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allthingskakashi · 3 years

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As a fellow Kakashi lover, I’m curious if you feel that Kakashi is pretty misunderstood by a lot of fans? I’ve seen people say that he should’ve defected the village, and that he’s messed up for hiding his trauma. (Which he could’ve been more open about, yes, but I’m not sure that he even knew how to go about discussing it at the time) He could’ve easily left the village, but instead he wanted to change things and make society better by teaching teamwork, and to value everyone’s life by putting yourselves before the mission. He never lost hope for the future of shinobi and knew that it could be better. He definitely could’ve been more open about his past, but he’s always been more of a quiet and reserved kid (even before the trauma lol) Idk, I feel like a lot of people overlook his backstory when talking about him!

Istg every time i meet another person who shares this view i just wanna give em the biggest bear hug and im boutta go OFF

Remember back in their childhood when gai was being bullied by these men one time about his dad and kakashi dropped in and whacked them? He always had the conscience to stand up for what was wrong and be there for his comrades but sakumo's death was so traumatic for him, it forced him to change his own beliefs. He became a machine and he believed that carrying out missions as instructed was his only purpose in life, irrespective of what HE felt

because GOD YES he's so so misunderstood by fans half the time and I've seen so many people throw around the term bootlicker for him just cause he didn't throw away everything and leave the village and and join some criminal cult and like no?? The fact that he stayed only shows his strength of character if anything. He could've easily left if he wanted to, he would've made a very sexy villain too but he chose to be hopeful and he chose to remain good and that shows strength of character because it took him a fkn lot to stay in the right path and continue working for the village that took away his father from him.

And it had nothing to do with him being a bootlicker because kakashi is very much his own person and he has his own morals and ideals and he's not a stickler for rules until he believes in them. Yes he did become awfully rule-abiding after Sakumo's death for a while because he saw what listening to your heart instead of adhering to the rules did to his father. He saw the extent to which a previously respected shinobi was villified that he had to resort to taking his own life

And kakashi was angry at sakumo because he was only a small boy who had just lost his father. He couldn't help resent sakumo bc he kept thinking that if only sakumo had just stuck to the rules, he would've still been there with him. that if only he had just done what the village had asked him to, he wouldn't have lost the only family he had. Those were very valid thoughts for a child whose father had just committed suicide but kakashi did know in his heart that his dad was right and that's why he wanted to teach those very principles to the younger generations later on. That's why he told sakumo when they met in the limbo that he was proud of him. But back then when sakumo had just died, kakashi was a grieving child who was angry and dealing with so much pain inside him that he decided he'd never do what cost his father his life. Because he saw right in front of his eyes what happened if you broke the rules and so he did what his 5 year old mind thought he should. But even then, that was never who he was at heart. He never believed in mindlessly abiding by rules and that's what made him consider obito's words and ultimately go back to save rin. Obito's words did not change him, they only helped him see what was already in his heart.

But when obito said those words to him, it resonated with what he truly believed in inside his heart. So yeah, he's no bootlicker, he was just strong willed enough to not give in to the bad things that happened to him. He didn't make an impulse decision. He didn't want to abandon his village. It was his home and despite everything, he loved his home and he valued the people around him. He didn't want to just leave it all. He wanted to stay instead to make the village better, to pass on sakumo's values to the upcoming generations so that they became good shinobi AND humans. To teach his students the power of love and friendship so that they didn't grow up to become the kind of people that had denounced his father. Kakashi didn't want to take revenge for sakumo's death because his actions were never motivated by hatred, but he ensured that his father didn't die in vain.

Leaving would've been much easier for him too,he may have almost even thought of it on nights that were extremely painful, nights when he was completely engulfed with pain and anger at the horrible unfair world but he would've never done it bc that's not him. He CHOSE to listen to the part of his heart that still saw good. Betraying the village that was his home wasn't an option for him

So yeah the fact that he stayed only shows his strength of character. his determination, his judgement, his will to change the village for the better. He refused to pass students unless they knew the value of teamwork. He was the only one who failed team after team and sent them back to academy bc no matter what, he never would've let students who didn't value their comrades become shinobi. Would a bootlicker do that? He broke into root and freed tenzo; when everyone in the village ostracized naruto and iruka had almost made up his mind to ask hiruzen to assign him another student, KAKASHI was the one who told iruka to approach Naruto with love instead. He always had a mind of his own. When team 10 wanted to get their revenge after Asuma's death, kakashi himself offered to accompany them even tho tsunade wasn't initially very enthusiastic about the idea. Would a bootlicker do that? He sneaked naruto off to meet the 4th raikage bc he understood that it was important to Naruto. Would a bootlicker do that? He always did what he thought was right

He realised his mistakes and he changed for the better. He had to raise himself and yet he managed to stay on the right track and make not just a great shinobi but also a great person of himself. He didn't want to leave his home. that was his very identity, that was his world. He wanted to change it, not abandon it. I'm sorry that is not a bootlicker. Danzo had even tried to recruit him or smth once but he'd had the judgement and sense to turn him down

As for hiding his trauma idk what to say to that i mean you can't dictate how someone deals with trauma?? Sure, his ways weren't ideal but what can you expect? He was only a kid. He lost everyone that was important to him before he was even 15 and it's not like he received any help from anybody to heal and get better. The one time he tried to approach jiraiya, he turned kakashi away saying he was putting everyone off by being sad. Ig after that he just decided to stay quiet and keep it all inside himself. The village treated him as a human weapon and he started to see himself that way too because he really didn't care for his life anymore. He suffered from survivor's guilt and he wished he'd die, he hoped one of these missions would kill him. And he was this way for many years but what matters is that he did slowly let himself open up. It took him a long time but he did. He taught his genin team but he learnt from them too. They grew on him, he loved them and cared for them. Sure they were a handful but he they were his handful and he adored them. He could gather up the courage to finally let gai in too and even be verbal about how much he meant to him. It took a long way for him to get there and it was not easy but he got there and that's what matters

SO YEAH PHEW

im sorry that was so long but i get v riled up when people shit on kakashi about these things like you're missing the point and essence of his character and i will throw hands goddamit

The fandom really does misunderstand and misinterpret kakashi v often and there are many instances where i don't agree w the majority so it's so beautiful to me when i see people who think the same way THANK YOU SM I COMPLETELY AGREE W YOU LY <3

#atkspeaks #anon #kakashi

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uwua3 · 4 years

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family.

🌸🌷 sakuma sakuya

summary: sakuya remembers when the dorms were silent, but he never wants to go back to that time ever again

dedication: written for my friends in the golden gays discord server. i love you all ♡

warnings: anxiety, family trauma, the future

author’s note: hi!!! this is the first writing piece i’ve published~ sorry for the delay; school kept me busy for so long! i hope you love it as much as i love my great friends!

i wanted to reflect on sakuya’s deep fear of being alone again that stemmed from an absent household. i believe there is power in reclaiming yourself from people who took advantage of you and doing your best for the people who love you ♡ this is a tribute to everyone who decided they wouldn’t be held back anymore at the expense of their families and found happiness in friends!

word count: 1,702

music: to die for – sam smith

Celebrations were being held inside the Mankai Company dorms as the four troupes partied, laughing about the Winter Troupe’s latest success against the God Troupe and effectively paying off the theatre’s debt. Stepping out into the courtyard, Sakuma Sakuya escaped the loud and irresponsible shenanigans that could only ensue between 20 boys with a quiet sigh of relief. The glass door closed behind him as the noise faded into the background. Unfortunately, the sound of something breaking and frantic screaming became a normal occurrence in the dorms. Leaning against the building’s brick exterior, Sakuya pushed his hands in his hoodie pockets before realizing he wore the same clothes at his Mankai auditions almost a year ago. The printed “SPRING” words across his chest was closest to his heart, making him subconsciously smile at the thought of his troupe members.

His Spring Troupe members... Sakuya could vividly recall meeting each and every single of them for the first time. Each one of them, at completely different parts of life, and they all found each other to be the start of something absolutely life–changing. Sakuya basked in the warmth of his fondness for his boys despite the cold frost solidifying his breath in the thin air. Yet, it didn’t feel like it was a winter dusk underneath the full moon. Sakuya swore he opened his eyes and was embraced by the spring warmth of blooming cherry blossoms above his head as he practiced by Hana High’s river with the Romeo & Julius script gripped in his hand. Sakuma Sakuya felt the same as he did right before his first performance as leader of the Spring Troupe: completely, and utterly, happy.

Masumi was Sakuya’s right hand man no matter what, where his harsh criticism and natural talent influenced all of them to become a troupe worthy of a sold out show. Tsuzuru’s persistence and unrelenting drive to be the best playwright possible inspired Sakuya to work even harder to expand his range of abilities. Citron’s perseverance and unwavering spirit that defined his charisma made Sakuya laugh into the night, reminiscing on Citron’s faulty Japanese that somehow got pulled all together to recite his otherworldly stories way past bedtime. Even Itaru’s rocky transition into acting was monumental, where it’s like the spark that died in the adult’s eyes was ignited back to life, like a firecracker in a summer festival. At the thought of summer, which led to Summer Troupe, then Autumn and Winter, Sakuya became overwhelmed with the thought of his friends, the boys he would do anything for just right behind him. Never in his life, did Sakuya ever fathom he could feel this happy. But, did he deserve them?

It was enough to make Sakuya suddenly cry alone, outside in the freezing cold as the rambunctious bunch continued celebrating into the hours of the next day. At first, a single drop fell from his eye and before he knew it, it was an onslaught of a repressed emotion he had to hide as the first Mankai company leader: fear. Dropping to a crouching position, Sakuya attempted to muffle his cries as he hid his face in his arms, pretending like it was the comfort of a beloved family member. Yet, no particular face came to mind. It was a blurry, distorted mixture of everyone who has ever abandoned him.

Nothing was permanent, if Sakuya learned anything from his family. He almost pushed out the feeling of that cold house but it came back in the form of his turbulent childhood, living to please and seeking to serve in any way possible as he was taken advantage of senselessly. You’d think after all that, he would know to disguise his true feelings and thoughts with his quick acting impulse, but Sakuya was just as naive as before. Sakuya was so honest in his face, his expressions betraying his intentions. Like right now, where his theatre company members were having the time of their lives together, without him.

How awful of him to be so sad on a night of fun and new beginnings! Sakuya sniffled as he roughly rubbed his eyes, muttering comforting lies to no avail. He was being selfish... maybe, he was really crying because Sakuya knew deep down he didn’t deserve any of this. The spring glow faded away as Sakuya opened his eyes again only to face the snowy scape of the courtyard. The gray stone was slippery with ice as the salt was scattered under his feet. At the center of it all, the building’s massive tree was rustling with the wind. Sakuya’s tears froze in their tracks as he exhaled, his body shaking as his thoughts ran a mile a minute. It didn’t feel like time existed in that moment, like the world stopped as he endured years of suffering and guilt in that very moment.

But, the world didn’t stop for anybody. In fact, for a moment, it sounded like the bubbly and catchy J-Pop blasting from Kazunari’s modern smartphone sounded even louder. It’s as if his ears became heightened to notice the amplified sound of the expensive alcohol Azuma swindled out of his eager customers spilling into multiple glasses. Sakuya heard the sizzling of the frying pan as Omi was feeding the peanut gallery, even Banri’s exaggerated mockery of Juza’s excitement for the desserts Tenma received as a gift from his newest movie set. Sakuya could envision it now: Taichi impressing Misumi with making triangular origami and enjoying the amazed grin on the latter’s innocent face, Muku & Yuki doing their schoolwork at the sofa before Yuki started cursing out the puppy pair for screaming, even the Winter troupe’s quiet disbelief but immense pride amongst themselves. Sakuya knew, for once, Hisoka wasn’t taking a nap. That’s how electric the energy was throughout the room. The party was in full swing, Sakuya even caught out of the corner of his eye Director and Sakyo sharing an intimate moment before it was ruined by the Director’s spices rant. Thank god Kamekichi and the manager didn’t hear it, or else a very sad Matsukawa would be paying a hefty sum to the scheming parrot.

Maybe he would vocally never admit it, but Sakuya felt himself turn as pink as the sakura petals that led him to a flyer for the Mankai tryouts. Sakuya felt the same as that moment: like he was staring into the face of his destiny. Sakuya pushed himself off the ground, catching his own mind off guard before it morphed into a phase of curiousity, like even his own brain couldn’t have any idea what could come next. Sakuya faced the moonlight shining upon him, like the stage spotlight he couldn’t wait to be underneath again. Sakuya could almost see the future in the clear surface.

Sakuya could see the next Spring Troupe play. The fantasy elements, the strong message of friendship, and the bond between him and his boys growing like the cherry blossoms. They would take a bow together in front of a standing ovation, where they’d celebrate by having a hanami picnic beneath the petals as they sat in the crowded park. They’d share their favorite parts and sleep that night on stage, just like the old times. He could imagine the spring nostalgia shifting into an exhilarating summer heat, even hearing the sound of traditional drums and booth workers advertising their games cutting the night air as chatters of his friends enveloped him in the best place possible to see the fireworks. The hot, humid summer would become a chilly and spooky autumn where they’d all have cool costumes and a competition to see who could trick & treat the most candy that night. It would move into the frigid but festive winter, as Secret Santa became too complex in a group of 20 as they would decorate the dorms to look like a Christmas bomb exploded. No matter what season it was, Sakuya knew they’d pull off whatever they put their heads to. The cycle would repeat another year. That was enough for now.

Sakuya stopped crying. There was nothing to be sad about; how could he when his true family was inside? Turning on his heel, Sakuya felt the warmth against his face as he opened the glass door to the cheers of his fellow Mankai members. He was right; Kazunari was DJ-ing with glowing cat ear headphones at the kitchen counter as he pushed the mic to his mouth with a wide, infectious grin.

“Just in time! Sakuma Sakuya, everybody! Everyone give it up for Mankai’s first member and leader ever!”

The room cheered even louder, pushing Sakuya into the group celebration as Yuki jokingly got on his case for letting the cold air in. But even then, Yuki’s smile reached his eyes as Sakuya took in everyone finally went quiet, waiting for his speech. They all looked towards him for guidance, for words of wisdom, something to remember for the rest of their lives. Then, it clicked. Sakuya hugged himself, the distorted face in his mind suddenly becoming 20. This was his family.

This home was warm. It was filled with endless, unconditional love & support. No hurtful judgement or prejudices, not even serious scorn for one another despite Juza and Banri & Sakyo and Yuki’s petty arguments. This was what family is: love, no matter what. Sakuya loved his brothers, his Mankai boys and his favorite Director. That was enough. They’re family.

Whether it was due to the sudden embarrassing attention or the quick beating of his resurrected heart, Sakuya smiled as he stood up on the coffee table, ignoring Sakyo’s comment about how they didn’t have the budget to fund a hospital visit if he fell. Picking up an opened soda can besides his feet, Sakuya lifted the discarded drink in the air as everyone mimicked his actions like it was a professional banquet. With absolute pure joy in his voice, Sakuya felt the tears threatening to pour from his eyes but for a completely different reason. They are happy, he is happy.

“To Mankai!”

“To Mankai!” The room chorused back with just as much love, and would do so for many, many more years.

#sakuma sakuya #sakuya sakuma #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! one shots #act! addict! actors! one shots #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! sakuya #a3 sakuya

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sebthesnipe · 4 years

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The Dreamer by Whatwashernameagain An Analysis? Chapter 3 Part 2

All portions:

Chapter 1: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Chapter 2: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Chapter 3: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

The Dreamer

by @whatwashernameagain

Reminder: Spoilers under cut!

As Always if you have not done so please read @whatwashernameagain ‘s The Dreamer Chapter 3 before you continue. This analysis is pretty much a giant spoiler if you haven’t.

Also, you can find additional links to The Dreamer analysis on AO3 (and other works by me) here on my masterpost.

Warnings: homophobia, internalized homophobia, republican brainwashing, manipulation, mentioned pedophilia, violence, threatened sexual abuse, injuries, being pressured into sex, nakedness

Gonna just jump back in…

“Being kind as usual, no one chastised Roman for not capturing the Utilitarianist while he was recovering” (Whatwashernameagain).

Though Eva has never specifically said that Roman’s team is out to get him the dramatic irony is certainly implied. She has a way with directing the storyline through these paces to inform the reader that there is nothing ‘kind’ about Roman’s team. Whatever reason they have for not commenting on Roman’s failure to capture the Utilitarianist it is unlikely that it is out of the goodness of their hearts.

“Virgil was anxiously pacing around the bed as he came to, guilty and confused about why he’d been unable to track his friend. The poor thing, he was way too paranoid. Roman did his best to calm him” (Whatwashernameagain).

We see a bit into Virgil’s personality here. It is actually quite interesting if we pay close attention. Here Virgil is showing his anxious side. His guilt and confusion are moving him from his flat characterization (a character that is used to reveal information to push the story along) to a more rounded character. His guilt and confusion provide more insight into his emotional state, making him more developed.

Something, I find just as interesting is that the word ‘paranoid’ is used to describe him. While we as readers know that this is very fitting for the Virgil that is the personification of Anxiety. However, as a handler it is a bit… extreme. Here is a man meant to guide Roman through danger after danger. A typical person would need someone calm and collected in those intense situations. However, Virgil is not a calm and collected individual. Then again, Roman is not a typical individual. Perhaps, this opposition between the two personalities is intentional. I wouldn’t put it past Eva to think quite thoroughly through choosing Virgil as Roman’s handler, just as he was very thorough at choosing Remy as Logan’s. Roman’s… impulsivity *cough*adorable stupidity*cough* is the perfect balance for Virgil’s extreme paranoia and vice versa. For someone wanting to run into every burning building, someone jumping at every shadow can help remind him of his own mortality.

Speaking of more rounded characters, our boi Roman is making some progress himself.

“Despite not being in trouble for getting captured, the rescue had gotten to the media and was fueling the theories about the Dreamer and the Utilitarianist - to a worrying degree. It bothered Roman, since it was clearly ludicrous that he would fall for someone so irritating and immoral, but at least now that Virgil kept him updated, he wasn’t so ashamed anymore” (Whatwashernameagain).

I won’t go into our poor poor Roman’s denial again, but I don’t think it needs to be pointed out here anyways. We all see it. Though, I suppose the constant reminder is some strong foreshadowing. Though we can see Roman’s conscious opinion of Logan. He continues to call him irritating and immoral and perhaps Roman truly believes he is, though more likely subconsciously Roman find him heroic and misguided. The good news is that despite the unwanted publicity Roman is far more secure that he was prior thanks to Virgil.

Teal Swan (An American Spiritual Teacher) once said “We do not fear the unknown. We fear what we think we know about the unknown.” In Roman’s case, he was presented with a collection of hardcore BDSM fan art of himself and The Utilitarianist. The pictures themselves did not scare him, pictures themselves are not scary. However, it is what he thought he knew of the people who created them that scared him. It wasn’t until Virgil educated him that this changed. Roman’s knowledge of this ‘unknown’ grew and what he thought he knew shifted. Suddenly, these images weren’t so scary anymore. (That and he thinks he’s straight which is amusing AF).

Lillian Russell also once said “We all have a fear of the unknown. What one does with that fear will make all the difference in the world.” Roman may have allowed his fear to overpower him for a moment but he chose to stand against it and thus overcame it (with Virgil’s help of course). I realize that this is a bit off topic, but it is something that I feel needs to be said, especially now. The world around us is falling apart are there is no one hero to save us. Some people believe that this is the natural world fighting back against us, others believe it is a religious occurrence. I can’t say one way or another, but I do know that the fear is the same no matter the reasons behind this virus that is taking so many lives.

I can’t say for other countries or even other states, but the reaction to this pandemic that I have seen is heartbreaking. My family and I don’t go out, not because of fear of contracting the virus, but because of people’s reaction to the fear they feel. Fear is a strong motivator that causes conflicts among thousands of people every day. It is a virus in and of itself, breeding and spreading wherever it goes. The world is terrified, and it is our job to react appropriately to these fears, as individuals. You can’t control your neighbor’s reaction to their fear, but you can control your own and sometimes that is enough. Sometimes that enough to calm those around you. Perhaps you can be the beacon of hope that they need to find their own stability. Perhaps you can be the difference in their world.

Okay… Rant over… Back to the wonderful writing!

“Yes, the implication of being in a homosexual relationship and performing sodomy with his nemesis, something he’d been taught was impure and went against god’s wishes, still made heat rise into his cheeks, but he couldn’t help softening towards the mostly harmless fanculture” (Whatwashernameagain).

