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#but i NEVER EVER have to think of adolescent psych again
icaruspendragon · 1 year
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Please stop making spn posts just let it die please
here’s the thing- i will not be doing that.
you see, there’s so much shit in this world. the horrors. the terrors. all of it. they’re out there. and something that makes the horrors and the terrors and all the other shit a little easier for me to deal with is talking about a silly little fifteen year long collective fever dream. it’s one of the last vestiges of adolescence i have.
when i was being tossed about in the sea of my grief, it was spn that kept me from drowning. it was misha collins dubbing himself my nemesis and participating in the mishapocalypse 2.0 that gave me a distraction i needed so terribly in the early days of me trying to learn how to be an only child. he didn’t have to. he could have ignored the whole thing. but he didn’t. and that’s something so special to me i don’t think i’ll ever have the words to articulate the depths of my gratitude. because the first time i felt joy after my brother dying was at a supernatural convention. it was when i asked misha about the silly comment and he had a screenshot of it on his phone ready to show me to prove he had done it, that was the first time i realized that one day i wouldn’t feel so full of nothing i didn’t have room for anything else. it was the community i made there that showed up for me time and time and time again that made me realize i may be lonely, but i wasn’t alone. and that wasn’t the first time the community around that show had made me feel that. and I’m certain it won’t be the last.
the first time i ever encountered fandom in full force was in 2013. that’s a decade of my life. and it’s because i decided to watch supernatural. and it was in this fandom space that for the first time ever, i felt seen and heard and valued. for the first time in my life, i felt like i mattered. and my thoughts mattered. it wasn’t until i found fandom by way of spn that i realized i had value and worth. it was that show that gave me some of the best friends i could have ever asked for. it is because of the spn fandom that i have been given so many opportunities. that i have a way to make an actual difference.
and it has continued to do that for me. even ten years later. there are people who i didn’t know existed less than a year ago who i couldn’t imagine my life without now. people who have been to my home. people who have become my home. people i have flown across the country to see and people who have flown across the country to see me. people who are my family. and i met them because we share the same level of brain rot for a cw show that caused a great deal of damage to our psyches.
we get to curate our internet experience. we get to look at and talk about and post about what we want. and if someone posts something we don’t care for, we don’t have to look at it or engage with it or interact with it. we can scroll. we can block. we can ignore. we each get to carve out our own little space online. we get to build a little home. and my home is full of my love for a lot of things. for avatar: the last airbender and the hunger games and percy jackson and fandom and fanfic in general. my love for poetry and art and words. and yes, my love for a show that ended over two years ago that has haunted corners of the internet since 2005. i have a lot of love for a lot of things. so i talk about and post about the things that i love because i don’t ever want to look back and say, “my god, i should have loved more.” and i’m allowed to do that. because this is my space. i built it just for me.
this silly little show with it’s silly little characters is the one thing i have from Before that has remained unchanged. and even if that weren’t the case. even if i didn’t have all this sentimentality attached to it. even if it was never a lighthouse, a buoy for me. even if it was just something i casually enjoyed. i would still post about it. because it makes me happy. because i’m not hurting anyone by enjoying it. because it’s given me a little blip of light in a dark world. and you don’t have to consume it if you don’t want to. that’s the beauty of all of us living in different houses. we can visit who we want, when we want. and we don’t have to visit the houses we don’t to. how wonderful it is, that we are the gods of this small thing. we get to create and dismantle and create again. as many times as we want. because this is our space to do with what we want.
and i want to post about my love for all things, including hit cw show supernatural. and i can. so i will. because i’m the one living in this house. and no one is making you come visit.
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crqstalite · 9 months
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[1] so much (for) stardust —
I feel like something bad has stretched out over and over again Until I'm creased and I'm about to break down the middle Split me right down the middle, right, right down the middle, yeah
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In the aftermath of Meridian and the fight against the Archon, the crew of the Tempest finds their footing in Andromeda. Being pathfinder never came with a manual, but with six races depending on the young Talis Ryder to find them all a home, she wishes for one more every day. Not to mention trying to keep them from being at each others throats, a whirlwind romance, a brother who's turning out to be more trouble than he's worth and a plot against the Nexus, something's got to give.
And Talis is afraid it might be her.
A collection of stories about Pathfinder Ryder as she discovers herself and the cluster amid the political upheaval of an adolescent galaxy.
[set post-mass effect andromeda.] [female ryder/jaal ama darav, male ryder/cora harper]
chapter specific warnings: vomit mention, general sickness. whump.
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February 25th, 2821 [1 year and 11 months since arrival to Andromeda] - Nexus Wards.
Logs: Mateo Sirius Ryder-Lucero
Mateo has thought about how this conversation would go at least three or four times since he left the Nexus nursery center, and it’s weighing him down more and more the closer he gets to Talis’ apartment. He only really has so many options and so far, the lint in his pockets and the hair product sticking to his fingers do not hold the answers that he needs. She’s pissed at him (rightfully so), as far as he knows, still hasn’t spoken to Cora after she overrode her order back on Voeld (arguably rightfully so), and the lack of having emotional stability through Jaal being gone had everyone on the Tempest walking on eggshells.
(He cannot wait for his future brother-in-law to get back. The sooner he can either get to her or get her to visit Lexi for a psych eval, the sooner everyone would be happy -- Talis included)
Whether he disagreed with her or not (he did) right now he needed to apologize. Just so he didn’t make everything worse than it already was. So after he'd dropped Ahri off with one of the attendants, he'd quickly made the trek out to the Nexus Presidium, considering both exactly what he was apologizing for (probably for insubordination and generally being a bit of a dick), and considering how she'd respond (probably not well). Little fires everywhere that he'd been ignoring for too long, too quick to get off of med-watch to realize his sister was drowning in responsibilities she wasn’t prepared for. Almost two years out from when they'd arrived in Andromeda, and regardless of her titles, Talis was still only twenty four. Same as him. Neither of them with any major 'leading' experience (they'd both held jobs on the Citadel like any other teenager, but. Well. False equivalent), and neither of them had done anything like this. The only other Pathfinder that had the necessary experience to be leading anyone was Raeka (he thinks that was her name), but everyone turned to his sister for help.
Talis only had so much help to give. Only had so much advice lying around before she was forced to say she didn't know, and if there was one thing his incredibly driven sister was horrible at, it was saying she didn't know how to do something.
Her newly discovered short fuse however was likely the direct consequence of this. He remains unsurprised, but her blowing up at him after the Tempest had rescued him from Voeld was new. And he wasn't exactly sure if he liked this new side of her. He was glad she wasn't as shy anymore, probably a good trait to shed as a Pathfinder, but perhaps he was just a smidge afraid of her now.
He probably hadn’t helped adding to her mounds of problems and causing her a shitton of stress on top of it. Who knew most people didn’t enjoy high stakes rescue missions in the middle of blizzards to find their twin brother when he wasn’t ever supposed to leave the station?
(According to Cora, most people knew this already. Go figure.)
When he buzzes the door to her apartment, she doesn’t answer immediately. Unusual for her, she usually came to the door as soon as she was able or would buzz him in at least. Frosty then. Ok. He could work with frosty.
(He should've brought food -- his mother would hit him upside the head with a sandal if she were awake.)
He rocks back and forth on his heels, considering whether he should come back later. She could still be in her meeting with Kandros and Addison from earlier, God knew those usually ran long. But he didn't really want to run all the way back to operations, and he imagines he'd look horribly pathetic waiting for her outside her apartment door like a lost puppy.
Which...is a weird way to refer to himself. Still the mental image works, but if he has to play the part of pathetic younger brother to get back on her good side, then so be it. He wasn't exactly above it at least.
He waits a few more minutes, checking the time, shoving his hands into his jacket pocket. He reaches the end of his hoodie string into his mouth, typing off a message to his sister before his SAM implant buzzes to life in his ear.
“SAM?” He asks around the endcap, “Where’s Talis?”
"Talis' implant has been dysfunctional for some time now. I have been primarily focused upon keeping her both conscious and stable. While my systems did not go dark, I am in a brief moment of human 'clarity'."
"What?" Mateo chews on the fabric, heart stopping and starting again as he processes the information, "Why would her implant be in the fritz? I mean, I know she took a hit or two on Voeld, but --"
"Mateo, we do not have long," SAM continues, and while he's incapable of changing his tone of voice, Mateo does not like the way he's enunciating his words, "Talis has been made gravely ill. Her interior systems are deteriorating as we speak."
"What?" Mateo asks again, this time spitting out the hoodie string, "Injured? Shit, SAM where is she?"
The door slides open before him and he rushes inside. He does a sweeping glance of the apartment, the kitchen empty and almost barren, her bedroom empty with only a few scattered pieces of clothing to even clue him in she may be home somewhere. Not in the bathroom, though the medicine cabinet is strewn open, with a bottle of painkillers left uncapped on the counter. A bucket lies on it’s side on the tile, water spilling out of it. Considering it hasn't dried yet, this was still recent.
His heart is racing as he doubles back, scanning the ground. Tile, tile, tile. He's beginning to hyperventilate almost, calling her name a few times. She doesn't answer, and he runs around a corner into her office fast enough to smack his hand against it. No one. Then he darts into the living room, catching a glimpse of the dirty blonde hair of his sister laid out in the middle, curled in on herself.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit..." Mateo mutters under his breath, pushing the coffee table out of the way, dropping to his knees to roll her over, carefully cradling her in an arm, "SAM--?"
"I have briefly relinquished control of her bodily systems to make contact with yourself and Dr. T'Perro. Most of my primary attention has been diverted onto keeping away the worst symptoms, but her illness is progressing faster than I can keep up," SAM answers in his ear, "She needs help, Mateo."
"I...I can see that, SAM," He says. Okay, as much as he’s panicking right now, he has to do a rudimentary status report. Talis is burning up beneath his fingers, barely clothed in a damp Initiative tank top that clings to her skin and shorts that are stained with what he thinks is vomit. He really hopes the few red stains are old as he brushes the hair that sticks to her face out of the way. She's flushed and somehow shivering under his touch, breathing labored. Her eyes flutter open for a moment, auburn orbs unfocused and glassy. She's not all there, and doesn't answer for a moment if she does recognize he’s here, head lolling to the side into Mateo's abdomen, "Tali, can you hear me? Sis, what happened? Are you okay--?"
She squints her eyes closed again against the light of the Nexus’ day cycle, voice crackling and rough, "Dad?"
Mateo's blood runs cold at that, and his voice creeps up an octave, "SAM, what's her base temp?"
"Her temperature spiked to almost 40 Celsius this morning, though I am working to lower it," SAM reports, "Hallucinations and confusion are not uncommon with fevers this high and consistent."
"Yeah...yeah that definitely sounds about right," Mateo squeaks out, glancing around for water, her freezer, whatever he thinks might cool her down, "What happened SAM? She seemed fine a couple days ago and now she just collapses middle of the day?"
"I am recognizing it as a toxin, though I am unsure of what origin, but it has damaged my reach over her physiological systems. With that, it has begun poisoning her, targeting organs and threatening to shut them down. Regardless, it seems the more I try to take back my control, the more I am pushed out. A virus perhaps, created specifically to target me and fatally wound the pathfinder."
"That--I don't...when did it even happen?"
"I am unsure. I can trace when symptoms began in earnest to about two days ago, but I could not pinpoint when exactly she became ill. Originally her symptoms seemed to have pointed to the common cold or influenza, but as they continued to worsen and become more severe, this became less of the case. If this virus is capable of shutting down the parts of her body I can control, then her body likely will end up in shock without my major involvement.”
Mateo’s head is spinning, and he barely understands what SAM is spitting back at him. He’s not a doctor, never has been, but he does understand that his twin is on the wrong side of ill. Poisoned, he can’t even begin to wrap his head around that one. Four days ago they’d been on Voeld, when the Tempest had come to rescue him. They’d only spent minimal time in one of of the raider camps, convinced they were friendly (or at least neutral) at the time. But…
Talis has been the only person he hadn’t had an eye on the whole time they were there in the ice shelf. But then again, they’d been taking care of something on Kadara prior to that. Elaaden even before that. All places that’d make sense if they’d hurt her with the concentration of exiles and possibly left over Roekaar. He has more than enough questions about that, but he can go over those concerns with Lexi when she gets here. If she gets here in time. He gently lays her back down to scuttle to his feet and rustle through her freezer for ice or water, fingers stinging against the cold shock and pulse throbbing in between his ribs, “SAM, ideas? When’s Lexi going to get here?”
“ETA 12 minutes, she is bringing a small emergency team with her,” He answers, “It is not advised to cool her down too fast, Mateo.”
“I know, I know,” He says. SAM’s right, he needed to cool her down but not shock her. He'd do more damage that way, and the last thing he needed was to put her in any more pain than she already was in. He learned that much in basic. He drops the ice in favor for a cold water bottle, shutting the fridge and quickly walking back to the living room, “Other ideas then? Did she take anything for it before this happened?”
“She had been lucid up until an hour ago. I requested she take a form of acetaminophen for both her fever and bodily aches, she said she would soon. Unfortunately, her fever spiked and she began vomiting again soon after — she had been laying here for almost fifteen minutes before you arrived. I had contacted Dr. T’Perro, you were already on your way,” SAM says. That answered why the pills were on the counter abandoned, and Mateo’s starting to put together a rough chain of events, “I have running theories upon what may be ailing her, but symptoms are not consistent to what I have already been aware of. I have concerns it may be Andromedan in origin or perhaps entirely synthetic.”
Mateo tilts her head up enough to laying against his shoulder when he kneels down again. She groans as he parts her lips, sitting her up to be careful to keep her from choking on the water he’d found, “Is it contagious?”
“The crew aboard the Tempest reports no symptoms, alien and human alike. While I am not directly patched into you, I have not detected any of the same symptoms or changes within you. No reports of endemic level infections on any of the planets she had visited in the past week either. This was likely deliberate, and targeted. Considering the pathfinder’s more recent activities on Kadara, her immune system was already compromised. If I did not still have some extensive control over her and was actively suppressing the worst of this ailment, she would likely already be—“
“Okay, thanks SAM, but I really don’t want to think about that right now,” Mateo cuts off the AI before he can even mention the idea of Talis being dead or dying. Three times was enough in his opinion, and he wasn’t around for those times, but he’d rather not be around for the fourth. Mateo refused to admit to being scared of a lot of things, but losing his sister again was definitely one of them.
Talis is at least capable of sipping down a few gulps of water before beginning to cough. And with her coughing comes her retching onto the rug beneath them after turning her head away from him. Barely a glance and he can tell its tinged just enough with red and bile that whatever she’s working with is doing far too much for him to fix on his own right now. He considers going back to her medicine cabinet for an antiemetic, but then again he’s not sure if he’d do more damage that way.
Goddamn it, he was never sure about these things and right now, he really wished he was, “Have you called Jaal yet?”
“Jaal is still out of contact, though I have pushed a message through to his omni tool. Likely he is still on his mission and will be unavailable for some time.”
“Great. That’s just great.” Mateo responds sarcastically, biting down on his lip. He really needed someone who was more resourceful here.
He hates feeling powerless, unable to diagnose and unable to help. He can clean later but right now he holds his sister close as she still mumbles for their father. He wishes someone else was here to tell him what to do, someone tangible. Someone like Suvi might know what plant or whatever might’ve caused this, someone like Cora would have some sort of plan in place already, but Mateo doesn’t know anything. Even Jaal might've been better, it might give some comfort to his sister knowing her partner was at her side.
But no, he was gone for a few more days on a Resistance operation.
He’s been out of the outpatient medcenter for maybe two months at this point and arguably, he’s already been tossed headfirst into the fire. He was barely a private by the time they left Andromeda, and his inexperience is shining like a badge as he leans the cool bottle against Talis’s forehead. She leans into his touch, not unlike a child, and whimpers. He needed someone else here, literally anyone else who might know what his next move should be. Even Talis would likely know what to do, and she was the one who was currently out of commission.
(Oh why didn’t he just go into biotech like his mom wanted him to?)
“Please, please, please, just stay awake Tali,” Mateo begs, moving the water bottle back to her neck when her eyes shut for a moment. That seems to bring some more coherency back to her briefly as she relaxes back into the cool comfort of it, though her eyes are threatening to flutter back closed, “C’mon Tali, at least stay awake until Lexi can get here.”
“Mm, Dad, I’m — still here. Don’ go.” Talis’ voice is small and weak, weaker than he’d heard her in years, “Don’ leave me.”
“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” Mateo answers back. To some extent, he’s curious what she’s seeing, what she’s thinking about. But the other part of him that’s terribly superstitious at times does not like what it implies, "I'm here, I'm here, I'm here."
Lexi arrives sometime later, he isn't sure how much later, the door to the apartment sliding open and Mateo jerking himself and Talis by accident, the latter of whom retches again onto the rug. Lexi’s not alone at least, with two others who carry a stretcher behind them. Her expression is already grim, brow bones furrowed and a deep frown across her face. She kneels down next to the pair, Mateo instinctively holding her closer.
“SAM already filled me in on my way here. We’ll take her to the Garson Memorial facility and contact some of our Angaran ambassadors — her scans don’t make me believe that whatever she ingested was Milky Way made,” The Asari confirms, waving her own scanner over Talis while a human and Turian come around his right, "Talis, can you hear me?"
When she doesn't immediately, instead squeezing her eyes shut against the light of Lexi's scanner, Lexi sighs. The Turian picks up the coffee table and discards it into the kitchen, while the human lays down the stretcher in it’s place. Mateo freezes in place, unsure of what to do next while so much goes on around him. A beam extends from the side of the bed, the human EMT quick to prepare what he thinks is an IV to hook up to Talis. Mateo hesitates to let go of his sister, in his right mind he knows they’re here to help and knows she’ll be fine but the last time he let her out of his sight…
So much has gone wrong. And he wasn't there for any of it to help. And he's about to be again if they take her away.
“Iz that—mom?” Talis warbles, her head turned towards Lexi. Her distress is more evident now, every wheezing breath she takes accompanied with the quivering that’s beginning to shake them both is scaring him more and more. Now that she can’t even differentiate between the ship’s doctor and their own mother, can’t differentiate between himself and their father, he just wants to know what’s happening. Wants SAM to shut her down again and just reboot her good as new, as much as that’s a pipe dream and would just as likely kill her outright, “Mom?”
“Mateo,” Lexi’s voice snaps him out of his panic, her cerulean eyes pinned on him. She seems to ignore Talis calling for her, though her stern look is starting to bleed into concern, “We’ll stabilize her and keep you updated on her condition, but we need to go now if we have any intention of getting her to the med center before she gets any worse.”
He allows himself one more second, cupping the side of her face with his free hand before relinquishing his grasp on his twin. The EMTs are as careful as they can be with her, the IV inserted and a monitor with her vitals appearing on her side when they attach it to her. The rest of the time that Lexi and her team are there blur into mush, as they ask questions and roll her back out of the apartment. Mateo does his best to answer with SAM filling in a lot of the major gaps, and makes a mental note to do his best on cleaning whenever he gets back, make sure to take care of what he can.
He walks alongside them as their brisk pace, an ambulance waiting for them and a small crowd beginning to form in the complex hallway. She’s rolled into the back of the skytruck, and one of the EMTs offers him a hand to pull him up. He takes it, hands shaking as he sits to her right.
Lexi is quick and efficient, attaching monitor after monitor to her. SAM assists her, rattling off reports. The sound of the EKG is what he thinks will haunt him after this, though. Talis had told him once that her prior two deaths were quick, like moments of being unconscious. She couldn't tell that she'd died, that she was dying. SAM had only given her a brief warning beforehand the second time, the third was quick and unable to have been predicted. The first, the first had been what had startled him most when she recounted it to him, her legs pulled up to her chest and almost at a whisper when he'd asked in the medbay.
She had been panicking. Had been terrified out of her mind.
Once the heart monitor is attached, the rapid and erratic beeping fills the back of the truck. Lexi glances at it, knitting her brows and quickly administering more medication after that discovery. He can't quite swallow around the lump in his throat, wondering if she's panicking now in her own mind. Wondering if she was, alone in her apartment and barely able to breathe. Likely hunched over a bucket, incapable of deciphering which was up or down or even who was right in front of her?
Why hadn't she called him? Texted him that she wasn't feeling well?He would've come running, even though he knows that thinking about this now wouldn't change the past. He knows the real answer, and doesn't like it much. Wish Talis stopped believing it.
Only SAM had known about this, and likely Talis had sworn him to some degree of secrecy. Mateo knew better than anyone Talis hated having people worry about her.
