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rhetorical-ink · 4 years

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Haikyuu!! Ship Analysis: OiHina

**SUNSHINE SETTER SPOILERS BELOW**

With all the negative in the world, Furudate really said, “screw you, 2020, I’m giving everyone some good food” with Haikyuu!! coming into this year, and with the manga concluded, I want to go back and examine some popular ships and why we love them/why they work.

The 2020-2021 Haikyuu!! calendar just dropped and I was pretty excited to see the month of August highlighted with this image:

So, this calendar image, followed by the cover of the Haikyuu!! Light Novel, volume 12, has really screamed, “Oihina rights!” to many fans, myself included. But...why has this ship grown in popularity? What has Furudate given us fans to fuel the flames for this pairing? Well, let’s find out, with this analysis!

Part I. Setting Up A Rivalry...

So, it’s been established early on that Oikawa views Kageyama as a threat, and has been constantly working to make sure he stays superior to his rival setter. But from Chapter 14, there was the faintest inklings of rivalry established between Oikawa and Hinata -- starting with this famous scene from Chapter 14, “Versus the Great King”:

Despite Oikawa looking frustrated they lost the game, this is his reaction immediately following the moment in Chapter 15. He seems to get over his initial shock, as it’s replaced with some...other...emotion, it seems:

And later, we can see the foundation of the dynamic Oikawa establishes with both Hinata and Kageyama. Notice how in this scene he offers Hinata polite praise for his winning move, while immediately challenging Kageyama, who clearly did not sign up for this barrage of taunts.

It’s interesting, because it kind of sets Oikawa up as a rival for Kageyama...just like Hinata. We’ll talk more about Hinata and Oikawa’s similarities below, but I love how this weird “Rival Triangle” has formed between these three and carries on into both matches of Karasuno vs. Aoba Johsai later on.

PART II. Oikawa’s Not-So Subtle Focus on Hinata:

While there are hints in the practice match that Oikawa recognizes Shoyo could be a threat, we don’t see Oikawa really focusing on Hinata until later, when Aoba Johsai shows up to watch Karasuno’s game before they play them in Chapter 39, “The Return.” I like how Oikawa is not at ALL impressed with Asahi,

But seconds later, is all-hungry-eyes on Hinata’s “god-mode” set:

And then there’s Chapter 48, “The Conductor.” I love this chapter. I saw this image on Twitter, and I about fell out of my seat laughing:

Seriously. Think about it. Oikawa sat like that for over an HOUR, listening to Hinata screaming “Bring it” and “Give it.” No, no, we’re fine over here...

Of course, we see how Oikawa views Hinata as a threat during their first match up against them in the Inter High Prelim Qualifier match in Chapters 61-63:

His reference to Shoyo as a “Monster” is consistently brought up in the series, and then, waaaay later on in Chapter 189 at the end of the Shiratorizawa match, acknowledges how Hinata is indeed the type of hitter you WANT to throw the ball to, foreshadowing Inarizaki and Atsumu Miya literally 100 chapters early:

PART III. “We’re Not So Different, You and I”

So, this leads us to the dreaded Chapter 365 and onward into the now-infamous “Rio Mini Arc.” I’ve noted it in a previous post, but during Takeda’s lecture to Shoyo in Chapter 365, and then later on in chapter 368-369, any time the words “defeat” or “hurdle” are thrown up, there’s an image of Oikawa beside them. In this moment, we are to meant as readers to liken Hinata’s hurdles and obstacles with those that plagued our main antagonist, Oikawa, all those chapters ago. You may be wondering why Furudate would set such a thing up...well, in Chapter 371, we get this reveal:

Ah, yes, of all places and of all people -- Shoyo wasn’t the only one crazy enough to trek across the ocean to South America to improve his game. Oikawa did too, only going to Argentina instead of Brazil. Yes, as Kindaichi and Kunimi kindly observe, Shoyo and Oikawa may have more in common that we the readers gave credit to, originally, as we see in the precursor to the best damn selfie in the whole series and possibly manga history:

But it’s below that’s kind of the crux of this whole OiHina ship for me -- It’s not just that Oikawa and Shoyo are so alike...it’s that Oikawa and Kageyama are so alike, too:

Oikawa, whether he wants to admit it or not, has a lot in common with our blueberry setter...the difference, as we can see in these panels, is that unlike Kageyama, Oikawa is GREAT with communication. His ability to communicate with his team and connect with them is his hallmark as a player, right?

Take for example, this situation below. If it’d been Kageyama, he’d probably fluster around, call Hinata “boke” and they’d bicker and carry on -- Oikawa, though, rightfully takes the compliment and runs with it, even adding in that flirty little tag there at the end. You’re not helping matters, Furudate...

Back to similarities with Hinata, though, and showing just how much Hinata has GROWN to Oikawa, we have this conversation below. Oikawa started out this manga literally calling Shoyo and Tsukishima “dumb.” Now, 300+ chapters later, he’s acknowledged that Hinata is “thinking” ahead...doing very much the same kind of crazy tricks to improve himself that Oikawa has chosen as well.

Also, good to know that Hinata initiated wanting to get Oikawa’s contact info; plus, Oikawa having to deal with his own teammates just giving him a hard time 24/7, when Shoyo’s offering open praise? No wonder he latched on...

But seriously, go read Chapters 373 and 374 in their fullest -- there are TOO many amazing moments between Shoyo and Oikawa to count, but they all show this forming friendship that I’m just in love with, like this one from 373:

And while I LOVE the moment Oikawa calls our ray of sunshine straight-up “Shoyo” and shakes his hand, acknowledging their friendship and respect for each other, I really love this final shot of Oikawa before we see him at the Olympics. That panel of him walking away, reminding Shoyo that he has a looooong way to go, but showing his sudden motivation to get even better:

Seriously, in the anime, I have a feeling that one episode is going to end with the ending of Chapter 371, and then they’ll probably just have one episode encapsulate Chapters 372 - 374, which I will be sad if it’s one episode in the anime...but MAN, I’m going to be watching that episode on repeat for a while, just to see these chapters re-imagined in animation.

PART IV. To The Olympics...and BEYOND!

The final chapter of Haikyuu!! graced us with the reunion of our ray of sunshine and our sassy trash king setter, and let’s be real -- we all need this animated...and to have Atsumu and Kageyama’s reactions on display in this moment, just for the fun of it.

And ya’ll wonder why there’s so many Rio/Brazil Fling fics out there?!

I think, besides this hug, what cements this ship after this last chapter is the following:

* Even if it’s just a platonic friendship, it’s still one of the most fun and freshly developed friendships in the series, and makes sense going back from start to finish in the manga.

* Even if it’s just a fling, it’s flirty, fun, and could be the stepping stone for shippers that want to spice up their Iwaoi/Kagehina drama/angsty fics by adding in a little “fling” for Oikawa and/or Hinata to go through before reconnecting with their soulmates, if that’s your ship.

* And even if you want to view it as something more than platonic friendship or stepping stones into other ships, it still works. I mean, after all, Hinata went to play for Brazil after the Olympics. And Brazil’s a stone’s throw away from Argentina...so...who knows what could have ended up happening, right?

Furudate definitely doesn’t confirm many ships (with the exception of Tanaka and Kiyoko), but he definitely lays out some crumbs for us the fandom to nibble on and speculate with endlessly. OiHina may not be my OTP for Hinata, but I will never deny that it’s fun, spicy, and presents a VERY nuanced way to view the relationship between one of my favorite manga protagonist and antagonist pairings. Furudate, you are a genius. Thank you for the food!

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bluesfortheredj · 3 years

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Modern Romance - Epilogue.

Smut ahead.

“Gwil, I can’t do this, I can’t cope,” she sighs, her voice on the verge of cracking with tears.

I can hear our son in the background; his cries coming across loud and clear as if it were him on the phone instead.

“It’s as if I’m not good enough, I’m not you. He doesn’t want his mum, he wants his dad.”

“Don’t say that, he doesn’t want me! He wants you, the person who gave birth to him.”

“He always calms down when you soothe him. I’ve tried everything; his nappy is dry, he’s not hungry, he hasn’t got wind… I don’t know what else to do,” she sounds empty, completely drained from a sleepless night and day.

I’ve only been gone 48 hours and she’s been up for most of those with our little one. I should be there, I say this too many times in our relationship, but I’m out in Europe filming and absent for more important moments as usual. I didn’t want to leave but in all honesty we need the money now we’ve got a tiny human to feed and clothe, and with (Y/N) on maternity leave it’s a struggle at times to make ends meet. Our little Leo is only six months old and it was the toughest decision to make but (Y/N) encouraged me to take it being as it’s only four weeks, despite being apprehensive about being left on her own with the bubba.

“Put me on video,” I instruct, needing to see her face.

It feels like Australia all over again and I might as well be the other side of the world with how isolated she must be feeling right now. She does as I say and now I can see the sheer exhaustion on her face in the suddenly harsh light of our lounge; she’s pale, there are deep dark circles underneath her eyes, and she looks completely beaten. Leo is screaming in the rocker next to her, one of her feet still managing to try and soothe him in spite of the fact that her whole body was now weak with tiredness, and I have to force a reassuring smile.

“He will not. Stop. Crying,” she sobs, “the neighbours must think something terrible is going on in here with the way he’s screaming. I’m an awful mother, I can’t cope being alone with my own child, I-”

“Shh,” I hush, “you’re doing a brilliant job under the circumstances. I should be there to help, there’s absolutely no shame in struggling on your own with a new born! Just look at me… look at me a second… just breathe okay? Take some deep breaths. That’s it. In… and out. Now you’re gonna pick up Leo and do the same okay?”

I’m clutching at straws, I have no more of an idea of what to do than she does, and I’m just making this up in the blind hope that it’ll go some way to calm the two of them down.

“Maybe do the skin to skin thing?” I add, knowing that we were told how it can help with bonding in the early months.

She nods slowly, stands the phone up on the coffee table, undoes the top few buttons on her pyjama shirt, takes one last deep breath, then picks up Leo from the rocker and carefully tucks him inside the clothing with his little red face still crying out for something unknown. I nod and smile as she looks to the phone screen for reassurance, then she wipes her tears away and starts to take deep breaths once more while her finger tips massage Leo’s scalp gently while he cries into her neck.

“You know him better than anyone on this planet,” I remind her, “you nurtured him for nine whole months and made sure he came into this world as safely and healthy as he could.”

Her eyes close as she begins to hum a song and she nods along to what I say until finally those screams begin to fade and I watch as his tiny chunky arms reach out to (Y/N)’s skin and rest upon it as if hugging her. The humming stops and I soon realise the two of them are now asleep in front of me, but I stay on video for another twenty minutes just to watch them both and take in the sight of my little family snoozing happily without me there. Leo stirs a little, his eyes opening slightly to look up at his mum, then he nuzzles into her neck with a yawn and he’s soon off to sleep again before I manage to end the video call.

Everything had been quite the rush since I proposed over a year ago; we had a small wedding ceremony at a country house in the middle of nowhere when she was six months gone with only the closest family and friends being invited, and we chose to forgo a honeymoon in favour of going away after the baby arrived which obviously did not go to plan because babies are notoriously good at messing up plans; it’s lucky they’re so bloody cute. And Leo… well, he’s the cutest of them all, not that I’m biased in any way obviously, but he is definitely the most gorgeous baby I’ve ever laid eyes on, and the most perfect mix of (Y/N) and I with his tiny button nose and piercing blue eyes. It’s funny how you imagine having the perfect little family and yet somehow the reality isn’t as easy as you think; sleepless nights, sick down every top you own, explosive poos in almost every colour of the rainbow, pee on your face if you take the nappy away too quickly… it’s really quite fascinating how much a small human can impact on your life. (Y/N) is a born mother but it hasn’t been easy adjusting to this new way of life for either of us, and I know that this is such a huge step to be left on her own with Leo for so long, and I sure as hell wouldn’t be able to do it, I know that for a fact.

“Gwil!” (Y/N) whispers excitedly when I answer her video call a few days later, “look!”

She switches cameras to show me a sleeping Leo in his cot then backs out of the room and turns the camera on herself to show me a relieved smile on her still slightly sleep deprived face, “it only took a week,” she sighs.

I smile, yet still feel sad that I’m not there to help out, “I’m sorry,” I exhale with a shake of my head, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she reassures, “if I can get through the last week without tearing my hair out then I can get through anything, right?”

“Exactly,” I nod, “you’re the strongest woman I know.”

“I’m nothing without you here.”

“Shut up,” I scoff, “don’t be ridiculous. Now remind me, when are your parents getting there?”

She looks down at her watch briefly, “in about an hour.”

“Good, and did the shopping get delivered alright?”

“Yep,” she nods, “got about 20 packs of nappies now which should last at least a couple of days,” she laughs.

“How’s his poo doing?” the conversations we have these days really are quite unexpected.

“It’s looking more human and less glowing alien goop, so it’s going in the right direction!”

“Oh thank god,” I sigh, “I could not cope with the…” I pause as I almost gag at the thought of what I used to find in his nappy, “yeah… that.”

She laughs at my reaction; a laugh that I hadn’t seen since before I left, and I melt into the seat at the desk in my hotel room at the sight and sound of that beautiful response. It was like cool rain after a sweltering summer’s day, having a mug of hot chocolate while underneath a blanket in winter, or the pure, ecstatic relief of coming home after weeks away. She’s home to me; I don’t even need to be in our house as long as I’m with her and now little Leo as well.

“What are you thinking?” she hums, seeing me drift off to a place with her.

“I’m just-”

Leo’s scream comes across loud and clear on the phone and she sticks out her bottom lip as far as it will go before knocking the back of her head on the wall behind as she tries to muster up some energy to deal with the impending situation.

“I love you, bye,” she sighs, ending the video call just as I open my mouth to reply.

“Love you too,” I say to the photo of us dancing at our wedding that makes up the background on my phone.

I spend far too long looking at pictures on my phone these days, although it’s getting increasingly harder to find the ones of us alone through the many rapid shots of Leo doing completely mundane things like giggling, waving his hands about, sleeping, eating, bathing, and most probably pooing in at least fifty percent of them. I have to scroll for a while before something other than our little man appears, and I end up going all the way back to the first photo I ever took of (Y/N). It’s just as magical as the day I took it; the soft glow of the rising sun illuminating the outline of her body in our bed. Because now it is our bed. The bed we’ve made love in countless times, the bed we’ve both cried in, comforted one another in, laughed until we’ve almost wet ourselves in, and the bed our baby was conceived in. The first thing I do when I get home is take her to bed, as long as Leo can give us five minutes that is; I think I’ll have to call in reinforcements, aka grandparents as childcare.

I try to squeeze through the crowds at the airport as quickly as possible so I can jump in a cab and get home, but these people will just not move. My frustrations grow with each person that bumps into me, and I’m a grumbling mess when I finally get outside the prison that is Heathrow, especially when I see that there are no taxis in sight thanks to the mass influx of people tonight. It’s a nightmare and the cheerful and relieved mood I was in when we landed has been stripped away bit by bit in the last half an hour. I finally find myself a cab and pop earphones in for the relatively quick journey considering London traffic, then I breathe a sigh of relief as I arrive home and walk up that familiar path. The door flies open before I even get to the mat and I drop my suitcase and bag as (Y/N) comes running out to greet me, flinging her arms around my neck and almost knocking me over with her enthusiasm. Now I’m really home.

“I missed you so much,” she quietly sobs into my shirt.

“I missed you more,” I whisper back, tears rolling over my cheeks, “are you okay? Is Leo alright? Where is he?”

She pulls away and I wipe her tears as she hangs on to my coat, “please don’t hate me but he’s with my parents until tomorrow…”

My face lights up at the thought of having (Y/N) all to myself again if only for 24 hours, and I can’t help but let out a relieved laugh, “how could I ever hate you? I get you alone for a whole day and we can pretend we’ve got no actual responsibilities. I couldn’t love you any more if I tried. Now come on, we’re having sex in every room.”

I take her hand and pull her inside the house to the sweetest sound of her laughing behind me, and I sit her on the stairs before running back out to grab my luggage. I drop it all in a pile in the hallway before I kick the door shut behind me, then she stands up on the step she stood on the first proper weekend we spent together and we recreate that kiss; the kiss that cemented us as a couple despite there being no labels at that point as we stood in our pyjamas ready for a night of nothing in particular.

“I completely and utterly adore our little Leo, but my god I’ve been aching to have you all to myself since he arrived,” I admit breathlessly, barely parting from our kiss as my hands wander her body unsure of where to stop these days.

“I know,” she nods as her lips move along my jaw lazily, “it’s just you and me until tomorrow night my love. Let’s not waste a minute.”

My eyes roll into the back of my head at those words and she pushes against my chest as she steps down from the stairs, then in a flurry of discarded clothes, wet, messy kisses and bumps into walls, doors, and furniture we somehow end up in the living room with me sat on the sofa and my beautiful (Y/N) bouncing up and down on my lap. I’ve missed this, I’ve missed her, I’ve missed the feeling of being so intimate with the one I love, I’ve missed her body and all the beautiful little changes it’s made to carry and nurture our son. I look up at her in both awe and pure pleasure to see her gaze focused on me and we meet for a sloppy, teeth clashing kiss while our bodies move together as one for the first time since our bubba came along. I’m first to orgasm, with her following shortly after, and we lay in a tangled, naked mess along the sofa as we catch our breath once we’ve finished. Our bodies are stuck together with the thin layers of sweat that coat both of us and the only sound is our breathing as it transitions from pants to soft breaths.

“Pasta?” she eventually asks.

“I fucking love you,” I reply.

She gets up with a grin and I study every inch of her body as she looks around for something to cover her, then I realise just how much it had changed during the pregnancy and the last few months and it’s a bewitching sight to see.

“You look incredible,” I admire, leaning up on one arm as she slips my t-shirt over her head.

“Urgh,” she groans, “I’m fatter than ever, my nipples are so painful, the stretch marks have spread, and I can barely get control over my bladder. I look far from incredible.”

I furrow my brow at her and sit up, “I mean it; you’re absolutely stunning. I hadn’t realised just how much your body had adapted to having our little one but it’s amazing to see, and you’re just as beautiful as the day I met you, if not more.”

“How is it you can still make my knees weak with mere words?” she blushes, backing out of the room to sort out some food.

