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yelena-bellova · 3 years

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Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter One

Chapter One: The Other Wilson Sister - chapter two

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n grew up with Sam and Sarah Wilson in the bayou of Delacroix. During the Blip she stayed with Sarah to help run the family business. With Sam back and trying to save the day, Y/n’s perfect opportunity to confess her long-kept secret to her best friend presents itself.

Warnings: tfatws ep.1 spoilers, language, suicide mention, undertones of racism, lots of Wilson sibling arguments, tragic backstory

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: As I wrote this first chapter out I realized it’s most definitely also a Sam Wilson x platonic fic. Bucky doesn’t come in till next chapter but rest assured, it’s gonna be a wild ride...Also I didn’t know till now how difficult it is to plan out a series in its entirety when the show isn’t completed lol. Hope you enjoy! (I may or may not change the title depending on how I feel about it later today lol)

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Delacroix, LA 2024

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One of the only things I was certain of in life was that blood didn’t make a family.

I had no official tie to Wilson family, I wasn’t a daughter or some distant cousin sent to live with them. We shared no DNA and they had no reason to love me as much as they did. But throughout my life I had known no kinder people than them and I doubted that would change. As I stood on the family boat helping to unload the catch of the day, I thought of how our corner of the Louisiana bayou felt more like home than any place I’d ever been.

“Hey,” Sarah said from the dock, “Head out of the clouds and down here helping me.” “Sorry,” I shook myself out of my thoughts and hopped off the boat, “Not a bad catch if you ask me.”

Sarah sighed as she bent over a large bucket of fish, “It could’ve been better.” I came to stand in front of her and held my hands out for a bucket, “Take the wins where you can get ‘em, Sar. Lord knows we don’t get enough of them.” Sarah Wilson was the only superhero I’d ever aspire to be like. She was a widow who had raised two kids and run a business all by herself with no family for support. The past five years had been challenging with so many people gone and while I had moved in with her to help however I could, I could take no credit. She was one of the strongest women I’d ever known.

“You had that look on your face again,” she said as we worked.

“What look?”

“That look that lets me know you were thinking real hard about something,” Sarah imitated the expression in question by thinning her eyes slightly and furrowing her brows, “Like this.” I laughed heartily at her impression, “So what was it?” I gazed out at the bayou waters before turning to the boat and finally Sarah, “Family.”

She nudged me with her hip, something we’d done when we were young and an affectionate gesture we’d carried into adulthood. A half hour went by with us and the boys unloading and sorting the fish we’d caught. I was too wrapped up in the task to notice the sound of a vehicle approaching until AJ and Cass announced the arrival.

“Blue for the snapper, orange for the whitefish.”

“Uncle Sam!”

My head shot up upon hearing his name, as did Sarah’s. I used my hand as a visor against to sun to spot the familiar rusted truck parked a few hundred feet away, with my best friend standing outside it hugging his nephews.

“That’s right, Uncle Sam,” Sarah called, “You’re back early.”

I grinned as I shucked my gloves off and made a beeline for him, slamming my body into his for a tight embrace. It had been a few weeks since I’d seen him, having spent the only weekend he was off away, and I’d naturally been worried sick about him. My best friend and un-biological brother may have been an Avenger for years, but after losing him in the Blip I didn’t think I’d ever stop worrying about him.

“Every time I come home, you act like I’ve been gone for five years,” he joked over my shoulder, resulting in me pulling away and slapping his bicep.

“Not even a little funny,” I pointed a finger in his smug face, he slung an arm around my neck as we walked over to Sarah.

“What’s goin’ on? You got Mom’s sneaky look on your face.” “How you gonna try to read me when you know I’m the one that reads you?” Sam smiled, passing by and greeting a long time customer of ours. “That look is permanently glued to his face, Sar,” I chuckled, “I learned that in grade school.” Sam shook his head at me and laughed before making his way up the dock to the Wilson family boat. “You gotta marvel at it, baby’s being held together by duct tape and prayers.” I leaned into Sarah, “Are you telling him or am I?” She took the initiative, “It just needs to float long enough for me to sell it.” “I thought we were gonna discuss if we were selling it,” Sam replied as he helped unload another bucket of fish. “We did, and then you were off fighting Doctor Space Cape or whatever while we,” Sarah gestured between us, “Were holdin’ it together for five long years. Now that the world is going back to normal, this thing’s gotta go.”

Sam looked to me with a look of displeasure, “Were you in on this?” “Don’t drag me into this,” I waved my hands as if wiping my involvement away, “This is a Wilson sibling discussion.” “Uh-uh,” Sam called me out, wagging his finger, “Don’t do that. Dad said every chance he got that you were one of his own, you’ve got a say in this too. What is it?” I scrunched my face up, dreading the argument that was knocking on our door, “It’s dead weight, Sam. The money we could get for it would be enough to keep us comfortable for a little longer without having to worry.” “We grew up on this thing. It’s not just Mom and Dad’s name on it. This thing is a part of our family.”

I sighed as Sarah stepped forward, “You know the situation we’re in. This is why I prefer not to dwell on it in front of everybody.” “Well what if we don’t need to sell it?” Sam said. “Can we talk about this in private?” I suggested, tiring of having to convince Sam that we were in the right when he hadn’t been around to witness our struggles. A long time friend of ours called out to Sam and he willingly took the distraction, opting out of having the inevitable difficult conversation. Sarah and I trudged back, totes of fish in hand and tried to get through the rest of the work day without worrying if we were approaching our last.

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During golden hour, when the clock had struck five and we’d started packing it up for the day was the only time to get Sam to actually listen. I knew how much the boat meant to him, it meant something to us all, but he wasn’t living in the reality that Sarah and I were.

“Sam, the boat’s gotta go,” Sarah finally said, breaking the silence we were working in on the vessel. “Wait-“ “No, let me finish,” she said, “Y/n and I are doin’ everything I can to keep this business afloat and every day we’re making $5 and spending $10.” Sam looked between the two of us, “So why won’t you let me help?”

“Sam, don’t…” I winced, knowing Sarah’s reaction would be strong.

“No, don’t start with that. We made a deal before Daddy died,” Sarah carried a few buckets to the center of the deck, “You’re out there, I do things my way here. Y/n agreed to it too when she went off to school.” “Right, but you tangled the house into this when you took those loans,” Sam finished tying off one of the ropes, turning around and giving Sarah the perfect opportunity to punch his chest, “Forgot how hard you hit.” I sighed as I passed him by to follow Sarah, “Low blow, you deserved it.”

“Sarah, Y/n, c’mon,” he chased after us, “Look, and don’t hit me again…What if you had money to fix it up? Make it nice so you can charter it when you’re not out working the waters?” “Sam, do you think this was an easy decision for us?” I faced him, leaning against the doorway next to him, “I tried every tactic I learned in business school and got nowhere. Anything I thought up, we needed more money to do. This is our only option.” As he always did with the things he cared about, he fought. “We can take a loan and consolidate everything, it’ll take down your monthly,” he looked confused as he watched Sarah laugh, “What?” “You think I didn’t try the banks? They’re in with all that big business now.” I followed them like the little sister I’d always been as they moved their fight towards the cockpit of the boat. Sam blocked another doorway, “Yeah, but now you have me.”

“Don’t, Sam,” Sarah shook her head, “I just got good with this.”

“All right…”

“Maybe it is time for us to move on,” Sarah sighed. “Either way, just let me help,” Sam offered, “I’ll set the appointment. Look, I won’t let you guys down. We can turn this shit around. Trust me.” I peered over at Sarah, wishing I could see the calculations going on in her brain. It seemed pointless, but any shot at changing our luck was an avenue worth pursuing.

“It can’t hurt to try,” I shrugged.

Sarah finally relented, “To the rescue, huh?”

“Always,” Sam smiled, “Now, let’s get some dinner. I’m hungry.” ————

Sarah was taking AJ and Cass back home while Sam and I took his truck to go pick up food.

“So how was Tunisia?” I asked, sticking my hand out the window and letting it rise and fall with the wind.

“Hot, but the mission went well,” he answered, looking out of the corner of his eyes at me, “And that’s all you need to know.”

I snickered, “C’mon, it’s our thing. I ask you detailed questions about your confidential missions, you tell me you can’t reveal anything, I keep asking…You’ve gotta honor tradition.” “I flew, I fought, I rescued. Boom, mission explained.” “Ugh, you’re impossible, Wilson,” I waved him off, “How was the museum dedication?” The atmosphere changed as the subject of conversation changed from easy to complicated. “It was nice to see Steve’s accomplishments celebrated. Got to see Rhodes which was nice…” “You’re avoiding a red white and blue topic,” I said, trying to coax his true feelings out of their shells, “Seriously, are you really okay with this? Giving up the shield?” Sam inhaled deeply and exhaled, gathering his thoughts. “I don’t think it was ever meant to end up in my hands. I did the right thing, it belongs with Steve and the museum is the closest to Steve I can get.” I respected my friend’s choice but I knew there was so much more to his decision and I wished he would just say it. He had an enormous amount of respect for Steve Rogers and what the shield represented, but Steve Rogers never had to face the issues that Sam Wilson did. Steve Rogers could follow a government and be respected in return with no problems whatsoever. Sam Wilson couldn’t, not always. There was an elephant in the room and if neither of us wanted to talk about it, I wouldn’t push it.

“You’d have looked good in that uniform though,” I smiled as we turned into the take out place’s parking lot.

“Damn right,” Sam waggled his eyebrows and unbuckled his seatbelt. Laughter rang out in the truck sending me on waves of nostalgia. The memories that me and him had in this truck still were infamous between us. As proud as I was of the Falcon’s heroics, I was prouder to call Sam Wilson my best friend.

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Just as he’d promised, Sam made the appointment with the banker. He and Sarah were already on their way as I made the hour long drive in the opposite direction to New Orleans. I’d told them I’d be back in the evening to discuss how it went, but I had my own appointment to keep.

Sam and I had met back when we were just a couple of first graders. I’d always struggled with making friends as a kid, but Sam never had an issue when it came to connecting with others. It was one of his strongest qualities. And so he used his gift on his desk neighbor, the loneliest kid in class, and pulled her out of herself. We were inseparable until college and adulthood forced us apart, but we’d never lost our bond. Even when he was a pararescue, he wrote to me as often as his work allowed him.

All the Wilsons had taken a liking to me after Sam brought me home one day after school to watch cartoons. Darlene had told me I was welcome to come over any time I wanted, an offer Sam and I accepted till I became a permanent fixture in their house. Paul and his wife had frequently tried to get the rest of my family over for a crawfish boil or a barbecue. They’d send me every few weeks with a verbal invitation to my parents and the next day I’d always come back with a polite decline and excuse as to why we couldn’t make it. Mom was busy with spring cleaning, Melanie had a recital, Dad was feeling under the weather…

The only one that had ever been true was about my dad not feeling well. He was never well. But as a child, how do you explain that your father is a ghost around his own home who drinks himself to sleep and wakes up each night screaming from nightmares? There was no polite way to phrase circumstances that dark. Sometimes I felt like my dad had never returned from the military and though there hadn’t been a war at the time of his service, he still came back with his share of trauma. Mom did everything she could to try and help him. She found support groups for veterans, she took him to the best psychiatrists, she created a safe space for him within our home to retreat to. There was no amount of help that could kill my father’s demons and that was proven the night he’d said we were out of milk and he was going to the store. A few hours later, with my sister and I fast asleep upstairs, my worried mother answered the door and was informed by the police that my father had crashed his car and was dead. After speaking to Mom about what his mood had been like before he’d left and if he suffered from any mental illnesses, it was ruled as an undoubtable suicide.

My mother didn’t get much time to mourn after the funeral, she had two children to provide for. She took three jobs just to earn enough to move us from our house in New Orleans to a dingy apartment in Delacroix by the bayou. When the Wilsons heard that Mom needed to scrape enough money in the budget to hire a baby-sitter for me and Melanie, they put a stop to her efforts immediately. The insisted that Mel and I would be happier spending the time my mom was working with them and their kids rather than a stranger. That was how the Wilsons and the Y/l/ns had ended up so tightly knit. While Sarah and Melanie had bonded as the older sisters and were often off doing their own thing, Sam and I caused havoc of our own in classic younger sibling fashion. By the time we were in high school, both parents called the other’s children their own.

When Paul and Darlene passed away, it was incredibly hard on all of us and it was equal when Mom had a fall and the doctors suggested she move into a facility. Sam, Sarah and I had worked hard to get her into one of the best nursing homes in the city and she hadn’t stopped raving about how much she loved it. Pulling into the parking lot was like muscle memory now, I never missed a weekend visit with her. This one was special because Melanie, her husband and brood of children had come too. I grabbed my visitor’s sticker at the front desk and made my way down the familiar hallways. The sound of laughter and cooing echoed out of my mom’s room, bringing a smile to my face.

I knocked on the door and heads turned, my nieces and nephews being the quickest. “Aunt Y/n!” I embraced Sophia and Max tightly, “The twin tornados! I missed you guys,” separating from them was difficult as they clung to me but I made it to Stephan, giving him a kiss on the cheek and doing the same to Mel, “You look hot, mama.” “I certainly don’t feel it,” she remarked as she cradled their newest addition, baby Alexandra, close to her chest, “I spend more hours of the day covered in glitter glue and spit up than you could imagine.” “You wear it all well,” I patted her shoulder before coming to my mother’s bedside and hugging her, “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” she kissed both of my cheeks and looked to the door, “Sarah and Sam couldn’t come?” “No, but they send their love. They had an appointment at the bank,” I set down my purse and pulled up a chair, “We’re trying to get approved for a small business loan.”

Glen took Alexandra from Mel so she could tend to the twins, “I wish we could help out, Y/n. I’ve looked at the budget over and-“ It warmed my heart that my brother-in-law cared so much about a problem that wasn’t his to bear. “Glen,” I held up a hand, “You guys are stretched thin enough. This isn’t me asking for charity, it’s our problem and Sam’s confidant we’ll find a fix.” “How does he have enough time to be a member of the Air Force, an Avenger and save the family business?” Mel asked.

“Well, the Avengers are kind of off doing their own thing right now from what I understand and he’s home for a little while from the Air Force,” I explained, “So his main job at the moment is to get us our funding and annoy the snot out of me while doing it.” After earning some giggles from Sophia and Max at the expression, Glen announced that they were going to go and grab lunch for everybody. My mom took my hand once it was just the two of us and I settled into my seat, “How are you, sweetheart?”

“Hanging in there,” I sighed, running a hand through my hair, “Tired, stressed, I smell like fish most of the time…We need this loan or else we’re going to have to sell the boat. You should’ve seen Sam’s face when Sarah told him…”

“I’m sorry, I know how much that boat means to you kids. I could’ve offered you the moon and stars and it still wouldn’t have been enough to get you off it.” I smiled at the memories of summer nights spent laying on the deck stargazing, dance parties on the stern and early mornings spent with Mr. Wilson teaching us how to fish. A childhood with so much sadness had also contained so many joys. To part with a tangible one killed me more than I’d let on to Sam.

Sensing that the topic was making me emotional, my mother was kind enough to change it. “How are things otherwise? Have you been getting out there?” I dropped my head back dramatically and groaned, “Mom…” “I’m just saying,” she dropped my hand and held up hers in surrender, “You should get out there, meet someone. There’s no shame in trying those online dating services. What’s the one…the…Tinder?” “Oh my gosh, Mom,” I buried my face in my hands and moved my fingers so she could only see my eyes, “Please stop talking.” “You know who I ran into the other day? Jack’s mom, from high school. She lives just down the next hallway, she says that he’s still single. You could get in touch with him.” “Y’know, for a woman who advocated for her daughters to lead such independent lives, you’re sure quick to try and marry us off,” I chuckled, “The second Mel started dating Glen you were practically booking the church.” “And I’m very proud of both my girls for being such strong young women,” she smiled proudly, “But finding love doesn’t mean losing your independence so long as you’re with the right man. I love that you’ve been helping out Sarah these last few years but honey…I see how lonely you are. In those big y/e/c eyes you think I still can’t read after all these years.” The y/e/c eyes in question started to fill with sadness at hearing my pain verbalized. It was true, I was lonely. More so than I would ever let on to anybody. I was a shy enough kid who only withdrew further after Dad passed away, that kind of introversion wasn’t one that you outgrew. But I’d given up the idea of finding someone to spend my life with a long time ago for a bevy of reasons.

