had planned on soooo yeah...honestly not sure where this is gonna end up! the characters from my OC novel that I’m loosely basing this story around didn’t have a connection before they ran into each other so when Julie gave me this I almost cut it because I genuinely wasn’t sure where it was going. I think I’ve almost figured it out and I’m pretty sure I know how this will end. and now we all get to laugh at me together because it’s definitely gonna be more than 3-4 chapters. it might even be more than 6. Luke’s POV will have roughly the same amount of chapters I think, possibly longer because boy oh boy does he have A LOT to say (most of it about Julie). fair warning: this one has an awkward cut off because of the way I need to set up the next chapter. sorry about that.
and now something I probably should be embarrassed to admit: I don’t remember writing the part where I managed to sneak an “I’ve Got The Music” reference in so now we know for sure this show has infiltrated my brain. it’s fine, I’m fine, at least I WILL BE WHEN WE GET A S2!!!! KENNY!!!! SAVE ME HERE!!! MAKE MY UNHINGED OBSESSIONS WORTH IT!!!!!
taglist: @blue-hat-girl, @lwhoscribbles, @bluefyoto94, @5sosmukefan, @moonlightxnder, @leahthewonder, @kat-maybe-not, @lukewearingbeanies, @imastrugglingartist
It was no small miracle that Julie made it through the afternoon without Ray asking for details about her supposed ‘plan’ to play with the Sunset Curve boys. She didn’t think she would have been able to pull off spinning a story quite as well as Luke had earlier. She had expected at least a small amount of interrogating about when she had started playing again, but apparently the news that she was playing at all, let alone with other people in front of an audience, was enough for Ray to ignore all of the other plot holes involved in this scheme. He seemed to have almost forgotten the meeting with Principal Lessa entirely, humming on the drive home, kissing her forehead and turning her loose to freak out alone in her room while he sat down to work on his computer in the dining room. Julie took full advantage of the time alone to restlessly pace her room and send Flynn a 911 text. Her bestie’s contact photo lit up the phone screen 30 seconds later.
“Okay, I’m hiding in the basement girl’s bathroom, so you’ve got exactly 5 minutes before I get too grossed out to stay here.”
Julie’s chest loosened at the sound of Flynn’s comforting voice. There wasn’t anyone else in the world that loved her the way Flynn did. It was reassuring and made it easy for Julie to let loose.
“Lessa told Dad about the music program and then You-Know-Who ambushed us outside of her office and basically forced me to agree to perform with them.”
“Voldemort was at Los Feliz?!”
Flynn’s gasp was overflowing with sarcasm.
“Flynn!” Julie whined. “Be serious! Luke showed up out of nowhere again! And he did the thing again! The charming his way into getting what he wants thing! And now I have to play with his freaking band! What the hell am I supposed to do?”
There was silence for a moment. When Flynn spoke again her voice was softer, more serious.
“You don’t have to play with them, Jules. You can tell them no, and they’ll have no choice but to respect that. The only person who can make you do anything is you. But...I kinda think you might want to play with them.”
“What?! No!”
Julie’s exclamation was a second late. Flynn didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. Julie sighed.
“Okay fine. There’s something about Luke that makes me want to play again. Are you happy? He gave mom’s song back to me when I thought it was lost forever. He’s the only person who’s heard me perform it, and he...no one else has ever made me feel that good about my music before.”
Julie thanked her lucky stars Flynn wasn’t in the room to see her blush. There was a long moment of contemplative silence on the other end of the line. When she spoke again, there was that extra note of take-no-shit in Flynn’s voice that made Julie sit up and really listen.
“I think you should give it a chance. Who knows, maybe this is some sort of sign from your mom. You said it was a miracle he would have even found that song in the first place. You said it felt like she was there with you when you were playing. Maybe she made sure it would find its way back to you when you were ready for it.”
Julie didn’t say anything, just worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Her heart beat a little faster in her chest. It had felt a little too perfect to be just a coincidence. The way Luke kept appearing in her life at the exact moments she needed him someone or something to help her keep moving forward. Flynn sighed.
“Look, I’m not saying it is your mom. But I’m not saying there’s not some kind of greater power out there that keeps pushing the two of you together. I think you should give it a chance. If nothing else, you can get back in the music program and we can bring Double Trouble to life in time for our Junior Showcase!”
Julie couldn’t help laughing. Her eyes felt misty, love for her best friend welling up in her heart.
“I never agreed to that name you know. But thanks, Flynn. I’ll think about it.”
“Good. Now. I gotta get the fuck out of this grimy ass bathroom. Love you, bye!”
Flynn waited for her to return the sentiment before hanging up. Julie flopped back on her bed, letting her breath out in a loud whoosh as she hit the comforter. A glance at her phone told her she only had a couple hours until Luke and the other boys would be out of school and on their way to her house. She tried her best to ignore the way that thought made her stomach roll with a type of nervousness she would rather not name. It was easier to blame it on nerves over playing with new people rather than nerves over playing with Luke. Except...now that she actually thought about it, she had played with Luke before. Her head spun, eyes fluttering shut as she remembered the one music class she had shared with Luke last year.
She had only been a freshman, stuck in a lowly Introduction to Composition class. It was supposed to be for new songwriters. Julie had a little more experience than the rest of the class, after all she’d been kind of composing with her mom for a few years now, so when it had been time to write a duet for their final big project she had gotten paired up with the classmate whose skill level most matched hers. It was supposed to be a way for them to challenge each other and grow as writers instead of one person doing most of the work. Julie had been paired with Luke.
He’d been a grumbly sophomore, held back for failing his last semester of Intro to Comp the year before. He had been stuck there only for the second semester, forced to double up between their class and his second year Composition class. Julie hadn’t been all that excited about partnering with him. He hadn’t really seemed to care about the class at all, and even though Julie also sometimes felt like it was holding her back a little bit, she never once voiced that thought. It was a privileged mindset, and Julie was well aware that she had an advantage over her classmates since her mother was a professional songwriter. Luke, on the other hand, had made it well known that he felt like he was wasting his time just waiting to get through the semester so he could move up to the Advanced Composition class that he felt he truly belonged in. Julie could usually do no more than roll her eyes in those moments.
It was true that Luke was talented. His guitar playing was impressive, his lyrics were heartfelt and sometimes even downright poetic. Julie just didn’t think anyone deserved specific things in life because they happened to be naturally talented at something. Their songwriting experience had been...interesting to say the least. And short. It had ended abruptly when Julie’s mother had died 5 days later. In the end, they’d only worked together for two 40-minute class periods before she had been lost in the fog of grief that consumed her in the weeks following the loss of her mom.
Julie shot up in bed, eyes wide. She didn’t even fully remember what had happened with the half-finished song they had been working on. Errant notes echoed in her head, like a song that had only existed in dreams until now. She absently wondered if Luke had held onto that as well. It was no wonder she had kept that particular memory suppressed all this time. That time in her life had been particularly painful. Luke had been gentle with her though. Almost all traces of his typical arrogance gone in the two short class periods they’d had to work together. He had kept things light, steering their songwriting in the direction of a rock ballad more than a true duet. Julie hadn’t minded. She had been floating through classes by then anyway, on edge every second she was away from her mom’s bedside. It had been easier to work on something that didn’t have as many sappy emotions attached to it.
She groaned, burying her face in her hands. No wonder Luke had been so sweet with her. He must have had a front row seat to her breakdown throughout the last year. She hadn’t even realized it. Had never before seen the way he watched her from a distance, checked in on her during class. She should have. Now that she was thinking about it, trying to identify every instance, she could name a million. How had she missed it for so long? How had he gone so long without saying anything? The Luke she remembered was terrible at keeping his mouth shut. He had always been ready to speak his mind, never afraid to start a discourse. It didn’t track that he had been holding himself back. Unless...it was more about her musical ability than anything else. She remembered now; Luke had been thrilled to partner with her for the duet. He had made some remark about how her sound was the perfect complement to his. Maybe he only cared about the ways they would mesh as songwriters. She could only hope that’s what his words had meant.
She felt more secure in her footing as a musician when it came to dealing with Luke than she ever had as a simple teenaged girl. If it was just about the music she could compartmentalize better, keep herself from getting too emotionally invested. Music had always been a safe zone, neutral. She breathed in and out deeply, remembering the technique Dr. Turner had taught her to slow her breathing and recenter her mind. She could do this. It was just about the music. They would play a song together, Julie would get back into the music program, and life would move forward much in the way it had before. Except Julie would actually participate in class this time. She had the music back in her soul, she wasn’t ever going to let it go again. On her next exhale, she heard the doorbell ring. Showtime. Julie zipped down the stairs, ripping open the door before her dad had a chance to get more than three feet away from his computer. Luke, Alex and Reggie all stumbled back a step as she tumbled outside, pulling the front door shut behind her. The three teenaged boys shared a look.
“Studio. Now.”
Julie raced down the path to her mom’s studio before they could react, not even waiting to see if they followed her. If they were smart, if they truly wanted to do this, they would. She hauled the garage doors open, only turning around when she had the piano at her back. The wood felt warm and solid, almost like she had her mom as a support behind her instead of an instrument. The boys appeared seconds later, Luke leading the way. He stopped a couple feet inside of the studio, studying her with wide open earnest eyes. She let out a deep breath. Reggie spoke up before she could get a word out.
“Woah, Julie, this studio is so cool! It’s like a tiny home! A musical tiny home in a botanical garden!!”
His green eyes were wide, expression awed as he spun to take in the space that Julie and her mom had spent countless hours turning into theirs.
“How did you get chairs on the ceiling?! Are you, like, a witch and a siren?!! Man, you and your mom must have made some serious magic in here.”
