#was very funny and i do not regret it one iota

[baronessblixen]

Hi! Big fan here😊! If you're still taking prompts: Mulder being obviously jealous with Scully and Sheriff Hartwell in Bad Blood, thank you!😊

Thank you, sweet anon! Here it is. A post-ep for "Bad Blood" obviously. A jealous Mulder, an attempt at humor and the hint of angst may be found here. (wc: 1,349)

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 30: Feelings You Can't Hide

Buck teeth.

He can’t believe Scully is into overbites when- no, he’s not going down that road again. The same thing happened last year when Ed Jerse showed up. Not that Mulder ever met the guy, but he’s seen pictures. What a funny twist of fate that Sheriff Buck Teeth and Mr. Tattoo look like they could be related. His Scully has a type. And Mulder is not jealous. At all.

He reminds himself of that fact every two seconds, lest he forget to smile and not make another biting remark. Whatever his feelings are, Scully deserves more. That’s the reason why he pushed her towards the Sheriff in the first place. A mistake he now very much regrets. He should have known. He of all people, who’s been seduced by his own vampire before. Whatever happened – and either Scully doesn’t remember or doesn’t want to tell him – she’s still wearing the sheriff’s coat.

And he’s still not jealous at all. Not even an iota. Well, maybe a bit. A fraction. He glances over at Scully, almost disappearing into the coat, her hands in the pockets. His blood coils. It’s anger, he justifies. That guy could have done god knows what to Scully. The hospital cleared them both. There was nothing wrong with them.

Mulder winced internally when rape kits were prepared, bu they haven't been touched in any way. There’s not a scratch on either of them. Scully’s theory is that they were drugged so that Sheriff Hartwell and the others could disappear. He thinks she’s right, but so far all he’s done is nod along.

“Are you gonna keep wearing that thing?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it does. Scully musters him, obviously trying to understand what’s wrong with him.

“No, of course not,” she says. “It’s just warm and it’s cool in here.”

“You can have my coat,” he says, taking it off.

“Mulder, you’re gonna be cold.” Except he feels warm. Hot, even. Boiling almost. “Take it,” he says, sounding like an asshole. He hears it, and judging by Scully’s puzzled expression, she does, too. Still, she takes his coat, slipping out of the other one. Mulder can breathe more easily.

Scully giggles when she holds up the sleeves, her hands barely peeking out. The sound opens something in Mulder. He watches her out of the corner of his eye, her sight causing a pandemonium of emotions inside him.

He can no longer deny it; he is jealous. Whether it’s a vampiric sheriff, a psychopathic asshole, or a seemingly normal-looking doctor in a hospital. Scully deserves to find a nice man – emphasis on nice, and not blood-sucking or murderous – and here he is, trying his best to prevent that from happening. Because what if she does? What if the next guy they run into is exactly what she’s looking for? Sweet and kind – someone Bill Jr. will be friends with. Someone who’ll whisk her away on weekend trips where the scariest situation will involve preventing a sunburn.

“Mulder, I asked if you were ready to go home.” Scully is squeezing his arm, her eyes narrow with concern.

“Am I ready?” he asks. He's not ready at all to do this. To consider the possibility that one day - and maybe soon - she could be gone. Because of some guy who can give her everything Mulder can't.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Did they check your head?” She runs her fingers through his hair and he doesn’t have the heart to tell her that they did check him for head trauma and that her way of checking is more of a caress than anything else.

“My head is fine,” he says finally.

“It better be because I’m not facing Skinner alone.” He gives her a look that he hopes is reassuring.

*

He hasn’t stopped thinking about it. About his revelation. That’s why when they talk to Skinner, he’s only half listening, reiterating everything Scully says.

“This is your story,” Skinner says, glancing at both of them across from him. They share a quick look before they nod.

“That is essentially… exactly the way it happened,” Scully says slowly.

“Except for the part about the buck teeth.” The room falls quiet. He knows he shouldn’t have said it, but he hasn’t slept well these past few nights. Last night, he dreamed about a hat with big white teeth following him around, trying to bite him. Skinner sighs, rubbing his eyes, and for once Mulder gets it. Scully’s eyes are on him and he feels them burn into the side of his face. This isn’t over for him, no matter what Skinner is about to say.

“You’re dismissed,” their boss says, directing his attention elsewhere; a clear sign that they should leave. Mulder stumbles over his own feet in an attempt to get out of the office. Scully, however, is at his heels. How she can keep up with him might be the greatest conundrum of them all.

“What was that?” she hisses once they’re in the elevator, on the way down to their office.

“What was what?”

“Why do you keep insisting that he had buck teeth?”

“Why are you always attracted to idiots?” Another thing he knows he shouldn’t have said. “I’m sorry, I-… I haven’t been sleeping well.” It’s a flimsy excuse and the fire in Scully’s eyes doesn’t dissipate.

“You’re one to talk, Mulder. This was unprofessional. In front of Skinner. It’s bad enough when you made fun of it before but in front of our boss? What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’ll say. Why are you so obsessed with what he looked like?” He owes her this. But first, he’s saved by the bell. The elevator door opens and Scully steps out first. He follows the click of her heels until they’re in their office where she leans against the desk, her arms folded in front of her.

“I’m waiting,” she says, her eyebrows raised.

“I was just surprised,” he explains. “That you’d be interested in someone like… that.”

“Like what, Mulder?”

“He wasn’t the brightest bulb, Scully. You must have seen that. I thought you’d be more, um- I thought maybe you’d go for someone who’s more…”

“More what?” she asks.

“Someone who’s intellectually on your level.”

“Like you?”

“I didn’t say that,” he replies too quickly and he sees the corner of Scully’s mouth twitch.

“I may have thought that Sheriff Hartwell was nice enough looking,” she says, sounding almost bored. “I wasn’t planning a life with him. And you just- should I remind you of Detective White?”

“Who?”

“Oh, come on. Or Bambi.”

“Bambi was a scientist,” Mulder says defensively.

“Yeah, she was,” Scully mumbles, looking away. “Either way, I have to deal with you being… interested in other people way more often than the other way around. And I don’t ascribe them physical attributes they don’t possess. So what was that?”

“I’m sorry, Scully. I truly am. I was just-,” he looks at her. Can he say it? Can he admit it to her? If he admits that he was jealous, what will happen next? They’re not there yet. He can admit it to himself, but he’s not ready to face the consequences of his feelings.

“I was insensitive. I was worried your feelings for Sheriff Bu- Hartwell might interfere with the case.”

“That’s it?” she asks and he nods, looking down at his feet. “You’re sticking to that story?” He lifts his head to look at her. She’s not believing a single word.

“Admit he didn’t have buck teeth.”

“What? He did!”

“Admit it, Mulder. Or tell me the real reason.”

“Fine,” he says with a sigh. All he has to do is say it. Simple words. ‘I was jealous, Scully’. How hard can it be? He, the defender and searcher of the truth, is shying away from it.

“I- he didn’t have buck teeth. Happy?”

“It’ll do,” she says, before she walks right past him and out of the basement office, making him wonder what exactly she means by that.

#fictober23 #only one more day to go #not sure yet what it will be tomorrow #i hope i can come up with someone one more time #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

IOTA Reviews: Truth

Hey. Hey guys. Remember when I said I was feeling optimistic about this season? God, that was funny, wasn't it?

Let's just... Let's just get into the actual first episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Truth.

We start off with Gabriel repairing the damaged Peacock Miraculous, which also restores Duusu's sanity, before he quickly gives it a test run by transforming with both it and the Butterfly Miraculous.

And good lord, the result looks atrocious. This is the design for the new and improved Hawkmoth? First off, the peacock feather eyepatch looks stupid. Is he trying to be the Phantom of the Opera? When Mayura had the same thing, it didn't completely cover her eye and matched her color scheme. It just doesn't match with this new design here. Other than the feather, the peacock aesthetic is barely visible here. The most we get is a peacock feather pattern on the back of his jacket. And then there's the popped collar and coattails, which only look more ridiculous than menacing. What made the original Hawkmoth design work was how sleek it was. It was simplistic, which reflected Gabriel's no-nonense personality. This just looks gaudy and unnecessary. How was this right after the amazing suit the animators gave Dragonbug?