I dress… well, I put on my pants and the jogging bottoms I wore on the journey back, then join her in the kitchen and it’s as if we’re back to those first couple of months again; the silliness, the passion, the carefree nature of us both, and it’s just as intoxicating now as it was back then. I know it’s completely selfish but having her attention on just me again is what I’ve been craving since our little muffin came along, and I’m sure that this will satiate my need for at least another six months. To be honest, I think she needs this just as much as I do; she’s had a tough month being on her own with Leo and playing both mum and dad while I’ve been away, and now she can have a well deserved day off from it all.

Our day is filled with delicious food, laying on the sofa and watching a whole television programme without being disturbed by cries, getting lost in one another with endless kissing and touching, and we make love two more times with one in our bedroom and the other in the kitchen. By night we don’t even want to go to sleep for fear of missing a second of being with each other, but we soon have to give in to the utter exhaustion of being awake for so long, and we huddle up together for a peaceful nights sleep.

“Morning,” (Y/N) whispers softly as I blink into the light of the room.

“Morning,” I reply groggily, trying my best to sit up.

“I have a confession to make…”

“Go on.”

“I phoned my parents this morning and they’re bringing Leo back in an hour. I loved our time together, it was perfect in every way, but my god am I missing that little sleep stealer!”

I let out a chuckle at her confession, “me too. It just wasn’t the same watching almost a whole series without one interruption. I miss cuddling him in one arm and trying to do something else with the other.”

“Well, it’s official… we’re proper parents now.”

“Yep. Undoubtedly so!”

She slips under the covers and cuddles into my side, running her fingers through the hair on my chest softly, and we both close our eyes to savour the moment before begrudgingly getting up and dressed ready for the return of Leo.

“Thank you,” I say as we spot her parent’s car pulling up outside.

“For what?” she frowns.

“Sticking with me, making me a dad, being my rock… the list goes on.”

She places a hand on my cheek and kisses my lips gently, “you big softie. You’re stuck with me anyway,” she winks.

The arrival of Leo at the door is signified by one of his giggles, and (Y/N) runs to open it and take our son in her arms with me following quickly behind. He wriggles against her and soon starts grabbing at her to get as close as humanly possible to his mum as she peppers his head with kisses while she carefully rocks her body soothingly.

“Daddy’s home!” she whispers excitedly as she passes him to me and ushers her parents into the lounge.

He grumbles a little, having to get used to smelling his dad again after such a long time, but he soon settles and overall seems pleased to see me thank goodness. I rock him in my arms as (Y/N) goes to make the tea and I stand in the kitchen doorway looking between the two loves of my life and completely taken aback by how lucky I got to have them in my life.

“Hey, come here,” I nod as (Y/N) turns to look at me.

She steps towards us both and plants a soft kiss on the little one’s nose as I wrap my free arm around her, then press my lips first to (Y/N)’s head, and secondly to Leo’s. As long as I’ve got these two in my life, I’ll be happy.

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee x you #gwilym lee fanfic #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee smut

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tanoraqui · 4 years

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[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

[now all on AO3!]

Nie Huaisang wakes up from his overexertion-induced sleep after about 14 hours, and about 24 hours before his brother wakes up. He has this time to think

He doesn’t use it to think, because his brother is still unconscious, comatose from a severe qi deviation. Chief Physician Nie Fengji, Wen Qing, Wen Qing’s Uncle Six, and assorted Nie physicians do obscure medical things to him involving spiritual energy, needles, a dash of surgery, and actually more of the poison that nearly killed him, in what Nie Huaisang can only assume is some sort of physician-approved hair of the dog scheme, and Nie Huaisang participates by sitting quietly in the corner until even that is deemed too in-the-way and he’s banished first to the hallway and then, with physician authority, to his own bed

they do search, and find some of the yin-storing grass hidden in Wen Ning’s pillow. Nie Huaisang doesn’t go to bed; he goes down to the third guest room and takes A-Yuan and Granny out for a walk just long enough for a couple disciples to beat Wen Ning enough to look good later - split lip and bruises, etc. In case anyone comes checking the story he gave Jin Qixian

Wen Ning, he hears, bears it with aplomb. Just in case it’s the Wens who are lying, Nie Huaisang doesn’t really give a shit

But on the third day since he collapsed off Baxia into the main courtyard, Nie Mingjue wakes up. He’s groggy and weak, physically and spiritually, but he shoves himself into a sitting position with a glare, catches and holds Nie Huaisang reflexively when he flings himself at his brother with a relieved laugh. Someone pulls him back - “stop putting weight on him!” - but it’s enough. It’s enough.

Wen Qing has three-day bags under her eyes. She says quietly, “That he’s awake - it shouldn’t leave this room. Not until Nie-zhongzhi is more recovered, and has decided what he wishes to do.” She nods toward Nie Mingjue

“What the fuck happened?” he demands, and it’s the weakest snarl Nie Huaisang has ever heard. His brother is already sagging back against his pillows. “Jin Guangshan was actually polite before I left Lanling, but I don’t remember...”

“He poisoned you,” Nie Huaisang says bluntly, because he’s thinking again and that was the last straw he needed to be convinced of how this happened (he never really stopped thinking, deep beneath the anxious terror and anticipation.) “No, this stays here...or can he be moved to his own bedroom?” he asks the Chief Physician. “It’d be more comfortable, and easier to hide his state from any spies Jin Guangyao might have - I mean, I assume he has spies. I’d want to...”

[the mastermind]

A few days later, Nie Huaisang arrives at Lotus Pier and begs his friends to take him out on the town. Distract him with food and wine and cheer from the stresses of home, where his brother is still comatose and everyone is starting to expect him to be responsible instead

Jiang Cheng is busy with Sect Leader duties but Wei Wuxian takes him up on it immediately. There’s nowhere quite like Yunmeng’s piers for goofing around - somewhere around the fourth street theater show and second jug of wine between them, Nie Huaisang leans over and asks, “The next time there’s a cultivational conference at Carp Tower - would you be interested in making a ruckus?”

they’re walking down the street in a crowd. It’s very hard to be overheard on the street in a crowd

“Like tonight?” Wei Wuxian grins and he, too, looks like this night has been a welcome break

“Without me,” Nie Huaisang admits. “Just to have some fun - make a scene! Cause a fun distraction!”

A single jar of wine in Wei Wuxian means he’s still mostly sharp. “A distraction for what?”

“Oh, you know,” Nie Huaisang says airily, hides half his face behind a coy fan and says more quietly. “Helping some of those Wens dying in Jin Guangshan’s work camps.”

Wei Wuxian has never had much head for intrigue, but at least he whispers. “The same Wens who assa- who tried to assassinate your brother?”

“No, silly!” Nie Huaisang baps him with the fan, laughing, and hopes WWX sees in his eyes that he’s serious. “That’s a different thing. This is just to have some fun!”

Wei Wuxian meets his eyes, and his face splits back into a grin. It’s regained the sharp-toothed edge its been carrying since the end of the Sunshot Campaign. “Why not? I could use a little fun myself!”

The next cultivation conference at Carp Tower is in just three weeks, and Nie Huaisang spends them frantic. There’s so much to do, and he can’t let anyone know about any of it. There are plenty of empty houses, empty entire villages - the war was fought in Qinghe only second to Qishan, for Wen Ruohan’s determination to capture the impenetrable fortress clan

he wants to err on the side of making sure people will have shelter, especially with winter coming on, but he needs to err on the side of stealth or they’ll never pull this off -

but how are they (how is he) going to pull it off anyway, honestly; there’s only so many times he can storm in and demand things with a wild combination of pitiful tears and borrowed authority...he can’t exactly get another note for the actual Jin clan -

...though...

they don’t need that many extra roofs, at least, if there won’t be that many people (priority of the Dafan Wens, of course, to repay Wen Qing and because, honestly, they’re the largest group that survived the initial purges, being mostly non-combatants)

he tried and failed to put the distraction out of mind, because there’s really no way to know in advance what Wei Wuxian would do, much less how to handle it. whether it would create a day or a week or several more years of chaos...

and then there was the really difficult part: getting Nie Mingjue to stay the fuck in bed, or at least in his own suite of rooms. Nie Huaisang’s brother was the worst patient possible, which was unfair, because Nie Huaisang himself would’ve loved to have an excuse to lounge in his bedroom doing leisurely, sedentary activities for few weeks. Instead he was out running around organizing things - while letting as few people as possible know what he was organizing or even that he was doing it - and Nie Mingjue was being threatened every other day by Wen Qing and her needles

To make matters more exciting, 10 days out from the cultivation conference, a delegation arrived without from YunmengJiang - Jiang Wanyin himself, and riding with him, Jiang Yanli. Nie Huaisang met them in the courtyard; she stepped gracefully off her brother’s sword and gave him a hug that was, honestly, meltingly comforting and kind

“Nie Huaisang! I’ve been so sorry to hear about Mingjue-gongzi. I would have come sooner, but, you know, we’re only stealing this time from a trip to Lanling for more wedding planning.” She gestured to a pair of disciples who between them hauled a tureen the size of a small child. “I brought some of my best medicinal soup - I don’t know if it will possibly be right, but A-Xian told me how hard it’s been for you, and I just had to try to help.”

offer

“You’re too kind, Jiang-guniang.” He fluttered his fan anxiously. “I’m sure Da-ge would thank you if he could, but...” he blinked away tears. “I can’t even let you in to see him; the physicians even turned away his sworn brothers.”

skeptical outlining of situation

(Jin Guangyao was obviously right out, and the idea of involving earnest, idealistic Zewu-jun in any sort of conspiracy made Nie Huaisang think fondly of breaking out in hives)

“Of course,” Jiang Yanli said sympathetically. She took her brother’s arm back to lean on, and Nie Huaisang took his cue to bow and offer her refreshments and a set - maybe with a view? He knew all the best places. Jiang Yanli, genuinely frail enough to not be expected to do much more than look lovely, accepted

they had a very pleasant conversation about other things - poetry, who was and wasn’t being invited to the wedding, the latest fashions in Lanling (Nie Huaisang sighed wistfully)

eventually Jiang Yanli asked, between one sip of tea and the next, “This event you’re planning with A-Xian - could it be postponed? Say, six months?”

the wedding. Nie Huaisang’s breath caught briefly - now that would be a distraction in its own right, even without anything Wei Wuxian could pull

but he thought about the emaciated, flinching Wens in the Qiongqi Pass camp, and those back in Qishan who weren’t much better off, and shook his head. “Not for those to whom it would matter most.”

and, frankly, he couldn’t ask his brother to stay quiet so long, and he really would prefer than Lanling not know Nie Mingjue had truly survived until they were ready to strike back

Jiang Yanli hummed thoughtfully. “What about...two, two-and-a-half months?”

...there was nothing happening in two months, except the middle of winter. which would make roads more impassible, maybe to their advantage, but only if a couple different things went wrong...

but Jiang Yanli was smiling sweetly, like someone with a plan

“I think that would be wonderful,” he said, and sipped his tea back at her

Jiang Cheng punches him on the shoulder before they go and says he doesn’t seem like he’s doing completely terribly at everything, which is the Jiang Cheng equivalent of a supportive hug and 10-minute earnest pep talk. Nie Huaisang is genuinely warmed

Jiang Yanli, mentally cracking her knuckles as her brother flies her to Carp Tower: time to seduce my fiancee, the third hottest man in the kingdom, into putting a baby in me so we can speedrun our wedding prep - for a good cause! god I love my life

[the grifter]

unfortunately, two-and-a-half months is too long a delay to use the usual “ask for forgiveness, not permission” method, not least because Nie Huaisang has to explain to his brother why he wants him to keep pretending to be comatose, when even his physicians are starting to agree that he needs exercise more than rest

“No,” Nie Mingjue says flatly

“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang pleads. “It’ll just be so much easier if everyone thinks I’m running around like a terrified rabbit!”

“Why do you insist on being useless at all times?” Nie Mingjue growled, a familiar old song. “If you just applied yourself - ”

“Because it’s easier!” Nie Huaisang cried (a newer tune). “Because I don’t want to be a great warrior, I just want to make pretty things and have friends and have fun - and when I do want something, it’s much easier to get it if no one thinks I’m worth anything - ”

“Of course you’re worth something,” Nie Mingjue snapped. “You’re the heir to QingheNie and you’re my brother!”

Nie Huaisang really did cry easily. He blinked away the tears.

“The Jins tried to kill you, da-ge,” he said quietly. “And they tried to make it look like a qi deviation.” (Like Father, went unsaid. Like my mother and your uncle and three of our cousins, one of whom was only thirteen.) “I want to make clear to them what we think of that.”

Nie Mingjue unclenched his hand from Baxia’s hilt, with whom Nie Fengji and Sixth Uncle had finally agreed to let him reunite. “Then we kill one of them back,” he said. “Not this underhanded, indirect...and with Wen-dogs...”

“If I could kill Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao in one stroke, right now, I’d do it. But that would start another war, and we could survive another war, but a lot of our people wouldn’t. Only about seven out of ten survived the last one.” He bit his lip. “And the Wens...not all of them were monsters, we’ve seen that, and the Jins tried to blame the ones we know are alright. This will show them that we can make up our own minds.”

Nie Mingjue was silent for a long moment, and Nie Huaisong resisted the urge to shift from foot to foot. His brother was never impressed with fidgeting.

“Fine,” Nie Mingjue said at last. “Do your scheme. But you’d better prove that you’re right, Huaisang.”

“I will, Nie-zhongzhi.” He stood at parade attention.

“And you won’t use it as excuse that you’re too busy to practice your saber.”

“Da-ge!” he whined instantly. “But I will be busy! We need to tar all the house roofs in Ning Village, and find about fifty spare horses, and weed out any spies in our household - oh, and do you have any letters from Jin Guangyao I can look at? And...”

News came that the wedding of Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan had been moved up to two months rom now and Nie Huaisang whistles under his breath then flinches reflexively, before he realizes there’s no "Twin Prides” around to smack him for disrespecting their sister

But two months somehow passed even faster than that first week had. Homes to quietly repair and no few medical supplies to stock up on, winter snow-ready horses to find and discard with another trip to Yunmeng, social visits to carefully negotiate...

Gossip flowed, as always. Gossip said: Nie Mingjue has survived the dastardly attack on his life; he’s still half-dead or he’s twice the warrior he ever was or he personally executed every Wen in his dungeons. Gossip said: the witch Wen Qing had seduced him and stabbed him with a poisoned blade; the witch Wen Qing had fallen in love with him and saved him from a random qi deviation; the witch Wen Qing was actually the Yiling Patriarch in disguise and both of the above were true. Gossip generally agreed that Nie Huaisang was still wavering between disconsolate over his brother’s brush his death (and his own brush with Sect Leadership) and dragging anyone who would heed him out for drinks and entertainment

Jin Guangyao did have spies in the Unclean Realm, of course; he knew their value. His girl in the kitchen got fired over some mistake with a roast, but the guest cultivator and the chambermaid and assorted people in the nearest towns generally agreed: Nie Mingjue was back on his feet but still rebuilding his strength under the careful eye of his Chief Physician, and didn’t remember anything from the day of his qi deviation. Wen Qing was dead, as were all the other Wens - she and Wen Zhichen had preformed well in healing the damage she’d done in her attempt to poison the sect leader, under threat of their own deaths, but when Nie Mingjue woke up he'd ordered their deaths without even the dignity of public execution. Nie Huaisang was so wracked with guilt over bringing them into the house that he’d actually started practicing saber sometimes, and just a little heartbroken over the death of the child in particular

this last, Jin Guangyao found out himself, as well as confirmed most of the rest when he was allowed to visit his sworn brother and ended up letting Nie Huaisang sob on his shoulder for two straight hours. He had to have the robe steam-cleaned, but it was very informative

“Would you like us to kill the rest of the Wen-dogs?” he asked his sworn brother. “Or you can do it yourself, of course.”

Nie Mingjue snorted dismissively. “I killed the ones who were the biggest problem. Keep working your dogs to death as you like.”

The night before they were supposed to leave for the Jiang-Jin wedding, Nie Huaisang sat in his brother’s chambers (as he had taken to doing many evenings) and absolutely failed to focus on his paints.

“ - I’m sure I can handle the lieutenants left in charge, though really I haven’t talked to them as much so they’re more likely to be suspicious, especially if I didn’t get the calligraphy right - ”

“Huaisang - ”

“ - and the Wens themselves, I mean, this has to go quickly if it’s going to work at all - what if Wen Ning hasn’t gotten word around - we haven’t heard from him since yesterday, what if they found him, he could be- Wen Qing is going to kill me - ”

(the Nie sect wasn’t given to duplicity, but that didn’t mean their fortress of a sect building didn’t have a few spare secret rooms and passageways, in which to hide a handful of Wens for a couple months)

“A-sang - ”

“ - hell, what if the arrays don’t work and we all just die - but it’s the only way; horses wouldn’t be fast enough, especially with the heavy snows this year - ”

“Nie Huaisang!” Nie Mingjue barks in a parade-ground voice.

Nie Huaisang spins around mid-pace to stand at attention, one hand behind his back and the other on his saber hilt. A very few reflexes have been successfully trained into him

His brother scowls at him from the bed, where he sits in lotus position as the world’s grumpiest, most broad-shouldered guru. Nie Huaisang braces himself

“I’m proud of you,” says Nie Mingjue

“I- what?”

Nie Huaisang has spent the last two and a half months careful of every expression he made, but now he isn’t sure what to do at all.

“You’ve actually put effort into this. It’s needlessly elaborate and only just barely honorable, and it’s certainly not saberwork. But it’s...something.” He nods.

“...oh.”

his posture does relax in surprise. but then, the parade-attention was never going to last

“You will pull off this absurd scheme, and you will not be in any way injured in the process, because if you are, we will go to war with LanlingJin.”

“Yes, da-ge”

“Now shut the fuck up, or I’ll call Wen Qing in to put you to sleep, while I do this bullshit boring nightly meditation.”

Nie Huaisang ducks his head. “Yes, da-ge.”

oh, a smile. a smile is the expression he wants to make

The day of the wedding of Jin Zixuan of Langling and Jiang Yanli of Yunmeng dawns auspiciously bright and the ceremony lives up to every portent. Carp Tower is decorated with even more red than gold. The bride is radiant enough to make the sun weep for jealousy; the groom looks pretty good, too; and they only have eyes for one another. Both her brothers cry, Jiang Cheng stoically and Wei Wuxian loudly; Madame Jin looks even happier than the newlyweds; and Nie Huaisang makes sure he’s among the first to offer the happy couple congratulations, so he can equally quickly slip out and set off a teleportation talisman

He appears in the woods near the first town in the Qishan that the spare Wen cultivators and other prisoners of war are being stored in. A dozen Nie cultivators are waiting expectantly, led by Zhao Huandi

Nie Huaisang quickly strips himself of the outer layer of wedding-appropriate finery, leaving his ordinary day’s slightly-nicer-than-most-would-bother-with finery. He tucks the extra beautiful stuff carefully in a qiankun pouch and asks, “Everyone ready?”

nods and salutes and murmurs of agreement

He briefly channels a completely different work of fiction: “Let’s go steal a small populace.”