“Sometimes it’s better to be alone, Mama,” I nodded as if to force myself to agree with my statement, “No chances of getting hurt…or hurting somebody.” “You couldn’t hurt somebody even if you tried,” my mom argued sweetly, “You couldn’t even kill spiders when you were a kid.” “And now there’s a Spiderman out there so I’m glad I didn’t,” I shot back with a laugh.

“I’m serious, honey,” she took my hand once again, “Don’t let your heart’s wounds keep you from finding someone who could help soothe them.”

I was convinced my mother was both a poet and a therapist at some point in her life, she gave advice in the most beautifully phrased way. And while I’d loved to have taken her words to heart, tell Mel to fix me up with one of Glen’s friends and put an end to my loneliness, I feared that I was just too broken to give love to someone.

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I arrived back home late, shedding my boots and bag at the doors. I’d expected to hear a triumphant chorus of Sam shouting ‘WHO DA MAN?’ as he typically would when heroically proving me and Sarah wrong, but there was only silence. When I walked into the kitchen and saw their glum faces, it wasn’t hard to guess the outcome of the meeting. “You’re kidding me…” “Said that things had tightened up,” Sam said, leaning against one side of the island and taking a swig of his beer, “Had the balls to ask me for a picture afterwards.” I groaned and grabbed the beer bottle Sarah had extended to me, “Okay, we’re out of options. It’s time to move forward-“ “Don’t say it…” Sam tiredly warned.

“Someone has to, Sam. We can’t keep searching for solutions when the right one is sitting out on our dock,” I gestured to the window that looked out on the road we took each day to work.

Sarah set her beer down and held her hands up in surrender, “I’m not having this argument again tonight, I’m going to bed. If you’re gonna kill each other, do it quietly.” She left as me and Sam silently stared each other down, waiting for the other to speak. I was too frustrated to play the game, “What’s this really about?” “It’s about the damn boat and that you and Sarah are throwing in the towel too-“ “What,” I elongated the single syllable word, “Is this really about?” Sam set his drink down and rubbed his hands over his head before looking back up at me helplessly, “You guys were on your own for five years and you’ve done an amazing job. But now nothing’s working and I just…I just want to help because I couldn’t for so long.” It all clicked as to why Sam was being so insistent on trying to eliminate the whole matter. He was used to saving the day and finally meeting one that he couldn’t save was a wall he thought he could still find a way to run through. He’d been like that ever since we were kids, always trying to help the people he loved even when it was impossible. He had the biggest heart of anyone I’d ever met.

“I love you,” I set down my bottle and crossed the island to come next to him and wrap my arms around his shoulders, “But this may be one problem that the Falcon can’t swoop in and fix. The Avengers work hard, but a business graduate helping to run a struggling seafood business works harder,” I succeeded in getting him to crack a smile, “Believe me, I’ve run all the numbers and consulted with anyone who would listen. The boat’s gotta go.”

“Yeah, well, humor me and give me a little while longer.”

“Fine, a couple more days,” I grabbed my beer once again and clinked it against his, “But it’s not my fault if Sarah smacks you again.” Sam laughed, slung an arm around my neck and kissed my temple. “You coming up soon?”

“Yeah, I’ll be up in a few minutes,” I answered, watching as he finished his drink before leaving the kitchen and heading upstairs. Once I’d heard his bedroom door open and close, I exited out to the back porch. I took in the late night sounds of the bayou, the crickets chirping and the wind rustling trees had always soothed me. I wished they could touch what I was feeling right now, but the noise didn’t do a thing to drown out my worry. For the business I feared we may lose, for Sam as he ran himself ragged trying to help and for myself and what him and Sarah would think of me once I confessed the secret I’d kept from them for so long.

I held out my hand and watched as the blue energy flowed from my fingertips. Would Sam ever forgive me for not telling him I had powers? They had manifested when I was young, my parents said. I couldn’t remember a day where my body hadn’t produced a magical energy that when harnessed incorrectly could be destructive. It had been a sad day for my mother’s garden when I’d discovered that bit…According to her, she’d wanted to take me to a school for people like me run by a man named Charles Xavier but my father had said no immediately. He’d been so insistent on keeping my powers a secret that my mother said she’d only seen that type of fear in his eyes when he had a war flashback. So I was instructed to never show my powers to anyone under any circumstances and I’d done just that. I’d thought about revealing them in 2012 after the Battle of New York, but my dad’s fear rang in my ears. Three years later when Sam became an Avenger was when I began to feel guilty that I was keeping a secret from him. I’d wanted to join him and find somewhere where I didn’t feel so out of place, but I’d decided against it again. Now with their team so broken and Sam off with the Air Force, I’d finally gathered the courage to confide in him and Sarah. I should have done it six months ago, but I’d chickened out too many times. Tomorrow, I decided. Tomorrow was the day. But would they still see me the same way once I showed them? ————

The next morning, after dressing and running over what I wanted to say three times, I hesitantly headed downstairs to face the music. With there being nobody in the kitchen, I followed the sounds of the television to find Sarah and Sam staring at the screen intently. I stood to the side of the room and watched a suited man give a speech out front of a government building. “We need someone to inspire us again, someone who can be a symbol for all of us. So, on behalf of the Department of Defense and our Commander-in-Chief, it is with great honor that we announce here today that the United States of America has a new hero. Join me in welcoming your new Captain America.”

My jaw slackened as a man marched out in front of the gathered press, dressed in a variation of Steve Rogers’ patriotic uniform and carrying the iconic shield. The shield that had only weeks ago sat upstairs in Sam’s bedroom in a case. I dragged my gaze away from the screen to look at my best friend, hunched over in his seat with his eyes shut in sorrow. Sarah looked just as distraught, her eyes trained on her brother as well. We waited in silence until the breaking news broadcast switch back to regularly scheduled programming before Sarah switched the box off.

“I thought you said it was going to stay in the museum,” I finally spoke, my voice choked with emotion.

“It was supposed to,” Sam ground out, his grip on his own hands tightening. Without any warning, he rose from his seat and left the room. My instinct was to follow him and try to comfort him, but there was nothing I could say to ease the deep pain he was feeling. I wasn’t even sure I could form words that weren’t doused in raw shock. The two things I was sure of were that a) the government had fucked up royally and b) now was definitely not the time to tell Sam about my powers.

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It was a few days later and Sam still hadn’t spoken much to Sarah and I about the situation. It was unnatural for Sam to suffer in silence especially around us, but we both gave him the space he needed.

I was taking laundry to AJ and Cass’ room and had to pass by Sam’s, surprised to see him packing a bag. “Thought you were sticking around.” “Something big came up,” he replied as he set a stack of t-shirts in his duffle bag, “I need to go check it out.” I leaned against his doorway, “Air Force big or Avengers big?” “The second one.” “And you’re going by yourself?” I asked with raised eyebrows.

Sam looked over his shoulder at me finally, “Don’t have anybody to else to call. Besides, I can handle myself.” I hummed in response before setting down the stack of laundry, an idea forming in my head that could solve both of our problems. I folded my hands together and dug my feet into the carpet, “What if you didn’t have to go by yourself?” He looked confused, “What are you talking about?” My folded hands began to make circles in the air as I struggled for the right words, “What if I came with you?” “What, like take your family to work day something?” Sam scoffed, “That’d be fun.” “I’m serious.” “Are you crazy? Of course you can’t come.” “Hear me out,” I looked to his bag and the pair of jeans he had next to fold, “Actually watch.” He folded his arms and waited for my demonstration. I took a deep breath and extended my hand, forcing my energy outwards to levitate the jeans. “Whoa!” Sam exclaimed as he watched me maneuver the clothing inside his duffle, “W-w-what…What was that?” I shrugged and pulled my hand back to my side, “The reason why you should take me.”

“How long have you been able to do that?” “Since I was a kid,” I moved out of the doorway and closed the door, the last thing I needed was AJ and Cass knowing their aunt could move things with her mind, “My parents told me never to tell anybody. I’ve thought about telling you for years since you’re used to this kind of thing but I was scared…Then you were gone and when you came back, life was moving non-stop and I lost my courage. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” Sam stood with his jaw hung for a few seconds before shaking his head back into reality, “Why are you apologizing? You never had to tell me, but I’m glad you did,” he pointed a finger towards me, “But you’re still not going.” “What are you talking about? I’d be an asset to whatever it is you’re fighting! And I love you but c’mon bird boy, you may be able to fly but I can do it without any tech.” “Oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” Sam gestured between the two of us, “You think insulting me is the way to get me to let you come?” “Come on,” I moved to sit on his bed, “Tell me what the problem is and I’ll prove that I can help.” “Alright, alright,” Sam took a stance in front of me, “You wanted to hear the tea on my missions, I’ll spill it. There’s an online group called the Flag Smashers, their MO is to get the world back to the way it was during the last five years. My military contact, Torres, went undercover in Switzerland when they robbed a bank. Knocked him unconscious when he tried to fight back.” I balanced my elbows on my knees and tapped a finger against my lip, “So kind of a Robin Hood deal, right? Stealing things from the rich and giving it to the poor. In this case, the poor being those who never disappeared.” “Exactly, except the guy that knocked Torres out was strong. Too strong. I’m thinking they could be a part of-“ “The big three.” Sam’s neck snapped back, “How do you know about the big three?” I shrugged nonchalantly, “The little you do tell me about your avenging always ties back to either androids, aliens or wizards. Though I think you’re being a little dramatic with the term ‘wizard.’”

“Are you seriously gonna correct the guy who’s actually there doing the fighting?” “Are you seriously gonna deny yourself valuable help against either an alien or an android?”

Sam sighed, I was successfully backing him into a corner. “Can you even fight?”

Extending one hand, I levitated Sam and gently slammed his back into the ceiling before reversing course and lowering him onto the carpet. He moaned as he rolled over to face me, “Could’ve given me a concussion.” “Maybe that would knock some sense into your head,” I stood and gave him my hand to pull him up, “Sam, I know that I don’t have any experience but I am more than capable of defending myself. I want to actually do something with these powers instead of sitting on my ass. I’d rather do it with you than on my own. Please?” I watched the cogs in his mind turn through his eyes, I knew he was only fighting this hard because he wanted to keep me safe. But he was in way over his head if he thought it wasn’t worth taking me with. He accepted my hand and stood to his full height, “Pack a bag, we’re leaving for the air base in an hour.” I smiled and threw my arms around him, “Thank you, you won’t regret this.” “I’d better not,” he warned, his arms stayed straightened in displeasure of my enthusiasm, “If you take some stupid risk and put yourself in jeopardy, I’m putting your ass on a plane home.” Quick footsteps could be heard coming down the hallway until the door opened to reveal Sarah, “What was all that noise? It sounded like you were throwing each other into walls.” “Busy,” I quickly dismissed her, using my energy to shut the door in Sarah’s face from a distance.

“Um,” her muffled voice rang through, “What the hell was that?!”

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson imagine #marvel imagine

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haikyuu-appreciation-club · 4 years

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Hiii love💞, could I request a kurro x reader based on the song "sometimes" by "Chelsea Cutler?" It's a beautiful song, and I would love to see how you write it out!! Thank you, and I can't wait smto see what you make out of it!!!

•Sometimes•

Kuroo x Reader

warnings: a few curse words + mentions of depression, mental health issues, suicidal thoughts + trust issues

genre: angst to fluff + comfort

word count: 2.2k

hey sweetheart!!

I really adore this request, it’s different then anything I've done before and I'm excited to get to turn my interpretation of this song into a fic

my interpretation of this song is that its in the perspective of a person that has depression and it’s consuming them. It constantly comes and goes and affects the way they are in a relationship. they feel as though they are unable to be loved and they have a hard time trusting that their partner actually cares for them due to this added baggage they have.

ik the actual meaning of the song is different but I'm writing based off of that :)

this is a very beautiful song and I hope I bring it justice

enjoy <3

(TRIGGERS BELOW)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

(TW DEPRESSION, TW SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, TW MENTAL HEALTH, TW TRUST ISSUES)

You used to enjoy the early morning hours. The way the sun would peer through your partially open blinds, casting rows of golden hues across your walls. The taste of flavorful coffee flowing down your throat, bringing you to your senses. Even the noise of cars passing by brought you a source of peace as you got ready for your day.

Overtime, mornings grew bitter. The sunlight became a nuisance, causing you to bury yourself deeper in your covers. You no longer had to energy to get up and make yourself a cup of coffee and the hum of the car engines just reminded you of the dreaded day ahead.

Honestly, you can't recall when the beautiful colors of this world had faded from your view.

Although you had grown accustomed to these emotions, they weren't always dominating your life. They came and went in waves, allowing brief moments of happiness to creep through. On one of those special occasions, the universe brought Kuroo into your life.

Meeting him felt like coming up for your first breath of air after a long swim. He wasn't a complete stranger but you had been too encased in your thoughts to ever go out of your way to talk with him. Luckily, he made the effort to reach out and the two of you clicked right away. You had thought things were finally looking up for you, crawling your way out of the slump you had constantly been dragged in and out of. You saw this as your time to collect the broken pieces of yourself and start over with Kuroo, but those thoughts were soon deemed trivial. After a while, your depression had hauled you back into the darkness, stripping you from any ounce of joy you had left. Kuroo had kept you afloat for longer than anyone has ever had, and maybe that’s why you allowed yourself to indulge in wishful thinking. You should have known better though, you were broken repair and it was no ones job to fix you.

Although you never opened up about your struggles to Kuroo, he wasn't completely oblivious to the situation. He had noticed your change in attitude straight away. The way you would shy away from any social situations, silently begging him to just stay inside and cuddle on the couch. The way you would take two or three bites of dinner and lazily claim you were full. The way the things you loved to do, didn't seem to peak your interest anymore. Even the way your sleeping patterns had shifted, either feeling you toss and turn in the middle of the night or finding you still sleeping in at four in the afternoon.

Kuroo was confused to say the least, this demeanor was so new to him and he didn’t know what to do. You seemed so hollow, as if you were a shell of your former self. It broke Kuroo’s heart to see you in such a state and he wanted to help you, he just had no clue how.

You weren’t the type of person to lay all of your emotions out on the table, Kuroo knew that much. So, he didn't want to force things out of you or do anything to make you shy away from him more then you already had. He wanted to be able to handle this situation in a way you both were comfortable with. So, he took his time observing your behavior and researching the things he noticed.

Soon enough, his hunch that you had been entrapped in a depressive state had been confirmed. All of your actions and new found mannerisms had lined up with the symptoms almost perfectly. Now he just had to find a way to approach you about your current situation.

Things on your part were growing worse with each passing day. You were exhausted, as if all the energy had been drained from your body. The motivation to even get out of bed had been snatched away. You were at the point where you just felt like giving up. There was no point in trying anymore and you had discovered living to be so tiring. The only thing keeping you going was Kuroo, and you felt oddly selfish for that.

Kuroo had always made it a point to care for you and be by your side with everything throughout your relationship, but why should he? Did he not realize how damaged you were? As if you were a surgery gone wrong and no one could find the source of the bleed. You loved Kuroo with all your heart but knowing how much trouble you had already caused and how much was waiting to ensue tugged at your chest.

Thoughts continued to swim in your head while you lied in your bed, curled up with your knees to your chest as you stared at the empty wall. You couldn’t recall how long you’d been lying there. Time seemed to fade away recently, the minutes, hours, and days blended together. Honestly, you couldn’t care less. Opening your eyes had been dubbed a difficult task so getting ready for the day had been out of the question for quite a while. Lying in bed all day had become so familiar to you, you were no longer content with anything else.

A creak came from the opposite side of your bedroom as the door leading in softly swung open. Your eyes darted in the direction of the noise but you didn’t move a muscle as light footsteps approached the bed. You knew who it was but you couldn’t bring yourself to greet them, it was too much effort on your part.

The second Kuroo had walked through the door he had taken notice of your disheveled state. He had been unable to see you for the past few days due to a family event that had been planned.