So after Gabriel designs another stupid looking outfit, we cut to Marinette, who's still trying to figure out how the Miracle Ball works. She accidentally opens it, letting the Kwamis out, who wreak havoc on her room because Marinette suffering is going to be a big part of this episode. This just raises the question: Why can't Marinette simply order them back into the box like Su-Han did, or rather, is going to do? It's still not established what gives the Guardians authority over the Kwamis in the first place.

Two of the Kwamis accidentally start a video chat with her friends, leading to some more Unfunny Marinette Slapstick. But Alya thinks something's up with her friend.

Has Marinette even told Alya she's already in a relationship? Like, at all? It feels like all Alya is there for now is to remind the audience that Marinette and Adrien are “meant to be”, even if they're both in relationships right now. It's either that, or teasing Marinette over her crush and doing nothing to help her anxiety.

Marinette accidentally ends the call, before Luka calls to thank her for the pictures of Adrien one of the Kwamis accidentally sent him. Yeah, even though he barely appears in this episode (barring his scenes at Cat Noir), they're going to talk about Adrien a lot. Marinette continues to stammer around Luka (once again making fun of people who have speech issues), but Luka, being the ray of sunshine in any abysmal episode he's in, is completely understanding of it. He also sets up a pretty funny joke.

Apparently, Marinette missed her last date with Luka yesterday to see a movie that was re-released, Crocodile Heart, that was actually Jagged Stone's first movie. I wonder if it's connected to Crocodile Dundee.

While walking to the movie, Luka and Marinette play a game finishing the lyrics of a Jagged Stone song, establishing the former as a huge fan of the rock star. Before we can actually get an on-screen kiss for Lukanette, Mr. Pigeon attacks yet again, because I guess he's the first villain Hawkmoth wants to use in his new form.

Cat Noir sneaks up on Ladybug, causing her to accidentally throw him off a building before catching him, chastising him for the stupid jokes, yet Ladybug has to apologize for missing patrol with her partner, who casually acknowledges her new status as Guardian before the two go and fight Mr. Pigeon.

By the time they defeat him, the movie ends as Marinette gets back, disappointing Luka. We then get a montage of Marinette bailing on Luka multiple times to stop Akumas and Sentimonsters. To his credit, Luka is seriously torn up by all the times Marinette leaves him, showing he isn't just a calm soul.

After Marinette gets back, Luka takes her underneath a bridge to listen to the echoing sound of the water. Luka says that he never knew his father, and he would always go here to relax whenever he got stressed. He uses this to segue into asking Marinette where she constantly disappears to. He doesn't pressure her or anything like Alya, and he even says that if she still loves Adrien, he'll understand. He only asks for the truth. Unfortunately, Marinette can't tell him the truth, which just breaks the poor boy's heart.

Hawkmoth, now calling himself Shadowmoth, sends out an Akuma and an Amok for Luka at the same time, corrupting a guitar pick signed by Jagged Stone that Marinette gave him. And again, to Luka's credit, he fights back against Shadowmoth's influence at first, saying he trusts Marinette, but the temptation of knowing the truth is too good to pass up. He tells Marinette to run before being akumatized into Truth, assisted by the Sentimonster Pharro.

Truth's design is... pretty forgettable. The guitar pick being prominent around his neck is a nice touch, but it's just a generic black bodysuit with light blue highlights, and he has a third eye instead of a visible mouth. Pharro is also pretty boring, just a giant eye that freezes people in place so Truth can use his powers to make them tell the truth.

So Truth goes back to where everyone else was hanging out before he was akumatized and asks Alya to tell him the truth about Marinette.

Yeah, he's right, Alya. That's what you believe. We're supposed to treat Alya saying Marinette loves Adrien as an unbiased source. Truth asks Rose, Mylene, Tom, and Sabine what Marinette's secret is in this episode, and they all say she's in love with Adrien. That isn't actually the truth. It's like asking an atheist if there is a God. You know what they believe is the truth, but you don't know if that answer is actually the truth. Why not have them reveal other secrets about Marinette, giving the audience subtle character details? Like the writers could make someone say stuff like she still sleeps with a nightlight on, or that she secretly gets cookies from another bakery.

You know what also would have worked? Instead, have Truth catch Marinette before she transforms into Ladybug, ask who she actually loved, and then she'll blurt out Adrien's name, shocking both her and Luka. This could also make Ladybug's confidence in herself waver throughout the episode, wondering if she actually loved Luka at all. That would have been much better drama than what we're going to get instead.

Ladybug charges in to stop Truth, but is zapped by his truth ray, meaning she'll be forced to tell the truth when asked any question. Before she can admit her identity, Cat Noir saves her by retreating with her into the Seine, before reassuring Ladybug that he wouldn't force her to tell the truth by force. It's a nice bit that does show he respects Ladybug's secret, a far cry from his behavior in episodes like “Syren” and “Frozer”. Truth turns his attention to his mother Anarka, and asks who his father is.

Yes. Seriously. This is happening. Luka's father is actually Jagged Stone. I have... mixed feelings regarding this development, but my biggest question is, well... they're doing this now? They couldn't save this for another episode? I mean, was focusing on Luka and Marinette's relationship (something that had been established since Season 2) not good enough of a plot for the writers? Why shoehorn in this plot development? Why not save this part as a teaser for a future episode? You know, have Luka walk home, and remember what he made his mother say as Truth, setting up an episode focusing on his relationship with Jagged Stone.

But no! Instead, we're just supposed to go along with the plot taking a detour. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I don't want Jagged Stone to appear in this episode.

Truth heads over to the hotel where Jagged Stone lives and asks him if he's actually his father, the latter admitting that Anarka was right. Truth naturally isn't happy.

Well, to be fair, it's still a better title than his first drafts, like “It's Not My Fault the Condom Broke”, or “Up Yours, I'm Not Paying the Child Support, Bitch”.

Honestly, I can get what the writers are going for, and I like the idea of them trying to give some depth to a character who was mostly used for comic relief in earlier episodes. The problem is, as much as they want to portray Jagged as regretful for walking out on his family, it still doesn't excuse him for never even bothering to check in on his children and their mother while writing a song about it. He doesn't even bother to give some money to the person he knocked up.

I'm not saying a conflicted relationship like this can't work in animation (a decent example being Steven Universe slowly growing to resent his mother for her time as Pink Diamond and believing his birth was an excuse for her to avoid responsibility), but you need to put more emotion into this. I don't come from a broken home, but if it turned out my dad was, let's say, “Weird Al” Yankovic, even if I enjoy his music, I wouldn't be happy that he decided to come back now of all times without so much as a “hello”.

Truth goes to Marinette's house/bakery, and starts looking for Marinette's diary to find out her secrets. It's almost like the minor plotline that he has a deadbeat dad was only there to eat up airtime. Ladybug is still affected by Truth's powers, and not long after she summons her Lucky Charm, Cat Noir is zapped too, so he starts asking questions that basically amount to complimenting certain qualities he and Ladybug have. When Ladybug asks him what he thinks about her being Guardian, Cat Noir says nothing's changed between them. It's a nice strategy, very reminiscent of when they had to talk in rhyme when fighting Frightengale. I'm also glad they aren't trying to play up Cat Noir not feeling as important immediately now that his partner has access to top secret information.

Cat Noir Cataclysms Pharro, but rather than destroying the Sentimonster, it causes it to go out of control, accidentally paralyzing Truth with some manipulation from her and Cat Noir. Ladybug then de-evilizes both the Akuma and Amok, defeating Truth.

Marinette struggles to find the words to explain things to Luka, but he says that he'll be waiting for her when she's ready. While walking back to his houseboat, Luka runs into Jagged Stone, who promises to write a song together with him. Because I guess Shadowmoth was kind enough of him to not erase that part of his memory. And of course, Luka just accepts this despite the fact that Jagged was absent from his entire life.

So according to this show, you shouldn't bother to give mean people a second chance, but it's okay to give your deadbeat dad a second chance without harboring any negative feelings? I'm sorry, but I just don't see the point of shoving in this subplot if you're barely going to do anything with it before coming to a resolution. If there was more detail put into it, like if Luka just angrily lashed out at Jagged for abandoning his mom, I would have been more open to it. But in the end, this major character revelation is nothing more than filler the episode doesn't need.