It’s actually...very easy. “Isn’t the young lord’s wedding today?” asks the man left in charge while Jin Qixian, being a cousin of the family, is at that wedding. “Why aren’t you at that?”

“I didn’t practice my saber for a week and my brother got sooo angry.” Nie Huaisang pouts. “He forbade me from the party of the year, and gave me a job to do instead! It’s not fair - I’d be happy to do a favor for san-ge any other day!”

The lieutenant eyes the orders he’s been handed, in Jin Guangyao’s handwriting with Jin Guangyao’s signature. “Well, it does all seem to be in order.” He waves to the nearest guard. “Hey, start rounding up the prisoners - all of them!”

Nie Huaisang had two months, a lot of correspondence, and a great deal of practice imitating art styles. He’d been able to forge his own brother’s handwriting since was twelve - Jin Guangyao’s was much easier. Much neater

Nie Huaisang spotted the guard who’d been kind enough to let Granny come with A-Yuan, that first time, and pointed at him. “Make sure you get all the old people and babies and stuff, too! Anyone who can’t come on their own!

As Wens start to gather (be gathered) in the main square, most of the Nie cultivators clear a space and sketch out a large array in blood, a little from each cultivator’s hand. It’s wide enough for about forty people to stand in. When it’s done, Nie Huaisang nods to a disciple standing to the side with a bow. She leans back and shoots an arrow with a red ribbon into the sky. It vanishes in a spark of golden light

one of Nie Sect’s messenger arrows. It will land at Wen Qing’s feet in Qinghe to let her know that they’re on their way, and she can be ready with whatever medical care and reassurances she wants

He claps to get the muttering, anxious crowd’s attention, and can’t quite help but grin as he gets it. He gestures to the bloody array, reminiscent of a teleportation talisman on a grand scale. “All right, who wants to leave this terrible place where everyone hates you in exchange for a new terrible place where everyone hates you, travel by serving as the first test subjects of the Yiling Patriarch’s new mass-teleportation array?!”

[the hacker]

(a jest. Wei Wuxian definitely tested it first, on himself and a bunch of rabbits and himself+Jiang Cheng (in that order.) He promised.)

it’s a little out-of-character, but most of the guards who react just laugh meanly. And the Wens, hell yes, have been prepped. A handful protest, beg mercy or insist that this is their home, but for the most part, Nie Huaisang can recognize amateur acting when he sees it

thank goodness - they need a ratio of at least 1 participating cultivator to every 6 civilians to power the array, or the Nie cultivators supporting it from outside will exhaust themselves immediately

as the first group is going, a burst of light bright enough to blind, an arrow falls from the sky to Nie Huaisang’s feet. The note attached is from Liu Lifang: won’t take Lianfang-zun’s orders

aw, hell. He hesitates - another arrow lands, a green ribbon on the end. The first batch of Wens arrived safely in Qinghe

he passes both arrows to Zhao Huandi and murmurs, “I’m going to go sort this out. Make sure everyone gets through, stop it if something goes wrong with the teleportation. If something goes wrong with the Wens or the Jins...try not to kill anyone”

Zhao Huandi bows, turns and immediately starts shouting for the array to be checked for the next batch. Nie Huaisang makes some hasty, whining excuses to the Jin lieutenant, pulls out another teleportation, and-

arrives in the filthy refugee/prisoner city with a bit of the ache of an over-taxed golden core. He rests his hands on his knees for a moment, catching his breath

Still better than sword travel. He’s going to bother Wei Wuxian for these all the time, now

the woman left in charge in Jin Guangchao’s place is engaged in a staring glaring contest with Liu Lifang at their supervisory office. But have their arms crossed and the tension is so thick they’re both clearly itching to slice it with a sword

Nie Huaisang tumbles through the door with a whining, “What? Why did you call me?”

“I actually sent my message to Sect Leader Nie...” says Liu Lifang, with masterful confusion

“Well, he sent me,” Nie Huaisang complains. He turns to the other woman. “What’s the big deal? Da-ge said we should have a note for san-ge - that is, Jin Guangyao, Lianfang-zun - ”

She scowled even more darkly. “My orders come from Jin Guangchao and his from Sect Leader Jin Guangshan, not from Jin-zhongzhi’s bastard son”

[split-second thinking]

“Oh, but Guangyao-ge really knows what he’s doing,” said Nie Huaisang, wide-eyed. “He was so good at organizing everything, before da-ge had to banish him that one time” Bait...

“’So good’?” she challenges. “Then why’d he get banished at all?”

“Oh, you must have heard of my brother’s temper,” Nie Huaisang whines. “He gets so angry when one little thing goes wrong, and then Meng Yao - back then - did a pretty big thing...you’re so lucky Sect Leader Jin is more forgiving.” Hook...

“It would be terrible if Jin Guangyao did something to so anger Sect Leader Jin,” she said thoughtfully.

“I’m glad I doubt he ever would!” He gestured to the forged papers in Liu Lifang’s hand. “And as you can see, we have direct orders from him for you to release these prisoners into Nie Sect’s care - so won’t you do your duty and obey, so I can get back to my party?”

Do your duty, the orders themselves aren’t your responsibility, they’re his. The Jin cultivator nods slowly, then bows sharply, formal and faux-friendly. “Of course, Young Master Nie. How good of you to help your brother like this.”

Sinker.

(also not the worst idea, actually. a little dissension thrown into the Jin clan would be great)

Once again, most of the Wens are almost more willing the queue up than the guards are to make them, though many do blanch at the twenty-foot teleportation array drawn in blood (maximum power for minimal cost, Wei Wuxian had explained). A few are genuinely terrified of leaving; a few are almost certainly just enjoying the drama

a young man, as grubby as the rest and face hidden behind a shy curtain of hair, steps into the array without a flinch, and gives Nie Huaisang a subtle thumbs up. He waves back, just as underhanded, and lets slip a relieved sigh as he mentally crosses out “accidentally got her brother killed and/or captured/tortured/etc” on the list of reasons Wen Qing might kill him one day

[the thief spy]

(it hadn’t been easy to convince her to let him go in the first place. but really, Wen Ning was quick-thinking, trustworthy to all who met him, and good at staying hidden when he needed to. and they needed the Wens helping power the arrays, not to mention just not putting up a fight - everything going much quicker with word spread as to what was really happening. And, Nie Huaisang prided himself, it was just a little bit kinder)

this city’s worth were half gone to Qinghe when another messenger arrow landed at his feet in a burst of golden light. A purple ribbon - First Disciple Han Xiaoshi was done at Qiongqi Pass

she’d taken a much higher percentage of skilled warriors (not that all Nie Sect cultivators weren’t skilled warriors) than the other groups, as well as a “signed” note from Jin Guangyao. The work camp at Qiongqi Pass was the place Nie Huaisang least minded if the rescue of the Wens turned into a fight with the Jins. Sixth Uncle had taken nearly as long to get back into good health as Nie Mingjue, and he hadn’t liked hte way the inspectors smiled

[the hitter]

a few minutes later, a blue-ribboned arrow meant the first Qishan group was all through, too. Nie Huaisang and Liu Lifang’s group was the last to finish

they went with the last batch. One disciple stayed behind to clean it up and fly home - no point in sharing the Yiling Patriarch’s proprietary inventions with Jin Sect if they didn’t have to

the mass teleportation array is much worst than the single-use talisman. Nie Huaisang feels like he’s been turned upside-down and inside-out, and wrung out like a wet cloth besides. Golden core, more like yellowish pith. He does his best to stay standing

he’s knocked flat by the impact of a small mass slamming into his shins at high speed. “Sang-ge! Sang-ge! You didn’t say everyone was going to be at the wedding! Was it fun? Where are your pretty clothes?”

“My extra pretty clothes are in my qiankun bag, A-Yuan.” He pushed himself to sit up, and attempts to distangle the toddler from his legs. “Which is good, because you’re getting my normal pretty clothes all dirty on the ground!”

A-Yuan squeezed him even tighter, to show that nobody was the boss of him, then sprang away with his hands behind his back, looking like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. That, too, lasted for about half a second before the boy was bouncing in place again. “Did you know that Uncle Four is here now, and Auntie Three, and Zhui Li and Mengmeng and Han Yao got a puppy - ”

“A-Yuan, stop harassing the poor man!” Granny hurried up behind him at a much slower pace than a toddler could manage. She bows, over A-Yuan-head, eyes shining. “Young Master Nie has done a great service for us this day. You should be saying thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he says, dreaming briefly of sliding a sword through Jin Guangshan’s throat. He forces himself to stand - the world has mostly stopped swimming - and pulls her upright, and pokes A-Yuan with his foot so he follows suit. “A-Yuan was just giving me a report - yes, we’re the last batch!” he calls to a cultivator approaching with a querulous expression. “You’d better send an arrow to da-ge to tell him that it’s all okay!”

Second Disciple Ling Jiaoshi nods and scribbles out a note, and hands it to a junior trailing behind him with a bow and arrow

behind them, around them, about five hundred Wens and Wen-associated people are milling around a deep valley tucked into Qinghe’s mountains. Most are avoiding the three great arrays painted in blood in the center of a some fields, mirrors to the ones in Qishan and Qiongqi Pass, though the landing sites will be inactive with their pairs destroyed. Many are exclaiming to see family and friends again, or looking around in wary uncertainty, or both. The main source of order is being imposed by the multiple triage tents, sorting out who needs medical attention and who just needs a blanket and hearty meal. Nie Huaisang can hear the Chief Physician yelling at someone in the distance

A-Yuan tugs on his hand and repeats accusatorially, “You didn’t say everyone was going to be at the wedding! That must have been so big! Are we all staying with Sang-ge and Miss Yi now? And Aunt Qing and Uncle Ning and Uncle Nie-Who-Needs-Quiet?” His eyes widen and he tugs even harder. “Did you bring new candy?!”

Nie Huaisang laughs and pulls from one pocket a silk flag in brilliant red, filched from the wedding decorations. “No, but I did get material for a new fan. Do you want to help me paint it?”

To be concluded with a brief epilogue!

#mdzs #the untamed #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #jiang yanli #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #a yuan #UH #THIS WAS...LONGER THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE #BY A COUPLE THOUSAND WORDS I'M NOT GONNA LIE #I HAD TO GO TO SLEEP BEFORE FINISHING EVERYTHING #i just wanted...jiang yanli to have fun...and then the nie bros were almost kind of discussing feelings...#and then we still had to pull off the heist...

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veridium · 4 years

Text

Commission: “Easy (Mac) Does It”

Last but certainly not least in this month’s commission comes a piece near and dear to my heart. @ginnyq requested that I write a College AU fic starring Olivia and Cullen, and I was so happy to do it! Especially considering I know @bitchesofostwick would love to read it as well.

Thank you for commissioning me, Ginny, and giving me a chance to write Cullen’s POV for a change!

It is a dark, desolate evening in winter. Even the crows dare not fly. Across campus there is hardly a soul crawling about. The winter storms brewed on the horizon. There are warnings on the evening news for ice and sleet. Even a rural midwestern guy like Cullen knows not to fuck around with that. For most of the night he’s been in the living room of the apartment reading for classes. Cassandra has long since gone to bed, leaving him to hold the proverbial fort. On the TV, there’s headlines about various worldly stressors. Ever-so-often he thinks to shut it off, but falls short of doing so every time. It’s like the way the stories keep him awake, if not increasingly unnerved.

Which is why, when a small hand slams against the nearby window, he jerks out of half-lulled, half-jaded rest. Book, blanket, and legs go up, and he goes down hard onto the floor. First instinct is to go for the bat in the kitchen, one of few in the apartment placed in strategic locations. He can ask questions later. It’s not until he flips over onto his back and sees a familiar, but still horrifying pout in the glass, fogging it up with hot breath.

“Cull’n, oh-pn th-dor!”

It’s Liv, dressed in a dark windbreaker jacket with the hood over her head like she’s some nighttime security guard who also goes jogging after shifts.

“Liv…! What the--”

She quickly sticks her finger over her lips and demands he quiet down. She removes her other hand from the glass and points in the direction of the door. She’s staring at him like he’ll either unlock it or she’ll initiate a curse in revenge. Groaning as he rises -- damn, he landed on his hip in just the most painful spot -- he stands on his tube-socked feet and drags them over to the door. Rustling bushes can be heard from outside but they blend in with the erratic wind gusts.

Whatever could she want at this hour, and why does it involve almost sending him into cardiac arrest?

For the sake of not having to pay the school for apartment carpentry repairs should he refuse to let her in, he unchains the door and flipped the lock. Keen on the sounds of both, Liv’s pressing the door open with gusto that overpowers his wariness. “Ugh, thank you,” she whispers, slipping inside and shutting it for him. She then backed against it and locked it again. “Is Cassandra awake?”

“Cassandra?” he asks with a normal volume, only to have her finger waved in the half-step of space there was between them. So this is all to see her? Why?

“Shh-yes! Fuck.” She then slides to check around the corner.

“No,” he answers, grabbing her flailing hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Good. Dammit.” Without answering him she walks quietly into the kitchen and started pacing. “How could I have slipped up like this?”

“Uh…”

“No, no, there is no excuse.”

“I wasn’t going to say--”

“It is entirely reprehensible on my part, there is no way--”

“Olivia…!”

“Shhhh!” She spins around and shushes him again, her look twice as horrified as before. “For this to be fixed we have to be completely quiet, traceless, underc--”

Her phone goes off and she hops feet into the air, reaching into her jacket pocket and nearly flinging the iPhone across the kitchen, as if it’s a hot potato she grabbed out of the oven with her bare hands.

“Shitshitshit.” She scrambles and turns off the ringer while Cullen covers his mouth which is sure to be cracked in a half-smile. It’s just too much.

“Liv, what is going on?” he gets in as she makes for the small round dining table, sitting down and putting her head in her hands. “Are you in trouble or something?”

“I am. Or, I’m going to be. With Ellinor.”

He frowns. “Ellinor? Why…?”

“Um. Look, Rutherfudger,” she stares at him as he sits down across from her. She presses her hands onto the table flat. “I have a mission, and unfortunately for me, it requires the accompaniment of a capable man.”

“How...how disturbing, for you.”

“I know. But more specifically it requires you. At the present moment Ellinor is at a late night group project meeting, but when she gets back to the dorm she’s going to want a late night snack before knocking out.”

“...Yes?”

“A late night snack of the cheesy and carb variety.”

“...Yes, like those easy macs she…she...”

Olivia’s already pale face goes nearly paper white as she sinks back in her chair, slowly and with folding arms. Suddenly Cullen remembers a conversation -- a certain casual chat with Ellinor before class started, in which she mentioned a very specific qualm: Olivia had eaten all her easy mac bowls. Little blonde punk, she said as she pulled out her pens from her bag.

The urge to start laughing rears its ugly head again as Cullen folds his own arms against his chest. “Not again, Liv.”

“Again? What has she told--” she is almost yelling again, but shuts herself up. After craning her neck out behind her to check down the hall, she gets back to business. “Look--”

“What’s stopping you from driving down to Walmart and picking up some? You have your car.”

Almost perfectly timed, a rolling current of thunder goes off outside. The rain clapping against the window makes it barely audible. Olivia sighs, mulling her teeth a little as her gaze falls.

“I haven’t been able to go in and get my new tires put on, yet, and the forecast called for freezing rain. I am a good driver, better than any of you cowboys, but I’m not stupid. I’m not going to trust a mini built for speed out there.”

Still amused, Cullen leans his elbows onto the table. “So. You don’t really need a man, you need 4-wheel drive.”

“I thought the “man” thing would appeal to your...weakness to be chivalrous, or whatever. Masculinity.”

“You think me that easily manipulated?”

She presses her palms together with conviction. “Look, Cullen, I have not the time nor the supplemental resources to have this disk horse now. We have but one hour -- nay, 45 minutes -- to keep me alive and keep you from danger.”

“Danger? Pff, what danger am I in if I don’t help…”

Liv lifts a brow. “Two words: hangry Ellinor.”

The silence that fills the room is comparable to the kind that happens right before a giant shark busts in and devours one of them like a tootsie pop. He holds his breath, their eyes locked, before he’s up and reaching for the keys hanging on the door next to his equally necessary raincoat.

“Let’s go,” he says, but she doesn’t need the command. She’s already right there with him prying the door open.

Approximately 24 minutes later they are standing before a disastrous scene in the Kroger section with every kind of boxed and pre-made pasta dish. Every kind, that is, save for the Kraft easy mac. Maybe it is a sign of the apocalypse -- it is based on the look on Olivia’s face -- but to the onlooker it probably looks like two college students in the midst of a midterm breakdown that is being exacerbated by a 14 inch gap of nothing on the shelf.

“What...w-what, w-why are they out of it?” Olivia finally says. A silence that came only after she had spent way too much time pacing the aisle looking for where it could be, while Cullen stood in front of where they had always been.

“Would she like--”

“No,” Olivia answers fast. “No, it has to be easy mac.”

“...because she will no--”

“Notice. Yes.”

Cullen goes from wanting to “mistakenly” not see her banging on the window to wanting to almost hug her. For a 6-pack of Kraft?

“I could text Rylen and see if he has any in h--”

“Ellinor is going to kill me.”

He turns to the side and looks at her. Her posture and expression of defeat further warms him. “Hey, it’s just easy mac.”

“Yeah, but it’s also the third time I’ve eaten out of her pantry and forgot to replace it. I said I’d be better, and now I’m going to be. Or, I was. Now I’m just going to go back to the dorm and lay myself out on the guillotine.”

She starts to leave and he follows a few steps. “Liv, he--”

“No, Rutherfetta, you don’t get it--”

“Rutherf--”

“--Ellinor puts up with so much of my shit every day, and the least I can do is make sure she doesn’t go without her own damn mac.”

The comedy of the night has all-but-vanished and they are left at an impasse. Cullen is no Dr. Phil, or whoever is respected publicly for therapeutic insight these days, but he can tell there’s something else going on. Something that would give Olivia extra reason for wanting to follow through with this. It’s kind of odd being the person to witness it. Odd, but not awful. Not anymore.

He grabs his keys and shuffles in his socks and Nike sandals over to her. She folds her arms, and for some reason he sees fit to stick his arm around her and get her to walk with him.