Okay, lets pay really close attention to the wording here because it is very important! Eva knows what she’s doing, the sly dog! Roman POV points out that the homosexual relationship that is painted between he and Logan is ‘something he’d been taught was impure and went against god’s wishes’. Hold up! Rewind! ‘Something he’d been taught’. No where in this section does Roman’s POV ever claim that Roman, himself, believes that it is wrong. He points out that he is taught that it is wrong, but once again we see the same impressionable boy I’ve mentioned throughout the previous chapters. A child’s thoughts is not their own, but their parents.

Since the last time I mentioned this, I have actually looked further into research behind this view (having children of my own, I find it even more compelling). A study from Cambridge University, published in 2013 points out that “Children are more likely to adopt their family's political views when politics is important to their parents, and the children of politically engaged parents tend to become politically engaged adults” (Dinas, Elias). Is this starting to sound familiar? Well, hold onto your trousers (if you’re wearing any) because it gets better. “When these transmission dynamics are considered together, an important hypothesis follows: the children who are most likely to initially acquire the political views of their parents are also most likely to later abandon them as a result of their own engagement with the political world” (Dinas, Elias). So, Roman is most likely getting his political views from his father through he’s more likely to lose those views as he gets older. Perhaps, we are seeing this now? He has never claimed to have the same beliefs, though he has pointed out that he has been thought them. So, the question is, when? When, if ever, will Roman discard these beliefs?

Well, other research shows that “Young people from politicised homes may be more likely to acquire an initial partisan orientation from their parents, but they are also more likely to abandon that preference as they enter adulthood and experience politics for themselves” (2013). So, most children who have adopted their parent’s belief like Roman has tend to shed those beliefs as they experience the real world and grow into adults. Here is where things change for RoRo. Firstly, he's never really experienced the world without his father or the team his father has provided to look after him. So, no real-world experience. Secondly, from what we have gathered Roman is still fairly young. Most likely, he’s in his mid-twenties, Logan being around thirty. So, Roman has also only been an adult for a few years now. That combined with the fact that he is just now breaking away from his father’s influence long enough to experience the world around him makes his realization that he does not have the same belief system that he once shared with his father inevitable. My only concern is that the possibility of Roman having an identity crisis due to his discovery of an isolated belief system. The poor boy is going to have a hard-enough time when he realizes he is gay… but to have his beliefs stripped away and rebuilt after defining himself by them so completely is going to be harder than anything he has ever faced.

I have barely managed to get through two paragraphs… Oof… We’re going to have to skim a bit if I’m going to get through this chapter in just four parts. We see Roman’s view points on LGBTQ+ community and his purity that we love so much! Then we see Karen’s (-.- You’re so F*ing static Karen!) view point of it. She suggests that they pray for them and their ‘wrong’ doings. Which would send me on a rant about ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ and the human constructions that they are… and morality… and we’re just going to skip all that ^.^.

I’m going to brush past a lot of the dialog here but there are somethings that I want to touch on. Firstly, Eva uses verbal irony so beautifully that it hurts. Karen mentions that the LGBTQ+ community’s allegiance shows ‘the damage [the community’s] lifestyle had done to [the community’s] morals’ and asks Roman if he wants to ‘help people see a more healthy way to live’ (Whatwashernameagain). What Karen is really implying is that all of these people are sinful and need to be punished for the atrocities of their life choices. Karen’s pleasant tone and careful wording helps conceal the real meaning of her words which makes the verbal irony here quite beautifully written. Though what do we expect from Eva?

Before Roman can give his full reply, she cuts him off like the bitch she is…

I might be projecting a bit… I apologize…

Though, I also want to point out that during the interaction between Karen and Roman she never refers to him as anything but ‘dear’. Now, this is probably a me thing, but I can’t help myself. So, if you’ve read all of my analysis, you’d know that I have a background in Law Enforcement. Why is this important? Well, one of the first lessons you learn as a woman in Law Enforcement is that you don’t ever, EVER, allow someone to get away with calling you anything but Officer, Ma’am, or by your last name. Now, it might not seem that important to most people, but how can you expect someone to respect you if they continuously call you ‘girl’, ‘baby’, ‘sweetheart’, or ‘dear’. These are pet names. There is no respect to be had when someone is calling you by a pet name… at least not in a professional sense (romantic relationships are a different story. My husband can call me baby anytime he wants, and I still know that he respects me). Granted, there are some people that do this unconsciously. I’ve seen it mostly in older men who call every woman younger than them ‘sugar’ or ‘darlin’.

Still, there is a problem presented here. I’ve mentioned a number of times throughout this analysis of our thoughts effect on the outside world (specifically water and thus ourselves). A person can mean no disrespect by calling someone in an authoritative position ‘dear’ and yet by doing so, they effect their own thoughts, even subconsciously, resulting in a disrespect they may not even be aware of.

Karen provides us with a prime example of this. She calls Roman ‘dear’ because she has no respect for him. In her eyes, Roman is nothing but a tool to be used for her own gain. He holds no respect from her. He is merely a child to be manipulated however she sees fits. Hence, while she is maneuvering the hero to where she wants him, she refers to him as ‘dear’.

The next issue is that Roman is putty in her hands. The next paragraph is a reminder of Roman’s gullible nature. We see him easing into Karen’s manipulations and blaming himself once more. We see the same self-deprecation that has become a Roman original. It reminds us that Roman’s insecurities are yet another tool that his team uses against him. I believe I have mention something similar to this before, but in the words of Napoleon Hill “The only limitation is that which one sets up in one’s own mine.” In other words, Roman is limiting himself with his self-insulting nature. Once he allows himself to let go of that he will be a force to reckon with, someone even Karen’s bitch-ass can’t handle.

However, we see another indication that Roman’s views no longer match up with his team’s. Though it is obvious once again that his tendencies to put himself down really hinder him from being the hero that he has always dreamed of being.

“The fact that he wasn’t all that bothered by the shipping was probably making it worse. He was forgetting that his personal opinion wasn’t what mattered here” (Whatwashernameagain).

We also see him try to reaffirm his thoughts of Logan. He has to remind himself that his current thoughts of Logan are not what they are supposed to be. Logan is the Utilitarianist and the Utilitarianist is still his archenemy. Roman, still in denial, is trying to recenter himself for the task at hand. Of course, this also brings up the sense of paranoia that Karen is helping sew inside him. This conflict of course is more than just what it seems.

Roman’s dilemma of right and wrong is also a battle of his sexuality. It is a battler of his views. It is a battle of who he is. Is Roman the man that found comfort in another man’s arms? Or is Roman the man who subjected himself to torture to be what he thought the world needed? Is he larger than life or at the end of a day is he as vulnerable to his emotions as the rest of us are?

We also see more of that dramatic irony as Karen plants the notion that the Utilitarianist did not help individuals. While, for the most part this is true, there is more to this. We know that as the Utilitarianist Logan pays no attention to the individual. In that aspect Karen is correct. However, Logan has shown on more than one occasion, his appreciation for Roman’s work and his appreciation for Roman himself. This would imply that Karen is correct; The Utilitarianist does not help individuals just as the Dreamer would never seek the help of a villain. However, Logan would help an individual, just as Roman would seek comfort from another. These men are more than their uniform despite what Karen would have them believe.

Eva moves into foreshadowing with a simple sentence, a perfectly places three word sentence that hits us all where it hurts:

“Roman’s heart sank” (Whatwashernameagain).

Whatever is about to come is gonna hurt…

Karen claims they have found a way to fix the entire situation caused by the rescue… Still calling my bae ‘dear’ -.- Most of us know where this is going and…

Susan…

By the way, I love these horribly generic cis white names that Eva keeps coming up with. It’s hilarious. As for Susan’s description…

“Flipping open the file, Roman found that the solution was called Susan. She was a white woman with blonde hair and cornflower-blue eyes. Upper middle class. Conservative” (Whatwashernameagain).

I have so many issues with this… First off, leave it to these assholes to chiose a nazi’s wet dream for our boi. (No offense Eva, I love you and I think it was a perfect choice <3) So, to start off, they chose a woman that conform’s to America’s unrealistic standards of beauty. I’m sure she where’s far too much make up and could have any man in the world. This, of course, is in no way a shot at woman that look like this. Every person is beautiful, and I will not body shame someone no matter how they look. However, it is obvious that Eva created Susan to conform to these standards and thus needs to be addressed. The fact that Susan is Middle class is also a deliberate choice in the sense that if they chose a woman that was any higher Roman would be seen as greedy and shallow and if he were to be seen with someone of the lower class, he would lose funding. As for Conservative… Well… I don’t think I need to say anything here.

I’m going to move on before I get too annoyed with this. As we move forward, Karen notes that Roman looks spooked. This is call indirect characterization, which is when another character tells us something about a character. In this case Eva is using Karen to reinforce that Roman is uncomfortable with the opposite sex or romantic relations in general. Though as a reader we already are aware of the ship this fic is based around, so we know that the later probably isn’t true. Karen also refers to Susan as ‘A little friend’ which is very demeaning and implies that Karen sees Susan the same way she sees Roman, as a tool. It is obvious that Karen believes Roman can be persuaded by sex though his uncomfortable nature certainly speaks otherwise.

This also highlights a bit of the Right wing’s thoughts on women in general and how they should be treated though I feel as if I should refrain from pushing my own opinions on their beliefs into this analysis. However, in extremists’ case (both men and women) have repeated claimed that women have a specific ‘role’ in society, and it is not equal to their male counter parts. Now, the fact that I disagree may label me as a feminist, but I prefer the label of equalist as you will note when we get into the heartier bits of this chapter.

I once again want to remind everyone of the warning attached to this chapter. They are there for a reason, please pay attention to them.

“Roman stared at her, trying to find words for the sudden fear he felt. Laughter about his shocked expression filled the room, then quieted and finally tapered off into awkward silence.

“I… I need to think about it.” Roman had finally stuttered. Karen’s smile had grown forced” (Whatwashernameagain).

Here we see Roman faced with fear that is not surprising in an individual that has not realized he is homosexual. In fact, it is a very real and horrible feeling. I mentioned in my last post the fact that mental anguish can feel worse than physical and here we see a man being mentally tortured.

In a previous chapter I also discussed Roman’s inability to watch porn. Imagine, if you will, a man who has not accepted himself for who he is and can not allow himself the thought of two men together. Therefore, gay porn does not exist to him. Instead the only porn he knows of is male+female. The thought of sex with a female makes him uncomfortable and/or squeamish. He does not need to realize that he is gay to know this and instead probably thinks there is something wrong with himself. So, perhaps it is not the Roman is different from every other (sexually driven (because I realize there are different sexualities that do not have the same urges)) American’s out there, he is not alone, it is just that he doesn’t understand his own preferences. Our poor baby has never been taught how to cope in a heterosexual driven world and thus buries his true self from everyone including himself. This would make the forced relationship between himself and Susan all the more painful, no doubt.

As if to prove my point, Eva describes the room’s laughter at Roman’s hesitance. No doubt they know he is gay even if he doesn’t and finds his torture amusing. Though, our poor naïve RoRo probably doesn’t see it that way.

““Think about it? But of course, dear. We just want you to have a coffee together, go on a walk. If she’s not the right one for you, we can surely find another lady friend for you. Is it the hair color? The figure? We are very flexible for your preferences. Within a reasonable limit, of course.” She soothed him, patting his hand again” (Whatwashernameagain).

Karen of course, senses these things and tries to reassure Roman. She reminds him that their relationship doesn’t have to be sexual, in her subtle way. She also adds that if he doesn’t like Susan, they can find someone else more suited to his needs. However, she pointedly adds that it has to be ‘another lady friend’, which of course would imply that she is aware the Roman might be gay as well, and that it is unacceptable.

We also see Karen discussing women as if they can be ordered off a menu. I’ll take a five four Hispanic woman, hold the curves! Bitch please! You’re an over glorified pimp at this point! No one should be characterized in this manner, men, women, or non-binary! It is an outrage and the fact that it is so upsetting while still so subtle is another nod to how amazingly skilled the author is. Eva astounds us once again by creating a realistic subtle lifelike villain. Brava, Brava!

Roman sees Karen’s intended words as well, which is a development for the naïve man. He sees exactly what his limitations are:

“A reasonable limit meaning white, Christian, conservative, born American, cis, heterosexual female, his mind supplied. Suddenly, he felt terrible. His stomach hurt” (Whatwashernameagain).

By choosing a woman of these standards, Roman would be checking off all the boxes for his far Right winged team. If he misses any of these boxes it could send the wrong message. If she’s anything but heterosexual, then he supports LGBTQ+ communities. If she’s of any other culture, then he supports the minorities. If she is not conservative, then neither is he.

This is a big moment for the hero. He is finally grasping the idea of just how trapped he is there. He may be one of the strongest people in the world but the chains around him are heavier than those of a man in prison.

Still, fear is a powerful motivator and when faced with too much our instincts kick in. Roman faces his fight or flight instincts and fighting is not an option. So, he gives in. He agrees to Susan because what else can he do?

Still, ignoring the comment about men being men, that Eva know doubt added to hammer that last nail in Karen’s well-deserved coffin, we see more of Roman’s inner turmoil with his sexuality. “He tried not to think about the disastrous attempts at dating women, of the many nights he’d prayed to god to make him stop having those terrible thoughts, about his fear of going to hell for his dreams. He’d thought he’d escaped the pressure of going out with women when he’d dedicated his life to fighting for justice.

He buried himself under his blanket and tried not to think of her. This nice, normal girl, and about how wrong he felt imagining touching her” (Whatwashernameagain).

This gives me pause. Up until now it has been Roman’s unaware of his sexuality and at first seems much of the same; and yet, we see him mention dreams. What sort of dreams could Roman be having? Wet dreams of a certain vigilante? Probably nothing so lude, but a girl could dream. Regardless, it is possible that Roman is aware that he is homosexual and is simple repressing the knowledge for his own safety. Because, in a world as hostile as the one he is experiencing… Coming out can be as dangerous as stepping into the middle of a gang war…

“Children with Politically Engaged Parents Are More Likely to Deviate from Their Parents' Political Views in Adulthood.” EUROPP, 17 May 2013, blogs.lse.ac.uk/europpblog/2013/05/17/children-with-politically-engaged-parents-are-more-likely-to-deviate-from-their-parents-political-views-in-adulthood/#Author.

Dinas, Elias. “Why Does the Apple Fall Far from the Tree? How Early Political Socialization Prompts Parent-Child Dissimilarity.” British Journal of Political Science, vol. 44, no. 4, 2014, pp. 827–852., doi:10.1017/S0007123413000033.

Whatwashernameagain. “The Dreamer - Chapter 1.” Hello Guys Gals And Non Binary Friends, 8 Sept. 2019, https://whatwashernameagain.tumblr.com/post/187581477262/the-dreamer-chapter-1.

#The Dreamer #literary analysis #analysis #so long!#Spoot is a nerd

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topimagines · 4 years

Text

Tip Toes

Summary: I’m on my tip toes, trying to see past my ego. Reaching for something more than this feeling of being important. Leaving my heart behind is bleeding, but my pride is screaming. My future will listen to me, listen to me.

Warning: I wanted to write angst, but this came out. IDK how to label it. Listen to tip toes by half alive while reading. issa long one

Y/n had not dated much. Actually, she did not start looking for a relationship until her freshman year of college. By then there weren’t many people she talked to and considered a friend; therefore, the idea of dating someone, being close to someone that was not her friend, did not pique her interest. Around the time she met Brendon and Sarah, she had lost all hope in a romantic relationship. It almost seemed too good to be true, a truly happy relationship seemed unattainable.

This feeling came in waves, making her feel nauseous like she was on a boat in a hurricane. It became truly difficult to accept a happy reality that ended in kids of her own and a husband or wife, but she knew it was just about impossible. Her best friends were a married couple and a gay man (who was also in a happy relationship), they always rooted for her. But they didn’t understand, she was a twenty-something-year-old who had no idea how to even kiss someone. Everyone always told her (especially her friends) that it was admirable that she held out for so long like she was waiting for the right person or something.

In other words, y/n would describe herself as the biggest virgin on earth, and it genuinely was from a lack of trying.

It almost felt as if her own future didn’t belong to her.

Some days were better than others, just like the day Sarah asked her to come to hang out at her house. y/n had just gotten done with finals, so she had basically a month of sitting around and waiting for the Spring semester to finally start. Sarah and Brendon cuddled on the couch, y/n on the chair in the corner of the room actually watching the movie and trying to not pay attention to the couple that was no doubt finger banging each other under the blanket they shared.

“I think I should go,” y/n said, “I have to work in the morning so I can’t stay up too late.” She stretched her arms and legs when she got up from the chair. Sarah seemed to be frightened out of a daze when she looked up at her friend.

“Oh, okay!” Sarah chirped, pushing Brendon away from her, “Do you want me to walk you out?”

y/n shook her head, “no thanks, I’m fine.”

“Well… I’ll see you later?” Sarah asked. Y/n didn’t really want to. It wasn’t that she didn’t like hanging out with them, they always made her feel lonely. And sad. But mostly lonely.

“I don’t know, I have a busy week at the hospital; I will text you when I get time,” y/n said before bidding the couple goodbye and leaving the house.

Sarah looked at her husband, who had gotten entranced by the movie in the five minutes since he was trying to sneak his hand into her pants. “You are such an idiot.”

“What did I do?”

Y/n got home that night very confused about her feelings. Her brain was spiraling out of control with delusions of being married and having someone who would dote on her the same way Brendon did Sarah. At the same time, she never really paid attention to them behind the scenes, so maybe they’re dysfunctional and she never saw it.

That didn’t make sense, if she knew one thing about the couple, it was that they talked about everything. And Sarah told her everything, every fight they had, Sarah would go to y/n’s apartment and sit until Brendon sulked his way over.

Every time she thought about the couple, she got a weird sensation of butterflies in her stomach.

No, she thought, I am not developing a stupid crush just because I’m sad and lonely.

That night she couldn’t sleep; it didn’t help that she knew she did have work in the morning and the hospital was unforgiving when the lab techs were late. By the time she finally stopped swimming in her thoughts, she had dreams of her friends, holding her hand and kissing her on the forehead.

It was 6 AM before she knew it, and she had to get up and get ready for work.

Hopefully, tea would help wake her up before she got to work and did a piss poor job.

Y/n had never been more appreciative of the hospital. She had fond memories of staying there, almost dying, meeting so many different doctors that she just didn’t have it in her to leave.

Sarcasm, that was the key to understanding her outlook on life. Constant use of sarcasm.

But she would be lying if she said that today, and every day for the past week, she was so glad they had a week full of emergencies and a trip planned for a conference with Lab Technologists across the country. This trip would take her to Boston and all she could think of was the idea of seeing every museum she could for one full week and going to a conference full of people who had a thorough understanding of microbiology and hematology. It was almost enough to make her come in her jeans.

What she did not appreciate, was Brendon coming to visit her while she was supposed to be working. She had just gotten a lab sample to test for any drug she could when Brendon waltzed in with In N Out in his hand. He greeted her with a hug and handed her the bag.

“Sarah is at work,” he sighed, “she doesn’t get a lunch today because she’s busy or something, so I thought I’d visit my bestie.” She was too distracted to notice what he was saying. Brendon tried to call her name, the third time she snapped.

“What do you want?” she half yelled, looking away from her specimen.

Brendon looked taken aback; he didn’t even know how to reply when he has never seen her so angry before. Her coworker, a younger man by the name of Jeremy Ren, looked up from his microscope and stepped over to her area.

“L/n, you go take your lunch break, I’ll take care of this shotgun,” he took the test tubes and brought them back to his microscope with him, still eyeing the two.

She scoffed and stomped out, ditching her lab coat at the door. She led Brendon to the hospital cafeteria and sat down with him in the corner.

“What’s wrong? You usually aren’t so…” Brendon trailed off, “Are you still being overworked? Have you talked to your boss about time off?”

Y/n shook her head, “I’m just… fine, I’m fine.” Internally, she cringed. If she talked to him about it, maybe she could resolve the war she had inevitably put herself into.

But the idea of not telling him anything was far more appealing. Nothing had to change.

“Are you sure? You look tired, have you been sleeping?” He reached over and grabbed her hand, tracing his thumb over her knuckles.

God, Brendon, she thought, Stop being so caring, it’s not helping my situation. She pulled her hand away and tucked it under her pants. This couldn’t happen. She did everything she could to give herself a reason not to develop a stupid crush on the man in front of her. She could only come up with two.

1. He’s married to her best friend

2. He definitely wouldn’t see her the same way

Number two made her heart bleed. Not literally, she knew the severity of an actual bleeding heart, she worked in a hospital for Christ’s sake. But if she were to imagine the pain, this would be it.

“I’m just… excited for this trip to Boston next week,” she confessed. It wasn’t a lie by any means, she stayed up all night a month ago when she heard she was going on the trip, planning what she wanted to pack. This didn’t change the stare he had on the table where her hand used to be, and his hand still sat.