We cut to what I'm surprised doesn't happen at the end of every episode given how much crap she gets, Marinette crying in her bed, saying it's too dangerous to have a boyfriend thanks to Shadowmoth. One of the Kwamis apparently doesn't know what crying is, so Marinette asks them to give her a hug, and the showrunners really need to find another song to play at the end, because the upbeat song playing doesn't go with Marinette crying at all. Imagine if this song played at the end of Deep Space Nine's “In the Pale Moonlight” when Captain Sisko confessed to basically being an accessory to the murder of an alien ambassador. It'd be tonally jarring, wouldn't it?

Even the ending image doesn't feature Luka and Marinette together. Instead, he's hugging it out with Deadbeat Stone like everything's okay.

So yeah, that's how the episode ends. In case you couldn't tell, I thought it was awful.

Remember in my New York Special review, where I theorized that Astruc rewrote it to focus more on Adrienette to stop people from shipping Lukanette? I have another theory that I also want to be taken with a grain of salt. I think this episode might have also been rewritten a little to follow up on that. I mean, why else would Astruc spend two seasons building up Luka's relationship with Marinette only to rip it away the episode after they officially get together? It would also explain why it feels like there's two separate episodes going on with how shoehorned in Jagged Stone is.

But other than that, this episode managed to screw up the one thing I was actually looking forward to about this season, seeing Marinette together with Luka. Even if they were going to break up, I was hoping there would at least be a character arc for Marinette where she realizes what she truly wants in a relationship isn't with Luka, leading into a relationship with Adrien where she feels more confident in herself. I was at least hoping their relationship would last more than A SINGLE EPISODE.

In fact, remember that tweet Astruc made soon after the New York Special, defending Marinette and Adrien essentially cheating on Luka and Kagami respectively?

What exactly was so complicated about Season 4 when you're immediately going to break up a couple you spent two seasons building up? Astruc's predictions are about as accurate as Uri Geller.

And then there's the fact that all everyone talks about this episode is Adrien. Marinette's wall is covered with pictures of him, Alya thinks her friend's abnormal behavior is because Adrien's in the room with her, Luka somehow knows Marinette loves Adrien and is actually cool with it, and everyone else thinks that it's her biggest secret. How convenient is it that all of this happens when barring his scenes as Cat Noir, Adrien doesn't appear in this episode barring a five second cameo?

When I was writing this episode, I saw a tweet Astruc made addressing a question someone posed, asking why Adrien didn't get as much screentime in the recent Shanghai Special. He said that “history does not revolve around him”.

For the love of God, writers, just give Marinette a plotline that doesn't revolve around her feelings for Adrien for once. People already started to get sick of it halfway through last season. Either have her confess and make the Love Square canon, or stop letting it dominate the main story for once. Why can't the writers just let her move on from Adrien for more than a single episode? Give her a goddamn break already.

I once again have to ask: what was the point of building up a relationship between Luka and Marinette since Season 2, if you're just going to break them up the second they get together? Why make a big deal about Marinette's conflicted feelings for both Adrien and Luka if you're just going to ignore her feelings for the latter in favor of the former? And remember, chronologically, this was right after the end of Chloe's “damnation arc”, another plotline that had been built up since Season 2 only to be aborted in favor of “sUbVeRtInG tHe AuDiEnCe'S eXpEcTaTiOnS”. It feels like the writers are trying to punish people for getting emotionally invested in any storyline that doesn't relate to the holy pairing that is the Love Square.

This episode is just frustrating to watch. Part of me knew Marinette and Luka were going to break up, but I didn't think it would be this bad, and it would be so soon. I'm glad they're on somewhat good terms, and I liked the buildup to Luka realizing Marinette might not trust him, but the timing of this episode is what baffles me the most. Is it any wonder I think Astruc may have rewritten this episode?

If any Lukanette shippers need to recover, I'd recommend checking out @mc-lukanette​. They have some wholesome one-shots and fix-it fics for some of the weaker episodes of the series. In fact, she already wrote a fix-it to this abysmal episode that’s so much better than what we got.

#immaturity of thomas astruc #thomas astruc #thomas astruc salt #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug salt #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #adrien agreste #cat noir #chat noir #gabriel agreste #hawkmoth #hawk moth #shadowmoth #shadow moth #luka couffaine #truth #pharro #anarka couffaine #jagged stone #alya cesaire #rose lavillant #mylene haprele #juleka couffaine #i'm not even going to get into the love square shippers gloating about how the episode ends

[pandemicthestory]

13: ghosted

Emma wanders down a busy virtual street, barely able to keep her jaw from hitting the digital concrete.

She had been expecting a video game, something with pixels and glitches, but what was in front of her seems so much more real. It's almost disturbing.

Skyscrapers are tall, as she has known them to be in the real world. But here, they are round, and they aren’t perfectly straight--they are shaped like an off-balance layer cake. And the lights shine so much brighter. Holographic advertisements cover surfaces. Except, she notices that they’re not for Chipotle or cars, they’re news spots. 

“The death toll in the state of California rises to 12,000, a 200% spike since last week” 

She sees that holograms are delivering news from the real world. 

A car zooms way too close to her, and she jumps back--shaken from her stupor. Well, it looked like a car. However, it has no wheels. Emma smirks to herself at how Madison would react: “I’m already aware that the Camaro is a piece of shit, I don’t need these turbo spaceships to rub it in my face even more.”

Emma marvels at the size of the city and the people around her. Some of them are talking on devices like the one she was handed on the beach--though instead of holding it to their ears like cell phones, it’s at more of a distance from their faces and projecting holographic video. Some people are walking in groups, conversing in a very familiar way. Some people are staring straight ahead, alone, like Emma.

Where is Isabel in all of this? And where to even start looking?

Emma thinks to herself, if she has one of these devices, her sister must have one too. There’s gotta be a way to track her.

“Thanks for nothing, Mason.” Emma mutters to herself, trying to figure out the odd contraption in front of her. She went from being intrigued by this guy, to fascinated, to absolutely fucking pissed. After she finds her sister, she’s gonna find him too. And get some answers.

Emma sits down on a bench on the side of the road, reviewing her device. While very high-tech, it’s surprisingly straightforward. She finds an option to search for other players, typing “Isabel Bradford.” 

While exact coordinates aren’t provided, a green dot appears on a map of the city.

* * * 

Night sits at his desk, staring at his computer screen in front of him.

He’s trying to repress the feelings of guilt that are buried in the back of his mind. Sugar will be fine. He probably left right after Night did. And anyway, Night wouldn’t have left him if it wasn’t important. He’d be having a grand time cutting class even if he was in jail. Night keeps telling himself this.   

Night seems to be playing Universe without wearing a headset, merely with a 2-dimensional view of the game. This version looks older and simpler than the version that Isabel and Emma are playing on--most likely the original from the 80s. 

Night stares at a map in the game and sees the red dot representing Emma lingering not far from the beach. 

*ping*

He keeps forgetting to turn off external notifications, ugh. Oh. He’s just received an email from his teacher, and the beginning of the message is shown in the notification…

“Hello Night, checking in on your absence…” 

Teacher would be surprised that he wasn’t there. It’s not like him to miss class, or really to do anything unruly or “wrong.” Night is expected to come and go quietly, to be somewhat odd, but overall non-disruptive. Like a ghost. 

At some point, he couldn’t remember when exactly, his education had become arbitrary. He saw what was going on...building was all that mattered. All classes had been shifting their focus and slowly morphing into one industry. If you can’t code, you’ll get left behind. If you can’t contribute in one specific way, you’re disposable.

At the beginning of this school year, it had been announced that graduation from the Academy would be pushed forward one year. The board gave the reason that young people were spending too much time sitting in classrooms, gaining information they had no need for, when they could have the opportunity to “get started in life.” 

Some saw this as exciting, but Night knew what it really meant. There were whispers. This change was not for the benefit of the students. It was not so students could be free, it was so they could be put to work. 

Well, Night has no intention of falling in line with the others who mindlessly build. He craves other knowledge, other opportunities. And he believes that the right person can help him achieve this. Her. It’s time for a disruption. 