He invited you to come along but you refused, seeing you didn’t want to ruin the mood and you didn’t have the energy to put up a front for that long. Kuroo didn’t want to leave you by yourself but you insisted that he went and spend time with his loved ones. So, reluctantly, he bid you farewell and went on his way. The two of you kept in touch through text messages which helped to sooth his nerves a smidge, but soon enough your replies grew shorter and popped up on his screen less often until they stopped appearing at all. Panic conquered his mind and he booked the first flight home to you.

There was a dip in your bed as Kuroo sat at your side. A small part of you wanted to hug him but you stayed stiff as a board, expression unwavering. You felt a hand gently sit atop your thigh as small circles were rubbed into your warm skin,

“Hey babe.”

You wanted to answer him, you really did, but only silence hung over the room following his warm greeting,

“I know you’ve been going through a lot lately, do you mind if i help you out a little bit?”

A small nod was given, insinuating that he had your permission to continue with whatever he had planned, not as if you had the strength to disagree.

You felt the covers lightly being drawn off of your body, allowing the cool air to dance against your skin. Kuroo swiped at the hairs that had invaded your vision and placed a chaste kiss to your forehead before scooping you up. You fell limp in his hold, turning towards him and hiding your face in his chest.

Kuroo carried you to your bathroom and seated you on the counter. He watched as your eyes stayed glued to your feet, as if a weight had been attached to your neck. Although his heart ached at the sight, you were hurting more than he was right now. Grabbing your toothbrush and toothpaste off the counter, he placed a hand on your jaw and began to brush your teeth.

He continued to tend to your daily tasks, those of which you had been neglecting since he last saw you. He brushed out your hair, bathed you, and dressed you in clean clothes.

As you sat on the bathroom floor, allowing you hair to air dry, Kuroo carried on. He had changed your bedding, throwing your old sheets into the washer and pulling fresh ones from the cabinet. He also walked around your room, picking up trash and putting things where they belonged. He had even made it a point to peel away your blinds and open your window, allowing the outside world to finally reach you after what felt like an eternity.

You couldn't understand why he was doing all this, he should leave you while he had the chance. Hell, you would've left a long time ago. So why didn’t he?

The door of the bathroom was pushed open once more, interrupting your thoughts. Kuroo crouched down in front of you. Although your appearance had returned to it’s prior state, your eyes still held a sorrowful glow,

“I’m gonna bring you back to the bed, is that alright?”

You nodded once more, allowing him return you to your area of origin.

As you lied on your back, staring at the celling, Kuroo timidly slid down next to you. His body had turned towards you as he wrapped his arm around your midsection, the other tucked behind his head.

Kuroo may not let you see it, but he was beyond nervous. He was anxious he wasn't doing or saying anything right and the last thing he wanted was to make you feel worse than you already did. Despite this, he knew he had to bring this situation into the light somehow. Even if you shied away from the subject or the conversation ran short,

“I’m sorry Y/N. I know your mind has put you though hell and back. I might not be able to understand it but you aren’t alone, okay? You’re so important to me and no matter what, I'll be right here by your side. And don’t push yourself to let me in, I'm here when you’re ready.” Those words had cleared something from you mind and finally allowed you to feel. Not even realizing it, a tear slipped down your cheek. Then two, and three, until you were choking on sobs. Your hand had found the front of Kuroo’s shirt as you cried into his chest. Everything that had been stored away had finally found it’s way to the surface.

Kuroo held you in his tight embrace, placing soft kisses on the top of your head as you broke down. He didn’t mind the damp shirt or the feeling in his arms disappearing, all he was focused on was you.

After a while, he felt your voice vibrate against his chest,

“Hm? Sorry baby, I didn’t catch that.”

Your voice had been muffled by the cloth pressed against your face. So, you pulled away from his grasp, finally looking him in the eyes for the first time since he set foot in your home,

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you.”

Your mind drew a blank, was his answer to your question that simple?

“What?”

“Because I am in love with you,” he cupped your cheek and gave you a soft smile, “I am completely in love with every single thing about you Y/N, the good and the bad. I love it all because at the end of the day, It’s still you who’s by my side.”

You felt a tug at your heart as he gently pulled you into a kiss. You slowly returned the gesture, relishing in the feeling of his lips on yours. You hadn't realized how much you had distanced yourself from the man you loved until this very moment. Your depression had lead you to reject the fact that your boyfriend actually cared about you, making you shy away from him as a whole.

As the two of you pulled apart your mind granted your body permission to pull your boyfriend into your embrace, another sensation you had deeply missed. You sunk your face into the crook of his neck and breathed in the sent of his cologne.

The two of you stayed that way for a while, allowing yourselves to become familiar with each other’s touch once more.

Soon enough, you had grown tired due to your fit of tears earlier and began to slip in and out of consciousness. Taking notice of this, Kuroo pulled you down until you were both lying side by side. Your body had found his once more as you snuggled into his side,

“I love you Kuroo.”

“I love you more Y/N.”

There was much to be discussed but that could wait until the morning. For now, all that was important to Kuroo was being by your side, where he loved to be.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

180 notes · View notes

grim-faux · 3 years

Text

2 _ 31 _ Reflections

First

The rain slapped against the windowsill, the wood soaked entirely and coming apart by slivers as he shifted. For once, he was working at his fingers and not the soft timber. A particularly stubborn splinter between his fingers refused to emerge, so he sat for the time chewing off callouses.

Far below in the alley, a pack of children skittered through the gray mist racing boats in a gutter. It’s a group of what might be four, it's difficult to take full stock from the angle and how indistinguishable the shapes are. He knows they are pack because they play a game together and appear mostly organized. Games help children figure out cooperation and interdependence, it’d let them get a grip on skills, and other important things. Playing a small game could also pull them from the hostile world they inhabited, and… he didn’t know how to put it into speek. Reset their heads. Lessened the fatigue of struggle for survive, distanced them from the uncertainties they dealt with constantly. Such as food and safe shelter. It was free and light.

It would be fun to go out there and meet with the other children. See how they did speek, possibly learn where they came from - if they came from beyond the city or knew nothing but the Pale City. Maybe find out where they planned to go next. Could learn about new dangers or unseen threats. Sometimes kids share foods, but not always, it depended on the situation and how plentiful rations were. He wondered who was winning the game. The boats worked well, bobbing along the deep rapids of the gulley and staying afloat despite the turbulent weather.

Trying to meet other kids wouldn’t be safe. The Thin Man might frighten the child pack or hurt them. Worst could happen, what if chase and turned them into sad little shadows? True, that didn't always happen, but it did happen to Her. And they were not Mono. Not same. The tall thin man was unpredictable, did without reason, does without knowing the why. In all the time he chased the man in the hat, Mono didn't learn much of his ways or whims. Even for him the game was dangerous. Though the tall thin man usually seemed calm and indifferent, it was always very obvious when someone something irritated him. The Thin Man did give fair warning.

He shouldn’t be sitting here watching, but he can’t help it. Even if he can’t pack, he still longed for the together. Share foods and speek, watch for someone and then do sleep. Huddle close when it’s cold, and the weather was punishing. Call for friend, work through a hard puzzle. Trick monsters. The sort of stuff kids did.

The Thin Man keeps Mono, but that is all. The tall thin man is not child, he is the adult. Maybe once a long-long time ago, the man in the hat was child and did hide, flee from danger, and searched for food, or played games. He might’ve had a pack, or not. All of that means nothing, the Thin Man is adult now, and does not understand cardinal laws about the world. He goes where he wants, does whatever he wants, whenever he wants. The man in the hat has no fears. It’s possible he likes keeping Mono because Mono is a strange child with no friends, and Mono couldn't help but chase the Thin Man.

Or could be the Thin Man thought Mono was funny child. Not a good kind of funny, but a mean kind. Like with the feather. Mono was funny and sometimes that made the Thin Man happy, but that didn't make Mono happy. The man in the hat liked the few things about Mono that were same, but that was the extent of Mono's frail grasp. So little about company he could get the knack of, the Thin Man always changed the rules. Then again, the Thin Man didn't quite want Mono to begin with; he barely seemed to accept that Mono was.

The thought was always there, like needing to find foods. Ever present in his mind, nagging when he lost sight of the tall thin man. When the man in the hat left for the fabled "danger-ouse places". This wasn't going to last, and Mono was always nervous when the Thin Man became displeased with his doings.

“Don’t go there.” “You need sleep.” “Not there, child.” “Where are you?” “How did you manage that?” “Spit that out." "No.” “That is a danger.” “I don’t need that.” “No.” “Stop!” “Stay.” “C̷̥͠o̶̜͑m̷̥͗ë̴̬́ ̴͙̂H̶̞͠ȅ̴͓r̵̲̃ḙ̵̓,̸̳̃ ̶͎̅B̴̠̀o̶͈̾y̶͖͘.̸̯̓”

Adults. They get mad at the weirdest things. Like now, Mono was uncertain where the Thin Man was inside the whole building they were exploring. The tall thin man was put off about... something or another, and before Mono could collect his wits (after the bad fall) the man in the hat had already faded in a flashy crackle. No sign or indication where he went. As such, Mono began wandering through the twisting corridors, and sneaking around the rundown rooms barely holding together; mind set on food things while his senses remained on full alert.

The Thin Man seemed more broody than the adults normal, and inclined the quiet, dark glare onto Mono a few times. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, what the tall thin man searched for. It had been some while since Mono saw a smile; not while they strolled through the dismal roads, or broken walls into washed out building interiors. They wandered some long while, the tall thin man might be tired like Mono was. Even if lie and said he wasn't to rest, Mono knew better. The dream haunts got the better of him, despite Mono's best efforts. The Thin Man did not do a good job of look after himself.

If he could find something interesting, the Thin Man would tell him about it. Maybe. Some things he didn’t like to tell Mono about, but other times Mono could find him a new thing. An interesting thing, which the Thin Man would just tell him all about. Sometimes use the big speek, and Mono would be lost in the rumbling buzz. But it was a good sort of lost.

That task was hard yet. Not much interested the Thin Man. He liked his game, and Mono was glad not to be alone. They both got something from the company. A win.

Dull vibrations pulsed in the back of his thoughts, demanding Mono pry his focus from the window, with the children so far away. He dropped off the sill and hurried across the decrepit room, aimed for one doorway wherein the already challenged radiance flashed and dimmed. In short time he reached the portal, right when the figure bent shuffled into the room.

“Did you get to eat?” The man in the hat stood straight and rubbed at his back.

Mono rubbed at his own back. When the Thin Man gave him a look, he stopped the motion and shook his head. He showed his empty hands and frowned. If there had been food, the Thin Man would’ve gotten something too.

With a rustling sigh, the Thin Man resumed his listless stride. To his relief, the man in the hat dismissed the window, and in a distorted flicker, abandoned the room entirely. Before the bulbs winked out in the ceiling, Mono made haste to reach the connecting passage. Soon, he would only have the delicate rap of the Thin Man's heels to offer direction. If the wiring didn't work or fizzled out completely due to the Thin Man's presence, he really had to rely on his hearing and the feel of the air. Mono fancied he was becoming pro at that, regardless the frequent bump or stumble over obscure junk.

The prolonged search resulted in no meaningful results, nothing worthwhile - aside from more of the same rot, the typical invasion of insects chewing through whatever couldn't crawl away. Mono plucked at the edge of his choice hat, trying to pretend his stomach wasn't growling about the injustice of all this. For the life of him, he couldn't remember what it was that he last ate. Let alone when. It wasn't important, but it annoyed him thinking he'd gone so long without something.

Probably why he couldn't stop chewing on his fingers.

"Don't do that. Get your hand away from your mouth."

When the Thin Man leaned through the next doorway, Mono stalled long enough to stick his tongue at the hunched figure. He didn't want to chew on the bandage, the wrapping was set cozy and right, and neat. A good sum of time elapsed since his last incident, best not to get the Thin Man all riled up over minor hurts. Mono wanted to avoid another episode.

By the ground level of the building, the two returned to the endless storms via a collapsed portion of wall. Thankfully, the Thin Man ventured through roads that lay open and mostly whole, fluttering as a wispy shadow among chunks of ruble evicted off the warped high-rises. The man in the hat's travel was never restricted, not like Mono was. A chasm wasn’t a frightening void to the tall thin man; he could blink out and appear on the other side. For Mono in his unrefined capacity, he always had to search out a way across. And FAST. The tall thin man wasn't prone to wait or call.

Sometimes, the man in the hat did offer to carry Mono, but Mono was frightened by the idea and shied away from the offered hand. What if he was dropped or fell, or any number of things? Mono liked to have something solid under his feet, or in his grasp. The Thin Man was always dissatisfied with the response, but it was a rare time when he didn’t grab Mono. They could always search for another way. The city sprawling held no shortage of paths or crevices, ladders or suspicious braided blanket ropes dangling. Mono was a crafty boy - if he was permitted the time, he would find a clever route. All while ignoring the Thin Man's baleful glower. Like the tall thin man, Mono didn't need anybody. He could go anywhere on his own.

It is a very long excursion of the city roads, twisted alleys, roving within the buckling walls of splintered skyscrapers crumbling brick by brick. None of the rooms of the many locations offered anything, aside from maybe a new child's hat or intriguing artifact. The rain prattled constantly, sometimes low roads are swamped by the converging 'rivers'. In some durations the travel is intense, but Mono is never dissuaded. Nothing would stop him. The Thin Man sought cached passages through the ruble of buildings, or utilized the televisions to reach a whole other section of the city. The Thin Man was always first, only because he isn’t a television serial murderer.

Mono tried to catch himself when he flew out. The television is atop a low table and he tumbled, nearly breaking his wrist. The Thin Man is already moving, and Mono doesn't waste a second to catch up. The building isn’t in that bad of shape, compared to those they passed through from the other side of the screen. The walls at least look whole in this room, and it’s much warmer, not so damp or drafty. Maybe shelter here? The man in the hat always decided.

The Thin Man opened a door, which led into a large corridor with branching archways and impervious shade beyond each. Flashing and glitching the tall figure reappeared, bypassing the first two entries. In his wake, Mono emerged from the doorway, straying near the wall. When he didn't follow immediately, the Thin Man stopped and looked back.

Mono idled along the wall trailing the peeling wallpaper with his hand, ever cautious when peering into the first open portal he passed. As suspected, perpetual depths greeted his eyes. He angled his gaze up and up at the stony silhouette, his current hat hiding most of his face. With barely a click in his step, the Thin Man pivoted and resumed his elected course. While Mono ducked into the next doorway, down a flight of steps and toward another corridor barely perceivable, if not for the bulb framing the walls with a gray haze. Not long, he would be back. The man in the hat wouldn't miss him.

The jingle from televisions carried along the enclosed stairwell, all the while Mono stumbled. Beyond the depressed gleam of radiance, more doors and maybe another passage further along. An intermix jabber of voices stacked in conversation, rambling speek with no meaning, and other melodies crooned out. Among the cacophony of swirled sounds, a Viewer burbled at the television it gaped at.

Most the doors he couldn't bother with, even if he was confident to shift through the wood panel, Mono still preferred to conserve his energy. He couldn't be certain if he would have the vigor to pop back through, given how famished he was. It limited his search, but the scout wouldn't go far if he got stranded somewhere. Much of his searching was reserved for bare-open dwellings, and likely areas long abandoned and long looted of worthwhile treats. If a residency appeared quiet and the door could be opened, he’d invite himself in. Foremost, he kept a lookout for foods, but he didn’t want to get distracted.

The self-imposed quest was mostly focused in the rooms with beds and dressers, not the kitchens - not yet. The rooms would harbor castoff things from a world abandoned, a world detached from the one he knew so well. On top of dressers or on nightstands, he might locate something he’d never seen before. However, many of the trinkets couldn’t hold his interest or didn’t reveal enough upon first examination, to really spur the risk to haul it to the Thin Man. He wanted to find another one of the bulb things with the toy inside, since that seemed interesting for a try.

In the big living room of one residence, he did find a remote! Something he’d searched for endlessly, especially now since lone televisions seemed prone to shut off while the Thin Man was around. The Thin Man didn’t like Mono looking at the devices, unless he was watched. Bleh.