“Oh, that is coming up, isn’t it?” he put a smile on his face, trying to quickly recover from whatever feeling he felt. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit off today. We haven’t seen you all week, we miss you at the house.”

She frowned. There was an impulsive need in her to put her hand back and comfort him. But she knew she shouldn’t do it because she knew it would only make her feel worse.

“I’ve been busy with work, had a lot of emergencies and stuff,” she explained, “I’m free this weekend, I’ll try to come over before I leave for the airport on Sunday.” That was not what she wanted to say, why did she say that?

“Sounds like a plan!” he seemed happy with that suggestion though, so maybe she didn’t have anything to worry about. “How has your week been, then? What kinda emergencies did you get?”

She and Brendon talked for a while, she told him about the guy who came in with necrotic tissue on his arm from heroin, and he told her about his charity live stream and how proud he was of everyone who donated.

Watching him so happy as he explained what happened, she felt herself swooning. They sat in silence for a few moments after he finished speaking, both focused on eating their food. One of the surgical nurses walked passed them with a smile on her face.

“Y/n, I didn’t know you had a boyfriend!” Brendon smirked and opened his mouth to explain that they weren’t a couple, but the nurse continued on, “you’re always going on about how lonely you are! It’s nice to see you’re finally getting out there.” Y/n’s eyes were wide, and a blush crept across her cheeks.

“Uh… thank you, Andrea,” she said with a shaky voice.

“So proud of you, my dear,” Andrea smiled brightly t the two before she walked away, bidding them goodbye.

“You’re lonely?” Brendon asked when Andrea was out of earshot.

y/n couldn’t speak as she stared at her fries, the only response she gave was a small nod.

“Why are you lonely? You never date… or expressed a desire… to date.” Damn you, Sarah, she thought, that was supposed to be a secret.

“well… lately, it’s been a bit different,” she sighed, “I’m almost 30, I’ve never been on a real date or…. Done anything, really. I thought I’d at least have a boyfriend by now.” That was easier to get off her chest than she thought.

“You’ve never done anything? Not even like… a kiss?” Brendon knew he was badgering her now, but this was so unbelievable to him. She was so smart and beautiful; how could anyone look passed her?

She shook her head, eyes still on the fries that were no longer steamy, “Can we drop it please?”

Brendon took in the shakiness to her tone and decided to drop it like she asked. This topic would definitely come up later with Sarah, though. He had so many more questions.

When they parted ways after lunch, Brendon couldn’t hold back a smile as he leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. She blushed harder than she had at lunch when she said bye to him. No one, besides her parents and grandparents, had ever kissed her on the cheek.

She kind of liked it.

Sarah told Brendon everything he wanted to know. She didn’t know why, at first, but he explained what happened during lunch.

“But you can’t badger her or make her feel bad,” Sarah emphasized, “She always felt self-conscious about it, even after we became friends.” Brendon understood, even though he never had to deal with stuff like that. He had lost his virginity early on, and everything just came naturally after that.

“I would never.”

“So, what’s with you never dating anyone?” He had promised not to pry, but now it was late at night in y/n’s apartment and he had more than a few drinks in his system. Sue him, he wanted to hang out and she brought out the wine.

“I just… don’t do it?” y/n had a few drinks in her too, the wine was making her feel like being truthful. If she were sober, she wouldn’t be telling hi anything, but maybe she needed to get it off her chest? Drunk y/n thought so, anyway. “I didn’t get my first boyfriend until my freshman year of college, and before that, I only had minor flings with girls from my school. I don’t know, dating always makes me anxious.”

“And you’ve never done anything?” He knew her answer already. This was beginning to get repetitive and even drunk y/n was fed up with it.

“Why do you keep asking that?”

“Because it’s… it’s so rare! You’re like a unicorn!” he laughed at his comparison. She shook her head, she felt kind of offended, but she knew what he was saying. He hadn’t meant it to be an insult at all, he was kind of proud of her, even with pressures that a woman date and be married by her age, she didn’t feel that. She was unabashedly herself.

He didn’t know what came over him when he opened his mouth next, “I mean, I can always help you.”

y/n looked into his eyes, and she swore that if she were a meme, she would have question marks floating around her head. “What?”

“I mean if you ever want your first kiss… or something else… I can always help you,” he didn’t know why he was saying it, but he couldn’t help but offer. The offer was outlandish, yes, but he knew Sarah would be alright with it. She had mentioned before how much she liked y/n, in a more than platonic way.

Before this whole topic came up, Brendon was planning on asking her to be their third, if she wanted to be. However, she told him she hadn’t dated someone very seriously.

“But… wh- h- Sarah?” y/n was blushing, her face and ears were bright red. This was not how she expected this to go.

“She would want to do the same thing, she has a thing for you,” drunk Brendon was an honest Brendon, apparently, “was gonna ask you if you wanted to go on a date with us the other day but obviously I didn’t.”

Y/n didn’t know what to say. Like, of course, he had to do this when she was drunk and couldn’t very well keep her thoughts to herself.

“Um…. Are you asking me now if I want to go on a date with you and Sarah?” y/n asked.

“Well, that wasn’t my first question,” Brendon leaned closer, and cupped her face with his left hand, “Tell me to stop if you want me to stop.” He continued leaning in, slowly but surely. He waited for her to protest; when she didn’t say anything, he finally connected their lips. If he were to compare all of his other kisses to the one right then, she wouldn’t be the worst. She was inexperienced, but her lips were soft and tasted like peppermint from her seasonal chapstick.

When she pulled away, he almost chased after her.

For the rest of the night, he explained the logistics of kissing, and eventually, they both fell asleep on the couch after he went on the the longest tangent on what kind of guitar he would get now that his “cream dream" was gone.

She left for Boston after saying goodbye to Brendon or Sarah. She had also talked to Robert (her other best friend) the day before the trip; he yelled at her for not telling him right away about everything that had been happening. To be genuinely honest, she needed this vacation after her night with Brendon.

It was a relief when Brendon left in the morning after they had kissed. The memory of her first kiss still burned in the back of her mind, but she didn’t want to focus on that. Right now, it was her time to relax.

That was until Brendon texted her asking what hotel she was at. She told him, just assuming he wanted to make sure she got there safe. Why would she think anything else?

She should have thought of something else. Now she was sitting in her room, scrolling through the TV when she heard the knock at the door.

He didn’t, she thought, please tell me he didn’t.

She opened the door and saw the couple standing in front of her with giant smiles on their faces.

He did.

“what are you doing here?” she said instead of greeting them.

Sarah let herself in, “we wanted to surprise you! You’ve wanted this vacation for a while, and we thought you’d want company!”

She really didn’t want company, but she put a smile on her face anyway.

After spending the whole week with Brendon and Sarah, y/n was exhausted. She only got a real break from the two when she was at the conference. They had both wished her luck that morning and went back to giggling under the blankets of their shared bed.

Now she was back in Los Angeles, and she was so fucking happy to go back to normal.

However, they didn’t necessarily go back to normal. Brendon spent a lot more time at her apartment than he used to. He started to initiate cuddling, press kisses to her cheek and hairline, and hugging her more than he used to. She started to see more of Sarah, as well. She did it more subtly. She bought y/n drinks and take her to fancy restaurants, surprises her with jewelry and takes her shopping, anything really.

All y/n wanted was for one of them to say something.

And when she least expected it, Brendon did.

“Have you ever wanted to lose your virginity?” Brendon asked during a movie one day. y/n shrugged, she couldn’t say she was surprised, she knew he would ask eventually.

“I guess,” she sighed, “its just not something I really let myself think about. I never thought anyone would… y’ know, want to. And I’m 28, no one wants to date a virgin at my age.”

“Don’t say that,” he took her hand in his. Recently, it had been his sign of comfort to lace his fingers with hers and rub his thumb along the back, “I already told you, me and Sarah love you…”

y/n couldn’t look up at him, she only stared at her fingers. She didn’t say anything, either.

“you never answered, you know,” he whispered, “let us take you on one date. A fancy restaurant, or a movie, whatever makes you least anxious.”

y/n shook her head. The feeling of drowning, even before saying yes, was obvious. She felt like she couldn’t breathe and had to remind herself how to focus on the feeling of his hand in hers.

“or, we can keep it low key, not label it… just the three of us?”

“um… okay..” y/n thought, “no labeling, just… just us. Let’s go see the new Jumanji.”

“That sounds perfect,” Brendon smiled down at y/n.

Maybe her future did belong to her.

#brendon urie fanfiction #brendon urie #brendon urie imagine #brendon urie x reader #sarah urie x reader #sarah urie imagine

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fuhrmana · 4 years

Text

An Incomplete List of Fics I’m Not Writing (Pt 2/?)

I would come up with a title based on Texas and LA (Slight AU, set around the time of the Halloween episode in s3)

Probably when Captain Strand was recruiting, Buck got an offer (c’mon, you know that Owen would have a soft spot for a man fighting to not let an illness keep him from firefighting)

Buck probably turned it down initially, because he was convinced that the lawsuit was going to work, and his family would accept him back with open arms

Then Buck gets back, and it’s off. Eddie’s closed off and mean, Bobby keeps punishing him, and Hen and Chimney keep making jokes that Buck doesn’t get, and that, that’s even worse than them being mad at him. He missed so much, and he feels so left out, and it’s hard to jump in and stay positive when the two feelings he gets from work are “begrudging hostility” and “you’re third wheeling on the greatest friendship in the house”

Buck starts worrying that the lawyer was right, and maybe he should have taken the money

That’s when Buck reaches out to Captain Strand and asks if he can come and formally interview

Buck usually thinks things through, but this time he’s pretty impulsive and he requests a week off

(note, I don’t know how firefighter interviews go, but in this case he’s doing a few shifts with the team to see how they fit)

Bobby signs off on it

There would be panic from the 118 except they think he’s doing Spring Break in Texas and there is some good natured teasing going on in one of the group chats, not one Buck is a part of

(Well this got aggressively long)

Buck fits in even better than he thought he would

TK and Captain Strand’s respectful and loving Father/Son relationship is #goals af, and Buck basks in the reflected light of it

Marjan Marwani (who Buck has 10000% watched youtube videos of) is possibly the coolest firefighter Buck has ever met. They bond over videos of them doing amazing rescues, and no one at the 126 treats her like she’s an idiot for jumping into danger to save people

Meanwhile, Mateo is hanging with them, watching all of these videos, and Thriving. Buck is so happy to have someone who looks up to him? It’s what he thought he was going to get when Eddie joined as a probie

Paul looks at Buck for three minutes on the first day, and says seven insightful things about Buck

Buck frantically googles “are psychics real” on his phone

Judd doesn’t know how he feels about Buck, but hell, he’s always liked dogs, and Buttercup and Buck are pretty similar

Buck loves being liked, so he considers them fast friends by the end of the first shift

TK and Buck bond over shared hospital trauma, and TK ends up taking Buck to the gay bar with Carlos and Paul

Paul looks at Buck while they’re in the car and says “I guess I’m the token straight again”

Buck blushes but does not deny it

Buck watches TK and Carlos a lot

It makes him. Think about. Things.

There is an ambiguous scene where Buck maybe goes home with someone

Buck goes on two more shifts

There are some funny calls

Some serious calls

And one call that makes local news

And picked up by national news

Buck gets a pinged in the group chat about how funny it is that he has a lookalike in Texas

Austin Texas

Where he’s on vacation

Wait a minute that’s not a look alike

Buck why are you riding with the 126?

Buck leaves them on read

Halfway through his final trial shift, Buck is drinking a coffee out of a truly magical device, when Marjan, Mateo and Paul drag him over to some couches, and shove him up next to Buttercup

Judd spots them across the firehouse and walks in another direction

Owen and TK are at the chemo place

It’s kind of an intervention

Buck has been pretty chatty about his current team, and they’re all confused as to why he’s thinking about leaving

Marjan makes at least one joke about not wanting to share the spotlight with him

Buck tries to explain, but he’s stumbling over his words and he ends it with

“You’ve known me for five days, but you asked me to explain myself. My team’s known me for years, and they would have told me what I was thinking. I’m worried I can’t. Grow with them. And that’s why I left Pennsylvania”.

Buck looks stricken after he says this and gets up walks away

Paul sighs

“He’d be a good fit here, but I don’t think he’s going to accept the offer.

At the end of the shift, Captain Strand says “we can make it work for you to join us, but I need an answer within a week.”

Buck shakes his hand, tells Captain Strand that he’ll be letting him know as soon as he’d had a chance to talk to his family

This is mostly referring to Maddie, but...

Buck gets back to LA, and finally responds to all of the messages he’s gotten since the lookalike kerfuffle

“Haha, yeah that was me. It’s kind of a funny story, I’ll tell you all tomorrow during the shift.”

He shoots a different text off to Maddie

Hey, can I see you? Just got back from the airport

He ends up at Maddie’s place, explaining how the whole week has been, and how he doesn’t want to abandon her in LA after she moved there for him, and that he feels stupid because he sued to get his job back and now he’s thinking about leaving, and probably both of them cry

Buck probably sleeps there (for old times sake)

In the morning, before he heads off to work, she stops him and says “Don’t stay for me. But see if you want to stay for yourself”

Buck goes into the firehouse, and Bobby does the breakdown of the day, and then looks at Buck and says “we’re all waiting to hear how you ended up helping the 126 during your vacation”

And Buck laughs nervously and says “Well, so I was actually doing a trial week with them” and there is a Ruckus

Chim is upset because of Maddie, but also Buck

Eddie is furious because of Eddie reasons

Bobby had kind of assumed it had to be something like that, but it Hurts to have it confirmed

Hen looks conflicted. She’s thought about leaving this job before, but never to transfer somewhere else, and she needs a minute to think it through

Buck frowns and says “I really liked working with the 118, but they aren’t my family. I don’t want to leave another family, but I need to know that you all want me here too”

Bobby is starting to wonder if he should call out his whole team and do emergency therapy

Buck is kind of hoping the bell will go off so it can end here

The bell does not go off

Bobby starts talking, but trails off before he finishes the sentence and restarts

“Athena told me I either had to let you do the job or go somewhere where you could. Buck, I want you here, and I’m sorry I haven’t shown it. I don’t think this can be fixed overnight, so maybe we should talk about your timeline

the bell rings right after this

Bobby gets dramatic timing better than Buck does

When they get back from the call, Buck and Bobby and the spirit of every sponsor and therapist the two of them have ever had have a conversation about what Buck needs at his job

And the fact that Bobby is willing to make a few concessions and admit that he was in the wrong about a few things

Buck leaves the office to find that the rest of the team has divvied up his time to talk through why exactly he was leaving and why he shouldn’t

Chim is blunt, Hen is supportive of whatever decision Buck needs to make and Eddie glares at Buck and tells him that they’re meeting at Eddie’s house after the shift

Buck wants to see Christopher, but he’s hoping that Eddie isn’t going to use Chris as the reason that Buck should stay

Buck gets to Eddie’s house after shift, only to find out that Christopher isn’t... home that night

Buck is uneasy

Eddie sticks Buck on the couch, shoves a beer into Buck’s hand and starts pacing

Eddie and Buck both aren’t great at words

Eddie starts and stops for an eternity (three minutes)

Finally Eddie sits on the couch, takes the beer he gave Buck, takes a swig and hands it back

I have to stress, there is only one beer

Eddie got Buck one, but not himself

Eddie finally settles on a sentence

“I finally started seeing a therapist”

Buck doesn’t say anything and neither does Buck

Eddie continues

“He thinks I’m projecting. Like I’m mad at you for what I was doing, and I think he’s right.”

Buck opens his mouth, but Eddie holds his hand up.

“I want you to know that I don’t want you to leave, but I won’t be angry at you if you leave, and I’ll make sure we stay in contact.”

Eddie won’t be mad at Buck, he’ll finally get mad at the person who deserves it

(that’s himself, just fyi)

Buck very carefully takes a sip of the beer.

It doesn’t seem like Eddie has anything else to say, so Buck finally speaks

“I don’t think I’m leaving. I fought to come back to you for a reason. If we’re all ready to work towards each other, I’m not going to bail.

There’s silence for a little longer. Buck hands the beer over to Eddie and continues.

“I think it was good that I tried it though. I think I needed to see how other houses work to see what I should be asking for.”

Buck wants to talk about some of the other things he’s seen but it feels like too much

Instead they play video games

Buck calls up Captain Strand and volunteers for any temporary help they may need, but nothing permanent. Bobby and Buck continue working on their relationship. Slowly Buck becomes a part of the inside jokes of Chim and Hen again. Eddie and Buck continue to spend time together, and Buck continues talking to the 126 for a while.

This is probably where this particular story ends

#9-1-1 #fic prompt

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jvee0909-blog · 4 years

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By: Jessica Villasenor

As Good as It Gets

As Good as It Gets is focused on Melvin Udall who is an obsessive-compulsive (OCD) man who is rude to anyone and everyone he meets. This Drama/Rom-Comedy begins when Melvin’s gay neighbor Simon is robbed and brutally beat up and Melvin has to take care of his dog during his recovery. Simon’s dog begins to make a difference in Melvin’s life when he begins to soften a little. And as if the dog wasn’t enough, Melvin finds that he may be able to carry a relationship with the only waitress at a local diner who serves him and had to endure his rude comments. Melvin’s life seems to be normalizing until Simon wants his dog back and his regular waitress has to leave work to look after her asthmatic son, that’s when Melvin realizes that his life needs others for more than just selfish reasons.

Authentic: Strongly Agree

In As Good as It Gets, Melvin is shown to visit a psychiatrist once, the one and only time his disorder was mentioned. But his symptoms were shown throughout the movie. OCD is characterized by reasonable thoughts and fears or obsessions that lead to compulsive behaviors such as compulsive behavior, agitation, impulsivity, repetitive movements, ritualistic behaviors, and social isolation. Which Melvin showed in the film. Melvin must turn each lock on his apartment door exactly five times every time he would get to his apartment, he would not step on any cracks on the floor or sidewalks and when he was out his focus was making sure he would not step on any of them leading to running into individuals on the streets for not paying attention where he was going, that’s an example of ritualistic behavior. He has to wash his hands in scalding water with brand-new bar soap ad throw away the bar immediately then grab another bar to wash off the fact that he threw away the first bar soap, that is definitely the fear of germs which is also part of the disorder. Melvin was very isolated, did not have much contact with people due to his impulsivity behaviors. The viewers also got to see his disorder forefront when he would be eating at the restaurant. Melvin would take his plastic utensils as well as have them lined up exactly his own way, and not to forget to mention, he only had to be served by the one and only waitress.

Lastly but most importantly, he has a routine every day and if it was disturbed for any reason his level of anger would increase. For example, when he was not at the right table at his daily restaurant, when the waitress wasn’t around and also, when he visited the doctor and he noticed his doctor had moved his office around. All of those behaviors from Melvin are symptoms of OCD (National Institute of Mental Health).

Attractive: Neither Agree or Disagree

At the beginning of the movie, Melvin was rude to everyone he would cross paths with, he had no one he showed any emotions for. The movie leads on to make Melvin look like he is just a rude person suffering from OCD and not trying to help himself or feel any sympathy for anyone. To name some examples, when the neighbors rang his door bell more than once he would open the door aggressively because he would get interrupted during his working hours at home as well as throwing the dog through the trash tunnel they used in his apartment building. When he visited the doctor, he showed up screaming “help!” being completely rude to the doctor. When he would yell at other waitresses for not getting his routine right. Also, when he showed up to the waitress house and blamed her for ruining his day for not being at work as he expected her and in that same scene he is attempting to teach the waitress son manners when it was uncalled for as well as when waiting for the taxi to take the son to the hospital he yelled at little kids to shut up when they were singing while walking. But those negative qualities slowly begin to turn into positive qualities as the movie goes on, Melvin is able to continue his writing, go through the city to dine at his common restaurant as well as to live as normal as can.

Though, my thoughts contradict because Melvin begins to put effort on his positive qualities when he starts caring for the dog as well as the waitress. He then begins to go out of his way to help and make some changes to keep around those who deep down mattered to him. For example, he took care of the neighbor’s dog and actually cared for it, including taking it for walks. Also, when he realized the reason why the waitress was not going to work because her son was sick, he sent out a doctor as well as a nurse to help paying all the medical bills, that way she can go back to work. Another great gesture he had was taking care of his neighbor when his maid had to go and the fact that he noticed his neighbor might be falling into depression and he tries to help even when the neighbor does not want to be helped at first. Due to those good qualities throughout the movie I rated this “neither agree or disagree”

Friendly: Agree

In As Good as It Gets there is a few characters shown to not care for Melvin due to their lack of knowledge of his disorder. For this rating I am going to evaluate how those people changed around to care for Melvin. I will focus on only the neighbor and Carol (waitress) because those where the two he mostly interacted with.