Luke’s arm shot out faster than lightening to backhand Reggie’s bicep. Reggie cringed away, a soft owww! just barely audible over the loud sigh Alex let out as he buried his face in his hands. Reggie shrugged, looking back and forth between his bandmates before giving Julie a confused yet apologetic glance. What had he said wrong this time? The giggle that bubbled out of her was as unexpected as it was welcomed. Warmth blazed in her heart, memories of the time she had spent in here with her mom washing over her with a kind of hazy bliss she hadn’t ever experienced before. She gazed at Reggie, letting that same feeling of motherly love from the night before fill her up. It was all she could do not to react to Luke’s jaw dropping when she gave Reggie a soft smile.
“We did. We made so much magic in here.”
The words were gentle and filled with a kind of genuine love that overshadowed all other feelings of awkward nervousness. Alex and Luke relaxed instantly, Reggie’s face losing all traces of uncertainty as he beamed at her with a smile so large it almost looked painful. Julie couldn’t help but let herself return it, just a little bit. The silence that settled between them was more comfortable, the tense moment from earlier broken. Julie studied the boys in front of her. She hadn’t ever thought of them as friends per se. They knew each other, would say hi if they encountered one another outside the walls of the high school, but at the same time, they didn’t actually know each other. Julie’s little run in with Luke the night before had made that painfully obvious. She wasn’t really sure what to make of them.
“Are you guys actually serious about this whole Showcase scheme? Did Luke even tell you about his dumb plan?”
“Hey! That plan is genius. Even your dad agreed. He seems pretty cool.”
Julie couldn’t help the fond way she rolled her eyes. Alex was quick to reassure her that they did, in fact, know about the plan.
“Not that I actually think it’s a particularly well thought out plan.” He stated with a lingering glare at Luke’s back.
The planner in question did his best to ignore the skeptical look on Julie’s face.
“Julie, you really don’t deserve to be out of the music program.” Reggie’s voice was soft and sincere. “You have the voice of an angel. If we can help convinced Ms. Harrison and Principal Lessa to give you your spot back it will be so worth it. And even if we don’t, it’ll be worth the looks on their faces when we rock the pants off that crowd!”
Julie laughed in spite of herself, slightly reassured even as she chewed nervously on her lip. Luke took a few bouncy steps forward, pulling her attention to him completely. His eyes locked on hers and she was sure she was drowning, throat tightening at the look he was giving her.
“You got this. I wouldn’t have come up with this idea if I didn’t believe it 100%.”
Honestly, that was what scared her the most about it.
“We don’t even have anything prepared.”
Her voice was barely a whisper, unsteady and wavering. Luke took a few more steps towards her, Reggie and Alex ghosting along silently a few feet behind him. Julie didn’t even notice, so laser focused on the brunette boy in the cut-up tank top in front of her. She watched his muscles flex as he reached into his back pocket, flicking out a piece of folded up paper in a move scarily reminiscent of when he had given her mom’s song back to her. He bit his lip, head ducking a little to be closer to hers as he unfolded the worn sheets of scrappy notebook paper. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, focusing on the messy handwriting in front of her.
“I thought you would say that.”
The smile on his face was so soft and sweet it should have been illegal.
“It’s called ‘Bright’. It’s a Sunset Curve song that we never performed because it’s missing something. Look,” his bare shoulder brushed hers as he shifted to point at the notes, warmth seeping through the thin material of her t-shirt, “it’s perfect for your range. I was thinking, if we add a little bit of piano here and here,” fire blazed a path up her arm as his fingers traced along the opening notes and chorus, forearm flexing against her own, bare skin brushing in teasing licks, “it’ll be perfect.”
Julie forced herself to focus on what he was saying, eyes roving across the paper. She hummed a little under her breath, hearing what he described in her head. His eyes lit up when he saw her get it, feet springing up and down as he dipped even closer towards her and started to sing.
We will rise, through the night
You and I
We will fight to shine together
Bright forever
His voice vibrated in her chest, the sound filling her with an emotion she couldn’t fully identify. Alex and Reggie bobbed along behind him, Reggie’s fingers plucking out the baseline on an invisible guitar while Alex nodded along to an unseen beat. Julie could envision the way the song would sound with a complete band, could practically see herself fitting seamlessly into the mix with her piano and vocals. She couldn’t help the smile that curved her lips as she joined in, reading the lyrics off of the page.
And rise through the night,
You and I
We will fight to shine together
“Go up high.”
Luke cut in, fingers twirling towards the ceiling. Julie automatically made the adjustment in notes to harmonize her voice with his for the last line, holding the final syllable for a beat longer than him.
Bright forever
“Yes!”
Luke’s arm pumped up and down, bicep flexing and distracting Julie momentarily. She dropped her head shyly, trying to hide her blush. When her cheeks cooled a moment later she looked back up at the boy in front of her. His eyes were glowing, smile stretched a mile wide as he stared at her. Unconditional belief in her was practically oozing from his pores. She felt her face soften as their eyes locked, giving him her own sweet smile that was meant just for the two of them. She thanked him with a gentle murmur, heart melting as he simply bit his lower lip and nodded.
A throat cleared in the background, and Julie was snapped out of their private bubble by the sound. Her entire face felt engulfed in flames as she looked over Luke’s shoulder to see Alex and Reggie still standing a few paces behind him. Reggie’s face was bright, his sunshine temperament back in full force. Alex was a little more guarded, but he was giving her an encouraging smile and there was cautious optimism swimming in his sage green eyes as he fiddled with one of his drumsticks. She inhaled deeply and let her breath out in one smooth exhale. The same sort of peacefulness from the night before settled over her.
“Okay. Okay, so we’re doing this.”
Luke’s whoop was so loud both her and Alex jumped. Reggie raced forward with a cheer to sling one arm around Luke’s shoulders and the other around Julie’s, pulling them so close to his chest that their noses nearly touched. Julie saw the blush staining Luke’s cheeks and felt her own warm to match. Alex coughed again.
“Reg, c’mon. Let it settle for just a sec before you go all human octopus on the poor girl.”
“Oh, right! Sorry, Jules!!”
Reggie released both of them quickly. Julie flicked her gaze between the three boys, enjoying the glimpses at their band dynamic. Alex’s words had sounded a bit exasperated, but there was a fondness running through them as well. He gave a half-hearted roll of his eyes at Reggie’s abrupt movements and reached his own long arm out to pull the dark-haired boy close.
“Help me unload the van? I still don’t trust our little Lukey boy with my kit.”
“Hey! That was one time!”
Luke sounded downright offended. The dark look Alex leveled at him in response had Julie choking back a laugh with a badly disguised cough. Clearly once of whatever he did was enough. Luke pouted, arms flexing as they crossed over his chest.
“You put your foot through my bass drum, and you think that isn’t reason enough not to trust you with it ever again?”
Luke sputtered, eyes flicking to Julie and back to Alex as his ears reddened.
“I told you I didn’t see it!”
“It’s the biggest part of the kit, dumbass. Literally the hardest thing to miss.”
Alex’s voice was as unimpressed as it was dismissive. Luke threw his hands in the air as the other boys headed out of the studio, laughing amongst themselves. It was clear this was a regular argument between the two, no heat or anger left in it, only a loving sort of tease. Like the way Carlos still brought up that time she accidentally gave him a concussion double-bouncing him off of their neighbor’s trampoline when he wanted something from her. Or the way her Tía would still laugh as she remembered the time her mom had almost gotten them both arrested for a bar fight on her 21st birthday, Ray affectionately filling in the parts that she tried to leave out. Warmth bloomed in her chest. This wasn’t just a band, wasn’t just a ragtag trio of friends. These guys were brothers. This was a family. And they were letting her into that intimate circle.
The thought was both humbling and nerve-wracking. This Showcase was a big deal. It wasn’t just some school assignment. This could impact their future as a band career-wise. They were all trusting her with this, fully believing in her, or at least, fully believing in Luke’s faith in her abilities. She wasn’t sure anyone had ever believed in her like that. Not anyone that hadn’t known her since she was in diapers. Her head swam, knees feeling a bit weak. She stumbled her way over to the couch, collapsing onto it with a barely audible huff. Luke was in front of her instantly, crouched down so they were face to face. His hands twitched in his lap, but he didn’t reach for her.
“Hey. Julie. Breathe.”
She sucked in a breath, zeroing in on nothing more than his face. After a few seconds she realized he was breathing in and out slowly, just loud enough for her to hear over the jumble of thoughts running amok in her brain. She matched her own inhales and exhales to his, the room slowly coming back into focus as her head cleared. He gave her one of those soft smiles she was starting to think of as hers.
“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. But I wouldn’t have stopped you in school if I didn’t think you were gonna rock it. I heard you last night. I listened to you for years before last night.”
His chin dropped in embarrassment for just a second before he pulled his gaze back up to hers. Julie felt like she was on the edge of a cliff. Not for the first time she wished she knew how long this version of Luke had been lurking under the surface. It took everything in her not to let herself step off that ledge and fall.
“Music is in your soul. It’s a part of you. Not everyone is like that, but you are. Your life without music...”
He tapered off like the thought was physically painful to him, eyebrows furrowing in a slight wince.
“Living without music would be like living in a world without stars: dark and empty and uninspired. You deserve galaxies, Julie. You deserve the chance to shine exactly like the star you are, and the world deserves the chance to hear you. Please, just...have a little faith?”
She saw it then. As he gazed at her with those bottomless ocean eyes, with that special smile on his lips and sincerity bleeding through every word, she knew. Luke was like her. Luke got it. In a way that no one else except her mom ever had. That’s what this was. They were kindred spirits, two sides of the same coin. And that feeling? The wind rushing through her hair and stealing her breath away while her limbs all turned to jelly feeling? That was definitely her falling head over heels off of the cliff and into Luke Patterson completely.
“Okay.”
She breathed out, and his answering smile set off the butterflies she thought had finally left her stomach. He stood up and held a hand out to her, easily pulling her to her feet in one smooth movement.