“Come on, Liv, let’s go.”

“But...b-b-”

“I have a back-up plan in mind. Let’s just get back before the storm gets any worse.”

He drives them back to her and Ellinor’s dorm. Astoundingly, they do not take all night to do so, and avoid being swept away by the storm. Instead of staying in the car and saying God speed, though, he follows her inside. She eyes him with suspicion as he does. The two of them look a bit washed up coming down the hallway. When they arrive, Ellinor’s door is pitched open. She then comes out almost perfectly on cue.

Her eyes go big with immediate concern. “What on earth are you two doing?” she asks. She crosses her arms over herself, dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. Her hair is tousled up in a ponytail. She’s beautiful.

“I, uh--”

Olivia interrupts. “Ellinor, I have to confess something, I...I-I...”

Hearing the guilt in Liv’s tone snaps him out of it. He shakes his head and grabs onto his keys in his pocket. “Liv was at our place, and gave me the idea to come over and surprise you.”

Ellinor’s eyes switch with suspicion between them both. She’s not entirely convinced, but there’s a light in her eyes. Hope.

“What? In this weather?”

“I didn’t plan on it being so shitty outside. I was going to fetch you and cook you a late-night dinner since you’ve been working hard all night.”

“W-hat? But I haven’t heard from you in…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want my phone to drown in the rain.”

Ellinor relaxes and her arms fall. She looks tired and fed up with having to deal with big assignments and bigger egos all day. He knows that face and that dread. It wears on her. Olivia was right, in her own way, to be so frantically concerned -- but neither of them deserve to spend the rest of the night squabbling.

She looks at Olivia. “Is he telling the truth, or did you just conscript him to bury a body for you?”

“I...what?”

They share a half-second glance. For a moment Cullen wonders if she’ll go along, or if the pang of shame will make her confess no matter what. There’s awkward suspense, and then: “Pff, I wouldn’t call him to bury a body,” Olivia finally responds. She rolls her eyes, even. “He’s telling the truth. I just went along to make sure he didn’t mess up. Go on, now, go have your candlelit Rutherfeast.”

It isn’t until Ellinor has rushed in and out with warmer clothes, and they walk all the way down the stairs and into the fire lane where he’s temporarily parked, that Cullen feels his phone vibrate. He waits until they are in the car to check.

Liv: Thank you, Rutherfriend. Take care of her, okay? She deserves it.

Ellinor asks what’s got him grinning, and he just shakes his head and says one of the boys from the team sent a joke. Just enough time to respond:

Cullen: No problem, Sinclown.

Now, to text Cassandra and wake her up to check what’s in the pantry while he pretends to drive really slow for “the storm’s sake.” Sorry, Cass.

“What are you doing?” he asks, noticing Ellinor also texting.

Ellinor smirks and slumps comfortably in the passengers seat. Her thumb hits send on a message. “Telling Liv she better not eat my easy macs while I’m gone.”

#comission #college au #ginnyq #bitchesofostwick #ellinor trevelyan #cullen rutherford #olivia sinclair #modern au

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pro-bee · 4 years

Text

the road less traveled

Note: I cooked this up in the last 24 hours to try to work through some writer’s block on my post-reunion WIP. So this is a bit of a stream of consciousness mess, but if I don’t post this now, I’m gonna chicken out and all my other ideas are going to go PFFT. Also, this is inspired by all the discourse you guys have been floating around lately so it’s your fault.

Rating: G

Spoilers: Nada. Generally season 17. Possibly AU depending on how you look at things. (Also assumes Summer of Secret Sex happened don’t start with me)

Relationships: Implied Tiva. Vague mentions of Bishop/Torres. General team bonding.

Words: 1700

Summary: Sometimes a case hits a little too close to home. Sometimes it makes people want to do something about it.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“How could they have known that they each had feelings for each other for so long and not done anything about it?! That had to have been torture!”

Bishop has been on a rant since their team got to their table at their favorite watering hole, decompressing after yet another wild case that has prodded at more than a few wounds between them. It was a story of star-crossed lovers, who held back on their feelings for one another for fear of ruining their friendship (and losing their jobs), until one made a tragic mistake and the other paid for it. One of those times where they get no satisfaction out of getting their suspect, because of the chaos left in its wake.

“Don’t ask me. I have been in love with the same man since I was 23 and I still haven’t fully figured it out.”

Ziva’s unexpected candor (and unexpected help in the investigation) catches the younger agent off-guard; she wasn’t counting on things taking such a personal turn. Bishop gives her a sad smile, though the answer clearly isn’t the one she necessarily wants to hear at the moment. Torres shifts nervously in his seat across the table from her, unclear on where this conversation is headed, on edge the way he is whenever he’s around his predecessor.

The admission gives McGee pause, but maybe this isn’t the time to press. “It’s funny, looking at us all now, with families of our own, I can’t imagine having to wait that long to finally be with the person you love. I mean, waiting for years just to act on your attraction…”

“Oh, we definitely acted on it,” she offers in typical Ziva bluntness. “We just failed to follow through on any of it.”

McGee nearly chokes on his drink at the revelation. The wheels start to spin in his head, his eyebrows creased in confusion, as he pieces it together at lightning speed.

“You guys were sleeping together?!”

“I mean, not the whole time,” her hand waves around on its own, as if to punctuate the sentence, “But… some of the times, yes.”

“Like when?!”

“Now look who is butting in! I would expect that from Tony, but you?” She tsks at him, with mock sternness, until she notices the desperation in his eyes as his world seems to have turned upside down. “Okay, fine… Like… Like, when Gibbs retired, for instance.”

(“Gibbs retired?” “When did this happen?” their newer counterparts interject in unison, but their curiosity goes unanswered in the firestorm happening around them.)

“Back then?! That was… Ziva that almost fifteen years ago! You guys have been together for fifteen years?!”

“No! That is my whole point! We were not together together. We were just… what do you say? Letting out air?”

“Blowing off steam?”

“Yes! That!” Her own drink nearly flies off the table.

“Wait, that means— How did you keep it a secret for so long?!”

“I knew!” Palmer offers helpfully.

“I am fairly certain everyone knew, eventually.”

“No way! Gibbs didn’t.”

“Gibbs definitely knew,” she snorts at the memory of being on the receiving end of his beady stare one morning when she and her partner were just a hair more heated in their bickering than usual, even for them.

“And you lived to tell the tale?!” Surely Boss would have banished them to desk duty, or worse yet, Inventory, if he found out they were hot bunking.

“I believe it was a case of don’t ask, don’t tell. Besides, it’s not like it affected our work.”

“True, you two were just as unprofessional as always.”

She flings her discarded crumpled straw wrapper at him.

His mind still reels, though.

“How— how did I not know that my best friends were hooking up behind my back?!”

“McGee!” she lilts, stretching his name out like a song in the way only she does, “You cannot be serious! You wrote a whole book about us! Several, in fact!”

“For the last time, Tommy and Lisa were not about you and Tony! Those books were works of fiction!”

“Oh come on McGee,” pipes in Torres, who had until now tried his best to find any escape from this forced socialization. “Even I knew that! And I’ve never even read your books.”

“Or a book, period,” his partner mutters into her glass.

“How do you even know about—?”

“Bishop,” he shrugs.

“Ellie!”

“What?! It’s not like it’s a secret, Tim.”

“It’s personal! And again, Tommy and Lisa are fictional.”

Bishop and Torres roll their eyes in unison.

“Well, then, you must have psychic powers in addition to your keen observational skills as an agent,” she teases, with only a touch of sarcasm in her voice. She can’t believe they’re really hashing out their scars in the open like this, but it is a brave new world.

McGee finally shakes his head and laughs in disbelief, and even she can’t help the grin stretching across her face. Old friends, indeed.

She takes a breath and grounds herself back to reality, reminded again of the point she was trying to make in the first place. “What I am trying to say is that it is so easy to get caught up in your own fears when it comes to matters of the heart. You get so scared that you are not enough, that you are going to upset whatever it is between you, and that when you inevitably mess it all up, and you will, that you are going to ruin the one good thing you have. So you lie to yourself that you do not have it and that it does not mean anything.”

“Are we talking about you or the petty officer now?”

“Both,” she answers with a hint of a wistful smile. McGee returns with his own expression of sympathy, fully aware of all those twists and turns that have led to where his friends are now.

The group sits in companionable silence for a spell, the weight of the week’s case lifting, only to be replaced with familiar exhaustion.

Ziva feels a buzz coming from her pocket, reminding her that, yes, these matters do come to a close somehow.

- Having fun on a school night?

- Going down memory lane with the team.

- The good ones, I hope?

- They are now. :-) Just about done, heading home soon.

- Can’t wait. Kiddo’s asleep. ;-) Love you.

McGee across the table notices the way her eyes crinkle as she glances at her screen. Once again, he is grateful for these small mercies they’ve been granted. How this story eventually got the happy ending it deserved.

“Well, this has been fun, but it is getting late and I should get home.” She pushes herself off the seat and grabs her coat, untangling her curls from the collar as she twists her arms through the sleeves. “I will see you all soon, I hope.”

“Yeah, I’m beat too,” Torres chimes in, “I’ll walk you out.”

The gang exchange goodnights and talk to you laters, with only the faintest of intrigue from Bishop as her partner, who is not known for his chivalrous nature, follows Ziva out the door.

Standing face to face now, at their full height, Ziva narrows her own eyes at the man, seeing right through him and daring him to come out with it, already.

“Ziva, what you said in there… Is that why you keep pushing me about Bishop?”

She stares at her feet for a second and breaks into a genuine grin now.

“Ah, he finally catches on.”

He breathes in, swallowing his nerves with every gulp of air reaching his lungs. She supposes it’s time to put him out of his misery.

“Look, Agent Torres, if there is anything I have learned throughout all of this, it is that time is the most precious resource we have. I know that it sounds like a cliché, believe me, but it is the truth. When I think about all the time Tony and I wasted over the years… It was not worth it.”

“Yeah, but it seems to have worked out, right?”

“Yes, it has,” she presses her lips together in a regretful smile. “But it very nearly did not. We missed out on so much, I missed out on so much, and it was all because I let fear get the best of me. I liked to tell myself that I was not scared of anything, when really, I was scared of everything.”

Torres absorbs the confession with appropriate gravity.

“Nick, do not let fear rule you. I promise you, whatever happens, taking that chance is worth the risk. I wish I had had the courage much sooner. It might have saved us all a lot of pain.”

He glances through the blinds in the window at the object of this discussion, only for Ellie to catch his eye at that moment. They each avert their gaze on opposite sides of the pane, feeling decidedly like the suspects they’ve just interrogated, without fully understanding why.

“What if I can’t do it?”

“You are a smart man. You will figure it out. You bested me, did you not?” It’s his turn to laugh, and she answers in turn. Maybe she has gotten through to him, after all.

She reaches out to gently pat his elbow. “Take care, Agent Torres.”

With that, she takes her leave and heads down the street towards her car, the heels of her boots clicking down the sidewalk with every step, leaving Nick to reflect on her words of wisdom. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, unsure of how to proceed. With one last look into the bar, he turns in the opposite direction in search of his own vehicle, more confused than ever. Yet somehow he knows that the former agent is right.

What he doesn’t realize as he turns his back is that Bishop takes one last look at him, Ziva’s words ringing in her ears as well. That maybe blazing the road not travelled is not as scary as it may seem.

- Bishop, you’ve got a big mouth. See you tomorrow.

She grins at her phone in spite of herself. Maybe that’s a thought for another day.

#my fanfiction #ziva david #can i tag this as tiva fanfiction?#i mean not really cause they aren't technically there #but i mean everything i write is tiva lmao #i don't even know what this is but i blame all of you #also i don't know anything about torres and bishop #so i just made assumptions #🤷‍♀️

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melliflovs · 5 years

Text

Snakes - Richie Tozier

Requested by anon: Can you do a Richie x reader, were the reader is a complete bad ass and has a huge crush on Richie, and he's dating another girl and shes doing stuff behind his back, and the girl overhears and threatens to beat her ass if she doesn't come clean.

Word Count: 1,206

Warnings: Vulgar language

Summary: When Richie’s girlfriend turns out to be a cheater the reader must set her straight for her best friends sake.

You can find the rest of my writing by clicking the link in my bio!

***

(y/n) sat next to Richie as they ate their food together, the warm sun shining down on them as they waited for the rest of their friends. "Richie?" She asked, toying with a fry.

"Yeah?"

"Why are you with her?" (y/n) flinched when she heard him groan beside her. It was a bit of a sore subject between the two of them but it never seemed to stop her from bringing it up whenever they were alone. Maybe that's why hes spending less time with you, she thought.

"I really don't see why you care so much about my relationships. They don't really concern you." He looked away from her and his tray of food as he shook his head, standing up, "I'm gonna go find Janet, I guess I'll see you later."

She dropped the fry she held, the food hitting the plate as she hung her head in shame, she'd done it again. It was an accident the first time she scared away Richie's girlfriend, she was a sweet girl too; Much better than the latest flings.

The second girl was less of an accident. When Richie first brought her around the losers club she had insulted Eddie's fanny packs, surprising all of them. So (y/n) didn't hesitate to inform the girl that "The losers would rather be stuck in room with the bowers gang for 24 hours than see her face around their lunch table ever again."

When she ran away after that, Richie didn't chase her. The losers club never heard about it after and figured she was old news.

Now the trashmouth had moved onto girl number three, and boy oh boy did she miss girl number one. (y/n) didn't understand why the losers couldn't see past the cheery facade that girl number three had. Janet, her name was. (y/n) didn't even try to pretend she liked the girl, initially she figured she could just avoid her but Richie pushed the two girls together one day while at the quarry. It didn't end well and (y/n) snapped at the both of them before storming off.

Ever since then tensions had been high between her and Richie. She had begun to feel more and more like an outcast in the losers club, all of them accepting Janet with open arms.

Stan was the only one who sort of saw through Janet's fake personality but chose not to say anything to avoid drama. (y/n) understood, she really did, but she still felt the sting of his choice.

Pushing herself away from the bench she dumped her food in the garbage. Passing by Belch's car, the bowers gang hanging around it as they pushed each other around. (y/n) noticed a blur of black hair against the hood of the car, being held down by Henry.

At first she thought Henry had just found another boy to harass before he moved off the figure, releasing his grip on them. Janet sat up on the hood, pulling Henry closer to her before kissing him deeply.

Out raged at the scene unfolding in front of her (y/n) began to see red, her vision blurred with fury. Every rational thought tossed out the window as she sprinted towards the car. Reaching them she shoved Henry off Janet, grabbing her by her shirt and pinning her to the hood of the blue car.

"Now look here, snake. What the fuck do you think you were doing exactly? Because last I knew you were dating my best fucking friend." (y/n) seethed, holding the scared girl down.

Janet looked over to Henry for help only to see him turn his head away. "Aw.. whats wrong? He won't help you? How unfortunate, should have thought twice before getting into bed with Bowers over there."

(y/n) saw the blonde haired boy jaw clench at her comment but still held back from saying or doing anything. For once she wasn't scared of him or his goons, this time they were afraid of her, and for good reason. Nothing they could do would make her back down.

The look in her eyes reminded Henry of his father and he knew not to mess with crazy like that.

"Alright now, you listen closely. Got it?" (y/n) paused waiting for a response, Janet merely nodded her head furiously.

"Perfect.” She said continuing. “Now, in a second I'm gonna let you go and you're gonna go to Richie and tell him that you cheated, that the stress of a relationship was too much and that you need out. Sound good?"

She nodded again.

(y/n) reluctantly released her grip on the girl and let her out from under her.

Janet faked composure and adjusted the skirt Henry had under his hands only a few minutes before, and gave (y/n) a disdainful once over. (y/n) went to move forward towards her, a snarl leaving her lips. Janet's eyes widened at the sound, immediately booking it towards the school and to Richie.

(y/n) looked behind her at the sound of Henry clearing his throat.

"Look, kid. That was brave, took some balls so I'll let you off this time. But let me myself very clear, if you lay your hands on me ever again you'll live to regret it." The anger she felt began to dissipate as Henry talked down to her. Although she wasn't one to get spooked easily, especially not after what she just did.

"Thanks, blondie. You might want to wash your car though, something as dirty as Janet has gotta leave a stain." With that (y/n) turned on her heel, hurrying away from the gang of rebels.

(y/n) waited impatiently by Richie's locker as she willed him to return from his conversation. After fifteen minutes she decided to venture around the school campus. She searched the janitors closet, the boiler room, and the gym before continuing her search outside.

Exiting the large doors she found Richie Tozier sitting on the school steps, staring out into the street blankly. (y/n) sat down next to him quietly. They sat there in silence, cars and people passing by as they continued their days.

Out of the corner of her eye (y/n) saw Richie's finger twitch before he slowly slid his hand into hers. He squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"I heard what you did. Word travels fast" He said, still looking forward as people moved about.

"Are you mad?" (y/n) asked, preparing for the worst out of instinct.

"Maybe I should be, but I'm not. I'd do the same if a boy did that to you, hell I'd do the same if a boy looks too long at you."

She smiled at his answer, letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding. (y/n) laid her head on his shoulder.

Maybe scaring girl number three off wasn't too bad of an idea, maybe Richie would finally find a bigger spot for me in future. Maybe I'll be girl number four or five, doesn't matter as long as he realizes what been in front of him the whole time.

She gave Richie's hand another light squeeze before standing up and brushing dirt off the back of her jeans.

"So what do you say, Tozier? How does some ice cream sound?"

"Fan-fucking-tastic"

#it imagine #richie tozier #richie tozier imagine #it one shot #it 2017 #it 2 #it 2019 #richie tozier x reader #finn wolfhard #finn wolfhard imagine #finn wolfhard x reader

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illusionlock · 5 years

Text

pazam: a mess, truly a mess

so i usually dont do these kind of posts, i guess you could say its a call out of some sort? but i never liked that word, i prefer rather to just compile sources on WHY people would believe that a certain person is not truly as nice and understanding as they seem. consider this more of a psa post, detailing on whats going on with pazam on the sfm community, why so many people are against them.

So, a while back, tumblr user jymble made a post on the main tag stating that pazam was transphobic. they linked back to this post, which contains screenshots of pazam in a group chat stating that they do not feel comfortable with the idea of trans people. now, this did happen 9 months ago, true. however, for the record, pazam is already an adult, 24 years old, so they should have some tact. and as further and more recent events will show, they actually havent changed that much at all, at least not as they claim.

the screenshots should be in the post, but here is a transcript

[Screenshot one]

Pazam:

What????? Why?????