Melvin did not exhibit any forms of relationships at beginning of the movie, besides his neighbors who thought he was just a rude old man which lead to no one caring about him in all reality. In the scene where Melvin goes on a trip with his neighbor and the waitress, Melvin shares that his dad used to hit him which leads the viewers to think that his dad was not very caring. Also, no one liked running into him in his apartment building as well as at the restaurant. But as the movie goes on his neighbor begins to be around a little more by spending more time with Melvin even when going through some rough times which leads to him caring for Melvin as caring as could be considering his situation. The waitress begins to understand that he has a problem and learns to cope with his disorder and Melvin’s way of living that leads to them having a romantic relationship, the waitress learns that Melvin’s way to say things or be “nice” is still a working process and things he says might not sound nice, but he means well. Carol begins to acknowledge his good and bad qualities. For example, the scene where they took a trip and they are having drinks she asks Melvin for a compliment and Melvin struggles but as mad as the waitress was, she chose to stay and tell him what she wants from him. Carol also exposed Melvin to many of his fears and lead Melvin to benefit from it as a recovery kind.

Therefore, I’m going to rate this as “agree” because the neighbor and waitress become Melvin’s support system by developing relationships with him. In reality it was just them two by showing patience and their own way of support. Well, not exactly just them too. I cannot forget to mention the dog, it actually started choosing him instead of his owner and the dog even learns a few traits of his disorder, which is not stepping on cracks as well.

Hopeful: Strongly Agree

This movie had a very hopeful ending due to the reason that Melvin’s relationship with the two-people involved in his life. At the end of the movie as I have already mentioned, Melvin learns that in order to keep people around and begin to live a better life he has to make some changes. His symptoms improve because once he encounters the relationship with the waitress he is not focused much on those OCD traits. For example, Melvin learns to express himself in a matter of empathy. Melvin begins to show more emotions to her by agreeing to go on a date as well as when Carol puts ultimatums of the relationship not working out if he continues his ritualistic behaviors such as not stepping on cracks we see him at the end of the movie when he actually steps on a crack and does not care when noticed after giving Carol a speech about him knowing “he can do better than that” and why he feels great when he’s with her and kissing her not caring about germs. Now for his relationship with the neighbor, Melvin allows him to stay with him in his apartment as well with his dog and allowing the dog to get on the bed and both getting comfortable. Melvin also learns to look for the neighbor to get advice from him when struggling with his feelings towards the waitress. Therefore, I strongly agree on this rating.

Helpful: Neither Agree or Disagree

In this film, there was only one professional who Melvin met with once. The doctor in my opinion, acted as appropriate as could in the scene shown. The doctor stated he could not help Melvin if he did not agree to meet regularly which is the first step to treat OCD. To try to maintain normal household routines whenever possible. Melvin asked a few random questions while being very angry and the doctor did not leave any unanswered. Though, he was firm and told him he couldn’t not help him at the moment or even just when he pleased and showed up without an appointment. However, Melvin does mention his doctor prescribed him medication to deal with the disorder which leads me to feel doubtful about the doctor. Medication is not exactly the right way to deal with his disorder. Though, the doctor also told Melvin he needed to break his routine which is definitely the best way to go about it. But it did not seem as if the doctor gave him specific instructions on how to do so which is why Melvin thought by showing up to his office unannounced was him breaking his routine. Those facts are not good judgements in part by the psychologist. Therefore, I neither agree or disagree for this rating.

References

Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. (n.d.). Retrieved from https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/obsessive-compulsive-disorder-ocd/index.shtml

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greettheworld · 5 years

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Chapter 2: Don’t Worry About Them

You can read it on AO3 too!

After a slow and quiet walk, Cyrus finally reached Andi’s apartment. He took a deep breath before knocking on the door. His arms felt weak everytime his hand connected with the door. No more than a minute later, Andi came to answer.

When Andi and Buffy opened the door, she didn’t expect a miserable looking Cyrus. His face was covered in sweat and his eyes was obviously on the verge of flowing - this is the most miserable they saw Cyrus. They immediately let Cyrus in, telling him to sit down to console him.

“What happened?” Andi asked.

“I went to TJ to talk to him,” Cyrus answered. Slowly, he explained what happened at the gym. Everything to what TJ said to what he felt - no details spared. All Throughout Cyrus’s sharing, As Andi intimately listened, Buffy felt incredibly uneasy. She kept silent because she’s certain how they would react.

Buffy had suspicions that TJ felt strongly about Cyrus. She knew, in one way or another, TJ had feelings for Cyrus. In the heat of the moment, she used Cyrus to win over their argument. Now she realized what she’s done is villainous, especially considering Cyrus recently shared his feelings for TJ. Hearing them talk slowly and painfully breaks her heart. As every second passes, her wanting to talk grew more and more.

“I wouldn’t say ‘hate’,” Andi defended. “I would’ve even forgiven him if he just asked for it.”

“It was as if he was sure that we were talking badly about him behind his back,” Cyrus said. “Even if I tried, I can never say anything mean about him.”

“I-” he paused. “I like him,” Cyrus said, worried and defeated. “I like TJ”

Andi and Buffy’s eyes widened. This is the first time Cyrus admitted his feelings about TJ.

“...and I’m jealous,” he added. “And I’m disappointed, but I was never angry at him.”

Cyrus leaned forward. He planted his face on his palms. “What did I do?” he kept thinking to himself. Andi, feeling bad for his friend, tried her best to console Cyrus by rubbing his back.

“It’s going to be fine,” Andi said. “Today’s probably just not his day. I can help you talk to him again tomorrow.”

“I don’t really want to bother him for a while,” Cyrus said. “Maybe I just need some space myself.”

“Okay,” Andi nodded. “We’ll be a text away if you need our help.” Andi looked at Buffy. “Right, Buffy?”

Buffy gulped.

“It’s my fault,” she said in a faint, frail voice. “I told TJ those stuff.”

Shocked, Cyrus and Andi looked at Buffy with haste. They were speechless - maybe they just misheard her. “What did you say?” Andi asked.

“I told him that he was too selfish,” Buffy said, recalling her last quarrel with TJ. “That he just thinks about himself; and that Cyrus hates him.”

“Buffy!” Andi exclaimed while Cyrus’s jaw was agape. “Why would you say that?”

Buffy can’t maintain eye contact with them out of pure guilt. She bit her lower lip. “We were fighting over scheduling for the gym. I got so mad at him, I said those things to get him off my back.”

“You can’t just go around saying those serious things,” Andi scolded.

Buffy nodded, never denying to what Andi had said. “I didn’t know what to say,” she reasoned. “I just can’t let the boys’ team hog the gym.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of ways you could’ve negotiated with TJ and the coach,” Andi refuted. “That’s the worst thing you could’ve said.” “Because of that, look at what happened,” she added, looking at poor Cyrus sitting between them. “Consequences, Buffy. Words like those have serious consequences.”

Cyrus face was covered in defeat and disbelief. He can’t believe that his best friend would use his name like that. With his eyes shut tight, Cyrus stood up, unable to wrap his head around everything. “I’m going home,” he said.

“Cyrus…” Buffy remorsefully said. When Cyrus was leaving, Buffy stood up to follow him, repeatedly calling out for his name. As the boy opened the door, Buffy grabbed his wrist to stop him. “Please don’t leave yet,” she begged. “Please…”

The boy hesitantly turned around as tears welled up in his eyes. “What am I supposed to do now, Buffy?” he asked. Whether that was rhetorical or literal, it was up to Buffy to interpret. “I can’t handle people being mad at me and you know that!” he added. “Especially if it wasn’t my fault.”

Buffy’s grip loosened, enabling Cyrus to break free. “I’ll just sleep it out,” he said. “I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow.”

Cyrus’s eyes felt heavy - tired, and yet, he can’t sleep from overthinking. His senses was overloaded. Every bit of sensation just annoys his to no end. Everytime he closes his eyes, tears just start to build up.

Cyrus reached for his phone to hopefully talk to Andi. He looked at the list of his recent messages his gaze got stuck on one person: TJ Kippen. He opened their conversation instead. Impulsively, his fingers started typing letters.

“Can we please talk tomorrow?” Cyrus texted TJ. With what Buffy said, there’s no way TJ would talk to them now, but deep down, he hoped - he wanted TJ text him back.

“Why did I do that?” he asked himself after realising what he texted. “Why am I being so stupid.” “Even if he replied, I’m sure he’s still mad at me.”

After passing some time, texting with Andi about what Buffy had said, a message from TJ arrived.

“I have a game tomorrow,” was said on the notification on the top of his screen.

Cyrus’s heartbeat raced immediately. It was oddly tamed compared to what he was expecting. He breathed out a sigh of relief.

He immediately opened up to their conversation.

Cyrus: Where’s your game gonna be at?

TJ: School. Gym.

Cyrus: Can I come and watch?

TJ: Up to you.

Cyrus: What time?

TJ: 9:00 PM.

TJ’s replies was short and concise.

Cyrus sighed. He knew he should be straightforward with TJ, but he wanted to talk to him personally.

Cyrus: Can we talk afterwards?

Cyrus: Please?

TJ: And bad mouth me again? No thanks.

It felt like a needle prick his heart.

Cyrus: Please.

Cyrus: I’ll do anything. I just need to talk to you.

TJ: Anything?

Cyrus: Anything.

TJ: Okay.

Cyrus: Alright.

Cyrus: See you tomorrow.

He was relieved. At least TJ still talks to him. After thinking about it some more, he got more nervous. Maybe we can figure things out tomorrow.

1:45 PM. The gym was full of spectators from both Jefferson and Northmont. Both schools had made their respective signs and chants to cheer for their team. Cyrus, without his friends, sat on the front seat.

The players relentlessly went back and forth the court. The ball kept passing from one player to another - from team to team - back and forth. All the rules, violations, and tricks was a blur for Cyrus - he never was a man of basketball - or any sports for that matter. What matters, though, was one specific player. He was mesmerized by a certain someone - TJ.

TJ played his heart out that game. His exhaustion was visible. He’s been in court longer than anyone else - he scored more than anyone else. Every shot at the ring had an added flair as if he was impressing the crowd - or at least someone in the crowd. The game ended with 68-50, in favor for Jefferson. TJ scored 36 points for his team, earning him the title of MVP.

After the game, the team retreated to their locker room to talk. As the crowd dispersed and the gym emptied, Cyrus sat by the bleachers alone, waiting for TJ. Same as the day prior, Cyrus sat quietly as one-by-one, TJ’s teammates leave the gym.

Eventually, TJ stepped out of the locker room, slowly walking by. Cyrus stood up and called for TJ’s attention. “Teej-” he faintly yelled. Fortunately, it was enough to get the other boy’s attention.

TJ stopped in his tracks and immediately looked at Cyrus. Both of them stood still, looking each other silently. No other noise can be heard in this otherwise echoey gym. The two shared the moment in complete silence - different from what they usually do.

Cyrus inchingly stepped closer to TJ, none of them mouthing a word. Each step from the bleachers made Cyrus more and more anxious.

Despite the size of the gym, the two stood in front of each other, inches apart. Cyrus hesitantly looked at TJ in the eyes. The other did the same.

“TJ-”

“I’m sorry,” before Cyrus can say anything, TJ cut him off. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“You didn’t deserve it,” TJ’s words were full of regret and sorrow. He can’t look at Cyrus straight in the eyes out of sheer embarrassment. “Everything was my fault - everything you said was right. You’re right to be mad at me.”

Cyrus was perplexed at TJ’s honesty. Maybe it’s a good time to ask TJ for answers. “Why were you mad?” he asked.

“I-” TJ shook his head. “I don’t know. All I know is I felt scared that you were mad at me.”

TJ sniffled.

“Then why would you back out from in the first place?” Cyrus asked, stepping closer. “It was our thing, wasn’t it?”

TJ was silent.

“I was excited,” Cyrus continued. “I thought, for the first time, someone asked me to be partnered with them. It was always me expecting too much and then they’ll tell me it’s to cringy or embarrassing.”

Cyrus sniffled. “Is that also the case for you?”

“No!” TJ blurted. “Of course not…”

“Then why?”

“Because being partners for a costume isn’t what typical friends do,” TJ said.

“Is that a rule, or…”

“Isn’t it weird for two guys to dress up as their inside joke - as ‘their thing?’”

Cyrus was taken aback. “So…” Something clicked in Cyrus head. “You think it would look gay? Is that it?”

TJ’s eyes widened. He never thought Cyrus might say those words - he was speechless.

“So you think that’s wrong?”

“I never said it was wrong,” TJ clarified. “I never thought it was wrong.”

Cyrus’s gut wretched in disbelief. It was a conversation he wasn’t ready to deal with. He wanted it to end soon.

“Okay,” Cyrus just nodded his head. “We’re good,” he said in an obviously dissatisfied voice.

TJ didn’t believe it for a second.

“I got to go,” Cyrus made an excuse to leave. “I need to see Andi and Buffy.” He turned around and briskly walked to the exit.

“Cyrus!” TJ called out. “I’m scared, okay?!”

Cyrus stopped halfway to the door and looked at TJ. “...what?”

“I’m scared,” TJ said with his face full of worry.

“What will you be scared about?”

“I don’t want people to look at me differently,” TJ said. “They already know I’m stupid.”

“TJ-” Cyrus tried to sympathize with TJ. He does feel the same - he doesn’t want to be different - to feel different. Aside from Andi, Buffy and his parents, no one really knows about his secret. “I-”

“I like you.”

Cyrus’s eyes widened and his heart started pounding. He turned around to look at TJ and saw the boy’s face flushed with red. “What did you say?”

TJ dropped his head. “This is embarrassing…”

“I said I like you and I’m scared,” he completed his thought. “I’m scared what they’d think - what YOU would think. I already look different in everyone’s eyes because I have to take special classes. I don’t doubt that it’ll get worse if they know I’m gay.”

Cyrus’s face was also covered in red. His heart was racing, unable completely comprehend what TJ had said - he was in complete disbelief. “Did he really say that?” he thought.

“Say something Cyrus!” he kept saying to himself. “Anything!” Alas, though, nothing meaningful can come out his mouth.

“Ok…” was all Cyrus was able to let out.

TJ walked towards Cyrus. “I know you’re still mad at me - it’s justified, but I’m just glad you listened. It’s like I removed a heavy weight on my chest.”

“I’m done,” he sighed. TJ flimsily waved his hands. “I’m gonna go.”

Before TJ can put down his hands, Cyrus reached for it. Their palms and fingers connected. TJ, in shocked, stared directly at Cyrus who was also blushing as much as him. Slowly, he nudged his hand. His fingers are now between Cyrus’s. Nervously, both of them tightened their fingers, interlocking them.

With his other hand, Cyrus grabbed the back of TJ’s other hand. He raised it carefully towards his head. With the softest touch, TJ’s palms greeted Cyrus’s cheeks. Both of them breathing heavily.

They let go of their interlocking fingers, but TJ won’t remove his hand on Cyrus’s cheeks, but instead, he started caressing it with his thumb. TJ’s soft hands is preventing Cyrus from concentrating. Never has Cyrus’s raced this fast. Then again, he has never done this with a crush before.

“You don’t have to be scared of what I think,” Cyrus said softly. “I can never say ‘no’ to spending time with you.”

TJ faintly smiled for what his crush said to him. He could never be any happier at that moment, but unfortunately, he kept his excitement in check. “I’m still scared of what others might say,” he said.

Cyrus looked at TJ sympathetically. “You know…” He reached to hold out TJ’s hand one more time.

“I’m scared of them too.”

TJ bowed his head in understanding. He put down his hands to his sides, but he maintained his sights to Cyrus.

“But that doesn’t mean we have to keep it secret from each other,” Cyrus said. “What if…” he followed. “What if, for now, maybe we don’t worry about them. Maybe for now, it can just be you and me.”

TJ felt enlightened. Every ounce of doubt he has has been cast out. “Fine by me,” TJ chuckled.

The two of them stared at each other with wide bright smiles flashing from their faces, chucking like a bundle of crazy pair. “So this is what it feels like,” Cyrus thought.

With all the smiling and giggling, TJ broke the ice. “All this talking made me hungry,” he said.

“Or maybe because you just finished playing basketball,” Cyrus corrected.

“Eh. Debatable,” TJ replied. “Talking to you was definitely more stressful. Spoon? My treat.”

Cyrus shrugged with a smile on his face.

#andi mack #tyrus #am fanfic #cyrus goodman #tj kippen

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rickktish · 5 years

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Recompense

Endeavor really does topple from his high high tower, and the fall of it is great and magnificent and immeasurably painful for everyone involved.

All of his children find their lives completely disrupted with all the media attention and rabid reporting that comes from a giant’s fall from grace.

Natsuo is the best off for a while because no one has any idea he’s endeavor’s son, until some reporter follows a paper trail that isn’t even supposed to exist anymore and winds up on the doorstep of his place of work asking for Todoroki Natsuo, Endeavor’s most neglected son. All of his coworkers know him as Yukizome Natsuo because he changed his name as soon as he moved out to his mother’s maiden name. Unfortunately, he’s the only Natsuo there and now everyone knows, which drags him into the mess as well.

Endeavor tries to avoid legal action by saying that he was trying to do better, he was working on being better, but he does not escape the justice system. As well as jail time, he has court-mandated therapy which he has to attend even when he’s no longer incarcerated. In therapy, he’s forced to realize that his children and wife are people and that he hurt them.

He made an impulsive decision when he was a teenager— the decision to do whatever it took to overtake All Might— which doesn’t seem impulsive because of the long-reaching effects it’s had on his life and others, but it was impulsive. It wasn’t thought through, it was instantaneous. He had an idea, he made a plan, and he stuck with it for over twenty years.

It takes a full two years of mandatory weekly therapy to have a breakthrough— an Aha! moment when he finally gets it. He finally gets that his wife has thoughts and feelings, that his children are more than products they are people, that he has caused each and every member of his family incredible pain and suffering. It shakes him down to his very core, this sudden empathy (except it hasn’t been sudden at all, this is what his therapist has been trying to get him to realize all along and they’ve been working toward this point for so long his therapist had nearly given up hope) that destroys every excuse, every reason, every point he’s ever made in favor of his treatment of them. They are real, and they are afraid, and they hate him because he has hurt them.

It takes him three full weeks to leave the house after he gets home from that particular session. His therapist has to hunt him down, come to his house, slap him back into the real world, and tell him that if he really feels so bad about it he ought to try to do something as recompense.

It takes another year and a half after that of working through issues to convince him to try and apologize.

It takes another six months for him to actually start writing letters of apology.

His therapist says that physical letters will mean more; say more; show more, and he takes their advice.

It takes another year to actually send any of the letters. He sends the first one to Rei.

His hero license was revoked, but being the Number Two Hero for so long built him up enough savings to last the rest of his life, even after paying reparations. He can’t get work, so it’s a good thing he doesn’t need to. Oh, how the mighty do fall; the higher they stand, the deeper they plunge. He takes up gardening simply to have something to do. It doesn’t go well at first, but as he learns more and grows more and tries harder and harder to heal, his garden slowly gets better and better, beginning to flourish as he becomes gentler and more mellow with the plants.

It takes three months before she’s actually able to bring herself to open the letter.

It takes another four before she feels she’s able to reply.

The letter arrives in his mailbox like the sunrise, and he holds it in trembling hands for two hours before he’s actually able to open it.

It says a lot of things, some painful, some kind, some horrifying, and all true.

It ends thus:

“In spite of it all, I find that I can’t help but find it in myself to forgive you.”

He calls his therapist right then and there to share the good news.

His therapist reminds him that this is only a beginning; it doesn’t mean things are going to be good right away, this is only the opening of a dialogue, not the conclusion of the journey.

Chastised, he writes another letter.

They begin a regular correspondence, hesitant, halting at first, but eventually blooming into real communication. They stick with physical letters, the delay giving each of them time to live, to experience the world around them in between.

A month after Rei replies to his first letter, he begins sending the others.

First to Fuyumi, who was always quickest to forgive. It was not out of love for him, he now knows, but out of longing for something to call normal, something to be happy for.

She replies eagerly, and they also take up a correspondence, though it’s still nearly a year before she allows him any further part in her life.

Second to Touya, who has been in prison for several years at this point. He does not expect or imagine that he will receive anything in response, though he’s not particularly surprised when what he does get back is a single image of a rude hand gesture, drawn hastily and without much skill. He will continue to send letters every year to Touya on the anniversary of the day he ran away from home, on Touya’s birthday, and on the anniversary of Endeavor’s own arrest for decades to come, receiving slowly improving drawings of the same rude hand gesture all along the way.

He lines the pictures up along the seam between wall and ceiling in his living room, watching the style and skill change and progress. By the time anything changes in their correspondence, years and years and years down the line, he has lined nearly every room in the entire house with the drawings. The last several are true art, with magnificent detail and shading and realism that would shock any visitor if anyone actually bothered to visit him.