“You know,” his smile turned rueful, “eventually you’re gonna have to answer one of my questions with something other than ‘okay’. That’s a pretty passive word, and I’m not really a passive type of person. I wanna start hearing some ‘hell yeah’s and ‘awesome’s pretty soon.”
Julie rolled her eyes, moving away from Luke to set up her keyboard. He gave her a bouncy little shrug of his shoulders, and she let the levity of his joke wash over her, releasing the last bit of nerves. She could do this. Luke believed in her. Her mom believed in her. Hell, Alex and Reggie believed in her and she barely even knew them. She could do this, just like her mom had said.
Noise from the other boys making their way up the driveway had her rushing to pull both doors to the studio open so they could haul in Alex’s drum kit. The three of them left together to grab amps and guitars, Julie finishing the rest of the set up in the garage. Before she had time to overthink things or freak out again, they were all settled into their spots and Alex was counting down for their first run through. Fingers against the keys, Julie breathed out, opened her mouth, and began to play.
#love how I didn't even change the line where Luke calls her a star again#there is actually a user on here with a really intricate and fascinating siren/witch hybrid theory about Julie#that's what inspired that line#missmitchieg I am lookin at you#also have you noticed all the dumb ghosty puns and references I keep dropping?#it started as a little inside joke to myself and now I don't even realize I'm doing it#also also all of the little personal stories in this chapter have happened to me or my friends#personal easter eggs because I can't not leave lil bits of myself in everything I write#Mads writes#find the strength find the melody#julie and the phantoms#jatp#julie molina#luke patterson#juke#jukebox#julie and the phantoms fic#jatp fic#juke fic#palina#julie x luke#luke x julie
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Carla’s CL Route: A Shin Fan’s Thoughts and Feelings
I have such mixed feelings on this route but I’m going to try and relay them as articulately as I can. Obligatory warning, this post contains massive spoilers for CL (mainly Carla’s route but i’m going to mention some of the other routes too). Now without further ado:
Before I delve into any of the issues I had with this route, let’s start with what I liked. Firstly, I think it’s safe to say that Carla hands down deals with the situation the best after he gets his memories back compared to the other routes I’ve played (Shin’s, Shu’s and Laito’s) and I would be very surprised if any of the other characters are able to handle things as well as he did (although admittedly that’s partly because he’s just so much more powerful than everyone else). I did like that the writers were able to show off how capable he can be, while still bringing up stuff like how it isn’t good at cleaning or cooking.
I liked the plot point about Carla being able to live without Endzeit if they stayed in the miniature garden as I thought it was an interesting concept.
I found it very interesting that Subaru was the only other character to regain his memories in this route, especially given that Carla actually played a role in his LE route which wasn’t the case for any of the other Sakamaki brothers in LE. I can’t help but wonder if the writers have them as a brotp when considering that they were also paired together in the Versus IV CDs. Regardless, I did enjoy seeing their interactions in Carla’s CL route.
The scenes between Carla and Yui after Carla gets his memory back are great and I’m sure Carla fans will have a field day with them.
Now, lets move onto to the issues I personally have with this route.
Because Carla is shown to be so capable, I never really felt fearful for the characters. In contrast, in Shin, Shu and Laito’s routes they all had moments of genuine peril outside of the bad endings, which meant I felt really concerned and was drawn into the story. Carla’s route however, went something like this: Oh no, how are they going to deal with this unexpected development? Ah wait, he solved it in an instant, as expected of Carla I suppose. Oh no, how are they going to deal with this other unexpected situation? Ah no nevermind, he dealt with it right away again... and so on.
This might just be personal preference, but in my opinion if you really want people to get invested in a story, there needs to be some element of risk for the characters (even if you know there’s going to be a good ending). If you take that away, even though the fluffy bits with Carla and Yui were lovely, every time we got to one of the more plot-orientated parts of the story, I’d start to get invested only for there to be no pay off as there never really seemed to be much of a problem in the first place. This is why you have to be a bit careful when coming up with characters to make sure that they have some sort of weakness, otherwise the audience knows they’re going to be fine whatever.
Yes Carla is undoubtedly the strongest of the boys when Karl’s powers aren’t involved (and especially when Endzeit is removed from the picture) but I still feel like there should have been something. We came a little close with Shin getting close to being killed by the Scarlet family but Carla took care of it so easily that it just felt a bit... I don’t know, flat maybe?
And now onto my biggest bugbear of the route: how they handled things with Shin.
First things first, I am fully aware that I am incredibly biased here and Carla fans, you may see no issues with this route at all and honestly, good on you, I’m glad you enjoyed it, but hopefully after the end of this post you’ll at least understand why I was a little upset.
Things started off really well on this front, I loved the scene where Carla starts to remember things, Shin cuts his arm and then says that seeing Carla kneeling in front of him makes him feel frustrated for some reason. I was pleased when Carla and Yui went to rescue Shin (and by extension Ruki) when they were being attacked by the Scarlet family and the angst when Carla and Yui saw Shin treating Ruki as his big brother. But it then just... went nowhere (well in the Euphoria ending anyway, I’ll get onto that Labyrinth ending later).
The writers threw in some token lines from Shin in chapter 15 sure, but did he get his memories back before they returned to the real world? No. Did we get any sort of scene between Shin and Carla after Shin had gotten his memories back? No. In the route to achieve the Euphoria ending could Shin have stopped existing from about chapter 12 onwards and it wouldn’t have changed anything? Honestly, yes.
I genuinely don’t think this would have bothered me so much had it not been for two things: 1) how much of a big deal trying to return Carla’s memories was in Shin’s route (although I would never have really expected anything else) and 2) the fact that all of this Shin and Carla angst was dangled in front of my nose only for there to be no pay off whatsoever.
I know this route is meant to ultimately be about Carla and Yui, not Carla and Shin’s brotherly relationship but I can’t help but feel cheated that the little Carla and Shin content we did get never amounted to anything. There was no heated discussion/argument between the two of them, there was no exciting climax where Shin tried to kill Carla because he still had his fake memories. Hell, we didn’t even get a token scene at the end where the brothers finally both had their memories back; Shin was unconscious for the conversation with Socrates and then he never comes up again.
My main point here is that I don’t think it was a good decision to include all these bits about Shin being important to Carla and then to not do anything with it in the climax of the good ending.
I acknowledge that there was no big climax in Laito’s route with the triplets either but at the very least Kanato and Ayato got their memories back and made sure that Shu and Reiji didn’t kill Subaru while Laito and Yui were trying to find a way out of the miniature garden. Shin didn’t even do that much.
Now as for labyrinth ending, oh boy where do I even begin. Putting aside the fact that Shin getting infected with Endzeit is literally the one thing I never want to happen in the franchise, I wasn’t a fan of it at all. Part of my reason for not being a fan of this ending comes back to my point about Shin playing such a small role in the Euphoria ending version of chapter 15 that he could have been replaced by a mop and I don’t think anyone would have noticed.
However my biggest issue is that we get no information on what’s actually happened to him in that ending.
For anyone unfamiliar with that ending, in the Labyrinth version of chapter 15 Shin tries to kill Yui before they reach the church (as he still hasn’t got his memories back) but Carla protects her and gets stabbed. Shin gets covered in Carla’s blood and because his wounds from earlier in the route haven’t healed yet, they suspect he’s gotten infect with Endzeit. As a result, Yui and Carla decide to stay in the miniature garden where time is effectively frozen rather than return to the real world and have Shin potentially die from Endzeit.
The actual ending is just Yui and Carla talking about whether they’ve made the right decision. They say Shin hasn’t shown any signs of Endzeit but did he get his memory back? Are they just keeping him locked in the dungeons so he doesn’t try to murder them both? Who knows.
I can’t help but feel that it was very unfair to have Shin used as a bad ending plot device and then cut him out of that ending too.
Also I am calling complete bullshit on that line about Carla being able to suppress his symptoms. I get that Rejet are probably trying to hint to his DF ending where Yui’s blood is magically able to hold off Endzeit symptoms (which was retconed for LE but might be thing again now apparently?) but then why was there any hesitation from Yui over going back to the real world versus staying with Carla in the minature garden??? Like this makes no sense at all. Either Carla is dying from Endzeit or he isn’t, you can’t pick and choose within the route itself depending on what’s convenient.
Anyway I’m starting to rant which isn’t good, so I’ll bring an end to this post here.
Do I think the route has its good points? Yes, absolutely, I think Carla fans who enjoy his softer side will have a great time playing it. Do I personally have some very specific problems with it which are likely related to the identity of my favorite character? Again, yes.