Also lingering around was a Viewer, plastered to the television and gurgling. Needing a break from all the pointless wandering, Mono perched on a tall desk table and hit the switch, causing the television to blink out. This of course, annoyed the Viewer. With a shriek it swung around and searched for the source of this outrage. How DARE! Before it could lock onto him, near invisible in the shadows, Mono would give it back its stupid television. He just wanted to have a little fun for a bit, no harm.

This went on and on, the Viewer wailing each time the television powered off, Mono seeing how far he was willing to let it get without the willies getting to him. The nice thing about Viewers was the predictability, despite how obsessed they were. And creepy. As long as he had the remote, everything would be fine-

Unless the controller switch stopped… working. Right when he shut the thing off, and the Viewer had gotten a few paces too many away from its precious entertainment box.

Yeah it was a really dumb game, but he’d not had fun like that in a while. At least he had a head start, racing out of the room and shooting down into a crawlspace beneath the floorboards of one room. He really mourned the loss of the remote, he could have used that later.

The lower floors still held together mostly, which meant he should be extra careful while exploring around. There wouldn’t be openings or breaks he could dive into if trouble reared up, but he wasn’t seeing too many of the Viewers either, despite the singing televisions. He was also a little lost, creeping from one dwelling to the next, all the corridors felt the same despite erosion in the surface and carpet. He was thinking it would be a good time to try retracing his steps, before he became too lost. He was sure the upper floors could be reached, even without the stairwell – planks of wood in the crumbling wall or anything, if he searched hard enough.

In one of the smaller rooms he did a last search of, he encountered some child standing off to the side. Their presence startled him so much, and they looked just about as terrified by his intrusion, he back peddled and floundered over his own feet. He snatched up his hat and managed to lurch into a run, shooting through the break in the lower portion of the door and fleeing down the winding hall.

Only to freeze up when the Thin Man dipped under the threshold leading into the very corridor he was in. For lack of direction, Mono swayed back and forth.

“Hey.”

The Thin Man gave him a look, intense eyes glittering beneath the bill of his hat. He was chewing on one of those burn sticks.

“What is it? Stumble onto a hazard?” he posed.

Mono tipped his head, unsure how to go about this. “N’t good. No safe.” And then he stood there like a dolt, trying to hide his eyes a bit beneath the lip of his hat. “Foods?” He began to panic internally, when the Thin Man approached. Not looking at him, but glaring at the broken door just behind him.

“No! NoNoNoNo!” He tried to get in the tall figures way, but the man in the hat just stepped over him. A soured ache formed in his gut, he wanted to stop the Thin Man but also could see himself getting knocked aside or hurt if he was more careless. “No! No!”

“For the last time, there is nothing to fear while in my presence,” he grumbled. “I won't tolerate this. Wait there!” With a snap of his wrist the door creaked open, and in a deep bow the man in the hat vanished, winking out in a distorted shadow. A long and eerie pause followed.

Mono pressed his hands over his eyes and backed away. What did he do to children that were not Mono? Some sleeps the phantom screech She made woke him up. He never heard her do speek like that. A sad little shadow. He didn’t want to hear anyone else scream like that. He wanted to stop the Thin Man, but he was afraid! A cowered! He kept backing away from the void that now existed beyond the doorway. Sorry! He was sorry! He ran away! He tried....

“Mono.” The Thin Man called, from within. Sounding distant and haunting. “Come here.”

“What!” he challenged, without a thought. What did the Thin Man want to show him? Did he plan to make an example of the child? Or, did they escape? He hoped they got out.

Once more, the Thin Man beckoned. “Come here. Now.” When Mono failed to inspire his legs into moving, the Thin Man provided ample motivation. “Î̸̪̜̐̚ ̶͎̲̘̊̆̈́̎̊̊W̶̨̙͓͂̓̽͝i̵͓͖̖̰̞̒͛́̽͜͝l̶͎͚̼͙̐̋̅̿͝l̶̩͇̯̱̋ ̴͈̰̺̑̈́͜Ṅ̷̛̬̜͑̾̕͠o̷̫̭͗̃̅͆̕͝t̷̗͎͖̏̿̉ ̷̱̫̜̠̎̇̈̂̕Č̵͍͚̒̏̌̋a̴̦̤̙̹͌̔̆̆͒͝l̷̩͖͈̈́̐͒l̸͙͚͖̤̫̮̈̍͒͠ ̴͕̗̩͓̳̟̕ Ȁ̸͎̜̫͍̫̠̆̽g̷͇̙͋a̶̢̯̻̋̉i̴̗̣̭̩̒͊́̚ṅ̴̮͉̿̓͘͠.”

He shuffled towards the doorway, gut tightening the closer he moved to the gaping entry. What was waiting? Would the Thin Man have the child in his grip, struggling and terrified by his uncertain fate? Or would the other kid be cringing in a corner, white with terror? If the man in the hat wanted him to do... something, he would flee. He would!

When Mono finally inched his way hrough the threshold, his eyes locked immediately on the towering figure standing by the wall. A little flutter of relief swirled in his chest, upon spying both of the long arms crossed over the narrow chest. That relief almost popped, when the Thin Man settled his gaze on him. He tugged the sides of his hat down around his face.

“There’s no need to be frightened,” he crackled. “It was only your reflection.”

Baffled, Mono shifted his gaze aside and searched. Reflection? He nearly jolted backwards when he spied the child again, instead, this time he stumbled. What was that! The other child appeared flabbergasted as well as lost. What was this?! No, wait… they were wearing his hat. That was His HAT!

He kept his distance, glaring. The other child followed his lead. Perfectly mimed. This was very confusing and disconcerting, to have a someone imitate him so perfectly. Something was wrong here.

“You’ve never seen a real mirror before, have you?” He felt like the Thin Man was mocking him again. Before he realized anything is afoot, he’s being pressed forward by a hand. “It won’t hurt you. Have a look.”

“No….” Mono tugged the hat down fully over his face, but couldn’t get away from the grasp insisting he address this other fake Mono. He dug his toes into the dirty carpet trying to press back, until the forceful hand withdrew. He collected himself and tugged his hat up, fully prepared to retreat… but he was nearly at the doppelganger. Could make out the color of his coat, the details of his hat, his very dour and annoyed expression.

It was like staring into a window, and someone you’ve never seen before looked back. But he knew them from somewhere. The surface was a bit dusty, the edges tinged with corrosion, but for the most part the window was intact. They were separated. He crept in closer and closer, teetering on the fringe of flight. The closer he moved, the more defined and clear the outlines of the other child became in the dull light.

Reaching out cautiously, his palm slapped the cold barrier. Solid. He gazed at the other face gawking back, and very slowly reached up. The copy mimicked faithfully, as he pushed the hat off his head. He tried to recall a time when he had viewed himself in such utter clarity, but had nothing. Unless to check for an injury or something, seeking a reflective surface was redundant. Finding a surface that offered anything but distorted complexions, was something else entirely. He never really stopped to look at himself, take in the face the world hated.

“It’s you,” the Thin Man rumbled.

“T’s me. Aam Mono,” he hummed. Tentatively, he reached up and touched at his hair, pushed it one way then parted it the other, ruffled the clumpy strands. He tugged at his ears, studying the curls and overall form. Then, mushed at his cheeks and tugged at his lips, made some faces. So that’s what those looked like. He had to look at his teeth, see the crazy gap the missing tooth made. Neat! The spot in his gum looked ugly but didn't hurt. He twirled around, admiring the fantastic coat and all its stitch work. The collar was bent, so he fixed that. Overall, he was a very good looking Mono.

A little higher in the window surface, he could observe the Thin Man. Smiling.

“Come? Look.” He leaned away from the glossy pane, peering up at the man in the hat. Who was no longer smiling.

“No. I’d rather not… tarnish the reflection.”

Mono returned his attention to the mirror Mono and looked aside. This didn’t count as anything that would make the Thin Man happy. He sat for a moment and nibbled his fingers, having a think. He was… already bored with the mirror, too. The novelty wore off before he knew it. He was still Mono, the world still hated him. The mirror couldn't tell him why. But....

“Same,” he murmured. Touching his cheek. “N’same.” He turned to the Thin Man and curled his fingers around his eyes. He offered a smile.

“That we do.”

The response kind of caught Mono. But the man in the hat knew everything already, and then didn’t say. “Reason?”

The Thin Man exhaled a thread of smoke. And shrugged. Otherwise, no explanation or insight was given. Not even an excuse.

“See… n’me you?”

Another sigh, but the Thin Man sighed wouldn’t look at Mono. “Saw some of me, in you.”

“Oh.” He was glad there wasn’t a child in this room. This wasn’t much better, but at least no one else got hurt. He tugged at a thread in the roll of his pant leg. “Tell story?” He is a little disappointed when the Thin Man turned away and bent under the doorframe.

“No, this is not the time nor place for silly stories.”

Mono snapped up his hat and climbed to his feet, rushing after the gradually retreating figure. “But story?” He hastened his pace to stay beside the Thin Man, bouncing or skipping between every two or three steps.

“You won’t like the story, I can tell you that. One day though, it will be your story, and it will hurt.” A trail of smoke left his lips.

Hurt? So many queries blossomed within his thoughts. Was there a fix? A way to stop hurt? The Thin Man knew, but couldn't fix. Though maybe....

“But… same, be'fer t'hide. And t'flee. Then you, w’th me. Do t's together....” The Thin Man ceased walking and gave him a full on glare. Mono staggered sideways, halting his panicked speek. This wasn’t good. Asking questions wouldn’t work, and the Thin Man didn’t like repeating himself.

“M’sorry,” Mono mumbled, smothering his words. The man in the hat didn't like the S speek. “Rr’sad? N’yu not say, f'hurt?” He inched closer to the Thin Man’s shoes and raised his arms. If he wanted to, the Thin Man could hold him. Getting snared or clutched frightened him, the mood of the tall thin man was always strange and mystery, Mono never really knew what might happen. But it might make the man in the hat feel better. That too was an unknown.

Instead, the Thin Man bent over and ruffled his hair. “Never mind that. Let’s move along, I do not believe there will be much food in this place.”

Mono is still put off by the dismissiveness, but he shouldn’t have pushed. He wanted answers, but the Thin Man wasn’t happy in speek about those sort of tricky topics. He liked explaining other boring trivial pieces, but not when it came to the important questions. Her. The Tower. Other children. Sad little shadows. The bits and pieces of a different world, with different pictures, and different meanings. It could be like dream haunts, it was taboo to ask friends about them. That seemed like a valid reason, despite how it burned up in Mono to know more, anything. So much same in Mono, but wouldn't utter why. Could other children... be....

The tall figure renewed his fluid stride, exhaling a stream of vapor as he went. Mono plopped his hat on and followed, as usual. In silence, as typical. Questions hovered in his mind but for now he would stash them aside, until a safer time. Perhaps when they settled in a calm and good area, then the tall thin man would want to do share speek. Could be interested if Mono copied picture speek from a book, and made a different sort of book? That seemed like a fun idea, and then, he could show the Thin Man how to make it work. Even if the Thin Man knew everything already, it would be happy to pretend he found something new for the Thin Man.

The Thin Man maybe only kept Mono because of all the same. Too much of the same, or maybe not enough. He couldn’t really figure out anything of why, the man in the hat did what he did. All of anything he did, was for himself. Yet, he made Mono a part of that, and that was okay. No one else wanted Mono.

He thought though, that the Thin Man’s lip twitched. He wasn’t sure what he did, but it faded the more he persisted with queries. Mono asked the hard questions, the ones that made the man in the hat dig for something... else. A place where the answers lay, beneath the questions, shrouded by the purpose of doing a something. The Thin Man didn't like giving answers or reasons, because like dream haunts, he had to find where the answers came from. The Thin Man was a strange and troubled adult, brimming with dark thoughts alongside the difficult unknowns. Adults would always be hostile and angered by anything that didn't belong, but the Thin Man wasn't like that. He was mostly just grumpy.

#little nightmares #mono #the thin man #thin dad #little nightmares fanfic #little nightmares fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #mono nearly failed the mirror test #hes never see an HD mono before

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cam-stuff · 3 years

Text

NOBODY IS LISTENING/ River Road MASTERPOST

It will touch on issues (above) Zayn's private life. The meaning of the song (and the album in general) is subjective. I am open to opinions or doubts regarding the subject.

Note: Mention will be made of Zayn and a third person who would be Zayn himself.

Before we give you an explanation as to why this is one of the most vulnerable, personal and important songs on Zayn's entire album, we have to go back two years....

On May 5, 2019, Zayn shared with us on Instagram, a poem by Kahlil Gibran titled "On Love And Married" from his book "The Profhet" (1923).

By this point the post wasn't given so much importance until 2020, more specifically on May 5th when a famous jeweller George Khalife published a photo of Zayn wearing one of his bracelets.

In the photo you can see a new tattoo on his arm, to the surprise of many it was a poem that he had published exactly one year ago.

We can notice that the poem (and maybe the book) became important enough for him to mark it on his skin.

On January 14th (2021) Zayn releases his third album "Nobody is listening" which contains 11 songs with a variety of rhythms and lyrics. In his own words, he talks about the album as feeling that: "...in general, nobody is listening at the moment...people love to talk, but nobody likes to listen". link to the interview.

Now let's take it from that specific perspective: Zayn and his struggle to be heard from day one of his solo career, to make people understand that his public life is not what it is cracked up to be.

At the beginning of the song he says:

“We don’t define each other

stand on your own, be a pillar”

Sound familiar? Well, Zayn makes a reference to the poem tattooed on his arm.

Let's remember that the poem is about this relationship between two people. A union, where they have to have their own space, accept the differences between them. Let those differences be what makes them unique and more united, without really being close. To be their own pillars in their fear so that they can work together and keep that relationship afloat.

“Lay on my pillow

Ain’t fairly new to each other, call you my lover ”

Zayn invites this person to be with him because he knows and maybe for years, he even calls his partner/lover.

“Drinks to my liver, i cry now a river

full of tears

Don’t you ever hope for something else?”

It's no secret that since his One Direction days, Zayn developed different traumas, pushing him to the limit of using drugs and alcohol so that his mind and body could cope with the burden they were carrying. Needless to say, he still uses. In his songs there is a relation to this subject, as in: “Lucozade” , “Too much” , “Good Years” y “Calamity” etc.

“Breeze outside my window turned to color

know that i will see the sun again

leaves have turned into a tint of orange”

"I know I will see the sun again," it is that hope inside him that keeps him fighting for a new beginning.

“Answers that will lie inside myself

What will i leave behind me?

Where will i choose to go?”

At the end of the day we will never know the whole truth, and there are things that will have to stay in the shadows and never see the light. By this point Zayn relates that his life feels like a limbo, he doesn't know where to go, or what he left behind. He has no fixed direction.

"To tell the truth, I’m tired of falling

When I’m floating I’m closer to you”

"I'm tired of falling". The obstacles Zayn has had to go through throughout his life in the industry, the highs and lows, the disappointments and the realisation that not everything was as he expected and things haven't gone as planned. "When I'm floating I'm closer to you," he may refer to being high and getting closer to that person who has always been inside him.

“We can’t control all the outcomes

let go of the reins, ride the rhythm”

He has stopped swimming against the tide, he has realised that there is nothing he can do so he accepts it without giving up faith.

“Double my vision, ain’t fairly new to this feeling

searchin’ for meaning, still don’t believe it

Stopped at the ceiling, all these…

lightly floating ecstasy…”

This part of the song was slightly difficult for me. After an hour of repeating it in my mind, I came to the conclusion that his "other vision" is his other perspective of seeing the world, "isn't this feeling new enough" maybe he already tried it but unfortunately he hasn't made sense of what is going on. Despairing of his thoughts, he drowns his mind in drugs and therefore stops and floats in ecstasy.

To conclude, the song at the beginning talks about this feeling of melancholy/nostalgia about himself, the loss of the rhythm of his own life, he asks himself 'which path to choose?' however, he stops struggling with this other, different version of himself, because he knows that without this part, he will not be able to move on and stagnating is not in his plans. He repeats throughout the song: "Know that i will see the sun again" with the vivid feeling of hope for a new and better beginning.