"God, you gotta stop doing this, Tali," Mateo whispers, throat scratchy and eyes burning, taking hold of her hand in between two of his own. Lexi diverts her eyes, carefully attaching an oxygen mask to her, "Gotta stop scaring me, gotta stop pulling the shittiest parlor tricks."
She doesn't acknowledge what he says, but her eyes are still open. Still flickering around the truck. They land on him briefly, lidded and dark, but at least he can live with the peace she's alive. She's still alive. And for all it's worth, will stay alive.
Because God knows he doesn't know what he'd do without her.
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Rewinding...
[2] October 2nd, 2820
Logs: Talis Meissa Ryder-Lucero (Ark Hyperion Pathfinder)
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lapeaudelamemoire · 4 months
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opening this text box sitting in my bed trying to force myself to talk about myself, something, how i feel. the fucking text is lagging. i hate that so much. i don't know why it's doing that. i don't want to write this any more. let's refresh and try again.
it's still lagging but not quite so badly now. i don't know what the fuck to do about this. this feels contrived because it is, but i don't know what else to do. i don't talk about how i feel any more. not here, not to my partner, not in a journal. when i do, it's occasional. difficult to imagine that i used to do it every day, several times a day. but that was when i had time.
it feels inane to say 'when i had time'. i have time now too, which is why i'm getting to sit here in bed on a weekday with no other obligations to write a g-ddamn tumblr post, but it doesn't - it's not the same; it doesn't feel like i have time. i mean when the days were warm and felt hopeful and i was dreaming in another country, by which i realise i mean europe somewhere. fuck. there's still the remnants of the kool-aid.
this place - *gestures* - this colony. doesn't feel conducive to openly talking. the indigenous people here talk about truth-telling all the time, and that's it, really. there are few truths told on colonised land that are allowed. people here say 'i reckon' all the time; they hardly do. they sure as hell haven't really reckoned with the reality of what this place is. it's not a place you speak truths open into a space.
i'm being slowly poisoned by this place, i think. when i arrived, i'd never in my life had hayfever. after five and a half years here, i've begun developing it, it seems. my hair seems thinner than before. when i first arrived here i found my hair began to shed so much more. when i met two other chinese women selling the pearl jewellery they make they told me the water here is hard, and that happens; that they found that that happened to them too.
i'm tired of being in this colonial context. tired of the confined white western frame of psych. i'm so. fucking tired. tired tired tired tired tired tired. tired of the double-ended hypocrisy. tired of the dsm. tired of being in a 'western' context. that is only 'western' because of colonisation. this should not be a 'western' anything. yet. the air is doused with it. i want to scream.
then again writing this it must be kind of the same for others in singapore, us chinese settlers taking over the damn place.
wrote a needs analysis about misgendering of a non-binary and trans client in the community student-services clinic. go to start filling out a form for an internship plan that's for and created by the national health practitioner regulatory board; find that they only use binary-gendered language (i.e., he/him, she/her).
recently i've been noticing i have nothing to say or chime in with when around other people because i no longer watch or consume english-language popular media pretty much at all. no shows, hardly if ever any movies, not even really contemporary english-language music. when my partner's housemate talks i suddenly remember why i spent all those years in my adolescence watching all those fucking 'western' movies trying to be 'cultured' and 'refined' reading all those books, the 'classics', whatever. i don't know who the fuck david finch is and maybe i don't need to know. but i still feel the stirrings of those feelings when they talk about it that 'oh - maybe that's something i should know?'; the sense of 'oh they're a cool person talking about something 'cool', aka cinema'. but i have nothing to discuss with people. i don't know the music they listen to. i don't know the shows nor do i want to watch them. i'm tired of watching white people, more 'us'-based culture, which is normally where this stuff comes out of. but now that means i sit silently and going '???' looking around whenever people talk, because i don't know what they're talking about. discussions about music, tv, or shows; i've got nothing to add, nor do i even know what any of it's about. and it's a decision on my part not to consume these things, but it doesn't make it any less real that it means exclusion from socialisation topics. opting out of consuming 'western' media means, to a large extent, opting out of a lot of points of connection that allow you to socialise on those things.
.
yesterday at the barbecue my partner's family had at his place i sat watching his mother and grandmother, the latter of which doesn't speak that much english, sit not saying much - just like me - while he and his friends talked and chatted and his dad sat barbecuing, occasionally watching videos on his phone in brazilian portuguese. eventually his grandma went and got her phone and did the same, scrolling through brazilian portuguese music and content, while his mum sat listening and occasionally getting up to do some chores, like fetch water or utensils. his friend's mum called and they passed the phone to him and he chatted with his friend's mum while we leaned in to listen and laugh. occasionally my partner's mum translated some things we were laughing about for her mother, my partner's grandma. this time she had learned more english than when i'd seen her last, and she spoke to me in english phrases.
it wouldn't be much different if it were my grandma there, either, really, except that the language would be different.
i'm tired of this place. i'm tired of this colonialism hanging heavy in the air that i breathe in endlessly. g-d, people hardly even mix their languages here.
at the workshop at school i had to go to on tuesday one of the coordinators mentioned they were going to singapore and malaysia for a trip, and suddenly everyone was sighing and talking about singapore being so clean, about wanting to go back there for a holiday. i sat there without saying anything; i don't think anyone realised i was from there. there was someone else who was from malaysia i think, who was also in the room, but who also didn't say anything.
someone gone to bali. someone gone to thailand. someone gone to cambodia.
why [the fuck] are these white people here?
i'm thinking about that phrase, 'know your place'. the one that people often tend to use to try to 'put people in their place', use to put others down or pull some made-up authority rank with. but i do think we should know our place, as in one's own fucking positionality. standing on the train the other day on my way back home from somewhere i thought about maybe the problem [with me] is that i just have that chinese idiom in my head too much, the one that says 饮水思源, to drink water and reflect on its source. know where you're from. i can't take these fucking positionality goggles off. the intersectionality lens is fused to my eyes and i wish [other] people would fucking know their place, consider their positionality when they do things, interact with others. i know where i am placed all the time, know what place i occupy.
at the beginning of the workshop presentation they began the powerpoint slides with an 'acknowledgement of country', the standard one that says they 'acknowledge the traditional owners of the land' that they use for every powerpoint presentation if they're even a little bit aware, but which never actually properly even bothers to acknowledge who exactly the traditional owners of this particular land are, like when we're on-site on campus, and which indigenous land that actually is.
-static tv fuzz-out-
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slippery-minghus · 1 year
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huh. so like. transitioning from childhood into adolescence was really really hard for me. hard enough that even stating it like that is novel, rather than just "i was really weird and probably evil when i was 12" lol. but it just occurred to me how... autistic that was. the struggle with change. nevermind that from ages 10-13, my parents' relationship was worse than it ever had been as they approached divorce, and the tension in the house was enough to have set shit on fire but...
before my very eyes, things i enjoyed as a child were suddenly not fun anymore. i'd turn on a show i liked, one of the very few, and an episode i would have enjoyed the day before was mind-meltingly stupid. all of my toys—which because my mom substituted healthy love with giving me things, i had a lot of—dropped one at a time from my very short list of things that were fun. (un-dx'd autism also made playing with toys... boring as shit. could only put barbie in so many outfits. and i was too averse to social things to put her in Situations) what i did to my barbies when i finally couldn't stand them anymore was... it wasnt good.
and looking back at it through this lens though... i finally have an answer to the shocked and disgusted "what the hell was wrong with me??" it was because i was angry. i was scared. my parents were fighting all the time and i knew long before then that i couldn't rely on them for jack shit, so i had absolutely no recourse for dealing with the changes my brain was going through. changes i was going through while trying not to be abused, going through puberty (even as an adult shifts in my hormones make me extremely volatile), being bullied/ostracized by my friends and classmates, struggling for the first time with my grades (even though i was "Gifted"!), and of course, trying to fix my parents' marriage and their mental illnesses. all while having a brain that is particularly averse to change.
no wonder i was angry. no wonder i was scared. i was so alone. it was one of the rare occasions i actually acted out, and with the way i built my psyche to survive, no wonder that memory instills me with immediate shame. it was so unlike me to act out for a reason...
and i think back to another memory... one i hold very close to my heart. not because it was one where i was cared for, it's not even good. i think back to the brief stint when i was ten or so that mother put me in therapy for my "anger issues" (and i went unnoticed as autistic yet again. i know intellectually as an adult my mom just wanted to help... but that stint in therapy only reinforced the blame and the brokenness in me). one day, the therapist had me fill up this sandbox with figurines. she had so many to choose from, and it was so much fun. i'd never played with anything like it before. i remember i built a city, with ins and outs and lots of activity. but in the corner, closest to me, behind a wall where the rest of the city wasn't looking, i placed a little baby and an angry tiger. nobody could see how much danger i was in. nobody wanted to see. it was a quiet death.
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90 - Pink Floyd - The Wall
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High up on my list of "Best Movie Soundtracks Ever", even though a. it's a rock opera and b. one of my favorite songs on the album is notably NOT in the film.
Also, an album I picked up WAY too early in life. This is not an album that should be mainlined by an impressionable young adolescent. (See also: Smashing Pumpkins)
And, if you haven't seen the movie, know going in that it's violent and disturbing and disorienting, it adds a LOT to the context of the album, and also you should really watch it twice.
•In The Flesh?-
One of the most bombastic and epic-feeling opening tracks I've ever experienced in my life.
I'm ALWAYS looking for that space cadet glow.
Also it ends like the album is ending, like entire goddamn world is ending, complete with the sound of a plane crash and everything, and then, with a baby's cry, we are introduced to our doomed protagonist.
•Thin Ice-
So, unlike quicksand, thin ice is a horror from my childhood only this one WILL ACTUALLY KILL YOU. Growing up in a small town where two rivers met, thin ice was a legitimate concern every winter.
And, while I don't recall as many people going under the ice as I do "Chicagoans getting wasted and falling to their death at Starved Rock", it was always in the back of my mind whenever the air hurt my face.
Regardless this song is about losing your sanity, and the two concepts are nonetheless linked in my mind, especially since high school makes you feel crazy.
•Another Brick In The Wall, Pt. 1-
This one makes me think of two things:
1. This Robert Anton Wilson quote:
"under the present brutal and primitive conditions on this planet, every person you meet should be regarded as one of the walking wounded. we have never seen a man or woman not slightly deranged by either anxiety or grief. we have never seen a totally sane human being."
2. My dad's hobby of late: burning all of his money by going on cruise ships multiple times a year.
"Daddy, what'd you leave behind for me?" Not fuckin much.
Otherwise this section of the album has one hell of a groove to it.
•The Happiest Days Of Our Lives-
So happy to say that I never had a *physically* abusive teacher.
Mentally and emotionally? I mean who didn't have at least one of *them* growing up?
(And yes I genuinely, honestly, hope "their psychopathic wives" beat the shit out of every single one of those bastards. If you are in a position of authority over children, and you use that to make their lives objectivly worse, for shit they had no hand in, I hope your eyeballs and throat and liver and kidneys all get ripped out by goddamned vultures.)
•Another Brick In The Wall, Pt. 2-
The anthem for my entire generation, and what should damn sure be the energy going forward (especially in Fascistland, I mean Florida, where "slavery was kinda good actually" and "AP Psych can not legally be taught anymore because it says that queer people exist".
We don't need no thought control.
And all in all, Ron Desantis is just another dick with no balls.)
Also, I was much older when I learned that when an Englishman says "pudding" they actually mean "basically any possible dessert" and not just, like, "tapioca".
•Mother-
Generating Lifelong Codependency: The Song.
5 minutes and 34 seconds of Bad Parenting Choices.
See the above Robert A. Wilson quote again.
•Goodbye Blue Sky-
Simultaneously one of the prettiest and one of the ugliest songs on the album.
Beautiful and horrible.
Also, one of my favorite of the animated segments in the film. Evocative as FUCK.
"The flames are all long gone
But the pain lingers on."
•Empty Spaces-
This is the sound of every dying relationship. Once the communication breaks down, the rot begins to take hold.
•Young Lust-
Now, THIS is a great song to get stuck in your head for a month and a half when you're a loser in your sophomore year of high school and nobody wants to really even look at you, let alone go out with you, and absolutely nobody wants to just fuck nasty, which is exactly what this song is entirely about: finding a person who wants to get slammed down, big style.
•One Of My Turns-
Possibly the darkest song on the album and one of the heaviest parts of the movie.
The Breakdown of Every Thing.
That said, "cold as a razor blade, tight as a tourniquet, dry as a funeral drum" would be a good description of me from like ages 15-27.
...Thank the gods for LSD. Ego death fixed a lot of that shit.
•Don't Leave Me Now-
Correction: THIS is the darkest song on the album.
A droning meditation on all the various forms of partner abuse.
•Another Brick In The Wall, Pt. 3-
And this is the song that turns the miserable sophomore-year loser into a teenaged curmudgeon. "I don't need any of you, I'll be just fine on my own."
•Goodbye Cruel World-
It's pretty obviously about suicide, but I always thought this would be a great closing song for a live show.
"Yeah this is it, this is all you're getting. You can't change my mind. Goodbye."
•Hey You-
Ah, good day, "Sir Not Appearing In This Film". How are you?
I've heard a few reasons from different people as to why this was cut from the movie, from simply "cut for time" to "the actual film got fucked up during recording and was deemed unusable".
In the story, this is the initial realization of the Great Mistake of building the wall and shutting yourself off from reality and humanity.
In my life, it gave me one of the most impactful lines I've ever heard:
"Hey you,
Don't help them to bury the light.
Don't give in without a fight."
As well as a lovely metaphor for what right-wing talk-radio grifters and Fox News brainwashing did to everybody's parents:
"No matter how he tried, he could not break free, and The Worms ate into his brain."
•Is There Anybody Out There?-
One of my favorite songs on the album.
Short and sweet, if by 'sweet' you mean 'dangerously paranoid'.
Also, one of the only songs I ever learned how to play on guitar.
I classify this as the beginning of what I call the "tone poem section". The next few songs all bleed together into one full movement.
•Nobody Home-
The depression inherent to self-imposed loneliness sets in as self-reflection, self-adoration, and ultimately self-revulsion.
"I'm so smart, I can even figure out every single thing that I did to completely ruin my entire life, but i won't do that until the end of the album, on account of how smart I am."
•Vera-
The tone poem continues.
Also, I had no idea who Vera Lynn was for quite some time. So, no, I didn't remember her. 🤷
It's a devastatingly pretty song, though.
•Bring The Boys Back Home-
And the culmination of the tone poem portion of the album arrives.
There's not a lot to this one, tbh.
•Comfortably Numb-
It is amazing to me how much I related to this song, long before I ever did a single drug. And now, after having done quite a few drug, I'm not much of a depressants guy. (It's probably all the regular depression, why would I ever add more?)
Man, I was a pretty messed up kid, huh.
Such an incredible song, though. Perfect in every way. Beautiful guitar work, the drumming is impeccable, the bass is... present, and the vocals are stellar.
One of my favorites.
•The Show Must Go On-
I can sum this one up with the title of a cancelled douchebag Marilyn Manson song: "I don't like the drugs, but the drugs like me."
•In The Flesh-
The reprise of the opening track.
Problematic as hell, but that's the fucking point. This is a hyper-violent fascist rally dressed up like a concert, and Anyone Who Doesn't Fit In will be Taken Care Of.
•Run Like Hell-
Back when I was a kid, roughly a thousand years ago, there was a Chicago morning news show that used to use the beginning of this song as their show's intro, and that always struck me as Extremely Fucking Weird.
The concert/hyper-violent fascist rally spills into the streets. Nobody is safe. This is the point.
•Waiting For The Worms-
Fear and isolation lead to horrors beyond human comprehension.
An anthem for krystallnacht.
An anthem for the alt-right mass shooter.
Fortunately, you can theoretically get the worms out. Unfortunately, you will very likely have to crack open the skull in which they reside to do so.
•Stop-
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE ARE CONSEQUENCES TO MY ACTIONS?!"
•The Trial-
The Big Come Down. Our protagonist realizes, way too late, that despite the many, many tribulations of his life, it is his reactions to those problems that ultimately the source of all of his problems.
Yeah, your teachers were shitty sociopaths, your mom was a domineering bitch, and your wife (rightly) got sick of all of your bullshit and left you.
Shutting yourself out and hiding yourself away doesn't fix a fucking thing, and only makes the Bad Things worse.
Shut the fuck up, Pink. You're not crazy, you're just a bigoted asshole. Tear the fucking wall down already.
•Outside The Wall-
In which our protagonist finally gets a fucking grip and stops being such a dick.
Or, an alternate reading is that Pink has killed himself, and everything from Goodbye Cruel World until this point has been a hallucination caused by his dying mind, and this is him receiving total consciousness at the moment of death.
OR it's simply saying "it's on you to open up a bit, because there are people who genuinely want to help you, but they'll only try for so long."
This is a great album, but you kinda need to see the movie to really get it, which is ironic because you also need to know the album pretty well to understand what the fuck is happening in the movie.
Favorite Track:
I am SO tempted to be a cheeky little shit and say "When The Tigers Broke Free", as that is an incredible song, but it's only in the film, not the studio album.
So I'll invert that and say Hey You, which is on the album, but not in the film.
Least Favorite Track:
Bring The Boys Back Home. It's the end of the slow self-reflection/self-destruction part of the story, there for the (incredibly depressing) vibes.
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milgrammer · 3 years
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[ENG] Love is mine Voice Drama
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Mahiru: [humming]
Es: [footsteps]
Mahiru: I wonder when the prison guard will arrive… 
Es: [enters] Sorry for making you wait, prisoner number 6, Mahiru. 
Mahiru: Ah, no. It’s okay. I only just got here. 
Es: What?
Mahiru: [giggles] Just then, it felt like I was waiting for my date to arrive. Kinda made my heart flutter. 
Es: I’m not exactly one to talk, but… I’m surprised that you can say such a thing despite being in this prison.
Mahiru: Really~? But, this unfamiliar setting makes things super romantic, you know? Thanks to it, every day has been such a delight.
Es: [sighs] What a carefree spirit you are. 
Mahiru: Ah! I get that a lot.
Es: Do you fully understand the situation you’re in, Mahiru? You’re a prisoner who’s killed someone. You weren’t brought here to have fun.
Mahiru: Killed someone… I guess I did… I can’t really deny it, can I? 
Es: With that being said, from on, I shall be conducting this interrogation with the purpose of revealing your sins. This sort of situation is anything, but romantic.
Mahiru: Sin… My sin… I guess so. 
Es: Milgram exists to reveal the sins of you, prisoners, and to hand down the appropriate judgement. So, for that reason, talk to me for a bit. 
Mahiru: Talk? Yay, let’s talk! Let’s talk! Prison guard, are you interested in me? That makes me so happy!
Es: Hmph. Trying to get me to go off track like that is futile. All of you prisoners do the exact same thing… Can't believe I always fall for it.
Mahiru: What are you muttering to yourself about?
Es: Nothing. [clears throat] I shall begin the interrogation now. Let’s see. First off— 
Mahiru: I’ll start! I’m Mahiru Shina, 22 years old. I might not be much good at anything, but please be kind to me.
Es: I’ll be the one asking the questions here! Ugh, no. I know exactly what’ll happen after that from Yuno’s interrogation. It’ll be okay. Just gotta calm down. 
Mahiru: Right. Now it’s your turn, prison guard.
Es: What?
Mahiru: What’s your name? Your age?
Es: [hesitates]
Mahiru: What’s your name? Your age?
Es: It’s Es. As for my age, I’m… 15, I think. 
Mahiru: 15 years old! And, you’re a prison guard at that age, are you? Despite being so young, you’re so admirable. If anything’s troubling you, you can talk it over with ‘big sis’ here, okay? 
Es: Hey, Mahiru. Why do I have to answer— 
Mahiru: Hey, hey! Is Es your real name? Could it be that you’re not Japanese? Don't you have a surname or anything? 
Es: I-I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I’m Es. I don’t know anything other than that, and I don’t need to either.  
Mahiru: What? You mean you have amnesia? Oh, you poor thing. Are sure you’re not curious about it? About yourself, I mean.
Es: Not a bit. I just tackle the work I have at hand. Sparing myself of any unnecessary information helps me concentrate better.
Mahiru: Huh? But, I’m so curious about you, prison guard. Come on, let’s do it! Let’s get to know more about you, prison guard.
Es: Get to know… about me?
[piercing sound]
Mahiru: Prison guard? What’s wrong?
Es: [hesitates]
Mahiru: Hey… Prison guard?