I literally HAVE NOT been doing ANYTHING malicious to them

And if it did I apologized

Yes I do have discomfort about them but I keep it to myself

Why are you doing this????

[End screenshot one]

‘Them’ here refers to trans people in general. Notice the defensive and victimizing stance they almost immediately take upon being confronted about their feelings on trans people.

[Screenshot two]

elliott:

of COURSE you dont

sammaku:

Like specifically

Elliott hush

Pazam:

This whole concept of transness and changing your gender physically

I hate to say it again but it weirds me out and it makes me question my own gender which flings me into anxiety, depression, and obsession

sammaku:

Its fine to not understand but are you willing to learn about it

Pazam:

I don’t want to talk about this anymore

sammaku:

That depression anxiety and obsession just comes with gender issues

(the rest of the text is cut off)

[End Screenshot two]

notice once summaku asks them if they would at least be willing to learn about it, pazam immediately deflects it by saying they dont want to talk about it anymore.

[Screenshot three]

Pazam:

Seriously??? That’s all it takes????

Wow I’m a moron

I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused to you

@.aziraphale @.elliott @.sammaku

I just don’t get this stuff period

And I’ve gotten into trouble with this stuff before

I’ll probably never understand it for the rest of my life but I’ll try to be more tactful around y’all

Especially since you’re all young

And I’m like an adult

[End screenshot three]

While at first this would seem like they had finally learned their lesson and apologized, the things they add on after the @s become quickly worrying. Not only do they admit to ‘have gotten into trouble with this stuff before’, meaning they have probably shown their transphobia in other places and been called out, but they also stand firmly on the fact that they will never understand it or ‘get’ it.

And of course, as jymble points out, the implication that the people they were talking to were only acting like that because they were young.

A while after this post was made, Pazam had posted an apology, and went onto contact jymble asking for the post with the evidence of their transphobic to be taken down. The reason? They were afraid people would see it and think they were still transphobic and not give them a chance.

In this more recent post, you can see the conversation play out between Pazam and jymbles. Long story short, Pazam feels that it’s unfair that that post is still up after they apologized, and jymble of course said they would rather not take it down, people deserve to know what they did and take their own conclusions, even if that involves avoiding them. How does Pazam respond? By flat out deleting the apology post. I’d love to show the apology post to give you both sides of the story but I cannot anymore, because Pazam in a very bizarre move just deleted it because they got mad a trans blogger wouldn’t take down their post with proof.

Here’s the transcript of the screenshots:

[Begin Conversation]

rebloggidy (Pazam’s personal):

I’m by no means transphobia-free after learning what I’ve done but at least I know my actions and am making an effort to be a better person towards trans people.

rebloggidy:

Hi again. So I hate to be that person but would it be ok if you took down that post about the transphobia claims? I know it took me 9 months to apologize but if people only see your side of the story and not realize the post I saw they’ll take it out of context and still think I’m transphobic. Do you understand?

jymble:

... i already told you im not taking down the post.

[jymble sends a screenshot of her own message in a previous conversation, the screenshot reads as follows:

however, i dont think im taking the post down, nor am i entirely comfortable with you interacting with me either. people deserve to know how you acted with this stuff, until youre really and truly *better* with it instead of just trying, and i was a direct target of it]

jymble:

you oughright told me "im by no means transphobia-free", word for word sorry, but i told you before. im not taking the post down.

rebloggidy:

I remember that. But what I'm trying to say to you is that if people who read it out of context will immediately think I'm still transphobic without the other side of it (my comment)

And I don't want people to think that in the future

jymble:

if people make assumptions without looking at the entire situation, thats on them

i am not deleting the post and thats final. people have a right to know what youve done, and they have a right to be uncomfortable

rebloggidy:

I'm ready to take down my post because frankly, I'm sick and tired of having to justifiy something that I did 9 months ago, and that people grow and learn even not 100% during that time and I'm ready to move on.

I'm still into smile for me and feel free to make a blacklist of my name so anybody who rbs my work on your dash can have it hidden or something.

Take care.

[End conversation]

a lot to unpack here, but perhaps most notable is when jymble simply stands her ground and tells pazam she wont take down the post, pazam straight up decides, without being told to or anything, that they should take down their apology. later on, they made a post stating why they deleted the post, and saying they had ‘been forced to’.

I also would love to link it here, but as of now of writing this, like, not even an hour or so after I had seen that post, it got deleted. The only memory I have of it is a conversation I had with my boyfriend about Pazam, in which I copypasted a fragment from that post that read:

“ So for those wondering where the apology post went, I was forced to delete it. I wanted to archive it in some way so I could pull it up for reference, but there was no way I could. Also I didn’t really want to see it every time on my blog because quite honestly it’s upsetting to look at.”

There are some lies and twisting of truths here. Pazam wasn’t forced to delete it, they decided they should do it as a way to somehow get back at jymble. And the excuse that it was upsetting for them to look at is just inexcusable, what matters most, letting people know of what youve done and that youre sorry, or just never addressing the situation?

But, well, I’m just hoping you’ll take my word for it. As you see, Pazam has officially deleted ANY traces of acknowledging this situation on their blog.

This worries me. If Pazam is truly as concerned that they will be seen as transphobic as they claim, why are they deleting anything that could give them a chance of showing their own side of the story?

Now, that is the end, for now, of Pazam’s history with transphobia. However! It is not the end for some other very shady things.

Namely, Pazam has consistently whitewashed characters from Smile For Me, specially Kamal, and when called out on it, simply deletes the asks.

Want to know how I know this?

I sent them an ask myself. I had come across this picture of Boris and Kamal:

And I knew that this wasn’t right. I can understand using light colors and doing watercolor, but if they can make Boris’ hair brown and vivid enough, why not Kamal? He looks like another character completely, or like he’s deathly sick!

So I sent them an anonymous ask, perhaps a bit exhasperated, true, and my wording could be better. It went something like: “i am begging you to draw kamal with darker skin”.

I waited, checked. But nothing came of it. They never answered it.

Pazam flat out ignored when they were told they had drawn a canonically brown man with skin way too light. Not even a lone text post saying ‘hey anon, i dont agree with you’ or ‘hey anon im sorry it wont happen again’. Nothing. No word, no opinion.

And with this situation going on with them evading responsibility, I can’t say I’m fully surprised.

And, yet another thing. People had expressed concern over the fact they had drawn their Flower Kid, who is 17, in very intimate and close positions with Dr. Habit. It included nuzzling faces, cuddling in bed together, wearing his coat...

And they did hear the claims this time. As of now, their Flower Kid is 24, according to them.

Except... They do not look 24. At. All.

this is a 12 year old. at best. short body, stubby legs, big head. those are all attributes of a very young character, usually children. like, legitimately, thats how childrens anatomy is in real life. the younger the person, the bigger their head is in proportion to their body.

We have already had an adult trying to justify drawing their flower kid who barely looked like an adult if at all in intimate situations with Habit. Let’s not let it slide by again.

And yes, I’m aware Pazam claims that those pictures were not supposed to be interpreted as romantic, ‘only platonic fluff’ and that they intend to keep it that way, but I have talked to my boyfriend who is a survivor and he said it very well could be a case of someone just trying to cover their tracks.

BUT, all that being said, maybe this one particular instance could be just us being wary. Still, it does not diminish all that they have done, specially ignoring the whitewashing claims.

What you are going to do with this information, I do not know. Maybe you don’t care and will keep reblogging their content. Maybe you’re disgusted by them. But I’m just here to give you the facts. Personally though, I’m not willing to give them much of a chance after the way they’ve behaved. They are 24 years old, three years older than me, and I think I could do a better job of handling a situation like this, frankly.

#don't be scared. i am here with you.#smile for me #smile for me game

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prorevenge · 5 years

Text

A complete lack of foresight.

To preface, the scenario involves my roommate (lets call her Callie), her ex (lets call him Tweakie McGee), myself, Tweakies fling, Nikki, and my roommates dog, an adorable bluenose pittie (lets go with Derpy)

Keep in mind, I myself am 25, Callie is 25 as well, but Tweakie McGee is 19. This will be relevant later.

TL:DR at the bottom. This is a long one.

Now, this story begins with my roommate. She had just gotten out of an exhausting, but not necessarily abusive relationship, and she was on lookout for something casual while she regained her independence and reclaimed her life. Unfortunately, Tweakie McGee came around and made himself at home in our house.

At first, it wasn't too bad. We're all moderate stoners, and he knew the right people, so it seemed like a fair give and take, considering we didn't pay for much smoke throughout the time he was essentially squatting, but he put forth nothing when it came to groceries and bills.

Now my roommate was far enough removed from her previous relationship at this point to be fiercely protective of her independence, but given the age difference, she chalked up some glaringly obvious red flags when they began to present.

Tweakie got his pet name for a number of reasons, but the main one was this: he had an adderol prescription (20mg). As he was prescribed the meds, he chomped on quite a few, but it quickly spiraled into a 10 pill per day habit (first, he was just chomping, but began to snort them off our livingroom table after about 2 weeks).

As his habit progressed, Callie also partook, as she has a very demanding job, and the extra energy helped her through her 70 hour weeks. I believe that this is another reason why she put up with it as long as she did. As their 'relationship' progressed, the oh so common side effects of stimulant abuse began to creep onto both of them (irritability, poor short term memory, inability to accurately communicate emotions/thoughts). Since I did my best to stay out of their relationship, (as it's not my place to interfere in something I know her to be smart and mature enough to handle) I never really got involved, but she and I had many deep conversations while he was out on runs.

I felt like our talks were making headway until one day, Tweakie McGee got a bug in his ass and started impetuously bringing up the idea of getting a dog. Keep in mind, we live in a college town, and while we're both out of school, we work full time in a very small 2 bedroom house. She was apprehensive at first since she was already going through the motions of cutting him off, but she had also wanted a dog for years at this point.

After 2 weeks of Callie and Tweakie visiting various shelters, they decided on Derpy.

Derpy was an absolutely adorable 6 month old bluenose pitbull with one of the most prominent personalities I have ever seen in a dog (my family used to train dogs professionally). Incredibly playful, super smart, and the perfect demeanor for a small house with a bigger backyard.

Now, only being your friendly neighborhood stoner, and not partaking in the speedy delights, I saw it for what it was, but she was blinded by the adorable pup. Tweakie knew that Callie was setting the stage to kick his ass to the curb, and thought that a dog was the perfect ball and chain for the situation, but his age (and addiction) caught up with him.

All the paperwork and payments were made in Callie's name, including the registration paperwork, initial vet visits, professional pet sitters, toys, ect... Since she works incredibly long hours, and Tweakie essentially being a bum, he got the thought in his head that the dog was his, and when push came to shove, he could keep him.

Well the day of reckoning came after about 3 weeks of escalating early morning arguments and general irritation, and while I was at work, the breakup finally happened. Cops ended up being called, but no blows were thrown. Tweakie packed all his shit up and drove it back to his mothers, then came back - told Callie he was leaving, and took Derpy with him. At this time, the cops that showed up had no idea what had been transpiring, and let him walk off with the dog.

Less than 24 hours later, Callie had made so many calls to the police department/lawers/pet advocacy groups, that she had her course of action laid out. After the filing was complete, she was beyond paranoid because of the threat of retaliation. (I'm a pretty big dude 6'4" 235, so I knew I could stand my ground, but she's a tiny lil' thing, and i have a full time job)

In my state, any disputes regarding animals are to be settled in civil court, and the pets are treated as property. Now I don't know about y'all, but pets are family, and do not deserve to be treated on the same base as property.

The next day, she had filed a civil suit in an attempt to get Derpy back. At her first court date, she presented all the evidence of her ownership of Derpy, as well as the resources she has available to her in order to provide the best level of care for the pup. Tweakie countered with a slew of baseless accusations essentially claiming that she had been abusive to Derpy (false) and that she doesn't have the time nor resources to properly take care of him (also false).

Unfortunately the civil court system tends to draw these things out. The court eventually ruled in her favor and ordered Tweakie to return Derpy, but when the cops turned up, apparently Derpy had "ran away". Before this, she was only trying to get Derpy back, and not really seeking any financial compensation/punishment.

By this time (Approx. 2 months after the breakup, which is bullshit on it's own) he had already been in and out of a relationship with another woman, Nikki.

Nikki had been around, and heard about the court shit, but didn't know the other party. Once she found out it was Callie who Tweakie had fucked over, she started messaging Callie, telling her a bunch of info about Derpy, as they were friends back in the day.

It turns out that in the time since the breakup, Tweakie had been staying with his mother, and honest to goodness hoarder with about 10sqft of usable space in her apartment. Tweakie was also unable to take Derpy out on walks or on pup play dates due to the fact that there was still a return order for Derpy.

One day, he took Derpy to his dealers house who also has 2 pitties of his own, however Derpy is in his teenage stage, and began.. uh.. getting fresh with one of the other pits, and ended up getting pretty brutally attacked. Since the return order was still in effect, and the info about him and the dog was given to every vet within 50 miles, he couldn't take him to get treatment.

** Tweakie also made a deal with this dealer to essentially pimp out Nikki, which was one of the many reasons she was on our side.

Upon hearing this, Callie (now off the uppers and much more clearheaded) absolutely fucking lost it. She went to her lawyer to see if there was anything she could do to expedite the return of Derpy. Turns out she had a few options.

Cut to today. Tweakie has officially been charged with felony theft and animal abuse/neglect charges, and they're wrapping up the legal process with pleas and other legal whatnot. He faces up to 8 years in prison, and if he doesn't return Derpy within 1 week from today, he will receive the maximum sentence. There is also a separate case in the works from Nikki regarding the whole shady pimping shit he tried to pull, as well as (unsuprisingly) charges for possession/manufacturing with intent to distribute Meth and Cocaine.

Part of me feels bad for him because he absolutely nuked the rest of his life at such a young age, but Callie and I both know that he wasn't going to get any better regardless. He had his chance, and he squandered it.

** Sorry for any formatting issues. I work third shift, and have been a walking zombie for a long ass time.

TLDR - My roommates casual tweaker boyfriend coerces her to get a dog, then proceeds to break up with her and keep the dog for himself, even though he has no right, and absolutely no ability to give the dog a comfortable life. Tweaker ends up trying to pimp out his new girlfriend and the dog had gotten attacked. Roomie only wanted the dog back with no financial compensation, but now the tweaker is looking at a minimum of 8 years in prison plus more for various drug charges.

(source) story by (/u/suicidal_ideation_)

#prorevenge #by /u/suicidal_ideation_#pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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lia-jones · 4 years

Text

Growing Stronger - Chapter Thirteen - The Fling and the Almighty

I sat silently by his side, holding his hand, the only audible thing in the room was the buzz of one of the lamps and the beep of the heart monitor. It had been 24 hours since I had arrived at the hospital, and I never left since. Victor still slept, large amounts of morphine coursing through his veins.

The doctor had come and talked about Victor’s condition, almost like an accountant declares loss of income to the IRS: Three cracked ribs on his left side, a distal humerus fracture in his left arm, a penetrating trauma wound in his left thigh that caused major bleeding and required surgery, and several bruises also on his left side, the side of impact, that covered his body with angry red and pink hues. His pale face was also bruised and swollen on his left side, so much that he couldn’t open his eye. And all things considered, as doctors and the officers at the scene put it, he was lucky to be alive and not destined to a wheelchair. Most victims of T-bone crashes don’t live to tell the story, and if they do, their existence is bound to be pure misery. Victor had the promise of recovery, but also the promise of intense pain, hence the need to keep him heavily dosed with opiates.

The nurses would let him “come out for air”, as they put it, every 8 hours. They would delay the next dose of morphine, and let him open his eyes for a minute or two. He would wake up disoriented, a desperate look on his face, and I would do the only thing I could do: hold his hand and talk to him. Victor didn’t seem to be able to focus on me, his mind still foggy from the drugs, but he would hold my hand tight, craving the comfort of my touch. That’s when I decided that, even if I was completely useless in his recovery, I could take that role. I could be his comfort, his support, his lifeline. So I would hold his hand at all times, to let him know that he wasn’t alone, that someone was there for him. He would never be scared.

I couldn’t help but wonder how big dramas can suddenly look so small under a new perspective. A couple of days ago, my heart was aching over the possibility of a reconciliation, or the lack of it. My mind was entertained with thoughts of sorrow, longing, pride, self-preservation. My heart was jumping with joy and, at the same time, fear with Victor’s confident words in that elevator. I was eager to feel the joy of reconnection and scared that it would fail miserably again. However, seeing Victor in that hospital bed, his bare chest covered with electrodes, an array of tubes sticking out of his arms, made all those hopes and fears pointless. I had only one thing in my mind: I wanted him alive and well, back to his old self. With me, without me, it didn’t matter. I just wanted to see him again, dressed in a charcoal suit, walking tall, proud, and most importantly, safe. I didn’t care if I could only watch him from afar, or on the cover of a magazine, as long as I could see it. My phone rang, distracting me from my introspection. It was Goldman.

“How is he?” Goldman sounded tired. I shouldn’t have called him during his honeymoon, but LFG was minus its CEO and faithful assistant, and I didn’t know quite well how to proceed.

“The same.” I studied Victor’s relaxed expression, his long dark lashes, and dark circles standing out in his pale complexion. “Still sleeping.”

“Our flight is in two hours. We’ll be in Loveland by tomorrow morning. You shouldn’t be alone in there.”

“I told you, you don’t need to come. You gave me all the details, I have it covered. At least until he wakes up.” It pained me that Diane and Goldman’s honeymoon was interrupted like that.

“Andrea, we can’t possibly enjoy ourselves knowing our friends are going through this. Besides, I bet you haven’t left his room since you got there. Have you slept at all? Have you eaten?”

Negative for both accounts. But I wasn’t going to tell him that.

“Don’t worry, I’m taking care of myself. I’m fine.”

I felt the grip in my hand tighten, and Victor stirred a little.

“I think he’s waking up. I need to go.”

I forgot the phone on my lap, Victor being my only point of focus. His breath changed, quickening just a bit, as he opened his eyes slightly and tried to take in his surroundings.

“Victor.” I called, squeezing his hand. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

His eyes slowly turned to me, and it took him a while to focus his gaze on my face.

“Andy…” His voice sounded weak and vulnerable. I felt my eyes water. Stop it, Andrea. Be strong for him.

“Are you in pain?” I studied his expression. Victor shook his head softly.

“Am I…” He tried to talk again. “I can’t feel my body.”