Third he sends a letter to Natsuo. Natsuo, whose name he barely remembered for most of his son’s childhood. Natsuo, whose birthday he had to look up on his birth certificate because he had no idea when it was. Natsuo, who Fuyumi raised on her own after Rei was put away and Touya ran off. Natsuo, who raised himself because no one in his household would even look at him much of the time, either out of lack of interest, being needed for other things, or because it was forbidden. Natsuo, who no one even knew existed until that reporter followed that paper trail that shouldn’t have existed, because everyone knew one of Endeavor’s sons disappeared, everyone knew Endeavor’s daughter when she was a teaching college, everyone knew Endeavor’s youngest was a prodigy who nearly won the sports festival in his first year, but no one knew about invisible Natsuo.

He gets no reply from Natsuo for over two years. It is not a surprise.

The sting he feels at the rejection is not a good one (though perhaps it is, in a way: this is what he deserves, after all. This is justice. This is right. To be ignored by the child he ignored for so longis— fitting in a deep, nearly unspeakable way) but it is an important one. It teaches him things he cannot express in mere words.

Fourth of his children to receive a letter of apology from him is the one he thinks he truly hurt the most. Isolated, imprisoned, tortured, sometimes starved; what few things he did not do to this child were the line that would have meant his permanent incarceration, and had he crossed it he would have felt himself worthy of death.

(he thought he was anyway, for that first three weeks of waking, of awareness, of soul-deep pain inexpressible in its magnitude. His therapist told him that no, he did not deserve death. Death is not a thing one deserves, merely a thing one must experience as part of being mortal. Nor is death itself an atonement: it cannot make up for horrible acts, any more than financial compensation can make up for destroyed homes in a villain attack. Perhaps there is an atonement to be made after death, but it can bring no comfort to those left behind in the realm of the living. No, his death cannot make amends. Only he can do that, and to die then would have been to leave a permanent wound on all those he has injured which would never be able to be healed.)

His letter to Shouto is his longest and, while they are all equally heartfelt, certainly the one he made and revised and burned the most drafts over. His son is a pro hero, exactly as he wished him to be, but he makes no mention of that. His son is gay, which is one of the many things that led to the final fight with Touya so many years ago, but he makes no mention of that either, outside of an ambiguously stated “I hope that you have found comfort in those who love you and those who you love, and that together you are happy.” The entire letter walks a fine line between graphic acknowledgment of the horrors he forced this child to experience and tactful reference to difficult subjects with no outright statement of them. He asked his therapist to review it a dozen times before sending, and even then he’s uncertain about it. He wants to validate his son’s experience, express to him that he knows and understands exactly what he did that was wrong and why, but doesn’t want to dredge up painful memories in doing so. It seems impossible to do both.

The first three weeks after he sends Shouto’s letter are almost a perfect reflection of the weeks after his moment of realization. He doesn’t leave his house; he hardly eats or sleeps; his garden begins to wither with neglect as everything tumbles down and he spends all of his time gazing at a single wall with eyes leaking freely, tearing at his hair and moaning as he feels the depth and breadth of his sins crushing him from all sides. For the second time since he began this process, his therapist physically goes to his home and slaps him back into awareness, forces him to shower, feeds him, and makes him sleep until he’s nearly human again.

They talk about it. His guilt, his grief, his fear that nothing he does will ever make up for what he has done. His therapist reminds him that what he’s already done is already done, and he’s not trying to balance the scales in doing this, not trying to even out all the bad things with too few good ones far too late; that’s not how people work and that’s not how making amends works. He’s trying to heal wounds and scar tissue. He’s trying to make that which hurt both him and his family become something that doesn’t hurt as much anymore, and the best case scenario, the absolute dream, is that he can go even beyond that and make something good in the end. His therapist reminds him that while recompense means to compensate, to weigh one thing against another and try to come out equal, its purpose is much deeper and much more than that. His recompense is no mere equivocation, but instead a pursuit of what can be. His family has already seen the worst of him. It is only fitting that he try now to give them the best.

It takes some more talking and contemplation and working in his garden some more, but he gets there again and is able to go back to his regular routine, the uncertainty of whether or not Shouto will reply and what effect his letter might have had on him moving from oppressing fear and looming horror into quiet nervousness almost too faint to notice once again.

Time moves on. He keeps going to therapy. He keeps writing letters to Touya. He keeps up his correspondence with Rei and Fuyumi.

Someday, he meets Fuyumi for lunch. It’s awkward at first, because they have never truly talked in person, but that’s okay. There’s a point where they both break down laughing at how shy they’re being, and then the atmosphere and the conversation warm to a pleasant, comfortable thing, and they part well. And they heal.

Someday, Natsuo replies to his letter. It takes a long time, but eventually, they too meet and Enji has the chance to apologize properly, face to face. He cries. Natsuo is silent for a time, and then expresses the pain and rage and hurt he’s been feeling for so long, and it’s freeing, and he cries too. And then they’re two big, stocky men sitting somewhere crying. And eventually, Natsuo stands to leave, but before he does Enji says one last time, “I’m sorry. I do love you,” and Natsuo walks out with a fresh wave of new tears.

Eventually, they meet again, and it’s as awkward and uncomfortable as it was with Fuyumi, but it’s okay. And they part well. And they heal.

Someday, Rei leaves the hospital. She doesn’t want to live with him again and that’s okay. She gets her own place, farther than a pleasant walk from his but close enough that they can visit. He doesn’t go to her home, she comes to his. They talk. They’re amiable. There’s a kind of love between them that should never truly be called love, but is instead a kind of contentment; a peace to be found in each other that can’t quite be expressed in words or thoughts or pictures but simply is. And they heal.

Someday, he visits Touya in prison and he says all the things he’s been writing in each letter, everything he’s been finding new ways to say and to think and expressing them anew every single time, and this time it’s in person. And Enji cries, just a little bit, gently. And Touya doesn’t look at him. But it’s okay, because he’s said it, and he’ll continue to say it until the day he dies.

Someday, Natsuo introduces Enji to his husband. Fuyumi introduces him to her spouse. Rei watches their kids, because they’re not sure they’re quite comfortable with that yet, but they meet for lunch and get to know each other a little bit. And much is said, and much goes unsaid, and it’s a little awkward but it’s peaceful and they again part well.

Someday, Enji is allowed to meet his grandchildren. He’s very gentle with them, moving slowly and never once igniting a flame on his face or shoulders around them. He holds their small hands in his big ones and smiles gently and listens as they tell him about themselves and their lives and their days. He watches and carefully imitates Natsuo’s younger son’s hands as he shows him some basic signs for when they don’t have their hearing aids in.

Someday, Fuyumi gives birth again and this time, for the first time, he’s allowed to be there, waiting in the waiting room for when she’s ready for visitors. He holds his granddaughter and thinks this, this is what he was missing out on for so many years, and he cries, and he’s so unspeakably grateful that they’ve allowed him to be a part of this moment, of their lives.

Someday, Shouto sends him a text. There’s no letter, no long description or explanation or list of reasons he hates him or anything; it’s only a simple text that invites him to dinner. He goes, and they meet, and he meets his son’s friends, and his fiance, and the family Shouto has built for himself from the ground up because his own family was never a family at all, but now it can be. And at the end of the night, Shouto invites him outside to talk. And Shouto explains to him how he felt when he got his letter, and what he thought, and all the many thoughts that have run through his mind over the years. He tells how relieved he was when Endeavor survived that Noumu. He tells how conflicted he felt over that relief. He tells how hurt he was by the way he was raised and all the things he’s had to learn and unlearn and relearn and experience because of Enji’s actions.

He tells how recently someone who hurt a lot of people in their class decided to change herself, to reinvent herself and make amends, and how that has made him realize that it’s okay to let people change, to believe that they can change, and to let them back into your life when they’ve changed. And then he tells Enji that he doesn’t want to be stuck in the past anymore. He doesn’t want to be trapped by what was, caught in a never-ending cycle of hurt and confusion and pain and fear and what will cross the line, what will set the whole thing ablaze? And he tells Enji he would really like to get to know this new person who was once his father, who might have some small chance of someday becoming his dad. And he invites Enji to his wedding. And Enji says he’ll be there.

Someday, Enji attends his youngest son’s wedding. Rei is there. Fuyumi and her spouse and her children are there, the youngest still red and almost smaller than Endeavor’s hand. Natsuo and his husband are there with their two little boys, whose hearing aids appear to have been given white casings for the special occasion, or perhaps sloppily spray painted by small, inexperienced hands, if the quirk of Natsuo’s mouth and slightly exasperated lilt to his shoulders is anything to go by. And all that Enji can think is that of all the things he ever imagined for his life, this was certainly never one of them, but taken all together, he’s so, so happy that this is how it’s turned out. It will still be a work in progress moving forward. It will always be a work in progress, if his therapist is to be believed. But that’s okay, because within this work in progress, in this recompense there is healing, and there is joy, and there is this, and this—

This is peace.

#endeavor #todoroki enji #bnha #mha #rick's fics #complete #rick's originals #don't just yeet him into the sun let them all heal damnit #i did this instead of homework

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love-me-romantically · 6 years

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Threesome with Kihyun and Shownu (Scenario)

Request: “A monsta x Kihyun and Shownu smut request with female reader. Where you're all neighbours and you love to tease them both and one day they both break and you end up in a threesome with them?”

You don't even like doing Yoga but by now it has become part of your routine. In fact you have a specific time for doing it that just so happens to perfectly match up with the time your neighbours usually hang out on their own balcony to hang up the laundry. Or maybe it's rather them who matched up their schedule with your yoga. When you walked out onto your balcony for your daily stretches your next door neighbour Yoo Kihyun was already out on his balcony, a laundry basket under his arm. He greets you like it's some funny coincidence that both of you happen to be out at the same time and as always you play along and happily greet him. Sometimes you wonder if Kihyun and his co-tenant Son Hyunwoo flip a coin or something to decide which one of them gets to hang up the laundry at this time. It's always just one of the two watching you and part of you is somewhat upset about this. You would love to tease both of them at the same time, but you only ever rarely get the chance to do so. Maybe that is what makes this little game of yours so interesting though. You started your wicked game of playing with your neighbours maybe a month or so ago and the story of how you got to do so is actually quite funny in retrospect.

It took you about about two months to realise that the nice gay couple next door was in fact not a couple at all. After figuring that out it took you maybe a week to affirm that both of them also weren't gay. Or at least also somewhat interested in woman. Or maybe just in you, who really knows.

It started out at somewhat of a game the day you pretty much stumbled over Hyunwoo sitting in the hallway in front of the door to the apartment he shared with Kihyun. For a moment you thought that he might have locked himself out, then you noticed the key in his hand. Of course you asked him if the two of them had a fight and to your surprise Hyunwoo replied that Kihyun had brought home a girl and that he was just fed up with having to listen to them. You were smart enough not to burst out with your surprise. It had been one of those perfect moments where your brain in an instant connected all the points and a plan had formed in your mind right away.

You had always thought that both of your next door neighbours were quite attractive, both in their own way. Hyunwoo with his muscles and gummy smile and Kihyun with his sharp face and almost teasing smile. You would have probably made a move on either of them right away if it hadn't been for that little misunderstanding. But as soon as that was out of the way the teasing started and you really went for it as if to make up for all that lost time. There is just something incredibly empowering about the feeling of being desired by a man. And being desired by two attractive men at the same time is even better. Maybe the best feeling there is. Well, the second best.

And this feeling is totally worth doing Yoga out on your damn balcony just for the sensation of someone watching you. You turn your back on Kihyun and bend down to touch your toes, holding the position for a moment to make sure he really gets a good view of how the thin fabric of your sweatpants stretches over your ass and you really hope that he can see the lines of the thong underneath. It's not really comfortable but hearing Kihyun put down the laundry basket, obviously having completely forgotten about hanging the stuff up at your sight, is all the motivation you need to hold that uncomfortable pose for just a bit longer. When you rise up again you make sure to do it slowly, arching your back a little in the process. With a grin lingering on your lips you slowly turn around to casually great Kihyun, but he manages to catch you by surprise. He's leaning against the handrail of his own balcony almost nonchalantly, one hand in the pocket of his sweatpants and the slight movement of his shoulder makes it clear what his hand is doing down there. Kihyun doesn't even flinch when your eyes meet, he just gives you a slight smirk.

“Are you going to continue your little show? I actually quite enjoy it”, he chuckles, shoulder still moving. A small blush is spreading on his face. You smirk back at him, this is unexpected but you're willing to go along with it. Apparently two can play at this game. You lean forwards a little as you speak.

“I think I know something better”, you whisper, deciding to put it all on one card.

“Are you alone?”

“Hyunwoo is in the kitchen right now”, Kihyun explains, his smile loses a bit of the confidence it displayed so far, he seems to be unsure where you are going with this. You give him a wide smile and you hope it makes your intentions clear as you reply.

„Perfect.“

Kihyun opens the door for you and immediately presses his lips against you for a heated kiss. You allow him to pull you inside and guide the way, your body blindly following his until the two of your reach a bedroom. Kihyun playfully pushes you away from him and another strong pair of arms catches you.

“Is this what you wanted?”, Hyunwoo asks, his hands casually resting on your hips, fingers tracing small circles on the skin just beneath the hem of your shirt. You nod, still somewhat out of breath from the kiss you just shared with Kihyun. Hyunwoo slowly lets his hands make their way upwards and another pair of hands take the position they just occupied. Kihyun's.

You can hear him chuckle behind you as he hooks his fingers under the hem of your yoga pants and carefully begins pulling them down together with your thong breathing soft kisses against your neck every now and again while he does so. Your hands reach forwards to grab the closest thing which happens to be Hyunwoo's jeans. You begin carefully tugging on them to signal that you want to help him take them off but he gently shoves your hands away to take of your shirt off. Kihyun lets go of you to make room for the shirt being pulled over your head. The two of them work together perfectly. You have never really been in a threesome before, but apparently the two of them have some experience. At least the way they are handling this seems very planned out, almost as if they do this every other day.

“You're both so good at this”, you whisper, your body shivering under the two pairs of hands roaming over your exposed skin. You can see Hyunwoo smirk and you are sure that Kihyun behind you wears the same kind of smile on his face.

“We have this all planned out”, Hyunwoo explains, before he leans in to press his lips against yours.

“We've been thinking about doing this with you for so long”, Kihyun adds, his lips gently brushing against your neck. You moan into the kiss at the sensation and Hyunwoo chuckles as he pulls back. He quickly removes the last few articles of clothing he is still wearing and climbs onto the bed, his back leaning against the headrail and his hand slowly making his way down to begin stroking his hard cock.

“Mind helping me out?”, Hyunwoo asks, looking up at you with a slight smirk and Kihyun gives you a small encouraging shove towards the bed. Following his impulse you climb onto the bed. Hyunwoo spreads his legs a little to make room for you in between.

“Suck it, please”, he whispers, one hand running through your hair. Kneeling in front of him you lower your head without another word and bring your lips to his tip, letting them linger there for a moment until the hand in your hair grabs you a little tighter and Hyunwoo forces you to lower your head a bit more. You part your lips to take his length inside of your mouth and begin swirling his tongue around it for a bit, before you start moving your head up and down. Behind you, you can feel the bed dent under the weight of a third person climbing onto it and soon you feel Kihyun hands resting on your hips.

“Are you ready for me?”, he asks, one hand slowly reaching between your legs to stroke you. You shiver and almost choke around Hyunwoo's cock as you let out a small moan to signal him how ready you are for this.

“Words”, Kihyun demands and at the same time enters two fingers into your wet pussy, you squirm as he begins moving them around a little.

“Yes, please”, you beg, your voice muffled from trying to speak with Hyunwoo still in your mouth but Kihyun understands. Carefully he pulls out his fingers and before you even get to miss the sensation you are filled with an entirely new one. In the literal sense of the word.

As soon as Kihyun starts moving inside of you the movement of your mouth around Hyunwoo's dick become a lot more sloppy, he doesn't seem to mind though, his hands playing with your hair. Kihyun has his hands on your hips again, holding onto you while he thrust into you.

“Do you want me to move her a bit more?”, he asks and for a moment you are confused until you realise that he wasn't talking to you.

“Yes please”, Hyunwoo replies, his voice low. Without a reply Kihyun starts moving a bit harder, every thrust pushing you down a little. You soon understand that he pushes you down against Hyunwoo who in turn gently moves his hips upwards to shove his entire length down your throat.

The two move you back and forth between you, sharing you, their hands roaming your body. You feel a familiar heat pooling in your abdomen and you notice yourself clenching tighter around Kihyun's dick inside of you. Of course he notices too.

“Fuck, you're tight”, he breathes out between two hard thrust. You whimper a little, arching your back to feel him more. Hyunwoo's cock slips out of your mouth in the progress. Just in the right moment. His hot cum squirting out just the moment he leaves your mouth, a bit of it landing on your left cheek just below your eyes. You don't pay it too much mind though because the overwhelming feeling of an approaching orgasm takes over all other senses. When Kihyun also comes inside of you with a loud moan you allow the hot sensation to sweep over you, erasing every other thought for a moment. Four hands hold onto you at the same time, stopping you from collapsing on the bed while you shiver with pleasure. By the time you have come down from your orgasm Kihyun has already carefully pulled himself out of you and both him and Hyunwoo got up from the bed.

Hyunwoo takes care of cleaning up your face, apologising at least three times in the progress, while Kihyun gently runs a wet cloth up and down the inside of your thigs to clear of the leftovers of his release, still dripping down you. Once the two are done with cleaning you they climb back into bed, one at each side of you. Hands carefully roaming over you, soft kisses being pressed against your skin every now and again.

“Why didn't we do this much earlier?“, Kihyun whispers, his hands softly drawing circles on your hipbones.

„I thought you two were gay“, you reply. Your voice feels hoarse and your throat still hurts a little from deepthroating Hyunwoo earlier.

„Have we convinced you otherwise now?“, Hyunwoo humms, his lips pressed against your shoulder. You giggle at the touch. It tickles a little.

„I don't know, maybe we have to this a couple more times until I'm fully convinced“, you laugh. Hyunwoo and Kihyun join into the laughter.

Being desired by two attractive men at the same time really is a great feeling, maybe the second best there is. But having sex with both of them at the same time clearly beats it.

#monsta x #monsta x smut #monsta x scenarios #monsta x imagines #son hyunwoo #shownu #yoo kihyun #kihyun #idol x reader #reader insert #monsta x x reader #scenario #requested #queued post #this took forever I'm so sorry #Admin A

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cmbynreviews · 6 years

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"Call Me by Your Name" director Luca Guadagnino on Armie Hammer, sequels, and screen intimacy

The new film Call Me by Your Name is about a life-changing affair between young Elio (Timothée Chalamet) and grad student Oliver (Armie Hammer), but what went on behind the scenes was just as significant. As Hammer told us recently, director Luca Guadagnino fostered an environment on set that both protected his actors and challenged them to be as honest as possible in their work. The result is an acclaimed film where the stars do the best work of their lives, but it also continues in the intense relationship between the stars and Guadagnino. The director has described it as “a very profound familial bond with the people I’m doing the movies with, where you literally and constantly fall in love with all of them,” and in the following interview, he expands on that notion, addresses some of the think pieces about the movie, and talks more about his hope of making sequels to it.

When did you entertain the idea of casting Armie as Oliver? Since I got to meet him in The Social Network, really. I was impressed by that film and there was a great generation of actors in it: Just think that Dakota Johnson was there, Rooney Mara was there, Andrew Garfield, Jesse Eisenberg. And then there were these two brothers, who I really thought were two brothers because I couldn’t believe someone could do that digitally. I thought, “no, nobody can act that way”, when in fact it was Armie, twice. So after [Guadagnino’s 2008 Tilda Swinton film] I Am Love came out, I had the privilege of meeting him. We generally spoke about life for two or three hours and I loved him. I had a sudden and immediate attraction to him.

What was your read of him in that meeting? I like the way he speaks, I like the words he uses, his buoyancy, his enthusiasm. But I also like that with him, suddenly he has a shift of humor. He can become kind of melancholic without even controlling it. He’s not someone who is in command of his own expression in an artificial way. And for me, fragilities are important when you work with someone. Of course you want someone who can give a performance, who is acting, but even more, I want someone who is able and eager to let the camera investigate him or her deeply. As you know, I wasn’t part of this movie as a director, for a long time. Originally, I was a producer.

James Ivory was supposed to direct, with Shia LaBeouf cast as Oliver, correct? Right, in the Ivory version. We tried to make the movie with Jim and we didn’t succeed. It’s one of the great regrets of my life, as an admirer of Jim’s work. I would have been happy not only to see a new movie by James Ivory, but also to be producing it. Unfortunately, it didn’t happen because the rules of the market – or, as Renoir would say, the rules of the game – are sometimes quite cruel. Despite the fact that ageism is a significant problem when it comes to cinema, I personally believe that one of the most exciting things for me as a cinephile is to witness a new movie from a very old director. James and Shia would have been another movie, and every avenue was tried, but the only way it could see the light was if I directed it for five weeks with no money.