Anyway I’d be interested to know if anyone agrees with me or if I am just a Shin-obsessed mad woman. I’m going to go and listen to one of Shin’s drama CDs or something while I go and calm down. Hope you’re having a good day and thanks for reading :)
#Deep sigh#I just#I just felt so done by the time I got a couple of lines into the labyrinth ending#normally I love bad endings but the absence of Shin in the good one made the labyrinth ending feel extraordinarily hollow#it's a shame because I was really looking forward to this route but to be honest I'm extraordinarily glad I didn't leave it for last now#as I think I would it would have meant I ended the game on a sour note#I do like Carla and I'm glad he was able to deal with things so well but...#yeah...#I hope I haven't upset anyone with this#like I said if you loved Carla's CL route and didn't see any problems with it#then please ignore my ramblings#I just really needed to write out my own thoughts#own post#cl spoilers
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Do you have any modern Zukka headcannons? Thanks for your hot awesome takes all the time
i’ve gone over some of these points before, so some of y’all may recognize the continuity of the atlahsaucu (atla highschool au cinematic universe). this is a long one, and it’s *gasps* chronological…
they first meet in junior year art class. sokka resents how well zuko can draw and paint seemingly without any effort whatsoever, meanwhile sokka tries really hard and all his art comes out like disgusting little blobs on the canvas. zuko resents sokka for being cool and hot. how dare he.
one day, they get a bit carried away, and sokka and suki start making out in the middle of the hallway. zuko, whose locker they are directly on top of and who has class at this very moment, is not amused, and he, politely as he can, coughs and request that they move out of the way. sokka merely holds up a finger as to say “one moment please” which enrages zuko (justly, tbh) and he yells, “what the fuck?!”
sokka’s like “man what’s your fucking problem why are you such an asshole and so good at art” and zuko’s just like “????” and “what in gods name are you talking about????” and the yelling causes a scene which lands them in detention. sokka has never gotten detention before (though he has gotten several warnings in the past, but it’s kinda hard to be mad at the guy whose girlfriend just died for being distracted in class) and he’s freaking out that this is gonna go on his record and he’ll never get into stanford or mit or princeton or– meanwhile zuko is just asleep at his desk.
once zuko wakes up, sokka, bored out of his mind, jokingly proposes that they sneak out through the vents and make a break for it, but zuko, either not understanding that sokka is joking or not caring that sokka is joking (it’s unclear which) is like “yeah we’d just have to be quiet.” sokka, who has now decided that zuko is batshit crazy, but has also decided that he is living on the wild side, a real bad boy rebel who’ll never make ivy league because he got detention that one time, is like “yeah okay” just because he spent a lot of time entertaining this hypothetical and now he’s deathly curious to see if it’ll work.
amazingly enough, it does. adrenaline carries them outside the building and into freedom as they run as far as their legs will carry them until sokka stops to panic that he is now a certified delinquent, and delinquents don’t get scholarships, and if he doesn’t go to a good school then he’ll never get a good job, and if he doesn’t get a good job then how is he gonna support gran gran?????? and zuko’s just like “wait, hold up.”
zuko admits that he fully thought sokka was some type of meathead jock who makes out with his girlfriend in the hallways and thinks he’s too cool for school and sokka’s like “she’s not my girlfriend and also what.” zuko is confused as to why he would make out with someone in the hallway if she wasn’t even his girlfriend. he also realizes that he doesn’t actually know his name. so sokka explains that yeah they’re in love and spend every waking moment together but no she’s not his girlfriend; he doesn’t do relationships and neither does she. and also he introduces himself.
and it takes zuko a moment because he’s really bad with names and faces and putting faces to names and, people, in general, but then he’s like “oh my god you’re that sokka.” and sokka’s just like “yeah i’m pretty sure my name’s not that common???” but zuko is just like “i think my sister is planning to murder you someday.” and sokka just slaps his forehead. of course art class asshole is related to debate class asshole.
only zuko’s not really an asshole he’s kinda just a weirdo. a quiet little freak who paints good. sokka can vibe with that. especially after zuko assures him that none of this will go on any sort of record whatsoever because bumi is old, and batshit, and senile, and clearly doesn’t give a fuck. sokka laughs, and this leads into them talking shit about everyone they both hate, which they realize are all the same people, somehow. seeing their own petty bitterness mirrored back at them, they realize that they’re kind of both snobs, but in a fun way.
they walk through town until it gets dark out, and then they go their separate ways. but next monday they sit together in art class, and their teacher yells at them to stop whispering. sokka is just drawing little triangles across the page because he’s just come from trig and he’s very sleepy and doesn’t really feel like feeling inadequate right now. but zuko’s like, “what are you drawing?” and sokka looks at the page of triangles he was unconsciously doodling and scoffs and says in an affect, “can’t you tell? it’s a cubist take on degas.” and this is the funniest shit to zuko. but of course he then gets yelled at for laughing.
they’re friends after that; they just are. sokka invites zuko to lunch with his friends, at which point zuko meets toph and suki, who are, of course, the fucking coolest.
azula sees zuko talk to sokka or suki occasionally in the halls and demands to know what it is they’re talking about. zuko’s like “i dont….. remember?” but azula is certain that they are only friends with him as a means of getting to her, because they desire to crush her. zuko’s like “i don’t even think they know your name.” indeed, they do not. but sokka does stop calling her “debate asshole” in favor of “zuko’s sister,” so that’s something.
the first time zuko goes to sokka’s house, it is because sokka insists on showing him both back to the future movies. (there is no third one it does not exist.) for reasons unknown to him, zuko is terrified. he wears his favorite sweater that day. it is near-identical to all his other sweaters. he doesn’t understand the first one at all. the second one he remarks “oh that was kind of like hamlet.” that makes sokka really happy. at some point zuko goes to get a glass of water and sokka yells from the couch to bring him back a popsicle from the freezer while he’s at it. zuko complies, but he takes it just before katara goes to get one. he nonchalantly tells her that it was the last one, and she makes a very big show of throwing the box out. she fumes all night that sokka let that rude little bitch into her house. sokka pays her no mind.
mai and zuko are still together at this point, and because mai is dropping hints big enough to pierce through even zuko’s thick skull that she’s feeling left behind in favor of zuko’s new friends, he asks them if it’s cool that she join them for stuff. they’re all like “yeah of course” and mai pretends not to care. they all like mai, especially toph, but all agree that her relationship with zuko is super weird. toph and mai become super tight, and it’s clear as day to toph that mai is in love with ty lee, even if mai is not fully aware of this fact herself. suki, who has been secretly hooking up with ty lee this whole time (don’t worry, sokka knows, and he high-fives her whenever she brags about it), is just like “oh noooooo……” toph insists to mai that she dump zuko, and without mentioning ty lee once, is able to convince her of it just by reminding her that zuko is a super inattentive boyfriend and she deserves better. she does. zuko feels sort of…relieved? he doesn’t know why. he loves mai. he really does. but it’s also like a weight has been taken off his shoulders.
zuko doesn’t really know what to do about the fact that his sister is serial-killer level obsessed with sokka, other than try to ignore it. azula is always attempting to pry information out of him because they seem to be, at the very least, casual acquaintances so he must have some leverage by now, right??? she is never allowed to know that he knows where sokka lives, because he is afraid that one night sokka will simply find her hiding in the bushes with binoculars searching for any sign of academic struggle. sokka is blissfully unaware to most of these shenanigans. to him, she is like a buzzing fly occasionally hovering around his face.
that summer, they divide their time between working on college applications and going to the park together to just sit and read. it’s literally the most fun zuko can ever remember having.
english was always sokka’s worst subject because he is terrible at organizing his thoughts coherently and always ends up going on little tangents about the origins of butter churning or digital watches in a paper that was supposed to be about sense & sensibility, but his teachers are usually charmed enough by him that they see his essays as a fun challenge instead of a giant red X. but pakku loathes sokka. and he loathes his sister, whom he had taught the previous year. sokka complains to katara about it, and she just goes on a rant about how horrible and boring and bitter and raggedy he is. but sokka, who, unlike katara, desperately wants to be liked by everyone, feels the need to prove himself.
he goes to the best english student he knows. “hey, you’re really good at english, right?” he asks zuko, to which zuko responds, “i should hope so. it is my first language.” it is unclear whether or not zuko is being facetious or just very perplexed, but sokka laughs anyway. he pleads for zuko to “tutor him” and zuko’s like “but you have all A’s?” he agrees anyway, of course. zuko spends a lot of time on jstor, so he know how to write good. he helps sokka outline his essays in a way that works for him, but mostly it’s just an excuse for them to hang out and eat snacks. at this point, katara likes him and does not mind the fact that he is in her house, eating her food. she walks past the kitchen to be like “what u guys up to? oh, nerd shit?”
sokka and mai accept to the same college, and zuko isn’t sure why he feels so weird about that. they’re gonna be in completely parts of the country, only sokka and mai will see each other all the time, especially because they’re bound to be in some of the same classes together, knowing them, and that’s just weird. like, yeah, they’re friends, and yes, he might be semi-aware of the fact that they hang out without him, like, all the time, but this is different. this is weird. zuko asks mai if she thinks it’s weird and she just raises one eyebrow and goes, “no???” and zuko’s like “oh..okay..”
they don’t see each other all that much in those four years, but they’re always taking pictures of ridiculous passages from the books they’re currently reading and sending them to each other, because they just can’t kick the habit. they both learn a lot in college. sokka takes as many classes as humanly possible. zuko changes his major a lot. toph doesn’t go to school there, but she moves in with sokka once she graduates. zuko learns a lot about himself.
once sokka graduates, he and toph decide to get an apartment in a different city. sokka asks zuko what his plans are once he graduates and zuko’s like “bruh, like i’ve ever planned for anything in my life” so when sokka’s like “wanna be our third roommate” it’s a no-brainer.
sokka picks zuko up from the train station, and zuko is just so overwhelmed by the casual thoughtfulness of the gesture that he instinctively just kisses him, in the middle of the station. zuko is mortified for a brief moment but then sokka is just like “cool.” (sokka later inwardly laments saying “cool.” who says that?? what, is he abed from community???)
sokka tells zuko “just fyi, i don’t do relationships” and zuko is like “yeah, i know, you say that literally every day” but then toph slaps him (”sorryyyyy that was an accident” “no it wasn’t!”) and tells him to get his shit together. so sokka goes to zuko and says, “this may sound insane, but i think i’m afraid that if i love someone, they’ll die” and zuko’s like “oh. i’m afraid of that too.” and that makes it somewhat easier.
ever since mai made them watch over the garden wall, they’ve really wanted frogs so that they could name them after the discarded jason funderburker names. they get their frog terrarium and it’s glorious.
zuko has always wanted a cat, but he knows how sokka feels about cats so he does not bring it up. but one day, as he’s walking down the street, he stumbles across a little black kitten in the cold, shivering, limping, and missing one ear. he drops whatever it is he’s doing at the moment to bundle it up in his scarf and take it to the nearest vet clinic. the kitten is so indebted to him that he physically does not have the willpower to let it go anywhere else but home with him.