“It’s the morphine.” I hurried to answer, as I softly brushed his bangs. He closed his eyes and leaned against my hand, welcoming the touch. “It takes away the pain, but it also makes you feel numb. Are you thirsty? Do you want some water?”

After his brief nod, I filled a plastic cup with water, and with the help of a straw, I offered him to drink. He took it eagerly, almost emptying the cup. The nurse arrived shortly after with the next dose of morphine. Silently, she injected it in Victor’s IV. His eyes glazed over almost instantly.

“Try to sleep, okay? Get some rest.”

“Stay.” He sounded like a little boy, his voice soft and pleading, making my heart pang. I have never seen Victor so vulnerable before.

“I’m not going anywhere.” I assured him, holding his hand tighter. I watched as the drug took hold of him, his eyelids fluttering closed, his breath becoming deep and steady again.

Victor woke up again shortly that night, and I held his hand, offering as much comfort as I could. I must have dozed off after, because I woke up with my head leaning on the comforter on his bed, alerted by a loud commotion outside.

I heard a distinctive male voice almost yelling outside the room. It was Victor’s father. I wondered for a moment who called him, since Goldman told me he had specific orders from Victor not to call his family in case of an accident, except if it resulted in his death. The door of the room opened suddenly, and Gregory entered the room, followed by a lady in her 50s. I got up from my seat, ready to defend myself.

“What are you doing here?” He asked me, clearly offended by my presence.

“Victor!” The lady approached him, holding his hand. “What happened to you?” Victor slept away, unaware of what was happening around him.

“I asked you a question!” Gregory’s eyes were still on me, burning a hole through my skull.

“The hospital called me.” I answered calmly, trying to lower the tone of the conversation. “I’m Victor’s emergency contact.”

“You are Andrea, of course!” The lady turned to me. “I saw your picture in those tabloids. My name is Therese, I’m Victor’s younger aunt. You can call me Terry.”

“The hospital called you? A stranger? And I, his father, have to know my son is injured through the newspaper?” Gregory raised his voice a little higher, making Victor stir slightly.

“Greg, stop! You’ll wake him up!” Terry pleaded.

“Shut up, Theresa! I gave him everything he ever needed.” Greg bitterly stated. “The best schools, a good lifestyle, the best of everything. And how does this ungrateful child repay me? By shutting me out! By relying on strangers instead of his father!” He turned me to, hatred in his eyes. “I want you out of here.”

I didn’t move.

“My son should be with his family, not one of his flings. Either you leave, or I’ll make you leave.”

Seeing that, once again, I hadn’t budged, he took me by the arm and led me outside of the room. I turned to him to speak.

“You probably won’t see it that way, but I will be your best friend right now.” I said, done with being silent. This had gone too far. Victor deserved better. I would probably be forcibly dragged out of the hospital by security, but he was going to listen to me.

“You want to know why he didn’t call you? Do you want to know why he never calls you? Because you are a shitty father.” Gregory motioned to retort, but I wouldn’t let him. “I’m not done yet! Your only son is on that bed, mangled, bruised, knocked out with drugs because the pain is so unbearable that it would be torture to allow him to fully awaken and you are worried about the fact that the hospital called me instead of you?! Victor almost died! You almost lost your son to a stupid car accident! Why aren’t you holding his hand? Why aren’t you doing what a father is supposed to do, talking to the doctors, worrying, making sure he is comfortable, safe, and loved? Why are you here instead? Blinded by your ego because you didn’t get a phone call?!?”

Victor’s father was pale but unresponsive. Maybe if I read him the take-out menu I would get a better reaction. The man could be incredibly stoic. But I already knew that move. I learned it from Victor, who had clearly learned it from him. His lack of reaction was to show how strong he was, how impervious he was to my words. Fat chance, grandpa. I wasn’t finished.

“You know, I have had some insanely painful things happen to me. They were all over the tabloids, so I trust you read all about it. And God knows how much I blamed myself for letting that poor excuse of a man enter my life, but do you think my parents ever said the slightest thing to blame me? Do you think they told me they were disappointed, that I was a disgrace to the family, which I thought I was, actually? No, never, not once. They opened their arms and they loved me, they helped me to heal from the consequences of my mistake, they supported me. Because they are good parents, and that’s what good parents do. Victor started dating me, our lives got exposed in the media without us doing anything to deserve it, and you have the audacity to storm in his company, act like you own the place, humiliate him, and throw the mom card at him? How dare you? That crushed him! He was destroyed! Is that what a father does to his son? Is that how you teach him, how you support him, by leaving his heart in the same state his body is in now? So crushed it hurts to feel?”

By the time I was done, I was panting, tears in my eyes. I couldn’t possibly describe the hate I felt towards that man. But he was Victor’s father, and right now he had all the power, so all I could do was to at least try to ensure that Victor wouldn’t get more hurt than he already was. Try, even if forcefully, to make Gregory see things differently. Try to make him see what he was doing to his son.

The stoic stance was gone. There was rage in Gregory’s face, tears in his eyes. I didn’t know if he felt sorry for what he had been doing to his son, or if it was just anger showing. He spoke to me through gritted teeth, his voice raspy with emotion.

“Show your face here again and I will make sure your life is nothing but misery.”

I knew the threat was real. I was well aware of the extent of the power Gregory Lee held in his hands. But I was unafraid. Fear magically disappears when you are fighting for what is right.

“Do well by your son.” I warned him. “Give him the father he deserves. Because if you don’t, your life will be even more miserable than mine. I can die a disgraced woman, but I will have people that love me by my side. Maybe you won’t be able to say the same.”

“Stop, both of you.” Victor’s aunt called from the door of the room. “As much as it may pain you, Andrea is here because Victor wanted her to. It’s his choice and we must respect it.” She then turned to me. “Andrea, go inside. Go be with Victor.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I promised I wouldn’t leave Victor alone. I walked in and resumed my vigil from my seat, holding Victor’s hand, my heart pounding hard in my chest. I had teased the lion. Now all I had to do was wait for the attack. A few moments after, Terry entered the room, alone, sitting next to me.

“I do not care for the way you talked to my brother just now.” I suddenly felt shame for being so harsh and was about to apologize, when she spoke again. “That being said, thank you for standing up for Victor. No one ever has. God knows I tried.”

“I’m not Victor’s girlfriend anymore.” I confessed. Terry seemed so nice, and it felt wrong to lie to her. “We broke up a couple of months ago. He just forgot to take my name off his emergency contacts, and when they called me… I couldn’t leave him alone.”

“It’s Victor. He’s not the kind to forget about things. If he wanted you out of his life, you wouldn’t be here.” Terry gave me a wide smile. “Now tell me, how hurt is he?”

I quickly filled her in on Victor’s condition, and what had happened since I arrived. She looked at me with wide eyes.

“You’ve been here the whole time? You never went home?”

I nodded. She shook her head in disapproval.

“Well, we simply can’t have that. Andrea, you need to go home, take a shower, have a proper meal, and sleep.”

“Please don’t tell me to leave.” I pleaded with her. My heart tightened at the thought of not being able to see him.

“I wouldn’t dare.” Terry held my hand, smiling. “I’m just telling you to take a break. Can you imagine how upset he will be when he wakes up and sees you spent like that? He will have both our heads!” Her exaggeration made us both laugh. “You go, take care of yourself, and come back refreshed. When you come, I’ll go home and do the same. We’ll take turns, so he will never be alone.”

I hesitated. He asked me to stay. How could I leave?

“Andrea, he will need you. He will need you strong and healthy, to support him. If he sees you are weakened, he will worry.”

I wondered how she could just assume those things. Obviously, she knew him better than I did.

“Thank you. Here’s my number.” I said, taking one of my business cards from my purse, handing it to her.

“I will text you so you’ll get my number too. And I promise I’ll call if I have news. Now go.”

I held Victor’s hand one last time.

“I’ll come back. I promise.”

#Growing Pains - Series #growingpains #victor x oc #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc victor #mlqc fanfic #love and producer #mister love queens choice

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meepmorpperaltiago · 5 years

Text

Intertwined, part 2

Aka an extension of the pop star AU that I’ve been way too obsessed with for way too long! You don’t need to have read the other fic set in this ‘verse to understand this fic, it’s a standalone thing. Thanks so much to @397bartonstreet and @jake-and-ames for all your help with this fic!

He sees that she’s shaking a little as she leaves. He takes her hand, runs his fingers over her rings.

He says softly “You don’t have to do this”.

“I know”, she says in response. “But it’ll be good to get everything out there”.

He nods. “Ok, as long as you’re sure”, he says, kissing the top of her head.

“I love you”

“I love you too”

When I meet Amy Santiago in a four-star Brooklyn hotel, she’s a far cry from both the fresh faced, bright eyed 15-year old I first spoke to at the ’98 Popfest and the troubled megastar whose life was crumbling around her around a decade ago. There’s a new wisdom in her eyes, but there’s also a sense of calm and stability that’s clearly come about since her darkest days.

She’s surprisingly humble compared to most people with her level of fame, handing me a coffee before we even sit down and then momentarily panicking when she considers that I might’ve preferred tea.

But she’s also unsurprisingly guarded, responding to my casual question of if she lives close to this area with an almost sarcastic glare. It’s a look that says “come on, you know my life, why would you ask me that?”.

In hindsight it was a pretty stupid thing to say. From the time when she first burst onto the scene to become the biggest selling teenage artist ever in only 2 years, the amount of scrutiny into her life so suddenly and so young must’ve been overwhelming.

“It was a really crazy time and for a while it was incredible”, she says with a hint of nostalgia in her voice, “but it was so so overwhelming and I never had any time to just breathe, y’know?”

When I ask tentatively if that was the real root of her later troubles, she silently nods.

“I have a confession to make”, he says with a smile, as if a joke is forming on his lips. She grins back at him, inviting him to say whatever it is he’s thinking.

“You were my first ever concert”

“No way”, she says, her hand flying to her mouth dramatically as her grin grows to match his.

“Yeah way - don’t tell Gina I told you this but she was obsessed with you, we went to your shows in matching T shirts, we had different ones for each album”

“Awww, babe that’s so cute”

For the next seven years it seemed like the undisputed Princess of Pop could do no wrong as she brought out three more critically lauded and record-breaking albums and sold out corresponding tours within minutes. Rather than dropping off like many of her contemporaries, she also grew as an artist, transitioning from cutesy bubble-gum pop of her debut album Amy and follow up Dulce into the more grown up sounding, R n B infused dance pop of Fascination and then into the pop punk and guitar sounds of My Lullaby and Our Song.

But from what she says, things weren’t so perfect behind the scenes.

“I was lonely; I didn’t get to just be a normal kid, I didn’t have any real friends, I didn’t feel like I could trust or turn to anyone. And my whole life other than my music was controlled by my management and even then every song I wrote had to be vetted. And over time I started to get really depressed”

She sighs then, looking down, as if preparing herself for the next topic of conversation.

“And”, she says slowly, “that’s when the drinking and the drugs started. That was my medicine”

“Ames, are you sure you’re ok?”, he asks as they sit in Shaws.

“Yeah”, she says, looking away from him. But he knows her too well.

“Do you wanna just go home and watch a movie? I’m sure everyone will get it”

She smiles then, takes his hand and they leave together. The warmth of his hand in hers doesn’t take away or fix her demons, but the love she feels for him does drown them out on nights like this.

“I kept it under control for a while and no one knew. But then as it got worse, it started to get to the tabloids. And then Vegas happened”

She was of course referring to the infamous incident that triggered the start of her fall from grace in 2008. The crazy vacation and a drunken fling leading to a marriage that was officially annulled within 24 hours was what turned the previous buzz of press around her constantly into a storm. The man, a failed musician named Constantine Kane, selling his story to every paper he could find for a very tidy sum also didn’t help.

“I guess that was the point where they figured out how lucrative it was when I messed up”, she comments, a sarcastic tone thinly veiling wounds that are clearly still present.

“After that, they were everywhere”

He doesn’t understand why they’ve suddenly stopped. Why Amy is looking around so nervously. Until he sees and hears them. There are 2 cars, both with different photographers speeding up behind them. His heart drops at the fear in Amy’s eyes as they race away.

She brushes it off, but later, when they’re back in his apartment, he can tell there’s something on her mind.

“Ames, are you ok?”, he asks, wanting to make whatever’s upset her better. She sighs and then says:

“I think we need to talk about what happened today. Things like that are scary, but they’re something I’ve gotten used to, I’ve been in that world for a really long time. But being with me… it means you’ll probably have to deal with shit like that too… and that’s not fair on you. Are you sure you want that? Because you could just walk away from all this now and you’d be fine-”

“Amy”, he interrupts, taking her hand. “I’d deal with all of that every day for like 100 years if it means I get to be with you. This is special. And I’m not giving up on us just because of some shitty papparazos.”

She smiles and laughs a little at that and kisses him and he’s never been so sure of anything in his life. He knows in that moment that he’ll be with her no matter what.

After we bring up Vegas and the press intrusion that followed, strangely enough she seems to zone out for a second and smile a little, as if she’s fondly remembering something. Then she comes back from whatever she was thinking of and we move on with the conversation.

Not wanting to upset her too much, I let her drive the conversation on the rest of her breakdown – the increasing stories of her crazy parties, the infamous incident where she hit a photographer with her car after he jumped in front, the lawsuit that followed in spite of the man being completely unscathed, her fines for drink driving and the crazy braids that started to appear in her hair. Then the climax of it all, for want of a more appropriate term: when she barricaded herself in her bedroom for over 24 hours in the lead up to the Grammys, where she was eventually forced to perform after her management broke down the door. She snuck out of the awards show afterwards and eventually collapsed from alcohol poisoning. I can tell that she’s holding back tears when she answers my next question: what happened?

“It just felt like everything was spiralling so far out of control and it just kept getting crazier and crazier and as things got worse, all I did was drink more and do more of whatever substances I could find. And in the end, all I could do was shut myself off, by shutting myself in. And it happened so long ago, I shouldn’t still be crying over it…”

I try to comfort her as best I can and ask her if she wants to continue the interview or scrap the whole thing.

“No, this is a story I need to get out. If I keep it all in and internalise it and never talk about it, it’ll be even worse.”, she responds, wiping the tears off her face. In the face of everything she’s been through, she has a remarkable strength.

What happened after that is something she’s kept pretty under wraps, but she tells me now, after taking a few minutes out.

“After I got out of hospital, I quit everything, I left my record label and went straight to rehab. Then, I wanted a fresh start, so I moved to New York and started therapy, which is where I met my husband.” She smiles as soon as she mentions him, looking down at her wedding and engagement rings. Although not many details of him or their relationship are public knowledge, other than the fact that he’s a cop from Brooklyn, he’s been assumed to be the subject of some of her most well-known love songs since she came back to music.

“So, what are you in for?”, he asks jokingly. “Sorry, I use humour as a defence mechanism, it’s kind of my thing”.

“It’s ok,”, she says with a smile. “For me, it’s a heck of a lot of childhood issues, mostly typical child star stuff”

“Samsies!”, he responds, “Except my childhood issues aren’t to do with being famous and I’m also here ‘cause I got framed and went to jail, I’m a cop, it’s a whole thing – but almost samsies”

They hi five at that and both smile. The therapist calls him in and before he leaves, he turns around.

“Hey, I’ll see you later, right?”

“Sure”, she responds.

“After we met in therapy, we started hanging out a lot and after about a month we started dating and eventually we got married. I honestly don’t know where I’d be without him. When I was at my lowest point, he was there to make everything better, and I’ve never felt happier or safer than I do with him”

“I’d also been writing music the whole time and eventually I set up Brooklyn Records, so I could release new music on my own terms and support new artists. I still have struggles – things like addiction and depression don’t’ just go away. But I’m ok now and as I’ve already said, I have an amazing family to support me now”

When I comment on the success of both her label and the five new albums she’s released since her comeback in 2011, she smiles fondly. It seems clear that in spite of all the bumps in the road and how much time has passed since her debut, I’m talking to a pop star still very much in her prime.

“How was everything?”, he asks when she gets home.

“It was great”, she says as she hugs him.

“Did you mention me?”, he says jokingly.

“Actually, I did”

He looks at her softly, before turning serious with genuine concern. “Aww, babe – but seriously, are you ok?”

“Yeah. I’ve never been better”, she responds. And she truly means it.

#b99 #peraltiago #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn nine nine fanfic #jake x amy #jake peralta #amy santiago

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ctrl-shift-esc · 5 years

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Sometimes Fairytales don’t last. part 3

“ I can’t believe it’s over a new beginning ”

11.29.18

& that was the end of us, but possibly the beginning of something wonderful...

I’m not trying to make myself sound like an angel. I wasn’t. It was impossible for me to be. I tried my best, but like I said, I lost control, more often than I would’ve liked. It was hard enough spending weeks on end without seeing each other because of his work schedule. Spending the only time we’d have together dealing with this -- heartbreaking affair -- then adding onto it more stress from the less than pleasant stay. Not to mention the lack of affection & connection between us, it was just too much. There were times where I shut down, I didn’t know how to communicate anymore. I didn’t know what I needed to do to make everything okay. I just didn’t know what my place was anymore. Ironically, if there’s ever a time where you need to show up powerfully for your partner this was probably it… I just couldn’t seem to succeed. I know I’m hard to love when I get into that closed off head space. So I most definitely played a part in the crashing ship we were both on. It was a vicious -- vicious cycle. The more I got rejected by the mom & the less connected I felt with him, the more I shut myself off. The more insecure & anxious I got, the less love he would give me. To be honest, I can’t even blame him. He had his own stuff to deal with. Reassuring me was probably the last thing on his to do list. It didn’t change the fact that we both probably could’ve used a little more loving. We just didn’t know any better. We both didn’t know how to deal with any of it. We tried, we had moments where we still felt like us. I wanted those moments to last forever. I did more than miss those moments, I was at a point where I was craving them. They were so few and far between, in a time where we needed them more than ever.

I think I could’ve held on, If he’d held on too.

When he left me, I broke down. Again. Seemed like this was becoming a pattern… breaking down that is. The hardest part was wrapping my head around reinventing a new life. I had just started a full time job on a film set. If you know anything about film, you know that a full time gig is very time consuming. Five days a week, 13 hours a day. Starting a new life, organizing a move, splitting our belongings -- on my weekends? You had to be kidding me! Overwhelming would’ve been an understatement. The fear of losing myself and the life I worked so hard to build, overpowered the fear of losing him.