So I thought of my passion for Armie and I sent him the script. After a week, I heard, “He wants to talk to you.” What I didn’t know is that he was going to pass. So he picks up the phone, “Hey, how are you,” and it becomes a long conversation. He goes, “I’m scared about this role.” Why? “I don’t know. I’m scared.” I told him, “If you’re scared, it might mean that you want something.” Which could sound like a sleazy way of approaching somebody, but the truth is that fear and desire are the polarizing elements of most of our actions. I think Armie wanted to have that fear and act it out.

What did you interpret his fear as? I don’t think it was, “Oh no, I don’t want to play a gay character,” because he had already done that twice.

In J. Edgar … … and in a film with Stanley Tucci, Final Portrait. Long story short, I think the complexity of the project from his standpoint was, “Will I be able to let myself be the medium through which a lot of complex, intimate emotions can be expressed?” But he is a mine of gold, and I am the digger.

I don’t think most directors had done much digging with him. Probably there is a sense that things have to fit the mold. Maybe they thought the mold of Armie belongs to a different era of filmmaking, but I think the mold of Armie is the mold of cinema, with a capital C. I do believe in that.

He talks about making the movie as though he were still in love with it. Wait til we do the sequels.

He said it’s really changed him. I’m happy. I like transformative things. I welcome transformation in my life and I like transformation in other people’s lives. I like to be the agent of it.

So how were you transformed by making this film? I simplified my approach. I have more trust in the power of the language of cinema without [additional] style. And to understand that I am capable of loving multiple times with multiple people, but also to be faithful in every sense of the word to the love of my life. Also, I aged making this movie.

What were you like when you were 17, Elio’s age? I was a very lonely, skinny, melancholic visionaire. I was in Palermo, and I was really invested in pushing the envelope. I remember at that age, I convinced the principal of my school to be the director of the play at the end of the year. I did Ionesco, and it was crazy. It was insane!

What did you do? The title of the piece was Excessive in Extremis. And it fortified me because it was a catastrophe of sorts. There was not much of an audience, and to make something so personal, motivated by the impulse of doing something strong no matter what, and then to get the reception we got …

What was that like? Oh, the fury of the principal when she saw the thing! You know, when I went to [the Venice Film Festival] years later with The Protagonists and there was booing in the movie theater, I thought, I don’t care. I already got my boos at 17. I trained myself for that, I would say.

Why were you lonely at 17? I was not like Elio. Elio jumps on the dance floor and is divine, but I wasn’t that kid. I was sitting in the corner, looking at people dancing. It was shyness, it was maybe embarrassment, but also I think it was the great position of control.

You were shy in your personal life, but bold in your art. Very much.

Had you been with men by the time you were 17? I desired them, but I wasn’t until I was 22.

Why not? Well, I was very picky, also! And I didn’t know anything about sex and love and interaction. Maybe I was too cerebral.

Were you with girls? No, I’ve never been with girls, honestly. I regret that. This is a very analytical conversation, but now that I’m talking to you, I made a difficult and stupid choice at that age of falling in love with my best friend, who was straight. Later, I met this guy when I was 22, and the second we had intercourse, I didn’t want to be with him anymore, and I left.

Why? You were afraid? I don’t know. I felt depressed. I like sharing things, I like a community, I like to be with my friends and get to know new people, but when you’re 22 in Palermo and you get this young man and you feel the emotion for the first time of this physical encounter, it excludes everything. You’re not so sure if you can go to your friends and say, “That’s the boy I’m dating.” People could not say that easily in 1988 in Palermo. I had to leave this encounter with him and only him. I had to learn in time to bridge my personal feelings and emotional encounters with my life as part of a community.

How did you bridge that? I completely dismissed the notion of self-censorship and being a prude.

How do you foster a safe place for people to do things on camera that they’ve never done before, that they might be hesitant to do? I have been with the makeup artist and editor for 25 years, have made three movies with the same DP. It’s family. It’s a nontoxic environment. I really invite the actors’ collaboration not just as performers, but to really participate in making the film 100 percent. Also, I’m very blunt. I don’t tell lies, not when I’m making a movie. It can be a beautiful thing to be direct, because people are rarely direct.

How does that collaboration work with the actor when you’re shooting something like the scene where Elio masturbates with a peach? That is the perfect example. I was struggling with the scene since I read it in the book. I thought it was a scene that can only play in a book, because you could go into your imagination. I also thought it was a metaphor for sexual impulses and energy. I didn’t believe in the actual physical possibilities of masturbating yourself with a peach. In translating this into a movie, I was both admiring Aciman’s work and dreading Aciman’s work, and I knew that scene was kind of infamous for readers of the book. I’ll tell you, Kyle, many times I said, “We have to remove this from the script.” I didn’t want something that could be exploitative, sensationalist, or even involuntarily ridiculous. So it was a process, a long process.

What convinced you it could work? One day I tried, physically, to masturbate myself with a peach because I was asking Timothée to do it as a character, and I wanted to prove to myself that it was not doable so we would not have to do it. And actually, when I got the fruit and put my finger in the fruit and started to debone it, already that act gave me a cinephile memory, reminding me of a great moment in this version of Madame Bovary [called Abraham’s Valley] by Manoel de Oliveira, the great Portuguese filmmaker. In it, the Bovary character is young and full of lust, she wants to fuck this guy. She sees a flower, she grabs this flower, and she puts her finger into the flower. It’s an incredible scene about the sensuality in all things. So I thought, “Finally, we have a lead here that can make this scene doable.” Then I tried to put the deboned peach on me and it actually worked, it wasn’t just a metaphor! So I threw the peach away, composed myself, and went to Timothée and told him, “Timmy, I tried the peach myself, and it works. We can film the scene.” And he goes, “Of course it works! I tried it myself as well.”

What did you shoot that you didn’t include? Much. There is a scene that happens under the lime tree where Elio and Oliver are teasing one another – this is before they kiss. It was a very well-acted scene, but we felt in a way that it was too precious, that it wasn’t necessary to delay the moment where they would confess to one another. Then there was a scene after they made love. In the movie, there is still a piece of it, where they’re kissing under the moonlight, and what I shot is that the scene happens at the same time as the father and mother are in their bedroom, hearing the muffled voices coming from the garden. The mother is putting creams on, the father is reading a book, and they are looking one another in the eye and smiling. She goes to the bed, he touches his wife, he smells the creams on her, and they start to make love. I’m sorry for cutting the scene because it’s quite beautiful, and it’s beautiful to see adults having their moment of sex. That, we will definitely put in the extras of the film [on home video].

Some writers have said the film is not explicit enough. It’s really something I don’t understand. It’s as if you said there are not enough shots of Shanghai. I don’t understand why there has to be Shanghai in this movie.

There is plenty of sex and foreplay and sensuality in it, though the complaint is that we don’t see Oliver and Elio engage in actual intercourse. Did you shoot anything like that? We shot some things, but one thing is important to say: We didn’t have any limitations. I also think it may be my unconscious knowledge that many gay films pride themselves on being explicit. It’s almost like a subgenre! Listen, there is a book by William Burroughs called Queer, which I wrote a script for when I was 20. I was completely naïve, although I would love to make that film. That is a movie where you need to see the actual sex because, as per Burroughs’s descriptions, it’s about the war that is excavated inside him: The character Lee is infatuated with Allerten and it devours him. You have to show how the sex and the impossibility of the relationship is informing their behavior, and I agree that a version of that film cannot be shy about the sex. But why this?

Do you think Call Me by Your Name is shy about sex? There is sperm on the torso [of Oliver], which he wipes off! I don’t know. It is cheap voyeurism, I would say. Because I am a voyeur myself, I pride myself on a more dignified and sophisticated sense of voyeurism than a need to stare at other people’s sexes.

It’s been interesting, too, to see how people have reacted to the notion of a sequel. Sequels. I want to make five movies.

Do you already have in mind what you would do? The second, I have very much in mind. I think I want to see them grow up. How great would it be to see those actors grow older, embodying those characters?

Is the whole notion of a sequel something that sprung up from the years-later epilogue of the book? It sprung out of my love for these characters and my desire to visit them again, and in doing so, to be with the same people I did this movie with.

At what point did you start mulling over this idea? Sundance. Because I didn’t completely realize until then that they were characters who could go beyond the boundaries of the film.

I think some people would prefer that the characters not go beyond the boundary of the film, because the ending with Elio is so powerful. It would not remove the power of the final shot of this film, because that is about him being 18. What we would see in the sequel is him being 25.

The film is also about the intensity of first love. By necessity, the second film would be and feel different. Maybe in the sequel, Elio and Oliver only meet after two hours of the movie. I want to follow them, Mr. Perlman, Marzia, all these people. Maybe the movie opens with how Mafalda the maid is living in the house, all alone! I definitely would buy myself the freedom of a movie that is not bound to a textbook of rules. Once, I dreamt of making a sequel to I Am Love, which was basically about Emma, Tilda’s character, living with no money on the periphery of Rome. It would be about her daily routine, like Chantal Akerman’s Jeanne Dielman. Five hours of watching Emma go to the supermarket where she’s a cashier, going home to cook a meal, eating her meal, and then one day she bumps into the daughter, who’s a big artist. I thought about doing that. The only problem for me is that for a director, time is very limited in general. You can do a certain amount of films and no more than that.

You know, I am 46. To make a movie is long. I have to learn how to discipline my ambitions.

KYLE BUCHANAN | VULTURE | 17 Nov 2017 | (Photo: Kevin Winter/Getty Images)

#Call Me by Your Name #Guadagnino #timothee chalamet #armie hammer #andre aciman #james ivory #reviews #CMBYN #Elio #Oliver #Perlman #Chiamami col tuo nome

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nikiforlov · 7 years

Text

Fic Rec!

Ive read and bookmarked a bunch of fics that i particularily liked, so im sharing them now! i hope you enjoy !

* = personal favourite

Open At The Touch (6,5k)

Maybe Nishigori got ahold of a lock of Viktor's hair, and some Polyjuice potion. Maybe it's all an elaborate prank. With this as his only reasonable explanation, he steps forward, snags Viktor by his robes and tugs him in. "Nishigori," he says in Japanese, "this prank isn't funny. Your English is better than when I left, though." "Ah," says the fake Viktor Nikiforov in English, voice dipping, and is he blushing? "What was that?" "Maybe I got hit in the head by a Bludger," Yuuri muses. Viktor's smile grows ever wider, tightening at the edges. "Maybe I never came home from my international Quidditch competition. Maybe I'm lying in the hospital right now, hallucinating." There has to be an explanation, mystical and magical or medical, for the best Seeker in the Quidditch world showing up at his door; something besides his portrait, which won't stop talking to Yuuri anyway.

Coming to Terms (10k)

Victor's realization wasn’t a pinpoint. It was a culmination of years of knowing something was different. An ache without a name.

A story about Victor learning, accepting, and loving himself as a gay man.

The Tsesarevich lives! (50k)

An Anastasia AU.

Victor is an orphan with no name, no family, and no memory of a time before he was ten years old. Could he really be the missing Nikiforov heir? An adventure across Europe with two conmen will lead him to the answer.

Say I'm The One (2k)*

Viktor leans forward, the curve of his smile soft. Achingly, Yuuri’s fingers imagine what it’d be like to trace it. “You think I want to romance celebrities?” “Well, you’re a celebrity,” Yuuri feebly tries to explain. “Exactly. Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Viktor counters, smirk growing. “The one romancing a celebrity is you." Viktor and Yuuri get caught in a rainstorm on the way home from practice.

To Boldly Go (30k)*

“Yuuri!” Viktor calls. “I’ve come to rescue you!” Yuuri stares at him blankly. He gestures to the various unconscious space pirates with his recently discharged phaser. “Oh, Captain,” he deadpans. “Save me.”

Or:

A year in the life of badass science officer Yuuri Katsuki, Captain Viktor “Team Mom” Nikiforov, and simultaneously the best crew and worst crew in Starfleet history.

(No prior Star Trek knowledge needed! It’s a loose AU!)

Bestseller (20k)

Reincarnation AU. Bestselling author Yuuri Katsuki often gets asked where his source of inspiration for his novel series comes from. Yuuri always puts on his best smile and gives the generic answer. However, his minds wanders back to the old journal sitting on his desk, and the dreams of a familiar blue eyed stranger.

Have You Heard? (4k)*

According to rumors, Viktor Nikiforov had been seen crying in the E building’s staircase. No one really seemed to know what was the reason, but everyone were terribly curious about it.

Spotlight (2k)

He can't help how embarrassed he sounds as he tries to hide himself in the pillow, and Viktor's laugh is so lovely - and so helpless, so blatantly in love - that it has Yuuri squirming all over again, the wave of protectiveness stealing his breath away.

Oh, Viktor.

"I suppose that's fair, darling. I am pretty incorrigible."

He's smiling, as he says it, and his voice is light, but Yuuri knows better, now. He can hear that tiny, barely there, desperately hidden thread of self-doubt, as clearly as if Viktor were shouting it.

Am I too much?

Viktor doesn't need to say it for Yuuri to hear it. He's pretty sure Viktor's spent too long feeling like he's too much of something - too loud, too clingy, too needy - for him to just shrug it off.

Yuuri knows a little bit about self-esteem. He knows a little bit about trying to kick years of fucked up thinking. And he's damn well going to keep making sure that Viktor knows he can always be as too much as he wants to be.

You can have everything... (12,5k)

AU. Before the Grand Prix Final starts in Sochi, Yuuri finds Victor's phone. He returns it--and hijinks and heavy flirtation ensue.

Fields of Gold (14,5k)

It’s difficult to believe that he’s inspired people like this; that children and teenagers in Japan and around the world lace up their skates or put on skates for the first time and think of Yuuri Katsuki, just like they think of or thought of Victor Nikiforov. He almost can’t take it. It’s too unbelievable. He’s just… Yuuri, after all.

Yuuri Katsuki with a stack of gold medals is still just Yuuri Katsuki.

He can imagine Victor repeating the same words back to him with his own name and how he’d argue that is absolutely not the case, and he laughs inwardly a bit at that.

(The story in which Yuuri Katsuki wins everything there is to win and retires as Japan's living legend, because he's incredible and beautiful and he deserves it. Aka 'Yuuri wins all the gold', the fic.)

Puppy Love (10k)

When Yuuri gets turned into a dog, the last place he expects to end up is Victor Nikiforov's apartment. He learns quickly that the only thing worse than being his idol's pet, is watching him pine for someone else.

Warning: Makkachin has recently passed away at the start of this story.

Twenty-Five Hours (23k)

In which Yuuri spends a 25 hour flight next to Victor Nikiforov, skating legend, and feels it might simultaneously be the best and worst thing that has ever happened to him.

silver scales and golden wishing wells (13k)*

the knights fought valiantly, they have slayed the dragon

Yuuri cried from days on end... he loved that dragon

to the winner goes the gold (900)

In which Yuuri and Viktor are competing against each other in the following year's Grand Prix Final, and they're still (very much) smitten with each other.

“Skater Katsuki, anything you want to say to your fellow skaters before the competition?”

“Viktor Nikiforov,” Katsuki says, “just know that once I win gold, you’ll be doing the dishes for an entire month.”

Then he smiles again, sweet and warm, before giving a little wave and heading off through the hall.

cover story (8k)

Yuuri stares down at the person standing in the doorway. The stranger hisses, "Who do you think you are, anyways?"

Quickly, before he can really think about it, Yuuri responds, "I'm Victor's boyfriend."

It's a lie, but the words feel good in his mouth, and for some reason, he doesn't want to take them back.

Katsudon (7,5k)

Hiroko doesn’t need to see to coat pork cutlets in egg and panko. She has made this dish for her family for over thirty years; she’ll make it another thirty, if she’s lucky.

Now she makes it for Yuuri and Victor as they fly home from Barcelona, with silver around their necks and gold around their fingers.

Victor Effing Nikiforov (13k)*

AU in which Yuuri still doesn’t remember the banquet, somehow doesn’t blow Japanese Nationals, runs into Victor at the World Championships, and has absolutely no idea why his idol is suddenly friendly and incredibly handsy.

Does Yuuri care about his reasons? No. It’s Victor Effing Nikiforov.

Masks off (27k)*

And so the story goes that a playboy comes to a town, makes it fall in love with him and then proceeds to get himself enticed by the most mysterious person there.

Wait... did it really go like that?

Five Kisses (4k)

It hadn’t seemed out of the ordinary at the time. Victor had always been free with his affection; throwing out compliments, light caresses, even the occasional peck to the cheek. After a little over a week of having him as his coach, Yuuri was sure he had gotten used to it. It was just a Westerner thing, no use getting riled up if Victor wasn’t going to be stopping it anytime soon.