Es: Oh… yeah. Uh… I apologise for that. 
Mahiru: Did you zone out just then? This job must be pretty difficult, so you might be mentally burned out from work. Herbal tea’s good for that, you know? Oh! Like ginkgo tea—they say it helps improve brain function. 
Es: Oh, is that so? I’ll try a bit then… I mean, no! Enough about me. We’re in the middle of an interrogation at the moment.
Mahiru: Aw, what? But, it was just getting fun.
Es: I mean, why are you asking me questions anyway? Know your place here. 
Mahiru: But… But, you know, prison guard… I think having a mutual understanding of each other is pretty important. Prison guard, you want to know more about me, right?
Es: Well… Something like that.
Mahiru: That makes me so happy! Ah… No, that’s not what I was meant to say… In order for you to do that, getting to know each other would be the first step. Don’t you think? If I get to know lots about you, prison guard, then there will be more things I want to talk to you about. 
Es: Hm. That’s true. I guess that sort of approach might be quite effective on some people. 
Mahiru: Exactly! So, first things first, you should gather up all your courage and be completely transparent about yourself. Doing so will make your partner feel at ease, and they’ll start opening up about themselves more. 
Es: Is that so? ‘Self-disclosure reciprocity’ as we call it then? But, well…  Isn’t this quite the surprise? I didn’t expect you to be so well-versed on matters related to the human psyche.
Mahiru: Huh? S-self-disclosure reciprocity?
Es: In order to gain a deeper understanding of you, prisoners, I was trying to add whatever I could to my stock of knowledge. It was mentioned in one of the publications I read during that time. 
Mahiru: Really~? Prison guard, you’ve read it too? I’ve also read that one. That issue titled 1000 Kanto Girls’ Views on Love was so good, wasn’t it?
Es: [hesitates] What on earth is that?
Mahiru: What? So, you haven’t read it? Lain’s (1) special collection of romantic techniques!
Es: Lain? 
Mahiru: Yeah! Lain. It’s my favourite thing to read. “Fashion, trends, fortune-telling. This special collection on romance has articles about everything. If you wanna make yourself sparkle even more... Then, this women's magazine will help you get there!” 
Es: [sighs] So, it was all just a misunderstanding. Ignore what I said earlier then. 
Mahiru: Oh, that’s right! Prison guard, are you interested in romance at all? I wanna talk about it with you. You’re 15, aren’t you? Right in the heat of adolescence! Do you have anyone you like?  
Es: I honestly have no interest in those matters. 
Mahiru: What? No, no. There’s no such thing as that. Being in love is like a landmine. It'll explode someday, you know? The only thing that differs is whether it happens earlier or later in life. It’ll happen to you too. Even if you don’t have any interest in it now, one day it’ll explode for you as well. All because you’ll have that fateful encounter with your special someone.
Es: You sure do run your mouth a lot, don't you?
Mahiru: Yeah, yeah. You’ll deny it at first. I mean, I was like that as well. Before then, I always admired soap operas and shoujo manga because I thought that they depicted a world different from our own. 
Es: I don’t completely understand what you’re saying, but… Being in love and loving someone—are they really that important? 
Mahiru: They are.
Es: Hm.
Mahiru: They are… More so than anything else.
Es: I see now. [shifts] So, for you… that’s what it is. Prisoner number 6, Mahiru. 
Mahiru: Hm? What is?
Es: Somehow… After interrogating several people, I’ve started to get a rough idea of it. What you lot cherish, that is. 
Mahiru: So, what I cherish is ‘love’—is that what you’re saying? [giggles] Correct! It’s not like I was trying to cover it up or anything though. 
Es: Very well, does your homicide stem from love too? 
Mahiru: [pauses] I… guess it did. I think it was love. 
Es: So, because of love, you killed someone? 
Mahiru: I suppose… you’re right?
Es: I see. So, you became a murderer as a result of some relationship conflicts? Jealousy… Grudges… Having your partner stolen from you… Those stories aren't all that uncommon now are they? 
Mahiru: You’re wrong. It wasn’t that. I…never even wanted to kill anyone in the first place! 
Es: [pauses]
Mahiru: I just… I was… just being myself
Es: What do you mean by that?
Mahiru: [pauses] Not telling. After all, I still don’t know you that well, prison guard. 
Es: Hm. We should have a “mutual understanding” of each other, right? 
Mahiru: [giggles] Exactly!
Es: A troublesome one, aren’t you. But, that's fine with me. What are your own thoughts about it then? Do you think what you’ve done could be forgiven? Or was it absolutely unforgivable? 
Mahiru: Hmm. If you can’t forgive me for what I’ve done, then there’s no point in living—to be honest. [laughs] 
Es: So, if you can't kill anyone, there’s no point in you living—is that what you mean? My, oh, my… What a dangerous species you are.  
Mahiru: Oh, no! Uh… Those words actually sound kinda scary now that I think about it. I don’t want to kill anyone or do anything of the sort! But… 
Es: Hm
Mahiru: It's because I've… decided that I’m going to live for the sake of love.
Es: For the sake of love? 
Mahiru: I… discovered how amazing it was to be in love with someone. It’s incredible, you know? Each and every day seemed to sparkle and everything became so vibrant. It transforms such mundane sceneries into those out of soap operas and films! 
Es: I didn’t follow any of that.
Mahiru: [disappointed] I have a pretty poor vocabulary, so I can't describe it beyond clichéd phrases. But, I’m sure you’ll understand, prison guard! Once you fall in love, you’ll definitely get it! 
Es: Well, I wonder. 
Mahiru: Being in love is… If there was no such thing as love, then my life would be so bland. So, if you say that I won't be allowed it anymore, then there’s no point in me living. 
Es: Even if your love killed someone?
Mahiru: You’re so mean, aren’t you? 
Es: It was your love which killed someone, right? Despite that, will you still try to love another person? 
Mahiru: [thinks] Actually,  I was hoping you could tell me the answer to that, prison guard... If what I did was unforgivable. 
Es: What?
Mahiru: If my love could possibly kill someone, then I… shouldn't ever love another person again, I guess?
Es: [pauses]
Mahiru: Hey, prison guard, please tell me. If I love someone, is that something unforgivable?
Es: I don’t know. From the beginning, I never really understood what you were saying. 
Mahiru: Oh, I see... I guess so. There's something wrong with me, right? You can't understand me, right? 
Es: Yeah… as of now. 
Mahiru: Huh?
Es: As of now, I don't understand you—that’s what I’m saying. But, I will soon. Just wait and see. 
Mahiru: [excited]
Es: To be honest, the topics brought up in this interrogation were entirely outside my area of expertise. And, for that reason, I might have to deepen my understanding of it—just as you said. 
Mahiru: Prison guard…
Es: I’m your prison guard. Even if I have an aversion to something or if there’s something I can’t understand, I won’t just hopelessly give up on you like that… Not until I’ve judged your sins, and decided on whether I forgive them or not.
Mahiru: [happy] Does that mean you’ll always keep your eyes on me? 
Es: What? Well, it’s my duty after all. 
Mahiru: [exclaims] 
Es: What is it? 
Mahiru: My heart skipped a beat. 
Es: Just what on earth are you saying? 
Mahiru: I… guess I love people who are so enthusiastic about their work. 
Es: You… You’re messing with me, aren’t you? 
Mahiru: Ah, this isn’t good. Be careful, okay? Um… Um… If you’re that kind to me, you could die as well. Just—kidding?  
Es: I wasn’t trying to be kind to you or anything like that. I just downright, from beginning to end, had no idea what you were saying. However, I will promise you this. Rest assured. No matter what you do or what you think, I won’t die. 
Mahiru: [happy sound] 
Es: Because I’m Milgram’s prison guard—that’s why.  
Mahiru: [exclaims]
[mechanical noises]
Mahiru: W-what is this? Is it because my love exploded? 
Es: No. It’s the end of the interrogation. For goodness sake… And as always, things never go as I planned, do they? With you prisoners, I mean.
Mahiru: Uh… Um… This is what’ll be extracting songs, right? But, I’m not that good at singing though?
Es: It won't necessarily be you the one singing. Your mental landscape will present itself in the form of songs and videos—that’s all. 
Mahiru: So, you're gonna see everything… That's a little embarrassing. 
Es: Well, I don't know about that. The personal experiences I see, how true-to-life the videos are and their degree of abstraction—that all depends on the person. They might even depend on how each of you perceives your own sins.
Mahiru: Is that so? 
Es: Either way, I intend to find out what this world of yours looks like. 
Mahiru: I see. I see. I wanna watch it too. Because, for me, a world filled with love will be such a beautiful place. Oh! Prison guard, I’m sure you’ll understand how amazing love is through it as well. 
Es: Hmm. I’m looking forward to it.
Mahiru: Huh? That was unusually sincere of you.
Es: I just have a thirst for knowledge, that's all. Learning things you didn't know before is quite fun, don't you think? In order for me to understand the lot of you, I have to acquire knowledge from various fields. And, that's not exactly a bad thing in my books.
Mahiru: Really? I… guess I love studious people as well. 
Es: Shut it. 
Mahiru: You’re so mean.
Es: [sighs] The way I let you talk non-stop like that, it makes me feel like I didn't do my job properly. But, I'll ask you this just in case. Is there anything left you'd like to say? 
Mahiru: Ah… Um… Just one thing.
Es: Oh wow. You still have more to say?
Mahiru: Um… Uh, you know… Would it be okay for me to call you ‘Es’?
Es: No comment! [footsteps] Prisoner number 6, Mahiru. Come now. Sing your sins! 
As far as I’m aware, this isn’t a real publication, so unless Mahiru states the official romanisation of this author/publisher, I can only assume what it might be. I’ll update it if she does. Some alternatives might be Lane, Rein, Rain, Layne, etc. Don’t quote me on this, but I suspect that they might’ve based the magazine Mahiru reads on ‘Laurier Press’. ‘Lain’ looks similar to ‘Laurier’, so that’s why I chose it.
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a-tired-narwhal · 3 years
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Tell me more about your feelings about the details of Caleb's backstory!
Okay listen anon. LISTEN. This is going to be LONG. Did I immediately rewatch/go back through the entire wrap up to take notes? YES I DID. Anon I'm sorry this is so late, I didn't see your ask until after the stream. I hope this finds you (*^3^)/~♡
----
Caleb fucking Widogast. Liam O'Brien always creates/portrays characters that CAPTURE ME. And it is purely the undertow of SUFFERING that I crave.
As a survivor of an abusive childhood, specifically with manipulation, neglect, and physical trauma, and having a controlling abuser in a position of power over you - I was surprised and delighted by Liam's playing of Caleb, and I'm sure that I'm probably not the only one, but Caleb's backstory just had me nodding along. Was not surprised at all by what was revealed about the blumentrio's relationship being trauma-bonding and probably why I'll never be an avid shipper of them. Nothing about Caleb's backstory left me gasping - because it's a relatively common abuse survivor story, except it's in the world of dungeons and dragons with high fantasy and magic and more common place murdering than today in places where most Critters presumably live.
Let's break it down.
Caleb was born as Bren to a less than well off family, who wanted their child to have a better life than them. Bren is a gifted child, and this will immediately put a bullseye's target on a child's back, make no mistake, for abusive persons. Now, I don't know if it's a pretty obvious that parents would trust in a teaching figure to take their child for that child's betterment, because I don't have parents who wish for my betterment ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, but I like to think that Bren's parents handed him off hoping for his brightest future.
Trent is basically the textbook example of a Cult Leader. Beyond the experimentation he did on his students; everything he put the Blumentrio through is how you beat down and brainwash people, especially children/adolescents. Textbook. TEXTBOOK. It was the dnd equivalent of the Hilter Youth. Now my personal experience featured the tool of isolation, so I didn't have two childhood friends to pour myself into and have threesome's with, but that's actually smart of Ickythong, because when you're left alone with your whirling brain for too long, and there's no one to hold over your head - we start thinking those rebellious thoughts, and at some point we decide we have nothing to lose, and we will do ANYTHING to shake that control. No, he left them in that abandoned tower together so they would be forced to bond with each other, as well as allowing them not to die of exposure alone.
Trauma-bonding CAN be a manipulation and used against you. Now. We have three adolescents trying not to freeze to death by being as close as physically possible. For those that don't know; sharing body heat works best skin to skin - ya get naked and THEN you wrap up together to stay insulated. Awkward groping is going to happen, and it's more than likely accidental. But when you add raging hormones to the mix, yo it's not going to stay accidental for very long (that in no way indicates non consent, it can be either way), and the feelings can catch hard when you're young and physical and EVERY HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP YOU HAD HAS BEEN TAKEN FROM YOU, IF YOU EVEN EVER HAD ONE. (I do not know Eadwulf or Astrid's home lives so your guess is as good as mine. We should probably ask Liam)
So you've got horny teenagers, with above average intelligence, being systematically abused... Bam. Trauma-bonded Blumentrio.
BUT HERE'S THE THING. Trauma-bonding can only get you so far. And they are children, actively being raised to NOT HAVE THEIR OWN THOUGHTS AND IDENTITIES. The relationship they built, the romantic and sexual, are based off of a shared hostile environment and survival needs. And when those circumstances are no longer there, the relationship tends to fall apart.
I love that Matt talked about Astrid for a bit, sad we didn't get more on Eadwulf - but Matt didn't really spend a lot of time roleplaying Wulf compared to Astrid, so he'd have more insight into her. I also find it interesting that the Blumentrio took 3 very different, but again SO COMMON, paths in dealing with their abuse. But that's a different rant.
Focus with me now on what Matt said about Astrid. She was actively seeking power throughout the campaign, looking always to climb that ladder to the top, for her own purposes which were not stated, and was willing to do anything, sacrifice anyone, to get that power. Was it a burden to her? Yeah I think so. Did it weigh on her? Again I personally think it did. But she was goal-oriented and she wasn't going to let anything stop her, not even herself, and she hated Trent. Matt implies that all three of the Blumentrio did/do. Astrid, Wulf, and Caleb were wildly different people - I don't think they would have stayed together even if Bren had stayed Bren instead of becoming Caleb.
I know A LOT of people were miffed over how Liam and Matt showed Caleb's and Essek's love for each other; and I am SO glad that Liam touched on this; Essek reminded Caleb too much of Astrid and Eadwulf. Now I know we love to joke that that Redhead Dirt Wizard has a Type (smart, ambitious, vaguely amoral), and believe me I LOVE THE JOKE, but Caleb pumping to brakes on Hot Boi makes THE MOST LOGICAL SENSE AND I WAS SO DELIGHTED WHEN LIAM PLAYED IT THAT WAY. Caleb was still trying to heal himself; WHY THE HELL WOULD HE JUMP INTO A MESS CALLED ESSEK? That's some mf UNHEALTHY, TOXIC romance trope ya got there. People fix themselves, not each other. THAT'S WHY CANON SHADOWGAST IS SO GOOD. THEY ARE WORKING TO IMPROVE THEMSELVES FIRST. THAT'S SO HOT.
Ahem.
So the Blumentrio hangout in Astrid's room to sex and study, in threes and twos (I have weird polyam questions, Liam). Now, I'm foggy on the exact timeframe that was together at Academy > kill your parents > Bren is chucked into the Sanitarium; but it's clear that after the murdering of parents, Bren is tagged as the "weakest link" - maybe he broke because he actually loved his family/had a loving family, maybe the manipulation spell from Ickythong didn't sit on him as well as Astrid and Wulf, maybe boi wasn't made for killing (a lie, the boi is a total killer, you have to be in most dnd campaigns), who knows. But he broke, and Astrid and Wulf handed him over - it would be dangerous for them if they tried too hard to protect him.
Because in that environment, in those circumstances, in that set up; you do what you have to, to survive. You hurt people you love, you hurt people you don't know, you even hurt yourself if it means improving your own odds. It's instinct. It's not your fault. You are doing the best you can with what you have available.
I don't hate Astrid and Eadwulf; I just have more emotional attachment and investment in Caleb, and prefer the color purple on him.
Which is actually a great segue into THE WOMAN AT THE SANITARIUM WHO FREED HIS MIND; Matt Mercer you beautiful man, thank you for giving us a Moonweaver connection, my lil widomauk heart was sent aflutter! So, here's the thing. Places like that, sanitariums, psych wards, etc - if you are not certifiably insane before you go in, you will be eventually. One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest is not a fucking joke. But the thought of some forgotten Moonweaver Cleric recognizing Bren's torment and just, poof, dissolving that spell? *Chef's kiss* glorious, wonderful, everything I needed.
Anon, I don't know if this is what you wanted or expected - but here it is, my sincerest apologies 🐳
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with friends like these
Summary: Apollo gets his wisdom teeth out, and Clay babysits.
Link to AO3 in the notes.
"Apollo, buddy. Buddy. You gotta lie back down."
Apollo blinks owlishly at Clay, swaying in place in the middle of the kitchen. God, Clay would feel better if he at least had the sense to lean against the counter. "But I want coffee."
"No coffee for you," Clay says, forcing himself to be stern despite the dreading anticipation of the way Apollo's expression falls, comically sad. AJ always looks younger than he is, as a big brave twenty-year-old, but the sad little pout while he's out of his mind on painkillers, cheeks swollen from surgery? He looks like he's twelve. Adorable. Clay feels bad for him, he really does—he got his own wisdom teeth out last year and he remembers how much it sucked—but the little baby pout just makes him want to smile. "You'll wind yourself up something good, sunshine."
"It's not that much caffeine," Apollo tries to say, even as he lets Clay catch him by the arm and pull him, stumbling, out of the kitchenette. "An' it would make me feel more awake."
"You don't need to feel more awake, you need to rest."
"But I've got stuff to do," Apollo says, mournfully. Clay manages to wrangle him back over to the couch and nudge him back down onto the cushions. Apollo makes doe eyes up at him while Clay grabs the nearest blanket to wrap around his shoulders. "I gotta work on my readings—"
"It's winter break, you don't have readings."
"But next semester."
"You don't have any advance readings yet. You checked and told me so before the surgery."
"I have to stay ahead," Apollo says. His eyelids droop. "I gotta be good at my classes so I can be a good lawyer."
"You're gonna be a great lawyer. But you aren't a lawyer yet, and you don't have any classes right now, so just take it easy, okay?"
Apollo opens his eyes again to peer back up at Clay. "My mouth hurts."
"I know. Sorry, buddy. Not time for more painkillers yet. You want me to grab you the ice pack again? Get the rest of your shake?"
Apollo nods, still looking glum. Clay dutifully returns to the kitchen to retrieve an ice pack from the freezer, which he wraps in a kitchen towel, and the rest of Apollo's post-surgery chocolate shake out of the fridge. When he gets back out to the living room, Apollo has toppled over to be horizontal on the couch. Clay puts the necessities down on the coffee table and scoops Apollo's legs up onto the couch so he isn't twisted all funny. The last thing the poor thing needs is unnecessary strain making him uncomfortable. He ruffles Apollo's hair. Apollo leans into the touch. Aww.
"Anything else I can grab you?"
"Can you sit with me? I wanna watch you play games."
"Aw, sure. What do you wanna watch?"
"I dunno. Anything's fine."
"Let's play some Odyssey, then. I'll go grab the Switch."
Apollo brightens, just like Clay thought he would. He always did like playing on Clay's Switch when they were kids. Even for Clay, it's hard not to be transported back to sleepovers, hushed giggles as they tried not to tip Clay's dad off that they were staying up late while they played games under the covers, whenever he picks it back up to replay something. He knows the memories are even more precious to Apollo, who spent so much of his adolescence struggling through foster system bullshit.
"Yeah!"
"Okay, sit tight."
When Clay comes back, Apollo has propped himself up enough to try to drink more of his shake. It dribbles out of his mouth.
"Oh, man. You got a little, uh—"
Apollo looks frustrated. "Did I miss again? I still can't feel my lower lip."
"Yeah, no, it's, um—you're fine, just let me—" Clay grabs a tissue off the box on the coffee table and wipes Apollo's face. "There you go."
"Thanks," Apollo says. He smiles, wobbly but true. "You're the best."
"No problem, sunshine," Clay says, smiling. He moves around the room, getting the Switch hooked up to the port so it will show up on the TV, before he lifts Apollo's upper body out of the way so he can slide onto the couch with him. Apollo's head ends up propped on his thigh. He helps Apollo adjust himself so there's no pressure on his cheeks, and he can easily hold the ice packs in place while seeing the screen. "Here we go."
"Let's-a go," Apollo says, in a terrible Mario impression. Clay barks out a laugh and starts the game.
"Goofball."