The poem ends up being a key part of the album and especially the song. Giving Zayn a chance to look at aspects of his life from a different perspective, accepting that things were not going to change but that he could make them better.

It is the best closing of an album that describes the painful process of a stage, where at first the nostalgia he feels becomes a reason to move on, to open his mind to new beginnings and possibilities.

#zayn malik #songs #river road

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1magine-engine · 3 years

Text

1404 (Prologue)

Fandom: Haikyuu!! Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Youtuber Reader Words: 1500+ Posted: 26/11/20

Song(s) Featured: Moon on the Water by The Dying Breed (from Beck MCS)

“It’s actually really exciting.”

Tetsuro nods, knowing Kenma means it, whatever he’s talking about. Probably something about Bouncing Ball corp. and the new game they have in development. Really, Kenma hasn’t stopped talking about it since the project started almost half a year ago and while Tetsuro is interested enough to usually listen to him rave and gush, today’s just not that kind of day.

“-and the new voice actor I have in mind is really good. We save a lot of time and money cause they speak in both languages.”

Yup, they’re probably phenomenal if Kenma is so easy to compliment them. Tetsuro racks his brain trying to remember who he’s talking about.

“I’m actually thinking about having her as a guest on stream soon.”

Uh huh.

“Oh and I’m also going to shave my head and give my hair to that middle school girl who won’t stop messaging.”

Good for them.

“Okay, how many of those have you had today?”

Tetsuro looks down at the cup of coffee he’s forgotten he’s holding. “Uh…” his brows furrow and it’s enough for Kenma to pry the cup out of his hand and set it on the far end of the table.

“And you’re always telling me to get proper sleep.” Kenma gives him a look, sipping on his own drink. He exits Discord, Tetsuro’s sagging back, drooping shoulders and lifeless eyes, more concerning than his followers’ Rule 34 fanart. “Seriously are you okay man? Have you been sleeping? At all?”

Tetsuro shakes his head, the mere mention of sleep enough to slump him over the table completely. As far as he knows, a waiter hadn’t wiped it after the last couple of people who sat down, or before he and Kenma took their place. He finds he doesn’t care. “Stupid neighbors, always either fighting or fucking all night. It’s been going on for a month now.”

“Oh that’s rough.” Kenma winces, handing him back his coffee, knowing lunch break doesn’t last forever and Tetsuro has to return to his office as a zombie. “Tried filing a noise complaint?”

He was about to, one week into the couple’s constant spats, but hearing them scream at the top of their lungs at each other about money troubles and barely keeping themselves afloat stayed his hand. Tetsuro knows how difficult it is to get an apartment in his building, a prime position near the business district at a reasonable price. He also knows his neighbors to an extent, at least what they do for a living as a preschool teacher and a struggling musician. As much as he needs his sleep, he’s not so heartless as to put them out on the streets. “It’s fine,” he promises as he downs the rest of his coffee. “I’ve been living next door to these guys for almost two years now and they’ve always seemed happy before this. They’ll work through it and I then I can get some sleep.”

“If you say so,” Kenma says but he still stares down and shakes his head at the next waitress who tries to approach them with a pot of coffee.

It’s a month and two weeks in that Tetsuro reconsiders that noise complaint or at least considers gathering his neighbors from the same floor and staging an intervention. Mrs. Mamizuka across the hall has expressed her concerns to Kuroo in the elevator one morning, telling him they’ll surely notice how loud and disturbing they’ve become when they realize she hasn’t been giving them as many of her baked goods as she normally does. And Tanaka who’s taking up residence at the end of their hall has advised him to just go out at night, go to the convenience store next to the building and wait till they tire each other out or go partying with friends.

Oh, to be a college student again.

He’s not even in his mid-twenties and he wishes for the energy he used to have, the kind that could drive him through all his classes on just 3 hours of sleep. Maybe then, he could finish his damned paperwork. Maybe then he wouldn’t fall asleep on the bus and miss his stop.

“Been up working late nights Kuroo-san?” the night guard, Sato asks him when he drags his feet into the lobby after midnight.

Kuroo nods, also wishing he had half the middle aged man’s energy, because even at the latest hours of the night, Sato-san greets every tenant and guest with a smile. Kuroo could only force himself to return it. “Something like that.”

“Well you look pretty tuckered out. You should probably put off whatever you’re working on for the night Kuroo-san.” He wags an index finger like a weather man telling a fact about nature on the news. “Sleep is important you know.”

Doesn’t he know it.

When he crosses the threshold of his apartment, he doesn’t bother turning on the lights. He heads straight for his bedroom and musters up the energy to take off his jacket, tie, socks and shoes. The night is silent, save for a light chorus of crickets outside his window. He’s gotten home later than he would have any other time, a crescent moon sitting just past its peak outside his window. And he hopes, oh does he hope, that it means his neighbors have already fought all they can fight for the night. Or maybe the husband hasn’t come home yet and that’s why it hasn’t started.

He regrets even thinking of it when he settles into bed and hears the distant sound of a door being unlocked and slammed open.

Tetsuro sighs, already rolling over to each for his messenger bag, his earphones sitting somewhere at the bottom. He stops his rummaging when no bedlam disturbs the night. Footsteps prick his ears but they don’t stomp and aren’t followed by booming voices trying to talk over each other. He rolls back over, leaning towards the wall and hearing nothing. Odd. More shuffling and trudging draw his eye up to the crag ceiling, to the apartment above his.

The kind elderly couple who used to live up there had mentioned wanting to move to the country for months. “The air is fresher there, better for old people like us,” the wife chuckled at him once when he’d helped carry her groceries across the lobby to the elevator. Not a week later, Tetsuro was helping the husband and their son move furniture out, just in time to miss the beginning of a hard spot in their neighbor’s relationship. But whoever has taken their place isn’t so fortunate but then again, maybe it’s him that’s out of luck. In the darkness of his apartment he stares up at the ceiling, brows furrowed.

He prays, prays to whatever kami watches over the luck and serenity of apartment buildings that it isn’t another couple that should’ve broken up yesterday. Hell, he’ll even take a new family with a rowdy kid. At least kids are usually out by 10 with their parents careful not to wake them, not banging on the walls or banging each other. No movie he’s watched or game he’s been in has ever left him in such suspense. After some more shuffling and gentle creak of chair legs against a wood floor, there’s silence.

Tetsuro sits up, holding his breath.

“Full moon sways,

gently in the night of one fine day.”

A car drives by, the doppler effect of it rushing down the street drowning out the first few notes of an acoustic guitar. Deft fingers play with practiced ease but do so with languid movement, catching on the strings more than plucking them. The voice, high and crooning, is the same, beautiful but almost lazy. Tired, he realizes, is a better word; she sounds as tired as he remembers he feels, once all the irritation at his neighbors and frustration with missing his stop ebbs away. Laying back down, he listens.

"On my way, looking for a moment with my dear.

Full moon waves, slowly on the surface of the lake.

You are there, smiling in my arms

for all those years."

Even as the song switches to strumming with the slightest bit of force, Tetsuro finds himself sinking deeper into his pillow, eyes growing heavy.

"What a fool, I don’t know ‘bout tomorrow,

or what it’s like to be, Ah,"

He’s never heard the song in his life, neither does he remember enough of his English classes from high school to understand everything, but he doesn’t need to.

"I was sure, I couldn’t let myself go,

even though I feel, the end."

Her voice and her guitar are muffled by the layers of wood and concrete between them. His window is open to let the cool night air and silver light of the moon in and he can tell hers is as well but she drowns out the chirping of crickets, the cars that drive by and even Tetsuro’s own thoughts as little by little, then all at once, he falls asleep.

"Full moon sways, gently in the night one fine day

You were there, smiling in my arms,

for all these years."

When he opens his eyes, it’s slow. Sleep inertia from a deep sleep is always worse but he finds his eyes widening as it goes away in minutes and he feel more rested than he has in years.

He blinks, staring up at the ceiling.

“Huh.”

#haikyuu!!#hq #hq kuroo #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsuro fluff #kuroo tetsuro #kenma kozume #beck mongolian chop squad #kuroo x reader

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winchester-fantasies · 5 years

Text

Together

Summary: Dean helps you when you’re having a particularly hard time coping with the life.

Word Count: 1155

Warnings: depression, fluff

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Winchester Fantasties’ Masterlist

You sat crisscrossed in your bedroom, the hard bunker floor cold beneath you. Your laptop was open in front of you. Tears streamed down your face as you listened to woeful and haunting songs. You sat cascaded in blackness, the darkness a welcome reprieve for your battered and exhausted mind.

You felt listless. You hadn’t been yourself in days. You’d tried to shake yourself from the grip of darkness that hovered over you, but nothing you did seemed to help. You finally accepted it, let it envelope you. You were just too weak and tired to fight against it anymore.

This life was so hard and lonely. Every day was filled with uncertainty. You tried to remain strong and see the good side of things, but sometimes it just got to be a little much. A little too overwhelming.

You hated feeling weak and helpless. You were a hunter. You weren’t supposed struggle. You were supposed to help others - be their strength. But sometimes you couldn’t help wondering where your salvation was when you needed it most.

You’d seen Sam and Dean fight their own demons in the past, but somehow they always pushed past it. But for you…. It felt so difficult. You weren’t strong like them.

You found yourself praying for death more and more frequently these days. You knew you didn’t have it in you take your own life, but you could beg. Maybe Chuck would listen for once. You just wanted relief.

Dean always said giving up wasn’t an option. But how were you supposed to stay afloat when everything was crumbling around you and you had no way of stopping it?

All you could do was stand and watch it burn. And the funny thing was…. You didn’t give a shit anymore. You knew once everything had turned to ash there wouldn’t be anything left. Just unadulterated nothingness. And that void was where you longed to be.

A light under you door caught your eye and you turned to it just as it opened. Dean’s head peeked around the corner. He curled his lips into a soft smile. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said gently. “You doing okay?”

You plastered on a grin, the one you had mastered when you were anything but okay. You nodded your head. “Yep!” you exclaimed, surprised that you could sound so alive when you felt so lifeless inside.

“Okay, good,” Dean said. He started pulling the door behind him, and something in you snapped. You weren’t sure what it was. Longing maybe? All you knew was once he was gone so were you. There was a certain finality to it. You’d already made your bed, but for some reason, you weren’t sure you wanted to lie in it.

“Dean?” you called, your voice cracking.

He stopped and peeked around the door again. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

A single tear slipped down your cheek and your lip quivered. “I’m not okay,” you said, voice trembling as you desperately tried to keep your emotions in check.

Dean’s face hardened and he immediately entered your room, shutting the door behind him. In two strides he was at your side, settling down beside you. He didn’t say anything. He simply reached over, pulling you under his strong arm and drawing you into his side.

As soon his warmth enveloped you the dam broke. Sobs wracked your body. There was nothing standing in the way of you and the facade you had tried so hard to maintain.

Dean rubbed his hand up and down your arm, his chin resting on your head. Your face was buried in his flannel, tears and snot marring the thick material. You fisted your hands into his sides, the emotions spilling from your body almost painfully.

You didn’t pull away even when your tears finally subsided and Dean didn’t let go of you either. You were thankful. You just wanted to rest a little longer.

“Please don’t give up, sweetheart,” Dean whispered, so soft you’d thought you’d imagined it at first. You glanced up into his face. His green eyes were misty. “Please,” he begged.

“I wasn’t going to,” you lied feebly. Your heart hurt to see him so distraught and you couldn’t bare to see him like that, especially when it was you who had caused it.

Dean frowned. “I’ve been in your place too many times to count. (Y/N), I know the signs of depression when I see them. And I’m asking you - begging you - to not give up.”

You looked away, worrying your lip as you tried to fight against another onslaught of tears. “Me and Sam, we need you,” Dean said. “I need you,” he said, his voice earnest desperation. “Please don’t leave me alone. I don’t think I could keep going if you did.”

Your head jerked up to meet his gaze. “What are you saying?” you croaked.

Dean’s hold on you tightened and a tear slid down his face, dripping off his chin, and landing on his jeans. “I’m saying that I love you, sweetheart,” he whispered. “And if you give up, I’m not sure that I wouldn’t give up on myself. I can’t lose you.”

His words were almost more than you could handle and another wave of tears washed over you. You brushed your fingers along his jawline and you smiled. “We’ll get you the proper help you need,” Dean said. “The best that money can buy. I don’t care how far we have to go. I’ll do whatever it takes if that means you’ll still be by my side tomorrow.”

You felt a spark of something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Something real and tangible. Something that made you second guess your prayers for death.

“Okay,” you said simply.

Dean nodded, relief flooding his face. “Okay,” he repeated. “(Y/N), I know how hard this life can be. Hell, I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t a hunter,” he huffed. “But that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say is that we’re family, and family doesn’t give up on one another when times get hard. You’ve never given up on me, and I’m not about to let you slip through the cracks either.”

You smiled. “Thank you, Dean,” you said. “For everything.”

Dean tightened his hold on you. “We’ve got this, kid,” he grinned. “We’ll figure it out together.”

“I know,” you said. Dean’s eyes darted to your mouth and back to your eyes. Your breath caught in your throat and you subconsciously leaned forward. Before you could really register what was happening, Dean had already lowered his mouth to yours. His lips were soft yet firm and you soon lost yourself in the smell and taste of him.

But more than that, you felt safe and secure. You knew Dean wouldn’t let anything happen to you. You were in this together - you two against all the odds that threatened to bring you down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading!

***Please do not share my content on any other platform without my consent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything Tags:

@divadinag @mogaruke

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #supernatural fanfiction

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penofdamocles · 4 years

Text

“I’m a real person.”

> So he’s sitting there, on the edge of his bed, running through the voice clips on the stuffed purple dog Pokemon again and thinking. “I love you.” People loved him. Half a dozen, even. And they’d proved it. “You’re a good mate.” He was someone’s best friend, their favorite person. Maybe even multiple someones.

“You deserve to be happy.”

..he’d worked so hard lately, to be what everyone wanted. And yet in the end they were just as happy with him when he fucked up, had emotions, and problems, was human. No one stopped caring just because he wasn’t useful anymore. Just like they’d promised.

Madison was capable of great things, like saving a whole town he’d never stepped foot in before from darkness, or being a supportive friend to those that needed him most. And he’d been appreciated for it; there was no way to convince himself that it had been nothing, just what was expected of him, a tiny blip on the infinite attempts to earn the worth of his existence. He was valued, enough for things like this, and the puzzle cube, and the rings and magic charms, all souvenirs of how much he was cared for, all things he logically shouldn’t deserve except that people believed he did. People he trusted.

It was almost like he didn’t have to try hard enough to deserve a chance at life.

..almost like he didn’t deserve to be punished anymore.

He stared at the toy, so simple yet so thoughtful a gift, and his wooden hands holding it in front of him, and asked it a question. “I’m a real person, right?” The toy didn’t answer. But someone else did, from the corner of his mind. “Of course you are. You always have been.” “..I didn’t do enough to deserve all of this emptiness, did I?” “You didn’t commit enough crimes to deserve any of it, Madison. It’s only cruelty. I’m so sorry they made you think you did.” “..right..maybe..am I still here? Under it all?” “I believe so. Even if it does not exactly feel like it. You could ask your friends, they’d know.”

That wasn’t truly necessary, he already had, and they’d all somehow said the same thing. That he was still Madison, no matter what his body was like, and that they still loved him all the same. And that Madison was, despite all doubts, very much a person with feelings. All the logic they’d thrown at him added up, that only a person would hurt from this, that only a person could be thinking so hard about whether they really were one or not. After a point, the same result repeated several times over, it was hard to deny rationality anymore or tell himself they were lying. They’d shown it through their actions, too, after all. He’d been held, through this, by all of them, despite not being able to sense any of it. Why would they even bother if he wasn’t a real person? And why would it make him feel better..?

Madison stood up sharply, and so did Bo’s ears at the sudden movement. It was easy to blame himself and his own shortcomings for being put through this, wasn’t it, believing it suited him and giving in to despair until someone helped him or something happened was the coward’s way out. That was what Sarandiel wanted him to do. Run out his days with sleeping and waiting and turning off like some sort of computer to make the emptiness stop until they decided he was ready and made everything worse. How was that ever the right choice? For a moment he was angry at himself, and nearly directed everything inwards, but Mikael pulled him out of that quickly with a few words, gentle but firm. “It’s alright to hurt, to not be capable to fight back, they taught you to react this ways and pushing back is so much more difficult when you can barely convince yourself to move. It isn’t your fault. It is Theirs.”