Night sees the red Emma dot begin to move on screen. She’s walking through the streets now, heading towards the school.

The blinking dot with his name on it stalls in place. He settles into his chair for the search. 

He’ll just have to meet her there.

* * *  

In Zoe’s bedroom, Julian sits in a chair on the opposite side of the room from her bed, where she and Gabriel are sitting. They are at least 6 feet apart, properly socially-distanced. 

Julian’s wearing a bandana that’s covering most of his face. Which is great for Zoe, who kinda despises the sight of it.

“She’s not answering any of my calls or texts. I want to know what’s going on.” Julian says to them, with his trademark entitled tone. 

“Well, there’s a reason for that…” Gabriel starts. But Zoe hushes him. 

“Gabe, we’re not telling him anything. Not unless it’s necessary to protect Emma, which it sounds like it isn’t. Julian, ever considered that she’s ignoring you because you cheated on her, broke her heart, and are generally kind of a scumbag?” Zoe’s temper is rising. 

Julian doesn’t like this. He laughs condescendingly. 

“What the hell is so funny? Wait why haven’t I kicked you out yet?”

“You think Emma’s hiding from me? You don’t know anything about what she’s hiding. Hate to break it to you, but you don’t know her like I do.” 

Zoe’s about to respond, but hesitates. This dude IS a pathological liar, but, why does he sound so convincing…

“You’re lying. As per usual.” Zoe’s smart, she knows that the best way to get a manipulator to spill his guts is through manipulation. She rolls her eyes, for effect. 

“Tell me what’s going on, or you’ll regret it.” 

“You don’t know shit, Julian. We don’t negotiate with terrorists. There’s the door. Buh-bye.”

Julian stands up out of rage. Right on cue. 

“Did she tell you where she’s going next week?” Julian spits out. Bingo. 

“Um, yes, obviously.” Zoe’s lying now, but her genuine curiosity is making it difficult. Meanwhile, Gabriel lies down on the bed and rests his head on a pillow--withdrawing from the conflict. 

“Yeah fucking right. And you know how I know you’re full of shit?” 

“Please, enlighten me.” 

“Because if you’re as good of a friend as you pretend to be, you would have tried to stop her by now. But you haven’t. And I don’t think it’s because you’re not some fucking psycho weird sisterhood obsessed, I think it’s because Emma didn’t trust you enough to tell you that she’s going to start a new life. With me. And far from you.” 

Zoe sits, stunned. Julian is a bona fide liar, so why was she even dignifying this with an iota of her energy? He’s the one who’s full of shit. Obviously. 

Unless. Well, there is that constant curiosity that lives quietly in the back of her mind. Emma had grown a bit different over the past few months. The four best friends knew everything about each other, to perhaps a sickening degree, but yet...there were so many hours of Emma’s time that weren’t accounted for. Not that she isn’t entitled to those hours. But Zoe does wonder. 

“I...um…” Zoe starts.

“She’s leaving. And if you think you have any chance of talking her out of it, you better help me find her. Otherwise, you might just never see her again.” 

“Her phone is broken. That’s why you haven’t heard from her.” Gabriel says softly. 

They both turn to look at him. 

“How do you know that?” Zoe asks.

He takes a few deep breaths. “Because I was with her when it happened. We broke into Best Buy because she needed gear...it was to help her sister somehow...Madison was there, she knows more than I do…” 

And that’s all he has to say. Julian has heard enough to head to his next destination. He briskly walks towards the door. 

“Hold on a second, what happened to working together?” Zoe asks. 

Julian sighs a fake sigh. 

“I think what’s best for Emma will be to have as clean a break as possible.” 

He leaves and shuts the door behind him. Zoe groans out loud, furious. How could she have listened to this monster??

But then again, there’s a part of her that needs to know if what he’s saying is true. She has so many questions… Why would Emma want to leave? Why couldn’t she be honest with her best friends? What happened to Isabel? And where is Emma now?

Zoe lies down next to Gabriel and wraps her arms around him. She thinks to herself about how there were so many bad guys out there, and she had somehow scored one of the few good ones. She feels blessed yet torn apart. 

“Zo, I feel like hell.” he says. 

Zoe realizes the heat of his body, and puts a hand to his forehead. Burning up. 

She can’t let her mind go there. 

“Don’t think about it Gabe. You haven’t seen anyone except me. Okay and Emma and Madison for five minutes, but you were totally safe, weren’t you?” she asks, starting to panic. 

He doesn’t respond. 

“Gabe?”

“Well yeah, the only thing I can think of is…Madison wasn’t wearing a mask.” 

* * * 

Emma keeps walking. The Isabel Bradford dot is getting closer and closer. 

She’s in such a state of disbelief that it will take a lot to shock her even further at this point. 

What will she say to her sister when she sees her? Hi, what the hell is going on? Why is your limp body chilling in our house? What are you doing here?

Isabel has been acting so weird lately. But then again, her family probably thinks the same about her. They’re probably wondering why this emo introvert is even more emo and introverted than usual. Or maybe they aren’t wondering at all. And it’s the lack of wondering that has driven her to run away with someone who may or may not love her.

Where is Julian now? The eternal question. Although one that has plagued her a bit less over the past couple of days. It’s legitimately insane how much has happened in that time. 

And what of Mason? 

Her blood began to boil. Emma has been massively fucked over by a guy before, and she feels that it’s unacceptable for this to become a pattern. Julian cheating and lying and manipulating...ok she can chock that up to a learning experience. Right? Ehhh. But if two guys play her in a row, well than she’s a bigger fool than she could have ever imagined. And she deserves what happens to her.

For a moment, Emma marvels at the fact that somewhere, she is in a closet on a pile of laundry. She can feel no trace of that reality, only absorb every hyper-realistic facet of what’s around her. She continues on these roads that only exist on a hard drive but feel solid under feet.  

Once Emma finds Isabel, who probably knows her way around this game, she’s going to force her to help her find Mason. Like a, “I saved your life, now you owe me one” type of situation. Hopefully Isabel will see it that way.

And soon, she’ll be able to ask her. 

According to the map on her device, she has arrived at the school. 

It’s quite tall--taller than any school she’s ever seen before. It looks more like the other buildings around it than a place where young people would typically go to learn. But this is a game, so, she’ll roll with it. 

But how to get inside..? Like is there even a door? Where’s the front? Hm. 

Emma rounds a corner, and realizes that this is definitely the front.  

Glassy, a giant arch over massive front doors, seemingly thousands of quotations inscribed on the reflective material. It’s somehow modern yet historic. It’s incredible, and Emma is utterly entranced.

“Emma?” 

Emma has a near heart attack. She is abruptly pulled from her stupor by a voice behind her, a smooth voice that says her name like it’s familiar. 

She turns around to see a boy around her age. Dark hair, slim, ghostly.

#writer #writers #writers on tumblr #writing #my writing #scifi story #scifi writing #scifi-romance #gamergirl #virtualreality #vr #vrstory #pandemic #coronavirus #covid19 #quarantine #virus story #sciencefictionstory #sciencefiction

[ridleytheknight]

Vanya’s Dream

               Spikes and darkness surrounded her, closing in ever so surely. Her breath left her in gasps and whimpers. She never asked for this. Never wanted this. Luther, her ‘big’ brother holding her so tight that she couldn’t breathe. Stopping her other siblings from freeing her. He trapped in a room so quiet the silence was ringing like a loud fire alarm in her ears. Her heart pounding quick and fast under her skin as her stomach rolled.

               She hadn’t meant to, but she did. Hurting Alison was her biggest regret, everything had just happened so fast. Their arguing had echoed in her ears. Louder than the raging wind, and she had just whipped her bow to tell Alison to leave and the energy had whipped with it without her knowledge. Slitting Alison’s throat.

               Leonard. She had meant to do. It was the only time she had felt even an iota of control, a feeling she rarely felt even before her powers manifested. He had made her feel special, feel loved. And then it had been a lie, manipulating her and using her like dad had for all those years. So, she did want she never could to Reginald. She murdered Leonard with the very powers he’d shown her and couldn’t bring herself to regret it.

               The door in front of her had no give as her hands pressed down on it, tears blurring her vision so that her fingers and hands turned into blurry tan starfishes on a cold metal surface. She didn’t want to be here forever. She didn’t want to die here. Not here. Not here notherenotherenothere.