I had for some reason assumed I would be the one moving out. He didn’t stop me from assuming that either. He had a bigger income than me, so, I guess we figured I couldn’t afford the place. After speaking to my mom the morning after, she made me realize that I needed to look after myself. If there was ever a time to be selfish this was it. Wait a minute I thought, I had a full time job now. This was my home. I’m here 24/7, he’s not. I took care of the apartment, I cleaned, I decorated, I worked in Vancouver -- Why would I be the one to move out? Living in Vancouver was my dream. Not his. I’d be damned if I were to lose it all because he chose to give up.

Sure the price is steeper than I’d want to pay on my own, but right now, I could do it! I could afford this and I could figure the rest out later. So I did. I told him I wasn’t moving out, and then I took my patio furniture out of the box and started building it. I’m here to stay.

I tried to give him the chance to come back on his decision, more than once. I told him that within our relationship we have space to give space. I reassured him that “us” right now wasn’t a priority, that it was about his healing. I gave him permission to do his own thing and not worry about us, on the condition that he’d still be faithful to me only. I pleaded for us not to have to split up and move out. I warned him that going through that, would be devastating to the relationship and very hard to come back from, if he ever did change his mind. He didn’t want any of it. He wanted to be single. He left for work again, and on that day, we had a 2 hour phone conversation. We finally cried it out. How hurt we both were. He got to say his piece, I got to say mine. We listened. For what it felt like the first time in ages. We heard one another. At the end of the conversation he even mentioned that maybe the next time he was in town, we could go on a date and start fresh. I agreed, with a smile. A few days had gone by since he’d left. Not a word. My hopes were soon to be nonexistent. He probably was just trying to be nice... I thought or he changed his mind again and doesn’t want to get back together. Either way, I got annoyed of waiting for a text, a call, any sign of life. I always hated being that girl. I don’t wait and wallow in self pity. Get back in the game I told myself. One night out with a dashing man, all dolled up, will be fun. I’m not as worthless as he made me feel and I deserved to have fun and feel wanted. So Tinder was downloaded. Yep, the good ol’ trusty Tinder… I was on that thing for approximately 48 hours. I matched potentially 6 guys from which only 1 started a convo. He lived 2 hours away, worked the same kind of schedule as my now, ex. Safe to say I didn’t keep that convo going. No thanks! Until the next day, I came across a new profile, I liked it all. He was cute, looked genuine, he was older, had a stable job and he didn’t live hours away. Him, I want him. But hey, it’s Tinder so he’s probably crazy, taken, or a loser. One night out for fun is probably all I’m getting out of this, so don’t get your hopes up. This was me getting ahead of myself because neither of us had said anything yet. I figured if I waited for him to make the first move, I might be waiting a while given the fact those other 5 guys never started a convo at all. So I made the first move, and waited for a reply I thought would never come. Sure enough he wrote back and I was pretty excited about it! We planned a dinner date for the next day. Again with low expectations, I didn’t think the date would actually pan out, but it did. The date lasted over 3 hours, and he wasn’t a catfish! I think for a first Tinder date, it’s a pretty damn good one. A simple, platonic first date. It felt amazing to have normal conversations with someone again. From then on, we tried to see each other as often as we could.

I still hadn’t heard from my ex, it had been over 2 weeks. At this point, I was more than convinced he and I were never going to reignite what we once had. How could someone who loved me go so long without speaking to me, it just didn’t make sense. The only conclusion I could come up with was that he in fact didn’t love me anymore. I was wrong, week 3, he shows up at my front doorstep, wanting to try us again. The decision was now mine. To take him back or to move on. I didn’t know what to do. It’s not like I fell out of love with him. I felt betrayed, lost, used. Not to mention having a terrible after taste from what happened with his mom. I was angry. After all we had spoken about spending a lifetime together, he wasn’t just some puppy love fling. I didn’t want to make a decision based on anger. I needed to take it one day at a time. I also had to be honest with my new beau; I really enjoy your company. You’re truly a breath of fresh air (which he was, especially after how suffocated I’d felt recently) but he’s come back into my life and I need to make sure I’m making the right decision. I can’t rush anything. I had told myself that I needed to take care of my heart, that if it caused anyone to decide that they couldn’t wait, that it wasn’t for me -- that the chips would fall where they were meant to. To my surprise, he was more than supportive. We agreed to slow things down and stay friends for now. I also had to be honest with the one that just came back into my life. Listen, I met someone, I told him. He was stunned. I mean… what did he expect? The fact that he either assumed I’d be waiting around for him after leaving me and ghosting me or that he simply thought no one would want me, was borderline insulting. I still didn’t turn him down right away. I told him I needed to believe he’d be here to stay before we ever think of getting back together. We agreed that only time would tell. Until I found out he had lied about his whereabouts one night when he had stayed back home and I had flown back home early. I was over the top enraged. At this point, I really couldn’t trust him anymore. It wasn’t about trusting in his will to make things work anymore, it was straight up trusting his word. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that he had willingly lied to me. What else would he lie about in the future? Is this really the kind of relationship I’m going to feel safe and loved in? I don’t know, but it doesn’t sound like it, does it?

Letting go is hard. Especially when you’ve imagined a life with someone. We may not have been married, but we made promises to each other. We promised to be each others person. Those promises were broken. I never wanted this. It’s not easy to turn the page when you’re basically forced to. I didn’t feel like I had a choice anymore. It didn’t matter what I did or said, he kept making the wrong choices. I was furious at him for it. Maybe we just weren’t a good match to begin with. Or maybe we were a good match until we weren’t anymore. Regardless, I realized that I was fighting so hard to hold onto something that the universe was clearly trying to steer me away from. I got tired of fighting. I got tired of being the only one fighting.

I also happened to have met a really great guy. Who, during all this time, wiped tears off my face when I got overwhelmed with it all. He listened and heard me, even if it may have been hard for him to. I admired that. He was a friend before anything else. He tapped into that same selflessness that I’d been tapping into. He showed the kind of support I needed and wanted in a relationship all along. He was quite literally a breath of fresh air. I needed that right now. I couldn’t make a decision based on fear, or based on anger. I didn’t. I took my time and it didn’t happen overnight but I chose the path that allowed me to breathe freely.

Of course it hurts my heart. When you spend that much time with someone, whether you want to admit it or not, they become family. I’m starting to learn that love can live without being in love & that’s okay. Just because I’m not with him doesn’t mean I have to stop caring or hate him. I’m at ease with my decision, because it's what I needed. For the first time, I had listened to what I needed. We were great lovers, but we never could figure out how to be partners, and that’s ultimately what I’m looking for. For the first time in my life I was able to go through this without regretting anything. Because nothing was mine to regret. Things happened the way they did, and I had no control over it. I made decisions based on my needs and I gave it all. I gave all of me until I had nothing left to give.

Who knows what the universe has in store for me. Who knows where we’ll stand in 10 years from now. All I know is I’m ready to live in the moment. Love like I’ve never been hurt before and laugh like there’s no tomorrow. I hope you do the same.

It was the end of us… But it may have been the beginning of something wonderful.

A gentle growth.

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youswiminmywater · 6 years

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new perspectives on loneliness

it’s important to try to stay away from your bed sometimes. i never used to be the type to spend the entire day locked away in my room, but the past few months have been exactly that. i even rearranged all of my furniture one day just to change things up, update and organize everything in a way that made more sense. pointed my bed towards the tv. put my clothes in the closet, in my bed drawers (which is astoundingly a habit i’m still keeping up!). organized, alphabetized, and filtered through all of the stuff on my bookshelf, made better use of the space in my room. there’s still some stuff to throw out. there’s still dust accumulating. but it’s a snail’s step, a healthy move inside of a swampy situation. i don’t want this room for much longer, or at least i don’t want to be trapped in it all the time, but i’m glad i fixed it.

the other day, i went down to the cafe to get a salad and try to read a little in public, which is generally my go-to outing for when i want to get out of my house. it’s important to get out of the house sometimes. i’ve been trying to slog through “the faerie queene,” which is an old renaissance epic poem about knights and chivalry and greek mythology splashed into a weird christianity-focused landscape. i’m reading it most because i can, because i know what words like “weet” used to mean, because i’m comfortable reading spenser’s intentionally bizarre spelling and letter-swaps. just for context, here’s an example:

Nathlesse the villen sped himselfe so well, Whether through swiftnesse of his speedy beast; Or knowledge of those woods, where he did dwell, That shortly he from daunger was releast, And out of sight escaped at the least; Yet not escaped from the dew reward Of his bad deeds, which dayly he increast, Ne ceased not, till him oppressed hard The heauy plague, that for such leachours is prepard.

and i’m also reading it because the stories are fun to retell in my own words, whenever i can find an ear to gab into! a lot of old literature is like that, surprising you with a fun story. so i took my massive old book with queen victoria on the cover, got my salad, and decided to sit nearby a couple that looked like they were on a date so that i could eavesdrop on them.

boy is it easy to judge strangers! from what i could tell, he was an older guy, maybe grad student age, clad in nouveau punk garb, the band shirt with sleeves rolled up to his armpits, the rolled up jean shorts, stompy boots, thick rimmed glasses, the side shave haircut that everyone seems to be sporting these days, tattoos up his arms and half way up his neck. he was talking very adamantly about his classes, particularly with a recognizable pretension about how much of an intensely emotional and intellectual endeavor it is to both READ and WRITE in the modern age. something or other about how his professors just Don’t Understand, how they’re Taking the Magic Out of It. he was very particular about the genres he liked to read, and very particular about explaining it to her with confidence, caution, and exactness. she, meanwhile, was at least a few years younger than him (in fact, i’m pretty sure she was an acquaintance of mine, knew her tangentially through people i knew in high school), and it seemed like she hadn’t been to at least a traditional college in several years. the last i remember, she worked at this kind of odd farm-fresh fast-food joint, where they make you wear blue bandannas instead of brand hats. she looked like she went to art school maybe, studied photography. she was very supportive of his opinions on reading books, or whatever, and tried her best to come up with things to share back on the subject, but it was clear she wasn’t really That Into reading. she ran with the crowd that was used to doing, parties and skateboarding and concerts, not sitting at home over a notebook.

it just seemed like the kind of pairing that didn’t have much in common, but they were still fresh and enthusiastic and willing to blow past differences and have some fun for a while. in any case, i was in true goblin form, hunched over my salad, building stories for each of them in my head, telling myself they were communicating poorly and failing to connect with each other, telling myself they’ll be over and done within a few months, maybe more if the circumstances call for it. a stupid grin slapped across my brain while i half-read about some sinful queen named “lucifera,” who embodied Vanity itself in every way, even carrying around a hand mirror just to admire herself.

this is the cafe i used to work at, and so i knew a lot of the patrons and just about all of the employees; i spotted one person, the “new girl,” also enjoying a salad off duty a few tables away from me. she had been hired shortly after i left, though the two of us had developed a little bit of camaraderie between my frequent visits. i called her bree-bree, she called me bri-bri, it was something cute and fun between us. one of the few fond connections i have with the world outside my bedroom.

i made my way to the door, pretended to notice her, and sat down in the seat across from her, imposing in probably a very trumpian way, though she didn’t seem to mind, wasn’t nose deep in a book like i pretended to be. we got to immediately gossiping about the couple i was just eavesdropping on, my favorite hobby, talking about dating and relationships from a safe and frankly lofty position, dragging someone into my holier-than-thou mindscape to bond with them. it’s the magic of people-watching, really, and sharing that experience with someone makes you feel so much less like a wretched lonely creep. she nodded sagely when i talked about talking but not communicating, first dates in the cafe.

she told me a story about how she was on a first date with a guy and kept asking him questions expecting him to toss the ball back into her court, but at the end of his several monologues, the only thing he was able to bring back to her was “so, any more questions for me?” i told her he was probably trying very hard to impress her, and maybe felt interrogated. like it was his time to make a splash and show her how good and smart of a boy he was! and probably terrified out of his mind. you can’t chalk everything up to male vanity. she shrugged a maybe-probably. i declined to tell her a story about some of my first dates, not wishing to mirror the guy she just described to me.

i learned that she was dating one of the other guys that worked at the cafe, who was working there that day, though the whole thing was a sort of semi-hush. she said they dated but she didn’t really talk about it. she just gazed at him over my shoulder, dreamy-eyed. how do you get a girl to look at you that way? i admired it, appreciated it. i turned around and announced to the guy “i didn’t know you two were dating!” made him blush, show him that i was Aware and not threatening anything by having an intimate salad talk with his girl right in front of him. she told me she was moving to Cleveland in two weeks, and was bad with long-distance. she didn’t seem that bothered by it, though i still sympathized, knowing by now how those relationships end, the early 20s flings that always get bashed backwards by college schedules and other necessity.

her mentioning it gave me an opportunity to talk about vivien, for a moment. i told her i was a long-distance veteran. i forcibly showed off pictures of vivien, of the two of us together, because i was dying to show at least one person, even someone who could be barely considered a friend. i don’t know why i wanted to; maybe another opportunity to say “just so we’re clear, i’m not trying to come onto you, here’s a girl i already like!” or maybe it was a way to legitimize a connection in my life that seems to slip away more and more every day.

i offered to give her a ride, probably a minor misstep. she said she preferred walking, good exercise. i agreed, told her i wanted to ride my bike more often too. she insisted i make some desserts for her and the cafe before she had to leave, and i promised i would. left.

i had something of a panic attack that night. i don’t like calling it that, because the feeling wasn’t...well, maybe i’m just unfamiliar with panic. it was intangible. i was feeling manic, i could hear myself breathing, i wanted to get out of the house again (this was now around 11pm or so). i was feeling trapped, claustrophobic, lonely, forgotten. i went to a 24/7 gyro place to tap my foot, pick up dinner for me and my mom. wrote an obscure facebook status. sent a few oblique text messages. wanting attention but not wanting to attract it. wanting someone to care about me and show concern but feeling selfish and childish by offering out my hands.

i had a phone conversation with a friend of mine just before. my best friend, or at least someone i used to be really close with, now feeling more and more like a stranger, more like a burden, more like i destroyed something that was taking a painstakingly long time to fully implode. i was becoming less and less to her, and it showed in our conversation, and showed even more when she was telling me about other friends she was starting to hang out with more, or when she was having a conversation with her boyfriend that was so much more lively than the one she was having with me. it used to be the other way around. i sat on the phone and let my heart break, realized i was becoming alone again, and ended up at this gyro place an hour later.

it’s not that i’m particularly going to miss the life i’ve been living the past few years; i really hate feeling stuck, even if i had some great company while doing so, and shared a lot of myself with someone who has been very important to me. but trying to move on has blasted away a lot of stuff i took for granted, or didn’t realize i depended on so heavily. so i guess i had a panic attack, on both ends. i felt empty and heartbroken looking back on my past friendship; i felt worried and alone looking forward. i’m still not sure if i’m moving into anything real or not.

maybe i’m once again too much in my own head, but sometimes i get the feeling vivien is already done with me. we don’t really have any plans when it comes to moving closer to each other; i’m not even sure what she wants for her own life sometimes. we’ve both been through our own gauntlets, and we know long-distance isn’t really something we have the energy for anymore. all i know is that we happen to have landed in the same spot, together, right now. but i don’t know if we’re both going to leave this place together, or if we’re going to be facing the same direction when we do. we’re certainly not going to stay here for much longer. i only hope she isn’t already through with me. sometimes i feel like a needy puppy, begging for her attention, putting effort into something that i maybe shouldn’t be. i truly do adore her, and we resemble each other so much; we sometimes joke about being each other’s “twin flame,” soulmates. it still feels that way. but soulmates aren’t always lovers.

i’m just preparing myself for the worst. i don’t want it to be over yet.

today i listened to an “etiquette podcast” on the way home. it’s really hardly about etiquette most of the time; it’s just this married couple that started a podcast together, likely because the wife felt left out of her husband’s podcasting career and wanted an excuse to hang out with him. they pick random topics, the wife goes into a brief “history” of the thing, and then they talk about “the best way to blank,” “when is the right time to blank.” how do i ask for a raise without coming off as bossy? what’s the best way to end a phone call? what’s the proper thing to say when i fart on the train?

this week’s episode was about naps. the wife went into a personal yarn about how she had postpartum depression and took frequent naps that just felt Very Bad. like gigantic naps that felt too good, wasted the whole day. the husband likened it to eating ice cream when you’re starving. just the wrong medicine for the occasion.

when i got home, i took a 6-hour nap. i was still riding the wave of sadness from the day before, though without the manic energy. just the overwhelming feeling of aloneness, having no one to share anything with anymore. being alone really makes a lot of things feel pointless, when you’re in the headspace of, i want to do things so i have something to share with people. suddenly reading feels stupid. endeavors to work out feel pointless. long naps are a brief fast-forward through something that feels like it ought to blow away at some point. and it really doesn’t, at least, not in the way you expect it to.

i woke up and checked my e-mails, my school e-mail in particular, to remind myself that i was still a student and had responsibilities beyond trying to find love and companionship to enrich my future (snort!). cracked open my textbook, a chapter about plate presentation, and got quite lost flipping between dessert possibilities. really inspiring stuff, even though the book is a little outdated:

i’m sure this is somewhat a product of my mood...but looking at these foods made me really want to dive into my work as a pastry chef. become good at something, make all these sauces and coulis and collect a bunch of chocolate shavings and such and try out some plate designs for myself, likely in very bizarre, personal ways. “here you go mom, i made dessert, and i bought a special plate to put it on!” i mean, how else is a boy to practice? it’s a relief seeing stuff like this, because the class i’m taking right now makes me believe cake decorating is the alpha and the omega of pastry learning. and i just hate cake decorating! my boss told me that some people are decorators and some people are producers, and that i’m a producer. i feel good about that role. it’s encouraging.

i’ve written pretty freely and frequently about this belief i have, that people have a built in “fail-safe” system that keeps them from tolerating a bad feeling for too long. some motivation inside of them that keeps them from stewing in depression until they disintegrate. in the past, i’ve taken opportunities like this one i’m in to go on impulsive bike rides, usually in the dead of the night. i felt the same impulse washing over me today; however, i knew that my bike tires were flat and needed a pump. this is essentially the extent of my bike-repair expertise, so if they didn’t stay inflated, i was probably done for without a real concentrated effort to fix the damn thing.

i went outside to our backyard shed to try and find the bicycle pump. no luck. and our backyard was starting to look and feel overgrown, plants poking through fences and coming up to the windows. my mom says she likes the overgrown because it grants privacy, but i hated it in that moment. i wanted to clear everything away. in lieu of finding my bike pump, i grabbed some forgotten rusty shears instead, and just started going to town on these masses of towering plants. snipping bit by bit, shoving them into mossy old yard bags, grabbing thorns and twigs barehanded in my sleepwear and clogs. just fed up, burying my feelings in the impulse.

i started to imagine, maybe this is what i need to do from now on. just focus on cleaning the house, yard work. eventually move on to working out, getting stronger arms, losing weight, eating healthier. if i’m going to be a shut-in for the rest of my life, maybe this is the secret to accepting it. just obsessing over some kind of work and never thinking about loneliness ever again, except maybe by accident late at night, in moments of stillness. it made me feel kind of like boo radley. it was a familiar place, like one that i had recognized in writers and poets, or any other person that was considered isolated, in solitude. like a retired old dad, feverishly picking up hobbies to keep himself busy. emily dickinson with her botany and gardening (did you know she had a 66-page leather-bound book of pressed plants? it’s called an herbarium). or like a robert frost type, hauling wood to a cabin, reveling in the simplicity of it. after all, it’s easier to tear weeds out of the ground than it is to make friends. maybe it’s the kind of life i need to embrace, constantly becoming better and healthier, more useful, stronger, but for nobody. building a nice home and a nice life and only sharing it with someone if i get really lucky.

i didn’t really hang out with my dad much after my parents were divorced, and now that i’m older, and i’m realizing how badly i wanted someone to teach me how to be a guy. all the things i remember doing with him when i was younger, fishing, flying kites, swimming, are distant memories. i’m rusty. i’m gonna take my kids to do these things with nostalgia and fumble at it, because it fell out of my life a long time ago. i feel like being outside again, getting bug bites, tearing up the yard and putting it back together again...it’s a way of being a dad to myself. or i feel like my dad was supposed to teach me this stuff, like it’s a old secret, “now son, when you grow up and your life isn’t what you wanted it to be, just build a birdhouse. it’s the best remedy for depression!”

or maybe it was just a manic episode, me out there chopping away at the bushes. a cathartic release that’ll sink back into its deep slumber again come tomorrow. it was a shift in perspective, another way of making loneliness OK, a different kind of ocean to drown in. i wouldn’t mind if it stuck around.

i know i really don’t deserve much, i’m not exactly a very good person. but if i can find a way to turn all these feelings back in on themselves, and just focus on something...manual and productive, i think it’s a life i’d take. just needs some motivation.