Of course. This affected Mike, too, he’d been struggling to stay afloat just as much as Madison had, if not more, and Madison could never blame him for how much he’d suffered. But he was still angry. They were both angry, on behalf of each other. How dare They hurt Mikael. How dare they think and speak of Madison as their puppet, treat him like a plaything? They did this to him, and just left him there to gradually turn himself into what they wanted, they didn’t even bother to interfere, he mattered that little to them. But he didn’t deserve this. If no one else did, neither did he. They’d made his friends upset, distraught, angry, through him, when he had no control, but in the end that just strengthened the support he had, and now he was here, raging at God for making him believe any of these vile things were true. Hell, he had proof of his humanity right here, alongside and within him this whole time, and They hated him for being where he was. What further proof did he need that Mike was right and They were wrong?

He didn’t deserve this. He’d dropped the toy, and his hands clenched like vices around nothing as he forced himself not to lash out. It wouldn’t do any good. There wouldn’t be any release. Something else was released, however, with the volatility, bubbling to the surface and emerging from his soul, streaks of sparks and purple lightning wrapping themselves around this body. Stored up, almost entirely unused for months with no outlet, the power of Madison’s soul smothered him in light, turning back the clock in a very specific way. He believed it, that this wasn’t just what he really was, that there could be something to fix, that he deserved better, and that’s all it really took to bend his own soul to his will. A matter of seeing himself a certain way. There was a reason Sarandiel wanted his power, after all; it was more versatile than he knew, and much stronger, too, when he’d built up enough charge, but no amount of twisting his perspective with conditioning and control could overcome the power of good old-fashioned Friendship.

Hard, smooth wood turned to “flesh”, starting with his firework of a fist, and spread up his arms like dipping them in a bucket of paint, crawling up his legs at the same time. Quickly what passed for a heart started beating again, and this was really the first he noticed of what was happening, one hand jumping up to his chest to feel his pulse and nearly blacking out just from the sensation of his fingertips touching his shirt. Once he could feel his face Madison gasped for air and collapsed back onto his bed, suddenly exhausted as the sparks sank into his skin and finally began to fade, their work complete.

He could feel. He could feel so much. After all those months of floating in a void it was immediately overstimulating, but still Madison was laughing, all the anger having flowed out of him into something far more productive than repeatedly destroying a television. Bo climbed up onto the blankets, wildly excited, to lick his face, and he just kept laughing, (until Bo licked his open mouth, which was gross, so he grabbed the puppy in a tight hug instead) and eventually trailed off, just staring up at his glow-in-the-dark ceiling. Was this real? It had to be, right? He didn’t know if he could possibly make up sensations in his head after this long. And he’d done it himself. ..this wasn’t the time to be frustrated that he hadn’t done it earlier, obviously he couldn’t have if everything he’d just thought through was required to pull it off in the first place. Who should he tell first? Ned? Leon? He wanted to hug them as tight as he could, but his skin buzzed and the air pressed down on him, and even besides that, he was so, so tired. Using that much of your soul takes a lot out of an angel. He shifted and his arm brushed along the comforter; it had been ages since he’d bothered with trying to be comfortable. There were so many soft things he’d missed, and food, he could eat later, but first. First, he had piles of pillows and blankets he’d been neglecting. First, it was time to rest.

#((sorry its so long i needed to make sure the whole train of thought made SENSE #((if it didn't this would've felt cheap and forced but he very much earned it #action #Backstage (IC/OOC)#i don't think it needs any trigger tags but ask me to if you see one!#save #i'll be reblogging this a few times its sort of important

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workscounselingcenter · 2 years

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Depression Counseling in Nashville

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“I don’t even know who I am any more.”

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#Counseling #Depression #Mental Health

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oswaldsirius · 5 years

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Canis Minor

Pairing: Sirius/Celeste

Word Count: 3268

Summary: A mysterious letter from a grandfather she never knew brings Celeste to an overgrown farm that is suddenly hers. Knowing nothing about farming and next to no one in the small town next door, she’s going to need help to keep both herself and the farm afloat.

A/N: I’m sure a few of you who follow me or @kashimalin have seen a screen cap or us talking about the fact that we made a multiplayer game of Stardew Valley with Celeste and Sirius in it. Well. We wouldn’t be us if we hadn’t made an entire AU around it so that’s what this is. Half based on events in the game and half making it up as we go!

Prologue

This was a mistake.

Pursing her lips, Celeste stared at the sign proudly declaring where she was. Somewhere she’d never been in her life. Somewhere she’d never even heard of until a few weeks ago. She fished the crumpled letter out of her purse and read it again. Not that it mattered, she knew what it said.

She glanced over her shoulder as the bus started up and realised this was her last chance to leave. She could go back and it would be fine. It would-She shook her head and turned away. It would not be fine. It hadn’t been fine in a long time and she was done pretending it was. This wasn’t what she’d been planning on, but it was better than any other option she had in front of her.

Celeste lifted her bags and walked away from the bus before it moved. The letter had had instructions on how to get here and who to talk to. All she had to do was find them. And pray that they knew who she was.

The path from the highway was well worn but it made her question a lot of things. Why wasn’t there a road? Was there a road somewhere else? Why didn’t the bus go all the way into town? Where was the town? Was it really this small? Was she really going to do this?

“You must be Celeste.”

Turning at the voice, she clutched at her bags and stared at the man approaching her. “Who are you?”

“Blanc Lapin,” he said, smiling. “I believe your grandfather told you about me in his letter.”

Celeste blinked at him, unsure whether to believe him or not. “I didn’t know I had a grandfather so why should I believe you knew him?”

“My dear, I know you’re confused. I know this is a lot to take in, especially since your grandparents and mother weren’t on speaking terms anymore. But I’m only here to help you.”

Her heart ached in her chest at the mention of her mother. Four years and it still hurt. “Why?”

“I knew your grandfather a long time and what happened never sat right with him. He spent so long trying to find your mother and then you. He wanted to make amends before he passed but alas.” Blanc sighed and shrugged. “Some things aren’t always meant to be.”

She fidgeted with her bags before her shoulders slumped. “I would have liked to meet him.”

“And he wanted to meet you. You can’t imagine his surprise when he found out he had a granddaughter.” Blanc chuckled. “He wouldn’t stop talking about you.”

But he didn’t know her. It felt surreal to know someone she had never met had felt that way about her.

“But we can talk about Ambrose another time. You must be tired. I was asked to help you get settled and that’s what I’m going to do, my dear. Come this way and I’ll show you your new home.”

She hesitated before following him. It was starting to get dark and she didn’t have many more options in the moment. Exhaustion was starting to weigh on her with every step she took away from her old life. The bus ride had been more draining than she’d thought. Or maybe it was all the emotions she’d felt on the way here. Either way, she was glad to be going somewhere she could rest.

He led her along a dirt path in the growing dark, completely sure of where he was going. The quiet sounds of the forest rose up around her as they walked and she suddenly missed his banter. What if he wasn’t who he said he was? What if he was leading her into a quiet place to kill her and leave her body to the wolves? Were there wolves here? Surely there had to be. What was she going to do if she saw a wolf?

“Here we are!”

His voice jolted her out of her thoughts and she skidded to a stop beside him. Blanc was looking at her expectantly, but she wasn’t sure where they even really were. Looking at the little house they’d stopped in front of, her heart thumped madly in her chest. From anxiety? Excitement? She couldn’t tell at this point but it was pounding all the same. She took a few steps toward it before stopping. “It’s really mine?” she asked, twisting to look at Blanc again. The letter had said it was but she wanted to be sure.

He smiled at her, his entire expression gentling. “Your grandparents worked hard their entire lives and it showed. The house and the land are completely paid for and left to you in their estate.”

The words nearly brought tears to her eyes. How many times had she struggled to make payments on her tiny apartment and now she owned a house and property? “There aren’t any requirements?” she asked, her voice wavering.

“I think they’d prefer it if you didn’t tear it down,” he teased. “But beyond that…there is one.”

She’d started to smile before she stopped. One? What was it? Oh, she had known this had to be too good to be true! “And what is it?”

“Me.”

Celeste jumped at the new voice, spinning toward it and nearly losing her balance as she did. Grasping the railing at the base of the stairs to steady herself, she stared at the tall man that was walking toward the house and tried not to think about the bags she’d just dropped. Where had he even come from?! And how had he done it so quietly?! “Y-You?” she echoed, hating herself for the stammer.

He stopped a few feet from the stairs and gave her a faint smile. “I’m Sirius Oswald,” he said in greeting. “And I’m not really a requirement, more of a stipulation.”

She looked at Blanc in confusion when he chuckled.

“Your grandfather was finding it difficult to maintain the farm on his own as he got on in years,” Blanc explained, still smiling. “Sirius here was new to town once just like you and made a deal with your grandfather. Room and board in exchange for help around the property.”

She couldn’t help it. She glanced around at the erratic and scattered mess the land looked to be. Maybe it was just the growing dark, but she didn’t think it was.

“That was done on purpose,” Sirius said before she could comment. “Ambrose wanted you to have a blank slate to do what you wanted with the place. It’s your land so you have final say.”

Chewing on her lip, she looked back out at it. She didn’t know the first thing about running a farm or managing her own property. She knew that it couldn’t stay like this but beyond that? Her gaze flicked back to Sirius and she flushed as she saw that he was watching her. No, it felt more like sizing her up. She didn’t blame him. She was a complete stranger who owned this place now and had no idea what she was doing. Her brow pinched. Was that why the stipulation was there? To have someone help her get her feet under her?

But the way he was watching her made her wonder if it was more than that. “Well, I’d be grateful for some input from someone who’s already worked here, who knows the best way to go about it,” Celeste said, giving him the best smile she could.

He was still staring but she was fairly certain the corners of his mouth had kicked up. “I’ll do the best I can, Miss…?”

She stared at him, horror filling her. “You don’t know my name?” she squeaked.

Oh, she didn’t like this new smile one bit! He was clearly laughing at her! “No. Your grandfather never mentioned you by name.”

Probably because they’d never met and she hadn’t even known that he’d existed. Or that he’d known she existed. But her embarrassment was nearly overwhelming now. “Celeste,” she pushed out, grateful her voice at least didn’t crack. “Celeste Morreaux.”

“Nice to meet you, little lady.”

Oh, dear. Before she could say anything, she swayed a little and gripped the railing again.

“I think, my dear, that you should get to bed,” Blanc said, looking at her in concern. “You’ve had a long day and you have longer ones ahead of you.”

She wasn’t sure she liked that either, but there was nothing she could do about it now. She’d agreed to this and she wasn’t going to back down.

“It’s been well kept while we waited to see if you’d come,” Sirius said. “House is clean and the bedding is new. There’s not a lot of food in the fridge but you can come to my place in the morning if you want something more or different.”

“Your place?” she murmured, glancing over her shoulder at the door. “You don’t stay here?”

He shook his head. “No. I’ve got a cabin in the south western corner of the lot. Close enough to hear a shout but far enough to feel like I’m on my own.”

That was oddly comforting. She hadn’t liked the thought of being completely alone out here. She was used to the hustle and bustle of the city, of knowing that there were people all around her. The house wasn’t that close to town she didn’t think and it was eerily quiet here. But knowing that someone was within shouting distance? “Thank you, Sirius.”

His smile returned to that first one he’d given her. “Get to bed, little lady. We can plan out what you want to do in the morning.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Don’t worry about details,” Blanc said. “There’s plenty of time to figure that out. Get settled in and we’ll sort out the rest.”

Pressing her lips together, she nodded and picked up her bags again. The door was unlocked so she slipped inside quickly. A flick of the lights and an open room greeted her. She chewed on her lip, unsure how she felt about that before deciding it wasn’t the time for it. After making sure the drapes were drawn, she dug for a pair of pajamas and swiftly changed into them. The only thing that mattered right now was the bed.

She turned back the thick quilt and sheets after switching off the light and snuggled into the bed. It was soft and Sirius had said the bedding was new but what about the rest of it? She’d have to ask in the morning. There was going to be so much to do in the morning but…. She smiled into her pillow. She was oddly looking forward to it.

Closing the door of his cabin, Sirius leaned back against it with a quiet sigh. A single light in the kitchen lit up most of the space and he closed his eyes against it.

Celeste Morreaux. He’d spent days wondering what her name actually was once Blanc had told him she was taking the farm. The wily bastard would only smile when he asked, saying that if Ambrose had wanted him to know he would have told Sirius.

Rubbing his chest, he frowned at the ache there. Ambrose has made a strong impression on him in the last two years, helping lay the foundation of his new life in the valley. He’d been there to listen when the memories had been weighing him down, understanding almost more than anyone else in the sleepy town because he’d fought as a young man as well before settling here. It had hurt far more than he’d expected when Ambrose had passed away.

His mouth twisted and he stopped thinking about that. Despite being in the last years of his life, Ambrose Morreaux had lived every day to the fullest and he’d retaught Sirius to do the same. To find joy in the small things again because wasn’t that what they’d fought for? To protect the moments everyone had?

He opened his eyes and glanced at the kitchen table. A simple white envelope was sitting propped against the vase in the middle of it, taunting him over the last weeks as he’d waited for the mysterious granddaughter to make her appearance. Now she had and he was free to follow the last instructions Ambrose had given him in his final week.

Crossing to it, Sirius took the letter and sat down in his worn armchair. He turned it over in his hands, studying the handwriting on the one side every time it came into view. They’d been sitting inside Ambrose’s cabin, watching the winter sun sink below the sea of trees that had overrun the property. It had been quiet, peaceful, as most of their nights in the season were.

But he could remember the heavy sigh that had tumbled from Ambrose suddenly. The sound had seemed to carry all the weight of his years, all the regrets he had in his life and more. It had startled him, worried him. It was the first time in two years he’d seen the man actually look his age. It was why the words had stuck, it was why Sirius had followed them precisely as Ambrose had pressed the letter into his hand.

“Only after she comes, Sirius. Promise me that you’ll read it if the little one comes and that you’ll do this old man the one last favour in it. Promise me.”

He’d promised without hesitation. Ambrose had given him the chance to start over his own way, in his own time, and he knew he’d do almost anything for him. Even if he’d only found out about his granddaughter the week before, he’d promised.

Slipping his finger under the flap, he broke the seal and pulled out the folded paper inside. A deep breath and he started reading.

Sirius,

All things come to an end. A farmer knows that better than anyone as we watch the seasons change. But we also know it’s not really an end, merely a new beginning for something else. That’s what I found when I came to this sleepy valley all those years ago: a new beginning. It’s what you found when you came three years ago. Although I might have forced it a little on you but I saw too much of myself in what young Lancelot had told me about you to let you flounder. And now it’s what I hope the little one finds if she comes here.

I won’t lie, Sirius. What happened between mother and daughter should never have happened, not over what it did, and my greatest regret was that I wasn’t there when it did. I loved my girls with everything I had and in a day I lost my little one. She slipped through my fingers without me even realising and made it hard to find her. Lisette was a stubborn woman and she tried to take the cause of that argument to the grave but I wouldn’t let her. I’d spent years wondering just what had happened and I had to know. Broke my heart when I did and a part of me almost wished I hadn’t pressed. But I did and it set us on the path we’re on now.

Or should I say you. Because if you’re reading this I’m surely gone. It pains me to write this because I know if you’re reading it, I’m gone and she’s there. The granddaughter I was denied knowing because of an argument. But I can’t change what happened. What I can do is ask for your help with this last thing.

Help her.

She’s a small thing, but she’s been hurt far more than she should have in her short life. I wish I could be there to help her, but I’m leaving that to you. Help her heal the way you have on the farm, Sirius. Help her find herself. Help her for the grandfather that couldn’t.

I know it’s a lot to ask but I’m still asking it. Because I believe in fair trade, do this for an old man and the part of the lot you’ve tended as your own will be just that. Blanc is aware of the conditions in the will and I’ve set aside some acreage for you to do as you please if you simply help her. The cabin is still yours until the end of the year no matter what you decide as per our previous agreement.