               It didn’t have to be here.

               Her heart beat louder, until it was the only sound she could hear. Her breathing and shuffling fading away as her eyes closed and something like a rubber band in her chest snapping and releasing. And the door, actually the whole wall fell down. Never to trap and imprison her again. It made relief bubble in her chest like the world’s most addictive drug.

               Now wasn’t a time to stop however.

               Her legs moved faster than her brain, sprinting down the hall. Hands jabbing the button on the elevator, if she moved quick enough she could be gone before they would even know she had broken out. Wriggling out as soon as the door was open, Vanya ducked into the nearest room. Barely missing the thundering footsteps of Luther rushing past and Pogo’s voice in her ears. She waited, holding her breath before leaving the room and going quickly down the hall. She was small and light, her feet gracing the ground without a sound as she ducked into the side rooms. Head whipping to look around corners until she slammed face first into another person.

               “Vanya dear? What’s the rush? Dinner’s going to be a little while.” Mom, with her same soft smile and perfectly styled hair. It was soothing to see her, as much as it could be while Vanya was trying to escape her family home.

               “I have to go Mom, I have a concert as first chair tonight. I’m sorry.” She only hummed, folding some blanket onto one of the seats in the room.

               “I always did love listening to you play, you’ll do great Vanya.” And she went back to her task, something in Vanya’s chest went funny. Hard to breath, but the words still reached out.

               “Mom?”

               “Yes?”

               “I love you, you know that, don’t you?” Mom smiled.

               “Of course I do.”

               And like a ghost, Vanya smiled and brushed past her mother. Out the door before anyone else could see her.

               She had a performance.

---

               Vanya didn’t really come back to awareness quickly; her head was lost in the music enveloping her. Fingers gliding without any really thought as she stood at the head of the concert. She only came back as she started her song. Bullets were flying and she thought that she could see her siblings fighting in the rows. Even Ben. Fighting men with masks and guns. Her body felt weird and floaty, head full of cotton, but she dismissed the feeling. Her eyes slipped closed again.

               She was exhausted and hallucinating, but she’d get to sleep soon.

               Just after her last dream.

               ‘Vanya had to buy a new bow before the concert after all, she couldn’t stand to look at the blood-stained strings any longer, but the violin had been perfectly clean still. She was tuning behind the stage when the conductor tapped her gently on the shoulder.

               “You still haven’t named your piece, it’s going to be the finale.” Vanya blinked. Her piece, she’d forgotten that she had written the final composition, they were playing it as a world premier to celebrate her being the new first chair. But, she did have a name.

               “It’s called The Last Dream.” The conductor gave her a simple nod before running off to tidy up another loose end as Vanya fiddled with her suit and her instrument. It was a piece about the hardships, the pain, and trying so hard. Going up and up until there was nowhere else to go. Nothing else left to be done but let the note ring out and fade away into a memory.

The Last Dream.

Vanya’s Dream.

Soon chatter like a wave, filled the back stage before going silent like a tide rushing back out to the ocean and everyone filed out. The show was about to start.’

That was the last moment she hadn’t felt like this. Like there was a swirling galaxy in her body that was slowly spinning her up. She couldn’t hear the orchestra behind her, but something was whipping past her hair. Something that almost felt like a violin bow jabbed her chest and her stomach, distracting and annoying. It wasn’t enough to keep her from playing. Climbing higher and higher and higher.

She had always tried so hard. Throwing herself into music, being the perfect daughter, quiet and obedient. Tried to be a good sister, caring and kind when they even spared her a glance and stayed out of their way when they just couldn’t be bothered with her. Ordinary little Vanya Hargreeves.

The notes climbed higher.

She thought leaving would free her, and it didn’t, all she did was continue to struggle alone, this time without people there to pretend like she had a family that was with her. Still she played her violin and fought her way into the Icarus Orchestra. She thought the book would be therapeutic. And it was, it freed all the bitterness and pain she had swallowed like a horse pill every day since she was a child. Yet, all it did was make her siblings hate her more.

But she didn’t need to worry about that anymore. It didn’t matter anymore. Something in her chest expanded, freeing her lungs and letting her take a deep breath as her notes started to sing to their highest limits. They could hate her. Dad could hate her from wherever he was. But she was going to rise above them. Fly and soar. It was her last aspiration. The only thing she had left to do.

Her eyes fluttered, something went through her hair. As if trying to grab it. She ignored the feeling her wrists flexing as she pulled her bow and slowly flourished. The last and softest note playing quietly but powerfully. Freedom was a God given right, but sometimes, you had to find your freedom.

She had finally found it.

Her arms fell to her sides, her eyes still closed. She was still floating, but her chest was crushing. The note was gone, but it still screamed in her ears. Spiraling up and spinning her around dizzily until the sound finally died and made way for the other sounds in the theatre.

She blinked. Unsure of when she’d ended up on the floor.

A man with a suit was standing over her with a gun, Luther was in front of him. Staring at her with intent eyes as she blinked up at him. She was so tired. Her chest hurt so terribly, her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and things were so bright. He looked angry. Or concerned. Oh well.

“Alternate Timeline-“

“The moon’s still intac-“

“Vanya!”

“Is she bleeding?”

It wasn’t any concern of hers anymore.

Vanya’s Dream was over.

#vanya hargreeves #i love vanya #Vanya deserved better #tua vanya #umbrella academy vanya #fanficiton #alternate universe #au #what if she didn't blow up the moon #indirect suicide #death ideation #MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH #character death #violin #tua #The Umbrella Academy #fix it #kinda? #starling archive #canon divergence #canon divergent au

[xadoheandterra]

A Shadow of a Bittersweet Memory

Fandom: Red vs Blue Characters: Agent Texas | Beta, Church | Alpha, Agent Carolina, Dr. Leonard Church | Director Summary: Her existence started as pain, abandonment, and loss. It took time, but she found herself along the way--from Allison, to Agent Texas, to Beta, to Tex--and, in the end, that is all that matters.

For @akisawana and the @redvsbluesecretsanta this year! It’s Christmas Eve for me, but I’ve been waiting to post this since I got the information on whom I was Santa. Such inspiration~

A copy of this is going up on AO3 and FFN.

She woke up to this world screaming.

It felt like a whole part of herself was torn asunder, ripped into jagged edges of pain and sorrow. My fault her entire being radiated, my failure, my fault, mine. She felt broken and twisted and bereft—go away, stop, leave me, I can’t—her thoughts were fragmented where the jagged edges ached. It felt like someone went and tore her straight into two; straight down the middle and then snatched away the rest of her and left her to bleed out and die.

Coherent thought didn’t exist; not yet, not now. Memory didn’t exist—only the pain and emptiness of being ripped away, of being abandoned. She came into the world screaming as an infant; she woke up screaming as an adult. Pain became her very existence. Regret choked her. Failure defined her.

She woke up to this world in pain.

He called her Allison.

“Call me Leonard.”

He said she lost her memory in an accident. That she’d been in a coma for years. That they had a daughter, that he missed her, that he wanted to save her and he finally—finally—succeeded.

“What do you remember, Allison?”

They were married, Leonard told her. They were married—except she didn’t believe it. Not really. Her heart thrummed with loss, loss, loss, loss and save me, save me, save me, save me. There was someone else, she realized. Someone far more important to her than Leonard. Someone different.

“We’re not married.”

She told him this plainly, breath ghosted as he grasped her hand with some sort of desperation.

“We’re not…”

“We are, Allison. We are—you came back to me.”

Wrong, her heart beat. Wrong, failure, save me, loss, wrong. Allison breathed out slowly, let this man she didn’t know fall into his own delusion. She couldn’t break him of it—and some part of him was familiar, so familiar it hurt.

“The memories will come back, I promise.”

“You’ll see.”

“Allison.”

Allison; he called her Allison. It never felt quite right.

Agent Texas had a nice ring to it.

She stared down at her gloved hands, wrapped in power armor, and flex her fingers with a pleased sort of hum. It had taken her months of wearing down the Director—Leonard, Allison, call me Leonard please—of bittersweet promises to always come home before he even thought to let her join the Project. She never did ask what happened to the last Agent Texas on the roster—no one really knew what happened she learned from subtle prodding.