Then it happened.

~~~

Victor likes kissing Yuuri and Yuuri is frustratingly dense

lie to make me like you (80k)*

It’s become a game, of sorts, to anyone privy to the fact that the pattern exists in the first place: ask Victor out at the beginning of the month, date for however many days, and wait for the end to come and for Victor to say, always: I couldn’t fall in love with you. Let’s break up.

With All My Heart (52k)

Once upon a time there was a prince and if you stole his heart, you would live forever. But the prince would only have three days left.

Or: the tale of a Heartless King and a scullion.

When Life Gives You Lemons, Add Sugar (11k)

What could possibly be worse than getting stuck with a roommate you weren't expecting?

Discovering that roommate is none other than Viktor f*cking Nikiforov.

i'm just going to the store (7k)*

Accidental masked vigilante Victor Nikiforov.

Or: how Victor's impulsiveness backfires and creates one of the greatest living internet memes to ever come out of Russia.

November's Secret (233k)*

Overwhelmed with anxiety and his fear of failing, Yuuri faces the issue of if he should continue skating. His best friend, Yuko, proposes a solution - if no one knows it's you, then it's less embarrassing, right? Yuuri begins to create a completely new disguise and persona.

But it works a little too well.

Before he knows it, Yuuri has become the biggest mystery of the skating world and everyone wants to know who he is. Especially Viktor Nikiforov, the idol he's been loosely basing his new persona on for years.

Maelstrom (43,5k)

Victor Nikiforov is poised to win gold in his fifth consecutive Grand Prix Final. He has the world at his feet, is unparalleled in the sport--right up until a snowstorm blows into Sochi, and he finds himself repeating the same day over and over and over. He stumbles over Yuuri Katsuki, and everything changes.

how the mighty fall (in love) (29k)

Every Victor Nikiforov fan has three things in common. 1. They have unrealistic expectations for romance. 2. They mark their calendars with the dates of his newest book releases and the premieres of his latest movie adaptations. 3. They either passionately hate or love his greatest rival, a mysterious author whose pseudonym is only two letters: “KY.”

Allure (11k)*

Yuuri was the most powerful vampire at Hasetsu until he left for Detroit.

After his return for the first time in five years, his priority is training for the Grand Prix with Viktor. Other vampires have steadily invaded his territory, but he's not interested in reasserting his dominance too strongly…Until he catches one of them feeding on Viktor to the point of death in an alleyway.

#victuuri #viktuuri #vikturi #hfuvujcielqmf #victuri fic rec #yoi fanfic #i hope yall appreciate this #my stuff

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riveires · 4 years

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the pros and cons of breathing

@twentysixdegrees

JOOHYUK

the sheets are too scratchy, his pillow is too hard. maybe he should have heeded his older sister’s advice about investing in high quality sleep materials. or, maybe it’s because joonho’s desk light had still been on until about thirty minutes ago? but that’d never really been a problem before. joohyuk could really sleep anywhere if he was tired enough–so maybe he simply wasn’t tired enough. if that’s the case, then he finds himself going stir crazy in his bed and he turns on his side towards joonho.

“hhhhhey. joooooonho.” blinking a few times, he frowns when his roommate doesn’t respond right away. “i know you’re not asleep yet–no way you’re asleep yet–” and he’s soon rewarded with a small, acknowledging, sound.

with that in mind, joohyuk flings his covers off of his body, tugging one of the sheet corners out of his basketball shorts (how’d that even happen?). joohyuk pads over to joonho quietly, the gap between their beds easily covered in about 4 steps.

“my mattress is slumpy.” sitting down on the very edge of joonho’s bed, joohyuk finds himself quickly losing his courage. “i’ll put in a maintenance request tomorrow but can i just…?”

my bed isn’t comfortable without you.

JOONHO

Statistically speaking, how the next morning will go splits down 50-50 by the outcomes: will or won’tㅡpassing this goddamn test that is. On one hand, the painfully borderline B- should provide enough willpower to push for the odds to turn in his favor. But an hour in, the digits flipping to a late 11:30 see to eyes glazed over and a head bobbing barely inches above high water, swamped by formulas Joonho’s long given up on. The switch clicks off. Here’s to another day done, at lastㅡ

Until it isn’t

He thinks Joohyuk would beg to differㅡthat technically, it’s never really over until it has to be, like it’s some intangible notion out of human reach, and day isn’t quite day when the sun’s long sunk below the waves for full moon glory. That the night is still young. And yet it’s just thatㅡan assumption. There’s no telling what goes on in his head for sure.

But what he does know is this: the thoughts that bloom bright in the back of his own mind all hummingbird-frenzy, the palpable nearness of Joohyuk even when he’s not there, and the faint thud deep in the swell of his chest when he is. With his heart in his throat, he’s careful to not make a sound. Not right now, anyway. And thenㅡ

“What…?” Joonho shifts to glance at him over his shoulder, a slow show of “act natural.” Thud. Thud. He’s suddenly thankful for the dark, where the other boy can’t see him considering two sides of the coin.

50-50. Will, or won’t.

A sigh. Quiet surrender. “Fine.” Reluctance is a hesitant motion, where he gives just the tiniest bit of space, a third of the second pillow, and then finally half of the whole bed. He lifts up the blanket. Thud, thud, thud.

“Get in here.”

JOOHYUK

people measure their time in minutes or seconds, or even in heartbeats if you’re feeling romantic, but right now the only way he manages to measure is by the slow rise of blood to his face. it flushed around his collarbones when he made the decision to get out of bed. it rose up to his neck when he asked, and in that almost immeasurable time between his last syllable and joonho’s answer, the blush has risen almost to his ears. next time don’t even take the chance, he scolds inside his head before the “fine” reaches him properly. he’s almost ready to flee the scene, to jokingly complain about joonho’s own mattress (’maybe we both should file for new ones–’) until the weight of his answer fully settles.

he feels joonho shifting before he turns around to see. and then he’s relaxing his muscles–the ones that freeze up when you’re in situation as close to fight or flight as you can get in in a shared dorm room with one of your oldest friends.

yeah, it sounds just as ridiculous to him, too.

but it’s what he’s working with, and joohyuk is incredibly conscious of this when he swings his legs over the edge of the bed and starts to shuffle his way into the already warm covers, facing joonho (because he’s feeling ballsy). joohyuk pulls the covers up above his shoulders, shifting closer to joonho in the process. he’s incredibly aware of the fact that they’re two fully-sized college students shoved into a bed meant for one.

“can’t believe you almost left me in the cold.” he injects a tinge of drama into his voice. he wears the shield well, and it’s never failed him before. “in the cold with a lumpy mattress.” but he’s not a heathen–joohyuk keeps his voice low so as to not offend the tranquility of the night. “thanks though. i hope i wasn’t too distracting while you were studying i…just couldn’t seem to fall asleep.”

he continues to work the angle of the malformed mattress because the tossing and turning was definitely due to those reasons. they certainly didn’t have anything to do with the missing equation of a familiar body, or the slow crescendo of longing that starts somewhere close to his head and ends in his head. “is tonight a sleep immediately night or a talk then drift night?” apparently, those factors were strong enough to prompt a rebellion; logic against some sappy, whiny, need. and joohyuk was always shit with his impulse control. “cause if it’s a talk and drift, why didn’t you go out on that second date with…what’s her face?”

case and point.

JOONHO

“I know."

It’s an answer meant to match him, exasperated and droll to Joohyuk’s overdone means to appear moving. Double entendre for: can’t believe I hadn’t, sitting at the tip of his tongue, as he lays still, arms crossed. Minutes to midnight with the lights off, and no easing into the swell of slumber. Instead, this feels more like he’s dreaming with his eyes wide open. Low brows, the high slope of his nose, mouth softenedㅡall the makings of a boy that he’s known for more than half his life.

One that doesn’t seem ready to fall asleep either.

"Well,” begins with a huff, and it’s probably the most amused he’s sounded all evening, but stops short. It’s a turn he hadn’t seen coming.

“You mean Shirin?”

Canton born and raised, Yale-bound for a future Ph.D in economics. Or something. Something like that. Shirin. He fills the blanks in memory with details that had made for a better impression. In the span of a 90 minutes, she’d revealed a knack for storytellingㅡthe backwoods of some obscure Midwest suburb to downtown London in a span of breaths, to the garlic-and-lemon-splashed sauté on their plates, to all the lessons to be learned from everything and nothing. At one point, he’d even glanced at her hands, then folding the napkin into a triangle, had become fully convinced right there she could make entire mountains out of the damn thing if she wanted to.

But more than that, Joonho had been compelled to envy. Envious of how she takes to language so effortlessly, lets it tail her rather than the other way around. For the longest time, he thought he could do without—until then. When every tangent over lunch sent him back to the receding form of another through the doorway earlier that morning. Until now, on his side, close but not close enough to break the even distance. A dip in the bed makes for a small valley. Words fail to float, follow free. Little rivers to nowhere.

“I…got busy, I guess. Dunno.” A shrug, as if he’s finally come around to the admission. (But to what?) His cheek lifts to rest against the bend of his own elbow. There’s something different about the way he speaks now, tinged careful. “What about you and that other girl?”

JOOHYUK

Joohyuk’s always been a needy sort of person, ever since they were young. It was cute as a little kid, over-excited and bad at keeping his mouth shut. Looking back on it, he doesn’t understand how Joonho stuck it out with him, all the way up until he’d moved. He’s leveled out considerably, but he knows some people s still find him to be a little much.

Sometimes he feels a little bad, even now. It feels like Joohyuk’s always asking favors from Joonho. He’s been comforting since they were young, and Joohyuk’s always found him almost magnetic.

Comforting, magnetic. They’re some of the reasons why he always ends up so close.

It takes him a second. “Huh?” His first reaction is confusion, until he thinks back on his most recent date. His face morphs, mouth forming a small ‘o’ shape as he realizes. “Ángel.”

The former roommate of his current teammate, and unfortunately it was one of those instances of ‘Oh I have a friend who’s gay. I can set you up with him?’ By now Joohyuk is used to these sort of things. They’re well-meaning, and they really do come from a good place, but it’s still rooted in stereotypes. He’s not attracted to anyone and everyone, but something had compelled him to say ‘sure.’

Ángel was that old money sort of rich. They had more similarities than Joohyuk thought originally possible, given how different their backgrounds were, but not enough to inspire any real connection. He’d been a good listener, but was the type that only listened so he could one-up you with his next sentence. The worst part was that he probably didn’t mean to do it; he was probably trying to just seem impressive, but Joohyuk wasn’t interested in any of that by the third date. That’s some first date bull. And don’t even get him started on how picturesque his life seemed. Big house, lots of land, his was a family that had a professional photographer come to their home to take posed family pictures. Can’t relate.

Joohyuk can feel the covers shift the slightest, each breath moving Joonho’s shoulders and by extension, the blankets. “He wanted someone who was…like, gonna look at him with stars in their eyes. Constantly. It was exhausting to smile and nod at him so often. He was draining.”

And then, “I’m cold.”

Something compels him to keep talking, even though he knows he should probably quit it now before his mouth got him in trouble. “Unlike you.”

JOONHO

“Oh.” Only the smallest sound of surprise. "That Ángel. I’m sorry, man.“ Disappointment by now has dulled into something ritualistic, having and not wanted, wanting and not had. How many more names until they’d land upon the right one?

Joohyuk. Joohyuk. It’s not just a name anymore. It’s something bigger, brighter. In each other’s rooms, July moon glow, curtains dancing slow-motion under the quiet whirring of the fan. Promises between peals of laughter: swear on it, okay, we’re gonna do it, okay dude, okay, we will. Somehow all that summer heat managed to follow them from then to here. Or maybe it’s just him, under the spell of nostalgia and nostalgia alone. Nothing in the vein of the abstract he knows—formulas, unit-bound constants, theories of matter, a total wash. So what now.

“This sucks.” He’s on his back now, eyes to the ceiling, no fan in sight. Then a breathless laugh: “Maybe we’re not cut out for the people here. They’re too…” What’s the word? He has it, then doesn’t. Going, going, gone. Don’t chase what you can’t get back. “I don’t think it’s good to be with them for anything more.”

Homesick? Joonho’s hardly the type to catch something like that, but one look at him has him thinkingㅡfeelingㅡnonetheless. All those years until it hadn’t been.

But he should know better than anyone: thinking doesn’t get anyone anywhere. Not when there’s your hands, your anticipation, the pause before your first move.

Hovering, his head and shoulders cast a shadow over the other as he changes position. His expression is along the lines of disbelief, brows furrowing deep. “You have more than half the bed, Joohyuk.” But even then, despite then, he pulls the blanket close, his own body closer. His heart skips a beat and he has to fight the impulse to bury his face under the covers goddamnit, goddamnit.

“Christ.“

JOOHYUK

“It’s fine.” His eyes open, staring at the hand that’s settled near his face on the pillow. He pointedly avoids looking at Joonho. “He’s just another one, right? Another fling in the string of them.” And why is it that neither of them have found anyone even remotely close to being compatible enough? Joohyuk knows his faults, he’s tried dating based on opposite, based on similarities, based off of something as silly as zodiac signs, even. Nothing’s worked.

The girl before Ángel had broken up with him because she’d accused him of choosing Joonho over her. But that’s unfair, right? Joonho’s been there since day one. He shouldn’t need to choose, but if had to, it’d be Joonho without fail, every time.

Always.

“Sometimes, being here makes me homesick.” The admission comes as a surprise to even himself. He can’t properly decipher his feelings, right now isn’t a good time for trying to do so. He’s too vulnerable, Joonho is too close, and the night is too comforting. Joohyuk can feel himself slipping, sliding, and he should be worried about falling too far down but he can’t seem to muster up the care. It’s easier to swim deeper; sometimes it’s easier to just give in. “But that’s stupid, right? Cause you’re here. And you’re home.”

Nestling into the covers, he sighs, eyes closing to give himself a little extra push of courage. His hand snakes over Joonho’s waist, and they’re facing each other but he’s got his eyes closed. So this isn’t anything more than just mutual comfort. “Just because I have half the bed doesn’t mean I’m any warmer.” But he is. Where his arm touches the fabric of Joonho’s waist, it scorches. Where his hand curls, fingertips gently brushing against the small of Joonho’s back, he burns.

“But it’s okay, you’re warm. Why’re you so far away anyways? Quit acting like a stranger.”

Joohyuk makes the mistake of opening his eyes. His words are a lie. They’re entirely too close, nose almost brushing against Joonho’s. “We should date. You’re the only one that can handle my shit.” And I know how to make you happy.

He laughs quietly, nervously. Joonho looks so handsome under the filtered moonlight. “Kidding.”

JOONHO

Try, try again. If that isn’t the most common case of “been there, done that,” he can’t imagine what else could possibly compare.

But it doesn’t matter.

Where the other’s eyes open, his own close. Breathing in, counting out the pace of each exhale. The effect is calming, makes the fluttering in his stomach slow a little if not completely. Seoul is more vivid like this, painted with obvious care and affection. Childhood through the maze of alleyways. Memories of days longer than they are now. Or at least, they feel like that. Pure, unapologetic emotion, no matter which way he spins itㅡthe sprawl of the Atlantic on one side, the way Joohyuk reaches over to hold him on the other.

Shying away would’veㅡshould’veㅡbeen the first impulse. The instinctual panic. The racing of pulses. It had been like that, once. Now no longer. He moves to his touch, instead, the pull stemming not from the throws of gravity but from the center of his chest.

Proximity makes a good excuse for a change: that there’s nowhere else for his gaze to trail off to, but he keeps his constraint. Baby steps. Untilㅡ

“That’sㅡ” The first time anyone’s said that.

“The stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

What had he been undone with? A single syllable, or a single possibility?

“Whatever.” Unfolding his arms, he draws the covers up to his nose. “I’m going to sleep.”

Turns out it’s neither. Behind it all is just a single boy. From the butterflies that stir in his wake to the careful hands that hold both halves of his heart. And he doesn’t know even know it.

But Joonho’s smiling anyway, ear to ear. Hope is funny like that, funnier in the kind that comes with floating on cloud nine. Kidding, he’d said. I know, he’d thought after. Everything else in the state of the unspoken, set adrift, waiting. Still waiting.

For another day, then.

“You should too.”

JOOHYUK

The pull of sleep is tempting his eyes closed, coaxing his breathing into deeper pulls, slower exhales. It’s that floaty, weightless, state in between awake and asleep, where you can feel everything around you but it seems like you’re watching from afar. Funny how he’d been absolutely unable to fall asleep before, but now all it takes is a few minutes of teasing fondness, sappy confessions, and meanings between words. Joohyuk doesn’t so much reply to Joonho’s accusations of limited intelligence, as he rumbles out an acknowledging sound. Sticks and stones, and whatchamacallits. Too many words to get out properly.

Still, he feebly fights against the sleep that bleeds closer to his core, trying to fall asleep after Joonho does. It’s not so much a dominance thing rather than a nervousness that he’s going to say something silly, take a thought too far, or perhaps be too honest out loud. “Whatever,” he barely manages to echo out, the word low and drawling, as if his brain is winding down before it shuts off completely. “I’ll sleep, I’ll sleep.” His voice shifts closer to a whine, tired of trying to stay awake, tired of holding back, and most of all, tired of being this close but being unable to do anything more than this.

Seven billion people in the world and he knows that soulmates don’t necessarily have to be lovers. They can be best friends too. But with Joonho this close, Joohyuk doesn’t know where best friend ends and lover begins.

He voices his drifting train of thought in the vaguest way possible.

“You still love me though.”

And that will just have to do, for now.

[FIN]

#twentysixdegrees #c: son joonho #opp: nam joohyuk #pr: the pros and cons of breathing

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emilyjanestuff · 7 years

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The Last Herald-Mage Series by Mercedes Lackey Magic’s Pawn, Magic’s Promise, and Magic’s Price

As someone who read an untold number of fantasy, science fiction and other speculative fiction I knew of Mercedes Lackey but had never read anything by her. That changed when I finally picked up a book of hers to read a few weeks back. While more accurately books as it is the trilogy of the Last Herald-Mage in one. From what I have read about the books online since when the books were first published in the 1980s they were very progressive. They had a gay main character, Vanyel who throughout the course of the series becomes a hero to his country and people. There are also gay supporting characters throughout the story such as Tylendel, Moondance, Starwind and Stefen. So how does a story about a gay man who becomes one most powerful Herald-Mages hold up. Has it aged well or is it a product of its time? Thankfully the answer is more the former then the latter but there are still some things that could have been handled better. Let’s start with what the series did well and then get on to what could have been better. I will be taking this book by book. If you have not read the books then I’m warning you now for spoilers. Also going to add a trigger warning for suicide and attempted suicide.

Magic’s Pawn

The first book is Magic’s Pawn published in 1989. For starters, I really do love the character of Vanyel. Considering he is our main character it is important that he is likable in some way. When the reader first meets him, he is a boy of only sixteen, the eldest son of Lord Withen and Lady Treesa. However, he does not measure up to what his father wants in an heir. Vanyel is too feminine, sensitive and prefers music to combat. However, he is more than just a stereotypical gay man. In the first scene of the book he outsmarts his arms master by adopting a different form of combat then the one he has been thought. This shows that if the arms master and his father could instead of punishing Vanyel for his differences accept them Vanyel might not just be good at combat he could excel. Vanyel is also perceptive analysing other people’s behaviour and understanding what it means with ease. It is not the resourceful and perceptive Vanyel at fault but his father and Arm’s Master Jervis.

Vanyel’s home life with a homophobic father and a brutal arm’s master has caused him to adapt to the situation like many real-life abuse victims do. He hides his real personality behind a mask of arrogance and cockiness. Throughout the first third of the book I honestly just want to give the poor boy a hug. All that being said Vanyel is not just some perfect gifted misunderstood boy. Indeed, he is far from perfect, he is vain and snobbish. But these more negative traits only serve to make him more well-rounded, and indeed he does get enough character development out of these flaws as the books go on. So, for a protagonist Vanyel ticks just about every box that I like to see ticked. Part of the reason I would recommend these books is just to enjoy watching Vanyel grow and develop.

The other important characters in the first book include Tylendel, Savil, Gala, Yfandes and Lissa. Tylendel serves as Vanyel’s love interest and is an interesting character in his own right. Caught between his responsibilities and a feud his family is wrapped in Tylendel is impulsive and passionate. Savil after Vanyel proved to be my favourite character. Savil is snarky, experienced, and perceptive. Gala is Tylendel’s campion. Yfandes is the only campion in the book without a chosen. So far, I’ve done my best to write this without spoilers. But after the jump it won’t be possible. But as the title itself tells you this is not a happy story. In fact, the story of the Last-Herald Mage is a tragic one. But of course, any title with the word ‘last’ in it is going to be. Which bring me to my first problem with series overall and that includes the first book. Gay characters are tragic very often. It is rare to find a gay character who gets a happy ending. And our Protagonist Vanyel is doomed from the very outset by the very title of the series.

Vanyel is a tragic figure even from his childhood. He comes from a dysfunctional family that abuses him. At the start of the first book his arm is broken and his older sister, the only relative to treat him with kindness, is sent to the guards. So Vanyel is left alone. Soon after this he is shipped off to the Capital city of Valdemar, Heaven. It is here for the first time he gets a taste of real happiness. Because he falls in love with another young man, Tylendel. Their relationship is almost sickly sweet something they themselves acknowledge. The scenes leading up to their relationship were Vanyel tortures himself over how his father will react and facing up the fact that he is gay. While the idea of the self-conflicted gay is a cliché it doesn’t last long. As soon as Vanyel realizes Tylendel feels the same way about him he forgets the whole inner conflict and spends his nights with his boyfriend. He also decides he doesn’t care what his father thinks which is good for him. Up till this point the book is fine and enjoyable but remember that thing about this being a tragic story? By the last third of the book Tylendel is dead and Vanyel heartbroken.

While there is another gay couple that of Starwind and Moondance introduced soon after Tylendel’s death, it is not enough to make up for the young man’s death. How he dies is a violent and gut-wrenching suicide. Why is this a problem? After all there are plenty of fictional straight couples who go through the same thing. There are plenty of dead heterosexual fictional characters so why take issue with this? Well, because LGBT+ characters have a higher chance of death, ending up miserably or alone. There a simply far more straight character so when this does happen to them while it may be just as tragic there is still many counter examples not so much with LGBT+ characters. This wasn’t just a problem back in 1989, it continues to be one today. For example, take a look at tv tropes.com page on the Bury Your Gays Trope. There is actually a trope because of how often LGBT+ characters end up dead. Of course, counter examples do exist but social trends are not mathematical equations. A exception does not disprove the rule. In this way, the passage of time has actually helped Magic’s pawn because back in 1989 there would have been fewer LGBT+ characters and even fewer happy endings. Now there are plenty of counter examples and more happy endings.

Before anyone asks the story could still have worked without Tylendel’s death. He could have tried killing himself only to end up in a coma. Vanyel would have gotten all his character development that way and Tylendel life would have been spared. The first third of the story could have ended happily even if the very last of it had to be tragic. Happiness is so rare for LGBT+ characters and with everything Vanyel goes through he deserved happiness. Now with all that being said would I still recommend this book? The answer is actually yes. It is a testimony to Lackey’s writing ability that she is still able to keep me engaged with good characters and a wonderful if not happy story. I would say to pick up Magic’s Pawn if you enjoy Queer characters and if you enjoy fantasy but brace yourself because it is not a happy story.

I’ll be reviewing Magic’s Promise in the next post.