You’re a good man and it’s been an honour and a pleasure knowing you, Sirius Oswald.

Ambrose Morreaux

He read the letter a second time and let it fall in his lap. Help her? How? “Damn it, Ambrose,” he muttered, glancing out the window.

There were no lights on the property and too many trees between them, but he knew where the house was. He had gone along with everything Ambrose had wanted in the six months leading up to the older man’s death. It had hurt, letting the farm become overrun. He’d pushed back a little and had had a small plot of land near his cabin to work in the fall. But the farm was large and there was a lot to do even for someone who had done this before. For someone who’d never been on one before?

Sirius closed his eyes and sighed. He’d at least grown up on something similar, had known how to handle himself when he’d settled here. Poor Celeste hadn’t even known she’d had one in the family. Now she had one that was an utter mess and only a single week before they hit planting season.

But she must have known all of that and she’d still taken the farm.

He thought about that. She’d taken the farm even though she knew nothing about it. What had Ambrose said? She’d been hurt as well? Was the farm meant to be a healing place for her? How was he supposed to help her heal when he wasn’t sure he was fully there himself?

Glancing into the kitchen, he hummed softly. Maybe healing wasn’t what he needed to focus on. There were other, simpler things to start with. Like breakfast. He’d offered to make it for her, inviting her down to his cabin, but perhaps he should meet her half way. The farm wasn’t huge but it was big enough someone could get turned around if they didn’t know where they were going. It would be a good chance to talk with her and show her a little bit of what she’d signed up for. Maybe he could ask a few of the questions that were cluttering up his thoughts while they walked.

He pushed out of the chair to do a quick sweep of the kitchen. There was enough there for a nice breakfast for two. He would have to buy more groceries from town after but it would be a chance to take her in and show her around a little bit too. He’d learn more from spending time with her and getting to know her. More than she would probably realise she was giving him.

Flicking off the light, Sirius crossed the room to his bed and crawled into it. The answers wouldn’t come from him merely sitting in the house after all. He’d get them from working with her, from taking to her, from helping her. “Alright, old man,” he muttered, smiling faintly into his pillow. “We’ll do it your way.”

#ikemen revolution #ikerev #ikerev fanfic #sirius oswald #sirius/oc #celeste morreaux #blanc lapin #celestial #celestialdew #my writing #fic: canis minor

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theinquisitivej · 5 years

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A Trio of Reviews – Catching up on Bumblebots, Peppy Maries, and the (Oscar) Favourite

I don’t go out to the cinema much in late December. I don’t drive, and I always visit family in a part of the country where a cinema isn’t exactly in walking distance. This hasn’t been much of a problem over the last few years, as there’s usually only one film out that I’m aching to see, and that’s often the one movie we all go out to see together. This most recent December though? It was nuts! All four of the big blockbusters that were playing were films I was interested in and excited to check out. Once the holidays were over, I had a lot of catching up to do. I’ve since seen all but one of the December releases (ironically enough the one I didn’t see was the one that, judging from its box office, everyone else went to go see – Aquaman), plus one other film that was weird, fascinating, and has been well received as a critical darling. So, here’s this week’s trio of reviews for The Favourite, Mary Poppins Returns, and Bumblebee, in the order I saw them in.

The Favourite

Artistically impressive but deliberately unpleasant.

The Favourite caught my attention when I first saw the trailer because it was a period drama that revelled in the fashion, the art, and the general finery of the early 18th Century, and yet the camera angles were strikingly different from what I’ve seen in other period dramas. The genre can be hit-of-miss for me, but every shot I saw in that trailer was doing something that interested me.

There’s a lot to chew on when it comes to the visual presentation of the film. Characters are often shot from low angles, and while this can make some characters seem confident and of noble stature, it also creates an uneasy feeling when we see people showing their vulnerability and flaws. Shooting people from this angle frames them as if they’re towering over the camera, and when you combine this with the magnificent attire on display, the visuals should, in theory, present the subject in their best light. But Queen Anne, played by the immeasurably skilled Olivia Colman, is often shown to be feeble and susceptible to manipulation from such angles, and we see many others be vulgar, cruel, and inhuman in ugly ways. The film shows a familiarity with the beautiful elegance of the film’s setting and other examples of the period drama, and it subverts your expectations time and time again by gradually turning your sympathies around on the characters you expect to like and expect to hate. It points the camera directly at the most horrible aspects of this world and its people, and there’s a strangely captivating quality to that. It’s ugly, but it’s magnetic as well.

The three performances at the heart of the film are what sustain your interest throughout The Favourite, because all three of the actresses are on top form. Emma Stone plays Abigail in a way that has her act very differently depending on who she’s talking with, showing just how hard she’s working to stay afloat in this world of politics where she’s at a disadvantage, giving a performance that keeps you guessing what her true nature is for much of the runtime. Rachel Weisz evokes such commanding authority and confidence as Lady Sarah, wearing each of her impressive outfits better than anyone else in the film because you believe that she deserves the station she’s acquired for herself, even if she is ruthless. Olivia Colman has taken a lot of the focus as Queen Anne, being the one to snag the ‘Best Actress in a Leading Role’ category while Stone and Weisz have been relegated to ‘Supporting Role’ nominations. All three of them equally deserve to be called leads, and to tell the truth, I’m pretty sure Queen Anne has less screen time than either of the other two protagonists. Nevertheless, all three of these actresses deserve praise for their performances in these leading roles, and Colman is no different; she expresses a wide range of emotions with sharp sincerity, always making her scenes uncomfortable to watch because you really feel like you’re in the room with someone having an emotional breakdown and you have no idea how to help them. These actresses are excellent and make The Favourite worth watching even without all the other impressive features the film has to offer on top of this.

The flipside of The Favourite doing so much to emphasise the rotten nature of this world and its characters is that, while the visuals and all the formal features of the film are praiseworthy, the final shape of the narrative has so little warmth to it that it leaves me feeling a little cold towards it. The film is a hundred percent committed to its vision of unflinchingly showing you the harsh ugliness underneath the elegant surface of this point in history, but because of this I felt disengaged with many of the character’s journeys because they would do awful things to other people for selfish reasons, and they did so with such little humanity that I simply didn’t want to see them succeed, nor were any of them appealing enough to make seeing them succeed feel satisfying. The only character I had any sympathy for by the end was Queen Anne, as she’s a woman in desperate need of help surrounded by people who’re only interested in her as a means of furthering themselves. There is some dramatic meat to that, and the bleakness of it is presented with enough purpose to make me think about the film for a long time after I was finished watching it. After all, history isn’t always satisfying, and it’s filled with people who did terrible things to get ahead, so this film would probably be compromised in its vision if it did try to make this unflinching look at this particular point in history and then deliver a narrative where good people are rewarded and bad people are punished. But there’s only so far that a film with as little compassion in it as this can go before my spirit gets tired of seeing mistreatment and hopelessness. The Favourite’s technical qualities are a treat for the mind, but its general outlook is draining on my soul.

Final Ranking: Silver.

The Favourite is coarse, and the emphasis of selfish people being terrible does wear on me and get in the way of me engaging with the motivations of several characters. But the technical skill on display in the cinematography, the lighting and colour coordination, and the three central performances come together to make an impressive piece that, even with my reservations about the story, results in a fascinating and distinct film.

Mary Poppins Returns

Mary Poppins Returns is a sequel to a classic film that follows the framework of its predecessor so closely it’s almost beat-for-beat. And yet even with this deliberate mimicking of Mary Poppins, it also somehow tells a different story and doesn’t come across as if it’s resting on its laurels. At the point in the film where the original would be playing ‘A Spoonful of Sugar’, Returns has a song about putting an imaginative and fun spin on everyday activities. When you’re thinking that it’s time for a trip to an idyllic 2D animated landscape, Returns obliges. If you’re realising that we’re scheduled for a ‘Step in Time’ music number, Returns gives you one with lamp-lighters instead of chimney sweeps.

But if you think that reprises of ‘Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious’ or ‘Feed the Birds’ would be an easy slam-dunk of nostalgic ecstasy that the film would be foolish not to go for, you’d be surprised. Apart from the odd line of music here or there that’s snuck in at just the right moment to make you remember the original film, none of the original songs are to be found, and that works immensely well in Returns favour. The movie is already lifting the structure of the original film wholesale; if it took anything else from it we’d be approaching live-action remake levels of similarity. Instead, the new songs are there to stand on their own, and they mimic the sound of the Sherman Brothers’ music closely enough that you feel elated when the film wants you to be having a good time, and deeply moved when it wants you to sob your eyes out. But they’re also different enough and of unique enough subject matter that the new songs by Scott Wittman and Marc Shaiman (whose previous song writing work includes the Hairspray musical) feel totally distinct, even if they do have a familiar sound to them. Some of my favourites include Emily Blunt’s playful performance of ‘Can You Imagine That’, the amazing choreography of ‘Trip a Little Light Fantastic’, and of course the tender bittersweetness of ‘The Place Where Lost Things Go’.

The casting also holds up across the board. Pixie Davies, Nathanael Saleh, and Joel Dawson play Annabel, John, and Georgie, the three children of the now adult Michael Banks. They strike the right tone for the central child characters in a Mary Poppins story, demonstrating a decent balance between being impossibly sweet-natured but also strong-headed enough to say what they feel as they feel it and sometimes cause trouble because of that. It’s difficult for me to think of many distinguishing characteristics which mark each of them out, but in all honesty I could say the same about the original Banks children, even after all those viewings. Plus, having three children rather than two does shift the dynamic enough to make the experience feel different. Ben Whishaw plays the adult Michael Banks, who grew up to be an artist who’s struggling to make end’s meet through his work at the bank, so while he did pursue a creative life that marks him out as a different man to his father, he also resembles him in many ways, and clearly risks making the same mistakes that he did. But the thing that resonates the most about his character is the set-up that his wife passed away not too long ago, and the whole family is still coming to terms with the hole this has left in their lives. Whishaw’s performance stabs at your heart, conveying how helpless Michael feels without her, but also how hard he’s trying to not show this to the rest of the family. His resolve to soldier on reminds me of the long walk Mr. Banks takes at the end of the original, knowing he is most likely going to be fired, but moving on anyway. The connection between the two characters is well thought out, and Whishaw impresses immensely. There’s not as much time dedicated to the grown-up Jane Banks played by Emily Mortimer, which is a shame, but it does feel right to see her be inspired by her mother’s activism as a suffragette and campaign for worker’s rights. Lin-Manuel Miranda fills in the Bert role of the lovable guide who’s savvy to Mary’s unknowable nature as Jack, an apprentice that Bert seems to have more-or-less raised himself. Miranda sings his songs with such cheery charm that they instantly transport you back to the world of Mary Poppins, demonstrating his golden touch when it comes to musicals, surprising none of the fans of his previous work, including Hamilton and the songs from Moana. Finally, Emily Blunt is another transcendent Mary Poppins. Yes, we now have two cinematic portrayals of the same character which are different, but both stunning. She accentuates some of the aspects I most enjoy about the character, namely the prim, immaculate composure that oozes authoritative control, but can instantly, effortlessly transform into cheeky playfulness before your eyes. She nails it, and as far as I’m concerned, we now have two Mary Poppins performances that are practically perfect in every way.

This review is already running long, so I’ll get through this quickly, but… my God, did seeing traditional 2D animation in the style of Disney’s original hand-drawn pictures on the big screen again in 2019 move me beyond words. There’s plenty of quality 2D, non-CGI animation out there in different forms, whether its in television, short films, the labour of love that animators are putting out there on the internet, or anime, but we really do need more of this mode of animation out there. There have been some truly beautiful 2D animated films over the last decade, but I want to see more of this kind of genuine effort from Disney, the company that put this cinematic hand-drawn animation on the map for western audiences. This beautiful artform needs to be preserved and cultivated, and I hope this is a step towards Disney doing more to help with that.

I will admit that Returns following Mary Poppins’ structure so closely did take me out of the film to a degree, as it makes me more aware that I’m watching a sequel that’s very deliberately aping the film that came before it, which makes it feel less organic than it could have been. To be fair, I’m not sure what else you could have done to make it have as strong a connection as it does to the first film. There’s also an unnecessary sequence here or there which are intended to be thrilling but I never felt like there was much tension to them, such as the race against the clock at the end. It doesn’t reach the heights of the original, but wasn’t that always going to be the case? In every other respect, this film is a delight and a satisfying emotional journey.

Final Ranking: Silver.

You can’t watch Mary Poppins for the first time again. But this film nevertheless gives you a taste of what you felt, whether it’s that joyous exuberance of having a jolly holiday with Mary, or the bittersweet reflection of an adult acknowledging that time keeps pressing on, the seasons change, but you can still find the magic in today.

Bumblebee

The director of Kubo and the Two Strings directed a Transformers movie.

I’m currently doing academic research into the history of American stop-motion animation. I plan for one of my chapters to be on Laika and their four (five by the time I finish, though I hope there’ll be even more than that) excellently crafted films, including Kubo. Watching Bumblebee, I noted a few similarities between it and Kubo, such as a young main character going on an emotional journey as they struggle to come to terms with the death of one or more of their parents, and a celebration of the emotive powers of music that enable us to express our inner feelings, as well as Travis Knight’s general appreciation for certain specific older songs in general. So yes, watching Bumblebee did make me reflect on the approach to filmmaking of a director I’m deeply invested in for my work at the moment. What I’m saying is that watching a Transformers movie was a productive part of my ongoing academic research, and that is a bizarre place to find myself in.

But what’s even weirder than that is that one of these Transformers movies turned out to be a legitimately great film that I kinda love.

Everything that muddied the waters of past Transformers films that Michael Bay was involved in has been stripped away, and the simple narrative framework that exists underneath all of that has been strengthened by a script and style of presentation that knows how to make the most with very little. The majority of the film can be summarised as “a girl and her pet car”, and while the sceptical might call that inane, the people involved in making Bumblebee work hard enough with that premise to make it work for a full film.

Charlie, a teenage girl and the human protagonist of the film, has lost her father and is upset that the rest of her family has moved on (her mother remarried). Her dad was very supportive of her, and now that he’s no longer around, Charlie is deeply dissatisfied with the person she’s become since her father died, and she doesn’t believe she can complete certain tasks that mean a great deal to her without her father being there to help. Charlie feels she hasn’t turned out to be the amazing person her dad believed she could become, and it’s possible that she’s afraid that she’s letting not only herself down, but the memory of her father as well. Meanwhile, Bumblebee is a Transformer that was tasked with going ahead of the rest of the Autobots to safeguard Earth and be ready for when the rest of his comrades arrive on the planet to continue the fight against the Decepticons. But soon after he lands, he gets involved in a fight to the death that he almost loses. Gravely wounded, he uses the last of his strength to disguise himself as a yellow 1967 Volkswagen Beetle. Some time later, Charlie finds him, and what she thinks is a broken-down abandoned car comes into her possession. Charlie fixes him up in the hopes of having a working car that she can use to get away from things, but in the process, Bumblebee instinctively transforms and reveals himself. Bumblebee’s injuries have destroyed his capacity to speak and have left him with no memories of his past. After cementing the connection between these two individuals who each need help in order to heal from the trauma they’ve gone through, the rest of the film takes its time to reinforce this bond, resulting in a touching family sci-fi film with a friendship that I believe will be just as enduring as its various sources of inspiration, from E.T. to The Iron Giant.

Without being overstuffed, the film’s pacing benefits immeasurably, putting all its energy into making this friendship as sweet and fun to watch as possible. Hailee Steinfeld is fully engaged as Charlie, putting 110% into her interactions with the digital creation of Bumblebee. The emotions she displays at the different points of her relationship with the adorable Autobot are charmingly heartfelt. Whether she’s anxious about Bumblebee being discovered, jubilant at this chance of newfound freedom and a friend to experience it with, or angry and defensive when parts of her past with her father get unearthed, Steinfeld is always putting everything into this, even when her main acting partner isn’t there on the set alongside her. Which brings us to why having a director with a history in animation can do wonders for a film centring on a digital creation, because the Bumblebee in this movie is precious, lovable, and so captivating to watch. The design is streamlined so that every moving part serves a purpose, and that purpose is always to convey the inner thoughts and feelings of this robot. His expressions are dripping with soulful looks of his timidness, compassion, or mischievous side that never veers too far away from his well-meaning nature. He may be made of metal, but this CGI creature is so full of life. Both the arcs and the performances of these characters are relatively simple, but they’re executed with such consideration that they hit home in a remarkable way for me.