it really doesn’t take much convincing at all for sokka to agree to keep jiji (yes, zuko is just incapable of not naming his pets after fictional characters) especially because toph threatens to kill herself if he doesn’t. sokka is just like “woah there calm down you guys. we can keep the cat.” and theyre like “yay sokka youre the best!!!” and he’s just like “oh my god did you think i was gonna make you get rid of this tiny kitten with only one ear.”
zuko has a face for telemarketing. he also does some freelance writing. toph gives sokka very sound legal advice in regards to how to patent all the weird yet supremely useful inventions he keeps stumbling onto. after all, after tim cook offered him $$$ in exchange for that microchip he designed, he sort of doesn’t need a steady job. toph is really good at bullshitting rich people so she makes way more money than she should with those creepy statues of hers. they recognize how unstable their sources of income are, but sokka is really good with finances, so it works out somehow. when katara comes to visit them she complains that sokka has joined the 1% and is hoarding his wealth like the capitalist swine he is. sokka’s just like “katara did you only come visit me because you need money?” and katara’s like “well i won’t lie, so – yes.”
sokka eventually convinces zuko to go to grad school. naturally, zuko thrives there. sometimes zuko will wake up at 3 am and sokka will very intently find him writing the word “nihil” in a notebook and sokka’s like “what’s up” and zuko’s like “NOTHING.” and then proceeds to be like “don’t you see??? there’s no declension!!! everything makes sense now!!!!!!!!!” and rambles on and on incoherently. sokka’s like “oh god i just realized this is how i sound to everyone all the time.”
sokka takes zuko to the worst plays he can find, and then they sit in a 24 hour diner while zuko rants about everything wrong with said play. sometimes he even takes notes. this becomes a weekly tradition.
zuko reads sokka’s shelved manuscript on the history of cartography and helps him whittle it down to only 400 pages. he’s not a very harsh editor, but he did cut the thing by 150%, so that’s a start.
zuko teaches sokka how to paint.
#this has been in our askbox for over two weeks so sorry about THAT#but it happened to coincide with zukkaweek so i think thats fun for us#sokka#zuko#sokkaxzuko#modern au#asks#anon
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From the Children
( @mightybluephoenix i’m so sorry this took so long love i just didn’t know how to do shay :( I hope this is enough to make up for it and I captured his essence!)
Read on Ao3!
Things were different, Shay realized as he stepped into the Colonial Kenway manor. Not very much so; nothing was askew, or torn apart, no entry was forced in a way to cause suspicion. But in his lifetime -- two lifetimes, it seemed -- of training, he could sense a foul mood permeating the air.
He had only meant to step in and report on his success with locating the precursor artifacts with the Grandmaster, but this took precedence as he began to slowly search his surroundings. He found one of the maids hard at work, dusting what seemed to already be a fully polished desk, and she only jumped a bit as he came up behind her.
“Ah, Master Cormac, forgive me.”
“It’s quite alright. Mary Anne... Is the Grandmaster in?”
“He’s currently in a meeting with some important folk. I didn’t ask. You’re welcome to wait for him if you like, sir.”
“I will, thank you. But... What’s happened in my absence? I was only gone a month and it’s as if we’ve already entered mourning.”
At his question, she hesitated. The old lady finally took a breath and haltingly explained. “The master... brought back someone.”
“Someone?”
Her eyes darted away to something behind him and he turned to notice the closet door ajar just a bit. It wasn’t very big, only an odd closet meant to store boots and muddy clothes. It almost filled him with unease until he looked back at her and gave a slight bow.
“Thank you.”
She nodded and curtsied back before taking her leave, seemingly not wanting to be in the room anymore with whatever waited. He didn’t blame her, but he was curious enough to decide to take another look as he crept closer. Was it an Assassin caught on a mission? An informant? Someone from his old life? His hand rested on the knob and he took a minute before opening it quickly.
“Leave me alone.” Was what greeted him, the voice coming from seemingly nowhere until he looked downwards at the floor. There, huddled up with crossed arms, was a young boy. His dark brown eyes were fixed in a glare at his apparent intruder, with anger and pain Shay hadn’t seen on a child that young -- was he four? Five? -- in his life. He was actually brought into shock for a second until the boy spoke again. “What do you want?”
“Forgive me.” Shay found himself actually apologizing to the fiery boy, and got over his shock enough to crouch down and get eye-level with the child. “I... Wasn’t expecting to make your acquaintance.”
“I did not want to make yours.”
The more he inspected him, he realized a few things. One, the boy was a Native, clear in his face and the deerskin clothes he wore. Two, he spoke English almost fluently, even if the words seemed to not fit in his mouth correctly. And three, in his brow and eyes and nose and the set of his jaw... He looked just like the Grandmaster. He had been aware of his dealings in the Colonies before Shay had been recruited, and even after. But he had never mentioned anything about fathering a child.
“Your father... is he Haytham?”
Another dark look overtook the boy’s eyes and he looked down. “He found me and took me here.”
“What of your mother?”
Silence. Shay realized with a pang of his heart, the heart he thought had died a while ago, that he had been a victim of humanity as much as those in Lisbon. He might have been displaced by infighting, or some other outside forces. But he felt for him in a way he hadn’t expected.
“I’m sorry.”
“Hmm.”
“My name is Shay Cormac.”
Again, a breath of silence, and then, “Ratonhnhaké:ton.”
He seemed unwilling to say much more, and Shay decided to leave him to it. “I’ll see you eventually.” He remarked, earning a barely-there nod from the boy before standing and closing the closet door, leaving it ajar.
-----
“Your son seems… interesting.”
“You met him, then.” Haytham didn’t even look up from where he hunched over the table with his maps of the Colonies and the Caribbean. Various markers of different troops and factions dotted it, a map of progress. The Assassins were virtually extinct, Shay noticed with a grim satisfaction. Achilles would be hobbled, both physically and in terms of manpower.
“Just for a minute. He was renting the room in your mud closet.”
“He’s been there for the past week. Barely says a word, or pretends he can’t speak. I leave food out for him, but all attempts to bring him into the fold are generally rejected. Attempting to teach him anything yet would be disastrous.”
“Yes, I can guess that,” Shay remarked, unsure where to go from there. No doubt the boy was to be the intended Grand Master of the Colonial Rite when Haytham ate dirt. Shay might even be dead by the time that happened. Still… to talk to him might do good. Bring him over a bit gently to the right side. “May I stay a few days before setting out? I only have a half-baked lead for now. Perhaps I can… talk to the lad. He has questions, perhaps I can answer.”
Haytham finally looked over at him and judged Shay, scrutinized him in a way that made the Irishman feel as though he was being picked apart bone by bone. He must have passed the silent test since Haytham nodded his approval.
“Fine. I don’t know how much luck you’ll have. Yes, yes, Shay. You make your own.”
A bit of embarrassed heat overtook Shay’s face until the Grandmaster allowed him to leave.
-----
“You are still here.”
“And I thought you would be sent to bed, lad.”
“I want to stay up. I can not sleep here. It is… too quiet.”
“I think I understand.”
-----
He didn’t so much as make an acquaintance with the boy, rather the boy would pester him as a child was wont to do and Shay would indulge him. There were times when his visits, which were still infrequent, were actually welcomed. Ratonhnhaké:ton was still wary at best, but gradually every time he came by something about him had changed. Not evenso often in physical ways, such as height, but in mannerisms and personality. He had a black and white way of viewing the world, deeming who was right and wrong simply from meeting them.
Shay knew it was good he had been viewed favorably since he saw what had happened when Ratonhnhaké:ton met the others; when Charles Lee came to deliver an update on shipments flowing in and out, the child had run out the house; they found him later in a cart of leaves just outside the front door. Shay found him later that night, in his actual bed.
“Father says Charles Lee did not kill my mother.”
“I don’t think Charles would.”
“I do not believe it. He hurt me. He has hurt others before. I know it.”
What else could Shay have done but sit nearby until Ratonhnhaké:ton fell asleep?
-----
“You’re going to need a European name if you’re to go out.”
“Not needed. My own name is fine.”
“The colonists won’t take too kindly to your real name, Ratonhnhaké:ton, I can promise you that.”
“You understand it.”
“I’ve also known you for three years.”
“Then do you ‘know’ my new name?”
A moment of consideration.
“Connor. It’s… a strong name. A good name.”
“Fine.”
-----
Connor was thirteen when the question came up.
“Is your boat big?”
Shay was expecting him to speak, having noticed him standing in the doorway for a while, but wasn’t expecting the question.
“It’s a ship, Connor, not a boat. There’s a difference.”
“Fine then. Is your ‘ship’ big?”
“The Morrigan is small and old-fashioned compared to most. But she’s loyal, and strong.”
Connor’s brow furrowed in confusion, as it often did when he thought people weren’t making sense. “She?”
“You call your ships ‘She’.”
“But why?”
“I could ask the same on why you’re so obsessed about her.” Shay finished buckling on his swords as he turned to look at Connor. He glanced away for a second before straightening up and looking the Templar in the eye.
“I want to see it- Her. I have never been to the sea. Take me there.” Shay gave a little chuckle, and Connor had the right to look offended. “I’m not joking-”
“I know you’re not, Connor, don’t worry. I can see you have that determination. Which is good for a prospective sea captain. But I can’t exactly drag your happy arse to the sea for a few months.”
“My father said it was fine. Yes, really.”
If Haytham was actually sending Connor out, then he either very much trusted Shay with his only child -- which the hunter thought was the greatest moment of his Templar existence, in honesty -- or he very much had had enough of Connor’s attitude and needed him gone for some silence. But both were acceptable. It wasn’t like Connor was one to lie, either.
“If he did-”
“He did-”
“Then pack your sack and be ready for the walk to the harbor.”
A rare, but genuine smile overtook his face as he gave a quick nod and almost hurried away to get ready.