A secret then, she concluded. A secret worth uncovering, perhaps. Perhaps later, perhaps never, perhaps—she didn’t like secrets, she realized with a bitter frown.

Loss, save me, failure, wrong, help, why—

She did like the sound of Agent Texas—much better than Allison that never quite fit right, never quite sounded right. Agent Texas didn’t sound right either, but it was better. It was close.

Agent Texas had a really nice ring to it.

She liked Agent Texas.

“Your life is a lie.”

“Your memories, a lie.”

Texas looked at Carolina and fought down the force of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. This wasn’t her daughter. She wasn’t Allison Church. She wasn’t.

It felt so real, now—Texas ground her teeth together. She pressed her heels into the ground.

“Don’t try to stop me,” she ground out and pushed down everything—everything—

“She’s not your daughter.”

“He lied.”

They fought, and all Texas could think about while she dodged and blocked and punched and kicked and flew through zero-g was what Leonard told her, what she remembered. How he didn’t want to alarm Carolina, how he wanted to keep her safe—

I don’t want to lose you again, Allison.

—how she’d supposedly been in a coma, how he told their daughter she was dead while he worked to save her. How her coma was caused by the Great War that still raged around them, still burned with anger in her veins—

She won’t recognize you. We have to take it slow.

—and it hurt.

“Give it up, Carolina,” Texas said, and tried to bury the desire to protect, protect, protect, protect.

“I can beat you,” Carolina replied, conviction in her tone of voice. Their rivalry—why were they rivals? Why did Carolina have to be so opposed to her? What was wrong—

“She’s not your daughter.”

“She’s not.”

Texas ground her teeth together as the ship rattled and fell apart around them, as atmosphere began to burn at the glass.

“No.”

Carolina was no match for Texas.

“You.”

Protect, protect, protect, protect.

“Can’t!”

Carolina was no match for Texas. Texas was—

—failure, loss, save me, help, broken—

—simply better.

Connie was correct, Texas realized as she stood in front of Alpha.

Alpha, alpha, alpha, alpha, alpha.

Texas was not human. Her body couldn’t be human and every action was a carefully crafted mirage. She was Program: Beta, a mere fragment torn away from Program: Alpha. She stared at the tired AI, at how he struggled to form words. Epsilon was still new, the pain of the rip still fresh. Alpha was still tired from breaking at the seams and Texas sighed.

“You’re Alpha,” she told him, and she found herself—silent. Protective. Sad. “You’re Church,” Texas corrected because this AI, this tired being in front of her, was not Alpha. He’d never been Alpha. That was what Leonard—the Director—called him. Alpha deserved a name after everything.

“Right. Church. That’s me.” He didn’t sound wholly convinced, still utterly confused. “And you are…?”

Beta, I’m your Beta. You made me. You made me. How could you forget me? How could you abandon me? Why, why, why, why, why—

—alpha, alpha, alpha, alpha, alpha—

“Let’s just say we used to be together,” Texas wanted to smile, wanted to laugh because god that statement was so true and so wrong all at once.

Allison and Leonard.

Beta and Alpha.

What a laugh.

“Oh. Okay.”

God what had they done to him? How much of Alpha was ripped away—how many more like Texas did Leonard—the Director—make? She knew of Alpha Squad’s AI—Gamma, Theta, Epsilon, Delta, Eta, Iota, Sigma, Omega—but this hollowed out shell implied more, more, more, more. What had been done to him?

Texas shoved it aside, shoved aside the bittersweet sorrow that wanted to overwhelm her. “I need you to come with me,” she said, gently, because this broken thing deserved some gentleness in his life. Deserved better than this.

“Oh, I don’t think I can, but thanks.”

What? No.

“I think I’m just gonna, stay here, you know, and rest.”

You—why would you—

“You don’t want to leave?” Texas felt—Texas felt—there was a knife in her. There had to be. How else could this hurt.

“Nah I just-I-I don’t think I can,” Alpha—Church—sounded so confused. So lost.

It’s me, a part of her screamed. Please, recognize me. Come with me. Don’t let him win, don’t let him take you, don’t let him lie to you.

“Okay,” Texas said, voice even softer. She didn’t feel angry just empty, now. “You just…rest, then.” Texas turned to leave, turned to let Alpha—Church—be, because she couldn’t force him. He was her and she was him and his desires ultimately overrode hers in this respect.

“Yeah, uh, what was your—name—was your name—your name again?” he sounded worse and Texas fought down a sob.

“It’s Texas,” Texas said.

Beta, Allison, Texas. Neither fit quite right, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t need to know.

“Texas. Like the state?”

Coherency came and went, and Texas closed her eyes.

“Yeah,” she said. States, they were all named after states. Pride in your heritage, pride in the good old United States—Texas. Never before did she honestly hate the name as she did then.

“Funny name for a girl,” Church said with the smallest of a laugh.

“Well Church is—pretty funny name for a guy,” Texas said with a smile and a laugh.

“Texas? Yah name is Texas? Funny name for ah girl.”

“Yeah well Church ain’t any better; funny name for a guy.”

“Ah’ll have yah know that Church is plenty respectable ah name and goes back generations.”

“Sure it does.”

“Call me Leonard, Texas.”

“It’s Allison, Church.”

“You gave me this name, you know,” Texas said. And he had, Texas knew. She read Connie’s files, read the information Connie had gathered for her. The Director had dithered on letting her into the field, but Alpha vouched for her. Alpha suggested she take Agent Texas’ spot—the Agent Texas no one spoke of.

“Wonder why I did that?”

“Maybe if you think about it, it’ll come to you,” Texas told him. She hoped, she prayed—if there was even a God that would listen to a bitter fragment like her—that he remembered at least something. Not the torture, but something of her.

“Yeah I—I’m gonna go rest now. Thanks for coming by.”

Texas clenched her fists, but she understood. He was broken, twisted and jagged at the edges just like her. He was recovering; she had already recovered.

“Yeah, you go rest now,” she said after a moment. “And Church? Goodbye.”

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

“Funny, I don’t know why but, I hate goodbye’s.”

Texas fought down a sob. She knew. “Oh, Church…so do I.”

He shook his head; she already felt the run of her communication with Church ending. There was no more time left.

“Well, see ya,” he said, “crazy…state name…lady.”

“Yah fuckin’ crazy ass state named bitch!”

“Oh shut your gay mouth, bastard.”

“It’s bi, yah damned woman!”

Texas laughed. Texas cried.

Goodbye.

Tex. That was the name she waited to hear all these years. Tex. She wasn’t Allison, she wasn’t Beta, she wasn’t Texas—she was Tex.

It came from Church’s mouth; only fitting he find the right name for her this time when they met again. He called himself a ghost, and she didn’t doubt he believed it. Everything in his riemann matrix would be scrambled to hell and back, the original circuits fried and new paths needed to be reached. He was human, so utterly human that it hurt.

When her own body burned and she jumped ship, when she stood in front of Church in all her holographic glory, mind encompassing the multiple implants to ease the burden like Church did for the others, did Tex decide to stay. This could be interesting, these little ragtag people that Church surrounded himself with. This could be fun.

Tex did leave in the end. There was a war to be fought; she’d forgotten, somewhere along the line, in that distant little Gulch with the Reds and Blues. There was a war to be fought.

Goodbye.

I hate goodbye.

When they met again, it was inside the Meta. They were Eta-Iota-Sigma-Omega-Delta-Theta-Beta—they were the Meta and they weren’t. Tex pulled herself away long enough to stare at Church—to stare at Alpha who stared back at her with a broken, twisted expression.

“He was right, wasn’t he,” Alpha said. “I’m a computer program.”

Tex sighed. “Yeah,” she said. “He was right.”

“We’re gonna die, aren’t we?” Alpha asked, and it hurt. It hurt like ripping, tearing, jagged edges that they all were, that they’d become—scabs and fractures of a mind twisted and broken for so-so long.

“Yeah,” Tex said. “We are.”

“Epsilon’s still out there,” Alpha said, and glanced toward where Washington fumbled.

“So?”

“There’s…a chance—”

Tex sighed. “Let it rest, Church,” she said. “I’m tired. Aren’t you?”