They don't get very far into the game before Clay is pretty sure Apollo starts to doze beside him. His breathing evens out and his weight goes limp. That's fine. He's warm and cozy, and Clay likes being someone he feels comfortable enough with to sleep around. If this is helping him feel a little better while he's in pain, Clay's satisfied. It's not like it's a hardship to sit here and play video games and be his pillow.
But the fact that he thinks Apollo's mostly asleep does mean Clay almost gets the shit scared out of him when Apollo says, suddenly, "Clay."
"Jesus!" Clay fumbles a jump and Mario goes plummeting to his doom. Oops.
"Yes, hello, hi. I thought you were napping, buddy. What's up?"
"You know you're my best friend, right?"
"Yeah? Of course."
"You know?" Apollo rolls so he's mostly on his back, looking up at Clay with big, sad doe eyes again. Clay stares back down at him, befuddled. Of course he knows. "Cause I—I know I'm kinda bitchy sometimes—"
"Aw, Apollo—"
"An' I can't help you with your smart science stuff a lot—"
"That's not—"
"An' I get really anxious and you have to babysit me sometimes an' I yell at you for it—"
"Apollo—"
"But you're really important to me and it would suck if you didn't know just 'cause I'm stupid."
"You aren't stupid," Clay says. He ruffles Apollo's hair again. Apollo's eyes slide closed, lips tugging back into the miserable little pout. "I know I'm your best friend. You're plenty nice to me. Just 'cause you're a little prickly when you're stressed doesn't mean you don't make it obvious that you care about people."
Apollo sniffles. Oh, no. Case in point, though.
"And you don't have to worry about not helping me with science stuff," Clay adds. "I know I'm not that helpful with your law stuff, either. You're way better at helping me review than I am at helping you review."
At least that makes Apollo smile a little. "Jus' easier to read formulas off notecards than legal definitions."
"You can say that again." Clay will take astrophysics over civil law any day. "Besides, you're the best hype-man I could hope for. Who else is gonna get me super pumped to go to space even though it scares the piss out of you?"
"It's so high up," Apollo whines, making Clay cackle. He never thinks about fear of heights as an issue with spaceflight until Apollo mentions it. "An' there's the whole vacuum and no air and you're just going in a tin can—"
"Don't talk about my girl Hattie like that, she's perfect."
"An' even Mr. Starbuck is nervous about it."
"And you help Sol get psyched for it too," Clay says. He pats Apollo gently on the shoulder. "Which is exactly what I'm talking about."
Apollo sighs.
"I know we're best friends, sunshine," Clay adds, more gently. "Come on. You think I would agree to live with you if I didn't know you liked me? I bet you could pull some real passive-aggressive roommate pranks if you wanted to."
Apollo huffs out a tiny laugh. "Maybe."
"There we go. We're fine, yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Say it with me. We're fine."
"We're fine."
"You're Apollo Justice and you're fine."
"I'm fine!"
"That's my boy." Mario has fallen asleep standing up on-screen. Clay is considering whether or not he should keep playing or encourage Apollo to go take a real nap when Apollo shifts beside him. Clay lifts his arms out of the way on instinct, holding the controller aloft, when Apollo braces himself on shaky arms to turn and crawl the rest of the way over to plop himself down in Clay's lap. "Wh-oa, buddy. Hi there. You want cuddles?"
"Yeah," Apollo mumbles. He drops his head onto Clay's shoulder. Clay carefully shifts his weight and settles down against the back of the couch, letting it take both of their weight. He doesn't think of Apollo as a big guy, because he's not, but geez. A whole adult human does kind of weigh a lot. Good thing Clay's been beefing up for his training. "Are you at the moon yet?"
"Nope. Only at the gardens. It hasn't been that long."
"You're gonna get to the moon someday," Apollo says, with loopy certainty. Clay almost bites down on a grin before he remembers that Apollo can't see him anymore and he can smile as much as he wants, safe from scrutiny. "You're gonna be a kickass astronaut."
"Aw, thanks, bud."
"You're really smart. And good at solving problems."
"Flatterer," Clay says, grin spreading wider. God, he wishes he'd thought to grab his phone and start recording this. Yeah, he does know he's Apollo's best friend and Apollo loves him and all that, but he sure as hell doesn't get this mushy often. It's really cute.
"You deserve it. You're the best friend in the world, Clay," Apollo declares, and promptly passes out on Clay's shoulder.
---
"Anyway," Clay finishes. He knocks back the rest of his mocha. "That's what AJ was like when he got his wisdom teeth out, so like I said. Don't be too embarrassed about it."
Klavier is laughing so hard he's almost crying, a hand slapped over his mouth to muffle the sound of it. Apollo's in the kitchen right now, cooking the three of them brunch. Hopefully the sizzle of frying eggs and sausage covers the sound of Clay's indiscretions out in the living room. Clay's dead meat if it doesn't.
"He never mentioned," Klavier manages to get out, when he finally gets himself under control. "How cute."
"It was pretty great," Clay says, fondly. "But please don't tell him I told you about that. I don't want to die before I make it to the moon, and he will actually kill me for realsies."
"Your secret is safe with me." Klavier props his chin on his hand, grinning. "Has he ever gotten quite so affectionate other times?"
"If he's drunk enough, yeah."
"I'll have to keep it in mind, then."
"S'why I told you," Clay says. He considers the sly, affectionate curl of Klavier's smile for a second before he adds, "But don't bully him too hard afterwards, or you will lose drunk Apollo privileges. Only moderate mortification allowed."
"Would he be taking the privileges away or would you?"
Clay lets his own smile go sharper. He likes Klavier just fine, and he doesn't really believe he'd be that mean to Apollo, but... well, Apollo's Clay's best friend, too. He has obligations if Apollo's boyfriend is an asshole to him. "Fuck around and find out."
"Fair enough, Herr Astronaut," Klavier says. There's a clatter of plates in the kitchen as the sizzling dies down.
"Food's ready!" Apollo hollers. Clay casts Klavier a glance; Klavier mimes zipping his lips, winking. They both push away from the table to wander into the kitchen. Apollo bustles around fixing a plate of food, a pile of hashbrowns and sausage and eggs. Klavier creeps up behind him and puts his hands over Apollo's hips. Apollo startles, almost knocking him away. His cheeks go pink.
"What do you think you're doing? Clay's literally right there."
"Don't mind me," Clay says, cheerfully. He loves having ammunition to give Apollo hell over later.
"I think he already has an inkling that we're dating, Liebling," Klavier murmurs. He leans down to kiss the top of Apollo's head. Apollo gently elbows him in the gut, pushing Klavier away as his cheeks go even redder.
"Yeah, and he's already insufferable enough about it without you hanging off me in front of him. Come on, back off."
Klavier obligingly steps back. He and Clay begin to fix their own plates. Hovering nearby, Apollo asks, suspiciously, "What were you two gossiping about out there, anyway?"
"Oh, nothing," Clay says. He smiles sweetly when Apollo narrows his eyes at him. "By the way, AJ?"
"What?"
"You're the best friend in the world."
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mimssides · 3 years
Text
Nerver Met You
Chapter 2: First Steps
The hardest steps to take are the first ones. The ones which will take us away from our past, away from our pain but also our love.
“You may stop,” Janus said as the man fell back into a defensive stance to fight off yet another soldier.
The soldiers retreated and the man looked over to Janus, his gaze filled with anticipation and a considerable amount of exhaustion. Janus had had him fight for a good hour after letting him unload the flour carriage, cleaning the stables and run the training course of the military recruits. He had been up since five in the morning and between the chores he had questioned him about his past.
The man, he still had not given him his name, not even an initial, was in his early thirties, born and lived all his life in Theana and knew far too much about their political situation for a usual commoner. Janus had also let his men run a background check over the stranger but there was no one who seemed to know or even recognize him in the slightest. Which was very weird considering how memorable and eccentric the man spoke and presented himself after Janus had gotten him to talk a little more.
With a wave of his hand Janus motioned him to come closer. With light steps, not showing how much his legs must be aching and the straightest posture Janus had ever seen, the man walked towards him and halted right before him with a curious look.
“Yes, you may speak,” Janus said without thinking why he knew that the man wanted to say something.
He wiggled his eyebrows, shimmied his shoulders and said: “What’s next, chief? Wanna see me sweat and bleed some more? I can lose some layers if you'd like.”
“Yes, because you have so many layers to lose,” Janus deadpanned looking at the tunic with no signs of an undershirt beneath it and the loose pants the man was wearing.
The man snickered and let the wooden staff he had been fighting with rest on the ground as he held himself upright with it. The view was oddly endearing even though Janus was a little annoyed.
The mysteries around this odd man really intrigued him at this point but he had no way to find out more. It was not that the man did not want to cooperate, he simply couldn’t. Several times Janus had asked him personal things and he had tried to answer just to begin to cough and hold his throat again. Which most likely meant that this man was cursed.
Which should have been enough. Which should have meant that Janus would send him on his way and not truly consider Logan’s silly request of making this man the king’s personal guard. And yet Janus was looking at this odd man once more and let himself consider it.
The picture of Patton cradled in the man’s arms reappeared in Janus’s mind and he decided to dig one last time in the man’s past for now.
“You were well-versed in calming the boy. Did you work with children in the past or how does it come that you knew exactly what to do with him?” Janus asked hoping that this was vague enough so the man could answer it.
The man’s grin disappeared and he straightened up again. Alerted Janus watched as he for the first time didn’t meet his gaze and looked down to the side. He was biting his lips and clenching and unclenching his fist before he stretched his fingers and looked back at Janus again.
His voice was rather raw as he said: “I didn’t work with children but I was a kid once too and – I've seen some shit as a kid. I’ve been through trauma and I remember how hard it was a s a kid to deal with it, so I tried to help him the way I wished someone would have helped me.”
Janus gulped. Something twisted in his stomach as he forced his expression to remain neutral and told him: “I apologize that I had you revisit those memories. And for the record, I am sorry you had to go through this alone. You might not know it but despite my untrusting nature I do believe that every person deserves support in their times of need.”
The man faintly smiled.
“I did know. And thank you for your compassion but I wasn’t alone. I had my -”
***
 Today was a mournful anniversary for Theana. It had been a year since the assassination of the king and queen and Janus was walking towards Crown Prince Roman’s quarters, since he had rung the bell for him. He needed to get there quickly; Roman was not one to send for him or anybody for the matter.
 The Crown Prince had been reclusive and antisocial during the year of mourning and had not spoken a single word with anybody since that day. Janus had tried to get him help, had asked █████ to help him with it but █████ had denied him. He insisted to give Roman space and leave him be despite it breaking his heart.
 Janus frowned. █████ was suffering under his ███████’s silence. Roman was the only blood family had been left and his previously so sunny and loud personality was lacking immensely within the castle walls. As the Royal Advisor, Janus knew he had to get Roman back to health again, since █████’s psyche would otherwise decline even more. This first year as a child ████ had been so hard on him and he needed some semblance of hope. And he needed it soon.
 Janus forced a neutral expression on his face before he knocked on the door and waited for the small bell to chime once which meant one could enter. The bell chimed and Janus entered.
 On the cushions on the bay window Roman sat and stared outside. As Janus approached, he turned his face towards him, without meeting his eyes, and slowly got up. Just like █████ he had had a growth spurt and no longer looked like a child but like an adolescent. He was tall for a thirteen-year-old, rather slim and was wearing a black tunic and pants, as every day since his parents’ death.
 Patiently, Janus waited. It usually took some time until Roman made known what he wanted and Janus dared to wait as long as needed. Then Roman lifted his hand and brought it up towards his lips with a small gesture. Janus nodded and asked to confirm: “You wish for some water, Your Royal Highness?”
 Roman nodded and Janus got the water carafe from the tray in corner of the room. Quietly, he filled it with water and gave it a short once over with his eye of truth to make sure it wasn’t poisoned and then handed it Roman.
 Graciously, Roman took it and sipped a few tiny sips as Janus stepped back and watched him intently. The work he did here was not the one of the Royal Advisor but one of a guardian or a servant. But then again, Janus was still a child himself, many of his more complex duties were still taken care of by his father.
 Because Janus still had a father to take care of the complicated and dangerous tasks the court had in stall for him. And while Janus felt grateful for it, he also felt guilty the longer he looked at █████ and Roman in their his position. Especially on a day like this. And thinking of the many things he still had to do, he was about to bow in front of his Crown Prince and excuse himself to leave when Roman raised his hand as a sign for him to wait.
 And so, Janus waited. He watched as Roman opened his mouth, quietly cleared his throat and took again a sip of water before he at once looked up and for the first time in a year met Janus’s eyes.
 A shiver ran down Janus’s spine. There was a force and might behind the gesture that was inexplicable to him.
 “I will attend to the speech and the mourning festivities. Tell my ███████ I will stand by his side,” Roman spoke with a voice far stronger and slightly deeper than Janus had remembered him speaking before.
 Never had Janus thought that on this terrible day something good, no something so wonderful, could happen. He didn’t even care that tears were rolling over his cheeks and that his whole body was shaking in front of a member of the Royal Family. He especially didn’t care as Roman’s pulled his brows slightly upwards and a faint smile decorated his lips.
 Quietly, Roman walked up to Janus and put his hand on his shoulder. A gentle squeeze and a deep breath.
 “Am I understood?” Roman said ever so softly.
 Eagerly, Janus bowed his head and excused himself as Roman turned towards the window again. The moment Janus had left the room, he began sprinting down the hall towards █████’s quarters. With tears of joy still dripping of his cheeks he passed by the guards and ignored their calls to stop and stormed into █████’s room, where he was preparing his garments for the festivities.
 With furrowed brows █████ eyed Janus and stepped away from the tailor who had been making the last adjustments for his outfit. He waited for Janus to catch his breath and the young Royal Advisor sloppily wiped his face and tried to compose himself.
 As Janus took his time, █████ grew antsy and eventually asked him before he could stop himself: “What happened?”
 Janus looked up. There stood his ████ in a black tunic and black pants just like Roman had worn this morning as well. His hair was just as curly, the eyes just as green, even the face was just the same. And yet Janus had never mistaken him for Roman.
 “Your ███████-” Janus panted and saw █████’s face fall and added hastily - “He spoke! He said he would attend to the festivities and be by your side.”
 Janus did not complain as █████ simply stormed out of the room. He followed despite his burning lungs and more guards shouting. And he knew it was all worth it when he watched █████ reaching Roman’s room and enter without knocking. He knew it would be alright when █████ flung himself in Roman’s arms and cried into the nape of his neck as Roman quietly told him that it was okay.
***
A coughing fit, far worse than those before overcame the man and Janus stepped to his side to stroke his back in a calming manner. The man quickly put on hand on Janus’s shoulder to steady himself as the coughs slowly subsided and he found himself breathing normally again. As he finally had finished, Janus let one of the guards bring him some water and the two of them walked to the edge of the training ring and sat down on a bench.
The man was breathing heavily and his hands were shaking from the coughing fit. Almost Janus reached over to him and help him drink from the glass so he would not spill the water but stopped himself in the last moment. This was ridiculous. He didn’t know this man, he was a stranger and a potential threat. He was not supposed to care about him and help him out on a whim, Janus reminded himself and shook his head.
“I think this is enough for now,” Janus said and stood up.
The man wanted to follow suit and but Janus stopped with the words: “You have deserved a break after the assessment. I will talk with the king about your position and will let you know what we decided soon after. You may now return to your quarter and wait there for the next orders.”
The man gaped. Janus could imagine why; he was not known to be merciful or kind. He had always been harsh and demanding unlike Roman, who he had supported during all of his life and had always been warm-hearted and forgiving despite the lessons life had taught him. Janus had needed to protect the too pure man and it had made him cynical and cautious. But there was something in this stranger that awoke just the same protective instinct which usually kicked in when Roman was around.
“Seize this moment of my sentimentality, stranger,” Janus said sharply under his breath knowing fully well that his left eye was glowing golden, “for it will not come upon you again. Enjoy your break and make sure that I won’t have to regret this. Otherwise, you will pay for it.”
A nod followed and Janus left the training grounds. The man watched as he instructed a few guards to bring him back to his quarters and he followed as the led him back there. Not that he needed their guidance to find the place.
Quarters was a generous name for a square room with a kitchenette, a table with a chair, a closet and a bed. There was a small bathroom with a toilet and a water faucet where he had freshened up last night. Judging his sweat drenched clothes, he would need to go to the baths for the soldiers which would be an interesting experience for him.
With a sigh he sat down on his chair and ruffled through his curly hair. What was he doing? Why did he come back to the castle? This was torture to him and it wouldn’t do him any good to stick around here any longer. He should leave. He really should leave before the prince would come to the castle. After that he would be hopelessly lost.
Tock, tock.
The man listened up. With furrowed brows he stared at the door.
Tock, tock.
Now it sounded like a question somehow and the man decided to answer and got up.
“Yes?” he asked and opened the door to not see anybody stand in front of it.
A tiny cough sent the man’s eyes looking downwards and there he found Patton standing in front of his door. The little boy looked up at him with a shy smile and before the man knew it, he crouched down to his eye level and returned the smile brightly.
“Hello Patton! It’s so nice to see you again,” the man said softly and Patton giggled a little.
“It’s nice to see you too! I was looking for you in the whooooole outer courtyard! It’s very big, and my legs aren’t very long so it took me a while to search it all,” Patton whispered quickly and leaned forward as if he was telling a secret.
“I see,” the man stage whispered back to Patton’s amusement. “How did you find me?”
“I asked one of the guards! She was very nice and said it was very nice of me to come and thank you for saving me.”
The man’s expression shifted. He looked surprised and Patton furrowed his little brows at that. Why was his saviour surprised? Was it that unusual to ask guards for help? Didn’t grownups ask for directions as well? How did they not get lost all the time?
“You want to thank me?”
Patton was very confused now. Why was this grownup so confused that someone would thank him for helping them? That didn’t make any sense!
“You don’t make any sense! Of course, I want to thank you!” Patton said and put his hands on the man’s knees causing him to look at him with big eyes. “You were very nice to me and saved me and are very cool and I didn’t thank you and you’re supposed to thank people for helping you and I forgot because Sir Will Suffice told Ms Anouilh that we can go and I was still a little scared from suddenly being no longer on the street and that’s why I came now to make it right!”
The man still looked a little surprised but now he seemed more relaxed and he was smiling and Patton really like this man’s smile. He really, really liked him.
“That is very kind of you, Patton. I feel honoured that you came all the way to my tiny quarters just to thank me,” the man said and Patton beamed at him.
Happily, Patton jumped on the spot and told the man: “It’s no problem! And I didn’t even thank you yet!”
The man chuckled as Patton stepped back and bowed before him and said: “Thank you very much for saving me yesterday, Mr …”
Patton looked up and frowned. The man tilted his head in question until he suddenly got what was most likely the problem.
“I have not even asked for your name! That’s very not polite of me!” Patton whined tears forming in his eyes.
Reacting quickly, the man shot forward and put his hand on Patton’s shoulder. He smiled at him and wrecked his brain of how to console him most efficiently and how he would explain to him that he was unable to tell him his name without upsetting the emotional kid any further.
Eventually the man settled: “It’s alright, Patton. I’m not hurt that you didn’t ask for my name. You had other very scary things in your mind and if I was you, I might have forgotten to ask something like that as well.”
Patton calmed a little and rubbed his eyes dry. He didn’t see it but the man gave him a proud look for calming down so quickly. Patiently, he waited for Patton to finish collecting himself until he was ready to finally ask: “So, can you tell me your name now, mister?”
The man bit his bottom lip. He could not lie to this child. He simply couldn’t give him a fake name.
“I really want to,” the man said a bit shaky, “but I can. Like I really, really can’t.”
Patton frowned adorably and shook his head.
“Do you not know your name then?”
“I do know my name.”
“But you cannot say it?”
“No, I cannot say it.”
Patton mused for a second.
“Can you write it down?”
The man thought for a moment as well.
“I don’t think so. Can you already read?”
“Not well, but I can read the letters of my name! There is a P, an A, two T’s, an O and an N! That's six letters because there are two T’s!” Patton explained excitedly and the man giggled.
And as the man giggled Patton had an idea.
“We could make up a name for you! Because everyone should have a name and making up things if fun!” Patton exclaimed and the man’s expression grew even softer.
“That’s a great idea, Patton. What name would you think should I have?”
Patton pressed his pointer finger against his forehead to make the thoughts come faster. With a serious expression he looked all over the man to find his first clue.
“You’ve got curly hair like me but it’s brown, which isn’t super rare though. So, we can’t call you Curly or Brown, I think.”