The trip wasn’t that long, they reached the harbor in less than half the hour where The Morrigan was docked. Even only having been away from her for less than a day, Shay felt a part of him start to come back to life at the thought of being at her wheel again, for any reason. The deal they had was that Connor was still to train with his sword as he had been with his father for a few hours every night, but he was to stay back if they encountered any dangers. Haytham might have trusted the Templar with his son, but there was no guarantee of anything positive should the boy come back harmed… Or not at all.
Connor stepped onto the deck hesitantly, getting a feel for the rock of the boat as Shay had seen so many other sailors do before, and he couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit of pride start to overtake him at the thought of seeing him on the deck of a ship more often. Shay’s ship, all the better. He gestured for Connor to come up near the wheel and gave the order to set out; the water was calm and the wind fair in the late afternoon.
“What do you think, Connor?” Shay asked as they pulled out of the harbor and into the Atlantic. He held a nervous tension in his body from all the sights and sounds of the shouting crew, but it seemed to mellow out as they continued.
“It is wonderful. Father’s maps show most of the world is like this. However, I hadn’t pictured it to be so big.” He looked in front at the open water and back at the coast of the mainland. “I thought we would be closer to England than this.”
Shay felt a smile tug at his lips. “England is far away, much too far from here to take you. We’re going South to the Caribbean. It’s much shorter of a distance.” The boy nodded his understanding and continued to look out at the sea, a sort of faraway look in his eye. Shay left him to it and looked ahead to the ocean.
-----
He hadn’t expected the weather to shift the next morning; not too violent seas, but a drop in the temperature uncharacteristic of the late spring in this part of the world. He was used to it, the thick red and black robe warming him constantly, but one look at Connor showed that he hadn’t expected it. He had left his more familiar clothes back at the manor, instead donning one of the hated “colonizer robes” his father had had made for him. The cotton was fine, but he had nothing to guard his face or hands. Without much thinking, Shay took off his fine leather gloves and handed them over.
“Your hands are cold. Let me help.” He added on as Connor opened his mouth to likely refuse them. He watched with some satisfaction as the boy reluctantly took them and slipped them on. Perhaps it was because of this that he said something he never thought he would. “Want to try and captain?”
The other’s eyes widened a bit in muted surprise. “It would… be interesting.” He eventually agreed, and Shay realized he couldn’t back down after a reaction such as that. He moved aside, a hand still on one of the spokes of the wheel, and Connor took his place. His head was just enough above the wheel that he could see what was going on, and he dutifully placed his hands where instructed. Shay let go after some minutes of instruction and stood close by the young man’s side.
“Seems she’s all yours, Kenway.”
“She.” Connor nodded in agreement.
-----
The trip was fine going down South. Things became warmer after they passed Virginia, and after a day or so were in Havana. Of course, with things going well, Shay should’ve known that things wouldn’t be good forever, that tragedy was meant to follow wherever he went no matter how he might silently rage about it, how much he might want to curse any God listening. He thought he was over this, thought that nothing could get to him damn it damn it-
He walked into the cave with what turned to be a false lead and left it with a wound in his leg and a few dead bodies left behind. His search for the Precursor box was back at the start; with nothing to show for it. He didn’t know what had made his crew back away as he walked on the gangplank; perhaps it was the blood he has hastily tried to patch up. Perhaps it was the dark expression he knew he carried. Perhaps… Perhaps it was simply him. Like they knew what he had done.
Which, some of them knew him. But not most of them.
Connor was forced to stay behind, a fact which he greatly resented, making sure people knew that fact, and Shay knew he had left him in good hands. Now he looked… worried, almost. Alarmed. It wasn’t an emotion Connor seemed to feel often, or if he did, he hid it quite well. But now it was almost full force as Shay leaned on the front rail with a sigh of relief, weight taken off his leg at least a bit.
“You’re hurt.”
“Smart boy.” Shay somewhat groaned at the obvious statement, but Connor was unperturbed as he kneeled down to grab the man’s leg. “Connor-!”
“The wound might get infected-”
“Connor I swear-”
“A doctor said we need to look at it immediately if it does-”
“It’s just a scratch! Leave off!” Shay shouted, and Connor quickly stood up out of some sort of fright. Shay realized what he did and all annoyance and shame melted out of him. He had never shouted at Connor, never. Even on his worst days, he hadn’t thought to get angry with the one who was so silently eager to please, to help, no matter how much he might hide it or profess his hatred. It watered down and smothered the fire of his anger. He almost said sorry before realizing the words were tight in his throat, silence lingering.
Without saying anything, hoping the gesture would be obvious, he sat down near the wheel and hoped Connor would get the message. Relief passed through him as he mirrored the gesture, opting to rip the Templar’s pants on the back of his thigh to get a better look at the stab wound. The positioning was a little awkward, and shay silently swore to never find himself in this situation again, but he bit his tongue as Connor started to look at the wound and do what little basics of medicine he knew.
“Why did you not go to the doctor?”
“Hadn’t the money on me for it. Besides, most of them wouldn’t take too kindly to a man showing up with a wound on his leg and blood spattering his clothes.”
Connor gave a small nod and quickly hurried away to get some saltwater on a clean rag, hoping to use it to clean the wound. It burned, but Shay hardly jolted as they continued to patch it up. Connor was tying a piece of a bandana around the leg when he spoke again.
“What happened?”
“Some Assassins. They decided to try and ambush me after feeding me false information. Fought them off and won, but they left me a token to remember them by.”
“Are you all right?”
“You patched me up pretty fine, from what I can feel. Have to hurry to a more reputable place in the morning, but this should work for some time.”
“Are you all right?”
“Didn’t hear me the first time?” Shay tried not to shoot back too harshly as he rolled over with a concealed wince to look at the young man. He saw nothing but earnestness, and a hint of compassion, in his eyes, and through his whole body, and Shay realized what Connor really wanted to know. He sucked in a deep breath and decided he owed it from his outburst earlier to be more honest.
“Things shouldn’t affect me as much now as they used to.” He admitted, staring a place in the wood where a knot had been sawed off and left behind a twisted look. “In the new life I’ve chosen, Connor, I’ve left behind one that… I will never fully escape, no matter how much I might want to. Shadows will always follow me, and those shadows will always have daggers on their wrists and… I don’t regret my new world. But… It will always still be there.” Traitor, hunter, words spoken by those he used to consider his brothers and sisters, now aimed with viciousness by those who didn’t understand. “Forget it-”
He felt a slow onset of warmth and realized that he was wrapped in a loose hug… by Connor. Connor, as a rule, never let anyone touch him. A hand on the shoulder by an associate was likely to be shrugged off. A pat on the back, even born of pride, was to be met with a warning glare. In truth, Shay once again felt as though he was to say something, but it started to get stuck in his throat. The hug was over almost as soon as it began, and he couldn’t help but look to Connor in complete question. The teen didn’t look him in the eyes and quickly stood.
“You needed a hug.” He mumbled and stepped away, seemingly ready to move on as he left for the wheel. “Would you like to sail? Or should I?”
Shay considered everything, looked out at the horizon and the full moon, felt the breeze startup. He turned to an expectant Connor and finally stood.
“Just until we get out of port. I don’t want to stay in this country longer than need be.”
“Fair.”
Shay leaned against the posts to the side, watching Connor as he carefully but firmly instructed the surprised crew, who knew better than to say anything. He allowed himself to relax and keep the weight off his injured leg, and for the first time truly allowed someone to captain his ship.
Connor Kenway would be a fine Captain, someday.
Let me know what you think! This is a different style than I’m used to, but I think I like it. If you did like it, I have a Masterpost here and more ideas for writings and prompts here, so feel free to request! If you’d like to support me, I have a ko-fi here! Safety and peace!
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A new project.
Because the first one wasn’t working.
Writing journey #3.
Tue 30/03/2021 - ‘Bay Tree’ Word Count: 42,150
07.27 Hello! So I established in my last writing update that I was taking a break from my WIP ‘Bay Tree’, to return May 10th, and even though I’m not writing today, I just wanted to say that taking a break feels amazing. I’m focusing on reading (granted, I’ve been reading House of Earth and Blood for like two weeks) and it’s really helping ideas for edits develop.
In my draft, I got to chapter 13 (I think) of twenty-something (because I didn’t fully outline the climax, so I’m unclear as to how many chapters there will ultimately be) but I just don’t think I can get all the way through a draft without first doing some developmental edits. So, for the next few weeks, I’m going to note the changes I think I could make, then figure out which ones I won’t implement, then how I will implement the others on May 10th.
In the meantime, this Thursday, I’m going to start working on a new WIP, which I have quite a clear idea for, but obviously need to develop the plot. So that’s it for today, and I’ll update again for my new project on Thursday April 1st.
Thu 01/04/2021
09.54 It is Thursday! I’m free for a couple weeks! Which means it’s time to start working on a new project. My goal for the day is just to compile some of the various ideas I have into something vaguely cohesive, then I’ll develop it tomorrow, and hopefully make a skeletal outline on Saturday, scene block on Sunday... I’m going to shut up before I set myself a thousand insane deadlines, but I’d like to have started a draft by the end of my free time. So, let’s go.
Wow. Blank documents really are intimidating, aren’t they?
13.04 I already had my core concept, but now I have almost a justification for it--why it happens, and I think I want to build up my world first, then characters, because knowing the world and its various peoples will allow me to figure out how exactly they fit in and develop their motivations, then finally do the plot. I’ll only work out the three characters I’m currently certain will be integral for the plot, because I don’t want to waste time on developing characters who are ultimately unnecessary, like I did in the earliest days of Bay Tree.