#personal #blog

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fire-emblem-heroes-supports · 7 years

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Subaki/Henry C-S Support

Written by drizzled-wind

C SUPPORT

Henry: Nya ha! Thanks, little birdie!

Subaki: Henry, what on earth are you doing? That crow is leaving muddy prints all over your robes and the desk!

Henry: Hm? Oh, I didn’t notice!

Subaki: Honestly, Henry. Why was the bird even here?

Henry: We were just talking! The little crow had some special secrets about the enemies, so now I can kill them better. Crows like me lots, so they don’t mind telling me.

Subaki: Right… Anyway, please don’t let it happen again. If you must talk to animals, do it outside.

Henry: Aww, Subaki, don’t be such a party pooper! We weren’t doing anything wrong.

Subaki: Maybe so, but I cannot tolerate the mess you’re leaving. This is the third time I’ve seen you leave with the room filthy like this.

Henry: Lighten up, Subaki! Here, I’ll help you. A quick hex should have this mess vanished in no time!

Subaki: Wait, a hex? That sounds dangerous-

Henry: Nonsense! Mumble mumble…

Subaki: Henry, what have you done?! I didn’t ask you to fling it out the window on top of everyone!

Henry: But look, the desk is clear! Isn’t that what you were worried about?

Subaki: I don’t understand how you can stand to be so sloppy with everything you do.

Henry: It’s not about being neat! It’s about getting the job done.

Subaki: I must say I disagree, Henry. Listen, how about you meet me in the castle grounds tomorrow? I want to have a chat with you there. Far away from a clean surface.

Henry: Alright, Subaki! Haha!

[Subaki and Henry have reached support rank C.]

B SUPPORT

Subaki: Henry?! What are you doing with that fearsome beast?

Henry: Oh, hey Subaki! You said last time that I should talk to my friends outside now.

Subaki: Why, pray tell, are you conversing with a wolf? Do you know how dangerous those are?

Henry: Pfft, she’d never hurt me. We’re friends!

Subaki: How can you be friends with a savage creature like that?

Henry: Hey, you’ll hurt her feelings.

Subaki: Ugh, never mind. Could we have that chat now? Preferably without the wolf present.

Henry: Haha! Alright, friend, you can go now. Thanks for everything!

Subaki: May I ask why you are constantly speaking with woodland animals?

Henry: They remind me of home! My parents didn’t really care about me, so my best friends were the wolves I hung out with.

Subaki: Er…that sounds very tragic, yet you still have a huge grin on your face.

Henry: ‘Cause I’m a happy guy! Duh!

Subaki: Alright… Well, the reason I wanted to speak to you was I wanted to offer to give you lessons in neatness. I cannot stand here and watch you behave like an animal in good conscience, though I now realise why.

Henry: Ha! That sure sounds unnecessary, Subaki. I’m here to kill people, not tidy rooms! Especially if there’s blood involved.

Subaki: It may seem unnecessary to you, but it is of great importance to me. I have vowed to myself to fix you up, whatever it may take. My reputation depends on it.

Henry: What a strange idea! But if you want, I’ll play along. I can even make it final with a curse!

Subaki: A curse?

Henry: Yup! If I cast this curse, your vow becomes unbreakable, and if you fail, we both die horribly! There’d be a lot of blood, so I’m totally okay with it.

Subaki: What? No! I don’t think I’ll fail, but I can’t take that chance. I don’t want to risk your life if you prove inadequate.

Henry: You’re so weird, Subaki. I said that I was okay with dying, preferably painfully. But whatever you want! I’ll join your for your sessions.

Subaki: Good. And remember, no curses. True perfection requires effort.

Henry: Nya ha! Will do!

[Subaki and Henry have reached support rank B.]

A SUPPORT

Henry: Wow! I’m a hex of a lot better at cleaning rooms now!

Subaki: Excellent, Henry! And in record time, too. I think our sessions have been going wonderfully, thanks to my expertise, of course.

Henry: I never thought I’d be cleaning when I was summoned here. But it’s fun!

Subaki: I’m glad you think so, but after today, I don’t think you’ll be needing anymore lessons.

Henry: Aww! Isn’t there something I can do for you? I love helping people with my curses, and I gotta pay you back, since you helped me! Is there anything you want to have? Anyone you want dead? I could kill Alfonse or someone. There’d be blood. Mmm…

Subaki: No! That’s a terrible idea. Would you really kill the prince?

Henry: Probably not. But I could! So whaddya want? You’re always saying something about perfection, right? Don’t really know why, but it seems important to you for some reason.

Subaki: Well, yes. It is my life’s goal to be the very epitome of perfection.

Henry: Ooh, I have a handy curse for that! It removes all flaws of a living being for 24 hours. Thing is, you need to use someone’s life force to power it. So it might kill me, but you’d be perfect!

Subaki: Gods, Henry. I can’t ask you to make a sacrifice like that for me.

Henry: Are you suuuure?

Subaki: …Yes. Besides, I want to achieve greatness through my own merits. That includes constantly conditioning myself to remove all the imperfections.

Henry: Gee, I never thought of it like that. Seems like a lot of effort.

Subaki: I can tell. You never seem bothered about flaws, Henry. In fact, you’re always happy. Most unlikely for a dark mage.

Henry: Yep, that’s me! I’ve been told I’m a weird guy. But I’m totally alright with that. I like being me! I can do things I like!

Subaki: I must admit I don’t understand your train of thought. But if it’s good enough for you, then I’m content with your explanation.

Henry: Coolio! So, what am I gonna do for you in return?

Subaki: I think you’ve already helped me, Henry. Consider the debt paid.

Henry: If you say so!

[Subaki and Henry have reached support rank A.]

S SUPPORT

Subaki: Henry! There you are. I’ve been worried sick about you.

Henry: Me? Pfft, why are you worried about me?

Subaki: The Summoner said you hadn’t been seen in days. I was fearing that you’d died by the hands of some Embla soldier.

Henry: Nah, not yet! I’m gonna die in a huge battle, and it’ll be really gory. So no worries for now! But you look so sad. Do you need a hug?

Subaki: N-no! Please don’t speak like that. What were you doing away from the army?

Henry: Nya ha! It’s a secret!

Subaki: Sigh…fine. Anyway, I have something I want to tell you.

Henry: I’m all ears! Well, not literally, but that’d look pretty cool.

Subaki: Heh.

Henry: Yay, you’re smiling too! Looks like I turned that frown upside down.

Subaki: I suppose you did. Henry… I have to say, you’ve always impressed me. You’re not perfect, yet you keep that smile on your face. It doesn’t faze you at all.

Henry: Ha! You don’t need to be perfect to be happy. Didn’t you know that?

Subaki: The thing is, I’m not sure I do. I spent every waking moment in my world training to make myself as perfect as I could possibly be. But when I’m around you, I feel…less pressured. I feel like I don’t have to be flawless anymore.

Henry: I think you’re pretty darn great just the way you are!

Subaki: See, that’s what I mean. You accept people for who they are. Imperfections don’t bother you.

Henry: Of course they don’t! I learnt that alllll the way back in my childhood. You just gotta be who you are, or you’ll be miserable. And what’s the use of being miserable? Death won’t be any fun that way.

Subaki: I suppose that makes sense, in some twisted kind of way. But Henry, it is this that draws me to you. I find myself always thinking about you, worrying about you, and…loving you.

Henry: Aw, Subaki! I love you too! Hug time!

Subaki: Ah!

Henry: Did a hug make it better? Lemme tell you, I like you ‘cause you’re you! Plus you helped me lots, and you’re the only one who likes talking to me all the time. Here!

Subaki: A ring?

Henry: I went all the way to town to pick it out! Sorry I scared you so much.

Subaki: Oh, Henry. You’re the one who makes me feel truly perfect. I love you so much.

Henry: Hehe! This is a cawse for celebration!

[Subaki and Henry have reached support rank S.]

#fire emblem fates #fire emblem awakening #male heroes #subaki #henry #subaki x henry #henry x subaki #submission

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jeremystrele · 4 years

Text

Artist Dawn Tan On Her Scary Start To Motherhood + Keeping Calm In The Time Of Corona

Family

Ashe Davenport

Photo – Sarah Collins.

Dawn Tan is sunshine in human form. One only needs to glance at her watercolours of Care Bears, croissants and Iced VoVos to figure that out. She makes things that make people happy. And very, very hungry.

Anything’s possible in Dawn’s world. Take for example, her yurt out the back of her Yarraville home, where she teaches art classes. It had been a dream of hers to build one, so that’s exactly what she did. She’s a dreamer and pragmatist, which, objectively speaking, is an unstoppable combination of things. When self-isolation became a reality only a few days ago, Dawn pivoted straight away to offering art resources and classes online to help cooped up kids and parents.

We spoke on the phone on a rainy weekday. Dawn was in her car outside a cafe, inside of which Darren and baby Louie were kindly buying us time. I was struck by her honesty, generosity and strength, both in general and regarding a truly messed up situation.

Dawn Tan for PM.

How are you guys coping with this whole Corona business?

We’re trying to keep calm and carry on! I guess we’re just going with it day by day because who knows what’ll happen tomorrow? A lockdown for a month? You never know!

Despite the uncertainty, we’ve chosen not to panic buy, as we figured we won’t be building any toilet paper + tinned food forts for protection. Instead, we’re choosing to try and keep things as normal as possible for Louie. I believe kids pick up on their parents’ anxiety, so we’re trying our best not to get too carried away with all the inaccurate social media reporting and political arguments. We’re upping our game with our sanitising regime and I’ve been wiping every surface down. I feel like I’m 38 weeks pregnant again, when my one sole mission was to clean down the entire house Hazmat-suit style! Call me crazy, but I actually do love cleaning.

What’s your parenting mantra?

Go with it. That’s our take. Darren and I made a conscious decision not to read any parenting books or download any of the (parenting) apps. All babies and kids are so different. There’s no ‘one size fits all.’ We figured we’d just wing it, and deal with the poop when the poop hits the fan.

Has it hit the fan?

Oh yeah. Several times. It’s been a pooplosion. Late last year in particular. There was a lot of crying from all involved. A huge amount of stress. Basically I was sent to a psych unit. It’s a long story.

We have time, if you feel like sharing it.

Well, Louie had severe eczema. He still does. It’s been tricky to manage. In spring last year, it was the worst it had ever been, because it was his first exposure to hay fever season. I couldn’t handle it. He was five months old and just always crying, always screaming, all day and night from all the pain. His onesies and sheets were often stained with blood from scratching. Darren and I slept on either side of him so that we could pin one of his hands each, to try and stop more irritation. We finally took him to emergency one night after his entire torso turned bright red. We were provided with a treatment plan, but it stopped working after two weeks. So we went back. And that’s when it all turned upside down.

How so?

I broke down in emergency and cried my eyeballs out. In addition to seeing Louie in so much pain, an immediate family member had just been diagnosed with cancer and another faced a job loss. Being so far from family, it was hard. Long story short, a social worker told me I had severe postnatal depression and anxiety. I was told it was okay that I couldn’t cope, but that it was normal for babies to scream and cry a lot. I was confused because I knew my normally happy baby was screaming because he was in pain, and yet I was told to accept it.

I was then recommended a night at the psychiatric ward, but I refused to be away from Louie, so we ended up staying with him while he was seen for his eczema. An MRI and scans were ordered, but I wasn’t sure why. We were stuck at the hospital for a week. Turns out, Louie’s MRI was to rule out head trauma. Child protection services even got involved!

HUH?! On what grounds?

I was asked if I’d hurt Louie by a social worker, who thought I’d said, ‘Yes.’ That was it. I had to be placed under supervision and could not be alone with Louie. I couldn’t even feed him in peace. All throughout the week, I was made to believe I had completely lost it. I kept questioning myself and wondering how I ever let it get that bad. There was so much self-blame. It broke me. I was ‘strongly encouraged’ to check into a mother and baby unit. We were told it would be nice and gentle, “like a sleep school.” So we went.

We were promised a calm and nurturing environment, a space where I could chat through my ‘problems’. But it was far from what was promised! Turns out, the unit was for mothers who had been deemed a danger to themselves or their babies. There were no locks on doors. You could tell, everything was ‘suicide-proof.’ We were checked on every hour during the day and even at night, a flashlight came poking in through the door hourly!

I was told admission was voluntary, but it felt like all my rights got taken away the moment I entered. There were words like “applying for leave” and warnings of what would happen if I didn’t return. Sleeping pills were prescribed to “calm my anxiety.” So yeah, the poop hit the fan, and by that stage, it was flinging everywhere.

How did you get out?

Eventually Darren got quite firm and insisted we speak with the head psychiatrist sooner rather than later. I also spoke to the admissions doctor prior to that, which was when we discovered the grossly inaccurate report. It was stated on my file that I’d hurt Louie, despite all the scans and checks coming back clear. Of course I didn’t hurt him!

Miraculously, I was fast-tracked to see the psychiatrist. And after all of five minutes she could see there had been a huge error. I’d been misdiagnosed. Any new mum would have had a total meltdown given the situation I was in… Simply put, I was under a tremendous amount of pressure, stress and coupled with the lack of sleep, I turned into an emotional wreck at Emergency. We were told to go home right away as being at the unit would do more harm for me mentally. Soon after, Child Protection Services came visiting and ended up apologising for all that had happened. They explained this was the first time in over 20 years that a case had escalated as quickly as mine! Lucky me!

What was the aftermath like?

We’re in the process of making a formal complaint now. It’s a tonne of paperwork, but we have a letter of support from the head psychiatrist, which should be helpful. It’s not a nice thing to have on my file, especially given that I’m a teacher. We’re just trying to stay positive. It happened, and we can’t change it. It can only make us stronger. We’re just so grateful for the two nurses at the crisis unit who could tell something was amiss with my report and advocated to have me discharged. And for all the nurses and pediatricians who took such great care of Louie and supported us.

Has the experience changed the way you seek support now?

Going to or even driving by the hospital can be quite triggering, but we tell ourselves if we are there, that we are there for Louie. So he can seek the best medical help possible. Fear aside, I still believe in speaking up. I always have. That’s why I spoke up in the first place. I think it’s really important to acknowledge and share what you’re going through. Especially if you need help. Mental health is so important and I believe the first step to helping ourselves is to speak up. Darren and I have an open and honest relationship. We share when we’re frustrated or pissed off about something. We have conversations all day long.

‘This too shall pass’ is a thing parents say when things are hard. What are your thoughts on that?

I don’t like it. I know it ‘shall pass.’ Louie has lots of allergic reactions, some that have required ambulance rides to the hospital, and he still has severe eczema. He has flare ups almost every other week. Even a play with some tan bark or a walk on a mildly windy day can trigger an entire week’s worth of flare up. He’s never slept all that much from day dot. He’s a piglet who prefers cat naps and breastfeeds every few hours, 24/7. Needless to say, he’s never slept through the night. The one time he did, we thought Christmas had arrived!

We count our blessings as we know we have it so good. We are so grateful that Louie is overall a healthy, happy and thriving baby. That said, some days are so hard. I cry my eyeballs out. Sometimes I even regret and question if I’ve ruined my life by becoming a Mum. Then I feel guilty that I’m not appreciating him more, and because I know not everyone is fortunate enough to be able to have kids.

Darren and I went through our own fertility journey with Endometriosis and tricky Fibroids. Louie’s our little miracle. So surely we should never ever feel frustrated about our new life as parents! But some days, it’s just so hard! People often tell me ‘This too shall pass’ but I see it as closing the door on what I’m feeling, and I don’t like that. Whether I’m having a good day or a bad day, I want to acknowledge it. I feel, to become better parents, I need to let my emotions out, accept them, then move on. There’s the good days and the bad. The ups and downs – It’s all part of parenting!

Family Favourites

Favourite at home family activity?

Snuggling in bed solving a Rubik’s cube – Louie’s favourite toy. Hah!

Sunday morning breakfast?

Pancakes with lots of berries and honey!

Go-to album?

We’re classical music nerds. We like old school jazz classics too, Etta James or Frank Sinatra.

From today, every Friday, Dawn will be releasing a FRIDAY FREEBIE FUN Art Lesson on her Instagram TV / Facebook page. Simple, easy to follow along videos for all ages. More great stuff will be released next week, and you can purchase art supplies from Dawn’s online store!

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