“Very well deducted.”
“Mhm. Soooo -” Patton looked into the man’s eyes and for the first time noticed their colour - “green! You’ve got very pretty green eyes! I like green second best after pink, so that would be a very good name, I think!”
A smile spread on the grownup’s face and at once he pulled Patton into his arms and quickly jumped to his feet, eliciting a joyful shout from the boy. With a big smile he tickled Patton’s belly and the boy giggled hysterically. Eventually, the man stopped torturing Patton and safely placed his arm under his butt and the other over the little boys back to hold him securely, as Patton slung his legs around the man’s waist and his arms around his neck.
“I really, really like that name, Patton. Thank you so much for giving me such a pretty name,” Green said and watched Patton look at him with stars in his eyes.
“You are welcome,” Patton said proudly. “And thank you for saving me yesterday Mr Green.”
Green pushed some of Patton’s curls out of his face and simply smiled. Something about this little kid in his arms made him inexplicably weak and he wanted nothing more than hold him tight in his arms.
“You don’t smell very nice.”
Green could not help but chuckle as he looked in Patton’s displeased little face and ruffled his hair. With a playful brow wiggle Green shook the boy before he put him back down on the floor.
“Well, apparently you were saved by a stinky old man, huh? What a bad luck you’ve got, kid!” Green joked but Patton did not look very amused.
In fact, Patton looked almost like he was going to chide Green any second now. And then he actually did chide him: “This is not funny Mr Green! You want to smell nice and look nice! It’s very important! You need to look after yourself!”
“Oh, it’s very important?” Green gently said and Patton nodded intently.
“Yes, it is! Mrs Rose, she takes care of us in the orphanage, always says that! It’s because people will like us better when we look proper and take care of ourselves and then we get a new home and maybe a softer bed and maybe, maybe goodnight kisses and hugs, so you need to go to the baths and clean yourself! It’s super important!”
Green blinked. He pressed his lips into a firm line, brows furrowing and inhaled slowly. Then his face relaxed again and he let himself sit down in the door frame while still looking down at Patton. At once Green was very tired and it took a toll on him to keep smiling but he did it anyway.
“I see, but I’m not supposed to leave this room, kid. Also, I haven’t been to a – the bathhouse here, so I don’t know where it is and what rules to follow,” Green explained patiently.
That statement did not seem to satisfy Patton. Before Green could ask what he was thinking, the little boy had turned around and ran towards one of the guards close to the stables and talked with them as he pointed towards Green. And just moments later Patton turned back around and ran to Green with very determined look in those little eyes.
“Get some spare clothes and your towel! Mrs Guard has allowed me to show you the baths because you are stinky and need a bath and because she trusts me because I am very reliable,” Patton announced.
Green gaped. He simply gaped at the audacity from little Patton. From this boy that was looking at him with the biggest eyes and more certainty than Green had felt in the last 48 hours combined. And in his surprise, he went to grab some clothes he had been given, a towel and then took Patton’s hand, who led him happily towards the baths. Idly chattering Patton talked to him and greeted whomever was passing them until they reached the bathhouse.
Green stopped. He didn’t know what to do next. He had seen this place many times from the outside but never from within. Everything was a lot right now and he felt overwhelmingly lonely and clueless in this moment.
“I can come with you if you want.”
The voice he heard came from his side and finally Green remembered Patton who was still holding his hand and looking up at him with these trustworthy eyes. This most likely should be the point where Green should have told Patton that it was fine and that he should go back to Ms Anouilh in the weaving mill. But he didn’t.
Instead, he squeezed Patton’s hand and said quietly: “That would be very nice of you, kid. I’m - I’m a bit lost on my own right now. But you don’t have to if you don’t want.”
Patton smiled and pulled Green behind himself while he answered and led them to the dressing room before the baths.
“Oh, I don’t like bath time a lot, but it’s always much funnier with others around and you are fun and I like to help, so this is fun too!”
The bath was mostly empty as it was early afternoon and most soldiers didn’t shower during that time, so Green and Patton could take their time. And they needed that as Patton explained exactly how Green needed to get in line, when many people wanted a bath and how to put away his dry clothes in one of the lockers so they didn’t get wet. He did all of it with much passion and Green had a good time as the kid and he undressed and went inside. Quietly, he made sure that Patton washed all the soap out of his hair when they had finished and helped him dry himself once they got back to put on their clothes.
Not once Patton stopped talking and not once Green felt alone again. It was no surprise to him anymore, when he asked Patton if he wanted a snack after helping him out, that the little boy agreed with a bright smile. And so, they went back into his little quarter and he found some eggs, salt, milk and pepper in his kitchenette to make them some scrambled eggs. Patton at first insisted that this was only breakfast food but came around quickly, when Green allowed him to turn on the stove and help him make sure that the frying pan got hot enough before they put the eggs inside the pan.
A couple of minutes later Patton and Green could sit down and eat their meal. Patton talked the whole way through, Green not thinking of reminding him to close his mouth when he was chewing. This kid seemed to have so much to talk about and he was more than willing to listen. And Green liked how his words filled the room and his head and his heart. He liked how he didn’t feel so forlorn with Patton around and he hoped that he did a good job of taking care of him in return. He did not want him to get used by him. He just wanted to see this tiny face be happy and the boy being save. It’s all he wanted. At least in that very moment.
As they finished, Green put their plates away and then went to wipe Patton’s face with a napkin he found in one of the drawers. Patton wasn’t that happy about it but soon forgave him, when he scooped him up from his chair and let him sit on the table as he hugged him tightly. For a moment Green was close to cry but it passed and he relished in the embrace Patton clearly enjoyed as well.
Tock, tock.
Green frowned and softly pulled out of their hug which caused Patton to whine a little. He shot him an apologizing look and went to the door. Subconsciously, he fixed his posture and opened it to meet the gaze with the guard, who had let Patton bring him to the bathhouse. He bowed his head and kept his mouth shut waiting for her words.
“I was sent by the Royal Advisor. I am here to inform you that you have passed your evaluation and will be instructed to your new duties first thing in the morning, if you wish to pursue the position,” she said firmly but not unkindly.
It took a moment for the information to settle. Janus and Logan had spoken and agreed to keep him around. It left him feeling so many things at once yet his face remained blank. He licked his lips slowly and nodded his head.
“Thank you for this chance. I will be ready in the morning to receive my instructions,” Green answered dutifully.
The guard raised her eyebrows and angled her head slightly. He mirrored her not quite knowing what her in thoughts were in the hopes he might maybe understand her through mimicking.
But it didn’t help him to anticipate the next thing she said: “So, you accept?”
“I- I don’t have much choice, do I? With no permit in a time where King Gerogy is a real bitch I have to accept any leniency that is shown to me.”
Green’s hand shot in front of his mouth. That was too direct. He shouldn’t have said that. Jan was right, he really needed to watch his words better, this would cost his head. This would mark the end of him.
And then it didn’t.
The guard laughed and she shook her head.
“You were given a choice without any attachments. You can deny or accept and will not face any form of punishment. It’s the king’s will.”
The king’s will.
How had Green ever doubted Logan?
Green bowed his head and felt Patton hold onto his leg as he came from behind. There was so much he needed to protect. So much that meant the world to him.
“Then I will be honoured to accept this position,” Green said and bowed deeply.
___
Link for AO3, Taglist, Masterlist, and next Chapters are in my first reblog!
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misssophiachase · 3 years
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For @klarolinefallbingo - “Slutty Halloween Costume”
This is more sexy Halloween costume to me. Caroline is heading out for Halloween with her friends but Klaus has other ideas after seeing her chosen costume. 
The Cat’s Meow
31 October, Atlanta GA
“So, I’m going to head out,” Caroline called from the hallway, grabbing her keys and purse in the process after a brief glance in the mirror. 
An exorbitant amount of leopard print. Check.
Ears. Check.
Tail. Check.
An abundance of bare skin. Check. 
Perfect.
But she was still running late and the last thing she needed was a barrage of texts and calls from her two best friends about her delayed ETA. They were doing the group costume thing this year and if she wasn’t there it wouldn’t have the optimal effect as Bonnie insisted. 
Truth be told, if Klaus hadn’t hijacked her mid-shower she would have been ready much sooner. Her boyfriend had the ability to make time stand still in the best possible way. Plus, he had a mouth and accompanying tongue that could perform miracles. 
Multiple times over. 
Luckily their neighbours didn’t live too close and the glass shower screen could sustain some extra force. Unfortunately, the hot water running out was out of their control. 
They’d met nine months earlier. She’d begrudgingly accepted Katherine’s invite to an art gallery opening. Not because she wanted to but because her friend had the ability to nag her senseless if she’d declined. 
Caroline wasn’t an art aficionado but on arrival she immediately loved what she saw. She even bought one piece until the artist in question backed out of the sale. Apparently he couldn’t part with it and that had led to a war of words over email.
Then, he appeared unannounced to make his case in person. Turns out the emails were just foreplay and his extra curricular talents more than lived up to his professional ones. 
What Caroline didn’t expect months later was that her live-in boyfriend would be so against Halloween. He was an artist so she assumed it was already deeply ingrained in his psyche. But he complained he was British and didn’t do dress-up.
Caroline celebrated every holiday, most would say to the extreme, but she maintained that was just her over abundance of enthusiasm. Then she came up with a secret plan to make her boyfriend realise just how good Halloween could be.  
“Aren’t you going to come say goodbye first?” He asked, his low drawl causing a few places to stir even after their prolonged workout. 
She made her way towards his art studio, the fluttering in her stomach not lost on Caroline. She didn’t think there’d ever be a time when he didn’t cause those feelings. 
Her black, high heels clicked on the floorboards as she rounded the corner. 
For a guy who wasn’t partaking in Halloween festivities, he certainly looked the part of the tortured artist. Denim jeans riding low on his hips and a bare chest marred with a few stray paint splatters. 
Why was she going out again?
“Holy,” he cursed, his dark, blue eyes devouring every single inch of her ensemble. There was no mistaking his views on her costume. Caroline was trying to work out where exactly the tingling feeling was emanating from but couldn’t pinpoint given her current state. 
Not that she’d admit that to him. This was her plan after all. 
“You like?” She asked, a knowing smirk crossing her face. She even executed a pirouette to further accentuate every single arsenal she possessed. “I know you don’t really get into Halloween but Kat, Bonnie and I decided to go as Josie and the Pussycats.” 
“Well, I mean,” he stammered, his paintbrush clattering to the ground. His palette only saved with a delayed catch by the artist. “It’s, uh, it’s..”
“I’m playing…”
“Melody Valentine,” he replied, his husky tone not lost on Caroline. The crimson lips she knew so well had taken on a life of their own or was that her imagination?
“I didn’t know you were a fan,” she lied. 
She’d ‘accidentally’ seen his sketches from high school that he kept in a box in the closet. Every adolescent male had a comic book crush and she’d discovered his last month. Now, she was the living, breathing version of it. 
“I better get going.”
“You can’t go out like that,” he insisted, ditching his art supplies and walking purposefully towards her. 
“Oh, really? And why not?” He stopped briefly, shoving his hands in his pocket, clearly trying to work out a plausible response. He knew just how much she hated those kinds of overbearing men. 
“It’s, uh, cold out, I wouldn’t want you to catch something, love. Maybe a jacket might help?”    
“Oh, I checked and it’s going to be a mild 73 degrees,” she offered. “I should go, the girls are waiting and we are a trio.”
“Maybe I should come along,” he blurted out. 
Now, that she didn’t expect so soon. 
“Really?” She squealed excitedly. “I did get you a leopard loincloth just in case you changed your mind.”
“Loincloth,” he gulped. 
“Well, I figured Tarzan might be a good addition to the pussycats. You can never have enough leopard print especially on Halloween.”
“I’m,” he stumbled. She could see the confusion in his eyes and suddenly felt bad. Apparently her charms had worked too well. 
Plus, it wasn’t his fault he didn’t get into Halloween like she did. She figured this was the compromise step couples talked about. 
“How about,” she smiled, moving closer and looping her arms around his neck. “I go to this party with my friends as promised and then, when I get home, we celebrate together?”
“Well, every artist needs their muse, love,” he smirked, pulling her closer and nuzzling into her neck. She could feel his arousal rubbing against her teasingly and was willing herself to behave. “So, I want you to pose for me later.”
“Only if you wear the loincloth while doing it,” she grinned knowingly.
“I think that could be arranged, love.”
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piracytheorist · 3 years
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A Kiss for Good Luck (8/15)
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Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.
A/N: This will hurt. I am sorry.
Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3) Warnings: This chapter contains character death, some depictions of violence, depictions of poor and unhealthy coping mechanisms, as well as a toxic relationship. Any intercourse and physical touch in general is fully consensual, but emotionally the relationship may appear upsetting to some. Also there are some elements that may resemble emotional self-harm.
Word count for this chapter: 4k (48k in total) AO3
Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3
~
Chapter 8: Killian Jones, October 19th 2011 – October 24th 2015
The kiss is deeper than he expected. Killian pushes the woman back, but gently. He was the one who gave her permission to kiss him, after all.
"I thought it would be a quick kiss. I have a girlfriend."
Her brows are going wild. "Shit. Sorry."
He's so stupid. What would Milah think? "'Salright. Go pee."
"Yes. That,” she slurs. “Thank you again."
Just as the woman closes the bathroom door behind her, Milah appears above him.
“You okay?” she says.
He looks at her confused, before he realizes it's not that normal to sit on the floor while at a club. “Yeah,” he says. “Just very, very drunk.”
She gives him her hand, he takes it, then she starts pulling at him. “Let's go outside for some air. There's too much smoke in here.”
“I wanna pee!”
She drags him up. “You can pee outside! Let's go!”
It feels better outside. The cool, clean air wakes him up a bit.
Milah throws her arms around Killian's neck and pulls him to lean his forehead on hers. He smells the martini in her breath, landing hot against his lips.
He closes his eyes. He could stay like this forever, and how he wishes this moment lasted that long...
“How sweet,” a sharp voice says from the side.
They turn together to see Gold staring at them, his hands crossed on the handle of his cane. There's two big guys flanking him, and Killian pulls Milah aside, stepping in front of her.
“What do you want?” Killian says.
“I did wait,” Gold says. “I held back, let you take my wife away from me.”
“Shut up,” Milah says, moving to Killian's side. “Our marriage was over long before I met Killian.”
Gold looks at her, hand grabbing the cane hard.
“You... you followed us here?” Milah says, suddenly realizing. “What the hell? Where's Jack?”
“You have no right to ask about him,” Gold says and takes a brisk step forward. “You went against my conditions for meeting him. You brought that bastard with you!”
Milah flinches, and Killian's left hand grabs onto hers.
“And you?” Gold looks at him. “Going behind my back to take my son on your side? Trying to buy his love?” His face seems to barely contain his rage as he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a handgun.
Killian's hand squeezes Milah's as his other one raises up in defense. “Whoa, Gold, wait-”
Gold shoots.
Though Killian’s ears are ringing from the exploding sound, he hears Milah's trembling sigh. It feels like it's hours later that he turns to look at her, eyes going straight for the growing red spot on her chest.
And then she's falling.
“No,” he whispers and holds her, gently breaking her fall.
Her eyes are moving wildly, then she coughs and a thin trail of blood runs from the corner of her lips.
“No, no. Milah...”
She focuses on him. “I love you,” she whispers. She gasps one last time, then she's limp in his arms.
It's like even more hours pass. He feels her hot blood staining his hands.
Her eyes are closed. She's not breathing. Only her blood moves, dripping out of her body even though her heart has stopped beating.
“No,” he says.
He hears the tapping sound of a cane, and he looks up to see Gold standing above him, gun aimed at him. His henchmen also aim their handguns at him.
“What are you waiting for?” Killian says. “Finish it.”
What else can he say? It's not as if he'd leave him to tell the tale.
“Oh, no. You won't be so lucky,” Gold says, but he doesn't move.
Killian manages to hold himself back only long enough to set Milah down gently, then he lunges at Gold, grabbing the gun.
It all happens in half a second.
Gold shoots, Killian's ears are ringing again, and he sees two fingers fly off in a sudden fountain of blood.
He drops down to his knees. His left hand hangs limp in a way no hand should. The thumb and index finger are missing, and there's a gaping crescent hole, starting under his middle finger and reaching to the middle of his wrist.
The pain hits him suddenly and a scream erupts from his throat.
His vision comes and goes; one moment Gold is standing above him, the next Killian is leaning over Milah, the blood spilling from his hand onto her unmoving body.
There's more people screaming; people shouting; sirens, blue and red lights...
Then white. So much white.
Killian is just three days younger of twenty-eight when he once again thinks how he's cursed.
Milah is dead, there is no doubt about that. His hand was amputated, and he has to spend a whole week in the hospital before the doctors clear him for a transatlantic flight.
In the meantime he learns that Milah's body was sent back to England, per Gold's request.
At first, he finds it impossible; but the cops who'd questioned him about the assault soon inform him that Gold has solid alibi in London at the time of the murder.
Killian almost shuts down in the week he has to spend in there; Gold must have stolen Killian's phone before fleeing the scene of the crime, and Killian has no way of contacting Nemo, and he didn't let him know the specifics of his trip in the first place, like when exactly his return trip would’ve been.
If Nemo had known, he would have worried after not getting any news from Killian the day he was supposed to return. He would have contacted hospitals, would have found out about the assault. Probably would even honor Killian's request to attend Milah's funeral in his place, if Killian had the guts to actually ask him for that.
And to top it all, Nemo's phone at home is out of order. Why didn't he ever bother memorizing his cell phone? Now all Killian can do is lie in his hospital bed and do his damnedest to avoid looking at where his left hand is no more.
The blasted week goes by; Killian spends the rest of his savings into a new return trip, the only one he can afford has two stops in between.
He's dead tired, hungry, with fresh dog crap under his sole, and somehow he's not surprised to see his apartment has flooded.
It's three in the morning and he contemplates walking through the ankle-deep water anyway and collapsing in his bed.
He stands so long in front of the open door of his apartment that eventually the downstairs neighbor comes to complain about water dripping into his place.
One call to the fire department later, Killian picks up his two bags – he didn't have the heart to throw Milah's stuff away – and takes a taxi to Nemo's place.
Nemo obviously got out of bed to let Killian in, and of course, he asks Killian what happened.
It's like he's seventeen again, unable to react to one of the most life-changing news he ever received, only the opposite, in the most grim way that he never dared imagine.
He's hiding his handless arm inside his jacket pocket and silently walks the stairs up to his old bedroom. He doesn't answer Nemo's questions next morning, he doesn't even sit down to get breakfast. He goes straight to the lawyer Milah had during her divorce.
Gold is paying people to give false testimony, and Killian is gonna take him down.
Too consumed in his own hatred for the man, the whole week he spent planning his comeback he didn't think of the problems the lawyer is listing now; Killian was drunk – as evidenced by hospital records – enough for his testimony to be considered debatable; he also has motive to want to get back at Gold, stronger than Gold's motive to kill his unfaithful wife three whole years post their divorce which concluded in his favour; and of course, one has to prove first that Gold's witnesses are lying before questioning Gold's alibi of more than five thousand kilometers away from the scene of the crime.
Killian doesn't return to Nemo's place. His own apartment stinks, damp and moldy, half of his furniture and appliances were ruined, but at least his bed is functioning, and he can't deal with Nemo's sympathy right now.
He needs to take Gold down. He can't have any more distractions.
It takes him a month to remember his therapist. He checks his emails for the first time since the assault, and he feels he loses another part of him at the news of his therapist moving towns to study for a doctorate; she's suggested other therapists at him, followed by two more emails of asking if everything is okay, then nothing.
Killian looks at the names and phones of the suggested therapists as if they're threats to his consciousness. He actually laughs. Dr. Eriksen had him since before he was even an adult and she knew everything about his fucked-up adolescence. Where would he even begin with someone new?
He deletes the email.
For two years, his whole life centers around finding weak spots in Gold's armour. He quits from Shakespeare's boat rental and works at stock in the harbor. It's a tough, time-consuming job, but it keeps him in view of the sea and gets his mind off his pain. Alcohol takes over that job in his time off.
He stops drawing; Milah used to draw with him and it nearly breaks him to pick up a pencil to sketch. The last thing he sketches is the design for the tattoo with her name on it that is soon permanently inked on his arm.
Two years of trying, as much as his exhausted psyche and a mind always leaning towards booze can handle, and the best he manages is to break into Gold's house, hack through his computer and locate some suspicious activity between Gold's bank account and the one of one of his witnesses.