Basically, with a world, I can work out motivations; with motivations, I can work out characters, and with characters, I can create a character-driven plot. I want to focus on creating both lovable characters and a memorable plot--I know all my favourite books have memorable characters, but the ones I enjoy the absolute most are the ones where it doesn’t feel like the plot only exists to drive the characters into relationships (I’m looking at you, Cassandra Clare. Seriously, I love Shadowhunters books, but the technically ‘main’ plots always feel second to the subplots).
Fri 02/04/2021
08.16 Honestly, didn’t get too much done yesterday. Mostly because I ended up down a rabbit hole of researching (though I do think what I learned will help me to form my world), and I was busier than I expected to be. Regardless, I think I want to make this a series. I have a feeling Bay Tree is also going to become at least two books when I revisit it, but I’m going to go into this one with that intention.
Obviously I don’t know how long it will be right now, but I think I’m going to aim for three books, then let it shape itself.
12.25 I just spent an hour writing out a history of the world and how it got to where it is. This is really fun, but really intense.
16.36 So, I have a rough plot in mind. I have an ending, a catalyst, a backstory for the world, and a few characters. And a lot of things that need names. I waited a really long time to name my characters in Bay Tree, thinking they’d be easier to name when I had then conceptualised, which makes sense, but I’d given them numbers with which to refer to them until that point, so it was a long time before my protagonist became her actual name instead of just ‘3′, despite the fact she technically became 2 because I had to cut 1.
Anyway, going to pick names, then let nominative determinism do its thing.
Jesus, I have no good male names. I keep a list of names, first and last, I like for use, but I have so many more female ones than I do male.
In Bay Tree, I used MBTIs as a starting point for personalities, which I’m planning to do here, especially since I know the types so much better now, but I want names first.
Maybe I just ought to choose this specific character’s surname first. Maybe he goes by his surname, or some variation thereupon (like how Daniel Arlington from Ninth House goes by Darlington).
Maybe he doesn’t need a name. Maybe we literally just call him Hero Guy.
God, screw this. He’s Hero Guy until either it comes to me, or I have no choice but to name him.
Sat 03/04/2021
11.15 I feel like crap today. I’ve been doing nothing for three hours, and I, quite frankly, need to get something done. So I’m going to write.
12.41 Wow, initial development really is the hardest bit of the process, huh?
Sun 04/04/2021
08.04 I’d really like to do more worldbuilding first, and character development, but it’s difficult when I don’t know the different parts’ roles. So, today, I’m going to attempt to outline the primary plot points of the three books. Attempt being the operative word here.
13.41 Honestly, yeah, I’m struggling with the plot. I think I managed to get Bay Tree’s plot so fast when I sat down to actually write it because it had been on my brain for a couple weeks, whereas I literally started this project three days ago.
Maybe that’s how I’ll handle this--when I hit a wall with one project, I work on the other to give myself some distance. Working on Bay Tree requires less thought anyway, because that plot’s already mostly figured out. Yeah. I think I’m going to revisit Bay Tree, but for reference’s sake, I’m going to dub the new project... eh... the first thing that came to mind was ‘Feather President’ which is more related to the actual content than ‘Bay Tree’, but it sounds so much crazier. I want to dub it something that actually could be a title, even if it definitely won’t be the final title, because I don’t want people to look at my blog, see ‘Feather President’ in the pinned post and immediately assume I’m insane.
Could always just use an acronym. Let’s go with FSB; those are one of the character’s (also the only character who so far has a name) initials, which may ultimately change, but it works for now. Bay Tree and FSB.
I’m going to end this particular writing stint here and come back in a couple hours, at which point I’m going to switch back to Bay Tree.
I should really stop planning so far ahead when my plans will inevitably change.
15.40 So here’s the plan I currently have that I definitely won’t stick to: at the start of each week, I’ll determine which project I work on (operating Monday-Sunday; if you think the week starts any day but Monday, you’re wrong, and I’m not sorry), and only work on that project throughout the week. So I’ll work on Bay Tree this week, and FSB next week.
I’m going to let myself work on a project for more than one week at a time, but I think I’m going to say I can only work on one for three consecutive weeks before I have to switch to the other. This seems like a good way to stay excited. Yes.
This second? Not completely sure. Might just go read and deal with it tomorrow.
Mon 05/04/2021 - ‘Bay Tree’
11.37 Actually really glad I just sat down and read--I read about 200 pages yesterday in total, which meant I could easily finish the last 100 pages this morning. So I finished Starsight (the recent reads post will probably be up by the time this one is)--was anyone aware the A Court of Silver Flames paperback is £24 on Amazon? Anyone?
Anyway, we’re returning to Bay Tree today, after nearly two weeks (I know that’s not even long), and I’m going to attempt to implement my edits, by which I mean I’m going to put scene changes at the bottom in brackets, then technically implement them when I redraft.
Tue 06/04/2021 - ‘Bay Tree’
09.11 I didn’t exactly accomplish much yesterday. I spent a good few hours just watching YouTube, because I didn’t have any motivation to do work, which screwed up my schedule, and I did no writing aside from transferring my list of edits from my phone to my document. I started reading Call Down the Hawk by Maggie Stiefvater, but didn’t get very far in--I’m obsessed with Stiefvater’s writing style; it’s the perfect mix between typical prose and fairytale-style storytelling. Anyway.
I’m going to switch to a new Scrivener project for the sake of cleaning it up--Bay Tree is a hot mess right now--and hopefully begin to implement my edits--maybe not today, but certainly this week.
Thu 08/04/2021 - ‘Bay Tree’
16.53 So I haven’t yet had a day where I’ve done nothing (since my break finished), but the last couple days I’ve just been doing tiny amounts of what I’m calling ‘reference pruning’, where I’m just editing and clarifying character, worldbuilding and location documents. I’ve ‘pruned’ five character references, and I hate it. It needs to be done, but it doesn’t need to be done now. I’ve decided I’m just going to completely clear out the new Scrivener project I started for Bay Tree, and add stuff to it as it becomes necessary. I’m going to make notes of overarching edits (stuff I can’t just note at the bottom of a scene), and just get started with draft 1.7, adding and editing references as it becomes necessary. I’m also going to say I just need to spend an hour writing a day, rather than a word minimum.
Okay. Edits established. Things to bear in mind established. I need to go through the character profile for the POV character in chapter one, then we can get started. Or rather, I’ll get started tomorrow, because I need to go cook soon, and even if I do have time after dinner, I’m not going to, because I’m going to read then. Okay. Character.
I’m getting excited again!
Oh, and the setting. I need to do the setting document.
I’d like to draw attention tot he fact one of my character documents describes her as having ‘black upturned gold eyes.’
Clearly I couldn’t pick a colour, but now I’m inspired to give her heterochromia.
Character done, and setting undone, but I need to go cook now, so I’ll pick this back up tomorrow, when I may also do some actual work.
I just hope these posts give someone security in that writing is a messy process, and you don’t have to be perfect all the time to be a) competent, and b) a writer. I’m a competent writer, and I’ve only ever written about 60% of a draft. But I’m still going, still trying, and that’s the point.
Fri 09/04/2021 - ‘Bay Tree’: 484 words
09.15 Okay. So we’re redrafting, and this is like my fourth draft of the first chapter, so let’s just go.
Sun 11/04/2021 - ‘Bay Tree’: 576 words
09.01 Yeah, I missed yesterday. Ironically, having time off seems to be making productivity more difficult, despite the fact I actually have time for it.
09.19 I feel like this project is making me stagnate. I think what I have is almost subconsciously tying me down, preventing me from improving, but I don’t want to just restart, because I want my bases, and it’s so ingrained in my head, I can’t physically start from scratch. Crap.
I think it needs to sit for longer. Crap.
It’s alright. I mean, it sucks, but it’s alright. It’s not like there’s any ideal age to become an author anyway, and I’m a long way off the average. I have time, and if it takes shelving projects now to complete better ones later, so be it. Maybe I’ll return to Bay Tree in a few weeks, or a few months, or a few years, or never, but I’ve learnt a lot from it.
So we move on.
Mon 12/04/2021 - FSB
08.05 This post is such a mess. I’m a mess at the moment. Today, we’re just continuing to work on FSB’s plot, and I think I’m already going to change the name of the character whose initials are FSB, so its nickname will probably change, too.
I had a trilogy in mind, but looking at it now, I think a duology will be best to convey the arc I have in mind.
21.51 I’ve actually accomplished quite a lot today--I’ve mostly been doing character profiles, but that helps me form tidbits to add to the story, which I can eventually string together. We’re progressing.
Tue 13/04/2021 - FSB
08.37 Hello! I think I can safely come to the conclusion I prefer development to actual drafting. Anyway, today I’m going to focus on completing the character profile for my other protagonist and do a little more work on another important figure. Then, I hope to be able to figure out the drive of the main plot in book one.
On another note, I am debating whether to plan out two books or three. Mulling it over, I think three books would give a more fulfilling arc, but it depends if I can work out enough content for the main plot. We’ll see.
Yeah, it’s going to be three. Two just can’t carry the impact I want.
20.00 I made pretty good progress today, but I just wanted to make the point I’m a lot more confident this project will hold my interest for longer than Bay Tree. This was something ruminating in the back of my mind for weeks, that I was desperate to write, where Bay Tree was very much a ‘sit down, make something up’ process at the beginning. Anyway, I think I’m done writing for the day, and I’ll get back to this tomorrow. (Because unlike most writers, I have a functional sleep schedule)
Wed 14/04/2021
09.19 Honestly, my head is empty right now, so I really need to open my project before determining what I want to do today.
Okay, so we’re basically just going to continue filling in holes.
14.50 Working out the plot, I’m pretty confident I’ve got the A plot covered, which the B plot will fit into, but I need more subplots.
Thu 15/04/2021
10.12 I want to work this one out mostly on the fly. I have nearly the whole of book one plotted out, but I want to work out the fine details as I write it; as I go, I’ll add more detail to my outlines of two and three. But for now, book one.