Alpha paused, then frowned. “I—yeah. I’m tired too.”

Tex reached out and grasped Church’s hand. She smiled bittersweet—bittersweet, everything about them was merely bittersweet.

“At least we’re together,” Church mumbled. “If this is the end—at least we’re together.”

“Yeah,” Tex agreed. “I can’t think of a better way to go.”

Bittersweet, Tex thought, but here she felt whole, connected, accepted, safe, protected—found. He’d found them all, he joined them all, and that was what mattered.

Tex came into this world screaming. Tex woke up in pain. She suffered confusion—Allison, Texas, Beta, Tex—and she found herself. Her name, her being, her reason and truth. She found Alpha—found Church. She faced her demons, she became part of the Meta, and now—now she was whole.

Tex came into this world screaming. She’d leave it in peace.

“I don’t know why, but I hate goodbye’s.”

“I know. I do too.”

“This isn’t goodbye, in the end, is it?”

“No. It never is, between us.”

“It never is.”

Goodbye.

#red vs blue #rvb #agent texas #tex #rvbsecretsanta17 #leonard church #bittersweet #all about tex #goodbye's hurt but they are made with love #akisawana #redvsbluesecretsanta #fic: a shadow of a bittersweet memory #fanfic #fic: gift fic

[meican]

Things I have learned about grief in the last three years

It is coming up on three years since I lost my husband. September 1st. It almost taunts me at times. Every day I get a bit more together. Here are the things I have learned about grief; It never goes away. Never. There is truth that time will ease the pain. I am not convince that it will ever completely heal the wound. There will always be a scar on your heart. The pain of loss is something I am learning to co-exist with. I would like to say I have learned to live with it but that isn't true. When I think I have gotten past certain hurdles, it sneaks up on me and grabs me by the heart. I break down and cry. I am not ashamed of this at all. It is a part of my life. Anyone who has experienced a deep, harsh loss knows that you just won't fully get past it. You learn to live with the pain; in so doing it becomes more bearable. You are on one side of the line or the other. You have either experienced a deep, heart rendering loss or you haven't. There is no in-between. I appreciate my friends who have tried to comfort me especially when it was fresh and new. The ones who have never experienced it don't get it. They don't understand. They try to. They try to say the right things at the right times. They imagine how it would feel if it happened to them. Yet, until it happens to you, you really can’t understand. When I first lost my husband the words about "how it will get better" and "time heals all wounds" and the "I'm sorry for your loss" became stifling. I am sorry for my loss too. These people had the best of intentions. They wanted to support me. They just didn’t understand how to. On the other hand, the people who had experienced it firsthand, handled it differently. A word of suggestion to those of you who haven't been impacted by this type of loss directly (and I hope you never have to) don't offer words of consolation instead offer up a good memory. You don’t know how much it means to have someone share a wonderful memory especially in a time of loss. Or if you don’t’ have a memory to share then the best thing you can do is just be there. Be there in the silence. Be there with a much-needed hug. Be there to listen. Keeping the memory alive IS important. Unless you really didn't like the person, in which case I am guessing you wouldn't feel the deep sense of loss, it is important, in my opinion, to keep their memory alive. He was alive. He was intelligent. He was funny. He was a lot of things. I miss his wisdom. I miss his touch and his hugs. There are a lot of things to miss. What makes it both easier and harder is talking about him. Sharing the memories. At first, I kept them to myself. I was silent and held them inside me. Then I started to talk about him to his friends, to my friends, to people who never knew him. It is a joy to share who he was and have someone say, I wish I would have known him. I wish you would have known him too. There are memories that only the two of us shared. Memories that no one else knows. These I keep to myself. I guard them as they are sacred and precious to me. They belonged to the two of us and no one else. It doesn't matter what others think, celebrate life in your own time and your own way. Three years has come and gone; both quickly and slowly. The first two weeks I ceased to exist. I locked myself away. It took me time to even want to step outside my door. I remember the first time I did. I just wanted to feel the sunshine, then I turned around and locked myself in my room again. It took time. It is still taking time. It is my time to take. No one can take that from me. No one can tell me if I am doing this right or wrong. I am doing what is best for me. My energy levels are starting to replenish. I am starting to feel like I should be doing more and living again. I am learning that my decisions and the way I handle things are just that; mine. We handle grief differently. Even if the circumstances of loss "seem" the same, the way we handle it is not. It is okay to determine how you are going to deal with this. It is okay to take your time and allow yourself to go through the process you need to go through. When the pain gets too much, it is very important to reach out to others rather than allowing yourself to tumble into a hole and get stuck with seemingly no way out. As much as the process belongs to us, the healing process should be a shared venture with those who love you and are there to help you. Grieving is a continual process. I remember reading about the stages of grief. Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance. "They" say you will go through some, if not all these stages, and not necessarily in the order they list them. Let me tell you about my stages of grief. Sorrow. Sadness. Heartache. Pain. Struggle. Anger. Regret. Sadness. Tears. Laughter. Happiness. Guilt. Sadness. Loneliness. My point being; every person grieves differently. Yes, my sadness and sorrow are deep in my heart and soul. With his death a part of me died as well. A part of me was buried. The first year I lived in a fog, as if a blanket had been thrown over my entire being. You know what? I didn't care. Not one iota. Every emotion had been dulled. My senses were dulled. The person I was before, is not the person I am. I will never be that person again. I am a different person. Death and grief have recreated who I am. They have changed me at a very basic level. I am neither better nor worse than I was. I am just different. I am still struggling to find myself. I am sure eventually it will happen. Time changes us on its own; add a touch of grief and we are transformed in ways we never foresaw. We learn to deal with things differently. We learn to hide our moments of sadness. We learn to cry in the bathroom when no one is around. I still carry on conversations as if he was here. All these things are normal. Natural. Acceptable. There is no right or wrong in the way we rebuild ourselves. I trip and fumble with changes in my life. How to move forward. If I can allow myself to try something different. I can hear his words encouraging me to be happy, to live. The problem is me. Accepting a new life and way of being. I am sure that in the next year I will discover more about grief and how it works in my life. I will discover more of who this new me is. I am not sure where it will take me. Where I will land. I just know that over time, I believe the waves will come less often. I know that right now when they come, they come with the same intensity as when they first entered my life. I tell myself it is okay to live and be happy. I encourage anyone who has expectedly or unexpectedly found themselves in this position to understand it is okay to grieve in your own way. It is okay to look at this as a new journey and path. That it will be very difficult at times, especially in the beginning, when you don't want to move. When it is physically painful to breath. When you feel the empty place where your heart used to be. This is a transitional time for you. Grieve the way you need to. Seek counseling if you feel it is too much to bear. There are a ton of support groups. Or you may have friends and family you can lean on who won't judge the path you have found yourself on. People who will be there to lean on when you stumble and don't feel like you can take another breath, let alone another step. I am just coming up on year three. Three years and at times it feels as if just happened. You will have good days. You will have bad days. You will have days filled with pain and anger. Perhaps all those stages hitting you at once. You will also have days filled with laughter and sunshine. The days where you realize that for one moment you aren't drowning. As the days pass, you will feel more and the severity of the pain less often. Take it from someone who not only has been there, but still is there. There are others like me. I know I have talked to them. Just remember; you need to become a part of the world again. Even if you must force yourself to interact with others. Let your friends drag you places, go to your neighbors, or wherever and socialize. Even if it is only for a few moments at a time. Build it up. Remember you are still here, and life is about finding the balance between your pain and sorrow and your joy in living. Read the full article

#experience #grief #happiness #life

[directorscutandsomeotherstuff]

Tell Me No Lies

(Welcome to Director’s Cut, where the porn advertisement blogs won’t stop coming. Seriously, what kind of horn dog do they think I am, and how close are they to the truth? Tumblr wants to know if I should let you all answer that question, but I’m not gonna let you. Instead, I’m gonna talk about TV shows.)