Thirteen years of no spots in his criminal record mean nothing to the law when there are spots in it in the first place, and he's arrested for breaking and entering.
Nemo responds to Killian's call to bail him out, even though Killian has barely spoken to him in two years. However, the disappointment is, for the first time since Killian met him, visible on his face.
“It's your decision,” Nemo tells him after Killian is out. “Your path to choose, and your life to ruin.”
If it were anyone else, Killian would be flipping him off. But Nemo is the one who took Killian in as an assortment of broken pieces and put him back together, loving and patient all throughout. The one who has always been too good to be called a mere father.
“It's not just wanting to get back at that bastard,” Killian says, nearly shouting. At Nemo's small flinch, Killian breathes in and out. Among all his losses, it's the first one that has filled him with such rage. “That monster killed her in cold blood. And he's out there now, not paying for his crime-”
His voice is too unsteady now to accommodate shouting.
“It's not just personal. He killed her-” A soft sob breaks his sentence in half. “-and he's walking free.”
“The world is not fair,” Nemo says in a very soft voice, hand resting on Killian's shoulder. “Come home, son. This isn't what you need right now.”
“No. I need to see him behind bars.”
“You need to grieve.”
Killian scoffs, laughing mirthlessly. “It's been two years.”
“Exactly.”
He drops his gaze. If he looks at Nemo's face right now, he may crumble, and his efforts of two years – albeit not very successful – will be rendered pointless. The time he lost, the damage he's done to himself, to his relationships with everyone, Nemo, Shakespeare, Will and Tink, it will all be for nothing.
And worst of all, he'll be yet another one who will do Milah wrong. If he gives up, he'll be doing to her nothing better than what Gold did, and the very thought sickens him.
There's only one thing he changes. His drinking has reached new levels, and he needs, if nothing else, to survive in order to bring Gold down. So for now, AA meetings are something.
At first, he only talks about how he manages to stay clean, how he slips and how he tries to not beat himself up over it. His fifth meeting is on a particularly bad day; the story of watching the love of his life die slips from him, and across the circle he gets looks of pity that he hates.
If only he told everyone about the furious thoughts for revenge on Milah's murderer that have been plaguing his every waking thought for the past two years.
He slumps in his seat and stays silent for the rest of the meeting. He shouldn't have come today, he should have known he would be too emotional to think rationally before speaking.
The meeting ends and he's already made up his mind to look into other AA groups before he even exits the building.
“Excuse me,” a voice calls at him.
He turns. It's Eloise Gardener, one of the attendees.
“On the last meeting you mentioned that mental activities keep your thoughts away,” she says.
“Yeah?”
“I'm hosting gardening classes, two evenings a week at the Bare Feet Greenhouse. I thought I could invite you to join, they're already quite cheap and I'll give you a discount.”
“Your name is Gardener, innit?”
She smiles. “And I am a gardener. Shocking, I know. But I've found it's a good distraction, especially knowing you're taking care of a life. You get the satisfaction without committing to... raising a child, let's say.”
Killian decides it's worth a try; unlike the AA meetings, raising a plant actually has visible proof of progress.
He stops coming to the meetings, but Eloise doesn't ask him why. She teaches him and guides him through providing a good environment for his plants.
One night after class, she helps him move the pots with his grown plants to his apartment. He doesn't truly invite her in, and when she initiates a kiss with him, he takes a few seconds of thinking before he realizes he doesn't mind that much.
It's just fuck, and Eloise doesn't seem to be thinking it's anything deeper than he does.
If he thinks it's any deeper, he'll just be haunted again by that miserable thought, that the last person he kissed before Milah died was not Milah herself, but a random stranger whose face he wasn't even sober enough to remember.
Eloise leaves and within minutes, he's left as well to search for any open store that sells booze. Rain is pouring down, cars splash him until he's soaking wet, but he finally gives up when he trips and falls, his leg hurting too much to take him too much further.
Even the couple of hours he stays in the hospital while they put a walking cast on him feel unbearable. Two years have gone by and the memories of hospital misery are still too raw.
Eloise doesn't comment on the cast nor his continued absence from the AA meetings. She invites him to her place and after they have sex he asks if he can stay the night. That way it's much easier to avoid looking for a drink to deal with how disgusted he feels.
Even the other people attending the gardening lessons wouldn't imagine Eloise and Killian are sleeping together – and Killian is attending two different classes side by side. Not that there's anything to show for it. They just fuck, sleep in the same bed, and that's all. She keeps him from running out for a drink in the middle of the night, better than any AA meeting managed, he gives her a person to have control over the way she wants, and they scratch each other's itches.
Nemo keeps trying to stay in touch with him, and Killian nearly blocks his number out of pure shame. Perhaps if Nemo realizes he's been blocked he'll stop bothering.
Killian has practically moved in with Eloise now, or she with him; in any case, they'll sleep in the same bed every night, whether it's the one in Killian's apartment or the one in Eloise's house.
He cannot connect who he was before with who he is with Eloise now. Before Nemo even adopted him officially, Killian had allowed him to pick up his pieces and make him a functional human. With Milah, it was Killian who was the whole, the rock she could lean on.
With Eloise, he can once again be broken, but without any expectation to get fixed back up – and he's too tired for unrealistic expectations. He can stay the mess that he is, sharing his body and his space with her so that he can feel something, even when the feeling isn't the best. Eloise is controlling and demanding, and Killian's feelings for her range from fear to disgust, but he prefers those over pain, grief, rage, and a continuously burning thirst.
It's easier to hate his... “partner” than to hate everything else in his life, including himself.
He's actually shocked to realize two years have passed since his first time with Eloise, and nothing at all has changed. Their feelings didn't change towards one way or another; they just kept fucking, sleeping next to each other, and going by their day without thinking about each other.
He almost hates it when she asks him to ride with her to a concert in Maidstone. Not only because she's making ensuring no-one assaults her sound like a chore, but also because he's still not ready to enjoy music he used to love. Especially not in her presence. Being in her company is not a circumstance that fits happy thoughts.
There's a lot of things he's been denying himself since Milah died. Everything that used to make him happy, even the company of his family, feels sullied now.
He doesn't expect to enjoy the concert. But Eloise buys his ticket and drives the car, so he decides that he can tolerate one night of being a boy toy to discourage sleazebags.
It doesn't even feel that special that his birthday is tomorrow; he lost Liam a few days after his fifteenth birthday, and Milah a few days before his twenty-eighth. Maybe it's just not in the cards for him to celebrate it again.
For three whole hours, he forgets everything. There's just the music, and the lights, and his throat getting sore from singing without a care.
There is, of course, the occasional groping, people stepping on his feet, even getting an elbow to the ribs, but for him it's all par of the course now. Including checking his pockets afterwards and realizing that twenty pounds are missing. And Eloise being... well, Eloise.
“You were supposed to stand by my side,” she starts complaining after the concert is over and people start dispersing.
“I can assure you I was touched against my consent far more than you were.”
“Is that supposed to be an excuse?”
Ugh, her arrogant, calm face she makes when she tells him off. He hates it.
“If you wanted an actual bodyguard, you should have hired one. I only have one hand,” he bites back at her.
“Really? I get you a birthday gift and you consider this an appropriate response.” There’s no question mark in her tone.
“Oh, piss off. As if you've given a fuck about my birthday all these years.”
Her lips purse together, but her voice keeps that cool tenor that irritates him to no end. “I wanted to make it a good one for you. Just because you don't care about it doesn't mean no-one else does.”
He sighs. He actually had a good time and he doesn't want it ruined by her gaslighting. He's experienced people actually caring for his birthday, and he knows Eloise's words are just words. Next, she'll say that she contacted Scorpions themselves and asked them to have a concert the day before his birthday.
She shakes her head and goes for the portable toilets. At last, he can have some time on his own. He turns his head away and back to the scene, now completely empty.
No One Like You wasn't exactly the song he liked the most tonight, but it's the one he can't stop humming. He's humming!
Maybe he does owe Eloise a bit. Just a bit.
"Catchy tune, huh?" he hears from the side.
He turns, seeing a woman with a wide smile on her face.
"Oh, which one isn't?" he says, smiling back. "What a night."
The woman nods. "Did you have fun?"
The words pour out of him like vomit. "A lot of people stepped on me, I got groped, pick-pocketed, and I got in a fight with my...” – How should he call her? – “friend, but you know what?" He shrugs. "Bloody worth it."
"Oh.” Her face softens. “Sorry that you were mugged."
"Ah, it was like, twenty quid. I've known better than to carry credit cards where hands can easily reach." A very dedicated hand, maybe. There's only so many hiding spots he has.
"Do you have a ride back home?" the woman says.
He stares at her, and he feels his jaw drop when he realizes. "Bollocks. I overshared, didn't I?"
She just smiles. "I mean, I have a car, and space for two... how many of you are there?"
He scratches behind his ear. "Don't worry. We've got a car. And we going right back to Brighton, anyway."
"Oh.” She seems to think for a moment. “I don't even know where that is."
He holds back a laugh. "Figured so. From your accent."
Her smile widens. "I'm Emma," she says, extending her hand.
"Killian," he gives his hand back, careful to keep his left arm inside his jacket pocket. She's still looking at his face when he drops his hand to his side. "So... you know that they're actually having a few concerts in the States for this tour, right? How come you decided to fly all over to here?"
"Well, today... or more like, yesterday," she pauses as she checks her watch, "was my birthday. This was more like a birthday gift to me, and of course I'm going to see them in-” She pauses suddenly. “What?"
She's obviously cut off by the expression on his face. "You're not kidding? Tomorrow- or, today, is my birthday."
"Wow. Happy birthday, then."
"Happy birthday to you too. Seems it was a great one."
Emma seems happy as she looks back at the now empty stage. "I'd say one of the best ones. Does your birthday seem promising?"
His chest feels twice its normal size when she turns to look at him. Somehow, with their birthdays being so close, it feels as if her having had a great birthday is feeding his own satisfaction for that day, for the first time in four- no, five years.
Some of her slightly messy hair is sticking to her face – she probably went all out dancing tonight – and her eyes seem to droop in drowsiness, but she's absolutely glowing.
Glowing and looking at him.
When she takes a step towards him, it feels like it's gravity that's pulling his own body to her.
"It seems that way, aye," he replies.
Her eyes close when she's a few inches away from him, but he waits for the moment his lips touch hers to close his eyes.
~
(A/N: I want to remind the readers that this chapter is told from Killian's point of view, distorted as it is from grief, rage and isolation from the people he loves. Emotional progress is almost never visible in the short term, especially regarding addictions. Killian might have thought the AA meetings didn't help him, but it doesn't mean that giving up and depending on a controlling person to keep him clean was the healthy thing to do.
I know it's a work of fiction but some lines are easily confused, so the message I want to pass is that if you or a loved one is trying to let go of an addiction, keeping up the effort when progress isn't directly visible may be hard, but it's worth it and will eventually help.)
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Holiday Dates (Pt. 1)
 A/N: So I got this idea at like 1 am, and here I am writing it. I know it’s not even really the Christmas season next, but I thought this mini series would be cute for the holidays. So here goes nothing! Pairing: Teen!Gerard x Teen!F!Reader Word count: 2587 Warnings: A few curse words
School projects in general were a pain in your ass. Having to go and work with someone or a group of people on a topic you’re not even interested in, and then present it like your entire career depends on it. Nothing about that was appealing.
So walking into your AP psychology class a week before your two week Christmas break, only for your teacher to announce a partner project would be due the day before break made you mentally punch your desk. “To make this a little more interesting,” Mr. Young began, the tall, black haired man grabbing an old, clear container. “I’ve placed all your names into this jar, and I’ll just draw a few. It’ll present an element of surprise.” He smiled, clearly excited even though no one else was. You rolled your eyes through the pain.
He shook the jar quite violently, as if to emphasize that this would truly be random. One by one, he stuck his hand in, pulling out two small sliver of papers, announcing your peers names. A few grudges, shrugs, and even celebratory cheers erupted depending on the individual’s opinions toward whomever they were paired with.
“Y/N Y/L/N,” He called out, you looking up. As much as you hated it, you admitted the small rush of adrenaline in anticipation for who you would be paired with gave a little excitement. “Gerard Way.” He stated, placing the two pieces to the side.
Gerard Way? You had heard of him. He was the shy, nerdy, smart boy. Okay, well, this should be easy. He should know everything in psych, you’ll help him create a project, and bam. There’s your A. A few more names were called before your teacher finally dismissed you from your seats, to go talk with your partners, get a game play.
You got up, grabbing your backpack and phone, looking around until you found the stark black haired boy. He was looking up to you with a light smile, which you returned as you walked to him. You had never payed much attention to him, but his mess of a head of hair, hazel eyes, and smile were adorable. If you were being honest. You took a seat next to him.
“I’m Gerard.” He smiled to you.
“I’m Y/N.” You smiled back. Okay, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. A smart boy and a sight to look at? Perfect.
“Yeah, I- I know.” He stuttered, immediately regretting that, “Sorry, that was weird.” He lightly laughed at his own mistake.
“It’s alright.” You admitted, pulling out your notebook and pens. “So, any idea for what we should do this on?” You asked next. “Well,” He sighed, turning to you in his desk, “I was thinking something along the lines of adolescent psychology? There’s a lot we can do there. Or social psych, that’s interesting too.” He began, “But it’s whatever you want to do, really.” He smiled again.
“I think social psych would be cool.” You looked back at him, from where you were scanning your notes, “I’ll go tell Mr. Young, as long as that’s fine with you.” “Yeah, of course.” He smiled, going back to his own notes as you got up, walking to the front of the room.
“Hey, Mr. Young.” You walked up to the man, “Gerard and I want to sign up to cover social psych.” “Great.” He said, typing it into a word document, “Hey Y/N,” He began before you could walk away. “Be nice to Gerard if you would. He’s a smart kid, gets used a lot for his academics. Just, treat him like a human, alright?” “Yeah, of course Mr. Young.” You smiled at him, wondering what he exactly meant.
“I knew I could trust you with that, Y/N.” He smiled back, as you walked back to your seat next to the boy.
“We could start with the basics,” He spoke up, “You know, personality and all that stuff like that.” You nodded.
“Sounds great.”
“So if we look at attributions,” He began, “The Fundamental Attribution Error may be the best place to start.” “Agreed,” You stated, “So that’s a person’s tendency to associate what someone has done with an internal cause, not an external one based on the situation?” “Right,” he looked at you, “So, like, if someone is driving, and someone else cuts them off, and they call them an asshole,” You lightly laughed, and he smiled, “That would be the fundamental attribution error. Because maybe, in reality, that person could be late to work, or late to pick their kid up from school. I mean they could be an asshole, but we don’t know that.” You giggled again. “Yeah,” You concluded, “But an attribution would be like me saying you’re funny, based off of what you just said. So I can properly attribute that a characteristic of you is you’re funny.” He smiled, a light red coming to his cheeks.
“I, mean,” he stumbled, “y-yeah I suppose.” Then the bell rang.
“Hey, by the way,” You began, “Could I get your number, to text you for when we need to meet?” “Yeah, of course.” He smiled again. You handed him your phone, and he typed in his number and name, handing it back. “Thanks, Gerard.” “Yeah, of course. Bye Y/N.” You walked out a few moments later, walking to your locker where you began putting your stuff away. You walked into the cafeteria, sitting at the table with all your friends.
“Hey, Y/N.” Everyone smiled and you smiled back, “How are you?” Jason, one of the boys on the football team who you just happened to hang out with asked.
“Alright,” You admitted, sipping on your water, “Mr. Young assigned us a project in AP psych.” You sighed.
“Who with?” Shanna asked, another one of the girls you hung out with. “Gerard Way.” You stated and everyone began laughing under their breaths, “What?” You asked next.
“Nerdy, smart one?” You nodded, “At least you won’t have to do work.” Jason scoffed.
“I’m still going to do the work,” You said, “It’s a partner project. Besides, he’s really nice and funny.” He rolled his eyes.
“He’s weird, Y/N.” “No he’s not.” You fought back, “Besides, judging people you don’t even know does nothing good for anyone or anything. Other than your fragile ego.” Everyone oohed, as you looked up at him. “Fine,” he sighed, “I won’t say anything else.” Besides being friends with some of the most popular, and worst people in school, you hated bullies. The idea of hurting someone for something they can’t control, or for being who they are made you infuriated.
Your classes went by, one by one for the rest of the day. They were of course boring, not much intriguing or interesting in any one. You eventually grabbed all of your things, placing them into your bag, and walking out and through the doors back into the crowded streets of New York. Going down only a few blocks, you reached the Subway where you hopped on, went for only three stops, and finally arrived at your stop in Midtown.
Your family’s apartment was great for what it was. A three bedroom in a usual sky rise. It even had a second floor, something not all that common in New York. You shut your door to your bedroom, your parents nor your younger brother were home yet. Placing in your earbuds, you grabbed your laptop and homework, trying to get most of it done so you could have some down time.
Absorbed within your chemistry work, you got a sudden ding. Showing the screen of your phone, you saw a little text bubble, Gerard’s name on the top. “Hey Y/N! It’s Gerard, I was wondering what days would work best for you to work on the project? You could come over to my place, as long as you feel comfortable. Everyday this week works for me.” It read.
You smiled as you opened up your phone, heading straight to the messages app, and responding. “Tomorrow works! Right after school?” You sent, a little three dotted message bubble showing he was typing popping up immediately after. “Sounds great :)” He finished. You placed your phone back down, playing some more of your music and continuing your homework.
Finally submitting all your assignments, you closed your laptop and walked downstairs to find your mom working at the kitchen table. “Hey, sweetheart.” She lightly smiled at you.
“Hey mom.” You smiled back, going to grab a snack from the pantry.
“How was your day at school?” “Good.” You sighed.
“Good.” She responded.
“By the way, I have to go to a friend’s house tomorrow to do a project for AP psych with.” “Alright.” She responded, still writing a few things down, “Sounds great.”
-Time skip-
“Hey, Y/N.” Gerard waved walking up to your locker after school.
“Hey,” You responded and smiled, “Just a minute, I just need to finish putting my stuff away.” “Yeah, of course, take your time.” You finished stuffing your various collection of textbooks and overfilled binders in your backpack, zipping it up and throwing it over your shoulder. “Ready?” He asked and you nodded.
The two of you walked out into the streets, as you followed Gerard down only a few blocks and to a large sky rise in lower Manhattan, near the financial district, where your school was. The two of you walked through the large glass doors, through the marble lobby, and into the elevators where he pressed 68. It was pretty silent as you rode your way up, and once the box dinged, you two got out and walked through a long hallway, down to the last door, where Gerard put his key in, jingled a bit, and let the two of you in.
The apartment was large, and gorgeous. Nothing like you had ever seen. It was also expensive, you knew by just looking at it. Everything was so large, large windows the scaled floor to ceiling that overlooked New York. You were in a trance by the beauty of it all. “You like it?” You heard Gerard behind you. You nodded.
“Uh, yeah,” You said, trying to pretend everything was normal, “It’s really cool.” He lightly smiled.
“Thanks.” He responded, “Do you want anything to drink, by the way? Water, tea, coffee?” “A water would be great, thank you.” You looked back. He smiled again, going to the fridge and grabbing two bottles, handing one to you and keeping one for himself. “Thanks.” “No problem.” He looked up, “Do you mind working in my room? If you don’t feel comfortable I get it I-” “No, it’s completely fine.” You reassured him, glad to see the respect he held. He led the two of you through a few various large hallways and into his room, in the corner of the apartment.
The room was huge, the two out of four walls that weren’t huge windows were covered with various posters of Star Wars, Marvel heroes, even Watchmen. Your mouth opened slightly in awe, all of it was just too cool. And stuff that you liked.
“It’s really nerdy I know.” He stated awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“No, it’s awesome.” You lightly laughed.
“R-really?” He stuttered, looking to you with wide eyes.
“Well yeah, I mean, who wouldn’t think it is?” He shrugged.
“You just seemed like a girl who-” “Would be into nail polish and shopping and gossiping about boys. Yeah, I know.” You sat down on his bed. “But, to tell you a secret, I fucking love Star Wars. And Marvel.” You smiled.
“Really?” He asked again, sitting next to you.
“Yeah, my younger brother and dad loved them before I did, but I stated to tag along to see Marvel movies and would watch Star Wars with them at home. And I fell in love with it.”
“That’s cool,” He said, “I’ve always just liked them.” You nodded. There were a few moments of awkward silence, “Should we get started.” You nodded.
“We probably should.” The two of you went through your bags, grabbing your binders designated to the class.