15.28 I’ve got basically the whole of book one covered; there’s just a gaping hole in act one, that I’m not sure I can fill. I mean, I can fill it, and I will, but I don’t feel like it’ll be that intentional of a thing. I think it’ll be more of an accidental idea that happens to flourish, but I’m going to keep working nonetheless.
Fri 16/04/2021
14.08 Good afternoon! I would’ve started writing earlier, but I wanted to catch up on the reading I didn’t do yesterday to make sure I finish A Court of Silver Flames within a week, so I can return the ebook and get a refund, because, despite being £6 cheaper than the paperback, it still cost me £8, and I want my money back. (Seriously, the paperback is fourteen pounds on amazon. Which is nearly twenty dollars. Which is pretty standard for a hardback, but it’s the paperback.) I’m about ten pages off meeting my minimum for the day (though I need to surpass that if I do want to finish it within a week), but it’s writing time.
14.37 I’m still establishing how, exactly, it applies, but I think I’ve solved it!
Definitely happy that as I’m planning, all I want is to make the characters happy, because I already love them so much. But they don’t get to be.
I have a section on a Pinterest board that’s just called ‘Simping’, and is just pictures of couples doing cute as shit things, and I literally just want my characters to dance together. Always. In Bay Tree, in FSB. Just dancing.
15.04 I have book one covered. It still needs development, scene development, but I can now move on to outlining book two, during which I’ll continue to develop one, integrate themes and such.
Honestly, the plot falling into place is absolutely the most exciting part of writing. I get an adrenaline rush (yes, while sitting in a chair, typing), I start to love the characters, the world, the story... ahhhh.
I’m actually really satisfied with how the plot seems to be going.
16.44 The word ambiguous has too many Us in it. Three vowels in a row??? And the vowel sequence is a palindrome?? Don’t want it.
I’m just sat here discovering new music. And it’s all so good and so dramatic and so perfect.
Okay, why do I have to come up with ideas so easily when I don’t need them? Then when I do I have nothing?
17.51 And just to clarify now, this post will actually end with Sunday the 18th, because after that I’m going to take three weeks completely off writing (aside from noting ideas), because I have a lot going on, then I’ll return on May 10th.
Note to self: develop a character who isn’t one of your two protagonists.
Sat 17/04/2021
10.23 I’m thinking I ought to do a more in-depth outline of book one before doing the basis of book two. Help me set up subplots and so on. Yanno, because other characters need some kind of agency, and I currently basically have two characters.
Sun 18/04/2021
08.52 I managed to plot out Bay Tree so fast because I’d already done so much development--plot was the only thing I was still missing. Anyway, I’m having a minor crisis. I think I’m a plotter, but I’m not entirely certain. It clearly didn’t work for Bay Tree. I think I may just start a draft of FSB now, and hope that lets me work out the other two books as I go.
In one of my excessive plans I will probably fail to stick to: I think I’d like to write a draft of the whole trilogy, all the way through, before even editing book one. I’ll obviously make notes of edits as I go, write as if I’ve already made them, eg. if, while writing book two, I have an idea for a book one edit, I’ll write book two as if I’ve already implemented it, which means I’ll have a little less editing to do of book two.
I have this all planned out in my head, but I’m probably being overambitious. We’re staying optimistic, though. I don’t believe in manifesting, but we’re manifesting.
14.23 I want to say I tried. I got a few details for the first couple chapters, but when I opened a doc to actually write it... nope. I need an outline to have a starting point. I just need detail.
Scene blocking sucks. But then I can’t write without it, so what can you do?
And I guess that wraps up this update. Writing this section, I’m about halfway through the writing break, and I have so many more ideas for this project. I was excited for Bay Tree because it was the first time I really made progress, but I’m excited for this one because I genuinely love this story. This post is going up May 14th, at which point I’ll be back to writing, and the next update should come mid to early June.
And that’s a wrap.
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Mental Health 2021
And so, its mental health awareness week again. And after one of the toughest years for our collective mental health I wanted to share, without judgement, my own experience and thoughts on the abundance of kindly shared hints and tips that our social media screens become overwhelmed with each May.
About 8 years ago I went to the GP and broke down at him about how low and awful I felt. His response was to tell me I needed a holiday. I mean, I love a holiday but even I could see that this wasn’t something a week backpacking along the coastal path was going to sort. And how sustainable is taking a holiday every time you feel depressed? And considering I was super skint at the time it wasn’t helpful advice at all. I left the surgery feeling embarrassed and ashamed that I’d wasted his time and that I was overreacting. I decided that there was no other option for it. I would have to fix myself.
My first stop was YouTube where I decided meditation was the thing I needed to do. I pretty much forced myself every day to do a 10 minute guided meditation. It was difficult to start with as I couldn’t stop the negative voice in my head and most sessions ended with me more angry than I’d started. But gradually I saw a change. I started to enjoy the moment of peace in each day and thought I’d found the answer.
But then the next life obstacle cropped up, the surface cracked and all that meditation-y goodness soon melted away, as I’d fall back into a horrible fuzz of self-loathing. I had not fixed myself after all.
This pattern repeated itself numerous times over the years. I tried everything. I developed an interest in mindfulness, even gained a qualification in it. I dieted, I took probiotics and brewed kefir, I popped supplements and obsessively exercised because I LOVE WALKING IN THE MOUNTAINS. I thought that inflammation was the problem, then found a new vocation and decided that massage was the solution. I found the high of cold water swimming exhilarating but it never lasted long enough after drying myself off. And eventually I tried counselling (I have a great recommendation if anybody feels they need someone, based in Llanrwst and she can work via zoom too.) She really helped me a LOT and the sessions absolutely lightened the load and helped me rationalise things.
However, they did not fix me.
You see, the problem was by now I had spent so many years trying to fix myself that each time something ‘failed’ I would hit another new low. Not only was I still broken, I was also a failure because I couldn’t make the latest ‘cure all’ work for me. And while it’s easy for me to write this now, when you’ve got what feels like a bloody Tasmanian devil whipping up a storm in your brain its easier said than done. I couldn’t see that I was just chasing my tail in a constant effort that only ever brought more disappointment and made me feel like simply existing wasn’t worth the effort anymore.
Then along came the mild inconvenience of ‘the shop’ nightmare with debt piling up, a global pandemic and a big old lockdown.
Oh, and I broke my leg. Which ironically was the thing that made me decide I needed to try the GP again. Through talking with a friend, I realised that during my immobilised time on the sofa I felt the most light-hearted I’d felt in a while because here I had this physical impairment that showed people I was broken. I didn’t have to try and explain it, unlike the mental illness that was invisible. I had an ‘excuse’ for feeling the way I did (see: lockdown/pandemic/broken ankle) Plus, the prospect of phoning the GP was a lot easier as it meant no face-to-face appointment and I could hide my shame.
But this GP was fantastic. She was awesome. I gave her the abridged version of the above and her response was ‘Blimey, you’ve definitely tried everything haven’t you!? Let’s give medication a go’.
Now, medication is not always the best option and the first month of taking it was pretty gnarly for my body and mind. But this is my story and nothing more, I’m not telling anyone what to do here. I had felt the stigma so hard around mental health and medication, GPs and putting on a brave face, that I had completely forgotten what it was like to feel content. I found myself appreciating stuff that I hadn’t even noticed in such a long time, as I’d been constantly trying to justify my worth by maintaining the façade of being hap-hap-happy! I hadn’t realised what an absolute effort everything had become and of course each small or large inconvenience that life threw my way was simply the straw that broke the camels back (over and over again).
Anti-depressants have not fixed me though. They have given my brain the capacity to think rationally and to bring me back to a state where I can process all the day-to-day stuff without collapse. They have not numbed me to life, but have allowed me the opportunity to enjoy it and I haven’t felt this good in years. Yes, I still get sad and yes, I get angry, but I can cope with it and I can see those emotions as something passing by and not here to stay.
I suppose the thing I think when I’m writing this down is that I wish I had seen a GP earlier who had understood mental health better in the first place. How different the last 8 years might have been. I was put in a position where I thought I was solely and entirely responsible for things that were happening in my brain that I could not control – that I could somehow choose to switch on happiness if I truly wanted to.
The problem is that people living with mental health struggles can feel vulnerable and they might be more susceptible to suggestions – which in turn makes me wince when I see posts making outrageous claims regarding depression and anxiety. And don’t get me wrong, I’ve definitely been guilty of sharing the 5 Ways to Wellbeing as if it’s a magic spell and I’ve wanged on about mindfulness as if it will transform you into a higher being. But please know, I did these things as I was struggling to work out my own stuff and at the time, I fully believed I was fixing myself (ps. I was not).
I suppose my summary is that I don’t have an exact summary. There is no fixing people, we’re all messy and weird and wonderful. But sometimes what is happening inside us is chemical and there is medical help for that, and sometimes we just need the confidence in ourselves and our self-worth to push a little harder to get the treatment we require.
As for all the stuff that has been ‘proved’ to improve our mental health, just remember, what works for me won’t necessarily work for you and vice versa. And while I still love, love, love cold water swimming and practise mindfulness most days, I can safely say that kefir and diets can go in the bin (sorrynotsorry). For me mental health awareness is talking to friends about our experiences and being able to empathise with each other. It is understanding that sometimes we will feel happy without trying, sometimes we will feel happy because we are doing something we love, and other times happiness will elude us completely. But most importantly happiness is not the be all end all – us human beings have such a wide range of emotions and we spend a lot of our time trying to avoid them. Running off a bad mood, drinking away our sorrows or posting on social media about our totally excellent lives while wishing someone knew how we actually felt. Mental health awareness for me is sharing stories and being able to laugh at ourselves, wallowing under the duvet when I’m sad, ranting with a mate when I’m angry and having a little weep when I’m frustrated and trying not to end every sentence with ‘but I know there are people with far worse problems than me in the world’.
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