Note: I hope you enjoyed reading this and my other posts. I started this blog so I could publish my own work because chances to get your work published are usually far and in between. Because I’m doing this on my own I don’t have anyone advertising this. So, if you are enjoying my writing please share my blog posts with people who you think will also enjoy them. It would mean a lot to me. If you enjoy my work please subscribe for more. A big thank you to anyone who does this and to people who have already been reading. It means a lot to me.

#coming of age #fantasy #vanyel #Tylendel #Gay Characters #gay male characters #fiction #review #book review

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artificialqueens · 7 years

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Everything Changes: Chapter One (Trixya) - Abeille

AN: I had this idea and just had to try writing it. I’ve never written fanfiction before, but I love Trixya and thought that this storyline would work well with them. I plan on making this several chapters long, I have the first five or so planned out, but if people like it, I’m definitely open to making it longer! I hope you guys enjoy! The first chapter just introduces Trixie and her life before she meets Katya. Italics are Trixie’s thoughts/flashbacks.

Summary: Trixie escapes an abusive marriage and meets Katya, a beautiful, free-spirited woman who shows her that love isn’t supposed to hurt. Lesbian AU.

She didn’t know why she said it.

The second the words came out of her mouth, she was hit with an instant pang of regret, and wished that somehow, she could force the words back into her thoughts, back into the dark, where they belonged.

But she couldn’t; they lingered in the air, and Trixie felt as if she could hear them echo and bounce off the walls of her room.

“I’m gay.”

Two life altering, completely terrifying words, and she had said them on what, an impulse?

“What do you mean, you’re gay?” Nick raised his voice, causing Trixie to cower even further into the corner. He was standing over her now, just inches away, and Trixie willed the walls to evaporate into thin air, or to at the very least, expand, so she could somehow escape the situation she found herself stuck in - literally, and physically.

How had it come to this? He was always angry, of course, but Trixie thought she had developed a tolerance for the abusive words thrown at her. She never responded to him out of frustration, because she knew it would cause even more trouble; rather, she nodded, and she let him yell, all while pretending she was somewhere else, anywhere but in her current predicament. Why had this time been so much different? It all started off the same - she hadn’t come home on time, and he was waiting by the door. He accused her of cheating the second she walked in, which she, as always, tried to explain was because of rush hour traffic, and that it was hard to avoid getting stuck in when he demanded that she get groceries at four thirty in the afternoon, just as everyone was leaving work. To this, he scoffed, and called her a slut. Nothing unusual, she could handle that.

“I’m sorry, Nick, I’ll try to not be late again, I know it worries you,” she sighed, walking slowly into the kitchen and setting the grocery bags down.

“You should be. Who is he? Why are you lying to me?” he interrogated.

“There is no “he”, Nick, I even have the groceries to prove I was at the store; I wouldn’t have time to see someone, shop, and make it back home all in forty minutes, especially with the traffic,” Trixie tried to logicalize, gesturing at the bags of food.

“What, did you fuck him in the bathroom? Have a quickie, and think you could get it past me? I’m not stupid, Trixie!” he shouted belligerently.

It had all gone downhill from there; Trixie hated yelling. Her step-dad had always yelled, and it terrified her as a child. She couldn’t handle it, so she walked briskly into the small bedroom she shared with her boyfriend, and shut the door. Her mind was racing, as it usually did when he yelled, and she flopped down on the bed. The familiar feeling of tears brimming in her eyes and her throat tightening caused Trixie to roll over and bury her face in a pillow, disregarding the mess her make-up would leave on it, and start bawling.

And then, he walked in. He hated when she cried, and it just seemed to egg on his abuse.

“What are you crying about? I should be the one crying, you’re the one who has been whoring around behind my back!” he said, slamming the door as he approached her.

Trixie looked up from the pillow when she heard the door bang shut. She abruptly stood, and scrambled into the corner of the room, the farthest place she could get from Nick.

“I-I haven’t been, I promise. I promise,” Trixie cried, trying to muffle her sobs and stop the tears from falling.

“You’re a liar, Trixie, and you know I hate liars, why do you lie to me?!” he screamed, standing just a small distance away from her now.

“I’m not lying, I’m not, I love-I love you and I could never be with anyone else, I love you!” she cried.

“I’ll really make you cry about if you don’t shut your damn mouth! Tell me, why do I make you so unhappy? Why do you have to let some other man put his hands all over you? Am I not enough?!” he spit as he yelled.

Trixie remained silent.

“Answer me!”

And then she said it. She hadn’t been thinking, clearly, because if there was one thing that would piss Nick off more than the idea of cheating, it would be being gay.

“What do you mean?!” he yelled, louder, as Trixie snapped out of her thoughts.

“I… I don’t know. Forget I said it. Please. I’m sorry,” she said calmly, choking back tears.

“So my girlfriend isn’t just a cheater, she’s a fucking dyke? Pathetic, Trixie, you are pathetic!” he stormed out of the room.

Trixie sank to the floor, and buried her face in her hands, wondering how she could have been so stupid. He would do something to her, maybe push her down the stairs again, maybe something worse - she didn’t know when, but she was sure of it. He never just walked out of a room when he was like this; he managed to always stick around until Trixie got tired of the fighting and admitted to doing something she never did just to stop the yelling and angry words, and then he would either beat her until he was satisfied, or force himself on her.

She hated how her life had turned out. She hated that she was trapped like this, and she, for the past three years, had wanted to leave, but somehow was stuck. Her family loved Nick, her friends loved him, but then again, they never saw him drunk, they never saw him angry, and they most definitely hadn’t seen him drunk and angry. She got into the relationship as more of a convenience than anything else, a way to try and masquerade as someone she wasn’t, because she couldn’t come out. At first, she thought that being with him would change her, but as time passed, she increasingly came to accept that she just would never want to be with him, and that she most definitely was gay. But when she started to distance herself, he got insecure. He got jealous. He got protective. He got drunk. He got angry. So they moved in together, mostly to appease Nick, and Trixie pretended she was happy. It was hard to pretend, but she did it, because she didn’t have another option. If she tried to leave, she was convinced he would find her, and then things would only be that much worse for her afterwards. Trixie figured that if she told anyone, they might not believe her. She had bruises and scars to prove the physical abuse was taking place, but Nick was smart, and he did his worst to her in places that could either be hidden, or places that could bruise easily from falling, tripping, or something of the sort, and could be explained away with ease. She waited for the day he would stop being like this, but aside from several good days every now and then, he drank and the drinking made him irrational and that lead to the abuse. Trixie often blamed her own stupidity for it all, if she just had left when she saw the signs, she wouldn’t be here.

But she was. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Trixie never let herself imagine the possibility of escaping. It had never been a feasible option for her, and she found that dreaming about it just made her heart ache that much more for the life she could never have. However, in the current circumstance, she was forced to begin thinking of ways to get out. She knew it was just short of impossible, but did she have another option? Nick knew now, he knew her biggest secret, and with that, he had complete control over her now, at least psychologically, because he had made it clear he possessed physical control over her years ago. This was the last thing she had to herself; her one secret, the one thing he had no way to use against her. She knew even though at the moment he wasn’t doing anything, the possibility that he would do something worse than he’d ever done, was high. She wasn’t willing to risk her life, or getting her back broken or some other horrific injury, that would likely leave her destroyed once again. She knew she had to leave, but how?

For a minute, she considered calling her best friend, Kim, in Chicago. But, if Nick was even remotely smart, he could check her calls, and he would guess that she went with Kim. She couldn’t contact any family members; they wouldn’t believe her, and even if they did, Nick would expect that.

Trixie sighed aloud, overthinking.

“Trixie,” Nick interrupted her thoughts, slurring his words, “I need you, I need you to go get me more tequila.”

Drunk, of course he was drunk.

“Uh, yeah, okay. I’ll head down to the cornerstore. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes, babe,” she answered.

Why Nick continued, time after to time, allowing her to her to run errands when he thought she was cheating was beyond her; she supposed he was too lazy to do it himself, so the prospect of getting cheated on was a low price to pay for not having to move off of the couch. He loved liquor too much to give it up.

Trixie grabbed her purse, and walked out the door. The store was a short walk from her house, and she didn’t feel that driving would be a good idea, considering she was in a state of emotional turmoil, and wouldn’t be focused on the road. She wasn’t a great driver even when she was stable emotionally, so she didn’t intend on putting herself or others in danger by driving when she wasn’t focused on the road.

As Trixie was walking, it suddenly dawned on her, out of the blue, that she could just go. Of course, she knew this before - she just never felt the urgency to leave, so it hadn’t seemed like a real option. She never even considered it a real possibility. Except, it was.

She had no money, other than the forty dollars in her purse, but she could - and would - make it work.

“How much would a train ticket to Chicago be?” she wondered aloud, under her breath.

If she could get there, she could get to Kim, who she was sure would take her in, no questions asked, without notice. Nick would have no idea.

Trixie looked down at her phone. Five minutes had passed, so she needed to make up her mind.

All ration escaped her. She was going to leave, on a whim, with nothing to her name other than a bright pink purse and her forty dollars. She knew that Nick would be too drunk to consider the possibility of her leaving, let alone taking a train, so if she could manage to get to the train station, she would be safe. She, to ensure the maximum level of privacy and decrease the chance of him finding her, opted against checking the ticket price on her phone or texting Kim to notify her that she would be showing up in Chicago. Surely, the ninety mile train ride could not be more than forty dollars. The station wasn’t even a two mile walk, so she headed there, questioning herself the entire way. What was she doing? She was crazy. She knew it was crazy, completely crazy, to even be attempting this. She would have to leave her phone behind, she would have no contact with friends or family. The escape was a spur of the moment decision. What would happen if Nick managed to find her? Where would she go after she got to Kim’s? She surely couldn’t stay there forever, and would eventually have to settle down somewhere else. Or maybe she wouldn’t. But Chicago was close enough to Milwaukee, and Trixie was sure that Nick was smart enough to eventually figure out one of her closest friends lived in Chicago, so she felt as if it would probably be safer to go somewhere that nobody knew her name.

Trixie had been so caught up in her plan that she hadn’t regarded the weather - the sky was turning a deep gray color, and the clouds were looking less like white pillows of fluff and more like an angry, dark sea. The temperature hadn’t significantly dropped yet, but Trixie began to feel slightly cold. With her luck, it would begin downpouring and she would be not only broke, tired, and incredibly anxious, but drenched and miserable and freezing. She huffed, and sped up her pace.

The train station was in sight - it was glorious.

She had seen it before, considering she lived within a walking distance; it was a large area, with a fairly sizable building that had a front made entirely out of glass. It was quite pretty, or at least that part of it was, especially at night, because you could see the lights from the inside of the building shining outside. It made the building look lit up. The rest, however, Trixie noted, was very average, just concrete, with nothing too stunning architecturally, or remotely visually appealing. It was an average station, with a parking lot and train tracks and several terminals. It was loud, and there were cars scattered about - she could see this from a distance, and knew it was probably insanely busy.

But it was still glorious, even with the plain structure and overcrowdedness and the mess of cars in the parking lot. It was a symbol of her freedom - the landmark for her great escape, the place she would remember as her safe haven.

Almost immediately after Trixie set foot into the building to purchase a ticket, the rain began falling.

It’s a sign, Trixie thought to herself, luck was actually on my side today. I missed the rain, I got here without a problem, I’m going to be okay.

Trixie wished she could reassure herself about the last part - she wanted, with all of her heart, to believe that she would be okay. She just wasn’t sure, considering that there were a plethora of things that could go wrong.

Trixie wandered aimlessly around the building, trying to find a kiosk or a worker to buy the ticket from. She remained calm, listening to the soft sound of the rain drizzling outside, in no rush. She felt oddly at peace for being in such a nerve-wracking situation.

It was impossible not to feel safe - somewhat guarded - by the walls of the building. Everything around her, no matter how plain, was beautiful in the moment. It was like she was getting a second shot at life, starting the second she walked through the doors.

Trixie looked out of the glass building. The raindrops settled on the glass walls, and the lighting from inside, combined with the raindrops, must have made for a very pretty scene from the outside looking in.

She was taken out of her thoughts when she saw a woman, wearing what was obviously a uniform, walk past in the reflection of the glass. Trixie spun around.

“Excuse me!” she almost shouted, surprised at the velocity of her own voice.

“Yes?” the worker responded, looking slightly annoyed.

“Where do I buy a ticket?” Trixie asked.

“Over there,” the worker pointed, “there’s a kiosk. It’s right next to the elevator, you can’t miss it.”

“Right, okay! Thank you so much!” Trixie offered a smile, and rushed over. The fact that this was actually happening excited her; it was all becoming real now. She was leaving.

She would be gone soon. Just yesterday, she figured she would be stuck with the life she never had wanted until the day she died. It was all occurring so fast, but she wasn’t questioning it. The change was obviously welcomed, and she was grateful, in a sense, that she had finally become so scared that she was forced to muster up the courage to leave. Fear made her brave, or maybe fear made her run. Either way, she was happy she was finally taking control of her own life.

Trixie arrived at the kiosk and selected her destination. She purchased the ticket, which came to a total of thirty dollars.

Great, Trixie thought, I’ve got ten dollars to my name. Oh well.

The train left in less than thirty minutes, so Trixie made her way over to the platform listed on her ticket. She observed the many different people passing by. Adults, many adults, carrying briefcases and clearly travelling alone. Some families, mostly with younger kids, and the rare teenager. Trixie wondered why they were all there, why they were travelling.

Maybe some are going to see their family, or friends, or partners. Maybe they’re on an adventure.

She was sure none were there for the same reason as she was.

The thirty minutes ticked by quite slowly. Trixie had been waiting for this moment for the last several years, and it had arrived with no warning and little planning on her part. She hoped she was making the right decision.

When the train arrived, screeching to a halt, Trixie looked up. It was impossibly big, and there were already people sitting inside, looking out the windows. She loved that train - it was taking her away from the hell she had been forced to survive in. It was the driving force to her crazy decision, the thing that made it possible. Without the train, she would be stuck. For a split second, Trixie stared at the train, never wanting to forget it. She wanted to remember it forever, every color and window and sound. It was a moment that she would never be able to recreate; it was the moment things were finally going to be less horrific. It was the moment she could feel the heart that she swore had stopped beating at some point start up again. It thumped out of her chest, and made her ears pound. She could feel it in her stomach and her clammy hands and in her chest profusely, making a bold statement of sorts, declaring it was there, making itself known once again.

People in her terminal stood to board the train, and Trixie did the same. She glanced down at her phone once more, and, with a sigh, set it down on the bench where she had sat while waiting, as if saying goodbye to her old life, the one she was leaving behind in Milwaukee.

She boarded the train.

#trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #trixya #angst #au #tw abuse #tw homophobia #abeille #rpdr fanfiction #submission #everything changes #lesbian au

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realeconomicimpact · 7 years

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Let America Be America Again (By Darren Walker)

By Darren Walker, President, Ford Foundation

(reprinted with permission from the Ford Foundation)

Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is free. (America never was America to me.) Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed— Let it be that great strong land of love Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme That any man be crushed by one above. (It never was America to me.) – Langston Hughes, Let America Be America Again, 1936

In moments of uncertainty, we often return to familiar touchstones.

For me, one such anchor of comfort and clarity is the poetry of Langston Hughes, icon of the Harlem Renaissance.

During recent weeks, I’ve found myself ruminating on Hughes’s Let America Be America Again, especially its astonishing opening stanzas. In these ten lines, Hughes evokes the power of the American promise, coupled with the pain of indignity and inequality. He speaks to the complex mix of rage and hope, of anxiety and optimism, that characterizes the black experience in America—and which I would argue has characterized the experience of many Americans at some point, white, brown, black, indigenous, and immigrant. Over the past year, it has become clear that the noxious swill of rage and anxiety remains as potent as ever. Regardless of which side of the US election each of us was on, we all find ourselves living with a public discourse that has become increasingly callous, contemptuous, and polarizing. So, as we launch ourselves into a new year, I find myself reflecting on where we go from here—how we counterbalance anger and hopelessness with radical hope and optimism, and how we create, in Hughes’s perfectly-chosen words, “that great strong land of love” and dignity for all.

Two reactions to our current moment

Hughes’s poem captures a tension I’ve noticed in many of my daily interactions over the past several weeks, in all kinds of settings and among all kinds of people, including myself: a tension between a sense that our times are dangerously unprecedented, and a sense that while dangerous, they are all too familiar.

On the one hand, many of us feel that the world has been turned upside down. To read the headlines is to see an unfamiliar landscape in which several unsettling trends have converged. The proliferation of fake news and the prevalence of brazen falsehoods on air and online are undermining faith in basic facts. The bourgeoning democratic institutions that captured the imagination of Alexis de Tocqueville nearly 200 years ago—our civil society, our free press, our universities—are increasingly beleaguered and besieged. Rising hate speech and violence across the country has rightfully frightened many people. All of this constitutes an assault on what we thought were well-established societal norms.

On the other hand, some of us look to history and recognize that our current moment is not without precedent. To me, one clear parallel is America’s post-Reconstruction era in the South, when some Americans worked to roll back and repeal the hard-won voting rights, educational, and economic opportunities that brought freedom and dignity to the lives of so many of their fellow citizens.

Indeed, racism, sexism, xenophobia, and all kinds of othering are not new. Identity politics has always been a part of American life. Our founding fathers codified identity politics into our earliest documents, valuing the voices and contributions of white men above all others: Women were denied the right to vote; enslaved African Americans counted as three-fifths of a person; indigenous peoples were exploited and marginalized. And throughout our history, waves of immigrants from Europe and elsewhere were initially met with suspicion and often discrimination. It’s important to remember that over the course of our long, messy march towards justice, women and men—not just our predecessors, but we, the people, of every generation—have endured prejudice and persecution. We have seen it with our own eyes, and lived it in our own lives.

I’ll never forget coming of age as a gay man in the 1980s—watching AIDS ravage our community as politicians stayed silent. I’ll never forget the brutality of Apartheid, and how our own American government condemned Nelson Mandela, Oliver Tambo, and the freedom fighters seeking to end that unconscionable regime. I’ll never forget watching as the marches and protests unfolded in Ferguson in August of 2014, or standing with John Lewis on the Edmund Pettus Bridge a few months later, awestruck as he recounted the bloody Sunday in Selma fifty years earlier.

America’s rich and inspiring history has taught us that progress is not linear. As the dazzling Zadie Smith recently wrote, “progress is never permanent, will always be threatened, must be redoubled, restated, and reimagined if it is to survive.” So while these twin reactions—the sense that our moment is either unprecedented or has clear precedent —may seem at odds, they actually reaffirm a deeper understanding of the persistence of injustice in our world. They also remind us of the strength we must continue to find within ourselves to persevere and fight for our democratic institutions and ideals.

Confronting divisions, affirming dignity

Over the past three years, I’ve written about the ways inequality creates and exacerbates divisions. These include divisions of class, race, gender, identity, and ability, as well as differences in how we make sense of injustice in our lives.

There is no better illustration of this last category than the political binary of an election year, when our two-party system induces us to spend months defining our collective future in terms of us versus them, this stark choice versus that one. This rhetoric reinforces the notion of zero sum outcomes, and encourages us to believe that the gains of one happen at the expense of another.

We must resist this impulse. It is easy to lose sight of what we have in common, but the fact is that all of us share a fundamental human aspiration: to live in dignity. This is true no matter what we look like, where we live, how we worship, who we love, or what our abilities are. Whether by holding a decent-paying job, having agency in the decisions that affect us, or freely expressing our thoughts and creativity, we spend our lives in pursuit of dignity for ourselves and our families. Recognizing this universal quest for dignity is a prerequisite for any meaningful work toward social justice.

I am not suggesting that dignity is guaranteed. There are people and systems that seek to rob people of their innate dignity. They advance narratives that pit communities against one another—that permit some to falsely claim that the only way to ensure dignity for yourself is to strip it from others.

Of course, the dignity of one person does not preclude that of another. We can lift a poor Latina out of poverty and save a rural white man’s factory job. We can fight to protect black lives and the lives of the law enforcement officers who protect us. We can hold up a beacon of light for the “tempest-tost” refugees who seek safety and opportunity on our shores, and feel safe and secure in our neighborhoods and gathering places.

I’m not simply saying that we can do all of these things; I’m saying we must.

Our current context demands we question our assumptions and expand our understanding of who is vulnerable and excluded. If inequality fuels the fault lines of division, then our shared pursuit of dignity must help bridge the gaps. To borrow a phrase from the brilliant artist Lilla Watson, our liberation is bound up together.

The path forward: “America will be!”

It might be tempting to ignore or abandon the mutual obligation that ties us together, to embrace a kind of nihilism of indifference or, worse, to retreat into anxiety or rage. But we can choose a better path forward. With history as our guide, we can follow a path of hope—radical hope.

For Langston Hughes, born in 1902, the gap between America’s promise and its practices was wide. The great-grandchild of slaves on one side and slaveholders on the other—the child of educators and organizers—Hughes lived a life that demonstrated that the overwhelming fact of injustice does not obviate or relieve in any way our responsibility to act against it. He showed that a person can simultaneously feel righteous anger about the world and radical optimism for it. We must affirm the creed to which he gave voice, that the work of creating the America we envision requires optimism and resolve.

“America never was America to me,” Hughes wrote in the penultimate stanza of his masterpiece. “And yet I swear this oath—America will be!”

For as much progress as we have made, America has yet to fully live up to its promise and founding aspiration to be a nation of liberty, dignity, and justice for all. Yet this noble vision remains as profound as ever.

At the Ford Foundation, our commitment to achieving this vision will not change. We resolve to continue fostering a fairer, more just America and world. We remain steadfast and unyielding in our support of the institutions and leaders fighting injustice and addressing inequality of every kind and category. And we are grateful for your leadership—and partnership—during the critical months and years ahead.

Please visit the Ford Foundation website for more information about the organization and its work.

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