“So why don’t we go with positive and negative reactions to social interactions?” You nodded, and he continued, “So, do you have any ideas for positive or negative reactions?” “Sure,” You began, “If you tell someone they’re smart, that would be a positive reaction.”
“Great,” He wrote it down, “Or giving someone else money would be a positive reaction.” “Yeah,” You said thinking for a moment. You noticed Gerard looked at you for a moment, seemingly studying your facial features while you pretended to look away, focusing on another example.
“We could try some examples now.” “Great,” You turned to him a little more. “So, Gerard,” You began, as he placed his notebook and pencil down. “I like your hair.” You said and he lightly smiled.
“Thanks,” He said, “You have pretty eyes.” He said next.
“Thanks.” You could feel yourself blush as you smiled.
“You are a super cool guy, and you have an awesome personality.” You said next. He took a pause.
“Do you mean that?” He asked, stopping himself only a moment later, “Never mind, that was stupid, these are just examples.”
“No, I do mean it.” You said, with a confused look. “You really are pretty cool.” He looked even more shocked.
“You’re just saying that to be nice I-” “I’m saying it because it’s true, Gerard.” You stated. It was only silent for a few more seconds.
“Well um,” He began, “You’re absolutely gorgeous.” You looked at him for a brief moment, making sure your ears were reliable at the moment. He noticed your stare, “That was creepy, wasn’t it? I’m so sorry-” “No, no, that was really sweet.” You lightly blushed and looked away before laughing. “Great, now you’re making me shy!” You smiled like a fool at him.
“Well you said something truthful, so I did too.” “Y-you meant that?” You asked next and he nodded.
“Yeah, I mean, did you not know that?” He asked as if it were obvious. You shook your head.
“I mean, my mom calls me beautiful and all but that’s different.” “I thought you knew, I mean, I’m surprised you haven’t been picked up by a model agency yet. You’re absolutely stunning.” He smiled.
“I um, I-” You paused, “That’s too much.” He shook his head.
“Do you know how many guys would like to call you theirs?” He asked next, you shook your head again, “Literally every single one in our grade.” You shook your head again with a smile.
“Oh please.” “What? I’m for real here.” He smiled, “Literally any guy would be lucky to have you as a girlfriend.” You nudged him playfully. “Well I can say the same for you. But a boyfriend, of course.” You lightly giggled and he chuckled.
“I mean, if you say so.” He grabbed his notebook and pencil again, “By the way,” He began, “I, um, this is going to sound so weird, but would you like to go on a date maybe? Like somewhere? If you say no I completely get it I just thought it was worth a shot-” “I would love to,” You smiled. “Let’s finish this real quick, and then I’ll send you my house address. How about Friday, after school? After our big presentation, ya know?” “Yeah, sounds great.” He said, smiling bigger than before and looking between you and the page. “It’s a date.”
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a-warriors-journey · 3 years
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sorry for submitting a post instead of an ask but i thought it might be easier to read since the asks would’ve broken everything all up and it’s kind of a lot! feel free to ask questions too, i… reaaaaally love talking about my characters haha
i think one of my favorite warrior cat ocs would have to be my gal, toyontuft! she was originally just supposed to be a background character for another one of my ocs, trillium, but quickly grew into a full-fledged character with one of the strongest developmental arcs within her story!
she was the product of what was supposed to be a one-night-stand between wildclan warriors, cottoncall and poppyjaw. they’d been friends as kits but had grown distant during training. they started talking again at the behest of their parents; poppyjaw’s wanting her to get out more and cottoncall’s being sympathetic to the cause. 
poppyjaw hadn’t wanted to keep the litter and only went through with the pregnancy because cottoncall had essentially begged her to. while at first he’d been excited at the prospect of kits, being around poppyjaw quickly began taking a toll on him, and by the time she’d finally given birth to toyonkit he’d already began distancing himself.
cottoncall’s negligence continued until eventually he stopped showing up at the nursery at all. any attempt made by poppyjaw to discuss his absence was brushed off and, in turn, the queen was left worn-down and ornery which she took out on her daughter.
things came to a head when, some time during the end of toyontuft’s kithood, cottoncall showed up to camp with a pretty little kittypet in tow– heavily pregnant and sickeningly sweet, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what happened. poppyjaw’d had been livid, calling the tom out on his deadbeat nature, and nearly took his new mate’s eye out when she went to defend him. this was the beginning of the end of toyontuft’s relationship with her mother.
after receiving toyontuft had received her apprentice name, poppyjaw had began withdrawing from her daughter. the apprentice tried multiple times to reach out to the queen, still needing her mother, but eventually gave up when it resulted in her getting swiped at one too many times. she looked to her father’s side of the family for support.
the kittypet cottoncall had brought home, mollie, had taken on the name hollypaw then hollynose and had birthed a single kit similar to poppyjaw. when toyonpaw had approached them, cottoncall had initially been hesitant about her presence in his life but reluctantly accepted it at hollynose’s insistence. he still went to great lengths to avoid beng alone with her and the apprentice quickly recognized that, while allowed close, neither of the cats truly regarded her as part of the family.
her half-brother, marshkit, had been a sickly child; his head always tilted, his steps lacking finesse, and his body often seizing. he was suffering greatly and the medicine cat, even with the assistance of the other clans, couldn’t seem to get the kit to pull through. still, blinded by their love for their kit, they wouldn’t let him go. toyonpaw eventually took matters into her own paws and to this day she wonders if it was he right thing or if, perhaps, she’d been fueled by her own jealousy.
time passed, toyonpaw giving the couple space to grieve, and the apprentice quickly found herself isolated without the social crutch of her so-called ‘family’. her upbringing had left her bitter, blunt, and a bit of a downer but things changed when she officially met her first mate, mosquitobite.
mosquitobite, mosquitopaw at the time, was tom just as jaded as she. having been blamed for his mother’s passing by his father and named accordingly. they festered together, forming an unhealthy codependency, that would eventually grow into full-blown abusive relationship by the end of their apprenticeship.
while toyontuft was one to give as good as she got at this point, her desire to be wanted by someone often clouded her judgement and kept her from leaving, and they’d often fight on the outskirts of wildclan territory where unbeknownst to them they were being watched (this will become important later).
still, the two had their moments. they understood one another better than anyone else and there was genuine love there, buried beneath the misery, which is how toyontuft ended up expecting kits.
while both of them had been unsure about the pregnancy, they also believed (at first, anyways) that it might save their relationship. the world will never know, though, because mosquitobite ended up dying before the kits even arrived. 
she gave birth, alone, to a litter of three with no other queens in the nursery at the time; one passed shortly after and the other two faded a week or so later. her post-partum and grief made it hard for her to care and when she realized she even felt a little relieved she quickly grew angry with herself.
this was around the time that trillium came into the picture. palefang, trillium’s bio-mother and toyontuft’s fraternal cousin, had moved into the nursery sometime before the passing of toyontuft’s other two kits but after the births themselves. palefang was a restless young queen, who seemed excited but also unsure about having a litter, toyontuft kept their conversations brief like she did with most of cottoncall’s family.
when palefang gave birth to trillium, a kit with only three legs (not that that ever ended up holding back trillium in any way, shape, or form), she called her too much responsibility for a young inexperienced queen such as herself and seemed to struggle when it came to taking care of the kit. 
eventually, she conned toyontuft into taking trillium on as a surrogate so that palefang could return to her duties. using their family’s approval and, unknowingly, toyontuft’s guilt over her own kits’ deaths to get the queen to wetnurse the child. this, obviously, wasn’t the greatest foundation to build a relationship on in regards to toyontuft and trillium.
toyontuft did the bare minimum when it came to mothering the young kit and made it abundantly clear to trillium that she was not her child. while, to most, it would seem as if the she-cat resented the kit because she ended up saddled with her it was more so a result of the queen’s insecurities when it came to parenting; she’d let her first litter die, after all, and with mosquitobite gone she’d been essentially abandoned by all her remaining family. she just didn’t feel fit to take care of a kitten beyond going through the motions.
trillium was a difficult kit; adventurous by nature and rather reckless to boot, she’d often sneak her way out of the nursery while toyontuft slept in order to observe nature. this casted a poor light on the queen in the clan’s eyes but, at this point, she couldn’t care less what wildclan thought of her. especially given the fact she had to slip past most of the other warriors, too.
enter dan, a loveable loner with a heart of gold, whom trillium came across during one of her many outings. the loner, aware of the clans, had looked after the kit until two wildclan warriors had come to retrieve her. it was too late though, trillium was already attached and every time she got a chance she’d run off to see him.
wildclan quickly grew fed up with this and, in an attempt to keep the child in camp, allowed dan visitation which is when toyontuft and him met… officially. you see, the spot where toyontuft and mosquitobite would often have their disputes was in spitting distance of dan’s territory. he was privy to some of their worst fights, purely due to proximity, and while toyontuft didn’t know him; he certainly knew her.
the tom felt for the queen and could see she was suffering so while he didn’t agree with her treatment of trillium, who at this point he saw as his adoptive daughter, he wanted to help her. thus began the long, tumultuous journey, of toyontuft’s recovery. 
at first the queen was frustrated by the tom’s behavior, uneased by his continued support especially given his fondness for trillium who she knew at this point had to hate her (she didn’t, she was saddened by toyontuft’s treatment but still loved her like a mother), and would often lash out in an attempt to ward him off.
this didn’t work, of course, and she ended up losing steam after the third or fourth time. she was still skeptical but if he wants to stick around that bad that's his problem, right? moons passed and soon she’d grown accustomed to dan’s presence which was… scary but also nice. they were tentatively friends and with his assistance he began taking better care of trillium and leaving the nursery more.
toyontuft began opening up, bit by bit, and while it was like pulling teeth when she did… it was good to get it off her chest. she’d been afraid, the first time, that he’d turn his back on her– or worse coddle her –but their relationship remained the same and with time it got easier.
weeks for trillium’s apprenticeship began STORY THINGS HAPPEN involving an outside group of wandering rogues who end up manipulating the young she-cat into joining them cause they ‘need her’ for some made-up prophecy.
this is a huge blow to toyontuft’s psyche, for obvious reasons, but she teams up with dan and a friend of trillium’s named brackenpaw (who they didn’t really want to come with but he seemed set on taking off after her… so they thought it best if they just let him joining them so there wasn’t TWO adolescent cats off on their own) to retrieve her.
it takes months to find trillium who, luckily, isn’t… too much worse for wear…? there’s definite trauma due to being basically kitnapped but a lot of the cats in the group were on trillium’s side when what happened came out and had left with her when she stated she was going back to the clans.
during that time, toyontuft starts working out her emotional hang-ups when it comes to her relationship with trillium because she does see trillium as her own she just… didn’t want to get hurt again. once again, dan (and even brackenpaw, in some ways) offers unwavering support throughout their journey.
when the three reunite with trillium, the she-cat embraces her friend then her father but hesitates when it comes to toyontuft. but, as soon as her body language opens up, trillium practically tackles her into a loving cuddle.
toyontuft is shocked at trillium’s receptiveness but chocks it up to dan’s influence on her; she knows she’s probably not forgiven fully for her behavior but she does have a chance to make it up to trillium which is all toyontuft could ask.
oooOOOOOO I LOVE THAT DEVELOPMENT !!
I’ve always really loved stories that portray healing as something a character has to work at over a period of time, and characters learning to repair the things they’ve done wrong– especially to others– so Trillium and Toyontuft’s reunion at the end there made me super happy! 
and her design is so pretty!!! the little muzzle markings are my favorite
also i love the name toyontuft, I’ve never heard that prefix used before so that’s rad as hell!
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Still thinking about how I went to a psych several years ago and she asked me textbook dsm-v questions and concluded I didn't have ADHD. The questions were like
"do you forget where you put your keys"
"do you have trouble remembering appointments"
And...I don't forget things? I know where my keys are and I'm reliably ten minutes early to appointments and class. (I wasn't ten years ago, but I learned.) My working memory for many things is excellent, even if I struggle with numbers, names, and directions. But working memory isn't the only hallmark of ADHD.
"do you make careless mistakes on boring projects or emails"
I mean... I have both anxiety and OCD to a frankly impressive degree. If I make mistakes I'm a failure and people will be disappointed in me for having, like, a typo in a paper, so I check my work multiple times before calling it done. I don't think I can answer this question the same way as somebody who might have ADHD but not anxiety or OCD, because for me, in a cage-match between carelessness due to inattentiveness and making absolutely, two-hundred-percent certain I'm beyond reproach in any way, the anxiety wins.
"do you fidget or feel like you're powered by a motor"
I'm chronically exhausted and I have EDS. Do you really think somebody with a condition causing issues with collagen formation and muscle tone is gonna have EXCESS energy? I'm out of breath when I stand up because all the blood is in my legs, and a twelve-year-old boy could beat me arm wrestling.
But if psychs screened me by asking things like...
"do you feel like any small reprimand or mild criticism means you should never inconvenience that person with your presence ever again"
"do you emotionally withdraw when you make mistakes"
"do you have difficulty falling asleep every night because you can't turn off your brain and/or your body feels restless"
"do you have trouble getting or staying organized"
"do you have a hard time finishing things you started"
"do you abandon projects you were extremely enthusiastic about once they either become too hard or too easy"
"do you have interests spanning weeks to years that you think about all day long without tiring of them"
"do you wish you could do more in life on a daily basis but don't know how to start"
"do you sit around daydreaming because making plans requires immense effort and involves multiple steps you can't even grasp enough to pin down on paper"
"do you have such a hard time making decisions that other people have to build in extra time when you go to restaurants together for you to order something"
"do you read two pages of a textbook and realize you have no idea what you just read, so it takes you twice as long to do your homework as it should"
...or any other of a myriad of things that emerging research suggests points to ADHD, as opposed to using a diagnostic tool targeted toward adolescent boys, maybe they'd have a different opinion of what's going on.
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Episode 138: Kevin Party
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“Did you guys break up? Can seven-year-olds even do that?”
Remember Doug Out?
The 125th episode of Steven Universe is a small but very fun story about Steven Universe and Connie Maheswaran, two best friends who work as a team to solve a mystery. Steven is already a teenager, and if Connie isn’t thirteen yet she’s awful close (she’s twelve and three quarters on Steven’s midsummer birthday, and school has been in session since Mindful Education), but this feels like a pair of children on an adventure. They’re chaperoned by Connie’s dad, they wear silly disguises and use sillier aliases, and they outright say that their goal is to “ruin some teen’s night.”
Doug Out ends in a cliffhanger, which leads directly to Steven’s abduction, which leads directly to Steven’s journey to and escape from Homeworld, which leads directly to the Breakup Arc, which ends here. That’s fourteen consecutive episodes telling one long story, which happens to be the same number of episodes between Catch and Release kicks off Peridot’s conversion and Hit the Diamond ends our barn adventure. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Act II and Act III of Steven Universe have similar sweeping midpoint storylines: both see a radical change occur, and while our middle act’s is more obvious (two new Gems join our crew and Steven saves the dang planet), Act III has the more important development for Steven himself. Because at the beginning of its sweep, Steven and Connie are kids, and at the end, they’re teenagers.
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Granted, I see anyone under the age of 25 as a “kid,” but Kevin Party is a distinctly adolescent episode. The Breakup Arc as a whole covers new ground that a typical kid’s show wouldn’t, and even the one episode without much angst for Steven is about a bunch of teens starting a band. But it’s a whole new step to set an episode at a high school party, complete with drinking (age-appropriate drinks, I’m sure) and no adult supervision. 
After five episodes watching Steven either stressing about Connie or working his way through his guilt, it’s wonderful and devastating that when we finally see her again, she's having a blast. Her new look is one thing, but her effortless mingling with strangers is my favorite thing about Kevin Party. This isn’t a new aspect of her personality. She’s probably been like this for a while. But it’s the first time we’re seeing it, because it’s the first time Steven is seeing it.
In Bubble Buddies, Connie started out so shy that she feared dying without making a single friend, while Steven was so gregarious that he couldn’t help befriending everyone he met. Now he’s the awkward one, reduced to asking the likes of Kevin for advice, and she’s bloomed out of that social anxiety. And it’s not just a matter of her friendship with Steven changing her, even though that’s a major inciting incident: after he helps her come out of her shell, she’s able to practice interacting with peers on a regular basis in a scenario that’s way more helpful in understanding normal human interactions than anything in Steven’s life, because Connie goes to school.
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There’s an unstated and uncomfortable truth that Connie needs Steven to have access to his magical world, creating an uneven power dynamic that’s easy to ignore because it fits into the general role of how a main character and side character work on a show like this. But Kevin Party‘s biggest reveal is that just because she needs him if she wants to have cosmic adventures, she doesn’t need him to have a fulfilling life, and she doesn’t need his friendship to be happy.
Thank. Goodness.
Codependency isn’t something to aspire to, and while Steven isn’t intentionally possessive of Connie (yet), their fight boils down to him treating her like a sidekick, someone who gets to do magic stuff with him under his terms. We don’t get to see what she was up to during the Breakup Arc, but I’m so glad her laughter here isn’t performative. She has enough self-worth to not define herself by the boy she likes or the adventures they share, and even if she’s upset that they’re in a fight, we know from our first look at her that she’d be okay if they never ended up reconciling. And that makes her choice to reconcile so much stronger than just shoving them back together because they’ve been apart long enough and the status quo demands it. She doesn’t need Steven in her life, but she wants him in her life, and that’s the difference between an episode about Connie remaining a sidekick in Steven’s mind and an episode about Connie establishing herself as an equal.
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Steven and Connie’s affection has always bounced between platonic and romantic, and I love that even now we keep it ambiguous. Steven wears the shirt Connie got him in Steven’s Birthday, which is a gesture of friendship but occurs in an episode that dances around their mutual crush (complete with actual dancing). The moment of seeing each other again is shot like running into an ex, with time slowing down to let the absolute horror set in as the rest of the party fades, but Steven still refers to her only as his best friend. Kevin makes some of the subtext text through his confusion over the status of their relationship, but even if they’re teens now, these two are still young enough that don’t know how to express their deeper feelings.
Sadie Killer gets our guard down just long enough that Kevin Party’s new surge of drama hits like a truck: this is the original show’s most direct predecessor to the tone of Steven Universe Future’s latter half, where the anguish of watching Steven flounder in his relationship with Connie comes to a head. He makes the same mistake here that he’ll make in Together Forever: he’s so desperate for advice that he doesn’t question its source. Which is doubly frustrating because Greg Universe, who has told several stories on-screen about navigating a new relationship, is just a phone call away! I’m not saying I wish Steven actually called him, because all teens make mistakes and there’s any number of reasons he wouldn’t want to ask his dad in the moment, but it speaks to Steven’s inability to think straight when it comes to Connie.
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In his final appearance, Kevin shows the closest thing he’s got to depth by helping Steven the only way he knows how. And unlike Beach City Drift, where he makes up a tragic backstory just to be a troll, it’s clear that the mysterious Sabine did a number on Delmarva’s biggest jerk. But I’ve got no patience for the notion that this episode is anything near redemptive for a guy whose idea of being helpful involves emotionally manipulating a vulnerable fourteen-year-old boy into emotionally manipulating a vulnerable thirteen-year-old girl.
Here more than ever, Kevin contrasts Steven’s self-destructive selflessness by being a black hole of self-importance. He only cares about Steven inasmuch as Steven can help him be more popular, not even bothering to ask for his name until it serves his needs. He’s so oblivious to his surroundings that he confuses Lion for a dog (saying that he’s allergic to dogs is a somewhat funny joke, but talking up Connie’s new life by saying she has a dog now is hilarious), and goes out of his way to antagonize his guests. To Steven, other people exist to be helped, which has noble roots but is catastrophic for his self-image. To Kevin, other people exist to admire Kevin.
“Psychopath” is a strong word, and I don’t wanna exaggerate Kevin’s villainy because that takes away from what makes him so insidious: unlike the Final Boss feel of the Diamonds, there’s an abundance of regular people who do the same awful stuff that Kevin does, and acting like he’s some extreme case detracts from the mundanity of everyday evils. Moreover, I remain unqualified to be an armchair psychologist, and the Hare Psychopathy Checklist has plenty of valid criticism, so take any diagnosis using it (or really any psych profile that involves a checklist you can do from home) with a grain of salt. But with all that said, I’ll just leave a link to it right here and let y’all do what you will with it.