(I’ve been seriously getting into Lie to Me, lately. It’s a show starring that one guy from Reservoir Dogs who gets shot, only instead he’s a genius psychologist who mastered the art of reading people’s facial cues and uses it to solve mysteries. It’s a good show, as long as you ignore the subtle hints of what I’ve termed “Chuck Norris Syndrome.” You know what I’m talking about. That thing that happens when the lead actor or a family member of the lead actor “just so happens” to be the producer, and the show “coincidentally” likes to paint the lead actor’s character as an untouchable superman who can get away with pissing off the FBI and who sleeps with a new hot babe every three or four episodes. It’s not even that big a deal, mind. I just thought it was kind of funny to notice.)

(Which leads us to the fanfic itself. Andie O’Niell decided, in a flash of brilliance, that a Lie to Me Fanfic deserved no better name than “Tell Me No Lies.” It’s like a Reservoir Dogs fanfic entitled “Dearth Cats.” And naturally, it’s about characters and their love lives, because it’s fanfiction and of course it’s about love lives. Good stuff. Let’s get things started, shall we?)

Tell Me No Lies

By Andie O'Neill

Rating: K+

Genre: Friendship, Romance, Drama, Angst

Pairing: Eli/Ria (Friendship), Cal/Gillian (They didn’t put a parenthesis here. What kind of pairing is Cal/Gillian? I choose to believe “Partners in an upcoming cheese-related business venture.”)

Summary: Ria can see through his lies, and she knows everyone else can too, but why won't they tell Gillian? 

A/N: This was just a little something I thought of during class. Enjoy! :D

Disclaimer: I don't own the show or it's characters.

(Can I just go on a bit of a tangent, here, before the story starts properly? Disclaimers don’t work. At all. I saw these all the time. Hell, I probably used them myself, constantly. But they’re in no way a defense against copyright infringement and all the stuff that comes from it, in the same way that robbing a bank isn’t okay if you tell the bank clerk “I don’t own the money that’s in this bag with a dollar sign stenciled on it.” The reason your fanfic isn’t gonna get taken down, though, is actually for a much simpler reason than your display of legal prowess: the original creator doesn’t know you exist. And if they do, they don’t care. At least, not enough to want to go through the trouble of filing a cease and desist. Anyway, tangent over. Proceed, Andie, m’bud.)

"Disgust," Eli Loker whispered in her ear, and Ria immediately turned her heard, not quite sure what he was talking about. One minute she'd been watching Doctor Foster's husband lie to her once more and the next… (and the next thing she knew, the room was filled with live, wriggling octopi.) oh. Eli had smug smile on his face at having caught her so quickly. Ria wasn't sure, bit it seemed like a game to these people, catching each other in their lies and then celebrating each victory. Ria had yet to find the humor in their games, often played by Doctor Lightman himself. (That is, when he wasn’t busy pretending to be an inmate so he could talk to a serial killer, or convincing a man to get out of a tractor and risk setting off what could very well have been a bomb, or getting caught at illegal fight clubs, or that time he...)

"That's the fifth time he's lied to her in two weeks. How do you stand it?" she asked, following him down the hallway towards Eli's office… if you could call it that. (Having had no job more prestigious than “baggage checker at the TSA” in her life, up until now, Ria Torres was naturally incredibly sniffy about what constituted the work space of successful people.) "How can she fall for it?"

Eli simply shrugged, and Ria noticed a glimpse of sadness cross his face. "Some people prefer the lie, Ria. If Gillian wanted to see it she would."

Of anyone in the group Eli was often the easiest to talk to. Despite his pathetic attempts at flirting, he was always open and honest. He never held back, and Ria had to admit she liked that about him. There were no pretences. He spoke what was on his mind. (It was almost as if he had been introduced to her as practicing something called “radical honesty.” Her memory of things that happened a few weeks ago was a bit fuzzy.) "Doctor Lightman won't tell her," Ria said at loud. Lightman called her a natural, only she knew less about the science, though she'd certainly been working her ass off trying to learn it. She'd watched Lightman's pupils dilate, noticed the way his skin flushed when Gillian got too close. All signs pointed to arousal… attraction. (Not arousal. Never arousal. Ria would honestly rather die than think of Cal Lightman as a sexual being.) What Ria couldn't figure out, was why he held back when it was so obvious he felt something for her.

Eli nodded. "Of course he won't. It's not his place."

Torres turned around to face the taller man, disturbed by his words. (”Go away, Slender,” she told him. “I’m trying to have a conversation, here.” Slenderman left, continuing his creepy muttering, while Ria rolled her eyes and turned back to Loker, who was tall, but certainly shorter than the office nut-job.) "So you're saying if I was dating a jerk who was probably cheating on me you wouldn't say a word?"

Eli smiled. "That depends… am I the jerk or is it someone else?"

Ria resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "You wish."

"I certainly do," he agreed.

Ria moved out of his way, following him down the hall once more. "Eventually she'll figure it out, and she'll want to know why we never said anything."

Eli shook his head. "She won't need to wonder. If she wanted to know… she'd know." She couldn't disagree with his logic, (because it was too ridiculous on its face to even entertain,) and that seemed to infuriate her more than anything. He was right. Foster had the training. She knew the science. "Sadness," said Eli, pulling Ria from her thoughts.

"What?"

"Sadness."

(Ria really couldn’t understand the appeal of this game. Playing “gotcha” with emotional cues was petty enough, but when nobody was lying to anybody, and they were just having a conversation, it was arbitrary and mean-spirited to constantly remind each other that they were all walking lie detectors. At least in theory. In practice, Loker kind of just looked like a moron for being so proud of the fact he could read what was already there, plain to see, without any sort of deception on her part. He might as well have been pointing at the doors and saying “Door!” with that same smug little grin.)

Ria sighed as they reached his office, leaning against the door frame. "Lightman… he cares about her… doesn't he?"

Eli takes a seat at his desk, rolling his chair around as he grabbed the video from their latest case. "Funny isn't it? They're the experts and yet they still end up just as clueless as the rest of us."

"I wouldn't exactly call that funny, Eli." And this time it was Ria that was calling him out. "Regret," she whispered.

Eli simply nodded, looking into her eyes. (”Nice try, but regret isn’t exactly a readable emotion. It’s a bit too complex. Sadness, on the other hand...”) "Look closely enough and you'll see it in them too."

Not for the first time, Ria wondered if the job would ever get easier, or if she'd ever get used to it. It wasn't easy being picked apart day in and day out. "Does it ever get any easier?" Gillian had been telling her time and time again that it did, but Ria had never been so sure. (That it got any easier, that is. Just trying to get that point across, real clear-like.)

Eli looked away, turning on his computer. "Nope."

It wasn't exactly the answer she was looking for, but she knew right away that it was the truth, (insomuch as one person’s opinion could ever be considered the truth,) and suddenly she could understand why Gillian seemed so content believing the lies. "We all claim we want the truth, that we don't want to be lied to… but somehow I get the feeling even that in itself is a lie."

Eli's smile immediately returned. "You know Ria, I think you're gonna fit in here just fine," he told her turning on the video.

"Right," Ria muttered, pulling a chair to sit beside him. They had work to do. As she looked out the door she could see Lightman walk by, talking to Gillian about their own case, and she silently wondered if they'd ever open their eyes and accept the truth. Either way, Eli was right. It was just something they'd have to figure out for themselves. If they'd rather believe the lie, than who was she to crash their beliefs with reality? (It’s not like she worked for a boss who would ever tear down illusions with an almost maniacal level of fervor, making enemies of everyone, up to and including the FBI, and regularly putting his and everyone else’s lives and careers in jeopardy in the process, because his precious truth was more important than maybe like one iota of discretion. That’d be a trip and a half, to have to deal with.)

"Acceptance," Eli pointed out, and the smug smile had returned. (”It’s the one part of the grieving process I’m having trouble with. My poor guinea pig was just taken from the world too soon, Ria. It’s a miscarriage of justice!”)

This time Ria did roll her eyes. "Just play the tape, Eli."

Eli laughed, pushing the DVD into the computer, the smug smile only growing with his triumph. (At least until he knocked over the monitor and sent it crashing to the ground. Lightman would spend the next hour and a half chewing him out, wondering out loud how a college educated scientist would ever be so bloody stupid as to think that you play a DVD by literally pushing it into a computer, like it’s just gonna meld into the screen or something.)

The End

#fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic commentary #Lie to Me #cal lightman #gillian foster #eli loker #ria torres #slenderman