I could go on about how much I enjoyed the measured action that’s presented through restrained camera movements that clearly frame the subjects of the shot, or how I engaged with the action as much as I did because it consistently featured characters I was invested in or interested by, or how the actions characters took within these sequences offer insight into their general outlook, but I’ll leave it at that barely veiled summary. Bumblebee draws inspiration from several well received family sci-fi films with a lot of heart to them, and some of the positive parts of the action and general aesthetic of this live-action Transformers world are owed to the groundwork provided by Michael Bay’s films. But even if Bumblebee owes some credit to other films that have preceded it, it understands the deeper reasons for why the aspects that worked in these other properties were as successful as they were, and it weaves that informed technical prowess of storytelling and filmmaking with genuine love. Love for the idea of Transformers, love for coming of age classics with a fun twist to them, and a beautiful friendship between two characters who each heal from the love they show each other.

Final Ranking: Gold.

The film is a delight for its simplicity and earnestness, but that doesn’t mean there’s a lot of technical skill on display in the performances, the animation, or its use of colour and camerawork. It warms the soul, and my mind comes back to it more often than I’d ever expected. It’s got the touch.

#The Inquisitive J #reviews #film reviews #movie reviews #films #movies #film discussion #film critic #film criticism #critic #the favourite #the favourite review #mary poppins returns #mary poppins returns review #bumblebee #bumblebee review #the inquisitive j reviews

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iiipatch-blog · 5 years

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hi, i’m new

my brain is full. almost like a swimming pool, or maybe an ocean. i’m swimming but, truth be told, i’m not very good at it. never have been, really. so, struggling to keep afloat, i seek the nearest thing to grasp onto.

this varies, depending on how i’m feeling.

sometimes, it’s my mum. she’s kinda like my rock, and we’re basically the same person. i’m not sure if that’s because i’m a bit of a push over though, and automatically morph into what makes me comfortable. this can sometimes make things a lot more difficult than it should be.

other times, it’s my boyfriend. i’ve been dating him for over a year, which, is very impressive, considering most things. but, as time goes on i feel myself realising the flaws in our relationship, which scares me, more than i’d like to admit. so, i tend to drift from this flotation device at the moment.

very rarely, it’s a friend. usually they’re extremely slippery and fickle, so i’d often prefer to just float around. i’m fine with that. i’ve never been very good at choosing good friends, and i like my own company.

sometimes, when its nighttime and nothing is around, i like to go searching for something, and this is usually in the form of talking to someone online.

i’ve found a few odd people here and there that feed my need to stay above water. they might tell me i’m pretty, or they love me, or they want to meet me someday. sometimes they live in different countries, or states. sometimes they whisper on calls that they want to kiss me, touch me. it sends tingles through my body, like electric wires. it’s like a drug, feeling wanted like that. and once it fizzles out, i move onto the next.

before i had a boyfriend this was quite frequent, mostly on holidays when i was bored and had no one to talk to. i’d flirt and laugh and talk about nothing and everything. so many people that have such different lives, yet we connected, somehow, randomly, coincidentally, and ended up feeling as though we were so close, our fingertips could touch. it felt like a purpose, and my loneliness was almost like a sickness- and it was cured, briefly.

i lapsed back into this habit recently, something i’m very scared of. i met a boy, 9 hours away from me. meeting him is a possibility. being with him is a possibility. he whispered he loved me, three days after meeting him. i get drunk of his need for me. but, it fizzled, like it always does. and now, we still talk, but he’s tired and doesn’t want to call until 3 in the morning anymore. he doesn’t make me laugh the same way.

i find myself being a leech. i’m sucking at him, draining away his attraction to me. where did it go? he used to send me texts about how jealous he was that i wasn’t with him. he used to say how beautiful i looked. what did i do?

was it because i unfriended him after my boyfriend nearly saw a message? i explained it to him. he seemed understanding.

is it because i can’t stop texting him? that i say goodnight out of spite and anger because i tell him my heads about to explode because of him, because of what he made me feel, and he says nothing back? is it because i say he looks cute but he doesn’t want me to be too forward? he says he likes clingy. it makes him feel wanted. but i’m only like this because of his distance.

i want people that don’t want me. i wonder why they don’t, why they did before, what i did wrong to scare them away.

i need validation. that i’m a good person, good enough to make them happy and feel warm inside because secretly, that’s what i want too.

i need someone that lets me be free. wander through the land of self, love me when i need to return. i feel guilty for that.

i don’t want to look after people anymore. i’ve done that all my life. i’m very tired of being a mother figure, and being referred as one. i only do it so people like me, and even then, i attract the wrong ones.

i never focus on what’s right in front of me. people, opportunities, who i have the possibility of being. i’m so focused on goals that i can’t achieve and pleasing people that cannot be pleased. i focus my energy into those that use me for their own benefit. i feel worthless because of that.

i wish i could fly instead of float

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chelsie-fan-55 · 6 years

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No sinking feeling for Jim Carter when synchronised swimmingJuly 2, 2018 Downton Abbey star Jim Carter tells Ian Whadcoat how he struggled to get that sinking feeling when filming Swimming With Men. If you were asked to name a vital accessory for synchronised swimming, a nose clip would no doubt instantly come to mind. But for Swimming With Men star Jim Carter, he needed another extra piece of equipment to help him complete some of the scenes. “I’m not very flexible because I’m ancient,” said Downton Abbey actor Jim, who plays the role of Ted in the new British comedy film. “But I am incredibly buoyant – I’m like a cork. “The impossible shot for me was sitting at the bottom of the pool. I had 5kg of lead weight in my trunks to get me down there. “We had to lie flat on our back, kick our feet up in the air and sink down and I could not do that at all. It was never, ever going to happen. “When I was on the surface, I could relax. I did not have to move anything while the others were panting trying to stay afloat. “People did hang off me when they were a bit tired.” Jim was no stranger to synchronised swimming having watched it at the 2012 London Olympics – but despite that, he still found it a challenge. “I have never been so tired in my life,” he said. “We had three hours’ training every day and I could barely move at the end of it. “It was hard work but good to do different things. “I’ve always liked synchronised swimming – and I have a lot of respect for those that do it. Lumpy, bumpy blokes giving it their best shot “We had tickets for the London Olympics for synchronised swimming and seeing it live was amazing. The routines were five minutes so for three minutes of that they would be under water. “It looks incredibly difficult but our teachers, Katie and Adele [from Aquabatix], were brilliant. They were so patient and so helpful and really understanding. So willing to help when we were struggling and they never stopped smiling. “We were all of a similar standard. It’s obviously us doing it. A group of lumpy blokes giving it their best shot.” Jim thinks more men might be encouraged to try synchronised swimming after seeing the film – especially when they realise there is more to it than just performing in the pool. “For a lot of men, the social side is just as important as the sport side of it,” he said. “If someone is a decent swimmer but thinks doing lengths is a bit boring, it might be worth giving synchronised swimming a go. Find a team, go along and just watch from the side. “One of the rules [in the film] was we do not talk about our private lives so it was a chance to get away from real life for an hour. Blokes do that with sport. They’d get home and their wife will ask about your mate’s girlfriend and they say ‘we didn’t talk about that’. “Ted is on his own, he’s widowed, and this is a place where he can go and be comfortable with other guys. It’s his club. He’s a little bit lonely and gets the time with blokes with no pressure – just the fun of synchronised swimming. “What other sport would put Ted and Thomas Turgoose’s character together? It’s only sport that brings people like that together.” While Swimming With Men is based on a real-life story about a group of Swedish synchronised swimmers – who also appear in the film – the cast did joke about taking part in the World Championships for real. Jim said: “We did get excited at the end of filming as the Swedish team were off to the World Championships and there were only two men’s teams entered. “It was more just a fantasy discussed in the bar but if we had entered, we could have been guaranteed a bronze just for turning up!” Swimming With Men is in cinemas nationwide from Friday 6 July. Source: http://www.swimming.org/synchro/jim-carter-synchronised-swimming/

#jim carter #swimming with men #movie #2018

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nykhaela-ackerman · 3 years

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QuaranThoughts: A Glimpse Into My 2020 Psyche

It seems like it’s almost been a year since everything suddenly changed due to the global COVID-19 pandemic crisis. Overall, 2020 has been filled with one tragedy after another. Starting off with the eruption of the Taal Volcano, threats of World War 3, the pandemic crisis, issues of racism, government incompetence, and many more events that shook the whole world. As someone living through such seemingly historical events, I felt anxious of what the world will come to be in the future, as long as what could happen to me. There were even times wherein I felt so anxious and restless because not only did I fear for my own safety, but also for thinking about what the point is in all this.

I felt sad and helpless for living in such a world wherein fighting will never stop, and that it only seems like a pipe dream for governments to be competent enough to deal with certain issues. Not just in the context of the Philippines, but for the world in general, it seems as though no matter what happens, humanity will always be at war with one another, regardless of there being weapons or not. “Humanity will never stop fighting itself until it shrinks to a size of one or fewer,” said Erwin Smith, though he may be fictional, I believe that his words hold the truth. Humans will always find something to fight about, no matter how insignificant a few things might seem and vice-versa.

This world of ours is a dog-eat-dog world, you can’t really trust anyone, not even yourself at times. So, in times of global crises, who will you turn to? The government who seems to only prioritize maintaining the positions they hold? The church with their false promises of comfort? Your school or university that even rids students of scholarship opportunities due to fears of spending too much money despite being owned by a literal billionaire? Your family who you may or may not even feel comfortable living with, depending on your relationships with them? Your friends who you don’t even know if they truly care about you? Yourself, who’s not even sure about your identity or reason for being alive? All we know is that we don’t know, after all we’re just human beings who were suddenly thrown into this world and now have to deal with the chaos that comes with existence.

Anyway, before I end up getting way too depressing or overshare too much of my personal existential crisis, let me go back to talking about the pandemic. So first of all, I would like to share my own personal experiences and sentiments about being in quarantine, before I delve deeper unto more meaningful thoughts in terms of its effect on society. As a lazy introvert who never liked going outside nor have never experienced going anywhere without any family members, I personally do not mind the thought of just staying indoors all the time. As a matter of fact, I even feel relieved that I don’t have to actually socialize or interact with anyone because of how socially awkward I am and how I just don’t feel comfortable with dealing with social cues and all that stuff. Also, one of the reasons why I prefer online classes is also because of my personal self-image and self-esteem issues.

During online classes, I don’t have to show the rest of my body nor wear an uncomfortable uniform whose buttons could burst anytime while worrying about the weird looks I get from people. In addition, I can express my thoughts easier during recitations or presentations during online classes because I do not have to deal with the social anxiety that comes with having to stand in front of a crowd and think about things like maintaining eye contact or monitoring bodily gestures and such. I could also sit however I want more comfortably, while also not having to worry about using the bathroom during class because I can easily do it at home while wearing Bluetooth headphones so I wouldn’t miss out on class. However, the fact that I can think about all these things is a sign that I seem to be privileged enough to actually be able to consider having to deal with online classes instead of face-to-face classes as a better situation personally. This doesn’t mean that I don’t acknowledge the plethora of issues that others are facing because of it, I was just sharing things from my perspective.

Upon observing what my fellow students have been posting on social media, along with the many news articles out there, I have been dragged back into reality. Not everyone is lucky as I am to have WiFi and gadgets at home to be able to comfortably deal with online classes. Many are struggling to buy load for their cellular data so they can attend classes, others are also suffering from how the pandemic crisis affected their families financially, causing them to likely even drop out and work instead of pursuing their studies. In addition, there are also those who have to deal with balancing the already exhausting mountain-loads of schoolwork, along with helping out around the house with chores or taking care of their younger siblings or ailing relatives. I then realize that there’s more to life than academics, and that there are bigger problems out there in the world that take priority.

Also, upon further reflection, I have realized that not everyone has access to such technologies required for online classes, especially for those who live in far-off areas; those who go to decrepit public schools, those who live in tribal communities, and those who live with a seemingly inescapable sense of poverty looming over them. As a citizen of a third-world country who has been more exposed to foreign media, there were time s that I have forgotten that the educational norm for the Philippines is way different than that of those living in first-world countries. I have remembered how there are many people in this country of ours who lack capabilities to enroll in academic institutions for high quality education, along with not even having enough finances to even survive living in the slums, and yet they are expected to have the resources to deal with online classes. Also, what about children who can barely even read or write? Do they expect them to be able to send emails at the ripe age of five?

I think the heads of such universities or schools are forgetting that students and teachers are also human beings in need of breaks and that just because we’re at home doesn’t mean we have all the time and energy in the world to just do nothing but deal with academics. Even machines can overheat or explode due to overwork, there needs to be a time to cool down, so that we may spend even just a little bit of time to be just people, to just be ourselves and live our life beyond the confines of stressing over exams, quizzes, modules, grades, and such. There’s more to life than just slaving away and doing what you’re told to do, school shouldn’t be a medium to train people into becoming tireless slaves who will always bend to the will of those in power. As a matter of fact, because of spending almost all of my time dealing with academics, I barely have anytime to explore who I am and what I want in life; I don’t even see a future for myself beyond graduation, I can’t even see myself as not living as a student. Just because I have seemingly good grades does not mean that a bright future is automatically guaranteed for me; how am I supposed figure out how to survive in the real world while I further continue to lose the will to live as time goes by?

While I sit comfortably at home as I pursue my other hobbies or stress over deadlines of activities, many people out there are starving and struggling to look for jobs, and many are fighting for their rights to be treated as human beings instead of yet just another number in the ever-growing mortality rate due to the pandemic or even because the government silenced them for speaking against those in power. The world is at war with itself, and yet there are many of us who act like frogs sitting in a tub of water without realizing they are slowly being boiled alive. We’re not in a sauna or in a relaxing hot spring, we’re in a living hell where of everyone is exposed to the same amount of fire. They may say that we’re all in the same boat, but we’re actually in the same ocean in midst of a storm; we’re all on different boats, some may be lucky enough to have yachts or cruise ships, while others are struggling to stay afloat on a piece of driftwood. Even if this pandemic crisis someday comes to an end, the struggles of humanity never will.

This then begs the question, “Why do we even try so hard to survive in such a cruel world? What’s the point in living? Why even try if we’re all just going to die?” Personally, there are many times wherein I contemplated just taking the easy way out and I still do; I know I’m still young but it doesn’t invalidate how tiring it feels to be alive, and how it will just continue to get even more tiring and difficult as I continue to live. Well, as Mikasa Ackerman puts it, “the world is cruel yet beautiful at the same time,” so if we truly want to see how such a world can show such beauty, we must continue to try to survive in this world we were born into so that we may find what it means to genuinely be free. After all, as Eren Jaeger puts it, “if we win, we live. If we lose, we die. If we don’t fight, we can’t win. So fight. Fight,” so that we may be able to see a world worth living in. Fight, so that we may be able to live someday in a world where we no longer need to fight, as illusory or delusional as it may seem.

Before I bombard you with any more Attack on Titan references or depress you with my own personal issues, it may be time to end this essay of mine. Overall, whether it be a global pandemic crisis or any other issues surrounding human conflict, it cannot be denied that this era we’re living in will be a part of human history for future generations to read about. Even if it seems that humanity’s cycle of hatred, greed, and incompetence will never end, we must still strive to make this world of ours somehow worth living in so that we may alleviate suffering, as we continue to grow and evolve as beings aiming to find the meaning of being. No one may know which paths we may take, nonetheless, we should still try to break down these walls, overcome these barricades, and dedicate our hearts so that we may proudly keep moving forward as we fly with our wings of freedom towards the scenery of true liberty. If we just sit here, do nothing and just wait for our corpses to start rotting, what’s the point in living?

Disclaimer: This is just an exercise for our Digital Publishing class submitted to @bertongbigtime. Thank you for understanding!

#acm4305 #acn4305

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