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The Big Talk gets five and a half episodes of buildup, and it doesn’t disappoint. It’s so perfect that Connie’s reaction to negging is to do what she always does when she sees someone behaving badly: she gets mad and calls it out. Steven’s typical approach to unkind behavior is to double down on his friendliness, but Connie will always put her foot down and demand kindness, whether you’re her best friend or a galactic tyrant. New hair aside, Connie isn’t the one that changes over the course of the Breakup Arc: it begins with her making it clear that she’s hurt while Steven ignores her, and it ends with her making it clear that she’s hurt while Steven listens.
I love that Connie requires no prompting to explain why she didn’t text Steven back, because Full Disclosure shows that she understands how much it hurts to try and connect with a friend who won’t respond. I love that she did go back to talk with him in person while he was on vacation (meaning all of this could’ve been worked through way sooner) because adolescence is suffering and we needed one last little twist of the knife in this arc. And I love that Steven is wise enough to just admit what he did instead of try and defend himself, because their whole fight hinged on his refusal to acknowledge the gravity of his actions, both to Connie and to himself. He doesn’t say the word “sorry” until the very end of his admission, because he means it and wants to provide context for the apology rather than just say “I’m sorry” a bunch.
And it’s so perfect that they don’t end up forming Stevonnie during their reconciliation, and not just because that would’ve given Kevin a win. They make up, but it still takes time to let the lingering pain go away, and it makes Stevonnie’s reappearance in our next episode way more meaningful. After one last display of their fundamental contrast—Steven expresses sympathy for Kevin’s situation with Sabine, while Connie shrugs it off because having a backstory doesn’t mean it’s okay to be a toxic douche—they leave the world of teen parties behind, at least for now. They’ll go back to more adventures right away, traveling to space in Lars of the Stars and Jungle Moon, but they’ll never truly be the same.
Thank goodness.
I’ve never been to this…how do you say…school?
I love that Stevonnie’s disdain for Kevin is here for us even when Stevonnie doesn’t show up in the episode.
We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!
It’s not just the catharsis factor that gets this in my Top 25. Kevin Party is incredible at capturing the dread I associate with this type of teen party as someone who often felt like Steven as a kid (three traits that don’t work well with teen parties, even if like me you were a fairly social teenager: clinical depression, teetotalism due to the double whammy of that depression and family history of addiction, and having a bad ear that makes it impossible to hear people talk when the music gets loud enough). Beyond the personal connection, we also get one last look at the show’s greatest villain, and an episode that respects Connie so much more than a normal cartoon would. This is how you end an arc, folks.
Top Twenty-Five
Steven and the Stevens
Hit the Diamond
Mirror Gem
Lion 3: Straight to Video
Alone Together
Last One Out of Beach City
The Return
Jailbreak
The Answer
Mindful Education
Sworn to the Sword
Rose’s Scabbard
Earthlings
Mr. Greg
Coach Steven
Giant Woman
Beach City Drift
Winter Forecast
Bismuth
Back to the Kindergarten
Steven’s Dream
Kevin Party
When It Rains
The Good Lars
Lars’s Head
Love ‘em
Laser Light Cannon
Bubble Buddies
Tiger Millionaire
Lion 2: The Movie
Rose’s Room
An Indirect Kiss
Ocean Gem
Space Race
Garnet’s Universe
Warp Tour
The Test
Future Vision
On the Run
Maximum Capacity
Marble Madness
Political Power
Full Disclosure
Joy Ride
Keeping It Together
We Need to Talk
Chille Tid
Cry for Help
Keystone Motel
Catch and Release
Back to the Barn
Steven’s Birthday
It Could’ve Been Great
Message Received
Log Date 7 15 2
Same Old World
The New Lars
Monster Reunion
Alone at Sea
Crack the Whip
Beta
Back to the Moon
Kindergarten Kid
Buddy’s Book
Gem Harvest
Three Gems and a Baby
That Will Be All
The New Crystal Gems
Storm in the Room
Room for Ruby
Lion 4: Alternate Ending
Doug Out
Are You My Dad?
I Am My Mom
Stuck Together
The Trial
Off Colors
Gemcation
Raising the Barn
Sadie Killer
Like ‘em
Gem Glow
Frybo
Arcade Mania
So Many Birthdays
Lars and the Cool Kids
Onion Trade
Steven the Sword Fighter
Beach Party
Monster Buddies
Keep Beach City Weird
Watermelon Steven
The Message
Open Book
Story for Steven
Shirt Club
Love Letters
Reformed
Rising Tides, Crashing Tides
Onion Friend
Historical Friction
Friend Ship
Nightmare Hospital
Too Far
Barn Mates
Steven Floats
Drop Beat Dad
Too Short to Ride
Restaurant Wars
Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service
Greg the Babysitter
Gem Hunt
Steven vs. Amethyst
Bubbled
Adventures in Light Distortion
Gem Heist
The Zoo
Rocknaldo
Dewey Wins
Enh
Cheeseburger Backpack
Together Breakfast
Cat Fingers
Serious Steven
Steven’s Lion
Joking Victim
Secret Team
Say Uncle
Super Watermelon Island
Gem Drill
Know Your Fusion
Future Boy Zoltron
Tiger Philanthropist
No Thanks!
     6. Horror Club      5. Fusion Cuisine      4. House Guest      3. Onion Gang      2. Sadie’s Song      1. Island Adventure
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yay its day 2!! uhh this one’s very dialogue heavy lol
CASSUNZEL WEEK DAY 2 - SECRETS AND PROMISES
“Hey... Cass?”
“Mhm?”
“The Day of Hearts is coming up. Think you’ll stick around for it this time?”
“Eugh. You know there’s a reason I don’t like to come back this time of year, right?”
Cassandra rolls her eyes so spectacularly far back Rapunzel can’t help but laugh despite the gesture being directed at her.
“Well, since you returned I’ve been thinking about the first Day of Hearts we spent together.”
“Oh, geez, this again? Can’t we just put that whole incident in the past?” Cass grumbles.
She’s posing – stiffly as a whistle, mind – for one of Rapunzel’s signature portraits. Rapunzel knows that Cass gets restless whenever she paints her, but the request is a way she can keep her in one place for a while. (That, and Cass is one of her favourite muses; something about the sharpness of her eyes draws her in, and the delight she takes in trying to paint hints of her toned muscles under her formless clothing is unparalleled.)
Cassandra hasn’t been back for… over six months now. She’s missed her.
“You just seemed so… annoyed about the whole affair, even before that guy Andrew arrived in Corona,” Rapunzel continues, mixing up a creamy paint for the base of Cassandra’s skin. “Was it really because you were only pretending to date him?”
“No, no, it had nothing to do with him at the core of it, I just… don’t care for romance and hearts, and Shorty dressing as whatever the hell kind of messed up cherub he’s going for.”
“Sure, the sight isn’t for everybody,” Rapunzel laughs. “You still believe you don’t care for romance and hearts though, after all this time?”
“You’re an exception to the rule, all right? Besides, Corona has way too many public holidays for my liking.”
“All right, noted. I’ve just always wondered if there was something more to it. I know we don’t share everything, and I know you have boundaries. If you really don’t want to talk about it, I’ll drop the subject. Princess’s Honour.”
She holds up her hand in a scout-like salute, almost dropping her paintbrush in the process, and Cass laughs.
“As a rogue traveller, Princess’s Honour only goes so far these days.”
“Well, what about Girlfriend’s Honour?”
“Now that, I can work with.” Cass hums in thought. “To tell you the truth, Raps, I just don’t have a great experience with romance. Besides you, of course.”
“I have no experience with romance besides you and Eugene,” Rapunzel remarks. “Does that make us about even?”
Cass grins, shaking her head in exasperation. “Uh, maybe, I guess. Besides, even if I was looking for love – which I’m not, just to clarify – it’s not so straightforward as that.”
“What?! Why? I know you, er, don’t warm up to people so easily, but you’re smart and funny and strong, and you’re beautiful! Any man would-”
“Well that’s one of the bigger hurdles, to start with,” Cass interrupts. Her mouth pulls into a line as she contemplates her next words, her eyes darting between Rapunzel and the door as if calculating her odds of being able to make a hasty exit if things get too personal for her liking. “I don’t date men, Rapunzel. At all. I thought that would be obvious, since I’m in love with you, but...”
Rapunzel stares, brush suspended midway to the canvas as she processes that last statement.
“What, at all? But, I thought – even if you were pretending with Andrew, you still…”
“Seriously?! After all that happened you thought I would actually be attracted to that whiny, pig-headed-”
“Ah-ah-ah!” Rapunzel holds out her hand, and Cass stops her arm-waving tirade to glare at Rapunzel. “Please, Cass, I’m still painting you.”
Cass pulls a face and reluctantly moves back into her original pose, before starting again. “Rapunzel, did you listen to that ridiculous story about the sheepskin jacket? I had to hear it three times. And the preaching on and on about being a bibliophile, while I had to sit there knowing perfectly well he couldn’t even spell the word… Any shred of curiosity I might have had for how the other half lives – it left long before that last retelling, believe me.”
“He had a nice face,” Rapunzel offers.
“A nice face is just a nice face, it doesn’t mean anything. Don’t forget he’s tried to invade Corona twice already.”
“Hmm. Good point. Well, you have me now, so we can forget about that guy.”
“I honestly haven’t given that clown a passing thought in years.” She stands patiently as Rapunzel holds up a tube of paint against her tunic to judge how much warm blue to mix with the yellow in her palette. “Besides, you’re telling me our extremely brief sham relationship felt believable to you? I’m surprised. Romance isn’t something you can just… force.”
And Rapunzel gets that – no, really, she does. While her relationship with Eugene has had its share of rough patches over the years, it’s something that happened organically. After all that she’s been through with Cassandra, it should have been obvious that she’d never had even an ounce of fondness towards the guy she had almost mercilessly swindled. Some small part of Rapunzel just wanted Cass to have felt happy and safe with someone in the days before they got together, she supposes.
“I guess back then I didn’t know you as well as I thought I did,” Rapunzel admits. She etches out Cassandra’s sturdy frame in shades of moss green, each stroke a little bolder than the last. “Maybe I still don’t. But I’d like to, you know! Has there ever been someone else you liked, as more than a friend?”
“...Once,” Cass begrudgingly admits. “It’s not exactly a happy story.”
“But it’s your story.” Rapunzel peers around the canvas to meet Cass’s reluctant gaze. “If you’re willing to share it, I’m here to listen.”
“God, I’ve never talked about this with anyone,” Cass sighs, folding her arms over her chest. This time, Rapunzel doesn’t bother asking her to move back into her original pose, out of fear of detracting from the story. “Well, anyone who doesn’t already know, anyway.”
“It won’t leave this room,” Rapunzel promises. She mixes a shade darker than the tunic and begins to fleck in little details. Stitches, tears, stains, anything to bring the girl on her canvas to life as the girl in front of her begins to recount her tale.
“...Her name was Alix. When I was turned fourteen my education was finished and I got indoctrinated into being a palace maid by my father. Alix was the same age as me but had been working there much longer, so she sort of took me under her wing and taught me the basics of, y'know, folding laundry properly! Making beds to the palace standards! All that stuff.”
“You've never mentioned an Alix before,” Rapunzel murmurs. She tries to conjure an image of this elusive Alix. Was she pretty? Did they understand each other on levels Rapunzel fears the two of them might never? Did she go charging in out of the goodness of her heart, blind to the consequences, like Rapunzel so often does when it comes to Cassandra’s wellbeing?
“There's a reason for that,” Cass sighs. She peeks over at Rapunzel doubtfully. “This... isn't going to paint me in a favourable light.”
“I can take it!” Rapunzel says, almost indignantly. She reaches over, standing on her tiptoes and stretching out her arm as far as it’ll reach past the canvas, to squeeze Cassandra's hand. “It’s me, Cass. You can tell me.”
Cassandra cracks a smile and hangs her head. “All right, all right! But you've been warned. Okay, so... just over a year after we first met, we started… I don’t know, being a couple, I guess. Iit wasn’t anything serious. Or maybe it was. I don't know, it was my first time just – just being with somebody, you know? It was all new to me – liking somebody, liking another girl.”
Rapunzel tries to picture an adolescent Cass, running arm-in-arm with this girl, whose features she just can’t seem to imagine. It’s pretty surreal, seeing as Cass was such a closed-off person when they first met, that she could ever be this giggly teenager smitten over a first crush. Then again, hasn’t Rapunzel been witness to moments like that, when she takes Cassandra’s hand unexpectedly, or hugs her from behind, or puts into words just how much she cares for her?
Against her better judgement, Rapunzel abandons detailing on the tunic and focuses on Cassandra’s face instead, wishing to capture a hint of that life in her eyes; memories of times she’s caught her unguarded, rather than the gloomy face of her girlfriend in front of her.
“So the Day of Hearts is approaching,” Cass continues, “and we’ve been together for a few months. It’s been great. But then one day Alix decides that when the day rolls around, the two of us are going to sign Herz Der Sonne’s journal together.”
“Wow, that’s… that’s a big step.” What else can she say? She and Eugene only signed their names last year, and they’d waited to get engaged before feeling ready to take that next step. She can only imagine the immense pressure someone like Cass, who has always been skittish about committing to anything in the department of romance, would feel when propositioned with something like that.
“Thank you, exactly! It felt like the biggest deal in the world! It was a big commitment, we were way too young, and I didn’t even think we were together long enough to do something like that.”
Rapunzel frowns. “So what happened?”
“We argued about it.” Cass snorts. “She called me chicken, like if she psyched me out enough I’d change my mind. Can you imagine that, saying it’s chicken for not wanting to commit to someone when you’re just barely fifteen?”
Rapunzel can’t imagine. At fifteen she’d never even met someone she could consider a romantic interest. Even the few books in the tower gave her a very limited view on what romance was.
“Anyway, I told her no. A firm no. I didn’t mind us spending the day together, but I didn’t want a written reminder that would show the whole world who we were. Of course, that turned into a fight about, you know, identity politics and pride in ourselves and stuff that as a kid I really didn’t think too much about. Well, she stormed off and I finished my shift as normal.”
Cass’s face changes a little, from this tired exasperation to… something of a stormy expression. “But I didn’t realise that she’d swiped my keys in the heat of our argument. That night, she snuck in and signed our names in the book after dark.”
Rapunzel’s jaw drops.
“But – but that’s against everything the ritual stands for! It’s something couples are meant to do together, with – with complete honesty!”
“Alix didn’t exactly care much about the rules, it’s what drew us together in the first place. Anyway, the next day she told me all about it, like it was something to be proud of. Really gloated that now we were serious and she’d done it because she wasn’t afraid of her feelings or what anybody thought about us.” Cassandra’s eyes narrow at the memory. “So I took a swing at her.”
“With a sword?!” Rapunzel frets.
“What? No, with the end of my broom. We were working. You think I’d still be working in the palace when we met if I’d struck another maid down with a sword?” Cass’s mouth draws into a grim line, and she suddenly finds herself incredibly interested in her own feet. “Well, that turned into the two of us physically fighting, so we were put on latrine duty as punishment and my dad was summoned. I was so distraught about what happened I couldn’t even think about explaining it to him, but somebody happened to overhear what we were fighting about and showed him the book.”
She falls quiet, and the silence stretches on. Rapunzel stops her almost frantic etching of facial features to peer past her canvas in concern, before Cass finally speaks up again. “That’s how he found out about me. About who I was.”
“Are you okay?” Rapunzel asks quietly.
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s just kind of a horrible way for it all to go down, right?” She looks over at Rapunzel, eyes almost blazing, and utters, “My dad is a good man. He saw how furious and upset I was and marched right to the king to explain the situation. Hours later, our names were papered over and we pretty much never spoke of it again.”
Rapunzel thinks back to the times over the years that she’s spent flipping through the pages of the journal, recalling the one page with a simple square of embossed lilac paper neatly concealing the paper beneath, clearly a later edition. She had always wondered about it.
“And what happened to Alix?” Rapunzel ventures, as she mixes a deep raven for Cassandra’s hair.
“She was fired for breaking into the throne room after hours and desecrating royal property,” Cass recalls with a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “After all, your father is a stickler for tradition. Last I heard she took up a post in Pittsford, but I don’t keep tabs on her or anything.” She spreads her arms out in a theatrical gesture. “Anyway, there you have it. My very sad, very brief experience of love.”
“She sounds awful,” Rapunzel declares, shaking her head in disdain. Cass shrugs.
“She wasn’t. Misguided, inconsiderate and a horrible decision-maker, yes, but she wasn’t a bad person. We were kids. I like to think she’s embarrassed about what happened, but I guess we’ll never know.”
“...So that’s the real reason you hate the Day of Hearts.”
“Raps, we went through this already!” groans Cass. “It’s not to do with any one thing, I just… don’t care for commercial romance and public holidays, that’s all there is to it.” She pinches her brow tiredly. “But I hated the book for years after. Just knowing our names were in there, even if no one else could see, just made me mad.”
“I’m sorry that it happened to you,” Rapunzel says gently. “It wasn’t a fair situation.”
“Yeah, well, what’s done is done. Look, uh…” Cass folds her arms, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably. “Can you… not tell Eugene about any of that? Or anyone? Not like… that I’m a lesbian, you can tell anybody that. In fact, I’m pretty sure Eugene already knows that part. But… all the stuff about Alix. That whole chapter of my life is kind of embarrassing, and I just. I don’t like to bring it up, so.”
“Cassandra, I promised you,” Rapunzel says, setting down her paintbrush and moving over to her. She grabs her hand and squeezes tight. “This is between us. No matter what.”
Pinched expression melting into relief, Cass squeezes back and squares her shoulders. “Thanks. So, can I see this painting yet? Or move from this spot, at least?”
“Sure, come here.”
Rapunzel leads her over to admire the canvas. The painting is a little odd, compared to Rapunzel’s typical style; the pose is stiff and vacant, just as Cassandra had been stood herself, but the ferocious brush strokes and tiny details woven in amplify the tension radiating from her body language, almost to the point of appearing antagonistic. Likewise, her expression is bright, wide-eyed and challenging; just as it is when Rapunzel says something overtly romantic or daring that takes her away from her usual focused exterior.
The amalgamation of those characteristics creates a vision of Cass that looks ready to jump up and pick a fight at any moment. Rapunzel glances over at Cass, an apology on the tip of her tongue, only to find that her girlfriend looks somewhere between amused and enamoured by the final product.
“I, um, didn’t mean to paint you looking so confrontational,” Rapunzel begins.
“Are you kidding me? I love this! Look, Raps, as much as I love your usual paintings of the two of us smiling at each other and hugging in a meadow or the like, this… it’s unusual for you. It’s fierce. I really, really love it.”
She leans down and presses a kiss to the top of Rapunzel’s head, before pulling her into a side hug. Rapunzel leans into the hug, beaming up at her.
“I’m glad you like it. It makes the standing in one spot for too long worthwhile, doesn’t it?”
“Ehh, almost. I wouldn’t push it too hard, Raps.”
“...Hey, Cass?”
“Mhm?”
“Do you think you’ll ever write your name in Herz Der Sonne’s journal, after what happened?”
“Maybe. See, now that you mention it, there’s this girl who I really like…” Rapunzel cranes her neck to look up at her, unimpressed, and Cass’s mouth quirks into a grin. “I’m talking about you, Raps. Just so we’re clear.”
“No, no, by all means! If there’s someone you’d like me to meet…”
“Well, I’ll give you a hint, it’s definitely not Andrew.”
“Thank goodness for that.” Rapunzel reaches up to cup Cass’s face, gently pulling her in close. “And it’s definitely not that jerk Alix, right?”
Cassandra’s grin grows wider. “You’re not jealous of the girlfriend I briefly had when I was a teenager, are you, Rapunzel?”
“What? No! I just, y’know, wish she’d treated you better, that’s all,” Rapunzel grumbles. “You deserve better, Cass. You deserve the world and more.”
With a huff of laughter, Cass leans in and kisses Rapunzel softly. “Lucky for me, my current girlfriend knows how to treat me right.”
“You know, my magic girlfriend powers work best on the Day of Hearts,” Rapunzel trills, twirling a strand of Cassandra’s hair around her finger. “Just so you’re aware.”
Cass groans. “I better not regret it if I agree to stick around this year.”
“You won’t! We’ll keep it nice and lowkey. You’ll never even know it’s the most romantic day of the year!”
“Uh huh, keep talking…”
Maybe this year won’t be the year. In fact, after everything Cass has told her today, wouldn’t it be super insensitive to broach the topic of signing the book together in two days time? Still, as she glances back to the painting of the tough fighter of a woman staring back at her, warmth washes over her, settling comfortably in the pit of her stomach.
Some day, when the timing is right, wouldn’t it be wonderful?
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